14
CHAPTER 14 – AN UNLIKELY ALLIANCE
For the first time since leaving Balamb Garden, Squall's sleep had been perfectly sound. The bed Rinoa had abdicated to him was a welcome upgrade from the grassy patch. There had been no visions of dim-witted Galbadian soldiers, nor fearsome murderers and witches. He could remember no dreams at all. Terrifying as it was to experience, Laguna's tragic demise assured him his time in the vivid dream world was at an end. It did nothing to ease his dread of what was to come, however. The true nightmare awaited him in Deling City.
The sorceress legends were relics of an era long past; account after account of wicked witches terrorizing the common folk had been passed down since the ancient times. The power they'd allegedly possessed was stipulated to have come from the Great Hyne, the mythical god said to have created the human race. The details were unimportant to Squall; he'd always considered the tales to be nonsense dreamt up by superstitious fanatics, and had told Zell as much when the topic had come up during the field exam.
What little credence there still was in the modern age stemmed from the so-called "Sorceress War". Twenty-one years ago, the ruthless Sorceress Adel had risen to power in Esthar. The daughter of a lower noble, sheltered and largely kept from her nation's political spotlight, the specifics of how, where, and when she'd received her power were shrouded in mystery. Regardless, she'd reportedly made use of it to slaughter Esthar's entire royal family at a celebratory gathering, and taken the throne for herself.
There existed no known recorded footage of the incident to back up the claim. A televised declaration she'd sent out to the world in the aftermath remained the only evidence of her power. To date, its legitimacy was was hotly contested; the fire and lightning spellcraft she'd demonstrated, though striking, could have been doctored. Squall had watched the video during one of his lectures years ago, and noted her magic's similarity to the sort of spellcraft a trained SeeD could call upon. That the GF spheres were produced in Esthar was enough to convince him it had all been a ruse.
In the west, President Deling had been quick to capitalize on the matter, using the threat of invasion to prompt congress to appoint him an indefinite term extension. So began the Sorceress War. The conflict lasted for just over 4 years, culminating in an abrupt ceasefire on the eastern front. Without explanation, Esthar had suddenly withdrawn its troops, shuttered its borders, and severed all contact with the outside world. Seventeen years had passed without incident, leading most to presume Adel had met her end.
Now, another such woman had appeared, bearing power Squall could not so easily write off as a GF's; teleportation was not an ability known to any SeeD. Still he yearned for a sensible explanation to present itself, to reveal it had all been a grand display of smoke and mirrors. There wasn't one. Carrying out a coup against this sorceress was too big a responsibility for him to bear. He could only take the headmaster at his word that Irvine was the right man for the job. If his marksmanship could match his shameless boasting, their success was all but assured.
The six of them had gathered in the main atrium at the break of dawn. In addition to their lodgings, the staff had supplied them with a pair of duffel bags to store their weapons in. Squall hauled his gunblade in the one slung over his shoulder. The other Zell carried contained Selphie's nunchaku and Quistis' whip, along with the mission file. Irvine kept his shotgun and bullet belt concealed within his buttoned longcoat.
They'd reached the station with time to spare, and piled aboard the commuter rail bound northwest for Deling City. The tickets were general admission, the two Gardens having not sprung for a private cabin as on the intercontinental express. Squall took the first available window seat. He leaned back against the cushioned headrest, trying his best to ignore Irvine's antics. The sharpshooter continued to vie for the attention of whichever of the 3 ladies would give him the time of day. None were biting, save for Quistis' persistent reprimanding.
The rail line crossed over the Monterosa Plateau into the verdant Great Plains of Galbadia, trailing through many smaller settlements along the way. Squall assumed very few students commuted to Galbadia Garden; while not isolated on an island, the distance from civilization made it impractical all the same. It was close to an hour before their first stop in Belhelmel, and about half that until they came to Elvoret. The tracks stretched on, crossing another time-zone as they wound into the heart of Galbadia.
