Poker Face

With The Falcon declared unfit to ever grace the skies again, Edgar discovers an unconventional way to fly the airship. (Apologies for the made up mechanical whatsits/physics!)

AT THE LIBRARY window, Terra Branford gently rested her head on gloved arms and stared out over Figaro's vast, golden desert. Having already fallen asleep at the library desk, she had abandoned Love in the Time of Doma and had drawn her chair to where she supposed she would find a source of fresh air to awaken her. All she was met with was a solid wall of heat. Lifting a lazy hand, Terra wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead and allowed her arm to collapse upon the stone sill once more. Her listless stare was dragged from the rippling heat haze to the dark, hulking shape of The Falcon which lay on the distant shore. Two figures emerged into focus, trudging away from the airship through Figaro's scorching sands. Squinting her eyes through the piercing glare of sunlight, she could just make out the squat figure of Professor Cid struggling to keep up with a man several paces ahead of him. Then the taller man stopped and lifted his head. Terra watched as Setzer Gabbiani pressed a hand to his mouth, his entire body jumping with one convulsive movement. She sat upright, shocked. Cid was waddling to keep up now, and as he drew close enough, he lifted a placating hand to the man's back. Setzer's face rested heavily in his hand, his shoulders shaking.

"Oh no..."

At the sudden sound of footsteps, Terra sprang to her feet as though she were a moogle sensing rain.

"I was revising!" she blurted out while shoving her book inside a copy of The Imperial Combatant's Companion; all very much to the surprise of Celes who had just appeared in the doorway.

"Relax," Celes sighed as she entered, "we're not at boot camp now. I won't tell on you." Terra hesitated, and then awkwardly waved to the open window.

"It's Setzer. I think Cid has just told him some bad news." She looked away uncomfortably and tugged at a loose strand of thread from her red sleeve. "They've been to look at The Falcon."

"Ah." The two young knights looked down from the window upon the tragic scene, where Setzer had given into uncontrollable sobbing and Cid glanced about himself restlessly, wondering for how long a grown man could cry over a heap of scrap metal, propellers and charred wood. Then his lips curled into a satisfied smile, thinking about the donations which could be hacked from the wreckage of the body.

~̃*~*~̃

"So, Setzer has asked if we can all meet him out here just before sundown," Edgar explained, glancing seriously from face to face. Terra and Celes had now been joined by the king's twin, Locke and, inexplicably, Kefka. Despite repossessing his mortal body some weeks ago, the resurrected form of the Returner's arch nemesis had evidently not lost his appetite for haunting people. All stood huddled in the great shadow thrown by The Falcon's remains; most seemed subdued in their silence. Kefka yawned loudly.

"Where is he now?" Celes asked in hushed tones.

"He said he needed a whiskey-" Edgar extracted a golden pocket watch from his tunic and frowned, "-about two hours ago. Then he was going to get a shovel…" At this last word, the party glanced up at the airship's immobile propellers grimly.

"He should really start soon otherwise he'll be digging all night," Celes mused, folding her arms against the gritty desert winds, "Grandpa has been hanging around with that look in his eye."

"I just wish there was something we could do to help…" Terra whined, gesturing uselessly, "I feel so bad for him."

Kefka threw her a look of utter revulsion.

"Ugh. How much more of this flowers and puppies and friendship and sad sad feelings in my tender heart-" he drummed a white hand against his chest emphatically, "- crap do I have to take from you people?" Terra flinched at the lash of his words and turned away, hugging herself.

"No one's making you stay..." she muttered in a small, injured voice.

"I want the first chocobo out of this sand pit then!" Kefka shouted and stormed past Celes, only pausing to kick a heap of sand all over the young general.

"Oh for- just LEAVE then, Kefka!" Locke yelled, stepping forward in an effort to shield Celes from the onslaught. Kefka turned on his heel, his green cape whipping about his small form and showering the Returners with even more sand.

"You know what, why should I go?" the mage cried, waving an obstinate finger before them, "when that's EXACTLY what you want?" But while the others cursed and frantically tried to rub the grains from their eyes, Edgar frowned at the battered wreck of The Falcon. Holding up his one good arm, he shielded his eyes from the sun's glare and drew closer to the remains. Maybe there was something they could do…

"Just as with the young courtesans of Nikeah, it's always free to have a look!" the young king grinned. "And who knows what I can do with one good hand?"

~̃*~*~̃

The sun had already begun its descent by the time Edgar flung down his wrench with a snarl and a few choice words. The young king sat back on his heels, surrounded by pipes, broken pistons and bolts. He turned to the sound of approaching footsteps and met Celes' inquiring expression with a look of utter resignation.

"No good…" Edgar sighed, "I thought I could repair the engine but the exact replacement parts we need would only come courtesy of another, fully functional airship." He shrugged, his white sleeves flapping in the desert breeze. "Even if I could get both my hands on her, I wouldn't be able to get her motor running." Celes wrinkled her nose distastefully.

