June 18

Galbadia Joint Command Center, Galbadia City
13:53 MDT

Caraway and the two other colonels tasked with planning the Timber deployment had been given their own office in the base complex. It was essentially a converted large storage closet, with three folding tables for desks and two more pushed together in the center of the room to hold maps of Timber city and the Dollet continent. The maps were covered with cardboard squares labeled in color-coded marker, indicating riot hotspots, the position of Timber's forces at present and those of Galbadian troops in the planned deployment. It was becoming quite a busy map.

"I think we can discount using the trains," said Colonel Brand, as he stepped into the office with a folder under one arm and a bowl of noodles in his hand. "We've just confirmed that Timber's given up on trying to reinstate any service into or out of the city."

"That's essentially what we expected," said Naraka, who was hovering over the map. "We'll have to proceed using the roads."

"Timber's road access is ridiculously underdeveloped," said Caraway, who was at his desk reading a report. "The highways lead you into the most random areas of town, and it's virtually impossible to reach the city center by car. I think we may have to commandeer use of one of the rail lines."

"That would leave us with a highly vulnerable resupply chain," said Naraka.

"Maybe not." Brand quickly swallowed a mouthful of noodles. "Timber might have given up trying to disperse the rioters, and half the Home Guard's threatening to mutiny if they're told to use force; but they have managed to secure the railroads and government buildings."

"Yes, for now," said Naraka. "But these riots will get worse. The Timber police are already hiding in their basements – or joining the rioters – and I think trusting any of Timber's soldiers is a mistake."

"Well, if we do our job right, the riots stop once we get there," said Brand.

"The riots will intensify when our troops arrive," Naraka replied. "Our presence will introduce another element to what is for now a domestic turmoil. It's a foolish thing to involve ourselves in."

"It's the president's call," said Caraway.

"Yes," said Naraka, a bit disdainfully. "...I'm going to see if they have the latest force projections." With that, he left.

Brand watched him depart. "...And there goes Colonel Sunshine," he said.

"He has a point," Caraway said. "The last time we were in Timber, it was as liberators. Now..." He leaned back in his chair, sighing. "It's strange. I was there for more than a year during and after the war. Hearing about all this on the news, I barely recognize the place."

"Well, you transferred out to East Academy after the peace deal, right?" asked Brand. "That's why. Everything changed after that: They weren't united against the Sorceress anymore, so people started noticing what terrible shape their country was in and started looking for someone to blame when things didn't get better fast enough. For some people it was government mismanagement, or corporate greed, Galbadian troops — you name it. Same thing happened here before Deling was elected; probably still would be if everyone didn't think he was Hyne incarnate or something."

"Hmm," said Caraway; the explanation made sense, but it didn't shake the feeling that something seemed wrong.

"Oh, that reminds me. You hear the Assembly's thinking about renaming the capital?"

Caraway nodded. "After the President, right? It's ridiculous."

"I dunno," said Brand. "'Deling City?' It has a nice ring to it."

"It's a way for Assemblymen to get on record that they support the president ahead of the fall elections," he said. "Something meaningless like renaming the capital is a lot easier to do than anything that really makes a difference."

"Well, privatizing the rails made a difference — and look how that's working out for Timber," said Brand. "Besides, don't forget about all the southern provinces who're unhappy that the capital and the country have the same name. At least they'll be happy."

Caraway shook his head. "Politics is just ridiculous sometimes."

Brand shrugged. "That's why I'm in the militia. You just shoot at the guy who's shooting at you."

Then they were joined by one of the base staff, a young woman with Sergeant's bars. "New projections, sirs," she said, tossing folders onto each of their desks. "You're gonna love 'em. Turns out we have guns for almost half the troops."

"Brilliant," said Brand, more amused by her tone than the news. "What does the other half get?"

"We're working on that," she said.

Caraway sighed. "Requisition does know we're shipping out tomorrow, right?"

