XIII
CHAPTER XIII
GHOST SHIP
Scraping his boots along the dry floor, Cloud ritually wandered the span of the cave, weaving among the rock formations, eventually pressing a prying ear to the ancient door. All was still inside, silent but for the low hum of overhead electricity. In the days that he had been coming and going from the basement, there had always been some form of movement or sound from within the room, and lack thereof struck him as unusual, even in the late evening hour. Something's different…
Knocking once, there came no answer. Pausing to gather his puzzled thoughts, he slowly nudged the door open, shading his eyes from the burning light. The area was as it had been on his previous visit, the outdated machines remaining as deathly serene as ever, but an unexpected sight met him as he turned towards the library corridor. Cloud gasped as his stunned stare passed over the bare pinewood bookshelves, traces of slow decay evident on their lofty ledges, their bases cluttered with heaps of discarded tomes and documents. Sephiroth, it seemed, had left none untouched.
A cruel cackle came from the study as Cloud stumbled into the room, floating through the arid air like an old record. It sent a chill down his spine; it reminded him of the wicked faces of past foes. Cautiously, he edged down the passage towards the golden lamplight and the source of the laughter, careful not to tread on the sprawled pages beneath him, coming at last to the small library.
The space was more cramped than the laboratory, its square walls furnished on all sides by recently emptied shelves. A mahogany reading desk was situated atop a large warm-coloured rug at the centre of the study, at which sat Sephiroth in the grand armchair, his head bowed in his hands. He did not stir as Cloud approached, waiting instead until his inferior stood over him at the table before lifting his gaze. His lean face had become grey and twisted, an unforgiving blackness surrounding his deep eyes.
"Ah, if it isn't the traitor?" sneered Sephiroth, his pallid features laden with disgust.
"Traitor?" stammered Cloud, stepping warily back from the desk as Sephiroth rose dauntingly from his seat, his impressive physique distinguishing his immeasurable presence. "What are you talking about?"
"You ignorant traitor!" spat Sephiroth, pointing accusingly at him. "I'll tell you exactly what I'm talking about. Millennia ago, this Planet belonged to a people known as the Cetra. The Cetra were a nomadic race, wandering across mountains, through valleys, to every corner of the Planet…as was their calling. They would migrate in, speak with and settle the Planet, then move on. As stated in the Chronicles of Yore, at the end of their long, harsh journey, the Cetran people would find the Promised Land, and supreme happiness.
"But, those who disliked the journeys appeared. The ones who stopped the migrations, built shelters, and elected to lead an easier life. They ceased their communication with the Planet, turning their back on their calling. They took all which the Planet and the Cetra had created and nurtured, unwilling to give anything in return. They…they are your ancestors!"
"Sephiroth, I don't understand…"
"Long ago, disaster struck this world," he persisted, his snarling voice encasing the frozen Cloud. "A meteorite collided with the Planet, wounding it so much that it required a mass of energy to heal itself. The Planet reached out, summoned the lives of its people to return to it. Your ancestors escaped; they survived because they hid in fear from the ferocious storms and earthquakes that ensued. Eventually, the Planet was saved from certain doom by sacrificing the Cetra, and your ancestors began to grow in numbers. They bred, multiplied, and assumed control of the Planet as if nothing had happened. Now, after many centuries, all that remains of the Cetra is what is written in the pages of history."
"But, what does this have to do with you?" croaked Cloud.
"Don't you get it?" scorned Sephiroth, a fleeting smile forming sardonically at the corner of his lips. "The body of a female Ancient was found trapped in the cliffside of the Northern Crater, and eventually brought to Nibelheim for studying. Professor Gast named the Ancient 'Jenova'. When I was old enough, he secretly told me that my mother's name was Jenova, but that she had died in childbirth. He strictly warned me never to ask questions about her. As a result, nobody at the Company knew that I was aware of the name. That's why they let me come here; that's why they allowed me to stand before her storage chamber at the Mako Reactor without a flicker of worry. Those ignorant fools.
"Upon learning the results of the testing on the female, President Shinra ordered the Ancients Project. The Company wanted to mass produce a race of humans with abilities comparable to the Cetra. The primary objective of this research was to utilise these people to significantly reduce costs and boost the efficiency of Mako extraction. Project Jenova was just one part of the overall plan; it's all here in these reports. I am the one that was produced."
"P…produced…?" gulped Cloud, his head spinning as he absorbed the words.
"Yes," Sephiroth replied coldly. "Professor Gast, scientific genius and leader of the Jenova Project, produced me. I was the perfect creation after so many failures. Just look at what those two became…but, not me. Now I understand why Genesis accused me of stealing the fame that he believed was rightfully his. In my veins courses the blood of the Ancients. I am one of the rightful heirs to this Planet."
"Sephiroth…that's crazy!" argued Cloud, blocking his path as he drifted almost weightlessly around the table, snatching the Masamune without expression from its place against the mantelpiece. "How did he…how did-?"
