The air in the corridor grew cold, thick with the sterile scent of cleaned metal and latent power as they approached the heavy, sealed door at the end of the hall. It wasn't like the regular training facilities, filled with the clang of mock weapons or the drone of lecture simulators. This felt... deeper. More significant. A dozen of the academy's top-ranked cadets, including the Zehrfeldt twins, were ushered through the iris seal as it hissed open, revealing a cavernous internal space.
The first thing that struck them wasn't the size of the hangar, though it was vast, but the occupants within. Arranged in neat, imposing rows were figures of steel and joint, standing impossibly tall. They were humanoid in shape, but exaggerated, mechanical giants. Their single, Cyclopean eye lenses were dark and lifeless, their limbs articulated but frozen in place. These were the Mobile Suits, specifically early production models known as the Zaku I, stripped down and skeletal, their functional insides exposed in parts, mounts for weaponry clear but empty. They stood motionless, silent, like dormant titans awaiting a command.
Lelouch von Zehrfeldt felt an immediate, almost visceral response. Not fear, but a profound recognition of a paradigm shift. These weren't tanks, or aircraft, or naval vessels. They were something else entirely. A singular unit capable of operating across varied terrain, possessing both formidable close-quarters combat potential and the ability to deploy ranged weaponry. He saw not just machines, but the architects of future battlefields. What did a war look like when these behemoths walked the earth? How did strategy, tactics—even the very definition of victory or defeat—change?
Beside him, Tanya von Zehrfeldt's reaction was more immediate, more pragmatic. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the hulking forms. She didn't see potential; she saw threats and challenges. How fast could that enormous frame move? How durable was its armor at key joint points? Where were the weakest areas, the quickest routes to disabling or destroying it? Her mind raced, not with grand strategic concepts, but with the cold calculus of combat survival. Identify the enemy, assess its capabilities, find its weaknesses, exploit them. This was a significantly larger enemy than she was used to, but the principles remained the same.
Instructor Valiant, a grizzled veteran whose face seemed carved from the same tough material as the machines before them, stepped forward, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "Cadets. Welcome to the cradle of modern warfare."
He swept a hand towards the silent giants. "These are Phase Zero Mobile Suits. Early Zaku I models. Modified, of course, for this trial. They are sim-capable, fitted with non-lethal training weaponry systems. Artificial intelligence feedback is limited – they are primarily designed to respond to direct pilot input and basic environmental algorithms, simulating real-world physics without independent strategic thought. Think of it as a highly sophisticated, walking combat simulator."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "Each unit will be assigned. You will run trials in simulated combat environments. Not individually. In pairs. One unit per pair. Your performance will be evaluated, not just on individual capability, but on how effectively you function as a unit. Pilot pairing matters. We are looking for synergy, for the ability to combine different aptitudes into a single, cohesive combat force."
A low murmur went through the ranks of cadets. Paired? With whom? The academy fostered intense competition, but this implied mandatory cooperation. It was another twist, another layer to the trial.
Valiant's gaze seemed to settle on Lelouch and Tanya for a fleeting moment, though his expression remained unreadable. "Understand this," he said, his voice dropping slightly but losing none of its authority. "These aren't tools. They're thrones. Whoever sits in them commands the future."
The weight of the statement hung in the air. Thrones. Not mere machines of war, but instruments of power, seats from which the course of nations, perhaps even the world, would be dictated. The implications settled over the cadets, heavy and undeniable. The trial wasn't just about piloting skill; it was about identifying who was fit to rule from these new, mechanical thrones.
---
Night had fallen, blanketing the military academy in a cool, oppressive silence. In the spartan confines of their shared dorm room – a rare, carefully arranged privilege designed to allow monitoring of the twins – Lelouch sat at his desk, ostensibly reviewing tactical data pads. Tanya was doing her usual pre-sleep routine, meticulously checking her gear, her movements precise and economical. The shared silence between them was neither comfortable nor awkward; it was simply the neutral state of their complicated relationship.
