[mmm ... merci beaucoup to the cowboy bebop soundtrack for seeing me through this chapter [and a lot of the rest of my life, really]. Yoko Kanno, i would love to somehow have your children.]
[and by the way ... shameless plug ... this is where knowing "sincerity cowboy" might come in a bit handy. The middle part, at least. Go read it! Waiii!]
Chapter Four
the beginning of the end
Sitting on the train, Quistis glanced up to briefly watch the play of sun on water flicking past the field of her vision. She was currently inside the SeeD car of the cross-oceanic line, on her way into Galbadia, the present details of her mission strewn across her lap and the remainder of the cushioned bench beside her. On the floor by her feet rested a classy briefcase containing all of Xu's "fun gadgets" - a brand new, Garden-issued laptop and a portable phone among them. She took a sip of the obligatory coffee and turned her eyes back to the papers.
The information package was set up in standard Garden report form: first, her abstract and objective, then the background information surrounding the mission. Quistis knew most of it, but dutifully scanned the document, not wanting to miss any details - and besides, it wasn't as if she had anything else to do.
Irvine Kinneas had been made a Special Instructor to train a program of SeeD for a specific mission; however, once the mission details were made known, they had rubbed the cowboy slightly backwards. Irvine had passed his misgivings on to Squall and Cid, who had investigated. Although the commission had been real - it was some sort of jump on illegal weapons-trading - at some point along the line it had been altered and edited. Someone along the Garden line of command had hacked in and tweaked the orders, changing the requested number of cadets and their objectives until the mission was doomed to failure. It had been tracked down to four SeeD cadets, who were currently under secret investigation by Agents Tilmitt and Kinneas. Another tweaked mission had been caught before assignment, as well, now that people were looking. Her job now was to find who was behind the rest of it, and why.
What worried Quistis was the subtlety of the thing.
Now, it was well known that not everyone liked Garden. Yes, the installations acted to uphold peace in the world - but they were mercenaries who had to set prices on things like decency, dignity, and lives. Certain parts of the SeeD program were quite unpopular, really, and had caused a great deal of protest. Unsurprisingly. There were always people to protest everything in the world, and nothing - no one person, organization, or Garden - could please everyone, everywhere, all of the time.
But normally the protests against Garden and its way of life were large affairs - or at least obvious. This was shifty, and it worried Quistis. The orders had been changed in such a precise way - whoever was behind it knew exactly what they were doing. And, more importantly, how to do it with the smallest chance of getting caught.
That worried her even more, because it meant that it was an insider. Someone with SeeD experience.
It incensed her. Quistis has always been SeeD through and through - one of the few 'lifers' (as they were called in the hallways). She'd loved the structure and functionality of the academy, and had been grateful to it for 'rescuing' her from the foster family she had tried so hard to love. It had her loyalty above all things - save her orphan family, now that she had remembered them. There had been a time that Garden had been first. It was still close.
The background promised full details of the Tilmitt-Kinneas mission as soon as they came through; Quistis had tried to get in touch with her friends the previous night, but they hadn't been around - in fact, they hadn't even logged in. Torn between worry and exasperation, Quistis had only left a brief message, nothing that would have given away their confidentials. She had wanted to get some first-hand detail from them, but it seemed that she'd have to wait until their paperwork came through.
From there the report moved into the more recent data - email files had been found, computer logs had been altered, and money has been exchanged. Apparently Galbadia had managed to trace a couple of the emails, and so Quistis had decided to head to Galbadia to start. Martine had promised her almost unlimited access to their information database, and Quistis figured it was as good a starting point as any.
Now that she had read the mission documents, she had to agree with Cid - there was something amiss. It was a puzzle: who would have this sort of access to the mission logs? And why change the missions?
Her mind quickly produced a detailed list of reasons, all of which were theories. Make Garden look bad. Waste valuable resources and SeeD cadets on failed missions. Destroy credibility. Create confusion. But - what? What was underneath it?
Quistis absently tapped the folder on her thigh as she narrowed her eyes in thought. Motivation. She'd need to find that out. She needed information, yes - lots of it. But in order to catch them, to stay one step ahead of them, she'd need to think like they do. Reasons and rules: Quistis Trepe's lifestyle.
She laughed at herself and began gathering the pages together. Her entire life followed the scientific method - but in this case she didn't even have enough data to make a hypothesis yet. She was still defining the problem.
