VIGIL OF THE FATES
by PeterEliot (egmont76@hotmail.com)
24. TIMBER
"Hardly the mightiest country in the world, Timber is nevertheless one of the most majestic. Stripped to its graphical essence the region may seem devoid of apparent appeal—on the world map it is a singularly unimpressive blot of plains, with no towering mounts nor deep valleys to attract careless eyes. It is not a place to read about, but a place to lose oneself in, for the green unending sweep of forests that occupies the bulk of her territory bristles with the spirit of the pristine wild as awesome and free of human corruption as any ocean, desert, or fabled mountain range. It is a land of dry jungles; let any who step into it unprepared be warned. The author speaks from experience...
"...The city of Timber is as quaint as the wild flower of her forests, and her people free and generous, though rich in traditions. How these spirited people will accept—if they will accept at all—the escalating demands of the Deling regime, which appears now all but resolved to claim their fatherland as a full-fledged colony under the Galbadian flag, remains to be seen..."
—Excerpt from Timber Manic 117
The aide walked with impatient steps, glancing around at the rusty establishment in distaste. The TV station building was practically falling apart from years of disuse, and though repair work had been underway to put it back in usable shape, the portions that would not take part in the coming event—which was to say, most of it—were left neglected and filthy. What a place to have a historic broadcast in, he thought as he neared the main studio. The studio at least had been restored to a respectable condition, he was pleased to note. Rich burgundy curtains were draped behind the podium, and dozens of crew were busy with the final phase of the setup. The aide skimmed through the men and, spotting the director, pulled him aside by the elbow.
"I just got word from Deling City," the aide said. "The president is arriving two hours behind schedule. But he wants everything ready by three, and wants to proceed with the broadcast without any delay whatever the moment he gets here. You will be ready, correct?"
"We'll be ready by two o'clock, sir."
"Good. Should anything go wrong your paycheck won't be the only thing in jeopardy. You know that, don't you?"
With those discreet words of motivation, the aide took leave of the studio and headed out of the station, keeping his nose covered with a handkerchief; the dust was making him sneeze. A lavishly decorated boxcar lay parked in the shadow of the alley, guarded by troopers. The aide rapped lightly on the window. The blinders unfolded halfway, revealing inside the silhouette of an elegantly sculpted profile.
"Yes?" said a smooth, cool voice.
"Madame Ambassador," said the aide, bowing, "we have received communication that His Excellency will be arriving shortly after five this afternoon."
"What is causing this delay?"
"The chief advisors have raised fresh concerns regarding His Excellency's personal security."
"I understand the president's security concerns well," the ambassador replied, her voice unflappable. "I have taken steps to ensure his safety during this trip. Are they not found suitably reliable in the chief advisors' eyes?"
"Ah... I beg your pardon, Madame Ambassador. The advisors, I dare say, are only trying to carry out their responsibilities—"
"Of course, I understand," said she. "I do not mean to meddle with others' duties. How are things progressing at the station?"
"They will be on standby hours prior to His Excellency's arrival."
"Please convey to them my appreciation of their speedy work."
"Yes, Madame Ambassador."
The blinders closed shut, ending the interview. The aide shook his head as he walked away. The woman was beautiful enough to bewitch, and unfailingly courteous too, and yet he could not remember once leaving her presence without a chill on his backside. He consulted his watch. "Not even one yet... Maybe I should go for a quick drink," he murmured.
"Care for a drinking buddy?" someone said.
The aide halted his steps. To his right, a tall youth stood against a lamppost in the shadows. "Who are you?" asked the aide. "This block is closed off to civilians for the day..." He then noticed the long sword at the youth's side, leaning on his hand almost casually. The blade was unsheathed, gleaming cold. Before he could process his next thought the youth was in his face, and the tip of his sword at his throat. The aide gulped, shocked into immobility at the stranger's speed.
"Make a sound, and I'll have no choice about cutting your throat," the swordsman said. He could not be more than twenty, the aide noticed. "As it is, I'm thinking I'll just knock you out for a bit if you cooperate."
"Wha... what do you want?"
"The keycard in your pocket."
"What keycard?"
The blade inched closer, forcing him back a step. "Don't get smart with me, scumbag. For the station entrance."
"...Even with the key, you won't get far," the aide said, sweating. "There are dozens of guides posted throughout the station—"
The youth's blue eyes flashed with pleasure. "Of course there are."
* * * * * * * *
"What's taking them so long?" Selphie whined, surveying the half-deserted station platform yet once again. It had been an hour since they got off the train, but there was no sign of their contact.