After five hours, the train finally pulled into the capital city's underground tunnels. He and his comrades passed through the gold-gilded train terminal, and ascended the escalator to the exit. Freshly arrived tourists swarmed the station square outside. Many clustered around the nearby pick-up zone, pushing and shoving for the next available cab. Colorful banners hung from lamp posts up and down the street. Each bore the gear-shaped Galbadian crest, with a single line of printed text underneath: 'A New Era Begins.'
A massive chromium fountain stood in the plaza's center. Far off in the distance, down the opposing main street, towered a grand golden archway, glistening in the midday sun. The nation's crest had been overlaid above the spoked iron gates. Despite being Squall's first visit to Deling City, the sight of the monument struck a chord within him. It was just as he'd seen it from the bay-window of the hotel room, through eyes not his own.
So, this is where Laguna was from…
"Talk about a commotion!" Zell commented on the bustling crowd. "Something big coming to town?"
"It's already here," Quistis replied, her eyes fixed to the banners hanging from the lamp posts. "And I've got a feeling we're going to be on scene for it, too. Let's find the general's home. I'm sure he'll fill us in on what's going on."
"Where do we even start?" Selphie gawked. "This place is huge! We've got nothing like this up north!"
"Tell me about it," Zell agreed. "Balamb's all I've ever known. What about you, sniper-boy? You know these parts?"
"Been here a couple times fer sightseein'," the gunslinger confirmed. He tipped his hat against the sun's glare. "If we got the time, and ya treat me right, maybe I'll give y'all a lil' tour. Don't got a clue where the general's house's at, though."
"I guess we get a cab, then?" Squall motioned. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. "How much do we have between us?"
"Money's not the issue here," Quistis said. "There's no way the six of us are all going to fit in a cab."
"I won't mind none if somebody's gotta sit on my lap," Irvine mischievously grinned.
"We can just take the bus line," Rinoa finally spoke up. She pointed along the left-hand road. "There should be a stop a bit further down that way that'll bring us by the outer estates."
"Wow, sounds like you know this place pretty well," Zell lauded her.
"It's been a few years. Let's get going. It should be 200 gil per person, assuming the rate hasn't gone up."
She led the way down the station steps, and around the mob of pedestrians. Squall and the others followed behind. He opened the velcro compartment on his wallet to pull out a pair of 100 gil coins. At a SeeD rank of 10, he was entitled to a bi-weekly allowance of 8,000 gil. Having yet to receive his first payment before being sent to Timber however, he was left with only three 1,000 gil bills and some small change to his name.
They came to the bus stop within minutes. The red and black public transport arrived after several more. They filed aboard, dropped their individual fees into the coin collection receptacle, and took their seats. Squall again managed to nab a seat by the window. As the scenery whipped on by through the glass, his thoughts turned again to Laguna.
He could no longer in good conscience dismiss his dreams as mere fantasies. Dozens of questions flew through his mind: What was their meaning? Their cause? Had Laguna been a real person? And if so, why was it through him that Squall had experienced these visions? Were they of the past? The future? Or some alternate reality existing parallel to his own? No one possibility was any less ridiculous than the others. He continued to ponder the unfathomable answers, until at last the bus slowed to a stop.
Rinoa stood up, and gestured for the rest of them to follow. Squall hoisted his bag up over his shoulder, and stepped off after them. Towering private mansions stood on either side of the street, radiant in the midday sun. Their architecture was the definition of aristocratic; each was the size of a small fortress. A massive wall of iron fencing stretched down the road to the next block, keeping their sprawling lawns barred off from the common folk.
"Wow," Selphie looked on in awe as the bus pulled away. "Talk about swanky!"
"Betcha we must stick out pretty bad in this part of town," Zell agreed. "So, what's this guy's address, again?"
"107 Orichalcum Parkway," Rinoa answered him. She pointed her finger to a manor further along the opposite side of the road.
The looming, muted green residence showed nary a trace of visible wear across its exterior. The whole of the structure resembled two castle turrets joined together in the middle. Crimson banners bearing the Galbadian crest hung from the top of either tower, cutting off where a pair of outdoor balconies jutted out beneath. A lengthy stone bridge bisected the grounds below, leading from the barred outer gateway to the large oak doors. It was indeed a home fit for a general. That he would risk throwing it all away testified to the danger posed by the sorceress.
