2

CHAPTER 2 – THE BREAKOUT

"Laguna!"

Again? When is this going to stop?

"Laguna!" the scratchy voice squeaked again. A frantic tugging took hold of his arm.

Ellone? No, it doesn't sound like her. Where am I?

"Laguna!"

The voice this time came from the other side of his head. And then, from his feet. Whatever was calling out the former soldier's name, there was more than one.

Squall finally cracked open his eyes. The spotlights no longer shone in his face, nor was his body chained to the wall rack. He instead lay flat on the hard metal floor. Moments later, an orange-haired creature ducked its head right in front of his face. His eyes shot open in terror. An instinctual yelp escaped his throat, startling the animal. It backed away as he shot upright. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He forced himself to brush aside any fatigue, and leapt up into a fighting stance.

He was surrounded. Five of the animals – moombas, if he was correct – flanked him in a ring, their beady yellow eyes all trained to him. Whether their intent was predatory, he could not tell; their sharpened talons gave him no assurance. He darted his eyes between them in rapid succession, wary for the first sign of movement. It finally came courtesy of the second from his left. The creature raised its paw, extending it outward as if motioning for a high-five.

"Laguna!"

Squall's frenzied thought-process stalled. His jaw fell open on its own. A moomba being capable of human speech was ludicrous enough. That it somehow knew that particular name, or of his visions, was unbelievable.

"You… know Laguna?" he finally asked.

The remaining four sprung to life in jubilation. They echoed Laguna's name one after another as they pranced around on all fours. Whatever knowledge they possessed, it seemed their command of human language extended no further.

The moomba who'd first spoken stayed standing in place with its paw outstretched to him. Squall extended his own palm in return, meeting the plush padding. Satisfied, the creature squeaked, and hunched back down on four legs. It purred excitedly, whipping its tail back and forth.

"Squall!"

The voice came from the door. He turned to see a lone man dressed in the standard blue Galbadian uniform step inside. His helmet was off, revealing a familiar head of spiked blonde hair, and a set of tattooed tendrils framing his left eye. Squall sighed in relief; his rescue had come.

"What's going on in here?" Zell asked as he took a step forward. "You okay?"

As he approached, the moombas suddenly lunged towards him with a series of snarls. Squall could understand their apprehension. What he could not was their insistence on being so protective of him.

"It's alright," he urged the creatures as he stepped past them towards Zell. "He's a friend. He's not with them."

The five ceased their growling. They shrunk back as he made his way forward, their eyes still tracking the blonde's every move.

"How'd you get these guys on your side?" Zell shot him a perplexed look.

"I'm not sure," he muttered. He took the opportunity to remove the bandage on his temple. "But it seems like we have… a mutual friend."

"Come again?"

"Forget it. We need to get out of here, fast. The Gardens… they're going to fire-"

"Missiles?" Zell finished for him. "We know. Our weapons are in the control room right outside. Let's get back to Quistis and Selphie, and maybe with these guys' help we can fight our way out of here."

"Where's Rinoa?" he asked tensely; her exclusion hadn't gone unnoticed.

"She's been let go. Her dad managed to give her a full pardon."

Good. At least there's one less thing to worry about.

"Come on, let's get moving. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Squall followed Zell out the door, left to wonder why the back of his uniform's pants were so thoroughly stained. They emerged onto a wide semi-circular stretch of flooring, where a large group of even more moombas frolicked about. Two freshly dispatched soldiers lay in the middle of it all, undoubtedly his torturers. Over the railing to his right, a seemingly bottomless shaft stretched far into the prison's lower levels. He'd presumably been raised up in the nearby docked cell, clasped by the large crane beside. As they made their way through the crowd, each of the furry creatures turned their eyes to him with glee. Many more exclaimed Laguna's name to him as if in greeting.

It almost feels like I'm a celebrity…

"Hey," Zell stopped in his tracks. "Did they not hook you up with those bangles?"

"Bangles?" Squall repeated, not understanding.

"I take it that's a no."