Zell was in no better humor. "Keeping us waiting like some sorry-ass errand boys... Hey, Squall, can we scrap the mission by, I dunno, default or something if the hiring party doesn't show up?"
"I think we're done waiting," Squall said, picking up his bag.
"Damn right, we are. We oughtta just tape a sign to the wall that says 'Sorry, you blew it' and go home."
"No. There—by the southern exit."
The SeeD's looked as prompted and saw a short, meek-looking boy whose wrist was banded by a black cloth. They approached the newcomer. Noting their advance, the boy immediately turned his gaze away and waited.
"Oh, the forests of Timber sure have changed!" he said, still not meeting their eyes.
"But the owls are still around," Squall replied.
"Though awfully late," Selphie added.
Facing them at last, the boy flushed. "I apologize, sirs. I'll explain later. Please, this way."
The SeeD's had expected to be taken into the city proper. They were surprised when the boy, who introduced himself as Watts, led them to another platform at the edge of the station. A two-car train, considerably meaner-looking than the one that had brought them to Timber, was parked at the platform.
"Are we going somewhere on that?" Zell asked suspiciously.
Watts looked around furtively as though making sure no one was listening, though they were quite alone in that part of the station. "Actually, sir, that's our mobile headquarter. A modified class-B lumber freighter, load capacity twelve hundred tons, sir. Everyone is waiting for you." He knocked on the door. "Zone, sir, it's me."
The door glided open, and a young man's face appeared. His glance swept over the SeeD's, and he motioned them inside. "Welcome to Timber," he said.
The train started moving as soon as they boarded. Within minutes they were out of the city.
* * * * * * * *
"I apologize about the delay," Zone said. Though only a few years older than the SeeD's, he wore a sickly green complexion and a nervous expression like an old man with indigestion. "The Galbadians have tightened security in and around the city, and this train is kind of difficult to smuggle into the station."
"Does the tightened security have something to do with our mission?" Squall asked.
"We'll explain that in a bit. By the way, I'm Zone. This fella that met you at the station is Watts, our intelligence man and mechanic."
Watts made a deep bow. "I'm sorry I couldn't salute you properly before, sirs! We might have been being watched."
"I am Squall Leonhart, the team leader," he replied. He gestured to his teammates. "Zell Dincht, and Selphie Tilmitt."
"At your service. Nice to meet you!" Selphie said.
"Hope we get along," Zell followed.
"Welcome to the Forest Owls' headquarter," Zone said. "We pride ourselves on being one of the best-organized resistance factions in Timber. Our best operatives are young men and women who are resolved not to let Timber suffer another generation of Galbadian occupation, as well as older members who have been a part of anti-Galbadia movement since the Sorceress War period. In the past we were responsible for a number of highly notorious operations, such as..."
"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Squall quickly, detecting a lengthy speech in the making, "but I have been ordered to review our contract with you before proceeding with the mission. Are you the leader of your faction?"
"Ah, no. That would be our princess, Rinoa."
"Where is she?"
"In her cabin. Napping, I believe."
Squall arched his eyebrow. "Napping?"
"Well, we've been working really hard on something big—which we'll discuss with you shortly. She worked all night and was exhausted—"
"Fine. But we need to speak with her, please."
Zone pointed down the hallway. "Last cabin on your left."
"I thought you said she was sleeping," Zell said.
"Well," Zone coughed into his hand, "we've been meaning to wake her up ourselves, but she—uh, she's got a bit of temper, you know? She doesn't take well to being disturbed, especially when we're the ones doing the disturbing. But since you're guests and all, I'm thinking—"
Zell shook his head. "Man, she's got you guys whipped. No wonder you call her princess."
"We'll really appreciate it," Zone said, looking apologetic. "Tell you what, Squall. While you go and meet her, we'll have your things moved into your quarters."
"This is the last time for this sort of things." Squall then turned to his team. "Go with him. I'll see about this princess."
Squall observed the cluttered train as he walked to the cabin. He was beginning to be worried about this first mission. "These guys don't seem to have it together," Selphie had whispered to him before he took leave of the group. He feared that he might soon be agreeing with that assessment. Hopefully the leader would turn out to be different, he thought, rapping on the door. When no response came, he rapped again harder. "Hello?" he called. "Miss—Rinoa? I am Squall Leonhart, one of the SeeD's you've hired."
No response. Squall gritted his teeth. First the hour-long wait, and now this... Zell had been right; they were being treated like errand boys. He turned the knob and found it unlocked. So they want me to wake her up, he thought as he pushed the door open. I will do that.
