3

CHAPTER 3 – SABOTEURS

The transport ground to a halt in the shadow of the looming water tower. Zell unbuckled his seat belt, pulled his helmet back over his head, and threw open the side door. He stepped out onto the coarse, shifting sand, the morning sun beating down on him from beyond the rusted pipeline running east. He was grateful for the visor; the glare reflecting off the sand might have proven too much for his naked eyes.

He shut the door behind him, and turned his attention to the red-brick guardhouse beside the depot entrance; though he could see no soldiers through the window, there had to be someone on duty. He sprinted towards it as fast as he could, the uneven sand requiring he exert more effort with each step. As he drew near, the gleaming silver plating of a Galbadian helmet moved by the window. Zell frantically waved his arms to catch the soldier's attention. He got what he wanted the next moment.

"Hey!" he shouted. He slowed, pointing back to their parked vehicle. "Can we get some help? Our car just stalled!"

"Hold on a sec!" the guard replied before disappearing from the window.

Zell waited impatiently. They couldn't afford a single wasted second if they were to save the Gardens from total annihilation. The door to the guardhouse swung open moments later. The soldier he'd signaled emerged, followed by a second right behind.

Just the number we need.

"C'mon!" he urged, turning back to the yellow transport. "Something's up with the engine!"

"Did you come from the prison?" one called after him. "We saw it go up in the distance a little while ago. Was there an escape attempt?"

"It's a long story!"

He came to a stop in front of the vehicle's hood, took hold, and heaved it up. The hidden sharpshooter knelt right beside the driver's side door with his shotgun drawn. With a brief nod to him, Zell intentionally fixed the hood strut in an unstable position, and stepped back to give the guard room.

"Just take a look, will ya? We need to get back, ASAP!"

"Fine, fine," the head of the two grumbled. He moved into position, hunching over the engine to examine it. "But seriously, what's goin' on over th-"

Irvine's hand shot out like a viper. He knocked the flimsy strut loose before the soldier could finish his question. The hood came crashing down on his upper back just as quickly. He let out a cry as his face and upper torso were slammed into the engine. Zell immediately thrust his hand atop the hood to keep him in place, his leather gloves keeping him protected from its searing heat. Irvine bolted up just as the baffled second guard reached for his side-arm. He froze on the spot, released his clasp on the holstered pistol, and slowly raised his arms over his head.

Zell hoisted the hood open once more, noticing a flash of yellow sneaking around from the opposite end of the vehicle as he did so. With his free hand, he heaved the crushed soldier out of the engine. He limply fell to the sand on his back. His companion went down the next second, courtesy of two nunchaku bars to the back of the neck. With both guards dispatched, the transport's side door swung open. Squall and Quistis ducked their heads as they stepped out to join them.

"That went surprisingly well," their leader in black observed. "Let's get them out of their uniforms and hide the bodies."

"Yes, sir!" Selphie saluted.

The girl knelt down to the guard she'd incapacitated and went to work. Following her example, Zell reached for the second at his feet. He removed the helmet, taking note of the fresh burn marks on the lower, exposed half of his face where the engine's heat had scalded him. With the blow to his back from the hood, he likely wouldn't be back on his feet for at least a few weeks.

Irvine assisted in removing the attire and various effects from the unconscious man. Zell gathered them in his arms as the sharpshooter hoisted his body up in his own. He trailed after Quistis and Selphie, themselves lugging the other undressed soldier back to the guard house. Squall stowed his appropriated uniform in the vehicle. Rinoa had yet to move from her spot in the passenger's seat; she clearly wasn't happy with the assigned groupings.

"You sure you're gonna be able to figure out how to work one of those engines?" Zell asked. "Maybe I oughta come instead of Quistis?"

"How are we going to find her ship without her?" Squall bluntly replied.

"I… guess you've got a point."

"I'm leaving command of the infiltration team to you," he expounded. "And also… I want you to keep a close eye on Selphie at all times."

"Huh? What for?"

"There's no time to explain. But whatever happens, don't let her go wandering off on her own."

"Uh… sure, if that'll make you happy."

He looked back to the guard station. The girl in question and their two other comrades hastily jaunted across the sand towards them. Though Selphie's aptitude with her Guardian Force surprised him, he had no reason to suspect her of any wrongdoing. Squall was surely being paranoid. Given the recent rapid-fire turn of events however, he could hardly blame him.

"All set," the girl announced.

Usually so giddy, her seriousness unsettled Zell. With the Gardens' safety hanging in the balance, the time for cheer was long past.

