Hi there! I give you... roughly ten times as much swearing as usual! (A lot of it, unsurprisingly, is Mercury's fault.)

29. Blueprint

"I assume you have questions?"

Blake narrowed her eyes. Yeah, a few. Starting with some pointed ones about a possible connection to Hazel and the white Fang.

Cinder leaned casually against the shoulder of her dragon. "I'd also like to ask you all about joining the fight, since you weren't a part of our earlier agreement. Unless you've joined Raven's tribe officially?"

Yang answered for them. "No."

A slight smirk. "In that case... what would you like to know?"

"Does a human named Hazel work for you?" Blake asked, careful to keep her tone neutral and curious.

Cinder raised her eyebrows. "Hazel? No, but if you think they'd be on our side, I'd be interested in meeting them."

Blake watched her carefully, but she couldn't see any tells. Either she was telling the truth, or she was a very good liar. "I doubt I could get in contact with him now. Never mind."

"A shame." Cinder rubbed at her dragon's neck. "Anything else?"

"Yeah." Ruby glared at Cinder. "Why did you attack Violet Broodery? They never did anything wrong."

"It was never about hurting the brooderies. So long as the council controls the eggs, we have no chance at destroying them. Now, with some of them liberated... we might have a chance to bring the hybrids back."

Blake's stomach roiled. "How do you plan on doing that?" she asked, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Cinder's expression turned pained. "As slowly as we can. The formulas that were once used are lost—either destroyed, or so tightly held by the council that they may as well have been. Recreating them will be... difficult, but if we proceed very carefully we can make sure as few hatchlings are harmed as possible."

Weiss nodded slowly. "Like the SDC, under my grandfather."

"Precisely." Cinder smiled—it was warm and friendly, but Blake found that it grated. "Unfortunately, performing the injections this way means that we haven't had any successful hybrids yet. With a little luck, that will change soon."

"It won't." Weiss glanced at Specter. "It took decades to find a stable formula for ice dragons. Even if you're extremely lucky, there's no way you'll have a full-grown dragon for another few years."

Something flickered in Cinder's eyes, so quickly that Blake almost thought she'd imagined it. Surprise? Anger? She hoped the leader of the fight against the council wasn't the type of person who'd snarl at someone just for telling them something they didn't want to hear. She'd had more than enough of that already.

Then it was gone, and Cinder just looked frustrated. "I see. I think our progress has been promising so far, but we might have been overly optimistic. But the details can wait for another time—do you have any more questions?"

Ruby started to shake her head, then paused when Storm nudged her shoulder urgently. "What is it, girl?"

"Eh... Eh-knee!"

There was a moment of silence, while all the riders stared at Storm in confusion. Frustrated, she barked something at Cinder's dragon, who bent her head close to her rider's. "Vice," she said. "Mm..." A frustrated huff. "Duh-vice."

Cinder's brow furrowed for a moment. "Device? Device—oh. The implant Storm tested at the festival."

"Oh!" Ruby jolted where she stood. "Yeah! You stole Penny!"

"I apologize for that. I didn't want that sort of technology getting into the wrong hands... and it will be incredibly helpful for keeping our dragons safe during our war with the council." Cinder smiled. "I'd be happy to return it to you and Storm."

"Um..." Ruby looked a little taken aback, like she hadn't expected that to be so easy. "Good!"

"Anything else?"

Ruby opened her mouth, then stopped. "Not right now," she said, turning to look at Emerald. "Can we give you an answer later, once we've talked about it?"

"Of course." Cinder trailed a hand under her dragon's chin, scratching gently. "I have matters to discuss with Raven. Come and find me when you've made your decision."

Raven disappeared into her tent, with Cinder following right behind her. All eyes turned to Emerald and Mercury. She looked slightly sick. He grinned and said, "Well. Cat's out of the bag, I guess."

Blake hadn't seen Ruby look this angry since she'd confronted Cardin after the dragon swap. She glared directly at Emerald. "Explain."

Mercury was such an asshole.

As the day of Cinder's arrival had approached, he'd suggested telling the others—with a significant waggle of his eyebrows that had sorely tempted her to try burning them off—that they worked for her. She'd said no. Of course she'd said no, because Cinder never told them to reveal themselves like that.

