Chapter 19
Outta Here
(Selphie)
"Okay, Gottie!" Selphie said, her bare feet dangling off end of the bed. "It's your turn!"
The bed was fluffy and pink. She idly gripped handfuls of the disheveled sheets, twisting them into knots and clumps. On either side of her sat two Galbadian soldiers. The soldiers had removed their helmet, gloves, and uniform shirts, stripping down to their steel-gray military undershirts and pants. Their boots—along with Selphie's—had been kicked into a corner next to the nightstand. The guards' weapons and equipment rested in that corner as well, forgotten by the group.
Private Gotland leapt to his feet, striking a dramatic pose. "I'll show ya'll how it's done!"
Gotland was a little on the pudgy side, considering he was a soldier. His face was puffy and splashed with patches of pink and red. His hair was thinning, and matted to his head after being in his helmet for hours. His silly appearance was made even sillier by the fact that he was mostly naked, exposing his flabby legs and pasty arms.
The two other guards scoffed at him, muttering jokes about his intelligence—or lack thereof. Private Gotland pretended not to hear his comrades and proudly stomped over to the nightstand, where his helmet had been upturned and filled with tiny scraps of paper. He reached into the helmet, turning his face away, and randomly grabbed one of the scraps.
"No peeking!" he said to the others.
"We're not peeking!" Selphie said. She covered her eyes with both hands. "Look! See? Not peeking."
Private Gotland nodded, then unfolded the scrap of paper in his hand. He read what was written on it, sighed loudly, and then tossed the paper into the trashcan next to the nightstand.
"Man, I always get the hard ones," he muttered.
"No complaining, Gotland!" Private Malgo said. He sat to Selphie's right, his helmet on the floor at his feet, revealing his short blonde hair and matching goatee. He was more toned and athletic than Gotland, but he was covered with blonde hair on his arms and legs, making Selphie think of a big, yellow bear every time she saw him. Malgo criticized Gotland relentlessly, but Selphie thought they were both equally goofy, and that neither of them had the right to pick on anyone.
Gotland shuffled over to the foot of the bed, where they had cleared out a wide, open space between the bed and the pastel pink wall. He rubbed his face, staring into the distance and thinking.
"Time starts…" Selphie said, holding Gotland's wristwatch in one hand. She pushed the button, making the watch beep. "NOW!" The numbers on the face of the watch began to move, counting off the seconds.
Private Gotland got into character, relaxing his facial features and limbering up his body by hopping around and shaking his arms and legs loose. Then he turned to the side and made broad swimming gestures with both hands, parting the air in front of him and bringing both arms backwards in wide, sweeping arcs.
"It's a fish!" Private Malgo said. "It's definitely a fish!"
"Swimmer?" Corporal Hasberry said, sitting at Selphie's left. "Swimming? Swim race?"
"Ooh, ooh!" Selphie said, bouncing up and down and making the whole bed shake. "You're in the ocean! You're a shipwreck survivor!"
Gotland furiously—and wordlessly—paused to shake his head at the three, then continued swimming. He tugged on his ear with one hand.
"Sounds like swimming?" Hasberry asked, puzzled. He looked to the others, but got no response. "Sounds like swim?"
"Sounds like fish?" Private Malgo asked. "DISH! WISH! Uhhh… what else rhymes with fish?"
Private Gotland stopped swimming and shook his head, waving his arms to show that everyone's guesses were way off. The group was silent for a moment as Gotland changed tactics. Then he raised both hands, his fingers bent into claws and began grasping at the air, over and over.
"You're grabbing something… you're…" Hasberry said, pointing and snapping his fingers. "You're a claw! Sounds like claw!"
"Oh! Oh! I know!" Selphie said, pointing at Gotland. "You're one of those claw machines, with the stuffed animal prizes!"
"Biting? Are you biting?" Malgo said uncertainly.
Gotland gave the group a frustrated sigh and stopped, dropping his arms to his sides.
"Ten seconds, Gottie!" Selphie said, holding up his watch so he could see the numbers ticking away.
Private Gotland yelped, then frantically began swimming again, the air around him whooshing audibly as he parted his way through it.
"Argh! Not this again!" Private Malgo groaned. He slapped the mattress hard. But Selphie refused to give up.
"You're in a swimming race!" Selphie said. "You're a… a… um…"
Gotland shook his head at her. He started waggling his fingers as he swam, making his motions have a rippling appearance.
"Water is dripping off you!" Selphie said. "You're wet! You're soaking wet!"
"Are you any kind of fish?" Hasberry said, completely stumped. "A wet fish? One of those monsters? A uh… a whatchamacallit?"
"Oh! A Fastitocalon!" Selphie said. "That's what you are!"
Gotland grunted, his face twisted in desperation and anger. He kept swimming and waggling his fingers, exaggerating his movements more and more with each stroke.
"DAMN IT, GOTLAND!" Corporal Hasberry yelled, punching the mattress. "WHAT ARE YOU?!"
The watch in Selphie's hand beeped once. The three soldiers and Selphie all moaned in unison. Gotland stopped, gasping for breath, and turned to face the others.
"What in the world were you doing, Gotland?" Private Malgo said.
"I was an eagle!" Private Gotland yelled. He stomped on the floor. "I was flapping my wings. And I had claws and feathers and stuff."
He waggled his fingers again. Then he repeated the grasping motion he'd made earlier. Selphie had to admit, that much at least looked somewhat like an eagle.
The other two soldiers were in stunned silence. "You were clearly swimming," Hasberry said. "We all thought you were swimming."
He looked to the others for confirmation. Malgo and Selphie both nodded and agreed with Hasberry.
"Yup," Selphie said. "Swimming."
"No," Gotland said. He crossed his arms over his wide chest. "I was soaring majestically. It's not my fault you guys suck at this game."
"Nu uh!" Selphie said. "You were so totally swimming! Birds flap like this," she said, waving her arms up and down like a bird. "And people swim like this." She repeated the exact motion Gotland had been doing, her arms bumping into the soldiers on either side of her. "Totally different!"
"But then… if you were an eagle, why'd you say it sounded like swimming?" Malgo said.
"What? I never said that!" Gotland said. He screwed up his face in confusion.
"You so did! You tugged on your ear!" Selphie said. "That means 'sounds like.'"
"Oh…" Gotland said. He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I had an itch."
Everyone groaned.
"Sit down, Gotland," Hasberry said, pointing to the corner of the bed. "Before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have. Whose turn is it now?"
Selphie consulted a piece of paper that had everyone's names listed in order on it.
"It's you, Hassie!" Selphie said. Private Gotland sat down hard on the bed, making it shake and squeak.
Corporal Hasberry stood up and stretched, his joints cracking loudly. He normally shaved himself bald, but several days without a razor left his head covered in coarse black fuzz. He neck and jawline were also in the beginnings of growing a thick beard. He could have been handsome, but his face was almost always stuck in a frown that made him look like a gargoyle.
