When Rude returned at daybreak, he found Tseng asleep at the table, still wearing yesterday's filthy, charred suit, and cradling the empty bottle against his cheek like a child's teddy bear. With some hesitation, he shook him gently awake. Tseng sat up and rubbed his face.

"'Morning, sir."

"Rude. I want you to explain in detail why you haven't got a giant pot of coffee in either hand."

"Sir…we have a situation."

Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose. "So help me, if you tell me Reno ripped us off in the night, I will roll over and die."

"It's worse."

"How could it possibly be worse than that?"

"I think you'd better come outside."

Tseng sighed, coughed, and pushed back his chair. When his face came near Rude's, he squinted.

"What's that on your nose?"

"Oh…" Rude brushed at it. "Gold dust, sir. They use it…in the funerary ritual."

"Ah. Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I'm sure you didn't need my heathen ass standing there with my arms crossed, anyway."

Rude said nothing, looked embarrassed, and turned away.

Tseng crossed to the door and, since Rude's tone suggested no immediate danger, pushed it casually open without bothering to keep a hand on his gun.

In the street, under the pale lavender morning light, stood a full platoon of MPs in their facemasks and bright cobalt uniforms, guns on their shoulders, in perfect formation. At their head stood a muscular black man, wearing the red uniform of a Soldier, first class, his eyes emitting a dull, eerie glow. Among them stood Reno and Elena, the one looking hungover, the other alert and nervous.

Tseng slapped his forehead. "Now the cavalry shows up. Perfect. Captain…Kolani, isn't it? Tell General Heidegger it's appreciated, but he could have taken the trouble to inform me of his decision yesterday, on the phone, I could have planned accordingly, and two valuable men might still be alive. Now unless you're going to fetch me a cup of strong Mideel coffee with a shot of Dio's Reserve single malt, two cubes of brown sugar, and a little silver spoon to stir it with, kindly fuck off."

Kolani was impassive. "I'm afraid we didn't come to reinforce you, sir."

"So you were in town and wanted to pay your respects?"

"Sir," said Kolani, stepping forward, "by the authority vested in me by Shinra, Incorporated, I am placing you under arrest."

Rude had never seen Tseng look genuinely surprised. It was a reaction so extreme, it was almost funny. His mouth puckered, his eyebrows rose like venetian blinds, and his hand gripped the doorframe so hard it creaked. In a voice of controlled fury he said:

"Under what charge?"

"Treason."

Then both Rude and Tseng noticed that Reno and Elena were standing in rigid attitudes, suggestive of being handcuffed.

"You're the real deal, asshole," said Reno, loudly. "What am I supposed to tell my sister? My big break, turning over a new leaf, and I get…this shit? Are you fucking serious?"

"Reno, shut up.-Elena," said Tseng. "Don't worry. It's going to be alright."

"Y-yes, sir," she said, but looked far from sure.

"The General's probably throwing a fit because I asked if I was interrupting Second Breakfast yesterday."

Then another, far more sinister possibility occurred to Tseng, and his face hardened.

The ragtag group of Turks, preceded by ten MPs and followed by another twenty, went down the rock path to the beach. It was quiet in early morning, and crisp, edible-looking surf lapped the white sand, which glittered with hidden particles of quartz and mica. Palm trees stood against an overcast sky, but the sun was beginning to climb, dying the fat cumulous clouds cotton-candy pink. A solitary visitor enjoyed the scenery. Stretched out on a deck chair at the edge of the sand, she let the sea spray tease her mostly-naked body. Her face was concealed under a molded plastic, camouflaged hat, that nonetheless had a wide brim and a small, dainty peak. She lifted it as she heard them approach.

"Reno," hissed Tseng.

"Yeah?"

"Keep your mouth shut from this instant, until you can no longer see that woman."

"Is that an order?"

"Take it however you like."

The woman lifted one arm and gave a slow, languid wave.

"Yoo-hoo!"

The MPs led the Turks to the side of the chair, and one prodded Elena with his bayonet when she hesitated. Reno shot him a glare.

The woman was tall, had plentiful, dirty-blonde hair, and wore a pair of ruby red sunglasses. They matched her bikini, or what there was of it. The fabric clung futilely to the curves of her body, like shading on a sketch, tinting it the red of an overripe tomato begging to be plucked. Reno started to whistle, but without looking at him, Tseng ground his right heel into Reno's left instep, and he winced instead.

