Chapter Twelve

Timber Maniacs

Squall, Zell and Selphie followed Zone and Rinoa as they led the way back into their meeting room.

"Man, I can't believe the president was a fake!" Zone burst out, kicking at the near-by table before wincing and hopping a little with the pain to his toes.

"I can't believe we fell for it!" Rinoa seconded soon after, arms crossing and expression petulant.

Squall tensed at the sound of running footsteps. "Info, sir!" Watts was yelling as he ran. "New info!" He ran into the room, then paused for a second to catch his breath before hopping with excitement. "It's big news," he insisted. "I found out the real reason why the president's here, sir! The president's going to the TV station! Security's super tight, sir!"

Rinoa frowned. "The TV station?" she mused. "Why in Timber? They can broadcast just as easily from Galbadia."

Selphie suddenly turned to Squall, eyebrows raised. "Do you think the Dollet Communication tower has anything to do with this?" The squad leader blinked, stunned. Not only by the idea, but that Selphie had picked up on it so quickly. She obviously wasn't as air-headed as she pretended to be.

"What's that?" Zone demanded. Squall sighed.

"Dollet has a communication tower that can transmit and receive radio waves," he explained. "It had been abandoned for a long time, but the Galbadian Army got it up and running yesterday."

Zone's blank stare suddenly melted into one of understanding. "Oh," he cried. "I get it. The only TV station that can handle broadcasts over the air is in Timber. Other stations use HD cable, which only supports online broadcasting."

There was a moment of silence, and then Rinoa huffed and demanded, "so, what's that supposed to mean?"

Zone sighed loudly, then explained in a slow voice as if speaking to a young child. "They're planning on using radio waves. This way they can transmit to regions without cable."

Rinoa colored slightly. "I know that!" she insisted uncomfortably, then continued before anyone could try and call her out on that falsehood. "What I want to know is, what is the president going to broadcast? Why use radio waves?" She put a hand on her hip, biting at her lower lip. "There must be something they want to say to the whole world. What can it be?"

Selphie suddenly lifted her arm in the air, flashing a peace sign. "Everybody!" she cried. "Love! And Peace!"

Everyone else in the room rolled their eyes or groaned. Squall sighed loudly, retracting his previous assessment. Selphie probably was that airheaded, she just got lucky every now and then.

Zone suddenly tapped his chin, expression thoughtful. "If I remember correctly, radio waves haven't been used in seventeen years." Rinoa gaped.

"It's been that long?" When Zone nodded, she suddenly grinned. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if the first broadcast would be the declaration of Timber's independence?"

Zone grinned as well. "Hey!" he exclaimed excitedly. "That might be possible!" Rinoa clapped her hands.

"Let's come up with a plan then!"

Zone and Watts immediately moved over to a far corner of the room, squatting down on the floor and beginning to convene on various ideas. Rinoa turned to the SeeDs, smiling. "Can you give us a minute?" Then she turned and went to crouch down with the other two.

Squall could only stare, mute and appalled.

"They call that a strategy meeting?!" Zell hissed, eyes wide and just as disgusted as he was apparently.

Selphie just rolled her eyes, then turned to Squall. "Can't we go home now?" she whined, stretching one of her legs behind her. "What about our contract? Shouldn't we check it, Squall?"

That was a very valid question. Squall turned on his heel and immediately stepped over to the farce taking place in the far corner. Rinoa stood when she saw him.

"Oh, good timing!" she crowed. "We've come up with a plan."

Squall took in a long, calming breath, one hand massaging his temple. "Before we get to that," he heaved, "can I see your contract with Garden?"

Rinoa blinked. "Oh, sure," she murmured, then knelt again and reached for a small box underneath some blankets. Squall knelt next to her as she rummaged around in it, and then pulled out a folded piece of paper. Squall took it, eyes quickly perusing it's contents. Selphie and Zell approached, the former bending over at the waist and completely ignoring the way Zone and Watts got all bug-eyed behind her.

"What's it say?" Zell questioned eagerly. Squall sighed.

"Balamb Garden—hereafter referred to as party A," he read aloud, "acknowledges the Forest Owls—hereafter referred to as party B—as the hiring party. SeeD—hereafter referred to as party C—shall be dispatched upon signing of this contract. Party C shall operate under the supervision—,"

"The hell?" Zell interrupted, expression confused. Selphie fared no better.

