Chapter 34
Another Scar
(Seifer)
Seifer's vision wavered. He was surprised by the pain in his stomach, even though he'd been shot several minutes ago. He was surprised at the power the pain held over him, the way it refused to be controlled, even when he clenched his teeth and put all of his focus into ignoring it. How it never seemed to fade or dim with the passage of time. His pain was a like separate creature with a will of its own, living in his stomach, refusing to be cast out.
(God… damn!)
He had survived electrical torture in the sweltering heat of D-District prison. He had been beaten in fights—with fists, with swords, with magic. The diagonal scar running across the top of his nose between his eyes served as a perpetual reminder of the time he'd been sliced open with a gunblade. Seifer knew pain, and he believed that he had acquired perfect mastery over it.
But even all his experience with pain couldn't keep him from kneeling on the hard floor of the Ragnarok's boarding ramp, doubled over, one clenched fist on the floor, his other pressed against the hole in his stomach. The wound throbbed and screamed and continued to slowly seep his life blood into his shirt and pants. He was familiar with all forms of pain, and this was the easily worst he'd ever experienced.
Everything he did caused him pain. It hurt to move. It hurt to stand. It hurt to sit down, or lay down, or bend over. Holding his wound slowed the bleeding, but caused even worse pain. He felt as though he wouldn't even be able to move his littlest finger without causing another explosion of agony. Other injuries around his body—bruises, cuts, scrapes from brief fight a few minutes ago—seemed so minor by comparison that he couldn't even register them.
He stayed in this position for several seconds, panting through clenched teeth and sweating. There was blood smeared all around the floor below him. He wasn't sure if it was his or Squall's.
(Probably both.)
"Stand, boy knight," Ultimecia said with Ciel's mouth. "Stand now, or be left behind to die."
Death would have been a welcome respite from the pain, he thought. But no, he cast that thought aside immediately. To die was to fail, and Seifer refused to fail his sorceress yet again.
(It's just a gut wound.)
Slowly, he extended his arm and pushed his torso upward. It felt like his insides were made of wet paper, tearing with every movement. Then he put one boot on the floor beneath him and pushed up to stand. His vision blurred and the floor shifted beneath his feet, threatening to drop him back to his knees, but he threw out one hand and braced himself against the wall just in time. He looked down at his boots, panting. He'd done it. He had successfully gotten to his feet. He turned his head and looked at the sorceress.
(I deserve a damn medal for that.)
"Good," she said impassively. "I've no use for weakness."
"I need…" he said, gasping. "… Cure."
The words burned as he spoke them. Both from the pain in his body, and from the shame of having to ask anyone—even a sorceress—for aid. But there was no other choice. He couldn't stop the bleeding on his own. He had no healing magic of any kind left in his inventory. And with the severity of his wound, he knew he would soon need a hospital, magic, or a coffin. Since the hospital and the coffin were out of the question, he had to resort to asking Ultimecia.
"Why should I expend energy aiding you?" Ultimecia said. "What use are you to me?"
He ground his teeth, furious.
(I saved your damn life.)
"I… killed Squall," Seifer said. "The SeeD."
The sorceress shrugged, indifferent. "SeeDs are a plague. And like any plague, there are always more. What's important is that you let the sorceress escape. That was unforgivable."
"She'll be dead soon too," Seifer said.
"I did not see her corpse," the sorceress snapped. "Nor did I see the SeeD's corpse either. Until I see bodies, I will assume they are both alive, and that you have failed."
(Don't act like this is all my fault.)
Both of them had fought against Rinoa and Squall. Both of them had failed to keep Rinoa contained in the Ragnarok. In Seifer's mind, Ultimecia bore at least half the blame. Or maybe even more than half. She was a sorceress, after all. She was the one with the majority of the strength and the power in this situation. If she couldn't stop Rinoa, then how could she expect Seifer to do any better?
But those thoughts—like his earlier thoughts about welcoming the respite of death—were useless and detrimental. Ultimecia was immune to his logic. He had to conform himself to suit her needs, her worldview. She would not yield to his. Such was the nature of their relationship.
He didn't have the strength to form a response, so he stayed silent.
She turned away from him and looked to the door. "I am going to the bridge to regain control of this ship. If you wish to serve me, then follow. If you wish to die, you may do so here. But whatever you do, decide quickly. I haven't the time to coddle you."
Without waiting for a response, the sorceress headed through the large back door, which slid open automatically at her approach, and headed into the ship. The door closed behind her and she was gone.
Seifer pushed off from the wall, intending to follow her, but a fresh stab of anguish forced him back. It was all he could do just to remain upright. Walking was almost an impossibility. The gunshot wound had been terrible at first, but manageable. But after that last battle—if it could even be called a battle—the wound had been torn open even wider. He silently cursed Rinoa for what she'd done.
(I hope she rots.)
He looked down at himself, and at the long distance that divided himself from the door.
(So… how am I gonna do this?)
He had to get creative. He had no curative magic on hand, nor did he have any tools or equipment that could be used to fashion a bandage of any kind.
His first thought was fire. Use a small, controlled fire spell to sear the wound shut. Doing so would be the greatest agony of his life, he knew, but it would stop the bleeding and hopefully allow him to live long enough to earn Ultimecia's respect and trust, so that she would value him enough to bother healing him. That seemed to be his only hope.
He leaned his back against the wall so that he could free both of his hands. With one gloved hand, he pulled at the Esthar uniform. The cracked body armor had a small, bullet-sized hole right near the middle, just off center. The armor was stiff, and didn't pull aside like fabric. He had to slowly wrestle it over his head and toss it to the floor, leaving only his sweaty, bloody blue undershirt on underneath. He pulled up the shirt and revealed the wound.
