Wine, Women, and Song

by Themis56

Originally started out as backstory, this is an entire chronicle of Setzer Gabbiani's life. Now completed, despite an ending that circles the drain. R for language, violence, sexual situations.

13. Cat's Theology, Dog's Physics

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: CAT'S THEOLOGY, DOG'S PHYSICS

"Do you appreciate how much work went into this airship?" Edgar marveled; he stooped underneath the low sill of the stairwell entrance, his pennant of blonde hair flapping in the wind. Setzer faced the monarch.

"I think I can," he said. "I commissioned it. I didn't design it, but I directed it all, even helped build it. But it's good to find someone who cares. Why do you ask, Majesty?"

"I'm a bit of a tinkerer myself," Edgar grinned. "I've got some tools here of my own designing. I'm proud of these babies," He jiggled a leather pack he gripped at his side, and metallic rattling shuffled within. "All a man needs is his power tools in his workbench and several beautiful ladies in his bed, that's my motto."

"You'll just have to stumble through life only half a man, then," Setzer said.

King Edgar, as far as first impressions went, was the most likable of the four foundlings, being of a calm, friendly disposition, and he took himself lightly even though he strutted and boasted at every chance, in adoring the sound of his own voice. Setzer liked him, and had figured the man out for a Casanova quickly, even before Edgar had even mentioned the subject of women, which had not been long in coming. Setzer told Edgar so.

"You remind me of a good friend of mine," he said over the whistling breezes, "he likes to make the same jokes. He also fancies himself a rake, though I daresay he's more successful. You two need to meet; perhaps he can teach you a thing or two."

"Likewise," grinned Edgar. "I doubt he knows how to make a castle submerge."

"How go the others?"

"We've just finished the last-minute plans. They'll be coming up any minute."

"Swell." As noted previously, Setzer got on well with Edgar. He admired the sheer bravada and presence of mind that Celes possessed, but she hardly spoke one word to him that had any personal warmth in it. He had come up with several pet names for her-- ranging from "honeybunch" to "my little popsickle"--in a vain attempt to get her to smile or laugh, but she gave him no such satisfaction. Sabin was tolerable. A strong, powerful warrior, the younger Figaro was not as dumb as stereotype precedented, but he was so unthinkingly genial and good-natured it made Setzer's teeth hurt to listen to him. And Locke? A decent fellow, but Setzer liked him the least. He had seemed a fine companion at first, but then they soon got off on the wrong foot, for Locke reacted very passionately to certain trivial things, throwing him from relaxed to insane in an instant.

Unfortunately, Setzer did not care to treat Locke's convictions seriously, as it was extremely amusing to watch such outraged indignation. The one thing that he most loved to do was tease Locke on the matter of semantics. Locke had introduced himself as a 'treasure-hunter', which Setzer (correctly) deduced to mean "thief."

"Ah, a thief, then?" Setzer had inquired. He really hadn't meant any offense, nor did he anticipate a negative reaction. Why would anybody deny their lifelong profession?

"No, a treasure hunter," Locke had said stiffly. His cheeks had flushed.

Many will consider the following remark to be extremely childish on Setzer's part, but, on reflection, is there any modern politician that acts any differently?--they insult each other time on time again, only under a different term: diplomacy. Please, do not think Setzer as shallow, think of his response as an overflow of his bubbly wit.

"As you say," Setzer had sighed, patient.

"I'm no--"

"All that's good and true, spare me! I know you. You're the thievingest thief I ever saw, you thief, and I know my thieves."

Locke uttered a cry and aimed a swipe at his gracious host; Setzer backed away in time and began to run for his room, hotly pursued, and shouting "Thief, thief, thief!" again and again. Setzer came to his destination and slammed the door shut in Locke's face, turning the key in the hole in a swift movement. Unluckily, he forgot who he was dealing with. The door handle began to rattle and almost immediately gave a small click. Locke threw down his hairpin before the two men disappeared into a mass of tangled, grappling arms and legs. Expletives were exchanged liberally.

"All right," a voice had said above them, "you've had your fun." Sabin reached down, grabbed them both by their respective collars, and conked their heads together. "For shame!" he chastised gleefully.

"You'd better mind your manners," Setzer chided his opponent as he gingerly wiped a small trickle of blood from his nose, "or else I'll turn this ship around and send you back to whatever slum you came from!"

"That's enough from you," Sabin smiled generously and pounded Setzer on the shoulder. Setzer had the feeling he could have smashed Sabin over the head with a hammer and still have only elicited a merry laugh. He had merely shrugged and started out to wash his face. As he did so, he caught a glance of Locke and Celes in the mirror. They were in the hallway just outside the room. Celes was kneeling before the thief and tending to the various bruises on his person. Her face was soft, almost as if she was shy.

Even as Setzer fondly recollected this incident, the object of his thoughts, as is wont in such situations, appeared on the deck, accompanied by Celes.

"Everything settled?" Setzer inquired.

"Yes," Locke answered. He took in the balustrade, the balloon, the engines. "This thing can actually fly! Can it crash?"

"Seeing as things in the air do have the tendency to fall, I'd say it's possible. It's all a matter of chance. I've been lucky so far."

"We'd better land a good distance away from Vector," Locke said. "This thing'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"Point taken. I'll land near Albrook," Setzer decided aloud. "You can rent or steal a chocobo and take it from there. I'll be on board in case of an emergency. Breaking into the MagiTek factory isn't a small order. Besides, my servant's ill."

"I'm sure he'll recover," Sabin declared. "There was one survivor of Doma who joined the Returners. He's in Zozo now, but once we do our duty, we'll bring him on board to meet your man. They look about the same age. I'll bet they know each other. "

*************

"Hello, Benedick." Setzer entered the darkened room without disturbing a thing and glided over the floor to lean down very close. Benedick's breathing was even, shallow, and only by the twitching of his eyes did he acknowledge his master.

"You haven't touched your food," Setzer said. "A pathetic bid for sympathy. Ha! Just kidding, of course. Come on, up, up. Big baby." He propped up the pillows against the headboard and slid Benedick to a semi-upright position and dished out a broth and noodle spoonful. He found that Benedick was devoid of the will to open his mouth, so it was necessary to gently pinch the old man's jaw and pull it down before administering victuals.

"I am sorry about Doma," he said as he proceeded to dole out the meal. "It's an abomination, an atrocity beyond all measure. I don't blame you for going under like this. But you know what I think? After all's said and done, people'll return to the region again. The castle'll be rebuilt stronger than ever and the kingdom will be peopled, better and mightier."

Benedick gave the slightest turn of neck from side to side. "There are no Samurai besides me."

"One of the men traveling with us says that there is another that still lives."

"No others," Benedick whispered.

Setzer placed the empty bowl on the nightstand and held the old hand, squeezing it. He decided to try a different tack to divert the time; he told how their acquaintances had disembarked for Albrook and Vector beyond, about their plans for infiltrating the MagiTek Research Facility for--for something, only the gods knew what, something foolish, undoubtedly.

"I'll help them as much as they want me to, but we'll be rid of them soon enough," he said. "And then it'll be just you and me, and we'll live and die fat and happy!" In the shadows he struggled to make out the hands of a clock on the wall. "I'm going to have to take the ship from Albrook to Vector soon and find a way to get in. Their business'll be finished, if they didn't screw up, and I must be there to save their bacon. I must be off."

"Don't leave."

He took a handful of whisker and gave it a tweak, saying gently, "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. Eat something, man!"

Prior to departure, Setzer issued orders for all hands to stay on the Blackjack until he returned, and that Ratchet was to avoid Benedick's presence. Journeying from Albrook to Vector lasted but a little while, and Setzer, on a chocobo, skirted the city, which was calm and untroubled as far as he could see. No ruckus raised so far.

Something compelled him to visit his house. He wanted to see what had befallen it--pure curiosity, nothing more. It would be good to see the portico, the stables, the marble pillars, feel the carved door posts between his hands, inhale the sweet smell of the grass and trees, imaginary though they turned out to be. For upon his advent, he could not discern things as real and tangible. In the moonlight sheaths, illumination fell upon a burnt and slashed stump arbor, plowed up soil, and a huge pile of tinder dotting all the acres, dead and long stopped smoldering. At least now he knew where stood with his government. He could only pray that his servants were allowed to leave before the flames.

He clenched his fists and forced himself to think of it all as his contribution to the ante. What did he care for living in Vector, anyway? The Blackjack was home enough.

Klaxons erupted from many places in the outline of the capital, and searchlights hunted through the clouds, blaring in outrage at a great act of thievery. Setzer admired the commotion as he mounted his choc and followed the path of a small metal track. It was utilized as a transport to the MagiTek Facility, he knew, and if Celes kept her head, she would have used it as a means of escape.

Locke, Edgar, and Sabin met their gambler on the track, all out of breath, sweating, disheveled to no end, and gashes bleeding. Locke seemed especially pained.

"Here you are! I was starting to think you'd gone and roused the whole place to no purpose," he said. "I trust you got what you came for?" Out of the recesses of his azure cape Edgar brought out a bulging pouch, shaking it; a glassy rattling, like jiggling marbles, clicked.

"Good, good. Where's Celes?"

Locke turned his head away.

"Ah, that can wait for when we get to the airship. Let's get out of here. Hop on, all of you. This choc's a strong one." Edgar and Sabin mounted without hesitation, but Locke apparently had no strength in his legs to move. "Come on," Setzer shouted, "you ass, we'll discuss it later. Do as you're told!"

The thief scrambled onto the bird, the exertion making it squawk, and Setzer clicked the reins, charging and charging, the noise and light dangling in peripheral vision, shouts of men coming and going. The leather strips bit into Setzer's hands.