He rolled up either sleeve of his uniform, revealing two metal cuffs clamped around his wrists. Their silver plating perfectly matched the prison's cold paneling all around. Each featured a keycard scanner, in addition to a series of buttons with a pulsing LED indicator on the right-hand one.

"These things produce some kind of negative energy field around the person wearing them. Supposedly, it cancels out the frequency of a GF. They're made by Odine Industries, if that tells you anything. Looks like the general wasn't just blowing smoke when he said they had an in with Esthar. Me and the girls all got cuffed when we were captured. I guess they didn't bother with you, since you were out cold. That, or they figured you were already… well, you know."

"So, what you're telling me is you can't use your GF?" Squall concluded. The existence of such technology was troubling at best, regardless of where it had come from.

"Yeah, but as long as you can, we've got a chance. I'll stay up here and keep watch. You head on down and get the girls."

"Fine," Squall agreed. He motioned to Biggs and Wedge passed out on the ground, and then to the docked solitary confinement chamber. "Move them in there while I grab our stuff."

He turned on his heel to the glass-paneled control room. A small subset of his moomba followers tailed him inside. As Zell had said, their respective weapons, belts, and miscellaneous effects lay strewn on the desk beside the control console. His legs lunged forward of their own accord at the sight of his gunblade. He snatched up the weapon in one hand, and his intertwined belts with the other. He slipped his legs through the makeshift harness, re-attached the sheath's clip to its side, and then reached for his wallet, watch, lion pendant, and ring.

Having returned the accessories to his pocket, wrist, neck, and left ring-finger respectively, he finally shifted his attention to the cluster of metal spheres in the center. A disparity among them piqued his curiosity: one of the four appeared to be made of another alloy altogether, its reflective bronze a stark contrast to the silver sheen of the others. Straight away, he had a reasonably confident hunch whose it was.

He plucked the first of the three silver spheres from the table, engaging the switches on its top and bottom with his fingers. The halves parted to reveal a swirling, sky-blue energy inside; it had to be Quistis' ice sphere. He disengaged and pocketed it for safekeeping. The second contained a familiar fiery aura within. He clipped it to his belt before moving on to the third, its earthy, sandstone hue confirming his suspicion.

Setting Zell's sphere back on the table for a moment, he picked up the bronze one. Its dimensions were identical. He twirled it around in his fingers until the logo on its shell spun into view. His eyes widened in disbelief as the image registered to him. His breath caught in his throat. Without exception, each and every Guardian Force produced for Balamb Garden bore the black and white crest of SeeD upon its outer casing, a symbol of the weapon's singular affiliation with their army. An entirely different insignia was etched on this sphere, however, one he'd grown ever more familiar with in light of recent developments: the gear-shaped crest of Galbadia.

He stared at it in stunned silence. Refusing to believe it could be legitimate, he depressed the twin switches to part the sphere. To his astonishment, the light within was more intense than any of the three before. It shone with the same radiant, pure white as the blast Selphie's familiar had unleashed on the train.

"What even was that thing?" Rinoa asked. "It's like it was made to take the president's form. How does Galbadia have something like that?"

"Maybe… it was some kind of super gross-looking GF?" Selphie guessed.

"Impossible," Squall shot the idea down. "GFs are produced exclusively for SeeD; the Garden's contract with Odine Industries ensures that."

"Yeah, but…"

She paused, seeming uncertain of what to say.

"But, what if Galbadia found a way to make their own somehow?"

The revelation was world-shattering. Even when considering the bangles Zell and his comrades had been shackled with, for Odine Industries to have broken their contract with Balamb Garden was unthinkable. Likewise, the differing constructive material suggested the sphere had not come from the same manufacturer. But if not by them, who else could have produced it? How? Surely not Galbadia itself. More questions than Squall could fathom shot through his mind. One however, took precedence over all the others.

Who the hell is that girl?!

Selphie had most certainly not received this sphere from any Garden administrator. Where had it come from? Why did she have it? How long had she had it for? And most importantly, could she still be trusted?

He quickly realized he was wasting time; he could not afford to be hung up on such developments, astounding though they were. The fate of the Gardens became more uncertain with each passing second.

