AN: And so day two of the mad writing marathon begins... *groans* ~and~ I have to pack at the same time!
Rating: R maybe PG-13 (R in standing with ff.net's policy of picking the highest rating)
Disclaimer: SG characters are (c) MGM (thankie to Morrigan for that :p). FF8 characters are (c) Squaresoft, original characters are mine – ask nicely and I might let you play with them, s'long's you don't break them...
Warnings: SxS Maybe angst (I do like to torture my characters sometimes :p), language (prob nothin u ain't heard b4, but still...) oh, and an advanced warning of much POV switching in the end parts of this chapter :)
~Chapter Forty-One: Rain Of Fire~
SG1, along with Squall and Seifer suddenly found themselves in the corridors of what could only be a G'ould mothership. There was a noise behind them, from the end of the corridor, and instantly all five had their weapons drawn.
"Hey y'all... Uh, don't shoot, k?" Seifer rolled his eyes.
"Kinneas." The Trabian Headmaster gingerly stuck his head around the corner, sighing with relief when he saw Squall.
"What the hell just happened?" Quistis demanded, pushing Irvine aside to join the others in the corridor. "One minute we're in the middle of Centra, the next..." She gestured around at the corridor. "We're here. Wherever here is."
"Great." Seifer muttered. "Now she's back in Instructor mode. Next thing you know..." He broke off then, staring at Squall with a slightly puzzled expression on his face, as if trying to figure out what was wrong.
I'm dressed you moron. Squall commented snidely in his mind. Behind everyone else's backs, Seifer stuck his tongue out.
"Seifer! I despair of you ever growing up!" Quistis snapped.
"I knew it! She goes into Instructor mode, and suddenly she's got eyes in the back of her head!" Seifer moaned. Quistis finally turned to face him, and whatever expression was on her face, Seifer shut up in record time.
"Now..." She began again. Squall held his hand up, forestalling the repeat of her questions.
"Hyne brought, or sent, us here. I'm assuming that someone knows how to disable, or destroy, one of these things..." He looked enquiringly at Jack and Sam.
"Well, this C4 came from somewhere..." Jack admitted, pointing to the blocks of plastic explosive at the side of the corridor. "Carter knows where to find naquada, and Daniel can translate the instruction manual to trash the crystal backup drive without blowing us all to bits." Squall nodded.
"Alright. How do we get to wherever this G'ould will be?"
"Generally the throne room. That's at the very centre of the pyramid." Daniel's response was met with four blank expressions. "Um, you're in the pyramid now. Just think of it as a maze." Squall nodded.
"Alright. Let's go. We'll meet in the throne room." Jack nodded, then he, Sam and Daniel, after splitting the blocks of C4 between them, headed off in the opposite direction.
***
Whether Hyne had a hand in it, or whether they were simply lucky, SG1 were finding their path to the great engines of the pyramid unobstructed, and their journey uninterrupted by Jaffa patrols.
"So, uh, how exactly am I supposed to use a ~manual~ to destroy the crystal drive?" Daniel finally asked. Sam – who had been quietly wondering the same thing – looked with interest at Jack, curious as to what his answer would be.
"Simple. You do all the don'ts that don't have 'risk of massive explosion' after them."
"Of course." So simple it could only go wrong, was the thought that immediately flashed into their minds.
"Do you think we should have warned them about the rings?" Daniel suddenly wondered, remembering that the SeeDs were unlikely to ever have encountered such a thing. There was a pause.
"They're bright kids." O'Neill decided. "They'll figure it out."
With more than a little trepidation, the three continued towards the engines.
***
The SeeDs however, were not having such an easy time of it. They had rounded what they had thought to be the last corner, only to find the corridor ended in a small, circular chamber.
"A dead end." Quistis stated, sounding disgusted. "I knew ~I~ should have been navigating."
"Quistis, there weren't any other turnings..." Irvine gingerly pointed out, feeling that, more than denigrating Squall and Seifer's navigating abilities, she was attacking male navigation in general. The blonde instructor glared him into silence.