"They just hand out the guns," she said. "They don't build them. For now, I'd like to transfer some of the weapons issued to Division Six, since they won't be shipping out for another few days and we might still scare up some more for them in that time. And I did talk with the people from the Timber army's supply department; they might agree to lend us some equipment for the mission."

"Naraka'll love that," said Brand.

"Thanks, Helena," said Caraway.

"No problem. —Oh, I almost forgot. Gerard and I are going out for late dinner tonight at the Executive; he's got a friend visiting from Balamb. We'd love it if you came."

"Wish I could," said Brand. "Family night. Em's bringing Raea back from the hospital."

"Oh, already?" asked Helena. "I thought she was just born a week or so ago."

Brand shook his head. "Three weeks, two days. I've been counting."

"I'll bet," Helena said. "Well, tell them both I said hi." She directed her attention to Caraway. "What about you, Colonel?"

"You should," said Brand. "The food's terrific. Stay away from the beer, though."

Caraway shrugged. "Well, why not?"

"Great," said Helena. "—Oh, and the President wanted your revised deployment plan before 16:00." Caraway nodded, and she left.

"You didn't tell me Raea was coming home," said Caraway.

"Yep," Brand confirmed. "Great timing, isn't it? At least I get one night with her before I ship out to save Timber for democracy. Speaking of which—"

"Yes," Caraway agreed. "We should get back to work. I think the No. 4 rail line is our best bet; it runs straight through Timber's Central Square, and normally isn't used except for special parade events. It gives us easiest access to the city's hot spots."

"All right," said Brand. "Let's go to the map." And they set about rearranging the cardboard pieces once more.

—

Galbadia City Railway Station
15:14 MDT

"Attention. The train from Dollet has just arrived at Platform One. The trains to Timber and Dingo are currently not in service. Please stand behind the white line."

Even with most of the trains canceled, Galbadia's rail station was a buzz of activity. Situated underground beneath the southern part of the city, the station had been spared from Dollet shelling, and seemed to have recovered completely from the years of war. The Galbadian soldiers present, who were screening every passenger coming or going, seemed to do nothing to stymie the flow of people on and off the waiting trains.

A man stepped off the just-arrived train, peering through the crowd as he absently adjusted the strap of his carrying bag. He was in his mid-twenties, with short-cropped brown hair and glasses. He wore no coat or tie over his brown plaid shirt, merely an old grey vest, and seemed the stereotypical studious yet slightly absent-minded young librarian.

As he made his way up the line of passengers waiting to pass through the Galbadian checkpoints, he was intercepted by a slightly older man wearing a Galbadian officer's uniform.

"Cid!" the second man exclaimed.

The first man's face brightened. "Gerard!" he greeted, clasping the other man's hand as he looked over the uniform. "Wow...Captain Martine! You're advancing rather quickly, aren't you?"

"Galbadia is very rewarding to soldiers who betray the Dollet Dukedom," the second man replied. "After all, if it weren't for us, Galbadia wouldn't have an army."

Cid laughed. "Well, if they were really going to reward you, couldn't they have found you a more pleasant uniform?"

"Give it time, Cid. My command is still deciding on what the official model should be. 'Is blue too flashy for the soldiers?' 'Can we afford to give everyone helmets?' 'Should we make the helmets different colors?' 'Perhaps we should put a big Galbadian logo on the chest, like a bulls-eye!'" Both men laughed. "It's all part of the joy of serving a new republic."

"So why did you come down here, Gerard?" Cid asked. "Was Helena afraid I wouldn't be able to find your new apartment?"

Martine smiled. "Not exactly." As they approached the checkpoint, his expression became serious, and he lowered his voice. "There's still a great deal of suspicion regarding outsiders, especially Dollet nationals. Helena thought that if you were seen with a man in Galbadian uniform, they would give you less trouble."

Cid raised his eyebrows. "That's reassuring."

They reached the pair of Galbadian soldiers. "Papers, please," one asked. Cid obligingly handed over his passport, which the soldier scrutinized, frowning. "You're from Dollet?"

"Well, I live in Balamb," Cid replied. "But I grew up in Dollet City, so I'm a citizen, yes."