"Are we ready?" Rinoa asked. She finally stepped out of the passenger's side door to join them.

"Looks like it," Squall confirmed.

"Then I guess this is where we part ways," Quistis sighed as she joined him. "Take care, you three. Remember to keep your heads down, and stay vigilant at all times. We're counting on you."

"Yes, ma'am!" Zell saluted. Selphie and Irvine did likewise.

"Keep your focus on the objective," Squall followed up, his eyes firmly fixed to Zell. "And each other."

Something tells me I oughta be saying the same to you.

Zell briefly glanced between the two disenfranchised women. He said nothing, and released the salute with a nod.

"Let's go," Squall commanded.

He spun on his heel towards the depot entryway. Quistis and Rinoa followed after, taking great pains to maintain the distance between one another.

"Y'all heard the man," Irvine spoke. He turned back to the vehicle, and grabbed one of the two uniforms. "Let's suit up an' get goin'."

"Lemme in!" Selphie pushed her way past him. "And so help me, if I catch either of you peeking, I'll beat you so bad you won't wake up 'till we get there!"

'At all times'… sorry bud, not about to go there…

The sprawling desert stretched on as far as the eye could see. Sparse groupings of prickly cacti sprung up across the desolate terrain every so often. Zell couldn't have been more appreciative for the transport's air conditioner; the sun had since climbed to its apex high above. They rumbled on as fast as the engine would reasonably allow. Irvine, suited up in his new uniform, had scarcely ever taken his foot off the accelerator. Craning his neck back, Zell glanced at the second, far more petite impostor seated behind him among their stripped casual wear. She kept her eyes fixed to the window. Whether out of boredom or unease, he couldn't tell.

It had been just under 4 hours since their departure from the prison way-station. As they'd pulled away, he'd seen the other team's locomotive go speeding off along the tracks due east. Being on a similar latitude with Timber as Deling City was with Galbadia Garden, the 5 hour ride they'd taken into the city two days before was as good an indicator as any for their ETA. With a faster average speed and lack of stops, they could feasibly cut close to an hour off of the trip. Regardless, their return across the ocean would take longer still.

Soon, the missile base came into view through the windshield. A thick steel wall surrounded the premises on all sides. Straining his eyes, he spotted several looming containment tanks peeking over top. Whatever their contents, be it oil, or some other flammable liquid propellant, he and Selphie would need to exercise extreme caution with their GFs. A single mishandling of the energy could be liable to send the entire compound up in a blazing pyre. While doing so would guarantee the Gardens' safety, Zell didn't relish the thought of blowing himself sky-high in the process. Even at their present range, the risk remained too steep; he couldn't guess at the potential blast radius, nor the amount of shrapnel. A more delicate, deliberate approach was in order.

"Lemme handle the talkin' when we pull up," Irvine said. "I've got somethin' that should make our job a whole lot eas-"

A sudden volley of hissing thrusters interrupted him. Zell turned his attention back out the windshield. His mouth fell open as roughly a dozen streams of white smoke soared off into the sky from the base's inner grounds. The missiles' high-pitched screeching was audible even from afar. He squinted his eyes against the sun high above, tracing their intertwining tails as they sped off due northeast. All was silent, the pit in his stomach now bottomless.

He turned back to the young girl in the bulky, ill-fitting uniform behind him. Though he couldn't see her eyes hidden behind her visor, her pursed mouth just below told him everything. Her head dipped down towards the floor. He prepared to console her, but stopped. He couldn't find the right words. There were likely none to be found, no matter how desperately he racked his brain.

"Selphie," Irvine spoke in his stead. "I'm… I'm really sorry."

"That… that was a miss… right?" she muttered lowly, her voice hollow. "It has to be… yeah, you said they're still untested, right? There's no way they'd get all the kinks worked out the first time, right? As long as there's a chance…"

She trailed off, seemingly lost in her own disjointed thoughts. Zell turned away to give her time to grieve, and redirected his eyes back to the fast approaching complex. The wispy exhaust trails had yet to clear. At their current pace, it would be less than a minute before they arrived at the front gate. With the first salvo directed for Trabia now airborne, any potential safety net for the return team had been wiped away. No matter the cost, they could not allow Balamb Garden to meet the same fate. Irvine let the vehicle slow to a leisurely cruise as they neared the guard station.

"Like I was sayin', I've got somethin' that should get us in, no questions asked."

"Whatever works," Zell replied.