"Damn, that's one hell of a pad," Zell quipped.
"How do you know the address?" Quistis stared Rinoa down. "I don't remember showing you the mission file."
"It's not important," she spoke lowly, her gaze still fixed to the hulking mansion. "You all have a briefing to get to, right? Let's head in and get it over with, already."
"Can't argue with that, I suppose."
The group looked both ways for oncoming traffic before jaywalking across. Quistis took the lead as they strode up to the front gate. She pressed the intercom switch beside the engraved mailbox. The speaker crackled to life moments later.
"This is the private residence of General Caraway," a creaky, elderly voice greeted them. "Please state your business."
"Hello, we are a squad of SeeDs dispatched on behalf of Balamb and Galbadia Gardens," Quistis spoke hastily. "I believe the general is expecting us."
"Indeed he is," the voice replied. "You may enter."
The intercom sputtered out. A metallic clink sounded as the automated lock on the gate disengaged. Squall maneuvered himself to the front of the pack, and pushed the iron bars ajar. He stepped out onto the arching overpass. A glance over either side revealed a verdant flower garden spanning the grounds below. He'd reached the halfway point when a hand suddenly began tugging on the sleeve of his jacket.
"My contract is still in effect, right?" Rinoa pestered him.
Her deep brown eyes stared pleadingly into his own. She seemed more anxious now than she'd been following the battle with the undead monster.
"More orders?" he grumbled.
"Well, if you're gonna put it that way. Look, whatever happens, just don't leave me alone in this house, alright?"
"Why are you being so paranoid? Just pretend you're one of us, like before."
"Yeah, the thing is… that's not really gonna work this time," she sighed as they reached the doors.
Clearly, Rinoa wasn't being forthright with him and the others; there was more to her reluctance than she was letting on. He raised his fist to knock. The door parted before he could. A wrinkle-faced, grey haired man in a black suit stepped into the frame.
"Good day to you all," he bowed before them. "The general is currently in his study. If you'll please follow me, I would be happy to-"
A dog's frantic barking abruptly cut him off. It grew louder as the sound of dashing paws on tile drew closer. Squall stepped aside as a streak of dark brown flew through the aide's legs. The man stumbled, grabbing hold of the door to steady himself. The hound went straight for Rinoa, settling down as it reached her, and sat in place. It began whimpering and whining, its bushy tail wagging a mile a minute.
"Angelo!" the girl greeted the dog. She reached down to playfully fondle its ears with both hands.
Now that it was still, Squall could identify the dog as a shepherd breed, its fluffy brown mane offset by a white breast coat. He turned his head to his squadmates, all of whom looked just as confused as him. The three Balamb operatives' mouths hung agape. The sharpshooter at the back cocked his right eyebrow in apprehension.
"Who's a good girl?" Rinoa baby-talked to the dog as she stroked its back. "Did you miss me? Is that terrible man treating you okay?"
"Young miss?!" the doorman reeled in surprise. "You've returned?!"
"Only on business, Buel," she sternly addressed him. She stood back up straight with her hand still resting on the dog's head. "Just let these five in to see him. I'm gonna take Angelo for a walk."
"Uh, would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!" Zell blurted out.
"Right," Rinoa sighed, her face flush with embarrassment. "If you haven't guessed it already… this is kinda my house."
"What do you mean, kinda your house?!"
"Then the general is… your father?" a wide-eyed Quistis asked.
"Well, I wouldn't call him that," she scoffed. She pushed her way past them with Angelo. "It's a long story, and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell it to you. See you later."
Squall watched as she retraced her steps across the bridge with her loyal hound, not glancing back for a moment. He'd suspected Rinoa had come from a privileged upbringing, but would never have guessed that she was the daughter of the most powerful man in the Galbadian military.
"Seems the fire's still burning fiercely as ever," the man named Buel spoke. He stepped aside to let them through. "Please, come in. Feel free to set your luggage down. I'll have it brought up to your rooms shortly."