"She didn't tell us not to, either," Mercury had pointed out.

But if they revealed themselves, and it turned out Cinder had wanted their involvement kept secret... Emerald couldn't stand that. So she'd said nothing, and waited, and hoped that maybe she could bring it up in a few weeks, after everyone had gotten used to the idea of helping Cinder save the dragons.

And then Cinder had called her out of the crowd. Claimed her. Mercury had the nerve to whisper, "Told you," under his breath as they walked up to her.

Now they were in the center of the group of students, hostile eyes bearing down on them from all sides. Accusation. Betrayal. And Mercury just stood there. Smirking. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"The fall of Haven. Was that you?" Emerald couldn't look Ruby in the eye. She just nodded, staring at her shoes. "And Beacon?"

She tried to speak. Failed.

"We stirred things up a little," Mercury said quickly, "but only to get people to wake the hell up about what's going on. Whatever the fuck that was, it wasn't us."

Emerald finally found her voice. "I—we never thought the council would find out about your dragons." When she risked glancing up, Ruby was mulling it over, frowning.

"Why?" She jumped, hearing Pyrrha's voice. It was the first time she'd spoken to anyone outside her team in a long while. "Why keep it secret? If you were really trying to help, why didn't you just tell us?"

"We were going to. It just... it wasn't time yet."

"The plan was to keep a low profile until Cinder was ready to come out and talk to the school," Mercury added. "Then things went to shit."

"So?" Yang glared at him. "What about between then and now?"

Emerald answered. "We didn't know what Cinder wanted us to do. She couldn't get in contact with us, not when we couldn't use our scrolls."

"Seriously? You need her permission to sneeze, too?"

"Yang." Ruby shot her sister a reproachful look, and Emerald dared to hope. "Look, it... I get that you haven't really known us that long, and trying to stop what the council's doing is a good thing. But after everything that happened at Beacon, it kind of hurts that you still didn't trust us to help."

She hung her head, groping for words that never came. Mercury stood next to her as the students—as Ruby walked away. He took one look at her and sighed.

"Don't say it," she snapped.

"Wasn't gonna. You're too mopey for it to be fun, anyway."

Emerald risked a glance at the retreating group of students. "What... what do I do?"

"Friendly reminder that I'm not psychic. Brilliant and charismatic, sure, but not psychic."

Maybe it wasn't fair, but she hated him for making her say it. "How do I get her to trust me again?"

"Ah." Mercury shoved his hands in his pockets. "Probably groveling. That usually does the trick." He gave her a strange, piercing look. "You're gonna have to get pretty good at it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You wanna get back in her good books, that's easy. Kid's a wet noodle. You wanna stay there... step one is to stop being Cinder's whipped dog."

Emerald hit him on the shoulder, hard. "Fuck you!"

"You asked."

She did it again, and was rewarded with a wince. "Don't talk about shit you don't understand! Asshole."

"Keep it up," he grumbled. "Eventually I'll learn not to bother helping you."

Pyrrha looked around their circle of friends and professors—and the tolerable three-quarters of CRDL. All of them waiting for someone to speak first, until Nora broke the tense silence. "So... now what?"

"I mean, I think we're all on the same page as far as the council goes," said Sun. "They can go jump in a lake."

"The question is whether or not we can trust Cinder," Jaune agreed. He squeezed Pyrrha's hand once, as if inviting her to speak. She didn't.

"She burned down our neighbors' broodery," Yang said. "So that's one point against. And she attacked Ruby, which is about a million points against."

"Well, she didn't really attack me directly—"

"Oh, yeah, that's much better!"

"Okay, that's one vote against," Jaune interjected. "I think."

Fang bumped his head against Yang's. Then, over her indignant yelp, "Ffight. Gud. Ssin... fight." Huo snorted agreement, sending up a little puff of smoke. Mudslide just nodded.

"Fighting the council doesn't have to mean her," Yang insisted.

"Doesn't it?" Weiss gestured around their group. "There aren't exactly enough of us to attack them on our own."

Blake grimaced. "It's dangerous to join someone just because they say they're your only option."

