2
CHAPTER 2 – LANDFALL
The short ride aboard the Garden transport had passed without incident. Considering his entourage, Squall wouldn't have had it any other way. They'd sat in silence within the cold, tight confines of the armored infantry truck, packed in with three other squads. The windowless, stainless steel interior provided no view of the outside world. It made no difference to him; he'd traveled the motorway to Balamb many times before. On arrival, they would transfer to the Garden sea vessels docked at the pier. From there, he knew not where they would be bound for, nor which battlefield he would christen as his first.
Balamb Garden had been established on a small island nation. The rationale for the location was twofold: providing an insulated, focused environment for students to thrive in, while reflecting SeeD's mercenary nature in not aligning with any major world power. Prior to its construction, the Alcaud Plains and their neighboring forests had gone largely undisturbed by man. Only a single, quaint port town resided by the water, settled long ago by a guild of fishermen.
The transport eventually ground to a halt. The SeeD closest to the rear door thrust it open, letting the midday sun come streaming in. The four squads and their supervisors all exited onto the dock in an orderly fashion. As he stepped out of the vehicle, Squall turned his head to survey his surroundings. Balamb was a peaceful seaside municipality, its stout brick and sandstone homes on the hill above overlooking the beach. Since its founding, tales of the delectable fish native to the region had spread far and wide. Paired with its seasonally tropical allure, it had become a popular tourist destination, in turn leading to the construction of an underwater transcontinental railway to Galbadia.
Though the Garden and the local government operated independently of one another, an agreement had been brokered for SeeD's naval fleet to remain docked within the town limits. Row after row of sleek blue assault boats floated beside the waterfront just ahead. Each sported a machine gun turret to the fore, and a domed cockpit to the aft; all were manned by one helmeted silhouette apiece. The vessels were designed for speed and nimbleness, capable of exceeding 200 miles per hour. Squall still vividly recalled his first time aboard one two years earlier; he'd been grateful ever since that he wasn't prone to seasickness.
"Man, this is the real deal, huh?" Zell said to no one in particular. All around, dozens of cadets and SeeDs hustled up and down the pier to their designated vessels.
"Better not piss your pants," Seifer chuckled.
"Hah, you talkin' to me?!"
"Knock it off, you two!" Quistis reprimanded them. "When Headmaster Cid said, 'Let the exam begin', he meant it started at that very moment. Don't think just because we haven't reached the battlefield yet that you're not being evaluated right now."
Squall had suspected as much, but thought nothing of it. Remaining mum came effortlessly to him.
"Let's get aboard. It's two squads to a vessel. We'll be sharing ours with Squad 20."
She led the way to one particular assault boat a short ways down the dock. Squall followed her up the stairwell and ducked his head through the starboard side hatch. The interior was furnished by eight arm-rested seats on either side of a rectangular commode. A powered-on monitor hung on the stern side of the cabin. At the bow stood a ladder leading up to the turret. The only other exit at the front opened to the infantry deployment bay; the rungs to the cockpit had been bolted onto the ship's exterior.
The members of Squad 20 sat across from them. Squall's eyes bulged as he looked them over. While the three young cadets were nobody of consequence, their accompanying SeeD's reputation preceded her. For whatever celebrity status Quistis had accrued, it could never hold a candle to her.
Twenty-three year old Xu Adrastia was the undisputed top of the pecking order. It had been two years since her ascension to the rank of Commandant, head officer of SeeD and direct adviser to the headmaster himself. Her qualifications were diverse as they were impressive: a staunch tactician, expert short sword specialist, and the only member of SeeD on record to wield a Guardian Force of the rare holy element. Her sharp, focused features momentarily softened as she rose out of her seat.
"Good to see you, Quistis," she greeted her junior. "I've been looking forward to seeing your first pupils in action."
"Of course," Quistis blushed. "I'm sure they'll perform well."
"That's what I'm expecting. And the administration."
Looks like we're not the only ones being evaluated today.
Xu abruptly turned to Seifer as he strolled in. Her eyes re-narrowed, boring holes through his.
"We're not going to have any more mishaps this time around, are we?"
"Commandant, whatever could you mean?" he feigned innocence. "I only ever act as necessary to ensure the operation's success."
