Author's Notes:
Yes, notes are on the top for this story, since many of you don't read what I put at the bottom of the page. XD I'm sooooo mean. But really, this is to help you to understand the story better.
Since those are all OCs, I guess I have to provide you with a guideline as to how their names are spelled, as well as their origins.
Hope this helps.
Characters' names:
Kalyra: pronounced: Ka-lee-rah. Inspired by 'Kalika', the goddess of creation and destruction in Hindu mythology and 'lyre', the ancient greek instrument symbolizing moderation and equilibrium. 'Lyra' is also the name of a constellation usually depicted as a harp, or lyre. (heh, how convenient... XD )
Hisannamy: said with a French pronounciation hee-za-na-mee. 'Izanami' is also a goddess of both creation and death in Japanese mythology.
Daimon: said like deemon.
Alven: old form of 'Elven', or 'Elf'.
Yuhy: from the Japanese 'Yuuhi', pronounced you-hee, meaning 'evening sun' or 'setting sun'.
Nord: French word meaning 'North'. Pronounced nor.
Medo: Japanese word meaning 'Aim' or 'Outlook'.
Disclaimer:
All original Final Fantasy 7 © characters, logo and locations found in this work belong to Square-Enix ™ Co. Ltd. Every of the fore-mentionned which do not belong the the Final Fantasy canon are the creation(s) of Celeste Bloodrayne and are therefore her propriety.
The 'Pillars of Destiny' story belongs to Celeste Bloodrayne. Events happening in this story are purely fictional and are the author's creations. Any resemblance to any other work of fiction previously published, real events or people, is purely coincidental.
Don't upset the Lifestream... I want to share the fun too! Wait for meeeeeeeeeee!
Spiked Dice
"Enough!"
The deep commanding voice echoed all around, pulling me back from the stupor that always overcomes me after limitbreaking. Medics and other personnel were now swarming all over the place, putting out the fire and saving those men who still could be.
"Lieutenant Kalyra Hisannamy-Daimon! Report in twenty minutes in my office!"
The glare my boss sent my way before stomping away clearly told me that I was in for it this time. That, and the fact that he used my grade and my full name.
Great; just what I needed to make of this the very best day of my life. I pulled myself up in a sitting position and waited a moment for the black spots dancing before my eyes to disappear, the result of my staring at the over-bright lights now illuminating the ugly concrete ceiling for a full ten seconds. The head medic - Dr. Alven Yuhy, 30 years old, blonde, blue-eyed, single and startlingly handsome - rushed over with a couple of aides and started to prod my injuries. I winced as he went over my leg wound.
"Looks clean; the bullet went through and there are no fragments this time. Healing should take a minute or two, but take it easy for a couple of hours after that, OK?"
"Well, that's all up to the boss."
He sighed, waved the aides away and took out a Restore Materia. He lowered his tone, mindful of being overheard. "I might as well wish for a date with you, isn't it?"
"That's about it."
He sighed again and got to the job of healing the internal and external injuries. He then examined his handiwork.
"There'll be no scarring from the cuts on your face and almost nothing of the bullet wound in a week."
I nodded absent-mindedly. Frankly, scarring was the least of my worries.
"You really should be more careful, you know."
I gently pushed away his hand that lingered on my exposed leg, just over my new pink scar. "It's my job."
"It's not just the job and we both know it. Look, if ever you want to talk, you know where to find me."
I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
"Take care Lyra. Life is for the living."
He kept eye contact with me for a couple of seconds more before sauntering away to other patients.
To everyone else on the base, I was that freaky female lieutenant who usually made of any engagement, real or simulated, a bloodbath. Alven was a good friend, the exception to the rule. He was one of the few who knew not only my reputation but also me, and who still had the balls to call me by my childhood nickname,'Lyra'- a name that he had somehow wrestled from me during one drunken trip to the nearby town of Idaholl.
Leaving my trademark chaos behind me, I walked to the showers and hurried through a stinging hot one, washing away all the grime and blood over me, finally jumping into clean clothes. Throughout, I resolutely tried not to think about Alven's last comment; but as is often the case, not thinking about something made me think about it all the harder.
'No, you're right, it's not all about the job. And life is not for the dead'.
It was three months already since he'd died. Ninety-five days of limbo. Ninety-five days of living death, without the young man who meant so much to me. Lonely days and nights, which I filled up with all kinds of nonsense to forget his absence, the emptiness without his laughter and his joie-de-vivre. Who was to blame for this tragedy, this terrible waste, all of this pain? A young man choking on his own lifeblood in my arms, telling me not to worry and to forgive him.
I, his murderer.
My hair was still dripping wet when I entered Lieutenant Colonel Medo's office and saluted. If there was anything positive about the man, this was it: spacious and not overly furnished, the room was functional and did not contain much military paraphernalia like models and medals, trophies, mementoes or whatever knick-knacks that often overflowed from other of the high-graders' offices. Rather, an impressive pile of reports and files were strewn all over the desk. I surreptitiously glanced at them while his back was turned to me, facing the window to the inner courtyard of the training facility.
Apparently, the vast majority of them were mine. Wow, I had no idea my file was that thick. Someone must have put a lot of hours behind that; and knowing military personnel as regards to report writing, cursed my name with every scripted word.