"I don't get it," she complained.

"Oh yeah," Rinoa suddenly murmured, then reached over and snatched the paper back out of Squall's hands. She either didn't notice or ignored his annoyed scowl afterward. "That one's kind of confusing," she admitted, folding it again and putting it back in the box. "When I told him I didn't understand, he gave me a different one." She produced another piece of paper out of the box and held it out to him. Squall snatched it out of her hand this time. She just gave him a sugary sweet smile in return. "Cid is such a nice man."

"What's it say this time?" Selphie demanded. Squall cleared his throat, then began to read.

"To the Forest Owls. This SeeD deployment contract will last until Timber achieves independence." Zell and Selphie's jaws dropped. Squall continued to read, tone becoming more bland and toneless as he continued. To anyone who knew him, they would recognize that as the only indication that he was getting more pissed with every line. "Please make good use of each SeeD member. I wish you the best with your objective. Please understand that this contract is an exception, and no replacement of any SeeD members can be made. Signed, Balamb Garden Headmaster, Cid Kramer."

"Until Timber's independence?!" Zell burst out, scowling.

"That is sooooo vague!" Selphie whined directly afterward, face aghast. Squall got to his feet, tossing the contract back to Rinoa without even glancing in her direction. She caught it, flustered, the scowled and shot to her feet as well. Her hands caught on her curvy hips.

"Hey, you're paid professionals!" she scolded sternly. "No complaining!"

Zell and Selphie muttered and grumbled in futility while she bent and replaced her contract in it's box. Squall just stood still and silent, trying to get a handle on his temper. He was going to be stuck with a bunch of morons for an undisclosed eternity working toward a nearly impossible goal. His life was over.

Rinoa straightened then, and turned to the others. "Let's decide on the party!" she exclaimed. Predictably, Watts raised his hands and shook his head.

"Gathering information is my specialty, sir!" he pronounced before high-tailing it out of there. Zone fell into a crouch like clockwork, grabbing at his middle and complaining about his stomach.

Rinoa took a slow breath, then turned to the other three, who were now eyeing her with expressions ranging from disgruntlement to bland irritation.

"So out of the four of us, the three who'll be heading to the TV station will be . . . Squall, Zell and myself."

Selphie released a loud sigh of boredom, but obediently turned to stare out of the window as they neared Timber.

Squall led Rinoa and Zell out of the meeting room. Watts was standing near the door. Rinoa motioned for them to wait and then she hurried off down the hall toward her room. As they stood there, Squall motioned to him. "Just where is the TV station exactly?"

"The TV station, sir?! It's quite close if you take the local train," he assured. Then his face fell. "But the local and transcontinental trains have stopped running, sir." Something in Squall's expression must've given away his annoyance, for Watts motioned soothingly. "Nothing to worry about, sir! There must be someone who knows."

Rinoa suddenly reappeared from down the hall, a Pinwheel model arm cannon now strapped to her right arm and Angelo trailing faithfully at her heels.

"Are you ready, sir?!"

". . . yeah," he finally heaved as Rinoa came back beside him with an eager grin.

Watts nodded as the train slowly pulled to a stop. "Best of luck, sir," he murmured. "I'll be keeping watch here."

Squall stepped off the train, glancing around and immediately taking note that the amount of Galbadian soldiers patrolling the streets had tripled. He grimly loosened the catch on his gunblade. Watts suddenly hopped off the train and then stepped over to the town map erected near by. He studied it for a moment, then gasped.

"Say! I remember now, sir!" He pointed to the map. "I think the TV station is located behind a building called the Timber Maniacs!" He turned back with a smile. "Please head in that direction, sir! I hope you find it!"

"Waaaaaaaaaaatts!" Zone's voice suddenly roared from inside the train. "C'mon! The Galbadian soldiers are comin'!"

Watts winced. "Lots of soldiers patrolling the city now," he announced needlessly as if Squall hadn't already noticed. "Please be careful sir!" The train started to pull away, and still Watts remained, oblivious. "Seems like the hotel's not available either," he continued. "Should you need to recover, use the Owl's Tear, sir! Heard it works wonders! I believe you can find it at the old man's house . . ." He took note of Zell's eye rolling and shrugged. "I guess you won't be needing it anyway. You're all SeeDs, you'll be fine, right, sir?" he questioned then, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.