His nerves were starting to get the better of him. Over the course of their hours-long journey, he'd mulled over every possible ruse they could make use of. He'd settled on passing themselves off as a last-minute supply transport, carrying additional warheads for the launch. Without a delivery form however, the idea was sketchy at best. Irvine seemed confident enough, though. The vehicle's tires ground to a stop on the paved entryway. He lowered the window to meet the waiting sentry at the checkpoint.

"State your business," the guard demanded.

"What's this tell ya right here?"

He pulled up a gleaming gold badge in the image of the Galbadian crest. A faint line of text ran across the bottom; it moved out of Zell's sight too quickly for him to read.

"Orders from the top. We need to speak with the commander. Now."

"U-understood, sir!"

The soldier ducked back into his station. After some fiddling with the gate controls, the striped yellow and black guard rail rose, clearing the way. Irvine guided them through into the compound proper.

Craning his neck all around, Zell took in the sprawling open expanse. Groups of soldiers scurried to and fro across the pavement. Some trailed off to the hangar bays across the premises, others to the central complex entrance directly ahead. Several armored, tank-like mechs were parked side by side just within the open gateway; each sported six large turbine engines jutting upward from their bulky, blue-plating. To the right was a wide fenced-off enclosure. Three hulking missile launchers stood poised to the midday skies, the white smoke having finally dissipated from their muzzles. They resided within separate, evenly spaced divots, sinking deep into the earth where the technical operation center presumably lay.

"Pretty slick, huh?" Irvine said as he parked the vehicle just beside. He brought up the golden emblem he'd shown to the guard. "Little somethin' I got from the general, when he sent me to bail out Rinoa. His personal seal o' executive permission, an' our free pass into wherever he wants us to go."

"Or wherever we say he does," Zell acknowledged. "Good to know they still recognize his authority."

"Fer now. Probably not gonna stay that way much longer, though. He's expectin' to be relieved of command by the end o' the day. That's why he said I had to hurry."

"Well, it's worked wonders so far. Still, start waving that thing around too much, and it's probably gonna look suspicious."

"Sure. Let's jus' cross that bridge when we come to it."

Zell unbuckled his seat belt as Irvine killed the ignition. He opened the door, and stepped out on the pavement. As he turned back to shut it, he glanced in the back seat. Selphie hadn't budged an inch.

"Coming, Selphie?"

She slowly raised her head, unbuckled her seat belt, and inched her way to the side door. She swung it open and lowered herself. Her knees refused to bend naturally; each of the over-sized pant legs concealed half of her severed nunchaku. The additional volume helped to compensate for how big the uniform was on her. Its upper half sagged off her skinny frame, appearing slovenly and unkempt.

"How do I look?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, barely audible over Irvine's boots scuffling as he rounded the vehicle.

"Maybe… you oughta stick behind us," he gently suggested.

"Y'know, there was a time I used to dream 'bout this," Irvine said. "What it'd be like to step into this uniform fer the first time. An' now… I don't feel anythin'. It's kinda eerie."

"If you only knew who'd be running the show," Zell quipped. His eyes were drawn to the bullet belt around his waist. "You sure that's not gonna be too much of a giveaway?"

"Nah, plenty o' new recruits from the Garden carry over their old gear. Besides, if I were in your boots, I'd be more worried 'bout coverin' my own ass. If ya know what I mean."

Zell grimaced. He'd completely forgotten about the gruel stains on the back of his uniform. They had long since dried, though surely still left glaring damp spots.

"Guess I'll be the one taking point, then," he volunteered. "Let's go."

The three moved out from the vehicle, and crossed to the doorway of the central control center. The building, though wide, was only a single story tall. Given that the missile launchers extended underground, Zell assumed the base did likewise. He stepped on through into the dimly-lit antechamber. The short flight of stairs led down to an airlock set into the wall. A control panel beside it bore a thin horizontal slot for an identification card to be inserted. He approached, rustling about his utility belt for his appropriated ID. He found it, and inserted it into the slot. A muted buzz sounded from the speaker. The indicator light above turned red.

"Figures," he sighed, withdrawing the card. "You two wanna take a shot?"

He backed up to give Irvine leeway. Again, no luck. Selphie finally stumbled forward to try her hand. Like clockwork, the indicator turned red for a third time.

"Not one?" Selphie exhaled. She retracted her card in disbelief.

"Jus' 'cause ya work at the prison, don't mean ya get t'stroll on into wherever ya like," Irvine reasoned. "Guess we hang here 'till someone else comes along, an' give 'em the ol' general's orders spiel again."

"Looks that way," Zell muttered.