And yet now that she had a defined problem, she realized, much of her sense of worry and doubt had vanished, replaced with a familiar calm confidence. Now that she had a defined job, a specific set of questions to answer and requirements to fulfill, she was much more relaxed about the whole thing. Now that there was a task to be done - one that she was particularly suited for - she could stand tall again. She had placed her confidence back into her height - she wouldn't be what she was without a reason, right?
Determined once again, Quistis packed up her things and spent the rest of the trip watching the scenery pass.
Getting into Galbadia now-a-days was not as easy as, say, getting into Balamb. Everything Galbadian was suspect after the Second Sorceress War; even the Galbadians suspected themselves sometimes. Their banking system was inherently on the verge of collapsing, their economy was dropping, and their borders were well-checked. Quistis had chosen to simply take the train and enter like a normal person (Zell had offered her a ride in the Ragnarok, but it had just been an excuse to fly the Ragnarok, and they both knew it).
She arrived at Galbadia Garden soon after and was shown to one of the guest suites, where she had made arrangements to stay. Fixing up her small computer to the i-link portal, she logged on to the Balamb Garden network and checked through her mail. Notes from students, ads for porn and shampoo, and the notification that Selphie and Irvine had, finally logged back their mission conformation. Quistis sent them back a witty reply, grinning. She liked the laptop; Xu had certainly chosen well.
She created a new entry in her own personal log and sat for a second, idly tapping the screen with a fingertip.
Have arrived at Galbadia Garden. Mission details have been thoroughly read and will be committed to memory. Main question: What provides motivation? Must find driving force behind actions to find culprit.
A pause, and then she continued, long fingers tapping. What worries me is the insinuation that someone from within Garden is involved. Must determine extent of Garden involvement - don't want to make accusations. Does the real driving force come from within or without?
She scanned it over, grinning when she realized she had used the word "culprit", and saved the file, pass-wording it for her own security. Slipping the laptop back into its case, she picked up her folders and headed up to Headmaster Martine's office to see what they had for her.
Martine was busy, but Era Maxus - the tall, light-haired, narrow-faced Commander of Galbadia Garden - offered to show her their results. Quistis had met Maxus once or twice, and although she had nothing against the man, she wasn't quite sure if she liked him, either.
"When we heard you were coming, Martine had me set aside the information we've already obtained," he said as they walked down the hall. "It isn't much - we've had to deal with all these personal information protection laws and such. Plus, this mission technically isn't under our jurisdiction - it's yours." They turned a corner and headed down the administrative wing.
"Even a fully-certified Headmaster isn't allowed to access these files normally," Maxus continued, throwing Quistis a smile. "But under cases of extreme duress or threat to Garden, we can get some of the data. Martine and I tweaked and pleaded until they opened up the e-mail tracking logs for us." He held the door open, gesturing with another smile for her to enter.
Quistis smiled back politely, the now-familiar sense of being hit on registering in the back of her mind. Era Maxus was really being quite friendly - a little too friendly for her tastes, really. But she would permit it as long as it worked to her advantage. It sounded cold, she knew; but she also knew exactly what his interested politeness meant. It was something she had picked up from being one of few women in a field dominated by men, such as Garden's upper ranks. She had learned to ignore it - but politely.
"Oh, and here," he said, as they entered the room; a small plastic card was sitting on the single table. Papers were stacked over its surface; the walls were lined with filing cabinets. Quistis took the card in her hand; it was a temporary ID, her name on a small white label across its surface.
"That'll let you in here," Maxus said, "if we're not around. It's yours for up to a year; if your mission goes longer than that, we can renew it."
"Hyne forbid," Quistis said with a friendly laugh, tucking the card away in her slim wallet. "What do you have?"
Era Maxus scanned the table quickly, finally choosing one stack of papers. "These are the records of the two students from Galbadia who are under suspicion. Darik Halbred, graduate three months ago -"
"Wow," Quistis said with a sigh. "Three months and he's already suspect?"
"I know," Maxus said, smiling wryly. "What a way to tarnish a young career."
Quistis tapped her fingers on the papers gently. "Not tarnished yet. What did he do?"
"He's been marked absent or late to a lot of the administrative meetings we've been having - and nobody knows where he is. Plus, it was his login on one of the computers we tracked an email to."
Quistis shifted a chair slightly to allow herself to sit in it. "Tell me about these emails," she said. "You keep referencing them, but no one knows what's up."
"Ah." Maxus handed her the stack. "I keep forgetting this is your job - I'm just trying to be as helpful as possible," he said with an attempt at a winning smile. Quistis smiled briefly - drat him - and turned her gaze to the folder in her hands.