"How do you manage to make everything sound… dirty?" But Edgar's gaze had travelled away from Celes' face to a location several inches lower.

"Edgar!"

"No, I wasn't-" he shook his head, "I mean, usually I would- but no, I was looking at your hands. Celes, your hands!" The Runic Knight remained impassive.

"We could use your magic! If I -" Edgar leaned into the wreckage once more, "I remove the engine entirely… I can put in turbines - here and here - with sustained force it'll run a little like a perpetual motion engine!"

"Forgive me for not joining in your excitement," Celes quipped, "but I am not an engine." The young king rocked back on his heels and looked at her reproachfully.

"Of course not… though, you are powerful, reliable... and I'm sure you offer a smooth ride."

~̃*~*~̃

Edgar's eventual adjustments were marked by the gathering darkness and the continued absence of Setzer. Allegedly, the gambler was steadily working his way through Edgar's whiskey casks and his course had not been deterred by the combined efforts of Locke and Sabin. Celes, meanwhile, had attempted to recruit her two fellow magically-gifted associates to help with the effort of raising The Falcon from her sandy bed.

"Sorry!" Terra called out ahead to where Edgar was now straightening to look at the airship through his one good eye, "Kefka asked me to clean the sand off his boots. Hey… what happened to your face?" Edgar chanced a quick look at Celes, but said nothing.

"I have no idea where Kefka is so you'll have to make do with the two of us," Celes explained, hands on hips. "Do you really think this will work?"

Edgar motioned for them both to follow him aboard the airship's deck, before turning to point at a vast mountain range which bit into the horizon like a giant ridge of dark, jagged teeth.

"Mount Koltz… if we can levitate the craft to the highest point, then we can push off and rely on gravity to do its work. The turbines are strategically weighted to keep us moving forward." He turned to look at both of his companions in turn. "You'll need to keep an eye on each turbine and, when the weights start to move out of alignment, restore the balance with your magic. Everyone ready?" The young king held up three fingers and proceeded to count them down.

"... … … float!"

With a shudder that almost sent the three Returners crashing to their knees The Falcon was wrenched from the desert floor and remained hovering unsteadily in the air. Although the craft was light as far as most airships were concerned, it still took a concerted effort from both spell-casters to keep the ship moving upwards. Edgar leant back casually against the railings, enjoying the cool winds sweeping through his hair. A point that Celes did not fail to notice.

"Are you just - admiring the view?!" she panted.

"We're almost there!" Terra cried flinging an arm out in front of her, "look!"

The dark peaks of Mount Koltz were rising beneath them through the evening gloom. Edgar gave the command to land, which transpired to become an even more hair-raising experience than the perilous take-off. With a sickening crunch which sounded horribly like a propeller losing a proximity contest with a rock, the airship crashed down, nose-first, onto the mountain's ridge. A drawn-out scraping noise seared the ears of the ship's occupants and the craft gradually came to halt in a cloud of dust and debris. Gradually, Celes, Edgar and then Terra slowly and shakily rose to their feet.

"Anyone hurt?"

"You will be!" roared a voice from within. Moments later, Kefka stumbled out of the ship's cabin with his patterned shirt crumpled, dirty blonde hair dishevelled and his chocobo feather stuck out at a rather odd angle. "Can't a guy take a nap without getting beaten like a village peasant?" Celes faced him with an expression usually reserved for encounters with the maniacal mage; one of mingled exhaustion and resignation.

"Why were you sleeping on an airship that you knew was about to be buried?" But Kefka, true to form, was not listening to her. He marched past the Returners and over to the side of the airship, where he leaned against the railings to stare down into the dark abyss.

"The plan is to, er, propel the ship off the side of the mountain so that gravity can act on the turbines… or something..." Terra explained to the mage's back, looking nervously to Edgar for confirmation. "I don't know… I'm not an engineer!" she concluded moodily, folding her arms. But Kefka turned his head to grin at her through the darkness.

"Babe, you had me at shoving this heap of junk off a mountain."

~̃*~*~̃

"One more, one more…" Setzer grinned foolishly as he upturned, then waved the bottle over Locke and Sabin's glasses. Most of the whiskey soaked into the tablecloth, leaving only dregs for the two other men to drink. "Never have I ever… been booed offstage at the Jidoor Opera House." Locke swore under his breath and drained his glass.

"It wasn't my fault - it was that stupid octopus!" He turned to Sabin, surprised to see the monk raise his own drink cheerfully and pretend to do the same.

"Oh, I accidentally knocked Draco unconscious during our little scuffle," Sabin chuckled. "Apparently that's a lifetime ban too."

"Oh no, no no..."

