Chapter Text
It had been eight years since the end of the Barton coup, and since Zechs and Noin had made their plans to join the fledgling terraformation effort on Mars. It was just enough time to carve out a bit of comfort there, though not before they ensured it for all the recruits who had joined the crusade first.
Many of those recruits were ex-soldiers like them, or military contractors, or orphaned, and did not come from lives of any significant privilege. They had all fought for different reasons but came together on Mars to eke out a new, modest way of living on the red planet. Free of demands of the newly established Earth Sphere and of reclaiming and rebuilding peace on Earth and the Colonies, Mars’ inhabitants focused on the most basic necessities instead - food, shelter, clean water, power.
Eight years had been sufficient time to establish self-sustaining sources of all of the basic requirements for human life and some of the extras, using all the engineers had gleaned from the processes used both on Earth and in the colonies. It was no secret that the terraformation effort had become a mecca for many newly retired soldiers, but less well known that many of those men and women were not career officers. The war had derailed them from what had once been promising careers in engineering, civil planning, service delivery, and terraformation - a fresh start, on a fresh world - had been a way to revive those dreams.
Under the terraformation dome, life was quiet, insulated, and peaceful. Everyone’s basic needs were met, unless subject to some catastrophe, and in those times every person aligned to solve the problems and restore balance and good order.
It was a colony in its infancy, Zechs recognized, but what it lacked in variety, it granted in simplicity. From the technology of its life support systems to the homes they lived in, everything was streamlined - or at least, it was supposed to be.
For better or worse, though, human life has always been complicated.
In the corner of one modest, simple living room in one modest, simple Martian home, there was a communications centre - little more than two monitors, keyboard, touch tablet, mouse - set up to send and receive messages from the new colony’s internal systems as well as handle any external calls, routed by satellite.
Zechs stared at the computer monitors in disbelief, reviewing the results of a string of standardized health testing - one of the ways that the terraformation effort ensured it was meeting the needs of its inhabitants.
“It’s real.”
“Yes.”
“And… healthy.” He sank down into the chair next to Noin’s, drawing a deep breath. “I can’t believe it.”
The pair sat in silence a little longer before Noin rolled her chair closer, until she could gently relax her legs and have her knee and thigh press against his. There, it told him, Noin was there with him, as she had been for years. It was simple.
“What are we going to do?”
Zechs’ eyes left where they stared at her knees, turning up to meet her gaze. “There must be some way that we can prepare, here-”
“People have been having babies in space for centuries.” Noin’s voice was calm and confident. “The setting doesn’t concern me.”
“It will concern the physicians, and the development coordinators,” Zechs said, clearing his throat to banish the wavering anxiety in his tone.
“It doesn’t concern me.” Noin remained resolute - the calm to Zechs’ storm in times like these.
“Then what does?”
“Unfinished business,” she said, the previous confidence falling out of her tone. As though driven by fate, the monitors shifted from their health monitoring to display their communication hub, a new message from one VFM Darlian appearing, waiting to be read.
“Speak of the devil.”
“Your sister is not the devil.” Noin always spoke deliberately, Zechs knew well. Between them, Relena was never the Vice Minister, and rarely simply Relena. She was his sister, something Noin seemed loathe to let Zechs forget.
Leaving Milliardo Peacecraft behind had meant leaving a piece of his legacy, but Zechs had no time to fret about inheriting a crushed and dissolved kingdom while training alongside Treize, or leading the White Fang- creating a different legacy entirely.
In the wake of the fall of OZ, and then of Mariemaia Khushrenada and Dekim Barton, leaving Earth behind had been the clear, simple option.
It had also meant leaving his sister behind, again.
Noin turned back toward the console and tapped to open the message. It didn’t escape Zechs’ notice that it was addressed only to her.
“She’s on the ball, as always,” Noin murmured, glossing over the multi-paragraph missive. “Looking for the recruitment report.” Noin looked back at him as he sat, arms on the rests of the chair, stewing. “She wants to know how we’re doing.”
“How you’re doing.”
Noin sucked her teeth as Zechs stood, pushing the chair in before turning to go sit on the couch behind them instead.
“When was the last time you asked her how she’s doing?”
“There’s no getting through to her.”
Noin smirked, not unkindly. “Must be genetic.” She sank down onto the couch next to him, crossing her legs so that her hips turned into him, the rest of her following. “I wonder if this child will be the same.”
His blood ran cold as Zechs considered that. A child. Despite the contraception every terraformation worker utilized faithfully, and the stress and vigor of their lifestyle - a child. Just like how their determination had brought humanity to Mars, life had found a way.
Mars could sustain children, although they remained barred from immigrating as it stood - things were still too fresh, too tenuous to guarantee their safety. These first fledgling years had periods of shortage and struggle, though the poverty they experienced was of skill, not resources. Farmers, analysts, labourers - physicians, Zechs considered thoughtfully - had all been in varying supply until the last few years, though finally caught up to demand.