"The four SeeDs under suspicion were caught by tracking email," Era Maxus continued, pulling up the chair across from her. Quistis tried to keep herself from wincing. "What happened was this: once the altered mission was found, we traced it - the actual act of alteration - back here. Embarrassing, I know, but we of course knew we hadn't done it. It was done through the computers - someone had obtained the access coding to the mission database."
Quistis hissed, a long breath drawn in through her teeth. "That's not good," she said. "How'd it happen?"
"Don't know." Maxus shrugged. "We're plugging the hole in the security as we speak. More correctly, it's been plugged, and is now being sealed, caulked, and barricaded."
Quistis smiled involuntarily. "Good to hear, Commander. What about the emails?"
He reached across for the folder, worn fingers briefly touching her long slender ones. "We noted the logon codes for all the other computers in Garden - all the other computers that were active on the Network. Then we waited for it to happen again, and mix-and-matched."
Her eyes narrowed in thought. "Explain further."
Maxus flipped through the folder and then pulled out a single piece of paper on which was a highly detailed schematic. "This is the layout of our computer network. This computer here - the Plasma, right - keeps track of all the missions. But the room is constantly under lockdown. And no one had swiped an entry key at any time even close to the time we traced the alteration to having occurred."
Quistis turned the schematic to give herself a better look at it, tracing the connecting lines with her fingertips, thinking rapidly. "So someone hacked it?"
"Our guess is that someone put up a remote connection to alter the file. So we tracked the computers that could have been connected. Eventually we eliminated everyone but a single logon code."
"And that led you to Darik?"
"Well, actually, it led us to a friend of his: Astra Baker. It was her computer. We're still not entirely sure how she's involved - or," he amended quickly, "if either is really involved."
Quistis took the proffered folder back absently, her eyes still roving the network layout. It was stupid, really - basically anyone with the right information could have reached Plasma. Since most of the central records ran out of it, everyone had to connect to it eventually. It would have been a pretty good hack; but with access codes, it could have been done from anywhere.
But she looked at Era Maxus with a little more admiration. He had certainly done his share of homework; homework and some bonus studying, more like. She couldn't imagine Squall doing this much work for someone else's mission...
Then he met her eyes for a brief second, and she saw a strange emotion flicker across his face: aspiration? Hope? She dropped her eyes, trying to hide the mute sense of disgust. Of course.
He didn't want to be a friend. He didn't want to be helpful for helpful's sake. He wanted a chance with the famous Quistis Trepe.
There was a sudden shrill ring, and Maxus' face fell in a bit of dismay and panic. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small portable phone, glancing at the screen. His face twisted in mild disgust.
"I have to take this," he said. "You be okay?"
More than okay. Quistis nodded, turning back to the folder as he left, closing the door behind him.
She wasn't quite sure why it irked her so. For all of her career she had been the subject of praise and admiration - shit, just look at the Trepies! She'd never considered herself gorgeous - at times, she was humiliatingly plain - but she also knew that people found her attractive. She'd never considered herself a genius, but she knew she had some sort of gift that made her at least smarter than average. But the odd sort of hopeful worship - that she had never been able to get used to.
Xu had once told her that she could easily have any man fall in love with her within ten minutes. Tall, blond, and gorgeous, and you've got the brains to match it, Quis, her friend had said. Any one you want - choose one. And Quistis had said: you're wrong, Xu.
Look at Squall.
Of course, that was back when she hadn't understood her Squall-dreams. But Xu's words lingered in her mind. She didn't want to assume anything. But.
It still irked her. And then she felt arrogant for assuming the world was in love with her. So she did what she did best: ignored it, turning her mind to other issues, like the one on the table before her. Dismissing Maxus from her mind, she sat down to examine the schematic once again. Era Maxus would resolve himself. The mission wouldn't.
Keeping the schematic in one hand, she paged through the folder with the other. There was a massive collection of computer codes - apparently the tracking procedure they had used - which she skipped. The final page in the folder contained a listing of the emails actually sent with the forged access code. Quistis set the schematic down and picked this up, her eyes narrowing in thought.
They had all been sent to the same email address, she saw. It was a general address, from one of the many sites that allowed free email registration - and as such would be nearly impossible to trace. The name was simply a random collection of numbers and letters: 78ELS; the hosting company was gilbert.com, which Quistis knew as a public free-email bonanza. There was absolutely no way to track it.
But they had all been sent to the same address.
She'd have to get her hands on the actual emails. Someone was connecting with Garden students through this email address.
Wait - was it a two-way connection?
She nabbed her folder and the slim plastic card, her eyes still narrowed determinedly. No one would think anything odd about a student receiving emails from a gilbert.com account - she was sure thousands of them passed through the server daily.
