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         "You're not going to find anything," Tifa Lockhart-Strife commented to her husband, noticing out of the corner of her eye that he was still crouched by the door to their luxurious cell, which in actuality was probably comparable to the finest hotels on the Planet. Cloud didn't reply, continuing to search the seams of the door for any possible catch or panel that might enable him to open it, even though he surely knew after almost an hour of searching that there simply weren't any.

         They had been given what basically amounted to the entire topmost floor of a housing building near the center of the Hive as their living quarters, and despite her disgust for Dyson and all he stood for, Tifa did have to admit that they certainly knew how to build a hotel room.

         In the center of the floor was a lavish living room, almost as big as the entire ground floor of the Strife Mansion back in Nibleheim, replete with four large couches, eight loveseats, and carpeting deep enough for entire feet to disappear in. Running off of the main room were four smaller rooms, the first of which held a full-sized, heated, in-ground pool, as well as a large jacuzzi. The second was a pair of lavish bedrooms, while the third seemed to be a game room, stocked with everything from pool tables to dart boards. The fourth held a massive, almost theater size movie screen, along with a projection room and a collection of twenty of the most recent films to grace this side of the world. If not for the gravity of their current situation, Tifa might actually have been able to enjoy herself.

         For lack of anything better to do, she turned away from her husband and the door and walked toward one of the open picture windows, which offered a breathtaking view of the Hive. The massive corporate complex stretched out around them all the way to the horizon, an eerily beautiful mesh of metal and lights that looked almost like Old Midgar, except perhaps a bit cleaner.

         She heard a hollow clang echo through the apartment. Cloud had punched the door again. Although Tifa doubted that he would actually be able to break it down, the mere gesture surely gave him at least a small amount of satisfaction.

         She rested her hands on the window sill and tilted her body forward out the open window, letting the gentle wind outside wash over her face. They'd already decided that going out of the window was out of the question--they were on the thirtieth floor, and the sides of this building were the smoothest things she had ever seen. Even the windows were blended into the skin of the building, leaving not a single exposed handhold, at least when they were closed.

         "Dammit!" Cloud swore, and Tifa heard that hollow clang again. She turned halfway about from her observation point and saw him stalking away from the door in disgust.

         "Don't worry," she murmured suddenly. "We'll find a way out of here."

         Cloud glanced up at her, and a bit of his anger melted away. He started toward the window to join her.

         Tifa turned back around to take one last look at the Hive stretched out below, and her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the side of the building, probably hoping to find some sort of escape route that she had missed. She didn't find anything of the sort, of course. Nevertheless, she stiffened abruptly, unable to believe her eyes.

         "What?" Cloud asked suddenly, as he walked up beside her.

         Tifa had a second to think, praying that she hadn't already given the person who was hanging on the wall about ten feet below their window away. She spun and quickly wrapped her arms around Cloud, pushing him away from the window.

         "Nothing, dear, I was just thinking." She deftly maneuvered him away from the open window. She could sense the invisible eyes of the Dyson security guards against her back, watching the two of them through the many cameras installed in the hotel room. "We're still no closer to finding a way out of here, and I'm getting sick of trying."

         Cloud looked at her as if she'd just asked to be committed to an insane asylum.

         "How can you say that, Tifa?" He sounded hurt. "We can't just roll over and let them keep us captive. Reeve and the others are counting on us. I'm not about to let them get away with their fiendish plan..."

         "Me neither," Tifa cut him off quickly. She winked, hoping that the gesture would be interpreted correctly by Cloud, and misinterpreted by the watching security guards. "But we can't do anything right now. Why not relax for awhile?" She smiled seductively. "You know, relax?"

         Cloud was still looking at her doubtfully. "Now?" If he had looked confused before, now he looked downright baffled. "With those bastards watching?"

         "We'll turn the lights off," Tifa said loudly, glancing around at the empty room meaningfully, as if taunting their captors. In reality, her short sentence was meant to carry to the person outside the open window. "C'mon, Cloud. They've got the most comfortable looking bed I've ever seen. And you know I always think better after I..."

         She smiled seductively again, trailing off at the end of her sentence, and pressed her lips against his ear. Praying that her barely audible words would not be picked up by the sensitive microphones that were surely installed in every nook and cranny of the hotel room, she whispered "at the window."

         She caught the sudden jerk in Cloud's body, but only because her arms were wrapped around him. To an observer, it would have been barely perceptible. If there was one thing Cloud Strife was good at, it was hiding his emotions. Then he winked back, suddenly smiling, showing that he'd understood.