The sudden rushing, ringing sound of metal over metal had them all on alert, searching for its source.
"An elevator?" Squall reasoned, watching four or five metal rings appear in the room before them.
"If it is, can we get them at Garden?" Seifer commented, gaping as five Jaffa appeared with a flash of light.
"Finally!" Irvine crowed behind them, noticing the enemy as the rings vanished back to wherever they had come from. He chuckled nastily, not bothering to aim his gun. "Ifrit'll knock 'em back a few centuries!" But as the Galbadian SeeD began to summon the mighty fire elemental, Squall rounded on him, knocking the cowboy cold with a single well-aimed right hook. Seifer huffed in annoyance.
"I've wanted to do that for years, and you go and beat me to it!" Squall shot his lover a quelling glare that clearly said 'later', before turning back to face the Jaffa. They seemed as surprised as Quistis at Squall's actions, but now they recovered, quickly firing their staff weapons before ducking behind the scant cover of the ring room's curving walls. The SeeDs remained in the centre of the corridor, protected by their defensive spells.
"No GFs." Squall warned sternly. "And no spells that might breech the hull." Of course, Quistis realised, Squall would know what he was talking about. After all, he had been into space before.
"Fine." Seifer sulked, absently using a thunder spell to take out a Jaffa unwise enough to show his head. "What about limits?" Squall thought for a moment.
"Irvine's are ok. Yours should be ok. Mine..." He trailed off with a shake of his head.
"What about me?" Quistis demanded, irritably freezing another Jaffa with a blizzaga spell as she spoke.
"I trust you to use your own judgement." This said, Squall promptly dispatched the three remaining Jaffa with a tornado spell.
It was only as the two knights strode off towards the ring room that Quistis realised she had somehow become responsible for the unconscious Irvine. Muttering to herself, she impatiently cast full-life, toeing the Galbadian in the side when he didn't stir quickly enough from his prone position. The prod seemed to bring reality and memory crashing back down on the cowboy, who bolted upright with a curse.
"Hey!" Kinneas dashed after Squall and Seifer. With a black look that could have felled a Ruby Dragon at fifty paces, Quistis followed. "What in hell was that for?!" The Trabian Headmaster demanded of Squall's back as she arrived. The SeeD Commander ignored the question, instead wandering, apparently aimlessly, into the centre of the room. The irate figure of Irvine followed, still demanding an explanation. Rolling her eyes, Quistis stepped forwards to join them, intending to give the explanation that Squall seemed strangely reluctant to give, but she found herself distracted by the sight of Seifer pushing a button on what appeared to be a control panel.
"Yeah, because summoning a GF to smash your enemies with a meteor is a ~real~ bright idea when you're on a spaceship!" The blond snapped at Irvine, coming to stand next to Squall in the centre of the room. Irvine opened his mouth, the beginning of a fight looming on the horizon, only for his words to be cut off as the rings descended from the ceiling...
***
C4 planted, and the crystal drive, hopefully, mangled beyond salvation, SG1 began to beat a hasty retreat. The corridors were as deserted as they had been before, and they found themselves wondering at the mentality of an entity who could quite easily have dealt with the G'ould itself, and yet had chosen only to aid them to do so in its stead. Then, as they literally ran around a corner into a small Jaffa patrol, all three decided that perhaps it ~had~ only been luck on their side.
The fight was short, brutal and messy. A typical melee. Luck, despite the appearances, had been on their side again, only the sheer astonishment of the Jaffa lending Sam, Jack and Daniel the slim advantage that gave them the opportunity to react first. They were also fortunate that there were only three Jaffa, two of whom went down permanently, whilst the third slumped in a dead faint from a broken nose. Daniel was nursing split knuckles from the blow that had broken the Jaffa's nose, whilst Jack was slightly hunched over one side where a wild kick had landed seconds before he dispatched his opponent. It was perhaps this injury, doing an admirable job of clouding both Sam and O'Neill's thoughts, that led to the unconscious Jaffa being ignored as the group continued on their way to safety.