"Purpose of visit?"

"Personal. I'm visiting a friend."

"Me, actually," Martine spoke up. "Captain Gerard Martine, Galbadian Militia Division Two." He showed them his ID.

Still frowning, the guard nodded. "Very well, everything seems to be in order. Be on good behavior," he gave Cid a pointed look. "And enjoy your stay. Next?"

"Charming fellows," Cid commented once they were out of earshot.

"It's been a difficult few years," Martine said. "A lot of people are still afraid that Dollet will try to reassert control." The two of them stepped onto the escalator that led up to the city. "Some are even saying Dollet spies are behind the unrest in Timber, meaning to cripple us."

"Wonderful."

"So where's your wife?" Martine asked. "Edea, isn't it?"

"She's staying in Balamb," Cid replied, nodding. "I was actually afraid of something like this."

"Cid, if either Helena or I thought you might be in any danger, we would have told you not to come," Martine said.

"I know. I suppose I was just nervous, that's all."

Martine nodded. "I understand. Still, I was looking forward to meeting her."

"Sorry," Cid said. "You should visit Balamb sometime. I'd love to have someone else there whom I can talk to about something other than their kids' participation grades."

"Now, I'd been meaning to ask you about that. Weren't you going to become a lib—"

"'—rarian or a reporter or anything other than a schoolteacher?'" Cid joined in. "Well, you know, the job market in Balamb is terribly competitive, as there is no library and the local newspaper staff numbers all of six." He laughed. "I was lucky to get a job at the school; it's not much better. There are only a hundred students, you know."

"You can't be serious. Even Balamb isn't that small."

"I am completely serious. The harbor makes up a third of the town."

The two friends finally made it to the top of the stairs, and headed out into the city.

—

Monterosa Plains
19:57 MDT

"Hey, Laguna, we can't even see the city anymore!"

Laguna didn't break his stride. "Relax, guys! We'll just go back the way we came!"

"The sun's going down," Ward observed. "I knew we should have brought a flashlight!"

"Are you kidding?" scoffed Laguna. "Those guys in Requisition make you pay for them!" Laguna insisted. "What am I, made of gil?"

"Laguna, I really don't think this is our patrol," Kiros said. "Why don't you check the map, while there's still enough light?"

"Fine!" Laguna stopped, shoving his hand into his pocket. There was nothing there. "?" He checked again. Then he checked his other pockets. One had a half-eaten ration bar, which he briefly considered finishing.

"Laguna, what's wrong?"

"Ahh..." He dropped the ration bar. It made a sort of cracking sound as it hit the ground. "I don't have the map. I must have left it back at Base."

Kiros sighed. "That's it. We're going back."

"HEY!" Laguna exclaimed. "I'm the squad leader, remember? Besides, what if Dollet decides to invade? Do you guys want to be the ones who cause the fall of Galbadia?"

"I think you're exaggerating our importance, Laguna."

"Let him go, Kiros," Ward said. "After all, if the Militia finds out he got lost again, he might get fired, and then he'll never pay us back."

"Yeah...when are you going to pay us back, Laguna?"

Laguna tripped over a rock. "Arrggh! Look, guys, I promised I'd pay you back, right? I just don't exactly have the money right now!"

"Yeah, that nightclub is really a drain on the cash account, isn't it?" Ward observed. "Tell you what. We'll call it even...if the next time we see Julia, you go up to her and say hi."

Laguna tripped again. There was no rock this time. "What – I mean who – I mean, why —" he stammered. "Look, guys, I don't know what you're talking about, okay! Did you ever think that maybe I just like bitter booze?"

"Laguna —"

"Or maybe I just like being in someplace classy, you know? I mean, Julia — I mean whoever you're talking about —"

"Laguna —"

"I mean, she's a professional, right? Like, how would we feel if someone ran up in the middle of our patrol and said —"

"LOOK OUT!"

