Chapter 12: Thunderhawk Down…
Galbadian Embassy, Darmenia City, 1518 hrs, 10th August 4051
The embassy was a mess. Both SeeD Strike Force and Galbadian marine company had expected a lot of trouble – but not on the scale that they were witnessing. The embassy was an old Darmenian palace located in the oldest section of the city and its spires and battlements have borne witness to the passing of over twelve thousand years. Its foundations stood strong still and had been reinforced in the preceding centuries. Many a time, the old palace had been the seat of Emperors before its was used by Galbadia to be its embassy.
It was the pride of the Darmenian people, a show that they have strode across the ages without surrendering their traditions. But, hate and wrath can overcome that pride – and national treasures can be desecrated without a second thought. Especially when that treasure was further desecrated by the infidels who took refuge within it, waiting for their rescuers to come.
Vengeance would not be denied so easily…not even if the criminals hid behind the walls of something that the Darmenian people valued.
The security troopers that had been assigned to guard the external premises were forced to withdraw behind the walls of the old palace. Thirty men armed with assault rifles could do little to stop a horde more than ten times their number – and growing. Like a seething horde of angry ghosts, they surged beyond the security barricades that had been erected, howling insults, throwing stones and screaming with the rage of generations oppressed by the influence of a foreign power. A makeshift battering ram slammed against the palace's reinforced doors. On the rooftops of nearby houses, men with rifles traded shots with the embassy's defenders.
Captain Ken gave instructions to his four platoons; two were to secure the rooftops of any potential threat to the dropships that would be used to evacuate the embassy. One would secure the internal perimeter while the last guarded the dropships. Never mind the orders Major Diana or the idiotic politicians gave – this was a battleground; words were no match for guys with guns and a desire to use your head as the target.
Irvine and two SeeDs followed the two platoons to the rooftop.
Selphie and three others divided themselves into two groups and joined the platoon securing the internal perimeter.
Squall, Quistis and five other SeeDs – including the 3 Dark Templars – went about neutralising every weakness that they could find within the palace. Walls and entire segments of the embassy were soon brought down with the use of melta-bombs and demolition charges – rendering the entire area inaccessible.
Things went downhill when the security troopers began informing them that many men and women had started scaling the walls using grappling ropes; all of them were armed. Grim looks were exchanged between the security forces and the evacuation teams; this was the worst-case scenario – the embassy becoming a battleground.
The SeeDs began breaking themselves up into kill-teams, stalking the stalkers with a cold, murderous precision that made the marines – and the crowd below to realise their presence – realise all over again why SeeDs were so feared. Their basic training and indoctrination saw to it that they buried everything that was human about them under an icy demeanour as they went about their bloody work. Within twenty minutes, bodies of the extremists that had rappelled their way into the embassy soon littered the corridors; those that managed to penetrate soon found death waiting for them.
Captain Ken was using the time bought by the SeeDs and his company to evacuate the embassy. He had gone as far as to alter the evacuation plans completely by having three squads of Squall Leonhart's strike force secure a route from the embassy; if push came to shove, he would have the dropships meet the carrier in orbit. And from the way things are looking now, it might just come to that.
Using the long-range communications equipment on the SeeD's Thunderhawk, Captain Ken had radioed the Wolfguard to request another company join them at the embassy. His expectations were dashed when the political officer on board interceded, demanding that he complete his mission with what he had on hand.
"I'm telling you that this entire place is becoming a war-zone! If you don't send me reinforcements, I can bloody assure you that we can kiss this mission goodbye. We will not be able to even get the ambassadorial staff into orbit before the extremists plop a blasted lascannon on them!"
"Then what are the bloody SeeDs doing? Loafing?"
"There are close to 20 veteran SeeDs trying to clear a path for the dropships to reach the Wolfguard. They are not having it easy. Likewise, we are having our hands full."
"How many have you managed to evacuate, captain?"
"None!"
"And why is that?" the political officer roared on the other end of the line.