Minutes later the Jaffa groaned and stirred. The healing power of his symbiont was acting as an anaesthetic, and if he hadn't been able to recall his nose being broken, he probably would never have realised that it had been done. But he did remember the Tau'ri who had broken it, and that all three Tau'ri had been heading from the engine room of the pyramid. Scrambling to his feet, and abandoning his staff weapon, the Jaffa launched himself into a dead run. If he could save the engines perhaps his lord would forgive him losing the Tau'ri interlopers...
***
Of course, the one problem with the rings was that anyone in their vicinity had about ten seconds advance warning of your arrival, whilst you couldn't be certain if anyone was there or not. Thus it was that the four SeeDs – for Seifer, like Squall, had never been formally dismissed from Garden, although he was now of an age that technically he would be handed dismissal papers on entering a Garden – found themselves facing quite a welcoming committee in the ring room that led to Den'Tok's throne room.
"Bugger." Was Irvine's astute summation of the situation. Of course, having been unconscious, his protect and shell spells had lapsed, and being as he was also now at the front of the group, he was in a somewhat precarious situation. But for some reason the Jaffa were watching him warily... Or rather, not him, but someone behind him...
Cautiously Irvine twisted his head, straining to see over his shoulder with one eye, whilst watching the Jaffa with the other. Eventually he managed to catch a glimpse of yellow. Yellow. He frowned. Selphie wore yellow, but she wasn't with them, so...
"Mighty guard!" Quistis's shout, coupled with the shield that promptly – and timely given the blue and yellow fire that bounced off it – appeared in front of them all, confirmed the conclusion he had reached. Somewhere during the transition process one of them had lost an aura stone, and it had activated on Quistis. Not that he was complaining. Still, remembering how fickle the mighty guard magic was for the Iron Giants, Irvine gratefully took the opportunity to re-cast protect and shell on himself, relaxing somewhat as the familiar blue and purple lights enveloped him.
"Quistis go left. Irvine right. We'll meet you at the far side." Squall and Seifer strode out of the ring room together, their gunblades reflecting the light of the blue zat fire and yellow staff fire, as well as the blue and purple flashes of their defensive magic as it did its job. Those few Jaffa unwise enough to try and halt them with physical combat soon found that neither staff metal nor their armour was a match for adamantine-edged blades infused with magic. Of course, the rest found soon enough that energy crystals and Malboro tentacles were just as deadly, as were Irvine's demolition and amour piercing ammunition.
The four SeeDs regrouped on the far side of the room, at the great double doors that led into the throne room itself. Behind them the corpses of nearly 25 Jaffa lay, silent testimony to the long years of training and fighting that each of the four had gone through. Not one of them had needed to use a single offensive spell.
Memories of the horrific final battle against Ultemecia were strong in Irvine, Quistis and Squall's minds, but as one all four reached out and simultaneously cast thundara against the metal doors, so like those that had graced Ultemecia's throne room...
***
The explosion, or explosions, for the sound came from two directions, physically rocked the pyramid, throwing Sam, Jack and Daniel across the corridor. Ears ringing, Jack tried to ask a question, only to find that he couldn't hear a thing. Neither Sam nor Daniel seemed in any better condition, both shaking their heads and pointing at their ears when he tried to communicate. Hearing or no, they all felt the next explosion, and the rush of hot air across their skin was indication enough of its proximity to have them all up and running.
Sound returned with a sharp pop just in time for them all to hear the dull thump, as well as feel the vibration, of the third explosion. They continued running.
"I said ~not~ the ones with 'danger of explosion'!" O'Neill yelled, automatically ducking as the heat of the fifth explosion, and some smaller pieces of debris, chased them around the corner.
"Someone must have tried to repair it and swapped the wrong crystals!" Daniel retorted, recalling that they had never checked if all three Jaffa they had, literally, bumped into were dead.
