Chapter 9

The canteen, usually busy, was thronged with cadets. People were perched on the edge of tables, squatting on the linoleum, leaning against walls. The atmosphere was tense. Some were loud and raucous, others quiet and solitary: all were nervous. Cloud was one of the former, Squall the latter and both were becoming immensely irritated by the other. Tifa sat a little apart from them: she and Cloud were barely speaking, but she needed the company.

The doors at the far end of the room swung open. Auron entered, walking briskly between the rows of plastic-topped tables. Two hundred pairs of eyes followed him. There was utter silence in the canteen. Auron halted before the Corps notice board, which was mounted beside the serving hatch. He turned to address the cadets. His expression was thunderous.

"Here," he said, producing a sheet of paper from his coat pocket, "the list."

No sooner had he fixed the paper to the notice board than the nearest cadets were crowding around him. Auron spun round. The cadets parted at his glance: he was clearly furious. It was widely known that this new unit had been created over the heads of the Training Corps staff. Although they accepted the need to combat the threat of the Heartless, the staff resented their best students being creamed off.

Cloud, Squall and Tifa jumped up to join the jostling, murmuring crowd as it converged on the notice board. From the front they could hear groans of disappointment, mixed with the occasional shout of triumph. After several painfully slow minutes they were at last close enough to read the notice. At the top in bold, official letters was the word 'SOLDIER'. Beneath that, a short list of names:

LeBlanc, S.

Leiden, Y. F.

Lola, L.

Marquez, C. D. N.

Squall and Tifa sighed and exchanged disappointed looks. Further down:

Scherwiz, F.

Strife, C.

Surgate, X. M.

Cloud stared blankly for a moment. Then his face split into a broad grin.

"Well done!" Tifa cried as she threw her arms around him, forgetting for a moment that they were supposed to be fighting. Cloud gave her a short hug. He looked up. Squall was standing apart from them, a slight frown on his face.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cloud asked.

"It's nothing" said Squall, "It's just a little strange…"

"What's strange?" said Cloud, his manner deliberately casual.

"Nothing. Just… why?"

"Why what?"

"Why… why not?"

"You mean why not you? Why did they choose me instead?" Cloud said, voice rising.

"Cloud, don't…" said Tifa sternly.

"What's the matter, Squall? Don't think I'm up to it?" Cloud demanded, ignoring Tifa.

"No," said Squall sullenly "I just wonder… why not me too?"

"When they let someone like me in, you mean?"

"That's not what I meant" Squall said, flushing a deep crimson.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just…" Squall took a deep breath "I don't understand. It's not like you get better grades than me, or you're a better fighter…"

"Oh yeah?" Cloud said, squaring up to Squall. Tifa stepped between them, hand on his shoulder.

"Cloud! Squall, please."

"You know," said Cloud, "I'm surprised that you could be so petty, Squall."

Squall flushed red again.

"If I am, I learned from the best"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it," said Squall, turning away. Cloud grabbed his shoulder, trying to turn him around.

"I said leave it, Cloud!" Squall yelled, throwing Cloud's arm back. The other cadets parted to let him past. No-one met his eye.

"Guys…" said Tifa softly, glancing from one boy to the other.

Xehanort stroked his chin, studying the machine with a critical eye. This was the third time he had checked it in the last hour. Beside him, Even scowled. He resented the implication that he had not prepared the machine properly. Xehanort gave a small sigh: once again, he could find nothing wrong with it.

"Try to relax," said Ienzo, leaning, arms folded, against a workbench. Xehanort did not reply. He rubbed his eyes: he had enjoyed little sleep over the past three weeks; not since Sephiroth had visited the laboratory. Every conceivable plan had passed through his mind: murder, blackmail, flight. All were equally futile. He was trapped and there was no way out.

The laboratory door opened. Aeleus, Dilan and Braig entered. They each carried a large tool bag. They set them down on a workbench near the machine. Braig drew two pistols and a long rifle from his bag. The pistols he strapped to his boots, under the hem of his lab coat, while he fixed the rifle to a grip he had fitted to the underside of a workbench. Dilan's bag contained four lances, which he proceeded to hide at various points around the room. Aeleus produced a pair of tomahawks. He placed them behind a collection of jars filled with preservative fluid. He reached into his bag again and produced a broad shield of unadorned steel. He handed it to Even.

"If there is a fight, hide behind this" he instructed. Even received the shield gingerly, and quickly hid it inside a packing crate. Aeleus then turned to Ienzo.