"Because if we tried, they'll be blown out of the sky! One of the Thunderhawks has reported that there are close to three squadrons of Flak Goliaths and AT-Goliaths advancing on our position. This place will turn into a war zone if we don't get help quickly!"
Captain Ken's fist almost crashed through the screen where the face of the political officer's face was superimposed before him. Damn these politicians! Did they not understand the situation here? Yes, Squall Leonhart was here – that was perhaps the reason why this place had yet to come collapsing about his ears!
"And I am telling you that if we send another company to help you evacuate, the political situation may well be damaged beyond any hope of repair."
"I am in the middle of negotiating with the Justice Swords' leader to have him pull his soldiers back."
"It does not seem to be working!" Ken shouted, his thunderous voice soon deafened by the sound of a massive explosion and screams followed by another explosion that caused the Thunderhawk to shake violently.
"What the hell was that?" he shouted towards the pilot.
The SeeD pilot shouted back, "Direct hit on one of the palace's towers. It came crashing down on one of the dropships."
Ken swore. Oh, it couldn't get any worse, could it?
"Alexson, this mission is on the verge of going to hell – and I know it. The SeeDs are holding back because they don't want to have to turn a large portion of the city into a graveyard; that does not mean that they won't do it. And we are talking about Squall Leonhart and his personal bodyguard."
"All the more reason for this mission to succeed."
The political officer's face suddenly froze as he stared at someone – or something – standing behind him. Ken turned around – slowly – to see Shateiel glaring at the Political Officer. The calm, cool gaze that the young Dark Templar was directing the Political Officer was one that would have given devils pause. It was a gaze that promised a slow and agonising death.
"Political Officer Alexson. You would do well to heed the captain's advice. He is quite right. The situation may well go out of hand. Negotiating with the leader of the Justice Swords is a waste of time."
Shateiel's black armour was wet with blood, and Ken could see the strange, taloned fist of his left hand was crimson with gore and bloody strips of flesh. His face was half-covered with blood, making the amber eyes burn brighter with blood-thirst. Not the kind of face anyone wanted to see in the morning – or in their last moments.
"You will bring in the support he requested, Political Officer Alexson. If you do not, and the mission does fail, rest assured that I will come for you…" and suddenly he was cut off as a marine rushed in. His face was one of controlled fear.
"We have a problem."
"What is it?" Ken asked.
"One of the SeeD Thunderhawks has been brought down. It's the third squad."
"Are you sure?"
"Abso-fragging-lutely."
The Dark Templar flinched and turned back to the communications screen, "Political Officer Alexson, you are now a liability. Step aside and let me speak to Commander Rigard. I have Commander Squall's authority for the time being."
"You wouldn't dare…"
"I dare, Alexson. Because if this mission goes down, so will you – one way or the other. And with me, the fall will be literal."
The Political Officer was pushed aside by Major Diana, "Is the situation that bad?"
"It is. I recommend a magnum launch of every available starfighter and the three marine companies on standby. The ambassadorial staff will be evacuated into orbit. We can no longer rely on the air route."
"Understood. We will send in the starfighters into your position."
"And have the Political Officer speak to the Justice Swords' leader and President Arsoud. Tell the former that he has but an hour to pull back his forces – or we will retaliate. If the mob below gets caught in the ensuing firefight, it will be none of our business."
Major Diana's face hardened, but she nodded, "I understand. Captain Ken, you know what to do. We will be in orbit in an hour."
"Yes, sir."
The communicator went off, and the marine captain looked at the Dark Templar, "And what are you going to do?"
"I'll inform Commander Squall about his trapped squad. You get the embassy staff into the dropships and this Thunderhawk. When the hour up, launch them at full burn into orbit where the Wolfguard will pick them up."
"You know that if things get bad, we may have to fight our way clear of the city."
"That is a distinct possibility."
"What are you going to do?"
The Dark Templar strode towards the Thunderhawk's entrance, "I will have to go help Squall's trapped squad. This entire city is hostile – and that means I don't have to hold back. This is Darkness. Lion Heart, do you copy?"
