Chapter 18: The Siege Begins
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"We have to go along a road covered with blood. We have no other alternative. For us it is a matter of life or death, a matter of living or existing. We have to be ready to face the challenges that await us." - Gamel Abdel Nasser
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Four days can pass fast, especially when one's not looking. The past few days had been increasingly odd for Eimour, seeing that the soldier she had taken into her home, Weston, recovered rather quickly and had started to help her in her chores. He had also begun to tour Luca on his "jogs." Those jogs took three to four hours and when he came back, he had nearly ten pieces of paper full of notes and drawings. Eimour supposed that he had continued his mission in those jogs. But outside of the jogs, he didn't seem to concern himself with matters of war.
Gary seemed to really be a distraction for Weston, Eimour had also noticed. Weston had even taken Gary to the market. The two came back loaded with toys, books, and candy. Of course, Eimour had wondered where all the money to buy the stuff came from. Weston had only patted his back pocket and winked at her.
At work, Eimour had done what Weston asked her to do. Every day, she usually came home with new tidbits for Weston to write down in his logbook, which he had bought in the market. It was a simple, hardbound book that contained two sleeves for loose paper, and blank sheets in the binding for notes. If Weston wasn't eating, or playing with Gary, he was usually writing in that book. Or, he was talking with Eimour over coffee.
Weston had seemed to take a liking to the stiff conversations Eimour held with him. Every night, after Gary had gone asleep, he'd come in to the kitchen, help with the dishes, and fix the coffee himself. They'd both sit down and slowly sip at their coffees until their cups were empty, all the while learning more about each other and discussing the political climate in Spira.
Eimour had to admit that she enjoyed the talks, despite the uneasy feeling she had whenever she saw him. Weston was odd, in her opinion. She had known a few battle-worn soldiers in her lifetime, especially before that night at the bar. They were usually either crazy, or drawn in. Most seemed to be in a constant daze thanks to the violence they had seen in their lives. But Weston, despite all the battles he told her he'd been in, was strangely a normal human being. She had seen him as a soldier in action, and it almost sickened her how nonchalant he was after just killing someone. Of course, he had tried to explain to her that acting so cool about it was just his way of dealing with the fear and anxiety one felt in battle. To Eimour, though, killing someone should have had a greater impact than just, "Oh, I killed them. Better them than me."
At heart, Eimour still saw Weston as being a barbaric warrior who was destined to find his end on some battlefield, even despite his charm and outgoing nature. To her, Weston was built for war. He was strong, calm, and logical. Weston knew just what to do at the moment he needed to do it, even with hundreds of men circling him and trying to kill him. That not only made him dangerous, it also made him a little insane. Only a somewhat crazy person could keep his head in the midst of the chaos of battle. That, if somewhat overstated, is how Eimour classified him. She saw not the man that he portrayed every day, playing with Gary, doing chores, or sipping coffee, but the soldier in him. The man that could as quickly kill an opposing foe as he could pick up Gary. She respected him, of course, for that fact. Weston provided a sense of protection she hadn't felt in ages, but he also provided her with an uneasy feeling. And that uneasy feeling only got worse as she saw him draw out tactics for battle in his logbook.
What fed her qualms even more was the fact that many of the soldiers showing up at the pub were looking rather tired, as if they'd been doing long and hard work. She even went as far as asking one. The reply was simple, straightforward, and just what she needed to tell Weston when she returned to the apartment.
"My squad had to haul in this big ole' beam cannon thing to the stadium. Cap'n says that it's gonna be used to defend from attack, as if an attack is even coming."
And it was that soldier's words that caused her to leave work early and head back to the apartment. Unfortunately, Weston and Gary weren't back yet, instantly causing Eimour to worry.
Had Weston stole Gary away? She highly doubted that Weston would kidnap her son, but then again, she really didn't trust Weston, and their absence scared her.
Eimour took one of the flimsy chairs from the kitchen and planted it about a meter and a half from the door, her eyes locked to the thin, hinged wooden rectangle. She sat motionless, rigid as stone; that is, until the entire building shook violently and she was thrown from her chair.
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"What was that, Daddy!?"
I shook my head and slowly regained my balance. We were mere inches from the front entrance to the building, but I had been taken off guard by what I, at the time, thought was an earthquake. But the sound of a far off explosion soon filled my ears and I knew that something major had just begun.
Gary was cradled on my shoulders, legs wrapped around my neck and hands closed over my forehead. The only shock the kid had felt was me stumbling to regain my balance.
I replied to his question. "Don't worry about, little man. We've got to go get your mother and get out of this town."
Then, after regaining my balance completely, I ran through the entrance and started up the first flight of stairs. As I reached the first steps of the second flight, the building shook once more and I latched onto the handrail on my way up the stairs to keep from falling. Breathing was becoming a scarce commodity thanks to Gary's legs tightening around my neck with every creak and shift in the stairs.
Finally, we found the apartment and I didn't bother with the knob. My shoulders did a fair job of opening the weak door and there was Eimour, on the floor next to a toppled chair. I called her name but she didn't seem to hear me. She was staring directly at me, but I guess she was either in shock or disbelief or both. I reached down and grabbed her arm.
"Let's go," I said as sternly as possible, not bothering to stop the raspy bite in my voice.
She seemed to understand me then, and got up. With my hand still grasping her arm, I started down the stairs. Eimour was desperately trying to watch her step as we made our way down. I didn't have time for that. Whatever was happening, it was happening then and I didn't want to end up dead in an explosion.
On the trip down the stairs, the handrail was a useful tool. The building was shaking in a steady rhythm now, and I knew that a couple more of those explosions would be all it took to topple the dilapidated structure Eimour called home. We found the entrance and didn't take the time to even notice it as we ran.
I could feel Eimour lagging, but that really didn't stop me. I'd carry her if I had to. I was going to get to the residential gate if it took my life. While I cherished it, I didn't want to leave Gary without a mother and I certainly didn't want to leave them in a town that was obviously in trouble. I was only one man though, so, as much as I would've liked to, I could only help the people who had helped me. Besides, when we finally made our way south, towards the residential gate, I noticed that quite a few citizens had taken to the notion to get out of the town as well. The streets were packed, but somehow, despite the now deafening sounds of explosions erupting, buildings toppling behind us, and the notion that we might not make it, the traffic flowed smoothly in one hectic direction. Getting through the gate would be tough, but we'd make it.
When turning a corner and passing some sort of supply store, I noticed a bright flashing of light and the sound of tons of concrete toppling. That was the first time I stopped for anything. Eimour stopped beside me, trying to catch her breath. I knew she was trying to tell me something, but I didn't pay her much attention. She didn't have that high of a regard for me, so what she was going to say more than likely had something to do with turning back, and that wasn't an option.
Upon turning around and actually looking to the skyline that I noticed the explosions weren't that close. I looked up and saw a few airships sending their missiles into some buildings. And it didn't take long to realize that there was opposition to those airships. A bright flash, much like the flash that accompanied an Al Bhed beam cannon, came from somewhere in the distance and the airship was literally sliced in two. The pieces fell slowly towards the ground and it was then that I grabbed Eimour's arm again, much to her displeasure, I'm sure, and ran towards the gate again. Explosions were bad, but falling pieces of airships were probably worse.
All around us was the sense of panic. Shops and homes were being looted, Yevonite soldiers ran all over the place, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, citizens were attacking some of the soldiers, only to be shot on site, and then there was people like Eimour, Gary, and me. Runners. Lots of runners. And we were all heading in the same direction.
A cloud of dust kicked up in front of me and I noticed that a soldier was firing for the looter in front of me. On top of the looter's shoulder was a box of fruit. Not wanting to get shot, I shouldered the looter to the ground and, despite my best effort not to, stepped all over the poor bastard. At least it stopped the soldier from shooting again.
The slower runners, who had elected to take bags and boxes full of personal belongings, were quickly losing their affects and it didn't make traversing the street any easier. The gate was no less than a hundred meters away and that helped ease my mind a bit. My main objective was getting the mother and son to safety. My own regard for safety had left me when I heard that first explosion. I don't know if it was more of my care for the kid and his well-being or my soldierly instincts kicking in. Either way, they were getting through that gate. It was just what was waiting at the gate that caught me off guard.
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The last thing Rikku had expected to see at Luca's south gate was a rather frantic looking Weston with a kid on his back and a woman attached to his arm. Over the past few days, Gatta, Yuna, Cid, and she had come to think him captured or dead. Now she wondered just what in the world had happened.
Multitudes of planning had gone on during the past four or five days and Rikku had been as pumped about her assignment in the invasion of Luca as she had for her sixteenth birthday. The plan had a sense of grandeur to it and she had convinced herself that it wasn't going to fail, no matter how many mistakes might happen. But Weston had never been a part of that plan, and there he was, staring at her like she was some long-lost cousin.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he said, the dark haired woman beside him trying to catch her breath. Of course, Weston didn't even seem winded.
"I'd like to ask you the same question!" Rikku replied. While behind her was around five thousand or so Al Bhed troops that she was going to have to manipulate soon, she really wanted to know what had happened to Weston.
"I got...delayed. Listen. I've got important information."
"I'm sure you do. But it's a little late for that."
Weston growled and set the child on his back down. The child wrapped his arms around the woman as Weston spoke. "It's dealing with the position of a growing force of Yevonites. They're massing just south of the 'Calm Lands,' wherever that is. Whenever troops mass, it's not good news. Where's Gatta?"
Rikku blinked, trying to recall the location that Gatta and his Crusaders were going to land at. "Umm...they should be landing at the docks near the stadium now."
At that, the woman who had come with Weston looked up and walked up next to Weston, half looking at him, half looking at the ground. Weston turned to her and asked, "What?"
The woman responded rather meekly, "The stadium...that's where two...'beam cannons' are. They're meant to thwart off an attack."
Both Rikku and Weston knew what that meant: near obliteration for the Crusaders. That couldn't happen.
Weston nodded and looked to Rikku. "I need an auto and a couple of your pistols." He then nodded to the woman and child. "Do you have an airship going back to Besaid?"
Rikku nodded. "We're ferrying men and supplies as we speak. Hold on."
At that, Rikku opened a pouch on the side of her hip and pulled out a communicator. She yelled into it in her native tongue.
"Ruf syho dnebc pylg du Besaid mavd?"
The answer came back, albeit a bit distorted. "Ypuid du mevd uvv uh mycd uha. Fro?"
Rikku responded to the voice. "Oui rumt dryd yencreb. E's lusehk fedr dfu suna byccahkanc vun oui."
"Oac, lussyhtan."
She then put away the communicator and nodded. "Ok, they'll have to come with me." Rikku then remembered Weston's request. She handed him the auto-firing rifle slung around her shoulders and then shrugged.
"I can't do the pistol request right now. You might be able to get a pair from one of my troops."
"I'll make do with this, thanks. Any extra ammo?"
Rikku nodded and unfastened a few of the rectangular clip holders from her belt. "Have you ever fired our new auto-fire weapon yet?"
Weston shook his head. She nodded and tapped the side of the rather long but surprisingly lightweight rifle. "This is the 'bolt.' You only need to pull it back when you load another ammo box. Each ammo box holds about sixty bullets. It may be an auto-fire, but that doesn't mean it'll work by you just holding the trigger down."
"I know. Trust me. No safety or fire rate selection switch?"
Rikku blinked and shrugged. "Nope. No clue what those are..."
Weston sighed and nodded. "Alright. So when I'm out, I just pop another clip into the receiver, pull back the bolt, and I'm ready to go?"
"Pretty much," Rikku replied.
Weston nodded once more. "Ok."
Rikku hmmed. "So I take it you're going to go tell Gatta about the beam cannons?"
To this, Weston laughed. "Oh, I'm sure they already know it. The damn things are firing every five seconds. Can't you hear the 'whoosh' sound?"