They found the Blackjack by nearly crashing into it. The smooth wooden flank appeared to leap out of the earth herself like a bogey-man. Setzer dug his heels into the fluffy sides and the choc came to a screeching halt, its beak halting right next to the planks. Its cargo jumped off; Edgar slapped the bird on the rump, sending it back to its owners, and joined the others in running up the boarding bridge. Setzer shouted commands and took a grip on the wheel.

"Hurry, hurry," Locke panted. "We shouldn't overstay our visit."

"You raised all hell, that's for sure," Setzer grunted, punching the accelerator.

*************

"I'm worried about Terra," Locke said once the Blackjack had cleared the ground a safe distance. They were no around a roulette table discussing their situation. "Let's head back to Zozo."

"Terra?" Setzer cried. "What's this? Don't tell me you've got another woman hidden in the case, you rake!"

"Go to hell!" Locke hissed, a deep expression of savagery erupting onto his face, now seeming dirty and haggard, looking like madman. He stalked up the steps to the upper deck; the others were left to contemplate the disappearance.

"What's gone and crawled down his pants?" Setzer demanded of the two Figaro twins.

"Don't mock him," Edgar said, uncharacteristically grave. "Leave him alone. He's hurting. Celes--"

"Oh, yeah, what happened to her? She's all right, I hope?"

"We honestly don't know. We infiltrated the MagiTek facility, and were almost about reason with Cid, the head engineer, when he mentioned rumors of Celes 'defecting' to actually be no more than a cover-up, that she was actually spying on the Returners. Then Kefka caught up with us and told her to give up the charade...I really can't remember what happened after that. We were attacked. When I came to, Celes and Kefka were gone. Locke took it extremely hard--a little too hard, if you ask me."

"He had put his faith in Celes," Sabin said, "we all did."

Setzer tapped his fingers together. "What do you think of all this? If Celes is a traitor, then it's over."

"I may be wrong," Edgar bit his lip, "but I can't see why she'd do it. I've got nothing to go on but my kingly intuition. Still, I'm going to give her the benefit of a doubt. We'll see."

"In the meantime," Sabin put forth, "I think you'd better apologize to Locke. Talk to him, eh?" He was of a placid nature, Sabin was, and liked his surroundings to be as harmonious as the mountain crags and valleys where he had perfected his art. "He could use a kind word."

Setzer was not very keen on the idea--just a little teasing did not warrant a full-scale apology in his estimation, but it would be less cumbersome to fake remorse than receive a punch in the face. "As you command, Prince Chunkbody." Sabin laughed heartily; jibes were wasted on the man, they rolled off him as a bull shakes off flies. It was annoying beyond all else. Setzer ascended the stairs to the deck before he suffocated from the good-nature in the room.

Locke was facing towards the stern, sitting cross-legged on the deck; he did not turn at Setzer's arrival.

"Hey," the ship's captain greeted, "what're you doing up here all alone, eh?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Nobody could accuse you of being devious," Setzer remarked. "No pretense in you, my man. I thought thieves were supposed to be guileful. What's upset you so? Is it Celes? Edgar told me the news." He placed a hand on one of Locke's slender shoulders, and the shoulder jerked back at the touch. Setzer scowled and turned to step up to the wheel. "I'll tell you something. For as little a time as I've known her, I cannot fathom that Celes would be such a woman to let herself be imprisoned and beaten only to go back on the people who gave her kindness."

"The Empire can count on her loyalty," Locke said softly.

"Well, you'd know better, I guess." He paused, seeking a tactful subject matter. "Who is Terra?"

"She's the crux of our whole aim. The Empire uses MagiTek technology, and the only way we can even hope to counter them is with magic of our own. She's a born magic-user, not artificially made like the MagiTek Knights. She and I've been traveling together all the way from Narshe to Figaro and beyond."

"And she's in Zozo, mmm?"

"Yes. Not long ago, we were guarding an Esper in Narshe from Kefka's troops--the Empire's been harrying Narshe ever since they found it in their mines--and she...reacted with the Esper. She was enveloped in a ball of fire, or at least it seemed like that to me, went ballistic, and ended up in Zozo. We went to the MagiTek Facility to find something that would help her. She's terrified. I can't bear to think of her like that--"

"You can't bear to see any woman like that," Setzer said dryly. "You'd better watch how you treat the women, dear Locke, or you'll get a harem of ladies dying for your wonderful protection."

"I was not there to help someone once. I lost her. I won't simply stand by and watch it happen ever again. It kills me to see a woman suffer and not help her."

Setzer could see there was no sense in locking horns with such a passionate sentiment; romantics were insufferable at times. Yet... "My love died, too," he said quietly. Locke's head raised up a little. "It's a terrible feeling, isn't it? Like you're being eaten alive from the inside out. But I've a novel revelation for you. Time isn't your friend. Time doesn't like you. In fact, Time hates you. Your life slips by before you know it, and what have you done? Sat around like a bum in sackcloth! You look in the mirror and you've got hair sprouting out your ears and nose but none on your head, you drool in your lap, you have to sit down to take a piss, and you haven't lived. A space of terrible grief haunts the rest of your worthless life. No woman wishes that on her lover. The dead are dead, and here you are, not having done a damn thing except conjure your poor girl into the faces of other women. If I didn't feel so sorry for you, I'd slap you."

"Well...she's not exactly dead," Locke admitted in a small voice following a long pause.

He couldn't believe it. "Please explain."

"A herbalist in my town placed her into suspended animation. It saved her life. I couldn't let her just die when I could have done something, anything!"

"Brilliant! Truly, an eternity in a coma is infinitely preferable to death!"

Locke glared up, eyes lined red, at his gadfly, no doubt wishing he could swat Setzer. "Shut up. You don't know anything about it. There is an artifact that can restore life--"

"The Phoenix. I do know this, my friend: you're screwed, just screwed. This resurrection business'll be thornier than you think! " Setzer gave up all hope of resolving anything in the exasperated glance towards the heavens. Yet he did understand the foolish hope in Locke's breast, and felt sorry for him. "I am sure you'll find it," he said kindly. Then, having spoken to seriously, to goad his companion: "Since you'll have your love back, Celes won't have anybody to watch over her, and then, ho, ho, ho, I'll make my move!"

"Over my dead body you will!"

"You're a strange little man," Setzer said, smiling. "Perhaps Celes did betray you. Then it'll be a simple matter to break away," he reverted back to the initial topic. "But, dear Locke, suppose she didn't? Do you know what your lack of faith'd get you? The Runic Blade halfway up your rear, that's what! Take this advice from a gambler: risk the first choice of coming true. It wouldn't hurt as much."

"Asshole," Locke muttered.

"Obviously. I've got more advice for you: shut up, quit sulking, and enjoy life! For once, let Luck bat you around where it may. Now go to the others. Once I get this baby at full speed, you wouldn't stay on for very long. Ah, yes, tra la la, I walk on air and con-template the sun....I love life, tra la la."

Setzer craned his neck over his shoulder, observing Locke rise to his feet and walk to the stairwell; the thief lifted his head for a second, and they shared a mutual smile.

***************

Zozo was a city that lived under a perpetual drizzle and rain, only getting roughly three sunny days a year, and it was a dirty, windy place filled by the offal and vermin of the most damned races that ever scrabbed at Mother Earth's bitter teat: beggars, buggers, blighters, burglars, arsonists, thieves, perjurers, conventional assassins, character assassins, fanatics, kleptomaniacs, salesmen, pimps, whores, drunks, junkies, drunk junkies, rapists, rap artists, telemarketers, jaywalkers; in short, exactly the sort of people that constituted political conventions and public schools. It was unbearably distasteful to any person of gentle upbringing--recall that the town started out as a refuge for ragged beggars that had been thrown out by the snobbery of Jidoor. Setzer held his scented handkerchief under his nose for the entire trek down the wet, oil-rainbowed sidewalks.

Dangerous the city was, the four men encountered very little trouble. Edgar held a gargantuan chainsaw at his side for all to see, complete with huge gas tank and wicked serrated teeth, and Sabin was formidable enough on his own. Any attempt at a confrontation was aborted in record time at the warning growl of a tug on an ignition string or a crack of knuckles.

Edgar guided the way to a dilapidated inn, one of the tallest buildings in the slums. The surly patrons inside cowered and shrunk away at their approach ("We've been this way before," Sabin explained), and Setzer hurried over the ratty, undoubtedly lice-ridden carpets up many warped flights of creaking wooden stairs.

On the top floor, a floor rife in mystery, a strange and wonderful creature made itself known to the astonished Gabbiani.

The creature lay in a bed. Her skin radiated living fire, pulsing and shimmering in an aureole about her whole body; long tendrils of the flame spread across the pillow and sheets, yet did not scorch them. And, despite the mercurial nature of the essence she radiated, the creature had definite shape and form. Her face, pained and frightened, was human, complete with eyes, nose, and ears. He could see an arm draped over the side of the bed, five-fingered like the rest. A lady enrobed in fire that did not burn.

Setzer regarded the creature in awe. "What," he whispered in reverence, "is that?"

"It's Terra," Locke said. He lifted a hand towards a dark, swarthy man clad in steel-blue armor and a bizarre boy hardly in his 'teens, hair wild and unshorn, his wiry frame draped in all manner of monster hides. "These are Cyan Garamonde and Gau, fellow Returners. They've been watching over her while we were away." Locke moved next to the bed, and everyone else clustered around.

"Terra, Terra," the thief said softly, "please, wake up. Help's here."

Edgar's pouch quite unexpectedly gave off a faint glow. Alarmed, Edgar threw off the cover and pulled out a large, luminous, smooth stone. It gave another pulse of light, and Terra's fiery body shimmered in return.
"The hell!" Setzer cried; he stood rooted, petrified by wonderment and fear. His heart beat painfully.