"Lion Heart. Roger."
"We have a Code Echo Delta. Squad 3's Thunderhawk has been shot down."
"What?!"
"You heard me, Commander. Squad 3's Thunderhawk has been shot down – they're stranded."
Another voice spoke, "Shateiel, are you certain of this?"
"Yes. One of the marines reported that he saw the Thunderhawk spiral down. I don't know if there are survivors though. The mission has been compromised, Squall. I have requested the Wolfguard to take position in orbit within the hour and we will send the transports there. We will have to clear an entire region of any possible threat to the dropships – in addition to rescuing the trapped squad."
There was a brief silence to over the comm-net.
"We may have to fight our way out of the city."
"That is a high probability. The Political Officer abroad the Wolfguard will try to…negotiate. I don't think he will succeed."
Another brief silence.
"Were there government troops in the engagement?"
Shateiel exchanged looks with the captain, who immediately flipped on his communicator and radioed all of his platoon leaders and sergeants, "This is Alpha 1 to Hunting Packs, I want a sit-rep. Have any of you faced any government troops?"
An avalanche of negatives swamped the marine captain. Ken turned towards Shateiel and said, "Only the security troopers – and those are not happy with the Justice Swords either."
"Lion Heart. Negative on that. The only government troops are the security troopers locked in here with us."
"Put them abroad one of the dropships when we evacuate. We'll drop them back in Darmenian soil when the dropships pick us up outside the city."
"Affirmative, commander."
Shateiel switched off his communicator, and smiled, "He's better than I gave him credit to be. This should be interesting," and turned to Captain Ken, the smile becoming a predatory grin of a murderous ghost, "We had better hurry, Captain. I do not want civilians where they do not belong. Once that is done, we may have to fight out way clear of the city."
"But that will mean…"
"Yes."
Wolfguard Launch Bay, 1530 hrs, 10th August 4051
The scene on the Wolfguard was utter hell as the technicians rushed to prepare the starfighters and the remaining dropships on the carrier for launch. When word got to the crew about one of the SeeD's Thunderhawks getting shot down and their fellows trapped in the midst of a growing crowd, the entire ship sprang to action.
Fast Arrow Interceptor squadrons howled out from the decks, with one in three bearing melta torpedoes to take out any tanks that the Darmenian militia groups would throw against their compatriots. The marine companies on standby – Epsilon, Jaguar and Ulysses – were given their orders as they got ready to drop into the hot-zone. This was the worst case scenario, and it promised to get even worse. All the marines were in their bulky power suits and carrying gauss rifles and rotary cannons in preparation for the urban fighting that would follow.
Light attack vehicles would act as the marines' heavy support as they fought their way into the city. Even now, the Political Officer was trying his best to tell the extremist leaders to withdraw or suffer the consequences. Everyone on ship agreed unanimously that the time for talk was over. If the extremists wanted a fight, they would get one.
Diana Rinter watched the events unfolding on the deck, unable to resist from biting her lip in worry. Lieutenant-Commander Rigard had told her that he will deal with the politicians – with a gun if need be. With Squall Leonhart behind him, the sheer political clout that he could bring to bear was nothing short of a power fist into anyone's face. It would mean an immediate end to a politician's career in short order – no matter how powerful.
She had felt nervousness like this all too many times when she had been a common line lieutenant. It was so long ago, but the feelings engendered during times of tension like this were undeniable. She remembered her friends from those times – and she found it heartbreaking that there were so few of them. Out of a battalion of close to 5000 men and women, less than a hundred would be dispersed amongst the Armed Forces or honourably discharged. When Diana had become CAG of the Incarnae battle-group, she made an effort to bring surviving members of her battalion together. It proved to be a wise decision.
One such woman strode into the command deck, clad in a vest and rolled up overalls. One eye-patch and a hideous scar adorned half of her face, hidden beneath bangs of red hair. Without caring a whit for what she looked like – and not that the control crew cared – she spoke, "Like old times, eh, Diana?"
