"Jasom!" I exclaimed as he entered my office.
He looked sharp with his dress uniform, proudly sporting his new stripe. He walked in a dignified manner--chin up and with a stern look on his face. He stood in front of my desk and saluted. I acknowledged with a smile and then bid him to be at ease.
"I'm so glad of your decision, Jasom. I need all the help that I can get, and there aren't plenty of that available to me," I started as I crossed the office to make sure that nobody outside was listening in.
"I will be honest, General--"
"Celes," I corrected. "You may call me Celes when we're alone."
"I'd rather not, General, as I do tend to slip up when I speak. Should it happen in front of the others, what would they think of the informality? Surely, that would not help you gain their respect," said Jasom. It seemed as if he had seen this coming and had prepared an adequate response.
I smiled again, walking back to my desk, thinking that all was going much better than I had anticipated as far. I motioned for him to take a seat.
"Fine, Jasom. But at least, don't talk to me with that tone of voice. You sound like a total stranger. I'm not used to that!" I said jokingly.
He grinned.
"The tone comes with the stripe, I'm afraid. I've been practicing it last night," he replied, chuckling.
My smile faded, and his followed. He understood the urgency of the situation. If he hadn't, then he would not have accepted. He understood because he was there last night, inside the Marigolds, spying. He gave me the benefit of the doubt, and he was willing to give me some more. I didn't wait long for his report.
"I was there, General," he began. "You were right. There was a meeting that took place in the basement of the orphanage."
"Who?" I asked eagerly in a lowered voice.
"You're not going to like it," he assured me as though I had a choice. "Chief Stromsburg and a few Vector veterans on one side. Three foreigners on the other. They sounded like they were from far north."
"Rebels," I muttered.
Jasom nodded gravely. "And traitors," he added, referring to the chief and the veterans.
The terms traitor and treason hold no meaning when the very allegiance you have sworn to protect and fight for conspires against you, I found myself quoting Guardian. I almost said it out loud but thought better of it.
"What did they talk about?"
"It was difficult to make sense of their agenda. Almost hard to believe. It seemed to me that the foreigners called for the meeting, and the veteran, Mr. Clive Omil, was their representative. The others seemed regretful of agreeing to have the meeting, including the chief of police.
"The chief, most of all, distrusted the foreigners. But she had some pretty interesting questions for them."
"Like what?"
"She wanted to know why they commenced the attacks on the Bronze Compound. She was very direct with her question. The foreigners were taken aback. Two of them were outraged of the accusation."
"So you're saying that neither the foreigners nor the natives admitted to their involvement with the Terra Episode?" I asked. I already knew the answer.
"That's what it looked like," he said, shrugging. "Even if they weren't involved, one would think that they would claim responsibility just to get the Empire's attention."
"I want to hear your thoughts on this, Jasom. You're not just my aide, you're also my confidant."
He frowned and seemed ill at ease. "I don't think I'm a reliable source of judgment, General. I was struggling to keep up with their conversation."
"I trust you, Jasom. You're one of those people who have not yet given in to the military's brainwashing."
Jasom looked shocked at my choice of words. I knew that I should've been more careful. How confounding it must've been for him to hear me say the words. There I was, a general of the Army, talking about brainwashing and propaganda to a lowly subject such as he. I wished that I had chosen my words more carefully. But there was no reason for me to take them back now. "That's right, Jasom. This is something that you will learn soon enough," I assured him. Whether or not he was ready to accept it was not relevant at the moment. "I want to hear your thoughts," I repeated. "Who was telling the truth?"
He snapped out of his tentative reaction and answered, "I believe both sides. The chief and the veterans didn't have anything to do with the Terra Episode. At the same time, the foreigners were just there to gather information about recent events. It seemed ludicrous to them that they would plan such a 'reckless' attack."
"So both sides deny," I thought loudly. It was a matter of confirmation. My theory was solid. "That seems plausible enough."
