Chapter 8 – Edge of Timber

I.

What does Timber matter to you?

"What was I supposed to do then, Chief?"

"You were supposed to tell them to fuck off. Don't you remember what they did the last time?"

"Oh here we go again, tell them to fuck off, was I? Just after what the Galbadians did to the Jungle Falcons?"

"They had that coming, we've told them not to parade their bloody campaign like that. Peaceful demonstrations, candle-holding and pathetic singing. Fucking publicity whores. If they really cared about Timber, they wouldn't have brought all of us to the attention of the Galbadians. You don't drive out an enemy force by hymning them to death."

"And that makes it alright does it?"

"No it doesn't. And it doesn't make it alright to run crying to SeeD for help either. The same SeeDs, don't forget, who turned you all in a year ago."

"Things are different now. SeeD is not being run by Cid anymore."

"What?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you man. They need us more than we need them, we're just using them for this mission."

"That's a classic. Giving you the illusion of advantage. If there is anything SeeD can do, it's controlling you while they're being ordered around."

"I'm glad you have so much faith in us man."

"Well, maybe you should have had more faith in me. Where were your SeeDs when they slaughtered Fred Berken and the rest of the farmers? Where were they when those deportation trucks came for their families? Where were they when the Galbadians spent two days playing ashtray with my fucking chest, because I refused to tell them the headquarters of the Forest Owls. Where were they when . . . "

"Okay okay, I know man, I do have faith in you. I just can't let this opportunity pass up, you know, just because you haven't gotten over … well … y'know."

"Fuck you."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, but . . ."

"They will screw you over, if they get the chance. And they will. Keep your eyes and a good pair of knives out, just in case."

"Good grief man, you really hate them, don't you?"

"I'll see you tomorrow. If you're not dead, that is."

"Don't tell me you're not coming?"

"I'm not coming."

"You're kidding right? You were the one who designed this and set this all up."

"Well SeeD featured nowhere in my designs, so I guess it's no longer my plan you're following."

"Oh come on man, we're all on the same side here. Is this about revenge or something?"

"No, it's about loyalty and the pitiful lack thereof."

"Right. Should've known that you'd bail out when the floor gets a little too hot dance on. Why don't you run away again, what does Timber matter to you?"

"…

"You're right, Timber means nothing to me. Not anymore."

II.

~ As if he was just another man ~

Hundreds of soldiers stood perfectly aligned on the grassy plains of Deling province. Every soldier stood exactly two paces from another soldier, each one being no more and no less than a detail in the intricate whole. Squall Leonheart admired Galbadia's long history of painstaking military choreography and brutal efficiency. There was no army in the world he was better suited to. This was a country that took pride in cold beautiful precision.

Squall liked to watch his soldiers so carefully presented, so symmetrical. He took comfort in patterns, in beginnings and endings. Nobody appreciated the clockwork system of the universe more than the Lord Sorcerer. For a young man whose life had been carefully edited at the leisure of his elders, he admired things that were whole.

Not many people could testify to this side of him; credited as he was, with the deaths of hundreds. There were many in and out of Galbadia who had actually met him, in person, and still held furiously to the image of the psychotic soldier. The madman with trumpets and voices in his head, rushing at shadows, gunblade-first. At other times they thought of him as the Minotaur, the slithering sadistic beast finding pleasure in the detail of his kills. The trophies he collected were said to fill an underground bunker.

So many stories. They were wrong.

Well mostly wrong.

If he was insane, he had no way of knowing it. Truth was, there was not an ounce of pleasure in the act of killing nor a shred of guilt. It was a job, nothing more.

Squall had a healthy dose of love for life, for keeping things intact. There was no enjoyment to be had from snuffing out another life, but it was equally absurd to shy away from it. The difference was in exercising judgment, to know when it was necessary to raise his gunblade.

Some he had killed in self-defense. Others like some high-ranking politicians because of their opposition to Ultimecia. The greatest number of his victims had died with their fingers on their own triggers. Then there were a handful who had to be terminated simply because they had been in the wrong place at the wrong time … and could not be bought.

With them he needed to set an example.

