~
] Headmaster's Office
] Galbadia Garden
] Galbadia
Headmaster Rade leaned over his long wooden desk, his attention turned toward a small metal-framed monitor that sat angled toward him. His darkly-tanned skin was damp with a few beads of sweat. The black, tassle-ended suit he wore was unbuttoned, and his tie hung loosely from an open collar. Dispite it being free, Rade pulled at it angrily.
"Something's definately going on," he muttered. "Less than a week ago, the Tilmitt girl shows up, asking for money to support Trabia. I kick her out, of course, but then I have the supervisors go through a diagnostics check of the database, and we find out that the Trabia Stratagem file has been accessed, and saved somewhere in the Garden!"
On the monitor, an audio equalizer showed, and a deep voice permeated from the dual speakers that sat beside the metal frame. "Any idea why they want the information?"
"Who cares?!" screamed Rade. "They could blackmail me for everything I own, and then throw me in jail...I...I could be executed for this!" He slammed his palms against the table, and stared at the monitor. "I won't have it! None of the Stratagem was my fault! I had nothing to do with it, and I'm not going to let a little girl put the blame on me!"
"I've got my men working on profiles right now," said the voice. "The girl was from Balamb Garden, but it says she's on leave for some kind of Trabia-restoration project."
Rade scoffed. "Unlikely! She knows what she's doing, I assure you." He pulled a cushy leather chair to the desk, and fell backwards into it. "Now, she left just yesterday, she's no longer in Galbadia."
"Was she traveling with anyone?" the voice asked.
"We can't confirm that. But we do know that she's on her way back to Trabia, and the only train tickets to Trabia in the last week month were a set of three, purchased by a one Irvine Kinneas. He's a resident SeeD here at Galbadia, and a friend of Tilmitt's."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"Yes. Kinneas just returned from a trip to Terra Garden. He was called to pick up a transfer, a gentleman by the name of Aren Bowes. I've got nothing on Bowes, but he might be somehow involved."
The voice took a moment to respond. "Nothing on this end, but we'll find something, don't worry."
"Get whatever you can," said Rade. "And get to Trabia, and put an end to this before the whole Garden gets shut down!"
~
] Level 3, Headmaster's Office
] Balamb Garden
] Balamb
Quistis Trepe leaned against the wall, alone in Balamb Garden's main elevator. The golden-yellow bulbs cast a strange glow on her fair skin, and the polished black boots that seemed to cover her entire legs. Her sleeveless red dress was perfectly clean and tailored; it seemed not a single strand was out of place. Her arms, covered in shining black gloves that stretched to her shoulders, were folded loosely.
She let her head fall back to the steel, and stared with thin eyes at the grated ceiling. A few strands of blonde hair fell to her eyes. She quickly brushed them back, into a carefully-tightened bun. And she sighed, and smiled a bit, as she realized that she had not changed one bit.
Everything about the Garden seemed to bring back memories now. Even the elevator held its own stories.It was this elevator that Quistis and her favorite trainee had ridden, on the day he earned his very first Guardian Force. It was this elevator that she took to the once-unknown Master's Chamber of the Garden, where she and her friends had met with and defeated the Garden Master. Yes, even the elevator hit her with a bittersweet nostalgia.
She tightened her eyes. Nostalgia? She was sure it was only she, of her famous peers, that even experienced it. She was the only member of the team that had actually stayed at Balamb, and was still a full-fledged member. Everyone else had moved on; had gotten on with their lives. Quistis had contacted many of them, and had kept in touch with one or two. But they were gone, off to meet new people, and experience new adventures.
And Quistis was still at Balamb, still Instructor Trepe. Still riding the same elevator to the same rooms every day, and daydreaming about the good-old-days...
Was it really gone? Was it all over? It was something she constantly wondered. In her mind, the past year had been the best of her life. But amazing as it was, it was only one year. And she was still only nineteen. Yet she alrady felt so dead-ended. What event, what companion or adventure, could possibly compare to the epic journey of last year?
All she knew was that anything was better than now. She had nothing now.
The elevator door hissed open, and she stepped into the headmaster's office. A wide room, but not very deep, it was quite humble for the office of a headmaster. Marble-lined walls were present at her left and right. Before her, and only a short distance away, was a round oak table, and behind the table, a high glass wall embroidered with an exotic Balamb design.
Headmaster Cid sat behind the desk. He was a short, middle aged man, with brown hair that he combed neatly to one side. A red sweater and khaki pants were his dress; rather casual for a headmaster. He looked quickly up from a handful of papers, and smiled warmly to Quistis.
