June 16

Channel 8 News, Timber city
12:29 LST

"To recap our international news for this afternoon: This morning saw the official opening of the Horizon Rail Line, with a ceremony at Seaside Station attended by several dignitaries from Timber, Dollet, and Galbadia. The first train completed the trip to Esthar in just under twelve hours, with a manifest of 641 passengers, 453 tons of cargo, and eight Moombas. Meanwhile in Timber, strikes continue to cripple the continental rail system, and the leaders of Dollet and Galbadia have both expressed concern. Speaking at a factory in central Monterosa, President Deling said he hoped the crises would be resolved, quote, 'with immediate speed.' And this just in, Speaker Yaulny has issued a statement in reply, saying foreign powers should, quote, 'keep their noses out of Timber's business.'

"And finally, the Citizens' Liberties League has charged that medical data have been turned over by the government to Esthar authorities, including brain scans that may help determine if patients possess latent magical ability. CLL chairman Mickey Ronell noted that it was Adel's kidnapping of children thought to posses a natural magical talent that initially sparked the Sorceress War. Adel's inability to find a suitable successor has reportedly fueled concerns in her inner circles that the last Sorceress-led government in the world may be coming to an end.

"And that's all for today's noon update. This is Kellin Tilmitt, with the Timber Global News. Thanks a lot for joining us, and have a nice day."

"...Okay, we're out! Nice work everybody, and we'll see you again same time tomorrow."

Kellin stretched, rising from behind the news desk. "Seriously, guys, what is the problem with putting some leg room down there?"

"That news desk has been there since this TV station was built," said one of the technical crew who was working on a camera assembly.

Kellin gave him a look. "This building is four years old."

"Look, if you want to get the Evening News spot, I wouldn't be complaining so much."

"I feel like my legs are going to fall off," Kellin grumbled, sorting his cue papers into his briefcase. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to take them home with him, but no one had objected yet. "—Oh, hey, Jeg, who the hell wrote this version of the recap segment? Especially the Deling quote; what does 'immediate speed' even mean?"

"It's not our fault the guy gives the lamest quotes in the history of time," said his producer. "I seriously don't know why everyone in Galbadia likes the guy."

"Because he saved the world from Adel, remember?" Kellin replied. "With naught but a single revolver and his indomitable will, or however the legend goes now."

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't through charisma. Say what you will about Yaulny, but at least he isn't boring."

"Yeah," said Kellin. "We're so lucky I could cry." He finally managed to stuff everything into his briefcase, and was about to leave when a shorter man with large glasses bustled into the newsroom.

"Hey, Kellin!" he bubbled. "Great work today; I really liked the way you introduced that thing on the housing district. Great work!"

"Thanks, Trent." Kellin headed for the exit.

"Hey, you heard anything yet about the evening spot? I hear there's some guy from Continental Broadcasting that Nolan's looking at. But hey, no pressure, huh?" He laughed.

"Right."

"I mean, I'm sure she'll want to keep things inside the company, right? So, like, you've totally got the inside track there. Just, you know, remember all the little people when you're this big News at Six sensation, okay?" He laughed again.

"See you, Trent."

"Hey, you bet! I'll talk to you tomor —"

The doors closed behind Kellin as he stepped out of the massive TV station and headed for the tram. The station was one of the tallest buildings in Timber, and the vantage allowed one to look out across almost the entire city, from the railway stations to the expansive forest that in places even forced its way inside the city limits. It was an impressive sight, but not so pleasant a one as the rail tram just pulling into the station as he approached. Kellin didn't even remember how many times he had missed the tram just this past week.

Not wanting to take any chances, he hurried onto the tram, and found himself a seat on one of the benches running along the wall near the exit. He started to reach into his coat for his newspaper, and just then realized that he didn't have his coat with him. He must have left it in the station.

"Shoot," he muttered. Should he abandon his spot on the tram and run back for his coat, or do without it and his newspaper for today? He didn't much like either option.

As it happened, the tram operator solved that problem for him. Before he could have made it out, the doors slid shut, and the car began to move, leaving the TV station behind and descending toward the city business district. Kellin sighed; if that coat wasn't there when he came to work tomorrow, he would be very unhappy.