His gut was a gory red smear, with a furious red circle in the middle, steadily leaking fluid. He held his clothes out of the way with one hand, and with the other hand, he brought forth the smallest, weakest fire spell in his arsenal.
In a moment, a small fire burned brightly in his palm, like a little bonfire. Right away, he knew there was a problem: the fire was much too large. He'd end up searing his entire abdomen just to get at one bullet wound. He focused his mind, struggling to condense the magic into a smaller area, make it burn brighter, hotter, and with more accuracy.
But magic had never been his strong suit, and with the constant pain wearing away at his thoughts, his efforts to shrink it only caused the fire to dance side to side, as if buffeted by a weak wind. He could not get a steady grip on it.
(This'll have to do.)
Wincing—but not looking away—he brought the fire down to his gut. His skin grew warm, then hot, then painful. He tried to fight through the pain and get it over with quickly, but he could feel the burning sensation reaching all the way from his beltline up towards his chest. If he pressed the flame any closer, he'd cover almost the front of his body with severe burns.
(This ain't gonna work.)
With a frustrated snarl, he canceled the fire spell and released his shirt, allowing it to tumble down over the wound. He pressed his hand against the hole in his stomach and reconsidered his plan.
(The soldering pen.)
The little Estharian tool he'd snagged from one of the guards was still in his pocket. If the little pen could burn hot enough to melt off his plastic wrist restraints, it was probably hot enough to sear his wound closed.
He dug into his pocket and fished out the little pen. His hands were slippery with drying blood, making it hard from him to grasp it in his hand. He fumbled around with it until he managed to get a comfortable grip. He put his thumb to the button and pressed.
Nothing happened. The tip didn't glow red, or change color. He snarled, shook the pen, and tried again. Same result. He held the button down and pushed the tip to his skin. It was only room temperature.
(Broken!)
He yelled a wordless curse and threw the pen across the room. It clattered against the wall and fell to the floor.
Seifer looked around. The boarding ramp looked like the scene of a massacre. Blood was smeared in long tracks around the middle of the floor, with one long streak heading out towards the side hallway. Black stripes—the remnants of Ultimecia's furious lightning spells—marked the walls in bands. The air stank of rust and electricity. On the floor in the middle of the room was Squall's gunblade, left lying where he had dropped it. Beside it was the small pistol Seifer had stolen from the pilot.
Seifer stared at the gunblade. He felt naked without his own sword, Hyperion, and longed for the comfort of a blade at his side, but he was too wounded to take Squall's. He could barely support his own weight, let alone the additional burden of a gunblade.
(There's gotta be a med kit aboard the ship.)
He turned away from the gunblade and made slow, lurching steps towards the nearest door, dragging his shoulder along the wall with each stride. Fresh blood dribbled from his stomach down to the floor, where it mingled with the rapidly drying mess already there. He was sure he would pass out at any moment, but somehow he clung to consciousness and made his way forward. The door opened automatically at his approach.
He found himself in the ship's hangar. He turned and went towards the storage room where he and Ultimecia had left Ellone unconscious. The door opened and he stepped through.
In the back of the room, Ellone was still slumped over in a limp, snoozing ball, deep under the effects of Ultimecia's enhanced sleep spell. He turned his eyes away and scanned along the shelves, looking for something useful.
Mostly the shelves contained machine parts. Large, specially shaped pipes, exhaust ports, coils of multi-colored wires, small round objects that glowed and shimmered, but nothing he could seal a wound with. He stumbled along, scanning up and down, looking for a med kit.
There, tucked in a corner, was a large white plastic box with some words printed on it in red. He didn't bother to read it. He grabbed at the box, lost his grip, and sent the whole thing tumbling to the floor. The lid of the box opened up, spilling surgical tape, gauze, bandages, and individually-wrapped needles across the floor. He snarled and stared at the medical supplies scattered everywhere.
Though the med kit was close enough for him to reach out his foot and kick the supplies, it might as well have been on the moon, with his injury. It had taken him so much effort to stand up in the first place that the thought of repeating the motion reverse filled him with terror.
(Man up, Seifer.)
He clenched his jaw and braced himself for the pain he knew was coming. Using the shelves as stairs, he lowered himself down to the floor with his arms, one shelf at a time. He needed to rest after each shelf, take a breath, and repeat. Finally he was on his knees on the floor, among the strewn medical supplies.
He picked up a bottle of disinfectant and some clean white bandages wrapped in sterile paper containers. Carelessly, he popped open the lid of the disinfectant, pulled aside his shirt, and dumped the liquid over the wound, filling the storage room with a stinging chemical odor. To his surprise, the Esthar medicine did not burn or even tingle. It foamed coolly on his wound, cleaning it and dissolving some of the dark red chunks of coagulated blood. The substance also had an anesthetic quality, partially numbing the area. He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, reveling in the comfort he'd received. He waited a few seconds, then poured some more disinfectant onto the wound.
With his free hand, he groped around his back, checking for an exit wound somewhere. He couldn't find one. His back was completely untouched. He checked his sides, in case the bullet came in at an angle, but there was nothing there either.
(Damn it.)
Somewhere in his gut, an Esthar bullet was wandering around loose. There was a chance that he would be fine, that the bullet would lodge itself in a crevice and simply stay put. But there was also a chance that the bullet would carve a slow path of destruction through his internal organs, slicing him open and killing him in a slow, agonizing fashion. He decided not to dwell on that thought.