Watts then glanced behind him and finally noticed that the train was almost gone out of the docking area. "Hey?!" he cried, then hopped off onto the tracks below and began running after them, giving chase. "Don't leave me siiiiiiiiiir!"

Squall just rolled his eyes heavenward, ignoring Rinoa and Zell's chuckles as he led the way down off the boarding ramp and then—for lack of any other better idea—began walking east. The others followed. They found themselves crossing a huge bridge that went over the top of nearly twenty different tracks crisscrossing and bisecting each other. Rinoa went to the edge and leaned up on her tippy-toes. Angelo sniffed at the ground near-by, unimpressed.

"Looks like the trains have stopped running," she mused softly. "Usually the local trains would be running here. A lot of hustle and bustle . . . ."

Squall just kept moving, and she was forced to hop back down and follow or be left behind.

They eventually ran across a two-story building, a huge sign out front proclaiming them to be the Timber Maniacs headquarters. Squall told the others to wait outside and make themselves inconspicuous before he ducked inside to take a look around. Piles of old magazines were stacked everywhere all over the floor. A very bored middle-aged woman stood behind the counter near-by, filing her nails as a metal oscillating fan blew full-blast at her side. She flashed him a flirty grin, one that Squall ignored as he moved through the back hall, doing his best to pretend as though he belonged there. The various employees he passed never gave him a second glance.

He eventually found himself in a back office. He glanced around to make certain no one was around, then he moved the blinds aside. There was an alleyway below, which looked like it would lead to a fire access stairway that one could scale and then cross a bridge to the TV station in the distance. Problem was it looked completely inaccessible unless he dropped out of this window . . . or perhaps that back door. Squall spotted the rear entrance to what looked to be a bar or restaurant of some type. That was his ticket. He nodded to himself, satisfied, then turned on his heel and left the magazine editing building.

He caught back up with Zell and Rinoa and then motioned for them to follow him as he navigated the streets of Timber to the best of his ability, until he finally came across a Pub. Squall was almost positive that this was the building that he'd seen that back door to. Only problem was there were two Galbadian soldiers standing right outside of it.

"That was too easy, man," the guard chuckled nastily, gazing at what appeared to be a Triple Triad card in his hand "Heheh, for a country bumpkin he sure had some good stuff." His fellow shook his head.

"Yo, you better ease off a little," his friend warned. "These Timber hicks hate us enough as it is."

Rinoa growled low under her breath at the insult and the indignity. Angelo echoed her reaction accordingly, crouching and letting out a blistering and far more intimidating growl, the fur on his ruff standing on end. The guards whirled toward the noise, then gaped at the sight of the three armed teens.

"Let's get 'em!"

Rinoa shot off the pinwheel from her arm cannon, which caught the first guard right in the face. Though it pinged harmlessly off his helmet, the force did throw him back onto his butt. With a snapped command, Angelo leapt from her side and then launched himself at the downed man. He jerked, then choked when the dog leapt onto his chest and then snapped his jaws around the guard's throat. Not tearing the skin or breaking bones—yet—just subduing. The man wisely froze in place.

His buddy turned and started to raise his blade. Squall pounced in and knocked it out of his grasp, then a stiff punch of his own had the guard dropped to the ground, unconscious. He then stepped over to the other one and snatched the card out of his raised hands.

Squall turned and began for the door of the pub. Rinoa followed after him.

"Hey!" the guard wheezed. "You can't just leave me here like this!" he exclaimed. "Call off the damn dog!"

Rinoa stopped, then turned and whistled sharply. Angelo immediately released him and then trotted to her side. The Galbadian had only a moment to breathe a sigh of relief before Zell's well-aimed kick to his temple as he passed had the guard just as unconscious as his fellow.

Squall pushed his way into the darkened pub, and did so just in time to hear a drunk in the back let out a belligerent yell.