Sabin laughed: "Calm down, nothing to be afraid of. It won't hurt you. It's Magicite."

"Ah," Setzer responded, not certain as to whether Sabin was hallucinating or merely speaking gibberish; he was definitely not familiar with the word.

In his relentless good-natured way, Sabin said, "Magicites are the remains of...deceased Espers. They've got great power in them. It's the only way a person can really get all of the Esper's power, using Magicite."

"Espers."

"Yes, Espers," Sabin nodded. "They used to be gods. That one that's acting so strange is Maduin." He took up Edgar's pack and pointed to each Magicite as he named it. "Here's Siren...that one's Shoat....Phantom....Stray..."

"May I see that one? Stray, I mean." He could hardly force the words past the dryness in his mouth. Sabin nodded and took out a stone, holding it out in his meaty palm.

Greenish white vapors roiled and twisted, their breaths frosting their mirror-crystal confines as they drifted from one side to the other, and in the very heart of the stone pulsed a blood red yolk. Setzer stared, his eyes focused on the center of the Magicite's essence: therein a cat, curled up tight in pain, took hazy shape. One yellow pupil cracked open, and a piteous mew emanated from the yolk, it seemed, integrating with the soft hum of power the Magicite trilled. Was it to this being he had prayed so fervently to all the years; was it to this he had offered his thoughts, his plans?

It was very hard to give the appearance of analytical wonderment, for inside himself Setzer was laughing as he had never laughed before. So this was the Cat of Luck! He supposed he should have felt cheated, yet he had cheated others before, and it was only just to be done by as done. Poor little Puss-in-Boots!

Did Setzer bemoan that Luck had gone from the world? No. Understand that for a gambler and adventurer, luck is a force of nature, begun when the universe begun, just like gravity and physics, yet there is no God of Gravity and Physics. Luck owed no subscription to anything, it simply was. It would always be there, even if the world came to ruin and the gods doomed. It was real, for all eternity.

He extended his arm for Stray and touched a finger on the smooth glass.

Upon contact, a wild undulation of energy leapt from the surface through his hand up his arm and into his brain. His eyes turned inward, and he saw himself suspended in the air, nothing above or below or to the side. A burning sensation looped around his neck and tightened, strangling him; he felt his eyes goggle and tongue protrude. His body swam in and out of focus.

Turning his eyes to his feet, he saw lines and gibberish-shapes wriggle out of the empty void like worms. In detached bemusement he observed the strange little things contort and twist into various shapes that meant nothing. But the longer he suffered, hanging in a noose he couldn't see, Setzer deciphered the shapes below. They meant something now. He gave a cry and stretched his hands towards it, this new arcane knowledge, grasping the signs in his fingers. The raw power of magic, that potent force beyond any rational understanding, pulsed through his body, and in his agony he understood.

All of this happened in a second, and all within, so that when Setzer became conscious of the world about him, nobody commented on the experience he had undergone; Setzer himself did not remember the pain and wonderment. His hazel eyes glinted strangely in certain angles of light, but, he realized, so did the others'. He did not like it. It was too strange. Afterwards, Setzer did learn spells and cast magic, but he did not do it often. Not only did he have little power, he thought it gave him too unfair an advantage.

The room's attention focused on the apparition lying in the bed. Locke had laid the Maduin stone upon her breast, and the twain were pulsing together. The wild, pained face flinched into a mask. "Father?" she asked, slowly.

Terra lapsed into silence for a long time; finally, Maduin ceased to give out its illumination, and she opened her eyes--bright emerald green in the fiery face.

"I remember now," she said. "I was raised in the Esper world. My father told me...he shared his memories with me. My mother was human. She got lost and found her way into the Esper's world. When I was two, the Empire came...Oh, I don't want to remember that!" Terra shook her head violently from side to side. Locke held one of her hands, Edgar the other, and everyone watched into stupefaction as the aura around her receded, her skin grew pale and her hair shorter and the same hue as her eyes. A willowy young human woman lay on the bed. In her thin, lovely face, Setzer saw an immeasurable sadness. He felt sorrow for all the various pains and torments she must have undergone, and was kindly disposed towards her.

"This," she breathed, fumbling Maduin in her small hands, "is my father? I understand. I think I'll be all right from now on. I know where I got my power now, and I think I'll be able to control it." She smiled up at the men gathered around her. "I'm sorry I gave you all such a fright."

"No trouble at all, my dear," Edgar said kindly. His eyes flirted outrageously. "Do you think that I'd stand still to let such a lovely young thing like you suffer? I'd rather Sabin pummel me into a pulp. No deed is too much for you, sweetness!"

Locke frowned at Edgar and said, "Try to keep it in your pants, Edgar. Don't you realize how serious this is? If Espers and Magicite can do such things...then Celes's power came from the death of an Esper. The Empire'll destroy them all for their powers if something isn't done."

"We can't let them get away with it!" Sabin growled. "We've gotta move, and soon!"

"All right," Edgar said to his brother, "where do you suggest we start, little bro?"

"I don't know," Sabin cried, "but we have to do something."

"How are things in Narshe?" Terra inquired, strategically interrupting the fraternal spat.

"Perhaps we should go there and check things out," Locke assented. Setzer, who had watched these proceedings in silence, quite forgotten, cleared his throat.

"The airship's ready," he said. "I can take you anytime."

The dark-haired man, youth, and Terra started at the intrusion; the boy gave a guttural howl.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Edgar spoke hastily, calming ruffled feathers. "Terra, Cyan, Gau, this is Setzer Gabbiani. He owns the world's only airship; we met him in Jidoor. He helped us break into the MagiTek Facility. We can count him as an ally. Setzer, meet Terra, Cyan, and Gau."

Setzer inclined his head politely towards his new acquaintances. Cyan, the dark-haired man, came forward and shook hands, Terra smiled shyly, and Gau bounded forth and yelped right in Setzer's face.

"Please excuse him," Sabin apologized, pulling the boy off the unimpressed gambler. "He's a bit wild. He's spent his whole live running with the animals on the Veldt. Manners aren't his strong suit."

"Obviously." Setzer perfunctorily brushed off the front of his shirt and coat. "I'll take you all to Narshe, but if I find any scratches, bite marks, or anything worse on my airship, I'll rescind my offer."

"Let's go, then," Terra urged. She climbed off the bed and walked on steady feet towards the door, her companions following. Setzer fell into step beside the man called Cyan and proceeded to strike up a conversation.

*************

On the Blackjack, Setzer deemed it a worthwhile cause to instruct his passengers on the piloting of the airship, for he was tired of having to chauffeur all the time. The Blackjack was fairly easy to control, so it was not hard or dangerous for others to take the wheel.

After the lesson, Setzer drew Cyan aside and led the Doman down to Benedick's bedroom; Cyan had been elated that another of his countrymen still lived.

"He's in here," the gambler nodded at the opened door. "Let me wake him up first." Lighting a candle, he entered the room and gently nudged the blankets. "Benedick, someone wants to see you."

Benedick, only half-awake, lifted his head from the pillow and saw the visitor at the doorway. His milky eyes cleared in recognition.

"Sir Cyan Garamonde?"

Cyan rushed forth and knelt before the bed, plating his katana in the floor in obeisance. "Captain Bruce Benedick, Sir."

"The fall of Doma--" Benedick whimpered.

"Did ye hear? Did ye know?"

To be present in this conversation was almost sacrilegious, mean, and Setzer quietly went away, the door closed firm. Warm voices muffled through the wood. They weren't mean for his ears. Moreover, the airship was buffeting around precariously.

"Locke, damn you, don't turn so hard!" Setzer shouted, as if the thief, who had been foolishly given the task of flying the first shift, could hear. Now was a good time to be preoccupied with yelling at people, so he tramped off.

What was spoken between Cyan and Benedick Setzer never sought to find out. But one matter was certain: Sir Garamonde must have either said or done something to pierce through the old man's despairing body and given him some shred of hope and comfort, for when Setzer returned to the bedside, Benedick's cheeks were wet, but his eyes were bright. What a wonderful thing it was to no longer be alone in your stance in the world. Benedick would come out all right in the end.

New hope aside, the old Doman was in no shape to continue on whatever adventures lay ahead. Thus while Terra and three others went to the Elder's house in Narshe for a conference on an alliance between the Returners and the city, Setzer had Benedick carried on a litter to an inn. He gave the inn-keeper a bag of gold to pay for as many nights of lodging that the recuperation necessitated, and he told his servant that if the Returners failed and he never returned, Benedick should go to Jidoor and live with his parents. "They'll love to have you," Setzer said.

"O, Master, don't talk in such a way!"

"Just a precaution, that's all. I have no intention of dying anytime soon," Setzer reassured. "With beefheads like Sabin to back me up, how can I lose?"

"Promise me one thing, Master."

"Anything."

"Do not let thy irreverent wit fall upon Sir Garamonde; he is a noble man and is unworthy of any mockery. He deserves the utmost respect."

"Respect? What's that?"

"Cheeky!"

"All right, all right," Setzer conceded, "no less than Sir Cyan deserves. How do you know him, anyway?"

"A' was a pupil of mine before I sought out questing. I trained him, I did, and he is a greater man than I."

Setzer again vowed to treat Cyan with honor and respect subsequent to bidding good-bye and leaving Narshe, and he kept his promise. There were no ugly or silly incidents between them, which was good for appearances, but honor, reverence, and shared exploits alone bring no true warmth between people. They were comrades and well-wishers, but never became real friends. Their dispositions were too different. But Setzer didn't join to make friends.

