VI

CHAPTER SIX

BY THE LIGHT OF THE OCEAN

President Rufus Shinra mopped the perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief, feeling a trickle of sweat escape down the back of his neck. Even with the ceiling fans rattling away at full speed, the office was obscenely warm. He had long since discarded his suit jacket, and rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up past his elbow. As spacious as the room was, though, there was no respite from the stifling humidity.

I should've stayed in Costa del Sol, he concluded bitterly. At least I had the sense not to bring Dark Nation.

Beyond the tall windows, the hangers and runways of the Cosmo Airbase disappeared into a hazy wall of shimmering heat. A handful of vehicles taxied back and forth across the tarmac, but the airfield was notably void of local personnel. In truth, it was hardly surprising given the remoteness of the facility, and had actually worked in his favour. The fewer people that knew of the escalated military presence here, the better.

Opposite the terminal building, Captain Luxiere was drilling the SOLDIERs and infantrymen. Rufus had grown fond of the ambitious young First Class since their paths crossed in Costa del Sol. His assignment had been the pursuit and capture of underworld boss Don Corneo, but the President had other ideas. Shinra would need its strongest combatants if they were to neutralise their main target, and cleaning up the Corneo mess was more the Turks' remit.

However, in his haste to punish General Heidegger for his utter lack of competence in managing the Sephiroth situation, Rufus had assumed command of this mission, and made the journey instead. He did not care much for his late father nor the gruesome manner of his demise, but failure to apprehend the legendary swordsman was badly damaging the Company's reputation. It portrayed the new president and his Executive as weak, and drastic measures were required if his philosophy of controlling the public through fear was to be implemented.

A shout from somewhere below drew his attention, and he cast a glance at the hulking hydroplane that had transported them to the Continent's southwest coast. The Gelnika was a dated model, a remnant of Shinra's decade-long war with Wutai. Its dark and pale brown desert-camouflage shell did not seem out of place amid the barren backdrop of the Valley of the Fallen Star, but it was hideous all the same.

And, just when Rufus believed he could not have hated the Gelnika any more, he received the engineer's inspection report; one of the bomber's wing-top propellers had malfunctioned, effectively stranding him in this forsaken land.

Worthless Godsdamn machines, he silently cursed. It's past time the Highwind was operational…

"I'd say you get used to the climate," a drawling, nasal voice came from the corner of the office, "but you don't."

Tucking his handkerchief into his trouser pocket, he turned to face Director Palmer, making no effort to mask his repulsion at the severely plump, aging man. Despite lurking in the shade all afternoon, his dishevelled tufts of grey hair and toad-like features glistened with sweat, and his incessant complaining had almost driven Rufus to madness.

A month earlier, at the behest of Director Scarlet, he had banished the bumbling head of the defunct Space Exploration Program to the base. An old friend of his father, Palmer had retained a token role in the Executive for several years, but his influence was virtually non-existent now, limited specifically to propulsion design on robotic security weapons. Rufus despised his constant moaning and misplaced sense of self-importance, and had sent him as far from Midgar as possible.

As fate would have it, however, they were reunited much sooner than planned, and the President was in no mood for diplomacy. "I don't intend to be here long enough to find out."

Running a hand through his slick, golden locks, he paused, the drone of an approaching helicopter reaching his ears. He peered back out the window, immediately spotting the B1-α craft on the horizon. It was upon the airfield in less than thirty seconds, circling overhead as it began its descent onto the helipad. Rufus watched it touch down with interest, emptying its cabin of a dozen senior scientists and their Turk escorts.

Tseng was right to evacuate them. They'd be of no use to us dead.

His mind flashed to an old file Tseng had given him after his inauguration parade at Junon. It was a leather-bound tome that had belonged to his predecessor, Chief Veld, documenting the General Affairs investigation into the Nibelheim incident. Until then, Rufus had not been privy to the details of the tragedy, only that the rural town was burned to the ground, and Sephiroth officially designated "killed in action".