Sephiroth was on him with the swiftest of movements, reducing the gap between them with a single motion. Cloud felt his head smash hard against the stone wall, thrust back by the violent strength of Sephiroth's arm, and his world became a slow rotation as his body sank to the floor. The setting of the study began to wane before his dizzying eyes, the darkness swallowing him as the tall figure eclipsed the golden lamplight above him.
"Out of my way, traitor," jeered Sephiroth, his voice distant, stepping callously over him. "I'm going to see my mother…"
Cloud awoke to the sharp shriek of the F-59 Fahrenheit's whistle, the shrill sound slicing through his nightmare like an arrow, and groaned. He was propped against the entanglement of rusted pipes that cascaded vertically down one wall of the cramped storage compartment, his neck and spine protesting against his awkward position. The thick fumes of machine oil from the boiler area below burned his mouth, its greasy stench irritating his nostrils. Sluggishly, he raised his hand to rub his nose, the sensation unbearable, and banged his fist against the hard plastic visor of the Security Division helmet.
"Godsdammit," grumbled Cloud, lifting the armoured mask off, his heavy eyes blurring from the hazy vapours that lingered tauntingly about him. He yawned and stretched his aching arms into the air, glancing around the confined room as his vision slowly adjusted.
The floor space of the hold was minute in comparison to what other locations he had fleetingly glimpsed aboard the cargo ship, though seemed to scale almost its entire height, numerous Mako pipes knotting carelessly above. Tell-tale signs of early corrosion were evident on the stained walls, the many gases clinging to their surface and feasting on the slender steel panels. A single bulb fizzed overhead, swaying gently with the motion of the vessel, casting the chamber in dim synthetic light that crept back and forth across the stack of empty boxes. Cloud stared hypnotically at it for a long while, his mind mesmerised by its weak but warming glow.
The Fahrenheit had been at sea for more than two days since disembarking from Port Junon. Conscious of his distinct appearance, emphasised now that he was clad in the taut sailor's uniform, Barret had insisted that the party keep as low a profile as possible. Skulking through the corridors as the Merchant Navy crew made their final preparations for departure, they had stumbled upon the disused storeroom on B-Level, electing to inhabit it for the duration of the voyage.
The embellished cupboard was unmanned and bare of freight but for the trunk Barret had carried, large enough for the five to dwell, albeit snugly. It was monitored by a single technician, the young worker inspecting it from time to time as part of his duties. He seemed uncaring of the stowaways' presence as if it were a regular occurrence, and had taken to simply asking if everything was in order before moving on with his rounds.
Humouring Cloud's inquisition, Barret had revealed a detailed account of how he and the others had snuck into Lower Junon on board a schooner belonging to one of Papa Dudley's fellow fishermen. While the man had distracted customs officials at the docks with the specifics of his catch and intention to sell, they had hauled his supposed ware ashore, including the crate that concealed Red XIII and Cloud's illegal weapon among other items. The group had been fortunate enough to quickly discover a vacant deckhand shed, and had borrowed the maritime outfits so as to reduce suspicion.
Now, as he gazed absently at the swinging lamp, the magnificent fiery beast stirred at his feet, snorting as he slept. It seemed Cloud alone had been disturbed by the whistle, the rumble of Barret's snoring reaching his ears for the first time. Around him, all was at peace, his comrades' bodies huddled together on the dusty floor. Resting his head on one of his padded shoulder pauldrons, unwilling to press it against the crusty coating of the pipes again, he placed the silver helmet by his side. He could feel the movement of the ocean beneath him, becoming one with the ship as it skipped effortlessly through the waves. The soothing oscillation lured his weariness, and he did nothing to prevent himself descending into a long and dreamless slumber.
"You hungry?" asked Barret, hunched over the open casket as he rummaged through its contents, shifting the backpacks around like toys, his weight supported solely by the prosthetic socket that usually bore his gatling-gun.
"I could eat," Cloud responded groggily, sitting up as he surveyed the hold. He noted Red XIII was curled up in the far corner, his flaming tail and huge paws tucked beneath his torso, but the girls had gone. "What do we have left?"
"Not much," Barret frowned. "Our rations're runnin' low. We'd best stock up when we get to Costa del Sol."
He tossed a small pouch of raisins onto Cloud's lap, one of the few things from Fort Condor yet to be consumed. Only a handful of the dried fruit remained in the clear bag and, tipping them into his palm, he swallowed them in a single mouthful. Cloud had found his eating habits to have grown erratic since leaving Midgar, his military-trained ignorance of hunger causing fluctuations in his energy levels, but he could not deny the satisfaction of the food as he gulped it down.
"How long 'til we dock?" he said, slowly dragging himself to his feet. "I overheard one of the crew say it's a three-day journey.'
"I guess we'll be there by mornin', then," Barret nodded, replacing the lid of the trunk. "It's gettin' late. I think it's after midnight, but don't count on it; calculations ain't exactly my area."
"Where are Aerith and Tifa?"
"Dunno," he shrugged distractedly, investigating a button that had become unfastened at his muscular gut. "Said they was goin' for some fresh air."
"Is it safe?" deliberated Cloud, glancing towards the low reinforced doorway. "What if they get stopped by someone?"