"I'll be the judge of that. Squad 20, ten-hut!"
The three cadets leapt out of their seats to stand at attention.
"Aaron Writ, dragoon, first class," said the first; he carried a retractable steel plated javelin strapped to his back.
"Randall Eversberg, machine gunner, second class," spoke the second; his weapon hung from a shoulder sling, forming an X across his chest with his ammunition bandolier.
"Nida Emmerich, vehicle specialist and medic, first class," the last introduced himself; he bore no obvious arms about him besides a standard pistol.
Squall took the hint and saluted in return.
"Squall Leonhart, gunblade specialist, first class."
"Zell Dincht, tech specialist and CQC, first class."
"Seifer Almasy, the real gunblade specialist, first class."
They'd barely finished their introductions when the vessel jerked beneath their feet. Squall quickly took a seat with the other five cadets and Quistis. Xu remained standing; she maintained her balance even as the ship picked up speed. She ambled her way around the commode to the monitor, plucking a small remote control from her breast pocket. As she clicked it, a digital rendering of the world map flashed on screen. It displayed their position to the south west of Balamb, and the upward arcing trajectory they would take to their destination. They were en route to the upper eastern-most shore of the neighboring Galbadian continent. Even without a label to indicate it, Squall could tell exactly where they were heading.
"I will now explain the situation and mission objective," Xu announced. "Our client for this mission is the Dollet Dukedom parliament. Seventy-two hours ago, the city came under attack by Galbadia's naval fleet. The casualty figures are reportedly staggering. Forty-nine hours into the battle, the Dollet infantry were forced to abandon their position in the inner city, and retreated into the western Hasberry mountain range. The parliament has been evacuated, along with most of the surviving civilians. They are currently en route to an extraction point further along the coast.
"As of our last contact, the Galbadian forces have begun advancing into the mountains to mop up the remaining troops. This will give us an opening for a pincer attack. While Galbadia continues their advance, we will make our landing at Lapin Beach, and eliminate the forces still in the city. Once it has been liberated, you will be on standby until further notice. The SeeD operatives will intercept any enemy forces attempting to make their way back into the city. Questions?"
"Sounds like we're using the Dollet soldiers as bait," Zell said.
"That's what they get for turning tail as soon as things got rough," Seifer smarmed. "So, what are we supposed to do?"
"Squad 19 will be charged with securing the Aurora Square to the west end of the city. Squad 20, your objective is to find the communication cable lines the Galbadians are using, and shut them down."
"Yes, ma'am," Aaron replied.
"Wow, sounds important," Zell hummed.
"Sounds boring," Seifer corrected him. "Figures we get the grunt work while the SeeDs have all the fun up in the mountains."
"I don't see what's so 'fun' about it," the boy named Nida spoke up. "We might not be on the front lines, but that doesn't mean our own jobs aren't important. Don't brush it off just because it's not what you wanted."
"Speak for yourself, kid. And never tell me what to do."
Squall winced. Though he understood little of the grading scale used for the exam, Seifer's score must have already dipped to precarious levels.
"Break it up, you two!" Xu snapped. "Like it or not, these are your assignments. Deal with it. Also, it hardly needs to be said, but the withdrawal order takes priority. A designated messenger from another squad in your region will arrive to tell you when. And it will be in Dollet standard time, not Balamb; make sure you set your watches back. We have about 4 hours until we arrive. We anticipate combat as soon as we make landfall, so make your preparations now. That is all."
The commandant maneuvered through the aisle to the fore of the cabin. She exited through the door to the bow, leaving the remaining seven to their own devices.
"Well, this is it," Quistis sighed. "It might be an exam in name, but don't forget this is a real battle. Focus will be paramount to make it through. So, if any of you have something you need to get off your chests, now's the time."
No one spoke. All was silent save for the engine's omnipresent humming. Squall was ready; should he fall in battle this day, it would be deserved for not having trained hard enough. He had no worldly attachments, no family to mourn his passing, and no regrets to hold him back. His mind was perfectly set in order. And then, he remembered.
"Quis- … Instructor," he stumbled. "When I came to this morning… there was a girl in the infirmary, wearing a shawl around her. She left right before you came in. Do you know who she was?"
Quistis brought her hand up to her chin, and furrowed her eyebrows.