(Nothing I can do about it.)
Next he grabbed the bandages and peeled off the sterile paper. He pulled aside his shirt again and clumsily wrapped himself as best he could. Instantly, the clean white bandages became sopping wet with blood at the site of his injury. He finished wrapping, then grabbed another bandage and put it on top of the first. The second layer didn't turn red immediately, so he figured he'd applied enough bandages for now. He grabbed a third roll and stuck it in the pocket of his uniform to be added later if necessary, and worked his way back to his feet, once more using the shelves for support. With the numbing disinfectant currently working its magic, the trip up to his feet was actually much easier than the trip down had been.
Though he was much relieved, he still needed sorceress magic or a hospital. The flimsy first aid kit was not enough to save him from permanent damage or death. He got to his feet, spared one more glance at Ellone to make sure she wasn't getting up anytime soon, then shuffled out of the room.
He knew he would have never made it up the stairs and to the elevator if his wounds hadn't been numbed by the anesthetic. But as he was, he had regained a lot of his mobility and could walk and climb stairs again, which is all he needed at the moment. He ascended the steps to the elevator room, then got onto the elevator, which jerked to life and rose up to the bridge.
The bridge, like the boarding ramp, was another bloody scene. Ultimecia had used her magic to eliminate the bodies of the pilot and the guards, but had done nothing about the remnants of Seifer and Squall's battle. There were blood stains and bullet casings scattered about. The front windshield was fractured with a half dozen bullet cracks, but still remained whole and intact. Apparently the glass was partially bullet proof.
Ultimecia sat in the pilot's chair, pressing buttons and tugging on the controls. Seifer shuffled towards her. He stopped beside her and looked down. Her face was screwed up in a mask of consternation. She fiddled randomly with the buttons, watching their effects on the ship, and then trying other options.
(Does she even know what she's doing?)
"… Problem?" Seifer asked.
"They have activated the emergency controls," Ultimecia said. "The Ragnarok is now set to automatically fly itself to Esthar Airfield and will not accept orders to the contrary."
(Figures.)
Seifer chuckled mirthlessly, then began coughing with pain.
Ultimecia either did not hear him laugh or was simply ignoring him. She stared out the window, rage burning in her eyes. "I want this ship," she said. "I will have it."
Furious, she slapped one palm against a flat spot in the control panel and began to focus. The air grew heavy and cold as Ultimecia poured her magic into the control systems. The lights flickered and dimmed, emergency alarms came to life and died, the ship rumbled in the air as if it had hit a patch of turbulence.
Seifer quickly grabbed the backrest of a nearby chair to hold himself steady as the ship began to lose altitude. He could feel his internal organs shift upwards, his hair on his head pull away from his scalp, and his clothes lift up as the ship slowly tilted down and began plummeting into a nosedive. Out the front window, the horizon line that divided the sea and the sky climbed upwards, until gradually the sea overtook the sky completely.
(Aw, hell.)
The Ragnarok plunged at insane speeds towards the ocean. Seifer clung to the chair with both hands now, struggling to keep from being thrown around the cockpit as the wind slammed the ship in all directions. Ultimecia continued on, unworried, pouring in more and more energy into the ship's controls. Seifer could now see individual waves crossing the surface of the water, rushing up towards him.
Amidst the chaos and the winds and the G-forces, Seifer heard a mechanical voice say in a pleasant tone, "Emergency settings deactivated. Manual control restored."
Ultimecia smiled. A cold, wicked smile. "That's better."
She seized the steering device in both hands and pulled back, taking the Ragnarok gently out of its nosedive. Gradually the noise and shaking in the cockpit died down, and the Ragnarok regained a steady forward, straight course. Seifer released his grip on the back of the chair and flexed his stiff fingers.
(Nearly killed us.)
Ultimecia pressed a few specific buttons in the control column and then eased the Ragnarok to a stop, allowing it to hover in place high above the ocean waves. She had the confidence and speed of a seasoned pilot. She turned to him.
"Bring me the heiress," she said. "Quickly."
(The what?)
Then he remembered.
"Ellone…" he said.
He thought about asking for her to heal him first, but then decided against it. Knowing Ultimecia, she would be much more willing to perform a service for him once he'd completed one for her. She had never, in Seifer's experience, been stingy about rewarding her servants. He limped over to the elevator and stepped upon it.
"Try to keep your blood off her," Ultimecia said in a bored tone. The elevator jerked to life and brought Seifer down to the lower level. He stared at the blank wall in front of him, motionless, seething in pain and anger. That last comment from her seemed to be pushing it. Ultimecia had always been cold and unfeeling towards him, but now she seemed mocking and hateful. A thought occurred to Seifer.
(How do I even know she's really Ultimecia?)
To be perfectly honest, he still had no real proof. He had only a few vague feelings, impressions, and a little bit of logic, but nothing concrete. He'd had this thought before. It was possible—entirely possible—that Ciel was using some sorceress trick to play with his mind, to reduce him to a state of quiet servitude where he would obey her without question. What better way to tame Seifer than to pretend to be Ultimecia?
(Wouldn't put it past Ciel to do something like that.)
He had half a mind to ride the elevator back up to the top and confront her. Demand evidence. Demand that she answer a question, or tell him something only the two of them would know. He was making a fool of himself, blithely following orders like a trained dog when he had no idea who it was actually commanding him.
But that would be a mistake. If it was truly Ultimecia up there, then his defiance would be greeted with a fresh burst of agony—if he was lucky—or a merciless death—if he wasn't. He knew her well enough to know that she did not suffer being questioned. And after he'd already made a show of kneeling before her and offering his services as her knight, he couldn't very well begin to make demands.