As the tram rolled into the business district, he stepped out scanning around for a newspaper box. When he finally spotted one outside the large Timber Daily Register building, he was already becoming worried about not making it back to the tram before it left, so he hurried up to the dispensary and gave it the requested fifty gil without much pretense of politeness or dignity.

"Hey!" a voice came from behind him as he removed the newspaper, which turned out to be the last one in the machine. He turned around to see a young woman, slightly shorter than he was, with close-cut light brown hair, running up to the dispensary. "Are you gonna read that?" she asked, nodding to the newspaper.

Kellin blinked. "...I was planning on it."

"Aah." Her hands were clasped before her waist, and she was twiddling her thumbs, looking thoughtful.

Kellin watched her for a second, but she didn't say anything else. "...I'm gonna walk this way now," he said, pointing back towards the tram.

"Right," she said. After another second, Kellin started walking. "...I'm Angie, by the way," she said, walking with him.

"Okay," said Kellin, opening the newspaper.

"Um—" She reached for the paper hesitantly. "Sorry, but can I —" Kellin stopped walking. "I'm not a crazy person. Really. It's just there's a story about my friend in there, and I've been trying to find a paper all morning and..." She shrugged.

"Ah," said Kellin, sort-of understanding. "Yeah, there's kinda been a run on the news with the strike and all. What's the story?"

"Oh, it's a big feature about, uh..." She snapped her fingers, searching for some word that wasn't coming to her. "...Owls."

Kellin blinked. "Owls?"

"He's some kind of bird-watcher...something." She winced. "I don't really know; that's why I need to read the story. I'm meeting him and a bunch of other friends for dinner so we can celebrate the story, or something in the story. All I know is he sounded really excited on the phone, and I couldn't figure out exactly what he was talking about."

"Right," said Kellin. As he did, the tram's doors slid shut and it started to roll away. He sighed. "...Um, here's a thought. I haven't eaten yet; you want to catch lunch and we'll share the paper?"

She raised her eyebrows. "...Yeah, okay. I like food."

"Cool. Oh — do you mind if we head down to the East Square? I know a good sidewalk diner out that way."

"East square...," she repeated. "You wanna eat with the rioters?"

"Hey," said Kellin. "They're strikers, not rioters."

"Yeah, okay," she said, with a tone that suggested something other than agreement. "I hear they started burning tires now. I mean, where'd they even get tires? They work for the railroad."

"It's not like I want to join them," he said. "I just want to see what's up. I work for the Global News, see."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah; right now I'm the anchor for the 12:00 update. 'This is Kellin Tilmitt with your news at noon.'"

She frowned at him, and he could spot the moment when recognition hit her. "—Oh! Wow, yeah. I've seen you before; how did I not..." She shook her head.

"Don't worry about it," said Kellin. "The 12:00 is no big deal; people always have it on while they're doing something else."

Another tram was approaching the eastbound station, and he nodded in its direction questioningly. She shrugged, and they headed towards it.

It took about ten minutes to reach the East Square; and since the tram was stuffed with noon-hour patrons there was little opportunity for small talk. When they arrived, Kellin had to admit that the strike rally that filled the square did look like it was approaching riot status. The square was filled with men shouting slogans angrily at anyone within range and holding signs denouncing rail privatization in some of the most apocalyptic terms imaginable. (In particular, a homemade one reading DON'T LET YAULNY TAKE OUR CHILDREN caught Kellin's attention; he guessed it referred to the child benefits the union said workers would lose with privatization, but some of the others were still more inexplicable.) Men standing on platforms in the midst of the crowd were egging it on with loudspeakers, and there were columns of black smoke rising around them, along with the distinct smell of rubber burning. At the front of the crowd, protesters were jostling with police who had formed a line to keep them well clear of the Horizon Line station, the immediate focus of their ire.

"You said this was an open-air diner?" Angie asked, yelling over the din of shouted slogans as they got off the tram.

"We can probably eat inside," said Kellin, marveling at the scene. "...It wasn't near this bad in the video we had this morning."

"What did I tell you?" she asked. The tram immediately started to pull away, as if the driver was anxious to get away from the scene. "...It's kinda weird the trams are still running with all this, though."