"I don't think there was anyone else there this morning… or at least I didn't see anyone. Why? Is there something wrong?"
Squall bowed his head. Perhaps it had been a figment of his imagination, after all; he'd been plenty disoriented upon awakening. But then, Dr. Kadowaki had mentioned letting his 'friend' in to see him. Squall had no friends as far as he was aware. In any case, it wasn't worth getting hung up on, least of all with the battle ahead.
"No… it's nothing."
"This is just perfect," Seifer cackled. "I've got the chicken-wuss and a guy who just hit puberty in my squad."
Squall kept his head down; there was no need for him to see the looks on the others' faces. He could perfectly picture Zell's fury, Quistis' disappointment, and the confusion or even amusement shared between Squad 20. What he couldn't imagine was there being another more dysfunctional squad registered for the exam.
"Anyway, it's a little cramped in here, and I'd say we need a lookout up top. Squall, climb up to the turret and keep watch."
He finally glanced up to his rival's sneering, scarred face.
"The commandant said we won't be there for 4 hours," he tried to reason with him. "Why do we need a lookout right now?"
"This is an order from your captain, Squall. Now, do as you're told!"
Squall's gaze flitted from his squad leader to Zell, Quistis, the accompanying group, and back; they all knew it was blatant hazing as well as he did. Even so, he couldn't afford to show disobedience from the outset. He would have to play by the rules to receive a passing evaluation.
"Understood."
He rose to his feet, and navigated around Zell's legs towards the front. He was stopped in his tracks as Seifer kicked his foot up on the commode, blocking his path.
"Is that how you address your superior, soldier?"
"Understood, sir," he rephrased through gritted teeth.
"Now, that's more like it. Know your place, scrub."
This is going to be the longest exam of my life…
The Holy Dollet Empire had risen more than 4000 years ago. Settled by a group of Centran expatriates, from its humble beginnings had blossomed a major world power to rival their homeland. The new regime conquered the full lay of the western continent, ushering its people together under one flag. Following a period of political strife and separatist revolt however, the nation eventually fragmented. A long civil war between smaller nation states ensued. And so, the once unified empire became a land divided, the remaining loyalist territory reduced to a mere dukedom.
Twenty-one years before present day, the state of Galbadia granted president Vinzer Deling an indefinite term extension. On the cusp of a long and bloody war with the eastern world power of Esthar, he'd decreed the scattered territories be reunified under a single banner, by force if necessary. Galbadia's conquest swept across the land, swallowing nearly all of the continent. The last remnant of Dollet's legacy, the seaside former capital city which still bore its name, was now all that remained. Its geographical location was the factor which had allowed it to hold out for so long; the Hasberry mountains to the west blocked off its connection to the rest of the continent. Likewise, the ongoing wireless communications interference made the use of aircraft impractical, leaving the sea as the only feasible manner by which to deploy an army.
The city rapidly came into view as they approached, as did the enemy ships left on the shore. Their method of engagement was clear: a full-frontal rush up the beach and into the city proper. They'd send the Galbadian infantry scrambling to regroup, opening the way for their counter offensive. Squall manned the turret, scanning the coast through the holographic windshield. Seconds passed as minutes. Adrenaline fired through his veins; his first true battle had arrived. He took aim. As the first shots from the surrounding assault boats roared across the waves, he pulled the triggers.
The shaking and rattling was tremendous, and might have proven too much for a less experienced soldier. It was no issue for Squall; his gunblade's trigger function necessitated he compensate for recoil with each strike. The anti-artillery rounds sheared clean through the hulls of the beached vessels. Several burst into smoldering pyres of flame and shrapnel, brilliant under the sinking afternoon sun. Dozens of helmeted soldiers dispersed across the ridge overlooking the beach. Most were gunned down just as quickly by the front ships.
Squall's boat slowed as it drew near, until the underside finally hit solid ground. He grabbed hold of the circular safety railing to steady himself as it slid to a stop. A loud mechanical hiss sounded from the front. He peered over to see the deployment bay doors open. The members and advisers of Squads 19 and 20 spilled out onto the sand, just as dozens of others already had up and down the shore.