*************

What happened next concerned Terra and the others more than it did Setzer. In the council with the Narshe Elder, Bannon, the Returner leader whom Setzer had never seen, suggested that the Returners go the land of the Sealed Gate, the entrance to the Esper world, and seek to recruit the Espers for an attack on Vector itself. Setzer thought it a desperate shot, but he saw no better option. The gambler agreed to fly the group, now bearing the addition of one Moogle named Mog, a slam-dancing ball of fuzz that Setzer disliked straight off because he was sickeningly cute, to the east. The mountains where the Sealed Gate lay were blocked by an Imperial camp, but that was not Setzer's concern. Let the warriors smash their way in.

They needn't have worried about a battle, anyway: the garrison was deserted. Terra and Locke, Cyan, and Sabin walked in full view with impunity. They delved deep into the mountain caves, some boiling with lava, and, after many battles with common monsters and the gaining of many wondrous treasures and money, they came to the Sealed Gate itself. Terra morphed into her fiery avatar; she begged for the aid of the Espers that yet lived. Unfortunately, the group was surprised by a legion of Imperials headed by General Kefka himself. The Empire had gotten wind of the Returners' plans somehow--what can't be hidden from those in power when any part of the sovereignty is threatened?--and sent the soldiers to find the exact location of the Gate. The three men headed off Kefka and stalled him while Terra continued her plea for aid. The Gate did open, but the Espers did not flock to the Returner cause. Instead, with a terrible shriek of blind, throbbing fury, they exploded from their home into the world, stripping the caves and scattering the Imperials; the Returners barely escaped being blown away.

Of course, Setzer was in ignorance of these events. He was engaged in yelling at Gau and Mog, who ran amuck in the lower decks. Edgar watched, but only for the sake of pointing and laughing.

"You two! Get off the chandelier! Don't you know that's real crystal! That cost me a fortune!" Setzer shook his white-knuckled fist. A pair of green irises and a pair of blue blinked down at him from the crystal diamants. Neither Mog nor Gau knew why so much ruckus had roared over a few measly dropped sparkly things; both of them knew not the notion of money and prices, nor did they really care. Setzer had a hunch that Gau, a rather ingenuous child, was only destroying property from a love of fun, but Mog, unbound by fiscal responsibility as he was, took joy out of the agitation he was causing. The Moogle plucked off another crystal and threw it to the floor.

"You don't have to be just sitting there, you know," Setzer said acerbically to the recumbent Edgar, who only smiled in one lazy eye.

"What for? They're only having a little fun."

Setzer spoke to the chandelier-monkeys again, wondering why he had ever wished to have had children with Daryl. They were nothing but hell-beings. "Listen here, you bloody little savages, I don't have to put up with this foolishness! If you aren't smart enough to respect other people's property, I'll box you both up and send you back to whatever gods-forsaken hellhole you crawled out of, and you can both starve or get eaten or die some other horrible death, but back I'll haul you, and--"

Edgar was hardly able to contain himself. "Come on, Setzer, you're exaggerating the importance of the whole thing. You've done similar things in your youth, I'll bet."

"I never destroyed anything," came the heated answer, "all I ever did was make a few people faint. It's not the same."

"If you say so. But it is only a few pieces of crystals from a chandelier. Easily replaced."

"Only a few pieces of crystal! That, Your Majesty, is a piece of work that hung in the stateroom of King Eggbert the Horrible himself. It has history!" Oh, if any mercy or justice lay in the universe anywhere, he did wish either Cyan or Sabin was here--they were the only ones who could impose any sort of discipline over Gau.

Now that was a thought. Setzer tried again: "Gau, Mog, if you don't get off of there, I am going to tell Sabin and Cyan what you've been doing, and then you'll catch it!"

"You mean Mr. Thou?" Gau asked, somewhat afraid now.

"Yes, Mr. Thou." Who the hell is Mr. Thou? "And he'll be very angry when he hears about this."

Gau whimpered mournfully and he leapt from the crystal and he landed on one of the roulette tables, in the wheel. He spun around slowly.

"Whee! This fun!" he chirped and began to spin himself faster and faster. Mog fluttered down and pushed the wheel, making Gau go even faster. Setzer, near apoplectic, shouted in vain. Edgar bit his thumb hard and shook so violently he fell off his couch.

Shudders rocked the Blackjack, Gau and Mog were hurled off the wheel, and Edgar lost his joviality. The airship's captain ordered all hands to stay below deck; he and Edgar raced up the stairs in time to see bright orbs splitting the air with sheer power. The shapes seemed to come from the heart of the mountains.

"Where are they going?" Setzer cried, then answered his own question. "Looks like they're heading towards Vector."

"They sound pissed," Edgar said grimly. Setzer listened close; the Espers were howling. "You stay here. I'll go down and meet the others. Prepare to lift off at a moment's notice."

Edgar ran off to the Imperial base and soon returned with Terra and her entourage, and each of them had plastered on their faces a look that they had done something irretrievably foolish, such as raised the dead or blown up their own headquarters.

"All right, what did you do?" Setzer addressed the arrivals once the Blackjack was in flight. He was given a rough account of the Sealed Gate's events.

"I see," he took a slow intake of breath through his nose and cupped his face in his hands. "Wonderful. Amazing. Brilliant. Now what?"

Terra, the most wretched of the group, fumbled her hands in distraction. She listlessly rose from the table and went up the stairs like one in a dream. Locke followed her. Forthwith, the airship was wracked by another energy burst. Setzer turned over his chair while rising and rushed to where Terra and Locke lay splayed on the floor, the thief on top, shielding the girl.

"What is going on!"

"Setzer, get down!" Locke scrambled to his feet and knocked the gambler to safety; another wave of magic buffeted the air. Sick to his stomach, the distressed Gabbiani looked hopelessly around.

"Espers?" he asked. They could not be seen, only felt, yet they were very close...

"They were mad--" Terra stammered.

"They seemed angry," Locke returned; the answer was not sarcastic; he was too shaken to make light.

Terra ran to the balustrade and leaned over it, tears not entirely of pain beading her eyes. "No! Please--don't go!"

"Never mind that," Setzer snapped, pulling her away from the rails. "Where is all this turbulence coming from? I think your little family's trying to kill us, woman!"

"Ummm, Setzer--" Edgar, unnoticed in the chaos, had gone up to the steering wheel and was desperately gripping it. "I've lost control!"

"Damnation," the addressed swore. He shoved Edgar out of the way and fought the uncooperative controls himself. He dared not turn off the engine though he smelled smoke, for without any lift the Blackjack and its occupants would be at the cruel mercy of gravity. Better to let her swing around crazily and coast to a stop. Lower and lower it went, coughed, sputtered. Nothing could be helped.

In one last struggle, Setzer tilted her away from the ocean to the nearby land, the isthmus of Maranda. The ground crunched; he was pitched forth hard against the wheel, bruising his chest. Once the stars cleared from his vision, the scene unfolded: Edgar, Terra, and Locke, had survived too, though some were in ungraceful positions. Setzer readjusted his coat and went into the engine room. Smoke obscured everything.

"Wonderful," he said again.

*************

"And why do you expect the Empire to grant you anything?" Setzer yanked at a pair of fizzling wires. A few feet away Ratchet tossed out brunt and melted cogs.

"You haven't heard the news, Setzer. All reports from Maranda say Vector is almost leveled to the ground," Locke protested. "They have no choice. It's worth to at least look."

"Fine. Go and trudge off to Vector, bake your brains in the sun. You won't get your way. But you'll just have to see that for yourselves." He glared and wiped a streak a grease on his cheek. "By the way, if, as you so optimistically imply, the end of the war is nigh, I expect Bannon full reparations for the pains I've given."

"As of now, the Returners are piss poor."

"Figaro, then!"

"Aren't we Mr. Sunshine today. You've never been this grumpy."

"You'd be grumpy if your own best and dearest lay in shambles at your feet and had been ravaged by two demons in children's and Moogle's clothes and the people who got you into this pit go traipse along to Vector without any promise of help!" His back ached, his fingers were swollen, and he would have murdered for a bath--his teeth felt grimed over. "I swear to the fallen gods, I'd kill you if I wasn't so tired."

Locke had a very uncomplimentary noise to say to that, and he left Ratchet and the grumpy captain to their labors. The silence lasted for many hours and was quite pleasant, but it didn't last. Edgar came in and announced that an Imperial carriage had driven up to the airship and offered the remaining Returners a ride to Vector. The Empire had come to terms, it wished to do its former enemies a service. Setzer was too weary to care much, and he rode out the trip in a stunned half-daze. He ate what was offered him without remembering what it tasted like. He answered his comrades in monosyllables. He only desired to be back at his poor engine; political intrigue did not intrigue him.

Locke, Cyan, Terra, and Edgar, who had dined with the Emperor in a sumptuous banquet/summit, met the travelers in the empty dining room. Setzer hung back and did not listen very well. The Emperor had desired and end to the war was the report, and had suggested an alliance between Returners and Empire to catch and make peace. To achieve this end, the Empire required the services of the only being who could even venture to reason with the mad beasts, namely Terra. In the wake of recent events, Setzer did not have much heart in the proposition.

"If Terra goes to Albrook, I go," Locke said. She thanked him prettily. "The rest of you stay here. I smell a rat here. It all seems too straightforward."

"Hard to trust the Emperor just like that. I've heard such overtures before," Edgar said, nodding.

"We shall stay here and investigate the events afoot," Cyan said.

"That's the wisest course," Locke grinned feebly. "Leave no stone unturned!"

"Cliché overkill today," Setzer broke in, with an effort. "You may stay here. I wouldn't trust the Emperor either, but my airship's sick, and she can't be repaired by Ratchet alone. I'll get a cab. The rest of you may do what you may."

"Still grumpy," Locke jibed; it was most unfair to take free punches when the victim was so exhausted.

"Shut up."

