I'd like to take a moment before we start the regular pre-chapter stuff to point out today's date (as of the release of this chapter), which is 18 October, 2020. This fic first sprang to life out of a half-remembered dream which I had on the first of October of last year. I spent a little under two days jotting down what I could remember, then storyboarding out from there in both directions for almost another week. Following that, I sat down and put fingers to the keys, churning out the fastest set of fifty thousand words I'd ever managed in my entire life, in a rough draft that I still have laying around somewhere for reference. And from that absolute marathon of early mornings, late nights, and long days between the two writing my heart out, this fanfic was born, revised, edited, and released to the public for the first time, one year ago today.
...holy carp you guys.
I honestly did not conceive that I'd still be working on this a year later. I've never stuck on a creative project this long, this consistently, or with this much drive. I'm really enjoying it so far, and I can't even begin to express how happy I am that you all are here with me, and that you are still here with me. I don't know all of what's going to happen going forward in the real world, but I am going to do my absolute best to finish this thing. Like Barret says, there ain't no gettin' off this train. So whatever else happens, thank you for taking this trip with me so far, and I hope you keep going with me until the end of the line.
All right, enough sappy crap. On to the comments!
Kariston Draconis: Not saying which of your ideas is right, but stop reading ahead in the rough draft file. :D Seriously, I'm actually wondering how so many of you are doing that.
Death Of Snipers: SOLDIERs all having specialties is kind of me extrapolating from those few we've seen in the saga up to this point. Genesis is somewhere between red mage and magic knight with his spellcasting and putting spells into his sword. Angeal is like a fusion of paladin/monk and blue mage, able to copy others' techniques and his combat prowess. Even Roche in the Remake is unique in his presentation as a SOLDIER, doing battle as much with his sword as with his souped up motorcycle, so I feel this idea may play out in the revised canon as well. Major Motoko Kusanagi put it well, "Overspecialize, and you breed in weakness. It's slow death."
WindbornesWord: Indiscriminate Grappling is the original translation, but the words "Anything Goes" will have a place in the story. You'll have to wait a bit, because that particular thread isn't going to get pulled for a while, but I have some plans for it.
Big thanks to Glitch for helping me edit again. We'll see if I can keep to a chapter a month. This one ran a bit longer than I expected when I started it, but I like how it turned out.
Chapter Thirty One
Who We Are in the Dark
[ ν ] - εγλ 0007, December 17
11:47 AM
"Now hear this," a distant loudspeaker called over the dock, the voice carrying a slight accent. "Cargo vessel 'Grace Of Ifrit' departing from dock zero-four, bound for Costa Del Sol, scheduled for departure in ten minutes. If you belong on board and you're not, get your ass back here. This is the captain." The captain returned the comms mouthpiece to its cradle at the roof of the cabin, and turned to meet the gaze of Rufus Shinra, flanked by Director Heidegger. "I am leaving over twenty five thousand gil of merchandise on the dock because of you, so I expect to see a return on this investment."
Rufus tucked an errant hair behind one ear and gave the captain a smile like one would see on a shark. "I fail to see how that is my problem, Shiro."
"It became your problem when you commandeered my ship," the captain replied, jabbing one finger through the air at Rufus. "And that's Captain Shiro to you, boy. You know the law as well as I do. I and every one of my crew are due compensation for lost wages from this little stunt you pulled."
Heidegger's face screwed up in anger, and he stepped forward, placing himself between Shiro and Rufus. "This is the President of Shinra," he began, "and you will show him your respect, or-
"Heidegger?"
The large man turned suddenly to respond to Rufus' inquiry. "Yes, sir?"
"Be quiet." Rufus strode forward in his immaculate white suit and longcoat, walking straight past Heidegger's frozen expression of impotent anger and confusion, and stared down the captain. "And you, Shiro, you think you can... what? What leverage do you think you have against me right now?" he asked. "Over a hundred of my troopers are already on board. We could overrun you at a moment's notice."
Captain Shiro barked out a laugh. "I have no need to lever you. You think we're playing a round of poker? You bet, I bet, we show our cards and see who wins?" He gave a wide grin, his weathered face stretching slightly around it. "No, boy, you handed me the whole deck of cards an hour ago, sat down to a chess table, and gave me all your pieces to that too. I don't play games when it comes to my men, and I don't play games when it comes to our pay. You pay us, you cover the breach of contract costs on the merchandise, or this boat won't float one meter out of the dock while you and your men are aboard."
There was a blur between the two men, and Rufus' Shortbarrel Custom appeared from beneath his longcoat, pointed straight at Shiro. "Or I could spray this cabin with your guts and steer it myself."
Another blur in the cabin, and Shiro had closed the space between them, pressing the dual barrels against his own chest. "I don't believe for even one second that a pampered little shrimp like you would know the first thing about piloting a vessel like this. My sailors already loaded your cargo, and it'll take you twice as long to get it offboarded by yourself if you think I'm too much trouble, because my men won't be helping you do that either." He gave another grin and narrowed his eyes. "You think you got your military with you, but I seen 'em when they boarded. Green, raw recruits, the lot of them, and I'd bet gil to gysahl not a one of them can operate a boat of any kind, let alone this behemoth."
Rufus observed the captain's face carefully, looking for any sign of a crack. There was none. "You're really not afraid of me, are you, Captain Shiro?"
"Sonny," Shiro's face twisted into a weary glare, "I've seen sea monsters, pirates and raiders, thieves and con artists alike. I've seen things back during the war that'd curl your hair as you stand in front of me. I have seen men stranded at sea for less than a day turn on each other with murder in their eyes and idiocy in every step." He glanced down at the shotgun still pressed against his midsection. "A quick death doesn't hold that much fear anymore, not when you've seen what the rest of the world can do to a man."
"Hmph." Rufus shrugged, and withdrew the Shortbarrel, running one hand across the smooth, polished wooden foregrip, before tucking it away again beneath his longcoat. "You impress me. You'll get your payment, Captain."
"And the two of you will be confined to the bridge and captain's quarters, and placed under guard, for the duration of this voyage," Shiro added.
Heidegger looked as if he might burst. "How DARE you-" he began, but before he could say another word, Shiro stepped forward, drawing a dagger from somewhere inside his own coat and pressing the tip beneath the larger man's chin.
"That's seven inches of steel beneath your tongue, you loud-mouthed arse," Shiro countered, his Eastern affectations dropping completely as his Wutaian accent came out in full. The tip of the blade drew a few drops of blood from the base of Heidegger's neck as he continued, "I'd shut your damn cakehole if I was in your shoes. You come onto my ship, you threaten me and my crew, you bring an armed force on board, and you expect me to let you have free rein?"
Rufus observed the exchange between the two men, Shiro completely and utterly in control as Heidegger trembled almost on tiptoe to avoid cutting himself on the tip of the blade pressed against his vitals. "Captain," he said finally. "I honestly have little love for the man, but would you do us both a favor and not gut my aide before we get underway? It'd be a lot of trouble if we toss his corpse overboard, and he lands on the docks. Too much paperwork."