He finished his long, luxurious stretch and went to the nightstand. He reached into the helmet that carried all the clues and pulled out a scrap of paper, unfolded it, read it, and scoffed.
"This is too easy," he said. He walked around to the foot of the bed, his scowling face twisted up into something vaguely resembling a confident smirk.
"Your time starts…" Selphie said, holding out the watch in front of her. "… Now!" She pushed the start button on the watch.
In a flash, Corporal Hasberry curled into a ball, tucking his arms and legs tight against his body. His head was between his knees, his arms wrapped around his thighs and shins. His hands were clenched into fists.
"You're a ball!" Gotland shouted.
"You're a hedgehog!" Selphie yelled.
"You're one of those bugs that curls up when it's scared!" Malgo said.
Ignoring their comments, Hasberry slowly began to stand up, extending his arms straight out to the side. His fingers reached out, stretching to their full length. Then his fingers went limp, and appeared to be drifting in an imaginary breeze.
"You're exploding!" Malgo said. "A slow motion explosion!"
"You're a bomb!" Gotland yelled.
"OH!" Selphie said. She nearly fell off of the bed she jumped so hard. "YOU'RE A TREE!"
Hasberry pointed at her. "Selphie's got it!"
Malgo and Gotland both cursed under their breaths.
"WHOO-HOO!" Selphie said, raising her arms and bouncing excitedly on the bed.
Suddenly, the door to the bedroom flew open, striking Corporal Hasberry hard on the back and sending him flying to the ground. He collapsed in a heap at Selphie's feet. The other two soldiers gasped and stood up, putting their hands to their sides and thrusting their chests out. Hasberry scrambled upright and joined the other two guards, forming a row of three between Selphie and the new arrival.
A Galbadian officer, unmistakable in his bright red uniform, was standing in the open doorway. His face was covered by a silver helmet, but his mouth was visible and scowling.
"What the HELL is going on in here?" the officer yelled. "I can hear you downstairs! What's all this yelling? Why aren't you three in uniform?"
"We're playin' charades!" Selphie said. She peered through the narrow window between Gotland and Malgo. "You want in?"
The officer growled at her, but didn't comment. Instead, he turned to the three guards—who hadn't moved an inch since they had gotten into the position of attention.
"Gotland! Malgo! Hasberry!" the officer yelled. "Get back into your uniforms and grab your weapons! You are guarding a prisoner, not babysitting a toddler!"
(I'm not a toddler!)
"Hey!" Selphie said, glaring at the officer. He paid no attention to her.
At the officer's command, the three soldiers rushed around the room, collecting the bits of their uniforms from the various locations where they'd been tossed. Hastily, they pulled on their gloves and boots and shirts. Gotland dumped all the pieces of paper out of his helmet and put it on his head, the silver visor obscuring his face. Selphie looked at all the discarded clues on the fuzzy pink floor and sighed, saddened that the game was now officially over.
(Things are gonna get boring again…)
When all three guards were back in uniform, they scrambled to their assigned positions, with Gotland and Malgo guarding either side of the door,and Hasberry guarding the only window, effectively cutting off all possible escape routes.
"No pay for any of you this month!" the officer yelled, sweeping his finger across the room. "And if I hear a sound from this room again, then no pay next month either!"
The three soldiers grumbled, but offered no further resistance.
The officer waited in the doorway, glaring at the soldiers, then at Selphie, allowing plenty of time for someone to say something stupid. Selphie felt like arguing, not so much for the sake of defending her guards, but just for the sake of being difficult with the officer. But she didn't think of anything funny or clever to say before the officer turned around and exited the bedroom. He closed and locked the door behind him.
Selphie waited a few seconds, listening to the officer's boots stomp down the hall, then down the steps, and then finally fading beyond hearing.
"… Is he gone?" she whispered. The three guards didn't respond. Crawling on her hands and knees, Selphie crossed the fluffy pink bed and leaned over the side, collecting the scraps of paper that Gotland had dumped on the ground. She gathered them all in a single pile, careful to make sure she didn't accidentally read what any of them said.
(That would be cheating.)
"C'mon, guys," Selphie whispered. "We can play real quiet. It's my turn anyway."
She reached into the pile to pull out a clue, when one of the soldiers stopped her.
"No," Hasberry whispered. With his full uniform on, she could only really recognize him by his voice. "We can't. Sorry, Selphie."
Selphie pouted. "Fine…"
Frustrated, she pushed all the clues off the side of the bed, letting them float down to the floor. Then she flopped onto her back, her head resting on the numerous overstuffed pillows that formed a small mountain at the top of the bed. She stared at the blank, pink ceiling, fidgeting at the hems of her dress and chewing on her tongue.
(So… bored…)
(Everything's so pink…)
With a sigh, she realized then that she had been sealed in Caraway's mansion—as prisoners of the Galbadian government—for nearly two days at that point. It felt like two years.
Selphie didn't remember much from the night Caraway was murdered. She had memories of fire, of hitting her head, and something about wolves, but that was about it. She guessed that she must have been knocked out at some point, because her first solid memory was of waking up on the floor with a screaming headache, surrounded by guards, all pointing their guns and swords in her face. The soldiers had already taken Irvine's gun and Selphie's nunchaku and hidden them away. The soldiers demanded that the two surrender peacefully and, reluctantly, they did.
The pair were separated right after that. Selphie was brought upstairs into what she was fairly certain was Rinoa's old room, while Irvine went to some other part of the mansion. Where exactly he was sent was a mystery, and her guards all refused to tell her. She assumed that they would eventually move her into a real Galbadian prison, like D-District or somewhere similar, but whoever was in charge seemed content to leave her locked in Rinoa's room, amid all the fluffy pinkness and cutesy plush toys.
The first night, Selphie had attempted to escape. At that time, she only had one guard—Gotland—and she hit him with a sleep spell and then tried to escape through the window. But the mansion's incredible security not only kept out intruders, but also formed a very effective cell. The window frame was magnetically sealed. Even devoting all her junctions into her strength couldn't even budge it. She then tried to break the glass by hurling the small nightstand into it, but the glass barely shuddered as the heavy wooden nightstand bounced off it and clattered to the floor.
Guards outside the room heard the commotion, and assigned her two more guards—Malgo and Hasberry. She didn't bother trying to escape again, instead waiting for a better opportunity. She remembered that the sorceress had broken through a window to escape the mansion. Considering that Selphie couldn't even scratch the glass showed her just how powerful the sorceress was.
She spent the rest of her time talking with her three guards and rummaging around Rinoa's room. At first, she felt weird about invading Rinoa's privacy, but there really wasn't anything embarrassing to be found. No diaries or secret messages. Just stuffed animals and disgusting amounts of pink coloring everywhere. Selphie managed to deduce that Rinoa had left the mansion sometime in her early teens or younger, and Caraway had left the room almost untouched since then. Aside from that, she didn't learn anything new about Rinoa's past, which was a little disappointing.