"Different management," Kellin said. "Timber Rail is a national agency; the trams are run by the city." He pointed the direction of the diner, and they started towards it while giving the crowd a wide berth. "So, you don't like unions?"

She shrugged. "My dad was in the Railmen; he was a tracklayer on the Horizon Line before they sold it off. They took his money, then broke his legs when he complained about who they gave it to. I mean, obviously it sounds like a good idea; the little people band together to stand up to the Man, but after a while the guys they put in charge stop being the little people. Power corrupts, you know?"

"Fair enough," acknowledged Kellin. "Here we go."

As it turned out, they wouldn't have been able to dine outdoors anyway, as most of the chairs appeared to be gone. Kellin wondered if they might be what some of the loudspeaker-wielding men were standing on. They went inside, and when the door closed, the environment became more pleasant by an order of magnitude.

"This all must be fun for you, though," said Angie, nodding out towards the crowd. "I mean, hours and hours of coverage of people yelling and screaming." Kellin raised an eyebrow at her, and after a second, she laughed a bit self-consciously. "I didn't mean that to come out like you were...but, you know."

"I'm starting to reconsider sharing the paper with you," said Kellin as they were pointed to a table. Grinning mischievously, Angie snatched the newspaper from under his arm just before they sat down. "—Hey!"

Angie shrugged, and started flipping through it.

"Yeah, well, see if I'm going to pay for your food now," Kellin grumbled.

Outside, a good-sized brick was hurled over the heads of the policemen and bounced off one of the revolving doors to the Horizon station. Kellin only saw it as a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as a waitress arrived with their menus.

—

Timber Executive Office Building, Timber city
6:13 LST

The Situation Center in Timber's executive building hadn't seen too much activity since the end of the Sorceress War. Most military offices were headquartered in the garrison at the other end of town, and most military activities in peacetime were handled by the Secretary of Arms, whose department was headquartered in the Congress building across the street. The Situation Center was for the use of the president's staff, and the president only assumed direct military authority in times of crisis.

The room had been getting steadily busier throughout the day.

In one corner stood the office that had been commandeered by Timber's Marshall of Arms. Far too small to have been intended for a flag officer's use, dominated by a square table on which a map of Timber was laid out. A TV mounted in the corner was tuned to the news, which the Marshall had been watching before the Captain stepped in.

"Captain," the marshall said, turning toward him. "We haven't met."

"No, sir." He saluted, right hand flat and pointed at his ear with palm outward, as precise as he could make it. "Captain Diric Almasy, home guard."

The Marshall returned the salute. "Marshall Brock Lindahl, unified command." This was a formality; Lindahl had commanded Timber's forces through much of the Sorceress War, and just about everyone in the country knew who he was. "At ease." He turned back to the TV. "I'm not sure why we're bothering with intelligence updates; the news has a dozen reporters at every protest site, and the video airs within minutes." Almasy didn't reply, and he went on. "So what do we know that the News at Six doesn't?"

"We've confirmed they've blocked three major roads now," said Almasy. "And windows were smashed at Horizon Rail's main office a few minutes ago."

"They know that," said Lindahl. He looked away from the TV, which was indeed showing footage of protesters hurling chairs into Horizon's corporate headquarters. "And the president won't ask about Horizon's windows. Talk to me about the Guard."

Almasy blinked. "Sir?"

"The situation is graduating from civic unrest to a full-scale uprising," the Marshall said. "The president needs to know if he can expect it to be put under control." He checked his watch. "And he needs to know now. Let's go."

"Ah—what?" asked Almasy, ducking away from the doorway to allow Lindahl to pass. "I'm briefing the president?"

Lindahl led him out of the Situation Center and down the hall towards into the North Wing. "You're the expert, Captain. I don't have time to familiarize myself with the details."

"Uhh." On the one hand, this was a tremendous opportunity that Almasy could have only dreamed about. On the other, it wasn't hard to imagine scenarios in which he would utterly screw up. "I've only been on this job for a year," he protested. "There are people with more seniority —"

"Unfortunately, they aren't here right now," Lindahl said, "and there's a reason for that. If you think hard enough, I'm sure you'll discover what it is."