"First Lieutenant Kalyra Hisannamy-Daimon; would you kindly tell me what the exercise this morning was all about?" His tone was deceptively sweet, like the warmth of a volcano about to explode.
"For training purposes, sir!"
"And for whose training, Lieutenant?"
I stiffened. "The rookies, sir!"
"Exact. However, your little fireworks show earlier has actually transformed 'rookies' to 'ICU patients'. Most of the thirty men who actually had the balls to sign up are either in cinders or so badly burnt they will not enter service any time soon!" He practically screamed these last words.
"For the last fourteen weeks, your records have shown poor self-control, impulsivity, a damn tendency to ignore commands from your superiors and which have led to the death and maiming of more men than the army has lost in actual training accidents in the past year! Your… aggressivity is giving us the reputation of being a jinxed regiment and enrolments are down by 30! What the hell is wrong with you?"
He had turned to face me, but my face was as neutral as possible, my gaze fixed on some distant point over his shoulder. My muscles, on the other hand, were locked tight with tension, my spine so rigidly straight it actually hurt.
Lieutenant Colonel Medo sat down in his chair and leaned back; I could feel his pale green gaze burning twin holes right into my brain.
"Understand this, Lieutenant; I have studied your file and I must say there is quite a literature here. Your previous commanding officer, Colonel Nord had nothing but praise for you. Given the tragic circumstances of his demise, I have overooked your earlier mistakes. However, it has been fourteen weeks since the accident, more than enough time for the stable, levelheaded individual depicted in Nord's files to get back on her feet. I have submitted your file to the Board."
The Board. This was it for me then. If Lady Luck was on my side, I would only get chucked out of the military. But as it often was these days, I wouldn't bet on it; and so, I steeled myself for what was to happen.
"The Board has come to the conclusion that you can't stay in this facility anymore. Therefore, they have decided to give you the mission to patrol the southern plains and forests of the new continent. To do this, you have been given command of a new squad of twelve men that you can compose at your discretion; I have already transmitted some files to your office and I suggest you look through them as quickly as possible."
Medo smiled thinly as my lips formed an 'O' of disbelief.
"Your first objective is to keep the open spaces safe for travel along the roads and in second, to keep the monster population at a minimum. Also, you will be reporting to Colonel Tallon whose regiment is stationed at Costa Del Sol; you will be under his direct orders. Your date of departure is set in seven days as from tomorrow. Any questions?"
"Yes, sir! I… why am I really sent away? Why am I not…"
"…executed?" He looked at her sternly. "To be honest, Lieutenant, that is what should have happened. But the Board has decided that sending you there would be, ah, a better dénouement. As you are well aware, trouble is brewing on the Wutai front and they have decided to strengthen their position in this area. Apparently, the presence alone of a squadron in these lost regions is supposed to inspire fear and respect in the breast of the locals and make them more supportive of our cause. If you have more questions to ask as per this subject, I suggest you address them to Colonel Tallon; he is more au fait with the skirmishes in the lower continent. Any more questions?"
"No sir. Thank you sir."
"Good. Take the day off and communicate to me your itinerary and your squadron roster when you've completed it. Oh, and check with the quartermaster for supplies for the trip. Dismissed."
"Sir!"
Medo watched her salute crisply and walk out of his office. Once she was safely out of earshot, he dialled a well-known number on the phone. However, he did keep his voice low; his office was swept for listening/recording devices every week, but one could never be cautious enough.
"I have just told her. She should be there in three weeks. I think she can handle any trouble on the way there." He listened to his interlocutor's response and replied a bit testily.
"I don't agree. She is unstable and a danger to all and herself. She's killed her commanding officer and her cousin all in one day. Of course I feel skittish around her; all the men are, damnit! They believe she's the devilspawn's or something like that. What I would have done? Ordered her discharge or her execution, that woman has blown it; she's suicidal and murderous! But the orders come from up and there's nothing you or I can do about it, whatever we believe about her. Those morons at Bioengineering are gonna have her on their hands and I wish them luck, those Mako-making bastards. Frankly, they're mad to want to have her as candidate. Let them play with her and get burnt to a crisp too. That could be something we could use. Too much of our budget gets cut because of their whiney money-grabbing schemes. Yeah, we'll see. We just have to wait for it to fall into our hands, like a ripe, nice apple."
He hung up and stared at the ceiling. The Turks were on his side for this one. He didn't have to like it, but in this world, a roll of dice like that was a trigger for something that could lead him to higher, stronger positions.
Say, command of the front, instead of being stuck in this backwater piece of land. And of course, Bioengineering would not be looking down their noses at him as they have been doing since their discovery of the uses of Mako energy, but quaking in their overgrown shoes. Let them mess up and reap their rewards. He would get their budget cut by half and buy new weapons, hire more men. He would need more training facilities, fully equipped unlike this one. He would devote his energies and ressources to Weapons Development instead, get bigger, more effective guns. He snorted; that was one thing that the military really needed: better guns, unlike the stuff the men had been using today. Yes, this would be one of his priorities: really stable rapid-fire guns and ammo...
Wait- it wouldn't do to get ahead of himself. He had to take care of certain matters first, get the gears in motion. The sooner this thing ended, the sooner he'd be seated at his new office. He dialled a different number.
"Hello, Pr. Faremis? This is Lieutenant Colonel Medo…"