"That's not the only reason, is it?" asked Sun. "I mean, if she's the one behind Haven, and the Vytal Festival... she's done some stuff that's a bit sketchy, but she also called the people in charge out on a lot of their bullshit. And, I mean, how many people has she actually hurt?"

"The professor at Haven," Sage said.

Scarlet nodded. "There have definitely been injuries in those robberies, too. I don't know how many off the top of my head, but... she doesn't seem that bothered about hurting people."

Neptune groaned and rested his forehead against his knees. "I'm getting mixed signals here."

"A few hours doesn't feel like enough time for a decision like this," Ren mused.

The debate went on and on. Eventually it started to feel like a loop between two points—Cinder was the only one with enough support to actually challenge the council... and she'd attacked innocent people to steal from the brooderies.

Pyrrha stood up, and the argument cut off abruptly. "I can't choose for any of you... but I'm joining." She shut her eyes and swallowed, momentarily overwhelmed. Jaune squeezed her hand again.

Sky got to his feet, too, his arms folded over his chest. "Honestly? She could literally set me on fire and I wouldn't mind, as long as she gave me the chance to bring those assholes down. Yeah, I'm in."

Then, to her shock, Professor Goodwitch followed their lead. She and Port had been so quiet while they argued, Pyrrha had almost forgotten they were there. "You all have every right to stay out of this fight. It should be our responsibility—" she glanced at Port, "—not yours. But, if any of you do wish to join with Cinder..." Her eyes flashed. "I will do everything in my power to help you."

There was a ringing silence. Then Sun raised his hand. "So... all in favor of plan 'fuck 'em up'?"

Some were reluctant—Yang declared that she didn't and wouldn't trust anyone who'd attacked Ruby, which was fair. Dove turned very pale when Sky asked if he wanted to join. Blake grimaced and said that she still wasn't sure about Cinder. But, in the end, they were unanimous.

Hours later, when Cinder left Raven's tent, they were all gathered there. Ruby looked her right in the eye and said, "We're in."

Sienna watched a spot of gold growing on the horizon with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Oh, hell...

"Ilia?"

"Yes?" She noticed the approaching dragon an instant later and turned an uncertain orange. "Oh..."

"Go to the lab and watch the eggs, make sure nothing happens."

"Right."

Sienna watched her leave without a word of protest, and felt herself relax just a little. It was nice to have at least one person who was simply competent, who didn't feel the need to grapple for power or lash out uselessly. Someone trustworthy.

She wondered if Adam used to feel like that about Blake.

"Not the time," she muttered to herself, and strode towards the center of camp to greet Cinder.

Corsac and Fennec got there first. She tried not to let herself be irritated by that—Cinder probably wouldn't care, and it didn't matter who appeared to be in charge so long as the Fang kept working smoothly.

"—despite the setback," Corsac was saying. "Security has been increased. It won't happen again."

Cinder raised an eyebrow. "You would have been out of commission for weeks. I'd say that's more than a setback."

"Would have been?" Sienna glanced at Strike's feet, where a small heap of crates was neatly stacked. "Ah."

"I won't play carrier pigeon again," Cinder snapped. "Either you find whoever interfered with your operations, or we find another organization to handle the eggs."

"It seems like you're forgetting who stole all that Dust in the first place." Sienna winced at the Lieutenant's entrance. He glared at Cinder through his mask. Challenging.

"Besides," Sienna interjected, "that won't be necessary. The incident may have slowed us down, but we've made good progress."

"Have you?"

"There's one egg in particular that has been promising. It's never a sure thing until they hatch... but there are no visible flaws in the shell, and the Dust mixture has produced promising results in the past. We're in the final stages of tweaking, and then we'll have another viable hybrid."

"Show me."

If anything happened to that egg...

But it hadn't. Ilia stood over the rows of incubators, quietly vigilant. Cinder inspected the shell, gently tapping it with one finger and listening intently. "This is a water and lightning mix, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good." Cinder removed her hand. "This will be perfect for a loyal member of our organization."

The Lieutenant bristled. "Our agreement was that you'd have the next successful hatchling."

"This is the next successful hatchling," Cinder said coolly. Her eyes flicked towards Sienna. "Or have you forgotten about your... ill-fated dragonet?"