Squall stepped on through, and dropped his bag. The main foyer's splendor perfectly matched the mansion's impressive exterior. Spotless marble tiling spanned the floor. Elegant gilded walls bore all manner of crested tapestry and military paraphernalia; rifles, swords, and countless commendations were displayed for all to see. A pair of love seats sat by a brick fireplace, its mantle decorated by many old photographs. A carpeted staircase stretched up to the second landing, splitting in both directions to the east and west wings.
"I can't be the only one who didn't see that coming!" Zell's voice tarnished the room's air of decorum. He dropped his bag to the floor.
"It certainly explains a few things," Quistis agreed.
"I'm a lil' lost here," Irvine said as he slunk through the door. "But from what I'm gettin', she ain't too thrilled with what daddy does fer a livin'?"
"It is quite regrettable," Buel conceded as he closed the door behind them. "She and her father haven't seen eye to eye for as long as I've been in the family's employ. It's been almost three years since she ran away. She's grown so much… but it seems her hatred for him hasn't changed one bit. May I take your coat and hat?"
"Thanks fer the offer, pops, but I think I'll manage."
"At least we know what she's got against Galbadia now," Selphie hummed.
"After all that talk, she's just a spoiled brat rebelling against authority," Squall crossed his arms. "No wonder she and Seifer get along so well."
'Got' along so well…
"With age comes maturity, or so they say," Buel remarked. He strode across the foyer to a passage on the left hand side. "But, let's not keep the general waiting. Please, follow me."
As Squall and the others trailed behind, he again reflected upon Seifer's demise; it still felt wrong to think of him as a mere memory now. In an instant, the sorceress had stolen away his rival right before his eyes, leaving him with only the scar that ran between them to remember him by. There had been no final confrontation to prove who was the superior fighter. It was the cruelest and most undeserved victory he'd ever been bestowed. As he followed Buel into the study, he only hoped that vengeance would help assuage the feeling of emptiness.
The marble tile gave way to polished hardwood, and a spacious lavender carpet. A chandelier hung above, bathing the room in homey, low-key lighting. To the left side of the door was a narrow, semi-circular alcove. A sculpted bust sat atop a stone pedestal within, perfectly resembling the portrait of a beautiful woman hung further along the wall by the window. The general sat at his desk at the far end of the room. Two bookshelves were set against the wall behind him, each stacked with thick volumes of reference material. His eyes pored over the paperwork strewn about the desktop, swiveling up to meet them as they stepped inside.
Sir," the attendant spoke. "These are the Garden operatives that have been sent to assist with the plan. Interestingly, your daughter was also with them upon their arrival."
His eyes flashed at the mention of Rinoa. The numerous badges and medals pinned to his uniform's breast clinked as he rose from his chair.
"Thank you, Buel," he spoke in a low voice. "Please get the limousine ready at once."
The servant bowed, and backed out of the study. Caraway leisurely rounded the desk, his face remaining stern.
"How exactly do you know my daughter?"
Squall opened his mouth to explain, but stalled. It abruptly occurred to him that he would need to be careful with his words; there was no telling how much the general knew of what Rinoa had been up to since she'd left home.
"She's... hired Balamb Garden's services for an assignment," he summarized. "My comrades and I were dispatched to assist her. I'm afraid I can't disclose anything more."
"And am I correct to assume that assignment was related to the incident in Timber?"
Caraway's eyes trailed to Quistis at his side. Evidently, he'd recognized her from the broadcast.
"Indirectly, yes," Squall admitted. "Unfortunately, with the appearance of the sorceress, things spiraled out of control, and she just happened to get swept up in the thick of it."
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," the general sighed as he strode forward.
"We had no idea she was your daughter. She gave us a completely different last name-"
"Heartilly?" he cut him off, turning to face the portrait on the wall. "Her mother's maiden name."
