Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth and WB, I own nothing.
Episode II: "Captain Who;
Wake Me Up"
For a person coming out of starvation, their first meal should consist of food that was easy to digest. Liquids were preferable, and they should eat with small bites. A gradual increase in quantity and variety over days will get them back to full health.
But pizza.
Blake and her fellow survivors could barely think past those two words, and Jaune Arc was not their doctor. After plopping a stack of pizzas on the table, he gave them each a gel-like block that had 'Iron Belly' stenciled on the sides, and let them go at it. Thus far, the Genni-make supplement—which provided her a temporary and artificial lining for the stomach—has done a good job keeping said organ from rupturing, so she felt confident in taking on a fifth slice. Around the table, the others did the same and the meal continued with no end in sight.
Weiss was the only one to voice a half-hearted complaint, something about pizza being terrible for one's health and medicinal cures being no substitute for a proper diet. Blake tuned that out to better focus on chewing. However pizza was made, it likely possessed more nutrients than what she used to eat. For her, a proper diet equated to a stomach that did not growl, and it'd take a long time yet for her to kick that mindset.
She downed the seventh slice in ten seconds flat, and with it came the beginning of satiety. On the eighth slice, the drive to gorge herself eased to the point where she could sit back and savor the taste at a more sedate pace.
With the edge of desperation taken off, the name of the ship floated to the top of her consciousness again. A bubbling giddiness rose in her chest, and Blake shifted her attention from the feast to the environment that existed beyond the table.
She'd seen the Honey Starbright only once before from miles away, as it flew over the sky of her home planet. The fabled ship was as she had remembered. And here, inside, it was better than she imagined.
Split into three sections, the ship comprised of the cockpit, a massive one-room space utilized as the central hub, and a rear segment that made up the bulk of the ship. Upon her first sighting of it a few years ago, she had likened its shape to a sword with a slender hilt, an ornate guard, and a short conical blade.
The midsection, where their meal took place, was essentially a large sphere of glass through which they could enjoy a view of outer space. Starting from the back of the sphere, a gold band looped its way around the exterior of the vessel, circling a few times until it terminated above the cockpit. Thankfully for her nerves, the floor beneath their feet was opaque. By the feel of it, the smooth white surface seemed to be some sort of metal alloy.
Visible from her seat, two massive rings encircled the rear section, spinning in slow revolutions counter to each other. The rocket boosters interspersed along the rings came in and out of view, their diamond shape jutting out like spear tips.
The cockpit resembled another spear point, one filigreed by a bright yellow metal that twisted and swirled to create intricate patterns. The same style of embellishment continued along the cockpit walls until it reached the sphere. There, they spread over the two pieces of curving, curling metal that formed the wings. The ornamentation engendered the image of a pleasure spaceyacht or a ceremonial craft in her mind. The telltale muzzles of cannons embedded in the wings let her know the ship was anything but.
Along one side of the interior, a curved staircase hugged the glass wall, winding its way up to a second level that extended for a third of the first floor's length. Doors on both the levels connected to the rest of the ship.
The large set of doors behind her led to the series of corridors that Jaune had guided them through earlier. She did not get a chance to explore much back there beyond the docking bay they first arrived in, a bathroom where the group showered off their grime (and chugged down water from a drinking fountain), and the main hallway leading to here. As for the doors on the platform above, Jaune told them those would grant entrance to the various crew and guest quarters.
Blake kept turning her head to and fro, back and forth, taking in every detail from the ship's design to the furniture of the room to the eclectic collection of items sprinkled throughout the chamber. She would bet money those were mementoes of past adventures, and brought with them all sorts of questions. Like, which solar system was that diorama even of? Or what was in that block of crystal? She could see a tiny glowing object at the very center—
"Yo Blake, watch your pizza. The sauce's dripping."
"Oh!" Blake cupped a hand under the slice of pizza to catch the drops of sauce, putting it back on the plate before using a napkin to wipe the table. "My bad."