With that brilliant retort, Setzer was as good as his word. He slept on the ride back and rejoined Ratchet. They were interrupted twice. The first time was when Cid barged his way inside and began poking at things in childlike wonderment. Cid had heard great tales of the Blackjack and was using the current peace to indulge his scientific curiosity.

Cid was almost like Celes's grandfather: he was an older man with a thin mustache and wore a yellow lab (not rain) coat. His genius was unparalleled, but, from the accounts that had reached Setzer, he was as naive as a butterfly and just as nosy.

"This," the scientist cried in wondrous glee, taking in all the machinery and noise and smoke, "is astounding! Ingenious! And it can make this unwieldy craft airborne. Please, Mr. Gabbiani, let me help you in your repairs! If you tell me what to do, I can do it."

He may have been the closest equivalent to family the goddess-like Celes had, but the little man annoyed Setzer. And he might be spying on me. I don't think he's capable of deceit, but the Emperor has his ways. Gods, I hate him. "What! I don't want or need your help, sir."

"But I can really be of service. And I know hundreds of ways I can improve the efficiency of the engine--"

"Remove your butt before I plant my foot up it, sir. That's the last warning you have."

"But--But--"

"Indeed, that's what I mean. Get. Out." He hurled a wrench at the head engineer's head--now that got him out posthaste.

The second interruption came soon after and was more welcome. Terra entered quietly and gazed at the laboring men.

"I just wanted to say good-bye before Locke and I left for Albrook. General Leo's going to meet us there," she explained. Setzer managed to wink at her.

"That's kind of you."

"You take great care of this airship," she said. "It must be very dear to you."

"Dearer than my own life, she is." He patted the engine's metal sides, loving the coolness against his fingertips. "I had an old friend who liked to work in here all the time. We were a team. You wouldn't believe how many hours we spent together on this ship. Poor Daryl."

"She's gone?"

"Long gone."

Terra flinched at the moment of silence that followed; she hung her head, hiding her pale face. "I'm sorry for that."

"Don't worry about it."

"Well, good-bye. Locke's waiting for me."

"Good-bye."

Setzer heard her footsteps recede, and he faced the hundred little and not-so-little tasks that needed to be done. It would be a long job.

*************

If there was any furniture in the room, it eluded Setzer's memory; but it was not relevant. He found himself in a gray space of sorts, no doors, no windows, simply grayness all around. A Magicite stone was in the room's center, either on a table or hanging in mid-air. Light glared in a reflection off one end, accruing so rapidly that Setzer's vision filled with the glare. Soon as it came, the light disappeared, and stumbling towards him was a large black cat the size of a large dog, red boots donned on its hind legs, its fur matted and skin torn in sundry places, as if a group of vicious children had kicked it about like a ball for sheer torment. It did not walk on its hind legs, as Stray was reputed to do, but on all fours; either its back limbs had been broken, or else it didn't have the heart to continue its mockery of humans. Using its last ounce of dignity, Stray lay forth, his paws out before him ramrod straight, and silently regarded Setzer.

"I wish I had some bandages so I could fix you up," the mortal spoke his thoughts aloud. A roll of gauze, clipping scissors, and adhesive tape appeared in his hands, brought out of the air by his desires alone. Yet he did not experience any surprise. It actually seemed an expected occurrence. Setzer bent down and administered what aid he could, covering the wounds, wiping the ooze away from the yellow eyes using his handkerchief, and brushing out the tangles in Stray's fur.

"Thank you," the Lucky Cat said in a very human voice. Setzer sat in mid air, floating above the floor, and Stray leapt up into his lap. The human winced, for his burden was not light, and Stray made it a point to circle three times in his lap before settling down, filling up the space, somehow managing not to fall off.

"I thought the gods couldn't ever be defeated," Setzer said, scratching Stray behind a battered ear.

"So did I, once," the cat sighed in a mew. "A thousand years ago, during the War of the Magi, I was a simple cat. But I happened to get in the way of the Goddesses when they were waging one of their battles, and they turned me into an Esper. They gave me powers to turn the fortunes of mankind, and I used them to toy with the humans because it amused me. I took, I gave away, and it was fun. But I'm not Luck itself--I'm subject to all its tricks. The Goddesses couldn't do that. I never thought that my own luck would run out, but it did, it did. Now look at me."

"The Goddesses?"

"Yes. They are the force of all magic. They created us Espers. Cruel passel of bitches."

"Why did this happen?" Setzer asked almost absently. A ticklish sensation ran up his nose--remember he was allergic to cats--and he threw back his head and sneezed, most of the spray falling upon Stray. "Sorry." He took out his handkerchief and wiped the Lucky Cat as best as he was able; the offended creature looked very bland.

"It was simply time for us to go, I suppose." Stray shrugged its thin shoulder-blades. "Time rules us all. Gods come, gods go in the passing of Time, when humans stop believing in one set of gods and start turning to another. It's the nature of the universe. I do not know what's exactly going to happen to me or my fellow Espers--I can't see into the future. I do know what way the world turns, though, and I can tell that magic is making its last stand in this final revival. The Goddesses' days are numbered, and when they're gone, then we Espers...Men will not offer prayers to us, and we'll be forgotten as a quaint mythology, just as every divinity has and will be." It craned up its head. "Which is why I've come to you. You are the few faithful I have left. You've been kind to me, and I shall help you."

"Help me."

"Yes, help you. When you, Setzer Gabbiani, dedicated so many casinos in my honor, I felt like I was a normal cat again, I was so happy. Now I'll do you a kindness in return."

"What is it?"

"The Emperor seeks to betray you. As we speak, he has freed Kefka from prison and sent him with an armed guard to Thamasa. If all goes smoothly, the town will be destroyed, your friends along with it."

"And those in Vector?" Setzer asked, hardly trusting his voice to not waver.

"Imprisoned and executed. But," here Stray's yellow eyes almost became sly, "weak as I am, I do have some influence. I've come to warn you; now I've done that, I'll do more. Go to Vector--"

"But my airship's grounded!"

"Then go on foot, idiot," the cat said in that singular haughtiness and disdain for human thought that felines have, twitching its tail like mad almost gaily. "What need you fear, with me to guide you? You'll make it in time. And, if my hunch is correct, your men will finish the Blackjack just in time to rescue you from there."

"What about Edgar and Sabin and--"

"I'll materialize myself for a time in the form of the young serving-girl waiting on your companions," came the reply. "I'll act like I've become smitten by the King, and I'll 'accidentally' blurt out the plan."

"A girl actually succumbing to Edgar's charms? That's so outrageous, they'll know something's up," Setzer laughed in spite of his reverence.

"Impudent!" yowled Stray, nipping at Setzer's hand and removing himself from the lap; it narrowed its eyes imperiously and rolled on its back, front paws flopping as if they were rubber. "Don't you know I hold the key to your fate, mortal? First you void your nostrils on me, then you doubt me? We cats don't stand for such insults. No you must do penance." It stretched its long, battered body out in anticipation. "Rub my tummy!"

Cats, Setzer thought to himself, make the strangest demands on their servants. He obeyed his fallen deity's command and ran his hands along the soft underbelly fur; Stray closed its eyes and purred in delight.

When its whim was sufficiently satisfied, the godly feline returned to an upright position. "Remember, go to Vector, and tell your men to work on the airship while you're away. I'll use my last ounce of direct power to help you." The proud eyes turned beseeching and sad. "And please, Setzer Gabbiani, remember me, and keep me in your thoughts. If one person thinks on me, it will all have been worth it."

"Of course I will."

Stray licked Setzer's hand once. "Thank you," it said simply; Setzer tapped it on the nose, was given another lick, and the Esper limped back towards its Magicite abode.

The gray room misted itself away; Setzer bolted up in his bed, pupils dilated, arms clad in a coat of sweat. Every detail of his vision remained clear in his memory; it was no mere fancy he had dreamed! He paused. What if it was false? Should he act so rashly upon a simple vision?

Hung on the back of a chair was his father's coat--something shimmered in one of the pockets. Setzer roused himself and investigated: the Stray Magicite had gotten into his pocket; but it hadn't been there when he had gone to bed.

Panic nearly overwhelmed him. Perhaps the dream was misleading, but he knew he could not afford to take such a risk. Indubitably, his friends--even Gau, plague take him!--were in the gravest danger. He felt it in the marrow of his bones. It was would do more harm than good to simply stay put and not take action.

He ran throughout the Blackjack and awoke his crew. Red-eyed, rubbing at their faces, they swarmed around their deranged leader, who issued these orders: "Get dressed and start to work on the engine at once. Ratchet, direct them, and don't tell me you don't care. We're all in danger. Work on the engine as fast as you can. I need to go now. I'll be at Vector. Listen. Once you finish and get her running, fly the Blackjack low over the trails to Vector and around the city itself. Let down the hook when you see us."

Questions assailed him. What if this? What if that? How--? Where--?

"Will you people shut up and take some damned initiative for once!" Setzer bellowed, peremptorily cutting off the doubts of his crew. "Do what I say, or else we'll be dead. Now!"

Setzer left the airship then, but he soon realized as he skirted the forests near Maranda that he hadn't a clue as to what to do. The distance between Maranda and Vector was formidable, and he was certain he could not reach Edgar and the rest in time by going on foot.

The Magicite in his pocket warmed, the heat creeping through the cloth and splashing his skin. Trees in the near distance rustled. He halted. Two bright eyes glittered, and the distinct smell of chocobo hit him. "Wark!"

"Chocy?" Setzer called, taking one step forward. "Would you like some greens, boy?"

"Warrrk!" That having been said, the choc burst out of his cove of leaves and cantered over. His feathers were mussed, some singed, and he was thin as to be emaciated, but it was Chocy. Setzer threw his arms around the fluffy neck and buried his head into the grimy feathers.