Shiro's gaze did not move from Heidegger's the entire time, but after several seconds of consideration, he gave a curt nod in response. Heidegger remained immobile, seemingly pinned to some point in midair by the knife's presence. After another few seconds, Shiro lowered the tip of the dagger a fraction of an inch, and shoved Heidegger back against the wall of the bridge. "I'll say it again, in case it wasn't clear," he said quietly. "You'll be fed, treated well, and given decent accommodations, but you will not be joining your men below decks. I'll not risk you lot planning a mutiny aboard my ship."
Rufus gave a grin at the sight of Heidegger putting himself back together in impotent rage. "Very well," he said quietly, glaring at Heidegger with disdain. "Let's get this underway, shall we?"
"Indeed," Shiro replied, reaching again for the mouthpiece. "Attention all hands, prepare for departure. President Shinra and Director Heidegger have elected to take advantage of my hospitality and remain above-decks for the voyage. Chief of the Watch, report to the captain as soon as we are under way..."
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11:51 AM
"...and have the deck crew prepare to cast off all moorings. Engine room, fire it up. This is the captain."
Aerith smiled weakly. "So… Rufus really is on board this ship," she said softly, her eyes betraying her worry. "How long will we be aboard?"
Cloud shook his head. "No way to know for certain until we get out of the harbor, but cargo vessels like this are usually pretty slow," he commented. "But I'd say somewhere in the area of twenty to thirty hours between here and Costa Del Sol. If Rufus is aboard, then we have our work cut out for us here."
"I vote we kill the bastard before he sees us comin'," Yuffie called out. The others glared at her. "...what? Is there somethin' wrong with takin' out Rufus?"
Barret strode past Yuffie, but then stopped a few paces behind her. "Dunno if ya gonna understan' this," he said quietly. "But we ain't assassins."
"Yeah, but you're AV-"
Barret moved like a blur, his enormous hand suddenly covering Yuffie's mouth. "Not. Here," he rumbled softly. "'Specially, not here. Jes' keep that under your hat."
Yuffie nodded, and Barret pulled his hand away. "Sorry," Yuffie said. "But I mean, ya don't like Shinra, do ya?" Barret glared, but said nothing. "So why does it matter?"
"It matters because we don't want to get civilians caught up in our fight," Tifa answered, keeping her voice low. "Or at least we try not to. And as much as possible, we want to do this the right way."
Yuffie glared at her. "Whaddya mean, 'civilians'? They're loadin' up all kinds of weapons in those crates and sendin' 'em over to take over somewhere else too. They made that bed, they should lay in it."
"Yuffie," Ranma gave a warning tone, seeing the look on Barret's face at the mention of the weapons that had been brought onboard.
Barret turned and faced Yuffie. "Time and place, runt." He took a step forward, and crouched down, bringing himself down to eye level with the girl. "All of us know what's probably in the crates, same as you. We had to help load it on to keep up the disguise. An' if the chance comes up, we gonna wreck all of it." He reached out and put one hand on Yuffie's shoulder. "But this ain't that chance. We do it here, now, it ain't just us who pays for it. It's gonna be the sailors on this ship, an' their families. An' these are jus' workin' folks, tryna get by. They ain't gotta choice right now, any more than we did when we snuck on board. They play their roles, an' we play ours. Until it's time to stop playin'."
"Yeah, but-"
"Yuffie." Ranma glared at the girl, warning her into silence. "Shinra came in and hurt your country a few years back, right?" Yuffie nodded. "And you want to hurt them back, doncha?" Yuffie stared at him, but said nothing. "And anything that stands in your way, is the enemy, am I right? No matter if it's friend, foe, or just a bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Yuffie's gaze hardened. "I get that they hurt you, but... goin' all Ahab on it right now, especially while we're all sittin' in a tub that's about to be in the middle of the ocean, probably not the best idea."
The others turned to look at Ranma. "What's an 'Ahab'?" Aerith asked, confused.
Ranma paused for a moment, took a breath, paused again, remembered where he was and how likely it was that Gaia didn't have whales, and shook his head, regathering his thoughts. "It's… a character from a story in my world," he explained. "Ahab tried to claim revenge on a sea creature that ate his leg. I'll explain when there's time, later."
"I don't care about all of that!" Yuffie hissed. She did not look like she was taking this well. "Who cares about this Ahab guy? Shinra destroyed my home, they torched half my island, and they forced us into that stupid treaty. Wutai is a tourist trap now, our history is gawked at by slack-jawed idiots who come to drink cheap booze and laugh at the locals. What the hell do you want from me?"
"It's called disproportionate retribution." Everyone looked at Red. Red swayed forward in his trooper disguise, and looked Yuffie square in the eyes. "They hurt you. And when you fight back, you don't just hurt them back, you hit them harder, hurt them more, you might even hurt the people standing near them because you're still angry. You hurt their neighbors and their friends and the people living down the street from them. Now all of them are upset at you, but they can't all take their anger out on you, because you get killed in the first battle. So they start fighting your friends, your family, your city. It escalates with each repetition, and it keeps escalating. At the end there's only two options." Red's canine smile was there under the helmet, but it felt like there was nothing behind it. "Either someone, somewhere, decides that it stops, or everyone continues fighting until one side is ash and dust."
Yuffie blinked, swallowed, and turned away from the wolf. "An' whaddya know about it anyway, huh?" she blurted out angrily. "What did they take from you?"
"They took my species."
The silence that fell over the group was deafening. Even the sounds of the engine warming up in the forward cabin, and the chatter of the sailors going about their duties, felt muted, out of place. "S-S-Shinra…" Yuffie stammered, barely able to consider the possibility. "How did they…?"
Red's single yellowed eye glowed faintly at Yuffie. "I am the last living member of my tribe," he said simply. "Shinra owns an army. I am reasonably sure you can perform the calculation from there." And with that he turned and swayed unevenly towards the stairwell to the upper deck.
Tifa's look of worry followed Red until he was out of sight up the stairwell, but aside from that she made no move to stop him. After a moment longer, she turned back to Yuffie, and continued, "That's why we do it this way, Yuffie. We all got people we care about. If we fight the wrong way, then we make them targets, not us," she explained. "If we take him out in the dark in a place like this, Shinra's press would martyr him and make our message that much harder to hear. So we fight clean. We do what we can to protect Gaia, and we make sure that when we fight, that the people who see us understand why we're doing it."
Yuffie kept her head lowered. "What if that doesn't work?" she asked quietly. "Shinra owns the media, y'know... what if they just hide your message? What if fighting them doesn't work, and they just keep replacing the assholes at the top with more assholes from lower down? What do you do then?"
Barret raised his gun-arm meaningfully, hidden as it was beneath a makeshift bandage designed to make it appear as if he had a stump arm. "Proctology exam," he answered, grinning.
"There shouldn't be that many assholes," Cloud declared, leaning casually against one of the crates, "or at least not that many willing to put their lives on the line for a bad cause. We get rid of the leaders, we get the word out to the public, and the rest should start crumbling on its own. If someone else tries to stand up and be an asshole, we take them out too, and we do it just as clean as the first time."
Tifa nodded. "We'll deal with that when… if… we get there. Until then, we do it this way."
