Charting the Motions of the Stars
Chapter II

Caraway's private office smelled of leather and pine cleaner. It was too strong, clinging and shoving at Rinoa's senses. The room was silent. The tension she had predicted an hour earlier was everywhere in the room, like wide eye, accusing eyes. She stood at the window, looking out at the dark, slushy street, lit only by the street lamps. New moon, Rinoa thought. New problems.

"I'm willing to overlook your son's mistake," Caraway said. "I understand he's new to Galbadia society."

Rinoa listened to the taps of dress shoes against the hardwood of the floor. Laguna had been moving around constantly since arriving in the room. She didn't know whether or not he was actually nervous—he didn't seem to get nervous at anything. Squall had chosen a blank piece of wall to lean against, as if he didn't care to be involved in the conversation at all. She wondered if the news had spread throughout the guests yet. It was rare that the hosts leave the party for even a moment, if at all. Caraway had ushered them through a side door and into his office so fast it was too much to hope no one had seen them.

"Where were you?" Laguna asked Squall, ignoring Caraway completely. Rinoa turned to look at Squall as well, interested.

Squall barely shrugged. "I got lost."

Laguna nodded and turned back to Caraway. "See! He was lost. It could happen to anyone."

"Where were your bodyguards?" Caraway pressed his hands against his desk. Rinoa supposed he thought it made him look imposing. Neither Laguna nor Squall were buying it, which amused her.

"Bodyguards?" Laguna tapped his foot quicker. "Right."

""You don't have bodyguards?" Rinoa asked. She was surprised. Whenever she left the grounds normally there was always someone in her shadow.

"Well—" Laguna scratched his head and his voice was unsure. Rinoa was pleased, somehow, that he was hiding something from Caraway. "Esthar is a peaceful nation. We don't need them."

"Surely your son's safety is important to you," Caraway said, and Rinoa was surprised that even he looked stricken at the news. "If you don't protest, I would like to assign some of my security to you for the duration of your stay. Deling City is—" he stopped and waited a moment before continuing. Always mincing words, Rinoa thought. He didn't want to scare his prey away now that they were here. "As you well know, it is still volatile. There are several terrorists groups and many of them would target you if they realized the true intent of your visit."

"No, I don't mind at all—we don't mind." Laguna nodded. "Squall?"

Rinoa leaned against the window sill and watched as Squall rubbed his forehead. Still cute, she thought, but unhappy. She didn't know how she had missed it before. It was all over him.

"I apologize for causing you trouble," Squall said, voice quiet. "It wasn't my intention."

Caraway nodded. "Well, we made due. Perhaps it is best if we keep your presence quiet until we've come to a decision. Has your son's identity been passed to any press members?" he asked Laguna.

Laguna was caught off guard. "Well, not really, but—"

"That's fine then," Caraway said. "It will fair better in the papers if he's an unknown."

"You're going to try to make this sound romantic?" Rinoa asked, suddenly angry. It was enough she had to deal with the fact that she was being pushed toward a stranger. It made it worse that her father was still playing politics with it. "What's next? Are you going to suggest we lie and say we've been courting each other in secret?"

Laguna snapped his fingers. "Now there's a good idea. Smart girl you've got there."

Caraway stared at her thoughtfully before turning to Laguna. "I haven't explained all the details to my daughter as of yet."

Laguna blinked. "No? Then how do you know she'll agree?" He looked at Rinoa and the pity she saw made her even angrier at her father. "Getting Squall to agree was—well, let me say, it just wasn't that much fun." Rinoa couldn't understand why Laguna kept talking about Squall like he wasn't even present.

"What do you mean, details?" Rinoa asked, ignoring Laguna and shoving away from the window. "Two days ago this was just a meeting, remember?" She stared at Caraway, realizing that this had never been just a meeting.

"Please lower your voice," Caraway said. "It's nothing as horrible as you're thinking." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, let's sit for a moment. President Loire and I will explain. If you will?" he prompted Laguna as he sat down. "I imagine from your perspective it will be a little—" he shot a glance at Rinoa, "—easier to handle." Rinoa just glared and grudgingly took a seat as Squall sat on the other side of his father.

