Here we are!

Chapter 3: Fight or Flight

Chapter Rating: T (13+)

Rating Reason: Excessive Profanity.

There was one thing you learned above all else in the Academy. Be slow. Be methodical. Follow your checklists to a Tee. And never, Never, rush or skimp your repair work. That's how you get yourself killed. Shoddy repairs and field repairs are two very different things. One will fail at the worst time, and the other might well have been patched together in twice the amount of time, in the middle of a muddy field in the pouring rain, but it'll keep working for long enough. A bad job, versus a bodge job.

That's what Sir Thomas Reed – AKA Commander Cyrus Quillon – kept telling himself as he worked on his shield generator. Be methodical. Don't rush. He was feeling the pressure, though. An unknown hostile aircraft following a search pattern and slowly getting closer was bad enough, but when Ozpin was also being very cagey and acting like someone had shit in his cereal, Tom was worried. Very worried. Not much could rattle Oz, but he was rattled at the moment. Oh yes, he was rattled. The tilt of the ship wasn't helping, the decks inclined by nearly thirty degrees, with the bow buried underground and the stern rising high into the air. Normally this would be fine, with the internal gravplates and inertial dampers making it feel like the ship was on an even keel even if it were upside down, but they only worked if they had power. So, not at the moment. It made dropping things or even walking around a perilous affair.

Tom had never liked it when his ship was fully powered down, either. The sensor nets – internal, external passive and external active – were fully offline when the ship was cold and dark, and for all that he knew it was stupid he couldn't help the feelings that someone or something might be lurking around the next corner, ready to kill him or pounce on him as he worked. Without the internal sensor nets and the datalink to his suit that let him effectively wallhack, he was completely blind in his own ship, relying purely on memory and his torch to find his way around. Even one thousand five hundred years of civilisation wasn't enough, not nearly enough, to begin eroding basic human survival instinct. Dark, unlit corridors and crawlspaces with no sound except distant, echoing hammering of rain on the hull and the odd structural creak or groan as the ship settled in the dirt that was quickly becoming mud? Yeah, that set off every primæval alarm bell his brain had, and a few more he hadn't even known about before. Not to mention apparently this world played host to a subset of hostile creatures and critters known as Grimm.

Yeah, scratch what he said about Ozpin. Oz was edgy, but Tom was absolutely wired.Yet he couldn't, wouldn't, rush. Damaging the ship even more because of a power failure just after takeoff would be mighty stupid. Not to mention they might need both engines and shields to escape the… Bullhead, Oz had called it, that was gradually coming closer and closer. A distant rumble of thunder made all the hairs on his arms stand on end, and he dropped the ratcheting wrench he was using to secure the last generator coil. He swore, reaching into the shield generator and retrieving it a moment before a colossal BANG made the whole ship seem to jolt under him. He saw a spray of sparks through the open rear door between the thrusters and realised it had been a bolt of lightning.

'This storm's really starting to heat up,' he muttered to himself. 'Need to be quick, now.'

He finished tightening the last bolt and climbed back down off the service walkway. For a moment, as a bolt of lightning illuminated the interior of the upper engineering compartment, he thought he saw something watching him. He shook it off a moment later. You're seeing shadows, Tom. You're just on edge because of the conditions. You trained for this, remember. All the same, he lowered his visor, raised his suit shields and activated the integrated sensor suite before proceeding into the dark and back towards the power distributors, one deck down.

It turned out to be good that he did. As he descended the ladder onto the deck below, labelled Deck B Section F (ENG), his COVAS suddenly came to life.

'Hostile entity, ten metres, three o'clock, impact alert!' she barked, and he turned on pure instinct. Everything seemed to slow down as he saw a dark shape with red, glowing eyes coming at him swinging an arm. He yanked his gun – an old-fashioned, chemical explosive-compound design – clear of its holster, brought it up and to bear – difficult to miss at this range – and squeezed the trigger several times, compensating for the sudden kick as his gun roared, muzzle flash illuminating the cramped engineering space. He saw the first round explode into sparks and fragments of metal as it disintegrated against some kind of bone-plate armour in the way that hollow-point rounds do, but his second and third shots found their mark, and the creature stumbled and collapsed. He had a moment to realise that it looked vaguely wolflike, but only a moment.