"The chief was not at all convinced, at first. She taunted them mercilessly to try to get them to admit any sort of involvement with the attack. She almost sounded like she was one of us."
"She is," I said.
"But why does she not report the rebels to us?" he asked.
"For the same reason you decided to take this job," I replied coolly. "You want to see both sides before condemning one."
Jasom was silent for a few seconds, reconsidering. "But you seem so sure about the whole thing. How would you know that?"
"My theory and an independent source are accurate to the dot. The odds look to their favor. The sympathizers and rebels are not to blame for what happened. They are merely scapegoats for the bigger conspirators," I explained.
"Source? What source?" he asked, trying to keep up.
"Soon, Jasom. You will find out very soon."
"But you have no confirmation of your theory or the validity of your source."
"True. And that is what we're about to obtain. Pick up your clipboard and bring a weapon. We have plenty of ground to cover today."
"Where to, General?" he asked, getting on his feet.
"First on the itinerary."
"The Intel Headquarters?"
The top floor of the Intel Headquarters was where most of the military radio transmissions went through. They were identified, encrypted if necessary, and routed to their destination. And each time a process took place, a recorded log was taken and filed.
The Intel Headquarters received a sighting report of an escaped suspect. Jasom and I arrived in the building without notice, much to the surprise of everybody. We were there for the official word.
"General Chere! It is an honor. What can we do for you?" Captain Kernak asked after the obligatory salute.
"As you were, men!" I said aloud for everybody in the room to return to their duties. Most of the soldiers within sat in front of terminals, wearing headsets and speaking through small microphones. They were in constant communication with the outside military activities. I dared not halt their entire operation.
Jasom stepped forward and took the floor for me as I have instructed him on the way over.
"Good morning, Captain. I hope you're not too busy at the moment. May we step into your office for some privacy?"
"Certainly! Right this way, General," the captain courteously led the way to his small office on the same floor. He opened his door for Jasom and me.
The walls were lined with shelves that reached up to the ceiling. They were filled with binders, neatly arranged and labeled with numbers that could only signify dates. The binders were color coded--red, white and black. On one corner of the room was a stack of folders. I assumed that they were records yet to be organized. A window was open, letting in a slight breeze of fresh air. On his desk were documents held in place by a cylindrical paperweight. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the paperweight was an old-fashioned miniature granary with a cone-shaped top that was the roof. The granary had a little sign that said, 'Welcome to Maranda.' It was obviously one of the little trinkets a tourist might buy as a souvenir.
There were only two chairs. This made the captain uncomfortable. He was about to offer both chairs to his visitors when Jasom beat him to the punch.
"Please have a seat, Captain." Then turning towards me, he said, "General, if I may..." He politely held the chair for me until I was seated comfortably. The captain closed the door, sat behind his desk, and awkwardly waited for one of us to speak.
"I do not wish to take too much of your time, Captain," I started. "We're both aware of how busy it can get here."
"Thank you, General," he replied with uncertainty.
"According to my investigative team, you've received an audible report of the infiltrator the day of the Terra Episode." I paused, waiting for confirmation.
"Yes, General. We have," he sounded uneasy about it.
"We were also told that you've lost that recorded report from your files?"
The captain cleared his throat and replied, "That would be correct, General."
"In that case, we have quite a few questions to ask you. Who sent the audible report to the H.Q.?" At this, Jasom readied his clipboard and pencil to take notes.
"It was Adviser Kefka Palazzo," he said promptly. Jasom started his scribbling.
"Have you confirmed this?" I asked.
"Yes, we have, General."
"How have you confirmed this?"
"One of my men swears by it. I trusted his word."
"So it wasn't you personally who handled the report?"
"No, General, it wasn't I."
"Who was it then?"
"The call was routed to Private First Class Condell's desk station. He was the one to pick up."
I glanced up at Jasom who was furiously scribbling at the clipboard. When he noticed that my eyes were on him, he started to move towards the door. "I'm on it, General," he said before disappearing behind the door.
