Eyes like ruby crystals, sprinkled over the middle of the face and following the very edge of the crown of the oblong head. S'lahn, towering creatures of humanoid statue, but walking on toes decorated with sharp talons, standing tall on legs bending backwards, strong thighs merging with narrow hips in disproportion to the broad, muscular chest and slender limbs with long, razor sharp fingers. The S'lahn were proud warriors, negotiators and guardians of the power that united all dimensions; sprung from an ancient source that branched out into thousands of sentients such as the Cetra and Janova. The S'lahn, however, were not bound to a specific place, but spent generations just sailing between galaxies establishing a balance to sustain life, and with hundreds of thousands of outposts scattered about, they encased the known universe with their watchful eyes; always concentrating around habited corners of the galaxies. They were ancient beings from the farthest corners of the Galaxy, gender-neutral hermaphrodites, male and female united in body and mind, silent observers… until now.
The group of noble leaders were marked with furrows and scars across their faces, witnessing their longevity and the burden of knowledge they carried. They have been summoned by a cry for help. Life was but an intricate web of forces, united in quantum mechanical equations, perfection to the last mathematical puzzle. It was a web combining constants and variables to a riddle of excellence that species through many ages have tried to solve in order to learn the secrets of the Universe. But Nature was far more evasive than just allowing to be defined by a set of equations on white paper. The variables were predictable in the sense that they were always changing, and the constants were predictable in their unpredictability. Universes interchanged, forces intertwined and shifted to the cadence of life pulsating through the fusion of stars, the birth of planets, existing in the fast heartbeat of tiny little insects and in the pounding of friendly giants, coming alive in the songs of whales and hailing from the skies in chirps. Their voices were like high-pitched sounds of vibrations, communicating with sadness and anger.
"I have sensed a weakening of the alternative dimension," a chancellor muttered with its cracked voice. It was one of the oldest members, a traveller of worlds. "Something powerful is merging. I've felt it before when the humans revived the dark matter."
"But they have managed to kill it too," an advisor interposed, but was immediately corrected on that point.
"Just defeated it," the chancellor threw in. "Temporarily at that."
The bony fingers were tapping against the crystalline surface of the crescent shaped table around which they gathered to discuss issues of grave importance. It was carved out of solid Mako-crystals, beautifully handcrafted.
"There are forces at play that have been dormant a long time," the chancellor creaked on. "The last time Gaea was weakened in this way…"
"Was when the Lifestream was stolen from her," a female voice cut in. "But that's not the case now."
The language was not that of the S'lahn, but the sentient beings understood the woman like a kindred. The furrow between her eyebrows and the lines ornating her features told of a serious woman. As the daughter of Verdot, the great leader of the Turks, Elfe was raised by members of the eco-terrorist organization Avalanche. She was chosen to be their leader after the founder died. She could, back in those days, wield the katana like a true warrior. The weapons were almost a part of her body and thus, she earned great respect among the members; even the silver haired warrior. No matter how powerful, she had once been taken captive and a summon materia, Zirconiade, was implanted within her by professor Hojo. This made her gradually weaker and the only ones aware were Aeris and Fuhito, the intellectual force behind the Avalanche. Little did Elfe know that Fuhito, her most trusted friend and advisor had such devious plans as to destroy all life on the planet in order to eliminate all threats to Gaea and then later revitalize her. Well, he had almost succeeded with his plans, when drawing Zirconiade from her body, but in an incomplete form. It had been disastrous. No one won and when life was crumbling and people dying, Elfe was called for by the Cetra and placed in the care of the S'lahn; she agreed to help them in understanding the ways of the humans in exchange to restoring her life to something tangible. But her health was deteriorating fast and her knowledge of the past to great wars of the humans and the alien forces was profound and was not to be lost in case of her death. Elfe was among the first to fight the war against the discoverers and creators of the Jenova spawns. It was during her lifetime that these wars began, and thus, it was time for her to return to her people. The S'lahn had separated her being from remnants of the detrimental materia and cared for her. Her hair was slowly turning grey and her powers were no longer what they used to be. Far from it, but she still had her memories and the lessons she had learned.