"Have you been out here a long time, boy?" he murmured. "Look at you. You've been having a rough time, haven't you?" He pulled away, still patting Chocy's shoulders, and spoke very seriously. He understood the poor thing had braved fire, predators, starvation, but the task at hand was too urgent. "Can you make the trip to Vector for Daddy? Can you make it?"

Chocy gave an affirmative wark and nudged Setzer's shirtfront; he picked berries off a nearby bush and offered them up, Chocy nibbling daintily in gratitude and hunger. He mounted and stroked the back of the bird's neck. "Let's go."

He rode Chocy at a pace that was steady yet not too taxing on the bird's weakened constitution--not only had Chocy been roughing it, he was old; his condition was far from optimal. Vector was reached in good enough time.

Guards were posted all around the city gates, ostensibly in defense against another Esper attack, as if their guns and armor could help them! Luckily, Setzer remembered countless little byways and tricks through the city's system of rails and tracks. To these secret trails he guided Chocy, safely infiltrating the city. Only the commonest sort of vermin hampered his path, and those were swiftly disposed of.

Death quiet was the city. The civilians had boarded up their houses shivering in the wake of destruction. Only reconstruction crews and the occasional soldier patrolled the streets. All was in Stray's hands now. The best Setzer could do was head towards in the general direction of the Imperial Palace.

A cluster of huddled forms could be discerned hurrying down a byway, and Setzer noticed that one of the outlines appeared to be fluttering in the air. Chocy was turned around and broke into a trot, cutting off the retreating crowd, blocking their paths.

"Well, well, well," Setzer said to a frantic Edgar and his equally disconcerted train, "it looks like you fellows need a hand. Can't I leave you people for any amount of time without having you get into trouble?"

Edgar looked on the mounted man before him as if he was gazing on a saint. "The Emperor's lied to us," he said furtively. "He's using this opportunity to destroy all the Returners in one swoop. He seeking the Statues behind the Sealed Gate. We only just found out about it, thanks to my ingenious ways with women, and we left the palace unnoticed. But it won't be long until they find us missing. We need to get to Thamasa--"

"I know. Now's no time for talking. Get on, all of you, and let's get out of here."

"All of us? On that thing?" Sabin inquired, incredulous, pointing at Chocy.

"Well, not all of you. Mog can flutter alongside us."

"And Gau can run as fast as any chocobo," Sabin said. "He's been running with the beasts for thirteen years."

"Gau!" came the proud assertion.

The three who couldn't flutter or run like the wind clambered on, a tight, sardine-like fit and extremely uncomfortable for all concerned; Chocy groaned under the weight.

"It'll be all right," Setzer whispered to his suffering mount, rubbing its beak, "you can do it." He hated to bring such pain on his boyhood pet, but it couldn't be helped. They wound through the streets towards the path which Setzer had taken in entering, and the prospect for leaving undetected was high. But see what happened!

The Returners' absence had been noticed before expectation, and Imperial soldiers combed the city in droves. One of these patrols caught sight of the fugitives. Cries of "There they are! After them! Don't let them escape!" resounded all around. Mog squeaked in despair. Setzer leaned down once more and icy hands stroked Chocy's flanks.

"Please, please, go faster," he whispered. Chocy rolled his eyes and increased his pace faster and faster, using the last remnants of youth and second wind. It did not feel like much, but the effort was enough to pull away into the security of the transportation network. Setzer continued to force the choc into a gallop, for until he and his charges were safely aboard the Blackjack, he did not dare take the slightest chance in capture by slowing.

Once they had cleared Vector, Setzer became aware of a layer of foam underneath Chocy's feathers, drenching cloth, and a gasping wheeze sounded out with every heave of the yellow plumed chest. Setzer was tired, but not so tired that he the wobbling scenery came from a mere figment of imagination. "O Stray," he offered up, "help me now."

Unlike like nearly all prayers, the Stray Magicite granted this one immediately: on the horizon, a glorious bulbous ship parted the curtains of the clouds, sweeping down low. The Blackjack! Gau threw back his head and howled in delight, the others echoing his cries in their own cheers. Hands flew up in the air and waved like the spasms of an epileptic fit. The hook lowered.

"Everybody on, and hold tight!" Setzer advised. He had dismounted by this time, as had the others, and turned; he decided the best way to get Chocy on board was to let Sabin and his mighty muscles take care of the load, but one look and his relief died.

Chocy had fallen to shaking knees. His head bent limply over, and bloody froth dripped from his open beak.

"Chocy, Chocy, I'm so sorry," Setzer groaned repeatedly and rushed forth. He laid the golden head on his lap and kissed the ridge between bill and face over and over. Tears fell down over his scars. Chocy gazed up at his master with wide and frightened eyes; he did not know why or how, but he knew that his wind had been broken, his heart had been put through too much, and that his master was in distress. When Setzer was distressed, so was Chocy, and the bird knew that the human's emotions stemmed from some fault in his own birdish body. Chocy took one of Setzer's hands in his beak and gave a fortifying nibble. Then the lights in his eyes went dark, his chest stopped moving so rapidly, and then stopped.

"Hurry up, hurry up!" voiced called down from the Blackjack. Setzer wiped away his tears, placed Chocy's head on the ground, and grasped the hook. It was a terrible thing to leave the body where it lay he could hardly forgive himself. The scavengers would come and pick off the flesh from the bones, the bones would be shrouded in the dust and eaten by worms until the whiteness and earth become one and the same, and then grass and weeds and flowers would take root in the dust. A poor fate...but there was comfort in it.

Firm boards supported his feet, the wheel was in his hands, and thoughts went away from the dead to the living. The living of greatest concern were in Thamasa, and it was in that city's direction that the Blackjack took wing.

*************

Thamasa had a reputation of being a simple, small town filled with simple, small, folk even more backwards than the Domans; but to a certain pair of hazel eyes, the hamlet had seen better days. Smoke and embers crackled from ruined foundations, a depressingly common scenario nowadays.

"We come tardy," Cyan cried, staunch face melancholy almost to despair.

"It looks like most of the town's intact. The Empire usually levels the places it conquers. That's a good sign," Sabin pointed out, resolute in his optimism.

Following the landing, they entered Thamasa and came to the city green, wind-swept and burnt. Here Locke and Terra, accompanied by Celes and two natives, one old man and one a young girl, waited to greet them. Setzer's poor spirits raised high in joy, but the death of his cherished chocobo rankled in him, so his words were not encouraging.

"We've been had," he snarled, scars livid. "The Emperor's a liar, damn his withered black heart, if he has one! It looks like you've found that out. What happened here?"

Locke surmised for the newcomers the recent events in Thamasa. They had found the Esper leader, Yuma, and had taken him to meet with General Leo, and they had been on the verge of a peace, but Kefka had surprised the town, killed the Espers, and burned it for sport. More damage and havoc would have been wrought, but a second wave of Espers had come to avenge their fallen comrades. The soldiers burning the town had been destroyed as Kefka made short work of the Espers, turning them into Magicite and apparently hastening off to join the Emperor at the Sealed Gate.

"But how did you guys escape? You were right in the heart of Vector!" Locke asked.

"'Twas Edgar's...chivalrous ways with the ladies," Cyan explained; he could be quite wry at times. "Thanks to his nobility, we left before any catastrophe occurred."

"All right, Edgar!" Locke's weary face grew mirthful, and he gave a laugh.

"I got to know the angeliforous gal that waited on us," Edgar said, pulling out a silk scarf from his regal belt and fluttering it for all to admire. "And when she brought us tea, she blurted out the whole crooked plan!" He winked and laughed lustily. Setzer did not comment. An illusion now and then was good for a man.

"Finally hit pay dirt, eh?" Sabin posed. It was meant as a rhetorical question, but Edgar answered it nonetheless.

"Shut your filthy mouth, you! There're ladies present. I was a perfect gentleman, courteous and suggestive. You'll never get a wife if you keep being so forward, Sabin. Say, Locke, where's General Leo? He was here, wasn't he?"

Terra hid her face in her hands, and Celes drew her white cloak tight about her shoulders; she had never appeared so sad.

"Leo's gone. Kefka killed him." Locke said bitterly.

To Setzer, the Imperial General Leo Christophe had been a mere abstraction in flesh, talked about in his circles but rarely seen; Leo had not frequented Vectorian social gatherings. He had been known as a virtuous, stoic leader destined for greatness, that was all. No gossip or scandals about him. Yet, in the few times Setzer had seen Leo, he recalled a kind, warm face, the only face that had any mercy in it. And in Leo's death, any hope of coming to terms with the mad Emperor and his equally mad clown died too. Thus, unknown as the two men were to each other, Setzer felt a pain and wholly agreed with Cyan's response.

"Sir Leo, gone! What a waste...He was the best of all the Imperials."

In the midst of the void caused by the terrible news, Locke, the most recovered, reasonably suggested returning to the airship and rethinking a new strategy.

The old man cleared his throat and spoke, voice raspy as sandpaper but firm: "May I accompany you?"

"Who're you, sir?" Edgar spoke for all the new arrivals.

"His name is Strago Magus, one of Thamasa's citizens." Terra shed light on the matter. "He's descended from the Mage Warriors of yore. I think he can be a big help. He knows the ways of all sorts of monsters, and he knows more than anyone here about the history of magic.

"The what?" Edgar deadpanned, no scholar he.

"Just a five gold-piece word for a worthless status. I can use a smattering of magic, that's all. Nothing like your lady friend here," Strago, whose wit was better than his ridiculous haircut and sense of fashion (a mohawk and pea green and orange robes on an old man? Setzer thought), indicated Terra using his gnarled old staff. "I have seen the power of the Espers. Now the Empire has it, and you all can expect the Emperor to flex his newfound muscle very soon."