'Hostile entity, one metre, above, impact alert!' He began to turn and look up, but didn't have a chance before the creature was on him. It bore him to the floor in a jarring crash, his shields flaring an iridescent blue as they absorbed damage from claw and impact that likely would have killed him. It slashed at his exposed front, pinning him down with its weight, and he felt the claws rake across his chest. His shields flared again, absorbing enough damage that he only felt like he'd been punched, but they wouldn't protect him against it all.

It was an energy-saving measure as Newton dictated, or so he'd been told, to keep the shields active for longer. Only absorb energy that might result in injury or death. The second slash impacted against his head, rattling his skull and smashing the back of his helmet against the floor. Another blue flare, but the impact had worked against the Grimm. It had shaken him out of the stupor the initial impact had induced. It had made one key mistake, too. It was pinning his upper right arm, not his lower, so he was able to bring the gun up and to bear.

Muzzle flash again momentarily turned night to day, the roar echoing round the small space and making his ears ring despite his helmet. The Grimm yelped once, an oddly doglike sound, before slumping off him and beginning to dissolve.

'Any other hostiles, Ariana?' he asked.

'None detected in immediate area, Cyrus,' responded his COVAS. 'Sensors hampered by extremely enclosed space. I am completely unable to penetrate the bulkhead wall and door at the far end of this corridor, and only partially able to penetrate ceiling and floor. Wider ship sensor net inaccessible or offline. Would you like me to try and troubleshoot the problem?'

'No, that's fine, thank you. Bump sensors to maximum available power without significantly degrading other functions, especially the shields. I want as much warning as possible if something's going to jump me while I'm elbow deep in a patch panel.'

'Wilco, Cyrus. Are you okay? I'm not detecting any physical damage.'

'A little sore, but I'll be fine. Thank you.'

Ariana fell silent, focusing most of her processing power on scanning for hostiles, just as Ozpin cut in.

'Everything okay up there, Tom? I heard gunfire. Grimm will have heard it too. How long until you can get us out?'

Tom winced. The gunshots had been loud, but he'd been hoping that the hull of the ship would have dampened them. Clearly, that open rear door would need further inspection. He knew it hadn't been open during the impact.

'I'm okay, thanks Oz. Had a little welcoming party, apparently. Couple of wolf-like Grimm, look to have climbed up over the hull and forced the rear door that leads into Engineering. Wouldn't have been that hard with the ship having no power, none of the doors will be held shut by anything except air pressure and their own weight. Doubt they penetrated any further into the ship, but won't know for sure until I get the internal sensors back up and running. ETA ten minutes to commencing startup sequence, and another ten from that point. Twenty all-in.'

'That's twenty minutes we might not have, but good luck. Well done on killing your first Grimm, by the way. They were likely Beowolves.'

'Thanks.'

He undid the two clips holding the power distributor's service door shut, and stared at the interior for a moment. The four fuses – two primary, two secondary – had clearly cooked off in quite a spectacular fashion, and had coated the inside of the patch panel in a thin layer of soot. There were obvious holes in the casing of the fuses, and he could see that a lot of the sand inside them had superheated and turned to glass. Thankfully, it didn't look like any of them had fused to their contacts, so it was the work of just a couple of minutes to lever them all free and lift them out. He then lowered the new fuses, weighing five kilos each – four kilos of which was composed entirely of insulating sand – into their places, made sure they were positioned correctly, then tapped them with a mallet to push them into place and secure them. From the moment he levered the first burnt out to the last replacement one dropping home with a satisfying clunk, he estimated it had taken him about two minutes per fuse, or eight in all. Now was the moment of truth. Every single breaker in the patch panel had tripped, so he reset them all one at a time. Now he just had two to reset, the two primary breakers, which would restore power to internal & external lighting, and life-support, and then head to the bridge to initiate the startup sequence.

'We're all done here, I hope. You ready for me to flip these breakers, Oz? We'll light up like a Christmas tree as soon as I do, so be ready for anything.'

'Oum yes, I thought you'd never ask. We're about to be rumbled, anyway, so don't worry about the lights. I think the bullhead will see us on this sweep. What's a Christmas, by the way?'

Tom took one breaker in each hand. 'I'll tell you later. Flipping… now!'

He pushed them home with some difficulty, and a highly satisfying click. Emergency lighting instantly came on, painting everything in a dull red. Come on, my lovely. He waited for a long moment with bated breath, and then a display came to life to his right, text scrolling across it as he watched it intently.