Yang had already returned to her meal, but Weiss looked at her with disapproval. The singer's expression then turned pensive. She glanced in the direction of Jaune, who'd flopped in a boneless heap on one of the sunken circular couches and was fiddling with a hardlight datapad, then leaned closer to whisper.
"You're gawking. I know it's a bit of an eyesore—" Eyesore!? "—but let's not disparage our host. We each are entitled to our own eccentricities." Eccentricities!?
Blake sputtered incoherently, torn between educating this foolish girl on her ignorance and slapping her for those insults. She settled on staring in muted askance.
Weiss raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
Silence. The singer huffed.
"What?"
Rather than answering, Blake panned her gaze around the Honey Starbright to confirm that they had looked at the same thing. She spread out her arms as if to encompass all of the ship, and spoke in a voice filled with incredulity.
"Don't you find it amazing?"
Not only Weiss, but Yang and Ruby too met her question with dubious expressions.
"I mean, it's very...retro?" Yang indicated the polished wood banisters and balcony. "That's not something you often see anymore. Kinda cool if you're into that."
"This feels like a rich kid's yacht," contributed Ruby.
"Hey! My personal ship is a sleek, minimalist beauty of understated tones, thank you very much! I would never buy something this kitsch. It's not the done thing these days." Yang rolled her eyes at Weiss' attempt at being relatable, then turned to Blake.
"Don't get me wrong, I can see the charm here. But the shape just doesn't scream 'fast' to me, and that's what I like, ya know? It could also use a good clearing out. Some of these stuff look like junk. Like, what even is that?"
Blake followed where Yang's finger pointed. Mounted on the back wall, above the doors to the rear section, was a...she wanted to say a wooden wheel. The spokes extended beyond the rim, though, so she hardly understood how it can roll on a road. An embarrassing ten seconds passed as she made neither head nor tails of it.
Gamely, she protested, "There's probably a significance to it. The position clearly indicates pride of place."
"This place is like my father's study, just…tackier."
"How can you say that? This is the Honey Starbright!"
By then, Blake was starting to notice a sense of disconnect between her and the others. Their faces showed honest confusion over the ship's name, as if it did not explain every point she was trying to make.
"You're joking. You must have heard of it," She murmured, now unsure of herself. Seeing them wrack their brains, her cat ears drooped.
It had been less than four years ago. It was the most momentous event in the history of her people. The story of an empire falling, a planet freed, and the flagship that bravely led the charge. Surely, they had to know.
Finally, in a hesitant tone, Yang offered, "I think there was a documentary with that name?"
Her tone suggested she never actually watched the content of that documentary, and Blake wilted further. A burst of hope sprang to life when the first hint of recognition alighted in Ruby's eyes.
"I remember now! I see it on the news sometimes. It's the ship that lets you ride for free, right?"
Blake sighed. Another miss, albeit closer this time.
"That's not strictly true."
What he said, she thought, before jolting in her seat. Looking over to the couch, she met Jaune's lazy gaze. He had turned his body around to face them, his arm on the back of the couch. Yang, Ruby, and Weiss flushed red in embarrassment as, evidently, the captain was able to overhear their conversation from his seat. Going by the slight smirk on his face, he knew they knew.
"We prefer our passengers pay for passage. It's just that we—sorry, habit—I occasionally take on people in circumstances where they can't, or when their destination is on the way that I'm already going." Yang appeared skeptical.
"That policy can't be good money."
Jaune shrugged. "The 'picking up people' thing is tradition so I'm not about to stop. Besides, I do all sorts of jobs to make up for it. Courier service, taxi, scouting, a bit of bounty hunting. Anything, really."
"What were you doing before you rescued us?" Ruby asked, curious.
