12

CHAPTER 12 – AN EMPIRE UNSEEN

For a de-facto prisoner, Squall's accommodations for the night had been refreshingly comfy; Odine easily could have treated him much worse given the circumstances. Even the bed in Cid's office was nowhere near as plush as the one in the private room he'd been confined to. Neither was the view out the window any less breathtaking; whether illuminated by neon lights, or by the sun with the morning's call, the city below was a sight to behold. The state of Esthar's infrastructure had clearly advanced by leaps and bounds in the last 17 years. Were there any debate before, it now seemed all but certain that the once fledgling nation had eclipsed Centra in its prime.

Not since General Caraway's mansion had he known such luxury. And yet, rather than serving to further accentuate his relief, just the thought of that night caused an overwhelming fatigue to wash over him. To think that ill-fated assassination mission was now almost four months past. With those memories came plenty more of Rinoa intertwined: their trek through the Deling City shopping arcade; her blow-up at him in the park; how he'd raced into the presidential residence to save her from the lizard creatures, and how she'd just as quickly returned the favor atop the parade float. Even then, he'd been willing to go so far for her sake. Now, he'd come further than he ever could have imagined.

Rinoa… I swear I'll make this all right.

He'd yet to see her again since being escorted out of Odine's office. Given the doctor's insistence on keeping him out of sight from anyone else around the palace, Squall assumed he wouldn't be inclined to take any chances with her either. He'd already been shrewd enough to send Ellone away in advance, doubtless on the back of some fabricated story. Whatever Odine's intentions, he had to be aware he was overstepping some kind of boundary; there was no other reason for him to go to such lengths to keep Squall's presence a secret. What those intentions were, he still had no idea. Neither was he any closer to understanding why Ellone had suddenly become so insistent on him coming to see her as soon as possible. Now more than ever, he longed for her to telepathically reach out to him again, that he might sooner glean some crucial insight into the present if not the past.

Despite his apprehension, the night had been a mostly restful one. He'd gone straight for the shower upon being dropped off, returning to find a bundle of his confiscated effects placed inside the door. Predictably, his gunblade, ammunition, and GF sphere had not been among those returned. After a minute of digging through the bag, he'd realized his lion pendant was likewise unaccounted for. Any knocks he made on the door for answers went ignored. Not once did it open again until his room service was delivered later that evening, on a serving tray hovering in midair like the chair he'd been strapped to.

His captors had taken the liberty of choosing his dinner for him: some pan-seared flank steak dish with a colorfully arranged salad on the side. The flavors which met his tongue were no less exquisite than the presentation on the plate. With each bite, his standing as a prisoner became all the more difficult to take seriously. And then, in a single moment of clarity, the taste in his mouth abruptly turned all the more sour. He'd almost completely forgotten about Fujin and Raijin. Although Odine had assured him they would likely be deported, he wasn't yet convinced he could take the conniving old man at his word. He could only be certain that whatever treatment they were receiving was nowhere near as luxurious as his own. Elation gave way to guilt, and soon his appetite had receded altogether.

With a properly set clock at the bedside, he'd been at leisure to adjust his watch in accordance with the city's time zone. It was just past nine when another knock came. The door opened to the same two guards who'd escorted him in, pushing along the same hoverchair. They spoke not a word, nor did they need to; the chair was implication enough. He begrudgingly took a seat. With both arms and legs re-cuffed, and the dark cover thrust back over his head, he was taken back out.

Even without his eyes, it soon became obvious they were not headed for Odine's office; the winding route took far longer to travel than the one from the day before. Twice did a momentary sinking sensation clue him in that they'd taken an elevator down. Otherwise, he had no reference point whatsoever. Each minute ticked by all too slowly. Neither of his escorts said a thing between one another, much less to him. Were there any other passersby in the halls, none made their presence known to his ears. So they progressed for more than five minutes until he felt the chair lower to the ground. His restraints were promptly uncoupled, and Squall forcibly dragged up to his feet.