The sheer depth and history of Shinra's scientific research associated with Nibelheim had come as a shocking revelation. As had the extent to which it had contributed to Sephiroth's insanity. Veld's journal had also delivered a fascinating insight into the merciless destruction, as well as the cover-up operation he had personally overseen.

Hardly the Company's finest hour…

The sudden return of the silver-haired SOLDIER after more than five years in obscurity concerned Rufus a great deal. Sephiroth's motives for murdering his father were pretty obvious, but everything else remained an enigma. He was searching for the Promised Land – Palmer himself overheard this, that night at Headquarters – yet it was uncertain if such a place even existed. Nevertheless, sightings in the Nibel region had all but confirmed Tseng's theory that he had unfinished business there, and the smart money was on the connection to Project Jenova.

And I've unleashed an entire legion to stop him.

In addition, if his informant was correct, the troublesome Cloud Strife and his motley crew were close behind. With a bit of luck, they would get caught up in the crossfire.

A knock at the door snapped Rufus from his musings. Clearing his throat, he took a seat at the polished oak desk. "Enter."

Elena of the Turks stepped tentatively into the office, the heels of her boots thumping dully on the carpet. She was an attractive young thing, with a blonde bob that drooped across one side of her face, and a black suit jacket that clung to her petite figure. The girl was the newest recruit to the Turks, plucked by Tseng from the Military Academy for her exceptional martial arts skills, and for being the baby sister of a former comrade.

She was followed by another short, blonde lady in her mid-thirties, wavy-haired and clad in a tobacco-stained blouse. By her ruffled appearance, Rufus presumed she had been among the arrivals from the Nibel facility, but she was plainly not a scientist. When the woman saw him, she halted in her tracks, her jaw dropping.

"Is everything alright?" he asked curtly.

"I…I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled, quickly composing herself. "For a moment, I thought you were my son."

"A handsome lad, I'm sure," Director Palmer commented sycophantically.

Rufus ignored him, and addressed Elena instead. "Am I to suppose you've brought me word of some urgent matter?"

"We have a containment situation at the mansion," replied the rookie Turk. "This is Annette Townshend, a worker there. I think it's best she briefs you, Mr. President."

"Very well," he accepted, his curiosity piquing. "I'll take it from here, then."

"Thank you, sir," she said, saluting.

Rufus' gaze lingered on her for a minute, studying, evaluating. "You have a vacation coming up, is that right?"

"I…um…" Elena hesitated, lowering her arm. "Yes."

"In the middle of our hunt for Sephiroth?"

"I…Chief Tseng authorised my leave weeks ago."

He enjoyed testing his subordinates this way, making them squirm at the mere suggestion they were being challenged. In truth, there was no need to question Elena's commitment, but there was a definite lack of confidence seeping through her every action. He wondered if she had been hired too early after graduation.

"Good for you," Rufus declared at last. "When you return to Midgar, I'd like you to check in on our special guests. Headquarters tells me the girl has a lot of fighting spunk. Her father's influence, no doubt."

"What about the Gainsborough woman?"

"Unremarkable," he sighed. "But no less valuable."

"I'll let you know once I've assessed them, sir," said the youngster.

Giving Annette a brusque nod, she marched from the room, slamming the door behind her. Hastened footsteps echoed down the corridor as Elena hurried to hitch a ride on the departing B1-α, drowning out Luxiere's incessant drill commands. Rufus offered the lady a seat, leaning back in his own to relish what scarce draught was generated by the ceiling fans.

"Thank you, Mr. President," Annette obliged, pulling out a chair opposite him. Up close, she seemed strangely familiar, but he could not quite put his finger on why. "I apologise for the intrusion, and I don't mean to alarm you…but I'm here about the men in the black cloaks…"

[BREAK]

The party woke the next morning to the news that Cosmo Canyon's mechanic had not only repaired the Buggy, but parked it at the base of the village for their convenience.

Breakfast at the Starlet Tavern was a high-spirited affair, with the group wolfing down large plates of eggs, cheese and sweet flatbread. Yuffie was particularly ravenous, and somewhat relieved that the blame of stranding them in the Valley in the first place would soon be forgotten. As much as the vehicle's burnt-out engine was not really her fault, it had been a touchy subject for the teenager.