"What you worried 'bout?" Barret dismissed with a chuckle. "The security 'round here's awful. You've seen what those Navy guys are like…an' the sailors don't give a damn as long as we ain't causin' trouble."
"I suppose..."
"When the others return," yawned Red XIII, rousing from his meditative state, "I should very much like to go up on deck. My need to escape this cell is escalating by the minute."
"Not a chance, old timer," Barret shook his head, turning to Cloud for backing. "The crew's a bit casual, but they ain't blind. You'd only attract attention."
"Not at all," disputed the beast, his eloquent voice firm with a hint of agitation. "I could wear one of the uniforms and walk around on my hind legs."
"Wouldn't you stumble all over the place?"
"On the contrary, I'd say I make a fine human being," Red XIII asserted, rearing up to demonstrate his sturdiness on two feet. "I always wanted to be like the people of my village, to be able to move upright, so I used to practice when I was a cub. I'm a little woozy, but I shouldn't get caught. Humans only look at appearances anyway."
"Red, I'm sorry," sighed Cloud, watching as the great feline dropped back to the ground, "but I agree with Barret. I realise it's unfair, but it would be unwise for you to leave the room, even now. The last thing we need is someone recognising us."
"If you insist," Red XIII nodded dejectedly. "Perhaps had you spent as many months as I did imprisoned in Hojo's laboratory, you might understand."
"I-" Cloud cut off as there came a dull knock on the sealed hatch behind them, the clang resonating about the chamber as he fumbled for the truncheon of his uniform.
"Who is it?" called Barret gruffly.
"It's us," came Tifa's muffled answer from the corridor. Barret slumped from his position against the wall and stepped over Cloud to spin the stiff watertight lock.
"Geez, Louise, what are you three so happy about?" Aerith chirped sarcastically as the two entered, grinding the heavy door across the floor. They were still dressed in identical white deckhand attire, Tifa's curvaceous figure and long legs carrying her a short height above her more petite and spritely friend.
"Anything to report?" asked Cloud, cautiously scouring the hallway outside.
"No, sir!" Aerith gave him a mock salute. "Everything quiet, sir!"
"Me an' Cloud're gonna head up top soon," mumbled Barret, moving aside to let them pass. "We was just waitin' for y'all to get back."
"Okay," Tifa acknowledged, "but there isn't much to see."
"Most of the crew are in their bunks," added Aerith as she removed her ensign's cap, playfully dropping it between Red XIII's pointed ears, careful not to disturb his gold barrette and plume of eagle feathers. "It's weird to think they consider us one of them. I kind of like it, though...y'know, all this uniform stuff. I think I could have fun with this."
"Are you serious?" Tifa gasped with disgust. "I really hate having to wear this thing. Uniforms, soldiers, war...I hate 'em. They take away all the things and people you love. I wish they'd just disappear. Right, Cloud?"
"I don't know…" he said softly. "I used to be part of this, remember?"
"Wearing those clothes seems to have changed you a little," she scowled, her lips trembling, turning her back to him. "I hope it's not because they remind you of being in SOLDIER…"
"Tifa, I didn't mean..." he trailed off, his mind numbed by a drone of subconscious thoughts.
What had he meant? Those things didn't bother him as much as they did her. But, why not? He had been affected by them, too. He had lost his parents just as she had. He had seen his hometown burned to the ground. The only difference was that Cloud had chosen a life of conflict with Shinra, Inc. Not that it mattered anymore; all he cared about was Sephiroth. All he wanted was to find the man in the black cloak…to find him and to kill him...
"I think me an' you'd better get outta here," Barret suggested, his features contorted in a strange grimace, picking up the Security Division helmet and stuffing it into Cloud's chest. "Now."
"We'll be back soon," he said, pulling the mask down over his face as he stood.
"Take your time," Tifa muttered under her breath.
Keen to abandon the unpleasant atmosphere, the duo stepped hastily out into the tapered corridor, sealing the hatch valve firmly behind them. The passage was void of personnel, but crowded by the rising steam that seeped through the grated floor. Thick pipes trailed the low ceiling in both directions, their exterior brown with decay, blemishing the steel-plated walls around them. Beginning left, Barret strode down the corridor, Cloud at his heels, until it brought them to a narrow, spiralling staircase located within a tight ingress. They ascended through the lower levels 'B' to 'E', finally arriving at the opening of the cargo hold.
The bay was great in size and accounted for more than half of the Fahrenheit's interior, its high roof spanning all the way to the frigate's stern, complete with twin rails for mobile winches. The vehicle ramp had been drawn up to enclose the area's rear, its dark square outline and painted hazard markings still visible in the faint light, resonating loudly as the spray outside crashed against it. Assorted crates and containers were piled in designated zones around the vast room, only a handful without order, forming temporary avenues between the tall stacks. Most of the freight bore the Shinra Diamond, the Company's red and gold insignia stamped indistinctively onto their rough casing, but the contents otherwise remained a secret.
Against the starboard side, a wide stairwell was held aloft by a badly rusting frame, reaching towards the ceiling and the open sky. Wavering moonlight trickled down a few steps at its apex, luring the men out into the fresh sea air like the spellbinding song of the Siren. A small band of mariners were gathered around an old oil drum nearby, each with a cigarette in their mouth and their card hand by their chest, their game played under a single gas lamp.
