"Yo, Squall! You awake?"
Zell's voice, accompanied by his overeager pounding on the dormitory door, was as grating a wakeup call as Squall could have ever imagined. He rolled over in his bed, eyes vaguely registering the time on his digital clock.
7 AM. What on earth could he want this early?
Squall was an early-riser, but this was the weekend. Nearly a week had passed since the SeeD ball, and with the semester wrapped up, he had allowed himself the luxury of some free time. This came in the form of extended periods of solitude in his new single dormitory.
"What is it?" Squall called back when it became apparent that the musclehead was not going to leave him be.
"Headmaster Cid wants us to meet at the main gate at 0800!" Zell replied. "Bro! We've got a mission!"
A mission? Finally.
He had been expecting to receive an assignment fairly quickly. By tradition, SeeD inductees were given a mission as soon as possible to immediately put them to work and give them experience. A more insidious but less official reason for this was to make sure their SeeD Exam results were not a fluke.
"Understood. I'll be there in a moment. Uniform?" Squall asked.
"Civvies," Zell said. "Apparently it's an undercover job."
That was not too uncommon. SeeD members hardly ever wore their uniform on assignment, unless a show of force was needed.
"Alright," Squall replied. Zell's footsteps retreated down the hallway at double time.
Squall managed to find his feet and began to undress. The single dormitory was about the same size as his old double, except it was all a single room, save the bath. His bed rested against the rear corner, to the left of the luxuriously wide window. His clothes hung neatly on a rack above his bed.
To the right side of the window was a desk and nightstand, as well as the case for Revolver. Beside that was a small bookshelf. The kitchenette was on the same wall as the exit door and consisted of a sink and stovetop, with a shelf and dishrack hanging above it. Considering most SeeD members barely spent any time at home, this was sufficient.
Squall passed through a narrow door to the left of the stove into a modest bathroom. There was only room for a standing shower along with the usual amenities, but he was not much of a bath person anyways. One quick shower later, he was back in his casual attire and strapping his gunblade to his waist.
Squall took one last look at his SeeD uniform, now hung neatly on a hangar in his small closet. There was no turning back now. His new life began today.
Summer holiday had come at last. The quads and walkways of the Garden looked notably emptier thanks to the mass exodus of kids. They were the ones spending the five-week vacation with family, or perhaps taking on seasonal jobs in Balamb Town. Some of the student body remained, such as those involved in the Garden Festival Committee. Others stayed simply because they had nowhere else to go. For them, the warm July days would bring games of Triple Triad, beach visits, and fishing.
Balamb Garden was on break, but SeeD never rested.
As Squall stepped out onto the cobblestone walkway towards the Main Gate, he saw Selphie waiting alongside Headmaster Cid and one of the Garden Faculty. The girl's choice of casual-wear was not going to do much good for the undercover aspect: a bright yellow overall dress which barely passed her thighs. Brown boots topped off the whole outfit, giving her the overall appearance of a cheerleader who had been drafted. Then again, as she had come from Trabia, she probably did not have much in the way of warm weather clothing.
"Good morning, Captain," said the robed faculty member in a neutral voice.
"Good morning, sir," Squall replied, making his way into formation beside Selphie. It was a short formation, but protocol was still expected.
Suddenly, they heard a loud whirring sound from the main building along with a sort of ethereal humming. It was a sound that Squall recognized.
T-Boards were originally designed as a transport method for hostile terrain which would make wheels impractical; peat bogs, rock slides, quicksand, and powdery snow came immediately to mind. Powered by a built-in generator, they were meant to carry cargo and hovered about a meter off the ground.
Nobody questioned their effectiveness. They could get the job done in a pinch and sailed effortlessly over any terrain, carrying up to 1,000 kilograms of weight per board with it. What came into question was the price tag, as the hover technology at the time was absurdly expensive. A single T-Board cost over 50,000 gil. The Galbadian military did purchase several units early on but found it was cheaper to simply design their own units, which were far more effective anyway. This same technology would later be used to power their elite branch of Paratroopers who tried not to dwell on the fact that their primary mode of transport was designed to save money.
Unshaken by a changing marketplace, the boards were reduced in size to accommodate a single rider, painted a variety of bright neon colors, and marketed as an extreme sport. It was a new rebellious pastime to which an entire generation of teenagers flocked with admirable disregard for their safety. Their disruptive nature, unpredictability, and inherent danger made them permanently banned from all Garden facilities. Squall wondered who was about to be facing the Disciplinary Committee.
Then he saw that the rider was Zell.
You insufferable idiot, Squall thought, thoughts focused on not smacking his head while still at attention.
Zell leapt over a barricade with respectable skill and coasted straight up to the formation, dismounting and kicking the back end of the board, causing it to stand straight up. Zell caught it and held it loosely in his arms. Zell's casual outfit consisted of jean-shorts and a vest that would not have been out of place in the pages of Thrill Seekers, a magazine for all manner of daredevil hobbies.
"Lieutenant Dincht," The Garden Faculty said sternly but keeping his tone level. "What exactly do you think you are doing?"