Laguna took a moment to loosen the collar of his suit. "I don't know all the details. Kiros is the one for the political fine print. A few months ago some of our livestock was murdered, right outside the city limits. We only cloak the city; the outlying areas are mostly farmers. Livestock loss happens, we patrol to keep things from getting too bad, but these cows—they were slaughtered." He slipped a finger across his neck. "With the—remains, I guess—we found a threat, that more attacks would keep happening unless we gave in to the demands of the group that did this. And they did, several times. Happened twice last week, and I have to say, a lot of the farmers are getting fed up."

Rinoa stared, heart beating faster. She took a deep breath before she spoke. "What were the demands?"

Laguna laughed nervously. "Oh, a bunch of different things: the release of some political prisoners—small-fry, interestingly enough—money, that sort of stuff. You can imagine we were surprised, as initially I thought it was a Galbadia distraction so they could do damage while we cleaned up and guarded our stock. Kiros thought it might be a distraction the other direction to make us think Galbadia was firing up the war machine again." He looked sad a moment. "I was in the military in Galbadia. I have to say we did a lot of nasty things, including ruining livestock, to make a point." He glanced at Caraway. "No offense, of course."

"So you went from that to marriage how, exactly?" Rinoa asked.

Laguna looked uncomfortable. "Kiros contacted your military after he decided it was a terrorist group trying to set Galbadia up. It was at that point that Ward, my other advisor, suggested that we form an alliance—secretly." Laguna tapped his fingers together. "We discussed the best way to do it that would be effective and warm our people to one another."

Rinoa stared at her hands, clasped tightly on her lap. "So whose idea was the fake fairytale romance?" She stared at her father, but he wouldn't meet her gaze.

Laguna let out a breath. "Actually, it came from one of my scientists, a Dr. Odine." He shrugged at Rinoa's look. "He's not a romantic man, but he's practical. When we were fighting, his funding was cut. He'll think of anything to keep himself in test tubes and rubber gloves."

"I see." Rinoa did see, maybe all too well. She looked toward her father, studying him. "You're not asking me to do this, are you? You're telling me I have to."

Caraway stared at her from his tall leather chair. "You're well-liked in the media, Rinoa. It simply stands to reason that it would calm things a bit and encourage people to see friendly relations between our countries."

She felt tears threatening, but she wouldn't shed them in front of him. "So you really are just going to sell me off, like I'm a thing." She dug her nails into her palms. "You're just gong to trade your daughter for good poll numbers for elections in the spring." She saw Laguna and Squall shift, but she didn't care if she was making them uncomfortable. She didn't know how Laguna had gotten Squall to agree; she didn't know how he could have given in. It was ridiculous that the world needed some stupid iconic couple to bribe them towards peace. She looked up, staring at Squall for a moment. He didn't bother meeting her gaze, and she wondered if inside he had laughed at her when she had flirted with him. "What do you get out of this?" she asked Laguna, and she saw her father flinch. She hoped she sounded rude—she wanted to embarrass him.

"Well, honestly—" Laguna paused and cast a glance to Caraway before speaking. "The treaty is fairly complicated. My presidential panel and Caraway's laywers had it drawn up. Boring stuff, you wouldn't be interested."

"Try me," she said flatly.

"Oh, well." Laguna sat forward. "Trade in food, technology, and—" He stopped and sighed. "A one-year ceasefire and open door policy between Esthar and Galbadia." He frowned. "I want my citizens to stop being afraid to leave the city. Not that I think they would right off the bat, but I'd like for them to have the option, you see. There is a world out there."

"You know one arranged marriage won't stop the problems," Rinoa said. "Even I know it won't."

"Part of the treaty is that you both inhabit the city of the other for a period of six months," Caraway said, and Rinoa felt the lump in her throat grow even larger. It was just like she had thought, being sold to the highest bidder. Esthar had technology Vinzer Deling had sown seeds of hatred for—gone to war for. Of course Caraway wanted access to it. If he married her off to the son of the Esthar president, he would have first rights to anything he wanted.

Her father intended to become president of Galbadia by whatever means necessary, and Rinoa didn't need any more proof than she already had. As she stood, she thought of stupid, mangled cows and what Laguna had said about his time in the military. She swallowed and looked at her father. "I have to think about this," she said. "Unless I really don't have a choice."