Laguna turned around just to see the dark silhouette of a giant, four-winged bird bearing down on him. "Woah!" Instinctively, he jumped backwards, immediately losing his footing and falling to the ground. The bird passed over him, its claws a hairbreadth above his face in the instant before it thrust itself back into the air. Laguna scrabbled about, looking for the gun he had dropped sometime during this sequence of events.

Ward hurled his spear at the bird as it circled them, but missed as the creature rose higher into the air. Then, it dove down on him as he ran to retrieve his weapon; Ward attempted to block its attack with his arm, but its claws cut right through the fabric of his uniform and left him with a nasty arm wound. As he searched his pack for a Potion, Laguna's hand closed around a metal object that he quickly identified as his machinegun, Laguna leaped to his feet, fumbling with the weapon in an attempt to get it pointed the right way.

Kiros charged the bird, cutting a nasty slash into one of its lower wings. The creature cried out, beating its wings almost as if it were attempting to slap Kiros as it lifted away from the ground. Around then, Laguna's finger found the trigger of his gun.

"Alright!" he shouted in accomplishment. "Take this!" Squeezing the trigger, he proceeded to unload his weapon on the retreating bird. At first, it didn't seem to notice, and Laguna thought to take the time to aim the gun. The creature's body soon was overcome with convulsions from the gunfire, and it finally collapsed in a crumpled heap to the ground.

"Hah!" Laguna shouted, still firing. "How do you like that, huh! Thought you could just come down here and mess with Galbadia, you big ugly —"

"LAGUNA!" Kiros exclaimed. Laguna stopped shooting. "I think you got it."

"Right." Laguna nodded. "Just making sure, you know." He looked down at his gun clip. There were three bullets left.

"So..." Ward said, after a short pause. "What do you say we report back to base, check out, and get smashed in some bar?"

Laguna nodded vigorously. "Sure. I think we've done our part to protect Galbadia tonight. Let's go!" He started running back towards the lights of Galbadia.

"Hey, wait, Laguna!" Kiros stopped him. "So are you going to do it or not?"

"Do what?" Laguna asked.

"Say hi to Julia." He folded his arms. "Come on, you can't fool us."

"Yeah," Ward interjected. "You're totally into her. It's obvious."

Laguna shook his head most vigorously. "WHATEVER-man! ...Look, okay. I'll do it — but don't think it means anything! I just don't like owing you guys money, that's all."

Kiros and Ward exchanged a look.

"Hey! I saw that!"

—

Republic Executive Hotel
20:18 MDT

"Welcome," said the waitress at the hotel bar. "Your table's ready, Captain Martine. This way, please."

Cid had grown up in Dollet, but he had usually only seen restaurants as chic as the Executive's lounge from the outside. It wasn't large, but that was part of the point too, as it carried a sense of exclusivity. The ceiling was high, and a pair of large chandeliers that he guessed were each worth about as much as his Balamb apartment provided some of the light. It was a bit incongruous to see the place occupied mostly by soldiers in Galbadian combat uniforms; the armor-plated blue and red jumpsuits didn't really seem to indicate the sort of high society the hotel had been designed for.

"How many people actually stay at this hotel?" he asked as the group sat down.

"Not many, lately," said Martine. "Galbadia still isn't on the top of most people's tourist lists, and most of the postwar business has gone to Timber."

"For all the good it's done them," said Helena wryly.

"Most of the business comes from...well, people like us," said Martine. "The Militia's probably the best-paying job in Galbadia at the moment."

"Yes," agreed Colonel Caraway, who was wearing his black dress uniform, and partly as a result seemed like the classiest person in the bar. "It's the joy of independence."

"Well, things are already picking up," said Helena. "For the first few months, almost nobody would come out, and you didn't even need to bother with a reservation. Now there's even a line outside on some nights. That'll probably change with so many active troops heading back to Timber, though. The people left won't have a high enough pay grade for places like this."

"Sounds like you've been here quite a lot," Cid observed.

"I used to work here. I was an event coordinator before the war, which was close enough to military logistics that I found a spot at the Command Office. Still have friends who'll give me a nice discount, though."