It was just a tool, death. Sometimes it was what he needed to obtain a desired effect. An effect that usually reached beyond the life of the individual he had just taken. Like these soldiers, who now stood with their faces shining bright in the sun and who were trained to die – at one time or another – for a cause they could never understand.

That was okay, because Ultimecia understood. To a certain degree Squall understood too.

That was all that mattered, that was how this system worked. Ultimecia and Squall operated on a set of rules, with the intention that at some point these rules would create a system that was whole, total and absolute.

However ever since that night in Balamb, Squall began to doubt. Clearly, Ultimecia was operating under different rules.

But then again, maybe he was too?

Care to dance?

Squall thought of the night before, of the girl who had trespassed on his mission. There was a part of him that was quick to dismiss the dance. His lofty position as the Sorceress' Knight often drew the attention of Deling's many young heiresses and socialites. Ambitious young girls who feared him as much as they desired him. They would giggle from a distance, preen and flutter. But always they would freeze when they approached him. Up close they were all awe….all fear…all hunger.

Ultimecia silently encouraged his frosty dismissal of these rich girls, reminding him often that as the Lord Sorcerer he need not solicit for anyone's approval.

The girl at the dance was a little more difficult to define. His mind went over the many things he could have said to make her run screaming for the hills. He could have used his power, blasted her away with the simplest spell. He could have strangled her so expertly that a room full of people wouldn't notice until they tripped over her corpse mid-waltz. He could have vanished in between blinks. He could have simply answered her with a cold resolute no.

Or he could have told her who he really was and watched that smile of hers curdle into fear.

Instead, he had resorted to some ridiculous chit-chat about his dancing abilities.

But how was he supposed to react? All his life he had only known soldiers, enemies and politicians; it wasn't like any of them had ever asked him to dance before.

The girl had known though, hadn't she? When she entwined their hands, lashing her stubborn grip against his; it was as if she had known straight away he didn't want to be there. That it wasn't the sort of thing he did, but it hadn't matted to her and there was no letting go until the music stopped.

So they danced, as if he was just another man.

A nobody.

It unsettled him, this feeling. The pattern of his life didn't include a night like that, and couldn't possibly accommodate a girl like that. She had no place in the scheme of things, and yet here she was, still enduring beyond the error of last night. He would never see her again, but still she lounged around in his thoughts, helping herself to some of his time.

He couldn't remember the last time he had conversed with an ordinary mortal. The last time he had spent even a second on the memory of their company.

As his soldiers marched off the field, Squall's thoughts continued to drift around the night before. His memory touching on random details that birthed entire questions of their own. He wondered why she had attended a SeeD ball anyway? Whose guest had she been? Who was the SeeD she had worn that pale moon dress for? Worn that scent for?

Who was the SeeD she would miss the most, when he wiped them all out?

Before the kidnapping of Cid, Squall and Ultimecia had been closer to obtaining that beautiful whole she always spoke about. The path had seemed so clear, the future was just a list of consequences, bullet-pointed with precision. However, after that night in Garden things changed somehow. The list seemed muddled. He didn't know how to move forward. There was no telling what the next step was if he had no idea what had come before. They had gone one step forward and two steps back.

Or was it one step to the side … two back … and then …

… twirl?

"Lord Sorcerer," a man coughed. "Your orders please?"

Squall blinked. Reality bolted back into his mind and the image of the General and a senior officer snapped into focus. They were both watching the Lord Sorcerer with polite but curious expressions. Squall swallowed, his face remaining as impassive as ever. Inside however, he felt that odd jolt to his chest again, the one he now recognised as embarrassment. How long had they been standing there, awaiting his orders?

"Mobilise the Blue Detail," Squall ordered rather brusquely. "Immediately."

"I'm not sure that is wise" General Caraway offered. "The Blue Detail is only effective in an environment they can control, more of a back-up squad. Why not deploy three Red squads and launch a full assault?"

General Caraway was a veteran of strategic thinking and the only man in uniform Squall had a moderate amount of respect for. Yet the Sorcerer knew things the General did not. For instance, none of the Blue detail would survive the mission to capture the SeeDs. There was no need to waste more soldiers than required.