"Sir! Ring room!" Daniel and Jack returned their attention to the corridor at Sam's shout, managing to skid to a halt just in the centre of the room. The most familiar – after being left with the fragments of Jolinar's memories – with the ring room layout, Sam tapped the activation button as she too skidded past and to a halt at the centre of the room.
"Come on. Come on." Jack muttered anxiously, as if willpower could speed the ring's descent.
The vibrations of the sixth explosion visibly rippled ahead of the sound, and the veritable wall of debris and fire that was now heading directly for them. O'Neill's hand brushed against Sam's, the two pressing against each other, fingers twining together desperately, as if the contact between them would somehow provide the force to protect them against the maelstrom of fire and metal nearly upon them. Closer and closer the heat came, the winds ahead of the inferno tearing at their hair and clothes, trying to pull them off-balance, to pull them into the explosion's deadly embrace. The blinding heat, still a good fifteen feet away, had reached an intensity that was beyond the tolerance of human eyes. As one, Daniel, Jack and Sam lifted their free arms, turning their heads in a vain effort to hide from the high temperature.
Still the deadly firestorm raged closer, and still the rings didn't come...
***
Den'Tok was neither old nor young by G'ould standards, but if he could not be defined by age, neither could he be defined by power. It was true that he did not have the ancient powers of the old G'ould such as Shara, but it was also true that he did not share the wholly militaristic ambitions of the young G'ould such as Ra and Osiris and all their ilk. No, Den'Tok had carved his niche in the universe a long time ago, and he had been satisfied with that niche his entire life, until the Tau'ri had begun their seemingly random attacks against G'ould controlled worlds. There were arguments that the Tau'ri were indeed acting randomly, but Den'Tok didn't believe that for a minute. Any race who could, and had, bested G'ould defences was beyond mere random acts. No, there had to be a cunningly concealed structure to their attacks, one that would unfold before his eyes like a delicate Catala bloom in the morning sun. But only if he stared long and hard enough.
And that was why he was here, orbiting this isolated planet. The woman, the sorceress, who had contacted him and asked for his aid, had promised him the Tau'ri. Quite what he would do with them remained to be seen. After all, he too knew of the sunset prophecy. If the G'ould were indeed doomed to fall from their position of power, perhaps it would be possible to bargain with the Tau'ri. He had never claimed to be a god, never mistreated his bondsmen or forced symbiotes upon those who did not wish to be Jaffa...
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of battle in the outer chamber of his throne room. Somewhat anxiously Den'Tok dismissed his attendants and began to chew on a fingernail. Quite where he'd picked the habit up from he wasn't sure, but in times of stress the nail unerringly found its way between his teeth.
The sounds of zat and staff fire finally died away to leave silence, and a mounting tension. There was no way to tell who had won, or even who his Jaffa had been fighting.
Then the doors exploded with a force that rocked the very pyramid. When the smoke and debris cleared three Jaffa were already dead, cut down by shrapnel, and four figures were standing in the gap where the doors had previously been. They were not Tau'ri, Den'Tok knew that instantly and his heart sank with the inevitability of it all. Clearly these were the SeeD that the Sorceress had named as her enemies. She was defeated, dead most likely, and she had sealed his fate with her own. There would be no bargaining now, for he had nothing with which to bargain.
"Leave us." He ordered the Jaffa. "There is no need for you to die with me." He saw surprise in the expressions of the four SeeDs. Surprise, and a little sadness.
"There is no place to run. This ship is already destroying itself." The brunette spoke the truth, Den'Tok could feel the explosions through the floor, as well as being able to see the red lights across the control console. His Jaffa also seemed to have different ideas. Den'Tok supposed that was the risk you ran by keeping your servants too happy, they became suicidally loyal. Still, if the nine remaining Jaffa could keep the four SeeDs occupied for a couple of minutes he would perhaps be able to make it to his escape pod. Fleeing had never been beyond him, not when it was clear that victory was.
