Menagerie, Kuo Kuana
October 31st, 1156 Local Time, 2552
As much as Richard loved the Dominion, he appreciated the opportunities that he could take to get away from the recycled air and cramped interiors every once and a while. To that end, the vast harbor of Kuo Kuana was a very pleasant change of pace. For just a moment, he allowed his mind to relax from examining the strategic value of the harbor and it's installations, and simply admired the view.
The sound of seagulls and boat horns was pretty much a given at any normal harbor, and yet, Richard couldn't help but find a bit of comfort in the small, familiar elements of his environment. Fishermen, wooden boardwalks, refueling stations, the powerful smell of saltwater, even the buoys out in the distance would've fit in perfectly at any harbor across Earth and Her Colonies.
It's easy to forget that for all the magical nonsense on this planet, there's some really nice places to be. He thought. Maybe there will be some time to sightsee later...
"Admiring the weather, Sir?" Fairfire asked. She was acting as his bodyguard, and while Richard was fairly confident that he wouldn't be in any danger, it never hurt to be prepared.
"It's hard not to, fine weather for sailing." Richard answered. "Back on Emerald Cove, I would've considered going surfing. But here… that might not be the best idea."
Who knows what's under that water? Richard wondered, staring out at the vast, seemingly unending blueness that met with the equally blue sky. Actually, Mags might, after all, fighting all of that crap is her job.
"You've been to Emerald Cove?" Fairfire asked, a surprising note of sympathy in her voice. Although seeing as Richard knew the fate of that colony, he could guess why.
"It was my home for a few years, of course, that changed when I joined the Navy." Richard answered.
He would have been content to chat all day and take in the atmosphere, but they were here on official business, and it wouldn't have been polite to keep Ghira and Mags waiting. They were already at the entrance to one of the boardwalks, exactly where they had said they would be.
"Commander!" Ghira warmly greeted them. "It's good to see you again."
He held out his hand, which Richard firmly shook. "Likewise Chieftain. I hope the delay wasn't too much of an issue. I would have stopped by earlier, but as you know, we've had our hands full."
"It's no trouble at all." Mags said. "So, you wanna see the Squadron?"
"Of course, lead the way." Richard said.
When he had learned that Menagerie actually had a squadron of ships dedicated to coastal defense against the Grimm, he was pleasantly surprised. Practically every Kingdom except for Atlas operated only a token standing military due to the existence of the Huntsmen, which meant that all of those nations had very weak navys with little in the way of proper warships. As such, learning that Menagerie had taken some initiative towards protecting its people was quite inspiring. What was somewhat less inspiring however, was the ships themselves.
"Geriactric" was the first word that came to mind as Richard look out across the Harbor, met with the sight of what had to be the most bizzare group of seagoing vessels that he had ever seen. "Schizophrenic" was the second, but given that he was standing on Remnant, a world where madness was the norm and sense was a rare and valuable commodity, that almost went without saying.
A cursory glance down the row of anchored vessels revealed an honest-to-god wooden sailing Sloop, armed with classic naval cannons. Beside it was a paddle-steamer that had clearly seen better days, although to its credit, this one actually had a handful of small cannons that did not look as if they had come from an age of sword and sail.
Things only got stranger from there. He spotted among other things, a hydrofoil with box-launchers for guided missiles, the barnacle-crusted tower of a submarine, and what looked like a luxury yacht with three giant pneumatic cannons sticking out of the forecastle. There was also a pair of comparatively gigantic Ironclad vessels that looked like they'd been pulled out of the First World War, at least, if it had taken place on the chaotic world of Remnant.
They did have a Great War close to a hundred years ago… I hope those ships aren't that old. Richard thought.
Mags must have picked up on what he was thinking, because she let out a hefty sigh. "Look here Old Man. Not everyone's got the budget to go around piloting starships the size of stadiums. We make due with what we've got, and we get the job done."
"I can respect-" Richard began to reply, but then he picked up on what exactly she had said. "Did you just call me old?"
Mags shrugged. "Hey, you've got gray in your hair, that's good enough."
"...Right." Richard sighed. Perhaps she had a point, he certainly wasn't young. "Serviceable or not, if I had known that your defenses were so outdated, I would have insisted on providing some assistance."
Ghira motioned as if to respond, but Mags was far quicker to the draw, as she put on a sly grin. "You know, it's not too late to make us that offer!"
"Mags, please!" Ghira protested. "Pester the Commander later! For now, let's just focus on getting him acquainted with what we have currently in use."