"I was taking a trip to John's Rocky Road." Four perplexed sets of eyes greeted him. "Really? You haven't heard of it? Well, it's a way station on the edge of the Blasted Castle asteroid belt, and they make the best smoothies in this corner of space. Rumor says they've rediscovered a lost flavor. Something called…strawberry."
Blake was interested. Very interested. Food she has yet to taste? Sign her up!
Her companions, however, were not so impressed.
"That's it?"
"Are you jobless?"
"Wha—No. No. Noooo-kay, so that's technically true, but only because I just finished a delivery run. Like, oodles of Lien's worth. I can take some time for myself!"
Even Blake had to admit, he sounded a touch defensive. Before they could comment, however, their last member got her lightbulb moment at the mention of a delivery. Weiss gasped, and jabbed a finger in Jaune's direction.
"You. You're the one that lost half a dozen crates of Lotus Blossom wine my parents ordered! They costed a fortune."
Jaune blanched. "I did not!"
"You must have. I remember my mother was very angry when it did not arrive for our Year of the Snake sendoff ball." Jaune raised a finger, about to protest. He paused, and lowered the finger.
"Year of the Snake. Snake to Rabbit is ten years." He held his chin in thought, whispering to himself. "That's under the old captain. I'm not so sure about the jobs she took on back then."
"So I'm likely right."
Weiss smirked, sure of her victory.
The duo seemed a joke, a boy two heads taller shrinking behind the cover of the backrest to avoid the petite girl's accusatory glare. Jaune's eyes darted left and right in a furtive search for an escape route.
"L-let me check the archives real quick."
He bolted from his seat, heading straight for an area under the staircase cordoned off by shelves. Intrigued, Blake got up to follow him. After a beat, Weiss, Yang, and Ruby rushed over.
What the captain had termed 'the archives' consisted of three shelves surrounding a set of information terminals, with a gap for people to enter the space, all set on a soft blue carpet. A comfy armchair rested next to the glass wall, a small table by its side on which a floating rock bobbed up and down. The shelves themselves carried more knick-knacks she wanted to ask about, along with rows after rows of hologram albums and hardlight data scrolls. The true surprise that made her raise an eyebrow were the printed pictures placed in frames and actual bound books. The former was just uncommon but the latter was…rare, in many ways. At the bookstores she visited so far on her trip, any that carried paper books displayed them like they were priceless treasures. Cost like it, too.
She drifted over, a tentative hand opening a book cover with care, lest she damaged it. Inside, she found a messy scrawl instead of even printed type. Squinting, she deciphered the writing at the top. It was a name, and a year fully written out. She gasped in disbelief.
The journal entries therein recounted the many travels of the Honey Starbright under this particular captain, three thousand plus some hundreds of years ago. Blake was struck by the simultaneous urge to back away from the artifact at speed, and to snatch it from the shelves to read from cover to cover. She practically vibrated in place as the two desires warred in her mind.
"Ha! I knew it!"
The captain's triumphant shout woke her from her stupor. He was pointing at the terminal's screen, which had opened to display a list. A flick of his hand and the list scrolled from top to bottom.
"There's nothing here about any delivery for cases of wine." He pressed on one of the tabs near the top of the screen. "And look. Inventory. Alcohol, with receipts. They're all cheap stuff, nothing close to the level of Lotus Blossom."
Weiss studied the two lists herself. Once finished, she wore a mortified expression.
Bowing her head, she said, "I apologize for my conduct."
The formality appeared to have unnerved Jaune, and his attitude did an about-face.
"Whoa, hey, it's no big deal."
"No, I should not have accused you of incompetence, especially after you have saved our lives. Furthermore, my comments towards your ship was done in poor taste..."
Blake tuned out their back and forth assurances of there being no animosity, more interested in the terminal and the fount of information it held. A questioning tilt of her head was answered by an obliging wave from Jaune, and she sidled her way in front of the screen.
