Chapter 14: Humanity

It was a contest of metals. The mechs, which while in fewer numbers as the assault went on, were growing in their brutal tenacity. Their metallic bodies were riddled with dents and shallow holes from all of the shots fired by Zell and the others SeeDs on the roof of the cannery. There were only a few shots left in the grenade launcher, and the robots seemed to understand Zell's hesitation to fire when they were so close to him and the others. That left Xu, Quistis, and Nida to keep firing with the less effective small arms.

Even Quistis, who was so accurate with every single shot, was only making the smallest of dents with bullets that would normally devastate living foes. The SeeDs began to long for the attacks of the deformed townspeople. It made sense for flesh to battle flesh. Flesh made flesh, so of course it should unmake it. To have the cold touch of metal involved was somehow improper to Zell, who being a devout practitioner of the martial arts, saw even guns as morally wrong—even if they were necessary sometimes.

The rain began trickling to a slow halt till all it seemed to be were the drippings of great wet towels hanging in the sky. How long did they believe that they could do things the easy way? Technology had spoiled them utterly. Zell passed the grenade launcher to Xu. She was a better aim than he was anyway. For him, there was little excuse for falling into such a state.

He thought about the young kid named Ken—the one who had knocked him flat on his back. It wasn't the difference in age that had beaten Zell that day. That kid had simply believed in himself more than Zell did. If Sensei Takatori could see him now, the old woman would be ashamed. I'm sorry, he told her, your student has forgotten his way in this world.

"Zell, what's wrong?" Quistis put her had on him; concerned that he had given up entirely.

"Nothing," he said, "I know exactly what I have to do."

Before Quistis could object, Zell took off running across the wet metal of the cannery's rooftop.

Nida cried out in despair that Zell left the rest of them, but Zell could pay him no heed. What he needed was a focus beyond anything they could understand. Part of his mind was back on the beach years ago with the Sensei. But instead of fighting wooden dummies, he had to face machines.

They're the same thing, he told himself, only these dummies can move. But that shouldn't deter you from the course. You are SeeD.

He wasn't halfway across the roof before they were after him. The baby blue plasma balls flew, turning puddles into hot vapor in front of him. Zell dodged from side to side. Flipped back. Flipped forward. There was no thinking about it. Not even when the searing hot metal threatened to burn off his finger tips. Nothing was going to stop him. If he died, then he died. There wouldn't be an opportunity to lament it.

A grenade whizzed past his ear, and struck a mech readying another barrage He'd been right to give the launcher to Xu. Some risks were worth it, and as a leader, she knew he'd made the choice.

The Galbadian robots, their artificial intelligence making the proper correlations, ceased long range attacks. One of the strange ones with a feminine form closed in. Blades unfolded from so many impossible locations. Zell dodged and rolled, hearing the mech's blades slice into the metal roof. The night brightened and water hissed as sparks flew.

It was faster than he'd counted on, and for a moment he questioned his decision. Believing it may have been a case of foolish bravado whose price would be his severed carcass.

But that didn't happen.

A volley of thunder spells struck the mech from behind. Zell didn't have time to see who did it. He realized it was his chance.

Zell few into a combo. His armored boots and gloves striking with all that they had. The armor of the robot was strong against a direct assault to its vitals: the power supply and the CPU. Zell had faced many machines before, and knew what they looked like when blown or hacked apart. The power core would be in its chest where the most armor was, and the CPU would be just a little above that in the same cavity. It couldn't be right next to the power supply because of the heat. Knowing all of this, Zell struck its joints: hips and ankles—or what passed for them on the mech.

After the beating, which left his hands and feet numb, Zell cast his own thunder spell. The mech ceased struggling. Zell relaxed, and slumped a little—only to fall back as the blades came out a final time. One of them slicing open the surface flesh of his chest.

Lying on the roof, Zell shook from the shock. His chest grew very warm. He rested on his back for a moment. Not entirely sure what happened. Uncertain that he was still alive. There was pain—somewhere, but distant, and so much warmth. He felt like rolling up in that warmth and falling asleep.