"Ma'am," said Tseng.

The sunglasses made Scarlet's eyes look dead, and it was difficult to tell where she was looking.

"It's about time you showed up. After all, what's a trip to the beach without a few handsome guys trying to pick me up?"

"That's some ensemble."

"Oh, thanks! But it's nothing, of course, simply nothing, without the perfect accessory." She reached underneath the chair, and came up with a small revolver. The handle was a block of pure gold, set with a big, blood-dark ruby, and the gleaming barrel and cylinder looked like platinum. "The latest masterpiece from the workshop of Proud and Son, Midgar's finest. Be honest now. It's not too gauche, is it?"

"In all candor, I might say that it suits you a tee, ma'am."

Then Scarlet looked up. "Oh, dear. The sun will be out any minute. Be a darling, would you, Tseng?" Again she reached under the chair, and thrust something at Tseng that turned out to be a bottle of sunscreen. Unshy, she reached back and undid her suit ties, but rolled onto her stomach before her ordnances were fully exposed to view. Tseng held the bottle with both hands helplessly half-clenched, staring down at her naked back.

"Come along, cutie-pie."

"You can always delegate, sir."

"Reno, what did I tell you?"

"Just sayin'!"

"Who is that street rat?" drawled Scarlet. "Don't I recall seeing that face on a wanted poster after the bank job last year in Sector Three?"

"He's an independent contractor," Tseng said curtly. "More to the point…if you'll pardon my Wu-Tai, why the hell am I under arrest?"

"Care to explain what you're doing in Costa Del Sol, sonny boy? From your reluctance to lather that thick, oily sunscreen all over a beautiful woman," she writhed a bit, peering at Tseng over her shoulder, "I doubt you've come for the usual reasons. This doesn't strike me as your climate, anyway. No, you belong in some sort of…cave."

Tseng looked down. "I'm afraid I can't divulge that information."

"I didn't think so. Kolani? Would you be an absolute peach and fetch that…item from my bag? I'd do it myself, but honestly, it's just out of reach."

Expressionless, Kolani rooted through Scarlet's large handbag until he found a palm-sized, silver digital recorder. At a nod from Scarlet, he pressed play.

Tseng's own voice sounded out with remarkable clarity: "…I've learned something of Shinra's ways. I can surround it with so much red tape, it will never see the light of day again. I promise you that, Godo…"

For the second time that day, Tseng looked surprised, although not as badly this time. He clenched one fist, but was silent.

"Thank you, that will do.-I don't suppose you knew I had a man in your department? With a live feed, no less. I've heard every fart in your offices for the past eight weeks. Oh, please, do keep making that adorable expression."

In a voice like flint Tseng asked: "Who?" Rude glanced at Elena, but immediately looked ashamed.

"Not her," said Scarlet, idly.

"Hunter."

"Kya, ha, ha! How gallant, you won't even suspect that catamite of yours. But I'm afraid you're correct. He put up a fight, but after a touch of, ah, incentive from me, he realized the dividends it could pay a man such as himself. Sadly, it worked out charmingly for me; not so much for him. I really am sorry he's dead; he was an amusing thing."

"Hunter may have betrayed me," said Tseng, looking at her evenly, "but he died on his feet. I'm not sorry to have known him. The same can't be said for you, generalissima."

"Now who needs to keep his mouth shut!" whispered Reno. "This bitch will throw us in the slammer for eight million years!-You, anyway. Hey, uh, honeybunch, I'm kind of new to the job, see, I had no idea…"

"Shut him up," said Scarlet.

Kolani slammed his rifle butt into Reno's stomach, and he bent over wheezing.

"Miss Scarlet," said Tseng, "is quite familiar with my feelings regarding her."

Scarlet gave a dramatic sigh, and traced her lower lip with the barrel of her pistol. "Ah, if only the reverse were true! I've been pining after this oriental jewel for years, but he's oblivious. Now it's too late. So sad. I'll put in a word for a quick and painless execution. I suppose Heidegger will be sacked for trusting you…and the reformed Turks, naturally, would fall under my jurisdiction. Which reminds me, you three? You're out of a job. What do you say?"

"With all due respect, ma'am," said Rude, "go to hell."

"I-I think you're disgusting!" Elena blurted out. "President Shinra would never sanction behavior like this if he…!" She clapped both hands over her mouth.