Still, the shroud remained pulled over his eyes as the guards marched him forward. His boots clomped alongside theirs on the metal surface below; they clearly weren't in the palace proper anymore. Moments later, he heard a noise like a car door opening. His hunch was confirmed as he was made to hunch down, and guided inside. Only once he was seated and the door closed was the cover finally lifted from his head. He'd been relegated to the middle of the backseat, sandwiched between both escorts on either side. Dr. Odine sat directly across from him before the carriage's privacy screen, with Rinoa's slumped body to his left held in place by her safety belt.

"I trust your accommodations were satisfactory?" the doctor asked him.

"Where are we going?" Squall immediately pivoted, ignoring the question.

He darted his eyes out the tinted windows. All around was cold, uniform steel plating, with a wide array of other vehicles parked along the walls. Though their makes and models varied, each one looked far more sleek and advanced than any he'd ever seen before. Their own appeared to be situated in the center of the garage, on an indented circular stretch.

"To a place I can guarantee you've never been before," Odine smiled knowing. "Any more than that would be telling. I'd advise you buckle up."

The platform the car sat on began to lower before Squall could say anything in response. Despite its slow initialization, within seconds, the descent had rapidly picked up speed. As the shaft flew by in a blur on all sides, Squall hastily complied; wherever they were heading, he was intent on living to see it. The lift started to turn clockwise as it eventually slowed, lining up with one of several surrounding tunnel outlets. And then, without warning, the vehicle shot forward.

He wasn't prepared for the speed. There had been no revving of the engine, no gradual acceleration as the car took off. It was as if they'd been launched by a coiled spring and sent barreling ahead down the tunnel at breakneck speed. Squall was surprised the tires hadn't suffered any serious damage in the process, but then realized there likely weren't any to begin with. He'd noticed none on the other parked vehicles. Neither did theirs appear to be grounded to the bottom of the illuminated tunnel whirring by, but rather hovering aloft in the center.

"Our private accelerator tunnel network," Odine elucidated. "Reserved exclusively for law enforcement and government officials. It extends all across the city, to every sector. I think you'll agree there's no better way to beat the traffic."

The darkness had subsided by the time he finished, the tunnel emerging into daylight. At a glance, the translucent tubing they sped through looked the same as the underwater railway from Balamb to Timber. The sight beyond, though starkly different, was every bit as impressive. They flew atop the outer rim of a congested downtown district, its bustling streets below clogged with pedestrians going about their day. A wide range of establishments lined either side of the road. Most whipped by too quickly for Squall to properly assess. Easier for him to deduce were the decidedly posh outfits most everyone walking the streets were dressed in; flowing robes and elegant gowns of every color dotted the sidewalks. He supposed it was to be expected in a district so close to the palace.

On and on the maze of high-rise buildings trailed. Eventually, the ground below widened into an expansive, open-air shopping arcade, its scope far eclipsing the one in Deling City. Indeed, impressive as the Galbadian capital had been to behold, there was simply no comparison. It was as if he'd stepped into another world entirely.

"What do you think? We've progressed a great deal since withdrawing from the war, if I do say so myself. Adel certainly never would have allowed me this much free reign over the city's infrastructure."

Squall turned his attention away from the window. For the first time, he realized just how close he was to learning the truth behind Esthar's isolation.

"Whatever happened to her?" he asked.

"That which becomes of many a tyrant," Odine cryptically answered. "After years spent living in fear, the people rose up against her. An underground resistance movement started spreading their influence through the city. Before long, they'd even infiltrated my own research team, and attempted to strong-arm me into helping their cause. Little did they realize just how willing I would be to oblige. I'd grown so tired of Adel constantly imposing restrictions on my research. She cared for nothing beyond weapons development and studying Ellone's power. That alone wasn't enough for me. A scientist of my caliber must be free to explore any avenue he deems of suitable interest. The mysteries of the universe are virtually endless, and our existence within it so very limited."

"So, once the resistance took over, they just gave you carte blanche to do whatever you want?"