"The past has emerged once again and crisis is at hand," the tall chancellor walked up to the woman and with a hand placed on her shoulder in a friendly gesture, he invited her to be seated amongst them, encouraging her to tell the new members of the ruling body about the background to the anomalies in the dimensions they were now perceiving. Although a leader, Elfe was surprisingly un-charismatic, quiet, and decidedly reticent, but when she spoke, they all listened.
"We formed Avalanche to stop the ShinRa Corporation from harvesting the Lifestream from the planet, which was slowly dying as the Mako energy was manufactured. Our group was quite simple and consisted of me, Fuhito and Sears. Fuhito you know about, but Sears who was second in command after me, had excellent hand-to-hand combat skills and often took charge of executing operations and formulating battle strategies. He was completely devoted to me. Once he had even vowed to Fuhito that he would die for me and that, my dear chancellor, was our great loss." Not having time to mind the past and dwell on the pain associated to sad moments, Elfe went on. "Well, when he died, the Ravens did as well."
"Ravens?" asked an advisor, its dozen ruby eyes flashing as it posed the question.
"Yes," Elfe sighed. "Fuhito created the genetically enhanced force of Avalanche known as the Ravens. They served as his personal attack squad and though they developed increased combat capabilities, as well as the ability to completely recover from fatal wounds, they had lost their humanity. Just like Lucretia's legendary son, Sephiroth," she threw in with a sigh before continuing. "Well, despite their formidable regenerative capabilities, they could be killed when properly wounded. I remember their names so well; Tierce, Kyneugh, and Kanos. They all died together with members such as Biggs, Jesse and Wedge."
Elfe stared into the void in front of her. She had spent decade after decade with the only living remnants that shared forefathers with the Cetra. The S'lahn had taught her so much and given her so many new ways of thinking and feeling, yet each time she dwelled on the past and recalled the images of all she shared with her fellow humans, the emotions of longing became overpowering. She remembered the disaster when her only friends had died. She said; "Midgar was divided into two, Above plate and Below plate. The Above was where the upper and middle class lived, seeing real daylight, nice homes and so on, whilst the Below was the slums. All of Midgar was a circle, divided into eight sectors numbered accordingly. One of the Turks, bodyguards of the ShinRa Empire, called Reno was ordered to blow out the pillar supporting the sector seven, the result being that both sector seven plate and slum civilizations were destroyed, and it would all be blamed on Avalanche as a terrorist act. They hated us so much… but as you know, my Lord," Elfe cast a glance at the chancellor, watching his skin tone shift in color with the emotions running through him, "this is the trademark of human kind. At times I wonder if Fuhito was right after all." Feeling the bitterness of her words, Elfe cleared her throat and continued. "President ShinRa was out to give us a bad name and sector seven was where Avalanche's base was at that time, so Biggs, Jesse and Wedge all died in the disaster."
From the purring and creaking noises of communication, Elfe understood that the S'lahn were not very pleased with the aggressive nature of the humans. They were not strangers to conflicts, but seldom had they faced wars based on such self-destructive issues as those that seemed to govern the mind of this greedy, young species. Nonetheless, the past had to be known in detail to understand the effects they were witnessing now and thus, the elder woman, once a part of these fierce warriors herself, continued her story until the end.
"The core of this crisis lies within the creation of an army," the chancellor announced to his advisors. "An ancient power dwelling in the dark was reawakened and tampered with. It had been created to protect the corporation harvesting the life of the planet, and much power was invested into the success of the projects."
"I assume, Lord chancellor, you are referring to the Mother," an advisor clicked and shifted his skin to a brighter shade symbolizing the anguish travelling through the muscular body.