The captain and I were alone. He seemed relieved of the break in the series of questions I had in store for him. I reminded myself to go slower.
"Has Adviser Palazzo contacted the H.Q. after the Terra Episode?"
"No, General. At least, not to my knowledge."
"Has any member of his Devouts contacted you?"
The captain shook his head thoughtfully. He didn't seem to be hiding anything from me. His reactions were genuine.
"Have you or your colleagues initiated contact with Adviser Palazzo or with any of his Devouts after the Terra Episode."
The question was so specific that it made him a bit nervous. "No, General. Were we supposed to?"
I ignored his question and went to the next. "Have you or any of your colleagues made contact with anybody regarding the attack?"
"We were only told to report to the late General Fencross since he was the one handling the investigation. But when we heard of his condition, we waited for orders from the New Council. We were only instructed to wait longer," he explained. It was believable.
I nodded thoughtfully. The gesture seemed to make him relax a bit.
"At this point, I would like to know how you've lost Kefka's recorded voice," I said, trying very hard not to sound accusing.
He swallowed nervously and answered, "We aren't sure about how it happened, General. I mean, losing recorded files happens, but they are extremely rare. It's the strangest thing really."
"Please explain," I said, looking intrigued. I did not want him to feel like he was being interrogated as a criminal.
"Well, General," he began, shifting his tense position. "The few times we've lost files or recordings were mostly due to technical problems. Annoying things like bad medium or broken machines. When these things happen, we usually end up losing a whole batch of recordings for that day. But Adviser Palazzo's recording was a special case. Only his recording was missing from the tape. We have a timestamp of his transmission, but then it was silent for the duration of his call. It was just a gap of silence in the entire collection. It was almost as if it was never recorded in the first place. If that were the case, then we never did have a recording of it any one time," he concluded.
"You don't think it was another malfunction that did it?" I asked.
"It was too precise, General. I don't believe that was what happened."
"So you're telling me that we really cannot prove that it was Kefka?"
The captain paused and examined my last question. Did I sound like I was accusing the emperor's most trusted adviser of a crime?
"That is correct, General," he said.
There was a soft knock on the door.
"Enter!" I commanded. It was Jasom. He was back with Private First Class Condell.
I stood up and smiled at the newcomer.
"Private First Class Condell, General," Jasom introduced.
I extended my hand before the private had the chance to make a salute. He shook my hand with great confidence. I saw no mark of unease on his face. I motioned for him to take my seat. The young man did not hesitate.
"Captain, you've been very helpful. I would now like to have a word with Mr. Condell in private, please," I said with a smile.
The captain got up quickly with a sigh of relief. "Certainly, General."
Jasom held the door open for him, nodding respectfully as the captain stepped out.
I took the captain's chair instead and examined the young man's face. I observed that the private had more confidence than his superior.
"Condell, I want you to carefully recall what happened the day of the Terra Episode. It is very important that you do not leave out a single detail." Condell was just nodding. He seemed eager to answer. "Let us begin with what you were doing a minute before you answered that reported sighting of Tina Branford."
"It's easy enough to remember, General. I was on my usual station, routing secured calls all over the Bronze Compound. I did not notice anything out of the ordinary at the time--"
"Be a bit more specific. What secured transmissions were you handling?"
"At that hour, I was one of those in charge of coordinating the Spitfire patrol search over the city. I believe the Alpha group was on their way back to their respective hangars for refueling. I had just contacted their fueling stations to prepare for friendly incoming. That was when I noticed the orange signal indicator on my panel," he narrated clearly.
"And what does that orange indicator indicate exactly?"
"First Seal transmissions, General. They come directly from the Bronze Fortress itself. Only a handful of people have such dedicated lines. I'm sure you have one, too, from your main office."
Jasom started his scribbling again.
"Are these transmissions exempt for being recorded?"
