6
CHAPTER 6 – FORTRESS IN FLIGHT
The Dingo Desert's sandy plains stretched on for miles in every direction. Nights were virtually pitch-black, save for the moon and stars above; the lack of man-made light pollution made them pop out so much more brilliantly against the darkness. Much as he'd despised his demotion and reassignment to the D-District Prison, Lieutenant Biggs had soon come to appreciate the break from Deling City's neon bustle. Tonight however, he could see no stars; billowing black smoke blotted out any trace of the sky.
He stepped out of the transport as it ground to a halt. The smoldering remains of buildings and vehicles lay strewn about within a fixed perimeter, namely what was left of the base's exterior wall. A deployment of troops with their own transports surrounded the wildfire. Fire-hoses sprayed from the too few emergency response vehicles; they'd likely only just arrived on the scene from the nearest settlements, hours away.
The opening of the passenger side-door jogged him from his fixation. The irksome blonde in the grey coat stepped out, his face the very image of disbelief. Though the destruction of the missile base was not something to relish, Biggs couldn't keep the smirk from creeping across his lips. The morning's events had put him on the receiving end of the boy's abuse scarcely 4 hours earlier. He had already suffered enough at the hands of the meddlesome SeeDs for a second time, and likely earned himself another demotion to a rank he'd not held for the better part of 10 years. It had continued to eat him up inside all the way along their return trip to the capital. However terrible the loss, the small satisfaction was enough to perk his spirits.
Seifer strode forward with purpose. He made for a nearby cluster of troops, huddled together as they conversed. The most readily observant of the four snapped to attention. The other three swiveled their heads and followed suit.
"Sirs!" the head of the pack addressed them. "We believe we have the situation under control. We've sent word to all the nearby provinces for the use of their emergency response teams."
"What the hell happened here?!" the enraged knight bellowed. "Tell me they managed to get the missiles for Balamb Garden in the air!"
"We think so, sir! We're with the deployment bound southeast for the Horizon Bridge. We were on our way down the Great Plains from the capital, when we saw the blast go up in the distance. As we got closer, we could still see a few smoke trails streaming across the sky."
"And when was this?"
"It couldn't have been more than 2 hours ago, sir! We've combed over the full reach of the blast radius for survivors, but haven't found a single one thus far."
"What were those idiots doing waiting so long to launch?!"
Seifer drew his signature gun-shaped sword, and angrily thrust the blade into the sand at his side. Biggs reflexively stepped back as it kicked up a small cloud of coarse earth.
"I told them to go ahead without me! I swear, if they were waiting for me to get back… Edea is going to be furious when she hears about this!"
The four troops didn't dare break formation so long as he stayed embroiled in his rage. Knowing full well the petulant child beside him was unfit for the position he now held, it was Biggs who stepped forward to relieve them.
"Continue to scour the area," he commanded; as the words left his mouth, the realization struck him that it would likely be his last order ever as a superior officer. "And keep your eyes peeled for those SeeD twerps. Much as I'd like to think they went up with this place, they're a crafty bunch."
"Yes, sir!" they all exclaimed.
They saluted again before scattering. Seifer remained still as a statue. His stare seemed intent to bore a hole directly into the sand at his feet. Biggs smirked to himself; the respect the men had shown for his authority was as clear a distinction between them as any.
"Well, looks like I'm not gonna be the only one in for a red ass when we get back," he casually spoke.
In a flash, the ebony blade flew out from the sand. It came to a halt just before his jugular.
"Speak to me like that again, and I'll throw you on that pyre myself!" Seifer spat. The flames lit up his piercing blue eyes as they stared, unflinchingly, into Biggs' visor.
The soon-to-be-former lieutenant clenched his jaw. He knew it wasn't beyond the unhinged youth to follow through on his threat. After several tense moments, Seifer withdrew the blade, and spun back around to their transport. Biggs begrudgingly followed, letting himself breathe easy as best he could amidst the smog. He climbed back into the vehicle's rear, and slammed the door shut. For the first time, he reflected upon what the SeeD with the facial scar like Seifer's had said to him. Was his resolve really so strong as to follow this spoiled child's orders? He could no longer be so sure.
