FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION
Book 1: The Approaching Storm

23

Zell sighed and folded his arms. The train must have been at least twenty minutes overdue by now. Bad enough he had to be stuck out here by himself so late at night, waiting for some super important person that he'd been told General Caraway was sending to Garden on urgent business. It was probably some officer type, though Zell wasn't sure. Squall and Cid had told him that his contact would be disguised as a Galbadian soldier, but they hadn't mentioned the individual's identity.

Must be some military bigwig in trouble with the prez or something, Zell mused. Not even Squall and Cid had been told why the matter was so urgent, only that it was of top priority. Zell could guess the reason for the scant information. He knew he wasn't the brightest of folks, but even he had been able to put the pieces together by now and understood that if Matron's fears of a traitor in Garden were true, then there was no telling where the leak might be. And if this strange visitor was as important as General Caraway's brief encoded communiqué via HD cable had implied, then it was imperative to put as little information in the open as possible until the traitor was found and detained.

Still, Zell found himself wondering just who tonight's Special Mystery Guest would turn out to be. He supposed it was as good a way as any to pass the time. There weren't a lot of people at the station at this hour, just a few folks milling about here and there waiting for the train to show up. Zell leaned against the wall near the little drawbridge that arched over the tracks. No kids were playing on it at the moment, though during the day they often did.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, shattering the gloomy stillness with its shrill cry, and Zell straightened as the train finally surged into the station in a hiss of hydraulics. A small crowd of people gathered expectantly around the passenger cars, the murmur of conversation starting to bubble in the air as men and women waited for their friends and loved ones to arrive.

Milling carefully through the loose congregation, Zell recalled the instructions he'd been given as to how to recognize his contact. General Caraway's instructions had said that the person would be masquerading as a Galbadian foot soldier. The trouble was that, like most trains going into or out of Galbadian territory these days, this vehicle carried a small detachment of such troops. That had probably been part of Caraway's plan to begin with, the better to conceal this mysterious visitor.

There was one other thing that Caraway had mentioned, now that Zell thought about it, although he had no idea what it meant. The general's instructions had specified that SeeD would know the right soldier because of his weapons. Zell could only guess that the trooper he was looking for was armed with something other than the typical broadswords the soldiers carried. He'd been given a password phrase to use for added security so the contact would know that Zell was from SeeD.

Zell searched around as unobtrusively as he could, letting his eyes dart about the platform as the passengers finally disembarked. He saw a few blue Galbadian uniforms here and there, but none of them were the person he was looking for. The swords hanging at their sides told him that. Was his contact in a car farther down? It was the right train, Zell was certain. Caraway's instructions had specified exactly which one he was to wait for and when.

He started to make his way farther down the platform towards the cars at the back of the train, but before he had taken more than a few steps, a flash of blue caught his eye. Zell turned to see another of the soldiers stepping down from the train. Unlike the others, though, this one wore on his belt a pair of elegant yet deadly sai daggers as opposed to the usual broadsword.

That must be him, Zell figured. He made his way through the slowly dispersing crowd toward the unusual soldier. The man hadn't seen him yet, though, but from the way his helmeted gaze subtlety panned the area, it was obvious at least to Zell that he was searching for something. Or perhaps for someone. Zell couldn't see anything of what he looked like, since those domed metal helmets they always wore completely enclosed the wearer's face above the mouth.

There was also something strange about the way the soldier walked, and although Zell thought he knew what it might be, it hovered just out of his mental grasp. The guy also didn't seem to have the heavier build that most other troops did. Zell guessed that the Galbadian military favored muscle over mental capacity, which would certainly explain why the troops were always so dim-witted and incompetent.

Zell edged closer to the unusual soldier, who at the moment was motioning for others on the train to hurry up and get off. Other troops were doing the same, so Zell figured that his contact was biding time and trying not to be noticed. Zell pretended to look as though waiting for one of the arriving passengers, all while making his way ever closer to the soldier. One never knew who might be watching, and with a possible traitor in Garden, Zell wasn't going to take any chances.