She shook her head, which caused him to do the same, but for a different reason. Rikku then walked towards the woman and child. "You're going to be fine. Just come with me and we'll get you to Besaid in no time."
The woman shook her head and looked to Weston, who looked as if he was ready to face the entire Yevonite army. He turned his head and asked, "What?" in a tone that was probably a bit snider than intended.
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I really didn't want to hear Eimour's squabbling. My body was slowly prepping itself for battle and having her looking at me like I was the last thing in this world keeping her alive didn't help my conscience any.
She put a hand on my shoulder and asked in a surprisingly sweet voice for her, "You're not actually going to fight them, are you?"
I laughed. "Look behind you, Eimour."
She did as I asked.
"For someone who has lived here for so long, you lack a little pride in your city. Right now, those Yevonites are firing on the people with those beam cannons. My fellow troops are firing missiles into some of the buildings. Your fellow city-goers are dying and if I don't hurry up and get to Gatta, the Crusaders with him could be wiped out. That can't happen. Don't worry about me, ok? You and Gary will be safe in Besaid. I've got a home there you can use. It's the only wooden structure on the island. Trust me, it's not hard to miss."
She seemed to understand what I was saying and backed off. Gary didn't, though, and latched onto my leg as if that'd stop me from going into battle.
"Don't go, Daddy! I dun wanna lose you again."
I looked to Eimour and she silently nodded, pulling Gary off of my leg and into her arms, the little tyke weeping rather loudly. Then, I noticed Rikku looking at me rather strangely.
"Shouldn't you...put on some armor, or something?"
I shrugged. "No need. It'd slow me down."
"How about a communicator?"
"What for? I'll get one when I meet up with the Crusaders."
Rikku sighed. "Your death wish."
"Thanks." And with that, I patted Eimour's shoulder, nodded to Rikku and headed off in the opposite direction, watching the fleeing citizens' faces pass by in my peripheral vision.
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Landing on the docks had proven to be a tough task, thanks to the old and rusty, but still quite effective, Machina attack drones guarding the concrete structures. Gatta had already lost men in the landing process alone. The beam cannons had easily picked off a few of the landing dinghies in their upward-arching beams of death. Now, he and the thirty or so men that had made it with him were pinned down just a few meters away from the side entrance to the stadium. Their mission had been to infiltrate and take the marketplace and docks. The only land they owned right now was the concrete they were pinned down on. A large concrete pillar had toppled in front of the side entrance, most likely due to the shock of bombs exploding somewhere else in the city.
In front of that pillar were two dug in drones, each of them with a multi-barreled "chain-gun" strapped to one of their arms. Their barrage of bullets seemed never ending. As soon as a Crusader would pop up from the felled pillar, a stream of lead would arch their way. Ducking speed was an issue, as Gatta had already learned himself. The only wound he had received while ducking was shards of concrete pelting against his skin as the bullets from the drones ate away at the pillar's side.
Gatta turned around, his back against the pillar, legs on the floor, and looked for arriving Crusaders. He did see a few ducked behind pillars, taking pot shots at the drones, but most were still out in the water, trying to fight the choppy waves and land. Some were even knocked off course. Gatta had to admit, this attack was rushed and sloppy. They'd need major luck if they wanted to win Luca back from Nyka's clutches.
"Sir?" A Crusader crawled over to Gatta, gun slung around to his back.
"Yes?"
"What are we gonna do about these drones? I mean, if any of the boys get up, their shredded, and we certainly can't charge 'em."
"Very true. We'll just have to sit here until we can think of a way to get around them."
"Yes, sir."
In all truth, Gatta didn't know when that time would come. Fighting with swords had been much easier, but those were now obsolete, and his Crusaders didn't have the training to deal with a foe with a firearm, let alone a "chain-gun." In all truth, Gatta thought his day had come.
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I didn't particularly know how far the docks were from the market place, but I did know one thing. The marketplace was littered with soldiers. Maneuvering wasn't very fun. Upon first entering the district, three shots whizzed by my head and I immediately ducked behind a merchant's cart. A few more shots tore into the weak wood built cart and I was running out of cover fast. I half-raised from my crouching position and fired a few of the sub-sonic rounds their way. Two of my shots hit, because you just can't mistake the image of a man flying twenty feet backwards. And I saw two men do just that. But it seemed two more men just seemed to appear in place and a volley of bullets tore into the cart, one of the lead pieces sticking in the side I was behind. Not good.
With as much strength possible, I pushed the cart down and jumped behind a couple of crates, which were immediately disintegrating from the bullets hitting them. Again, not good. I fired from where I was and hit one of the closest Yevonites. With that done, I hurdled what remained of the crates and entered a nearby shop. Bullets thumped into the concrete around the door as I entered, and even more flew into the shop through the large display window to the left of me. My elbows and knees hit the floor, propelling the rest of my body towards the back of the store. I prayed that the store had a back door.
A few more feet and I learned that my prayers had been answered. With much caution, I opened the door slowly, my back against it. It flung open and stopped halfway. My eyes darted all around the area in front of me. No Yevonites. I then cautiously turned around and peeked around to the other side of the alley. No soldiers. I headed the way I had initially faced coming out of the shop, eyes and gun darting all around. Couldn't be too careful, eh?
After snaking my way around the backs of a few shops, the alley decided to end and open me up to a grand view of the stadium. The street the alley connected to was parallel to the stadium and it looked like getting to the docks was going to be tougher than previously thought. As a matter of fact, as I headed down the street, in the direction of the blue, turbulent sea, I met an impressive force of Yevonites. Probably around a hundred of them in all. They were just marching and here I come, gun in hand, ready for them. Of course, that's not a situation a lone soldier can take care of. So, I slowly lowered my weapon to the ground and raised my arms even slower. On of them, I presumed the leader of the band, approached me.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Uhh..." Apparently, he didn't know that I was fighting for the good guys. Or bad guys. Or whatever we were.
"Well?"
"I was just...walking along and a couple of them Al Bhed fellas kinda knocked me over. I killed the bastards though! Got their weapon! See?"
The soldier stood in silence a moment before breaking out into laughter. His men followed and as they passed my inwardly stunned self, the leader patted me on the soldier and said, "Yevon needs men like you. After we expel these heathens, look us up in the stadium."
I nodded and cocked a smile myself. "Yeah." 'Yeah,' as in I'd be in the stadium but not looking for a job under Nyka's command.
With the band of troops well behind me, I picked up my rifle again and jogged towards the now visible docks. I could hear gunfire emanating in the distance, but I couldn't -see- it, and seeing it helped quite a bit when planning a method of attack. What I could see was a few perched Yevonites on the top of the stadium's wall. Snipers.
Snipers aren't fun, especially when they consist of just the enemy. And they really suck when they've sighted you and taking pot shots at you as you run towards your objective. That's just what they were doing too. I had found a path that lead directly to the docks. The problem was, the snipers had a clear line right to my forehead. I had to run all over the place, shots hitting in front of me or behind me or beside me. One shot was so close, the wind from the air being displaced around it made my ear twitch. Once more, not good. Imagine feeling like one of those ducks in a shooting gallery. Yeah, that was me.
Eventually, I found some cover in the form of an emptied bar. I was close to the docks, but I had to catch my breath before I started dodging bullets again. The bar, apparently littered with Yevonite soldiers before the attack started, was still occupied by the elderly man working the counter.
"Can I help you?" asked the bartender.
I shook my head. He seemed to know what I was up to. "Them snipers will get ya, fella. I've seen them practicing before. Can hit an ale glass from way up there.
I nodded and peeked out of the door. "Haven't gotten me yet, old man."
"You with Yuna?" he asked.
"You could say that."
"You the ones attackin?"
"I guess."
"Well, good luck. I really don't like them Yevonites. Always so pushy."
"Uh huh. Well, bye old man, time for me to dodge some bullets."
As I ducked back into the path, immediately sparking a renewed firing from the snipers, I heard the old man say, "Good luck, son."
I'd really need it to get out of this situation.
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"Hey, sir!"
"Yeah?"
"Isn't that...?"
"Weston!" Gatta yelled, looking at the path running parallel to the docks. Sure enough, Weston was moving side to side as he ran, dodging the bullets from the snipers. Gatta motioned to a few of his soldiers and a barrage of high-velocity lead arced its way towards the snipers. Soon, Weston didn't have to do much dodging. From where the Crusaders were pinned down, they had a perfect line of sight upwards to the top of the stadium, where the snipers were perched. They didn't even have to expose themselves to the machina drones to fire on the sharpshooters. Meanwhile, Weston had found a spot to leap over into the path leading to the stadium. He started heading towards the men.
Gatta whistled to Weston and told him to hold his position. Weston blinked and stopped, not sure of what was going on. By way of Gatta's next hand signal, and the eruption of a hot stream of lead heading his way, he knew why the men were there. After hitting the floor, Weston crawled his way to Gatta's side and simply asked, "Pinned down, eh?"
Gatta nodded. "Damn things can our every move and never seem to run out of ammo."
Weston hmmed. "I'm sure they'll run out, but if my guess is correct, they've got a very long chain of ammo. And if they're machines..."
"They are," Gatta replied.
"Then they're bound to be using some sort of motion detection. Let me test a theory..." At that, Weston picked up a small piece of concrete lying near him and flung it to the side. The piece of concrete disintegrated in mid-air before the sound of the firing guns ever hit the soldiers' ears. Weston's eyes had followed the chunk's journey and then hmmed, a finger lifting to his chin. Gatta leaned over to him and whispered a question.
"What did that prove?"
"That the mounted guns aren't using thermal imaging to track targets. It's solely based on motion. Of course, that doesn't help us any."
Gatta raised a brow, no knowing exactly what his friend was getting at. "So what does all that mean?"
Weston laughed and picked up another chunk on concrete. He handed it to Gatta with a smile. "Throw this towards the water. I'm going to try something else."
"You sure?" Gatta didn't like the look in Weston's eyes.
"Yeah. Ready?"
Gatta nodded.
In less than a second, Weston had raised himself on his haunches, back of his feet meeting his buttocks. He yelled, "Now!" and Gatta tossed the piece of concrete towards the right of their position. The guns caught the more obvious movement on the concrete and Weston fired a burst of the hyper-sonic bullets into the left drone's dome. The upper dome, where Weston had guessed the sensing technology was placed, had only one or two pieces left attached to the drone after the burst. Weston quickly ducked, avoiding the other drone's fire and nodded to Gatta.
Gatta then looked to his rather shocked men. "You know what to do! DO IT!"
The men followed his orders. In seconds, chunks of loosened concrete were flying towards the sea and the remaining drone didn't have a chance. The entire squad, Gatta and Weston included, released a volley of automatic fire that ripped both drones to minute pieces.
Satisfied, Gatta hurdled the fallen concrete column and rolled his right arm, motioning for his men to follow. Weston let each of the men go before hurdling the column himself. Gatta quickly formed the men into a two- column battle formation and took point, Weston taking the rear.
The stadium's lobby was empty, and Gatta noticed that the large building had taken a few missile hits, more than likely an Al Bhed airship trying, as futile as it may have been, to take down the beam cannons.
Gatta stopped in the middle of the lobby, most of the men behind him shocked to see the stadium in such disarray. Many of them were avid followers of Blitzball and seeing the place they came to so often crumbling apart didn't help ease their worries any. Gatta seemed to realize this -he himself shocked at the destruction- and decided to split the men up. He ordered for the columns to separate, and the men obliged. Weston stood off to the side, watching as the columns widen the gap between them.
"Ok, guys, one of the columns will follow me. The other will follow Weston," Gatta yelled over the sounds of the firing cannons and crumbling buildings.
Weston was already in front of the right column. He looked to Gatta.
"What's the plan?"
It didn't take Gatta but a second to answer him. "My group will take the locker rooms. You and your men head upstairs to the balconies. Find a way to stop those cannons. I'll meet you up there."