Occasionally, a Galbadian officer would come into the room and interrogate her. The officers were different each time, but they always asked the same dozen or so questions, but in a random order each time, with different behaviors. Some officers yelled at her furiously and accused her of murdering the General, while others were soft and gentle, offering sympathy mercy if Selphie confessed. She treated them all the same: she smiled, answered their questions truthfully, and asked when she could go home. She knew she'd done nothing wrong, no matter how much the officers tried to blame her for the deaths that happened downstairs.
Twice a day, a guard from downstairs would bring her a tray with food. Nothing more than bread, water, and maybe some old fruit, but Selphie always scarfed it down greedily. She wasn't very hungry most days, but eating gave her something to do for a few minutes.
Three times a day she was escorted to the bathroom. Yesterday, she learned that there were no exceptions to this rule, even if Selphie threatened to pee on the floor. It was an empty threat, one that was ignored by her captors. Gotland expressed his delight when he found out that she wasn't being serious.
She stared at the ceiling, hoping to zone out into some sort of trance that would allow the hours to pass quicker, but her mind insisted on keeping close tabs on every single second that ticked by. She sighed, then pushed herself into a sitting position. She picked up one of the pillows on the bed and tossed it at Private Gotland.
"Catch!" she said.
He caught it in one hand, and then dropped it at his feet, silently.
"You're supposed to toss it back!" Selphie said.
Gotland shook his head. He put a finger to his lips. She grunted, then flopped back down on the bed. She wished she could fall asleep, but it was the middle of the day and she wasn't tired.
(Wonder where Irvine is…)
She guessed that he was being kept somewhere else in the mansion, maybe the drawing room or the library, but she had no way to know for certain. For all she knew, he could have secretly been brought to D-District Prison, strung up and tortured, like they did with Squall after the botched sorceress assassination. Worried butterflies flittered in her stomach. She chewed on her tongue again, not even aware she was doing it.
She retraced the events of the past month in her mind and realized that this was the longest they had been apart since they had first met. After teaming up with Irvine at Galbadia Garden, he'd been a constant companion and ally every day since. He was there when they tried to assassinate Sorceress Edea. He went with her to the Galbadian Missile base, stayed right by her side when they went to the future, and he even followed her back to Trabia when everything was over.
Not having him around was strange and uncomfortable. For a moment, she thought that she was just missing her friends, but then she realized that the way she felt for Irvine's absence was different than the way she felt for anyone else's. When she thought of her friends back in Balamb Garden or Trabia Garden, an aching knot arose in her chest, then went away when she thought of something else. But with Irvine, it felt like that knot never truly left, as if she was in a state of constantly missing him, even when she wasn't fully aware of it. Was it just because he'd been such a constant over the past few weeks—more so than anyone else—or was there more to it?
(I dunno…)
She decided not to dwell on her feelings. Thinking about them, thinking about Irvine, made it all much worse.
Aside from the movement of the sun through the windows, Selphie could never tell what time it was. It was daylight, sometime in the mid-afternoon, but aside from that, she couldn't guess. She was quite terrible at estimating time, so it could have been hours, or it could have been minutes after the officer broke up their game of charades when the door once again burst open. She sat up, expecting some grumpy officer coming in to interrogate her again.
But instead of another officer, Headmaster Martine strode in through the door. He wore his familiar blue trench coat, decorated with shiny gold buttons all along the seam. His blonde hair was slicked back, and an equally slick grin covered his face. Selphie's three guards stiffened to attention when he walked in. He shut the door behind him.
"YOU!" Selphie said, leaping off the bed and pointing a finger at him. "YOU did this!"
Martine looked perplexed. "… Did what?"
"You're the reason we came here in the first place!" Selphie said. "You lied to us about Rinoa!"
An expression of understanding washed over Martine's face. He smiled wider and nodded. "Ah, yes. That. Sorry, I was mistaken. Bad intelligence, you see." He bowed his head. "My sincerest apologies."
He straightened up, his smile gone from his face. "But, you should know—before you get too riled up—that I am both the reason you're here in Deling City and the reason you're specifically here. Here in this nice, comfortable bedroom, rather than in a dank prison cell. I'm the one who convinced Lieutenant General Vaschel not to relocate you two after you were detained. So really, a little show of gratitude would be polite."
(Psh.)
She wasn't about to thank him for holding her captive. Instead, she asked, "Why do you care? What's it to you if I'm comfortable or not?"
"Prisoners in the Galbadian justice system have a tendency to get… lost," Martine said. "They get transferred to one prison, then accidentally transferred again, then again. Or their records get misplaced, making it near impossible to track them down. I didn't want that you happen to you, so I spared you from that mess. You're welcome."
Selphie frowned and grunted. She wouldn't need to be kept out of prison in the first place if he hadn't convinced her and Irvine to come to Caraway's mansion, so when the weight of all Martine's deeds were weighed against each other, Selphie's scale read "blame" rather than "thank."
"Whaddya want?" Selphie asked, repeating the question she'd asked him on the wall of Trabia Garden.
(You know, he's still never really answered that question.)
"I want to let you go," Martine said formally. "I want to send you back home to Trabia Garden, as I promised I would. But…"
Selphie raised an eyebrow. "Buuuut?"
"But, you still haven't held up your end of the bargain," he said. "I promised to bring you here and back to Trabia safely, but only if you cooperated. Yet despite our repeated attempts to get answers from you, you still resist. If you don't work with us, then I see no reason to work with you."
(What's he talkin' about?)
"I already told ya everything," Selphie said. She crossed her arms. "Everything I know."
Martine smiled. "See, now, I know that's a lie. So, let me give you one more chance to be honest with me. What happened to the Sorceress Edea after you defeated her at G-Garden? Tell me everything."
She was angry at Martine for lying to her, and for being so smug all the time. She was bored, and angry, and frustrated. But more than anything, she was tired. Tired of answering questions. Tired of being stuck in a room, with nobody but Galbadian soldiers to amuse her. Tired of bland food and pink décor. And tired of keeping up a lie.
(And anyway, Caraway already knew this stuff, so he probably knows it too.)
She sighed, defeated. "She passed her powers to Rinoa," Selphie said. "And we took them both back to Garden with us. That's it."
Martine nodded. He raised his hands, palms up, then dropped them. "At last, the truth emerges. All this time, you've been telling me that you killed her. You killed Edea and dumped her body overboard into the ocean. But now, finally, you admit what really happened."
Selphie shrugged. "So? What's the difference? Why d'ya care?"
"Curiosity," he said.
Martine crossed his arms behind his back, puffed out his chest, and raised his chin, making himself even taller. Selphie sat down on the edge of the bed, bracing herself for a long series of questions.