"You tell me, Tika. Goddess above, why is it that even without Sarles, misfortune simply jumps onto my lap?"
The reminder of her old friend – and lover's – name brought up the favour he had requested. She did not know what it was about, but Diana had an inkling as to why he asked what he asked. And after that political debacle several weeks back, it was not entirely unreasonable. After all, Diana owed the ex-soldier an arm and a leg – literally.
Tika laughed briefly before becoming serious, "We're almost ready, Diana. My people and the marines are loading up the trikes and Quads onto the dropship. We'll need another 10 minutes before I can give the green light on the launch."
"I hope the boys can hold on till we get there."
"Don't worry. They will. They have four members of the Sorceress team and 25 veteran SeeDs with them."
"Yes. But there have an entire hostile city surrounding them."
Tika chewed her lip, "So? We have close to 30 veteran SeeDs on this mission alone. I wouldn't worry too much. The right-wing extremists will soon learn just how hard SeeD veterans are – and how merciless. They will regret forcing the Squall's strike force into an offensive posture."
"You sound like you've seen Leonhart in action before, Tika."
"I have."
Tika's eyes studied one of the dropships where the light assault vehicles were being loaded, "I was with the assault companies that Seifer led when he attacked Balamb Garden. By all rights, Balamb Garden should have been a charred pile of wreckage when we got there to mop up the survivors. Instead, we found Balamb Garden airborne – and when they encountered us – were spoiling for a fight. Over 400 men and women boarded Balamb – outnumbered at that time – and less than a hundred came back, many of those with severe injuries.
"Later, intelligence got word that Squall Leonhart was the one who caused our assault to fail. It just went downhill from there. Hunter-Killer teams were sent to bring him down during the Sorceress War – none of them came back. We found their bodies.
"And if over a thousand Special Forces operatives failed to bring Squall and his team down, imagine the carnage 28 veteran SeeDs are capable of dishing out. The Justice Swords have signed their death sentences and are about to pay for it with massive collateral damage."
"This is going to be like Shudra City all over again," Tika whispered.
"Yeah. Only thing is this. It's going to get a whole lot worse."
"Why do you say that, Diana?"
The major wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off a chill that only she could feel. A voice she recognised spoke in her mind, 'Really? I beg to differ, lieutenant. War is the reason of SeeD's existence. We do not 'play soldier'. We will get the job done – no matter the cost and no matter what it takes.'
"Because, as Alexson has said, the SeeDs down there are veteran SeeDs. And Squall Leonhart and three of his Sorceress team members lead them. Accompanying them are 3 of Garden Falaris's Special Forces. All elite soldiers. Trapped in a city with no way out. Do you know where this is going to go?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Tika replied, "Darmenia City is going to look like hell tomorrow morning."
0430 hrs 11th August 4051, Wolfguard Landing bay
The last dropship swooped into the Wolfguard's hangar where waiting medics rushed into the crew compartment. They carted out the bloodied bodies of the marines that had been involved in the extrication mission 12 hours prior. The president of Darmenia heeded the words of the Political Officer abroad the Wolfguard and had mobilised the national army and ordered the Justice Swords to stand down. Both the soldiers of Darmenia's national army and the Galbadian marines would describe bloody running battles through the alleyways and streets of the ancient city as they traded shots with the extremist militias. Even so, many of the marines said that the effort of Darmenia's national army was half-hearted.
The SeeDs converged on where the Thunderhawk of the 3rd squad of the Strike Force had crashed. They found the survivors fighting from the wreckage of the gunship against a mob almost a hundred times their size. The wrath of the SeeDs was terrifying to behold and cold-blooded in the extreme – and it was driven home when one of them went berserk at the crash site. The pitiful few that survived spoke of a devil that swooped down and brought the sky down with him, instants before the rest of the SeeDs massacred the mob. The mountain of rent corpses they left in their wake was enough to terrify the militia and national army into paralysis.
A warning had been given – the SeeDs had spoken – and had gone unheeded. And how Squall wished that they had. It would have averted the massacre that had followed.