         "Well, why not?" Then he glanced around the room as Tifa had done, as if nervous about the watching eyes of the security guards. "But we WILL turn the lights off," he added loudly, just as Tifa had done."

         "Of course!" Tifa agreed gamely, just as loudly. "And move into the bedroom! And if those bastards try to watch us, I'll personally strangle every last one of them!"

         She starting to walk backward, all the while pulling Cloud toward the empty bedroom and grinning mischievously. As they began to move into the first of the luxuriously appointed sleeping chambers, she reached out towards the living room wall and flipped the main lights off.

         They were both certain that Dyson had installed infra-red cameras in the hotel room as well as visual feeds, and turning off the lights wouldn't make that much difference in whether or not their captors were able to observe them. However, unless the guards watching them were mutants of some sort, their attention would surely be focused on the bedroom, just as the attention of any bored male soldier was likely to be when confronted with the prospect of such a show. And knowing the person outside the window as well as she did, Tifa doubted that the infra-red cameras would even see her.

         They stepped into the bedroom, and Tifa closed the door. She hoped that their unexpected visitor had understood the meaning behind their loud declarations. Slowly, she began to strip off her shirt, showing just enough flesh to make sure the watching guards were hooked before she turned the light off.

         Five minutes should do it, she decided, wanting to be on the safe side. She was no exhibitionist, but she knew that neither she nor Cloud had any real intention of giving the guards the type of show they were surely waiting for. And she also knew that if they were watching the bedroom, even if all they could see were heat silhouettes, the chances of anyone paying attention to the now empty living room were virtually nil.

         "So what now?" Cloud asked uncertainly.

         "What do you think?" Tifa wasted no time, pulling her shirt completely off and then pulling Cloud into her arms, as they both fell back onto the bed. She still had a bra to protect her from the lecherous eyes of the guards outside, and had no intention of taking it off, but they didn't know that. Yet.

         The next five minutes passed rather quickly, more quickly than Tifa had expected they would, and she was confident that both she and Cloud had kept the guard's attention without actually showing them anything like what they were waiting for. But then again, Cloud's unexpected comment "I didn't know you could do that with an earlobe" had almost caused her to burst out laughing despite their precarious situation, ruining the entire show.

         Feeling that they'd given their visitor enough time to do whatever she'd come here to do, she pressed her lips against Cloud's ear and whispered as quietly as she could. "Window. Check." Then she kissed his ear again, tousled his hair, and lay down flat on the bed.

         "I could really use a drink of water, dear," she said with a devilish grin. "Would you go get me one?"

         "Now?" Cloud sounded downright crestfallen. "You aren't starting to get a headache, are you?"

         Again, she had to concentrate hard to keep from laughing, but somehow she managed.

         Cloud, after we pull this off, I'm going to kill
you...

         "Please?" she asked ducetly.

         "Oh, all right," he agreed irritably, sliding off the bed and heading for the door.

         "I'm just gonna' freshen up for a minute," Tifa added, as she rose from the bed, and walked into the bathroom. Then, she flipped on the light, winking at Cloud one last time.

         "They wouldn't dare put any cameras in here."

         "Of course not," he agreed somewhat dubiously, and turned to walk out of the bedroom.

         After about five minutes, he returned, and Tifa gratefully snapped the light off. Her body felt as if it'd been soiled by the lecherous stares of the guards, despite the small amount of clothing she was still wearing. Even though she was twenty years older than she'd been in her barkeep days, she knew that the chances that any of them had been watching Cloud were virtually non-existent.

         "Did you get me my water?" she asked, sliding into the bed again.

         "But of course," Cloud agreed, handing it to her. She put it on the dresser on the side of the bed and pulled him toward her.

         "I've just decided I'm not thirsty."

         They fooled around for almost a minute to make sure the watching guards were completely enthralled, and then Tifa felt Cloud's lips suddenly press against her ear.

         "Yuffie," he whispered, the name spoken with sudden hope. "Help is on the way."

         Tifa smiled.

         "You want me to do WHAT?" Barret Wallace asked incredulously, glowering down at the short, suited main standing several feet in front of him, flanked by a quartet of red uniformed guards. The man did not seem at all intimidated by Barret's height, stature or recent loud exclamation, which said as much for his courage as it did for his stupidity.