Yuffie nodded, and Ranma realized she'd been crying beneath her bravado. Aerith stepped forward and rested one hand on Yuffie's shoulder. "Hey, Yuffie." Yuffie rubbed her face clear, before looking up at Aerith. "All of us have lost things... people, places, time… to hear Ranma talk, it sounds like he lost a whole planet. Nobody here has a lockdown on grief. We've all got problems. We can either tear ourselves apart arguing about who has it worse, or we can try to do something about it and make the situation better."
Yuffie nodded, trying to wrap her head around this. "So, what do we do, then?" she asked, her eyes still red from her tears.
"I'm not sure yet," Aerith admitted. "Though you should probably go talk to Red. I think he might have been a bit upset by all of that." Yuffie nodded again, and followed the path Red had taken, disappearing above deck. "We do need to think of a good plan for how to stay out of trouble while we're all here… if nothing else, I sure as hell don't plan to go back into Shinra Tower if I can help it."
Barret glanced around at the other sailors going about their business. "Mebbe we can help out with the basics around here," he said quietly. "Kitchen duty, keepin' things clean, that kind of stuff... 'less any of you ever served on a ship before and know what you're doin'?"
Cloud gave a nod and his head around the edge of the crate, getting a look at the Shinra troopers. "Barret, you'll be responsible for those of us in the sailor's wardrobe... on the premise that if anyone gets in trouble for doing something they shouldn't and they're told to report to their superior, you ought to be able to scare off too many questions. I know the ins and outs of Shinra, so I'll take care of those of us in the trooper uniform. Anyone gives you any unwanted attention, just point them to the direction of-" he paused, looking down at the nametag on the stolen uniform, "-Sergeant Reese."
The party murmured their agreement as the PA system came to life again. "All hands, we are cleared for departure. Deck crew, loose all moorings. Engine room, engines quarter reverse..."
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...moments earlier...
Yuffie climbed up the stairwell as the others continued their planning, and came out onto the main deck of the cargo vessel. The sunlight that managed to filter down through the buildings and overhangs of Junon to reach the docks was a dingy orange, and carried little warmth left with it, but it was enough to make the place seem slightly brighter than it actually was. Several sailors and a few men in the distinctive Shinra blues walked across the deck, but it didn't take Yuffie long to spot the most uncomfortable-looking of all of them.
She wove through the strangers and approached Red, who was leaning out over the railing at the side of the ship. "Red," she started softly.
"I stand by what I said," Red interrupted, his features hidden underneath the face-concealing trooper helmet. "It ends badly. It always ends badly," he repeated in a forlorn tone.
Yuffie looked across at Red, leaning against the rail as well. "I'm… sorry," she began hesitantly. "I didn't… know about any of that. I…" she trailed off for a moment, her eyes wandering around. "After I came of age, I was trained to be ninja… an assassin, by my people. And I'm good at it, I guess. It ain't hard to guess why I picked to be a killer… Shinra took a lot from my people. Almost a decade of bloodshed… they tried to burn the country to the ground just so they could pave over our temples and put their stupid reactors on top… they took my mother's life… and… dammit, I don't know what else to say right now."
A long moment of silence passed between the two stowaways, hidden in plain sight, staring out over the harbor. The PA system staticked itself to life on the speaker above them. "All hands, we are cleared for departure. Deck crew, loose all moorings. Engine room, engines quarter reverse…"
"Shinra… took my mother's life too," Red said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the captain's voice from above.
Yuffie felt her breath catch in her throat briefly, feeling the sorrow in those words resonate with her own. "We're the same, aren't we?" she responded as the PA cut away into silence again.
Red let out a huff. "Yuffie," he said calmly, "I have only been with these humans for about a week, but I can tell you, all of us are the same, on some level or another. Cloud and Tifa's hometown was razed to the ground, their families murdered in cold blood, by the man you call 'demon.' Ranma has been displaced from his entire world. Aerith… I will let her explain her details, but she has been on the run from Shinra for as long as you have been walking on two feet. Barret seems to carry some deep pain from Shinra as well, and if the hint we heard from that exchange with Dirk this morning is any indication, I believe he may be in a similar situation to the others. And you already know how deep my wound with them runs." The ship began to crawl out of the dock, a few meters at a time, and the deck crew had mostly settled from their brief flurry of activity following the PA's instructions. "We suffer, regardless of whether we suffer alone or together, but at least together we can help carry each other's burdens."
Yuffie gave a slight nod at that, her hands gripping the rail firmly as the boat began to churn in earnest. "Yeah… well, this one burden I got right now I don't think any of ya can carry for me," she declared, her voice uneven.
Red turned to look at her, sniffing the air. "Yuffie, do you get seasick?"
"Seasick, carsick, you name it, I got it," she confirmed, her face screwed up in concentration. "Threw up on a chocobo once. Don't like going anywhere except on foot."
Red's own face twitched in confusion. "I have no intention to belittle this, but you live on an island, yes?" Yuffie nodded slowly, her eyes locked resolutely on the horizon. "If you are that ill-suited for travel, why go anywhere? Especially this far from your home?"
"Because I had to, okay?" Yuffie said finally, meeting Red's gaze through the helmet. A beat passed between the pair, and Yuffie turned away again. "I had to. I… my dad and I had a fight. It… went badly. And he's not the kind of dad who'd let that sit. I couldn't stay, not with him actin' the way he was, and I couldn't move to another part of the island, it's all but deserted now. It was Wutai… or the rest of the world. And…" she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, "...my dad got Wutai."
Red nodded his head softly in response. "That is a sentiment I can understand… family is both important and difficult to live with, when the shadow it casts outstrips you… and everything you try to accomplish…"
Yuffie noticed the edge in Red's voice. "You okay?"
Red huffed in response. "My own father left… a legacy…" he said softly. "I am not proud of him. But he, too, is gone, so all I can hope for is to leave something better behind when I finally depart."
Yuffie smiled weakly. "Jeez, we really are two of a kind, ain't we?"
"It would seem so-" Red began.
The boat lurched suddenly, clear of the docks, as the engine began to spin into a forward motion, causing them to begin to turn. Yuffie immediately leaned over the railing and lost her breakfast.
"-aside from the motion sickness, anyway," Red finished.
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1:22 PM
The ship had made it fully out to sea, and had turned the engines to full, determined to make as fast a trip as possible. The captain clearly did not want Shinra occupying his boat any longer than necessary. At the moment, there was little enough to do to keep busy, and Cloud had taken to checking up on the others, ensuring that they were all safe. Having conversed with most of the party, he sought out, arguably, the strangest member of the group.
Descending into the cargo deck, Cloud spotted Ranma in the stolen uniform he had grabbed in Junon, standing out of the way near the controls for the cargo ramp, as sailors and troopers alike bustled about in their duties. "Ranma," Cloud called softly, trying to keep from being noticed by the other sailors and troopers.
Ranma gave Cloud a nod, waiting for a clear opening. When it seemed that no eyes were on them, he walked over to Cloud, who led them both into a gap between several large crates that had been stowed near midship. "What's up?" Ranma asked, pulling his helmet free.
Cloud stood there for a moment, considering his words. "You're not used to fighting with people, are you?"
Ranma stared at the disguised SOLDIER blankly for a moment. "Hang on, is this a trick question?" he asked suspiciously. "Cuz I've been fighting people for most of the last two years of my life, and it ain't slowin' down any since I came here-"
Cloud waved his arms vaguely, cutting the boy off. "No, no, no, I mean alongside people," he clarified. "Alongside allies, people you trust."