Mags gave a disappointed sigh. "Aye, later then."
She led the way further down the docks, occasionally pointing out minor details about the various ships that were clearly her favorites. As they walked, Richard spotted another notable vessel. It was a decently-sized boat, perhaps thirty meters long, and carried a pair of large torpedoes on the deck.
I see, that must be the Thunderchild. Richard thought, as the torpedoes offered some inclination that was the case. It's a bit small, but now I can see why Mags thought we could go up the Rivers with it. That kind of mobile firepower could prove useful while we're hunting for the White Fang, especially if we added some extra machine guns.
"So Lieutenant, if you don't mind me asking, which ship is yours?" Richard asked. Even though he was pretty confident he knew the answer, he wanted to be certain as to not embarrass himself.
Mags grinned like a madwoman as she gestured proudly towards the Thunderchild. "That one!"
Richard looked to the ship, then back at Mags, and back to the ship again, unsure if he had heard her correctly. The ship she gestured to wasn't the small torpedo boat as he had anticipated. Instead, she was pointing towards one of the two Ironclad Battleships.
Perhaps this is some kind of joke… Richard briefly thought, as he knew from direct experience that Mags was far from humorless. But the wide smile on her face, and the genuine love and pride in her posture said otherwise. Dear lord, she's serious.
"Hot damn…" Fairfire muttered, echoing his own mindset perfectly.
"Are you kidding me?!" Richard exclaimed, much to Margaret's obvious amusement. "That's the Thunderchild?!"
Mags let out a hearty laugh as Ghira smiled and nodded, opting to answer for her while she was busy. "That it is. Out of all the armed ships that Menagerie has ever had to its name, it's certainly the best."
Incredulous, Richard looked closer at the iron behemoth. It's squat form rested low in the water, almost as if it was waterlogged. The upperworks were similarly squatted, with a pair of massive funnels rising out of the ship's rearwards superstructure, along with a Crows Nest positioned directly behind the Conning Tower.
The most defining feature of the ship was a massive forward-facing turret, holding a pair of impressive artillery cannons. Many smaller cannons made up the ship's secondary armament, and affixed to the ship's prow was the ram for which it had received the moniker "torpedo ram". Curiously enough, Richard couldn't actually see any of the torpedoes, but there was little doubt in his mind that they were present somewhere.
"I… I am at a loss for words." Richard admitted. It was absolutely nothing like what he had expected.
Mags finally straightened herself back out, her eyes still watery from her laughing fit. "And you certainly aren't the first!"
Fairfire stepped forward, looking out at the warship with stars in her eyes. "I love the ram, that thing looks viscous!"
"It is!" Mags said with breathless enthusiasm. "It's made from Compound Iron. At the time she was made, it was the strongest armor in the world!"
The more that Richard studied the ship, the more potential problems he realized that it was going to run into. The first, and certainly the most prominent issue, was the sheer size of the vessel. "Lieutenant, how do you expect to sail that up a river?"
Mags chuckled softly and gave Ghira a knowing smile. "Oh... he hasn't seen the Delta yet, that's going to be fun. Don't you worry Commander, she'll fit. I've made that trek a dozen times before and only gone aground once… damn Kaiman. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."
Well, that's foreboding. He made a mental note to give that particular region of Menagerie a bit more study in the future, before following Mags around the Dock to where the Thunderchild was at anchor.
As they drew closer, Richard noted that there was already a considerable amount of people on deck, performing whatever tasks were necessary to keep the ship in running order. "I wasn't aware that you already had a crew."
"It's a little more complicated than that, I'm afraid." Mags said, the enthusiasm all but drained from her voice. "A lot of the folks that you're looking at are civilians who work at the harbor. Stan and I have gathered a handful of qualified sailors over the years, but when we go into a fight… we're a bit undermanned."
Richard nodded in understanding, having served on both small and large ships, he knew the hassle of managing a crew. It would be even harder for Mags, without Menagerie having a standing military; she probably hired crew by contract. "It's still impressive. If your pay is anything close to what I was making as a Prowler Captain, I'm amazed that you can afford what you've got already."
"Heh, that's another funny story." Mags remarked, but was distracted by somebody calling to her from aboard the Thunderchild's deck.
At the other end of the gangplank stood an elderly man, clad in a similar naval uniform to the one that Mags wore. The main difference was his hat, where Mags wore an old bicorn; his hat was more like the kind that Richard himself was wearing.