Firearms and spellcraft blazed as they charged up the incline to the city. Other cadets remained on their turrets, mowing down soldier after soldier on the ridge to clear the way. Squall had never relished the thought of taking human lives in the line of duty. Nevertheless, it was inevitable; the Galbadians would offer him no such mercy in return.
"C'mon, Squall!" Zell called to him. "Let's get a move on!"
He hoisted himself over the railing, and slid down the ship's hull. He hit the sand with a thud beside Seifer. Quistis and Zell stood opposite. Commandant Xu and her squad were already long gone.
"We're to secure the Aurora Square at once!" Quistis shouted over the roar of gunfire. "I'll provide support until we arrive, but I'm leaving the brunt of the fighting up to you three! This is your chance to show what you're made of!"
"Best news I've heard all day!" Seifer boasted. He drew his gunblade from his coat, bringing it to a halt pointed upward in front of his face.
Seifer's ebony 'Hyperion' model gunblade was of a lighter, sleeker design than Squall's revolver variant. Its hilt resembled a semi-automatic pistol, utilizing standard ammunition cartridges for reloading. Its compact design sacrificed striking power for speed and ease of use. As opposed to Squall's hefty blade, Seifer had no difficulty wielding the weapon with one hand.
"Forward!" he commanded.
Squall, Zell, and Quistis hurried after him, the SeeD having finally drawn her signature metallic whip. Her prowess with the weapon bordered on legend among the student body. Squall had witnessed it firsthand since she'd become his instructor; he could attest it was indeed a beautiful display of ferocity and grace intertwined.
They ascended the nearby stone stairway carved into the incline. It rose to meet a grand brick archway leading down a desecrated stretch of road. Small craters peppered the cobbled pavement. Bodies of soldiers and citizens littered the street-sides. Acrid dust and smog wafted on the air, overpowering the beach's salty aroma. The constant clatter of gunfire and explosions came from every direction, as cadets and soldiers exchanged fire from behind ruined buildings and vehicles.
Squall and his entourage dipped behind a fallen column for cover. He reached down to the sphere clipped to his belt and activated it. The two halves parted ever so slightly to allow the power within free reign. He focused his mind, willing the energy to materialize around his body. A translucent protective barrier flashed before him, fading from sight just as quickly. He was ready. He drew his gunblade as he rounded the debris, stepping into the line of fire. He didn't slow even as the bullets came whizzing towards him; his magical barrier shimmered back into being as they harmlessly pinged off. He was untouchable.
Referring to it as a shield was technically inaccurate; it was a veil of energy with no corporeal presence. The more he channeled into it, the greater the volume of physical matter it could repel. To deflect something the size of a bullet required a small amount; velocity and kinetic energy did not apply. On the flip-side, it worked both ways; were a cadet rifleman to conjure one, it would prevent their own bullets from escaping its radius. It was for this very reason most SeeDs trained with close range weapons such as swords or staves, arms of sufficient mass to pass through the veil. Summoning a reflective barrier to guard against spellcraft worked much the same way, though served no practical application in the field; theirs was a power not shared by any other army in the world.
He reached the enemy line in seconds, and brought his gunblade down on the nearest soldier with a well timed pull of the trigger. The armored grunt toppled over, nearly cleaved in two. It was done; he'd achieved his first confirmed kill. He immediately turned his attention to the next before the emotional response could take root. There would be ample time to reflect on his actions once the battle had been won.
His two squadmates fell in after him. Beyond his own protective barrier, Zell's fists were encased in conjured stone gauntlets. With each thundering blow, another soldier's body flew across the expanse. Seifer sliced his way forward in rapid succession, deftly maneuvering his way between each new adversary. He stayed on the move, expertly evading what gunfire came his way. He'd deliberately chosen not to erect his own barrier. Any other cadet would have deemed it suicidal, and yet Seifer's fighting prowess made the handicap seem nonexistent.
The battle raged on in the company of several additional squads. Spellcraft of nearly every element soared through the air; brick and mortar rained down from the buildings on either side of the road with each impact. The dust clouding the battlefield gradually thickened, turning to a black smog. Absorbed in the slaughter as he was, it wasn't until the Galbadian infantry pulled back that Squall understood.