He stowed the bronze sphere in his pocket with Quistis'; Zell's he relegated to the other side of his pants, so as not to confuse the two silver variants. He stuffed the wallets and watches in his jacket pockets, slung his former instructor's belt and whip over his shoulder, and took both halves of the nunchaku in one hand. The moombas parted to give him leeway. Outside, Zell and his own collective of furry onlookers stood by the control panel on the freshly sealed solitary unit. Two metallic bangles lay discarded on the floor beside his feet.

"Here," he motioned to Squall with one hand. His fingers held a solid black keycard with fringes of gold around its edges. "Found this on him. It worked on mine, so I'm guessing it's one-size-fits-all. Pass it on to the girls for me."

"Sure," he accepted the thin slab. "I'll trade you."

Squall slid it into his pocket, and fished out the GF sphere. He should have figured had any of his comrades been brought up to the torture room after him, Biggs would have needed a way to get the cuffs off them before putting them up on the electrical rack. He placed the sphere in Zell's waiting palm, and then passed him his wallet.

"The others are down on level 7," Zell explained as he brought up his helmet from under his arm, and pulled it over his head. "It's the cell closest to the stairs going up. I left the lock disengaged. Don't take too long, ya hear?"

Squall nodded. He made for the stairs leading down as Zell trailed off to the control room with several moombas. Despite their excitable demeanor, they seemed to possess intellect greater than most other animals. How fortunate they'd seen fit to take their side.

He descended the steps to the next level, finding a barren circular walkway running around the shaft's circumference. He froze upon noticing the security camera on the opposite side. Perhaps he ought to have commandeered either Biggs or Wedge's uniform for the trip. The feeling in his gut just as quickly subsided; he'd seen the camera feeds on the monitors in the control room just moments ago. Zell would be the only one on the other end to witness his stumble.

Better not let him see any more...

Recomposing himself, Squall continued down through each unnervingly similar floor, until he finally reached the 7th level. He made his way over to the door Zell had mentioned, took hold of the latch, and swung it open. Inside, Quistis knelt by the side of an unconscious guard, stripped of his uniform. A dark trail of residue led from his limp body to a puddle of sludgy liquid in the center of the room. Selphie rested on the other side of the room with Zell's jacket draped over her dainty figure. Her eyes flitted to him as he stepped inside.

"Squall!" she lit up. She bolted to her feet, and tore across the room to him. "Are you okay? Where's Zell?"

"Upstairs."

He shoved the severed nunchaku into her hand, and reached into his pocket for her GF sphere. An explanation would have to wait; their escape was of the utmost priority now.

"We don't have much time. Let's get moving."

"I take it he told you about the missile strike on Balamb Garden?" Quistis asked. She rose, and sidled around the puddle towards him.

"Balamb and Trabia."

He casually plopped the bronze sphere into Selphie's hand. Whether or not the ramifications registered to her, he couldn't tell. Her face abruptly turned pale for another reason altogether.

"What?!" she yelped.

"Like I said, we don't have time," he reiterated.

He passed off to Quistis her whip, belt, and GF. He'd made a snap decision to hold onto their wallets for the time being, particularly Selphie's. Finally, he withdrew the keycard.

"These should get those off your wrists. I'll explain our situation on the way up."

Selphie snatched the card from his hands without a word, and waved it over the scanner on the bangle around her right wrist. With a mechanical beep, the pulsing LED light disengaged. The bangle's locks parted. She shook it off, letting it tumble to the floor with a heavy clank. Its twin followed moments later. Squall turned back to the door as she passed the keycard to Quistis. The moment he cleared the frame, his ears exploded.

A sudden high pitched wailing tore through the silo. He frantically clamped his hands over his ears as he stumbled forward onto the catwalk. Emergency lights situated around the shaft came to life all at once.

"Alert!" an amplified voice spoke over the loudspeakers; Squall could barely discern the words against the blaring klaxon. "Prison break in progress! Brace for ascension!"

'Ascension'? What does that mean?

"Zell must be in trouble!" Selphie screeched beside him. "We've got to get up there, fast!"