Core Dynamics

Commander Hardware Division

Corvette-class Light Battlecruiser

Power-On Self Test Initiating:

Powerplant: OK.

Shield Generator: OK.

Thrusters: OK.

IRS: OK.

Sensors: OK.

Computerised Systems: POST. PLEASE WAIT.

.

.

.

Computerised Systems: OK.

Life Support: OK, PRESS SEAL OK.

Escape Pod: OK.

Hardpoints: OK.

Utility Mounts: OK.

Heat Dissipation Array: OK.

Frame-Shift Drive: FAIL.

Short-Range Radio Array: OK.

Long-Range Comm Array: OK.

Cargo Bays: OK.

Cargo Hatch: OK.

Lifts & Entrances: OK.

Misc Systems: ALL OK.

Power-On Self Test Complete. Thank you for choosing Core Dynamics. No critical POST errors. Please isolate any failed systems, then press "Continue."

[CONTINUE] [VIEW MISC]

He let out a sigh of relief. All in all, it was a lot better than he had feared. He reached out and wordlessly tripped the breakers for the Frame-Shift Drive. He couldn't really go anywhere off-planet now, but that was okay. He hadn't been planning to until he'd disabled the EMP beam at least. As soon as he pressed the "Continue" button, he heard the sudden crash and low hum as the reactor restarted, and decided now was probably a good time to let Oz know what was going on.

'Good news,' he said, fighting to keep a smile off his face as he heard the ship come to life around him, lights flickering from emergency to full-power and life support whining as it restarted. 'We've got everything back except the thing that allows faster-than-light travel, but that's okay because there's no chance we'd be using it in-atmosphere anyway.'

The harsh thrum of an air compressor cut off what he was going to say next, but that was okay because he'd got the pertinent info across. He stood and stretched, before closing the panel and resetting the securing clips. There was a low buzz coming from the distributor now, as the ship woke up and pulled more power through the buses.

'Good, because you just lit up like a Grimmsmas tree. That Bullhead is coming right for us. Where are the doors?'

'By the nose landing gear, so probably underground, or you can climb the hull. There should be docking ports on port and starboard sides at front, middle, and back. The front ones are probably also underground, but you might be able to get to the middle ones.'

'On my way.'

'Be careful, duralium is slippery when wet. I'll hold off the startup sequence until you're aboard.'

'I don't need to climb, the middle one is at ground level. I'm aboard.'

'Good. Bridge should be signposted from there. Find a lift and go up.'

As Tom started to make his way towards the bridge, Ariana – his COVAS – interrupted his thoughts. 'Shipwide net detected, do you wish me to interface?'

'Yes please.'

'Syncing data. Please wait.'

After a couple of minutes and several flights of stairs, he asked 'Status?'

'Sensor net online, data synced. Is this the AERV Democratic Circus?'

'Yes.'

'Confirmed. Net codes match. I'm sending internal & external sensor data to your HUD now, you should see a minimap. We've detected a ship of unknown design and origin circling, possible hostile intent. They have weapons deployed.'

'Designate that design of aircraft as a "bullhead", Ariana.'

'Confirmed. Caution: one entity detected aboard, headed for the bridge. Humanoid, possible hostile intent, carrying a cane that cleverly conceals a weapon.'

'Only one entity?'

'Yes. It would appear whatever those things that attacked you earlier were, they were the only ones aboard.'

'Good good. Describe the other entity please.'

'Gathering data… Grey hair, pale skin, clothing in mostly shades of green, carrying bag.'

'Designate as ally.'

'Are you sure?'

'Confirm.'

'Confirmed designated as ally.'

Tom saw the blip on his minimap go from hollow orange to hollow green, and smiled. COVAS' really were useful sometimes, even if they weren't really COVAS any more. The name – Cockpit Voice Assistant – had been from their inception, when they had been designed to help a single pilot control and manage a ship the size of a skyscraper. Now, though, they had evolved into full-on personal assistants, running on a RemLok undersuit's processing core.

He passed through a final door and arrived on the bridge, and immediately initialised the startup procedure, watching with one eye as successful system check indicator after successful system check indicator scrolled on his upper-right status holopanel, and with the other eye the Bullhead slowly coming in to land next to the ship. He saw someone – several someones – drop out of the Bullhead before it landed, and begin running towards the ship.