A quick skim through the inventory list proved a dry read. Looking higher, she browsed over the tabs under the heading 'Year of Snake, Eleventh Cycle', which broke down the various activities of the ship in that period, from jobs taken to maintenance and other expenses to a chart of their destinations, and more. One tab was titled 'Photos'. Hearing no rebuke from Jaune yet, Blake opened it.
Memories unfolded before her, a walk through someone else's life. Scenes of meals, daily tasks, celebrations, and travels—images of both mundane days and unique sights—flashed past the screen. There were individuals who consistently appear from photo to photo, the crew and its captain. Many faces appeared only once or twice, passengers or perhaps people met along the way. The backdrop often featured this very room, or the Honey Starbright in the distance. A few of the objects that festooned the glass sphere gained new meaning as their history became known to Blake. Hundreds of pictures, some taken inexpertly, others crisp and clear, blended together to breathe life to a legend.
She came across a photo that caused her to pause. It was a panoramic view of the sphere, taken from near the cockpit door. For how spacious the room seemed to her, the sheer number of people in the picture filled it overfull. They made a colorful ensemble, their clothes running the gamut from sharp military uniforms to scruffy overalls to billowing silk robes; one man was positively filthy, dressed in a ragged admiral's coat and partying on without a care. Many bore wounds and bandages, yet it stopped not a one from their revelry.
Tables piled high with dishes, and Blake drooled over cuisine she never got the chance to taste. The second floor had turned into a dance floor, the sunken couches the site for drinking games. Young and old took part in both, or otherwise talked and joked and ate food. A group of intellectual types congregated on one side of the room, datapads in one hand and drinks in the other. Fireworks—holograms, they must be—exploded overhead. Those with jetpacks or anti-gravity gear floated in the air or danced on the walls.
Her breath hitched as, among humans and blue-skinned Genni, she spotted the telltale animal parts that denoted Faunus. Ten years ago meant they were either those who managed to escape offworld or the descendants of people who did. So few they were. Five or so in attendance, all told.
Blake did a double take when she recognized signs of the machine races, their proximity to the Faunus sparking her anxiety. She relaxed upon noticing that they differed from the accursed Botheads. Those heartless things hadn't bothered to develop faces that could express emotion or 'needless features' like hair. The robotic people here—seams, ball joints, glowing eyes, and all—appeared alive in a way the Botheads never could. Metal bodies hosting AI minds, they partied with the same fervor as those made of flesh.
And finally, just off-centered, she saw him. In a hoodie with the same bunny logo on his t-shirt now, the kid in the picture would be about ten or eleven years of age at most. He was one of those wounded, his arm in a sling and the cast covered in signatures. An orange-haired girl was scribbling another message on it, a rude one judging by the way a boy, black-haired but for a pink lock, tried to stop her. A redhead rounded out the quartet, hands over her mouth and trying all her might not to laugh. Jaune hadn't realized what the other child was doing yet. He looked overly proud, chest puffed up and beaming a sunshine smile.
An older woman stood behind them; the previous captain that Jaune mentioned, Blake would guess by her recurring presence in the album. Dark of skin, black hair with strands aging silver. She wore a blue hooded cloak. A tricorn hat perched on her head. She peered down at Jaune with a hand ruffling the boy's blond hair. Worry and exasperation contested with pride on her face, a look of a mother to her child.
The last notable thing in the picture was a number of bottles, glowing pink, held in many a hand. Far in the background sat half a dozen storage containers, the opened tops emitting the same pink hue, their sides embossed with a snowflake symbol.
Blake stifled a giggle and closed the tab. No need to mention that. Let the party remain a good memory for the silly young captain.
She glanced behind her and noticed she was the last one in the archives, the others since relocated back to the dining table. Their voices carried, something about a race with Jaune sweeping his arms to illustrate his tale. The pizzas were gone, replaced by a selection of drinks. Blake thought of staying to peruse the journals on the shelves, but the chance to hear a firsthand account was too good to miss. She can always come back later.