"Not exactly. It was an improvement, to be sure, but not without its own set of stipulations. I had to let Ellone go, for one thing. And what a disappointment that was, considering how well my research on her brainwaves was progressing. Even now that she's returned, I'm still forbidden to conduct any kind of tests on her."

"And you're not about to go back on that agreement, are you?"

Despite his tactful phrasing, Squall's tone and accompanying glare were the most uncompromising he could manage. For having gone behind the presiding administration's back, he would personally hold Odine accountable should anything happen to Ellone.

"Not at all," the doctor calmly responded, not batting an eye. "I've already told you, my only purpose for involving her in this was to help get the ball rolling as quickly as possible. The experiment I have planned has nothing to do with her power."

Gradually, Squall let the glower recede from his features. The reassurance was enough to sate him for the moment, if no more enlightening as to what Odine's true intentions were.

"And what does it have to do with?"

"Exploiting a loophole, naturally," he said with a sidelong glance to Rinoa. "There are plenty of other theories I've been longing to properly explore. Too many, in fact. A potential means of resuscitating someone from a coma just happens to be one of them. But alas, Ellone wasn't the only person taken off the table for me. They've explicitly barred me from using any Esthar citizen as a test subject for these sorts of procedures. Needless to say, that research was set on the back-burner indefinitely. Until I learned you would be coming here with this girl, that is. I couldn't have asked for a better stroke of fortune. This way, there will be no bothersome red tape to contend with."

What a slimy, opportunistic asshole…

It was now more apparent than ever what a master manipulator Squall was dealing with. Odine had expertly duped not just him, but Ellone, and the Esthar government at large, all for the sake of furthering his scientific resume. His bodyguards did not seem at all bothered by his admission; they were either willfully complicit, or well enough paid to look the other way. Neither did the matter's legality especially concern Squall. If this experiment could finally bring Rinoa out of her coma, he would happily forgive the doctor's sheisty behavior. But there was still more he needed to know first.

"You still haven't explained what this plan of yours entails," Squall muttered impatiently.

"Ah, the mark of a great storyteller," Odine smiled. "Always leave them wanting more. And besides, it would all be much too difficult to explain without showing you firsthand. You likely wouldn't even believe me. Rest assured, however. You'll get the answers you seek soon enough."

If I had 100 gil for every time I've heard that lately…

Squall reluctantly let the matter go. Although there were plenty more questions he wanted to ask, he could tell Odine had no interest in humoring him any further. He instead directed his attention back out the windows, content to silently watch the seemingly never-ending city whip on by through the accelerator tunnel. Rarely did they slow. Only as they prepared to merge with another tube was there any noticeable deceleration, providing enough leeway for a vehicle speeding down the other to get out in front.

Odine was surprisingly quick to expound on the network's operation. Supposedly, a built-in sensor grid had been spaced along the tunnel interior to relay any movement back to a control center in the palace. From there, a team of technicians working around the clock were able to monitor the trajectory of each vehicle in real-time, and make any necessary adjustments in speed to prevent a collision. With the tunnels exclusively reserved for licensed officials, there was rarely a high enough volume of traffic to pose a problem. Squall appreciated the insight, despite having not asked for it. He only wished the doctor could be so forthcoming on every other matter.

It was two hours before they reached the city limits. At last, the vehicle shot out of the tunnel and onto an exit ramp. As they merged with the highway, Squall noticed that for however wide the road was, the traffic was virtually non-existent. He strained his neck to peer further forward. In the distance, all he could see was arid, rocky wasteland.

"How much further?" he asked.

"Another three or four hours, I'd say," Odine replied.

"You can't be serious! We're all the way out on the edge of the city!"

"But I never said the test site was inside the city, did I? Calm yourself. There are snacks if you're hungry, though I'd advise only having something light for now."

He gestured to a mini-fridge set in the corner. Squall had already been eyeing it for some time on account of not having eaten breakfast. Just as in Caraway's limousine, he'd been hesitant to partake of its contents, albeit for entirely different reasons. That Odine had yet to take anything himself only made him more skeptical. After several moments, he found the courage to shake off his paranoia. He'd already eaten the previous night's room service without any reservations, after all. Had the doctor wanted to drug him, he'd already had plenty of opportunities.