"No, General. All transmissions, by default, are recorded on this side unless otherwise specified. Kefka simply didn't mention anything about the removal of the recording. Frankly, I can't think of any reason why he would want to."
"So what you're saying is that you were the one who heard the report?"
"That is correct, General."
"Please tell us as accurately as you can what Adviser Palazzo told you," I ordered.
"Certainly. He said that he has spotted Tina Branford in the act of entering Magitek Warehouse 5. He gave the order to lock it down, sound the alarm, and dispatch an assault force. He didn't wait for me to send an audible acknowledgment," he said almost sounding disappointed.
"How did you know that it was Adviser Palazzo?"
"He identified himself. He actually used his first name," he said, chuckling a bit. "It's not every day an important person likes that gives you his first name," he commented. "And, also, his transmission signature was orange-coded. His device ID was 'K.P. 7' so I assumed that it was his comm device."
"Were you able to pinpoint the exact location of the device?"
"No, General. Just the ID. We know that it came from inside the Bronze Fortress, though."
"Are you certain that Adviser Palazzo said it was M.W. 5?"
"I am," he said without hesitation.
"And how did you react to this report?"
"Palazzo terminated the transmission. There was nothing else to do about that. I reported to my superior and he promptly reported to General Fencross. Within minutes, General Fencross's team had M.W. 5 surrounded."
"And then what?"
"I was back to my usual station. We get plenty of important calls, but none of us really see much of the action. Minutes later, we received a direct command from the Fencross Team. I was told route the Spitfire patrols closer to ground zero. As the situation developed, a distress call was received by everybody in the floor. It was a top level broadcast. The Fencross Team was under attack by a Magitek Unit."
"The Magitek Armor came from a powering station roughly two hundred yards away," I finally said in a slightly accusatory tone. The private had been holding his nerves together. I wanted to see how he would react to a little bit of pressure.
"Yes, General," he responded coolly.
"Terra was piloting the Magitek Armor," I continued, building up the tone.
"Correct, General."
"You gave them the wrong location, Private. The Fencross Team had the wrong building surrounded."
"I realized that afterwards, General. I had given them the wrong information, but only because the information that I had received was already incorrect."
"Was it possible that you had misheard the adviser?"
"No, General," he promptly said, sounding wounded at the accusation, yet he was still calm. "I deal with garbled messages everyday in this building and I've grown accustomed to various radio distortions. Palazzo's voice was very clear. It was as if he were right beside me. He distinctly said Warehouse 5."
"Private Condell, I hope you realize what you're trying to tell me. By affirming your confidence in your 'acquired skill' you are saying that Adviser Kefka Palazzo--the emperor's most trusted adviser--gave you the wrong information."
The private didn't even blink. "I stay with my word, General."
I grinned. Jasom looked at him with silent awe.
"Very good, Private Condell. Thank you very much for your time."
I stood up from my desk. Private Condell stood up after me and saluted. He turned to leave. Jasom held the door open for the private and quickly closed it again.
"Pardon me, General. But why was that transmission critical to the investigation?" Jasom asked. He had been taking notes but was unable to piece things together. I was not surprised.
"The sighting was a lie. It was not a mere inaccuracy," I said with confidence, absentmindedly picking up the miniature granary from the stack of documents. I leaned back on the captain's chair, swiveled around so I now faced the open window and stared outside, thinking.
"But how can you be so sure? Is it not possible that Kefka had identified the building incorrectly?"
"Quite possible. But consider the number of people who died with the first shot from that MegaArmor. The report had placed the Fencross Team close to the epicenter of the explosion."
"I don't quite follow, General."
"Read the report, Jasom. Green tab," I said.
Jasom flipped back pages of his clipboard to where he had a copy of the report that I had summarized for him earlier. He still had not had the chance to read everything. Things were going too fast for him.
I gave him a few minutes to absorb the document with a green labeled tab. It concerned the ruined Magitek Warehouse 5 report. As I waited, I looked at the miniature figurine in my hands, and in that brief, silent moment, I appreciated the simple craftsmanship dedicated to the novelty item. It was made entirely out of a single block of wood, carved and detailed with masterful strokes of a tiny chisel. The words were painted carefully.