Laguna made a choking noise; Rinoa glanced at him. He stared at her and her father. "This is a matter of choice, of course," he said. He looked guilty, and finally, Rinoa noticed, a little annoyed. "I thought this had all been explained to you. It's your decision."

Rinoa stared back at Caraway. "Well?" she asked. "Is it really?"

Caraway only looked back, gaze unreadable. "Peace for many," he said, as if she didn't see right through him. "You may think it over—but only for a few days."

"That's rushing, of course, but if you decide it can't be done we need time to come up with another plan," Laguna said, and Rinoa hated that the stranger was trying to comfort her more than her own father.

Rinoa nodded. She didn't bother looking at Squall or speaking as she head toward the door. She turned around and bowed her head. "Please have a lovely evening," she said, and then fled.

------------

Rinoa didn't remember her mother much except in snatches of memory. There were gentle hands and warm eyes and storybook time at night before bed. Rinoa couldn't remember the words and the voice faded more and more every year, but the tone was always the same.

Love, she thought.

She missed having a mother of her own. Even more ridiculous, she missed having a father of her own, instead of one she had to share with the world. She thought of all the beautiful things she owned and all the chances she had to do things other people couldn't, but it all seemed empty.

The mansion halls were quiet. She knew all the servants were busy so the walk back to her rooms was slow, taking the hallways and stairs least likely to be occupied. Some festival it was turning out to be, with bad news everywhere for her. She didn't even know what to make of the marriage proposal. When she had been younger, she had dreamed of being swept off her feet by a handsome prince. Instead of that, she had had her feet swept out from under her by a handsome wall ornament and men out for their own politics.

As Rinoa entered her rooms, she decided she wasn't angry with Laguna Loire. He seemed kind and well meaning enough. She hadn't gotten the feeling that he had forced Squall to agree to the marriage arrangement, but Rinoa didn't know what to make of Squall as he presented himself. Maybe they had taken part in a civil discussion about it. Or maybe they had a relationship just like hers with Caraway, but hid it well. She didn't know, but with that thought came the idea that if she accepted their offer, she might find out whether she wanted it to or not.

Married at sixteen years old, she thought. So much for fairytales.

She kept the lights low instead of brightening the room. She noticed that Selphie must have come back to tidy up, because the room was spotless. It was her job, Rinoa knew, but it was hard for her to let Selphie do much when she was around. It felt even worse to her tonight, somehow, that she still let it bother her. She could take care of herself—and it was time to start proving it.

Her closet was huge and the box she was looking for was hidden in the very back, where old fashions had been shoved; none of her servants came back here often. She bent down to pull it out; she hadn't worn it in forever. It had been months, she thought, as she opened it. When she had been asked the impossible and chosen her old life over her new.

It didn't take long to change and everything still fit—mostly. It was looser than it had been before, but she hadn't been eating well. Too busy trying to fit into a role she didn't belong in, she supposed. She pulled on her boots and her knuckles cracked as she tightened the laces, loud in the silence around her.

She sat on the floor when she was done, legs pulled to her chest. The decision had been easy, like she had just slipped it on when the time was right, but now it was all uphill. Changing clothes was one thing; changing minds was another.

"There you are." Rinoa jerked and squinted as the closet light went on. "A princess in rebel clothing."

"Shut up with the princess stuff," she grumbled. "What are you doing?"

"Following you, what else?" Quistis asked. "Selphie couldn't get away, so I waited for you outside Caraway's office. I'm guessing the intervention didn't go so well."

"You could say that," Rinoa said, standing. Her sweater itched, skin too used to silk. "I have a few days to decide whether or not I want to be married."

"Oh, a choice. How kind of him." Quistis didn't move from the doorway as Rinoa headed toward her. "I never expected to see you in those clothes again."

"I never expected to wear them again," Rinoa said, wishing it were totally true. "I guess things change."

Quistis bit her lip, which told Rinoa more about how worried her friend was than anything else. "You know what you're doing?"

Rinoa shrugged. "What I should've done in the first place?"

