6
CHAPTER 6 – FIRST ASSIGNMENT
The blade whittled another divot into the wooden training dummy, the latest of innumerable tattering the mannequin. Had Squall pulled the trigger, he would have doubtless sliced it clean in two. He was conscientious enough not to destroy a shared piece of training equipment, nor squander his own ammunition. The gunblade's explosive rounds were expensive to manufacture. He'd been allotted a strict yearly budget for replacements; any additional expenditures would come out of his own pocket.
The Garden training center was the largest of the ground-level facilities by far, an artificial stretch of lush wilderness taking up most of the academy's east end. Dozens of floodlights lined its high domed ceiling, giving it the appearance of a massive incubator. Indeed, despite its lush greenery, it was no place for a leisurely stroll. Captive wildlife roamed the expanse, some even vicious monsters imported from the ruined continent of Centra. From Squall's own experience, the creatures tended to keep their distance from the open clearings where students usually trained. None had ventured into his own today, the humid tropical climate his only adversity for the moment. He'd removed his leather jacket, leaving it draped on a nearby rock formation.
A full week had passed since the graduation ball. Squall had moved into his new quarters, which were far roomier than his old dorm; his days spent sharing a common area with roommates were no more. After a few days, he'd regained the inclination to start training again. Despite his renewed vigor, keeping his composure proved difficult; the infuriating exchange with Quistis still gnawed away at him.
Who the hell does she think she is?
He fiercely cleaved another chink into the wood. How dare she use him as a sounding board for her emotional diarrhea. Squall was no confidant, nor a therapist; he positively loathed the prospect of being roped into other people's problems. Adding insult to injury was how she'd tried to swoop in on him in his vulnerability. He'd never been particularly savvy with regard to interpersonal relationships; his complete aversion to the concept ensured as much. Even so, Quistis' blatant favoritism over the years was too obvious to ignore. There was a reason Seifer had teased the two of them upon their withdrawal from Dollet. At the very least, he was grateful not to have crossed paths with her in the previous week. Neither had he caught sight of the mysterious dark-haired beauty he'd danced with.
That's probably for the best. I must have been out of my mind to-
A pair of bloodcurdling shrieks interrupted his train of thought, one after the other. The first was clearly bestial in nature, the second the shrill cry of a woman. He lowered his weapon as he turned to face the direction they'd come from. The sound of trees tumbling down reached his ears, as did a series of faint tremors his feet. Whatever monster had been disturbed, it was clearly one beyond the average cadet's abilities.
He took off through the thicket of foliage, slicing away whatever stood in his path. The creature's shrieking continued amid whizzing spellcraft ahead; whoever it was seemed to be putting up a fight, at least. With any luck, his intervention wouldn't be needed by the time he arrived on the scene.
He broke through the thicket, emerging into another open clearing. The foliage's circumference was broken at the northwest corner by a trail of ruined trees. A disgusting, green plant-like creature slithered forward on eight thick, porous tentacles. Innumerable razor-sharp teeth lined it's gaping maw. At least a dozen eyeballs protruded from as many deformed and bent stalks all over its body. It was a sickening abomination of nature, or rather, a malboro. Though Squall had never laid eyes on one in person, the grotesque pictures from his biology studies were not so easily forgotten.
Before the salivating plant monster stood not a woman, but a pair of young men. Their uniforms were unfamiliar to Squall; the general design resembled those of SeeD, but with a beige color scheme, and cream headbands tied around their foreheads. Lightning shot from one's fingers. The malboro screeched again; it reared back, staggered by the blast. Moments later, a distinct squelching noise started bubbling from its mouth. A glob of phlegm-like substance flew from its gullet. The second man conjured a protective energy shield before them. The acid reflected off and splattered all over the ground, rapidly eating its way through the soil.
Squall sheathed his gunblade, activated the sphere on his belt, and proceeded to channel its energy as fast as he could. He shut his eyes in concentration; maintaining focus would be all the more difficult amidst the creature's incessant shrieking. Within moments, the fiery aura surrounded him, a burning flame that seemed to engulf his very soul. He re-opened his eyes, and cast the energy out. The blaze came alive as it danced and twirled in the open divide. It quickly took shape, coalescing into a hulking silhouette.
A demon emerged from the inferno in a flash of light. It stood on two legs, towering over him at an easy seven feet. Its dark brown musculature was offset by crimson fur running from its mane, its face resembling a feral lion. Two jagged black horns extended from its head, curving down its back. It roared at the malboro. The plant monster answered the challenge with a screech of its own. Squall stayed in place with his arm outstretched; maintaining the summon required all his focus.