The elevator shaft stretched far further underground than Squall would have guessed. All his life, he'd known only of the Garden's 20 above-ground floors. He'd never even been higher than the 15th until his induction into SeeD, 2 weeks earlier.
The worn, beaten capsule slunk into the depths at a slower pace than he was accustomed to. Roughly halfway down the shaft were a pair of sturdy metal doors, adorned with a regal black and gold color scheme. An imprinted mural of tangled, prickly vines encircling a floating gemstone leapt out as the lift passed by. He turned to Quistis for an answer. She shrugged in return; evidently, she knew as much as him. If even the headmaster had never set foot so far below, who could say what horrors might await them so far from the light of day?
The elevator finally came to a rest at the bottom. A dank, shadowy corridor stretched onward into total darkness. Quistis wasted no time; she boldly stepped out from the lift and into the unknown. Squall yanked the headmaster's key from the control panel before following. A long line of extinguished lamps ran along the walls. With no electricity being supplied to them, the elevator was their only source of light.
"Well, I can believe no one's been down here for ages," he voiced his concerns.
"We still need to be on our guard," Quistis reminded him as she rummaged through a pouch on her belt. "There's no telling how much structural wear this place has sustained. At any rate, let's shed some light on the subject, shall we?"
Her small, LED flashlight instantly shooed away the shadows from their path. The gloomy, rust-laden corridor became more manageable to traverse, though no more inviting. Taking a deep breath of unpleasant, corrosive air in through his nostrils, he carefully followed behind her.
Jagged strips of deteriorated metal plating had long since started peeling away from the walls. He slowed to a cautionary crawl so as not to slice himself. Basked in Quistis' torch, untold ages worth of mold and grime came to light from under each upturned segment. Dilapidated though the corridor was, he still had his gunblade on hand should the way forward be blocked off any any point. He'd anticipated as much, hence his token gesture to leave Rinoa with his GF instead.
For the old shelter to be a relic of the Centran civilization implied it was at least 100 years old. From what Squall recalled of his history lessons, theirs had once been the most technologically advanced society known to man. Little had survived the destruction of their home continent, the cause of which was still hotly contested. General consensus had chalked it up to a freak meteor bombardment; his own experience as Laguna at the crater seemed to support the theory. Newer research hypothesized it to be the work of large-scale, seismic turbulence caused by a gravitational imbalance with the moon, similar to how the tides swelled and receded. Whatever the truth, it did not matter now. He knew full well the end which might befall his own home if they failed to pick up the pace.
The ruined corridor drew to an end. Quistis swept her flashlight all around, its illumination inadequate for the massive room they'd emerged into; its total area was nearly as vast as the atrium. They stood on a catwalk beside a steep flight of stairs, leading down to a ringed, grated walkway around a large generator in the middle. The enclosing rounded walls bore an evenly spaced assemblage of what looked like large turbine engines, each contained within its own glass capsule. A second catwalk shot out from a windowed control room high up on the opposite side from them. It looked accessible only from a tall ladder running up the side of the generator. With nothing else for it, Quistis gingerly started down the staircase.
"Just what kind of shelter was this?" she wondered on the way down.
"No idea," Squall said as he followed behind. "Looks more like some kind of power plant. The bulk of it must have been demolished to make way for the Garden."
"Seems that way. Let's just hope the electrical circuits weren't completely gutted."
"I'd like to hope it won't matter," Squall said, glancing at his watch. "It's been 11 hours, and the missiles still haven't come. That's a good sign."
"But it's not something we can count on," Quistis replied as she touched down on the walkway. "Even if the others did stop the launch, it's only a matter of time before the sorceress sends in the army to finish the job. With the student body so fractured, we'd be completely unprepared. We can't leave anything to chance."
She approached the ladder, and preemptively rattled the centuries-old rungs.
"Doesn't look too stable," she hummed.
"Then we'll take it one at a time," Squall suggested. "I'll go first. If it can hold me, then you'll be fine."
He took the rung nearest his eye level, and heaved himself up. He slowly climbed, all the while resisting the urge to hurry; he couldn't afford to put excessive strain on the rusted iron. Quistis' torch stayed trained to him like a spotlight, providing his only visibility by which to find the next handhold. Slowly but surely, the catwalk drew closer.