"Here," he said, producing a long, broad bladed dagger from his bag. Ienzo glanced at the dagger, then looked away.

"I don't know how to use it" he said.

"It's simple," said Braig, from across the laboratory "you hold the blunt bit, you stick the pointy bit in the other guy."

Ienzo glared at him, then returned to Aeleus.

"I don't want it."

"What will you do if something does happen?" Aeleus asked, frustrated by Ienzo's refusal "Use a book(?)"

Ienzo sneered and turned his back on Aeleus. Aeleus scowled.

"Do you want it?" he asked Xehanort.

"No" Xehanort replied "I won't need it."

Xehanort drew up a chair and sat down to wait: Sephiroth was not due for another hour, at least. He had been right, Xehanort reflected grudgingly: this new arrangement had placed him in a far stronger position. The security crisis that followed the night of the ball had created a fertile ground for planting new ideas. Ansem had begun a very public study of the creatures that had appeared that night. Xehanort and the apprentices, on whom most of the work had fallen, had been able to guide his research, letting him know only what they wanted him to know. They had even managed to introduce the name Heartless into common usage. Similarly, the creation of SOLDIER, Sephiroth's new counter-Heartless unit, had been swiftly approved and effected. The first list, drawn randomly from the Training Corps, had arrived the day before. Xehanort could see scope for months, even years of experimentation ahead of him.

Xehanort raised his head. Sephiroth was standing in the doorway at the far end of the laboratory. He did not wait for an invitation but strode in, an easy confidence in his walk. Even fell alongside him, as Xehanort had instructed, to explain the procedure. Sephiroth neither looked nor spoke to him.

Ienzo now stepped forward to take his great coat and sword. Ienzo was careful to place them close and in full view. Sephiroth then mounted the step in front of the machine. He turned and allowed Dilan and Aeleus to bind him to it. Leather straps held his head, arms and legs in place. Then the probes were attached to key areas of his body. To the right of the machine proper, Even activated the monitor. Braig extended the arm, the three-toed instrument poised above Sephiroth's chest. The whole operation was conducted in total silence. It had the solemnity of a gallows or funeral parlour. Sephiroth, however, seemed oblivious to the unease. He smiled slightly as he was strapped down. There was a security bordering on arrogance in his attitude.

"Ready?" Xehanort asked him, taking the arm from Braig. Sephiroth gave a slight nod. Xehanort gripped the arm more firmly. With a deep breath, he pushed it down hard onto Sephiroth's chest. The machine began to hum softly.

"Initial readings are… good," said Even, bent low over the monitor, "Isolating his heartbeat now"

Braig took the arm from Xehanort, who stood back to watch the operation. Sephiroth seemed to be in some discomfort, but nothing like the agony the apprentices had experienced from their initial experiments. What sort of man was this, Xehanort wondered?

The experiment progressed well. The heartbeat, very strong, was quickly isolated. Then began the difficult task of separating the darkness from the greater mass of the heart and then stimulating it. About a quarter of an hour into the experiment, Even spoke:

"This is… strange."

"What?" said Xehanort, immediately on edge.

"These readings," said Even, thoughtfully "They're… abnormal."

"In what way?" Xehanort snapped.

"His progress. It's phenomenal! It took weeks to cultivate this much darkness in some hearts."

"Perhaps we should stop," Braig suggested "Don't want to give him too much juice in one go, right?"

The monitor trilled a warning note. The screen flashed red.

"This… this is incredible!" said Even, eyes shining as his fingers danced across the keyboard "How can one heart hold so much darkness? This is beyond anything we've seen…"

"Stop! Close it down, you fool!" Xehanort yelled, moving to Even's side. On the machine, Sephiroth was beginning to shake, as if in the midst of a fit. Wisps of the liquid-gas darkness were beginning to curl out from beneath the arm.

"I can't!" Even cried "These readings… They can't be real! They're off the scale!"

Ienzo dived towards the machine. He elbowed Braig aside and seized the arm with both hands. With a cry, he wrenched it out and back. There was a roar like a thunderclap and a wave of darkness vomited from Sephiroth's chest. Ienzo was hurled across the lab. He landed on a workbench and rolled onto the floor, where he lay unmoving.

Sephiroth stepped forward off the machine. It was as if the leather straps were not even there. The tides of darkness seemed to roll from him like ocean waves off a breaker.