"Are you ready to order?" interjected a waitress who had just arrived.

"We'll have the oysters and meat egg," said Helena. "And the Republican platter." She looked around the table. "Anything else?" The others said no.

"And to drink?" asked the waitress.

"Sylkis, I think," said Martine; Caraway nodded.

"Curiel for me, thanks," Cid put in.

"And I'll have a lime soda," said Helena.

"Okay," said the waitress. "That'll be about twenty minutes for the food."

She left, and the diners tried to remember where their conversation had dropped off. "So, are you all being sent to Timber?" asked Cid.

The others nodded. "Divisions Two and Six got tapped for the mission because most of them have been in Timber before, during the war," said Helena. "I'll be at the command base, providing logistical support, coordination, and other highly important yet dull tasks."

"I won't be deployed for another few days yet," said Caraway. "I'll be managing Division Six's transition off the home patrol."

"Hopefully, all the excitement will be over before you even get there," Helena said.

Caraway smiled. "Well, we can hope."

A woman in a red dress had taken a seat at the piano on stage, and began to play. It was a simple melody, and felt a bit roughly written, but she played it in such a way that this didn't particularly matter; the feeling behind the music, a sort of peaceful longing, seemed to transcend the actual notes being played.

"She's quite good," said Cid.

"Mm," Martine agreed.

"I think she plays backup for Alyssa Feran," said Helena. "This is the first time I've seen her solo. Can't remember her name..."

The waitress returned with their drinks, and they listened to the song for a moment longer. Caraway was the first to speak. "So, you're a schoolteacher?" he asked Cid.

"Apparently," said Cid, sighing. "I was planning to be...well, not a teacher, but I got drafted straight out of university, and job options were pretty limited after the war. I'd just married, and we desperately wanted a house; there was an opening in the social science section of Balamb Formal, so I took it."

"Why didn't you stay in the army?" asked Caraway.

"Oh, they wouldn't let me." Cid indicated his glasses. "Nearsighted. They took just about everyone while the war was on; but after the armistice, when they re-instituted the physical aptitude standards, I got an honorable discharge and a 10,000-gil pension. Dollet's been downsizing the army quite a lot, lately; most of the people I served with are out of work now."

"I suppose that's one advantage of a new republic," said Helena. "The Galbadian Militia's just as big as it was during the war; everyone's just gone into reserve. Plus we're building a whole new, professional army on top of it."

"It isn't a little frightening to have everyone in your country keep a gun in their closet?" asked Cid.

"It's proven an effective counter to foreign occupation," said Caraway. "Which is more or less what we've been faced with ever since declaring independence."

Cid became acutely aware that the conversation was heading in a direction he wasn't comfortable with. "Well," he said, "I certainly don't want to get into politics at a table full of Galbadians." This prompted a round of somewhat self-conscious chuckling. "Besides, the war's over now."

"Quite right," said Helena, raising her glass. "To peace, then."

The others joined the toast as the music came to an end. A few seconds later, three Galbadian soldiers rushed through the main entrance, making for the stairs down to the restaurant.

"Excuse me?" asked the receptionist. "Can I help you?"

The lead soldier stood at the top of the steps, panting as he watched the pianist depart the stage. "Are we...too late?"

"Excuse me." The receptionist was a bit more insistent. "If you don't calm down, you'll disturb our guests."

The soldier straightened, hanging his head. "...Yeah, it's cool."

"So we missed her first solo performance?" asked the biggest soldier. "That's harsh, Laguna."

"Hey, shut up!" snapped Laguna. "It's that stupid monster's fault! Otherwise we'd be totally on schedule!"

"Maybe if you'd brought the map...?" Kiros suggested.

"Arrgh!"

"Excuse me!" snapped the receptionist.

"Yeah, yeah..." Laguna shook his head, and began trudging towards the exit.

"Hey, maybe we can go someplace with cheap booze tonight," suggested Ward. "That could be cool."

"Sensible, too," Kiros agreed.

Laguna didn't really hear them.