The mood was further lifted when Nanaki and Bugenhagen joined the table, and announced the Guardian's decision to continue his journey with them. For weeks, the beast had made no secret of his intention to settle in his homeland, so a change of heart came as a tremendous surprise. However, after a brief recount of their night in the Cave of the Gi, the company understood his reasons.

"I think I grew up a little," he told his friends, glancing gratefully at Cloud. "Like Grandpa said, there are more ways than one to protect the canyon."

"Please look after Nanaki," Bugenhagen asked of them. "An adult he is now, but he still has much to learn, ho ho hoo. Be sure to come back whenever you require my knowledge."

As the others planned for their departure, Nanaki slipped off to say his personal goodbyes to the elders and local acquaintances. He bore an odd mix of sadness and excitement on his face, reflected in Bugenhagen's uncharacteristically-reserved manner. Clearing the plates from the table, Aerith took a second to quietly commend Cloud for his part in the tale; to her, he had proven his heroism yet again.

The ex-SOLDIER did not see what all the fuss was about, though, nor did he appreciate the flower girl's insistence on whispering the praise softly in his ear.

By mid-morning, the seven had packed the last of their travel gear into the Buggy. Several of the townsfolk had come to wave them off, while a handful more were there to marvel at their hulking transport. A generous gift from Dio – proprietor of the Gold Saucer amusement complex – the s-510 model was a Shinra, Inc. prototype that ran on gasoline rather than Mako generators. Its body was almost thirty feet long, supported by twin rows of enormous, off-road tyres, and its armoured exterior was a brilliant shade of vermillion, housing a cabin of state-of-the-art technology.

Shinra-designed or not, this monstrous vehicle was capable of covering great distances at speed, and could swiftly make up for lost time.

Navigating the canyon trails, the party was eventually brought to the highway that would begin their drive north, and plotted a course for Nibelheim. The main route through the Valley of the Fallen Star was atop an elevated ridge, granting spectacular vistas of the towering mesas that dotted the landscape. Far to the east, the red sierras of the Cosmo Mountains were ever present, ever watching, their crests rolling like waves against the shore.

As the day wore on, the climate became marginally less harsh, and the terrain smoothed to form an arid sea beneath the blazing sun. For four hundred miles the freeway dissected the desert before finally circling the Grand Horn, an iconic rock formation that overlooked a vast geological basin. It was here that the initial signs of greenery could be found, nourished by whatever rainfall had been swept down from the foothills.

They sought shelter for the evening on an isolated plateau at the western rim of the Zenene Basin. As the group sat around the campfire, listening to Nanaki speak at length about Seto's sacrifice, Cloud searched for a private spot to lose himself to his own dark thoughts. Gazing down over the wastes while twilight stole the dying embers of day, he was convinced he could make out the tell-tale dust eruption of scampering cactuars. One of the nearby boulders provided ample space to recline, and he drifted off into a tormented slumber, tracing the star constellations until tiredness consumed him.

Typhon the Disintegrator. Ixion the Thunderhorse. Alexander the Holy Crusader…

What stubborn remnants of the desert endured by the following afternoon gradually gave way to grassy plains and various orange groves. Landmarks were few and far between as the highway progressed north, and save for the occasional ranch or roadside inns, there was sparse evidence of civilisation. Had the party not needed to replenish the Buggy's gasoline reserves or voted to treat themselves to a warm meal, they might not have stopped at all.

The only notable discovery was a weatherworn signpost they had happened upon that morning, pointing west in the direction of the coast, towards the Shinra Corporation's Cosmo Airbase. The facility, Cloud knew, had been built during the War to host a Gelnika fleet. Strategically sited, it was a staging area for bombing raids to the Wutai Continent, and the target of numerous failed insurgent attacks. It had since fallen into disrepair, but remained a useful transport hub. Cloud had been there once as a SOLDIER; it was from this base that his squad had set off for Nibelheim five years ago.