And on the other hand, if it was Ciel up there, his chances weren't any better. He didn't know Ciel very well, but he'd seen that she had strength and resolve of her own. She would not be intimidated by Seifer and his harsh words, especially not now, when he was wounded to the point of nearly being invalid. If she could maintain an Ultimecia act so convincingly for this long, then he was not likely to reveal her as a fraud by simply confronting her. And he wasn't clever enough to set a trap for her either, to try to trick her into exposing her deception.
(Damn it all.)
Fuming, he turned away from the elevator. He stumbled down the steps—wincing, but not crying out—and headed for the storage room.
The Ragnarok's nose-dive had thrown Ellone to one side of the room and knocked much of the supplies off the shelves. Machine parts, tools, and medical supplies were scattered all about. Ellone was buried under what looked like a car muffler and a package of unwrapped bandages.
Seifer walked up to her and kicked aside the muffler-looking object and threw aside the bandages. Kneeling was painful, but it was practically ecstasy compared to how his wound behaved before he'd numbed it.
He tucked his arms under Ellone's shoulders and began to drag her towards the door. He looked down and saw the blood stains on his shirt—much of it still wet—and then set Ellone down. He wasn't sure if Ultimecia was joking when she told him not to get Ellone covered in blood. After all, he couldn't see any reason why it would matter if Ellone was bloody or not, but he decided not to risk Ultimecia's anger.
(I hate this damn uniform anyway.)
Mumbling curses, he walked out of the storage room, back up the steps, and into the passenger bay. He stepped around the petrified android and over the dead bodies and reached under the chair to where he'd left his clothes. Gratefully, he peeled off the remnants of the stiff and bloody Esthar uniform and put on his familiar pants, boots, gloves, and his favorite trench coat. He left his blue undershirt on. Even though it was covered with blood, it was still his and he wanted to wear it. He cinched up the front of the trench coat so that the undershirt was covered, and then returned to the storage room, feeling more like himself.
Once again, he picked up Ellone by her armpits and began dragging her along the floor. He had to grind his teeth to hold back the pain, but he was able to bring her along at a relatively quick pace. He yanked her up the steps one at a time—her heels thumping loudly on each step as he pulled her—and then over to the elevator. The elevator rose up and brought them back to the bridge.
The bridge had been significantly cleaned in Seifer's absence. The blood was gone, the bullet casings were out of sight, and there appeared to be little evidence that anything was wrong. A few cracks remained in the windshield and the chair that Seifer had split open using Squall's gunblade was still in the same condition, but at least the worst damage was fixed.
Ultimecia, still in the pilot's chair, peered over her shoulder at Seifer.
"I said 'quickly', didn't I?" she said. Seifer fought down a scowl and a nasty retort.
(You damn well better be the real Ultimecia.)
(Or I'll tear you to bloody pieces.)
Seifer dragged Ellone to the middle of the room and then set her down. "Sorry, Ultimecia," he said, not knowing what else to say.
Ultimecia stood up and looked down at Ellone. "Well, at least you had the sense to keep the blood off of her. Perhaps you're not useless after all."
('Perhaps' my ass.)
"What're you plannin' on doin' with her?" Seifer asked. A perfectly innocent question, or so he thought. After all, if he was going to serve Ultimecia, wouldn't it be better if he knew what was going on, so that he could anticipate her needs and cater to her desires?
Ultimecia disagreed. She turned to him and snarled wordlessly. She crossed the cockpit in three quick, deadly strides. Seifer took a half step backwards, not sure if he wanted to run or fight or beg forgiveness. She moved too quickly and her anger rose too fast. He didn't have time to process a response before she laid one bare hand over his forehead and held it there, pressing into his skull with surprising force.
(She's gonna kill me.)
He closed his eyes and readied himself for a burst of violent magic that would tear him asunder. Or for his molecules to be broken apart and sucked into the ventilation shafts, like she had done to the Esthar soldiers aboard the ship.
But neither happened. Instead, Seifer's vision went blurry, and he began to see images and scenes before his eyes, as if he was dreaming.
(Serve.)
First, he saw himself on one knee beside a throne made of gold and gemstones. Ultimecia sat upon the throne in her normal human form, not in any borrowed body. Her own body was thin and hard, her features were bony and angular, as if her skin was too small for her skeleton. On her head she wore an ornate headdress that twisted her long gray hair into two massive horn shapes.
Below the throne, the world stretched out before their feet—the entire domain of the sorceress and her loyal knight. All he could see was charred earth and burning skies. Machines and monsters stomped over mountains and across plains while starving, bedraggled people ran in terror and were crushed or shot. He could see it all, from the coast of one boiling ocean to the next, all in one second, a mere glimpse.
(Serve.)
Next, he was near the same throne as before, but this time he knelt in front of it. He saw himself falling upon his own gunblade at Ultimecia's spoken command. He saw himself drowning, himself burning, falling, petrifying, bleeding, screaming. Whatever Ultimecia commanded, he did, in a maddening, cycling blur of images and sounds that Seifer's mind could barely keep up with.
(Serve.)
Last, he saw himself back aboard the Ragnarok, inside the cockpit with Ultimecia once more encased in the body of Ciel, with Ellone's sleeping form beside them. He saw his body go slack, like a mannequin hanging limply from his strings. He saw Ultimecia whispering words to him, but he could not hear her because his mind was somewhere far away, as if a great expanse of water divided himself from the vision.