The chancellor nodded; "She has been confined in a dark place, last of her kind, but now she wants revenge. But," the S'lahn added, clearly burdened by thoughts, "I'm not so sure that is all. The harvesting, as you know, has begun once again, and much more ferociously. "
"Yes," Elfe nodded. "I had heard rumors about it when I was returning from the sky city Admantia. I had met with some friends from the outskirts of the tenth squadron and they were happily announcing that finally, many political leaders have united under the roof of the ShinRa corporation with one goal only… to solve the energy problem of their worlds. According to them, it was the most promising solution yet, for it involved only uninhabited planets and moons."
"Even the dead serve their purpose, my dear Elfe," the chancellor sighed dejectedly and its red eyes shimmered with gentleness.
Elfe tilted her head a little and scrutinized the features of her friend. The S'lahn chancellor was an old and wise ruler. It was a creature of dignity and although not fully understanding the feebleness of the illogical human mind, it remained tolerant, for no matter how young and immature, life was to have a chance to prove what it can accomplish. The humans deserved their chance to leave a lasting mark on the canvas of the Universe. They were entitled to that, just like any other creature, but not on the expense of another. To eat or be eaten was accepted on Nature's terms, but not when personal greed of one man was to shape the future of billions. Even of those who were not even alive. Elfe didn't quite understand the paradox in the reasoning of the S'lahn, but it engaged in a discussion to clarify its reasons.
"You see, harvesting of power from a planet like Gaea has severe and direct consequences for those living on Gaea. Everybody reacted back then, for it was a matter of survival. So why is your Avalanche crippled now?" the S'lahn threw in.
"Because the harvesting is on planets and moons, which do not harbor life," Elfe answered, but was corrected by one of the advisors. A deep purple stripe of anger flashed over the face of a younger S'lahn as it muttered with its alien voice.
"What is not harboring life on the surface is not necessarily dead within." The others agreed as the advisor went on; "Does Gaea circle the sun at her distance because of the gravitational force of the sun or is she interacting with her brothers and sisters who stabilize her journey through space?"
It was a rhetorical question not demanding any responses and another of the twelve ancients spoke.
"Your planet has her given distance due to all forces pulling her from all sides, and even the smallest planet can make a large sun wobble and interfere with its path."
Another continued; "Harvesting of power will leave the planets and moons cold and dead on the inside."
"Some will implode," yet another S'lahn pointed out, "whilst others will break… and their Lifestream scattered about… essense flowing aimlessly… lost."
"All in all," the circle had reached the chancellor sitting next to Elfe. "It will change the course of life on many planets neighboring these systems. It might not happen today, but definitely during our lifetime. Is it right to terminate the possibilities of life on a planet just budding with the most simple form of molecules?"
Elfe couldn't find a proper answer. No, it wasn't right of course, but how was the energy problem to be solved?
"Simple," the S'lahn chancellor caressed her aging complexion. "Return what you have used in the same rate as you take it, and use what you have been given with respect. Why does one need to consume in affluence?"
"Greed," Elfe snorted and agreed that there was no right to kill another just for the sake of over consumption.
The S'lahn nodded; "Let no other pay the price for the sickness of your species. The dark forces of the alternative dimensions are being released because of your need for more. Your people have once again found a way to unleash a destructive power and this time… it won't be so easily defeated. You see, my dear friend, if your people will not find a way, we will have to make a choice for you."
"And what does that mean for the human race?" Elfe asked, but feared the answer as the vibrations through the air were so obvious.
"We will have to destroy you utterly."
"Time to return home then I guess," Elfe sighed and leaned against the window of the marvellous architecture where the S'lahn council was situated. Their planet was rich with life and diversity of species. They were ancient and suffered through all periods a species can face. They had been young once, just like her human peers, but through some miracle they survived whilst many civilizations perished. It wasn't about war, it wasn't about conflicts. In fact, the S'lahn once were and still remained warriors. They were proud descendants of colonizing forefathers who roamed space and found new homes. They had fought many wars and battled out countless conflicts for their right to live, but in the end, they managed to find that delicate balance between giving and taking. A balance not many as much as touched upon although myriad of legends were written and songs chanted in the name of this balance. It existed in the feeble human mind as well, but it was nearly impossible to find and even less probable to live by. This was also a simple rule of survival of the fittest; those who could find the balance in the universe outlived countless species who did not. It was simple and clean. It was evolution.