His contact glanced for the first time in his direction, and Zell realized that the soldier must be awfully young, no more than a kid, really. His jaw was too clean, too smooth to belong to an older man no matter how good a shave he may have had. What was Caraway thinking, sending some kid here on top priority business? Had the Galbadian general lost his mind?

Zell muttered to himself, wondering how he'd wound up getting picked for this assignment. Why not Quistis or Selphie, or even Irvine? They had all had their own duties to attend to, of course, so it had fallen to Zell to pick up their mysterious visitor. He made a mental note to himself to have a word with Squall about that later on, after he'd gotten back to Garden.

At last, he was at the soldier's side, pretending to peer into the train door as though expecting somebody. No sooner had he begun his facade when something yanked him hard to the right, and he found himself staring into the helmeted face of his contact. What was that code phrase again? It sounded really archaic, like it was in some real old language or something.

"Vividarium et intervigilium et viator," Zell whispered.

The soldier tilted his head ever so slightly, his reply so soft that Zell barely even heard it. "In the garden sleeps a messenger."

"Yo, you mind letting me go now?" Zell asked. "And what's goin' on?"

"Not yet, we're probably being watched. Just follow along for now, I'll explain later."

"Wha—?" Zell began, but was abruptly cut off as the soldier suddenly yanked him away from the train, shouting something about him looking suspicious, and marched him away from the platform. Zell nearly jumped as he felt the poke of a blade against his back. What the hell…?

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," the soldier whispered. "Just pretend like I'm taking you for questioning. We'll ditch the act when we're out of sight."

Zell caught himself as he was about to nod, and instead he tried to manufacture an angry and disgruntled demeanor to make his role as a captive more believable. It wasn't nearly as hard as he thought, actually, since all he needed to do was to pretend that it was Seifer who was prodding him along, that damnable smirk plastered on his face as he poked his gunblade tauntingly into Zell's back.

Guided along by the subtle and not quite painless touch of his companion's weapon, Zell made his way from the platform and started down the dimly lit street. A few passersby stared curiously at the duo, but none made any move or even showed much interest. Zell supposed they must be used to seeing Galbadian troops dragging people away, although he wondered how many of those observers might actually be part of some Timber resistance group or other. The factions were still going strong, so far as he knew, since Galbadia had never fully withdrawn from the region after the war.

A subtle poke from his companion's weapon nudged Zell to the left, and he ducked into a nearby alley, the soldier right behind him. They went a few hundred feet down the damp concrete until the entrance was practically out of sight in the gloom. Once again, Zell wondered just who his companion was that he would go to so much trouble to avoid being seen by unfriendly eyes.

At last, the soldier pulled his weapon away from Zell's back and tucked it back in his belt, and while he had known that his mysterious contact wouldn't hurt him, Zell still let out a small sigh of relief. He sat down against the alley wall, scrunching his nose at the unpleasant mixture of odors hanging in the air. Alcohol, garbage, and worse. He could just make out the shape of a drunk lying asleep near the far end of the alley, and a mangy tom cat nosed its way through a mound of scattered trash in hopes of finding a meal.

The odd soldier sank down next to him, and Zell thought he heard him let out a sigh of his own. "I never thought it would feel so good to sit down."

"What do you mean?" Zell asked.

"On the train, I had to act like I was one of the guards, and that meant constantly marching up and down the passenger cars the whole time. My feet are killing me…"

"Sorry to hear that, man. You alright?"

The soldier nodded. "I'll be fine, I just need to get this stupid helmet off. I don't know how real troops can possibly see in these things."

Taking hold of the domed metal headpiece in both hands, the young trooper carefully lifted it off, and a tumble of golden hair shone in the dimness. For the first time, Zell could see his companion face to face, and rational thought escaped him as his jaw sagged down to his collarbone.

It was a girl. A girl!