"I've had enough of this city!" he bellowed. "I came from Dollet to have me a good time. And now . . . Trains are no longer running, can't even stay in a hotel because of some stupid official! Harassed by Galbadian soldiers! Had my precious card stolen." Squall glanced down at the Buel card in his hand, then back up to the drunkard currently sitting against the back door he needed to get through. "This hasn't been my day," he continued, and Squall couldn't help but echo those sentiments. "Those jerks . . . They think they can use brute force to get anything they want. Hell . . . This town's a good example. Yeah . . . Everything's jacked up because the resistance tried to kidnap the president. Thanks to them, the trains have stopped, there's Galbadian soldiers all over the place. All because of them! Don't they understand I'm the one suffering from their reckless actions?! Stupid, boneheaded, good-for-nothing, resistance! You can just kiss my—,"

"Hey!" Rinoa suddenly yelled out, incensed. Squall clenched his teeth. What better way to blow their cover?

Luckily another man in the bar suddenly stood and came to the resistance members' defense, saving the beautiful albeit boneheaded female at his side from putting all their lives in bigger jeopardy.

"You don't understand anything!" the nameless defender insisted, just as belligerently. No doubt he was just as drunk. "The resistance is fighting for Timber's future! They're doing the best they can. It's the Galbadian soldiers and their leader who are at fault!" The man sat back down again, then yelled for another drink.

"Pssh," was the drunk-at-the-door's opinion to that.

Squall began leading the way closer. Rinoa wrung her hands.

"What should we do?" she whispered, eyeing him with uncertainty. Squall shrugged.

"Talk to him," he murmured back, before stepping forward and gaining the drunk drifter's attention. "We need to get through," he announced. The man eyed him with bleary, blood shot eyes and then snorted.

"Geez, and now I'm getting dissed by some punk?!" He flopped to the side and motioned to the frowning man in an apron nearby. "Owner!" he bellowed. "Gimme another drink!"

Squall bent down and grabbed the man's face below the chin and wrenched it back toward him, having lost his patience. He ignored Rinoa's gasp and the man's startled expression, his own deadpan. He held the card in his hand directly in front of the drunk's face.

"Is this your card?" he demanded. The man's eyes crossed with the effort it took to look at something so close to his nose, then he gasped.

"Huh? It is!" he exclaimed, then scowled. "Why do you have it?!"

Squall stood and then tossed it onto the man's chest. "Found it outside," he announced, tone just as bland. The hardness in his eyes must've told the drifter the other part of the story, for his eyes suddenly went huge and maybe even a little color drained from his otherwise flushed cheeks.

"Are you serious?" he demanded, awed. When Squall didn't reply, he gulped. " . . . Okay. Thanks." He lifted the card and stared at it, then suddenly straightened and gave Squall a grin. "Know what? I'm feelin' generous! So you can keep that card. And also . . . this one!" The drunk fished another card out of his pants and then held them out. Squall was glad he was wearing gloves as he took the two proffered gifts. "I'll move out of the way now," the drifter then pronounced. He made to move, but apparently he'd drank so much alcohol that his extremities no longer wanted to obey his desires. He finally turned back to the man with the apron. "Hey owner," he called out. "I can't stand up. Can ya help me?"

The aproned individual made a face, but sighed and approached. He took the drunk beneath the arms and helpfully dragged him off to the side, away from the door. "Whoa," he groaned, then hiccupped as Squall and the others began to pass by. "I'm totally wasted," was his accurate assessment then.

Squall just snorted, then shoved the door open and exited into the back alley, tossing the cards in his hand into a trashcan near-by along the way. He led the way through the ally, bypassing another drunk in the corner and a couple of lazy stray cats atop some refuse. He also ignored the two kids high above them, yelling and laughing as they hung out the window.

Squall entered through the rickety metal gate on the other end of the narrow alley, then started up the fire-escape stairs. Rinoa, Zell and Angelo were right behind him. After three flights they reached the first bridge that circled around a huge building and what looked to be an enormous outside TV screen mounted to the side.

Zell whistled low through his teeth as they passed beneath it. "Whoa," he called. "An outdoor TV!"

It was currently black with streams of red data running across the screen, the speakers staticky.

"This is creepy," Rinoa mused. She turned to Squall. "What is it?" He sighed, hand on his hip.