A water bottle and pack of assorted fruit bites were enough for the time being. Still, neither Odine nor the aides took anything from the fridge for themselves. What lingering concerns Squall still had passed after a few bites. Odine smirked as if he understood, but otherwise said nothing.

They trailed further out into the Great Plains of Esthar for the next several hours. But for a lack of rampant wildlife, Squall might have mistaken it for Centra; there was practically nothing else around for miles. As opposed to a wide array of vicious creatures roaming the land, the occasional galloping herd of Mesmenir off to the side of the road were all he ever saw. They were reportedly a quite benign species, though the large sickle-shaped blades curving upward from their foreheads were enough to deter most.

The road uniformly stretched on through the arid wastes in one direction. No other cars traversed its length. Signs were equally as scarce; thus far, he'd sighted only one, reading: 'Tears' Point – 30 miles'. The name alone told him nothing. It could have been a town, a waystation, or any kind of landmark. He'd learned of no such place in his prior geography studies, outdated as they'd been in the wake of Esthar's closure. Despite his curiosity, he decided against asking Odine for clarification. That he knew he'd never get a straight answer was one reason. That it soon came peeking into view over the horizon was another.

At first glance, it was impossible not to draw comparisons with Fisherman's Horizon's solar array. The color palette and general layout were nearly identical: a wide basin of gleaming blue sinking inward to meet a central structure. More impressive was the size; the whole of it must have been at least three times as large. And yet, it was clearly not comprised of solar panels, but hundreds if not thousands of looming blocks set up one after another. Taller still were the stone statues stretching up into the sky from the center. Squinting his eyes through the early afternoon sun, they seemed to depict a group of eight women seated in a circle, facing outward with their hands joined.

"Some kind of memorial?" Squall wondered aloud.

"Not quite," Odine responded. "Though I'm sure it would make a popular tourist attraction if we ever opened back up again. Its true purpose is much more significant, however."

"And is there any chance you'll tell me what that is right now?"

"What do you think?"

Squall sighed heavily and leaned back against the headrest. Odine's stubbornness was truly beginning to irk him. He supposed with Tears' Point so close, the answers would be his within the hour. That was, until they turned off at an intersection, and started trailing further east. The realization was almost too much to bear.

Where the hell are we going?!

The question lingered for nearly another 45 minutes. And sure enough, when their true destination at last came into view, he was left with another in its place.

Atop a stout windowed ground facility in the middle of nowhere loomed a giant cannon. As the vehicle finally pulled into the neighboring parking lot, and he was escorted out onto the pavement by one of the guards, he craned his neck up for a better look. It sat on a swivel, pointed upwards into the sky due west. A large transparent blue capsule was fixed to its rear, housing what appeared to be a loading mechanism; the giant metal cylinder within almost resembled that of his gunblade.

"I know what you're thinking," Odine said as he stepped out of the car. "But don't be fooled. It's not a weapon."

"Then, what is it?" Squall asked incredulously; given the design, there was no other purpose he could imagine it serving.

"Our means of passage to another world. The Lunar Gate."

"Lunar… Gate?"

Confused, Squall turned his eyes back down in time to see the second guard hoist Rinoa out of the car.

"The name says it all," the doctor insisted. He waved his hand for all present to follow as he started for the facility's main entrance.

Squall fell in, bringing up the rear with the first guard at his side. He took another look up at the so-called Lunar Gate as they approached, pondering its name all the while. It didn't take him long to deduce its purpose; the meaning of each word was clear enough. That the cannon's nose was pointed to the sky seemed to support the idea. And indeed, there were far less believable things he'd become privy to in recent months. Still, he was no less awestruck by the implication.

'Passage to another world'… is this for real?