"We serve to the end!" And with a barked command from their leader, the Jaffa formed up between the SeeD and their lord. Den'Tok bowed his head sadly, and began to back away.
"Oi!" He did not pause at the yell, but he did look up. What Den'Tok saw ~did~ make him halt in astonishment. The nine Jaffa were dead, killed by spells that he had not heard over the distant thumps of powerful explosions ripping through the pyramid, and the blond SeeD, the one who had shouted, was striding towards him. "Don't think you're getting away that easy!" The blond sneered, then held up a hand.
Den'Tok watched in queasy fascination as the air around the blond chilled, forming spears of ice that floated about his head and shoulders, trembling as though held in check by some powerful force. Like Shara before him, he now knew this place, and the omens that it bore for the entire G'ould race. A gesture from the boy and the ice shards hurtled towards him. Den'Tok winced faintly, sighing in relief as the shards failed to penetrate his personal shield.
Resigned to making a fight of it, the G'ould warily narrowed the gap between himself and the SeeD, wondering if it would remain a fight between them, or if the blond's companions would join forces against him. But they showed no signs of doing so. Drawing back his long sleeves so they would not impede the device's use, Den'Tok activated the G'ould weapon that had once been known as the eye of god for its ability to read a person's mind, or inflict punishment from a simple migraine, to a deadly haemorrhage. In reality it was nothing more than a highly sophisticated laser, but some things were better understood through folklore and legend. For a moment it seemed the device would fail, that the strange pink shield around the blond would hold its power at bay. Then, abruptly, the shield failed, and the beam punched through the blond's side, knocking him to his knees...
***
It was a distinct lack of heat that prompted Daniel to cautiously peer from behind his arm. His sigh of relief was heartfelt, and prompted both Jack and Sam to the realisation that the only heat they could now feel was the scorched material of their uniforms. But if the lack of fiery death was a good thing, the fierce vibrations of the continuing explosions was definitely not. Fortunately they had only to cross the outer chamber of the throne room, and from the corpses spread across it, there seemed little chance of any resistance.
Still, even if the distance was short, so was time. A fact they were reminded of as the floor shook yet again.
Silently, but swiftly, SG1 walked across the blood-splattered outer chamber. They could see into the throne room beyond, could see both the debris that was all that remained of the doors – obviously the other explosion they had heard – and the fight between Seifer and the G'ould. As they drew nearer they were also able to see the Jaffa, killed where they had made their last stand. None of them had managed to fire a single shot before they died.
The three SeeDs not fighting were watching everything with a closed, blank expression. They had seen this sort of carnage before Jack realised. This whole situation was stirring memories that were better forgotten, but fated to haunt them forever. He kept falling into the same trap that the Jaffa obviously had Jack mused to himself. Just because the SeeDs were younger did not mean that they did not have the skills, or the experience, but still... perhaps some of them would agree with him in thinking that some experiences no one should go through.
Abruptly there was an increased tension in the room, and Jack looked over to the duel between Seifer and the G'ould to find that the G'ould's hand beam had somehow broken through the SeeD's defences. Seifer had crumpled under the weapon, and was now on one knee, right arm clasped tightly across his side in an effort to staunch the heavy bleeding that was staining his clothing and the floor a bright crimson. His gunblade was held loosely in his left hand, but it was clear the blond was not ambidextrous, and there was little he could do when the G'ould strode forwards and kicked the blade away, raising the hand beam to finish the young man off...
***
The G'ould moved quicker than Seifer had anticipated, and for a moment the old self-doubt filled him. What if he wasn't good enough to do this? Then he would be dead, he muttered back sarcastically at himself. The hand beam appeared to be a laser of some kind, although it hadn't cauterised the wound as he had expected. The blood loss was making him dizzy and incoherent, but enough strength of will and mind remained...