(Serve.)
(Serve.)
(Serve.)
A white light appeared in the center of his vision, steadily growing until it encompassed everything. In that light, there was only Ultimecia's voice, only her will, only her thoughts. There was no room for anyone or anything else, and Seifer knew that if he headed into the light, he would disappear. There would be nothing remaining of his personality, his freedom, or his desires. The light and her will would destroy it all.
(SERVE.)
At the last moment, Ifrit saved him. A line of fire encircled him, dividing his mind from the impossible white light, leaping up to twice his height and making him cower away and shield his face with his arm. The fire spread in all directions, consuming the light, burning away Ultimecia's voice and her whispered promises and her visions. Seifer could hear shrieking coming from somewhere—coming from everywhere.
The light vanished. The fire faded. The images ceased, and Seifer was once more in the Ragnarok, with Ultimecia's hand on his head. She yanked it off his skin as if he'd burned her, and she stared at the palm of her hand.
"A Guardian Force?" she snarled. "You name yourself my knight and yet you protect your mind and body with junctions like a SeeD?"
Seifer blinked, dazed.
(What the hell just happened?)
He was still too disoriented after his visions to formulate anything resembling a cohesive answer to Ultimecia's accusation. He mumbled out a few pieces of words and syllables—but no full thoughts—while he looked around and tried to regain his senses. He felt like his head was underwater.
(Is this… reality?)
(What the hell was that?)
"You're a traitor," Ultimecia said to him. "A SeeD traitor, sent to spy on me. I've seen your kind before, boy. Others like you have tried to stop me. Tried and failed."
Even through his foggy thoughts, he could still understand her last statement. His first reaction was denial—furious, righteous denial.
"I ain't no damn SeeD," Seifer slurred angrily. "And I ain't no boy either!"
"Prove yourself," Ultimecia said. She crossed her arms. "You claim we have met before. I have no memory of this, but if you speak truth, then you should know something that only I would know. Speak now, or die as the SeeD you are."
The situation had reversed. Only a few minutes ago, Seifer had been the one who was furious, wondering if Ultimecia was who she claimed to be. Now it was Ultimecia's turn, fuming, demanding that he prove himself.
(And if I screw this up, she'll kill me.)
His mind raced. He tried to think of something clever, a simple detail that would prove that they had met before. At first, he thought he should describe a scene that both of them had witnessed together. Perhaps the parade in Deling City, where SeeD had attempted to assassinate her. Or maybe the battle on G-Garden. Or their first encounter, in the Timber TV Station.
But, he remembered that Ultimecia didn't seem to have any memory of having met him. If she didn't know who he was, then she wouldn't have any of those memories that went along with him either. He realized that he needed to think of something that she would have known even before they met, something that wasn't just a part of their shared past.
He thought back to when they first met, and began speaking.
"You talked once about what it's like in your time," Seifer said. "The future. You told me everythin' that's gonna happen up to then. First, Esthar's gonna become the most powerful nation in the world, and they're gonna absorb all the other countries. Then they'll copy Centra technology and replicate the Gardens, makin' a whole fleet of 'em, and putting 'em all over the world. Then there was…"
He shook his head, trying to remember. "Somethin' about a Garden War. SeeD rises up against the Esthar government and takes it down. Then they launch… you called it 'The War of Extermination,' which is this huge global effort to eradicate all sorceresses. I remember that part, because that's the part that really got to me. How SeeD's eventually gonna turn evil and try to kill all sorceresses. That's why I'm your knight. To stop that from happenin'."
In truth, Seifer had more reasons than that for taking Ultimecia's side, but he didn't think she'd be impressed by hearing about his romantic dream. He also knew that there was a chance that Ultimecia had made the whole story up to win Seifer's loyalty, but she described the future in such detail that Seifer found it hard to doubt her. Furthermore, her account of how SeeD eventually turned evil confirmed every belief Seifer already held towards the school.
His words had their intended effect. Ultimecia looked taken aback. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She thought about it for a moment, and then nodded.
"I suppose your answer suffices," Ultimecia said flatly. With no further argument, she turned away from Seifer "But this body does not suit my purposes. This sorceress is weak, and her abilities are useless to me. I need another. And for that, I shall require the services of the heiress."
(She acts like I'm supposed to know all this crap already.)
Seifer crossed his arms. Now that he proved himself, he felt he could get away with asking a question. "So what the hell's an heiress?"
"You test my patience," Ultimecia snapped. She glared at him for a moment, then closed her eyes. Seifer sensed a tingle in the air as an invisible magic spell was triggered. At first, Seifer thought she was calling up a spell to kill him, but then Ellone sputtered to life, coughing and gasping on the floor as if she'd been holding her breath for the whole time she was asleep.
Before Ellone could recover her senses and realize what was going on, Ultimecia quickly pressed the palm of her hand to Ellone's forehead—the same way she had done with Seifer moments ago—and concentrated. Ellone's eyes flickered, then closed as her body went limp in Ultimecia's grasp.
(So that's Ciel's power.)
Back in D-District, Ciel had said that she had the ability to make people do things. Fill their head with visions. And that's apparently what Ultimecia had tried to do to Seifer, but somehow his Guardian Force prevented it. He didn't understand what his GF had to do with it, and he didn't try very hard to puzzle it out. As far as he was concerned, it didn't matter. She'd failed to overtake his mind. The reasons why were irrelevant.
Ultimecia broke the connection with Ellone and straightened up. "Serve," she said in a low voice. Ellone looked up sightlessly, her eyes unfocused.