Crossing the hold as discreetly as possible, winding among the shadowy rows of containers, Cloud and Barret swiftly climbed the stairs, marching determinedly to avoid suspicion. The clang of grilled metal beneath their boots echoed throughout the cargo chamber, its sound reverberating above the everlasting hum of the ship's Mako engine. A couple of the ensigns glanced up, but immediately returned to their game, uninterested by the two.
Cloud felt the strong ocean gust whirl about him as he emerged onto the deck, its icy fingers piercing the layers of his outfit like one-thousand needles. The heavens were overcast, breached only by the penetrating white moonbeams that reflected beautifully on the turbulent seas in the distance. Bullying waves battered against the hull, causing surf to soar far into the air, the force of each rocking the ship somewhat. He paused as Barret strolled past him, using his prosthetic socket to hold down the cap on his head, searching his breast pocket with his good hand. Stopping below the mast at the vessel's rear, the giant calculated the direction of the wind, moving behind it to shelter himself.
"What're you doin'?" Cloud hissed, quickly peering around to make sure they were alone. A single lamp shone from the windows of the wooden observation platform that loomed atop the stern, but there seemed to be little activity.
"I fancied a smoke," shrugged Barret, holding up a lean unopened packet of cigars. He tore the seal with his teeth and placed one of the thin brown rolls between his lips. "Get over 'ere an' help me light this thing."
"Where'd you get those?" Cloud queried as he joined him.
"Found 'em in one of my pockets," he replied. "Almost makes it worth wearin' this stupid costume. You want one?"
"I'll pass."
Cloud took the lighter from him and held the flame to the tip of the cigar. Barret inhaled at once, his breath long and deep, puffing out a steady stream of smoke. The glow of the smouldering cigar illuminated his bristly face, an expression of satisfaction washing over it as he sat on the nearest of the upturned crates. But for the rumble of machinery within the Fahrenheit's bowels and the constant slapping of water on the keel, all was silent as the pair settled beneath the freight crane which hung between two support arms.
"Damn, that's the stuff," he sighed contentedly. "Nothin' beats a good smoke."
"Whatever…"
"Somethin' wrong, Spiky?" asked Barret, a rare note of concern in his tone.
"I dunno…" Cloud frowned, gazing cautiously about him. "I feel exposed. Y'know, like I'm bein' watched..."
"By someone on board?"
"No...by him. It's been bothering me ever since we set sail."
"Man, you really are screwed up," chuckled Barret, teasingly pounding his comrade's back. "You've seen the ship, ain't ya? You know he's not here."
"But still…" Cloud lowered his head, reflecting on the nightmares that haunted him.
"We'll be dockin' in a few hours," said Barret, "an' when we do, you can leave that crazy imagination o' yours behind. As for me, I'm gonna head up front. Been a long time since I enjoyed a smoke with the wind in my face."
"Sure…whatever…" Cloud grunted indifferently, his tense body pressed against the bulky mast, staring out over the dancing water as the enormous sailor disappeared across the deck and beyond the crane base towards the bridge.
The line of the horizon was barely visible in the early morning, parting the dark clouds from the colourless ocean, oscillating as the easterly gale thrust the waves in its direction. As anxiety flooded his veins, he regressed to his old SOLDIER habit of performing squats, his arms swinging by his side as his knees bent to touch his abdomen. He felt weary, his energy slowly sapping as he tried to assemble the fragments of his broken thoughts. He looked out through his visor, the image of the space before him fading to a distant blur, and closed his eyes again.
Sephiroth…where are you…?
'Cloud...'
"Sephiroth?" he croaked, gasping for oxygen.
All was eerily still; the whistle on the air had died, and the swaying motion of the ship had ceased. Cloud gawked numbly at his surroundings: the towering mast overhead; the windows of the captain's quarters situated below the observation deck; the collection of weather-beaten barrels pinning down the rolls of nets; the lifeboats tied by knotted ropes to the inward-arcing walls of the hull. Nothing stirred but for the ghostly vapours drifting from the open vents on the floor.
Sephiroth…?
"What'sh wrong, kid?"
The slurred voice came from behind, causing him to jump. He spun sharply, his fists clenched, and found himself glaring at a young black-haired crewman as he descended the last of the rungs to the crow's nest. The boy's scrawny cheeks were rosy and his heavy breath laden with the stench of whisky, the dregs of one such bottle clutched in his hand. He erupted with laughter, giggling gleefully to himself as he saw Cloud's defensive stance, staggering towards the mast.
"What's so funny?" Cloud demanded, easing his posture but not his vigilance.
"Shorry, I didn't mean to shtartle you," the lieutenant apologised, offering a drunken smile. "I jusht thought you were in shome short of trance…talkin' to yourshelf an' that. I was jusht checkin' you wash okay."
"I'm fine," he growled.
"C'mon, my friend, what'sh the matter?" pried the boy as he attempted to put an arm around Cloud's shoulders, instead striking the side of his helmet. "Don't wanna be sheen shleepin' on duty. Doubt the shkipper'll be too happy. If he shees you shlackin', he'll busht you one!'