"So, my next question is this," Martine said. "Where is the Sorceress Rinoa right now?"
Selphie shrugged. "Probably at Garden. That's where she was when we left."
"And the Sorceress Edea?" Martine asked. "Ahem. Sorry. The former sorceress Edea?"
"Probably there too," Selphie said.
"Is Garden harboring any other sorceresses besides those two?" Martine asked.
(Tell him there's a million. A whole army of sorceresses.)
She ignored that little voice in her head. "No. Don't think so."
"Good," Martine said. "See how easy this is? We could have all been spared a lot of grief if you'd just been honest from the beginning."
(Yeah. Sure. Whatever.)
"How many sorceresses do you know of in the world?" Martine asked. "Don't guess. Give me an exact number. I want their names and their last known locations."
Selphie felt like a traitor—revealing all this information to Martine—but now that she'd started talking, it was easy for her to keep going. And she didn't really see any harm in it. Caraway had already told her how much he knew about what was going on. She figured that whatever Caraway knew, Martine would know as well.
"Sorceress Adel," Selphie said, counting on her fingers. "She's dead. But she was in Esthar. Then there's Sorceress Ultimecia. She's dead in the future."
"Wait… what?" Martine asked. He looked confused.
"It's a long story," Selphie said. "Wanna hear it?"
Martine shook his head. "You said she's dead, though?"
"Yup," Selphie said.
"Ignore her. Ignore all deceased sorceresses. Only the live ones matter."
She paused, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She rewound the course of her life in her head, trying to think of all the sorceresses she'd ever encountered.
(… That's all of 'em.)
"That's it," Selphie said. "Oh yeah, and that one in Timber. What's-her-face."
"Sorceress Ciel," Martine said.
"Yeah, her," Selphie said. "That's all I know."
"Selphie," Martine said sternly. "We already had a discussion about lying."
"I'm not lying!" Selphie said. "I swear!"
"So, one more time," Martine said. "When Balamb and Galbadia Gardens fought, you and your friends infiltrated G-Garden and battled the Sorceress Edea. Upon her defeat, she passed her powers to Rinoa. You then brought both women back to your Garden, and have been sheltering them ever since."
(Close enough.)
"Sounds right," Selphie said.
"So answer me this," Martine said. "Why didn't you kill Edea after she passed on her powers? She was vulnerable then. Why risk leaving her alive? Even as a regular human, she's still a threat to Garden and the world. What would you have done if she somehow regained her powers?"
(No point in lying, I guess.)
Selphie didn't think Martine would be interested in the whole story about a time-traveling sorceress who took over people's minds, so she went with the simpler truth.
"She's our Matron," Selphie said. "She raised us when we were all in an orphanage together. There's no way we could've kill her."
"And since passing on her powers," Martine said, "She has been… docile? Compliant?"
"She's the old Matron," Selphie said. She shrugged. "The one we know and love."
Martine nodded. "Yes, of course. That makes sense. The sorceress power corrupts, you see. When a woman obtains that much raw energy, she cannot help but let it overwhelm her mind. We saw it with Adel, and then with Edea. And we are seeing it now with Ciel. It is the power that is evil, not the person. It makes women commit atrocities. You understand this, correct?"
Selphie screwed up her face in surprise. "What?"
"They say power corrupts," Martine said. "And what is a sorceress but power incarnate? The ability to bend the forces of the universe to suit one's whims. Such unchecked freedom would corrupt anyone. Even the kindest, sweetest person—like your Matron—can become a monster under the right circumstances."
(That wasn't her though! It was Ultimecia. Matron never did anything wrong!)
But she was tired of talking with him and she wanted him to go away. She wasn't going to lengthen their discussion by trying to correct him. What did it matter if he knew about Ultimecia or not? He seemed like a man who already had his mind made up about everything.
"I can't think of anything else I want to ask you," Martine said. He bowed his head, respectfully. "I thank you for your cooperation. As a reward, I will now honor my promise. I will return you and Kinneas back to Trabia on the next train to Dollet. From there, you'll take a ship back to your Garden, and get back to work fixing Sorceress Edea's mess. Sound reasonable?"
She felt an electric tingle rush up her spine at the mention of Irvine's name.
(He's alright!)
But she didn't want Martine to guess what she was thinking, so she scowled and said, "Fine."
"Good," Martine said. "Two pieces of friendly advice before I leave you. One, do not return to Galbadia in the near future. You are not welcome here. And two, convince Rinoa to give up her power, and then keep her and Edea under lock and key and never trust them again."
"Rinoa's not—" Selphie protested. Martine cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"Maybe not now," he said. "But she will be. She has the power. And soon, she will try to use it."
(That's not true! Rinoa's not like that!)
Martine turned to Hasberry, who was still standing by the window. "Corporal. You and the others must escort Miss Tilmitt to the train station. Guards are waiting there with further instructions for you."
"Yes, Mister President," Corporal Hasberry said. "It will be done!"
(Woah, what?)
"President?" Selphie said. "You mean you actually got elected? Who'd vote for you?"
"Hm?" Martine said. "Oh, yes. You wouldn't know about that, would you? I am the new President of Galbadia. There wasn't time for a popular vote, so I technically won by default. But I assure you, I intend to have a proper vote when I run for reelection at the end of my term, but for now the country is in crisis and needs a leader. That leader is me. So if you'll excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to."
He turned and left Rinoa's bedroom, his heavy footsteps thumping down the carpeted hallway and disappearing down the stairs. He left the door behind him wide open, and Selphie briefly imagined herself sprinting out into the hall and running for it. But she didn't have her boots on yet, and she wasn't likely to get far in just her bare feet. Not to mention the fact that she didn't want to leave Irvine behind, she still needed her nunchaku, and a number of other problems that cropped up in her mind.
She sighed, and decided to stay quiet and compliant.
(For now.)
Corporal Hasberry stepped away from the window.
"Come on, Selphie," he said. "We're sending you home.
"WOO!" Selphie said, pumping a fist into the air. She grabbed her boots and shoved them on her feet. She paused for a moment to look around the room, wondering if there was anything else she didn't want to leave behind. Fortunately, she and Irvine traveled light, meaning there was almost nothing she needed to take with her.
"What about my chucks?" Selphie asked.
"Your whats?" Hasberry asked.
"You know. Chucks. Nunchaku."
"Oh, right," Hasberry said. "Don't worry, they're still here. We'll bring them with us."
"You better," Selphie said. Her voice was playfully threatening, making it sound like a joke. But she was being entirely serious. If the Galbadians tried to force her out of the mansion without her weapons, her threats suddenly wouldn't be so playful anymore.
(These guys are pretty okay, but they're still Galbadians.)
The three soldiers escorted Selphie out of Rinoa's bedroom and into General Caraway's elaborate hallway. Selphie already felt significantly freer than she had a few moments ago. Just the fact that she could stare quite a distance down the long hallway made her feel less confined.