"Find me an acre of desert between the shore and the sea …" Elfe quoted as she looked towards the beautiful forest, covering the ground like a sea of green beneath the dome of the S'lahn. It was almost as if they were soaring through air with life thriving underneath them.
"What?" the chancellor asked and leaned closer to her.
Elfe smiled and patted the muscular, tall creature on the upper part of the arm since it was as far as she could reach without stretching.
"It's a song from a long time ago. It's about a young girl who tells three children to deliver her wish to a man, who, if he succeeds in fulfilling her wishes, will become her true love."
"What wishes were those?" the chancellor asked and paid no attention to the others who continued on with the previous matter. The S'lahn was highly intrigued by legends and songs from other cultures, for even the most destructive ones managed to capture a tinge of beauty and goodness they often hid inside. And when the last one of their kind lost its final breath, the songs and stories echoed through time as a lasting legacy to those continuing their journey. Elfe concentrated and tried to remember the words. It was a song she sang at a school performance and she had learned the lyrics by heart. She released the bonds fettering her mind and the words started flowing effortlessly through her lips.
"Tell my Love to build me a tower so high, that it will scar the sky and make it cry, unscarred land with everlasting green and an acre of desert between the shore and the sea..."
"It is a very beautiful song," the chancellor clicked and rubbed his chin as if he thoroughly analyzed each word for a hidden message or meaning. "But why did it come to you now?"
"Because," Elfe sighed, her breath fogging up the window. "These wishes are just as impossible as for humans to find the balance of life."
"It's not impossible," the towering creature cut in and drew a line across the mist of her breath, dividing the Universe into two. "It's there… between the darkness and the light. That is where you will find your acre of desert… between the shore and the sea."
Long after the chancellor had left with his party of advisors, Elfe looked at the line in her breath still lingering on the window. It was so easy according to the S'lahn. They could see it, and the chancellor even pointed it out to her, but still her human eyes were too young and underdeveloped to see it. She couldn't understand. Where between the darkness and light? What did it all mean? Little did she know but the answer was to be staring back at her face. She was given the answer, but she belonged to a species not yet experienced enough to be able to read the signs.
Cid was leaning casually against the wall, face basking in the sunlight, and toothpick moving about between his lips. He could hear the airships take off and land, the electric, pungent smell of the combusted fuel and the vapor they left behind. He didn't have to open his eyes, for he had worked in this bay for the past three years and knew the schedule by which all air traffic was running. He was stationed at the Easton platform, the main artery for export and import that connected Gaea with the ever-increasing interchange between the squadron members. He had long since possessed a strong desire to participate in the space-program and finally, he was part of it. In fact, ever since his assistance in defeating Sephiroth, the ShinRa Corporation had appointed him senior crew and officer in the ShinRa Air Fleet. Today was a calm day and nothing was being demanded from him, other than having to oversee the departure of the latest model of harvester ships being deployed into space. The hangar was exceptionally colossal with widely stretched auxiliary constructions, protruding from the core structure like rays and maintained on several levels that reached hundreds of floors above as well as below ground. Each annex functioned as an independent unit for commercial as well as cargo flights and was separated by the different floors. During wartime it would be converged into a single deploy-unit harboring a hub of forces quickly being dispersed into battle. Seemingly vulnerable due its size and obvious visibility, the underground structures were completely impenetrable to weapons of all kinds, whereas the annexes would easily be converted to defence fortresses equipped with weapons and cannons that would have made the old Junon pale in comparison. No civilians knew the extent of the defence-system but even Cid was humbled by the impressive construction. With a single utterance of authorization, the outer casing that served as an ornament and architectural masterpiece in the eyes of the oblivious would seal the complexes as a vault, drawing energy directly from the harvested Lifestreams that would fuel the weapons with immensely destructive power. The weapons would not only obliterate the physical body, but the tainted streams could pass through flesh and obliterate the very core of anything living. The weapons were unstoppable. The mere thought of destruction brought a strongly etched frown onto his face.