"Ah, it's okay. I never really got why everyone was singing when they could have talked it out much quicker."

"No," came the voice more emphatically, prompting the three men to realise it had not come from any one of them. They looked over to the doorway where Cid was striding towards them, wearing his yellow coat and a frown.

"Cid?" Locke ventured hopefully, despite the scientist's worried expression causing his insides to sink. "You look like you've got bad news… and the last time that happened, the world was ending." When Cid did not immediately negate this last statement, Locke groaned audibly.

"There's something outside," Cid spluttered, his moustache twitching, "...and I have no idea what it is!"

Whether it was due to their misgivings or sense of intrigue, the three men obliged Cid by following him onto the battlements. Sabin walked between Locke and Setzer, an arm on each of their shoulders in an effort to both steer them and keep the men upright. The subject of Cid's consternation needed no introduction, for amidst the black sky and the stars shone a luminous purple light. It was if some deity had cleaved the heavens themselves with an immortal blade. The very fabric of night had been torn away, its fraying edges vanishing into the darkness. The light seeped seamlessly from within the folds of the rip, washing away the inky blackness with a livid, violet dye.

"What in the world… or out of this world… is that?" Locke gaped heavenwards.

"I've never seen anything like it," Cid breathed, "but I know better than to assume it hasn't appeared for anything less than a catastrophic reason." He turned to Setzer who had, if possible, grown even paler than usual. "Your airship is missing. I've checked the surrounding area."

"What? Are you saying that The Falcon has something to do with this?" Sabin asked while Setzer slumped against the battlements and vomited noisily over the castle wall.

"Hey, are you alright?" Locked clapped his hand against the gambler's back, leaving Setzer to hiccough noisily. Slowly, the man drew himself upright, his face in his hands, mumbling incoherently.

"Huh?"

Setzer lowered his trembling hands, drawing in a long breath as he stared at the horizon. Then he raised a knuckle to his lips and gnawed at it, quite transported from the castle and his companions. Locke and Sabin exchanged an uneasy glance. After a few moments, Setzer dropped his hand and, finally, he spoke.

"I've seen this before…" He averted his eyes from the looks of shock, and continued by addressing the stars themselves. "Many years ago, I was in an airship crash. That night there was a terrible storm. It was so bad in fact, I knew I shouldn't have been flying but- Anyway, just before I went down, I saw that same purple light… th-that's all I remember."

"But what is it?" Locke pressed him.

"It's…" Setzer licked his lips, "it's the Rift. A dimension between worlds." Cid made a noise halfway between a triumphant cry and the sound of one stubbing their toe.

"There have been theories!" he blustered excitedly, "I've read accounts but - oh! This is remarkable! If only we could find The Falcon, then we could get close enough to study it!" Setzer returned the scientist's enthusiasm with a wry smile.

"That's the thing - the entrance sealed itself up very quickly afterwards," the gambler explained, "who knows whether it's a sentient being or not, but if something tears the Rift open, it manages to seal itself off again." He glanced from Cid's expression of disappointment to Locke who looked as though he had been hit with a hefty confuse spell. For Sabin, however, it was now his turn to grow pale.

"How quickly does it seal itself…? Like, days, hours?" The monk leaned over the battlements, taking care to avoid the part of the wall which Setzer had desecrated. The gnawing feeling in the pit of Sabin's stomach intensified, for the purple light had already started to dim within the folds of darkness. He turned quickly to his companions.

"Okay, we don't have a lot of time so, Setzer, you can get mad at us later." He took a breath. "Edgar wanted me to distract you so he could try to fix The Falcon. Locke and I have been pretending to drink with you all afternoon." Beside him, Locke apparently contradicted this statement with a suppressed belch.

"But we'd already tried everything!" Cid spluttered, "that airship can't fly without an engine!"

"My brother wanted to use magic on it."

"Oh…" Cid turned to look up at the sky, writing imaginary equations with his forefinger as though it was his personal chalkboard. "Yes… the use of magic on an unstable aircraft whilst travelling at dangerous speeds… yes, that would do it."

"Will someone PLEASE tell me what's going on?" Locke shouted, "and no more deadly combinations of science and magic!" Cid, Sabin and Setzer looked to one another uncomfortably. Then, in an effort to alleviate the pressure, Cid spoke.

"Everything in this world is about science and magic." He cleared his throat importantly and stroked his moustache. "We suspect that King Edgar, Terra and Celes managed to lose control of the airship and rip through this world, into the next."

Locke blinked several times, then excused himself before crossing to Setzer's portion of the castle wall to vomit.