It did have a shortage of politicians, however, which he and many considered a blessing, though it left their options limited when it came to negotiating with the ESUN for resources, funding, and manpower.
So, Relena managed the brunt of this effort on their behalf, representing the project as well as continuing in her role as Vice Foreign Minister. Her communication with different parties on Mars was continuous, including with Lucrezia.
But never with Zechs.
“That’s a lot of thoughts, Zechs,” Noin murmured, rubbing her hand over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt under her fingertips. “Want to share?”
He made a noncommittal sound, sinking further into the couch and drawing her closer with his arm until she tucked her head against his shoulder.
“I’m… excited,” he said, “and still honoured and amazed that you would carry my child.”
“Of course,” she said, her hand now stilled over his heart. Noin felt his chest rise as he took another breath.
“It’ll be a real challenge, establishing paternity with a dead man.”
Noin sighed. “We’ve talked about that.” Noin sat up so she could reposition and look him in the eye. “Whatever name you want to put on the paperwork, if any, is up to you.”
Zechs considered that, and whether it was enough.
As it turned out, it was not.
Noin’s world had simplified too, after the war, something she insisted she would choose again one-hundred more times if she had to. Still, she had been excited to share their news with her closest contacts outside of Mars, although there were few. She had a few bright, happy video calls with friends like Sally, who was curious and interested in the logistics of maternity care and neonatal medicine on a still-developing colony.
Of them all, though, she had been the most excited to tell Relena. They sent a few messages back and forth before they could arrange a time where satellites, relays, schedules and time zones all cooperated to allow for a real-time call.
It didn’t go as either of them had intended. Relena appeared on screen looking, at best, exhausted. When the small-talk had passed and Noin had finally shared the words with her - pregnant, a baby, expecting - Relena had chanced a quick smile before a stern, careful mood had narrowed her eyes.
“You’re… aware that there are restrictions and mandates surrounding this considering your situation,” Relena said carefully, her blue eyes changing focus on the screen.
“Yes,” Noin started, but Relena cut her off.
“You expect an exception to be made, then.”
Noin and Zechs looked between each other and back to the projection of Relena’s face. “Exception? To what?”
“You are stateless,” Relena said simply, sighing as she pinched the bridge of her nose and shifted visibly in her chair. From the side of the screen, a hand reached over to rub along her shoulder; Relena looked up and smiled a bit miserably before taking a glass of water out of Heero’s other hand. She sipped the water, wrinkling her nose and putting it down on the table off-camera.
“Sorry,” she apologized tiredly, trying to collect herself. “As I said, at this time everyone in the Terraformation Project has prior verifiable citizenship from members the ESUN.” Zechs winced, awaiting her next words. “Except you, of course, Zechs.”
Relena’s distaste at even his chosen name was obvious, and layered over the dark circles under her eyes and lack of colour in her face.
Noin watched him, confused, as he avoided her glance. “What is she talking about?”
Relena sighed again, swallowing hard before continuing. “Many of those participating in the terraformation project have a previous criminal records,” she said. “They have had to make records of amends of some kind, to their parent nations. It depends on their actions.” Relena’s gaze was piercing, the same as Zechs’ own, not dulled at all by the grainy effect that interplanetary transmissions had.
“Zechs has not completed these amends to Sanc,” she said, “and so Sanc withholds its confirmation of his birthright citizenship.”
“You’re Queen,” Zechs said, finally addressing his sibling, watching as she flattened her lips.
“Yes,” she said, “and I have no intention of reversing or superseding any laws for you.”
“But Relena,” Noin protested, “this is about the child. We need to know that they’ll have options-”
“I agree,” Relena said carefully. “This kind of paternalism is not something that any nation has chosen lightly. In the end, that was the agreement. Your parent nations assume responsibility for you and your actions while you are there on Mars, with the understanding you have made or will make your amends - and are capable of making your own decisions.” She chewed her lip, eyes drifting off-screen. “That said, your future child is not.”
“No,” Noin murmured, “and none of us get to choose where we’re born.”
Relena smiled wryly and Zechs watched, seeing his mother’s expression laid out so clearly on his sibling’s face. “There is only one way around this issue, though I’m not sure you’ll be agreeable.”
“I’m not,” he said flatly, just as Noin said, “what is it?”
Shifting her glance between the two of them, Relena continued.
“Lucrezia has no other surviving family. It would make me the next party of interest in the child’s safety.” She reached with a hand, a few quiet clicks of her mouse following in the background. “I would assume that responsibility without question, provided the child’s father does, in fact, have citizenship.”
Zechs sucked his teeth, earning Noin’s toes pressing into the top of his foot, making him flinch. She didn’t look at him as she spoke to Relena again. “What would we have to do, Relena?”
Relena gave a smile that only reached the corners of her mouth.
“Milliardo Peacecraft must make his amends.”