VI


Lialla glanced at the potted plant as she passed, giving a purely mental snort of annoyance when she saw the sign--that one of the lower leaves had been split lengthwise along the vein, left still dangling from the limb.

Running a finger along her jawline thoughtfully, she slid into the bench beside the plant and glanced down. Yes, there it was--a tiny scrap of paper sticking out from under one of the rocks in the pot. Pulling it out, she dusted the dirt off and--glancing around to make sure no one was watching--opened it.

Carissime, it read in a scrawling hand that was almost illegible. Only years of practice allowed Lialla to distinguish the words, and only long study allowed her to read the bits of Centran dropped here and there. After reading it through, she decided that even these safeguards were unnecessary--the message was so cryptic that anyone reading it would have no idea what Nemo was talking about unless they knew him as well as she did.

I found a time and place: In the IV, on 31{go Oct to Dec}mas Eve. Big party. Hope to see you and your friends there. Should be a kickass date.

Cum amore aeterno,
Nemo.

"You love to make a big show out of things, Carissime," Lialla whispered. "But this is me you'll be hurting if anything goes wrong. I hope you know what you're doing."

Standing up, Lialla turned to the potted plant. Leaning close as if to examine it, she pulled the slit leaf off and left it lying on the dirt.

Nemo would see it and get her meaning. Message received.

--- - - - ---


"I never thought that they'd have to airlift the thing in," ValHalla muttered, staring out of the huge picture window at the gargantuan tree that was being lowered by helicopter onto the Quad. Teams of SeeDs were waving at the pilot frantically, directing the tree left and right as they tried to maneuver the trunk into a brace that was usually only used for repairs. The huge convertible roof--probably the single most expensive aspect of Garden other than its enigmatic flight systems--was open to its widest, but on occasion a branch would scrape against the edge of the hole, and there would be a general commotion of people trying to get the tree to move away from the edge.

Squall stood in front of ValHalla's desk, oblivious to the organized chaos several stories below. Hands clamped behind his back, he waited for ValHalla to acknowledge him. ValHalla had said nothing about why she had called him here, and her deliberate avoidance of the topic was wearing on Squall's nerves. Listening to her pointless small talk, Squall began wondering where the Tribunal had found this woman. She acted like one of the better interrogators he had had the misfortune of meeting--although he hadn't been the man's focus, he had seen him work on a captive, using idle banter with hidden venom; a variety of tricks that subliminally convinced the prisoner that he was nothing, undermining his confidence and reducing him to a nervous wreck. The man had folded without the interrogator ever placing a hand on him.

ValHalla turned around slowly, frowning as if she could follow the train of his thoughts. "How are the preparations coming?" she asked, sitting down in her chair and pointedly not offering him a seat. Squall had the feeling that he would be reprimanded for something.

"I've overseen them myself," he said. "Everything has been arranged as per your instructions."

"Good."

There was a long pause. Finally, Squall decided that something should be said to prod ValHalla on with her lecture. "Am I dismissed?" he asked.

"Sit down, Commander," ValHalla said, with a tone implying that it was an order, not an invitation. Moving to one of the chairs, Squall sat down. ValHalla sighed, steepling her fingers in front of her face. "There's no easy way to say this," she started.

Oh, hell, Squall thought.

"I'm concerned about your... stability," ValHalla said. Squall was stuck between annoyance and surprise.

"Sir?" he asked darkly.

"I've been taking a look over your record, and it's pretty grim stuff," she said. "Abandoned at birth, most of your youth in an orphanage, most of your early time at Garden spent antisocially, a long history of clashes. And that's just the tip. Here we have records of your having to voluntarily fight figures from your youth; torture, imprisonment, more responsibility than anyone should ever face, not to mention a relationship with someone named 'Rinoa....'"

Squall glowered at her for a moment. "May I take a moment to defend myself?" he asked.

"Certainly," ValHalla said, leaning back. "If you feel that you're in a position that needs defending."

Damn you, Squall thought at her. "I have little memory of my early life," he said, voice flat, "and I do not regard it as being of any great consequence. The 'frequent clashes' mentioned in the record were the result of a childhood rivalry, nothing more. At the times where I was forced to fight against... acquaintances, I was forced into the situations and therefore do not regard them with any guilt. The episode at the Desert District Prison might be considered traumatic to an outside observer, but I believe that I have come to terms with whatever effects it might have had. And as for my relationship with Rinoa...." he was tempted to say that was none of her business, but fortunately his official etiquette came to his rescue. "I have not seen her for at least a year and a half, since the Forest Owls contract was dissolved by the Tribunal. We are friends, nothing more."

ValHalla listened politely, nodding occasionally to give the impression that she actually cared. When he had finished, she nodded. "I don't want you to think that I won't take this into consideration," she said, "but I can't put too much weight on your testimony alone. After all, what crazy person doesn't think he's sane?"

"With all due respect--"

"I've noticed, in the time I've been here--and this as been backed up by other sources, as well--that you are abnormally withdrawn and stoic, that you keep acquaintances but no close friends or confidants, and that you display an interest in your job that defies all expectations for someone of your age. To tell the truth, Commander, you exhibit all the symptoms of a schizoid personality disorder."

"I can assure you that my mental stability has never affected my performance," Squall said.

ValHalla pulled out a paper, beginning to write something on it. "Even so," she said, "I'd like you so see Dr. Kadowaki for a complete psycological examination. Report there as soon as she has time to see you."

Squall stood up stiffly. "Yes, sir," he said. "Am I dismissed?"

"Dismissed, Commander," ValHalla said, an almost disappointed gleam in her eyes as she watched him stalk out of the room.