Fire erupted from the demon's wicked claws. It snarled as it viciously charged forward. The malboro gathered more acid in its throat, and shot another glob. The demon evaded it with ease, closing the gap at frightening speed. It leapt high into the air, and cast both its hands down from above. A sea of flames spilled forth from its paws. The malboro let out an agonized scream as it thrashed and flailed wildly, fully engulfed by the fire. After another few seconds, its charred body slumped over and lay still.
Squall at last released his focus. As he did so, the horned beast beside the pyre slowly dissolved back into the aura from whence it had materialized. He fell to one knee as it fully dissipated; sustaining the summon never failed to leave him winded. He raised his head to see the two beige-clad men step forward from the edge of the foliage. They looked at each other, nodded, and split off in separate directions; one circled the smoldering corpse to his position, the other to the eastern edge of the clearing.
"Young miss!" the one furthest away called out. "Are you alright? Please, come out at once!"
A rustling kicked up in the nearby bushes as the other helped Squall to his feet. From the thicket stumbled a dainty figure. She was dressed in a light blue, sleeveless blouse with a white skirt, her short brown hair barely touching the tops of her shoulders. What caught Squall's attention however was the green shawl wrapped around her. There was no mistaking it; this was the same girl who'd been by his bedside in the infirmary.
"It is not safe here," the attendant politely told her. "Please, let us be on our way."
She nodded. Her brown eyes met Squall's from across the divide. She stared at him for several moments before turning to follow her escort.
"Thank you for your assistance," the second bodyguard spoke to him. "You may go."
"Hold on a minute," Squall said.
He reached out his hand to follow after the young woman. The man seized hold of his wrist before he could take a step.
"Thank you for your assistance," he repeated in a much more assertive tone. "You may go."
Squall had little strength left to put up a struggle, worn out as he was from the summon. The two bodyguards were clearly formidable fighters, and likely could have dispatched the malboro themselves had they not been preoccupied with drawing it away. He relaxed his arm to show deference. The man released his grip, and hurried off after his entourage, the three making haste in the direction of the training center exit. Squall turned back along the path he'd literally cut through the thicket; he had to retrieve his jacket before taking his own leave.
He still had no idea who the young woman was, or why she'd come to visit him in the infirmary. His confusion further mounted as his consideration shifted to her bodyguards. They must have been SeeDs of some distinction, given that they'd had Guardian Forces. Perhaps they were members of a newly organized regiment. There had been no announcement of the sort following his graduation, but he couldn't think of any other possibility; he'd certainly never seen them before in all his years at the Garden. The conundrum continued to plague his thoughts all the way back to his dorm.
"Whatever," he muttered to himself as he closed the door behind.
It was all immaterial to him. Between Quistis, the girl from the ball, and this latest incident, he had spent far too much time and energy mulling over his problems with women. His efforts were better spent making preparations for his new life. A refreshing shower would be a welcome start. He untied his shoes, and slipped his feet out, before removing his jacket to hang on the back of the door. A knock from the other side froze him in place as he did so.
What now?
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he twisted the knob and pulled the door open. Selphie stood on the other side, clad in bright yellow casual wear. It appeared to be an unusual cross between overalls and a mini-skirt; the two straps over her shoulders supported it, with a silver zipper running down the middle to the skirt portion at the bottom. A pair of brown boots reaching halfway up her calves completed the outfit.
"Hey!" she greeted him. "I've been asking all over for where your room's at. And, of course, I still end up taking a few wrong turns. The more things change, huh?"
"What do you want?" he asked. "If it's about the festival, I told you, I'm not-"
"No, no, it's not me. It's the headmaster. We've got our first mission together."
"What?!"
His heart sunk. What could he have possibly done to deserve being sent on an assignment with her?
"Yeah, for real! And it sounds like it's gonna be a long one. We need to pack our stuff and assemble in the parking garage by 1900. Casual attire. Apparently, it's gonna be a covert operation. Oh, and Zell's coming along, too!"
Squall's mind exploded.
"One more minute," the Thorn announced. His eyes beneath his headpiece were fixed to the golden pocket watch in his hand.
"I would hope he'd have the sense not to be late for his first assignment," Headmaster Cid sighed.
If it means we get grouped with someone else, I won't complain.
Squall waited alongside Selphie, the headmaster, and his usual aides. The parking garage's dim lighting cast long shadows of their figures across the cement floor. They stood on the lowest level, beside their designated vehicle. The silver convertible was far sleeker than the troop transports they'd taken the day of the field exam. All the same, it would only serve to get the three of them into town. From there, they would transfer to their mission locale, either by assault boat, or the intercontinental railroad. Based on their directive to bring along several changes of clothes, Squall expected a long-term assignment. He'd packed them along with his gunblade in the duffel bag at his feet.