Dilan cast one of his lances at him. Sephiroth did not even seem to move: one moment, he was standing still, the next, he held the lance in his hand. He turned and saw Braig, pistols drawn. Sephiroth stretched out his left arm. The Masamune, as if drawn by invisible ropes, flew from its scabbard to his open hand. Sephiroth leapt forward, across the workbenches, towards Braig. Dilan sprang between them, another lance raised to parry. The force of Sephiroth's stroke shattered the lance and hurled Dilan to the ground, but he was not slain. Braig emptied his pistols at Sephiroth but the darkness rose like a wall around him, consuming the bullets like fire consuming moths. Aeleus cast a tomahawk at Sephiroth, and then closed with him, wielding the second like a hand axe. For a few seconds he kept pace with Sephiroth, their weapons a blur of parry and riposte. A moment later Aeleus was down, bleeding badly from his thigh and shoulder. Xehanort vaulted the monitor, right hand thrust forward.

"Flare!" he yelled. Sephiroth's counter-spell hurled Xehanort's attack back at him. Xehanort dived aside as it struck. It tore the machine to pieces, churning up the floor and ceiling around it. The laboratory lights flared and died in a cascade of sparks.

Xehanort was on his feet in a heartbeat. He could barely see in this new gloom but the smell of darkness that clung to Sephiroth was so pungent he did not need to. He heard Sephiroth scream something: maybe a spell, but it seemed that his lips were unable to form the words. A wave of purple fire came rolling towards Xehanort.

"Reflega!" he cried, summoning his most potent shields. The wave of fire curled round him like a twister and back on Sephiroth.

It was only afterwards that Xehanort realised what happened next. Sephiroth, consciously or not, had attempted to counter the dark fire with another dark spell. All he remembered was the roar and the smell of the dark. A great mass of the liquid-gas substance, black even against the absence of light, loomed large before him. For a brief moment Xehanort thought he could see the figure of Sephiroth spread-eagled against it.

The next thing that Xehanort remembered was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He raised himself up and looked round. The laboratory was a wreck. Whole sections of the roof had collapsed, covering the once sterile floor with dust and rubble. The machine was now nothing more than blackened stump of metal. Shards of glass lay everywhere. Shrivelled hearts floated like islands in the pools of preservative liquid that oozed through the debris.

It was only when his gaze happened to pass over the bloodied Aeleus that Xehanort remembered his fellow apprentices. His eyes swept the wreckage again: only he had remained conscious. Aeleus and Braig were both bleeding badly. The other three were unconscious, lying half buried beneath the rubble. Of Sephiroth, there was no sign.

"What… what have you done?"

Xehanort looked up. Ansem was standing at the foot of the stairs, his face a deathly white.

"M-master…" Xehanort stammered, struggling to his feet.

"What is all this?" Ansem asked, his voice hoarse.

Xehanort began to explain: slowly, hesitantly at first but swiftly growing stronger, more impassioned.

"We… we have continued your experiments, master. We… wished to help! You will… you will not believe the progress we have made! We have learned so much about the heart. And in so short a time: it's astounding!"

As he spoke, Xehanort found himself articulating theories he had barely even touched upon before: about the darkness, and the Heartless, and the heart of all worlds that lay beyond the Door that he had opened.

"The Heartless search for the darkness in people's hearts!" he said, his whole face afire with the excitement of new discoveries "And the Heartless are searching for that place beyond the Door. It must be the heart of this world: it's the only conclusion! And that's what we must search for too: the world beyond the Door. It may even lead to other worlds! Can you imagine: the power to visit other worlds? And what if there is an even greater power at the heart of all worlds? What could we not do with such power?!"

While Xehanort had been speaking, Ansem had sunk down onto a pile of rubble, head in his hands. When Xehanort mentioned the heart of all worlds, he looked up sharply:

"No, Xehanort, no! This stops now, you hear? You will abandon this… this foolishness, now!"

"But, Master Ansem…"

"I say no!" Ansem roared, on his feet now, shaking with rage and fear "Can you not see what you have done? What you are becoming? This darkness that you have studied: it has begun to consume you. I am ordering you to stop now, before it is too late!

"You will help me carry the others up to the castle," Ansem ordered, his voice softer now "Then I shall put a seal on this place."

"Master, please…"

"Silence, Xehanort!" Ansem cried, voice choked with tears, "It is over! You will destroy all your data. You will never speak of this again: no one is to know what has happened here. That is my order!"

Xehanort tried to clutch his hand, but Ansem turned on his heel and back to the stairs. Xehanort could hear him sobbing even as he closed the door behind him.

Hi all! As always, I'm asking you to review with any praise or criticism you might have about this chapter.