'Possible hostiles closing on ship. On-foot, one hundred metres, defined hostile stance, all with weapons drawn.'

'Thank you, Ariana.' he answered. He turned to his right hand holopanel, hit the "Functions" page selector, and hit the "Lockdown External Doors" switch.

'Closing & Locking Airlocks & Hatches.' Ariana informed him quietly, and a moment later he heard and felt the ker-chunk of the external airlock doors Ozpin had opened slamming shut.

'Designating external humanoids as "hostile",' Ariana informed him. In the bottom left of his HUD, he saw those three grey hollow blips go red. 'They are escalating their hostile stance. Shipboard weapons currently unavailable.'

Ozpin skidded onto the bridge, out-of-breath and blue in the face, and hit the door control before slumping into his right-hand chair. Tom dismissed his helmet and shut down his shields with a quick series of blinks, and grinned. 'Thought you'd never show, Oz.'

'Startup procedure?' asked Oz between gasps for air.

'Pretty much done,' answered Tom. 'Just waiting for final confirmation of system check and then I can start switching stuff on.'

'So you haven't started?'

'Oh, no, we've been going for a while. Most of startup is just system checks though, making double and triple sure the ship is ready for spaceflight. Also, I've locked down all exterior doors. They won't be getting in for a little while, even with plasma torches.'

'Good work,' panted Ozpin. 'I rather -'

'Final systems check complete,' interrupted Ariana over the bridge speakers. 'I am now synced with the ship and able to offer full COVAS functionality. Please inform when ready to initiate cold start.'

'Confirm,' answered Tom immediately. He turned and grinned at Ozpin. 'Let's get moving, eh?'

'Powerplant operational. Initialising all systems. Welcome, Commander Cyrus Quillon.'

His sensor display suddenly lit up as it began being fed sensor data, and a moment later he felt the familiar cold crawl of quickmatter, his chair dispensing it to mould specifically to him and memorise his body shape. Ozpin yelped in surprise and sprang out of his chair as it started to do likewise.

'Relax, Oz, it's quickmatter. Pliable, infinitely reformable material with a myriad of uses. In this case, it's being used to read your body shape so it can cocoon you if you need it. It won't trap you unless I tell it to.'

After a long second Ozpin took his seat again, and while he stiffened when it started to crawl over him, he didn't move. After a moment, it vanished, as it did the same from Tom's chair.

'What..?'

'Now it knows your body shape. If I make manoeuvres in excess of 6 gees, or the ship is forced to take over and fly for me, or we start taking damage, it'll deploy quickmatter in a fraction of a second to cocoon us and prevent injuries.'

'All ship systems online. Ship ready for departure. Thrusters at standby. Ready when you are, Cyrus'

Looking forward, Tom saw white pilot lights flickering in retro jets all the way along the hull, stretching out in front of him until it met the ground in a mess of crushed trees and exposed dirt, already starting to be covered in grass afresh. The ship was still in almost-pristine condition, and he found himself very impressed with Core Dynamics. He summoned his controls with a gesture, and curled his hands around them. They felt familiar. They felt… right.

He ignored the burning hunger in his gut, as he'd done all evening. His RemLok suit was still taking care of his hydration and nutrient requirements, but taking care of nutrient requirements was very different to food. He'd get enough of that soon, but for now they needed to get moving, before whomever was attacking them called the entire forest. He pulled up on a hat on the back of his throttle, and the thrusters came to life with a sudden vibration and low rumble.

A moment later, quickmatter suddenly exploded around him, cocooning all of him except his neck, head and arms. 'Under Attack,' barked Ariana urgently. 'Targets directly below, ten metres, proximity alert.'

Tom slammed his thumb down on the "reverse thrust" button and pushed the throttle wide open. White flame exploded around the front of his ship as its reverse thrusters discharged directly into the mud. A moment later the ship came free with a horrible scraping noise and a judder, and accelerated backward away from the ground. He levelled off, closed the throttle, pointed theAERV Democratic Circus in roughly the direction from which they had come, released the reverse thrust button, rammed the throttle wide open again, and then hit the Boost button on the top of his throttle.

