[Author's Notes :: I'm quite pleased with this chapter. It's short, and nothing incredibly important really happens, but I like how it turned out. There's more Al Bhed in this chapter so look to the bottom for the translation. ]

IV – Welcome to Bikanel: be Careful You Don't Get Any Sand up Your Ass

Rin had never liked Bikanel. It was too hot, too dry, and so devoid of possibilities that Rin's aversion to it was almost physically palpable. His presence there now had been grudgingly agreed to. Rin had to talk to Gippal and the man wouldn't leave his crew; it was as simple as that.

So here Rin sat, rarely-used goggles pulled down over his eyes as he rested under a make-shift tent, going over some sloppy figures Nhadala had asked him to double-check as he waited for Gippal. Nhadala's request had been an easy one; he just had to go over her math (most of which was correct except for the few last columns, which looked as if they had been hurriedly added a few minutes prior) and check to see if her employees' wages were fair. Rin wrote small corrections in his perfectly linear, unnaturally neat handwriting on the corners of the paper. He knew that Nhadala had just given him this as something to keep him busy and his mind off the scorching heat of the desert. Her ploy wasn't working.

Rin had gone over the papers three times when a worker finally approached him. The man said that Gippal had asked for Rin to take a hover out to where he was working; that he didn't want to leave his men unsupervised. Rin reluctantly agreed; handing the papers to one of Nhadala's workers before boarding the hover, dreading the ride through wind-tossed sand and blazing sun.

It took but a few minutes to locate Gippal, but by the time he arrived, most of Rin's patience had waned. Even as a child he had found his desert home mostly unbearable and had stayed inside as much as possible. It wasn't just the environment that he couldn't stand, but the absolute lack of things to do. He had always had a head for figures and had spent much of his time devising better ways to stock supplies or simply coming up with ways his collective Al Bhed family could make money.

Their potions were amazing and unlike anything the other inhabitants of Spira could create. (Al Bhed alchemists were paragons of medicine and battle-items.) The only problem came from the lack of customers. Few would buy from an Al Bhed store and fewer still would come to Bikanel to find one. Leaving Home and establishing a shop elsewhere was out of the question. Racists had always been a problem, but were even more so then. Unprovoked attacks on Al Bhed merchants and travelers had led to the almost complete isolation of the race; no one would risk leaving Home without a sizable group of friends.

So Rin kept most of his ideas to himself; writing them down in various journals and fleshing them out whenever he had free time. It wasn't until he was in his late teens that he really began to consider leaving Home. He was a poor warrior (he wasn't very good with weapons) and knew just enough about machina and mechanics to get by. His real talent lay in his ability to spot business prospects and undertake them successfully. He recognized this, and took it upon himself to find a way to put his talent to good use.

Rin decided it was time to confront Leader and pleaded with the man to let him take a crew of men and build a store; something to help bring money to the Al Bhed people. Leader had refused, telling Rin he was too young to even consider running a business. Besides, the man had added, secure in his own wisdom, such an undertaking was suicide. The shop would be burned and Rin and his employees killed: "Yc muhk yc Spira nasyehc ihlrykat, cu femm dra lolma luhdehia."

The young Al Bhed had never accepted this. Rin was of the opinion that the cycle could be broken; that his race would not have to live in fear of the outside world. So Rin left three years later, just a few weeks after he had turned twenty. It took him a while, but he was eventually able to gain the trust of a small band of Al Bhed. Together, they began the overwhelming task of building the first Travel Agency.

The idea for such an establishment had come to Rin while he was traveling Spira. For the most part, there were few places to rest. Those that were already in use usually did not welcome stray Al Bhed. Because of this, Rin had decided to build a haven for all weary travelers, regardless of race, creed, or what have you. His idea had been greatly welcomed amongst his Al Bhed brethren, and even some open-minded followers of Yevon. Rin had asked among them which route was in most need of a place to rest and the replies were nearly unanimous: The Thunder Plains.

Building the Travel Agency was made no easier by the chosen location. The eternal lightning storms set back construction so much that most of Rin's workers became disheartened. He persevered, and seventeen months after he had left Home, the first Travel Agency opened its doors.