"Hey, ignore these idiots," said Reno. "When can I start?"

Ignoring him, Scarlet seemed to be thinking. She let the gun swing by its trigger guard on her extended finger. "Say, Tseng, baby. It's not often a grandmaster gets to address her own chess piece."

Tseng was silent.

"Imagine," she went on, "if all the pieces in a chess set could talk. Do you suppose they'd complain? Chatter all they want, it wouldn't change anything."

"This is no game," said Tseng, "and the stakes are much higher than you know."

"Isn't it, though? War is a game. When it's over, what do the warriors do? Clear off the board and start over. It's all in good fun. Sadly…the pieces don't know that." Then she gave a short, delighted laugh and added: "Do you know what I think? I don't think this precious stone of yours does anything. If it were so powerful, why didn't Wu-Tai use it as soon and as often as possible? No…I think it was a weapon, a psychological one. So you poor idiots kept on believing, to the last, there was some hope left. Human beings need hope like that…no matter how pathetic it is.-Kolani, take them. You're in luck, sugar cube; it's too much trouble to ship you back to Midgar, so you have the honor of being present at the re-forging of the Heaven Stone. It will make a lovely paperweight, and it's just my color. Do be good sports, and Kolani won't have to be too hard on you. Ta!"

As the veteran Soldier marched them away, Tseng caught his eye. In a low voice, too quiet for Scarlet to hear, he said:

"Don't worry. I don't hold you responsible for this."

"Thanks," Kolani whispered back. "I'll see you're billeted in a proper house, sir. And you know what? I'll throw some board games in there. And…I'm sorry about Hunter."

"I'm not. He was simply living out his nature."

It was a ten-hour flight, in the belly of a cargo helicopter, to the remote village of Gongaga. Nestled in the woods, and seen from high in the air, it looked like something in a fairy tale; dark thatched roofs, and smoke curling up from the odd chimney, in spite of the giant mako reactor standing less than a mile away.

The convoy touched down on a makeshift airstrip outside town. The streets were deserted, the quaint cottages shuttered. Shinra was less popular in Gongaga than in Cost Del Sol, largely because, while Costa Del Sol reaped the benefits of the Gongaga reactor, they ran none of its risks. There were old hold-outs in the village who treated skeptically Shinra's claims that mako energy was as safe as it was inexpensive.

While Scarlet and her bodyguards went to pay a call on the local Shinra representative, Kolani escorted Tseng-or rather Tseng escorted Kolani, knowing the way-to a house of his recommendation. He went up a neat garden path and knocked on the door. A tired-looking woman answered, then went pale when she saw them.

"Mrs. Fair," said Tseng. "I've been meaning to pay a call for some time…but business never took me through here."

"Mr. Tseng! But look at the state of you, what's happened?"

"Don't worry about me. I wanted to pay my condolences. Your son Zack was a fine young man."

Tears of shock sparked in the woman's eyes. From behind her, a man's gruff voice demanded: "Who's there? Oh…Mr. Tseng. My apologies." Mr. Fair removed his battered hat. Tseng shook his hand. "Really…no need…that's the life of a Soldier…risks…couldn't be more proud."

He cast an apprehensive glance at Kolani, who averted his mako-tinged eyes.

"Sir, ma'am," he said, "I'm very sorry to impose on a veteran's family, but we request the use of your home for a few days. We're here on urgent company business."

"But of course," muttered Mr. Fair, "anything for Shinra. The…renumerance package we received was so generous."

"And the medal was so handsome," added Mrs. Fair, in an empty voice.

Tseng leaned out the upstairs window, smoking a cigarette. Outside, under the delicate rural sunset, four MPs patrolled the grounds. It was a ceremonial gesture; Scarlet's force was no match for the Turks, even if they wouldn't ultimately survive escape. Tseng regarded them a bit affectionately, like brave children. He waved to the guard coming around the house, who saluted.

For his own part, he remained unconcerned. His business was survival. He would become Scarlet's sex slave if it came to that. It would be a step down in the world, but then, he'd been taking nothing but such steps for a long time. About the others he worried somewhat; Elena especially, who had been coming along so well. But even the most stalwart servant couldn't survive a master's betrayal. If the oath of the Turk became null and void, it would remain to be seen what other attachments bound them to the world and its miseries.