He met them on the shore at the end of the gangplank, and gave Mags a stern salute as she approached him, as well as a friendly smile. "It's damn good to see you again, Captain."
Mags gave a salute and smile of her own. "Commander, allow me to introduce my First Mate, Stanforth Tanaka."
"Oh please, call me Stan!" He said. Richard shook his hand, and was surprised at the strength in the old man's grip. "And you my good Sir, require no introduction! You're er… that alien fellow!"
"Richard." He offered, doing his best to keep a straight face. "So, I take it you're a Huntsman as well?"
"Well… I used to be. I had a lot of trouble keeping up with the kids, so I figured that I'd try a less strenuous line of work." Stan explained. "I might be getting on in years, but I'm also the only man on the crew who can make decent ribs. Needless to say, Mags wouldn't let me leave."
At his last comment, Mags gave him a friendly elbow in the gut, to which he replied with a chuckle. "Hey now, I said to take this seriously! This here is an important moment for us!"
Stan gave a hum of thought, but straightened out his posture in accordance with her command. "...Sorry, it's uh, been a little stressful while you've been away. The crew was feeling a little uneasy even before the White Fang kidnapped those folks, and Ol' Thunderguts has been pretty temperamental."
Ignoring Fairfire's faint snickering at Stan's last comment, Richard interjected again. "Temperamental or not, I'd love to have a look aboard."
"Ah! Where are my manners?" Stan asked. "Come on then, me and the Captain will show you around!"
Menagerie, White Fang Camp
October 31st, 1422 Local Time, 2552
Treating Adam Taurus's wounds could best be described as a game of bloody, visceral whack-a-mole. For every wound that Doctor Watts fixed and treated, another equally viscous one revealed itself. Quite how he had been able to walk was something of a mystery, as was his survival as a whole given his terrible condition in the legendarily hostile rainforests of Menagerie. Between the nocturnal predators, flesh-eating flora, and the widest litany of diseases that existed on Remnant, the Grimm would have been far from Adam's only concern.
Nonetheless, Arthur Watts was a man who had earned his reputation, and after hours of arduous work, Adam Taurus was stable. It would be a long time before he was fit to fight again, even with his Aura's healing abilities, but it was a reality that the White Fang would just have to accept. Not even the sturdiest of warriors could go toe-to-toe with an Army of Grimm and escape without injury.
I wonder how he would have fared against Salem's newest models. He knew that Salem was already working on some new kinds of Grimm before he and Tyrian had left, purpose-built to combat the UNSC and their unusual abilities. Whether or not they would be effective at their given task remained to be seen, but one thing was for certain, they would likely make their first appearances in Menagerie.
With Adam now stabilized and resting, it was time for Watts to handle the job he had been sent to do. Creating an advanced prosthetic arm was difficult enough, but to do so with limited resources, and while stuck within a damp swamp laden with parasites, was downright challenging.
To that end, while the White Fang worked to get him the parts he requested, he focused his efforts on what he could do with what he had brought. Thus, he had decided that the best place to start was by performing the necessary surgery to install a mounting onto Vermillion's maimed arm. It was admittedly something that he was more used to doing with a robot, but a Faunus provided an equally stable base for his inventions.
I wonder if there's some way to simplify these? I know Polendina and his merry band of morons had ideas for non-invasive prosthetics, perhaps there's some merit in those. Even the dimmest bulb gives off a little bit of light. Watts thought as he laid his scalpel back down upon his workplace. While he was obviously reluctant to do any kind of medical procedure in an area so laden with disease, he wasn't exactly spoiled for choice.
Smoke from a soldering kit and antiseptic both produced very pungent smells, and when combined, the aroma was enough to make most of the Faunus in camp gag. Doctor Watts, being a Human, was only minorly irritated by the stench. Curiously, Vermillion didn't seem all that bothered.
She's resilient. Not so much as a flinch, and I doubt that this anesthetic is that potent. Watts thought. Even if he knew that wit would always win against might, there was something truly admirable about a dumb, resilient animal. Not that he was willing to say that aloud, of course.
Salem had been very clear, he and Tyrian would aid the White Fang to the best of their ability, and that meant that he couldn't antagonize them, no matter how badly he wanted to. Salem's desires always came before his own, a lesson that he had personally watched others fail to learn, often fatally.
"Why are you helping me?" Vermillion suddenly asked. He wasn't surprised, between the hateful glares that she gave him and the long period of silence that had predated her accusatory question, he could tell that she had a lot of unpleasant things to say about him.