The acceleration was instant. The thruster roar became more visceral, almost sounding like a series of explosions rather than a rumble. It felt like he'd been punched in the back, as it always did, and they went from zero to 200m/s in about three or four seconds. Then he pulled back, and climbed. He didn't stop climbing until they hit 30km altitude, and only then did he feel safe enough to open the planetary map, plot a course for Beacon Academy, and let the autopilot take over. A moment later, Ariana started playing music from his flight playlist quietly. Tom recognised it as part of his Frameshift & Starports: Frameshift Suite soundtrack, specifically Movement Seven. He stretched out, enjoying the music and the chance to relax.

'Remarkable,' whispered Ozpin, standing and walking slowly to a window as the quickmatter finally retracted, the ship beginning a slow, lightly banked turn to the northeast. 'We're… so high up. I can see… the curvature of Remnant. I…'

He trailed off, lost for words. Tom saw a single tear track its way down his cheek, and smiled sadly. 'I never really thought about what this would feel like to someone who'd never flown in space before, or never even thought it would be possible. I'm sorry, I should have warned you.'

'No, I… I'm glad you didn't. What a wonderful surprise. I should have expected it, really, but I didn't. Thank you.' Ozpin said no more, but didn't move a muscle from where he stood.

Tom smiled, stood, and said quietly 'I'll be downstairs making myself food. Do you want hot chocolate or anything?'

'I… No, I'm… fine, thank you. This is… the most beautiful thing…'

Tom shook his head a little, still smiling, and made his way back out of the bridge and down one deck to the main galley. They had a coffee machine, a kettle, some teabags, some milk and a small snack supply on the bridge, but he needed actual food. He could sense the ship breathing as he walked, the subtle vibrations in the deck plating, the occasional distant thrum of a manoeuvring thruster, the low rumble of the main thrusters and the constant quiet roar of air passing over the hull. Even up here where the air was relatively thin, 289m/s was more than fast enough to generate a deafening wind noise over such a non-aerodynamic ship. He could only praise whomever fitted the sound insulation for not skimping.

As he made himself a little cheese & ham toastie and some tea, he also made Ozpin hot chocolate. He knew the man had said no, but he was clearly out of sorts over seeing space for the first time, even if it wasn't really space and merely the mid to upper atmosphere. If it came to it, Tom himself wouldn't say no to a little hot chocolate. He wanted to eat a lot more than a ham and cheese toastie, but knew all too well the dangers of transitioning to proper food too quickly after surviving on RemLok recycled minerals for too long.

He carried his food and drink back up to the bridge in one arm, and Ozpin's hot chocolate in the other hand. Ozpin was still stood in exactly the same place as he had been when Tom had left twenty minutes earlier, openly crying. Wordlessly, Tom placed his hot chocolate next to him, and then went and sat back down in the centre seat. The two of them passed the next several hours in quiet contemplation, with Tom trying to work out how to word a request for assistance – one that would no doubt be broadcast all throughout inhabited space due to its significance and the significance of the planet involved – and Ozpin staring enraptured out of the massive bridge windows.

Sometimes, no words are better than any at all.

LB

The same land that had taken them weeks to cross on the outward journey vanished behind them in a matter of hours. Far sooner than he had expected, Tom was angling the ship into a steep descent, bringing them in towards the spires and towers of Beacon to land. He could see, far below and in front of them, plumes of engine exhaust slowly rising higher as, no doubt, Vale attempted to intercept what they saw as a possible threat.

It wasn't likely they'd be at his projected altitude by the time he passed over them, and even if they were they wouldn't be able to do much to the Democratic Circus, with her energy shielding, military-grade composite armoured hull, and anti-projectile point defence. Never the less, though, caution was to be advised, and so he'd followed Ozpin's judgement and waited until later than he usually would to descend. They were now screaming downward at a negative pitch angle of almost forty degrees, far steeper than the twenty to twenty-five degrees he'd normally use during a landing approach. The quiet roar of air passing over the hull was gradually getting louder and higher in pitch as they descended into thicker air, and he was keeping an eye on the heat dissipator utilisation gauge as it slowly climbed higher and higher.

They screamed down over the city, still at full speed, leaving the Bullheads sent to intercept them far in their wake. Tom waited until the last possible second, when it seemed like there were scant seconds until he buried the nose of his ship into the courtyard, and then pulled back hard and zeroed the throttle in the same moment. They were pushed forward and down in their seats as the flight computers did their level best to comply with the commands they were given, long plumes of white-hot hydroplasma streaking out in front of the ship as the reverse thrusters roared. Next to him, Ozpin groaned as their weight felt like it sextupled and his COVAS silently popped up a "High G-Force" warning in his status panel, but then they were through the worst of the manoeuvre. The ship came to a rest, a subtle vibration thrumming through the deck plating as her manoeuvring thrusters fought gravity to keep her airborne, but they had arrived.

