At that moment, it was a struggle just for me to put one foot in front of another. I wanted to start sorting through the thoughts and feelings shooting through my mind, but the middle of Zeonic HQ wasn't the place for that.
With my face contorted in an approximation of a proper field officer, I threw my half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under my boot. The janitor had my sympathies after my visit.
Building C was about a hundred meters away from Building A. It was a bit too long for a comfortable walk but not nearly far enough to justify driving. The long walk made me wonder how May Kauwin got to work in the morning. Did she take the bus, or did someone else drive her?
Thinking about May was a mistake. The image of a little girl screaming and dying messily as the G3 Gas entered her lungs shot through my mind. I began gasping for air like a dying animal and barely managed to remain standing.
I quietly swore at myself. I knew that I could regain control of myself with a little time, but there was no time. The campus of Zeonic HQ was sufficiently populated with scientists and other staff that I wouldn't be truly alone until I left its premises.
A figure in a researcher's lab coat began approaching me. The researcher was probably sent to show me around the campus (and make sure I didn't see anything that I wasn't supposed to see). The thought of having an escort annoyed me greatly. Concealing my mental state was hard enough without someone following me wherever I went.
As the researcher got closer, I could make out the individual's long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and feminine figure hidden under conservative clothing. The approaching researcher was Helen Whitesmith.
"Hey there, Helen," I said, but I wasn't able to muster a smile.
"Good afternoon, Sebastian," Helen said with a smile. "When other people are around, I should probably call you Captain Dogwood."
"That's a good idea," I said. "I hear you're working on a land variant of the Zaku."
"You're overstating my contribution, I'm afraid," Helen said. "My job in Project J is just to run simulations on vernier thrusters and fusion reactors under the effect of Earth's gravity. It's not exactly the glamorous research I was expecting when I got into Zaku research."
I started walking toward Building C, and Helen followed me. Quietly, I said, "How did you get into mobile suit research, anyway?"
Helen paused before saying, "My engineering major naturally feeds into such a job. I applied to work at Zeonic because, well, my boyfriend was the leader of a Zaku squad."
"What do you see in me?" I asked quietly. "I'm ten years older than you, I'm a chain smoker, and I've killed… quite a few people."
Helen stopped walking, and I turned to look at her. My expression was still a stone edifice of purposeful neutrality, but the vulnerable flesh pulsed just a centimeter beneath. Blinking, she said, "Sorry, I didn't expect to be put on the spot like that. The truth is that I've seen beneath the rough exterior that you wear to protect yourself. I know that, underneath it all, you're a kind man."
"Kind?" I asked, blinking in confusion and anger. Strangely, Helen's statement had offended me greatly. How in God's name could a kind man do the things I had done? What had the original Dogwood said to Helen to convince her of such an absurd idea!?
"That's right," Helen said. "You might not even be aware of it yourself yet, but you're a gentle soul, Sebastian."
"Ha," I barked without mirth. "Tell that to the crew of the fourteen warships I destroyed or the two men I killed with a revolver."
"Is something wrong, Sebastian?" Helen asked.
"Yes," I said without altering my expression in the slightest. "Let's get to Building C."
We reached the entrance to Building C and entered. This building was much less active than the main vehicle assembly building, and we passed by several empty offices as we moved deeper into the structure.
"Do you know where Dr. Olivier is?" I asked.
"I've only been in Building C once before," Helen said, "but the team leader's office is usually in the corner of the first floor."
As we walked, I saw a diagram of a gargantuan cannon that was mounted on a Zaku's shoulder. The diagram was placed on the table of a large empty office.
The corner office of Building C was presently occupied by a man in his thirties with a full beard and thick glasses. His eyes were glued to a large computer as he typed frantically on his mechanical keyboard.
"That's him, right?" I asked.
"Mm hmm," Helen answered.
I stepped into Dr. Olivier's office and cleared my throat.
Without looking in my direction, Olivier said, "What do you want?"
"Good afternoon, Dr. Olivier," I said. "Commander Rem said you could help with the draft of a new military project."
Oliver's eyes scanned me for half a second before returning to the computer. He only looked for long enough to see the uniform I was wearing, and his expression tightened into a disdainful grimace.
"Great, another field officer's pet project that will inevitably have less than a dozen use-cases. What do you want, sir? Should I design a Zaku that can also be used as a hospital? Or should I throw tank tracks on a Zaku even though we already have tanks?" Dr. Olivier said in such a complete monotone that it took me a second to realize that he was being sarcastic.
"The opposite, actually," I said. "My pet project is Zaku standardization."
Though Dr. Olivier's expression did not change in the slightest, I could tell that I had suddenly caught his undivided attention. He turned his whole body toward me and, making eye-contact for the first time, said, "I'm listening."