"I'm tired, that's all."
"You know what your problem ish?" he continued loudly, oblivious to the unwelcoming undertone. "You got no pep."
"What?" snarled Cloud.
"No pep. A sheaman's gotta have shome oomph in him."
"Huh?"
"I got the perfect thing," he murmured excitedly, hiccupping as he pulled a small flask from his belt. "Invisible Alpha: a shuper drink for sheamen. Jusht one shwig'll rejuvenate you. It'sh a necesshity for Merchant Navy shailors."
"Thanks, but no thanks."
"What 'bout a Phoenix Down?" insisted the crewman. "You got a hangover? Thish shtuff'll bring you back to life."
"Not interested..."Cloud dismissed, pushing him away.
"Shuit yourshelf," he scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You're awfully shtingy, Mr. Sholdier."
"Leave me alone."
"Shure," the sailor hiccupped again as he slowly retreated, stumbling across the deck towards the cargo hold staircase, barely maintaining his balance. "Oh man, we're almost at Coshta del Shol. I'm gonna take a long overdue vacation. Maybe get a tan. Hope thish weather shtays calm. Gotta pray to Ramuh for shafe passage without shtorms. Or ish it Typhon? I can never remember…"
As the inaudible ramblings dissolved into the night, Cloud hung his head again, overcome by his fatigued state and the bizarre encounter. The bitter chill clung to his skin through his clothing, and the condensation on his visor fogged his sight, signalling that it may be time to return to the storage compartment. Trudging towards the bow, tracing Barret's footsteps over the black and yellow hazard markers, he passed a long row of tinted office windows, the workstations and control panels inside alive but idle. The frigate's bridge rose above the block, its lamps dimmed at this late hour, with the radar apparatus spinning atop its roof in a soothing hum.
The muscular figure of Barret stood by the railings near the bend in the walkway, staring broodingly out to sea as the Fahrenheit ploughed through the choppy waters. Wisps of blue smoke pranced from his mouth as he drew the last of the tobacco from his cigar, flicking the smouldering stub over the side and into the churning depths. He did not react as Cloud approached, his pensive mood failing even to acknowledge his comrade's initial proposal.
"It's getting cold," said Cloud, rubbing his arms. "We should head below…"
"D'you think those three'll ever forgive me?" he responded after a number of seconds.
"What three?"
"Damn, man," Barret snapped, his emotions fragile, "Biggs…Wedge…Jessie..."
"Oh…"
"At times like this I wonder if they can still see us," his voice softened, clenching his jaw as he battled the torment of guilt. "I promised 'em we'd get outta Midgar after the mission to destroy Reactor5. I promised 'em we'd all go to Cosmo Canyon to lay low an' celebrate. But, when things went wrong…"
"Barret…"
"We all fought with AVALANCHE 'cause we all believed in somethin'," he persisted, his eyes glazed. "'Protectors of the Planet'…that's what we called ourselves. We knew we'd have to make sacrifices to stop the Shinra, but what happened to 'em on that Pillar…godsdammit, it makes my blood boil! Them three kids died, but we lived. That ain't fair, man…
"That day, Shinra did somethin' unforgiveable. They murdered thousands just to get us. If it hadn't been for Biggs, Wedge an' Jessie fightin' to save Sector7, I dunno how many more woulda died. They're heroes. If they'd just run, then…Marlene…shit, I don't even wanna think 'bout it…"
As his words trailed off, there came an explosive sound around them, the scream of klaxons resonating from all over the boat. Barret turned from the barrier, his troubled expression instantly shifting to confusion as the wail of the alarm escalated to an almost deafening level. There was a crackle of static above them, the small silver loudspeaker buzzing to life.
"Emergency alert!" boomed a sharp female recording. "Suspicious character sighted. Those not on detail, search the ship. Report when apprehended. I repeat-"
"What the hell?" Barret shouted over the blaring siren, shielding his ears. "Did they find us?"
"Don't think so," Cloud shook his head as his eyes darted back and forth across the shadowy deck. "It didn't sound like us. Tifa and the others maybe...?"
"Well, shit!" roared Barret, charging past him and taking off in the direction of the cargo bay access. "Get off your spiky ass and let's go!"
Cloud followed rapidly, sprinting across the sodden surface, his army boots slipping and screeching. They reached the arched opening within seconds, and began careering down the steps, the entire rickety structure shuddering underfoot. The tenacious alarm shrieked inside the hold, the entire area plunged into a deep flashing red, casting wild silhouettes of the container stacks onto the interior walls of the hull as they bore down on the duo like a scaling enclosure. Cloud's mind was racing, the announcement's wording replaying over and over.
Suspicious character? It can't be...