He'd cleared roughly three-quarters of the way when a sickly creak met his ears. He froze. His heart sunk into his gut as several more squeaks and groans came from above and below. The ladder's frame buckled. An unintelligible cry sounded from below as the hinges finally gave way. The instability from Squall's hanging weight began to draw the ladder away from the generator. He fought to thrust his momentum back forward, but to no avail. It finally snapped a quarter of the way up from its base, and toppled backwards towards the control room. He clung on for dear life as he fell, Quistis' flashlight trailing his trajectory all the while.
The jolt came seconds later as the top of the ladder crashed through the windowpane above. His legs slipped from their footholds, leaving him dangling by both arms. He braced himself as shards of broken glass came raining down. Using what lingering momentum he still had from the impact, he swung himself away from the bulk of the debris. He narrowly avoided a sizable chunk, even as smaller fragments unavoidably embedded themselves in his jacket's shoulders.
"Squall!" Quistis shrieked his name. Her flashlight stayed trained to him, forcing him to squint his eyes. "Are you alright?! I'm coming up, so just keep holding on!"
The light finally pivoted away. She scrambled to mount the now diagonally slanted ladder at its base. Not content to dangle helplessly from the makeshift monkey-bars, he carefully swung himself back and forth like a pendulum, struggling against the additional centripetal weight of his gunblade. Before long, he'd built up enough momentum to slip his right leg into a gap in the ladder. He bent his knee over top the rung to keep himself in place.
Now clinging to the ladder like a trapeze artist, he carefully brought up his left leg up and around its side. His ankle hooked onto the iron framing. He strained to use his leg as a lever to pull himself around and on top. Fortunately, the ladder seemed well wedged in place through the control room window. He finally grabbed hold of the side with his hand, sliding his other leg out from between the rungs as he did so. With another mighty heave, he pulled himself up and over into the oncoming glare of Quistis' flashlight.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"Barely," he grumbled.
He quickly surveyed his intertwined belts for anything that might have fallen off. Besides the GF sphere he'd abdicated to Rinoa, everything seemed to be accounted for.
"I really didn't think you were going to make it this time!"
"It's nothing new for me at this point. Let's go. We've got work to do."
Hand over hand, he crawled along the slanted set of rungs. The flashlight behind him cast his long shadow over the darkened pit below. His sheathed gunblade rhythmically clanged against the left rail as he proceeded, forcing him to reassert his balance with each step. Despite the ladder's foundations having given way, the rungs themselves were up to the task of supporting their weight.
He finally ducked his head through the broken window, and touched down inside the control room. Quistis followed him in, bringing with her the means to make out its interior. In the center, a cluster of control terminals were spread about in a semi-circular array facing the window. It all looked better preserved than the corridor leading from the elevator. Perhaps by some stroke of luck it would even be functional.
"So, what now?" Quistis asked as they strolled over to the main console.
How should I know? Even the headmaster doesn't…
He scanned his eyes over the controls. Few bore any sort of label he could interpret. What's more, he had no idea what he was looking for. He suddenly realized just how much he'd taken Zell's expertise for granted. Easily riled though he was, there was no one else Squall would have rather had with him at a moment like this. At a loss for what to do, he started pressing random buttons.
"Squall!" Quistis reacted. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"Whatever I can!"
The terminal's display had powered on amidst his hammering. That he'd gotten any response at all from the equipment was a small victory. Quistis seized his arm before he could go any further.
"Well, don't just go bashing things if you don't know what they do! Whatever we're looking for isn't going to help us if you break it!"
"What else can I do?!" he snapped. With one final, frustrated slam of his palm, he compliantly backed away.
"Easy! I know we're pressed for time, but we need someone who's more knowledgeable about this kind of old tech than we are. We've found what we're looking for. It's not going anywhere. Let's head back up and see if we can find-"
A raucous, mechanical groan drowned her out. Squall's eyes flitted to its source beyond the broken window. Quistis' flashlight followed suit. A persistent whirring began to intensify. As the light stayed fixed to a pair of the many turbine engines around the room's circumference, he could see the rotors had begun to spin. Before long, the dim interior lighting blinked into existence above. Whatever buttons he'd pressed appeared to have initiated the proper command.