"Quistis! Come in!" he called her. "Pull up a chair."
Trepe stepped out of the elevator, and snapped to full attention. She gave a razor-sharp SeeD salute, palm before her face, and just as quickly shot her arm back to her side. But formalities aside, she smiled back. "You called for me, sir?" she asked, pulling a chair from the table, and seating herself.
"Yes, that I did," replied Cid. "Quistis, I'm going to let you make the call on this one. I trust your opinion. So answer me truthfully, and don't be afraid to speak your mind."
I wonder what this is all about? Quistis thought. She nodded. "I won't, sir."
The headmaster set down his papers. "I recieved a cable call today, from Garden Defense and Security. It seems there's a problem in Galbadia Garden; a member from Balamb has tapped the Galbadia database, and is planning to use the information for blackmail."
"A Balamb SeeD?" asked Quistis, rubbing her chin. "Who from Balamb could possibly have gotten so far away from our Garden?"
Cid shrugged. "We're not sure, and GDS won't tell us who the member is. But we're running a search, and we should know by tomorrow. But, here's the tricky part, Quistis..."
The headmaster paused. Quistis watched him, as he looked down at his papers. Why's he stalling? she wondered. And what can I do?"
"Quistis," said Cid, "GDS wants Balamb's best SeeD to track down the hacker, and make the apprehension. They chose you, and they want you to go alone."
Alone? I can't go by myself!
"Keep in mind, also," the headmaster continued, "that the hacker may be someone you know. It may be hard to arrest a friend."
I...I'm not strong enough! I can't carry out something like this! Especially not alone!
"But I've got full faith in you. And I wouldn't feel right asking anyone but you." Headmaster Cid waited for a response from Quistis, but it did not come, so he continued. "I've heard you've been trying the Wax Potion for your Guardian Force. How does it work?"
Awful! she thought. I get a pounding headache for days, and it still doesn't guarantee anything! I could still lose my memory...and that's about all I have right now.
"I suppose it's working," Quistis nodded. "I haven't experienced any...serious side-effects."
"Well, that's good news! I remember how much you wanted to keep that GF of yours..."
He's buying time. He wants an answer. Quistis heaved a sigh in her mind, but outwardly, she barely blinked. "Sir," she said. "If you are confident that I can carry out a mission alone, then I suppose I can. I'll take the mission, sir."
Cid nodded. "I wish I could give you some time to think about this one. But the GDS is putting the plan in motion tonight. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
No! she screamed inside. But she said, "yes, sir."
"Very good. I suppose I'll waste no time in briefing you." He handed her the small stack of papers that he had been riffling through. "Here is everything you'll need for phase one of your mission. GDS has told us that the hacker is taking a train tonight bound for Trabia. We're going to get you on that train. We'll send you to an intercept station in an unmarked car."
Quistis felt ready to explode. Why'd I do this? I'll die! I can't fight by myself, I haven't had enough practice! I haven't summoned Ifrit in ages! Oh, there's a million reasons why this is the worst thing for me right now!
"Now, before you board, a GDS representative will hand you a packet with the hacker's information, and a picture, if possible. You will have twelve hours to find and apprehend him, or her, before the train stops at Trabia."
She gazed beyond her headmaster, out his beautiful faceted window. Clouds whisked across the sky in patches of hazy white. A flock of birds fluttered past, and a few perched at the window's base. The same sky she'd been gazing at for a year now.
Maybe this is just what I need, she thought.
~
] Outdoor boarding area
] Train Station
] Balamb
Aren, Selphie and Irvine sat on a long parkbench, awaiting the arrival of the Trabia train. The station was well-kept, but nearly empty. The entire station, in fact, had been closed for the night, and the tracks were switched so that this last train could stop at the station's outdoor boarding area. A few streetlamps, hanging over the tracks, provided brightness in the growing dusk. Big, leafy trees spotted the land around the rails. Computer screens, attached to either end of the bench, were unplugged. Speakers were mounted on each of the streetlights, but none played any music.
Aren stood, and stretched. "I need some coffee," he yawned. "Anybody want something from the vending machine while I'm up?"
"Nah," Irvine shook his head. "I'm stayin' away from that stuff, I'll wait 'till I get on the train."
Selphie smiled brightly. "No thank you!" she said politely.
"More for me," Aren said, and headed down the brick wall of the train station to a few hundred feet down, where a few vending machines lay waiting for him.