At Beacon.

Finally.

Tom cracked the throttle a little, and the ship accelerated to about 10m/s, as he looked for a landing spot big enough for her. After a moment, Ozpin spoke as he stood, pointing towards Vale city proper. 'You see the patch of open ground between us and the landing pads? Is that a decent enough size?'

Tom turned in his seat and saw the patch of ground Oz was pointing to, previously unnoticed as even with their descent angle it had remained out of visible eyesight below the hull that stretched out in front of the bridge. "It might be, but it'll be tight. I'll have to park us partially over the top of that boulevard-path-thing. Might knock out some streetlights if we settle into the ground even a little. You're right though, I don't really see anywhere else suitable.'

People were coming running out of buildings now, some with weapons drawn, and Tom felt the vibrations in the deck change and heard the reactor note alter as the ship escalated her combat stance. She was bristling now, ready to deploy hardpoints and open fire in the blink of an eye, and he knew that could end badly for all involved. Even as he navigated the ship towards his chosen landing spot the ship escalated again with a quiet thrum, the shields now being brought to full strength, and he presumed someone had taken aim. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ozpin stiffened as he realised what was likely going on.

'Ariana, remain at readiness but do not further escalate combat stance until I advise otherwise, even if we start taking fire. Confirm receipt of orders.'

'Confirmed. Freezing combat readiness stance until further notice.'

He saw Ozpin relax a little, before stumbling as he swung the nose around to line up with the rather tight landing space. He deployed the landing gear and activated the landing lights with the same finger, straddling the two switches, before beginning a slow descent straight down towards the ground. The manoeuvring thrusters hummed, fighting gravity while also allowing it to pull them down, and after a moment landing callouts started.

'Fifty metres to touchdown.'

They came level with the top of the Beacon Academy tower, and for a moment saw the interior of Ozpin's office, before it was snatched out of view as they kept descending.

'Thirty metres.'

His sensor display transformed, suddenly showing the ground. He was trying his best to plant his ship in a space barely big enough for it, with the stone pillars of the courtyard on one side, and occupied Bullhead landing pads on the other. In front of and behind him were two rivers, close enough that he'd be overhanging them with the front and back of the ship, and the landing gear would barely miss them.

'Twenty metres.'

He slightly adjusted the ship's trajectory as it drifted sideways, likely due to the wind. They were right on a clifftop, after all.

'Ten metres.'

He heard the distant crunching and snapping of trees as the hull started to crush them, his ship replicating audio he normally wouldn't have had a chance of hearing. The manoeuvring thrusters started picking up debris and dirt and throwing it in all directions, and Ozpin winced as an entire streetlight uprooted itself and took flight towards the watching students. It suddenly stopped dead in midair just before reaching them, before dropping to the ground.

'Glynda will have your head for that.'

Tom grinned. 'All's fair in love, war, and landing a fuck-off massive spaceship in a civilian area. I think that's how the saying goes?'

Oz chuckled, shaking his head. 'Hardly civvies, Tom,'

'Oz, they're not even licenced yet. Doesn't get more civvie than that, even if they are allowed to throw around lethal weaponry while on campus.'

A moment later, the whole ship jolted and settled, the manoeuvring thrusters cutting out as the landing gear made contact, and the Weight on Gear sensors activated. He heard the steady thrum of the reactor step down several volume notches as the power draw decreased suddenly, and the quiet whine of the flight control systems and mechanics dying away as the ship settled.

'Landing successful, stability rated as Good. Engines disengaged. Ship entering standby, combat readiness de-escalating.'

'Thank you.'

He deactivated the landing lights and nav lights, leaving just the external position lights on, before standing and stretching.

'Let's go and face the music, eh?'

Ozpin chuckled, and gestured to the door. 'Lead the way, Commander.'

AN: Longest chapter I've ever written and then some. I was going to continue it, but this was just too good a place to end it. It felt right. I'll start work on the next chapter within a day or two, and I hope you enjoy this. Reviews welcome!