Quistis sighed and shut off the light, heading into the bedroom. Rinoa grabbed her coat and followed, then watched her pace slowly. It wasn't like Rinoa didn't know that what she was doing wasn't a game. She had tried to give it up, be what she thought she should be. It just wasn't working and she knew that now. If nothing else, the meeting in her father's office was the lost piece of a puzzle she had been trying to complete for a long time.

"I don't like this," Quistis said.

"I don't like I'll have to live in Esthar for six months," Rinoa said. "But I'm not wasting this chance." Her coat was larger than she remembered as she pulled it on, pushing the hood back as she headed toward her dresser. The costume was on, she thought as she opened the drawer to the secret compartment that held her rope ladder, fashioned by Watts. She was almost amused that it had only been a few months since her father had removed the bars from her windows and balcony doors and here she was doing her best to get them replaced. Of course, she thought as the dug through her underwear to get to the false bottom, if things worked out he would never have to know. She'd only be leaving once.

"Didn't you decide what they were doing was too dangerous? They asked too much of you?" Quistis asked. "Rinoa, they're a terrorist group."

Rinoa pulled the ladder into her arms and looked back, sadly. "And I'm the terrorist that started it and then walked away."

Quistis put her hand to her forehead. "Why are you doing this? Why now after all this time?"

She took a deep breath. "Caraway is going to be just like Deling, except he's not going to be pushy. He's going to be patient and kind, because they don't expect it. Quistis, he wants Esthar technology. He marries me off to Laguna's son and I have to live in Esthar for six months. He'll be allowed in. The contract says they'll share technology, but I'm betting that Esthar has way more to offer us than we do them." Rinoa snorted. "The only thing we have is people and I don't see any Esthar civilians demanding to take a Galbadia partner."

"So because you think Caraway is going to get access to all this technology and use it badly, you're going back?" Quistis asked. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Caraway wants the technology, sure." Rinoa pulled open the double doors to her balcony. "But once he has it? The only reason Deling wasn't able to win the war is because Esthar understands basic offense. The Galbadia army was the giant and Esthar was the cat who tripped it up. Caraway doesn't want to go to war—he wants everyone compliant." She shrugged as she stepped outside into cool night air. "I can't let it happen—and this is the only thing I know to do." She smiled back at her friend. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more, but I'm afraid—"

Quistis held up a hand. "No, it's—I understand." She sat heavily on the bed, the breeze from outside blowing wisps of hair around her face. "Why do you suspect your father so much? Perhaps he does want what's good for the country, Rinoa. Why can't you give him a chance?"

Rinoa bent to tie the end of the ladder to the iron railings. "Why do you think I have Angelo?" she asked. "Caraway hates cats."

"Okay, I asked for that," Quistis said. "Are you even tying those correctly?" She stood and came to look over Rinoa's shoulder.

"Yes," Rinoa said. "How many times did I sneak out like this? Do you have a number?" She waited even as Quistis crossed her arms and gave her a dirty look. She nodded happily. "Exactly." It was easy for Rinoa to talk as she went through the motions.Iit kept her mind off what she was doing as she swung over the railing like she had never stopped. "Will you tell—"

"I can't believe I'm going along with this," Quistis said. "Yes, I'll become an accomplice. Yes, I'll tell Selphie to watch for you. Yes, I'll put away your ladder and say nothing."

"Thanks," Rinoa said.

"Two hours," Quistis said. "That's it. If you're not back by then Selphie and I will go to Mrs. Dincht and turn ourselves in."

Rinoa stuck out her tongue. "Meanie. But sure, sure, two hours." She looked below her into the darkness. "Bye," she said, and took the first step down.

------------

The streets weren't crowded and no one looked at her in her beat up coat and blue sweater as she walked down the street. It was mostly couples and families, out walking the sidewalks to stare at the festive lights some shops and houses had chosen to put up for the season. There were shining white and blue lights everywhere she looked. The biggest change was the people. Rinoa didn't miss that they didn't look worn down anymore. First winter festival without fear, she thought, pulling her hood up around her face and heading deeper into the city, a bounce in her step. She liked feeling free.

The old alleyway looked the same as it had when Rinoa had walked out of it before, swearing she was never going back. All the signs were still the same. The garbage can turned on its side meant that the hideout was open. An empty wooden crate meant there was no meeting in progress. The three empty bottles on the ground halfway down the alley meant that a password was required to enter. It was lucky for her that she still knew the master password, one that only two other people had beside the gatekeeper.