"Oh, yeah... not really, no," Ranma admitted, giving a light shrug. "I mean, sometimes alongside Ryoga, but that's more that he makes sure nobody interrupts a one-on-one battle."
Cloud nodded his understanding. "I figured as much," he commented, lifting one hand to remove his own helmet. He gave Ranma an appraising look, then continued, "You're a good fighter, Ranma. You can obviously stand toe-to-toe with a SOLDIER, and even if it's only for a few minutes at a time, that's not a small thing. Sometimes, though, it's not about being the strongest fighter, the single most capable person. When we fight," Cloud held up a hand, fingers outstretched, and lowered his voice, "when AVALANCHE fights, we work together. We support each other, we keep each other safe, and we shore up each other's weaknesses. Barret, for instance," and Cloud tapped one of his outstretched fingers, "is a capable ranged fighter, good at providing covering fire, harassing gunners and keeping any approaching melee fighters on their toes so they can't just charge in a straight line. He's also a big guy, which makes him an easy target, visually. He doesn't have the same training that someone like I do with materia, for instance, so his spells still hit, but they don't hit as hard. And he's not as adept in close-range combat as Tifa or I am," he went on, poking two more fingers.
Ranma watched and listened as Cloud spoke, trying to keep up. "So... I think I get what you're sayin', but... I don't get why you're sayin' it."
Cloud paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Before I get into that, tell me," he said calmly. "Why are we all traveling together?"
Ranma opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then blinked. "Sephiroth, right?" he asked, uncertain. "This sounds like a trick question, we're tryin' ta stop Sephiroth, ain't we?"
"That's one of our group goals, yes," Cloud confirmed, but held up his hand again, fingers still spread out. "But why are we all traveling together? If you're about as strong as a SOLDIER, why would you need to stick around with us? If Aerith's got... whatever Ancient magic she's got access to, why would she wait around for you? Why would someone like me rely on Tifa or Barret when I could go it alone? Why don't each of us just split up and try to make it a race to the finish or something?"
Ranma stared at Cloud for a long moment as he processed the question. Then Ranma felt the answer slide into place. "Because of Shinra," he answered. "They'd pick us off one by one."
"That's a part of it," Cloud answered, "but that's far from the whole thing. We're also together because even if Shinra wasn't trying to kill or imprison each of us for different reasons, we are stronger and more capable together than we are on our own. And that includes you." Ranma furrowed his brow, but kept his mouth shut and did his best to follow along as Cloud continued. "You are, frankly, among the best melee fighters I've ever seen, and that puts you in fine company. You've apparently learned to do combat magic reliably in less than a month, something that usually takes half a year of dedicated work for Shinra troopers. And you've apparently got some weird magic of your own, or you wouldn't be able to cast Beta. But you don't know this world," Cloud went on, gesturing around them. "If I'd told you that our final goal was in Modeoheim, or in Banora, and asked you to lead us there, you wouldn't know where to start. If I asked you to name three non-elemental materia spells, you wouldn't be able to. That's not to say that you're stupid, you just didn't grow up here. So you need our help if you want to keep going, just as much as we can use your help in taking down Sephiroth once we get to him."
Ranma took a breath, nodding his acknowledgement. "So... you're saying I need to be more of a team player, right?" Cloud tilted his head in answer. "Okay, I get it, it's not something I'm used to doing. Back in Japan and China, it usually ended up being up ta me to take down whoever was starting things up, either because they targeted me an' Akane, or because nobody else was nearly strong enough to match up. So, what do you want me to do?"
Cloud gave Ranma a gentle prod in the shoulder. "The first is that when we get into fights, you keep trying to do everything yourself, like we're just tagging along for fun. What you did today, holding yourself up as bait for that SOLDIER, Amon... was a good idea. I'm not going to lie about that, you made what was probably the best tactical decision, it kept our presence as quiet as possible, and it obviously worked, because we're not dead, and neither are you. But... I don't think you were weighing the tactical benefits, were you?" he asked, lowering his hands to his sides. "I'd be willing to bet you were thinking about how you, personally, could solve the problem, instead of how we could all work together to take out Amon."
Ranma lowered his head as the words hit him. He wanted to say that Cloud was wrong, but the former SOLDIER had hit the nail on the head, and it was a difficult feeling. "Yeah," he replied softly, trying to keep sullen out of his tone. "Yeah, I wasn't thinking about that. I was... tryna take care of it myself."
Cloud nodded, and leaned back against one of the big metal crates. "You made the right call, Ranma," Cloud reiterated. "But it's just as important to make that call for the right reasons. And that's part of what I want you to pay attention to for a bit. The second thing is related to that, and that's in how you tend to fight." Ranma looked up, waiting patiently, but didn't say anything. "You're strong, you're capable, you're versatile. This is all good. When you fight, you fight in such a way that you risk yourself unnecessarily, and you aren't paying attention to the rest of us except when you're going to throw out something big. I want you to try focusing on what the others are doing and supporting them. I mean, some of them are your pupils now, aren't they?"
Ranma smiled at the reminder. "Yeah, they are," he replied.
"So you should be showing them how to work together, how to complement one another's talents and abilities, right?" Cloud asked.
Ranma hesitated for a moment, but gave a small nod of his head. "You know, it's… annoyin' that you're better at this than I am."
Cloud waved off the compliment. "I spent years under Shinra's banner, learning squad tactics, leadership, battle strategy, and a whole lot of other stuff that they try to cram into your head before they even consider you SOLDIER material," he explained, meeting Ranma's eyes, "And that's not even counting the mercenary work I did. And like I said, you've got the most natural martial talent of anyone I've met, ever. If you took your fighting ability and paired it with sound tactical reasoning, you'd probably be unstoppable. And if I can get you up to speed on Shinra's military strategies while we're at it, all the better."
Ranma stood in silence for a moment, letting that sink in. "I was considering it, you know," he said quietly.
"Considering what?"
Ranma paused for a moment, before inhaling sharply. "What Yuffie was talking about before," he answered. When Cloud didn't respond, he continued, "Killing Rufus."
Cloud froze. He stared at the dark-haired fighter in silence for a long moment. "Okay, out with it," he said finally, his tone resigned. "What was the plan?"
Ranma blinked in shock, looking up at Cloud, before his earlier thoughts came rushing back to him. "Sneak up in the middle of the night, use the Umi-sen Ken to slip past the guard, and just... I dunno, break his neck or somethin'," he explained, making a grip with one hand in midair and tilting it sharply to the side in demonstration. "I hadn't got much more than that, but when we were talkin' about it, and listenin' to Barret an' Tifa an' Red talkin' about the consequences… I realized no matter how I did it, there'd be no way to do it without bringin' the troops down around everyone's ears. Worse, they might just blame the sailors for it and shoot them all in revenge for it."
Cloud nodded his understanding. "So you do understand how to think strategically," he said lightly.