"Well, if no one feels like waiting, we could always just say to hell with subtlety and blow the door down," Selphie said. "You and me, we summon our GFs and tear this place apart right now."

"You do realize the kind of warheads they've got stowed here, right?" Zell shot her an astounded look. "Plus those huge containment tanks outside. I didn't sign up for a suicide mission, so don't go getting antsy. Let's just play it cool for now."

"Okay, okay, I hear you. It's just… now that they've already fired at Trabia… I just want to make these guys pay. Dearly."

Her tone was sharp, her words biting. Perhaps Squall's paranoia hadn't been unfounded after all.

"I do not need this right now!"

The muffled, agitated roar came from beyond the sealed airlock. Its timbre perked Zell's ears, and sent a chill down his spine; he would have recognized that voice anywhere. The door hissed open moments later, revealing the traitorous knight in grey. Instantly, Zell was overcome by fury comparable to Selphie's.

"Sir Seifer!" a soldier trailed behind his coattails. "Please calm yourself! Sorceress Edea has directly charged you with overseeing the proceedings. What will she think if you abandon your post?"

"If you dolts can't manage without me holding your hands, what good are you?!" he snapped. "I don't have time to waste sitting around here. Not when our only lead on that girl is loose! Not to mention that damn sphere."

Zell sidestepped out of their path. Selphie and Irvine behind them cautiously sidled their way inside the door.

"I understand your frustration, sir," the soldier pleaded. "But I can't imagine the sorceress taking kindly to insubordination."

"She'll be far more upset if we don't get those prisoners back! And since when do you have the rank to speak to me about insubordination?! Get back to your post!"

Seifer pivoted and turned away from the verbally abused grunt. His fierce eyes next landed on Zell.

"What're you looking at?! You'll stay out of my way if you know what's good for you, understand?"

"Y-yes, sir!" Zell saluted. He bit his tongue to hold back his disgust.

Seifer snorted derisively, and hastily proceeded past him up the short flight of steps to the exit. Zell released the pose and raced ahead through the open airlock. He emerged onto a narrow metal catwalk overlooking a steep drop into the depths. Though it was nowhere near the height of the D-District Prison's shaft, the slender railing gave him little comfort. He pushed onward past a rickety staircase to meet his friends at a nearby freight elevator.

"Talk about a lucky break," Irvine muttered. "Ya think they're gonna hold off on firin' 'till he gets back?"

"Wouldn't that be nice," Zell mused as the hum of the lift drew closer. "But somehow, I doubt it. For now, let's see if there's anything we can do to buy ourselves even more time."

The elevator came to a halt on their level. He stepped aboard after his teammates, and scanned over the interior panel. A meager three basement levels made up the selection. Presuming the central control station to be somewhere on the upper levels, he pressed the first button beneath their own floor. The shutters drew closed, and they began to descend. The evenly spaced fluorescent lamps along the way were their only light.

After about 30 seconds, the lift slowed to a stop. It reopened to a spacious elevated storage area. Various crates and containers lay strewn about, many already relieved of their contents and left to be collected. The encircling railing, here significantly sturdier, gave way to a view of the lower level. Zell strode forward to peek over the edge. A swarm of soldiers and technicians scurried about the operations center below, darting from one console to another.

"Looks like all the action's down there," Irvine commented.

"Yeah, but it's not gonna be easy to keep a low profile in a crowd that big," Zell said. "Let's look for someplace more secluded. Like, if we could find where the launchers are stored for loading."

"Makes no difference to me," Selphie muttered. She'd already managed to improve her footwork in lieu of the concealed nunchaku halves. "If there's anything we can break, we break it. End of story."

This really isn't the same girl anymore, is it?

"Long as we're bein' sly 'bout it, ya won't hear any complaints from me," Irvine said.

Zell led them away from the railing to a doorway across the platform. Beyond lay a network of dank, rusted corridors, intertwining and branching off in every direction. Patrols were irregular, though he kept himself at the front of the group at all times. Besides covering the soup stains on his rear, he hoped he could help give Selphie's scrawny figure more cover. None paid them any mind.

As they continued on, he reflected on how unbelievably quickly things had spiraled out of control. He'd thought nothing of being sent out on his first official mission 6 days earlier. He'd assumed it would be a relatively easy, in-and-out assignment to ease them all into their new life as SeeDs. Instead, they'd been charged with abducting a world leader, which had then segued into an assassination plot against a real-life sorceress. Now, the fate of the Garden itself rested on his shoulders. That he could somehow find the strength to push forward was most incredible of all.