"Marshall!" He stopped walking. Lindahl, looking mildly exasperated, did as well and turned to face him. "I'm not remotely comfortable with this."

Lindahl frowned at him for a moment. "Well, that's unfortunate. Captain, the president is making a prime-time address on the crisis in 45 minutes, and he has yet to decide on a course of action. He needs you to provide the knowledge he needs to do so. Now—" He lowered his voice. "Simply be honest, and hold nothing back. Your president needs you, Captain."

Almasy gulped, and straightened. "Of course, sir."

"Then let's continue," said Lindahl, and kept walking without ceremony.

They passed through a maze of cubicles filled with papers and still more bustling people, with an atmosphere that totally negated the elegance of the wood paneling on the walls. Then they passed through a set of wide double doors marked with the Timber national crest, leading into a much calmer office with one desk on either side wall facing towards the center. At the opposite side, there was yet another door.

"Hello again, Viki," said Lindahl. "Is he ready?"

"He's expecting you," said the woman seated at the right-hand desk, standing and opening the far door. "Mr. President? Marshall Lindahl is here." Almasy heard a muffled response, and the woman turned back to them and nodded. Lindahl led them in.

The president's office was octagonal, with four sides about as long as the facing wall of his reception room and the other four about half that. The northern, eastern and western sides were all lined with windows offering an impressive view across the National Plaza; Almasy could see the H-shaped Congress Building through the north windows, which were directly behind the president's desk. A trio of couches were set to make a rectangle with the desk, a chandelier that evoked the leaves of a Lanker oak hung from the center of the ceiling and various portraits and artifacts decorated the walls.

At first, the president himself was almost invisible against the grandeur of the room. He had been sitting at his desk, frowning at some file or other, but Almasy didn't notice him until he closed it and looked up at Lindahl. Quisman was in his early fifties and balding, though what hair he still had showed only the barest signs of graying; while tall, he had a slight build and looked more like an accountant or academy professor than a president. Still, he had an owlish seriousness about him that commanded respect at least.

"I just received the preliminaries from the Commerce Department," he said, removing his reading glasses and tucking them into his pocket as he stood. "Our losses just from today will probably be in the hundreds of thousands of gil. Tomorrow, they'll be in the millions. I think we can stop saying that this is getting out of hand and acknowledge that it's there."

Lindahl didn't answer directly. "Mr. President, this is Captain Diric Almasy, from the Home Guard. He's prepared an assessment of the situation."

Quisman nodded, and turned to Almasy. There was silence for a moment. "...Feel free to start talking, Captain."

"—Yes, sir," said Almasy. "Ah...well, the unions' goal is repeal of the new privatization bill. Since they expect the rail system will be sold to Horizon, which doesn't allow unions, it's viewed as a life-or-death struggle by the leadership. They're unlikely to back down."

"Yes, I know that much,' said Quisman. "But how deep does the sentiment go? What are the chances people will go home after, say, a week or so?"

"That won't happen," said Almasy. "—In my opinion, Mr. President."

Quisman raised his eyebrows. "Why not? In your opinion." Almasy hesitated. "I don't have all evening, Captain."

"...They think they'll lose their jobs, sir. Horizon, or any other non-union company, will see them as a risk because they were in a union, so they won't get hired. And there's not a lot of jobs out there right now, plus most of them haven't got any savings to speak of. To them it's a matter of whether they have food for their families or not. They'll go the distance."

"Hmm." The president nodded. "It seems you're quite familiar with how they think," he said.

"A lot of them are reservists," said Almasy. "Fought during the war. We keep in touch."

Quisman frowned. "And that's the case for many others in the Home Guard, I'd imagine."

"I believe so," said Almasy.

"Mm." Quisman looked at Lindahl, who nodded. The president then hesitated a moment, looking at Almasy with a searching expression that was a bit off-putting. "I'll be direct about this, Captain. The unrest is already at the edge of riot status, and our police have so far completely failed to bring it under control. The logical next step would be to deploy the Home Guard to disperse the protesters. I need you to tell me whether such an order would be followed."