"Hey, just because I ain't good at it doesn't mean I don't know how," Ranma smirked. After a moment of silence, the cocky expression fell away, replaced by concern. "But, all that aside... I don't know if I could do it. I... I ain't a killer. I know... I..." He trailed off, sliding down against the crate behind him to a seated position, looking down and away. "I don't know how to just... end people like that. I know back in the Tower I gave some of the guards some injuries they wouldn't wake up from, but... that was in the heat of battle... and we were tryna save Aerith, an'..." he paused, focusing on a specific memory. He shivered as the moment played out in his head. "Back in Midgar, before we climbed up to the Tower, you asked me if… Wedge… was the first time I'd seen someone die. An' I said yeah. An'... that wasn't exactly the truth. About eight months back, I had to do somethin' like that too, and... aw, hell... this place is so messed up, I don't even know what I'm sayin' anymore…"
Ranma drifted into silence, staring at nothing, his expression unreadable. Cloud watched the martial artist for a moment before sitting down beside him. "You need to get it off your chest?" Cloud offered. "I'm not the best choice for counselor on this crew either, but I'll do my best."
Ranma didn't respond for several seconds. When he did, it was as if from a long way away. "There was this guy, called Saffron," he began, letting the helmet he'd been holding onto slip away from his fingers. The dome of the helmet clattered to the deck of the cargo hold, but the sound didn't rise above that of the engine thrumming beneath them. "He... Well, I tolja 'bout the curse. We found out there might be a way to use the waters that feed into the Jusenkyo springs to reverse the effects, which would have got me, Pops, Ryoga, an' even Shampoo an' the others a cure. Didn't pan out, which kinda sucked... anyway…" he trailed off for a moment, recollecting his thoughts. "While we were lookin' around for the way to reverse the spring's curse, this guy Saffron came along, and plugged up the springs at their source, so that he could take a bath. Turns out he needed the magic from the springs ta keep his power in check while he became an adult. An' he was... insanely strong. Like, flyin' through the air, takin' hits that'd level buildings, destroyin' mountains with a single attack, has a counter to everything you do, maybe-immortal kinda strong. A buncha stuff happened… most of it seems kinda stupid now," he admitted, "but one thing that was really important was Akane, my fiance… she touched somethin' that nearly killed her. An' the only way we had that'd let us save her life was… past Saffron."
Cloud nodded. "And he wouldn't let you pass, I take it?"
"He wouldn't budge on it," Ranma confirmed, rubbing absently at his shoulder. "An' when push came to shove, I... couldn't beat him. He was just... too damn strong, too stubborn to take a loss, too arrogant to give up, an' with Akane on death's door, there wasn't time for us to figure out a way around him. So I had to push myself past 'beat him' and I showed up at 'kill him'. And... even that almost wasn't enough. Akane almost gave her life, just so I had an opening to put him down. And I took it." Ranma's face was blank, his eyes filled with the memory of his resolve. "I used my most powerful technique, I used it with every ounce of power I had sittin' behind it, an' I froze his legs and hips solid, an' I… cut Saffron in half."
Cloud sat there, mulling over the story. "You did what needed to be done," he said softly, after a long silence. "Nothing more."
"I know that," Ranma whispered. "But… he survived it. He says he's part phoenix… and believe me, he looked the part, but I dunno if I'd believe that any more, the way you got actual freakin' dragons and who knows what else runnin' around here... but that's what he said. An' he survived it. It changed him back to an egg, an' his caretaker said he'd have to grow up all over again, but..." Ranma clasped his hands together in front of his face, his gaze distant and unfocused. "I was... so damn glad I hadn't actually killed him. That I hadn't really taken someone's life, even if I meant to. I felt… gross, afterwards. Like I'd done something that nobody could forgive me for, like I'd stained the teachings Pops tried to drill into me."
"And your friends didn't see it that way," Cloud added. Ranma looked over at Cloud and saw the same look on his face that Ranma himself bore, a look of controlled anguish and confusion. "Some of them praised you, some celebrated what you did. Maybe one or two looked eager to see what you'd do next, if you'd be able to kill again. You didn't want to. You still don't want to." Cloud turned to face Ranma, the soft green glow behind his eyes lined with steel. "But you had to. The world wasn't that kind, to let you do it once and never again. Somehow... the world remembers things like that. And when things get bad, when the world needs someone who can make those hard choices, to end the life of another living, breathing, sentient being… the world finds you, and throws you into the middle of it again."
Ranma shivered as he listened to Cloud's dispassionate description, his eyes twitching slightly, unable to meet the piercing glow of the SOLDIER's gaze head-on for more than an instant at a time. "How..." he began, before trailing off again. "Is all of SOLDIER like that? They can all kill without havin' ta think about it?"
"Not all of them... and it doesn't get any easier," Cloud's voice seemed to fill the space between them as he spoke. "Not for people like you and I, or even for Barret. For the sociopaths, for the career warriors, for the kind of people who can remove the idea of 'person' from the people they kill, it's easy. And it gets easier every time they do it. But as much as it looks like I'm always in control, like I'm cold and calculating... I feel it, every time I have to take someone's life. And I look at you and I see the same look on your face as I had when I was fourteen and went off after my basic training, and got sent on a mission to kill someone. And seeing that look on your face, I know you're the same as me. It won't get easier." Cloud let out a breath, and rose to his feet. "The best you can ever hope for is that you live long enough to learn the harder lesson... that there are people out there, who can and will kill you, and they don't have the same problem you or I do. They'll kill you. They'll kill the people around you, the people behind you, the people you're supposed to keep safe. Unless you do something about it."
Ranma couldn't bring himself to look up at Cloud. "That's... awful," he responded finally.
"It is," Cloud agreed solemnly. "But believe me when I say, it's nothing compared to the feeling of having let someone else kill because you were too worried about how you'd feel if you took their life first. People like us... we usually don't get a third option, not when it comes to opponents like Shinra and SOLDIER, or Saffron." Cloud turned away. "When it comes down to it, you either take out the enemy before they hurt the ones you're supposed to protect, or hope like hell you can live with the pile of bodies afterwards."
Cloud adjusted the trooper helmet back over his hair and upper half of his head, and stepped back out into the cleared aisle on the cargo deck. Ranma sat there for several minutes in silence, contemplating Cloud's words as the sounds of the ship echoed about. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and picked up his own discarded helmet, sliding it back over his head as he pushed himself back to his feet. "Cloud... I really hope you're wrong," he muttered to himself. "But… you don't sound like you're wrong…"
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2:09 PM
Yuffie gripped the safety railing firmly as she descended the stairs from the main deck, taking each step slow and stiff, keeping both feet planted as much as possible. Eventually, she reached the cargo deck floor, and worked her way along the row of crates until she found an alcove near the stern of the ship, just beneath the framework that held the stairs in place. She lowered herself slowly to the deck, lay down on one side, and tried to focus on the feeling of the firm, cool metal beneath her as her stomach tossed and turned. She reached down to one of her hidden pockets, rummaging through it for her medical supplies, but found it empty of any medication.
She let out a sigh and turned over onto her back, pressing her palms firmly against the deck and trying to still her body as much as possible. Laying flat, surrounded by crates, eyes unfocused as she looked more or less straight up, she was unable to see any of the sources of noise around her. The common sounds of crew walking to and fro, voices calling out questions and answers, and the hum of the engine churning beneath her came together in a sort of white noise, and she let her eyes close for a few moments there on the lower deck.