The cabin was surprisingly spacious, though all the more empty because of that. But the hint of feminine occupancy was evident. The bed was the most noticeable feature of the room, and in comparison with the bland metallic interior it was almost comically large and ornate. For a moment Squall pictured the Forest Owls struggling to fit the bed through the small door at the command of their exacting leader, a faceless and austere dame. The figure who lay curled on her side before him, however, seemed rather delicate in build. Her face was turned away, obscured by the dark hair that fell over her neck and shoulder in smooth locks. Without a blanket she looked cold. He was just beginning to regret having barged in when she opened her eyes.
"...Zone?" she mumbled, half turning his way. "You've gotten brave, coming into my room like this... Hmm?" She sat up, noting the stranger in her room. "Who are you?"
"I am...," Squall began, sensing an involuntary frown take over his face while he took in the sleepy face, "Squall Leonhart, from Balamb Garden." And then he knew why he was frowning. So did the young woman on the bed.
"Hey, aren't you—" said his dance partner from the commencement ball, "...from that ball?"
Squall hesitated, not knowing what to say. "...It would seem so."
Rinoa held his gaze, and then let out a disbelieving laughter. "Are you going to tell me you're the SeeD assigned to my group?"
"Myself and two others."
"...Amazing," she muttered chuckling, looking down at the floor. She then rose from the bed, walked over to him, and before he could see what was happening locked him in a swift embrace. "Welcome," she whispered.
Carefully, and awkwardly, Squall disengaged himself from her arms. "Thank you. My team is ready for your briefing. But first we need to—"
"We've been sending requests to the Garden for ever!" she cut him off with an exuberant grin. "We hardly got a nod our way, until I decided to go to Balamb Garden in person. I knew speaking directly with Mr. Kramer alone would do the trick. And here you are."
Squall recalled her words from their first meeting. "The headmaster was your appointment, then?"
"Not quite," she replied. "Do you know Seifer Almasy?"
He managed to hide his distaste, but could do nothing about the surprise his voice betrayed. "Seifer?"
"You do know him!"
"I... yes."
"He was the one that introduced me to your headmaster and arranged for the interview. Say," she said, putting her hand on his forearm, "is he with you by any chance?"
"No. He isn't a SeeD," Squall replied.
"Of course not," she sighed. "He was in a foul mood over that when I last saw him, though it wasn't his first time failing. He'd promised me, you see, that when I came to Balamb he would be a SeeD. Might even come to Timber and work for us, he'd said."
Squall mulled over the unexpected string of discoveries. He suppressed a sigh of his own. Things were already going steadily downhill, though the mission had not even properly begun. He got the assignment Seifer had wanted and which Seifer had helped engineer. If ever there was a jinx... He paused then. Listen to me, he thought, chastising himself. I've become quite the whiner. This past week's been nothing but one long excuse to keep complaining... How did I stand myself all this time? ... Fine, he resolved; I'll shut up, and I will deal with things as they come.
"How is Seifer doing these days?" Rinoa asked, ending his reverie.
"I don't know. I haven't seen him any more recently than you have."
"How come? I thought you said you knew him?"
"I doubt there's anyone at Balamb Garden that doesn't know Seifer."
She laughed. "He does rather stand out, doesn't he?"
"Yes. Now we need to get back with the rest of the team, and review our contract—"
"Oh, sure. I'm sorry you had to meet me like this. I've been working late and needed a little rest. What time is it, by the way?"
"Just about one o'clock."
"What?" she cried. "But that's more than an hour behind schedule!"
"Your people showed up late at the station."
"Well, I'll be... Come on, let's go." Rinoa took his wrist and marched out of the cabin before he could say another word. Leading him down the narrow hallway with quick strides, she made a stop by a steel door. An ear-splitting mechanical scream burst out of the room when she dragged door open. It was the train's engine room.
"How's everything?" Rinoa shouted into the room, cramped with machines and crew.
"Huh?" one of the crew screamed back, removing his earplugs.
"How is everything?" she shouted again. The words were barely audible amid the noise.
"Just fine!"
"Afternoon, sleeping beauty!" another crew member hollered.
Rinoa pulled Squall into the doorway. "Have you all met Squall? He's from the Garden!"
"Hi, there! So he's the one they sent, huh?"
"...Hello," Squall said, wincing as the engine let out an explosive sputter.
"You have to shout, or they can't hear you!" Rinoa yelled into his ear.
"Hello!" he shouted.
"Nice to meet you, young man!"
"Nice to meet you!"
"Oh, yes, I haven't told you my name!" said Rinoa. "It's Rinoa! Rinoa Heartilly!"
"What did you say?" he bellowed.
She put her mouth next to his ear again. "RINOA! RI-NO-A..."