Almasy blinked. "Uh. ...Mr. President..." He needed a few more seconds to work out what to say. There were any number of ways in which he could step on a mine during this line of discussion.

"Captain," said Lindahl. "Answer the president's question."

"...I'm not sure I feel comfortable making that assessment," said Almasy.

"I feel many things right now, Captain," said the president. "Comfortable isn't one of them. Now, will the Home Guard do what I tell it to?"

"Of course, the guard respects your authority, sir," said Almasy.

Quisman needed no time to decode that statement. "But?" he said, raising his eyebrows and folding his arms.

Almasy sighed. "Mr. President, the sentiment is that when it voted to privatize Timber Rail, Congress abandoned the workers, who are now just trying to be heard. It doesn't seem justified to deny them that."

"Oh, I heard them," said Quisman. "Privatization is a stupid move, and I've said so repeatedly. But this isn't about that anymore. I can't let people shut down the capital city with a blatantly illegal strike just because they don't like a law that's been passed. In this country, we abide by democracy and the rule of law — to say nothing of we're in the middle of a delicate recovery from a devastating war, and we can't afford to lose millions of gil in business each day over this." He uncrossed his arms, and let out a frustrated breath. "It's the Home Guard's duty to ensure domestic tranquility. They don't have to agree with my orders; they have to follow them."

"...Of course I agree, Mr. President," Almasy said, chastened. "But it's not that simple for many others. Union ties are very strong, especially since the police union is supporting the Railmen. I think at best, it would divide the guard and inflame sentiment among sympathizers that the government is being too harsh."

Quisman turned away, looking out the western window towards the sunset. Smoke from protest fires was rising into the sky, and one column cut straight across the sun's disk. "So, Captain, if you were me, what would you do?"

"Repeal the law," said Almasy, without thinking.

The president turned back to him. "I can't repeal laws. So if you were me, what would you do?"

Almasy hesitated, having had a chance to think about what he was saying. "...I don't know, Mr. President. But I think the situation would only worsen if you force the Home Guard to choose sides."

Quisman nodded. "All right. Thank you for your candor, Captain. That'll be all."

After a moment's hesitation, Almasy saluted and left. Lindahl, who had been hanging back, stepped forward and waited for the president to speak.

"This is a ridiculous position to be in," said Quisman. "If Yaulny hadn't pushed through the most extreme and idiotic version of his law, we wouldn't be here. Now I have to suppress a mob of people who have every reason to be upset, and I can't trust the Home Guard to follow my orders."

"And there's no chance Congress will repeal the law?" asked Lindahl.

"At this point, I don't think they should," said Quisman. "It's not about the law anymore. It's about the limits of responsible protest. If we don't bring this uprising under control, who knows what the next one will be about, or how bad it will get."

Lindahl frowned. "Mr. President, I know you've been in contact with Galbadia on this matter. And I'd point out that relying on outside support to settle a domestic uprising could also set a dangerous precedent."

"I know President Deling; he's a friend," said Quisman. "If it weren't for him, Timber would be under Esthar's rule now. And when Yaulny wanted him to withdraw his troops, he did. And the sad fact of the matter is that he's more trustworthy right now than our own soldiers are."

"It'll send a terrible signal to our own soldiers," said Lindahl. "To say nothing of the unions or the general public. They'll say we've sold out our national interest to the Galbadians."

"Galbadia doesn't want privatization any more than the unions do," Quisman said. "And in any case, the message right now needs to be that we'll do whatever it takes to maintain law and order. If it comes back to bite me at the next election, so be it. That's how the system is supposed to work."

Lindahl nodded, sighing. "It's quite a tightrope act. If we fall off..."

"I usually try not to," said Quisman. Stepping back behind his desk, he activated the intercom. "Viki, I'll need to speak to the Secretaries of Arms, the Interior and Foreign Affairs, and Speaker Yaulny, as soon as possible. ...The speechwriters, too."

"Yes, Mr. President," said Viki's voice through the intercom. After Quisman deactivated it, he turned back to Lindahl.

"I'll use my address to tell the demonstrators to go home," he said. "And I'll order the Home Guard to disperse them. If they don't, I'll call Deling tomorrow morning. And Hyne help us all."