"Me too! Let me at 'em!" the girl, a small young thing with curled mousy hair springing under a red beret, pumped an arm into the air.

"Relm, my granddaughter," Strago put in hastily. "And you're staying right at home, young lady. It's no place for you. After what you've done, nearly frying yourself to a crisp, I ought to lock you in the basement!"

"Yeah, right, kid!" Sabin guffawed. "The day little girls fight empires is the day Edgar truly scores with a woman."

Relm uttered something that can only be best reproduced as an "Ack!" and she began to flail her arms frantically at the martial artist. "What? Who's this puffed up aerobics instructor anyway?"

"Got quite a lip, don't you, kid?"

The little girls squinted her eyes hard and pouted out her bottom lip. "Here," she said, pulling out a sketch pad, "stand like that. Let me paint your portrait. I need a picture of a pompous meathead."

Terra and Locke shouted out "Don't", and Strago grunted, "All right, all right! If you insist! Now put that away before you hurt someone." Setzer thought the whole affair ridiculous and did not deign to give any grace with a word.

"Much better." Relm closed her eyes in satisfaction and gave a firm nod. She then ran over to a large Doberman dog, its legs and chest wrapped in bandages, and embraced it as if it were a bunny. "Did you hear that, Interceptor? We're going!"

If there was anything in the world Setzer hated, it was dogs, and this one was a perfect monster, muscular and sharp-jawed and slobbery. He had to speak out on the issue.

"No," Setzer barked. "I won't take that thing on board."

"I want him to come with us," Relm scowled, narrowing her eyes, squeezing the monster defensively. Setzer's cheeks heated--the cheek of the chit!--and he decided to debate on her own ten-year-old level, for her to better understand the situation.

"He doesn't go!"

"Yes, he does!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Nonononononono!"

"Yesyesyesyesyes!"

"Oh, Setzer, let her take the damned dog!" Locke groaned. The gambler whirled on the thief.

"Like hell! I already have to subject my precious airship to the infernal machinations of Gau and Mog and now this brat! I've reached my tether." He spoke to Relm now, smiling very sweetly. "Relm, do you know what physics is?"

She frowned confusion and annoyance and shook her head.

"Well, physics is how things move on the earth and in its atmosphere. Here, I'll give you an example." He jabbed a finger up at the sky. "Doggie goes up in airship. Good? Empire attacks airship and maybe, just maybe, doggie goes flying off the deck. One of the things about physics is that as something falls, it falls faster and faster the longer the drop." He pointed his finger down and lowered his arm. "So doggie goes faster and faster, and when he hits the ground, he'll be going at a huge speed. And you think, dear girl, that animals thud like rocks. Oh, no, no, NO. They don't. When doggie hits, he'll explode like a melon. The bones and intestines, it's like they're spring-loaded. So he hits and pops" here he snapped his fingers, "and the guts go flying everywhere. Doggie won't be cute anymore. Is that what you want? Doggie all over the island?"

Relm's eyes, which had grown progressively throughout the lesson, blinked once in horror; then she burst into tears and threw herself on the dog, crying that she didn't want to see him exploded, and that he'd stay in Thamasa. Strago patted her head.

"Setzer, stop traumatizing the children. We have more important things to worry about" Terra chastised. Setzer did not feel in the least ashamed.

"Let's get going," Locke said.

"Yes, let's," Setzer echoed. He guided them to the airship; it took a bit of persuasion to get Relm on board. An impromptu meeting was held on the top deck as Setzer launched the ship into the air. "We've got to hurry," he said from the wheel. "The Emperor's looking for some statues or something."

"You can't be serious!" Strago cried. Setzer half expected him to have a coronary right then and there.

"What do you know about it?" Edgar asked.

A shriek cut through the air, high and shrill; Terra collapsed to her knees on the deck, clutching her temples.

"Terra! What's the matter?" Setzer shouted.

"The island," she whimpered, the veins in her forehead throbbing, "the whole planet is groaning in pain...Agh, my head!" She fainted dead away. Edgar began to mop at her glistening face and placed his cloak underneath her head.

Below the lands erupted into protest, tectonic plates gnashing and grinding into a tremendous crack, then shifting into a wrenching tear of earthy bone and tendon. The Blackjack tilted in the concussions' recoils, and Setzer fought to keep her steady. "Keep hold! Don't try to go below decks!"

A shadow fell across the frightened faces, the shaking ended, and Setzer dared avert his attention from his steering. His hand dropped limply. The image of the Emperor, enthroned upon a stone seat, eclipsed the sun, ascending steadily, and gazed down upon the world with stone eyes. An entire continent levitated, its root-tangled bottom crags created in the Emperor's image.

"O blessed gods save us," Cyan murmured. Someone began to cry hysterically: "He's mad! He's mad! Mad! Mad!"

"Shut up, all of you!" Edgar, the only of them who kept his head, ran like a devil between the stultified persons gawking at the sky and cracked a few heads together. "Setzer, help me!"

Gathering up the last remnants of his nerve, Setzer valiantly opened his mouth; perhaps if he could get them talking, everyone would calm down. Unfortunately, he hadn't the foggiest idea of what to say. He let the words come of their own accord.

"Strago, what the hell just happened?"

"The Statues have been found," groaned the aged man. Relm shivered in his embrace. "Only they could have made the whole island of the Sealed Gate--" He gestured towards the shadow, a mere toss of the hand. "The beginning of all magic, they are..."

"I felt them!" Terra cried, recovered from her faint. "I was unconscious, but I could feel their power and see their shapes. It was horrible."

"This is very grave," said the old man. "If the Statues are moved out of their alignment....the very face of the world will be changed. The forces of magic would run rampant, altering everything in their path. It would be a nightmare."

"We have no choice," Edgar gnawed his lower lip. "We must go up there. The Emperor won't knowingly move the Statues, I think, but I'm worried about Kefka. He doesn't care for adulation."

"Right! I suppose you want me to fly you up there and drop a bomb on their heads," Setzer cut in. "It's too crazy. Tantamount to suicide."

"You'd rather live all your days in the Emperor's shadow?" Celes snapped; it was the first time she had spoken since Thamasa--Setzer expected Leo's death had struck her keenly.

"This is madness. I can't take much more of this...unnatural insanity," Setzer moaned and shook his head. His body cried out for sleep, and his brain throbbed in pain, begging to be released. Celes clapped her cool hands around his face.

"You'll take it, as we're all taking it," she said. "There's no time for hysterics. Fly the Blackjack up to the island."

Oh, he would have kissed her if she wouldn't have run him through with the Runic Blade! "Ah, Celes, sweetness, you're worth a million! Get below decks, everyone."

"I prefer to stay here," Celes said. Locke came up next to her, his agreement tacit.

There was no use in further haggling, so Setzer revved the engines and accelerated the airship. After a long space, he heard Sabin's voice.

"I think we're being followed."

"Nonsense! This is the fastest vessel in the world. Besides, nothing can fly this high."

"Of course you're right. Those aren't following us. They're just really big birds...with propellers...and making funny sounds...and they're coming straight towards us..."

"Damn. The IAF," Edgar spat. For his own part, Setzer cursed himself halfway into an embolism, a string of invective that, regrettably, was too vile to mention here. The Blackjack climbed higher, and the air sliced into Setzer's lungs, but the jerries would not be shaken. One of the planes slammed into the airship's hull, sparks flying. Setzer pulled out his pack of darts and threw a handful at the offender, striking its fuel chassis. It burst into flames, but more took its place.

"All right, you sons of bitches!" the captain shouted, near tears. "I can't lose them. We'll have to fight."

Edgar hauled out a crossbow large enough for anti-aircraft purposes and let the bolts fly, riddling the nearest attackers like porcupines. A jerry dove at them, strafed the smooth wood. "You pig-bastard!" Setzer shouted, accenting the remark with a barrage of darts that missed their target completely. Lightning, ice, and fire exploded all around, and the heated air stifled. Rank on rank of IAF fighters swooped and attacked--there seemed to be no end to them.

Cyan launched into a pirouette, treading the air as he spun his silver katana, the Tempest, in a delicate series of arcs; the Doma Samurai had their own magic in battle. He gave a war-cry that throbbed of hate and rage and shame. "In the name of the Liege of Doma, I slay thee!" The blade flashed, shearing metal, and several fighters dropped like flies from sight. On the end of that attack, Sabin crouched, the muscles in his arm rippling; he clapped his hands together and bellowed several inane words, thrusting his fist towards the gadflies at the end of his recitation. One, two, three, six clones of fire formed in a ring and danced outwards; any plane caught in their wake burned. The acrid scent of melted metal and flash curdled Setzer's nostrils.

Dancing fire-clones were particularly unnerving for the IAF. The fighters withdrew, circling but no longer attacking. The defenders gladly seized the breather.

"Something weird's coming this way," Relm piped up suddenly.

Indeed, something strange did come up swiftly--at first glance, it looked like a pink puffy cloud sporting a snazzy purple chapeau, but as the thing came closer, it was clear that it was two instead of one. The purple creature sprang onto the airship's prow--a giant octopus.

"What in the hell is that!" Setzer could barely speak, not because he was afraid, but because he was so angry.

"That," Celes responded, "is Ultros. He tried to drop a five-ton weight on my head once."

"Hi, Uncle Ulty!" Relm called out.

Locke nodded to Sabin and Edgar. "Guys?"

"Yeah?" Sabin drawled; twin Edgar stretched until his blue and black armor creaked.

"Tear his tentacles off."

Edgar nodded in return and pulled out his chainsaw, Sabin cracked his iron-bound knuckles, and the twins began their attack. Ultros began to rant about something, flailing his tentacles. Setzer decided that, right now, he was as mad as the Emperor, and he dropped his chin onto his chest, so very tired of the absurdity of it all.