Squall shut the door, closing out the noise.
"...Heartilly," she finished. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Squall."
He took a moment before taking her extended handed, trying to keep his face free of scowls as his ringing ears readjusted to relative quiet.
Got to deal with things as they come, he reminded himself.
Entering the briefing room where Zone, Watts, and the SeeD's were assembled, Rinoa shook hands with Zell and Selphie and, much to her delight and his embarrassment, followed it with a welcoming embrace.
"You are the leader of Forest Owls?" exclaimed Selphie, impressed. "But you are no older than us."
"Let's not dwell on ranks. We are all pals here in our group. On that note," Rinoa smiled angelically, facing Zone and Watts, "would you care to explain, old friends, why Squall here was forced to wake me up a full hour behind schedule?"
"Uh... we had a bit of trouble getting into the station," Zone stuttered. "You asked to be woken up when the SeeD's were here, so we figured we'd let you sleep..."
"Hmm... and it didn't occur to you I might want to be notified of this delay, just hours before the operation?"
"Help me out here, man," Zone said to Watts.
"Latest intelligence, ma'am, and sirs," Watts said stepping forward. "The arrival of the presidential express, tansport I.D. 20394, has been delayed by two hours. It is expected to enter Timber Central at 5:14 P.M."
"So we have some extra time," Zone explained.
Rinoa leaned against a desk, thoughtful. "Mm-hmm. All right, I'll let you off the hook this time. But count yourselves lucky, guys. Had it been anyone other than Squall who came to get me—"
Don't go there, Squall thought in horror. He did not want the ball to be brought up in front of everyone.
Thankfully Zell chose that moment to cut in. "You seem to be getting ready for an operation. Care to share with us?"
"That's why we are here, Zell," Rinoa answered.
"Just a moment," Selphie said, squinting at the Forest Owls' young leader. "I might be crazy, but you look strangely familiar. Haven't we ever—?"
"We may very well have. Just weeks ago, I..."
"We need to get down to business," Squall spoke up for the firs time since entering the room. "By the Garden's order we are to verify the particulars of the contract before accepting this mission."
"Oh. All right, of course, but," Rinoa said, "will this take very long?"
"It depends on the contract details, which you should already know better than we do. Why do you ask?"
"Well, like Zell said we are about commence with an operation. It's a bold plan—we put it together on short notice after we learned you would be joining us. We need to brief you three as soon as possible."
"The 'presidential express?'" Selphie asked.
"Yes. As you heard, the train reaches Timber a little after five. We need to have completed the operation sometime before then."
"What kind of an operation is it?"
"No doubt you already know about Timber's political situation for the last twenty years," Rinoa said, waiting for the SeeD's affirming nods. "Well, the train due to arrive today is carrying Vinzer Deling."
She paused and let the announcement sink in. The SeeD's were very quiet.
"The Vinzer Deling?" Zell asked, arms folded.
"You know any other?" Selphie said and got a glare from the boy.
"The Lifelong President of Galbadia," Rinoa confirmed.
"A dictator, sirs. Not even popular in Galbadia anymore—approval ratings haven't gone up once in eleven consecutive quarters, sirs," quipped Watts.
Squall spoke up, addressing Rinoa. "And what do you propose to do with him today?"
"We are going to abduct him."
Author's Notes
1. Reviewing is always the fastest way to get me to update.
2. You may have hard time recognizing Rinoa from here on. I have modified her character more than any other in the game. She will be a bit of a... fox; unpredictable, flirtatious and aloof in equal parts, aristocratic even. (Hey, she is the daughter of a general after all. I think there's a reason the Forest Owls call her "princess.") And smart. Very. I'll confess from the outset: I do not do this because I think that's the way her character is in the game, but because I'll have more fun writing the story this way. And I've got to have fun if I am to keep writing. No doubt you've detected a shift in the writing thus far—I began with a fairly straightforward cut-and-paste-the-game-script approach in the first ten chapters, and since then have been modifying that script more and more. I hope you can put up with it. I promise you, however, that I won't do anything like a total rewriting of the game. That is, all the major events will pretty much unfold the way they do in the game. Squall is not going to hook up with Quistis, Seifer will not decide for a sudden change of heart, and Ellone is not going to turn out to be an alien from the outer space.
3. If anyone knows how to adjust the text margins on FF.net, please enlighten me. I'm sick of seeing all my paragraphs reduced to a single line on the screen because they are stretched too thin. Is there a way of leaving the right half or so of the screen blank? I don't know a thing about html and all that stuff, by the way.
4. Reviewing is the fastest way to get me to update. Waitasec, did I already say that...?
