The Zudah's engines hummed softly, a low, constant vibration that filled the Granada R&D hall. Lelouch leaned over the telemetry console, eyes scanning structural stress and thruster outputs with precision. He had been immersed in this work since the news of Garma's death, attempting to keep the project moving while his mind churned with political and personal calculations.
Jason Arkadi lingered at the edge of the lab, notebook in hand, moving quietly among the engineers. His presence was so unassuming that most of the staff hardly noticed him. Yet Lelouch's violet eyes never left the young officer, observing every motion, every subtle gesture.
Liam adjusted the engine diagnostics, unaware of the silent scrutiny. "Thruster alignment at 93% nominal," he said, glancing at Lelouch. "We're within tolerance, but stress oscillation is still above recommended parameters at high acceleration."
Jason tilted his head, jotting notes. His handwriting was neat, precise, yet there was a deliberate economy in what he wrote. He recorded details that others might ignore, nuances in energy flux, structural response, and pilot interface data.
Lelouch's attention shifted from the console to Jason, the memory of the recent exchange with Liam fresh in his mind. Jason had asked about his true identity—Lamperouge, vi Britannia—and then quietly accepted von Zehrtfeld as the correct name.
That single moment had lodged itself like a splinter in Lelouch's mind. Nothing in Jason's background suggested knowledge of other worlds, alternate timelines, or even that these names carried meaning. Yet he had asked, subtly, and processed the answer with unusual composure.
"Sir," Rezen's voice broke the silence. "Should we run a final thermal stress test at full acceleration?"
"Yes," Lelouch replied, eyes narrowing slightly. "Data collection must be active. Redundancies in place. Every variable logged." He kept his voice calm, but internally he cataloged every small action, every minor deviation in behavior, from Jason Arkadi.
Jason moved closer, notebook ready, taking notes on the engines' hum and the telemetry readings. He observed the reactions of the thrusters and oscillations without interfering. Everything about him seemed ordinary, unremarkable, yet the way he absorbed information hinted at something more.
Lelouch noted it, silently filing the details in a mental ledger. His suspicion was not yet accusation—it was recognition of a pattern that demanded attention.
M'Quve entered the lab casually, his usual air of authority filling the space. "Zudah running tests, I see. Any irregularities?"
Lelouch kept his tone neutral. "Minor stress oscillations at peak acceleration. Adjusted simulations predict resolution with hybrid Gyan thruster integration. Production feasibility remains within acceptable limits."
M'Quve glanced at Jason, noting the young officer's quiet attentiveness. "And this one," he said lightly, "taking notes as if the data itself is a weapon?"
Jason looked up briefly, expression neutral. "Only observing, sir. Recording points of interest for analysis."
M'Quve's gaze lingered on him, thoughtful. "Ordinary enough, yet… thorough. Very well."
Lelouch's mind, however, was already moving. "Jason Arkadi," he murmured under his breath, "there is more to you than ordinary measures can explain."
Rezen adjusted the Zudah's diagnostic parameters, and engines hummed louder. Jason's eyes flicked to the readouts, noting fluctuations with subtle precision. Lelouch observed him closely, taking in the way he anticipated anomalies without direction.
The quiet, methodical way Jason processed the data gave nothing away to the others, but to Lelouch it was unnerving. An ordinary officer would follow orders, not analyze and anticipate without instruction.
Lelouch remembered Jason's earlier question to Liam. It wasn't merely curiosity; it had the precision of someone assessing a variable in a complex system. Only someone with knowledge outside this world—or the right perspective—would even think to ask.
The engines shifted in pitch, and Jason adjusted his notes, unflinching under the hum of machines. Lelouch leaned over the console, eyes narrowing. Every ordinary gesture was now suspiciously deliberate.
"Check thermal distribution along the main thruster array," Lelouch instructed. "Compare stress spikes to expected values under simulated combat conditions."
Jason complied silently, recording both the data and the reactions of the Zudah. His diligence was quiet, precise, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but for Lelouch it was another piece of the puzzle.
M'Quve approached, idly examining the test results. "Efficiency gains are modest, but survivability improvements are notable," he said. "The hybrid approach may work after all."
Lelouch allowed a faint nod. "Yes. But continuous observation is required. Any deviation could compromise operational readiness."
Jason scribbled notes as if confirming the statement for himself, though Lelouch suspected otherwise. The young officer's attention to detail was almost unnatural in its scope.
Rezen glanced at Jason. "Sir, he's been observing every engine adjustment without being prompted," he noted, uncertain if he should comment.
Lelouch's eyes flicked to Jason briefly. "Observation does not imply understanding," he said softly, though he spoke more to himself than to anyone else. "Yet the pattern is consistent."
The engines' hum faded slightly as diagnostics completed. Jason made a final note and returned to a corner, still unassuming. To any other observer, he was harmless.
But Lelouch cataloged the moment carefully. Each pause, each note, each subtle glance reinforced his growing suspicion. This man was not merely diligent; he was aware in ways that ordinary men could not be.
"Run the final acceleration test," Lelouch said, turning back to the console. "Document every deviation."
Jason moved forward again, notebook in hand, silently taking every observation. Rezen followed protocols, while Liam monitored output levels.
M'Quve lingered near the door, watching the session with casual interest. "Curious," he muttered under his breath. "The boy may surprise us yet."
Lelouch's mind did not consider surprise. He cataloged patterns, deviations, and anomalies. Jason Arkadi's behavior fit a sequence that ordinary officers could not produce.
Once the tests concluded, engineers began filing out, fatigue evident in their movements. Jason remained, quietly organizing his notes. Lelouch studied him from across the lab, every movement under careful scrutiny.
The quiet diligence, the careful note-taking, the subtle questions—all were consistent with knowledge that should be impossible for an ordinary officer.
"Jason," Lelouch finally said, stepping forward. "Observe every test, yes. But also explain your reasoning where appropriate. I need to understand your thought process."
Jason looked up, expression neutral. "Of course, sir," he replied, without hesitation.
As the lab emptied, Lelouch allowed a small, calculated smile. This was no longer curiosity; this was investigation. He would watch, record, and test.
Every ordinary gesture Jason had made suddenly carried weight. Every note, every observation, every subtle question could reveal far more than the man intended.
Lelouch leaned back, eyes scanning the telemetry one last time. Jason's ordinariness was perfect camouflage.
Yet Lelouch knew better now. Ordinary could hide extraordinary. And Jason Arkadi might be hiding more than anyone suspected.
He would uncover it, piece by piece, silently, without alerting the young officer to the scrutiny he now commanded.
For even ordinary men could hold impossible truths—and Lelouch intended to find out exactly what Jason knew.