Irvine wrapped his arm around Selphie, and gave her a squeeze. "Like, isn't this great?" he said with a smile. "Brings back memories, don't it?"
"Yeah, sure does!" said Selphie. "Like that first time we rode a train together...you hit on me mercilessly!"
Irvine dropped his arm, and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I wasn't that bad!"
"You were awful!" she laughed. "But you were just bein' Irvine, so I can't really complain."
He thinned his eyes a bit, and looked out over the tracks, nodding his head. But he quickly smiled.
They sat together in silence for a time. But Irvine spoke once more. "I didn't really bug you, or anything, did I?"
Selphie giggled. "Well, a little! I mean, you were cute an' all...but, you just didn't know when to let up! Kinda made me feel uncomfortable. I just...well, I just wasn't used to you yet!"
"And you're used to it now," nodded Irvine, and he closed his eyes.
"Sure am!" she nudged his shoulder. "I know just what to expect!"
Selphie glanced up, and noticed the solemn expression on his face, and the hat pulled down over his eyes. "Hey...is something wrong?" she asked.
Irvine cocked back his head. "Nah, just tired. Can't wait 'til we get on this train, it's freezing out here."
The pierce of shattering glass made them both jump from the bench. A few yards down, Aren stood beside a vending machine, with its front panel missing, and shards of glass spread about the ground. He cradled one hand in the other. Painful mumbles growled from his mouth, as he kicked the machine hard, and began returning to Irvine and Selphie.
"Whoa, man!" laughed Irvine. "Didn't feel like paying, or what?"
Aren sat beside Selphie, and gave Irvine a narrow eye. "Shut up."
He carefully inspected the cradled hand, and Selphie snuck a look over his shoulder. Bloody cuts ran down his palm. He cringed and tried at picking a few pieces of glass from the wounds.
"Oh, gosh!" Selphie gasped, "what happened?"
Aren sighed. "I touched the glass. Guess I sent a wave through it. I'm fine."
Irvine leaned forward, and had a look himself. "Ouch. Selphie, you got a Potion?"
Selphie nodded, and reached under the long bench, dragging out a big blue duffel bag. She unzipped it, and dug in, and came out with a small vile. It was cone-shaped, and clear, about the size of her small palm. Inside flowed a shining red liquid.
"May...I help?" she asked, as she pulled a small rag from her luggage as well.
Aren rolled up the sleeve of his black, tough-fabric coat, and tapped at the metal clasp over his arm. "Guess it still doesn't work," he sighed, and took a handkerchief from inside the coat. "Don't worry 'bout it, you hold onto that. Never know when you'll need it."
"But, it'd only take a little...right, Irv--" Selphie turned to address Irvine, but he was gone from the seat, walking briskly toward the vending machines. "Oh..."
"It should be okay," winced Aren, pulling the last piece of glass from his hand, and dabbing at it with the handkerchief. It sopped up the blood eagerly, but the pressure did little to slow the loss. "Umh...wow..." he breathed. "Ah, they're a little...deeper than I thought..."
Selphie gasped at the loss of blood. "Aren, that's serious! Here, let me help, please!"
She uncorked the vile, and poured the Potion's contents onto her rag. Aren removed the bloody bandage from his hand. Selphie gently pressed her cloth to the wound, and she held it carefully in its place. A glance up, and she noticed the face of her friend. Behind the strands of his long hair, his black sunglasses peered down at his hand, with a calm visage. It surprised her to no end. A wound like this would have made her hysterical. But Aren did not shed a tear, he did not seem distraught by the gore.
"You're awful brave," she smiled to him, with a trace of nervousness, and more than a little distress at the sight of the wound.
He widened his thin lips into a smile. Was he looking at her? She could not tell, not with the glasses in the way. They hid so much from her, they made her furious. If there was something Selphie required, it was eye contact. The eyes said so much to her, and those sunglasses said nothing.
"I think it's done," Aren said quietly.
"Hmm? Oh! Of course!" Selphie giggled, and gently pulled the rag away. Aren's palm, with it's metal center, was restored, its flesh mended together perfectly.
"Thanks," said Aren, as he lifted his head, and smiled. But were his eyes smiling as well?
~
Irvine passed the vending machines, his black boots crunching the blood-laced glass. His eyes were tight slits of concentration. He pulled the black cowboy hat over his eyes, and leaned casually on the wall. A dark alley was inches from him.
I know you're here somewhere, he thought. A sharpshooter knows when he's being watched. And I'm almost sure I saw you. Still in the alley? We'll find out.