         "Did I not make myself completely clear in my previous explanations, Mr. Wallace?" A bit of condescension crept into the gray-suited man's snake-oil salesman voice. "I wish you to cease any and all exports of your facility's product to any associates, business partners, or anyone in any way related to Shinra Corporation, immediately, and make preparations to take on and support a large body of armed Dyson soldiers, both to protect your own resources and the interests of Dyson Corporation." His somewhat beady eyes continued to hold Barret's angry gaze without flinching. "You and I both know it is in your best interest."

         "My best interest?" Barret pounded one beefy hand against his massive chest and shook his head in disbelief, more at the sheer audacity of the man's request than the actual execution of it. "And how in tha' hell do you presume to have any idea what my best interests are, little man?"

         The suit was unruffled. "The logic is easy enough to follow," he explained calmly. "You owe nothing to Shinra. That ancient and decaying corporation is responsible not only for the original decline of your fair city's chief exports and livelihood, but also, if I am not mistaken, for the near complete eradication of the original town of North Corel and its inhabitants in an unprovoked, callous military attack more than two decades ago."

         "Furthermore," the man continued as Barret's mouth opened in a vain attempt to get a word in edgewise, "even after the original governing body which was responsible for that regrettable atrocity was dealt with, the surviving corporate structure has given you little to nothing in the form of reparations, consolation or even a formal apology." During the course of his diatribe the man's tone had faded from simple lecture to sincere query, mixed with just the right amount of genuine concern. Which, as Barret knew all too well, was the first thing people in his position learned to fake.

         "I know what they did to us, little man," Barret spit, glowering across at the suit. How dare that little bastard bring that crap up? How dare he use that insanity, all my people, as a tool in his little bid for power? "I was THERE, as you probably know, 'cause that was probably in the goddamn records where you dug up those details you jus' finished tellin'. I was there when they burned North Corel, when they shot my best friend, when they..."

         He paused, thinking of Marlene, back inside the walls of the large mining town, waiting anxiously for his return.

         "Needless ta say," he rumbled angrily, "I was there. And I ain't forgiven those bastards, and I ain't sayin' that they've lifted more than one finger to make up for what they did." He took a step forward toward the suit, noticing that the armed guards twitched imperceptibly in response to his motion. "But jus' 'cause I got my differences with Shinra doesn't mean that I'm gonna' stop selling them what they need, as long as they've got money to pay for it." He motioned around, a sweep of his massive arm passing over the giant, reinforced walls of the rebuilt North Corel behind him. If there was one thing he and those who'd survived that first Shinra attack had learned, it was the need to defend their resources.

         "'Cause we need money jus' like the rest. And furthermore," he jabbed an angry finger at the suit, who still showed no reaction to Barret's invasion of his personal space, "jus' cause I hate Shinra doesn't mean that I'm gonna' allow no force of mindless soldier types to take up residence in my town, Shinra or no." He spread his arms impressively and practically roared "How in tha' hell do you think North Corel got burned down in the first place?"

         "I understand your concerns, Mr. Wallace," the suit assured him soothingly.

         "Do you?" Barret found it hard to resist putting his fist through the faked expression on the Dyson executive's face. "Do you really?"

         "Yes, I do." The man's calm was frightful. "Let us not forget whose resources were called upon to allow you to repair your shattered town, Mr. Wallace. Let us not forget which corporate body contributed a large amount of money to both restoring the livelihood of your people and restoring your work force and ability to produce your product. Dyson Corporation, Mr. Wallace. Not Shinra."

         "I know what you did, too," Barret agreed, a bit of his anger fading, as he forced himself to take a step away from the executive. "And I ain't sayin' we ain't thankful. And we have been givin' you the best and largest of our coal shipments, and we have been givin' you half the price we give the goddamn Shinra." His glower returned. "But that don't change what I said before. We are a neutral party in your lil' dispute. Neutral, you hear? We start refusin' ta sell to Shinra, not only is it gonna' look like we're comin' in on Dyson's side of this conflict, we're gonna' cut the revenue we need to keep this town goin' practically in half!"

         He slapped the flat of one hand solidly against the barrel of the wicked Machine Gun which made up the other, to help express his mounting frustration with the proceedings. "And I've told you and your goddamn flunkies that five times already. Ain't that logic easy enough ta follow?" he asked with a sneer, remembering the man's earlier question.

         "But it is flawed logic, Mr. Wallace, flawed," the suit said quietly, shaking his head as if in genuine regret. "I will ask you one more time to acknowledge that, and accede to our demands."