From there, they all headed for the central staircase. Privates Gotland and Malgo marched in front of her, their sabers drawn, but held loosely at their sides. Corporal Hasberry walked closely behind her. Not close enough for her to spin around and strike him with a surprise kick to the head, but close enough for him to slash her with his saber if she tried to run away. Even though the three soldiers were fairly relaxed at the moment, she wasn't likely to catch them off guard and escape.
Nevertheless, she paid close attention to her surroundings, waiting for the right location to combine with the right timing for her to make a break for it. She eyed nearby windows, wondering if she could leap out of them. She discarded that idea, figuring that all the windows were magnetically sealed like the one in Rinoa's bedroom. She looked up at the heavy chandelier that hung above the central staircase and wondered if she could knock it down with a spell and cause a significant enough distraction. She rejected that idea as well. It was too complicated, too chancy.
The soldiers brought her down the steps to the first floor. Private Malgo broke from the group and headed into a small doorway adjacent to the drawing room. He emerged a couple seconds later, carrying Irvine's shotgun and her nunchaku in a bundle under his arm. His free hand still gripped his saber, ready and drawn in case Selphie grabbed for her weapon.
"You'll get these back when we reach Dollet," he said, tilting the weapons towards her so she could get a good look at them. Selphie nodded at him.
Hasberry ordered the group to move along. Gotland opened the front door, allowing the sunlight to pour inside. He left the door open and started marching down the sidewalk towards the street. Malgo stood off to the side, angling his body to keep the confiscated weapons away from her. Selphie followed after Gotland, with Hasberry shadowing her every step. After a few seconds, Malgo came after and closed the door behind them.
The outside world was disorienting after two days of being locked in a bedroom. The sun, unfiltered by windows, seemed almost too bright. The air—even though it was tainted by the smell of car exhaust and people—felt fresh and clean. She could hear birds chirping, car horns honking, and some lady a few blocks away, swearing loudly at a passing car for nearly running her over.
Her guards didn't give her much chance to enjoy the great outdoors, as they immediately shuffled her down the long sidewalk and to the street, where two army cars were parked and waiting. Ahead on the street, she caught a glimpse of Irvine's trademark dusty-brown trench coat, black hat, and long pony tail before he was shoved rudely into the back of the lead army car. The door slammed shut and the car sped down the road.
(Irvine's okay!)
Just the sight of Irvine—alive and apparently unharmed—was enough to get Selphie energized. Instead of being led by her guards, she started leading her guards, rushing to get to the second car so that the first wouldn't get too far ahead. Gotland hurried to stay in front of her. He threw open the rear hatch and allowed Selphie inside. She jumped into the back, with Hasberry and Malgo almost jogging to keep pace with her.
The rear section of the army car was divided from the front cab and the driver by a large gray metal panel. Inside were two sideways-facing benches, wide enough to accommodate two people each—or three if they really crammed themselves in. Selphie picked a spot near the front of the car and sat down. Hasberry sat beside her. Gotland and Malgo sat across from her, then Gotland shut the hatch. Malgo set the weapons on the bench next to him, then rapped his knuckles hard on the dividing wall, signaling to the driver that the passengers were ready to depart. The car jerked and the tires squealed on the asphalt as the driver dropped the clutch and sped down the road.
There were no windows in the back of the car for Selphie to watch the passing scenery, so she decided to amuse herself with more games. Since she was no longer being held in the mansion under the tight scrutiny of permanently grumpy officers, she figured her guards would become friendly to her again.
"So… Hassie," Selphie said, turning to face him. "If you had a choice between being deaf and handcuffed to a rabid Moomba or blind and have to listen to nothing but Julia Caraway's 'Eyes on Me' for the rest of your life, which would you pick?"
"Huh?" Hasberry said. He adjusted in his seat. "What kind of weird question is that?"
"I'd pick the Moomba," Malgo said without hesitation. "I hate that stupid song. I'd rather be deaf than listen to it just once."
"Hey, it's not really that bad," Gotland said. "It's pretty sad when you know the words. It's about how Julia lost her—"
"I know what it's about, Gotland," Malgo said. "And it's still a dumb song. Sappy as hell."
"Well, now hold on," Hasberry said. He sat up in his chair and crossed his arms, putting serious thought into the question. "Can I take the handcuffs off the Moomba?"
"Nope," Selphie said. "You gotta stay handcuffed to it for the rest of your life."
"Why? Who says?"
"That's the rule," Selphie said.
Hasberry paused and thought some more. "Can I kill the Moomba?" he asked.
"No! Why'd you wanna kill a Moomba?" Selphie asked.
"Cause it's rabid and I'm handcuffed to it!" Hasberry said. "It'd be self-defense! No one can blame me for protecting myself."
"YOU CAN'T KILL THE MOOMBA!" Selphie said. "Now answer the question!"
"Fine," Hasberry said. He pondered for another couple of seconds, rubbing his chin with his gloved fingers. Gotland began humming the first few bars of "Eyes on Me."
"Shut up," Malgo snapped at him. Gotland sighed and stopped humming.
"For the second one," Hasberry said. "I can still hear, right? Or can I only hear 'Eyes on Me?'"
"You can still hear other stuff, but the song is SUPER loud," Selphie said. "Like, people have to shout for you to hear them."
"Hmm…" Hasberry said. "… What if the Moomba dies of natural causes?"
"The Moomba is immortal!" Selphie said. She slapped the chair to emphasize her point. "An immortal, rabid Moomba. It lives as long as you do!"
"Then fine!" Hasberry said. "I uh, choose… umm… I don't like either one. They're terrible choices."
"But you have to pick one," Selphie said. "It's one or the other!"
The tires on the car screeched and the cab jerked as it came to a sudden, dramatic stop. Selphie nearly flew out of her chair and into the dividing wall, but managed to catch herself in time. Even the soldiers had to brace themselves to stay upright.
"Look at that!" Hasberry said, cheerfully. "We're here! No time for questions."
"But you never answered!" Selphie said, pouting.
"I pick Eyes on Me," Private Gotland said.
"I pick the Moomba," Private Malgo said.
"And I say everybody out of the car," Corporal Hasberry said. He stood up out of his chair and unlatched the door and pushed it open.
The sounds of train brakes squealing filled the air with a long, high-pitched shriek. At the same time, another train was gathering speed as it exited the station, the chugging noise of its engine growing faster and faster.
(Trains!)
Already, Selphie was in a better mood. Hasberry jumped out of the car, followed closely by Selphie. Now that they were out of the car, he resumed his professionalism, standing off to the side with one hand on his saber and both eyes fixed on Selphie. Gotland hopped out and watched her as well. Malgo scooped up the weapons and exited last, closing the car's hatch behind him.