Until the sound of heavy boots approached on the deck, causing her to tense up. "Yuffie, I know you're here," a young man's voice called out.
Yuffie immediately relaxed again, recognizing the words as belonging to Ranma. "Back here," she called out quietly. A few more footsteps, and the trooper-disguised Ranma appeared in her field of vision. "Welcome to my little hidey-hole."
Ranma looked down at the prone ninja. "You look… like you ate something my fiance made for dinner," he said quietly, sporting a slight grin.
"What, your girl can't cook?"
Ranma shook his head as he sat down nearby, leaning back against the inside hull. "Oh, she can cook, all right," he explained, "but you don't want to eat what comes out of the pot." He let out a low chuckle as he remembered some of the previous instances of her nearly-lethal meals. "She's… getting better, but it's slow going. She can manage rice and grilled fish now without it getting toxic, so that's a plus."
"Oh Goddess, don't talk to me about fish right now," Yuffie said, as she shuffled herself into a seated position opposite Ranma, sliding her own back against one of the crates. "Don't suppose you have a tranquilizer?"
Ranma shook his head. "Sea sick?"
Yuffie nodded weakly, a pale look to her normally energetic face. "Gonna try to tough it out."
"Want some help?"
Yuffie glanced at him suspiciously. "How?"
Ranma looked her over, analyzing the younger girl's posture and movements. "You're too stiff," he commented after a moment. "I know it seems like the opposite, but on the ocean you have to let your body relax some. If you hold yourself too stiff, you feel the ship movements too much, and it messes with your sense of balance." He demonstrated by holding his hand perfectly rigid, flat, parallel to the floor of the cargo bay. The ship struck a wave, and teetered to one side. Ranma remained mostly in the same place, but his hand shuddered with the effort of holding it steady.
Yuffie shook her head. "So, what?"
Ranma sighed. "So… you're wastin' a lot of extra energy tryin' ta keep yourself still. Loosen up some. Take a look at the other sailors, they're not walkin' 'round nearly as stiff as you are. Be like water," he said, holding the same hand in a much looser, relaxed manner, and instead of juddering to and fro as the boat rocked in the ocean, the hand wavered up and down in a much more fluid manner.
Yuffie glanced over at him, and sat down against the cool deck. "How do you know all this stuff, anyway?" she asked. "You're… what, a whole year older than I am? And you don't look like you're older 'n me, anyway."
Ranma sat down next to Yuffie and gave her a grin. "I've… had a really weird couple years," he answered, several choice memories flitting past his subconscious. "Lotsa stuff happened. Had ta swim to another country at one point."
"But…" Yuffie glared in disbelief. "I thought you said this Japan place was an island?"
"Yup."
"So, what, it's in a lake?" she asked. "You swam across the lake to get out of the country?"
Ranma shook his head. "Nope. It's an island… well, a coupla islands, but it's in the ocean. Nearest country across the ocean to where we started out from is China. And Pops and I swam the whole way," he gritted his teeth at the memory, "because Pops was too much of a cheapskate to buy a boat ticket."
Yuffie laughed at that. "Your father is weird."
"You have no idea," Ranma responded. He took a deep breath. "Somethin' I been meanin' ta ask ya about."
"Hmmm?" Yuffie groaned, still trying to keep herself steady.
"Wutai." Ranma shook his head. "From what I read back in Midgar, Japan of my world is… a lot like it, in a lot of different ways, but…there's a lot of differences too. Also… I'm not sure I'd trust Shinra's public libraries to tell me the sky was blue, but that's another matter." That got a laugh out of Yuffie. "Guess what I'm askin' is… can you tell me about Wutai?"
"You wanna know about Wutai?" Yuffie asked. "Why? You're from there, an' I'm still not buyin' that crap about bein' from another planet."
Ranma sighed. "I'm really not from Wutai, runt, no matter what you believe. But I'm asking, because…" he lowered his voice. "I've been thinkin'. When this is all done, I still might not know how to get home. If that happens… Wutai sounds like it might be the closest place to home I could find. I just… wanna know what it's like."
Yuffie scoffed, and glanced at Ranma. Ranma's face was crestfallen. He suddenly looked less like the nearly invulnerable martial artist she'd seen in the last twelve hours, and much more like he'd been run ragged for days on end. He looked like he was close to a breaking point. Yuffie sighed, and relented. "It's… not much these days…" she admitted. "Shinra kinda razed half the island during the war, and it's been less than a decade since then. But there's still a lotta history there. Our city sits right up close to a mountain, and centuries ago some of our greatest artisans carved the likeness of Da-Chao into it…"
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2:19 PM
Aerith smiled, looking at Ranma and Yuffie chatting companionably, before stepping carefully up the stairwell. She checked to make sure her long braid was still hidden inside her cap, before exiting the stairwell onto the main deck, turning to meander casually in the direction of Tifa.. "And you owe me twenty gil," she said quietly.
Tifa blinked in surprise. "What, already?"
"Yep."
Tifa scowled, but reached into her bra and pulled out a couple coins, pressing them into Aerith's outstretched hand. "What're they up to, anyway?" Tifa asked.
Aerith giggled and pocketed the gil. "Ranma's helping Yuffie deal with being seasick. Yuffie's telling Ranma about Wutai. Right now they're getting along. I expect the announcement about a third student of the Saotome School probably by the time we make Costan shores."
"He- er, she…" Tifa paused for a moment, running one hand over her brow. "...whatever, gonna get used to that. Ranma... he really has a thing for helping people, doesn't he?"
"Yes, he does," Aerith agreed with a smile. "I think it's his biggest strength."
The raven-haired girl returned the smile. "And that's saying something, considering how strong he is physically." Tifa sighed, clasping her hands behind her nervously. She turned to face Aerith. "I've been meaning to ask…"
Aerith's gaze turned out over the ocean as Tifa trailed off. Her eyes focused on the waves on the horizon as the vessel ploughed through the choppy waters. "You want to know if I'm interested in Cloud."
Tifa goggled at her. Her jaw worked soundlessly for a good five seconds. "I don't know how you keep doing that," she muttered, careful to not let the other sailors overhear them, "but you might want to keep a trick like that under your hat. Especially here."
"It's not easy," Aerith explained softly, turning her green gaze back to Tifa. "I don't have a lot of control over it."
Tifa blinked. "Are we talking about you liking Cloud, or about this weird psychic thing you keep pulling?"
Aerith shrugged. "Both, probably." She stretched, still looking poised as ever, even as the ship staggered back and forth across the choppy water. "The truth is… yes, I do like him. But I can tell he has feelings for you. And even if I felt like I wanted to step on that, and I don't… there's the simple matter that I don't feel like I'm a safe person to be around, on that level, right now."
Tifa gave a sidelong glance. "I'd wondered why you were keeping your distance from Ranma."
"Ranma's…" Aerith looked back out over the water. "...different."
Tifa chuckled. "You can say that again."