"Yes, Ultimecia," she said in a monotone.
Seifer's eyes widened.
(And Ultimecia says this power is useless to her?)
Off the top of his head, Seifer could think of a dozen applications for this type of magic. Used properly and discreetly, Ciel's power had the potential to be even greater than Edea's or Adel's. Both of the latter had to depend on brute force to overcome their foes. But Ciel could potentially bring down governments, possess major heads of state, start wars, and utterly devastate the entire world from the shadows. How could Ultimecia possibly not see the value of this?
(She must have something else planned.)
(Maybe she needs raw power for something?)
"Now," Ultimecia said to Ellone. "Name the greatest sorceress whom you know well."
"Edea," Ellone said emotionlessly. "She is the greatest."
Seifer scoffed.
(Depends on your definition of "great" I guess.)
"Why not ask me?" Seifer said, somewhat annoyed that he was being left out. "I can name some better sorceresses than her."
Ultimecia balled her hands into fists. "The heiress' power is useless if she does not know the other person," she said. "Now cease your questions." She turned back to Ellone. "Send me to Edea. Send me to the greatest sorceress you know."
"Yes, Ultimecia," Ellone said.
She closed her eyes and focused. Ciel's face twisted up in pain as a sudden headache seized her. Ultimecia was aware what was coming next, so she sat down in a chair and allowed herself to get as comfortable as possible. A moment later the connection was forged, and Ultimecia passed into a deep sleep, while Ellone focused so intently she might as well have been sleeping herself.
Seifer was left alone. He knew what was going to happen in the past, the same way that Ultimecia knew what was going to happen in the future. He'd lived the past, he'd experienced it. He knew that at that moment—or, technically, in the past—Ultimecia was using Edea's body to climb the ranks of the Galbadian government, eventually securing a post as the Galbadian Ambassador. SeeD would attempt to assassinate her. They would fail, and she would launch a counterattack. All would go as it had always gone, and Ultimecia would have changed nothing.
At first, Seifer had considered warning Ultimecia about this. After all, it wouldn't take much to alter the past. If he told her about the assassination attempt, maybe Squall would have died in the attack. If Squall died, then maybe Garden wouldn't have become mobile and escaped the missiles. And just like that, all of SeeD would be a smoking crater.
But Seifer had not been idle in the weeks following his last encounter with Ultimecia. He had spent much of the time deep in thought, mentally repeating his actions, Ultimecia's plans, and all the consequences of everything he'd said and done.
And in his meditations, he realized that Ultimecia's biggest flaw was her obsession with changing the past. From the very first time he met her until that very moment aboard the Ragnarok, changing what was constituted the whole of her ambition, the entirety of her strategy. If Ultimecia was displeased with the way things were, she would simply go back and change them until everything lined up as she wanted. That was her solution to every problem.
Weeks ago, Seifer had been more than eager to aid her in this goal. He hated and despised the world as well, and he didn't care if it all changed violently, or all came to an end. If Ultimecia could go back in time and undo SeeD's existence, or alter the course of the Sorceress War, or do any number of things, then Seifer's life would be different. He would be changed. He would be better. And so that was one of the reasons why he had served her, willingly and unquestioningly. Because he hated the present, and dreamed of a different world—any different world.
But he had since realized the foolishness of this plan. The past was not what needed to change. It was the present that Seifer hated. Despite its faults, the past—Seifer knew—had contributed to forming him, creating the basis of Seifer Almasy. Yes, his road had been hard, and yes he had failed his objectives, but through all the events of his life, he had become the person he was today.
And though he hated the world and hated his past, he still loved himself. He could not now imagine allowing Ultimecia to go back in time and fiddle with the circumstances that created him. What if she changed something, and Seifer became a wimp? What if he fell in love with Rinoa and got married and had a bunch of ugly babies? What if he went to a different Garden, or broke his leg and couldn't fight anymore? What if the slightest detail changed? He would not be the current Seifer. He'd be a different person entirely.
The idea sickened him.
So he let her go, without warning her about anything. Ultimecia needed to go back in time. At least this once. She needed to repeat the past as Edea and continue her errors. Doing so would guarantee that the present Seifer would continue to exist. If nothing changed, then this moment would persist. And that's what he wanted. He wanted her to fail in the past, so that she could succeed in the present. His present.
He thought of his gunblade, Hyperion. He thought of the phoenix he planned to engrave on its side.
(Rise from the ashes.)
(Reborn again, stronger each time.)
Despite the pain in his gut, he managed to force out a weak grin.
He had been beaten again and again and again by the world, by Garden, by society, by Squall and his friends. But every time, Seifer survived the battle and returned stronger. He'd faced Squall in combat four times now, and this most recent time, aboard the Ragnarok, Seifer had won. He had finally defeated his enemy.
(I am becoming stronger.)
Meanwhile, his blood continued to soak into his bandages.
Seifer waited. If he didn't have to move, if he didn't have to carry Ellone or do anything, the pain was quite manageable. He could stand idly in the ship's bridge, one hand holding his gut and wait for Ultimecia. The pain made him tougher.
Several minutes passed, and then Ellone opened her eyes. She stared at nothing, gazing off into the middle distance. Seifer turned his head to follow her gaze, but there was nothing there except the chairs and the control panels. She looked like she was half-asleep.
(The hell's she lookin' at?)
Ultimecia awoke a few seconds later. She got to her feet quickly and began to pace about the cockpit, one hand on her chin, her eyebrows bunched together. He was about to say something, when she suddenly spoke.
"This is it," Ultimecia said to Seifer. She continued to pace about, her words falling out of her mouth in a rush. "This is the time."