"You and your leader asked for my help." Watts pointed out. "Why the doubts?"
"No Human would dare to walk in here without some ulterior motive." Vermillion argued. "I refuse to believe that you're here out of the goodness of your heart!"
"Hmph, so doubtful..." Watts halfheartedly replied. He already knew that he wasn't going to be able to dodge the question, but that was no reason to make things easy for her. "If you must know, my superior is sympathetic to your cause against the UNSC. They insisted that I provide to you whatever services I can to ensure your victory, and right now, that means replacing your arm."
"What, that's it?" Vermillion scoffed. "You don't want money, or fame, or women, or even a throne? Where's that Human Ambition?"
Watts scowled at her tone, just because he had to play nice did not mean that he was willing to let this child talk down to him. "I don't believe that you have any business questioning my ambition, not when you and your comrades are facing off against men from beyond the stars, armed with weapons that even I barely understand."
She grew a confident smile. "Perhaps you just aren't as smart as you think."
"And what would you know about weapons development? Fighting with that pointy stick of yours certainly hasn't done you any favors!" Watts argued. "Make no mistake young lady, if I did not have direct orders to be here, I would not be on this continent."
"Good." Vermillion's voice carried a thick sense of satisfaction. "This is our country, our land, we've fought and died for it, and we aren't going to give it up to anyone!"
Watts merely shook his head. "And will your ranks prove to be as unbreakable as your spirit when the next battle comes? Sooner or later, you will find that you need more than beliefs to win a war."
"You think I don't know that?" She demanded.
"I think that you don't want to admit it." Watts pointed out.
Satisfied at her momentary silence, he was admittedly a bit annoyed when she spoke up once more. "And what would you know about spirit? You only came here because you were told to! You couldn't care less about the Faunus!"
"You're right about that, I personally couldn't care less who wins this little war." Watts shamelessly said. "But I have learned that there isn't any wisdom in working for the highest bidder, not when you can be working for the bidder."
"Oh, and who would that be?" Vermillion asked.
"Like I said, somebody who would very much like to see you win." Watts repeated. "As much as I'm sure you'd appreciate a name, you of all people should understand the value of anonymity. Indeed, if you hadn't told me otherwise, I would have assumed that you were a Human."
Even if she didn't show it, Watts could tell that he had struck a nerve, and not just because he was finally getting around to installing her cybernetics mount. "I would sooner be a rat than a Human!"
"Hmph, tell that to the UNSC." Watts said.
"If this arm does it's job properly, I certainly will." She retorted through clenched teeth. "Are you almost done?"
"I'm linking your nerves to a mechanical interface, would you rather I rush this?" Watts rhetorically asked.
"Hmph." Vermillion huffed, unwilling to admit defeat, but unwilling to continue the battle of the wits that she had so unwisely started.
Another victory. Watts thought as he returned his focus to his work.
UNSC Dominion, Sickbay
October 31st, 1719 Local Time, 2552
Ben had expected his stay in Sickbay to last only a matter of hours. Needless to say, he had been less than pleased to find that Doctor Chase had commanded that he get at least one week's worth of bedrest. His objections had put the Doctor in a similarly bad mood, but the fact that she outranked him considerably ended that debate before it could even start.
"You were a few minutes away from drowning to death in your own blood! I don't want to hear it, am I clear Sergeant?!"
He wasn't even cleared for lighter duties, and while Curie and Penny were looking for some extra hands to make sure Auntie Dot was ready for service on Remnant, he was totally untrained, and wouldn't be of much use. Even so, that didn't stop Curie from insisting that she and Penny could continue their work in the Sickbay, that way he wouldn't be alone.
Ben certainly had no complaints, it was genuinely nice to spend some time with Curie again, especially now that there wasn't any kind of immediate threat to their lives. It was also nice to spend some time with Penny, whom he had previously had little chance to talk to outside of urgent situations.
"So, how did you end up meeting Ruby?" He asked. Normally he would be worried about distracting Penny from her work, but she had already shown a remarkable ability to multitask while they had been working on modifying Curie's body.
"We ran into each other in the street!" She cheerfully answered. "And just like that, we were friends!"
"Huh." Ben acknowledged her answer, internally wondering what exactly he had expected. He would have probably come up with something a bit more intelligent to say, but the painkillers that he had been given left him feeling more than a little out of it.
"Ben?" Curie suddenly asked, snapping him out of the half-focused stupor that he had been lulled into. "How are you feeling? You look tired."