That his first real mission had come so quickly was a surprise to be sure. That he'd have Zell and Selphie for company was another, far more unpleasant one. Besides their clashing personalities, they were all fresh rookies. Sending them into the field without an experienced operative to lead made little sense, and somehow he intuitively knew who among them would end up shunted with that responsibility. Could this have been another decision based on his 'inclination towards a role of leadership'? It was a severe misunderstanding of his character, and nothing more.
His ears picked up on the hum of an approaching engine; it emanated from the garage tunnel ahead of them, drawing closer by the second. Selphie and the headmaster both covered their ears as the sound reverberated off the walls. A blur of red and blue shot out from the tunnel. It decelerated rapidly, and drifted to a halt by their side.
Zell rode in atop a sleek Turbine Board, as long as he was tall. The motorized slab of metal hovered several inches above the ground, lowering as he disengaged the engine with his foot. He wore a black jacket, baggy blue jean shorts, red sneakers, and his signature studded leather gloves, with a duffel bag of his own slung over his shoulder.
"Just made it!" he exclaimed, kicking up the board. "Sorry 'bout the wait. Had some last-minute stuff to take care of."
"T-Boards are prohibited on the Garden premises," one of the Thorns chastised him. "Have you forgotten?"
"Oh! Sorry… but I was really in a hurry. And besides, this thing could really come in handy on a mission someday!"
"We'll be the judges of that. Confiscate it."
The second Thorn strode forward, and swiftly ripped the board from Zell's grasp.
"Aw, you gotta be kidding!" he protested. "I built that thing myself!"
The uncaring aide placed it under his arm, and walked back towards the atrium.
"Damn… well, that's why you always build two."
"Zell, you should know better," the headmaster told him. "Plan ahead next time, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Remember this," the remaining Thorn said. "And this goes for all three of you. You may be SeeD operatives, but you are still students of this Garden. It is your responsibility to maintain a professional appearance. That goes doubly so for when you are in the field. Never forget that your actions and behavior have repercussions. Understood?"
Squall did not need to be reminded; he'd long since internalized the expected discipline of a SeeD. It had been one of the few accurate observations detailed in his exam report.
"Headmaster, shall we begin the briefing?"
"Indeed," Cid agreed. He adjusted his glasses, and cleared his throat.
"Anyway, I understand this will be your first official SeeD assignment. I'm sure you're all anxious, but know that I have the utmost confidence in the bonds you three share. I've grouped you together for that very reason. With your combined wits and expertise, I'm certain you'll succeed no matter what obstacles you may face."
Squall couldn't help thinking the kindly old man senile. Outside of the occasional class or training session, he'd deliberately gone out of his way to avoid Zell. Selphie meanwhile was still an enigma to him, and an annoying one at that. There was no camaraderie between them; their teamwork during the field exam had been purely a matter of circumstance.
"For this mission, you will be heading to Timber. I assume you're familiar with the region's geo-political climate?"
"Of course!" Zell exclaimed.
"More or less," Squall muttered.
"Um… would a quick refresher be okay, please?" Selphie sheepishly asked.
"Of course," the headmaster humored her. "Simply put, Timber was once a nation that separated from the Holy Dollet Empire centuries ago. For the last twenty years, it's been under military occupation by Galbadia, which in turn led to the uprising of several resistance factions, all vying to drive out the Galbadians, and regain independence. We've been contracted to provide support to one such faction, the Forest Owls. Your duty is to assist them in their plans, and follow whatever orders you're given."
"And it's just us three being sent?" Zell asked.
"That is correct," the Thorn butted in. "We have agreed to take this contract for very little money. Under normal circumstances, we would never humor such a request. But, at the headmaster's insistence-"
"Enough!"
Squall jerked his head at the headmaster's outburst; it had been quite unseemly for the typically mild-mannered man. With how frequently he'd been talked over by his own attendants however, it was inevitable. At the very least, the aide's interruption had cleared up why they, a squad of fresh graduates, were being sent off on their own. Everything ultimately did come down to how much money was laid on the table.
"As I was saying, you will provide support for the Forest Owls. You'll take the 8 p.m. intercontinental express from Balamb. We've arranged for a private cabin, and constructed fake IDs for your arrival. Please."
He motioned to the Thorn. The man produced a manila envelope from his robes, and handed it to him.