Welcome to Maranda, I thought. I wondered when I would earn a week or two to be at that popular vacation spot. Already, I felt guilty about cutting Jasom's vacation short. But I promised to make it up to him. He didn't seem to mind. I, myself, had already written his girlfriend a letter, vaguely explaining the urgency of the situation. It was the least I could do. I hoped that a letter coming from a general of the Imperial Military was enough to convince her.
"An entire company was inside?!" he gasped.
"Vaporized," I added for effect as I placed the paperweight to where it belonged. I stood up and walked around the desk. We exited the office, thanked the captain who was waiting outside for his time, and left the building.
A military vehicle waited for us outside. I told Jasom that I would drive the vehicle. I wanted to give him time to read the rest of the report to get him acquainted with the hidden facts.
As we sped down the street, Jasom made a comment about the Magitek Armor.
"I was not aware that a Magitek Unit could do that much damage with a single discharge."
"It can't," I said clearly. "But it had help."
"How?" he asked glancing to his side. He noticed that we were en route to leave the Bronze Compound.
"Turn the page," I said simply.
"T.N.T.?" Jasom said, echoing the same bewilderment I had when Professor Brown gave me the report.
"Non-military grade explosive. They came from the outside. What they were doing inside M.W. 5 is still debatable. How they got there in the first place without detection is a greater mystery. But all that are not important."
"It's not?"
"We just need to know who put it there. The why will follow. The how does not matter."
"Do we have a suspect?"
"Yes. Kefka."
"So how do we find out?"
"According to my team's investigation, it would take about 5,000 pounds of T.N.T. to produce that kind of explosion. It was the T.N.T. that killed those people. The MegaArmor was just there to ignite it.
"Now put it together, Jasom. Do you not think that all that were too convenient? A MegaArmor to light the fuse--just far enough from the blast radius. Consider the timing. Seconds after the Fencross Team had surrounded the building, Terra fired. The first shot was intended for the building itself. Not the Fencross Team. It was too accurate. Why would she target the building itself if she hadn't known about the explosives there?"
"But how did those people end up inside?"
"We may never know how, but I can tell you that they were there to die. They were meant to perish together with the Fencross Team."
"But why?"
"Those people all shared something in common. They knew one particular person too well," I paused for effect, staring straight down the road. Jasom waited for my answer. "Tina Branford."
"So who's Tina Branford?" Jasom finally asked.
How does one respond to such a simple question, when the answer was yet to complete weaving itself into the tapestry? I thought. Jasom did not yet know that Terra and Tina Branford were one and the same. I wondered whether it would be wise to reveal to him that dangerous secret. After all, most of the people who knew Tina Branford were all dead. It was the paradox of the chicken and the egg.
But logic had to start somewhere. Let it start with identity.
"Tina Branford is Terra. Terra is Tina Branford," I answered as I weaved through the streets of the city. We were headed east, farther from the City Circle, and closer to the edge of the urban world.
Jasom heard me clearly. I was proud of his incentive to try and piece things together himself. He recalled what he knew about the Terra Episode--the so-called "public knowledge." Then he had been integrating my investigative findings to that knowledge with great effort by evaluating new findings, re-evaluating inconsistencies, and patching up the holes with theories, gluing the pieces of the puzzle together one shard at a time. And when he was halfway done, I shattered it all up again with only two sentences.
Poor Jasom!
Ideas ran wild in his head. What he once thought to be truth had now become a fallacy. What he once affirmed to be a fallacy had now become an uncertainty.
I grinned secretly. It felt oddly satisfying to have another person puzzle over the greatest riddle of all.
"Don't try too hard, Jasom. It's only your first day," I said, beaming a smile at him. "My first day being officially a general killed me. And I have yet to discover how Beigeletter fit into the tapestry."