"Rain of fire..." The words hissed from between teeth clenched in agony. Wherever the hell that laser had hit, it hurt like hell to breath, and more so to talk. Then there was the familiar feeling of disassociation that came with his most powerful limit break. Seifer watched as the world around him and his enemy transformed, leaving the area where Squall and the others stood untouched. He was vaguely aware of the off-world soldiers gaping, along with Quistis and Irvine, just as he was vaguely aware of the G'ould's sudden uncertainty.
Pushing his pain to the back of his mind, Seifer stood, stretching his left hand towards the boiling red clouds overhead, as though in supplication, and calling down the liquid fire on his enemy. It fell on him as well, but the drops did not harm him, merely running from his battered trench coat as though they were water. Den'Tok was a different matter. Each drop of liquid fire was just that upon his flesh and clothing. Smoke rose where fabric and skin charred and burned, the sickly sweet stench of burning flesh beginning to invade the air. Fortunately, both for the observers and Den'Tok, he did not last long. With no way to protect his head, and the G'ould healing powers overcome by the sheer devastation of even a single drop of the rain, it took only a few seconds for him to succumb to the horrific wounds and lapse into unconsciousness, and only a few seconds more for the pounding rain to reduce his form to a few mangled and bloody ashes.
Seifer himself shuddered as the limit faded, and not entirely from the sudden return of his own pain. That limit break had been taught to him by Ultemecia, and he had sworn he would never use it again... but for such a monstrous race as the off-world soldiers had described the G'ould as being... For them he could make an exception, although it was no less horrific an end.
***
For a moment after the end of Seifer's limit break there was simply silence. A silence broken finally by Squall as he cast curaga on his lover.
"We have to leave, quickly." O'Neill's voice was somewhat tremulous. He had realised that the SeeDs lived in a brutal and violent world, but seeing the way the blond had killed...no, annihilated the G'ould in such a...a...horrendous manner, and without even a second's hesitation, truly brought home just ~how~ dangerous a world it was.
Squall nodded.
"Yes. Our work here is done." Daniel was just about to ask how, exactly, they were getting back to the planet, when everything went black...
***
For some reason the journey back to the planet seemed to take forever. Maybe because everyone was weighted down by their thoughts. Thoughts of what they had seen and experienced. Troubling thoughts that were causing them to re-examine their own concepts and morals...
***
A world where he could have been something else. A world where his destiny might not have been written in blood by his own hands years ago. Set in stone by a lapse of concentration during the last hours of time compression. It was difficult, no, impossible to imagine anything other than SeeD now. He was too old to change his ways now, on this world, but on the other world... No, it was too hard to do – imagine himself in civilian clothes, unarmed against a hostile world. Hard enough to picture a world with so many people, a continent with so many people... And so hard to understand why, in such a relatively harmless world, there were so many more soldiers. Politics he supposed. Politics he could deal with, after all, an integral part of being a successful SeeD was the ability to understand politics and use the same principles to negotiate contracts, or to persuade your client that it would be safer for them to let the experts get on with their job. A shame Rinoa had proven immune to political hints. The girl never even seemed to realise just how much danger she was in... not until near the end at least. Still, he bore her no ill will. It wasn't beyond belief that Ultemecia had been manipulating her even then...
***
She couldn't understand it. The technology was there, it worked, and yet with the exception of a single continent, it just wasn't used. She could have understood it, perhaps, if the world stood at one end of the scale, completely magical or completely technical, but for it to be in this limbo of using both... It wasn't even in transition from one end of the scale to the other. No anti-technology factions, but no pro-technology factions either, and that was how it had been for millennia, or so it seemed. Sure, it could be said that a similar balance had been struck on Earth, but that was only true in the most general terms. No longer were backwater farms using horse or oxen to pull a plough, and with the advent of mobile phones and the internet it was almost statistically impossible, when one included cars and motor vehicles, to find a house that did not have some sort of technology. Yet here there were people still hoeing their cabbage – or whatever the hell the plant had actually been – patches by hand, fetching water from the local spring and traipsing down to the local post office to see if there was any mail. And yet, even in the midst of this simplicity, they were far superior in their medicines and healing potions. They had heard of deadly illnesses such as tuberculosis and cancer, but so long ago that such things were merely legends, bogeymen who had long since been chased from behind their doors to wither in the sunlight...