"Cid! Yo Cid," he heard from behind and wiped the gloomy thoughts out of his mind. A young officer dressed in uniform was running up to him.
"Eh, Brigman. What's up?" Cid responded and shook hands with the son of an old friend who had joined para-military forces in Wutai and were among the lucky few who survived Sephioth's wrath. The family made peace with the conquerors and decided to move to a blossoming Midgar to help rebuild the city after the disaster, hence this young man joining the police force. Brigman was a genuinely good-hearted man and had a side to him that Cid came to appreciate highly; the side that sometimes bypassed orders from authorities to make life easier for Cid when some paper-work had to disappear or undeclared goods for his own benefit had to find its way off the premises without interference. Through a mutual understanding of the need for a certain degree of flexibility in the everyday life, Bridgman and Cid had struck up a very fruitful friendship that benefitted them both financially.
"You've got a visitor, man," the officer said behind his protective helmet and without revealing anything more, he accompanied the blond man with the furrowed face to a secluded and seemingly abandoned passage with a sterile and dark environment, away from the commercial hub above ground. Cid had never before been in this area of the mercantile annex and couldn't help but to ask the purpose of such a journey.
"Yo, Brigman it's a pretty long way for a little chat, don't you think?"
The young officer smiled. "It's not an official visit."
"So why here?"
"Because this place is 'officially' not in use."
"I see, so what is this place 'officially', anyway? I haven't been in this area much, I have to say."
"Well, 'officially' it is kind of a detention unit. When they catch people for smuggling, or misdemeanours that go against the law, they are kept here until the police come for them. This area is a purpose built class B prison unit. A milder form of incarceration you can say, but equipped for heavier types of interrogations if needed. And to me it seems like the type of people coming down here always need the heavier stuff… way heavy stuff. Sometimes people are warmed up a little before transported to the police station. Makes the paperwork much more agreeable if the accused has already signed confessions, right? And sometimes they don't really make it all the way there. There are some things you can do here that you can't do back at the station where interrogations are monitored. At least for now, but if the shit hits the fan and we go to war, all activities above will be moved below, so nothing will come to a halt and the military-boys can push their pencils down here. Not much activity is going on here currently, so I figured you and your friend can talk here in peace."
"Yeah? Must be a very serious talk." Cid snorted.
The officer halted at a door before opening it and said; "Well, whatever it is, you're about to find out. I'll stay out here and knock, only once, to give you heads up if something's happening. You will need to leave the room immediately, because no one knows you're down here. Your friend has the access code to the other door... go through that if you need to."
"How does he know?"
The officer chuckled; "He knows these halls better than I do. Turks always balance on the edge of the law. The fine line, you know. Just remember, one knock if I see something approaching and you're gone. You've never been here."
Cid patted the shoulder of his friend and stepped inside.
"Tseng… what a surprise."
The Turk leader lifted his eyes from the sheet of paper he had in front of him and greeted Cid. It was not entirely correct to call them friends and although past events concerning Sephiroth had pulled them slightly closer, that very same past also kept them repelling and circling one another with caution.
"Nanaki sent me," Tseng began and Cid relaxed a little. "I have something for you."
Cid sat down next to the Turk leader and swifty read through the document that was handed to him; it described a classified shipment involving military-units with unknown cargo. Cid swiftly finished and shook his head; "If you're asking me anything about this, I don't know, man."
"Are you sure?" Tseng asked. "You don't recall any such shipment being signed for by any… say, 'undertaker'?"
"Dude, I am that 'undertaker', all shipment going to space passes our department and it needs clearance from me," Cid explained. "All the ships, especially the military ones have transponders, trackers and even allele-ID on the captain. The damn airship will not take off until it reads and relays the genetic ID of the captain, which is verified by the core system that then releases the engine lock. Once the engine is unlocked the clock starts ticking and a log is automatically generated at traffic control. And that system is airtight. No one can get into it because it's sealed in a shatter-proof vault… and I don't even know where that is."