~̃*~*~̃

The cobbled courtyard was enclosed by four round towers of stone. Each threw its shadow across the square, partially-obscuring the guards who flanked the perimeter. The Dragoons were the pride of the kingdom; born to wield spears with silence and stoicism, they were prepared for any eventuality. A breeze stirred the flags atop the castle's battlements and towers; the only sound to break the silence apart from the occasional clack of wooden swords. This noise grew more audible as two children emerged into the courtyard, one swinging his sword with increasing fervour, the other doing all he could to ward his competitor off.

"You're not playing fair!" the helpless boy shouted, hurling his weapon to the ground. All around him, the guards remained impassive. "I'm telling-"

Above them came a cataclysmic burst of light which seemed to ignite the entire universe. Both children fell to the ground in fright, hands clapped to their eyes. The soldiers levelled their spears ready, squinting upwards as the light receded. A dark shape was now visible, soaring towards them with increasing speed. The boy who had been hacking away relentlessly at his little friend grabbed his companion by the shoulder and pointed. They both lay with their mouths hanging open. Then, just as quickly as the shape had appeared, it began to take form. An airship, with propellers whirring beyond capacity, smoke streaming from its shaft and its airbrake in flames. Its shadow fell over the two boys.

"It's a crossover!" the first boy shouted.

"What?!"

"... a hybrid. Part steam, part air-powered."

Instead of uttering another response, the other boy simply screamed and grabbed at his friend before scrambling to his feet. Just in time they managed to sprint beyond the west tower before The Falcon crashed headlong into it. There was an unearthly explosion, as though some unknown weapon had been detonated, throwing half the tower beyond the castle walls themselves. A great cloud of smoke enveloped the scene into darkness.

Amidst all the chaos, the Dragoons who had only suffered minor injuries swooped upon the wreckage, their spears drawn. The airship's cabin door, now warped into an inexplicable shape, shuddered violently. A glimmer of light shone around its frame, before the door was suddenly blown off its hinges, taking two Dragoons with it. A third soldier advanced upon the man now climbing from the wreckage, and levelled his spear at his opponent's chest. With a lazy flick of his hand, the man sent a thunder spell up the spear and into the Dragoon's armour, leaving him writhing in agony on the floor.

"Well, that was rude," Kefka remarked, stopping to straighten his feather, "is that how you treat people who drop in on you?"

"Kefka!" Celes groaned, struggling to pull herself free from the wreckage, "you're making things worse - as usual!" The circle of Dragoons tightening closely around them was an alarming, if not accurate affirmation of her point. Behind them, Terra and Edgar clambered from the airship and raised their hands placatingly.

"We are so sorry-"

But their speech was drowned out by the drumming of boots as reinforcements arrived. From the battlements above, arrows began to rain down upon them. Celes gasped as one soared towards her neck, only to be thrown off the protect spell she had cast moments before the crash. She placed her hand to her throat, feeling the small nick that the arrowhead had left behind.

"Cure!" Nimbly, Celes drew her sword and shoved Edgar aside as another arrow skimmed dangerously close to his ear. "There's too many of them!"

"There's only twenty," Kefka interrupted, knocking another soldier to the floor with his flail, "I've had Terra fry up a double portion before! This is a side dish in comparison."

"Standard Imperial Combatting Laws state that-"

"Standard Imperial Combatting Laws state that the winner lives and the losers die!" Kefka shouted in an uncanny impression of the Rune Knight. Abandoning Celes to spar with three more Dragoons, he clapped his hands down on Terra's shoulders and steered her towards the enemy. "Come on, time to let the party monster out of its cage!"

"You can't just use me whenever you want to!" Terra moaned, twisting and writhing from his grip. Kefka tightened one hand against her back, while pressing a finger to his lips contemplatively.

"Hmm, you really want to go there now…?"

Fending off one Dragoon with a wide arc of her sword, Celes aimed a swift kick at another and managed to knock him clean off his feet. Her eyes found Kefka and Terra who, distracted by their in-fighting, had failed to perceive that a dark shadow was looming over them both.

"Look-" Celes gasped as the air was knocked from her. She slumped to the ground, the pain radiating from her lower back. As she tried to raise herself, the pressure increased, holding her down in place. From this low angle, she watched an armour-clad man fall out of the sky and land hard against Kefka's back. The former Court Mage was thrown forward and, swearing loudly, he crashed into Terra. Both lay sprawled upon the courtyard like ten pin skittles.

Soldiers swooped in to restrain them, while the armoured Dragoon watched. He lifted his head, the afternoon light glinting off his dragon-shaped helmet. From within there came a roar which shook the shattered pillars of stone.

"TAKE THEM TO THE DUNGEONS!"

As Celes felt the knee press more deeply into her back, she just managed to lift her head to catch the Dragoon's fierce gaze through the tiny window of his visor. Most of the man's face was obscured by his helmet; only a tiny rectangle of light revealed the intensity of his glare.

"There they shall await Queen Rosa's judgement."

TO BE CONTINUED

Setzer's Airship Repair Fund: 800 gil