         "Or what?" Barret demanded hotly, stepping in toward the man once more, watching in contempt as the soldiers around him belatedly trained their rifles on his massive form. Sure, you might get a few shots at me, you bastards. But all of you is gonna' bite it in the process. He felt a slight queasiness in the pit of his stomach, and that angered him. He wasn't afraid of these pathetic grovelers, wasn't worried that he couldn't take him. He'd faced far worse than them in the past. So why was he worried?

         Because it ain't just me anymore, he realized abruptly, the sudden thought taking him by surprise. And it ain't just them. I'm not the only one who's gonna' take a fall if Dyson tries to take our town by force. And killin' these lil' bastards is gonna' do about as much good as crushing one ant out of a hive. There's hundreds more where each of them came from, and there ain't no way I can take 'em all.

         His thoughts and face darkened as he further considered that thought. But however that goes, I ain't gonna' let them take my town. I ain't gonna' let them take my people. His thoughts were grimly purposeful now. And I ain't gonna' let them take Marlene.

         "Or the consequences will be most severe and regrettable for both yourself and your people, Mr. Wallace," the Dyson executive responded calmly, bringing him back from his short but grim circle of thought. "I will give you one more chance to reconsider."

         "There ain't no reconsiderin'." His face was as hard as chiseled stone. He could take them out, now, but that wouldn't do any good. It would only make the eventual attack that they were sure to launch happen that much sooner, and he would much rather be inside the walls of North Corel when that attack came than out here on a flat, open plain. Even with Shinra Corp's New Midgar within spitting distance of North Corel, there was no guarantee that the other big Corp had either the resources or the interest to come to their aid. Not without wantin' the same thing these bastards do, a voice in his head added grimly.

         "You got your answer, lil' man," he rumbled as he turned away and started back for the walls of his city. "Now get outta here before I pound your scrawny ass."

         "You'll regret this choice of paths, Mr. Wallace," the exec called coldly at his retreating form. "You should have worked with us."

         It was all he could do to refrain from turning and gunning the smug executive down right there. Instead, he merely continued walking, gritting his teeth.

         When he finally reached the gates of North Corel, which were swung open by a concerned looking pair of guards, he reflexively looked back to check on the executive and his soldiers. They had already disappeared, surely headed back to where they'd parked their Airship. And, as Barret now knew with grim certainty, they'd be back. With far more than one Airship.

         "Pass the word to everyone you see," he said darkly to one of the guards, as the man closed the gates behind him. "There's a storm comin'. And if we ain't ready to fight it, we're gonna' lose everything we got." He closed his eyes momentarily, thinking of Marlene, and everyone else in this town who was now under the guns of Dyson Corp because he'd refused to submit to their demands.

         Sometimes, being the boss just wasn't what it was cracked up to be.

         "We got a bogie comin' up on our left flank, fast!" the man at the Highwind III's gunnery station shouted loudly, sweat pouring down his young, rounded features. "It's firing!"

         "Brace yerselves!" Cid yelled, an instant before the Highwind III shook like a toy in the hands of an angry child, scattered shards of armor flying out in all directions from the impact of the enemy guns. Nothing got through, and Cid smiled grimly. He'd built this baby to be the best.

         "Bring us around!" Cid roared, and Parker twisted the controls at his station in response to Cid's command, bringing the Highwind III about to face its attacker in a fit of righteous fury. "Forward guns! Fire at will!"

         The man at the gunner's station obeyed his orders without question. Such questions had disappeared from the minds of all of the members of the Shinra convoy when the first of the Dyson Airships had approached, and, without warning or provocation, had proceeded to blow apart the foremost of the cargo-laden Gelnikas Cid's ship and its partner were escorting. The bulky plane, its contents and its dead crew had fallen out of the sky without a single cry of protest. Because, Cid remembered grimly, they hadn't hadn't been given the chance to offer any.

         The Highwind III's forward batteries fired, three turrets of heavy bore tank cannons lifted straight from the cream of the Shinra Armored Division. Due to the gunner's skillful aim, all three of the blasts impacted dead center in their attacker as its crew belatedly moved to evade, and almost the entire forward portion of the Dyson Airship splintered with the impact.

         "They're pullin' back!" Parker shouted, glancing at where Cid sat in his Captain's chair, his mouth a grim line, even his ever present cigarettes absent, tucked into his headband. "Should we pursue?"