"This noise is broadcast over most of the frequencies. Something has to be done about this before they can broadcast over the air."

Zell crossed his arms. "Oh really? I was wondering that myself."

They all turned to the sound of footsteps up the stairs. Watts suddenly appeared.

"The president's in the studio now, sir!" he called, then shook his head. "Too many guards now, so we won't be able to storm the place, sir!" Then he ran back down and disappeared.

Squall took a few deep breaths, fists clenching and unclenching. Hyne-dammit. He had almost finished pulling off their stupid, half-cocked, poorly generated on the fly plan, and now they were going to change their minds when he was half-way in the middle of it. He just knew it. Sure enough, Rinoa bit her lip in indecision, crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

"So we can't just rush in," she mused softly. "We gotta come up with a new plan now!" she exclaimed, much to Squall's annoyance. Zell sighed loudly behind him, indicating that he wasn't the only one quickly getting fed up here. "If the president leaves, maybe the guards will be gone too?" she offered. "That's when we do our broadcast. It might not be as influential, but it's better than nothing, right? We don't stand a chance if we take 'em head on, right?"

She was asking his opinion on her own orders. Squall turned away, staring out at the rooftops, so that maybe he could calm himself down. "Don't worry about us," he replied at length. He noticed her aghast look out of the corner of his eye and sighed. "We'll fight your enemies based on your decision. That's our duty."

"You tell us to go, we go," Zell seconded. He shrugged. "Even if it's a losing battle."

Rinoa just shook her head, frowning. "How sad," she murmured after a moment. "Act on my decision?" she parroted. "That's your duty?" Then she scoffed, shaking her head. "Oh, what an easy life it must be, just to follow orders."

Squall spun back to her, his mask cracking slightly to allow a dark scowl shine through. He was officially reaching the end of his patience, and his temper. Zell had leveled her with a dark look as well. No one liked having their life's career sneered at, after all.

"Call it what you want," he bit out. "All we want is for you to achieve your goal using our help." He released a sneering chuckle after that, glancing away. "I find it hard to believe that you can do it, though."

"W-What did you say?" she demanded, scowling. She took a step toward him, cheeks flushing. "Look, if you have something to say, just say it!"

For a moment Squall almost held his piece. In any other situation he would've just stared at the person and given some toneless response about him being finished. But those flashing dark eyes dug under his skin and he found himself advancing on her, his voice a low growl of agitation.

"How serious are you, really?" he demanded. "The three of you plop down on the floor to discuss strategy? On top of that, you can't make a decision without our input, right?" He jabbed his fingers into his chest, his last words nearly a frustrated yell. "How do you think we feel, working for such an organization?"

Rinoa's eyes had widened with every word, and they now flashed up at him, filled with shock and hurt. Inwardly Squall cursed, as he felt as though he'd just kicked a kitten or something. Zell suddenly stepped closer, a hand on his shoulder.

"You're being too hard, man," the blonde murmured, soft enough that only he heard.

Squall heaved a sigh, then turned and stepped away again. Behind him Rinoa took a few breaths, looking dangerously close to tears.

"You know . . . Maybe this was all a big mistake," she murmured miserably. "I thought everything would work out fine once SeeD came to help us." She wrapped her arms around herself and walked a few steps toward the stairs. "But I guess it's not that easy," she continued to muse. "You were all hired. It's not like you're one of us." Squall refused to analyze how such a logical statement made him feel strangely bereft and hurt. Rinoa stopped at the base of the stairs leading down, chewing at her lip. "Um, let's see . . . We'll cancel the plan," she abruptly decided, "and will disperse for now." Squall finally turned from staring out in the distance to meet her gaze. He was incredibly disconcerted to find tears swimming in her big brown eyes, almost ready to fall. "So . . ." she choked out, hiccupping a little, then she clenched her arms. "You guys probably think this is all a game to us." She scowled through the two fat tears that slipped down either cheek. "Well it's not!" she exclaimed. "We're serious. So serious . . . it hurts."

And then with that Rinoa spun on her heel and began running down the stairs, one hand pressed to her mouth, obviously crying. Angelo followed after her. Squall just sighed, ignoring Zell's uncomfortable wince as the blonde stuck his fingers back through his hair.