There was a moment of almost adorable obliviousness. "I'm sorry, am I late, sir? I thought I had made it in time."
The Garden Faculty did not dignify this with a response. "T-Boards are strictly prohibited at the Garden. Have you forgotten?"
Zell gave a sort of sheepish nod before falling into formation. Squall very much suspected he had not forgotten so much as he had not cared. To his credit, Zell seemed like the kind of guy more fascinated with the technology of the board than the sport. Not that it mattered.
"Sorry, sir," Zell replied, bowing his head. He then seemed to have a sudden flash of inspiration. "But, you know, they are really cool, and they handle rough terrain so well. This might come in handy during a SeeD mission one day."
The Garden Faculty was having none of it. "We will be the judges of that, Lieutenant Dincht. I'll ask you to remember that just because you are SeeD members you are not above the Garden rules. In fact, it is precisely because you are SeeDs that we expect you to be an example. Do not let it happen again. I'll be confiscating this!"
He ripped the board out of Zell's hands and held it awkwardly beside him. The air seemed to turn to ice. Headmaster Cid let out a brief tension-breaking chuckle.
"Very eager, aren't we Zell?"
Headmaster Cid regarded the trio sadly. This was a bittersweet moment.
Zell, Selphie, and Squall, his dear pupils, had now become soldiers. He felt like a father sending children out into the world. There was much and more he wished he could say to them, yet now was not the time, and certainly not with the retinue of Garden Faculty present.
"So, I guess you are all wondering why you are here?" Headmaster Cid began, his burgundy sweater vest seeming unusually snug today; the heat was getting to him.
While the trio of SeeDs wore very different expressions and had slight variations on the "at ease" posture, they replied in unison. "Yes, sir."
The old educator chuckled warmly and folded his arms; he knew they would do him proud. Xu had dubbed the venture unprofitable, her most biting criticism. However, the girl at the ball had pleaded her case and her group's need for their aid. The raven-haired youth in the white-gold dress had sought him out to explain their plight in person. Her desperation was evident, but clearer still was her bravery.
Reminds me of her, he thought, recalling happier days.
"You have been assigned your first contract," Cid revealed. "You are to travel to Timber. There you will be supporting a resistance faction calling themselves the Forest Owls."
Eighteen years had passed since the conclusion of the Timber War. The bloody conflict had ended when Galbadia had annexed the city-state, burning half of its lush woodlands to the ground. The reason for their invasion was simple: The railway network. For as long as trains had existed, Timber had served as the primary transport hub across the entire Galbadian continent and was the intercontinental gateway to Balamb and Esthar alike. As the ancient Centran proverb went, "He who owns the road, owns the travelers."
One of the accompanying Garden Faculty members let out a disapproving tsk to stir Cid from his momentary daydream. "Challenge and response, Headmaster."
"Ah, yes, sorry," he apologized, straightening his sweater and clearing his throat before continuing. "A fellow of the faction shall meet you at the station. He'll say, 'the forests of Timber sure have changed.' You must respond with, 'but the Owls are still around.'"
This was a common military tactic to both confirm identity casually and pass information without seeming too suspicious. It was also, however, old as dirt and thus well-known. Cid was hoping that the resistance contact would at least be subtle.
Zell peered around the immediate area. "Uh, just us three?"
The same Faculty member spoke up. "You must understand, we agreed to the job for very little money. Normally we never accept such requests, but—"
"Enough of that," Cid asserted. He could tolerate much abuse and undermining by these pawns, but would certainly not have his decisions questioned in front of the SeeD graduates. "Captain Leonhart – Squall – you are the squad leader. Zell, Selphie, I trust you to support him."
The party favored him with a salute, which he returned dutifully. Their hardships were only just beginning, but he had faith in them. Perhaps that was enough. He locked eyes with Squall and saw in the gunblade specialist a reflection of his younger self: Resolute, stoic, and strong. Where once had been a timid boy, he now saw a lion.
"I believe in you all. If you work together, I have every confidence you will succeed." Cid flashed them an affirming smile, the westward breeze gently rustling his hair. "Dismissed."
One of the grey personnel carriers was parked alongside the road. This would be their transport to Balamb Town. As they boarded, they saw the SeeD Quartermaster. He was a grizzled man wearing sunglasses and a brown jumpsuit which was covered in oil stains. There was the slightest hint of age in his short black hair and trimmed beard – Squall guessed he must have been around thirty, which would have made him one of the older members of SeeD.
"When I was kid, and this was well before I joined the Garden," the Quartermaster began, handing each of them a thin steel case. "You could use mobile phones to call home no matter where you were. But since the communications blackout, you have to hook up to Galbadia's HD Cable line for any information. And since it's so insecure, we usually rely on messengers."
This was the way things had been for all of Squall's life. He knew a few of the members of the Garden were old enough to still remember what it was like to have true wireless communication. But it had been a quiet seventeen years. If Galbadia had not invented the HD Cable line and spread it throughout half of the world, things would be bleaker still. But outside of that, they were in a communications blackout. It was a little disquieting to realize how dependent they all were on Galbadia's communication technology.