Weston nodded and jogged his column up the stairs to the left of the lobby, leading to the upper-most stands. Gatta moved his squad down the walkway to the right, and the men filed single-file into the narrow hallway.
In front of Gatta and his men were two doors on either side of the hallway, leading into their respective locker rooms and a large door on the opposite end of the hall, one that led into the playing-sphere.
Gatta turned to his men and motioned for the ten men squad to split in half. He extended his arms and wiped his hands downward against the sides of the hall, telling the two groups of men that they were to "sweep" the two locker rooms and "clean" them if they must. Of course, what he meant was "search and destroy." The squads would barge into the rooms and kill all opposition, thus allowing control of the area to go to them.
The men nodded their acknowledgement and went about their business. Gatta followed a group of men into the left side locker room. Upon entering the room, the men fanned out in an arrow shape, a "battle formation" of sorts that left them in support of each other, but not as bunched up as a marching column would be. Gatta covered their rear. Fortunately, the room was empty. And the room itself didn't resemble a locker room anymore. The room had been converted into a makeshift barracks, bunked cots lining the walls and covering the middle of the room where benches had once been.
The cots had hastily been left without being made, thus making Gatta presume that the soldiers had left in rather a hurry. He tapped the closest man's helmet and motioned with the tilting of his head for the men to follow him back out. As he had suspected, mainly by the lack of gunfire, the other group of men had run into the same situation in the opposite locker room.
Low and behold, the other group of men was waiting in the hallway. Gatta nodded to them and held up four fingers.
"Need four volunteers to stay behind and guard the area."
Within a few seconds, Gatta had his four men and posted two to a locker room.
"The rest of you, follow me to the stands."
And with that, Gatta, men in tow, jogged towards their next objective.
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Making our way up the stairs was easy. Sure, there wwere a lot of stairs to climb. Didn't seem to faze the men behind me, so my respect for the Crusaders' physical stamina training grew a bit. Not to say they were perfect little soldiers, but they'd get the job done.
Of course, when I found myself crossing into the cemented stands, I also found myself staring into the faces of at least a hundred Yevonites. Apparently, since that whole "missile" incident in Kilika, they had grown weary of the possibilities of surprises. I had to admit that I was the one surprised now.
I backtracked towards the stairs, rocks tearing into the concrete situated to the right, left, and below me. The men behind me did the same, and we soon found ourselves running back down the stairs. I wasn't going to try to macho my way out of this situation. Eleven men against a whole company of the enemy was...shit out of luck.
It was rather funny when we met Gatta and his men, who were trying to get -up- the stairs while we were hightailing it -down- them. I stopped only a stair short of knocking the shorter Gatta backwards.
"What are you doing?" he asked, incredulously.
"Going to find another way to those beam cannons. Hundred or more men protecting the stands."
Gatta nodded.
I wasn't really satisfied with a nod. "You have one of those communicator things on you?"
Gatta nodded again and pulled one of the oval shaped semi-clear contraptions from his side pouch. "Just talk into it."
"No button on it, no frequency?"
"Just talk," he repeated in response.
And I did. "Yo, Rikku, you out there?"
After a few moments of silence, I asked again. I heard a bunch of static-shrouded yells in that odd Al Bhed language. They were distant, but clearly coming from the radio and not outside. That meant that the Al Bhed -and- their lovely artillery were far out of the range I needed them to be in.
As I was about to yell into the little egg again, I heard Rikku's voice come over the radio. She sounded as if she didn't have time to talk. I could imagine she was entirely too busy to send troops and possibly one of those mech things my way, but I could at least try.
"Yeah, Weston?"
"Glad you recognized me. I need some help."
"Not a lot I can do about that right now."
"Do you have any of those mech things I can borrow?"
"They're kinda busy at the moment."
And I could tell she was telling the truth. I had seen one of the mechs when I met up with her near the gate. They were odd looking, strangely round in the middle with a small head. They were tall though, and on each arm was mounted a Vulcan-six barreled machine gun, giving the round mechanical walker a formidable appearance. I could hear barrages of gun fire erupting at all decibel levels over the small communicator.
"Thanks anyway."
"Yeah," she replied with, and with that, I handed the communicator back to Gatta. I assumed he knew the situation for the little "egg" could drown out a jet engine starting up.
"Well, now what?" he asked.
I shrugged. "We could wait for them. Sounds like the Al Bhed are facing some heavy stuff. It might be awhile before we hear anything from Rikku. You have any ideas?"
The men all looked to Gatta as if waiting for their leader to say something heroic, wise, or unforgettable. But, instead, the smaller man shrugged. "I don't have damned clue."
I thought a moment. "Are there any other entrances to the stands?"
One of the men, who was shorter than even Gatta, spoke up. "There's one from the base of the stadium, sir."
Gatta sighed. "Teffa, that set of stairs in on the other end of the stadium."
"Yes, sir," the young man said.
"Hold on a minute, Gatta," I interjected. "He may be on to something. Teffa, was it?"
The young man nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, sir!"
"If you take point and lead us there, we'll go."
Teffa nodded and started rushing down the stairs at a speed I don't think most track runners could match. The small man was fast, and I followed, as best I could, behind him, hearing the others trail behind shortly after.
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Rikku didn't like the way the battle for the residential area was going. There were Yevonites infecting buildings left and right, firing their weapons from well-concealed positions behind windows and doors, even roofs.
Rikku hadn't come to Luca to destroy the buildings, but it looked as if she'd eventually have to resort to that. Her troops fought with voracity, but they were sitting ducks for the sharpshooters littering the apartment buildings and shops. The mechs had taken care of most of the Yevonites in the streets, but the clumsy aiming the mechs possessed didn't allow them to be able to pinpoint one solider hiding in a window. Rikku was sending squad after squad of men into the buildings, but since the structures were so cluttered and large, the squads were failing miserably. So, it was with reluctance that she ordered the first tread-mounted beam cannon to fire on a large inn on the right side of the road. Soldiers were firing from the inn from every window. The concentrated energy beam took care of that, though. Within a two-second interval after the shot was made, the entire first floor of the inn was merely dust, and the building began to topple.
The terrified screams emanating from the building didn't help to ease Rikku's conscience, which was already stained with the images of torn bodies and the smell of burnt, tattered, and torn flesh that shrouded the streets in a putrid fog. Thanks to the adrenaline flowing through her and, she guessed, her troops, the acrid odors weren't affecting their stomachs quite yet. She supposed that the smell would get worse as the battle waged on.
Another building was soon fired upon by the mobile cannons and it too toppled with great might, leaving all those within it dead or trapped and dying. Moans, screams, and prayers filled the air as she and the treaded vehicle she was sitting atop slowly inched forward, meeting every bit of opposition the Yevonites could throw at them.
While Rikku did sense that her large group of troops and artillery were in fact winning the fight for land, she noticed how much that land cost both sides, and it sickened her. How civilized people who had lived under the shadow of a great enemy only three years ago could so mercilessly kill and so easily give their lives in a political struggle really weighed on her mind. Something had changed within her with the first order she'd given that day. The dead bodies littering the streets were her fault, since she was the highest in command at the moment. She had made the decision, in anger, to lead this assault, and she knew she'd forever be scarred by that decision. But, she was there, she had given that first order, and there was nothing she could do but let fate and the courage of those fighting under her command decide the outcome of the day.
As the men around her vehicle continued to find and shoot the Yevonite foot soldiers and her deadly beam cannons continue to level Yevonite infested buildings, Rikku wondered if her, as well as Spira's innocence would ever return.
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So there we were, standing in shock, as we witnessed what the Yevonites had done to the stadium. Gone was the Blitz sphere. It had been torn down and the concrete foundation it had built on was being used to park the two airships stolen from the Al Bhed. Of course, most of them men, if not all, were angered by what they saw. The Yevonites had torn down the most revered structure in Spira for their own personal use. Gone was the center of Spira's only form of entertainment, in its place was a makeshift landing pad. Needless to day, the morale of the men behind Gatta and me didn't need any boosting. Their anger was enough. With that in mind, I decided that now was the time to start flanking the assholes protecting the cannons.
The stadium was circular, so all the stands connected to each other. While it'd leave everyone of us quite open to attack, if we could gather the speed and hit them both at once, on every side, we could possibly take them by surprise enough to gain the upper hand. Of course, a diversion doesn't hurt, and that's exactly what I volunteered to do.
So, at the last minute, I informed Gatta of my idea and, despite his qualms about my involvement, went with it. It was a rather simple plan. I was to start firing on the Yevonite company from the opposite end of the stadium, drawing their fire my way. If at all possible, I'd then hide behind some seats and try to lure them around to my position. I wasn't going to be without protection. On either side of me, lying in wait, were going to be the men, their automatic weapons ready to dispatch the poor souls ordered to get me. An ambush, though, usually had ways of going awry and I couldn't think of a contingency. Oh well, an honorable death for us, in that case.
The Yevonites had their backs to us, so actually getting up to the same level of stands wasn't hard at all. I suspected that seeing me had sparked some interest in their numbers and I then assumed that they were waiting on me to pop my head back out. At least I'd have some element of surprise when I started firing...
With as little noise as humanly possible, we made our way to the top level, and the squads, Gatta including himself in the far right group, split up on either side of me. I sighed and brought my automatic rifle's stock to my cheek. Regardless of the fact that I was about to provoke a lot of lead to come my way, I took the time to study the details with the rifle in my hands. What can I say? I like guns.
The stock, if you could call it that, consisted of two steel rods that had a muted-yellow plastic butte plate attached at their end, making for a rather comfortable fit against the crook of my arm. On the left side of the end closest to the shooter of the gun was another piece of plastic, ergonomically shaped to fit most cheek bones. Again, this was comfortable and I appreciated the Al Bheds and their attention to detail. The body of the gun was a mixture of cold, gray metal (I assumed an alloy since it had a glittery appearance) and bits of ergonomically placed dull-yellow plastic. The Al Bhed apparently didn't have much time for trying to create weapons that would be well hidden in combat situations. Either way, the gun's metal was hard and cool, just like the blue steel associated with most World War Two weapons. I assumed the Al Bhed had not yet mastered polymers, since most guns in my era were teetering towards plastic shells with metal innards and the rifle in my hands reminded me more of an AK or M16A1 than, say, an Aug or the HK G36. Not necessarily by looks but more in its metal to plastic ratio. On top was a lovely aiming/gripping handle, much like on a Colt assault rifle, and the trigger was very thick and curved, easily fitting any size finger. The trigger guard was tight, only allowing enough room for one finger. Smart move, in my opinion. No one wanted someone to get their finger in the guard while their own finger was on the trigger in melee combat. The magazine slot was right in front of the trigger guard, allowing for a large and ergonomic dull-yellow grip piece to be installed under the base of the gun. The grip itself looked rather flimsy, and I imagined it easily came off for some sort of modification. Another dull-yellow grip piece was placed under the barrel, its shape a half-crescent moon leading into a straight line, giving the gun a sleek look in that regard. I suppose they wanted to leave enough grip options open for different shooting styles. Again, a smart move, since the weapon was so big. By big, I'm talking at least four feet long with stock rods fully extracted, three with stock retracted. The rifle was rather heavy as well, seeing as it held all the technology responsible for the ultrasonic bullet speed. The Al Bhed had done their homework, it seemed. Either that, or they constantly needed to protect themselves. I'd have to ask them about a smaller version after the battle ended.
One thing the long barrel and bulky frame didn't detract from was the gun's accuracy. It was pretty much dead on. This I instantly noticed when I opened fire on the crowded Yevonites. Instead of a normal explosion sound, the gun emitted a "pssh" usually associated with electrical surges or flash electrical fires. Two or three men were thrown back by the ultrasonic rounds and the rest decided to turn. Instinctively, I ducked behind the concrete slab in front of me, but not without getting a slug through my shoulder first. Guess I was getting a little slow.