"Have them all on stand-by on the base," Squall said, "I only need the Blues today. Walk with me General, we can discuss the Timber fall-out on the way to the chopper. I have to get going."

The Lord Sorcerer had wasted enough time already.

III.

~ The forests in Timber sure have changed ~

The landscape exchanged the endless grasslands and hills, for a collection of mismatched building as Timber shot into view. It wasn't until the lifeless recorded voice announced their destination and coolly thanked them for travelling with Galbadian Express, that Quistis broke from her fascination with her own reflection. She reluctantly stood up from her place by the window and turned to the others, only to find them looking at her expectantly.

"Shouldn't we be getting off?" she asked Rinoa.

Grateful for an instruction of some sort, Rinoa nodded and headed out of the SeeD lounge, to be followed by the rest. A rush of cool summer air hit them as they walked off the platform. It being so close to high season, the station was remarkably empty. Even during the initial days of Galbadian occupation, summer had been the busiest season of the year. However, apart from the odd vendor, Timber's primary station was deserted.

Rinoa scanned the faces of all the travelers for some sign of their Timber contacts, but apart from the occasional curious glance, nobody paid them any heed.

They sat down on one of the benches outside the station. Zell kept drumming his fingers on his knees, as Selphie hummed a little melody under her breath. Quistis however sat perfectly still, looking quite uninterested. Only Rinoa seemed to display a hint of anxiety as she bit on her underlip and unconsciously clenched her fists. There was a part of her that was expecting for someone to recognise her. She knew however that it was unlikely to happen.

If you spend a lifetime keeping your head down, stammering and avoiding eye contact, who'd know you were gone? Who would miss you really?

"Funny how it's so busy outside," Zell remarked.

Rinoa noticed it now too. The amount of people on the streets were just right for this time of the year, yet how was it that the train station was so empty? Why wasn't anyone coming or leaving?

"Hmm, shouldn't they have been here by now?" Rinoa asked Quistis, after a half hour. "Do you think we should leave and try to find them ourselves?"

"It doesn't really matter," Quistis answered.

Rinoa was about to ask her to explain, when a figure to her right suddenly caught her eye. A slightly chubby guy shuffled in their direction, trying his best to ignore them in a very conspicuous way. With his eyes firmly on the sky, he muttered aggressively under his breath:

"The forests of Timber sure have changed."

Selphie giggled, Rinoa however managed to keep her amusement under control and answered: "But the owls are still around."

Her correct reply didn't do much to alleviate his dramatic sense of caution though. The young man kept his eyes stubbornly on the sky, as he flicked his finger indicating that they should follow him.

Selphie rolled her eyes as she jumped up. "What's he like," she muttered.

Rinoa stood up to and followed him down the main road. "Excuse me-"

"Sheessssh," the man hissed furiously, "Galbadians everywhere."

Zell grimaced. "You should stop watching so many films man. Just act normal."

The guy however pointedly ignored him until they arrived at a railroad platform, where a single train carriage was waiting. The guy signaled for them to enter quickly, as he stuck out his head to look around for possible spies. Closing the door behind, he took a great breath of relief.

Inside another man was waiting. "Welcome SeeDs," he said, "I'm Zone, that's Watts."

"What's with him?" Zell asked, gesturing at Watts, who had walked off to another room.

"Oh don't worry about him," Zone said with a smile, "he's probably disappointed that you're not wearing trench coats."

"This is Selphie, Zell and Quistis," Rinoa said, "I'm Rinoa."

Zone nodded. "I'm surprised you came, we've asked Garden for help before, but we were always ignored until now. Anyway, I assume you were all briefed. Good."

"Does the Forest Owls consist of just you two?" Rinoa asked.

"No, there's more," he replied, "a couple of guys are in the back compartments. Then there's Chief and his second-in-command, but they're not here now."

"Where is this Chief then?" Zell asked.

Zone scratched his neck nervously. "Uhm, Chief won't be part of this mission. It's just that, uhm, he doesn't hold with Garden very much. Didn't want to bring in outsiders, so he kinda left the resistance for a while.