"It's more than just the obvious, though," Aerith went on, hands folded over the railing. "He wants to go home. He's got a life there. I don't think I should get in the way of that either… even if I kind of want to sometimes. He's… he reminds me of someone I dated a couple years ago, someone who said he'd… be my bodyguard. And Ranma just puts himself in the line of fire without even thinking about it, like it's natural for him to protect people… to protect… me." She smiled, a warm and genuine smile that even Tifa found infectious. "And as dangerous as that is for him, it's something I can't help but appreciate.
Tifa nodded, following the other girl's train of thought. "Still worried about what Shinra wanted to do with you?"
"Shinra's definitely on the list of things I have to worry about, but even with where we are right now, they're a distant third at the moment." Aerith's smile disappeared, and she suddenly looked much older, much more world-weary. "Sephiroth's way up at the top of the list… I keep seeing this image in my head. Sephiroth, standing in the darkness, poised over the whole world like a monster, ready to devour it whole. And we might be the only ones with enough knowledge and drive to do something to stop that."
Tifa nodded grimly. "We'll take him down, I promise." She turned to leave, then paused, tilting her head back to face the older girl again. "What's number two?"
"Hm?"
"You said Sephiroth's at the top of the list. Shinra's in third. What's second?"
Aerith turned to face Tifa. Her smile had returned, but for a brief moment Tifa could see behind the facade that smile held up. "I am."
Tifa's face was a mask of confusion. "You're… worried about you… being a threat to you?"
Aerith shook her head. "To everyone." She turned away. "Tifa, this one is… it's complicated. I think I have it under control… and I have some help from Ranma. I promise if it keeps being a problem, I'll explain it to all of you, but I don't think here and now is the best opportunity."
Tifa frowned, but turned and gave the woman a pat on the shoulder. "Not gonna hug ya right now, we're supposed to be… professionals," she said quietly. "Going to hold you to that though. Let me know if you need anything."
"I will, thanks."
Tifa turned and walked away, leaving Aerith to turn her gaze back towards the horizon. "Mother," she whispered. "I have so many questions I wish you could answer…"
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5:41 PM
"How many potatoes can one ship go through?" Barret muttered as he set another one in a large tub nearby.
Cloud smirked in response, whittling the skin off another. "Standard mess rations," he explained. "Simple starch, simple protein, one vegetable, one drink. Even a half-company of troopers like this will go through mess rations like you wouldn't believe."
Barret frowned. "Still a damn lotta potatoes," he grumbled, positioning another one in his faux-stump and carefully working it with the blade. "Find out anythin' on the cargo?"
Cloud paused for a moment, glancing around to make sure nobody else was in earshot. "Guns, mostly," he confirmed in a low voice. "Field rations. Some handheld explosives. All of it's standard, though. It's enough to equip every trooper on this ship for an extended battle against a strong opposing force."
Barret grinned despite himself, flipping the potato over to work the other side. "Looks like Rufus is taking Sephiroth seriously, sending a small army after one man."
A long silence passed between the two men. "It won't be enough," Cloud said finally.
Barret tossed the cleaned potato into the tub. "What makes you say that all of a sudden?"
"Just think about it," Cloud began as he started idly skinning another potato. "Rufus is smart, and he's got power, but Shinra hasn't changed much in the last five years. Troopers are still troopers. SOLDIER is still the same. Sephiroth was in command back then, he knows their tactics, their abilities, their… everything." He frowned, tossing the spud in with the rest and picking up another one. "Heidegger's not exactly a military genius, either. Usually his solution is to throw more people at a problem until the people stop turning into corpses."
"An' you sayin' he can't just bury the man in troops," Barret nodded as he caught on.
Cloud set the peeler down. "It's more than that," he continued, gesturing behind them to the mess hall. "Even if they're a threat to us, troopers mostly join up because it's a job, pays decent money, or they think it'll get them girls. Most of them never see anything more serious than guard duty, not since the war ended. And there's maybe three or four of them that I've seen on board that look like they've seen any real action, the rest are FNGs, right out of basic training. So if they throw this group at Sephiroth-"
"...It'll turn into a bloodbath," Barret finished, resting his arms over his knees. "Jeez, every time I think I can't hate Shinra more, they go an' prove me wrong." He reached for a fresh potato. "So, we got a plan?"
"Still working on it," Cloud admitted. He finished his half and knelt down to help Barret with the remainder left in his basket. "Tough as it is to say, we might have to let this one go. I can't think of any way we can get the guns off the boat or into the ocean without the sailors getting blamed for it. And if the sailors get blamed, this whole ship is going to be the bloodbath instead."
Barret let out a low growl, but let the matter sit. After all, there were still potatoes to be peeled.
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6:39 PM
Sten Parson, Lieutenant, Second Class, was in charge of a little under half of the enlisted men on board the Grace of Ifrit. Not counting the ship's captain, the only three people on board that exceeded his authority were his own Captain, and then Director Heidegger and President Shinra. The amount of work he had done to excel to the degree of being recognized for his command talent was finally paying off, though he was more than a little concerned about the current assignment. Despite his worries, he kept his opinions to himself and resolved to do the best he could to complete the mission and keep his men safe.
He'd drawn the long straw when it came to shift setting between himself and the other lieutenant aboard, and as a result his platoon had earned first dinner in the mess hall. He had finally sat down to his dinner after watching the rest of his men plate up, and was looking forward to the bland but filling food he had grown accustomed to in the military.
"Lieutenant," a voice called from behind him as he lifted his fork.
Parson turned to meet the face of one of his troopers, and remained seated. "Sergeant Standswell," he said before taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. "What's on your mind?"
Sergeant Solomon Standswell looked a bit nervous, a look Parson was not used to seeing on the man's face. "There's been some kind of breach, sir," he began. "One of the crates we loaded this morning."
Parson poked at his steak, which seemed more bulletproof than usual. "Can this wait?" he asked, though he expected he already knew the answer.
Standswell shook his head in response. "It looks like something might be missing."
That was serious. Shinra held corporate and military property in highest regards, and theft or loss of any of it meant imprisonment at minimum. "All right," he answered, "show it to me."
Standswell nodded and led Parson to an area being fussed over by three troopers, none of whom he recognized. Standswell motioned for them to stand clear, and Parson took in the scene. One of the topmost wooden crates was partially opened at the corner, the nails that held it down having been pulled back slightly. "The private down there found it and reported it to me."
Parson eyed the private, whose stance was rigid and inflexible, head covered by the regulation helmet despite being at sea aboard a civilian vessel and at mess hour. The boy was clearly fresh out of training and unused to being in the presence of anyone higher up than possibly his own corporal. "All right, tell me what happened," he said, eyeing the uniform nametag, "Private Jenkins."
"Sir," the private began, throwing out a salute. "I was doing a patrol before mealtime, and I noticed the box looked crooked, like it was tilted or something. I climbed up to investigate, and saw the top like that, sir. I was climbing down to make my report when the other two found me."
Parson turned to the second man, wearing the insignia of a private first-class, and gave him a once-over. "Is that what happened?" he asked.
"Sir," the second man began, much more at ease with himself, "I don't know about what he says happened before we showed up, but yes, we saw him climbing down from the crates. I thought he might have taken something from the crate, but now I'm not sure, sir."