"I'm okay. Just… having a little difficulty focusing." He replied. "It's probably just the painkillers."
Curie's brow still remained furrowed with concern, but she nodded along with his words regardless. "Just let me know if it gets any worse, okay?"
"I will." He said, giving her the strongest smile that he could manage. He wasn't entirely sure what it was that Doctor Chase had given him, but it must have been powerful. "What about you, have you had any trouble with your body?"
She let out a deep breath. "It's… new, fascinating, but yes, I have had a few minor issues. Penny and Doctor Polendina did an excellent job designing this body, but as you know, they were not finished with the development when I needed it."
"You are sadly correct." Penny pitched in. "In fact, I'm surprised by how few hardware issues you've encountered. Then again, most of the issues that I found with my body were with the flight systems…"
Ben raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Penny, you can fly?"
"Certainly! My current body was designed to accommodate a set of external wings and thrusters." She explained. "It's a lot of fun, but I'm not allowed to do it very much because of how much fuel it takes."
I guess that makes some sense, she'd certainly have better weight distribution than our jetpacks. Ben thought, recalling one of the many major issues that plagued the UNSC's own iterations of that particular technology. "We've got jetpacks too. Maybe one day you and I can have a race, see who's the better flier."
"Penny would win." Curie unceremoniously stated. "Her total mass is less than a fourth of yours in armor, and she has the added benefit of the wings for lift, not to mention the antigravity module in her flight gear."
"Hmph, you're no fun." Ben cheekily grumbled.
"I'm only being realistic." Curie pointed out. "If you-"
She was interrupted by the sound of footsteps just outside of the privacy curtain. A moment later, the blind was pulled back, and all of them were surprised to see Richard walk in.
Ben resisted the urge to straighten up his posture, which would probably have pulled one of the already strained muscles in his chest. "Commander."
"At ease Son." Richard gently said, a friendly smile on his face. "I wanted to stop by while I was in the area, see how you were holding up."
Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Curie was faster. "His wounds are serious. Doctor Chase prescribed him a week's bed rest, minimum."
"So I've heard." Richard said with a solemn nod. "In any case, I'm glad that you're still in one piece, more or less. Likewise with you Curie, I hope everything's been going well on your front."
"Thanks to Penny, I am quite alright." Curie reported. "With any luck, I should be able to return to my more urgent duties in the near future."
Richard softly shook his head. "Curie, please, take your time and get used to… well, this. Same with you Ben, Lieutenant Chase says that you're insistent on getting back into the field, and the only way you'll be doing that is by being patient and getting some rest."
Ben bit back whatever protest he had, because ultimately, he knew that Richard was correct. "Yes Sir."
"Good, because I'm going to need people I can trust in these next few weeks and-" Richard began to say, but he was interrupted when the privacy curtain around Ben's bed was pulled back once more, this time revealing Lieutenant Commander Bradford. "Commander? A word?"
Richard wordlessly ducked out of the privacy curtain and sealed it back up. Ben could just about make out the sound of faint whispering, but none of the words between the two officers.
"Hmm, I wonder what's going on." Penny said.
"It is probably just a minor issue that requires the Commander's attention, nothing serious." Curie answered her.
"Whatever it is, it isn't our business." Despite his words, and knowing they were true, he couldn't help but be curious as well.
Richard returned around a minute later, a stern expression on his face. "Sorry you two, but I'm afraid we'll have to continue this conversation later."
He left without any further words or pleasantries, something starkly different than the usually personable commander that he had come to know. Even when he was busy, Richard had always spared at least an extra moment to say goodbye.
Curie seemed to recognize it as well, as she stared out into the rest of the Sickbay where he and Bradford had gone with a worried look in her eyes. "Maybe something has gone wrong…"
"Yeah." Ben voiced his agreement. "Hopefully nobody's gotten hurt."
"I wouldn't worry too much." Penny said with a confident smile. "If Commander Miller needs our help, he knows where to find us. If not, then I'm sure that everything is under control."
Curie looked out one last time, but eventually let out a sigh and turned to face Penny again. "I suppose you are correct. Who knows, perhaps nothing has gone wrong at all."
The next few minutes went by quietly enough that Ben allowed himself to relax again, idly talking to Penny and Curie while they worked. When suddenly, the distinct whine of the ship's alarms rang out in the Sickbay. Although it was muffled somewhat by the soundproofing, Ben still heard the message that came over the intercom with perfect clarity.
"Action Stations, Action Stations, set Condition One throughout the ship! This is not a drill!"