There were two doors. Rinoa bypassed the normal door, which led to the kitchen of Rosa, the leader of a rebel group out of Timber. She had given them their hideout without asking anything in return. Rinoa wondered how Timber was faring. The last she had heard of it the Galbadia military had quarantined the remaining population and was still working on cleanup for the weapon that had been set off. It was stupid, Rinoa thought, for Timber to finally win its freedom and then be attacked so viciously in a way they couldn't even begin to fight. Esthar had denied all charges, but popular opinion wasn't swayed easily by words, she knew. Words had kept an entire country pressed down. She wasn't surprised words failed to mean anything to the Galbadia people.

She stood in front of the door cover haphazardly with wooden planks. It was now or never, and once she did this, there wouldn't be any going back—not this time. She finally reached up and knocked: one knock, a pause, then three. Then she waited.

There was a piece of newspaper stuck in the hole where the doorknob should have been. It rustled and then vanished to be replaced with a voice. "Who wrote the ballad of Cactus Jack?"

Rinoa rolled her eyes. They had switched passwords, but it was pathetic. "The spy with no name," she said. "He also wrote the Lullaby of the Balamb Fish, if you're interested in trivia."

There was some rustling and then an eye appeared in the hole. "Rinoa? Bless me, it is you!" It vanished and the door swung in, although there was no one visible beyond. "Come in, come in, out of the cold."

Rinoa stepped over the bottom plank and dunked inside, shutting the door behind her and sending herself into darkness. "Hello, Hudson," she said to the wall.

A flashlight clicked on and Hudson appeared from a crevice. "I never thought I'd see the likes of you again." His eyes were cheerful, but his face gave away his age, Rinoa thought. Old too soon, like all the Timber refugees. She was sympathetic, but she knew she couldn't understand how it felt to fight for years only to have everything taken away at the final hour.

"I'm making a comeback," Rinoa said. "Are Watts and Zone here?"

"As always and ever," Hudson said. "Scheming and plotting on ways to get what they want." He stared at her in the dim light. "Haven't changed your mind, then? You were right as rain to turn tail on them after what they asked you to do. Don't tell me you've come back to—"

"No," Rinoa said. "Too late for that." She sighed and headed toward the door to the entryway. "Unfortunately, I think I'm about to do something worse." She was through the doorway and tripping down the stairs before Hudson could reply.

It grew warmer the farther she went. It was so familiar, like she hadn't stopped making this trip for so long. The doorway to the meeting room was bright, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses coming through the sheet strung over the door. She took a deep breath before pushing the sheet aside.

It looked the same as it always had. The concrete floor was stained with the white paint they had used to cover the drab concrete walls when Rosa had given them the space to use. Huge cable spools were used as tables while buckets served as stools. There were boxes and crates with cables, papers and electronics everywhere. Holiday lights hung from the pipes in the ceiling, and Rinoa wondered when Zone and Watts had decided to invest themselves in the festival.

"No, no," Zone said as he spun his glass on the table. "There's no way Almasy is going to win it this year. I know that Kramer guy is going to take it this time. It's his year."

"When have you ever been good at predicting the card tournament winner?" Tibbs asked. He had pieces of some sort of machinery spread across the table as usual. He looked greasy and Rinoa wondered if he was working on a new or old project.

"Since Cid Kramer got booted from Balamb by Esthar. That's when, smartass." Zone leaned back in his chair and looped his hands behind his head. "He's like some kind of genius with Triad, I read before he got married and founded the military academy he won the tournament three years running. Almasy is good, but he's not that good."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tibbs said. "My money's not going near anyone you endorse, Z."

Rinoa started as a body rolled out from a pile of what looked like junk farther back in the room "Statistically speaking, the odds do favor Almasy, since no one knows how much practice Cid has had over the years," Watts said, sitting up. "But if you go by—"

Rinoa shifted and met the shocked stare Watts gave her without flinching as he caught sight of her.

"If you go by what?" Zone asked. "Hello?"