A jolt suddenly knocked him off balance. Quistis yelped as she fell to one knee alongside him. And then, the room started spinning. As he glanced around, he realized it was in fact the circular divot the control center stood within that had begun to turn; the terminals which had moments ago been facing the window had swiveled 90 degrees left towards the door. A set of iron railings suddenly extended up from the floor all around the circle, save for one small gap at the rear.
"What's going on?!" Quistis shrieked. She'd fallen to all fours, hunched over to steady herself.
Squall had absolutely no idea. He stayed on one knee as the control center finally came to a rest; it had rotated a full 180 degrees away from the window. Just as he prepared to stand up, another jolt from below kept him stationary. The next moment, the platform rose. His eyes shot up to the ceiling. A giant hole the exact dimensions of the surrounding rails opened above. Flashing trails of blinking lights lined the darkened shaft. The makeshift lift ascended into it, picking up speed all the while.
"Based on how far we walked from the elevator!" Squall shouted to Quistis over the platform's whirring. "Where do you think we are under the Garden?!"
"Right now?!" she yelled back. "If I had to guess, probably under the entrance hall! You think it's taking us back to the surface?!"
He did not answer her. The resulting breeze from their ascent whipped through his hair; he brought up his hand to clear his wavy brown locks from his eyes. A second opening was fast approaching. Fluorescent lighting seeped out from the periphery as they drew closer. At last, the platform zoomed through, and onward into yet another circular shaft in the ceiling. Straining his eyes to peer through the surrounding railings, he realized that they had indeed risen up through the entrance hall. They passed through the ceiling to re-emerge through the southern stretch of hallway on the second floor. Next came the third, and then the fourth.
Higher and higher the lift climbed, soon stemming the entire Garden as floor after floor whipped by. SeeDs and cadets still engaged in combat stalled as they passed. He redirected his attention back to the shaft above, curious as to just how high it might take them. His heart sunk as he saw what waited ahead; after just a few more floors was a solid, pitch black void. There was no more light beyond, no indication of an opening. The platform was going too fast; it couldn't possibly come to a stop in time. He shut his eyes tightly, bracing himself to be flattened against the ceiling.
The impact was remarkably lighter than he'd anticipated. With a series of loud tears, the platform sheared through the fabric that had been laid over top the opening. It now lay draped on his back, pinning him to the ground as they finally stopped rising. Still unable to believe he'd survived, he pushed himself back up to his knees and threw the cover off. The torn, circular patch of red carpet cleared his head. With Quistis' assistance, it tumbled off the platform to the floor below.
Sure enough, they'd arrived in the headmaster's hall; the elevated control center stood directly before the giant window overlooking the Alcaud Plains. Squall raced over to the railing, and peered down over the edge. A massive titanium pillar extended up through the hall's now tarnished red carpet. Four Thorns stood all around in stunned silence, staring the protrusion up and down in shock. An ingrained set of metal rungs extended down from the gap in the guardrail to the platform's rear.
"You!" one of the robed usurpers roared up at him. "What are you doing?! What is the meaning of this… thing?!"
"Squall!" Quistis called to him before he could answer. "Look outside!"
He turned back to the window. The brilliant luminescence of the Garden's floating halo had grown brighter. His confusion turned to bewilderment as it descended around the full lay of the campus; it dipped further towards the earth by the second, until it touched down just beyond the outer walls. Then, a sensation akin to the one he felt each time he'd used the flotation-buffer technique came over him. The ring appeared to continue sinking lower despite having already reached the ground. It was then that he realized the academy itself was now hovering. A loud hiss from the center of the platform abruptly stole away his attention. An iron-cast wheel akin to a ship's helm rose out of a parted indent in the metal. Its purpose was apparent, if no less unbelievable.
This place can fly?!
"I asked you, what the hell is going on here?!" the Thorn from before shouted, having made his way up the pillar's rungs in the interim. "What is this?! How did you get up here?! Did the headmaster put you up to-"
"Squall! The missiles! They're here!"