***
After so many years he couldn't imagine life without it. To be bereft of the tingle of power down his spine, the sensation of pressure in his mind where his GFs waited, dormant until called to unleash the immense forces at their command. To be unable to summon lighting or fire, unable to hurl an enemy away on a hurricane's furious breath with a single spoken word, a single concentrated thought... It would be like losing an arm, or a leg... A part of him that he could no sooner live without than a Fastitocalon could climb a tree. But if he had grown up never knowing of magic...? What then? Would he feel it still? A nagging emptiness, a void within that nothing ever seemed to fill. A sense of loss that had no explanation, yet persisted beyond the imagination. His magic had been sealed away from him in Ultemecia's castle, along with the other abilities granted to them by the Guardian Forces. But that had been a block on using the abilities, not a removal of them. The sensations had been there, muted by the almost tangible magical blocks, but there nonetheless. Without magic... The idea was almost sacrilege in some way that he struggled to define. It was almost unthinkable. No magic... How much could they not have achieved without magic? Ultemecia would have ruled undisputed, except for the fact that she too, even more so than the SeeDs, relied on magic. There was no part of life that it did not touch. The hospitals, doctors, paramedics, all used the healing magic to save lives and heal wounds that would otherwise scar or maim. Even civilians interacted with magic on a daily basis, water heated by fire spells at a central distribution point, cities protected from incursions of monsters by massed protect and shell spells, even children playing triple triad, where the magic of the cards changed their colours automatically. A life without magic...could be no life at all...
***
He tried to imagine how others would react to this strange world. This harsh and brutal world where children trained to become fighters, soldiers and mercenaries, from as young as four. No matter that the Gardens were a comprehensive education system spanning from the very beginning of the education process to the very end. Even when given a choice almost 95% of those in the Garden system graduated to SeeD and died before their thirtieth birthday. The loss of life was phenomenal, and yet it had been a way of life for so long that it was accepted. Losses were mourned, and then the world moved on again. It seemed inconceivable to him that the value of life was so low, and yet he knew it wasn't. If anything the SeeDs valued life so much that they were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. The few for the many. And really, that was all they knew. Fighting, whether it were against human or inhuman foe, and eventually, inevitably, dying. All they asked from life, they got. SeeDs were respected everywhere, grudgingly by their opponents, reverently by those they aided, because saying SeeD stood for integrity and honesty, courage and determination, was as easy as saying the sea was wet. Sure, every SeeD had their own motives, but all were honest, and all would willingly die fighting to protect those who could not protect themselves. What army on earth could say the same of its soldiers and not be crossing its fingers for even a single percentage of their men at the time? None to his knowledge...
***
She wondered what it would feel like. To stand back from her life and all she had done, and be able to wonder what she would do for the next twenty years. To walk down the street and feel young, all her life ahead of her. The world to explore, to discover, to experience. To be able to consider the possibility of a family, of children of her own and watching them grow up and have their own families. Would it feel the same as that day, that glorious summer day, when the instructors handed her the certificate and shook her hand, not as teachers to a pupil, but as equals? That wonderful feeling of elation and wonderment mixed together so that she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began, only that her whole life had just begun. The feeling that every cadet had on their first solo journey into the training centre. The feeling of immortality and invincibility that led to so many accidents. That feeling...it had been so long since she had felt that way. Twenty-one. Twenty-one and already her thoughts were those of an old maid. Maudlin thoughts that dwelt on her death, the deaths of her friends. Which of them would be first to go? Would she die fighting? Or would she pass away in her sleep, victim of a heart attack or some other sudden ailment? What would it be like for those thoughts still to be grey smudges on the distant horizon of the future? She didn't know, but one thing she did know. She was a realist, and she would deal with her life as it was, not as it might have been...