Rin wasted no time. He traveled Spira, leaving behind him sturdy and welcoming havens for travelers. His funds came from wealthy merchants that would greatly welcome the Agencies, and his employees and workers, when once he had to seek them out, came to him. He worked tirelessly for five years, building his small empire. Word spread until Al Bhed were coming to him directly from Home, searching for work. Rin never turned any of them down. In Mi'ihen he had them raise chocobos; in Macalania they repaired hovers. But it was when the Calm ended that his Agencies were really appreciated.

Pilgrimaging summoners could rest with a roof over their heads or replenish their supply of potions. The presence of the Al Bhed was reluctantly accepted, and the race slowly began to emerge from its isolation. Rin had accomplished what he had set out to, and for a while, that was enough.

"Rin!" the cry of greeting broke him from his thoughts. It was Gippal, bounding up to the newly-arrived hover. "Sorry you had to come all the way out here like this, but I really couldn't get away."

Rin nodded, stepping down into the sun-baked sand. "You were sketchy on the CommSphere," he said, squinting against the sun. "What exactly is it that has so fixated your attention?"

Gippal clasped a hand around the older man's shoulder, steering him over to where a small group of diggers had gathered, shouting excitedly. "It's a machina," Gippal told him. "We're not sure what it is yet but it looks like a generator of some sort. I think it might be a part of something bigger; an airship maybe," his excitement was infectious, and Rin found himself eagerly searching for a glance of the machina as they approached the dig site.

The outer shell of what did appear to be a generator bulged out of the sand. Workers squat on all sides of it, bucketing sand out of the way. "A wind storm unearthed it," Gippal explained, reaching under a tent for a water bottle. He took a swig before offering it to Rin, who accepted it with thanks.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to leave it," the merchant said, gesturing toward the sharp glint of metal. "How old do you think it is?"

Gippal couldn't stop grinning. "We can't tell yet, but it's at least a couple hundred." He wiped the accumulating sweat from his brow and Rin did the same, feeling the smear of coarse sand across his damp skin.

"But just think, Rin," Gippal said, his eyes bright, even in the blinding sun. "If this thing is as old as I think it is—Vegnagun old—then it's from before Sin. We've come a long way with machina, Rin, but we could never compare to the precision with which it was made that long ago. Even if this thing is only 500 years old, that's still a damn good model to go by."

"Amazing, Gippal! You really think your generator could be that old?" Rin shook his head is partial disbelief. "Has anything dated before Sin ever been found?"

"Sure," Gippal replied. "Cid picked up that airship a few years ago. We built the Gullwings' 'ship using that one as a model."

"I didn't know Cid's airship was that old. It worked perfectly; as if it was brand new."

"It wouldn't have without all the tweaking we had to do. We'll have to do the same for this thing," he gestured toward the generator, "if we ever get it outta that damn sand."

"Ahh…So your generator's so valuable because you can use it as a blueprint?"

"Yep," Gippal clapped a hand against Rin's back. "That's about the gist of it, Rin, old friend. Now," he led Rin under the tent, directing him at a fold-out chair, "what did you come all the way out here to talk to me about?"

Rin sat, brushing sand from his lap and shoulders. "I need a bit of help with something."

Gippal's smile widened, "What are you planning?"

Rin returned his smile. "I'm undertaking a new project; one that's likely to draw the scorn of Yevon's supporters. I've cleared things with Baralai, but, as I'm sure you know, he can't speak for his people in all matters," Rin paused to give Gippal time to contemplate this.

"Hell, I don't hear anything I don't like so far; keep going."

Rin obliged. "I'm going to need men, Gippal; workers. And probably quite a few warriors if you can manage it. If you can speak with Nooj and Baralai about restless Youth League and New Yevon members; tell them I'll hire them to fight off a few fiends."

Gippal was interested; he wore a calculating look and his lips moved in silent pondering. Rin waited until his friend turned back to him, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Sure; that doesn't sound too hard. Just…indulge me… You're not a fighter, Rin, but you can handle yourself. Where are you going that you would need to hire warriors?"

Rin flashed his trademark grin and leaned forward in the creaking chair, before saying in a calm, insouciant voice, "The Farplane."

[Al Bhed Translation: "Yc muhk yc Spira nasyehc ihlrykat, cu femm dra lolma luhdehia." –

"As long as Spira remains unchanged, so will the cycle continue."