They surrounded him then. Three sets of eyes that he felt sure that he knew. Those eyes were filled with worry and so much dripping water.

"Zell," one of them said quietly to him, "Are you okay?"

"Don't speak," said another, "Just blink your eyes to let us know."

"We need those reinforcements," said a strong feminine voice, "Where are they?"

Globs of plasma scorched the roof a few yards away. Zell's guardians spun as one, and fired their remaining ammo at the mech that Zell couldn't see. From the sound of it, one of Xu's remaining grenades connected. Zell heard the distant impact on the muddy ground below.

Quistis hovered over him. She gingerly examined the cut on his chest; careful not to prod too harshly lest she open him up like a torn bag. "I think it's not fatal, but we need to get him out of here."

Zell sat up, and by the look on their faces he was pretty sure that the three of them were close to having heart attacks.

"I'll be fine," he told them, "A healing spell and a potion will patch me up until we get back to the boat."

Quistis took care of it.

"If you are all right," said Xu, brushing her wet hair out of her face, and offering him a smile, "Then we should get back to work."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

"More of them," screamed Nida, "From all sides!"

XXX

Getting her aboard one of the smaller boats had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Fujin wasn't accepting of anything he said—not anymore anyway. Perhaps that had been the consequence of getting so close to her. Before, as part of his Disciplinary Committee, Fujin had been a dedicated follower. It wasn't like that anymore. They were mutual partners in something they weren't sure what to call. He suspected it was more like a seventy/thirty relationship with her cool logic filling in a lot for the spontaneous drive that he could still muster. No the worst of relationships. He had the sneaking suspicion that it was superior to the so-called romance enjoyed by Squall and Rinoa. But, that didn't matter. Not when life was about to be sucked down into the dark water below them.

Ultimately, he forced her on the recovery boat with his best lie that Raijin was all right. What his lips didn't utter was that he had severe doubts as to his own safety by staying on the sinking carrier. Who was the say that Squall wouldn't follow up his torpedoes with rockets? If the Garden commander was this trigger happy…

Bracing himself against the walls that were titled at on odd angle, Seifer made his way below deck. He wasn't exactly sure where Raijin would be, but figured that if he made his way near yet under the superstructure, he would find he officer's quarters. They wouldn't want to be far away in case of an emergency.

Like this one, he thought.

The ship lurched even further making him smack the wall. He bit his lip, and tasted blood. It was going to be a Hell of a way to end his day.

XXX

On board Garden's Dagger, Squall Leonhart was thinking about Rinoa. About how her black and silky hair felt when it passed through his fingers. The smell it had no matter how haggard she might look. She was the meaning of perfection for him. What was she going to think about his decision?

He'd done his best to be forceful. There could be no allowance for doubt to slip into the minds of his subordinates. Especially the ones on board. The others, his friends from the orphanage, well, they would understand, and just chalk-it-up to his nature.

Cid said Dollet wanted a "big show". Well, they got it tonight. In the morning, there would be no end to criminalizing from Galbadia—for who else could it be? He wondered about the small craft they'd fired on. Had those soldiers been ready to die? Probably not, and for that he was sorry.

He walked the narrow corridors to his quarters. He would splash some water on his face to cool down. But, he reminded himself to dry off completely with a towel. He didn't need anyone believing that he'd been crying. And he would confess to no one how much he felt like doing so. He couldn't stand that on a whole other continent was a woman whom he needed, and without her, he couldn't do this stuff anymore.

When he opened the door, a wave of nausea brought him to his knees. He clenched his fists, and steadied himself. It couldn't be nerves. He'd been through worse. No amount of easy living or stress could reduce him to this sorry state.

His ears rung as they filled with a pressure. Squall shook. When his ears popped it was an agonizing relief. Like his head had been a blister, and his brain had just popped out to coat his room in its rotting taint.

He collapsed utterly.

Several minutes passed by without him realizing it. There was no "him" anymore, just a numb existence of nothing. When awareness began to drift back into Squall, he found himself drooling on the rug in his quarters.

It was so hot. Opening a window and leaping out into the churning water was so inviting. To give into that would spell the end for him, but at that moment he wouldn't have minded.