         Cid scowled at the retreating form of their enemy for a second, and then shook his head. "Negative. Stay with the convoy. How's Mitch doing?"

         "Reports coming in now, sir," the Highwind III's communication officer put in from his station. "They've taken some bad hits, but they're holding together. The lead Dyson Airship is so much scrap, and the other one is buggin' out as well."

         "That's payback for the Valiant," Cid growled. "Serves them bastards right. How's our supply group doing?"

         "Several of the Gelnika's have taken heavy damage, sir," the comm officer informed him after a second. "Gelnika Five has taken some particularly nasty hits..."

         His words were momentarily interrupted as the left wing of the Gelnika ahead and to the right of the Highwind III blew itself apart in a sudden chain of explosions. As the bulky aircraft began to fall into a screeching dive, the explosions spread to the rest of the craft and the entire thing disintegrated in a matter of seconds.

         ". . . to the engines," the comm officer finished, his face pale and sickened.

         Cid slammed his fist angrily against the armrest of his chair, resisting the urge to yell at the top of his lungs. That one had been carrying munitions, he knew. Twenty more crewers dead. Twenty more good men that had been under his command, his responsibility...

         "Anyone else with major damage?" he growled, after the bridge had observed a second's respective silence for the crew of their disintegrated fellow.

         The comm officer was still pale, but some of the shock was fading from his face, replaced with grim sadness, and not a small bit of anger. "Negative, sir. I think the rest of them will pull through."

         "Well, that's something," Cid muttered.

         Six ships left, out of the nine that had been in his original convoy. Three planes down. Sixty men dead, along with half the munitions they'd been transporting to New Midgar, and one quarter of the food. A gruesome toll, when he considered how long it might be before they were able to make another run for supplies. They couldn't leave New Midgar undefended, not now, not with a state of open war between Dyson and Shinra. By the same token, they couldn't launch a full-scale attack on the Hive, not yet, not until they'd whittled the enemy down a bit more. Shinra forces moving by boat were already in route to the continent on which Wutai and the Hive rested, hopefully unobserved as of yet by Dyson spies, but that could change anytime.

         And when it did, Cid reflected darkly, a lot more than sixty men were going to die.

         The momentary silence that had fallen over the bridge after his last comment was broken as the comm officer spoke again.

         "Admiral, I've got an incoming message on a secure channel coming in for you, highest priority." The comm officer sounded surprised. "It's from the President. Do you want me to transfer it to your quarters?"

         "No, I'll take it here." Cid sighed tiredly. "I trust you boys, and I ain't leavin' the bridge while them Dyson bastards are still flying around somewhere. Patch it to the comm-link on my chair."

         "As you say, sir," the comm officer acknowledged, doing as instructed.

         "Admiral, this is President Reeve," his commander and friend, a closer friend than he had been before Cid had become an official member of the Shinra command structure, began calmly from wherever he was transmitting. "Are you alone?"

         "I'm on the bridge." Cid frowned. "And I think I'd better stay here. We got Dyson on the loose, Mr. President." He was careful to remain formal with Reeve when his crew was within hearing range, as it would obviously seem strange and even disrespectful to them if he did not.

         "I think you'll want to take this in private, Admiral," Reeve advised him, an unidentified emotion in his tone. "It's nothing against your crew, whom I am sure are more than trustworthy. But this is a matter I want to discuss with you alone."

         Cid grimaced, about to tell Reeve that whatever he had to discuss could be discussed while he was at his station, in position to defend the men under his command from Dyson attack--but he thought better of it. Reeve was no fool, and if something had come up that he wanted to speak about with Cid alone, then damn it all, they better speak about it alone.

         "A'right," he agreed, praying that they'd hurt the Dyson Airships enough that they wouldn't be back five minutes from now, sending him in another mad scramble for the bridge to command his forces. "I'm going to my office. I'll be there in one minute."

         "Understood, Admiral." Reeve sounded relieved. Cid rose, and gestured to his crewman.

         "Parker, you get me on the horn the second anything, and I mean anything, shows up where it shouldn't be," he ordered his pilot sternly. "I don't care if a bird flies toward us makin' a rude gesture, I want to be told about it."

         "You got it, sir," Parker assured him calmly from his station.

         "DeLoy, you stay at those guns," Cid ordered his gunnery officer. "And Jerry, you leave that commo station and I'll have your butt in a sling. You got that?"

         "Yes sir!" his two crewmen responded with quick salutes.

         "A'right," he said with grudging approval. They were damn good, these men of his. The best, in fact. "Parker, you have the bridge."