"I'm here to see a man about some cattle," Rinoa said, finally finding her voice. Zone and Tibbs swiveled around to stare at her as Watts stood and wiped his hands on his pants.

"You," Zone said. His eyes flashed as he launched himself off his bucket. "You have some ner—what the hell are you doing here, princess?"

Rinoa stepped further into the room, ignoring Zone's outrage as she looked around. Since she had been gone, it was a lot messier, but they were boys. "I told you," she said. "Cattle."

"What the hell are you even talking about?" Zone demanded. "Why are you even here?" He stepped forward, fists clenched, but Rinoa didn't back away.

"A man from Esthar told me a story today about dead cattle." Rinoa watched Zone falter.

"Oh, shit," Watts said.

Tibbs shoved his chair back, sweeping a hand across his forehead and leaving a black smear across pale skin. "Well, that's my cue," he said.

"Sit down," Zone said, voice rising. "No, wait, don't." He shifted nervously on his feet, looking back and forth between Rinoa and Tibbs. "Go rouse the rest of the group. We have to have a meeting."

"Yes, sir." Tibbs didn't waste any time in beating it out of the room, not meeting Rinoa's eyes as he dunked through the sheet.

"I didn't think—" Zone said. "Fuck."

Rinoa linked her arms behind her back and ignored Zone as he squatted on the floor. "I don't remember his name. What was it?" She barely even remembered the man's face. He had only been a part of the Owls for two weeks, full of bad plans for how to take down the Galbadia government. Then Deling had been murdered and he had vanished like he had never existed. Except Rinoa had never forgotten his ideas for movements against the dictatorship, and she knew Zone and Watts hadn't, either.

"Rawlins," Watts said. "But I don't think that was his real name."

"Sit down, I guess," Zone said quietly. "Tell us what you know."

Rinoa obliged him; taking the seat Tibbs had left at the table. Watts and Zone joined her. Zone looked pissed, but Watts just looked curious. "I'm getting married," she said before they were even settled.

Zone almost fell off his bucket. "What—what the hell?"

Rinoa stared at the table. "To the son of Laguna Loire."

There was silence for a few seconds and then Watts spoke, softly. "I didn't know he had a son. Arranged, I guess?"

Rinoa nodded. "I met him tonight, and his father. Laguna told me about the cows."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Zone said, waving a hand. "Married? Just like that? Didn't—oh, goddammit!" He stood up and walked away from the table, not meeting her gaze. "I can't even believe you're such a hypocrite! Months ago you were saying how you'd never marry for anything but true love!" Zone glared at her. "Rinoa, you walked out on us!"

She stared back at him, just as hard. "It was my decision to make. Your plan had me chasing after a man we didn't even know. He could've hated me! And what if I had gone through with it? I could be involved with a criminal, my reputation ruined and good for nothing! I might've gotten killed, even. Don't call me a hypocrite just because your plan was stupid!"

"We couldn't know his father would be assassinated," Watts said, placing his arms on the table as Zone went to squat against the wall and glower at her. "It doesn't matter, anyway." Watts gave Zone a dirty looked when he snorted. "It's done, sir."

Rinoa was impressed; things had changed more than she thought. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Watts act like that toward Zone. "He told me about an attack on the ranchers outside Esthar. Some has been killing a lot of cattle in really nasty ways and demanding things."

"Let me guess," Zone muttered. "The release of political prisoners and money."

Rinoa shrugged. "It fits, right? Rawlins was always demanding we hit Deling through his rich rancher friends because he claimed they funded a lot of his movements." She sighed. "Demand money so we could fund our own movements, demand people be released because he said they could help."

"They actually did fund him, because he gave them huge cuts on their taxes," Watts said. He gestured to the computer back across the room. "I did some research when Rawlins vanished, in case he gave us up. The thing is, most of the money they gave him went to—" He stopped suddenly and looked at Zone, and the deferring was back, much to Rinoa's disappointment.

Zone rolled his eyes. "Tell her whatever."

Watts nodded. "They funded Deling's secret service and, as far as we can tell, the prisons."

"Which makes sense, since Rawlins was constantly going on and on about his brother in D-District," Zone said. "When Deling was killed in Timber and the Esthar military moved in, all those prisoners were moved."