He shoved the robed man away without a word, sending him toppling over onto the platform. Following Quistis' outstretched finger, he peered through the window into the southwestern night sky. A flurry of blazing, fiery trails pierced through the blackness in the distance. They were too brilliant to be stars, each producing a stream of smoke in its wake. Their worst nightmare had become reality.
"Damn it all!" he swore, racing to the wheel. "We need to figure out how to move this thing, fast! There's got to be an accelerator around here!"
"Hey, you little punk!"
The voice came from over his shoulder just before a hand firmly seized him. He craned his neck back to the Thorn; his eyes glared at him from beneath his golden head-wear. A third had arrived on the scene to help up the one he'd knocked down.
"Lay your hands on another of us again, and I'll have your head brought to the Garden Master myself! Now, answer me! What's happening here?"
"We're all going to be reduced to fine dust if we don't get moving, that's what's happening!" he angrily spat. "If you value your lives, then start pushing buttons!"
"And just where do you get off speaking to me like that, sol-"
The Thorn's clasp on his shoulder slipped as the room jerked forward. Squall clung tightly to the helm. With a look out the window, he could see the whole Garden had started creeping forward at a slow, laborious pace. The light of the inverted halo ring spread further across the plains below, guiding them onward.
"I'm not sure what I just did, but it looks like it's working!" Quistis hollered from one of the terminals.
"Keep it up!" Squall urged through gritted teeth.
He fought to keep the Garden's trajectory straight to maximize their accumulated momentum. Far below, the vast forest leading west towards Balamb whipped and whirled in the wake of the gale produced by the moving fortress. The headlights of dozens of vehicles sped along the winding motorway running through, appearing as mere ants from so high above. Raijin, Fujin, and the commandant's efforts clearly hadn't gone to waste.
"It's going to be a nail-biter!" Quistis declared.
"What the hell are those?!" the last of the four Thorns to have arrived on the platform blurted out.
The missiles drew closer by the second. That their sleek black bodies, previously all but invisible against the night sky, could now be even vaguely discerned was enough to send Squall into a panic.
"Please, just move… move… move!"
All fell silent. The missiles made their final descent in a pre-programmed dive-bomb formation. They disappeared beyond the window's upper lip, soaring directly over top the Garden. Squall held his breath. Moments later, it was forcefully expelled from his lungs.
The entire academy shook violently. A veritable sandstorm instantly blotted out any view of the outside. He fell over in tandem with everyone else on the platform, and undoubtedly every other person in the Garden. The priceless plaques and awards lining the walls all around fell from their hangers; their collective shattering was barely audible against the deafening explosion.
And yet, no matter the devastation both inside and out, nor the thick smog that now enveloped the window, the Garden's structural integrity seemed to have remained intact. They'd moved sufficiently far enough out of the blast zone to avoid complete obliteration; whatever damage the hull had sustained would be all but negligible. Seconds passed in stunned silence. Eventually, he rose back to his feet with comrade and foe alike. The floating castle kept moving forward all the while. Before long, it broke through the smokescreen. The first glimpse of the starry night sky peeked through, leading them on to the island's southern shore.
"I… I can't believe it," Quistis finally spoke; her voice quivered. "I didn't know what we were going to find down there, but… the Centrans really built something like this?"
"Explain what's going on, now!" the head Thorn raged at them.
"We just saved you!" Squall shot back. He swiveled around, and pulled his gunblade from its sheathe. "And unless you want us to revoke that kindness, I'd say a little gratitude is in order!"
"You've definitely got mine!"
Squall turned his head with Quistis and the Thorns to peer down over the railing. Commandant Xu stood by the hall's entrance, her head raised up to them.
"I don't have a clue what you did to make this happen, but I'm damn proud of you both!"
Don't worry, we know as much as you.
"We're headed straight for the sea!" one of the Thorns bellowed.
Squall turned around to the window for the umpteenth time. They were indeed drawing closer to the shore at an uncomfortably brisk pace.
"Whatever you did before, is there any way you can work it in reverse to slow our momentum?" he asked Quistis. She turned back to the controls straight away.