As she exited the archives, Blake slowed down then stopped in her tracks. The smile she wore slowly wilted as a sense of wrongness sent a shiver up her spine. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for the source. She found it by the absence of what should be there.
In the album, the ship had been so lively, a place full of laughter, tears, and triumph. This room once played host to hundreds. People of all stripes walked its length.
Present time, they numbered five. Four more than there had been two hours ago. The Honey Starbright that had so awed her, it looked so empty now.
Where did everyone go?
She dreaded to ask, and wondered whether Jaune would answer even if she did.
It was in fretful silence that Blake rejoined the table. Jaune's recounting of his space race has ended in the intervening time, succeeded by an ongoing discussion led by him and Yang over the ship's performance. A hologram of the vessel hung a few inches above the table, projected by a datapad placed between them. The professional racer's eyes roamed over the scale model, disbelieving.
"It doesn't work like that," she declared, "It doesn't!"
Adamantly, Jaune insisted, "I'm telling you, this thing takes corners like a king. The shape isn't so ridiculous if you've any idea what a bee looks like. Those little insects zip around like lightning." Yang jabbed a finger at the hologram.
"But this is a ship! Look at how it's structured. The center of mass is all in the rear, so there's no pivot at all. The only way to do a hairpin like that requires you to cut power completely, free swing, then generate enough thrust for a full reverse course. The energy needed for the dampeners to counteract those forces would drain the tank dry before the halfway point, and that's not mentioning the heat shields to keep the boosters from melting. By the end, everyone inside is either ashes or splattered."
Next to her, Ruby tapped away on a second datapad. Seeming to come to a conclusion, she nodded.
"The energy calculations theoretically panned out, but only just, if you had enough Crystal to power three ships of this size. The part I don't understand is the maximum output. A ship that can take such a turn should be magnitudes faster, but you said it was beat out on the homestretch by a Polendina C-Core 2001. That… that means the performance is somehow variable? For the same function?"
"Ruby. Smarter people than me have tried to figure it out, and drank themselves stupid to stop the headache. On that note." Jaune pushed a glass of amber liquid in front of her.
Ruby stared at it for a moment. Then, she snatched up the glass and gulped down the content. The rest of the table snorted in amusement, knocking back their own beverages of choice. After, Jaune gestured at the hologram.
"See, you're looking at the Honey Starbright like…" He waffled a bit, before snapping his fingers. "Like it's a Polendina model, yes? Meticulously designed, every part labeled, fully-automated manufacturing from beginning to end. Each ship that comes out, you know precisely what it is capable of. The company is top class in the standardized method of shipbuilding, no doubt on that. Yet, that 'standardized method' has only been the norm for two thousand or so years."
Blake quirked her head. The journal she opened, it claimed this ship was around at least three thousand years ago.
"The oldest records for the Honey Starbright goes back seven thousand years. And they were recovered from a purge, so there's older ones we've lost."
Around the table, coughing and spit takes ensued. Even Blake, who was somewhat prepared, choked on her tea.
Weiss rasped out, "T-That's—but how!? This ship should be dust by now!"
"We do what every old ship does when their critical parts go obsolete. Change. Modify. Make do with what new piece would fit. Any port you go to will have a few vessels like that. Pirates embodied the practice. So do we, because there are parts on this thing that nobody even remember how to make. Spacecraft designs were wild back then."
"But for seven thousand years?" Yang said, bewildered, "You pretty much had to have replaced everything twenty times over by now. It might actually be cheaper to just get a new ship by that point."
Both Jaune and Blake gasped, offended by Yang's offhand suggestion.
"Then that wouldn't be the Honey Starbright, would it?" The boy exclaimed.
"Well, neither is this thing, technically."
Ouch. Blake would say that Yang was out of line, but she wasn't exactly wrong. Still, there's being blunt, and there's annihilating someone. She peeked at Jaune, prepared for tears.
Instead, he chuckled.