"These little cards are your lifeblood. They can be used to purchase goods on the road anywhere they use the HD Cable system. The balance will be taken against your salary, of course. They also act as your identification in the hopefully unlikely event of your capture," he continued.
The cases also contained 500 gil in wadded banknotes, a fold-out multi-tool, and train tickets.
"This is all just basic gear. Wait until they send you on wetworks. That's when you get the real toys," he chuckled. "Ain't that right, Zell?"
"Raurk here is a bang-up technician," Zell explained. "He designed half of the tools we use from scratch."
Raurk merely shrugged and put a modest hand up. "I merely modified existing technology. I'm less an inventor and more of a mad scientist. Course the way I hear it, you'll be taking my spot in a few years."
Zell rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. "Well, I don't know if I'm that good yet."
"Well, you'll get there if you keep your nose clean and head straight. And maybe not ride T-Boards in front of the staff like that," Raurk smirked.
Selphie let out a small giggle, and Zell looked away innocently.
The SeeD Cabin was certainly worth the bump in price. The intercontinental rail had every manner of car, from luxurious accommodations, to economy seating, to mere cargo space. But even the cheapest option for passengers came with meals and reclining seats because even at the train's high speeds, the journey would take all day. The SeeD Cabin was a car all its own, and was one of the most spectacular on the train.
The main cabin featured a long white corner couch along the back wall. Adjacent to this on the opposite side were two stacked recesses in the wall which served as bunk beds. Even though they were three in number, one person always had to stay awake for security.
There was a small coffee table near the couch, a dresser which hardly ever got used, and a small doorway in the back led to a private washroom. Meals were delivered to the car by train attendants, who had the discretion to simply leave a cart in for each meal, which they would collect at the journey's end.
"Man, SeeD travels in style," Zell said, bouncing down on the couch with excitement.
Quit acting like a child, Squall thought, sitting down firmly and leaning back, opposite Zell.
"They even have magazines," Zell chuckled, noticing the assortment on the picked up a recent edition of Combat King from the stack. "Oh sweet, a new issue! The library hasn't gotten this one in yet!"
Squall almost begrudgingly picked up a copy of Weapons Monthly. There was an impressive ten-page section devoted specifically to gunblade enhancements. There were new blade types, some more extravagant and others more practical. Some hopefully well-paid enthusiast offered a two-page spread on stock and barrel options. A particularly nasty photograph showed what had happened to a boar carcass when it was subjected to the keen bite of something dubbed the Shear Trigger.
As he was reading a short sidebar article about the importance of choosing a proper grip, Zell interrupted him. "So, how much do you know about Timber?"
"Just what we learned in class, I don't recall many specific details," Squall admitted.
He flipped the page even though he was not done reading the article in order to send a message that he
was busy. This message was completely missed by Zell.
"Well years ago Timber's forest was massive. So massive it covered almost the entire continent. But Galbadia burnt it down and took over the town so they could control the railways, lumber and – if we're being honest – the people," Zell explained. "Now there's a ton of resistance factions all operating in secret, but towards the same goal."
"Thank you, Mr. Know-It-All," Squall replied dryly.
Again Zell was oblivious. "No prob!"
Selphie had been outside the cabin at this time, looking out the window to catch the last few sights of the Raja Cape before they entered the intercontinental tunnel – the massive undersea tunnel that connected Balamb and Timber. The journey was a little more than a day by train and most of it was spent in the dark. Getting the last bit of sunlight while it was an option was a sensible decision.
But when Selphie entered the cabin she looked slightly dumbstruck and was rubbing her forehead. Squall noticed something was wrong immediately. If anything, Selphie should have been more excited than Zell.
"I feel pretty sleepy," she yawned.
"Take a nap," Zell replied, pointing in the direction of the beds. "To be honest, I'm kind of tired myself."
Zell made a move towards the beds and held a hand out for Selphie to let her go first, and that was when it hit Squall. Not just a sudden wave of exhaustion, but a blinding pain before his eyes, like a migraine, and a shrill ringing in the back of his mind.
"What's happening?" Squall sputtered out in agony.
Selphie collapsed on the ground an arms-length from the bed. Zell fell backward onto the couch, his flailing arm, knocking over the stack of magazines. Squall tried to resist, but whatever was happening was overpowering. In a final shudder, his legs gave out and he landed on the floor beside Selphie.
His eyes glazed over, as he looked on his unconscious allies. A brief scent of smoke from some mysterious corner of his mind enveloped the room. Next came sounds that did not belong; roaring flame, artillery fire.
The sounds of battle.
He felt the ground's texture change beneath him, from soft carpet to slick mud and slimy moss. In a brief half-second of existential panic, it seemed as though the very dimensions of his body were rapidly transfiguring before his very eyes.
And then, the cabin melted around him, its opulent décor slipping into the nothingness behind the wetlands trees of his fever dream. His body slowly began to move, but it was not under his own will.
Squall was not asleep, but he had no idea where he was.