"To Esthar," Rinoa said, finally seeing the whole picture. "So, you guys agree."

"So, you just had a hunch that some guy you barely gave any attention was moving in on your new kingdom?" Zone asked. "Please."

Rinoa stared up at the ceiling, considering her words. "Yeah, but it made me think, too," she said. "I don't think Caraway should be president."

Watts started and Rinoa watched him shoot a look at Zone from the corner of her eye. "That's a tune change. Wasn't that the point of the Owls in the first place? Democratic government?"

Rinoa leaned forward. "I don't think he wants one. At least, not in the long run. He's just like Deling. He wants Esthar's technology, but...what if we beat him to it?"

Zone sat forward. "Are you saying—"

Rinoa closed her eyes. "Do you really think it'll be any better under Caraway? I mean, it's been eight months, and he's basically running things. I don't even care about the emergency cabinet the people voted on. How much has changed?"

"He's your father," Watts said carefully. "Rinoa, what you're saying is—"

"Caraway was in Deling's pocket," Rinoa said. "How many times did we have him for dinner or a special guest at parties? Deling held the strings and Caraway never complained. I know he still agrees with a lot of the plans Deling had in store."

"Oh, right, because you know all about them now, when you didn't before," Zone said. He stood upright and started to pace once more. "Name one you know of that Caraway supported."

"Citizen tagging with computer chips," Rinoa said, and watched their faces go slack. "Deling went to war against Esthar for technologies like that. It wasn't because he wanted to use it how they do, but because he had his own plans. Tagging was one of them."

Zone and Watts just stared at her. She had never told anyone, not even Selphie, that it had never been Deling's idea—it had always belonged to her father. "The people would never support it," Watts said, slowly. "Right? I mean—but—they wouldn't."

Rinoa lifted a shoulder. "No more Deling? The worst of his pressure and polices gone? I bet Caraway will be able to get whatever he wants, including a tracking chip for every Galbadia cititzen."

"Okay, so this is bad." Zone hugged his midsection, but kept walking. "So what, you're going to marry some spoiled kid. How is this going to get you access to anything?"

Rinoa smiled. "I've been playing dress up, not going through brainwashing. You think I can't do it? Apparently I'll live in Esthar for six months. That's more than enough time."

Watts was already up and crossing the room. "I think I know someone—well, maybe, if they're still around. And my contact in the reform party will be thrilled, especially if you can get good stuff."

Rinoa twisted on her bucket and followed him as he dug through plastic crates of papers. "Anything special?"

Watts shook his head. "I'll have to get in touch with the contact first, to know, they have—scientists." He jerked his head up and stared. "If you accept, that'll be that, right? You probably won't be—"

"She'll be too busy being engaged and convincing everyone she's head over heels to deal with the likes of us," Zone said bitterly. "Do we still have Selphie?"

Rinoa wrinkled her nose. "Probably. I'll have to tell her before you start passing information through her, though." The clock on the wall was dusty but she could see she was running out of time. She'd have to get back before Quistis gave them all away. "I have to go, I'm on a curfew."

Zone smirked, but Rinoa ignored it. "We'll just have to hope Selphie's willing to risk her job again," he said.

Rinoa rolled her eyes. "Selphie's better at this than you are."

"Right, okay," Watts murmured, shuffling some papers and walking back to them. "Give us about two days to organize, and we'll get you some information about what the other party could use." Watts eyed her. "You're not leaving for Esthar immediately?"

Rinoa shook her head. "No, not until the festival is over, at least. I might not even go there first. Caraway might hold me here to not look suspicious—I have to see if that can happen."

Watts nodded and used one arm to press the papers to his chest. He put his other hand out and looked at her calmly. "Okay?"

Rinoa stared at his palm, lined with dirt he didn't deserve to be wearing. She put her hand on his, palm up. "Okay.

"Now, sir," Watts said, and Rinoa barely hid a snort as Zone made a face and walked over like they were contagious. He stared at Rinoa sadly for a moment and then shrugged. "We're probably going to get caught and thrown in jail," he said morosely, but pressed his palm against Rinoa's quickly.

Rinoa smiled at them both, brilliantly and said, "The Owls are back."

Charting the Motions of the Stars
To Be Continued