There was a light step in the door, a woman's. Tseng turned, expecting to see Elena. Instead, a healthy-looking, bright-faced young girl stood there, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, wearing a pink frock, and smiling sweetly.

"Who the hell are you," Tseng asked abruptly, with less than his usual reserve, "the maid? The linen is fine, thank you."

The girl giggled, demurely covering her mouth.

"No, silly! I'm staying here, just like you."

"Is that so?" Tseng slanted one eyebrow. "I haven't seen a hair of you until now."

"Well…to be honest, I was kinda scared. But you guys don't seem like bad people. My mom and I are staying with Mr. and Mrs. Fair for a while. The thing is…I was kind of Zack's girlfriend?"

"You seem a bit young to be anyone's girlfriend."

She went red. "I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean. It was completely innocent!"

"Whatever you say."

Tseng returned to the window, and his cigarette; but she padded up to him.

"You look sad. What's wrong?"

He blew out smoke, then laughed silently. "You may ask. I suppose…I was set on fire yesterday, and I haven't had the chance to change my suit. A thing like that bothers a man. You take some punishment, fine, but the universe should at least have the decency to give you a change of clothes…"

"You should ask Mr. Fair for some clothes."

"I don't feel right if I'm not wearing a suit. Forgive me, but I don't think a man like Mr. Fair has anything in my cut.-Anyway, what are you talking to me for? A girl like you should be…apple-picking, or something, not talking to an old, washed-up drunk."

"I help people when they're in trouble," she said, intently.

"Well…unless you can overrule the most powerful woman on the planet, I'm not sure there's much you can do to help."

"Here." The girl reached into her generous brown hair. "There's something…this is a materia my mother gave me. The thing is, it's kind of a junk materia? I don't think it does anything. But when I hold it, I get this warm feeling inside. Here. You try."

Tseng stubbed out his cigarette, tossed it outside, sighed, and shrugged.

"I don't see why not. What harm could it do?"

She held out a tiny, glossy-white stone in both hands, proudly, and if her own glowing, mysteriously attractive face was any indication, perhaps there was some magic in the speck of rock after all. Tseng took it. He cupped his hands around it. The expression on his lined, hard face didn't change.

The girl frowned. "No good?"

"I feel something."

"You're just saying that!"

"Fine, I'm just saying that. Now take your magic charm and run along, miss…" As he handed it back, Tseng suddenly leaned in. The girl pulled back, blushing.

"H-hey, what gives?"

"It's nothing…" He blinked. "I thought I saw something in your eye."

While Elena sat listless, wringing her hands, Reno and Rude were playing chess. The game was drawn out by Reno's insistence on making clopping noises when he moved his knights, or hovering his queen menacingly over the board before she took a piece. Rude looked relieved when Tseng came down the stairs, dressed in shapeless, gray farmer's clothes from Mr. Fair's closet.

Elena sat up. "Sir!"

"Yeah, boss-man," said Reno, "aint it time we had a little heart-to-heart? About this situation?"

Tseng went calmly past him, and settled himself at a writing desk.

"What is there to say?"

"I dunno. But let me put it this way. From what I seen of you, you aint the kind to give up. Not when I shot you in the face, or some little girl stole your materia, or some other guy shot you in the ass, and you were lying on the ground bleeding your guts out. C'mon." He looked at Tseng urgently, as if wanting very badly, not to be saved, but not to be let down. "After all that shit, you're not gonna roll over for that lady. Are you?"

"I have little intention of doing so," said Tseng, crisply.

"Well thank the lifestream for that! So. What's the plan. Guns? Materia? Just kick 'em? Does this farmer dude have some kinda arsenal in the base…what the hell are you doing?"

"Writing a letter," said Tseng, applying Mr. Fair's fountain pen to the sheet of parchment in front of him. "To an old friend."

"Sir?" Rude looked puzzled.

"I, I don't believe Scarlet would allow correspondence out of here," said Elena.

"She's right, brother Turk. What are you gonna do, stick it in a whiskey bottle and toss it out the window?"

"I can do you one better than that."

After finishing the short missive, Tseng licked his finger, studied the sheet for a moment, then folded it over. Then again, then again.

"He's lost his goddamn mind," Reno whispered to Rude. "Let's get out of here."

Rude shook his head.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "I've been wanting to see this trick."