Apparently, they had thought they'd gotten me. I informed them of otherwise by lifting the gun in a suppression fire maneuver, where the only body parts exposed were my hands. The point of suppressive fire was to make your opponent duck, giving you the upper hand by allowing you to then stand up and fire off the first shot when said opponent tried to return fire.
But I wasn't going to be sitting up. The slug had gone clear through the meat of my shoulder, and I have to say that it hurt rather badly. Actually, it felt as if someone had just set fire to my entire left side. Not a good thing.
With blood pouring down both the front and back of my left shoulder, I hoisted the gun up once more and fired onto the group of Yevonites, trying not to allow my shoulder to give out. The Yevonites had then had enough and decided to look for me. In a few moments, multiple "pssh" sounds erupted and bodies were flying left and right. I slowly sat up, ignoring the thumping pain in my shoulder and fired a burst on the group as well.
Thanks to the surprise element, we had dwindled their numbers down tremendously. I counted only fifteen or so escaping upwards to the beam cannons. The men around me all stood from their crouched positions, a couple offering me their hands. I shook my head in response and stood up, trying not to wince. Yeah, so I was trying to be a man about it. Can you blame me?
I followed the squad on the right while Gatta led his squad towards the balcony. After only a few minutes, we were converged at the stairs leading to the roof. The stairs were narrow and would only allow a single- file attack line. That didn't bode well for us.
"Teffa!" I called.
"Yes, sir?"
"Take lead. You're fast."
"Yes, sir!"
And with that, the short soldier made his way up the stairs with a speed I'd never seen a human possess up until then. The soldier closest to me, one closer to my height, noticed my shoulder wound.
"You need a potion, sir."
I looked to my shoulder and then the soldier. "Yeah, I do. But let's wait until we've gotten these beam cannons under out of commission."
The soldier nodded and I turned back in time to see Teffa jump forward at the top of the stairs. With that, Gatta yelled the order to follow. The men complied.
The thing about firefights that everyone seems to get misconstrued is that winning is up to the side with more soldiers. That may be true, say, if this were the Civil War and the armies lined up at point-blank range to fire on each other. Thankfully, in World War One, the army adopted the German's "trench" style warfare in which it was every man for himself as far as cover was concerned, even if those men were all working for the same goal. In the pre-World War One American military you didn't have much of a chance to survive, especially if you were in that front line. While being in front -still- sucks, you have more of a chance to survive if you've been trained to find cover and save your own ass, all the while, dwindling the enemy's ranks. If you count up ten kills to every soldier in a squad, that's a hell of a lot of kills. And if every man survives, then you're in even better shape. War wasn't necessarily a game of numbers anymore, and seeing Teffa jump, fire, and then find cover for himself confirmed that. Despite the fact that these men hadn't had much training in warfare dealing with projectile weapons, they were adapting and holding their own, and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The more confidence you have in your fellow soldiers, the more confidence you have that you'll prevail.
The warm and fuzzy feeling soon gave way to urgency, because having bullets whiz by your head at immeasurable speeds tends to be a real buzz kill. I soon found myself running like a madman to make it to some flimsy crates near the first beam cannon. Why the wooden and "obviously not built to withstand being hit by lots of bullets" crates? Probably because five men were already behind them, including Teffa and Gatta. I don't know what it is about crowds, but being in one in battle seemed to make you feel better than being alone. Besides, the only other cover available at the time was a dead Yevonite's body, and I didn't feel pissing the Yevonites off even further.
I knelt next to Gatta, keeping my head down, but soon the guards protecting the first beam cannon drew their fire back to the stairs. Real smart. Teffa, Gatta, and I, along with the other two guys with us all stood and fired a deadly volley of bullet-bursts into their line, decimating it. A few of the enemy soldiers' bodied hit the metallic hull of the mobile cannons with a dull clang that certainly didn't sound natural. This seemed to get the attention of the beam cannon's operators, for the "FSSH" sound of the cannon ceased for a few moments. With that in mind, I jumped the crates and ran toward the large weapon, killing a couple of the enemy on my way. The bad news was that I didn't know how to get into the damned cannon. The good news was that one of its operators was trying to get out, and I saw the well-hidden hatch shaking. Bingo.
Three of my ultrasonic rounds collided with the hatch and the force of the bullets made the square piece of metal implode on it self, turning the hatch into a grotesquely oversized bullet itself. I didn't particularly want to see what it had done to the occupant, but I'd have to if I was going to stop the cannon from firing.
Or so I thought. The firing of the high-energy beam stopped and I clearly heard that funky Al Bhed language being screamed within the cannon's hull. I stopped next to the now open hatch and listened.
The voice seemed half-angry and have sad. I heard a stressed but somewhat muffled "Pnudran! Pnudran!"
I had no clue what that meant, but I wasn't there to ask questions. With a wince, I hurdled myself right into the hull of the tank, my boots clunking against metal, and something sickeningly soft and wet. I didn't think to look down because in front of me was a rather shocked Al Bhed. Blonde hair, goggles, speaking that odd language.
Did I just engage in friendly fire? It couldn't have been, because the cannon and its companion, which was still active, was firing away from the beginning and I know Rikku's forces were taking care of the residential area. I really, really didn't like what this implicated.
With my attention back to the current situation, I plugged the Al Bhed in the kneecap, but without the result I was looking for. Apparently I had missed the kneecap and the lightning fast bullet from my gun had gone through the guy's tendons and ligaments. Due to its high velocity, the bullet didn't have time to stick around and ricocheted into the front controls for the cannon -from what I could gather that is, I certainly wasn't qualified to name the parts of the Al Bhed made cannon-. With an electrical pop, the lights within the hull shut off and the only source of light left was coming in from the hole were the hatch had been. I could hear footsteps on the outside of the cannon, and stuck my head out. Gatta tilted his head.
"Good job, I think."
"Yeah, but you're not going to like what I have to tell you."
He raised a brow and I reached back into the hull, picking up the now screaming Al Bhed. The gasps from Gatta and his men were rather audible, even over the woosh of the remaining beam cannon and the distant but still heavy thuds of Rikku's fight on the other end of town. I tossed the still yelling cannon operator onto the concrete roof of the stadium right in front of Gatta. It was then when I realized why the guy was going on and on with his screaming act. The bullet had severed most of his shin from his thigh. Only a few slivers of flesh were keeping it attached. Gatta bent down and examined the wound, then the soldier's face.
"I don't like this. I really don't like this." Gatta said under his breath. The men rubbernecked over his shoulder to take a gander at the Al Bhed, who was slowly realizing that he was in deep trouble. I pointed my bulky rifle at him and held a finger to my lips. He seemed to get the message and quieted down.
Gatta looked up to me. "What do we do with him?"
"What do you think? Heal the prick and interrogate."
Gatta looked back to the nearly amputated leg and the back to me. "You call his wound a 'prick?'"
I shook my head. "Never mind. Just use one of those potion things and heal him."
Gatta laughed. "Maybe if we had a white mage with us, sure. A simple potion isn't going to help him unless you want to close up the remainder of his leg."
"Do what you have to. We need him alive because you know as well as I do what him firing on us means."
Gatta sighed and nodded. "That either there are traitors in the Al Bhed army or..."
"I don't think there's anything else we can think of right now," I said, noticing a patch on the Al Bhed's upper left arm. I patted it with the barrel of my gun and nodded to Gatta. "Take a look at this. Any idea what it is or what it means?"
Gatta leaned over the quieted cannon operator and took a look at the patch. "The symbol of Yevon," he said, the realization slowly starting to settle in.
I shrugged. "Then our prisoner has some explaining to do."
With a heavy sigh, Gatta looked over his shoulder and ordered two men to administer all potions necessary to keep our little friend alive. As they walked over to the traitor, Gatta stood and looked inside the small rectangular opening left by the hatch.
Before I could warn him what he was going to see, he turned around quickly, looking as if he was trying his best to hold back whatever it was he had eaten before the battle began.
As I watched the two soldiers care to the prisoner, I tapped Gatta on the shoulder. I held up my index finger and said, "One more to go. Ready?"
He nodded and ordered the rest of the men to follow us. It wasn't long before we hit another patch of Yevonite guards. Good thing they didn't know we were coming. They were only about twenty men strong and had their backs turned to us, walking towards the beam cannon on the opposite end of the roof facing the rest of Luca.
Now, I know, it's never been known as "honorable" to shoot somebody in the back. In war, however, honor has no face. And it was with that thought in our minds that we gunned down the lot of the soldiers. Battlefield hatred? Maybe. Sadistic pleasure in our job? Possibly. Necessity? Definitely. If you didn't kill them, they'd eventually kill you. That's why I've never felt the need for silly and outdated "honor codes" on battlefields. It's you, or them, and ever single damn advantage and surprise attack you can take, you better fucking take it or you'll be dead quicker than the Macarena. Murders, heartless killers, tyrants, we've heard it all before. But when it comes down to it, shoot or be shot, kill or be killed. It just wasn't their lucky day. War was hell and that was the truth. You didn't need a bleeding heart when you were engaged in battle. And if you don't like it, then you're jaded and unrealistic. Man is animal enough to kill without evocation. Nyka certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about killing without a reason.
Anyway, we jogged the rest of the way to the remaining beam cannon, and in a scene straight from my not so distant past, we all lined up, shoulder-to-shoulder, and filled the large, metal weapon full of holes. When the firing was over, a couple of soldiers took a gander inside and didn't seem very stable upon exiting the hull of the cannon.
"Targets eliminated," one said, barely able to keep his voice from wavering. Gatta nodded them off and, exhausted, the men asked to have a little break. We granted them that privilege. The roof was ours, the cannons were out of commission, and we had a lovely package for Rikku. I had little doubt that the revelation of traitors among the ranks would make quite a stir among Yuna and her camp. I just didn't want to think of what would happen if the word spread past the twenty or so men following Gatta and I.
I leaned against the side of the disabled cannon and set my bulky weapon next to me, leaning it barrel down against the tread of the tank- like cannon. Gatta chose a spot close to me and I noticed that the two soldiers we left with the traitor were making their way towards us, the Al Bhed cannon operator slung fireman style over one of the men's shoulder.
"Mission accomplished and not a damn thing to do but wait," I remarked.
"We could always help Rikku," he replied
"Yeah, and I imagine we will soon enough. Sounded like she really needed help back there on the communicator."
"Yeah. Let's head back towards the residential area after this little break."
"Sounds like a plan," I said. But, it was too little too late for making plans to help Rikku.
It's funny, to me, that in the face of death, most people see their life flash before their eyes, pray to whatever deity they follow, and generally panic. Me? I just sat there, staring at the airship that had formerly been parked where the Blitz sphere used to be. It was hovering right in front of us and I knew that death was soon coming. And what was I doing in my last few moments? Wondering whether or not I could cripple the airship before I was blown to smithereens.
The missiles fired, creating gray clouds behind them. Time slowed and I noticed the men in various positions of surprise, panic, or solemn realization. Gatta was probably thinking along my thoughts because I saw his hand reaching for his gun. But the speed of the missile was too great for us to do much about it. It seemed a fitting end, since we had done the same thing to the Yevonites in Kilika.
You know what they say. An eye for an eye.
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A/N: Woo, fun chapter to write. This is actually just half of the chapter I originally started writing for Chapter 18, but I wanted to milk the 20 thousand something words with as many chapters as possible hehe. Another reason for me cutting it off is the focus the next segment (and chapter) takes. Welp, off to finish Chapter 19 and probably 20A while I'm at it. I'll probably post them both at the same time, if Shad doesn't mind betaing two things at once ^__^
Many thanks to Shad for continually betaing my chapters. There'd be a heck of a lot more errors in this otherwise! Thanks to Jave and Artemis for helping me brainstorm ideas for this, past, and upcoming chappies! And thanks to all you readers who continue to leave me such nice reviews ^__^ ~ No One
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"We have to go along a road covered with blood. We have no other alternative. For us it is a matter of life or death, a matter of living or existing. We have to be ready to face the challenges that await us." - Gamel Abdel Nasser
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Four days can pass fast, especially when one's not looking. The past few days had been increasingly odd for Eimour, seeing that the soldier she had taken into her home, Weston, recovered rather quickly and had started to help her in her chores. He had also begun to tour Luca on his "jogs." Those jogs took three to four hours and when he came back, he had nearly ten pieces of paper full of notes and drawings. Eimour supposed that he had continued his mission in those jogs. But outside of the jogs, he didn't seem to concern himself with matters of war.