He squinted through the intensifying haze. A cluster of smoke grenades lay scattered about the street. The darkness condensed by the second; before long, he could barely make out his own hand in front of his face. It was quickly blown away by a powerful gust of wind from behind. Squall stumbled as he thrust his gunblade into a crevice in the ground. He gripped it tightly to steady his footing until the gale died down.
"We've got 'em on the run!" someone yelled. A resounding cheer answered him.
"Keep pushing forward!" another shouted.
Several fellow squads heeded the call, racing up the street. Others scurried down the branching alleyways to either side.
"Hey, all you Galbadian cowards!" Seifer roared as he charged ahead. "Come out and show your faces! Don't leave me hanging now!"
"What an idiot," Zell quipped.
"At least he's got the fighting spirit," Quistis chimed in from behind. "Let's keep moving. The Aurora Square shouldn't be too much further ahead."
The three tailed their brash squad captain through the maze of winding, demolished streets, sidestepping and surmounting all manner of wreckage and bodies in their path. An increasing amount of green-clad Dollet soldiers lay awkwardly among the overturned cars and streetlamps; it must have been a grueling battle fought over the last several days. The city's tragic fate was not lost on Squall, nor the grief of the surviving townspeople. Nevertheless, his duty to defend them extended only so far as the contract deigned so. It was not his place to question the mission's validity or moral righteousness. Had Galbadia been the faction to hire SeeD, he would have followed his orders all the same. A mercenary took no sides, save for the one which provided him payment.
Their overeager captain came back into view at last; he rested with his back propped up to the side of another arched entryway. Squall hugged the wall as he approached, peering ahead into the circular plaza on the other side. A fountain sculpted in the image of a woman stood in the center. A platoon of four troopers stood guard by its side, their attention presently drawn to the hotel and restaurant on the perimeter's opposite end.
"Allow me," Zell volunteered.
He drew back his right arm, and slammed his studded knuckles into the ground. A miniature fault line formed from the spot he'd struck. The crevice sunk deeper into the pavement, tearing the terrain asunder as it sped towards the soldiers. Their heads swiveled at the approaching rumble. They cried out as it roared beneath their feet. A sudden upsurge of energy erupted from the tremor, sending them airborne. They soared through the air, plummeting back down atop the overturned tables and chairs outside the abandoned restaurant.
"Leave some for the rest of us, why don't you?" Seifer huffed.
"Excellent control of the energy, Zell," Quistis praised him. "I was worried you were going to destroy the fountain for a moment. That took skill."
"Aw, it's nothin', Instructor," he bashfully accepted the compliment.
Squall paid them no mind. He raced into the plaza, bolting for the downed soldiers. All four appeared to be unconscious, though still breathing. While the battle was far from over - gunfire and explosions continued to echo from afar - his squad had secured their objective with relative ease.
"Guess I'll do the honors," Seifer announced.
He raised his gunblade above the nearest soldier's head. Squall thrust his own forward to block the strike in mid-swing. The familiar clash of steel rang out as the two swords met.
"Hold it," he said. "We might be able to get information out of them when they wake up. Maybe get a better picture of their battle plan."
"I thought I told you to know your place," Seifer snarled. He continued putting weight on his gunblade, pushing Squall's down.
"And I should think any good captain would consider what his squadmates have to say."
The two turned their attention to Quistis. She stared Seifer down, her brow furrowed with disapproval just as when they'd been children.
"I'm not going to tell you how to lead your team, but know this attitude of yours isn't going to reflect well on your final grade."
The tension mounted as Squall continued to fight back against the Hyperion's pressure. Finally, Seifer lifted the blade with a grunt.
"Tie them up."
Squall sheathed his blade, and assisted Zell as commanded. They grouped the unconscious soldiers together with their backs pressed up against one another in a circle. Squall double checked them to make sure no weapons were unaccounted for, while Zell procured a cable from his supply pouch. They bound the four together tightly.
"Well, this is where I leave you three," Quistis told them. "I'm off to join the rest of the SeeD detachment in the mountains. You're on standby here until the withdrawal order comes."
"Yes, ma'am," Zell saluted.
Squall mimicked him. Seifer made no effort to stand on formality; he returned his gunblade to his coat as their instructor took off down the adjoining street.