The possibility plagued him, but he forced the notion from his head. He launched himself down the remaining stairs and galloped between the crates towards the adjacent hallway, Barret at his tail, dodging the other sailors as they hurried across the alleys. Down the spiralling flight he ran, his legs pumping, his ears numbed by the unrelenting klaxons. The corridor of the B-Level was empty, but a speaker at the opposite end continued to repeat the disturbing message. The main filament lights overhead had shut off and been replaced with small crimson bulbs, their blinking a constant cycle, melting the dimensions of the passage into a mesmeric distortion. The two burst through the hatch of the storage room moments later, finding it unlocked as Cloud spun the clumsy valve handle.
"Everyone alright?" yelled Barret as they stumbled inside, frantically searching the chamber.
"We're okay," Tifa nodded anxiously, springing from the corner where she, Aerith, and Red XIII had gathered and embracing him. "You?"
"Never been better," grunted Cloud, slamming the watertight door behind him. "What's goin' on? Have you guys been seen?"
"It's not us," insisted Aerith, her voice unusually apprehensive. "We were worried it was you, but the technician came in just after the alarm went off. He told us someone had been spotted in the engine room and that he was on his way to check it out. He said we should stay hidden."
"Engine room..." Cloud mumbled to himself, his thoughts still reeling.
"You don't think the suspicious character is…?" gulped Tifa as he brushed past.
Cloud crossed the short space and sat on the crate at the back wall, lifting the helmet from his head and letting it fall it to the floor. The padded base let out a dull thunk as it hit the ground, bouncing once and rolling into the outstretched paws of Red XIII. He slumped against the jagged pipes, his eyes closed, listening without concentration to the drone of the incessant alerts. Barret and Tifa were talking close by, but he cared not for what they were saying; it was meaningless as the paranoid blackness overwhelmed him. He felt his nightmares take hold, the shrill ringing in his brain growing louder.
…the intensity of the flames...the anger of betrayal...
"'Yo, Cloud, you still alive?" Barret's deep accent flooded his subconscious as he felt a strong hand shaking him by the shoulder.
"Huh?" stammered Cloud, glancing up at him in annoyance, swiping Barret's mighty arm away. "What are you talking about?"
"You passed out, man," he replied grimly. "Another one o' your episodes."
"I was just closing my-" Cloud paused as his advanced senses absorbed the surroundings; he was lying on the floor, the features of the others conveying concern as they stood over him. The sirens had stopped, and all that resounded around him now was a reduced vibration from the frigate's engine.
How long was I out…?
"The alarm ended a few minutes ago," Barret informed him, reading Cloud's perplexed expression. "Not heard anythin' since. We should be dockin' soon, but…somethin' don't feel right…"
"Yeah…" he agreed, groaning as he straightened upright. "I'm gonna check it out."
"Now?" spluttered Tifa in dispute, her brows furrowing. "We'll be off this floating hellhole in no time. You can't go risking yourself just because you have a hunch!"
"I need to know," he answered flatly, kneeling to open the crate.
"Is this absolutely necessary?" posed Red XIII as Cloud heaved the Buster Sword from within, momentarily inspecting the long blade in the dim light before recovering his other accessories.
"We have to be prepared for the worst," he affirmed, strapping his leather braces down over the infantry uniform, and slotting the great weapon onto the magnetic holster at his spine. "For all we know, we could be in danger."
"I'm goin' too," said Barret.
"Fine," Cloud conceded, stepping aside. "Then, tool up. The rest of you stay here 'til we get back."
As he began towards the doorway, he heard Barret snatch his gatling-gun from the trunk and attach it to the adapter of his prosthesis. Adjusting his 'partner' and locking it into place, he fed a segment of his bandolier into the ammunition chamber, the thirty-five-millimetre bullets folding layer upon layer. With a decisive click, he completed the reload, striding after Cloud as he rotated the latch and entered the B-Level corridor.
The air of the hallway was warm and sticky, drifting like a deathly haze in the gloom. Cloud turned right and advanced down the vaporous passage, wiping moisture from his forehead as it seeped from his temple, matting the strands of his hair to his cheek. It brought them to a narrow stairwell, the grated steps disappearing into the obscurities of the lower A-Level. The pair descended with caution, the metal reverberating beneath their weight.
At the foot of the stairs was a perpendicular junction, a decaying sign on the wall before them revealing the engine room to be on the starboard side of the vessel. They followed the dark walkway, moving warily through the cramped tunnel as it edged gradually towards the aft of the ship. After a short distance, they arrived at a single hatch, sealed shut by a circular handle. Cloud carefully spun the wheel and pushed the door open, its hinges moaning as it scraped across the floor.
The engine room was oblong and spacious in size, set below the ingress, its lofty walls plated with the same panels of corroding steel that decorated the rest of the ship. A collection of hulking and dated propulsion machinery buzzed from around the area, with twin Mako generators in the corners opposite emitting a smooth, undisturbed whir as the gases inside each drove the endlessly-rotating turbines.
A grilled inspection balcony spanned the length of three walls above them, the ladders to which were set on the left of the doorway, greasy and splattered with oil. Directly before the duo, the machinery's controls and cooling system rested between the robust engines, the monitors and gauges of which showed slowly fluctuating pressure levels. A senior officer of the Shinra Navy stood there in silence, his back to the two, his body abnormally rigid.
"What the hell?" whispered Barret, uncertainty crawling into his manner as he squinted at the man.