Gary seemed to really be a distraction for Weston, Eimour had also noticed. Weston had even taken Gary to the market. The two came back loaded with toys, books, and candy. Of course, Eimour had wondered where all the money to buy the stuff came from. Weston had only patted his back pocket and winked at her.
At work, Eimour had done what Weston asked her to do. Every day, she usually came home with new tidbits for Weston to write down in his logbook, which he had bought in the market. It was a simple, hardbound book that contained two sleeves for loose paper, and blank sheets in the binding for notes. If Weston wasn't eating, or playing with Gary, he was usually writing in that book. Or, he was talking with Eimour over coffee.
Weston had seemed to take a liking to the stiff conversations Eimour held with him. Every night, after Gary had gone asleep, he'd come in to the kitchen, help with the dishes, and fix the coffee himself. They'd both sit down and slowly sip at their coffees until their cups were empty, all the while learning more about each other and discussing the political climate in Spira.
Eimour had to admit that she enjoyed the talks, despite the uneasy feeling she had whenever she saw him. Weston was odd, in her opinion. She had known a few battle-worn soldiers in her lifetime, especially before that night at the bar. They were usually either crazy, or drawn in. Most seemed to be in a constant daze thanks to the violence they had seen in their lives. But Weston, despite all the battles he told her he'd been in, was strangely a normal human being. She had seen him as a soldier in action, and it almost sickened her how nonchalant he was after just killing someone. Of course, he had tried to explain to her that acting so cool about it was just his way of dealing with the fear and anxiety one felt in battle. To Eimour, though, killing someone should have had a greater impact than just, "Oh, I killed them. Better them than me."
At heart, Eimour still saw Weston as being a barbaric warrior who was destined to find his end on some battlefield, even despite his charm and outgoing nature. To her, Weston was built for war. He was strong, calm, and logical. Weston knew just what to do at the moment he needed to do it, even with hundreds of men circling him and trying to kill him. That not only made him dangerous, it also made him a little insane. Only a somewhat crazy person could keep his head in the midst of the chaos of battle. That, if somewhat overstated, is how Eimour classified him. She saw not the man that he portrayed every day, playing with Gary, doing chores, or sipping coffee, but the soldier in him. The man that could as quickly kill an opposing foe as he could pick up Gary. She respected him, of course, for that fact. Weston provided a sense of protection she hadn't felt in ages, but he also provided her with an uneasy feeling. And that uneasy feeling only got worse as she saw him draw out tactics for battle in his logbook.
What fed her qualms even more was the fact that many of the soldiers showing up at the pub were looking rather tired, as if they'd been doing long and hard work. She even went as far as asking one. The reply was simple, straightforward, and just what she needed to tell Weston when she returned to the apartment.
"My squad had to haul in this big ole' beam cannon thing to the stadium. Cap'n says that it's gonna be used to defend from attack, as if an attack is even coming."
And it was that soldier's words that caused her to leave work early and head back to the apartment. Unfortunately, Weston and Gary weren't back yet, instantly causing Eimour to worry.
Had Weston stole Gary away? She highly doubted that Weston would kidnap her son, but then again, she really didn't trust Weston, and their absence scared her.
Eimour took one of the flimsy chairs from the kitchen and planted it about a meter and a half from the door, her eyes locked to the thin, hinged wooden rectangle. She sat motionless, rigid as stone; that is, until the entire building shook violently and she was thrown from her chair.
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"What was that, Daddy!?"
I shook my head and slowly regained my balance. We were mere inches from the front entrance to the building, but I had been taken off guard by what I, at the time, thought was an earthquake. But the sound of a far off explosion soon filled my ears and I knew that something major had just begun.
Gary was cradled on my shoulders, legs wrapped around my neck and hands closed over my forehead. The only shock the kid had felt was me stumbling to regain my balance.
I replied to his question. "Don't worry about, little man. We've got to go get your mother and get out of this town."
Then, after regaining my balance completely, I ran through the entrance and started up the first flight of stairs. As I reached the first steps of the second flight, the building shook once more and I latched onto the handrail on my way up the stairs to keep from falling. Breathing was becoming a scarce commodity thanks to Gary's legs tightening around my neck with every creak and shift in the stairs.
Finally, we found the apartment and I didn't bother with the knob. My shoulders did a fair job of opening the weak door and there was Eimour, on the floor next to a toppled chair. I called her name but she didn't seem to hear me. She was staring directly at me, but I guess she was either in shock or disbelief or both. I reached down and grabbed her arm.
"Let's go," I said as sternly as possible, not bothering to stop the raspy bite in my voice.
She seemed to understand me then, and got up. With my hand still grasping her arm, I started down the stairs. Eimour was desperately trying to watch her step as we made our way down. I didn't have time for that. Whatever was happening, it was happening then and I didn't want to end up dead in an explosion.
On the trip down the stairs, the handrail was a useful tool. The building was shaking in a steady rhythm now, and I knew that a couple more of those explosions would be all it took to topple the dilapidated structure Eimour called home. We found the entrance and didn't take the time to even notice it as we ran.
I could feel Eimour lagging, but that really didn't stop me. I'd carry her if I had to. I was going to get to the residential gate if it took my life. While I cherished it, I didn't want to leave Gary without a mother and I certainly didn't want to leave them in a town that was obviously in trouble. I was only one man though, so, as much as I would've liked to, I could only help the people who had helped me. Besides, when we finally made our way south, towards the residential gate, I noticed that quite a few citizens had taken to the notion to get out of the town as well. The streets were packed, but somehow, despite the now deafening sounds of explosions erupting, buildings toppling behind us, and the notion that we might not make it, the traffic flowed smoothly in one hectic direction. Getting through the gate would be tough, but we'd make it.
When turning a corner and passing some sort of supply store, I noticed a bright flashing of light and the sound of tons of concrete toppling. That was the first time I stopped for anything. Eimour stopped beside me, trying to catch her breath. I knew she was trying to tell me something, but I didn't pay her much attention. She didn't have that high of a regard for me, so what she was going to say more than likely had something to do with turning back, and that wasn't an option.
Upon turning around and actually looking to the skyline that I noticed the explosions weren't that close. I looked up and saw a few airships sending their missiles into some buildings. And it didn't take long to realize that there was opposition to those airships. A bright flash, much like the flash that accompanied an Al Bhed beam cannon, came from somewhere in the distance and the airship was literally sliced in two. The pieces fell slowly towards the ground and it was then that I grabbed Eimour's arm again, much to her displeasure, I'm sure, and ran towards the gate again. Explosions were bad, but falling pieces of airships were probably worse.
All around us was the sense of panic. Shops and homes were being looted, Yevonite soldiers ran all over the place, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, citizens were attacking some of the soldiers, only to be shot on site, and then there was people like Eimour, Gary, and me. Runners. Lots of runners. And we were all heading in the same direction.
A cloud of dust kicked up in front of me and I noticed that a soldier was firing for the looter in front of me. On top of the looter's shoulder was a box of fruit. Not wanting to get shot, I shouldered the looter to the ground and, despite my best effort not to, stepped all over the poor bastard. At least it stopped the soldier from shooting again.
The slower runners, who had elected to take bags and boxes full of personal belongings, were quickly losing their affects and it didn't make traversing the street any easier. The gate was no less than a hundred meters away and that helped ease my mind a bit. My main objective was getting the mother and son to safety. My own regard for safety had left me when I heard that first explosion. I don't know if it was more of my care for the kid and his well-being or my soldierly instincts kicking in. Either way, they were getting through that gate. It was just what was waiting at the gate that caught me off guard.
--------------------
The last thing Rikku had expected to see at Luca's south gate was a rather frantic looking Weston with a kid on his back and a woman attached to his arm. Over the past few days, Gatta, Yuna, Cid, and she had come to think him captured or dead. Now she wondered just what in the world had happened.
Multitudes of planning had gone on during the past four or five days and Rikku had been as pumped about her assignment in the invasion of Luca as she had for her sixteenth birthday. The plan had a sense of grandeur to it and she had convinced herself that it wasn't going to fail, no matter how many mistakes might happen. But Weston had never been a part of that plan, and there he was, staring at her like she was some long-lost cousin.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he said, the dark haired woman beside him trying to catch her breath. Of course, Weston didn't even seem winded.
"I'd like to ask you the same question!" Rikku replied. While behind her was around five thousand or so Al Bhed troops that she was going to have to manipulate soon, she really wanted to know what had happened to Weston.
"I got...delayed. Listen. I've got important information."
"I'm sure you do. But it's a little late for that."
Weston growled and set the child on his back down. The child wrapped his arms around the woman as Weston spoke. "It's dealing with the position of a growing force of Yevonites. They're massing just south of the 'Calm Lands,' wherever that is. Whenever troops mass, it's not good news. Where's Gatta?"
Rikku blinked, trying to recall the location that Gatta and his Crusaders were going to land at. "Umm...they should be landing at the docks near the stadium now."
At that, the woman who had come with Weston looked up and walked up next to Weston, half looking at him, half looking at the ground. Weston turned to her and asked, "What?"
The woman responded rather meekly, "The stadium...that's where two...'beam cannons' are. They're meant to thwart off an attack."
Both Rikku and Weston knew what that meant: near obliteration for the Crusaders. That couldn't happen.
Weston nodded and looked to Rikku. "I need an auto and a couple of your pistols." He then nodded to the woman and child. "Do you have an airship going back to Besaid?"
Rikku nodded. "We're ferrying men and supplies as we speak. Hold on."
At that, Rikku opened a pouch on the side of her hip and pulled out a communicator. She yelled into it in her native tongue.
"Ruf syho dnebc pylg du Besaid mavd?"
The answer came back, albeit a bit distorted. "Ypuid du mevd uvv uh mycd uha. Fro?"
Rikku responded to the voice. "Oui rumt dryd yencreb. E's lusehk fedr dfu suna byccahkanc vun oui."
"Oac, lussyhtan."
She then put away the communicator and nodded. "Ok, they'll have to come with me." Rikku then remembered Weston's request. She handed him the auto-firing rifle slung around her shoulders and then shrugged.
"I can't do the pistol request right now. You might be able to get a pair from one of my troops."
"I'll make do with this, thanks. Any extra ammo?"
Rikku nodded and unfastened a few of the rectangular clip holders from her belt. "Have you ever fired our new auto-fire weapon yet?"
Weston shook his head. She nodded and tapped the side of the rather long but surprisingly lightweight rifle. "This is the 'bolt.' You only need to pull it back when you load another ammo box. Each ammo box holds about sixty bullets. It may be an auto-fire, but that doesn't mean it'll work by you just holding the trigger down."
"I know. Trust me. No safety or fire rate selection switch?"
Rikku blinked and shrugged. "Nope. No clue what those are..."
Weston sighed and nodded. "Alright. So when I'm out, I just pop another clip into the receiver, pull back the bolt, and I'm ready to go?"
"Pretty much," Rikku replied.
Weston nodded once more. "Ok."
Rikku hmmed. "So I take it you're going to go tell Gatta about the beam cannons?"
To this, Weston laughed. "Oh, I'm sure they already know it. The damn things are firing every five seconds. Can't you hear the 'whoosh' sound?"
She shook her head, which caused him to do the same, but for a different reason. Rikku then walked towards the woman and child. "You're going to be fine. Just come with me and we'll get you to Besaid in no time."