"When you arrive at Timber Station, a member of the faction will initiate contact with you. He'll say, 'The forests of Timber sure have changed'. The password is, 'But the owls are still around'. Don't forget that. Squall, you're the squad leader."
How did I guess?
"I expect you'll use your best judgment to carry out the mission."
He extended the envelope to him. Squall hesitantly stared at it, wondering if he ought to simply refuse, and ask that another operative be assigned instead. His standing as a SeeD was a sham, an undeserved title he'd come to bear through a stroke of dumb luck. He was not leadership material; his desertion had proven him incapable of following orders, much less giving them. And yet, in the face of one from the headmaster himself, he couldn't disobey. He bowed as he accepted the file with both hands.
"Zell, Selphie, you are to follow Squall's commands."
"Yes, sir!" the two saluted together. Squall placed the folder under his left arm before snapping into one of his own.
"That concludes the briefing," he nodded to them. "Best of luck!"
The three fell out of their salutes. Squall and Selphie retrieved their bags from the floor as the headmaster and his aide turned away.
"I'll drive!" Zell announced. He threw his own bag into the convertible's back seat, and leapt over the driver's side door without opening it.
"Shotgun!" Selphie called. She gently lowered her luggage into the rear, and circled around to the opposite side.
Squall opened the back door as Zell started the ignition. He placed his own baggage along with the folder behind the driver's seat, sat down, and buckled his seat belt as the car shifted into reverse. It backed up, turning to align with the garage's exit, the headlights lighting up the darkened tunnel ahead. Zell revved the engine several times before suddenly shifting into drive. The tires screeched as they jolted forward, tearing down the tunnel at top speed. Selphie whooped in exhilaration. Squall held on for dear life to the back of her headrest.
"Are you trying to get us killed?!" he hollered over the whipping wind.
"The man said 8 p.m., right?!" Zell yelled back. "We've got less than an hour! Just chill out, I know what I'm doing!"
The sports car shot from the tunnel's mouth, Zell deftly maneuvering around the upcoming curve and onto the highway. Squall craned his neck back for one last look at the Garden, the massive conch shell shrinking away into the fast fading twilight. He hadn't a clue how long their assignment would last, nor what adversity they might face in the coming days. As he gazed up at the shimmering gold halo above however, a strange feeling washed over him, a dread that when he again laid eyes on his home, things would never be the same.
Zell's insistence on driving like a maniac got them to Balamb in record time; for a route that generally took 25 minutes at normal speed, he'd managed to cut their ETA down by nearly half. They still had more than half an hour by the time they pulled through the town gates. It was the most absurd over-correction for his brush with tardiness Squall had ever seen.
Remind me never to let him behind the wheel ever again.
He guided their convertible into the station's parking lot. His head still spinning, Squall gathered his effects, and stepped out onto the cobbled stone pavement. Selphie retrieved her own bag from the back seat, and followed after him. Zell lingered behind for a few moments to raise the windows and cover. After retrieving his own things, he shut the door behind him, and locked it with the clicker attached to the key ring.
"We're so early!" Selphie said. "Wanna grab a bite around here before the train leaves?"
"I'm sure they'll have a dining car on board," Squall bluntly told her. "I'd rather we just get on now. I don't want to risk any hold-ups."
He opened the headmaster's envelope, and carefully tilted it down. Their ticket stubs and ID cards slid out into the palm of his other hand.
"I guess so," she pouted as she took hers from him. "It's just… well, I'm still new to these parts. I haven't really gotten the time to check things out around here. Everything's so different from Trabia."
"Hey, don't worry!" Zell said as he took his stub and ID card. "This is my hometown. Once we get back, I'll show you around."
"Let's just move out," Squall steered the conversation back on track.
He stepped onto the street, turning his eyes to the turnstiled entryway before them. 'Balamb Station' had been painted in ornate lettering atop the gate. A cluster of passengers fresh off the newly arrived train spilled out from its mouth. Roughly half that number climbed up the short flight of steps to proceed inside.
The intercontinental railroad between Balamb and Timber ran twice a day, utilizing two alternating trains traveling back and forth on parallel rail lines. The trip took roughly 11 hours in each direction. Given the hour time zone-differential, it made for a convenient trade off between arrivals and departures each day. The locomotive, while fast, couldn't compete with SeeD's assault boats; they would have likely saved several hours by taking one instead. Even so, the amenities they'd be provided on the train made it the preferable option.
Squall climbed the steps to the turnstiles, and slipped his ticket stub into the nearest one. It passed through the machine as he stepped through, emerging on the other side with a puncture through its tail. Zell and Selphie followed after him into the terminal. They made their way along the platform to their designated car, the second-to-last in line.