"There's no way we're going to slow in time!" another of the robed men panicked. "How do we know this place won't sink?!"
"If you traitorous rats want to jump ship, be my guest!" Xu snapped from below.
She hurriedly worked her way around the pillar to the headmaster's throne wedged between it and the window. She reached it, yanked the wired intercom receiver from the armrest, and raised it to her mouth. The signature four-tone chime sounded through the hall.
"Attention, all Garden students and staff! This is Commandant Xu Adrastia speaking. We are currently en-route for a rough collision into the sea. I am asking that everyone please remain calm, and brace for impact immediately!"
Squall grabbed hold of the nearby stretch of railing. Outside, the flotation ring finally crossed over the sandy shoreline. Its edge soon passed over the border of crashing waves. The Garden proceeded at a seemingly unimpeded pace, until at last the halo gradually slipped beneath the waters a ways out into the deep. A tremble followed as the unimaginable weight of the Garden touched down on the ocean surface.
It generated a massive splash liable to form a full-scale tidal wave. Compared to the devastating missile blast however, it was nothing. More promising was that despite the flotation ring having dipped underwater, the Garden itself showed no sign of following suit. It momentarily stalled, either by the force of the waves or Quistis' handiwork. All the same, it seemed to remain afloat as it leisurely coasted further into the open sea.
"Phew!" Quistis exhaled. She stood bent over in exhaustion at the fore.
Squall opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by another announcement from the commandant.
"Your attention once more, please! We appear to have safely come to a rest on the ocean surface. We will remain adrift for the time being, until we have determined our next course of action. For those yet uninformed, we have just survived a targeted missile bombardment from Galbadia. In light of these circumstances, I am hereby declaring a formal ceasefire between both factions of this ridiculous civil conflict. Students with an ID number ending in an even digit not previously assigned to safeguarding the junior classmen, you are to assist with gathering the wounded and bringing them to the infirmary. Everyone else, start cleaning up this mess, on the double!"
The intercom clicked off with the same four tone chime. Before Squall could so much as catch his breath, Xu suddenly flew up from beside the pillar. She soared high into the air, presumably having used her GF to do so, and landed gracefully on the command deck beside him. Her steely eyes came to a rest on the four Thorns as she reached for her twin short-swords.
"Get out! And tell that slimy toad that if he tries something like this again, I'll chop off his fingers one by one and force-feed them to him!"
"You'll regret those words, you little shrew!" the head of the pack threatened in return.
He gestured to his colleagues. One by one, they filed down the ladder. Xu's stare didn't break from them until they'd all descended, and made their way to the door. Her features relaxed but little as she turned back to Squall and Quistis.
"I don't suppose you two have the controls figured out, do you?" she asked.
"Not at all," Quistis admitted. "It was sheer dumb luck. We'll have to figure it out in the coming days. But right now, I think we should put our focus on mending relationships around here, and treating the wounded."
"Agreed. Still, dumb luck or not, the bravery you two have shown exceeds that of any SeeD, at least as long as I've been one. I'll see to it that you're both properly commended."
"Thank you," they both saluted.
Squall's racing heart continued to pound in his chest. Having another new honor bestowed upon him only caused it to intensify; he shuddered to think what new responsibility might come with it.
"Let's just hope the worst is behind us, for now," Quistis remarked.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Xu warned. Her eyes trailed back to the door as she turned to take her leave. "The battle might be over, but remember to keep your wits about you. You're dismissed. Oh, and Leonhart?"
She abruptly swiveled back to face Squall.
"I just want to let you know that, as of tonight, you've more than earned your keep as a SeeD. After what happened at Dollet, I wasn't convinced giving you a pass was the right move. I'm glad to say, I couldn't have been more mistaken. You're exactly the kind of person this army needs."
The unexpected praise shot right through him like a bullet. He'd already long accepted that his SeeDship was a sham, obtained on a technicality he'd had no moral right to take advantage of. He'd wholeheartedly agreed with the commandant's initial assessment. Her change of heart astounded him. And despite what lingering doubts he still had, for the first time in his weeks-long military career, he truly believed himself worthy of the cause he served.
He had come home.