The woman shook her head and looked to Weston, who looked as if he was ready to face the entire Yevonite army. He turned his head and asked, "What?" in a tone that was probably a bit snider than intended.
--------------------
I really didn't want to hear Eimour's squabbling. My body was slowly prepping itself for battle and having her looking at me like I was the last thing in this world keeping her alive didn't help my conscience any.
She put a hand on my shoulder and asked in a surprisingly sweet voice for her, "You're not actually going to fight them, are you?"
I laughed. "Look behind you, Eimour."
She did as I asked.
"For someone who has lived here for so long, you lack a little pride in your city. Right now, those Yevonites are firing on the people with those beam cannons. My fellow troops are firing missiles into some of the buildings. Your fellow city-goers are dying and if I don't hurry up and get to Gatta, the Crusaders with him could be wiped out. That can't happen. Don't worry about me, ok? You and Gary will be safe in Besaid. I've got a home there you can use. It's the only wooden structure on the island. Trust me, it's not hard to miss."
She seemed to understand what I was saying and backed off. Gary didn't, though, and latched onto my leg as if that'd stop me from going into battle.
"Don't go, Daddy! I dun wanna lose you again."
I looked to Eimour and she silently nodded, pulling Gary off of my leg and into her arms, the little tyke weeping rather loudly. Then, I noticed Rikku looking at me rather strangely.
"Shouldn't you...put on some armor, or something?"
I shrugged. "No need. It'd slow me down."
"How about a communicator?"
"What for? I'll get one when I meet up with the Crusaders."
Rikku sighed. "Your death wish."
"Thanks." And with that, I patted Eimour's shoulder, nodded to Rikku and headed off in the opposite direction, watching the fleeing citizens' faces pass by in my peripheral vision.
--------------------
Landing on the docks had proven to be a tough task, thanks to the old and rusty, but still quite effective, Machina attack drones guarding the concrete structures. Gatta had already lost men in the landing process alone. The beam cannons had easily picked off a few of the landing dinghies in their upward-arching beams of death. Now, he and the thirty or so men that had made it with him were pinned down just a few meters away from the side entrance to the stadium. Their mission had been to infiltrate and take the marketplace and docks. The only land they owned right now was the concrete they were pinned down on. A large concrete pillar had toppled in front of the side entrance, most likely due to the shock of bombs exploding somewhere else in the city.
In front of that pillar were two dug in drones, each of them with a multi-barreled "chain-gun" strapped to one of their arms. Their barrage of bullets seemed never ending. As soon as a Crusader would pop up from the felled pillar, a stream of lead would arch their way. Ducking speed was an issue, as Gatta had already learned himself. The only wound he had received while ducking was shards of concrete pelting against his skin as the bullets from the drones ate away at the pillar's side.
Gatta turned around, his back against the pillar, legs on the floor, and looked for arriving Crusaders. He did see a few ducked behind pillars, taking pot shots at the drones, but most were still out in the water, trying to fight the choppy waves and land. Some were even knocked off course. Gatta had to admit, this attack was rushed and sloppy. They'd need major luck if they wanted to win Luca back from Nyka's clutches.
"Sir?" A Crusader crawled over to Gatta, gun slung around to his back.
"Yes?"
"What are we gonna do about these drones? I mean, if any of the boys get up, their shredded, and we certainly can't charge 'em."
"Very true. We'll just have to sit here until we can think of a way to get around them."
"Yes, sir."
In all truth, Gatta didn't know when that time would come. Fighting with swords had been much easier, but those were now obsolete, and his Crusaders didn't have the training to deal with a foe with a firearm, let alone a "chain-gun." In all truth, Gatta thought his day had come.
--------------------
I didn't particularly know how far the docks were from the market place, but I did know one thing. The marketplace was littered with soldiers. Maneuvering wasn't very fun. Upon first entering the district, three shots whizzed by my head and I immediately ducked behind a merchant's cart. A few more shots tore into the weak wood built cart and I was running out of cover fast. I half-raised from my crouching position and fired a few of the sub-sonic rounds their way. Two of my shots hit, because you just can't mistake the image of a man flying twenty feet backwards. And I saw two men do just that. But it seemed two more men just seemed to appear in place and a volley of bullets tore into the cart, one of the lead pieces sticking in the side I was behind. Not good.
With as much strength possible, I pushed the cart down and jumped behind a couple of crates, which were immediately disintegrating from the bullets hitting them. Again, not good. I fired from where I was and hit one of the closest Yevonites. With that done, I hurdled what remained of the crates and entered a nearby shop. Bullets thumped into the concrete around the door as I entered, and even more flew into the shop through the large display window to the left of me. My elbows and knees hit the floor, propelling the rest of my body towards the back of the store. I prayed that the store had a back door.
A few more feet and I learned that my prayers had been answered. With much caution, I opened the door slowly, my back against it. It flung open and stopped halfway. My eyes darted all around the area in front of me. No Yevonites. I then cautiously turned around and peeked around to the other side of the alley. No soldiers. I headed the way I had initially faced coming out of the shop, eyes and gun darting all around. Couldn't be too careful, eh?
After snaking my way around the backs of a few shops, the alley decided to end and open me up to a grand view of the stadium. The street the alley connected to was parallel to the stadium and it looked like getting to the docks was going to be tougher than previously thought. As a matter of fact, as I headed down the street, in the direction of the blue, turbulent sea, I met an impressive force of Yevonites. Probably around a hundred of them in all. They were just marching and here I come, gun in hand, ready for them. Of course, that's not a situation a lone soldier can take care of. So, I slowly lowered my weapon to the ground and raised my arms even slower. On of them, I presumed the leader of the band, approached me.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Uhh..." Apparently, he didn't know that I was fighting for the good guys. Or bad guys. Or whatever we were.
"Well?"
"I was just...walking along and a couple of them Al Bhed fellas kinda knocked me over. I killed the bastards though! Got their weapon! See?"
The soldier stood in silence a moment before breaking out into laughter. His men followed and as they passed my inwardly stunned self, the leader patted me on the soldier and said, "Yevon needs men like you. After we expel these heathens, look us up in the stadium."
I nodded and cocked a smile myself. "Yeah." 'Yeah,' as in I'd be in the stadium but not looking for a job under Nyka's command.
With the band of troops well behind me, I picked up my rifle again and jogged towards the now visible docks. I could hear gunfire emanating in the distance, but I couldn't -see- it, and seeing it helped quite a bit when planning a method of attack. What I could see was a few perched Yevonites on the top of the stadium's wall. Snipers.
Snipers aren't fun, especially when they consist of just the enemy. And they really suck when they've sighted you and taking pot shots at you as you run towards your objective. That's just what they were doing too. I had found a path that lead directly to the docks. The problem was, the snipers had a clear line right to my forehead. I had to run all over the place, shots hitting in front of me or behind me or beside me. One shot was so close, the wind from the air being displaced around it made my ear twitch. Once more, not good. Imagine feeling like one of those ducks in a shooting gallery. Yeah, that was me.
Eventually, I found some cover in the form of an emptied bar. I was close to the docks, but I had to catch my breath before I started dodging bullets again. The bar, apparently littered with Yevonite soldiers before the attack started, was still occupied by the elderly man working the counter.
"Can I help you?" asked the bartender.
I shook my head. He seemed to know what I was up to. "Them snipers will get ya, fella. I've seen them practicing before. Can hit an ale glass from way up there.
I nodded and peeked out of the door. "Haven't gotten me yet, old man."
"You with Yuna?" he asked.
"You could say that."
"You the ones attackin?"
"I guess."
"Well, good luck. I really don't like them Yevonites. Always so pushy."
"Uh huh. Well, bye old man, time for me to dodge some bullets."
As I ducked back into the path, immediately sparking a renewed firing from the snipers, I heard the old man say, "Good luck, son."
I'd really need it to get out of this situation.
--------------------
"Hey, sir!"
"Yeah?"
"Isn't that...?"
"Weston!" Gatta yelled, looking at the path running parallel to the docks. Sure enough, Weston was moving side to side as he ran, dodging the bullets from the snipers. Gatta motioned to a few of his soldiers and a barrage of high-velocity lead arced its way towards the snipers. Soon, Weston didn't have to do much dodging. From where the Crusaders were pinned down, they had a perfect line of sight upwards to the top of the stadium, where the snipers were perched. They didn't even have to expose themselves to the machina drones to fire on the sharpshooters. Meanwhile, Weston had found a spot to leap over into the path leading to the stadium. He started heading towards the men.
Gatta whistled to Weston and told him to hold his position. Weston blinked and stopped, not sure of what was going on. By way of Gatta's next hand signal, and the eruption of a hot stream of lead heading his way, he knew why the men were there. After hitting the floor, Weston crawled his way to Gatta's side and simply asked, "Pinned down, eh?"
Gatta nodded. "Damn things can our every move and never seem to run out of ammo."
Weston hmmed. "I'm sure they'll run out, but if my guess is correct, they've got a very long chain of ammo. And if they're machines..."
"They are," Gatta replied.
"Then they're bound to be using some sort of motion detection. Let me test a theory..." At that, Weston picked up a small piece of concrete lying near him and flung it to the side. The piece of concrete disintegrated in mid-air before the sound of the firing guns ever hit the soldiers' ears. Weston's eyes had followed the chunk's journey and then hmmed, a finger lifting to his chin. Gatta leaned over to him and whispered a question.
"What did that prove?"
"That the mounted guns aren't using thermal imaging to track targets. It's solely based on motion. Of course, that doesn't help us any."
Gatta raised a brow, no knowing exactly what his friend was getting at. "So what does all that mean?"
Weston laughed and picked up another chunk on concrete. He handed it to Gatta with a smile. "Throw this towards the water. I'm going to try something else."
"You sure?" Gatta didn't like the look in Weston's eyes.
"Yeah. Ready?"
Gatta nodded.
In less than a second, Weston had raised himself on his haunches, back of his feet meeting his buttocks. He yelled, "Now!" and Gatta tossed the piece of concrete towards the right of their position. The guns caught the more obvious movement on the concrete and Weston fired a burst of the hyper-sonic bullets into the left drone's dome. The upper dome, where Weston had guessed the sensing technology was placed, had only one or two pieces left attached to the drone after the burst. Weston quickly ducked, avoiding the other drone's fire and nodded to Gatta.
Gatta then looked to his rather shocked men. "You know what to do! DO IT!"
The men followed his orders. In seconds, chunks of loosened concrete were flying towards the sea and the remaining drone didn't have a chance. The entire squad, Gatta and Weston included, released a volley of automatic fire that ripped both drones to minute pieces.
Satisfied, Gatta hurdled the fallen concrete column and rolled his right arm, motioning for his men to follow. Weston let each of the men go before hurdling the column himself. Gatta quickly formed the men into a two- column battle formation and took point, Weston taking the rear.
The stadium's lobby was empty, and Gatta noticed that the large building had taken a few missile hits, more than likely an Al Bhed airship trying, as futile as it may have been, to take down the beam cannons.
Gatta stopped in the middle of the lobby, most of the men behind him shocked to see the stadium in such disarray. Many of them were avid followers of Blitzball and seeing the place they came to so often crumbling apart didn't help ease their worries any. Gatta seemed to realize this -he himself shocked at the destruction- and decided to split the men up. He ordered for the columns to separate, and the men obliged. Weston stood off to the side, watching as the columns widen the gap between them.
"Ok, guys, one of the columns will follow me. The other will follow Weston," Gatta yelled over the sounds of the firing cannons and crumbling buildings.
Weston was already in front of the right column. He looked to Gatta.
"What's the plan?"
It didn't take Gatta but a second to answer him. "My group will take the locker rooms. You and your men head upstairs to the balconies. Find a way to stop those cannons. I'll meet you up there."