Dozens of people crowded around the phone kiosks opposite the tracks. Prior to the worldwide radio interference, cellular phones had made the conventional pay-phone model obsolete. And then, in a single night, the world of communications technology was turned back at least 30 years. It had been a particularly nightmarish complication for the public institutions that had already gutted their pay-phones, prompting a full re-installation and re-connection of the severed land-lines. And once the underground HD cable network began to take off, so came the tiresome task of re-wiring them yet again.
The trio reached their car, and stepped aboard. Squall inserted his ticket into the door's automated scanning system. After several mechanical beeps, the red light to the side turned green. The scanner ejected the stub as the door slid open. A long, narrow hallway waited beyond, the train's windows to one side, eight metal cabin doors to the other.
"Which one are we?" Zell asked.
"Cabin 7D," Squall read the print on his ticket. "Looks like it's that one."
He gestured to the second closest door to them. Zell strode up, and inserted his own ticket into the scanner. It repeated the same procedure as the carriage door. His eyes went wide as it hissed open.
"Holy crap!"
Zell raced inside without a second thought. Squall shared a glance with Selphie before following suit; the reaction was promising enough. As he stepped through, he was indeed pleasantly surprised by their accommodations.
Dark mahogany wood paneling decorated the walls. A pair of bunk beds jutted out from the right corner, appearing to be carved from the wood itself. A minibar replete with drink glasses and a mini-fridge took up the left side. A large sofa sat in the center beneath the curtained windows. The room's subdued lighting gave it a homey, rustic ambiance, akin to a regal hunting lounge. For a mission being conducted for so little money, no expense had been spared for their lodgings.
"This is so sick!" Zell exclaimed.
He threw open the mini-fridge to rummage through its contents, withdrew a bottle of soda, and crossed over to the couch.
"Talk about swanky!" Selphie agreed. "But, only two beds? Looks like someone's sleeping on the couch. And I'm telling you right now, it's not gonna be me!"
"I think our leader should be the one to bite the bullet," Zell smirked as he plopped himself down.
Makes no difference to me.
"I'll let you guys work it out, then," Selphie winked. She dropped her bag beside the bunk beds, and turned back to the door.
"I'm gonna check out the rest of the train. If this is what the cabins are like, I just gotta see that dining car. Later!"
She trotted out the door, and rounded the corner. Squall set his own bag beside the sofa, and sat on the opposite end from Zell. He reclined back in exasperation; it was going to be a long trip, with or without the company of his comrades.
"So, how's it feel to be the big man, now?" Zell asked him. "You get what you've always wanted?"
"You don't want to get me started on that," Squall said. "And I really don't want to talk about it."
"Man, even as a SeeD, you're still the same. Just letting you know, it pays to show respect to your comrades. Especially if you want them to have any respect for you."
"Excuse me?"
Squall raised his head in confusion. This sudden passive-aggressive attitude of Zell's was nothing like the carefree demeanor he'd come to expect. Neither was it the exaggerated, easily outraged side of him.
"Are you trying to start something?" Squall shot back. "When have I disrespected you?"
"Well, maybe not me. But, I think Instructor… sorry, former Instructor Trepe deserves better from you."
So, that's what this is about.
"She told you?"
"Who else did she have to go to, after you left her out on the balcony like that?" he growled. "I don't know who you think you are, but what you said to her doesn't impress me much."
"I'm not her diary!" Squall snapped.
He rose to his feet, his head beginning to pound in the heat of the argument.
"How is it fair for her to dump all her problems on me? I don't need this right now, so just drop it. It doesn't concern you."
"The hell it doesn't!"
Zell stood up himself. His eyes stared through Squall's with laser-precision.
"It's all on you and Seifer that she lost her license! And still, she was willing to stick her neck out to help us pass! Would it kill you to show some gratitude, and not act like a selfish prick for once?!"
"Shut up!" Squall roared.
He brought his hand to his forehead; the pounding was growing more intense by the second.
"Yeah, some professionalism there, Mr. Squad Leader."
Squall opened his mouth to fire back, when a piercing sensation shot through his mind. He fell to his knees.
"Oh, come on, stop being such a drama queen!"
What the hell's going on?!
His vision blurred. His muscles lost all autonomy. The next moment, he slumped to the floor, face first, without any way to stop himself.
"Squall?" Zell's voice called to him, barely audible over the ringing that had enveloped his ears. "Squall, stop screwing around!"
What's happening to…
All was silence. All was darkness.
And then, a light…