He reached into his long trench coat, and carefully unstrapped a double-barrel shotgun. With a sudden flash he leapt forward and spun, landing before the entrance to the alley, and raising the firearm. The stock butted against his leather-coated shoulder, and the barrels were at eye level, in a motion that had become all but second nature to him. He sneered and slid his finger through the trigger.
But to his surprise, the alley was only a few feet deep. Another brick wall, merely offset back, greeted him coldly.
"Hmm," he lowered his gun, and raised a lip. The wall was nearly twenty feet tall; there was no way a watcher could have jumped to the roof. And even so, the roof was a steep dome, a tough climb and completely visible to Irvine.
He glanced his eyes back and forth, and slowly reholstered his shotgun. Must've been my imagination, he thought.
A deafening whistle sounded, and the hiss of smoke slid around his boots. He turned to see the Trabia train, just arriving into the lonely station. Its locomotive was tall and proud, a shining black bullet free of sut and dust, save perhaps the wheels that were hissed with the steam of airbrakes. Swooshing curves ran down the sides of the majestic train in Balamb's trademark design. As it crawled to a stop, it brought into light a long line of fancy train cars behind it.
Irvine left the alley and returned to the bench, under which his black travel bag was carelessly shoved. Aren and Selphie were slinging their packs over their shoulders.
Aren scratched his long hair with his once-wounded hand. "Hey, it's a Balamb train! We should be okay, eh?"
"Best trains ever made!" giggled Selphie excitedly. "Can't wait!"
"I sure can," sighed Aren.
Irvine thumbed his gloved hand at Aren, and raised an eyebrow. "Took that Potion, I see," he smiled.
He shrugged, and nudged Selphie with his elbow. "Why not? She's a pretty persuasive gal. Where'd you go off to?"
"Ahm, nevermind," said Irvine. He took another look to the alley. "Not important. Let's check out our rooms, eh?"
Selphie leapt high into the air. "All-right!" she shouted. "This is gonna be great!"
Aren rolled his eyes. "Wish I had those earmuffs right about now..."
They passed the proud locomotive, stepping through the steam of still-releasing airbrakes, and watched as a thin door slid open on the first of the wide passenger cars. A thin, gangly-looking conductor stepped out, dressed in a carefully-pressed blue suit and a funny looking black cap. He smiled his bony face, and tipped the hat to them as they approached. "Hello, folks!" he said warmly. "Glad to have you aboard! Tickets, please?"
Irvine let his friends ahead of him. He shuffled through his pocket and finally found a small yellow train ticket. As he slid it from his coat, he took one last glance back. Something still didn't feel right. But who was he to know, after being on leave for so long? He'd gotten rusty, he supposed. Maybe just a little jumpy.
But still, he contemplated. I know when I'm being watched.
He tried letting the notion escape him. Aren was already helping Selphie up the steep steps to the train car, and the conductor waited patiently for Irvine to show his ticket. Irvine gladly obliged.
"Thank you!" said the conductor, humorously cheery for how late it must have been. "You have a nice ride, now! We'll be in Trabia by tomorrow night."
Aren stumbled back, and gasped, turning to the conductor. "I thought this ride was, like, two hours!"
"Not anymore!" the conductor laughed. "The original track's overrun with monsters! But don't you fret, we take another route now. It's kinda the long way around, cause we already had to stop at Balamb, and now we've gotta go all the way around Seven Springs, but it's much safer this way."
Selphie pulled at Aren's arm. "Come on!" she prodded. "It'll be fun!"
"Ah well," sighed Aren, and he lightly shoved Selphie up the stairs on his way up. "No rest for poor Aren tonight!"
Irvine grasped the handrail and pulled himself into the car behind them. "We'll find somebody to cast Sleep on you," he laughed, "how's that?"
~
Quistis sat, marveling at her living quarters. The walls were royally papered with a light crimson, and lined with gold-painted crown molding and chair rail. A plush sofa stretched along one far corner of the room, and along the other, a large bunkbed was ready for two. A stained wood dresser would have held many articles of clothing, but since she had but one travel bag, she merely set it on top.
She kicked at the fuzzy carpet. The room was nice, but it was mostly empty. This sure would have been better if...well, if someone else was here! She sighed, and fell back on the sofa. I remember the train rides we took...now that I think about it, those weren't really that fun, either...but at least we were together.