The entire painting had been swathed in a delicate pink hue. The young woman pictured was dressed a long, flowing nightgown, seated on a stone banister before a field of flowers. She held a wine glass clasped within her dainty fingers. Her innocent yet solemn face was indeed beautiful, and at the same time, strangely familiar to Squall.
Well, it is her mother, I guess…
"It's been nearly 12 years since she passed," Caraway continued; a noticeable strain crept into his voice. "It was a freak car accident. I was utterly destroyed. All I could do was try my best to raise her on my own. She's been a problem child ever since. Things didn't get any better once she decided to start railing against the government. I'm not surprised she kept it a secret from you. To her, I'm just a pathetic old man. I can't even remember the last time she called me 'dad'."
"That's… terrible," Selphie spoke in a deflated tone. "That kind of bond… isn't something anyone should take for granted."
"Not a day goes by I don't wish it could have turned out differently," he sighed, turning back to them. "Regardless of whatever contract you may still have with her, I want to be sure she does not become involved in this operation."
"That's fine by us," Squall assured him.
"I wonder if it would have been a better idea to leave her at Galbadia Garden," Quistis spoke up. "At least she'd be safe there."
"No, you did the right thing. My intelligence has informed me that the sorceress intends to take the Garden as her base, by force if necessary."
"There's no way that place's goin' down that easy," Irvine said. "An' besides, once I take that shot, it won't matter none."
"Good to hear you're confident," Caraway smiled faintly. "Let us be on our way, then. Buel should have the car ready. We'll discuss the plan once we're on the road."
The rest of the party followed their host out the door. He guided them down another series of winding halls, Squall continuing to bite his tongue all the while.
No matter their current objective, he, Zell, and Selphie were still contractually bound to Rinoa, which placed them in direct opposition of her father's will. It was an obligation he'd sworn himself to as a SeeD, despite his own personal reservations. There was no guarantee Caraway wouldn't attempt to interfere once their own alliance ran its course. After much deliberation, he decided such matters were best left unspoken for the time being; there was nothing to gain from potentially jeopardizing their standing.
The general led them to the rear of the mansion, and out onto to an open patio. A long stretch of pavement extended from a set of garage doors to the cast-iron gates at the end. A black limousine idled at the bottom of the patio steps; its tinted windows blocked out any view of the interior. Buel held the rear door ajar. The general strode down to meet him, and ducked inside. The rest followed suit, seating themselves all around the padded carriage. The door shut behind them as Squall nestled himself between Quistis and Selphie on the left side. Irvine and Zell sat across from them, Caraway at the front before the raised privacy screen.
"Care for a drink?" he asked, motioning to a nearby mini-fridge.
With all that Squall had been through in the last four days, a generous dose of alcohol was overdue. Regardless, his better instincts urged him to decline. He would need full awareness to process the mission details. Surely the general himself realized this; perhaps he was even testing them.
"Yer too kind, sir!" the cowboy bowed his head. He rose to his feet as the limo began to pull away.
He carefully stepped forward, and swung the fridge door open. Squall gazed through the windows as they passed the oncoming guard house; a single man stood inside to operate the gate ahead. The vehicle swerved out onto the road, turning left at the intersection. He grabbed hold of the cushioned seat in lieu of having no safety belt to keep him in place.
"Man!" Irvine exhaled. He swiveled unsteadily as he sat back down with a beer in one hand. "Losin' my footin' already, an' I ain't even had my first sip yet!"
"General, may I ask where we're headed?" Quistis intervened. "Is there a reason we couldn't discuss the mission details in your study?"
"Wire-tapping, maybe?" Zell guessed. To his side, Irvine fumbled to pop open his drink's bottle cap.
"No, nothing of the sort," Caraway said. "I just think it would be optimal you have a look at the mission area first-hand. We are currently en route to the Presidential Square, at the heart of the city. Tomorrow night, there will be a public ceremony and parade to commemorate Galbadia's alliance with Sorceress Edea. I trust you've seen the banners all around town?"
"Edea?" Squall echoed curiously. "That's the sorceress' na-"
A muffled thud from across the carriage cut him off. Irvine sat there motionlessly, his arm held parallel to the ground in front of him. His fingers were bent inward, forming the shape of the bottle that no longer occupied their grasp. It now lay on the carpeted floor at his feet. The beer spilled out as it swayed with the limousine.