The doors to the facility proper opened to a wide antechamber. Gold gilding ran up the walls between each cold metal panel. Lounge chairs and tables were spaced about the room, amid the occasional tropical plant. Several vending machines stood off to one side near the end of the windows. Despite the accommodations however, there were very few people on site to make use of them. Only two technicians manned the front desk.

"Three heading up!" Odine announced as he casually strode forward.

"Yes, sir!" one leapt into action. He immediately circled around the desk to a reinforced metal door behind. "Please, right this way."

"Just like that?" Squall muttered. For what he assumed was a restricted government facility, he'd expected a greater degree of regulation.

"I already had everything cleared yesterday," the doctor explained. "Not that it would have been much of a wait, either way. We switch out our team aboard the Lunar Base every 6 months. There's practically never a queue, otherwise."

"So… it's true? You've actually built a base on the moon?"

"Not on its surface. The station is kept in orbit, at the point where the moon and planet's gravitational forces are in perfect equilibrium."

Well, shit…

Of all Esthar's technological advancements, whether previously known to him or not, this was easily the most staggering. For years prior to the Sorceress War, scientific minds the world over had discussed the possibility of charting the first ever expedition into outer space. Even then, many had determined Esthar to be the most promising outlet for a potential breakthrough. There was no other nation with the resources and manpower to facilitate such a thing at the time, and in spite of Galbadia's takeover of the western continent, it had ultimately come too late. The radio interference had laid any further research in the field to rest overnight. Or so had been assumed.

"It's still a long journey," Odine continued as they walked through into the adjoining chamber. "More than 200,000 miles. But it won't feel like it once you get there."

A semi-circle of six golden tubes stretching up into the ceiling stood against the far wall. The base of each one bore a hatch atop a short flight of steps. Three were left hanging open, each revealing a sturdy metal capsule housed within. Their interior dimensions were perfectly suited for a human to occupy. Of particular note to Squall were the sleek, tapered exteriors; over-sized bullets were the closest resemblance which came to mind. And then, just as quickly, he recalled the metal cylinder situated behind the Lunar Gate's giant barrel. It couldn't have been a coincidence.

"So, you literally shoot people into space?" Squall asked, flabbergasted.

"The radio interference left us without any other viable options," Odine explained. "A problem of my own making, regrettably. But, I digress. There's nothing to be afraid of. It's a trip I've personally made many times before. It takes about three days, but the cold sleep stasis will keep us knocked out for the duration. And more importantly, ensure our bodies don't begin dying of hunger or thirst along the way. It'll seem instantaneous once you wake up on board the station. Just pick a pod, and our team up in the control center will see that we all make it there, safe and sound."

"Have they ever missed?"

"Very rarely. But fret not, we have a contingency procedure in place. We've never lost anyone to date."

Squall's stomach tied itself in knots. With how little trust he'd had in Odine to begin with, he considered if perhaps this were a bridge too far.

"Come now, where's all the determination you showed yesterday?" the doctor egged him on. "I thought you were prepared to go however far for this girl?"

200,000 miles is a lot further than I'd hoped.

"Ellone's already on her way as we speak. Let's not keep her waiting any longer than necessary, shall we?"

I swear, I'm never going to be able to pull the trigger the same way again…

Squall reluctantly nodded his head. His options were few, limited deliberately in accordance with Odine's scheming. He certainly couldn't stay behind and let him go off into space with Rinoa on his own. And for however put off he was at the prospect of rocketing up into the never, there was another side of him just as eager to see what lay beyond. The opportunity was too tempting to let slip by.

His assigned aid led him to the nearest capsule, where a pair of technicians idled. As he was escorted into place, he noticed Rinoa being laid into another out of the corner of his eye; her limp body sagged as they fought to keep her upright. They locked the restraints around her wrists and ankles just as he felt a pair clamp around his own. The pod's adjustable headrest was then lowered to better support his head. Content to let the workers do their jobs, he laid back and closed his eyes. With any luck, Ellone would be there to greet him when he opened them again.

