One More Confessional

Part Nine

197S9.9.11

We only marched from sunup to about noon, when the desert sun got much too hot for us to travel. Fortunately, we've found a nice cool cave system with ample space and a spring, and it seems that we're going to hole up here for the rest of the day.

I am not a desert person. It's too hot, too windy, and I'm already sunburned. Damn this fair skin, anyway. I suppose I should cover up more, but then I'll roast. Baralai has already said he thinks he can make up salve and sunscreen for me. Fayth, I hope so.

Even in this wasteland, there are plenty of edible plants around. They kept catching my eye when Baralai stopped to collect his medicinal herbs, and eventually I just had to start collecting them -- you never know when food will get scarce. The first thing Nooj said when we stopped was to ask me how I know which plants are safe. I quickly made up a story about having spent the first few years of my life in poverty with not much to eat, and he seemed satisfied. I didn't want to go into the truth, which is that the Mi'ihen Highroad is close enough to Luca that my pack would go scrounging for food plants there when the stealing and begging wore thin or got dangerous. I actually did learn most of my identification skills from a girl who had the family history I just gave myself, so at least what I said was based in fact somewhere. I don't know why I'm so reluctant to share that part of my past with Nooj, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe I'm just afraid of the pity I know I'll see in his eyes.

Anyway. Baralai has offered to share some of his herb lore if I share mine, and I'm going to go take him up on that. I also need to tell him about this odd directive I got from the Maesters just before we left: they want me to capture a clear headshot of each of them on the sphere, with their name and a title or identifier. I gather they can say whatever they want as long as they give their true name. They didn't explain why, of course -- the Maesters never explain why, it goes against everything they believe in. My best guess is that they want to make a recruiting sphere of some sort. I told Nooj earlier but I should let the others know sooner rather then later, give them some time to decide what to say. I'll try to get the shots tomorrow.

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It's been so long since I spent that much time with Baralai; it was nice. We mostly talked about the plants -- well, he talked, I listened -- but I also drew him out a little about Gippal. He seems happy, and I'm glad. I couldn't help teasing him about it a little, taking advantage of some of Gippal's ruder Al Bhed slang, but I think he took it well. He's more comfortable with himself and who he is every day.

I gave him one of my extra ink bottles. I've seen him writing in a slim volume much like mine more than once. Whether he's taking herbalist notes or keeping a journal, I figure he'll appreciate it. Gippal seems to be journaling as well -- he's got this machina something-or-other with a small sphere screen that he sits with and pokes at. And then there's Nooj, with that hand-held recorder. He told us today that he's taking mission notes on it, but I saw him using it all the way back at Mushroom Rock, so it's probably of a personal nature as well. I seem to have fallen into a nest of diarists. Isn't it funny, how a random group of people can all have a habit in common?

Anyway, Baralai's off getting some more water to make another compound, and-- say, is that chocolate hidden in among his leaves and twigs? Baralai's been holding out on us! I think I should let Gippal in on this particular action.

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That little bastard. If my skin is still green in the morning...

Although I have to admit that green Gippal looks pretty funny. Okay, the whole thing is pretty funny, or at least it will be tomorrow. Baralai really got us with that fake chocolate. He's working on an antidote, but he says it takes a while to prepare. Yeah, right. I think I'll leave it to Gippal to think of an appropriate punishment.

Gippal has taken to calling me Dr. P. I really have no idea where that comes from -- if anyone among us is a doctor, it's Baralai. But it's a sign of affection, so I'll put up with it. He nicknamed Baralai "Lai" almost right away. If he has one for Nooj, he keeps it to himself. That seems wise.

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Nooj has suggested that we all try to get some sleep, which seems a good idea to me, although I'm not convinced that sleep is what he really had in mind when he invited me to join him back by the spring. If he wants to indulge, I certainly won't complain -- who knows when we'll get another chance at this kind of privacy?

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Whose bright idea was it to bring along recorders for a mission that's happening largely in the dark? My own night vision is good enough, but peering through a sphere camera with only a single moon up is not my idea of a good time. I'll need to depend on the others to be my eyes for danger. Fortunately both Gippal and Nooj seem very alert to that.

We just made it through an ambush: a sandworm and a pack of lizards. At first it looked like they might be overwhelmed, so I "accidentally" dropped my camera -- gee, it just slipped out of my hands, imagine that -- and joined the battle. I was able to take out several fiends with my gun before I "recovered". I'm pretty sure it'll be convincing as an accident. If I'm going to do my part in the fighting, I have to make sure the guys don't get in trouble for it.

Gippal is the star, naturally, but Nooj is much improved -- those shooting lessons seem to have really paid off -- and Baralai is fantastic with that staff. I made sure to get some good shots of each man in action. If only I could have pulled out my sword and really joined in.

Now we are resting, recovering from our minor injuries. I got a little scratch, but thanks to Baralai it doesn't even hurt any more. It's not a good camping place, though; there's an overhang, but it's too small to protect all of us for the whole day. The sun is coming up, so we'll have to move soon. I am completely slathered in Baralai's sunscreen; I hope it works.

197S9.9.12

So I tried to get those required introductory recordings after a rest break this morning, but events conspired against me. I had the guys all lined up and ready to go when Squadron Three appeared in the distance and opened fire. Opened fire! I know we're supposed to be competing with the other teams, but we weren't near water or any other resources. They were either confused or simply trying to take us out, bad news either way. They took off immediately when we fired back, so they're cowards as well as overzealous. There's an ugly combination.

Anyway, so Baralai, of all people, took that as his cue to start goofing around, introducing himself to the others and asking questions as if he had never met them before. The desert sun must be making him punchy. Gippal played along with pleasure, getting in little jabs at Yevon and the Maesters. Nooj just seemed irritated. Maybe they can use this recording with a little editing? No, probably not. We're settling in for the day now, and it'll probably be too dark once we get moving again. I'll make another attempt tomorrow.

197S9.9.13

Finally got the headshots. "Gippal the Mechanic" (he said it in Al Bhed, but I think that's what he meant), "Baralai the Navigator", and "Nooj". Just plain Nooj -- if any man in Spira is unique, it's him.

Other stuff happened, but I'm too tired to write about it, and Nooj's spot in the shade looks very inviting. Sleep time.

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I'm scared.

Nooj has been talking in his sleep again. Usually he either mumbles or is so vague that I can't get any meaning out of it, but today is different. He keeps saying things about wanting to die: "let me go", "end it", "should be dead". Maybe he's reliving his time in the hospital, but I can't be sure. He muttered the word "nothingness" and then "forgive me", over and over again, and I don't even know who he is talking to. Himself? Me? Life itself?

Is Nooj suicidal? I can see he's having difficulties -- he moves slowly and stiffly at the end of every night before Gippal cleans out all the sand from his leg, and he winces whenever he slips in the dunes, and I think he's in some pain. He tries so hard to hide it, and for the most part he's successful, but every so often it flashes across his face, and I know. It's a hard life he's drawn, no question. But he succeeds at it so well! Not one man in ten thousand could accomplish what he has. Why should he want to throw it all away?

I don't know what to do. But I can't just let him die. I can't.