"Even if we didn't have a few original bits left, I would disagree with you."
He mulled in silence for a while. Then, with the hand holding a bottle of soda, Jaune pointed.
"Do you see that there?"
The quartet followed the direction of his finger, and found themselves looking at the strange wooden wheel above the doors.
"There's a story about that wheel. My old captain, she claimed it was a part of this ship once upon a time, if you'd believe it. Supposedly, waaaay back when the galaxy was mostly unexplored, people made ships out of wood." He smiled at their incredulity. "Now, I've no idea what that thing is good for, and I can't say if Honey Starbright really was so old, but the idea she passed on to me is it may be possible for that—" He gestured at the wheel. "—and this—" He spread his arms to indicate the room. "—to be the same ship."
He leaned over the table and, unbidden, Blake followed suit. His demeanor, so laid back and goofy in the short time she knew him, lost all vestiges of frivolity. What took its place was a new, heavy presence that filled the glass sphere.
"Every new captain who took up this post, became the captain of what they knew as the Honey Starbright. They accepted its purpose, its mission, and set out on the Galactic Ways. In their travels, through peace, through war, the ship inevitably takes on damage or a part would become worn, thus necessitating repairs. The captain then brings the ship into port, and finds the replacement for what was broken. After they do so, they would look at the ship, and see the Honey Starbright.
"As the years go by, they'd continue to make more and more changes. A couple of nuts and bolts here, a new control panel there, something with a heavier kick to deal with the pirates. The worst of days, however, will find the spaceship grounded with no good options. In that moment, they could have abandoned it. Could have bought a newer, faster ship. But they did the stupid thing, and poured every bit of Lien and ingenuity into devising a fix, because for them the only choice was ever the Honey Starbright.
"And for all they've done to keep it afloat, at the close of their many travels they will be able to bid adieu, just as their successor will bid hello, to the Honey Starbright. Because despite every patch and replacement, despite every workaround that got it flying again at the cost of irrevocable changes, they knew in their heart that it was still the same ship they first set out on all those years ago. The rocket boosters now glowed green. One of the cannons shoots with a pew-pew noise. Somehow, someway, the thing can turn on a coin but chug along like a tugboat. What lies at journey's end will be something near-unrecognizable, wholly unexplainable, yet—undoubtedly—it would still be my Honey Starbright."
Jaune waited a beat, then flashed a grin. The air of solemnity vanished as abruptly as it arrived.
"So kindly leave your logic out the airlock. I'm not selling my damn ship, it rides like a dream."
The trance he wrought over his audience shattered like glass. Blake covered her mouth, hiding a burst of giggles. She doubled over after catching sight of Ruby throwing her hands up in surrender and pouring herself another drink. The datapad full of calculations was left unresolved with a big frowny face drawn over it.
Yang had nodded along to the story, and accepted Jaune's reasoning without further protest. She had better, the hypocrite. Blake remembered how fervently the girl went on about her precious Bumblebee racecar.
Weiss, who Blake realized had stayed uncannily quiet so far, bore an expression indecipherable. Gone was the judgmental demeanor that palpably proclaimed her opinion even in the absence of words. She cast a considering gaze over the room she had dismissed as 'kitsch', ending with a far-off look into the depths of space. When her attention returned to the captain, there existed a glint of hope in her ice-blue eyes. The singer finally understood that it was no simple fool who had helped her.
Or, perhaps, it might be the subject of her scrutiny who'd undergone a change. No longer was he draped limp over the seat. Uplifted by boundless pride, a king rested on his throne. He wore the same easy mood like a cloak, but what appeared to others as laziness now carried the assuredness of experience. Looking upon this side of him, Blake could see a spark of that brave, confident child in the photo. She could almost believe him the hero of a war.
"Can you get me home?"
Weiss' voice came out as a plaintive whisper.
"T-The pirate fleet seeking my capture, they were willing to raid one of the highest-security cruise ship to get to me. I am not so naïve to think that they would stop after one attempt. I've not dared to ask you for help, as I thought you were...well..."