After several more minutes, the door sealed with a hiss, leaving him in darkness. His eyes could see nothing. His ears discerned little more from outside the pod's reinforced metal chassis. A sudden chill washed over him, causing every hair on his body to stand up at once. And then, before he knew it, his consciousness gave way completely.

From her mad tear across the ocean to Timber and back, to the week the Garden had spent moored at Fisherman's Horizon, Quistis was by now no stranger to the Horizon Bridge. And yet, among all four of them in the transport, she was by far the least accustomed its seemingly never-ending length. It was Zell, Selphie, and Irvine who'd already traversed half the bridge three months before with the Galbadian army. Though their current pace was significantly quicker, it had still taken most of the previous day to reach the center. There, they'd spent the night, and rolled out again before the dawn.

Their stops were infrequent, only to refuel. Each time likewise signaled a rotation of the driver's seat. Zell currently sat at the wheel, tearing straight ahead as fast as he could given the rails running up and down either side of the bridge; the space in between was just barely wide enough to accommodate their vehicle. Quistis had already taken her shift. Despite her experience with long drives, whether by road or sea, maintaining a perfectly straight and narrow shot added an entirely new dimension of challenge. She found it hard to believe Squall had managed the entire trip on his own. He must have, however; there had been no sign of him nor anyone else left stranded along the sides of the bridge.

The mountains framing the Great Salt Lake loomed directly ahead. There they'd sat on the horizon for the past half hour, drawing closer with each mile cleared. At last, the end of their long ordeal was in sight. Quistis knew the real challenge awaited them on the other side, however; little was known of Esthar's post-war border defenses. More confusing was what she could not see in the distance. The sun had yet to fully sink behind them. Surely, the city should have been visible from their current vantage point, and yet there was nothing.

"Hey!" Selphie abruptly called out. "What's that way over there?"

Quistis craned her neck back from the passenger seat to see the girl pointing out the left-hand rear window. She promptly turned back to peer sidelong through the windshield. It didn't take long for her to notice as well.

A massive rectangular prism hovered in place just off shore to the north. Picking it out against the mountain backdrop was surprisingly easy; besides its sleek, polished metal frame glistening in the setting sun, it was amazingly taller still than many of the neighboring peaks. Its body was perfectly uniform from top to bottom, with but one distinguishing feature she could discern from so far away: the engraved image of a crescent moon within a circle on its casing.

"Holy shit," Zell breathed from next to her. "How… how the hell do you even build something that-"

"Zell! Eyes on the road!" Quistis cut him off.

She'd noticed the transport beginning to drift just in time. Zell snapped back to attention, and corrected just as the tires began riding up on the left rail. With a slight bump, they were back in the center.

"Sorry!" he hastily apologized. "But, really… can you blame me?"

Quistis said nothing. The giant monolith was indeed a potent attention-grabber. She couldn't begin to guess at what purpose it served. There was no question in her mind as to who its architects must have been, however.

"You think Squall might be over that way?" Irvine chipped in from the backseat.

"It does stick out," she replied. For there still being no sign of Esthar City on the horizon, it was the only clear trace of civilization in the region.

"Then let's give it a look," Selphie said. "What have we got to lose?"

I don't even want to guess…

Over the course of his near 15 year tenure in the Galbadian armed forces, Sergeant Biggs had known many a military base. Large or small, their interiors were essentially the same: a winding labyrinth of metal, daunting for any new arrival to navigate. With each re-assignment came the burden of mentally mapping out the facility to find his way around. Sometimes it took a matter of days, other times a week or more. Regardless, it had become all too frequent for him of late. He'd been stationed at the D-District Prison a mere two weeks. Galbadia Garden was hardly much longer at a month. Both times he'd barely gotten his head around the layout before being ousted. Now, he faced his greatest challenge yet.

The submersible fleet had finally arrived two days ago to begin their underwater excavation of the Lunatic Pandora. He'd scoffed at the notion when Seifer had told him; for Esthar to have built such a thing was plainly ludicrous, much less that it would be waiting for them on the ocean floor at that particular point. But then, he'd been proven wrong so many times before, and this was no exception.

