It's midafternoon on their second day staked out that people begin emerging. Blake is curled up in the shade of the truck, stitching together the worn-out hem of her coat. When Yang wordlessly beckons her and pulls a shotgun from the interior of the truck, she scrambles to the roof to squint across the hills.
The people emerging are dressed in white, not a practical color for the desert. A group with a Guide among them would never make that sort of mistake, not when Guides survive by blending in.
Blake voices that theory quietly, more than slightly relieved that they're likely not working with Cinder. People that unfamiliar with the desert will be easy to evade, regardless of their technology.
"Their weapons don't look like anything I've seen," Pyrrha says, peering through binoculars at them. "They might be from the Cities."
Yang scowls and plucks the binoculars out of Pyrrha's hands. She squints at the structure for several moments before muttering "Could be. The guns look too streamlined."
"Why are they here?" Pyrrha says to herself. "Are they explorers, or – conquerors?"
"They seem a little too heavily armed for harmless explorers," Yang says, checking to ensure the shotgun is loaded.
"Not really. There are Grimm and stuff down here," Nora points out.
They lapse into muttered confusion, Nora bringing up wilder and wilder theories.
"We should try to communicate with them," Pyrrha says eventually. "Maybe they're friendly."
Yang nods.
"I'll go with you. You two should stay with the truck, in case –" She doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to.
"Good luck," Blake says slowly. She wants to say more, pray that they won't get killed because Blake has had too many people die already. She won't say what she thinks, because she is nothing but a medic to them.
Nora has no such qualms, and pulls them both into a hug, squashing them both until Yang complains and extracts herself.
"Let's go," she says.
"We're not taking the shotgun," Pyrrha snaps. "We're trying to form a peaceful alliance with these people."
"They're much more likely to be peaceful if we show our strength," Yang argues, but in the end leaves the shotgun.
Blake lets herself pray when they're gone across the desert. Even Nora doesn't speak, just wordlessly fidgets with the edges of her jacket.
They wait.
…
Pyrrha steps forward, carefully, out of the shelter of the dunes, raising her hands to show that she's unarmed. Yang, a few steps behind her, does the same. They can't afford to make one mistake.
The people in white surround them, but make no move to attack. They're cutting off escape routes, but giving Pyrrha and Yang a chance.
One speaks, in a voice that's too fast and clipped.
"Can you understand me?" he asks, taking a few steps closer.
They're trying to communicate, rather than kill them on sight.
"Yes, we understand you," Pyrrha responds. "We are unarmed."
It's worth reassuring them. The people still don't take off their helmets, but they seem to relax slightly.
"The last specimens could speak, too," another one says absently.
Pyrrha frowns at that. Specimens?
"Who are you?" she asks.
"We're protecting an expeditionary force intended to study the conditions of the surface more closely."
"You're from the Cities."
"We are."
Pyrrha assesses their situation again. They're still surrounded. Trapped by people from the Cities who are armed and willing to kill them. They mentioned specimens earlier, human specimens. People they caught and experimented on.
They should have brought the shotgun, because Pyrrha feels helpless. She doesn't like feeling helpless.
"Let us out," Yang growls, and Pyrrha grabs her shoulder to hold her back.
…
At this point, nobody truly understands the intricate workings of the Cities, only small parts thereof. Some engineers monitor the height of the Cities carefully and pump more helium into the supports when it becomes necessary. Others manage energy or transportation or industry. None of them stray beyond their circles of influence, and as long as each engineer perfectly understands the small area they control, the Cities remain functional.
The public understands how critical the engineers are to their existence, but none of them truly acknowledge the one responsible for their existence. The one brilliant, driven mind who created the Cities. The only person who still understands the purpose of every cable and tether and support beam. Someone still everpresent in the Cities, if one knows exactly where to look.
Salem. She never took the credit for the Cities, letting the rich believe it was a global effort and the poor believe in an ill-defined conspiracy. She doesn't need their appreciation.
Salem has long grown beyond the needs of a physical body, now existing within the mainframe of the Cities. Her unnoticed position allows her near-absolute power.
Unfortunately, she does require influence on certain areas that prove impossible to adequately manage from the Cities. So Salem has her followers. Small-minded, simple people who follow someone greater rather than fighting for themselves. They bore Salem with their little projects. Watts and his creatures, Cinder and her coup attempts. They are irrelevant.