The intensity of the flames…the anger of betrayal…

The image of the inferno that had so viciously claimed his hometown was forever on the periphery of his mind's eye. The more Cloud tried to push the memory away, the stronger his desire to return to the charred ruins became. Sephiroth would be waiting for him – of that he was certain – and he craved vengeance so badly it was an obsession. Unlike his comrades, Cloud's battle was not to save the Planet; it was to end his former hero.

However, the two were not mutually exclusive, and slaying Sephiroth in the ashes of Nibelheim would be morbidly poetic. He wondered if Tifa would agree, but concluded it was best not to ask.

On the third day, they reached the immense estuary where the River Kyuvilduns emptied into the ocean. The only crossing for dozens of miles was an old cable bridge that Cloud vaguely recalled from a photograph in Gramps' Inn. Beyond was the southernmost boundaries of the Nibel region, a patchwork of farmland divided periodically by tracts of dense forest. The province had been frequented by hunters for decades thanks to the healthy bear population here, but natives were not quite so eager to venture into the wilderness alone. Whatever value the medicinal properties of a Nibel bear's tail held, it was not worth getting mauled over.

The highway loosely followed the coastline as it snaked northwest, passing through countless fishing villages, and meandering inland when the capes proved too great a diversion. As close as this was to his childhood home, Cloud recognised very little of the countryside. His mother had led a modest lifestyle, skimping and scraping for as long as he could remember, so the concept of a holiday – even within the region itself – had been pretty alien to him growing up.

I guess that's one thing that can be said about the Shinra, he mused, staring vacantly at the evergreen wall of the Nibel Forest as it loomed ahead. They give you a chance to see the world…

[BREAK]

"I hate motion sickness," grumbled the young infantryman, his head buried between his knees.

"I wouldn't know," chuckled Cloud, slapping his friend on the back. "I've never had it."

"Then, you're lucky."

"I didn't pack anything for motion sickness."

"It's fine…it's my own fault for forgetting."

"If you're feeling bad," Cloud suggested, "try focusing on the horizon. Maybe it'll distract you. Or why don't you just take that mask off?"

"Yeah…" he mumbled, slowly removing the helmet, breathing hard as the wagon bounced once more on a pothole, its tyres careering over the rough trail.

Cloud stood, clutching a hanging support ring, and stretching his legs for the first time in hours. The hold shook around him, rattling under the weak suspension. At the head of the truck, the driver could be seen on the other side the cab's glass partition, concentrating on the weaving road before him. A third infantryman rested on the floor below the panel, partially concealed in the shadows of the fluttering tarpaulin walls.

Taking his gaze from the private, Cloud glanced down, quietly admiring the dark blue sleeveless poloneck and combat trousers of his uniform. It made him feel proud, just as it had every time he had donned the outfit since his promotion from Second Class.

I despised that stupid purple colour…

He began to pace back and forth across the compartment, sporadically pausing to perform a handful of squats, the mission playing on his mind. While informing the team that the location of their operation was Mount Nibel, their superiors had been reluctant to disclose much more. As his imagination raced with possible explanations for the disturbance, each as absurd as the last, Cloud looked up to see the pale green Mako eyes of Sephiroth watching him.

The Captain of SOLDIER had remained silent for most of the trip, deliberating over other matters, his sharp face hidden by strands of silver hair that cascaded without waver down his spine. As always, he was clad only in black, but for the metallic guards strapped to either shoulder; it was a uniqueness that mirrored his status in the Shinra Army. His leather trenchcoat had been buckled at the waist to expose his bare chest and crested SOLDIER belt, its tails hanging limply around his boots. By his side was his infamous katana, the Masamune, its scabbard encasing the entire length of the slender, curving blade.

"Settle down," he said coolly, folding his arms as he leaned back on the weapons crate, his tone one of authority. "You're acting like an anxious child…"

[BREAK]

Cloud snapped from the recollection with a start, shielding his eyes against the brilliant white light, only for it to disappear moments later. The glare blinded him temporarily, forcing his other senses to compensate. He could feel the grainy sand beneath his legs, smell the saltiness of the sea on the air, and hear the gentle roar of the waves as they tumbled along the shore. The remoteness and serenity of the beach was enough to ease his beating heart, letting him re-establish his surroundings before the lighthouse's beam washed over him again.