Weston nodded and jogged his column up the stairs to the left of the lobby, leading to the upper-most stands. Gatta moved his squad down the walkway to the right, and the men filed single-file into the narrow hallway.
In front of Gatta and his men were two doors on either side of the hallway, leading into their respective locker rooms and a large door on the opposite end of the hall, one that led into the playing-sphere.
Gatta turned to his men and motioned for the ten men squad to split in half. He extended his arms and wiped his hands downward against the sides of the hall, telling the two groups of men that they were to "sweep" the two locker rooms and "clean" them if they must. Of course, what he meant was "search and destroy." The squads would barge into the rooms and kill all opposition, thus allowing control of the area to go to them.
The men nodded their acknowledgement and went about their business. Gatta followed a group of men into the left side locker room. Upon entering the room, the men fanned out in an arrow shape, a "battle formation" of sorts that left them in support of each other, but not as bunched up as a marching column would be. Gatta covered their rear. Fortunately, the room was empty. And the room itself didn't resemble a locker room anymore. The room had been converted into a makeshift barracks, bunked cots lining the walls and covering the middle of the room where benches had once been.
The cots had hastily been left without being made, thus making Gatta presume that the soldiers had left in rather a hurry. He tapped the closest man's helmet and motioned with the tilting of his head for the men to follow him back out. As he had suspected, mainly by the lack of gunfire, the other group of men had run into the same situation in the opposite locker room.
Low and behold, the other group of men was waiting in the hallway. Gatta nodded to them and held up four fingers.
"Need four volunteers to stay behind and guard the area."
Within a few seconds, Gatta had his four men and posted two to a locker room.
"The rest of you, follow me to the stands."
And with that, Gatta, men in tow, jogged towards their next objective.
--------------------
Making our way up the stairs was easy. Sure, there wwere a lot of stairs to climb. Didn't seem to faze the men behind me, so my respect for the Crusaders' physical stamina training grew a bit. Not to say they were perfect little soldiers, but they'd get the job done.
Of course, when I found myself crossing into the cemented stands, I also found myself staring into the faces of at least a hundred Yevonites. Apparently, since that whole "missile" incident in Kilika, they had grown weary of the possibilities of surprises. I had to admit that I was the one surprised now.
I backtracked towards the stairs, rocks tearing into the concrete situated to the right, left, and below me. The men behind me did the same, and we soon found ourselves running back down the stairs. I wasn't going to try to macho my way out of this situation. Eleven men against a whole company of the enemy was...shit out of luck.
It was rather funny when we met Gatta and his men, who were trying to get -up- the stairs while we were hightailing it -down- them. I stopped only a stair short of knocking the shorter Gatta backwards.
"What are you doing?" he asked, incredulously.
"Going to find another way to those beam cannons. Hundred or more men protecting the stands."
Gatta nodded.
I wasn't really satisfied with a nod. "You have one of those communicator things on you?"
Gatta nodded again and pulled one of the oval shaped semi-clear contraptions from his side pouch. "Just talk into it."
"No button on it, no frequency?"
"Just talk," he repeated in response.
And I did. "Yo, Rikku, you out there?"
After a few moments of silence, I asked again. I heard a bunch of static-shrouded yells in that odd Al Bhed language. They were distant, but clearly coming from the radio and not outside. That meant that the Al Bhed -and- their lovely artillery were far out of the range I needed them to be in.
As I was about to yell into the little egg again, I heard Rikku's voice come over the radio. She sounded as if she didn't have time to talk. I could imagine she was entirely too busy to send troops and possibly one of those mech things my way, but I could at least try.
"Yeah, Weston?"
"Glad you recognized me. I need some help."
"Not a lot I can do about that right now."
"Do you have any of those mech things I can borrow?"
"They're kinda busy at the moment."
And I could tell she was telling the truth. I had seen one of the mechs when I met up with her near the gate. They were odd looking, strangely round in the middle with a small head. They were tall though, and on each arm was mounted a Vulcan-six barreled machine gun, giving the round mechanical walker a formidable appearance. I could hear barrages of gun fire erupting at all decibel levels over the small communicator.
"Thanks anyway."
"Yeah," she replied with, and with that, I handed the communicator back to Gatta. I assumed he knew the situation for the little "egg" could drown out a jet engine starting up.
"Well, now what?" he asked.
I shrugged. "We could wait for them. Sounds like the Al Bhed are facing some heavy stuff. It might be awhile before we hear anything from Rikku. You have any ideas?"
The men all looked to Gatta as if waiting for their leader to say something heroic, wise, or unforgettable. But, instead, the smaller man shrugged. "I don't have damned clue."
I thought a moment. "Are there any other entrances to the stands?"
One of the men, who was shorter than even Gatta, spoke up. "There's one from the base of the stadium, sir."
Gatta sighed. "Teffa, that set of stairs in on the other end of the stadium."
"Yes, sir," the young man said.
"Hold on a minute, Gatta," I interjected. "He may be on to something. Teffa, was it?"
The young man nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, sir!"
"If you take point and lead us there, we'll go."
Teffa nodded and started rushing down the stairs at a speed I don't think most track runners could match. The small man was fast, and I followed, as best I could, behind him, hearing the others trail behind shortly after.
--------------------
Rikku didn't like the way the battle for the residential area was going. There were Yevonites infecting buildings left and right, firing their weapons from well-concealed positions behind windows and doors, even roofs.
Rikku hadn't come to Luca to destroy the buildings, but it looked as if she'd eventually have to resort to that. Her troops fought with voracity, but they were sitting ducks for the sharpshooters littering the apartment buildings and shops. The mechs had taken care of most of the Yevonites in the streets, but the clumsy aiming the mechs possessed didn't allow them to be able to pinpoint one solider hiding in a window. Rikku was sending squad after squad of men into the buildings, but since the structures were so cluttered and large, the squads were failing miserably. So, it was with reluctance that she ordered the first tread-mounted beam cannon to fire on a large inn on the right side of the road. Soldiers were firing from the inn from every window. The concentrated energy beam took care of that, though. Within a two-second interval after the shot was made, the entire first floor of the inn was merely dust, and the building began to topple.
The terrified screams emanating from the building didn't help to ease Rikku's conscience, which was already stained with the images of torn bodies and the smell of burnt, tattered, and torn flesh that shrouded the streets in a putrid fog. Thanks to the adrenaline flowing through her and, she guessed, her troops, the acrid odors weren't affecting their stomachs quite yet. She supposed that the smell would get worse as the battle waged on.
Another building was soon fired upon by the mobile cannons and it too toppled with great might, leaving all those within it dead or trapped and dying. Moans, screams, and prayers filled the air as she and the treaded vehicle she was sitting atop slowly inched forward, meeting every bit of opposition the Yevonites could throw at them.
While Rikku did sense that her large group of troops and artillery were in fact winning the fight for land, she noticed how much that land cost both sides, and it sickened her. How civilized people who had lived under the shadow of a great enemy only three years ago could so mercilessly kill and so easily give their lives in a political struggle really weighed on her mind. Something had changed within her with the first order she'd given that day. The dead bodies littering the streets were her fault, since she was the highest in command at the moment. She had made the decision, in anger, to lead this assault, and she knew she'd forever be scarred by that decision. But, she was there, she had given that first order, and there was nothing she could do but let fate and the courage of those fighting under her command decide the outcome of the day.
As the men around her vehicle continued to find and shoot the Yevonite foot soldiers and her deadly beam cannons continue to level Yevonite infested buildings, Rikku wondered if her, as well as Spira's innocence would ever return.
--------------------
So there we were, standing in shock, as we witnessed what the Yevonites had done to the stadium. Gone was the Blitz sphere. It had been torn down and the concrete foundation it had built on was being used to park the two airships stolen from the Al Bhed. Of course, most of them men, if not all, were angered by what they saw. The Yevonites had torn down the most revered structure in Spira for their own personal use. Gone was the center of Spira's only form of entertainment, in its place was a makeshift landing pad. Needless to day, the morale of the men behind Gatta and me didn't need any boosting. Their anger was enough. With that in mind, I decided that now was the time to start flanking the assholes protecting the cannons.
The stadium was circular, so all the stands connected to each other. While it'd leave everyone of us quite open to attack, if we could gather the speed and hit them both at once, on every side, we could possibly take them by surprise enough to gain the upper hand. Of course, a diversion doesn't hurt, and that's exactly what I volunteered to do.
So, at the last minute, I informed Gatta of my idea and, despite his qualms about my involvement, went with it. It was a rather simple plan. I was to start firing on the Yevonite company from the opposite end of the stadium, drawing their fire my way. If at all possible, I'd then hide behind some seats and try to lure them around to my position. I wasn't going to be without protection. On either side of me, lying in wait, were going to be the men, their automatic weapons ready to dispatch the poor souls ordered to get me. An ambush, though, usually had ways of going awry and I couldn't think of a contingency. Oh well, an honorable death for us, in that case.
The Yevonites had their backs to us, so actually getting up to the same level of stands wasn't hard at all. I suspected that seeing me had sparked some interest in their numbers and I then assumed that they were waiting on me to pop my head back out. At least I'd have some element of surprise when I started firing...
With as little noise as humanly possible, we made our way to the top level, and the squads, Gatta including himself in the far right group, split up on either side of me. I sighed and brought my automatic rifle's stock to my cheek. Regardless of the fact that I was about to provoke a lot of lead to come my way, I took the time to study the details with the rifle in my hands. What can I say? I like guns.
The stock, if you could call it that, consisted of two steel rods that had a muted-yellow plastic butte plate attached at their end, making for a rather comfortable fit against the crook of my arm. On the left side of the end closest to the shooter of the gun was another piece of plastic, ergonomically shaped to fit most cheek bones. Again, this was comfortable and I appreciated the Al Bheds and their attention to detail. The body of the gun was a mixture of cold, gray metal (I assumed an alloy since it had a glittery appearance) and bits of ergonomically placed dull-yellow plastic. The Al Bhed apparently didn't have much time for trying to create weapons that would be well hidden in combat situations. Either way, the gun's metal was hard and cool, just like the blue steel associated with most World War Two weapons. I assumed the Al Bhed had not yet mastered polymers, since most guns in my era were teetering towards plastic shells with metal innards and the rifle in my hands reminded me more of an AK or M16A1 than, say, an Aug or the HK G36. Not necessarily by looks but more in its metal to plastic ratio. On top was a lovely aiming/gripping handle, much like on a Colt assault rifle, and the trigger was very thick and curved, easily fitting any size finger. The trigger guard was tight, only allowing enough room for one finger. Smart move, in my opinion. No one wanted someone to get their finger in the guard while their own finger was on the trigger in melee combat. The magazine slot was right in front of the trigger guard, allowing for a large and ergonomic dull-yellow grip piece to be installed under the base of the gun. The grip itself looked rather flimsy, and I imagined it easily came off for some sort of modification. Another dull-yellow grip piece was placed under the barrel, its shape a half-crescent moon leading into a straight line, giving the gun a sleek look in that regard. I suppose they wanted to leave enough grip options open for different shooting styles. Again, a smart move, since the weapon was so big. By big, I'm talking at least four feet long with stock rods fully extracted, three with stock retracted. The rifle was rather heavy as well, seeing as it held all the technology responsible for the ultrasonic bullet speed. The Al Bhed had done their homework, it seemed. Either that, or they constantly needed to protect themselves. I'd have to ask them about a smaller version after the battle ended.
One thing the long barrel and bulky frame didn't detract from was the gun's accuracy. It was pretty much dead on. This I instantly noticed when I opened fire on the crowded Yevonites. Instead of a normal explosion sound, the gun emitted a "pssh" usually associated with electrical surges or flash electrical fires. Two or three men were thrown back by the ultrasonic rounds and the rest decided to turn. Instinctively, I ducked behind the concrete slab in front of me, but not without getting a slug through my shoulder first. Guess I was getting a little slow.