(Time for what?)
"The Legendary SeeD is from this era," Ultimecia said. "I never expected to find him. I thought he was in my future, not in my past. But he is here! He is here!"
"The hell…" Seifer said.
"That boy!" Ultimecia yelled as if the answer was so very obvious. "The one with the gunblade. He is the Legendary SeeD. The one destined to face me. I've had him in my grasp three times now, twice in the body of Edea, and once in this time, and all three times he has eluded me. It's him, I know it."
(I have no idea what the hell's goin' on.)
"How do you…" Seifer began.
"Because he defeated me!" Ultimecia screamed in a frenzy. The air shook, the windows rattled, and Seifer felt a blast of magical energy pass over him. "I thought he was just another SeeD, but he is stronger than the rest. He is the Legendary SeeD. There is no doubt."
Seifer still had no idea what she was going on about, but her sudden panic and nervousness disturbed him. He had never seen her behave like that. He tried to defuse her panic.
He shrugged. "So what if he is? He's dead. I shot him. Now he ain' nuthin' but a legend."
"Then we have already won," Ultimecia said, still pacing about. "But I doubt it will be so easy. He is warded by Fate and it will take more than mere bullets to end him. I impaled him with ice earlier and he survived that without even a wound. I don't believe that he can be killed, so I must try another method."
(Warded by fate?)
(Can't be killed?)
"Tch," Seifer said. "Squall ain't that special."
But Ultimecia wasn't listening. She stopped pacing and then nodded to herself, as if she'd figured out the answer to one of her own questions. She wheeled around to face Seifer.
"I am going to leave you now, but I shall return," she said. "Guard over these two bodies, and ensure that nothing happens in my absence. Understand?"
(Two bodies?)
"Yes, Ultimecia," Seifer said. He coughed, and winced with the pain.
"I shall return," Ultimecia said. She pressed both her hands palm-first into her chest and summoned a spell of some kind. Ciel's body went limp and collapsed hard to the floor. Whether she was dead or merely unconscious, Seifer could not be sure.
"Uh… Hello?" Seifer said to Ciel's body. She did not respond. Seifer rolled his eyes, snarled, and kicked a nearby chair. That last exchange between him and Ultimecia had been one of the most confusing events of his life, and now Ultimecia had up and left him alone with an unconscious girl and Ellone, who was still spaced out like a zombie.
(I want some damn answers.)
What was going on? One moment, Ultimecia had been cold, calculating, and unshakable. Then once she returned from the past, she was jittery, nervous, and speaking in riddles and half-formed sentences. She was visibly shaken. She was…
(Afraid?)
Seifer had trouble believing that, but that's how she acted. Like she had seen the specter of her own death, following after her.
On the floor, Ellone blinked once, twice, and then multiple times rapidly. The haze cleared from her eyes, and she focused her gaze for the first time since Seifer had first put her under a sleep spell. Once she realized what was going on, she scrambled to her feet and bolted for the control panel.
"Seifer!" she said. "How do you fly this? Where's the radio? We have to leave!"
"No," Seifer said. He stood calmly at the back of the room and watched as Ellone frantically darted from one terminal to the next, looking at the arrays of buttons but unwilling to touch any of them.
(As long as she doesn't push any buttons or try to escape, I don't care what she does.)
"She's coming back," Ellone shouted at him. "We have to get out of here!"
"No," Seifer said again. "Just sit down or somethin'. Stop freakin' out."
(She's startin' to annoy me.)
Ellone spun around and glared at him. Her hands clenched into fists. "Seifer, help me, or… or I'll put you under again! I'll send you back to the most boring time I can think of!"
Seifer grinned and shrugged. "Go for it."
He knew Ellone had no power over him. If she put him into some distant memory, what would that accomplish? Ellone wouldn't be able to fly the ship or escape while she was connected with Seifer, and Ultimecia would eventually return and break the connection.
Nor could Ellone try to connect with Ultimecia, because Seifer was still there to snap her out of it. Ellone was outnumbered and her power was not going to be of any use to her. Soon, she realized this as well. The panic slid out of her eyes. She took a breath, and tried a different approach.
"Seifer, why are you doing this?" Ellone said. "If we work together, we can stop Ultimecia. Why are you helping her?"
"It's her then?" Seifer asked. "It's really Ultimecia?"
He still had some doubts, even after everything he'd just witnessed. He wanted a second opinion.
"Yes," Ellone said. She shuddered involuntarily. "Without a doubt."
Seifer exhaled in relief.
(Least I wasn't runnin' around makin' an ass out of myself for anyone other than her.)
"Why doesn't she remember me?" Seifer asked.
"Please, Seifer," Ellone said, ignoring his question. "I know you're angry, but this is not the way to fix things. You're just making everything worse."
"You don't—" Seifer said, but he was interrupted by a cough shaking his body. The coughing fit sent more stabs of pain through his belly. Although the Esthar medicine had dulled the pain, it had done little to heal the damage done to his body. "You don't understand me. None… none of you understand."
"Do you hate everyone?" Ellone asked. "Is that it? Do you want Ultimecia to destroy the world? Why are you doing this? Why?"
"Too hard… to explain," Seifer said. He licked his lips and realized that there was blood in his mouth.
(Damn it.)
"If you want power, then you won't get it from Ultimecia," Ellone said. "She's planning to destroy the world. That will include you too, you know. You'll die, Seifer. We all will. You can't possibly want that, can you?"