"Standby," he moaned, kicking the gravel produced by the tremor aside. "How boring…"
More than an hour had passed since Squad 19 secured the Aurora Square. The surrounding buildings cast looming shadows in the afternoon sun. Seifer sat quietly on the edge of the trickling fountain. Zell, seemingly desperate for something to keep himself occupied, had used his GF to conjure a set of small earthen balls. He juggled them beside the restaurant, where the four Galbadian soldiers remained tied up. None had awoken thus far, nor had there been any sign of inbound reinforcements.
Squall stood with his back against the archway they'd entered through, polishing his gunblade. All was silent, save for the occasional burst of gunfire from the mountains. The battle seemed to be winding down in less time than he'd expected. It almost disappointed him on some level; he'd spent years training for this very day, only for the confrontation to draw to a standstill so abruptly. His thoughts were undeniably petty. Despite his better judgment however, he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut.
At least I should pass without any issues…
"Dammit!"
Squall looked to Zell. The juggling balls both in his hands and mid-air simultaneously crumbled, dissipating into the ether with a shimmer.
"I can never sustain 'em for more than a couple minutes!"
"You shouldn't be using it as a toy," Squall chastised him.
"You shouldn't be using it at all," Seifer corrected. "Not if you have any self-respect. A real man relies on his own strength."
"Unless he fancies himself a pickpocket," Squall shot back. He irritably slid his gunblade back into its sheath with a loud metallic clink.
"You're still hung up on that? That was just a lesson you needed to learn. You'll thank me for it when the time comes."
"I don't get you, Seifer," Zell said. "You went through certification to get one, and you won't use it? That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense. If you ever stopped to think about it."
Seifer reached into his jacket pocket, and withdrew his own silver sphere. It gleamed in the sunlight as he held it outstretched to them.
Guardian Forces were a powerful energy force contained within spheres of a special alloy casing. The switches on the top and bottom, once depressed, served to part it by half an inch, allowing a safe amount of the energy to seep out and intermingle with any living bring in its immediate area. With proper mental and physiological training, one could harness it to perform what could only be described as 'magic' of various elements and styles. Advanced wielders could even materialize it as a fully functioning apparition to command in battle. The focus and stamina required for a summoning usually resulted in extreme exhaustion, to speak nothing of the devastation which could be wrought by the creature. As such, it was only to be performed in the most dire of circumstances.
The energy's true nature was a staunchly kept secret, as was the manufacturing process of the spheres. Each bore the black and white SeeD insignia on its shell, a symbol of Balamb Garden's monopoly over the technology. Cadets were first eligible to take the certification test at 14. As with the field exam, Balamb was the only one of the three schools to offer training with GFs. This left transfer students from Galbadia and Trabia Gardens at a disadvantage from the outset. Although each were given their own upon enrollment, learning how to call upon its power took considerable time and effort. Hence, Squall's incredulity at the ditzy girl from Trabia who'd signed up for the exam already. Only one so experienced as Seifer could afford to be so reckless. His eyes darted between Squall and Zell before offering an explanation.
"These things might give you all the power you could ever want, but at the end of the day, it's not yours. It's power we've been given the privilege of wielding, and told to depend on like a crutch to fight our battles for us. And like any privilege, it can be taken away at any time if the higher-ups want to put the screws to you. And what are you left with then?"
He let the question hang in the air for several uncomfortable moments. Satisfied, he slipped the sphere back into his pocket.
"Relying on charity to fight your battles will only get you so far, especially when that power can be revoked just as easily. The only thing in this world you can depend on is your own skill as a fighter. That's something no one can take away from you."
He shifted his gaze back to Squall; those piercing blue eyes seemed to probe the depths of his soul.
"You of all people should understand that. If being able to stand on your own two feet is what you really want."
Squall had no response. He clutched at the sphere clipped to his belt in frustration. He'd never felt shame in relying on its power; it was just another weapon in his arsenal, much like his gunblade.
"Fine, have it your way," Zell threw up his arms. "Still, seems like a real waste to me. It's like we've all got the sorceress' power right at our fingertips."
"You do know those are just old legends," Squall scoffed; he had little patience to entertain fairy tales in his learned age.
"Maybe, but… well, these things are made in Esthar, right? And you know how that place got its reputation."