The party had stopped for the night at Ghirofelgo Bay, a vast stretch of coast about an hour west of Nibelheim. Disguising the Buggy within a nearby grove, layering its distinct vermillion coat in foliage, they set up camp on the grassy bluffs overlooking the deep indigo water. The sky was overcast but did not threaten rain, though it did limit visibility somewhat. Through the darkness, it was impossible to make out the Nibel Mountains to the north, almost certainly snow-capped at this time of year. Any hope he and Tifa might have had of glimpsing a familiar landscape tonight had been snuffed out by the gloom.

The lighthouse itself cut a solitary figure on the cape a half-mile from their position, warding off what few vessels ever sailed in the bay. Cloud was convinced the art deco structure was new to him, but its sight had triggered a strange sense of déjà vu, specifically an unpleasant feeling of being hunted. It prompted him to seek seclusion from the group, following one of the dirt tracks down to the beach where he could brood in peace.

Now, entranced as the whitecaps dipped and dived, illuminated every ten seconds or so by the lamplight, Cloud's thoughts strayed again to Nibelheim and what tomorrow's homecoming would bring.

Neither he nor Tifa had returned to the town since its destruction amid Sephiroth's wrath. No mention of the atrocity had ever been publicised in the Shinra-owned news outlets, and no information was available on the Worldwide Network, save for the censored reports of a rogue journalist. Jessie had scoured every nook and cranny she could online, but even her technical resourcefulness was unable to hack the Company's records of the incident. A complete media blackout; a cover-up.

And, to insult the survivors further, Sephiroth's official obituary had hailed him as a military hero until the end; a SOLDIER legend, and a commander worthy of adulation, the truth of his evil buried along with his victims.

What they would find among Nibelheim's wreckage Cloud did not know. Tifa's father perished on that day five years ago just as Claudia Strife had, and there was no telling which of her wounds may be opened, or what closure she might obtain by wandering the crumbling streets. Nevertheless, Sephiroth had coaxed them here, and it was in this graveyard of a town that Cloud intended to avenge his mother once and for all.

The intensity of the flames…the anger of betrayal…

A movement in the shadows off to his right suddenly caught his attention, and he instinctively reached for the hilt of the Buster Sword. He remained perfectly still, his gaze trained on the silhouette, waiting for the lighthouse's beam to sweep over the beach again. It was definitely a person, not one of those bizarre tentacled monsters known to creep from the shallows in search of food, but he was vigilant all the same.

However, when the lamp finally fell upon the individual, it revealed a young woman, dressed in pink and barefooted as she traipsed across the sand, her hands clasped in muted prayer.

Aerith…

Registering who it was, a burst of electricity coursed through Cloud's veins as if he had been struck by a mild Thunder spell. He watched her approach the water's edge, hesitant at first, but gradually advancing so that the surf could lap at her ankles. The flower girl had never left Midgar prior to meeting AVALANCHE, and he pondered whether the sea held a novelty factor for her.

As she lingered in silence, her eyes cast to the heavens, Cloud felt an unexpected and overpowering urge to go to her, to wrap an arm around her shoulders and promise her everything would be okay. Where this impulse came from was as much a mystery as Aerith herself, but he was no longer a stranger to it; several intimate encounters had seen to that, the most recent being their exchange at Gongaga. Admitting it to himself was tough, but there was no denying he was attracted to the Cetra on some level and, dwell though he might on other things, Cloud was growing increasingly conscious of it.

Slowly standing and brushing the sand from his combats, he crossed the beach, the gusts tugging at his spiked blond locks. He paused a number of feet behind Aerith, unsure of how to announce his presence. After a minute or so, she gave a soft giggle to show she knew he was there.

"What are you doing?" Cloud asked.