"Kycilia Zabi," Lelouch said finally, his voice low, breaking the quiet. He didn't look up from the glowing screen.
Tanya paused, coiling a strap around a buckle. "The architect of this little experiment." It wasn't a question.
"Precisely," Lelouch confirmed. "Valiant's little speech about 'thrones' wasn't just rhetoric. This isn't just a pilot training program. It's a sieve. They're looking for something specific."
Tanya turned, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. "Command-level minds," she stated, finishing his thought. "Not just cannon fodder who can pull a trigger or follow orders. They want people who can understand the strategic implications, who can make decisions under pressure in an environment dominated by these new machines."
"Exactly. And what better way to test that than forcing synergy? Pairing individuals with different strengths and seeing if they can forge a single, effective command unit." Lelouch finally looked at her, his violet eyes sharp in the dim light. "I suspect the pairings have already been determined. Based on observed aptitudes, psychological profiles, perhaps even political considerations."
Tanya pushed off the wall, walking slowly towards the window, looking out at the darkened academy grounds. "Political considerations," she echoed flatly. "Like being the Zehrfeldt twins?"
Lelouch didn't respond directly, but his expression confirmed it. Their family name carried weight, a complex legacy of influence and suspicion within the Principality. Being placed in this trial wasn't just about their individual merits; it was about what their handlers, or Kycilia herself, planned to do with them.
"The pairings aren't just about testing cooperation," Tanya continued, her gaze distant. "This could be a backdoor test. A live-fire simulation presented as a training exercise. They put you in a machine, give you a seemingly non-lethal weapon... but who's to say there isn't a scenario where 'non-lethal' becomes irrelevant? Where opponent units are deliberately rigged for unexpected failure, or where environmental hazards are introduced that aren't part of the 'simulation'? Not everyone might walk out of that hangar bay."
Lelouch considered her chilling assessment, the pragmatic, survival-oriented angle that was so fundamentally Tanya. He knew she wasn't being overly dramatic. In the cutthroat world of Zeon politics, such ruthlessness was not only possible, but probable. "A plausible scenario," he admitted, the gravity of it settling between them. "A convenient way to eliminate potential threats, or simply cull the herd of those deemed insufficient, under the guise of a technical malfunction or combat accident."
They looked at each other then, the usual layers of subtle manipulation, sarcasm, and veiled rivalry stripped away by the shared understanding of the potential danger they faced.
"They'll pair us," Lelouch stated, a certainty in his tone. "Our profiles, our observed dynamic... it makes the most sense for their test parameters. A strategist and a tactician. A planner and an executor."
Tanya met his gaze, her own blue eyes unusually direct. "If they pair us," she said, her voice firm, "we win."
Lelouch nodded, a rare, genuine hint of a smile touching his lips. "Indeed. We will not only pass their test, we will demonstrate unequivocally why we were the optimal pairing. We will exceed every expectation they have."
"If they separate us," Tanya added, her expression hardening slightly, "we adapt. We observe. And we survive."
"And we find a way back to each other," Lelouch finished, his smile fading. "Because this is bigger than just this trial. Whatever game they are playing, we need to understand the board."
It was perhaps the first time they had explicitly voiced this level of trust in each other's judgment, free from the usual barbed exchanges. Tanya, who instinctively distrusted reliance on anyone, was acknowledging a necessary dependence. Lelouch, who preferred to operate through calculated layers of deception, was laying bare a fundamental truth: they were stronger, and safer, together.
"I don't like depending on others," Tanya stated, her voice low but clear. "It creates vulnerabilities. But... I'll work with you. On this."
Lelouch met her gaze, a shared resolve passing between them. "Likewise," he replied, the sardonic edge completely absent for once. "Let's make sure they regret putting us together. Or splitting us apart."
The silence returned, but it was different this time. It was a silence of mutual understanding, of a fragile but potent alliance forged in the shadow of towering machines and political machinations. The thrones were waiting. And the Zehrfeldt twins were preparing their strategy to claim their place—or at least survive the inevitable conflict they represented.