Apparently, they had thought they'd gotten me. I informed them of otherwise by lifting the gun in a suppression fire maneuver, where the only body parts exposed were my hands. The point of suppressive fire was to make your opponent duck, giving you the upper hand by allowing you to then stand up and fire off the first shot when said opponent tried to return fire.
But I wasn't going to be sitting up. The slug had gone clear through the meat of my shoulder, and I have to say that it hurt rather badly. Actually, it felt as if someone had just set fire to my entire left side. Not a good thing.
With blood pouring down both the front and back of my left shoulder, I hoisted the gun up once more and fired onto the group of Yevonites, trying not to allow my shoulder to give out. The Yevonites had then had enough and decided to look for me. In a few moments, multiple "pssh" sounds erupted and bodies were flying left and right. I slowly sat up, ignoring the thumping pain in my shoulder and fired a burst on the group as well.
Thanks to the surprise element, we had dwindled their numbers down tremendously. I counted only fifteen or so escaping upwards to the beam cannons. The men around me all stood from their crouched positions, a couple offering me their hands. I shook my head in response and stood up, trying not to wince. Yeah, so I was trying to be a man about it. Can you blame me?
I followed the squad on the right while Gatta led his squad towards the balcony. After only a few minutes, we were converged at the stairs leading to the roof. The stairs were narrow and would only allow a single- file attack line. That didn't bode well for us.
"Teffa!" I called.
"Yes, sir?"
"Take lead. You're fast."
"Yes, sir!"
And with that, the short soldier made his way up the stairs with a speed I'd never seen a human possess up until then. The soldier closest to me, one closer to my height, noticed my shoulder wound.
"You need a potion, sir."
I looked to my shoulder and then the soldier. "Yeah, I do. But let's wait until we've gotten these beam cannons under out of commission."
The soldier nodded and I turned back in time to see Teffa jump forward at the top of the stairs. With that, Gatta yelled the order to follow. The men complied.
The thing about firefights that everyone seems to get misconstrued is that winning is up to the side with more soldiers. That may be true, say, if this were the Civil War and the armies lined up at point-blank range to fire on each other. Thankfully, in World War One, the army adopted the German's "trench" style warfare in which it was every man for himself as far as cover was concerned, even if those men were all working for the same goal. In the pre-World War One American military you didn't have much of a chance to survive, especially if you were in that front line. While being in front -still- sucks, you have more of a chance to survive if you've been trained to find cover and save your own ass, all the while, dwindling the enemy's ranks. If you count up ten kills to every soldier in a squad, that's a hell of a lot of kills. And if every man survives, then you're in even better shape. War wasn't necessarily a game of numbers anymore, and seeing Teffa jump, fire, and then find cover for himself confirmed that. Despite the fact that these men hadn't had much training in warfare dealing with projectile weapons, they were adapting and holding their own, and that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The more confidence you have in your fellow soldiers, the more confidence you have that you'll prevail.
The warm and fuzzy feeling soon gave way to urgency, because having bullets whiz by your head at immeasurable speeds tends to be a real buzz kill. I soon found myself running like a madman to make it to some flimsy crates near the first beam cannon. Why the wooden and "obviously not built to withstand being hit by lots of bullets" crates? Probably because five men were already behind them, including Teffa and Gatta. I don't know what it is about crowds, but being in one in battle seemed to make you feel better than being alone. Besides, the only other cover available at the time was a dead Yevonite's body, and I didn't feel pissing the Yevonites off even further.
I knelt next to Gatta, keeping my head down, but soon the guards protecting the first beam cannon drew their fire back to the stairs. Real smart. Teffa, Gatta, and I, along with the other two guys with us all stood and fired a deadly volley of bullet-bursts into their line, decimating it. A few of the enemy soldiers' bodied hit the metallic hull of the mobile cannons with a dull clang that certainly didn't sound natural. This seemed to get the attention of the beam cannon's operators, for the "FSSH" sound of the cannon ceased for a few moments. With that in mind, I jumped the crates and ran toward the large weapon, killing a couple of the enemy on my way. The bad news was that I didn't know how to get into the damned cannon. The good news was that one of its operators was trying to get out, and I saw the well-hidden hatch shaking. Bingo.
Three of my ultrasonic rounds collided with the hatch and the force of the bullets made the square piece of metal implode on it self, turning the hatch into a grotesquely oversized bullet itself. I didn't particularly want to see what it had done to the occupant, but I'd have to if I was going to stop the cannon from firing.
Or so I thought. The firing of the high-energy beam stopped and I clearly heard that funky Al Bhed language being screamed within the cannon's hull. I stopped next to the now open hatch and listened.
The voice seemed half-angry and have sad. I heard a stressed but somewhat muffled "Pnudran! Pnudran!"
I had no clue what that meant, but I wasn't there to ask questions. With a wince, I hurdled myself right into the hull of the tank, my boots clunking against metal, and something sickeningly soft and wet. I didn't think to look down because in front of me was a rather shocked Al Bhed. Blonde hair, goggles, speaking that odd language.
Did I just engage in friendly fire? It couldn't have been, because the cannon and its companion, which was still active, was firing away from the beginning and I know Rikku's forces were taking care of the residential area. I really, really didn't like what this implicated.
With my attention back to the current situation, I plugged the Al Bhed in the kneecap, but without the result I was looking for. Apparently I had missed the kneecap and the lightning fast bullet from my gun had gone through the guy's tendons and ligaments. Due to its high velocity, the bullet didn't have time to stick around and ricocheted into the front controls for the cannon -from what I could gather that is, I certainly wasn't qualified to name the parts of the Al Bhed made cannon-. With an electrical pop, the lights within the hull shut off and the only source of light left was coming in from the hole were the hatch had been. I could hear footsteps on the outside of the cannon, and stuck my head out. Gatta tilted his head.
"Good job, I think."
"Yeah, but you're not going to like what I have to tell you."
He raised a brow and I reached back into the hull, picking up the now screaming Al Bhed. The gasps from Gatta and his men were rather audible, even over the woosh of the remaining beam cannon and the distant but still heavy thuds of Rikku's fight on the other end of town. I tossed the still yelling cannon operator onto the concrete roof of the stadium right in front of Gatta. It was then when I realized why the guy was going on and on with his screaming act. The bullet had severed most of his shin from his thigh. Only a few slivers of flesh were keeping it attached. Gatta bent down and examined the wound, then the soldier's face.
"I don't like this. I really don't like this." Gatta said under his breath. The men rubbernecked over his shoulder to take a gander at the Al Bhed, who was slowly realizing that he was in deep trouble. I pointed my bulky rifle at him and held a finger to my lips. He seemed to get the message and quieted down.
Gatta looked up to me. "What do we do with him?"
"What do you think? Heal the prick and interrogate."
Gatta looked back to the nearly amputated leg and the back to me. "You call his wound a 'prick?'"
I shook my head. "Never mind. Just use one of those potion things and heal him."
Gatta laughed. "Maybe if we had a white mage with us, sure. A simple potion isn't going to help him unless you want to close up the remainder of his leg."
"Do what you have to. We need him alive because you know as well as I do what him firing on us means."
Gatta sighed and nodded. "That either there are traitors in the Al Bhed army or..."
"I don't think there's anything else we can think of right now," I said, noticing a patch on the Al Bhed's upper left arm. I patted it with the barrel of my gun and nodded to Gatta. "Take a look at this. Any idea what it is or what it means?"
Gatta leaned over the quieted cannon operator and took a look at the patch. "The symbol of Yevon," he said, the realization slowly starting to settle in.
I shrugged. "Then our prisoner has some explaining to do."
With a heavy sigh, Gatta looked over his shoulder and ordered two men to administer all potions necessary to keep our little friend alive. As they walked over to the traitor, Gatta stood and looked inside the small rectangular opening left by the hatch.
Before I could warn him what he was going to see, he turned around quickly, looking as if he was trying his best to hold back whatever it was he had eaten before the battle began.
As I watched the two soldiers care to the prisoner, I tapped Gatta on the shoulder. I held up my index finger and said, "One more to go. Ready?"
He nodded and ordered the rest of the men to follow us. It wasn't long before we hit another patch of Yevonite guards. Good thing they didn't know we were coming. They were only about twenty men strong and had their backs turned to us, walking towards the beam cannon on the opposite end of the roof facing the rest of Luca.
Now, I know, it's never been known as "honorable" to shoot somebody in the back. In war, however, honor has no face. And it was with that thought in our minds that we gunned down the lot of the soldiers. Battlefield hatred? Maybe. Sadistic pleasure in our job? Possibly. Necessity? Definitely. If you didn't kill them, they'd eventually kill you. That's why I've never felt the need for silly and outdated "honor codes" on battlefields. It's you, or them, and ever single damn advantage and surprise attack you can take, you better fucking take it or you'll be dead quicker than the Macarena. Murders, heartless killers, tyrants, we've heard it all before. But when it comes down to it, shoot or be shot, kill or be killed. It just wasn't their lucky day. War was hell and that was the truth. You didn't need a bleeding heart when you were engaged in battle. And if you don't like it, then you're jaded and unrealistic. Man is animal enough to kill without evocation. Nyka certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about killing without a reason.
Anyway, we jogged the rest of the way to the remaining beam cannon, and in a scene straight from my not so distant past, we all lined up, shoulder-to-shoulder, and filled the large, metal weapon full of holes. When the firing was over, a couple of soldiers took a gander inside and didn't seem very stable upon exiting the hull of the cannon.
"Targets eliminated," one said, barely able to keep his voice from wavering. Gatta nodded them off and, exhausted, the men asked to have a little break. We granted them that privilege. The roof was ours, the cannons were out of commission, and we had a lovely package for Rikku. I had little doubt that the revelation of traitors among the ranks would make quite a stir among Yuna and her camp. I just didn't want to think of what would happen if the word spread past the twenty or so men following Gatta and I.
I leaned against the side of the disabled cannon and set my bulky weapon next to me, leaning it barrel down against the tread of the tank- like cannon. Gatta chose a spot close to me and I noticed that the two soldiers we left with the traitor were making their way towards us, the Al Bhed cannon operator slung fireman style over one of the men's shoulder.
"Mission accomplished and not a damn thing to do but wait," I remarked.
"We could always help Rikku," he replied
"Yeah, and I imagine we will soon enough. Sounded like she really needed help back there on the communicator."
"Yeah. Let's head back towards the residential area after this little break."
"Sounds like a plan," I said. But, it was too little too late for making plans to help Rikku.
It's funny, to me, that in the face of death, most people see their life flash before their eyes, pray to whatever deity they follow, and generally panic. Me? I just sat there, staring at the airship that had formerly been parked where the Blitz sphere used to be. It was hovering right in front of us and I knew that death was soon coming. And what was I doing in my last few moments? Wondering whether or not I could cripple the airship before I was blown to smithereens.
The missiles fired, creating gray clouds behind them. Time slowed and I noticed the men in various positions of surprise, panic, or solemn realization. Gatta was probably thinking along my thoughts because I saw his hand reaching for his gun. But the speed of the missile was too great for us to do much about it. It seemed a fitting end, since we had done the same thing to the Yevonites in Kilika.
You know what they say. An eye for an eye.
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A/N: Woo, fun chapter to write. This is actually just half of the chapter I originally started writing for Chapter 18, but I wanted to milk the 20 thousand something words with as many chapters as possible hehe. Another reason for me cutting it off is the focus the next segment (and chapter) takes. Welp, off to finish Chapter 19 and probably 20A while I'm at it. I'll probably post them both at the same time, if Shad doesn't mind betaing two things at once ^__^
Many thanks to Shad for continually betaing my chapters. There'd be a heck of a lot more errors in this otherwise! Thanks to Jave and Artemis for helping me brainstorm ideas for this, past, and upcoming chappies! And thanks to all you readers who continue to leave me such nice reviews ^__^ ~ No One