         "Yessir." The other's eyes fell back to the readouts of his station, and Cid turned away, reached to his headband to withdraw a much needed cigarette. He stalked off the bridge, the door out hissing open to admit him and sliding shut as he exited.

         He lit the cigarette and inhaled as he hurried down the first flight of steps he'd have to traverse to reach his office, in much the same place where the Planning Room had been on the original Highwind. He smiled as the sensation of soothing smoke in his lungs relaxed him, and reflected with a certain wry amusement that, although this habit might kill him some day, he was certainly going to enjoy every last breath of smoke he'd inhale until then.

         He reached the office with little drama, passing two of the men from the engineering deck as he did so. The crewmen saluted sharply as he walked past, just as they'd done when he'd come barrelling through their section like a stampeding Hierophant five minutes earlier, after the first Gelnika had been blown to smithereens by the guns of the Dyson attack force.

         Those bastards are gonna' pay for that one, he assured himself grimly, as he entered the office and the door locked securely behind him. He walked to the plush chair which sat behind a massive oaken desk, covered with bureaucratic paperwork that he'd once sworn that he'd never deal with again, and plopped down into the seat, hitting a sequence of keys on his datapad to bring the vid-comm up out of the desk.

         As it began to bleep urgently, informing him of an incoming message, he took another few seconds to enjoy his cigarette before punching the button to take the call.

         "Highwind." He stared coolly at the man at the other end of the connection. "Go."

         For all his years within the Shinra Corporate structure, President Reeve, not always in such a lofty position, had changed little with the passage of time. Granted, his once jet-black hair and goatee had faded from its original color to a rough gray in the years since Cid had first met him, and wrinkles were starting to show around the edges of his face, but twenty years at the head of the largest (as they claimed) corporation on the Planet had also lent him a strong sense of command and competence that, Cid remembered darkly, had hung all too closely around both the long deceased President Shinra and his younger, though no less ambitious, son Rufus.

         Fortunately, Reeve did not seem to want to use his power or influence to control the world.

         "Cid." The President's face was grim. "I'm sorry to call you away from your duties like this, but it was unavoidable."

         "It's okay." Cid shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Jus' don't take too long, 'kay? I got me a convoy to run in."

         "I understand, Cid. I'll make this as quick as possible, and give you a full briefing once you get to New Midgar. But I thought you ought to be told as quickly as possible. There's been an attack, Cid."

         "An attack?" Cid barked incredulously. "On New Midgar? Dyson doesn't have the manpower..."

         "Not on New Midgar itself, no," Reeve clarified, cutting him off. "Rather, not on the city as a whole." He paused, obviously struggling with his words, and Cid frowned angrily.

         "What happened, Reeve? Out with it."

         "All right, Cid." The other looked pained. "This is what happened. A Dyson attack squad came after Cain."

         For a second, Cid merely stared at him. Then he rose to his feet, shouting a long stream of expletives at the top of his lungs, and turned around the send the chair in which he had been sitting smashing onto its back. After kicking the plush piece of furniture a couple of times, he spun back to the console and grabbed it with a zealous fervor, his entire face twitching as he stared down at the console and Reeve, who'd shrunk a bit at his expected bout of anger but seemed to be glad to have his attention again.

         "Say that again," he whispered angrily, grinding his teeth together. "Tell me they didn't get him, Reeve."

         "They didn't," Reeve answered quickly. Cid collapsed to his knees, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. After a second, he turned around and pulled his chair back into its original orientation, pausing to reseat himself before he turned his attention to the screen.

         "What happened?" It was a simple question, but one with enough force behind it that only a fool or someone decidedly suicidal would ignore it.

         "This is what we know." Reeve hesitated a second and double- checked his notes. "A small group, four Dyson soldiers and a technician, a hacker, overrode the security systems of your building and attempted a break in to your flat. Apparently, they planned to disarm the emergency alert system, lock down the floor, and open the door, hopefully catching anyone inside off guard in order to quickly take them out. If that failed, they had a back-up plan which involved pumping knock-out gas into the room, and then coming in once the room had been cleared."

         "So what happened?" Cid asked impatiently. "I don't care what they PLANNED to do, Reeve. What did they do?"

         "Nothing, I'm happy to say," Reeve assured him. "They didn't even get as far as their first plan. It seems that your youngest son had accessed the security system ahead of them, and upgraded its systems."