Aw, there you go again! She growled, and snapped upright. What can I do about it? I had a chance, I missed my chance, and I suppose that's that. Here I am, all alone on a train with a professional hacker, and I've gotta catch him before tomorrow night. This is now. I don't like it...guess I never liked the here and now...but it's what I've got. Might as well get started.
With a swipe of her hand, she flipped up a tan-colored folder marked with her name. "Okay, hacker, what do you look like?" she muttered to herself, and tore the envelope open.
I sure hope I don't know you. Not that I've got many friends...but still, it'd be strange arresting someone from Balamb. I suppose they deserve it, though.
Her leather-gloved hand reached into the folder. It grabbed hold of a few sheets of paper, neatly stacked and paperclipped together. As Quistis pulled them out, she felt the overwhelming pangs of shock slam her from all sides.
A Balamb identification picture, dated 4 month 370, was taped to the top right of the first page. An old friend of hers, Selphie Tilmitt, smiled cheerily from the image.
She nearly dropped the folder. "Selphie? Selphie?!" she quickly freed the papers from the folder, and pulled the stack to her face. "Selphie Tilmitt!!" she read, shaking her head in disbelief, "former Balamb Garden SeeD, currently a traveling SeeD..."
"But...but..." Quistis wiped her forehead. "But Selphie would never do that! She probably couldn't figure it out either...but that's beside the point! She wouldn't have the heart! She's always thinking of others...I mean, she's been begging for funding for Trabia since we..."
Another feeling ran over her. But this time, one of disappointment. Trabia. Funding. Blackmail. And a desparate young woman with a heart of gold, doing whatever possible to make a difference.
Quistis fell back on the couch. "Oh, Hyne! Selphie, what are you doing?!"
Once again she brought the paper before her, perhaps hoping, somehow, that there might be someone else's face on that picture. But poor Selphie still grinned at her old friend.
~
"Heeey, would you look at this place!"
Selphie ran happily into the beautiful and spacious quarters. Light red paper adorned the walls, and was split by moldings painted in gold. She tore across the fuzzy carpet, and leapt into the sofa that traveled around the far corner. "This is gonna be great!" she laughed.
Aren entered the room after Irvine, and turned to the door, punching in a code that made it hiss shut. "I take it she's a train person," he laughed to Irvine.
"I'd say so," replied Irvine, tossing his bag on the lower bunk. "Boy, this is the way to go! I'm surprised how cheap the tickets were."
Aren plopped to the sofa besides Selphie. "You know," he nodded, "I could get used to this."
~
Quistis lay on her stomach, the papers spread before her on the carpet. She had just read the exact details of her mission. These individuals were to be prevented from reaching Trabia at all costs. If deadly force was necessary, it was sanctioned. And the papers still smiled at her, Selphie's innocent grin on the left, and now Irvine's coy smile on the right. Each of those pages contained information on her new enemies, including their birth dates, training, and their weak and strong points in battle. They were more than simple SeeD backgrounds; these pages were Irvine and Selphie's new criminal records.
A broken heart and a thousand questions plagued Quistis as she began to read a third identification page, on someone she did not recognize. His face was pale, his jaw angular. Long black hair rested at his shoulders, and hung over his forehead in wild strands. At either side of a sharp nose were the strangest set of sunglasses he'd ever seen. Not connected in the middle, they were a set of black bubbles that looked to be attached to his face, and completely covered both eyes. His thin mouth was not smiling.
"Bowes, Aren," she read quietly. "Weight, one-ninety...hair, black...eyes, not applicable? That's odd..."
A sense of wonder began replacing the disappointment, as she continued. "Bowes was born in Dollet, where an accident caused the loss of his sight. By some unknown circumstance, however, he is not blind. He is currently a SeeD for Trabia Garden. Bowes is not junctioned to a Guardian Force. He attacks by the manipulation of sound waves, which compare to level-three timespace magic..."
Quistis jumped to her feet, shoving her finger at the page. "Psychoanalysis of subject's life concludes possible mental scars and short temper! Bowes should be approached with extreme caution; he is very dangerous! So, it might be this Bowes guy running the whole thing, and Selphie and Irvine could be pressured accomplices!"
"Strong to physical attacks of any sort," she continued. "Extremely weak to non-elemental, timespace type magic."
Carefully and quickly, she scooped up the papers. "It's the only explanation that makes sense! If I can just find Selphie or Irvine before this Bowes character, I'll know for sure." From the bed, she scooped up a long, coiled whip, made from chains. It locked tightly to a clasp on the leather belt that hung from her waist. And with a new, and perhaps feeble determination, she headed for the metal door to her room.
~