"Hmm, he won't be interfering will he?"

"No no, he's taking a break for now, been through a lot. Hanging out in the Pub mostly instead. Anyway it's not important, he's completely harmless. The rest of us are happy you're here though. We could use your help a lot."

"That's what we're here for," Selphie smiled.

"Yeah thanks," Zone said, "shall we go over the plans now?"

Zone spent the next half hour filling them in on the political situation in Timber. He explained Timber had seen a surge in troops over the past week.

"But it's nothing to worry about. They will not see this mission coming, I promise. The plan is solid."

He presented them with a rail map of Timber and surrounding areas.

"The General's train will be passing junction F at 3:00 PM," he pointed to the location, "it will take exactly 5 minutes until it reaches junction G. That's how much time we have to kill him."

"Ooh," Selphie exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "Are we doing a drive-by? What's your automatic gear like? Can I see it now?"

Zone cast a worried glance to the others. "Uhh, no automatics here. We know better than to do drive-bys these days. You're going to board the train and kill him with your normal weapons."

"Oh," pouted Selphie and she sat back down.

"See here," he said, rather proudly. He reached for some toy model trains and placed them on top of the map. He explained that the operation would involve a replica train carriage that would replace a real one, which would allow them to connect to the General's carriage. Then all they had to do was walk in and shoot/punch/whip to death the President at their convenience.

Quistis looked hard at Zone. "A dummy train?"

"Yeah great huh," he picked up one of the models. "We call it the Princess."

She grabbed his collar. "Now you're going to tell me how you came up with that idea?"

"Just thought of it."

Her fist tightened and Zone gasped out:

"Okay . . . okay, it was the Chief's idea."

"What is his name?" Quistis maintained her grip.

"Argh…I dunno," he strained, panicking a little, "We just know him as Chief."

"You never thought to ask?"

"Ehh no," he said, dumbfounded, "when someone looks like a Chief, quacks like a Chief, you don't go around asking for more names. 'Sides, what kinda resistance fighter goes around using his real name anyway? It's not like you SeeDs didn't give us aliases too."

"Hey, we didn't give you an alias," said Zell.

"Sure, whatever….Zell," snorted Watts.

Quistis rolled her eyes and released the fool.

Her heart was racing….and something grew hard inside of her, a torturous uneasy feeling that settled into her stomach. Too many things were already wrong with this mission, how to tell the latest alarm from the cacophony of warnings ringing in her head?

Rinoa gave her former Instructor a look, but the woman abruptly walked away to the far end of the cabin. She turned back to Zone who looked a tad unsure at the four armed SeeDs and their intentions.

Zone rolled the map back up, after they had gone through all the questions. They weren't an easy bunch to please. A cautious lot, those SeeDs. For the past hour it was all what-ifs and how-comes and what-fors.

"You can rest in one of the back compartments," Watts said. He had been more assured and relaxed now he was on safe terrain. Rinoa however noticed his eyes anxiously shifting back and forth from the window.

"Yes make sure you're back here in an hour though," Zone reminded them.

Zell stood up and stretched. "You guys got anything to eat?"

Quistis and Selphie already made for the back compartments, but Rinoa opened the carriage door instead.

"Where are you going?" Selphie asked her.

She wasn't sure yet. There was something compelling about being in Timber again after all that happened. A part of her told her to remain here, to concentrate on the mission ahead. She wasn't sure if it would be wise to delve further in her memories at such a critical time. However, the nostalgic part of her was irresistibly drawn to the streets of her childhood.

"I'm just going to stock up on a few things," Rinoa replied. "I won't be long."

She closed the door before Watts had a chance to protest.

IV.

~ No great harm ~

"Good bloody Hyne, you could have had us killed," a soldier panted, as he turned the fuse back.

Another younger soldier wiped the sweat off his forehead and breathed a sigh of relief. It was his first day of Field Operations, his mission was to booby-trap the crap out the train they were in. The pressure and excitement of being out of the safe classroom environment had taken its toll. On the first application of the bomb, private Cooper had misplaced the fuse. This would have caused an explosion the instant someone touched the timer. Luckily for Cooper, his brand-new partner private Jecks noticed the error in time.