Tseng rubbed his chin, looking at the black text neatly lined on the white sheet. "So you mean a centralized, unbreakable system that stores all the information of all the flights to and from this station…"
"To and from all the stations on Gaea, Tseng. Commerical, private, corporate, military, you name it."
"Loads of information, don't you think?"
"Well," Cid leaned casualy back in the chair, "It saves a lot of time not having to run around looking for thousands of black boxes in the bottom of the ocean or mountain tops... or if war should happen. But we never talk about that. It's only for commercial use only, right? "
"Right. So how do you get information out of this central server?"
Cid chuckled; "You don't. It sends it to you. It's kinda like a one way street, but not… you know?"
"No. What do you mean 'one way street'?" Tseng asked and turned a stern face up to Cid. He was more concerned than dour, but the lines in his face did not reveal much of a distinction. "How does it know what to send and when?"
"All right," Cid said. "Listen, you can send information to the server requesting the log of a specific flight that you know the ID of, right? Or if a plane or ship crashes, the server will automatically send the info to every flight central all over the world. It's an automated system, it doesn't choose who to send the stuff to, it just spams it out… ya know."
"Sure," Tseng nodded, "but it still doesn't explain how it knows if something's crashed or disappeared."
"Because of the 'Last Breath' of the transponder."
"The what?"
Cid nodded with a faintly amused expression, rolling his eyes; "I know, I know. Look, it's just some quaint bullshit some anemic-guy came up with… basically, the transponder is indestructible, but it has only a few minutes of life left once it's disconnected from the main energy-source on the ship. After that, all information is erased, which is why they named it the 'Last Breath'. It is a security measure taken by the military in case a drone, ship or plane crashes. So you can't trace its route of origin, know who the crew was, what the hell they were up to… and so on. But that signal has a specific code to it that triggers the server to start spamming the info to the authorities, right?"
"Unless you pick up that signal and divert it," Tseng threw in, but Cid latched on quickly. "In a way, I'm sure that's what happens at times when ships 'disappear' and nothing can be found, sure, but still won't do you any good, because first you got to find the frequency of the signal then decipher it. See, the transponders on these ships will communicate only with this server and the message is encrypted. If some Magellanican shit falls out of the sky, it's of no concern to this storage unit. It can rot there for all it cares. But everything that takes off from here is monitored. If information disappears, it was done from here, but as I said, you cannot get into the server. You can't tamper with its head."
"Ships have disappeared, Cid?"
"Don't they always? Look, Tseng, no operation goes without risks and what I've learned from my days in ShinRa is that you don't ask questions. You know this better than I do, man. C'mon it's the only way to stay breathin'. If I'd ask a question every time you guys pull some shit on behalf of ShinRa, such as how come you know these hallways better than I do… someone'd pay me a late night visit. No?"
"Fair enough, Cid. But I can guarantee no one will pay you a late night visit. All the operations of the Turks go through me…"
"Right, just like all departures into space should go through me. Dude, no offense Tseng, but I've been with ShinRa as long as you. We both know the dogs never sleep here… and they aint afraid to bite the hand that feeds them."
The Turk nodded. "Well, these ships were not Magellanican, so they should've been logged."
"Yup," Cid agreed. "But you can't see any dates, any ID or info on them on this clearance. I bet you won't find any info on them on the server either, even if you had full access and managed to decipher everything. I don't think they 'existed', so to say."
"So how can I find out what was on them?" Tseng cast a glance at Cid. The pilot had an untroubled and easy way about him that was apart from comical, quite calming even in stressful situations. Cid shrugged.
"My best bet would be the old fashion way. Ask around. Computers are good, but they never soak up information not directed to them… whereas humans tend to be curious and always sniff out shit that don't pertain to them."
With an artificial smile, Tseng handed the clearance form over to Cid and following the coarse encouragement of 'Time to go sniffing… and you're a great bloodhound, Cid', the two parted for the day.