"Right. And if Odine Industries had just started producing these back then, who's to say she couldn't have gotten her hands on the first one ever made? She was a noble. She would've had the right connections. It's the perfect con, and the perfect way to strike fear into superstitious people the world over."
Zell opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shrunk back just as abruptly.
"It's what makes sense," Squall doubled down. "I don't have a clue how these things work, but as far as those legends go, I'm positive they're just that."
"Will you two shut it, already?!" Seifer growled. He leapt to his feet and thrust his gunblade to the sky in agitation.
"I'm so sick of waiting around here! Give me some action!"
A weary moan answered his roar. Squall spun his head in its direction. By Zell's side, one of the four bound soldiers had been roused from his slumber. His head slowly bobbed as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Squall shot from the wall, just as Seifer from the fountain. Zell crouched down and gripped the soldier's helmet, holding his head in place for interrogation.
"Keep quiet and do as we say," Squall ordered.
"What he said," Zell reiterated. "Screaming won't do you any good. No one's coming to save you."
The soldier stayed silent. His helmet's silver plated visor kept his eyes hidden, leaving only his mouth and the lower half of his nose visible.
"Of course, no one's coming," he said in a hoarse voice. "They've got more important things to take care of."
"Like what?" Seifer asked, disengaging the safety on his gunblade. "Go on, your secret's safe with us. I promise."
Squall knelt down beside the captive soldier, staring him directly where his eyes would be.
"Tell us. And I suggest you be quick about it. He's got a shorter fuse than I do."
"Taking control of the city was never the real objective," he confessed. "Just a means to push through and secure the tower."
"The 'tower'?"
"You mean the old communications tower up in the mountains?" Zell asked.
"That's the one. We were assigned to hold the town while the major and his men made their way up."
"Why go to so much trouble for outdated tech?"
Squall wondered the same; radio wave broadcasts hadn't been in use for 17 years.
"Hell if I know. But supposedly those orders came down from Deling himself. He wants that tower up and running ASAP. That's all I've got."
"Your candor is appreciated," Seifer sneered. "And for that, you deserve a nice long rest."
Zell barely managed to pull his hand away before he brought his elbow down on the soldier's head. A gag escaped his mouth as his neck violently jerked down; he'd been lucky it hadn't snapped from the sudden blow.
"D'ya think he was telling the truth?" Zell pondered.
"It would explain why there haven't been any reinforcements," Squall said. "It doesn't make sense why they'd be after that tower, though."
"Who cares?!" Seifer barked. "We've got a new objective. Let's move out!"
"Are you nuts?!" Zell reeled. "Instructor Trepe told us to stay here and protect the square! Do you want to fail?!"
"You heard him, no one's coming. We're wasting our time here, when we could be up there putting a stop to their real mission! Besides, I've been getting restless just sitting around. Got to keep my skills sharpened."
"But…"
He paused, instead turning his anxious gaze to Squall.
"C'mon, back me up here!"
Squall cast his eyes down. Abandoning their post would constitute a breach of conduct, and no doubt earn him a failing mark regardless of his performance thus far. It was completely irresponsible. And yet, having learned the enemy's objective and failing to act on it seemed even more so. Seifer had a point, much as he hated to admit it; they could potentially do more service to the mission in disobedience. Furthermore, he too had become restless.
"I stand by the captain's decision," he finally said.
"Captain's decision?"
Seifer's head shot up. He crossed over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him playfully.
"Oh, I see. You're looking to wreak some havoc too, aren't you?"
Squall swatted his hand away, shooting him the most intimidating scowl he could muster.
"You have a point," he growled. "And besides, it's a good opportunity to test my skills. Thanks to you, I feel like I can take on anyone, even if they do fight dirty, like you."
Their silent stare down dragged on for what seemed like ages. Neither broke eye contact until the group's self-appointed voice of reason stepped between them.
"Alright, cool it, guys!" Zell said. "You're forgetting this is an exam, and a really important one. I'm telling you both, we have to stick to orders!"
"Then you stay here and babysit!" Seifer roared. "To the summit!"
He turned with a whip of his grey coat. Squall followed, the opportunity he'd trained half his life for shrinking into the distance behind him with each step.
I guess I'll try again next year…
"Hey!" Zell shouted after them. "You guys can't be serious! Will you just… dammit, wait for me!"