         "Upgraded?" Cid asked in confusion.

         "Yes, we're not sure on the specifics," Reeve checked his notes again, "but apparently he was alerted that they were trying to break in before their hacker could get past the door lock codes. He neutralized the enemy hacker, unlocked the security doors on the floor, alerted the guards, pumped the gas out and, when the Dyson soldiers blew the door with explosives, closed the security door to his room, protecting himself and the one bodyguard who survived the blast until the men he'd alerted arrived and dealt with the Dyson intruders."

         Cid's jaw dropped in disbelief. "How in tha' hell did Cain manage all that?"

         Reeve shrugged. "To tell you the truth, we're not completely sure. As he's told us several times since we moved him to the Shinra building, our security system needs, at the very least, a complete overhaul."

         Cid shook his head ruefully, but then his thoughts turned to the other members of his family. If Dyson had come after one...

         "What about Shera and Kara?" he asked urgently. "Any attacks on the research labs? What about Dack?"

         "The research labs where Shera and your daughter work are far too well guarded for Dyson to attempt any kind of attack," Reeve assured him. "As you know, it's several floors below the main part of the Shinra building, and the only way down is with a keycard and past a full platoon of troopers. As for Dack, it's possible Dyson could have made plans to attack the Airship Construction Facilities, but those are guarded as well, and we've doubled security around the area. Although he apparently refused to leave his work area until the end of his shift today, as soon as he gets off work we're moving Dack back to the Shinra building until this whole crisis is resolved."

         "Good," Cid answered, sighing again with relief. Just like Dack to want to finish the day's work. So everyone was safe. Shera, Dack, Kara--and Cain. Dyson, blast those bastards, hadn't gotten any of them.

         An attack on them had been bound to come sooner or later, of course. Cid had just been deceiving himself about that matter, and he cursed himself for doing so in hindsight. Just because they were in the center of New Midgar didn't mean they were safe. In a city that big, it was impossible to keep tabs on everyone.

         "There's something else, Cid." That emotion that Cid had been unable to identify was back again, and he recognized it, now. Resignation. Defeat. Why in the world would Reeve be talking like that?

         "We received a transmission from Dyson earlier today, about an hour before the attack on your son." Reeve's eyes were growing a bit haunted. "It's--well, you'd better just see for yourself. I'll play it for you."

         Cid nodded grimly. What could be so bad as to put Reeve in such low spirits? Surely he didn't think that they'd lost the war already...

         Reeve's face faded out, and it was replaced by a small, unidentifiable room, the backs of two armed guards just visible in the corners of the screen. There was a second's silence, and then a man walked into view, a gray-suited Dyson executive whom Cid instantly recognized. Faulk, Gerret Faulk. The second-in-command of the entire Dyson command structure.

         Figures old man Dyson wouldn't talk to us in person, Cid thought darkly. Washed up old geezer probably can't even go to the can anymore.

         "Greetings, President Reeve of Shinra Corporation," Faulk began smoothly. Cid stared at him in hatred, stared at the man who had dared attempt to kidnap his son, who had declared open war on the entire Shinra Corporation. He stared at the man as if the sheer concentration of his willpower could cause the smug expression to disappear from his face, to cause his body to spontaneously explode like Gelnika Five had done minutes earlier.

         "I am contacting you on a matter of utmost urgency." Faulk kept his tone calm and his features neutral. "I know we have had our differences in the past, President Reeve. We have repeatedly offered to buy all of your assets, very generously, I might add, and resolve the growing dispute between our two companies in a peaceful manner. You have continually ignored these requests."

         Cid scoffed at that. Faulk, offering to buy all of Shinra Corporation? Nobody had that much money. And even if they did, Cid knew that Reeve would never sell it.

         "Your refusal to come to a peaceful settlement has forced us into a state of open aggression, and this is regrettable." Faulk pursed his lips thoughtfully. "And, as much as your once great corporate body has declined in the past twenty years, I do have to acknowledge that any attempt to destroy you with force will result only in massive damage to both yourselves and our company, which will profit no one. Although we will eventually win..."

         On a cold day in hell, Cid thought darkly.

         "We wish to avoid the necessity of whittling our military and production forces down needlessly, when a much simpler solution can be reached." Faulk paused, then turned to look off-camera to his right, where he gestured calmly to an unseen person.

         "Bring them in," he ordered sharply.

         He stepped out of sight of the camera, and the walls behind him slid away to reveal two full platoons of Dyson soldiers, all armed to the teeth, all with their weapons held ready.