She couldn't been any older than Zell, her emerald eyes watching his dumbfounded reaction with puzzled curiosity as she shook out her lustrous mane of blond hair and deftly began twisting it into a makeshift braid with her gloved hands. Her lips were little more than a narrow crease of pale red in the dimness, and a few stray freckles dotted her fair skin across her cheeks and jaw.

Her uniform tunic had a bulkiness to it that Zell hadn't noticed earlier, and the standard issue Galbadian armor she wore over it was a few sizes too big, now that he actually was taking the time to really look at her. No wonder he hadn't seen any of her feminine curves, concealed as they were beneath the armor. She hadn't been able to hide the gracefulness of her female stride, though, as Zell realized why he had found her movement so unusual before.

Even glimpsed in the gloom and stuffed as she was in the too-big soldier's uniform, this girl had to have been the most beautiful thing Zell had ever seen.

"Hey, SeeD, is something wrong?" she asked.

Zell blinked and glanced away, stammering and wondering just how big of an idiot he looked like. "Uh, nothing, I… I'm fine, sorry. Just wasn't, er, expecting a, um… a girl, that's all."

"It's alright," she shrugged. "General Caraway never mentioned it, I guess."

"Nope, didn't say hardly anything about ya. Um… my name's Zell, by the way. Zell Dincht." He offered her his right hand.

She took it, and Zell's heart raced at the feel of her fingers in his. "Sara Deling. It's nice to meet you, Zell, although I wish the circumstances were different."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But anyway, good to meet ya. Hey, um…"

"What is it?" Sara asked.

Zell let go of her hand and raked a hand through his spike of blond hair. "You said your last name was Deling, right? As in Vinzer and Josef Deling, presidents of Galbadia?"

She nodded. "That's right. Josef Deling is my father, and Vinzer was his older brother. My uncle. But Zell, I'm not like them. At least, my uncle. He was so… so horrible. But my father…"

"What about him?"

"I should save it for the briefing," she shook her head, "but basically, he… he's not been himself lately. He's a good man, really, but… I'm afraid someone's using him."

Zell scratched his head in thought. "That sucks… So you came to us for help. But why'd you have to pretend you were a guy?"

"Women aren't allowed to serve in the Galbadian military," Sara explained. "It was one of my uncle's laws, actually, but my father brought it back."

"I get it, I think. We'll find out what's goin' on over there, but we've got our own problems too. Squall's got enough on his mind already."

Sara took his arm suddenly, her green eyes boring into his blue ones. "I also came here because I know where Rinoa is. I'm sure the commander would want to know that."

Zell froze. "Yo, you serious? Is she alright? What's goin' on?"

"We should get going, Zell. It's dangerous to talk out here in the open like this," Sara stood and pulled him up with her. "I've seen a lot—too much, probably—and I'm afraid it isn't good."

Listening to the Galbadian girl's report word by hellish word, Squall frowned and wished he were in the training center so he could hit something. Preferably that goddamn pasty-faced bastard that had kidnapped and violated Rinoa. At least she was alive, however. Squall reflected bitterly that same could no longer be officially said of sister, as of this morning.

Despite Dr. Kadowaki's grim assessment, Squall knew deep in his gut that Ellone was alive somewhere. So was Rinoa, and he would be damned if he wasn't going to find and save them both and end this perpetual nightmare that his life had become. The bed was always so empty without his wife lying next to him at night, and guilt continually gnawed at him like some devilish rodent eating away at his insides.

At least now, he could end it.

"Sarah, you're sure about this?" he asked.

The blond cadet nodded. "Without a doubt, sir. It was Rinoa."

"Then there's only one thing to do," he replied, his gaze moving past her to linger over the gathered faces of his friends standing here with him on the Garden's bridge. "We're going to get her back. Tonight."

"Damn right we will!" Zell pumped his fist.

Selphie bounced up and down, her green eyes bright. "Just tell me where to fly the ship, Squall! The Raggy's gonna make a blast over there yet!"

"So when are we leaving?" Irvine drawled, tipping back his old cowboy hat.