The major remained perfectly still despite the words carrying around the room, the maroon tunic of his uniform appearing discoloured at his waist. His Quicksilver automatic rifle had been strewn on the ground by his military boots, its safety catch released, but there was no indication that it had been discharged.
"Something's definitely not right," breathed Cloud, prudently drawing the Buster Sword as he crept down the few steps to the main grid, and started across the bay.
He cleared his throat as he approached the man, his blade held out in front, but still there came no response. Hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on the officer's shoulder, but staggered backwards in horror as the lifeless figure collapsed and toppled to the floor. A sensation of dread enveloped him, glimpsing the dead man's fearful eyes and gulping hard as he saw the ferocious burn marks on his torso. He had been slain by Dark Fira magic, his whole front blackened as if scorched by the very Hellfires of Ifrit. Cloud hastily brandished his weapon again as a low, menacing voice suddenly filled the engine room, echoing all around them.
"After a long sleep..." it growled, surreal as its unnerving coldness filtered through the murmur of activity. Cloud closed his eyes, his heart stopping; a bottomless swell opened within his stomach as a sickening recognition sank in. "Time...the time has come..."
"Cloud!" shouted Barret, his face screwing in disbelief, a trembling arm pointing towards the control system.
Cloud spun, retreating as he watched Sephiroth ascend from the floor where the official had been, floating up like a ghost to hover above the terminals, the sinister gaze of his pale green eyes piercing their souls. He was as Cloud had foreseen: tall and broad, clad in a sweeping black mantle, the bangs of his silver hair falling on either side of a lean face shrouded beneath his draping hood. He gracefully lifted his arms aloft, extending them as if to welcome himself in their presence. His cloak hung limply behind, the dark leather shimmering, unmistakeably airborne and free of support. Cloud let out a muffled gasp as he stumbled to where Barret had remained, clutching aimlessly at railings and pipes.
"Se…Sephiroth?" he faltered timidly, unable to accept the extraordinary sight. "You're...you're alive..."
"Who are you?" the former Captain of SOLDIER sneered maliciously.
"Don't you remember me?" he stuttered, frozen to the spot. "I...I'm Cloud…"
"Cloud..." repeated Sephiroth, a wicked grin crossing his lips as his fierce stare met his adversary's. After a few moments, he raised his eyes to the ceiling, mouthing a soundless incantation. A spherical bubble pulsed around him, encircling his suspended form, waves of translucent power rippling in every direction.
"Sephiroth!" Cloud screamed, shielding his face as the orb blazed a blinding white. "What are you thinking? What are you doing?"
"The time...is now..."
"Sephiroth!"
The ball of energy exploded, the tremendous surge of magic ripping Cloud from his feet. He landed hard against one of the smaller generators, the Buster Sword thrown from his grasp, clattering on the floor at the centre of the engine room. He cried out as he fell to the ground, a wild pain shooting through his body. He groaned, gingerly pulling himself up, and glanced around; Sephiroth had vanished, leaving no trace in the air above the control panels. Barret lay crumpled in the doorway, a line of blood trickling down his face. He sat up in a daze, vigorously shaking his head as he scanned the area for Cloud.
"The hell just happened?" he whined, grimacing as he touched his temple. "Sephiroth…he-"
"That's not the Sephiroth I used to know," Cloud interrupted distractedly as he marched across the room to reclaim his weapon. "He's far stronger. I…I don't know what he's become..."
Cloud stopped dead, paralysed; on the grid a number of feet before him, separating him from the greatsword, there lay a humanoid arm. The frail skin was pallid blue in colour, covered by sores oozing globules of puss, the sinewy muscle inside visible through its ragged flesh. There was a smear of red, dark and unnatural, materialising beneath the limb, a thin pool taking shape. Cloud felt his heartbeat quicken, stepping back as the long, elegant fingers on its hand started to twitch. He tripped, his boot catching on the jutting edge of a pipe, and tumbled to the floor.
"What is it?" called Barret, his voice still shaken.
"I don't..." Cloud hesitated, his throat becoming dry. "It can't be!"
The arm began to transform, increasing in girth at an alarming rate, the flesh bubbling and slurping as it expanded. The hand snapped open to form an enormous claw, sharp spikes tearing from under the skin of each finger. The limb throbbed and convulsed, the muscles and tendons merging and growing, moulding a head and body of its own. The cerulean shade of the flesh changed and became a deep indigo, the abdomen of the emerging creature a soft pink. Large tentacles, each as thick as tree trunks, whipped out from its back as the monster hauled itself upright, climbing almost twenty feet towards the scaling ceiling. The talons now stretched from the right shoulder of the abomination, razors scraping the eroding roof as it let out a furious bellow.
"Holy shit!" roared Barret. "Cloud, move!"
Cloud rolled and lunged out of the way as the creature's tail came crashing down upon him, the metal plates screeching as they buckled under the impact. He looked up, his messy hair briefly obscuring his sight, and saw its grinning skeletal face, a glowing red eye leering at him as it brought down its thunderous appendage a second time, forcing him to dive for cover. It shrieked in anger - a high, shrill sound - flailing its tentacles irately. Cloud scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards the door.