"Gods!" he gasped in exasperation. "How many are involved?"
"I don't know. The numbers seem to grow. Tina Branford was the center of it all. Not anymore, however. I'm under the spotlight now."
"According to the reports, Tina Branford died in M.W. 5. But Terra was neutralized. So, which is it?"
"Branford is still alive. For reasons we have yet to uncover, Branford was given a new identity. As far as the public is concerned, Branford died inside M.W. 5. And to keep this lie alive, they killed those who knew Branford's existence in the military. That meant her captain and the entire company. Give or take a few other acquaintances. So as far as the public is concerned, the Tragic Tale of Branford ended in M.W. 5.
"But to those who knew the truth--or at least, part of it--it's only begun. She was about to be tried for her infiltration and destruction of the Magitek Reactor--"
"That was her? But I thought that was Terra?" I glanced at him with a grin. He caught on after a few seconds. "Oh," he said sheepishly.
"Same person, Jasom. Different name. Different image. Whoever the conspirators were, they wanted to sway the attention of the public from the conspiracy. Branford was secretive. She was military. She was magic-user. Her identity had too many connections with the Army. She had gained the attention of too many individuals who asked questions. The questions could lead to the core of the conspiracy.
"As a solution, the conspirators invented the name Terra. Terra was a ploy to silence the secrets that Branford knew. And as icing to the cake itself, they gave the name an illusion that the attacks were the rebels' doing." I was quite proud of how I summarized it. Granted, a huge part of it was only a theory of mine. But it helped Jasom with his thought process.
"So Branford's capture, trial, and death would've made many people suspicious, while Terra's would not?" Jasom asked.
I nodded slowly, pleased of his progress.
"Branford's case pointed to the truth. Terra's case pointed to the opposite and convenient direction."
"Not to mention, convincing," Jasom added. "Branford's case, and even her death, was no longer questioned because Vector now has bigger fish to fry!"
"Correct! The image of Terra is the new and greater threat. Terra is the enemy. She came from out there. A rebel. Meanwhile, Branford is old and forgotten news."
"But why did they permit this investigation? I thought Terra was captured?"
"She is a prisoner somewhere in the Magitek Lab Omega. They simply wanted closure for the incident. Since Fencross was in a coma before he died, everybody is expecting the new leader of the investigation to close the case, point blindly to any direction, and order the retaliation. They wanted a fool to dance to their music." I paused. Gritting my teeth, I added, "They picked me."
Jasom cast a nervous glance towards me. I stared straight ahead, not realizing that I was going too fast for the street. I slowed down and curved the right edge of my lips. "They shouldn't have brought me back from the dead," I said wryly.
Jasom cleared his throat to dispel the awkward air in the vehicle. "So what is this conspiracy?" he asked.
"That's what I'm hoping to find out. The conspirators are no fools. Almost everything is a dead end," I said.
"Almost?"
"Branford is the first victim of the conspiracy. She got in too deep and too close to the fire. While most people think that Branford is old news, nobody expected me to retrace her steps to get closer to the truth."
Jasom was silent for a long time again. It almost seemed like he had grown tired of the conversation and that he needed a break from thinking. He looked away from me and stared blankly to his side. Nothing on the sidewalks caught his attention much, I noticed. In reality, he was still deep in thought.
"And then what?" he said suddenly.
"Pardon me?"
"So you risk your life to discover this conspiracy and learn the entire truth. And then what?"
I slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded to a complete stop. Jasom dropped his clipboard in surprise as he braced himself for the force of the quick stop. When he pulled himself back against the seat, he met my eyes. His looked worried, somehow, guessing that his question had offended me.
I simply smiled and said, "We've arrived. I stepped quickly out of the vehicle. He promptly followed suit. "Call for back up. Local police only. Not Intel," I ordered.
"What for?" he asked in alarm, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon.
I pointed to the old factory behind him. The words read, Marrows' Explosives Limited.