Quistis' steady nod was all the confirmation Squall needed from her. At least he still had a few friends left. Nida had hardly said a word to him since the Dollet massacre, not that Squall could blame him. And he'd seen more than a few cold glances pass his way when their owners had thought he couldn't see. The tension hung in the air so thickly that Squall thought he could have cut it had he wanted to.

He'd broken perhaps the most sacred rule of military service while in Dollet on that terrible day. Despite the outside circumstances, the threat of unknown creatures escaping and killing innocent civilians, he had left his own people behind. That they had already been dead didn't matter. No one was to be abandoned on a field of battle, yet that was exactly what Squall had done.

And even worse, he had abandoned Rinoa. At least, that was how he saw it. No matter that she hadn't been there in the first place. The fact that he hadn't stayed to determine where she had been taken was what haunted his sleep and his waking hours. He'd had no choice but to destroy the tower and any leads it might have contained, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Don't fret over the choice you made in Dollet, Squall," Edea's soft voice pierced his thoughts with its soothing whisper. "nor the disquiet that it has caused within Garden. It will pass, in time."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"It is the strain of grief, nothing more. We lost many good people, and had not the chance to see them off as we might have liked. In any event, we must look to the present and not dwell further on the past. There is something about this mission, however, which troubles me…"

Squall frowned. "What is it, Matron?"

"I cannot say, only that I feel things are not as they seem. Be careful in Galbadia, Squall. Something dark lurks there, hiding in the shadows. I do not know what it intends, but its will is both powerful and cunning. I wish I could tell you more, but that is all I know."

"Then that'll have to be enough," Squall grimaced.

He turned as the elevator hissed open, depositing Cid, Seifer, and Fujin on the bridge. Squall groaned inwardly, knowing what the headmaster was going to say and knowing he couldn't refuse. At least Seifer wouldn't like it any more than Squall did.

"Squall, there is one other thing before you leave. Seifer and Fujin are to accompany you on this mission, both to aid you in rescuing Rinoa and to ascertain the current situation in Galbadia."

Zell took a step forward. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! We're supposed to work with this jerk again? I had enough of him back in Dollet!"

"Relax, blondie," Seifer smirked, "I hate it as much as you do. Just stay out of my way."

"That's enough, both of you," Cid chided. "Now I expect you all to work together on this. Remember that your goal is twofold: rescuing Rinoa as well as obtaining any information on what's going on over there. With the Dollet tower down, our communications and tracking systems won't help. So you're all we've got now. Don't spend too much time, there, though."

"I'm going too, sir," Sarah insisted. Squall had to admit she had some guts, facing down her superior officers like that. "I can't just stay here when my father needs me. Please, you've got to let me go with you. I have to help him come back to himself."

Squall wasn't so sure it was such a good idea. After all, their team was already sizeable enough, and their mission depended as much on stealth as on firepower. She was a skilled fighter, he didn't doubt, but neither did he see the need for her to accompany them. He was about to point that out when Zell suddenly spoke up, edging a little closer to the petite Galbadian girl.

"Hey, uh, listen to her, guys. I mean, she's got as much reason to go as any of us, doesn't she? If it was my Pa that was in trouble, I'd want to go too instead of stewing here on the sidelines. Well, uh, you know what I mean. Headmaster Cid, I'll keep an eye on her if you let her come, yo?"

Cid pursed his lip in thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Sarah, you assist the others in any way you can and follow their orders, understood?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded, saluting sharply.

"Good luck to all of you," the headmaster bade them, "and come back safe. We can't afford any more losses, not now of all times."

Squall gazed around at his team, willing it to be enough. They were sure to be outnumbered, if it came to a fight, but if all went well they'd be in and out with minimal conflict with Galbadian troops. Squall doubted it would go so smoothly, however. In fact, he was counting on it, hoping for the chance to cut down that pasty-faced son of a bitch that had taken Rinoa. Though he hadn't ever felt much satisfaction before in killing someone, Squall would make an exception in this bastard's case.

After all, there was a first time for everything.