***
He could still see her lifeless brown eyes staring at him. Could still hear the words that had driven him into a rage. Certainly he of all people knew that different worlds and cultures had different values, but he had thought the value of life to be an unchanging constant that bound all races together. But here... This world... This world of monsters and magic where children fought as naturally as breathing... Here they seemed still to value the old code, dulce et decorum est in pro patria mori [1]. Except...~was~ it right to die to protect the well-being of the rest of your race? Wasn't that what every stargate off-world team risked every time they stepped through the stargate into another world? So was there really that much difference between them? The SeeDs fought monsters, but their monsters – for the most part - didn't try to disguise their nature behind a mask of humanity. He supposed, really, now he'd had the time to think it through without the shock and sorrow of Alicia's death clouding his judgement, that the SeeDs were guilty of nothing more than adapting to the realities of their lives. He could hear now, in his memory, the undertones to the blond's voice that the marines had heard. The tones that spoke of weariness and too many years of saying the final words. The tones that were still sorrowful through the numbness of a mind that had faced death too many times to count. The tones that echoed the sound of yet another name added to a list that could only ever grow, and whose burden would never be lifted from shoulders bowed beneath its weight. Perhaps, for all the surface appearance denied it, life here was valued far higher than it ever would be on earth...
***
No potions. No GFs. No magic. No way to heal even the smallest of cuts, or the mildest of colds. He wondered how many lives were lost simply because wounds were left too long, or infection set in. It was hard to imagine, that someone could bleed to death purely because there were no elixirs or cure spells. Sure, it could happen to a SeeD, if they were alone and their GFs were KO'd, their magic exhausted and their potions gone, but it was rare, very rare. And it would never happen in even the smallest village, let alone the hospital of a major city. Even beggars on the streets, of which there were few, would be healed by anyone who saw them in need, or taken to somewhere where they could be healed. After all, you never knew when you might be in the same situation thanks to a change in government, or a sudden increase in monsters, or even a revolution. A society where such things could happen was an anathema in his mind. And yet, could he really fault such a society if the situation was beyond their ability to rectify? There were alternatives of course, antibiotics and bandages and stitches and so on, but they were primitive and took a long time to be of any use, and sometimes the injury still proved fatal. Germs could adapt to the antibiotics and other injections, whereas they seemed unable to adapt to the magic and the potions. He supposed that was one of the reasons their population was so large, to support the death rate. Still, if they were doing the best they could with the best they had, there wasn't really much else that could be done...
***
The blackness finally resolved itself into the excavation site after what seemed an eternity. There were subtle differences now in each of those whom Hyne had spirited away, a new awareness of the many perspectives from which life could be seen perhaps, or maybe a recognition of the differences between two radically different worlds. Whatever it was, it made Hyne smile quietly to herself as she looked from one to the other of the group.
AN: *smiles* *is feeling all serene now* well, I may have overlapped spheres of opinion slightly in those little introspective bits, and apologies for the fact that they all seem to have gained in depth knowledge about each others worlds without any interaction – blame it on Hyne ;) hehe, anyway, I hope no one got too confused with the POV changes, if people are wanting confirmation of whose thoughts are where then the sections, in order from after the 'concepts and morals...' are: Squall, Sam, Seifer, Jack, Quistis, Daniel, Irvine
[1]: this is the title of a poem that we covered way back when in GCSE English *runs and hides* and for some reason stayed in my brain. The sentiment behind the whole thing – irony – just fitted perfectly with Daniel's first literal take on Seifer's words about Alicia dying in the line of duty. The title is Latin and means 'It is sweet and right to die for your country' (or words to that effect).
hopemia: thanks for the review :) glad you like the fic ^^
myeerah: weell, here's chapter 41 *grins* back from me holiday and now panicking for uni, and still I managed to write it *is feeling impressed with herself* hope you like :)