"Oh, shit!" Zell swore. He reached down over Irvine's thigh to snatch up the bottle. "What the hell's wrong with you?! Tell me someone's got tissues!"
"I'm so sorry, general!" Quistis launched into an apology.
Squall quickly unzipped the supply pouch on his belt, pulled out a clump of bandages, and tossed them to Zell. He silently cursed the sharpshooter; his carelessness had undoubtedly just soiled their welcome along with the carpet.
"Irvine, you need to apologize right now!" Selphie demanded.
"Yeah, and while you're at it, have the decency to take care of this!" Zell snapped. He forced the wad of bandages into his still outstretched hand.
Irvine's eyes stayed downcast beneath the brim of his hat. They slowly rose as he craned his neck up to Squall, his face showing the same puzzled look as when they'd met the day before. It shifted to Selphie and Quistis on either side of him, then to Zell, and finally General Caraway.
"Sorry," he apologized as he bent forward to wipe up the spill. "I just… never mind. It won't happen again."
Squall cocked his eyebrow; the usual twang had completely vanished from his voice.
"It's fine," the general sighed, closing his eyes. "Just make sure your grip on the trigger isn't as flimsy."
"Yes, sir."
And this is the guy the mission's success is dependent on.
"As I was saying, this will be the sorceress' first public appearance. This time, it will be broadcast for the entire world to see, with the Timber TV station acting as an intermediary for the Dollet communications tower."
"This time?" Zell echoed. "What do you mean? Wasn't that the point of the radio wave broadcast in the first place?"
"Quite the contrary," Caraway revealed. "That was all but a ruse. The president's address in Timber was only intended for Esthar to see. To draw them out of isolation, and bring them back to the table for negotiations. Few else outside of the military's top brass have even seen the footage."
"So, that's why it wasn't being shown on the news?" Quistis asked as she pensively brought her hand up to her chin.
"Naturally. HD cabling has been the standard for years in the western world. You'd have to be standing by at the right time, with the right equipment to receive the signal in the first place."
"You see?!" Selphie exclaimed. "I knew I wasn't overthinking things!"
"And are you implying Esthar was standing by?" Squall prodded Caraway. "How could you be so sure the broadcast would make it to them? And why bother pretending that it was also being made to the rest of the world at all?"
The general met his stare, but refused to answer. His stern, pursed lips remained sealed for several uncomfortable moments, seemingly fighting to filter his words before they parted again.
"Just as your Garden has its own backroom ties to Esthar, so do we," he finally spoke. "That is all I will say on the matter."
So the awkward silence returned. Breaking from the stare down, Squall's eyes fell to his entwined belts, and the silver sphere clipped to them.
"Now, let us return to the point," Caraway continued. "My colleagues and I have already done everything we could to stop any of this from going forward. I'd even dispatched the most ill-suited commanding officer I could find to Dollet, hoping he would botch the entire operation. And he very nearly did."
Squall met Zell's knowing gaze from across the carriage.
'We' very nearly did. Seifer… you've been proven right again. If only you could hear this…
"And, here we are."
Squall arched his neck back to peer out the window behind him as the limousine slowed to a halt. They were parked on the edge of a wide square, easily twice the size of the one outside the station. Two-lane traffic bisected the center. Beyond stood a hulking iron gateway adorned with the Galbadian crest, and beyond that, a regal estate roughly 30 feet tall. A speaking podium had been erected on the roof, backlit by a towering digital time frame; its display read Thursday, February 25th, 12:55:43. Through the bars further along, he noticed a giant parade float sitting idle beside the estate. Armed guards stood stationed all around the perimeter.
"So, she's in there right now?" Selphie asked. The girl looked out beside him with her knees propped up on the seat.
"As far as I've been informed," Caraway said. "Once the ceremony is over, the parade will begin. That is when the operation will commence. You will be split into two teams: the sniper team, and the gateway team. The sniper team will be positioned amid the crowd in front of the Presidential Residence. The gateway team… well, the name says it all."