"Keep your eyes peeled!" Quistis shouted as she joined them. "We've got to be ready for anyth-"

A massive tremor cut her forewarning short. Squall fell to his knees; he caught hold of the metal railing on the edge of the bottomless pit to steady himself. The earthquake intensified further, the vibrations seeming to wrest the entire prison around them. He could feel his knuckles turning white beneath his gloves. Quistis and Selphie were faring no better; they desperately clung to whatever hand-hold they could find. After roughly 30 seconds, it finally dissipated.

"What the heck was that?!" Selphie moaned, her voice infinitely more audible now that the siren had stopped. "Some kind of explosion?!"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Quistis said. She rose to her feet, and drew her whip. "Come on! Zell needs our help."

They made for the winding stairway leading up, taking the steps two at a time. Moments later, automatic rifle shots roared from above; the percussive racket echoed down through the open shaft. Squall preemptively engaged the sphere at his waist, working at speed to call forth the energy. The translucent blue barrier shimmered and faded into infrared. The two ladies to his rear followed suit as they rose to the 10th level.

The trio continued upward as fast as they could without stumbling. With each new level, Squall re-directed his eyes from his feet to the ringed walkway spread out before him. Beyond keeping his eyes peeled for inbound sentries, he couldn't help but glance back at Selphie each time; he could no longer in good conscience let her stray from his sight. Though her ditzy personality did not seem like the sort he would expect from a double agent, given what he knew now, it was an all too real possibility. Perhaps it had all been an expertly acted facade from the start, that he had been too unassuming, or too ignorant to see through.

They finally reached the 13th level. Rifle shots whizzed from the winding spiral staircase leading up. Six Galbadian infantrymen had taken a knee on the steps to steady themselves. Their targets: the moombas now frantically dashing all about in the open expanse. Several lay motionless on the floor, steeped in pools of their own blood. A lone soldier had stepped out from beside the crane control room. He waved his arms frantically at the shooters, begging them to cease fire. They paid him no heed, regardless of whether they knew who he really was. With his helmet re-affixed, it was the stains on his backside which tipped Squall off.

"What are they doing?!" Selphie shrieked at the ensuing massacre.

She raised her palm, now brimming with buzzing electricity. Squall sidestepped clear of her trajectory just before the lightning strike loosed itself from her hand. It soared over the moombas towards the staircase. The gunfire abruptly ceased as the soldiers scrambled for cover.

The shock detonated on impact. Five of the six sputtered and jerked as the electricity surged through them. The other had desperately leapt over the banister, falling face-first on the hard metal floor below. The regrouping moombas were quick to dog-pile on him.

"You made it!" the disguised Zell shouted as he bolted over. He removed his helmet to assure them of his identity.

"What happened?" Squall asked.

"No idea. That alarm just started up out of nowhere."

"But that alert said there was a prison break in progress, didn't it?" Quistis pondered. "Who else could it-"

Another volley of gunshots cut her off. Squall turned his eyes back to the top of the staircase, where a pair of soldiers descended backwards from the mouth of the open ceiling hatch. Their rifles were trained to the top of the steps, rather than down at the four of them, or the pack of moombas. Just then, a pair of far louder shotgun blasts ripped through the silo from atop the steps. The soldiers were blown backwards. Their bodies twisted and bent unnaturally as they tumbled down step after step. After several moments of tense silence, a tall figure in a khaki longcoat stepped down from the upper landing.

His boots clanked on the metal steps. He held his shotgun propped up against his shoulder, smoke wafting from its barrels and up over the brim of his black cowboy hat. His eyes leisurely passed over all in sight from his vantage point, and finally settled on them. As Squall met his gaze, his lips curled into a triumphant grin.

"Somebody call fer a breakout?" he hollered down.

The twangy accent had returned to his voice. The signature inflection that had irked Squall to no end was now music to his ears. It promised salvation, just as the shot that had spared him from Seifer.

"Oh, come on!"

Another recognizable voice echoed down, this one feminine in nature. Squall's mouth dropped open as a streak of blue descended, and slapped the sharpshooter on the back of the head.

"Stop trying to act cool! We've got to get down there, fa-"

She stopped herself as she caught sight of them below.