Despite the agitation and urgency of the medical orderlies and the technicians abroad the carrier, the mood of both the marine companies and the SeeD Strike Force was silent and sombre. Many of them had crashed down against the nearest available support the moment they disembarked from the battered dropships and Thunderhawks.
The SeeDs sat in a silent group, unspeaking, as they tended to each other's injuries. They had lost the equivalent of an entire squad in action, including the pilots of the crashed Thunderhawk, and had to fight their way clear of the city. Squall Leonhart winced as his golden-haired aide tightened a bandage around his arm where a lucky swing with a chainsword had managed to cut through his carapace armour. Quistis was as quiet as Squall as she saw to his wounds. Seeing Squall half-naked was one thing many girls would have died wanting to see, but such was the sombre air abroad the carrier that no one paid him any mind.
No doubt, Squall was replaying the events that had happened in his mind several hours prior. Each death dealt by his hand – no matter how justified – was another life taken away. An extinguished flame that cannot be re-ignited. Oh, there were those who could perform the rites of Resurrection, but such knowledge was the province of the inner circle of the Church of Hyne and the Everqueen of Suldanesselar.
How he had changed.
There was once upon a time when Squall didn't care who stood in his way. Man or woman or child – it mattered not. He was a SeeD; the tears that were shed for him will come from those who knew him, and Quistis knew that they were fewer than the fingers of his two hands. His victims will have more than he will ever have.
That Squall – cold and ruthless – had changed when he had met an angel named Rinoa. For all that Quistis had tried to extend a hand to Squall ever since the traumatic childhood he had, it was Rinoa that had healed him. Though, no different in the way he fought, he was now at least able to trust his friends instead of going it alone as he used to.
Quistis glanced up to the kneeling forms of the Mobile Suits of Garden Falaris. All 3 of the Dark Templars sat quietly beneath the central one. The blonde senior instructor saw that Jaheira was speaking quietly to Shateiel, and that the latter was clearly ignoring her. His armoured shoulders were slumped over, as though bearing a great weight, and the amber eyes were cloudy.
She couldn't blame him. Jaheira had told her what had happened a year ago, during Time Compression, and the memory of what he had done then triggered the berserk rage. She did not specify the place it happened, but made it clear that it was just as unpleasant. If the SeeDs had been fighting to get out of the city, Shateiel had been fighting to decimate their enemies. And he had succeeded spectacularly. For six nightmarish hours, the Dark Templar had created such terror that the militia were soon jumping at every shadow and more than a hundred of them had fallen due to friendly fire.
The sound of heavy jackboots striding towards her made Quistis look up from tending Squall's wounds. Shateiel stood over them both, his Stealth Robe shimmering over his blood-drenched black armour with its Celestial Lion motifs. Amber eyes blue-grey eyes.
"It is never easy, is it?"
Quistis had no idea what the Dark Templar was talking about, but she sensed that Squall did.
"It was never meant to be."
A brooding silence stretched between the two before Shateiel strode away.
"What was that about?" Quistis asked.
"A question I often ask myself."
Quistis felt puzzled, but said nothing. Squall would most certainly say nothing if he chose not to. Hoping to take his mind off darker thoughts, as was his wont when he brooded, Quistis asked a question that would knock him out of it, "So, when are you and Rinoa getting married?"
"Huh?"
The look on Squall's face was a classic. Confusion and shock all rolled into one adorable whole. Quistis saw in that look the boy she had watched over when they had been in the orphanage – utterly speechless and unable to consolidate his mental faculties for a comeback.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, when are you and Rinoa getting married?"
The confused look on Squall's face slipped away, making Quistis wonder if she made a terrible mistake by asking.
"Squall?"
"I've asked."
Quistis's lips compressed into a thin line as she wrapped the last bandage around his arm. The look on Squall's face told the instructor all she needed to know about the Sorceress's answer. But why would she refuse? Quistis knew first-hand how deeply the raven-haired Sorceress loved her man.