His repose did not last long. Relm's scream split the air, and he jerked his head up in time to see a large severed tentacle come flying down and landing right near the wheel. Relm continued to shriek, skipping around in disgust at the briny, rubbery thing; Setzer, his jangled nerves totally stripped by the raining calamari, snatched her beret off her curls and hurled it down the stairwell. The little girl gave a wail and ran after her precious.

Over at the battle on the prow, Ultros, the tentacles severed by Edgar's chainsaw regenerated, whistled shrilly. The pink puffy cloud jumped into the fray, and Cyan and Celes and Locke ran to intercept it. It opened its mouth and breathed a stream of fire, charring the deck. Setzer shouted in protest, but Celes cast a sheet of ice over the flames before any major damage was done.

Punches were thrown, blood flowed, magic crackled, and metal flashed in a jumble. Setzer breathed in the hot air and tried to swallow down his parched throat and hurled his darts at every chance. Nothing else stood out in his memory. Then finally Sabin aimed a kick that hit home right in Ultros's mouth, and the teeth went crunching, Ultros squealed like a schoolgirl and flipped right over, nearly hurling himself off the edge of the prow. The pink puffy cloud gave a bellow of distress under the barrage of Cyan's katana and puffed out its chest, swelling up to nearly twice its size, and then gave a tremendous sneeze. G-forces hit everybody on deck, forces so high that Setzer lay at the wheel, stunned and world blackened. It was some time before he came back into consciousness again. In the distance he thought he heard a voice.

"Stupid octopus!" Gau. Little scamp, in spite of his intolerable ignorance and egregious table manners, spoke the mutual feelings of all in a great deal more eloquence than Setzer himself could have done. Smooth, warm discs alighted on the gambler's face, a sensation so gentle that he didn't realize at first his eyelids had opened.

"Awake at last," Terra said. "Do you think you're up to eating something?"

"That'd be good. Thank you," Setzer said. He pinched his face and stood up only to sink down again. The dipping sun cast feeble, drowsy red points of light from underneath the Emperor's craggy face, so that one half of the Blackjack was cast into shadow and the other into crimson, melding into each other like spilt paint yet somehow the edges licked and turned so that Setzer couldn't tear his eyes away; these strange new settings were so lethargic that moving felt an impossible and thankless chore, no use in it at all...

"Where," Setzer inquired of Terra, returned and offering him a bowl of thin soup, "is Locke? I don't see him. And I'm missing some others, too."

"That...thing, Chupon I think Ultros called it, blew Locke, Edgar, and Cyan overboard when he, er, sneezed. No, no, don't worry, they're not dead. It was a very fortunate thing, actually. It managed to scatter most of the IAF, and the few that were left ran off. Edgar and the others had enough sense to cast a floating spell before they hit. In fact, they're on the Floating Continent right now, seeking Kefka and the Emperor. You were out cold, so we took the Blackjack down."

"Worried?" he said. It was a stupid question, because of course he knew she was worried, distracted almost to sickness; if he had been blind, he would have known by the frantic timbre under her voice, her forced breathing, and a hundred other signs. Yet if she vented she might get some release.

"To death," Terra replied. "I want to join them so badly, help them...but I can't shake the feeling that I'd slow them down. I don't trust myself. But I'm running around, giving everyone food and talking--I'm too busy to go into hysterics."

Her plight and exhausted face moved him. "Take a break," he told her, "and get some sleep. I'll take care of everything here." She gave him a look of gratitude and nodded mutely. She curled on the boards, propped her hands under her cheek. Setzer hunted for a spare cloak, stole one of Strago's when the old man wasn't looking, and tucked it about her. She was so delicate that it was a miracle to him she had come so far.

Just as Setzer prepared to gun the accelerator, Relm popped up at his elbow--he swore, the girl had an insidious cleverness in her. She always knew exactly when to intrude in the times he most wanted to be alone. Impending tyranny, raging octopuses, dogfights; could nothing subdue her?

"What're you doing?"

"I'm going to take the Blackjack over right....there." He pointed to a large split in the land, the ruddy sky showing through. "If the guys down there need a hand, they can easily get back on for aid."

"That's good," she said. "You know, if I had my druthers, I'd take my best paintbrush and add a nice little mustache and goggly glasses to the Emperor. Let's see if anybody takes him seriously then." To illustrate this point, she whipped out a large paintbrush and brandished it like a pike as if to bonk the Emperor on the nose.

Setzer, despite all moral compunctions and nature, had to smile at this. He told her to shoo to her granddaddy. He stood alone. The pocket-watch pressed against his waist ticked.

In the crumpling dusk a flash of white gleamed, and he watched Celes go up to the prow, her delicate profile, chin tilted up, shaded and outlined in the faded red. He called to her softly, as not to disturb the ones sleeping.

"What are you thinking, General Chere?"

Celes started and began a retreat, but more words followed: "If you want me to take you up there, you know I wouldn't refuse you. But I want to know why. You realize you'd only be in the way."

"I have never been in anyone's way if I didn't want to be, and I won't start now," she said, not facing him. "I was only thinking. For some foolish reason, I was thinking that somehow, if I went up there and tried to dissuade the Emperor from his madness or killed him if he wouldn't listen, then perhaps I might--I might be able to crawl towards making amends. Isn't that foolish?" Her lip curled. "I might as well go around and bake cookies for the whole wide world and moan for its forgiveness. Ha!"

"I'll take you up there."

"You have no reason. I don't need your pity."

But pity her Setzer did. It must have been a horrible thing, he thought, to hate yourself so completely; one of the reasons he admired her so was that she had fought for so long and hadn't committed suicide yet. Perhaps she didn't know how to kill herself, but it was admirable the same. "I said I'll take you. Everybody deserves another crack at life if he wants it. It's only fair."

Gratitude fit ill on her face, but Celes could not help herself. "Thank you."

Setzer winked and gently guided the Blackjack through the air, moving so smoothly that the boards underfoot hardly shivered. Sparse starts peeped feebly through the chasm above; he halted the airship. The space was small and the Blackjack was large, and any sane person wouldn't have tried what Setzer was going to do. But such a maneuver was the ultimate test of his mettle, and the gambler's heart wanted to see if it could be done without crashing.

Setzer hadn't counted on how dark the air was, but the Blackjack had already started to go up, up, so very careful and slow that only the wind tussled his hair. Overhead he saw a dark sky framed by darker rocks. Then the rocks became the sky and sky the rocks, and he was unable to tell which was which. And steadily they came closer. I can't do it, he realized in his weakness. I'll crash--

There! At the prow! By the sputtering lights of the lamps on deck, a ripple of white appeared; it was Celes's cloak. His vision was drawn to the white, and looked past it towards the black sea-shell curve of the rocks. He judged the distance easily in his experience. When he deemed it necessary, the Blackjack decelerated, Setzer following the white cloak against the rocks. He stopped within five feet of the rocks. Celes lifted a hand in farewell, and he raised his in turn. Bending her long legs, she made a gazelle jump, whispering an incantation as she did so, and floated out of sight onto the ledge. Setzer brought his airship down. Weariness suddenly overtook him. His ravaged nerves needed relief. So, arms folded about the elbows, the silver head drooped onto the shirt ruffles.

Light that had the power to pierce even the eyes of a blind man, like the burst of an A-bomb, brought Setzer's eyes open. Cries of dismay and surprise came from all about. The flight crew emerged from the hold. Setzer felt the airship moving, but he didn't recall grabbing the wheel much less steering. But they were pulling away. A piece of the continent fell next to one of his boots, followed by another. Then another. Thousands of tiny pieces hailed down, forcing all on deck to cover their heads with their arms or any spare articles of clothing. One large stone clonked Mog smack on the head. A huge boulder loomed; Setzer could see it clearly because the sky had begun to shoot streaks of fire and sparks, and visibility was as good as if it were day. Setzer groaned, a few shrieked, but the Blackjack flew true and only the stern ornament was crushed.

"The Statues!" Strago yelled, "they've been moved!"

"Cram it, old man!" Sabin ordered. "Setzer, we can't leave the others behind! Go up level with the edges and look for them!"

As Setzer pulled upwards, Gau, who had sharp eyes, leapt up and howled, pointing at a group of peach dots at on end of the fracturing land mass. Setzer immediately swerved. The Blackjack hovered a little ways under the edge, and the absent members jumped off to safety. Celes, Locke, Cyan, and Edgar were accompanied by a man draped all in black that Setzer did not recognize. But questions were for later.

"Hold on!" he bellowed, wrestling the wheel. "I'm going to gun her. Don't fall off! Ratchet, prepare to treat for wounds!"

He hadn't a chance to touch the accelerator. A great woven ring of raw magic thundered out from the focal center of the continent, where the Statues stood out of joint, rolling lazily at a fantastic rate. Screams rang out, and Setzer thought he could hear the Espers in their Magicite screaming too. The whole thing seemed so very slow. The ring broadsided the Blackjack. Setzer turned his head and the back end was simply gone. Two white hands clung at the edge. He dove for them and grasped them. Terra's eyes gazed up. In them Setzer saw pure terror. He felt his cheeks grow wet, though with sweat, tears, or blood he didn't know, they all were one and the same in his mouth.

Unable to bear looking at such naked, animal fear, Setzer swiveled his neck to the side. Ratchet was also clinging to the splintered ends, gray arms straining. Dull gray gaze met hazel. Ratchet smiled for the first time and gave a last, cynical laugh as he lost his grip and fell. Very little surprised Ratchet.

With one half missing, the airship could not have been expected to stay airborne for long. Terra's grip slipped. Setzer clawed to keep her up, but there was nothing solid underneath him anymore. Air whistled in his ears, and he plummeted down, down, towards the earth.