"When I was a little girl, I used to play in the stream outside my home in Sector5," she replied wistfully, her voice tinged with sadness. "But as I got older, it became more and more polluted, until eventually it was too filthy to go in. I remember dreaming that one day I would visit the ocean, and skip among the waves to my heart's content. Even as far from Midgar as we are, having the cold water on my skin takes me back. I can still smell the lilies I planted; hear the children of Central Slums; see Mum smiling at me through the kitchen window. It's made me realise something."

"Yeah?"

Aerith sighed, staring off towards the lighthouse. "The dream can't be fulfilled if she isn't here with me."

"Elmyra, you mean?"

"I miss her every day," she confessed. "I have done since we escaped Shinra Headquarters, but…something's changed. I feel it in my bones; she isn't where she's supposed to be."

"I don't understand…"

"I guess I'm just worried about her."

"She should be safe in Kalm," Cloud reassured her, thinking objectively. "She won't take any risks with Marlene around."

"But, this sense of…" Aerith lowered her head, the White Materia in her ribbon gleaming as the lamplight made another pass. "Sometimes I can't tell what's my Cetran intuition, and what's me being silly."

"Weren't the elders at Cosmo Canyon able to help with that?"

"I learned a lot from them," she agreed. "Elder Bugah and Elder Hargo taught me many things about my ancestors. Our history, our beliefs, and the Promised Land, too. It was all fascinating, but it left me feeling…alone. More alone than I've ever been."

"But, we're here, right?" contended Cloud, perplexed. "You've always got company."

Aerith shook her head. "I know, I know, but I'm the only Cetra in the group. Possibly on the Planet. There was part of me that was overjoyed when Rufus told us Sephiroth was an Ancient. I could've cried. For the first time in my life, I wasn't the sole remnant of my race. And now, with everything we've discovered about Professor Gast and Jenova, it's like going back to square one. It's a lot to take in…"

"Does that mean we can't help?"

"Maybe…" she conceded. "I've been trying to make sense of it all through prayer, but the voices are pretty jumbled."

"From your Planet readings?" Cloud recalled; Geomancing was one of the Cetra's gifts.

"Exactly." Turning to face him, Aerith gave the mercenary an appreciative nod. "As I said before, it was hard to do in Midgar because there were too many people and too much noise. I figured once I left the city and its Mako Reactors behind, it would become clearer. These last few weeks, when I've prayed, the voices haven't been coherent, only louder. I've heard the cries of the Planet, and at the centre of the cacophony there's been a constant message."

A chill ran down Cloud's spine. "A message?"

"The Planet fears Sephiroth," she whispered, as if Gaia herself was listening. "It perceives him as a threat, but I can't quite make out why."

Does it have anything to do with the Black Materia…?

As the thought crossed his mind, his enhanced senses detected a familiar sound in the direction of Nibel Forest. He peered towards the eastern horizon, and saw the blinking red taillights of a B09 helicopter. Its dark exterior was a blemish on the overcast skies, drifting back and forth above a particular expanse of woodland.

Aerith hastily waded through the shallows to join Cloud on the shore, her teeth chattering as she hugged herself for warmth. "What is it?"

"SOLDIER," he answered pensively, studying the aircraft's flight. "They appear to be in a search pattern."

"You think they're looking for us?" she asked, reaching out and grabbing his arm. The touch of her fingertips on his bare bicep sent his pulse quickening.

"I…uh…no," he stammered, trying to ignore the reaction. "There's no way SOLDIER would be deployed just to bring us in."

"Then-"

With a shriek that echoed into the night, the B09 suddenly veered from its course, swooping over the forest in an enormous crescent before vanishing southward. The manner of its departure told Cloud all he needed to know; the helicopter was now in full pursuit mode, and only one person merited that kind of military action in this backwater province. The Army would attempt to block him off somewhere the collateral damage could be minimised.

Not that they were likely to succeed…

"We'd best take extra care," Cloud muttered, gesturing for Aerith to accompany him back to the camp, "it seems Shinra are aware Sephiroth is headed for Nibelheim…"

104