Selphie took a moment to look around. They were in a parking lot just outside the station. Dozens of other civilian cars filled the lot. She scanned each vehicle, her eyes finally resting on the other army car—the one that had taken Irvine—parked closer to the station entrance. She didn't see any signs of Irvine or his guards.
(They must be up ahead.)
With a nudge on her shoulder, Corporal Hasberry got Selphie moving to the front entrance gate. The gate was made of wrought iron and formed an archway above a pair of long escalators leading down into the station. The words, "DELING CITY TRAIN STATION" were written in glowing yellow letters at the peak of the arch.
Brightly colored arrows painted on the floor indicated that the right-hand escalator led down into the station and the left-hand led up into the parking lot. Additionally, the word "DOWN" was printed on the floor before the appropriate escalator, while "UP" was printed before the other. As if the fact that one escalator was visibly moving downwards wasn't obvious enough for people to figure it out without careful guidance.
(People in Deling City must be really dumb.)
Selphie gripped the rubber handrail and stepped onto the escalator, watching her feet to make sure she trip over the steps. Her guards stayed right behind her. She began walking down the steps, hoping to catch up with Irvine before he got to the train.
She hopped off at the bottom and took a couple steps forward. In front of her was a long row of waist-high turnstiles, with card scanners beside each one. Hasberry quickly stepped past her and pulled out a plastic card from one of his pockets. He swiped it through the card scanner at one of the turnstiles. A nearby light flashed green, and the turnstile clicked open. All four of them stepped through and entered the station.
Even though Deling City was the largest city in Galbadia as well as the nation's capital, its train station was not particularly large. The city of Timber actually had more trains and railways than Deling City, despite being a fraction of the size. Back at Trabia Garden, Selphie had learned that it was because Deling City was so far north it wasn't an important transportation hub, unlike cities located closer to the middle of the continent.
A row of about two dozen train platforms awaited Selphie, arranged in a long series. Most every platform was currently occupied by a train of some sort. There were a couple of fancy first-class passenger trains, with ornate paint jobs and extravagant trim along the edges. Grubby and bland freight trains waited near the end of the station. One or two cheaper passenger trains sat at platforms as well.
Selphie smiled as she gazed lovingly at all the trains. The first-class passenger trains were almost painfully awesome, their engines bright and shimmering in the light, their interiors lavishly furnished. She hoped that Martine had been cool enough to let her travel in style aboard one of those beauties, but in her heart she knew he wasn't so kind.
Midway down the station, she spied a blue Galbadian military train. It was utilitarian and had none of the amenities of the passenger trains, but had a certain charm because of its efficiency and obvious power. A cluster of soldiers were amassed around the side, loading heavy crates into one of the cars.
Hasberry brought her to a stop a short distance from the military train, then went to speak with the officer nearby. Malgo and Gotland flanked her on either side, keeping careful watch on her.
She tore her gaze from the first-class trains and looked beyond the group of soldiers. Past the stack of crates, she could see a group of guards roughly shoving Irvine towards one of the cars near the very back of the train. Just before he stepped inside, he turned his head and caught a glimpse of her. Their eyes made a brief, exciting contact. He winked and smiled, and then was pushed rudely into the car and out of sight.
When Irvine was gone, she focused her attention on Hasberry and the officer. She struggled to hear their conversation, but was too far away to make out anything. A train screeched as it pulled to a stop in the station, and another one hissed as it released a cloud of steam. Civilians filed past, and a few conductors marched by in crisp uniforms.
After a few moments, Hasberry ended his conversation with the officer and returned.
"Come along, Selphie," he said. He jerked his head towards the train.
She headed for the train, making a bee-line towards the car she'd seen Irvine enter a few moments ago. Before she got that far, Hasberry reached out and grabbed her shoulder, then turned her towards an open car beside her.
"Nope, you go in here," Hasberry said. "We're keeping you two separate for now."
Selphie grumbled, but didn't say anything aloud. She hopped up into the open car and looked around.
Inside it was dark, lit only with a single dim florescent bulb flickering in the ceiling. The inside was stacked to the top with unmarked crates, leaving only a narrow gap for Selphie and her guards to move around. It smelled of dust and wood, tickling her nose. The floor thumped hollowly with her every step.
Sitting next the crates was a metal chair. A series of heavy iron rods formed the backrest of the chair.
Before Selphie could ask what was going to happen next, Hasberry roughly grabbed her arms and tugged them behind her back. He threaded each of her arms between the rods in the back of the chair, forcing her to sit down hard. He then swiftly handcuffed her wrists before she even had a chance to fight back.
"HEY!" Selphie protested. She immediately tried to pull her arms out, but the handcuffs clanked into the iron bars, binding her to the chair. "What gives, you guys?"
"Sorry," Hasberry said. "President's orders. You're still our prisoner until we're out of Galbadia."
"Come on!" Selphie said. "I thought we were cool!"
Corporal Hasberry shook his head. "Can't do it, Selphie."
He turned around and leaned forward out of the open door. He said something to a nearby soldier that Selphie couldn't hear, then slid the large bay door shut, sealing them all inside. Selphie looked around and realized, with great frustration, that there weren't any windows in the car.
(Sacrilege!)
"What, we're going with her?" Gotland asked. He whined like a disappointed teenager.
"Not enough soldiers to spare," Hasberry said. "Everyone's either down in Timber or hunting sorceresses somewhere."
"Wait," Selphie said. "You're already in Timber? The attacks started?"
Hasberry looked at her, his face obscured by his helmet. He didn't answer her questions, or say anything else on the subject.
"Aw, man," Gotland said. He kicked a nearby crate. "I was gonna go to the shopping center today. I hate the friggin army."
"Damn it, Gotland, quit whining," Malgo said. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his sweaty blond hair. He scratched at his goatee. "I had plans today too. Man up, already."
Gotland pulled off his helmet and set it down on a crate. He sneered at Malgo, then started humming "Eyes on Me" again.
"Gotland, I swear," Malgo said. "I will beat you nonstop all the way from here to Dollet. Cut. It. Out."
"Shut up, both of you," Hasberry said.
The soldiers glared at each other for a few tense moments, then Gotland shrugged his shoulders petulantly and then sat down on the floor. Malgo looked away, then leaned against a stack of crates and pulled off his gloves and set them under his helmet.
The train whistled loudly, then jerked into motion. The train swayed gently from side to side as it gathered speed, heading out of the station and towards the fields outside of Deling City.
Now that the group was alone again, Selphie once more figured that she could get some favors from her guards. She noisily rattled her handcuffs against the bars of her chair.
"So you guys wanna take these off me?" Selphie asked.
None of the soldiers answered her. Gotland closed his eyes and was trying to sleep. Malgo was picking at his nails. Hasberry crossed his arms and stared intently around the car, as if searching it for hidden cameras.
"You can put me back in handcuffs before we get to Dollet," Selphie said. "No one will know!"