Sienna stiffened. For a moment she could hardly believe her own ears—Adam might have just killed her for that, never mind the consequences... Was this a test, then? Pushing the boundaries with the new leadership?

"Like hell," the Lieutenant snarled. "It was a reject. It didn't bond right."

There was a flash of something downright venomous in Cinder's expression. Sienna tensed even further, remembering what Adam had been like near the end—you could never be quite sure what would make him explode.

They weren't ready to break from Cinder's faction yet. And they definitely weren't ready to go to war with them. How to placate her, without conceding too much...

Corsac's lip curled. "You want us to give you an extra egg. This was not part of our bargain—we are not pawns to be used for equipping humans."

Cinder arched an eyebrow. "He isn't human."

For a second, even the Albains froze in surprise. If Cinder employed a faunus, why would she have sent Hazel to work with them? But Sienna didn't have time to think through those implications.

"In that case, I believe we could support giving the man an egg." She smiled pleasantly. "But we're hardly in a position to give up hatchlings freely. We need our own dragons to protect this lab—almost as much as we need equipment."

Cinder looked at her for a moment, then smirked. "Of course. Consider the replacements paid for."

She was gone within minutes—Sienna's shoulders slumped a little as Strike shrank in the distance. The Lieutenant still looked furious, but both Albains had settled down. Ilia just watched, a slightly distasteful look on her face. Not perfect... but it felt as though the crisis had been averted for the moment.

The next morning, as the sun rose over the camp, irritated voices started calling out for Thistle. Four faunus combed the camp for him, when they woke up and realized he hadn't spent the night in their tent. He'd probably shared a bedroll with Lily again—technically he wasn't supposed to, but he was one of their best hunters, which meant he could get away with it. Though why the stubborn bastard couldn't just warn them once and a while...

Hours passed. The shouts grew anxious, then frantic. Someone barged into Sienna's tent, red-faced and panting.

There was no trace of Thistle anywhere in the camp.

A million billion motes of bright green against a sea of blackness. Connections, a web of fine lines that pulsed with light. Within each mote another web, subsystems nested in subsystems—and within each connection a stream of information that flowed like water through an infinite river, branching again and again and again...

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Green eyes roved over the screen. He rotated the display, watching in awe as even more complexity was revealed. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that Gepetto was indeed brilliant. He must have invented an entirely new coding language, one that was visual rather than text-based. It was like looking at a brain.

Too much like looking at a brain. He could see where the AI had grown out of its own parameters. Whole sections of code that seemed almost organic. A hand drifted up and smoothed his mustache as he thought. It seemed impossible that Gepetto had sat down and built this, so... what if he hadn't? Perhaps he had designed it from more basic parameters, including some mechanism for changing its own code. Evolving. Learning.

"Brilliant," he mused, "but an idiot."

Fixing the problem was difficult, but not nearly as difficult as building the thing in the first place. All he had to do was figure out what each section did, delete the extraneous ones, and remove the learning mechanism now that it had served its purpose.

His scroll went off. He picked up, holding the device in one hand while he explored the code in front of him with the other. "Yes?"

"I'll need the implant, soon."

"Ah." He leaned back in his chair. "Hello to you too, Cinder."

"Arthur," she snapped. "Don't play games with me."

"Well, if you want more of them you'll need to give me some time. This device really is astonishingly complicated."

"How long?"

He smirked. "For the most basic functions? At least a month."

"Fine. But don't. Change. Anything. Understand?"

"Of course." A code this complicated could get bugs if you so much as breathed on it wrong. It would be stupid to fiddle with the original.

Cinder ended the call.

Doctor Watts put the scroll down and clicked over to another window. This time connections were outlined in yellow, like a constellation of stars. It was significantly smaller than Gepetto's version, pared down to its most basic functions. Why Gepetto had decided to create an AI—and one that looked borderline sentient at that—and stuff it into a device that had no need for it, he'd never understand. His own design was elegant and streamlined, the motes lined up in neat rows and organized according to their functions.

He zoomed in on one cluster of points and frowned. It usually took hours to figure out what any piece of the code did, but this one actually had notes for a change. Translation software.

Watts deleted it. If he was going to mass produce these things, he'd have to get rid of all this unnecessary bloat.