Selphie suddenly appeared on the stairs, turning back to stare after Rinoa as she fled. "Heey?" she called after her, but the brunette refused to turn or answer, so Selphie just shrugged and then continued up.

As she reached the catwalk, all of a sudden the enormous TV screen in front of them flickered to life. "Are they starting?" she questioned. All of them turned to watch.

On the screen they saw various camera-men scurrying to and fro. There was a stage with a podium set upon it, flags of Galbadia crossed behind. A hefty blonde man in a pinstripe navy suit suddenly stepped up onto the stage and behind the podium, then adjusted the mic.

"T-Testing," he began, uncertain. "1 . . .2 . . . Testing . . Testing." Someone behind the camera must have given him the go-ahead, for his face suddenly broke out into a broad grin. "Oh! P-People of the world! Can you see me?! Can you hear me?!" He put a hand to his chest, overcome. "Oh, this is incredible! Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a recording!" the announcer assured. "This is an actual broadcast over the air! Yes, it's been 17 years since a live broadcast has been possible!" He hesitated then, and cleared his throat. "Oh, please excuse me . . . I seem to have lost my composure." Officious music began in the background, what must have been Galbadia's national anthem. The announcer bowed. "We would like to present to you today a message from the lifelong president of Galbadia, Vinzer Deling. Ladies and gentlemen, President Deling."

The announcer turned to the right and motioned, then stepped off to the left of the screen. From the right the real president of Galbadia appeared and stepped up behind the podium. He motioned grandly with both arms.

"Greetings," he began. "I am Vinzer Deling, lifelong president of Galbadia. Today I stand before you to make the following proposition. We the people of the world have the power to end all wars."

Selphie hopped in place excitedly. "See, see! It's a peace proposal to the world! I knew it!"

"Unfortunately," the president continued, tone hardening slightly, "there are some trifling problems standing between Galbadia and other nations, and they must be resolved." There was some noise in the background, as if something had fallen or something. The president glanced to the side, then cleared his throat and continued, undaunted. "I plan to convene with other nations' leaders immediately to resolve these problems. At this time, allow me to introduce the ambassador who will be my representative for the conference."

Zell scoffed. "So much for your love and peace," he sneered at Selphie, who stuck her tongue out at him. Then he sighed. "Man, all this just to introduce an ambassador."

"The ambassador is the Sorceress . . ." the president began.

"The sorceress?" Squall parroted, brow furrowing, stunned.

The announcements were halted however as more noise errupted off screen. This time it was much louder, though, along with raised voices yelling and what might have been gunfire. The president gasped, his face paling. Just then the commotion—whatever it was—caused the TV camera to totter over onto it's side.

All three of their jaws collectively dropped as a familiar towering figure in a long gray trench-coat suddenly appeared on the tilted screen. Seifer commenced to kicking the crap out of the three guards who tried to subdue him, tossing them this way and that. And then he leapt onto the stage and grabbed the gaping president, shoving the smaller man in front of him and using him as a body shield. The blonde's face was twisted into a hard snarl as he lifted Hyperion and leveled the blade on the president's neck, to ward off the mass of soldiers now crowding on the edge of the screen.

And then Quistis suddenly appeared, motioning for the guards to back off.

"Stay back!" she yelled authoritatively.

"What's he doin?!" Selphie demanded.

"Instructor Trepe?" Zell blurted, then he turned to him. "Squall, what are we gonna do?!"

On screen Quistis turned her back on Seifer as more guards appeared and leveled their weapons on the tall teen. "For the last time," she snarled, "stay back! You're only going to provoke him!"

Squall shrugged to Zell's question. "Nothing," he answered blandly. "Our job is to assist the Owls," he then replied at their stunned looks. "It's none of our business."

Just then Quistis turned to the camera. "Timber team, are you watching?" she called out, frazzled. She took a step closer to the screen. "Get over here right now!" she demanded. "You have permission! I need your help!"

A moment later the screen finally went to complete snow and static. Selphie and Zell turned to him.

"Squad leader?" Selphie questioned, eyebrow raised and nunchaku brandished. Zell growled.

"Squall?!"

He let out a low groan, then sighed and motioned for them to go ahead. All three of them then jogged down the catwalks and headed for the TV station in the distance.