"No, Selphie," Hasberry said. "Now hush. It's a long ride to Dollet."
(Drat.)
Whatever kinship she'd manage to create between herself and her captors obviously wasn't worth as much as she'd originally thought. She frowned and stared at Hasberry, the only one of the three who hadn't removed his helmet. She could feel his eyes on her, even though she couldn't see them through his silver visor.
(Fine then. If they don't want to be friends, then we won't be friends.)
The train got clear of the city and picked up even more speed as it chugged along towards its destination. The rail ties passed beneath them and produced a steady thumping, like a clock, or a heartbeat.
Selphie sat in the chair, unhappy at the prospect of a long train ride for the first time in her life. Theoretically, she might be able to tolerate being handcuffed to a chair for the whole trip, if she at least had a window to gaze out of. Watching the world go by was half—or maybe as much as seventy-five percent—of the fun of being on a train. If she couldn't do that, then what was the point?
(Maybe I can open the door?)
Selphie planted her boots down and began sliding the chair over to the freight door. The metal legs of her chair shrieked along the floor with every push. Hasberry turned his head and glared at her.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Gettin'… some… air," Selphie said, between bursts.
He sighed and grabbed the back of her chair, holding her in place.
"No, Selphie," he said, bored. "Come on, now. Be good."
(Double drat.)
She relaxed in her chair and allowed Hasberry to drag her back into place. He pushed her chair against a crate and moved between her and the door. He sat down and finally decided to take off his helmet and set it in his lap.
She squirmed in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but with her hands awkwardly pinned behind her back, it was a futile endeavor. Already her shoulders were beginning to ache. Tiny pins and needles were poking in her hands. She doubted that she'd be able to sit in that position all the way to Dollet without going crazy.
She sighed and watched Gotland and Hasberry, both of whom had closed their eyes. She wondered if there was any point in trying to escape. After all, they were taking her back to Trabia, so why fight the Galbadians if they were helping her? Granted, it was an uncomfortable way to travel, but at least they were letting her go.
But then she thought about Rinoa, and Garden, and the others. Martine had been lying when he said that Rinoa was the Timber sorceress, but Caraway had told the truth when he said that Garden had joined in the fight against Galbadia. She and Irvine had proven that when they went online in Caraway's mansion. So either way, Rinoa was still part of the fight in Timber, and that meant she was in danger. Furthermore, Hasberry had let it slip that most of the army was already in Timber—or at least on their way there.
(And I'm stuck here on a train.)
All at once, she decided she wasn't going back to Trabia. Not until the whole mess with Timber, Garden, and Galbadia was sorted out. There was no way she was going to run off and hide in the far corner of the world while her friends fought the Galbadians.
(I wanna help!)
Selphie began looking around the train. She noticed that, in addition to the numerous crates, there were also miscellaneous items around, like spare tires and cardboard cylinders with mysterious contents. There was a slight chance that there might be something useful for her in one of those crates, but she doubted it would be worth the effort to tear them all open to find out.
Her eyes fell on Irvine's shotgun and her nunchaku, placed tantalizingly out of reach on a crate behind Malgo. Unfortunately, he was still standing up and alert. He was distracted by the effort of picking at his fingernails, but not distracted enough for Selphie to get to the weapons without him noticing.
(Triple drat.)
But the fact that both Gotland and Hasberry were napping gave her an idea. If she could take out Malgo silently, then she would stand a decent chance of making it to her weapons. How she would cross to the other side of the train car without making too much noise with her chair was a problem she hadn't solved yet, but she felt confident that she would figure something out.
She stared at Malgo's blond head in the darkness, and focused the energy needed for a simple sleep spell. She had no idea why the Galbadians didn't expect her—a SeeD—to use magic. Maybe they thought that SeeDs couldn't use magic when their hands were tied.
(Who knows?)
In any case, their ignorance was her gain. It was a little awkward forming the spell without the help of her nunchaku, but she managed easily enough. Soon she had a small white orb floating above her face, ready to send Malgo into the land of dreams.
There was a loud bang from the back of the train. Gotland and Hasberry snapped awake, and Malgo turned to look. Selphie blinked, allowing the spell to vanish before anyone could see what she was up to.
The soldiers all waited, their eyes fixed on the back end of the train. Another bang followed, then another and another.
"Gotland…" Hasberry said. "Go check it out."
"Why me?" Gotland whined. "I just got comfortable."
"Do it," Hasberry said.
Grumbling, Gotland worked his way to his feet, grabbed his saber, and headed to the back of the car. He opened the door that connected Selphie's car with the one behind it, and stepped inside the connecting hallway, then closed the door behind him.
(Well, one down, two to go.)
"What do you think it was?" Malgo said.
Hasberry shrugged and closed his eyes. "Dunno. Probably nothing. These old army trains like to make a racket for no reason."
Malgo returned his attention to his nails, and Hasberry relaxed—obviously still awake, but not paying full attention.
(Now or never.)
Selphie focused again, bringing up the sleep spell once more. The second time around it was easier to summon, but she still would have rather had her nunchaku to help her focus and form the spell. In a few seconds, the white ball hovered before her eyes. She nodded her head forward, sending it floating quickly into Malgo's chest. The white ball burst apart and sucked into his nose like smoke. He made a single, gasping choke, then went limp. His body bent backwards against the crate, then slid down to the floor with a thump.
Selphie looked at Hasberry. He hadn't opened his eyes.
(Luckyyyyyy.)
Since Hasberry was already so intent on sleeping, Selphie had no problem giving him a hand in that matter. She called up another sleep spell, nudged it towards him, and watched him slump over and fall on his side.
Now both her guards were magically put to sleep, she could move around and make as much noise as she wanted. Only a strong physical blow to wake either of them before the spell ran out of juice in a few minutes.
Eagerly, she shuffled her chair over to the crate that had her weapon, the legs screeching on the floor with each push. She spun around, and stood up as much as she could before her arms caught on the top of the backrest, but she still couldn't reach high enough to get to the top of the crate. She sat back down and contemplated her options.
(The keys!)
Since Hasberry had been the one to lock her up, it stood to reason that he also had the keys for the handcuffs. She noisily shuffled over to the corporal. He was snoring gently, his mouth open and drooling on the floor.
It was hard to see in the dim light, but she thought she saw a dim metal circle clipped to his beltline. She hoped it was the keys.
She kicked off one of her boots, exposing her bare foot. She reached out and used her big toe to pinch the ring. It jingled a little as she lifted up, and she felt a set of keys brush against her toes.
(Success!)
She pulled harder, but the keys would not unclip from Hasberry's belt. She furrowed her brow, stuck out her tongue, and pulled harder. She managed to tug Hasberry's pants down a little, exposing his dull gray military undershorts, but the keys remained stubbornly attached to his belt loop.
"ARGH!" Selphie said.