Squall lowered his head, not understanding why he was telling Quistis this, but knowing who had changed him in such a fashion. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have cared. When Ellone had left him, he had raised a barrier of ice that kept everyone away for 10 long years. Until one raven-haired angel came and broke that icy wall down without even needing to try.
Rinoa had wanted to accept his proposal; he could see it in her gentle, brown eyes. Long before she had inherited Ultimecia's terrible power, she would have leapt like the sprightly girl that would have put Selphie to shame. But, after that, she changed. No more was she the spoilt princess when she inherited such terrible power. In the place of that spoilt princess was an angelic sorceress – one that had learnt how heavy her burden was. The terrible fear that she might eventually become Ultimecia and, one day, turn the Black Sorceress's furious power upon those she loved.
She had seen and felt first-hand the scale of Ultimecia's power – for Terra to experience it a second time would be catastrophic.
"But why…?" Quistis asked.
"I don't know. I wish I…." Squall trailed off as a small shuttle landed in the wolf-guard's launch bay. Quistis followed his gaze and her blue eyes narrowed. Squall spoke before she did, but his voice conveyed the icy annoyance, "The CNN. Let's get out of here. I don't feel like talking."
"Understood," Quistis replied. She did not fail to notice that the marines and her fellow SeeDs were quickly making themselves scarce. After a mission like this, nobody wanted to talk. Squall pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the pain of his injuries.
"Let me help you," said Quistis as she threw one armoured arm around Squall. It was then that Shiva finally spoke. Her wintry voice echoed in his mind.
How are your injuries?
I'll live.
You were careless this time. If I didn't block that shot, you'd have been dead
That doesn't change the fact that you and I have been injured.
True
I have to wonder, though. How is it that the CNN got word of this so fast?
I would believe that this debacle was already known in public channels. And, if my guess is accurate, I would say they anticipated this. The nation of Darmenia has always hated Galbadia. For this to erupt would come to no surprise
Though I doubt they had anticipated the scale of the violence that had erupted.
Indeed
Squall's mind replayed the vicious battles fought in the streets. The rescue teams had stormed the city with merciless precision, reinforced by starfighters and light assault vehicles. In the space of a few hours, entire segments of the ancient city became battlegrounds. From what Quistis had told him earlier, the casualties had numbered close to 500 dead and twice that many injured.
It had been a bloody day.
'This is SeeD, Puberty Boy. It's not play-acting anymore. This is for real. You make one mistake, you die, end of story. It's not my business if you want to. But remember this, you screw up, and I'll be on your case.' Seifer.
The CNN shuttle's pressure door hissed open, unfolding into steps that led down to the launch bay. Two of the inter-planetary company's most prominent reporters – Angelica Calway and her partner, Derrick Evers – rushed down with their camera crew. The latter quickly set up the broadcasting apparatus within moments.
By then, many of the marines and SeeDs had already left the launch bay. Irvine needed more coaxing from Selphie – and was led away by the ear before the dashing cowboy could get the chance to flirt with the red-haired reporter. Seeing that many of her potential interviewees were disappearing, the Angelica hoped to rush one before he or she could get away. Her green eyes descended upon one such person – one known throughout Terra.
Squall Leonhart was being helped away by Quistis Trepe. Oh, what a scoop that would make. Angelica rushed towards him, only to be stopped by someone blocking her way. Wearing coveralls and hefting an enormous wrench on her shoulder, the scarred Chief Technician of the Wolfguard stopped her from going any further.
"Hey!"
"Now, now, girl. Now is not a good time. If you want details, you'll talk to the CAG."
"But –" the reporter protested.
Another voice cut in, "Now, now, Tika. Don't go scaring the girl like that. She has a job to do, like all of us."
Angelica turned to see a pony-tailed officer striding towards her. There was a slight limp in her otherwise graceful gait that spoke of old war injuries. She stopped several feet before Angelica, "I am Major Diana Rinter, CAG of the Wolfguard. Welcome abroad, Miss Angelica. I will be more than glad to answer your questions."