Silence.

Taiga wasn't used to silence. He was used to noise--conversations and arguments, the measured confusion of the barracks, the systematic sounds of missions, the meaningless background of day-to-day life. He was used to picking up everything--from the wind as it moved across whatever region his mission fell in to the animal life around to the almost inaudible movements of the enemy--whoever or wherever they might be. And he was used to the ICI.

But the ICI hadn't said a word--not since the brief garble it had spat at him upon being awakened. And with both hands clamped resolutely over his ears, both eyes squeezed shut and tight as they would close, and hardly any exposed skin anywhere on his body to register even something as subtle as the movement of the air--

Taiga was holding on as hard as he could, wondering if the world would still be there when he opened his eyes. It felt as if it wasn't there now--and it might not be. He didn't know which possibility he was rooting for.

It wasn't hard for Taiga to admit that he was terrified. There was no cyborg in Esthar that couldn't imagine terror--being a cyborg meant going through more terror than most people would ever have to face. It meant going to sleep one night and waking up the next morning a different person--a person who could look into the mirror any given morning afterward and easily believe themselves to be more machine than human. Esthar knew that--Esthar encouraged that. Cyborgs were the most powerful division of standard army--the most terrifying opponent a soldier could see, face-to-face. Cyborgs were meant to act the part. They were meant to believe they were more than human.

They were meant to, but not all of them did.

Estharan military psychologists recognized three camps of thought in the cybernetic corps--the idea that the implants made them super-human and thus above the rest of humanity, the thought that the implants robbed them of their humanity, and the blind, unreasoning fear of the implants that was to be weeded out and eliminated through systematic reconditioning. Taiga fell uncomfortably into a fourth, unrecognized school of thought--a firm stand on his own, unalienable humanity.

The few times that he had been assigned to a psych, Taiga had been grouped hastily with those who felt that the implants had made them somewhat less than what they were--and he had been ignored. After all, in war, even perceived inhumanity had its uses.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to block out the world, Taiga couldn't help but feel that the problem would be much easier now. There was no question of it.

The ICI, some not-so-small part of his brain told him, had tried to kill him. And it would continue to do so--to bring him back to the unit, to drive him insane, or to shut him down. It wasn't picky--and it was persistent, and implacable, and inescapable. And Taiga couldn't help but realize that anything he did to block out the world would be futile in the end--it would only lock himself in with that damned chip, waiting in mute anticipation for the moment it would choose to act.

He shut the world out, anyway. Even if it didn't help--even if it was as close to an admission of defeat as he had ever come--at least it was something to do.

-

"Lesser Kay."

Lu sounded as if she was putting forth the cure for cancer. She nodded decisively in the direction of the northern shore, one hand on her hip as if she didn't expect that anyone could object to what she was saying. The sunlight was framing her against the distant horizon, and if she didn't know how theatrical the day was, then she was certainly proving a bit too natural at manipulating the mood. It was enough to make Seifer want to object, on principle.

By the time he had even thought about coming up with reasonable grounds for an objection, Squall had picked up the thread of conversation. "There's a terminal at Lesser Kay that's used for scientific discourse--it has the range to reach Balamb Garden."

"And the Estharan Science Oversight Commission." Lu nodded again. "The ESOC will be all too willing to dispatch someone to pick us up from Lesser Kay--once I speak to the Commissioner. I'm certain I can get him to lend us the ear of Dr. Ralo."

Fujin hadn't yet been sold on the idea, and it didn't look like she was becoming any more convinced. "RALO?"

"The ESOC splits up its jurisdiction into three areas," Lu explained. "Dr. Guissen oversees the natural sciences, Dr. Odine looks over the paramagical sciences, and Dr. Dy Ralo takes care of the technological side of things. He'd know who to talk to in Cybernetics." Lu glanced across the group. "Of course, our problems don't end there. As a soldier, Taiga's technically under the jurisdiction of the Esthar Army. Ralo should have authority to request for him to be transferred over to her jurisdiction, but she'll have to exert some muscle. Taiga is a deserter, after all--"

Fujin was glaring.

"--and suspected of Hyne knows what, on the side," Lu finished. Steeling herself, she met Fujin's gaze. "Anyev, you're the only leverage we have. You're his extenuating circumstance. I can't imagine what all they'll do to test the... validity of our claims, but I can guarantee that there will be plenty of tests."

Fujin nodded. "UNDERSTOOD."

Lu forced a smile, tapping a couple of fingers on her healing ribs and looking sympathetically at Seifer. "It's a good day's walk to Lesser Kay, if we don't push ourselves."

Seifer grumbled. "I can walk. I don't need to be coddled."

"Good to know I'm losing my touch."

Everyone turned.

Taiga was making his way out of the house--standing only shakily. One hand was on the doorframe, and he was doing his best to look a good deal more cheerful than anyone could see he actually was.

"I think I could use a bit of a break from the old forced-march, in any case," he continued, eyeing the muddy ground suspiciously and not stepping away from his support. "Though I guess it's decided, at this point. We're going to Esthar."

Lu looked alarmed. "We--well. I guess I didn't think to--"

"No--no, it's all right." Taiga closed his eyes. "You need to go back. You've been out here too long. I can only imagine what your son must be thinking...."

Lu flinched. "Taiga, don't--I'm not doing this for me."

"Then let me." Taiga pushed himself away from the doorframe. "I'll take you back to Esthar, Lu, and I'll tag along because--"

He paused, looking down with a small smile. Lu waited for him to continue--but soon, it seemed as if he wouldn't without some sort of prompting. "Because?"

"It's funny," Taiga remarked, mostly to himself. "I came out here because I didn't think I could go back. Now I'm going back because I know I can't stay here."

Fujin extricated herself from the rough circle, moving swiftly over to Taiga's side. "Father--"

Taiga put a hand on her shoulder, trying to give her a reassuring smile. "No one came here with too much baggage," he said, being ironic and neither intending nor realizing it. "I guess we should just start walking."

"Taiga--" Lu began.

"It's all right." Taiga held onto Fujin's shoulder, smiling in his none-too-convincing way. "Sooner started, sooner over. Let's go."

Lu still hesitated. "That's--I mean, if--"

"Let's go." Taiga suppressed a shudder, forcing his smile further than it wanted to go. Slipping his arm around Fujin's shoulder, he steered her toward the horizon. "Here--get what you need to, and catch up. I'm just going to start walking."

Fujin smiled, slipping her arm around Taiga's waist to support him. Lu stared at them both. "Why--?"

Taiga's smile shed its facade to present its true colors--he grimaced, looking steadily away from the house. "Because long goodbyes are hell," he said softly, "and if I don't leave now, I'm never going to convince myself to. ...let's go."

Still leaning heavily on Fujin for support, Taiga closed his eyes and took the first step of the journey back toward Esthar.

Toward the unit.

...home.