He sneered at her. Maybe once upon a time, when he'd first met Ultimecia, he'd been too blinded by his own anger to care whether or not the world was destroyed. And maybe back then he wanted power too, and status and a sense of belonging. Those were all components of his romantic dream—a dream he still held fondly in his heart.
But he'd grown wiser with time. He no longer craved destruction for its own sake. He had a larger goal, greater ambitions, and a better reason for taking Ultimecia's side this time. He was not so shortsighted that he'd destroy the world for the sake of a short-lived fantasy. He wasn't an idiot.
He wanted to tell Ellone everything. Despite everything that occurred between them, she was still "Sis" and he hadn't forgotten her. Of everyone from the orphanage, she was the only one left that he gave a damn about. However, the truth was too grand and complex for him to explain at that moment. And even if he did explain, he doubted that she'd understand.
(She's too much like Squall.)
(Too much of a saint to get her hands dirty.)
So he summarized as best he could. "Me and Ultimecia," he said, "Are the same."
Ellone shook her head, her eyes glistening. "I don't understand. What does that mean? Tell me, Seifer!"
"We wanna change the world," Seifer said.
She stood in front of him, stunned and speechless. Before Ellone could respond, Ciel stirred. Ellone saw this, and began focusing again, trying to form a connection and put Ciel down before she could wake up. Seifer quickly summoned a flame in his hand, a small bulb of burning light, and angled it menacingly towards Ellone.
"Don't," Seifer said.
Ellone looked at the flame and hesitated.
(If she really wanted to stop Ultimecia for good, she'd let me fry her.)
(If Ellone dies, then Ultimecia's plans fall apart.)
But Ellone put her hands down and relaxed. Seifer clenched his fist, extinguishing the fire.
(Guess she ain't one for self-sacrifice.)
"I don't believe that you're a monster, Seifer," Ellone said softly.
"I'm not," Seifer said.
(One day you'll understand.)
Ciel—possessed again by Ultimecia—rose to her feet. She glanced at Seifer, then at Ellone. When she saw that Ellone was no longer under the effects of Ciel's magic, her eyes narrowed.
"I didn't realize that the girl's magic would fade once I left her body," Ultimecia said, partially to herself. "But I see you have sufficiently cowed the heiress, sir knight. Excellent."
"Did you do what you wanted to do?" Seifer asked, hoping that this question wasn't going to set her off again.
"Indeed," Ultimecia said with a cruel smile. "Through chance, I have freed the Great Adel from her tomb, covered the world in monsters from a Lunar Cry, and you, sir knight, have delivered the Lunatic Pandora to me."
(She must have gone back and possessed Rinoa.)
Seifer worked to piece together what must have happened. If he remembered right, this would correspond to when Ultimecia took possession of Rinoa and ordered Seifer to find the Pandora. He was too busy accomplishing his mission to know what happened next, but eventually the Lunar Cry occurred, and Adel's Tomb fell into the Pandora.
Everything was falling into place. Even though Ultimecia acted triumphant, she had—in truth—changed absolutely nothing about the past. Seifer began to wonder if she was a little bit dense.
She turned to Ellone. Ellone cowered a little, but stood her ground. Ultimecia thrust out a hand and placed it on Ellone's forehead.
But this time, nothing happened. Ellone shut her eyes and winced, expecting to be overwhelmed by Ultimecia's magic, but there was nothing. Ultimecia frowned, then scowled.
"Hmph," Ultimecia said. She removed her hand. "This sorceress' mind control tricks only work once per person. How utterly useless."
Ellone seemed to brighten. Ultimecia laughed at her.
"But of course," Ultimecia said. She summoned a flame in one hand. "There are still other ways to compel your service. So, will you obey me freely, or must I be more forceful?"
Ellone hesitated. But Seifer knew that there was still more that Ultimecia needed to do in the past. She had possessed Edea and Rinoa, but she still had to possess Adel in order to ensure that the past remained untouched.
(This has to happen.)
"Do what she says," Seifer said. If Ellone didn't obey, the past might change. She looked at him uncertainly. He shrugged and offered a genuine smile. "I'm not a monster. Trust me."
Ellone chewed on her lip and fidgeted. She glanced at Seifer, then at Ultimecia, and then at Ultimecia's raised hand. She licked her lips and sucked in a breath through her nose.
"I… I'll do it," Ellone said. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, as if ashamed of herself.
"Good. Send me to Adel," Ultimecia said. "Immediately after she got free of her tomb. Send me there, and with the power of the Great Adel and the power of the Pandora, Time Compression shall be realized!"
(No, it won't.)
Seifer elected to stay silent and watch. Ellone nodded, then focused. Ultimecia once more gripped her head in pain, then moved over to the nearest chair and fell asleep, leaving Seifer alone with Ellone and the sleeping Ultimecia. He sighed.
It was boring.
Thankfully, this was by far the shortest of the three trips, lasting only a minute or so before Ellone's eyes fluttered open and Ultimecia rose from her slumber.
"It didn't work?" Seifer said with a faint sneer.
"I would kill you now," Ultimecia said darkly, "If I did not still have a use for you."
(That's exactly what I wanna hear.)
It had all gone according to plan. Not Ultimecia's plan. No, Ultimecia had wanted to cast Time Compression, to meddle around in the events of the past and screw everything up.
But it had gone according to Seifer's plan. He had allowed her to go on her adventure, to go back into Edea, and Rinoa, and Adel, failing at her objectives each time. He, by calculated, precise inaction, had ensured that the past would remain constant, and that he—the current Seifer—would continue to exist.
(Now we move on to the future.)
(Stronger every time.)