"I shouldn't have done that," Cooper apologised. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Private Jecks carefully placed the lid back on the compartment under the carpet. Breathing heavily, he backed away from the compartment and wiped his face, tucking in a few chestnut strands of hair behind his ear.

"That was close," he said.

"Sorry, nerves I guess," Cooper said. "I don't know where you came from but you had my back there. Thanks man."

Jecks shook his head. "You're just lucky nobody was around. If the sergeant had seen that, or worse, you know, him.

"I ain't doing that again, that's for sure."

"No, you won't be," a voice crept up to them.

The beating of their hearts staggered, as the soldiers realised who was standing behind them. Dreading the implications of that voice, neither turned around. Cooper swallowed hard, the sweat quickly accumulating behind his tight helmet, paralysed at the approach of those calm footsteps.

"Oh Hyne, save me," he whispered, closing his eyes, too terrified to cry.

He was coming closer. The foot falls were as soft as they were ominous. Death resounded louder every time those heavy boots made contact with the carpet. Cooper had the feeling that those footsteps would haunt him for the rest of his life. Suddenly he wished he had never left Winhill to become a soldier. He would never smell the flower fields again. Oh Hyne, there were so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to build mama that house he said he would. He always wanted to ask the pretty receptionist at that fancy hotel in Deling City out for dinner sometime.

Suddenly he realised that he couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. As he hesitantly opened his eyes, his heart skipped a couple more beats when he saw the two coldest eyes in the world stare back at him.

"That was careless of you soldier," the Lord Sorcerer said. There was no anger in his voice, it was calm, matter-of-factly. Cooper knew however that there was nothing matter-of-fact when it came to the Sorcerer. He realised that each second carried death, and each that passed meant that life was just another distant memory. It was hard to believe that the Lord Sorcerer was just a teenager, at least two years his junior. He had the kind of dreamy heartbreaker looks that girls would have gone crazy over, if it weren't for those cold merciless eyes.

Everyone knew that he did much more to hearts than just break them.

"Please Lord Sorcerer," Jecks interjected with a smile. "It was just his first day assembling this type of hardware, he did fine otherwise."

Squall Leonheart stared at the whimpering soldier named Cooper.

"You could have killed everyone on this train," he said, then turned his gaze to Jecks, "if it hadn't been for you. I'll have your sergeant put it on your record."

"Thank you sir," Jecks said.

"What is your name private?"

"I'm Jecks Lord Sorcerer," he answered. "Of Blue Detail 5."

The Sorcerer paused, considering the soldier with a strange curious expression. A long uncomfortable moment passed until Jecks couldn't take the scrutiny anymore.

"Erm, so no great harm done?"

"No great harm," Squall admitted.

The other private nearly fell over himself thanking the Sorcerer.

"Oh thank you, Lord Sorcerer, thank you so much," private Cooper gushed earnestly. "I won't do it ag-"

"The point is," Squall interrupted him icily, "great harm could have been done. If you can't place a simple fuse after years of training, you're no good to me. I can't tolerate liabilities such as you."

It went so fast, that the other soldier always wondered how the Sorcerer could have raised his gunblade so quickly. The only consolation was that Cooper never saw it coming. One moment he was standing, professing his thanks, the next his head was rolling away on the floor. There were hardly any blood stains on the gunblade, as the sorcerer locked it back into place on his belt.

It had been the cleanest cut that the soldier had ever seen.

"Clean that up," Squall ordered. "Then get back to your post, we're almost in Timber."

The remaining soldier looked at the head by his feet, at the serene expression on the pale face of man who until a few moments ago, lived by the name of Cooper. That strange unfinished expression, like one who is forgiven. The young man swallowed and things hardened in him then that would never melt again. No force of good could ever undo a thing like this.

The young man had never sought out to be a Galbadian soldier. Never intended to put on a uniform like this and watch a man like that come to such a heartless end.

Thank Hyne, this was his first and last day in the Galbadian army.