"Pathetic?" Jaune suggested with a rueful smile.
Weiss winced, as did Blake, Yang and Ruby. They did not gainsay him, however. At various points in the last few hours, each of them had thought it.
The singer gulped before continuing, "They number in the hundreds, and are ruthless besides. Had I a ship and crew of the Ironheart Armada at my service, I would still fear our chance of escape. Here I saw a ship much too slow, and you a crew of one. Everything logical told me this was a poor idea."
"Hm. It does sound like an unfair matchup, doesn't it?"
Weiss smiled. "Yet, you do not bat an eye. And you said to leave logic aside, you who captained a ship that should not be able to fly but clearly does. Call it a wish or a delusion, I find you are the only one who might consider my circumstance and see something other than despair. So I thought to take a chance. Can you get me home? Would you?"
The answer came simply, with no grand gesture or fanfare.
"Sure thing."
-o-
"Okay, miracle man. What's our first step?"
Much like Yang, Blake was eager to witness the Jaune Arc in action. More so, for Yang had not known his name before today. Her ears flicked excitedly as the captain stood up from his seat. She observed his every minute action, committing them to memory so she can tell the tale to her parents next time she dropped by her home.
When she first began her trip through the galaxy, she never could have dreamt to adventure on this legendary ship. Conjured images of the days to come arose in her mind, spinning a tale of daring deeds, ship-on-ship combat, a brave Cat Faunus coming to the captain's rescue, a duel upon the bridge to decide it all, and—*blush*—maybe a dashing pirate, too?
The last thirty or so pirates she met didn't exactly pan out, what with their poor hygiene and poorer attitude, plus the whole 'shooting at her' thing, but one fantasy already came true for her. In space, anything can happen.
Jaune reached for the datapad resting on the table, taking it in hand. A swipe banished the hologram to replace it with another program. His hands moved to opposite corners of the slate, pulling them apart to expand the hardlight screen before placing it in front of the four women.
"Fill out the passenger log for me, wouldja?"
As far as opening moves to a grand epic went, Blake can at least say that it was unexpected.
"Bookkeeping? Really?" She whined.
"Really, really. It's tradition."
That was the magic word, and Blake stood convinced. How could she not want a record of her name in the annals of history?
Four heads huddled together above the screen, reading the entry he prepared. They paused as one.
Weiss regained her composure first, and gave voice to what they were all thinking.
"You're kidding."
No reply was forthcoming, for Jaune had already strode away towards the cockpit. With no small amounts of incredulity, the passengers inputted their names one by one into the list.
That done, the others headed after Jaune, seeking further instructions. Blake lingered a moment longer with the datapad. She studied the entry, hoping for a hint of that man's thought process.
Boarding Date
Day 409, Year of the Rabbit, Twelfth Cycle, Azurite Millennium.
Captain in Command
Jaune Arc
Trip Duration
TBD
Purpose of Travel
Smoothie Run + Escort Mission
Destination
Planet: Neige II, Atlas Alliance Space
Passenger(s)
Ruby Rose
Weiss Schnee
Blake Belladonna
Yang Xiao-Long
Yup, he's kidding. Has to be.
Surely, Weiss has higher priority than a smoothie. Didn't she?
Author's Notes: Where did everyone go?
Some odd aesthetic choices for the ship, huh? There are reasons. It's not based on any particular spaceship. If anything, it's based on RWBY. No further explanation shall be forthcoming as of yet.
I always like to exaggerate something about Jaune in my stories. Well, here it's his legacy. He's going from a few generations of warriors dating back to the Great War to countless spaceship captains and their deeds through the ages. Note the point where he appeared most impressive to Blake, and what drove that attitude. Can someone say soul-crushing inferiority complex?
Calendars work differently after however many thousands of years in space. You'll figure it out as the story goes on.