He motioned to the windows behind Zell and Irvine. Through the glass, past the swathes of pedestrians, the grand golden archway from before loomed further down the road. The ornate statues decorating its body were striking to behold at such a close distance, some humanoid, others vicious beasts.
"The gateway team will enter, and standby at the mechanism controlling the gates."
"We're gonna trap her inside?!" Zell's jaw dropped. "With the power she's got, there's no way that's gonna hold her back!"
"It is merely a diversion to draw attention away from the sniper. Once the president and sorceress have finished their speeches, the sniper team will maneuver along the crowd to an extraction point further down the west-side street. Two of my men will be manning a patrol car. They will pick the team up, and bring them into the Presidential Residence as soon as the gates open. From there, it will be up to you to make your way inside to the upper level. There is a hatch in the corridor leading from the sorceress' room out to the speaking podium. It leads into the silo where the retractable clock carousel is stored. You'll find the sniper rifle waiting for you there."
"An' then we play the waitin' game?" Irvine presumed.
"Precisely. The procession will follow a specific route set to a specific time frame. Once it leaves the residence, it will proceed south down the main avenue until it reaches the station square. It will turn right, and perform a full circle around the city. Once it comes back to the station, it will return to the residence. If everything runs according to schedule, the parade float should pass under the arch the moment after the clock strikes 2000 hours. Then, and only then, do we drop the gates. The Presidential Residence's clock carousel is set to rise out of the roof at the stroke of the hour, as a flashy show of fan-fare to welcome the sorceress back. And, of course, it will be carrying the sniper team up with it."
"How can you be sure the float won't pass through before the carousel goes up?" Squall asked skeptically. The timing required would have to be nearly as precise as the Forest Owls' train re-connection plot.
Don't tell me this is where she gets it from.
"Because that's how it's been planned," Caraway spoke firmly. "The sniper team will be a party of two, comprised of the sniper and the operation leader. If the plan fails for whatever reason, or should the sniper miss, the gateway team will carry out a direct assault on the sorceress. Should that fail as well, the duty will fall to the leader alone, by whatever means necessary. Please decide amongst yourselves who will take up that position."
"Geez," Selphie moaned. "Talk about a huge responsibility."
"I think the choice is pretty clear," Zell said. He shifted his eyes to Quistis. "Instructor, you're the highest ranking here, and the most combat experienced."
"I understand," she solemnly nodded her head.
"I'll be the leader," Squall declared.
His trust in Headmaster Martine's endorsement had been thoroughly shattered; he had no confidence whatsoever in the womanizing sharpshooter's abilities, and refused to leave him alone with her. He was determined to personally make sure the operation went off without a hitch.
"Are you sure that's such a wise idea?" Quistis shot him a look.
"No, and I don't care," he told her. He stood up and stumbled his way to the door. "I need some fresh air. I'll see you later."
He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Several onlookers looked him over suspiciously as he did so; his black casual wear stood in stark contrast to the regal limousine. A hand caught his shoulder from behind before he could move.
"Wait," Quistis said to him. "If you need some time to yourself, go right ahead. But I want you to be honest with me. Are you sure you're okay to go through with this? We can't have you passing out in the middle of the operation."
"I'll be fine," he grunted. "It's not going to happen again."
It ought not to if Laguna's apparent death could be believed. It did not discount the possibility of him suddenly being thrust into another person's body, however. The truth behind these strange visions still eluded him. He now only hoped he might live to uncover it once the job was done.
"Still, I want you to promise me you'll let Dr. Kadowaki take a look at you once we're back home."
"If that'll make you happy, then fine, I promise. Now, let me be."
Quistis' hand loosed itself from his shoulder. He trudged forward, mingling with the pedestrians as he made his way towards the golden gate. The stage was set, the players assigned their roles. All they could do now was perform their parts as instructed. It was not a SeeD's place to question why, but deep in his heart, Squall had found a reason all his own.
Seifer… this one is for you.