From near the back of the train came more loud bangs. Gotland had been gone awhile now—too long for there to be nothing amiss. Selphie wondered if Irvine was in trouble, then redoubled her efforts with the keys.
"C'mon…" Selphie said to herself.
She bent forward to get a better look. The clasp that held the ring to the belt loop was just a simple latch. She kicked off her other boot and used the toes of her one foot to hold the ring steady while she used her big toe on her other foot to push open the latch. It was tricky, working with her feet. Her toes felt clumsy and too big for the job, but she managed to lever a toenail into the latch and pop it open. She tugged with her other foot and felt the key ring come free of Hasberry's pants. "Haha!" Selphie shouted in triumph. A series of bangs from the back of the train reminded her that she needed to hurry.
She bent forward as far as her handcuffs would allow and brought her foot to her face, picking the key ring up with her teeth. She set her feet on the floor and straightened in her chair.
(Good thing I'm bendy.)
(… Now what?)
She had the keys in her mouth, but her arms were fastened behind her back. She tried to bring her arms up close to her face, but no matter how she contorted her body, angled her neck, or bent her arms, she couldn't even come close to getting the keys in her hands.
(Maybe I can drop the keys into my hands?)
She relaxed in her chair and turned her head over her shoulder as far as it would go, and spread her fingers open wide. The keys dangled from her teeth. Hoping for the best, she opened her jaw and let the keys drop. There was a clang as the keys bounced off the backrest of her chair, then another clang as they hit the floor. The keys never even touched her hands on the way down.
"ARGH!" Selphie shouted. Frustrated, she shuffled her chair around, found the key ring, picked it up with her foot, brought her foot to her mouth, turned her head, and held the key ring above her splayed fingers once more.
(Let's try this again.)
This time, she stretched her neck to the point of causing her shoulders to cramp, pushing on the floor with both feet to force her body back even further. When she opened her mouth the second time, the keys fell straight down. The ring barely caught on the last knuckle of her pinky finger. She clamped down on the keys, clenching them in one triumphant fist.
"YES!" she said.
Blindly, she began fumbling around with the keys. There were nearly a dozen keys on the ring, and being handcuffed and unable to see what she was doing, she found it nearly impossible to work the keys into the keyhole. She closed her eyes and focused on her fingers, trying not to drop the keys on the floor a second time.
After a few minutes of working, the sixth key he tried popped open the lock. She twisted her wrist free of its shackle and leapt to her feet, her arm and leg muscles tingling in pleasure at their newfound freedom.
"WHOO HOO!" she shouted into the train car, her voice echoing off the crates.
The handcuffs still dangled from her other wrist. She found the proper key again, and put it into the second lock, and turned. The handcuffs fell off her wrist and dropped to the floor.
A few paces away, Private Malgo began to stir, the effects of the sleep wearing off. Muttering and moaning, he lifted his head up and stared, bleary-eyed, at Selphie.
"Whas…. Whas goin on?" he asked.
"Bad dream," Selphie said. "Good night, Mal!"
"Night, Selphie," Malgo said.
Selphie popped him with another sleep spell—finding it much easier to form and focus the spell with her hands free—and the army private slipped back into unconsciousness. Then she put her hands on her hips, considering what to do with the two dozing men on the floor. The sleep spell had a very limited and unpredictable duration, and the last thing she wanted was for one of them to wake up and sneak up on her from behind while she was off checking on Irvine.
But at the same time, even though Malgo and Hasberry were G-Soldiers, Selphie had come to enjoy their company too much to just outright kill them in their sleep. She shuddered at the thought of such a coldblooded murder.
So she decided on a compromise.
She stepped up to the freight door and pulled it open, allowing a rush of air to enter the car and tug at her hair and her dress. She locked the door in place so it wouldn't close on her, then turned to the two sleeping guards. She picked up the Hasberry and dragged him by his armpits to the edge of the train. She fumbled to get him into an upright position, his limp body threatening to fall back to the floor. When she had him upright, she brought him to the door and pushed him out into space. He pitched headfirst into the rushing scenery and was gone.
The train, she assumed, wasn't traveling fast enough to kill him, so this was probably the most humane solution.
(At least, I think so…)
She repeated the process with Private Malgo, dragging him to the edge and propping him up.
"Sorry, Mal," she said, before hurling him off the train to join his corporal.
Selphie brushed off her hands dramatically, even though neither soldier had been particularly dirty. She stared out into the desert air and blinked in the sunlight, finally able to enjoy the full experience of being on a train. She breathed in the hot, dry air and watched the world go by.
(Wait…)
(Wait!)
(WAIT!)
"DESERT?!" she yelled out of the train.
There was a large and infamous desert on the Galbadian continent, but it was to the southwest of Deling City, far, far from Dollet. In fact, it was in the opposite direction entirely. Her brain worked furiously. At first she denied the evidence of her eyes, wondering if she was perhaps imagining the desert. She rubbed her eyes and looked again.
(Nope. The desert's real.)
Then she checked her memory, to see if maybe there was a desert between Deling City and Dollet. But no, every map she'd ever seen, every class she'd ever taken, insisted that there was only one desert on the whole continent, and it was located well in the southwest.
(But… why?)
There were only two things in the desert: the Galbadian Missile Base, and D-District Prison. And Selphie had long ago made sure that the Missile Base was nothing more than a crater. That left only one option.
(Martine's sending us to D-District!)
"THAT PUNK!" Selphie shouted.
The door connecting her car to the one behind it burst open. Selphie spun around, expecting to see Gotland finally coming back from his reconnaissance trip. But to her surprise and relief, it wasn't Gotland or any other G-Soldier. Instead she saw Irvine. He looked a little flustered and rushed, but he seemed unharmed.
"SELPHIE!" he said. "I'm here to… save… you…"
He looked around and saw no immediate threats to her person.
"Hiya," Selphie said. She waved cheerfully and smiled.
Irvine tipped his head and grinned. "Howdy. So I guess you noticed it too, I reckon?"
Selphie frowned. "Noticed what?"
"The changeover," Irvine said. "I've been back and forth between Deling City and G-Garden enough to notice when the train missed the junction to go east. I could feel it, you know? So I knew they weren't taking us to Dollet, and I decided to bust out."
"Oh," Selphie said. "I didn't know that. I just didn't like being handcuffed."
Irvine smirked. "I'll remember that for the future."
(Huh?)
Irvine shook his head. "Never mind. So what's the plan?"
"Let's go to Timber!" Selphie said. "We gotta help Rinoa and the others."
Irvine nodded. "Good idea. I always wanted to be a part of the cavalry. Rushing in at the end to save the day. Guess now's my chance."
"Alright!" Selphie said, pumping one fist into the air. She grabbed her nunchaku from the crate and Irvine grabbed his shotgun. Together they headed towards the front of the train.
(Hold on, everyone! We're comin' to help!)