"Hey!" she shouted down, waving her arms. "You guys! Get up here, quick! We're here to get you out!"

Squall sprung into action, charging around the throng of moombas to the base of the stairs. Zell and Selphie let out several whoops and hollers as they followed behind. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He'd never expected to see them again, much less that they would put their lives on the line to save them. Under normal circumstances, he would have been gobsmacked at Irvine's recklessness; Rinoa had no place in this conflict any longer. And yet, an unfamiliar swelling rose in his chest instead. It was a sensation he couldn't put a name to.

"Glad t'see y'all in one piece," Irvine quipped as they reached the top.

"Says the guy who was gonna up and leave without them!" Rinoa scolded him. She put her hands on her hips as she turned to the SeeDs. "Seriously, my dad tells him to come pick me, andonlyme up, and he was about to go through with it!"

"I'm standin' here now, ain't I?!"

"After I scratched you to death!"

"Thank you," Quistis interjected, her voice strangely hollow as she turned from Irvine to Rinoa. "Both of you."

"Whatever," the girl huffed, reminding Squall of himself for a moment. "Let's just get moving before reinforcements show up!"

"No argument there," Zell agreed. "You got a ride?"

"Better believe it!" Irvine affirmed. He pumped his shotgun to discharge the empty shells, and turned on his heel. "Let's go!"

The cowboy led the charge up the steps. They rose through the open hatch to the prison's upper administrative levels. Irvine had already done his part to clear a path for them; ravaged bodies of soldiers lay peppered with buckshot all around. Paying only what little heed he could afford to, Squall kept his eyes fixed to the gunman's signature longcoat at the front.

They pushed onward through the carnage-strewn halls, weapons at the ready. What guards did round the corners into their path were dispatched of on sight by Irvine. If Squall wasn't already convinced of his ability, his lightning-fast reflexes sealed the deal. Whatever the reason for his hesitation the night before, it couldn't have been a lack of competence.

They eventually came to a wide freight hangar. Metal storage containers took up much of the expanse below the catwalk they stood upon. A cluster of matching, silver-plated troop transports were parked on the far side of the room by the massive steel doors, offset by a single yellow outlier on the end.

"That one's ours," Irvine pointed to it.

"Then let's get those doors open, and blow this joint!" Selphie declared.

"I'll see what I can do," Zell said. He put his helmet back on, and started down the catwalk towards the control room on their side of the hangar.

"Hey!" the cowboy called after him. "While yer at it, try an' find somethin' in there labeled 'submerge system', alright?"

"Submerge system? What's that do?"

"Jus' trust me. I've got a feelin' we're gonna need that engaged to get outta here. Now move it!"

The remaining five made a break for the descending metal stairs. As soon as Irvine reached the metal banister, gunfire roared again. Bullets flew from across the divide, ricocheting to and fro. Squall reflexively ducked down by Rinoa's side; the infrared protective barrier still shielding him would provide ample cover for her as well.

In a flash of light, two chunks of ice the size of beach balls shot from Quistis' hands. They exploded into shards of frigid shrapnel on impact. Not letting the opportunity go to waste, Squall grabbed Rinoa's wrist with his free hand, and jerked her down the stairs after Irvine. Quistis and Selphie stayed behind to fend off their attackers.

He reached the bottom, and followed the cowboy across the hangar's length, weaving around several stacks of bulky cargo containers. The parked yellow transport soon came into sight. A noisy metal creaking diverted his attention to the doors. Slowly, the great gate parted. Brilliant morning sunlight suddenly swept across the dank prison interior. He momentarily let go of Rinoa to shield his eyes. Once they'd finally adjusted, he saw a peaceful blue sky dotted by clouds waiting just beyond. It beckoned him to go running into freedom's embrace as fast as he could. And yet, he could see no ground beneath to run upon.

"What the hell?!" Rinoa yelled over the crossfire up on the catwalk. "Where's the desert?!"

"Damn," Irvine swore as they reached the vehicle. "Figured as much. That's what all that shakin' was after they sounded the alarm. This place's special."