She found Era Maxus back in his office. He looked up at her, suspicion in his eyes for a second. "What's wrong?"
"Can you get me Darik and Astra's email logs?"
Maxus blinked. "What?" He gestured to the folder. "We found the emails they sent. They're from gilbert.com, they'll never give out any information; and besides, all you need to give Gilbert is a name. Any name. I have an account myself," he said sheepishly.
"Dazzling," Quistis said, almost shortly. "What I want to see is their incoming logs."
Maxus blinked. "Can we do that?"
She bit her tongue in annoyance - he's been Commander for less time than Squall, remember that, he doesn't know everything - and said: "Technically, yes. It's not Garden's policy to police incoming mail. But a record of all mail received should stay on the server for up to two weeks. It's a safety net - that way students can't use the excuse 'I never got the mail' to their instructors. The Instructors can request permission to check all received mail."
"And if they got any mail from this account..." Maxus stood up, grinning nervously. "I'll give you a card for the Plasma. Your access will last for an hour; that's the longest we have."
Quistis hurried down the hall, biting her lip a little nervously. Her computer skills, though good, were nothing spectacular like Selphie's; she herself had a habit of demanding too much at once and making the computer crap out in a fantastic display of technical incompetence. She didn't want to crash the Galbadian server. Swiping the card, she let herself in and settled down.
Luckily, it was a fairly moron-proof interface. She found the email logs without a problem and began by entering Darik Hablred's student ID.
Email headings scrolled across the screen: incoming, outgoing, notes from friends and teachers, advertisements. Quistis watched idly as the system loaded his last two weeks of mail. Eventually the internal grinding died down; Quistis delicately loaded the search command for 78ELS.
Nothing popped up. Swearing lightly and wishing for coffee, Quistis cleared the search and entered Astra Baker's ID. The account loaded, though not as many mails as Darik's. She entered the term again.
Bang. One email.
Quistis opened it, eyes narrowing again. It was quite short:
Objectives proceed as follows. Previously attached document should be enough directive. Action will be taken by Elsevier if you cannot meet objectives.
It was simply signed Gray.
Quistis let out a sharp sigh of triumph. Two things to work with: Elsevier, Gray. Whether they were people, things, groups, weapons - who knew. But it was a start.
Apparently Astra was guilty - or Darik; or both. Quistis had a sudden pang of worry for Selphie and Irvine; at least one of their suspected would be defending themselves at all costs. Then she shook her head, laughing. Worried about Selphie and Irvine? Bah. The sharpshooter and the ball of energy. Nothing to worry about.
Quistis printed out a copy of the mail and tucked it in the back of the folder, then logged out of Plasma and locked the room down. She met Era Maxus on her way back and handed him the ID card that had allowed her to access the room.
"Find anything?" he asked eagerly, and Quistis was a little surprised and worried at the glint in his eyes. He wanted to be her conspirator, it seemed, her partner. She understood the excitement of a mission like this, but - he really had no part to play.
"No," she said, the lie slipping easily off her lips before she really knew what she was saying. "Nothing left for either of them. I'm going to check the same thing up at Trabia; see if their servers are still up."
Maxus sighed and shrugged. "Ah well," he said. "Glad we could help, anyway."
"I'll stick around for a little while," Quistis said, "and see if I can turn anything else up."
She returned to her room, exultant in her little bit of success. Opening her log, she quickly added:
Astra Baker received email from account: 78ELS. Email traced. Outside source almost certainly involved; not logical for a source inside Garden to communicate through email. There are better, less obvious ways to reach people. Gilbert.com isn't one of them.
Look for any information regarding [Elsevier] and [Gray], hopefully together. Search for 'Gray' on internet won't be helpful. Elsevier may lead to something, though.
She paused, and then laughing at herself - why not make it a journal too? Era Maxus very interested in project. Hopefully Quistis Trepe doesn't become his project. Can't stand people breathing over my shoulder in the hopes of catching the next wonder.
Plan of action: do similar email check at Trabia Garden for two Trabian suspects. If similar email history, then move forward. Obtain information about Elsevier. Check public records and such.
She closed the top of her laptop with a delicate click. Looked as if this new job would involve a lot of traveling.
*************************
Oy.
Don't have time for the individual thanks, so let me just say: thank you, darlings, for your reviews. Please keep them coming, I love reading them. We'll talk more next time I update, since hopefully it will not be this late at night. Not that it's late; but it is when you work like 50/week and you totally need your sleep.
Keep rocking.
seventhe