At three miles tall and half that in diameter, the Pandora was easily the biggest man-made construct Biggs had ever seen. It baffled him to consider the amount of work that must have gone into it, whether by slaves, indentured workers, androids, or most likely a combination of all three. The extensive barracks were proof enough of the first two; sector after sector of bare-bones living quarters took up an entire three floors. Almost deceptively however, the total traversable space across the Pandora was significantly less than implied.

The center of nearly every floor was taken up by a wide shaft, encircled by thick reinforced steel and glass paneling. Though the general layout naturally resembled the prison's, what occupied the other side was nothing like it. A gleaming, gargantuan pillar of pale-green crystal stemmed the entire shaft. Its brilliance was mesmerizing, otherworldly even. Beyond its origin, Biggs couldn't help but ponder its monetary value; surely even a small piece had to be worth a fortune. Yet if what Seifer had relayed to him could be believed, its true worth lay not in gil.

They'd spent most of the day getting the infantry regiment's positions sorted, reinforced by additional troops from the capital who'd arrived with the fleet. What repairs were necessary had finally begun. Fortunately, they were few in number; the Pandora's air-tight sealing had kept its interior well preserved for so many years. Issues given immediate priority were those related to the flight and shielding systems. Both would be essential to the forthcoming push into Esthar, and the latter most pertinently for the plan once they'd made it there.

And so, Biggs found himself en route to the knights' private quarters to relay a status update. Being stuck perpetually at Seifer's beck and call infuriated him to no end. However much he wanted to believe things might have been different were he still a major, the hot-headed blonde ultimately held supreme authority in the sorceress' absence. Whatever influence Biggs might have had over the troops would have still meant nothing. Defiance was out of the question so long as the knights continued to do their leader's bidding.

Maybe if I could convince some of them to…

He ceased his fantasizing as he approached Seifer's chamber. Even with the reinforced metal door closed, he could make out the sounds of a struggle from within; a heavy bang was swiftly followed by an anguished yell.

"I keep telling you, I'm sorry!" Seifer's muffled voice cried. "I'll get the real one, just… please! Give me another chance!"

Biggs halted in his tracks and pressed his back against the adjoining wall. Were there indeed a mutiny in progress, he wasn't about to intervene.

"Yes, Matron… I understand. I'll be there. I won't fail you again."

All fell silent on the other side of the door. Biggs meanwhile continued to hold both his position and his breath. A full minute passed before he found the courage to step forward and knock. The door opened in short order to reveal Seifer, alone. His grey jacket was tattered and ripped, though no more than Biggs could recall from earlier that morning. Neither did he bear any wounds save for the ever present scar on his face. As Biggs quickly peeked his eyes further inside over the blonde's shoulder, he saw no one else present in the room.

"What is it?" the boy snapped.

"We're… making progress on the shield systems," Biggs awkwardly stumbled into his update. "Some of the generators are in need of maintenance, but we should be able to get them all up and running in about three or four days time. Just as long as-"

"I want it done in two," Seifer cut him short.

"You can't expect our guys to work that fast on tech they've never handled before!"

"Then send more men down there from the bridge crew. I don't care how you get it done, and I don't want to hear anything more from you until it is. We cast off in 48 hours. End of story. Now, get busy."

Seifer slammed the door in Biggs' face, leaving him standing in the hall, his fists balled in frustration. The boy was asking the impossible; Esthar's technology was far more advanced than most anything in Galbadia's arsenal. Even the combined expertise of every technician in their ranks wouldn't be enough to make such an unreasonable deadline. And yet, worse still was the apparent hallucinatory episode he'd overheard just minutes before; whether it were owed to schizophrenia, PTSD, or any other psychological condition, it was all the proof Biggs needed to conclude that Seifer had completely lost his mind. For weeks on end he'd fantasized of staging a coup against him. Now, for the safety of everyone aboard the Pandora, it was a moral responsibility.

There's got to be at least a few of them…