Parson said nothing, and instead climbed up atop the first two crates to get a better look at the opened one. A single nail was missing from the corner of the lid, and the lid itself was raised up, which left a space just wide enough for a person to maybe reach in with a hand and pull out something equally narrow. A bayonet, maybe, but certainly not a rifle or one of the heavy weapons. He examined the lid, seeing a few marks and scuffs where the crate had been in contact with others like it. as well as a large wedge-shaped mark just below the lid on one side, about the width of a human palm. The mark was far too large to have been made by a crowbar or similar hand tool, which left only one option to Parson's mind.
"Looks like it got knocked open by a forklift," he commented. He hopped down from the stack of crates and stood in front of the trio of privates. He looked over the trooper who had been investigating it to begin with. "Good eye, Private Jenkins," he declared.
"Sir!" Ranma said beneath the helmet and uniform of Private Jenkins. He snapped off a salute, careful to keep the two foot long bayonet he had inside his jacket from becoming outlined against the fabric as he moved.
Parson returned the salute before turning to the pair of PFCs. "After mealtime, you two will be up there closing it off again."
"Sir!" the two troopers chorused.
"Dismissed," Parson ordered, and the three troopers left the area. He stared after them for a moment, before glancing over at Standswell. "Jenkins… is he one of your FNG's?" Parson asked.
To his mild surprise, Standswell turned his head to the side. "Says he wasn't assigned to a unit yet, got shuffled onto the boat with orders but no command structure."
Parson rolled his eyes, but was less than shocked at the revelation. "Figures," he commented wearily, having dealt with logistics errors before. "Bring him by again in the morning. We'll find him some space in one of the units somewhere. Kid seems sharper than the others, might be useful."
"Will do, sir," Standswell responded, and gave a salute.
Parson returned the salute. "All right, mystery solved for now, let's get some grub."
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11:21 PM
The sun had set long ago, and only the night shift was currently active. The temperature had dropped well below freezing, and a thin layer of frost clung to the rails around the perimeter of the ship. The main deck was lit faintly, to help preserve the sailors' night vision. Floodlights sat above the deck, attached at several points in case immediate daylight was required, either to rescue an overboard shipmate or passenger, or to expose an intruder. A lone figure strode unnoticed along the main deck, slipping through the pockets of deep shadow aboard the vessel, passing in front of and between the ship's crew as if it wasn't there. Each step the shadow took was muted, each breath in the cool wintry air left no mist behind. There was, in truth, no evidence whatsoever that anyone was actually there. And yet there was.
A trio of uniformed sailors came along the starboard deck, directly in the path of the figure, who leaped straight up at the last moment. The shadowy being grabbed at a safety railing in passing, turning the upwards momentum into a pivoting vault, and landed in complete silence on the observation deck above the ship's bridge. Beneath the cover of the shadows cast by the bridge tower, the figure crept over to the hatch leading into the bridge and slipped inside. The night watch officer, focused on the ship's operation and steering, did not look up as a human-shaped shadow slunk past the consoles to the stairwell leading to the bridge quarters.
Where slept Rufus Shinra.
Ranma stepped forward, drawing the stolen bayonet from inside his dark blue jacket, lowering his arms to his sides as the long triangular blade rested behind him in reverse-grip. Standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the despot laying in bed. Ranma remained motionless, wrestling with himself as the opportunity lay before him. He knew the man before him to be all but a self-proclaimed tyrant, a man who not only desired but seemed to revel in the idea of ruling the world with fear, a man seemingly without a shred of remorse to hear the tales of his companions. A bully, of the worst sort, one that had reached the absolute pinnacle of the world's power structure and found along his way not a single person both willing and able to tell him no, to make him stop, to take him down. And now, after Cloud had tried and failed to defeat him in the seat of his power, the driving force behind one of the major threats to this world, to his friends and their very lives, lay before him. Unconscious. Defenseless. Helpless.
The moment drew out for seconds, then a minute, then two, the young leader of Shinra oblivious to the man standing above him as he slept. Ranma briefly considered the other end of the issue, whether it was within him to take the life of a man. A tyrant. A man who employed killers and soldiers and mad scientists for the sole purpose of increasing the already immense power he held. A man that obviously deserved death. In cold blood.
Ranma flinched from the thought. The idea of taking another's life in equal combat, in the fire of battle, was unpalatable to him, but at least one he could live with. The concept of ruthlessly snuffing out a life, even one as twisted and vile as this, without warning and in the dark... that was something else, and the thought of such an act being performed by him turned his stomach. He turned away from the bed, shivering with the effort of his considerations. And saw on the table a tanned leather back-holster. And what he recognized as a sawed-off shotgun, the weapon Rufus had drawn on the roof of Shinra Tower only a few short days ago. Barret had called it a Shortbarrel, one of Shinra's designs. It looked much fancier than the kinds he'd seen carried around Midgar's slums, with lacquered wood, the barrels coated in some kind of almost mirrored material, and a fair amount of texture to the pistol-grip that would seem to make it easier to hold onto.
Ranma gave a wicked-looking grin in the darkness of the cabin. Murder may be outside his consideration, but... mischief, now that he could still wrap his head around. He gripped the bayonet handle tightly and reached for the shotgun.
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2:21 AM
Sergeant Standswell had pulled night duty in the roster, and was standing watch in the engine room, smoking a cigarette. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. About a half hour left on his shift before he'd be spelled and could go get some shut-eye of his own. "Bullshit anyway," he muttered to himself. "Eight hundred kilometers from shore in either direction, nothing's gonna happen."
There was a rattle of an instrument falling to the floor somewhere off to one side. "Damn it," a voice spoke over the sound of the engine. "Hey, Sarge, mind giving me a hand over here?"
Standswell looked around, but did not see the source of the voice. He shrugged and pinched the tip of the cigarette, tucking it behind his ear. "Yeah, sure," he muttered, walking towards the port-side engine area.
About a minute later, Sergeant Solomon Standswell became the first person to know how much danger everyone on board the ship was in. Unfortunately for everyone on board the ship, and also for himself, Sergeant Solomon Standswell was no longer in any position to do anything about it.
Three scenes here were, to my writer's mind, absolutely critical to this chapter; the Ranma/Cloud discussion on the nature of killing intent, the Red/Yuffie dialogue on the matter of family, and the stinger at the end with the Shinra Sergeant. But even as long and heavy as the scene between Ranma and Cloud is, the scene between Red and Yuffie gave me the most trouble. For over six months, that space between the two scene markers in the rough draft file read "placeholder for Yuffie/Red discussion". When I finally found the crux of that scene, it took me less than an hour to get it down and ready for first review. In addition to my fiction writing, I also work with a comedy crew doing something in the vein of Mystery Science Theater 3000, but on a smaller scale... and without the robots or space station. We have a running reference in our group writing sessions which we call 'peanut butter jokes'... the idea being that sometime the lines flow like water, and we're thankful for those times, but at other times the lines flow like peanut butter, and you have to upend the jar and dig in with a spoon and scrape out the idea you want to get onto the paper. That scene was very much a 'peanut butter' scene from a writing perspective. Hopefully, this is another little tip that might inspire some of you out there.
For those unaware, 'FNG' is common military slang for 'fucking new guy'. Generally it's used to denote new recruits, trainees, and fresh Privates who haven't seen any action.
Hope you liked it! Feedback and comments, as always, are welcome.