"Special, how?" Squall impatiently asked. Even from so close, he still couldn't catch a glimpse of the ground outside.

"Why don't ya stick yer head out an' see fer yerself? Jus' don't go tippin' over."

"Cut the smart-ass routine, and tell us what's going on!" Squall growled. Yet another heated standoff between them was brewing.

"Let's jus' say they don't call this the highest security prison in Galbadia fer nothin'. We read up 'bout this place at my Garden a while back. On top o' bein' out in the middle o' the Dingo Desert, it's all underground, 'cept fer the top level we're on now. Thing is, the whole complex's got this crazy submerge system built in. The bottom o' the main spire's equipped with this huge drill that can burrow this place into the sand, an' raise it back up."

"So, the reason we can't see the ground is…" Rinoa started warily.

"Yup, we're a good hundred feet an' some change in the air right now. So, 'till spiky up there finds the controls, we're sittin' ducks."

Perfect…

"Let's jus' get in!"

Irvine thrust his key into the transport's side door, and twisted hard. He flung it open, allowing Rinoa to climb inside. She clambered over the middle console and into the passenger seat. Squall followed behind, sheathing his gunblade as he maneuvered himself into the backseat.

"Here come those two," Rinoa announced as she buckled herself.

Squall glanced out the window. Quistis and Selphie came charging across the hangar's lower level. Shifting his eyes up, he saw a soldier bolt from the control room; he reached the top of the steps just as the ladies swung open the side door.

"Let's hope that's the last of them," Quistis heaved in exhaustion.

"Do you think Zell found what you were looking for?" Selphie asked Irvine in the driver's seat.

"He better've. Else we ain't goin' nowh-"

His words were silenced by a mighty rumble beneath the transport's chassis. Squall grabbed hold of the driver seat's headrest to steady himself. The carriage sickeningly jerked as he felt a sinking sensation come over him. Through the windowpane, Zell doubled over in alarm. Reasserting his balance, he broke into a full-on sprint. He cleared the remaining distance in seconds, and leapt in through the open door, nearly toppling Selphie over as he did so.

"What the hell did you make me do?!" he roared over the ruckus.

"Jus' buckle up an' hold onto yer ass!" Irvine hollered back.

He floored the gas pedal; Zell barely had time to close the door behind him. Squall dug his fingers deep into the upholstery, hanging on for dear life as the car swerved out to face the open hangar entrance. Beyond, sand dunes peeked into view on the distant horizon. Slowly but surely, the prison was descending to the desert surface.

"RPGs behind us!" Quistis shrieked from the rear. "We need to move, now!"

"We ain't fully touched down! You askin' me to nose-dive outta here?!"

"Fuck it!" Zell angrily swore. "Just floor it! Now!"

On command, the shrill screeching of burning rubber ripped through the hangar. Two successive rocket ignitions sounded from behind. The vehicle lurched forward at frightening speed. It accelerated rapidly as it shot straight for the gaping doors. With a quick glance down to make sure his seat belt was buckled, Squall held on as tightly as he could, and mentally braced for what could very well be the final moments of his life.

The transport's tires cleared the opening just as the rockets detonated behind. They were ejected from the prison's clutches with a blazing fanfare. Just as quickly, they began falling towards the sand-strewn plains roughly three stories below. Time slowed to an agonizing crawl. Squall's stomach sank in tandem with the vehicle. A pair of women shrieked in terror; he dared not tear his eyes from the windshield to see which of the three it might be. Closer and closer the inevitable collision drew, until the fear finally overcame him. He shut his eyes in dread anticipation.

He violently lurched forward and up as the wheels slammed onto the sand. Had he not buckled his seat belt, he would certainly have been flung directly into the front of the vehicle, and perhaps even smashed through the thick glass pane. His companions likewise jerked wildly all around him; each let out a panicked cry before realizing they'd all miraculously survived.

Squall arched his neck back to take stock. He glanced past Quistis with her head in her hands to look through the rear windows. A billowing cloud of dust churned just behind. A massive drill bore deep into the earth, lowering the domed upper level of the prison to its resting position. Gradually, it shrunk into the distance as the vehicle plowed across the sands. Against all odds, by the grace of Irvine, Rinoa, and the curious collective of moombas who'd selflessly risked their lives, they were free.