"Get down!"
He hurled himself to the ground as the hail of bullets whizzed over his head. The horrifying brute screamed again as Barret's shots tore through its torso, shreds of gooey pulp cascading readily from its midriff. Turning progressively from Cloud, it began to slither forward, the mound of flesh at its base gliding strenuously across the grilled floor with a nauseating sucking sound. Barret let out a venomous war cry, the six barrels of his gun-arm rotating in an explosive blur, his huge legs the only support against the chain-gun's violent thrust. The monstrosity drove at him without recoil, its tentacles smashing against the walls, knocking the inspection walkway from its frame.
"Die, you ugly mothafucker!" he barked, his face twisted in revulsion.
The fiend pushed Cloud aside, its attention fixed on Barret. He could see the underside of its scythe-like claws as it moved, the huge spikes passing high above his head. As it slipped beyond him, he leapt to his feet and raced to retrieve the Buster Sword, clasping its handle as he yanked it up. He spun on his heels, hearing Barret cry out as the creature slammed him against the hatch with the largest of its arms, the barrage of bullets ricocheting over the machinery and instantly ceasing.
Cloud sprang forward, his instinctual wrath taking hold, and drove the Buster Sword into the monster's side. It squealed in agony, its swollen upper-body writhing savagely. He withdrew the weapon, ducking as one of the tentacles lashed out viciously, and brought it up, hacking at the enormous limb as it thrashed overhead. The blade sliced easily through the tissue, leaving only a haemorrhaging stump at the beast's waist. The detached arm bounced once as it landed, becoming nothing more than flaccid muscle.
The creature shrieked again, a howl of intense rage rather than pain, and circled suddenly to meet him, manoeuvring its entire bulk at lightning speed. It bore down upon Cloud, its lower-section emitting a loud squelching echo as it propelled itself toward its prey. Its underbelly pulsated as it lurched across the engine room, the slender female abdomen at its core an obvious weak point. The fiend reared up, its shoulders drawing back, hanging its talons over Cloud as it prepared to strike. Without thinking, he darted forward, and launched himself at the foe, the Buster Sword slicing effortlessly through its waist.
It fell, the weight of the claw dragging the severed upper-body backwards. It wailed a final time, its jagged spine crashing against the ground, its long neck crunching sickeningly as the vertebrae snapped. The tentacles shrank, shrivelling into wrinkled flesh as it died. Cloud stood over the withering abomination, emotionless as he glared into the hollow black sockets on its evil face until all that lingered was a small gurgling mass of grotesque organic matter.
For a while he was silent and motionless, the aftermath of his adrenaline slackening his thoughts. He allowed the rocking of the Fahrenheit to ease his heaving chest, its constant pounding an aggravation now that the battle was won. His focus did not shift, the place where the creature's hideous head had once been locked in his retina. After a time, he let his eyes wander, passing over the generators, the broken walls, the deceased officer. Eventually, Barret appeared by his side, the gash on his forehead wide and bloody. With a concerted grunt, he kicked the fleshy pile across the chamber.
"You know what that was, don't you?" he tested, his tone ominous, almost accusing.
"Yes," Cloud answered quietly, inhaling deeply. "It was part of Jenova."
"Jenova?" gasped Barret. "You mean…Sephiroth's mother?"
"Yeah..." Cloud sighed, his hands trembling as he attached his sword to its holster. "It seems he's been carrying her remains around ever since he took them from Shinra Headquarters."
"That warped bastard," he swore. "What's he plannin'? Somethin' 'bout 'the time is now'."
"'Time is...now'..." recalled Cloud, the words puzzling him.
Five years ago, Sephiroth told me he wanted to find the Promised Land after he discovered the truth about his past. He planned to go there with his surrogate mother, Jenova, a preserved Cetra and research specimen of Shinra, Inc. He believed that, given his heritage, he had been destined to rule this Planet. But, after the events at Nibelheim, he disappeared...
Then, four weeks ago, he came back to kill President Shinra and claim his mother's mummified relics. Since that night, he's been roaming the Continent, only to cross the ocean. But, why now? Why has he returned? What is the purpose of all this? Is it for revenge…or for something much bigger? It doesn't make any sense…
"No use thinkin' 'bout it right now," urged Barret, drawing Cloud from his musings. "We gotta get back to the others...tell 'em what's happened. An' I definitely don't wanna be here when the guards discover this place."
"Yeah..." agreed Cloud. "Let's just get outta here."
With a gesture of acknowledgement, Barret turned, his large strides taking him to the exit within seconds. Cloud loitered a minute longer, replaying the events in his mind. It grew harder to accept the more he considered the scenario: Sephiroth with the ability to fly; to pass through walls; to evaporate completely. It created an omen like no other Cloud had conceived, but also hatred, a greater lust for his nemesis' death than ever before. He walked dazedly up the steps to the doorway and halted, peering back towards the spot where the man in the black cloak had revealed himself to them.
Sephiroth is alive, he pondered gravely, an unshakable wave of dread seeping into his very being. The Promised Land...does it really exist…?
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