"Whatd'ya think 'bout this over here?"

Zell stopped in his tracks. He glanced to the door Irvine had indicated. The plaque set beside it read 'Generator Room' in bold font.

"Wanna cause a blackout? That oughta buy us a good chunk o' time."

"It's a start," Zell acknowledged.

With no keycard slot, he gripped the handle, and heaved the sliding door ajar. He peeked his head through carefully. Three large monitors, each the size of a bay window, were affixed to the opposite wall. They displayed all manner of diagnostic information, the perplexing mishmash a challenge even for him to make heads or tails of. A thick glass pane bordered by yellow and black caution markers was set into the right-hand wall. A massive industrial generator loomed on the other side. Its humming core pulsed a luminous yellow, steady and consistent. There was no sign of human occupancy. As he took a step inside however, he noticed a security camera situated in the far corner, trained down towards the door and generator.

"Camera," he hissed. "Act natural."

He strolled on through, making for the central console under the middle screen. Provided he could figure out how to shut it down quickly enough, base surveillance probably wouldn't have time to notice them on the feed before the power went out.

"Ya got any idea how to work this stuff?" Irvine asked.

"Gimme a sec."

He rapidly scanned his eyes over the controls. It was his first time dealing with such a complex array. Surely there had to be a master switch somewhere among it all. Before he could deduce its location, he was abruptly shoved out of the way.

"What the…?!"

He stumbled, righted himself, and craned his neck back. Selphie had stepped forward, her hand outstretched over the console. Instantly, a crackle of electricity surged forth from her palm. She slammed it down on the keyboard. Sparks flew as it began to short-circuit.

"What are you doing?!" he shouted, instantly losing his composure.

Zell stared on in horror as the lightning energy surged through the control system. The data on the screens warped and mangled into an even more incoherent mess of gibberish. The next moment, a shroud of darkness fell over the room. Through his helmet's visor, he was completely blind save for the sparks still coming from the console. The generator's omnipresent hum died out with it. All was silent. Just as abruptly, dim red emergency lights switched on from above.

"Electrical system malfunction!" a voice shot to life over the intercom system, causing Zell to jolt in place. "Emergency generators have been engaged. Maintenance team, investigate immediately."

"We need to get out of here, now!" Zell commanded.

He spun on his heel towards the door. He heaved it open, and took off down the now darkened hallway. The hurried footfalls of his teammates followed close behind. His heart raced as he came to the first intersection. He ducked his head around each corner to check for sentries, and hung a left. He glanced back for a head count. The two were evidently on edge themselves, their visors darting every which way. They routinely flickered in and out of his peripheral vision, swathed in the shadows from the emergency lighting.

After roughly two minutes of navigating the winding halls, with the fortune not to have run across any further patrols, they'd retraced their steps to the storage platform. Zell guided them to take cover behind a hulking metal container.

"Alright," Selphie panted. "That should stall 'em for at least a few hours. So, what's next?"

"Are you trying to get us caught?!" Zell harshly whispered. "Now they're gonna be on high alert!"

"They were bound to catch on at some point. It just means we're gonna have to keep a low profile from here on out. What counts is we've already thrown a major wrench in their plans."

"Did we really hafta leave that big a trail for 'em, though?" Irvine reasoned; clearly, he and Zell were on the same wavelength.

"Can't be helped," she huffed. "Anyway, the three of us walking around joined at the hip is probably gonna draw too much attention now. I think we'd better split up."

"You expect me to trust you on your own after that?" Zell shot her down. "No way. And besides, you think you're not gonna stick out the way you look?"

"With the lights out, it'll be a lot harder to notice. Heck, I could barely even see the stains on your rear a minute ago. Come on, Zell. I promise I'll be more careful."

He crossed his arms in disapproval, recalling the duty Squall had entrusted him with. How foolish he'd been to so easily write his concerns off. Now, his logical mind screamed at him not to let Selphie out of his sight. And yet, in the wake of the damage she'd done, she was absolutely right. Three tightly-knit soldiers would draw far more attention now; should they manage to recover the security footage from the camera, they would see as much right before the feed cut out. For the sake of the mission, it was best they spread out from one another. He glanced back around the edge of the container to the freight elevator.

"I'll take the bottom level. You two each pick one of the other floors. This'll be our rendezvous point if they manage to get the generator back on. Stay alert, and don't do anything reckless. Understood?"

"Ya don't have to tell me," Irvine quipped.

"It won't happen again," Selphie swore. She brought up her hand to perform the SeeD salute. "I promise."

Sorry, Squall…