         What the hell is he bringin' in that he's so concerned about? A blasted WEAPON?

         A second later, his question was answered, and he suddenly remembered, having forgotten completely about the matter since he'd left the Strife Mansion in Nibleheim and returned to New Midgar. Somehow, he'd assumed that two people whom he had fought alongside enough to know that virtually nothing could stop them would be careful when walking in to a den of vipers like Dyson, even though, at that time, war had not been officially declared. But he hadn't thought. And apparently, neither had they.

         Their faces angry and resentful, their hands bound behind their backs, escorted by a total of ten armed guards, Cloud and Tifa Lockhart-Strife marched into view in the large room, surrounded on all sides by Dyson guns.

         Faulk's voice, from out of the shot, ordered them to turn and face the camera. Cloud responded with a calm suggestion that Faulk leave the room and do something anatomically impossible involving a large bale of hay and a rabid Chocobo. Cid chuckled despite himself.

         Kid's tough, he reflected. He always has been. I just hope it doesn't get him killed.

         "Well, despite their obvious reluctance to remain in our care," Faulk continued after a second's silence, "I think it should be plainly obvious to you, President Reeve, that we have two of your closest friends and advisors in our grip, and, I should add, at our mercy. This is what I propose. You are to cease any and all hostilities against our ships and soldiers, and begin preparations to transfer all of your financial and technical resources over to the control of Dyson Corporation. In addition, I must regretfully request that you step down as leader of Shinra Corporation, since it will no longer exist, and that the Admiral of your Air Fleet, Cid Highwind, turn command of his ships over to our lead Airship Commander, Vice-Admiral Jennings."

         The same bastard I just sent running with his tail between his legs? Cid chuckled in sudden amusement. If you think I'm gonna' turn my boys over to that incompetent whack-job...

         "If you do not agree to these demands, within," Faulk paused to look at his watch, "twenty-four hours of this transmission, it will be my regrettable duty too..." He paused again, throwing a sidelong glance at Cloud and Tifa, who were glowering in his direction.

         "Well, Mr. President," Faulk said, his calm manner momentarily turning into one of cool, murderous efficiency, "let us just say that you will not be seeing both of them alive ever again. Which one we choose to execute first, of course," he looked at the pair and shrugged, "well, let's hope that we don't have to make that decision."

         "Don't do it, Reeve!" Tifa yelled suddenly, shrugging off one of the guards who tried to silence her. "Don't listen to this f..." Her words were cut off as an armored plate smashed down between her and the camera, cutting off the room beyond and leaving only Faulk and the two men next to the camera visible.

         "In case you should make any foolish attempts to move against us and rescue them," Faulk added, his eyes cold again, "don't bother. If any of your ships come within ten miles of our airspace, we will kill them both. Immediately." Then he smiled, and the cold murder in his eyes was concealed behind a cocky self- assuredness. "We eagerly await your surrender, Mr. President. Don't keep us waiting."

         With that the transmission went dead.

         Reeve's form reappeared, and Cid could see that he had been visibly shaken by the transmission. Cid understood his concern.

         "So there you have it, Cid," Reeve said, bitterly. "I've got two choices. One, I give up everything I've spent my entire life building, and turn over all our resources to Dyson."

         "Unacceptable." Cid shook his head vehemently. "We can't let them win that way, Reeve."

         "Two," Reeve continued without acknowledging his statement, "I continue to fight them. And I let two of my best friends die, responsible for orphaning both their children, which, I might add, are in New Midgar right now." He shook his head angrily, one hand bunching into a fist. "That isn't a choice I want to make, Cid."

         "Don't worry, Reeve," Cid assured him, though his words sounded hollow even to himself. "We aren't licked yet. We'll find a way to beat them. And don't give up on Cloud and Tifa, either. They aren't just helpless captives. They'll probably make it away from Dyson without us lifting a finger. May even take out the whole Corporation for us in the process."

         "I don't want to take that chance, Cid," Reeve said sadly. "I've already ordered the ships carrying our soldiers to cancel their attack orders. What can I do? My hands are tied."

         "We'll find a way to beat 'em." Cid prayed that he wasn't lying through his teeth. "I'll be arriving at New Midgar in less than ten minutes."

         "How?" Reeve asked. "How are we going to beat them?"

         Cid paused. "Well," he admitted, taking a drag of his cigarette, "I haven't quite figured that out yet."

Continue to Chapter 6