"Everyone alright?!" Selphie shot upright.

"More or less," Zell groaned. He righted himself in his seat, and removed his helmet. "Reallyglad I kept this on."

"I… can't believe we're alive," Rinoa exhaled from the passenger seat.

"Thank you, Irvine," Quistis called up from the back, still vying to regain her composure.

"Not a word of it, Quisty… er, ma'am," he stuttered. He reached down with one hand to snatch up his fallen cowboy hat.

"And also for back in the city," Squall added. "You know, when he had me pinned on the float. I guess… I owe you one."

"S'all right. I coulda easily taken his head off, but… well, I don't know if I'd want that hangin' on my conscience. He's still one o'… one o' you guys, right?"

"Not anymore," Zell growled. "But right now, we've got way bigger issues. We've gotta stop those missiles from firing."

"I heard 'bout that from the general before he sent me t'come get Rinoa. The AI guidance tech the army's usin' is still pretty new. It's never been tested fer cross-continental targets at that kinda distance, since ya can't do somethin' like that without startin' up a whole 'nother war. They're gonna use Trabia fer the test strike, an' then hit Balamb once they've got a read on the accuracy."

"Do you know where that missile base is?!" Selphie frantically pestered him. "I just transferred from Trabia! I can't just sit around knowing they're being dragged into this!"

"It's a long ways northwest from here, up on the very edge o' the desert. Probably take a few hours t'get there, at least."

"Then there's no time to waste! We've gotta get out there and stop that launch!"

"First things first, Selphie," Quistis reeled her in. "As SeeDs, Balamb Garden's safety is always our number one priority. We need to split up into two teams. One for the missile base, the other to head back home. We have to warn the headmaster and the administration to evacuate in case things don't go as planned."

"How?!" Zell blurted out. "We're on another continent! There's no way we'd be able make it back before they launch!"

"They'll be standing by for confirmation of a successful hit on Trabia. If the infiltration team can slow them down long enough, it might be possible. We hijack a prison supply train from the depot we were dropped off at, and gun it to Timber. From there, we take my assault boat back across the ocean… provided it hasn't been discovered. It's a long shot, but it's the only real option we have."

Isn't that the saddest thing I've heard all day…

"So, who's going where?" Selphie urged. "I want on the missile base team. They've made this personal for using my old home as target practice!"

"What'dya say, Mister Leader?" Irvine craned his neck back to Squall. The other four sets of eyes all turned to him.

Now more than ever, the burden of leadership was too much to bear. It had brought him to the dreaded crossroads he'd hoped never to be left standing at. How could he be expected to make such a call? It was not that he had no answer; logic dictated only one sensible ordering for both teams. Even so, the ultimate question remained: could he accept the accountability should those sent to the missile base be captured or killed?

"Squall, it's up to you," Quistis reminded him. "You're still the operation leader here."

I've had it up to here with this leader thing… alright.

"The Garden return team will be myself, Quistis, and Rinoa," he announced. "Zell, Selphie, Irvine… stop those missiles."

A hush fell over the vehicle interior. Squall darted his eyes about, taking stock of his teammates' reactions. Zell and Selphie shared a glance with one another, before their eyes promptly flitted back and forth between Quistis and Rinoa. The girl in blue swiveled back around to face the windshield with a huff. Reluctant though they all seemed to be, the teams couldn't be arranged any differently.

Rinoa had no business being sent into the fray. Quistis, on top of being the only one who could lead them to the boat she'd docked, still held substantial repute within the Garden, which would give further credence to their story. Only Irvine knew the way to the missile base. Zell's mechanical aptitude would be essential in sabotaging the launch proceedings. That left only their alleged transfer student, who possessed a Guardian Force which by all accounts should not have existed. It was obvious she could no longer be trusted. However much he would have preferred to keep her grouped with him, it was simply impossible given the circumstances. He would instead have to rely on Zell to both lead the operation and keep an eye on her.

I stand corrected… that's the saddest thing I've heard all day…