Chapter 86 - Remnant - Mission Impossible

Year 73VE, February

Cover Art by Mi Chumi

[A/N] Because y'all deserved another chapter!

Atlas – Northern Solitas

"We'll be landing in about thirty minutes, Specialist Winter," the intercom crackled as Winter Schnee sat, the only passenger in the rear compartment.

As with every single time she had heard those words over the last two months, Winter felt a thrill run down her spine. A feeling that originated somewhere near the base of her skull and raced downward and outward.

Say it again. Say it again, her heart begged, though her face remained composed and her eyes betrayed nothing of her personal feelings. She was Winter Schnee, Atlas Specialist, not some swooning maiden.

Not a bending and stooping extension of her father's will.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she called back up toward the front. As usual, the small size of the Bullhead meant that the pilot or copilot could have merely turned and called back to her, but training dictated otherwise. Even Charlie indulged from time to time, though more often in jest.

Winter turned to her right to verify that her field pack was stowed and anchored securely, quick-release ready in case something unexpected happened during landing. Her additional gear, a special kit which she had put together after a thorough review of the mission requirements and potential scenarios, was stowed further back near the rear cargo-door, for deployment upon landing.

This would be her trial by fire. A test of her training, adaptability, and judgment. A test of Colonel Ironwood's trust in her.

I will not fail. Cannot fail.

The mere possibility ate at her insides in a way that her face would never betray.

Within minutes, the Bullhead was diving down through the cloud deck, through a haze of light snow, and toward the navigation beacon which Team November had set to identify what passed for the best landing location in the rocky snowscape. There was a sudden feeling of increased weight as the pilot expertly slowed the Bullhead, a few tugs in cardinal directions as he made small corrections, and then a combination of motorized whines and thumps as the engines reoriented and the Bullhead set down on extending landing gear.

"Wheels down. Cabin free," the copilot announced, and Winter immediately released her harness and that of her field pack, slinging it onto her back even as the rear cargo door began slowly opening. Lowering field goggles over her eyes to keep the snow flurries out, she eased toward the rear, and waited for that door to reach the ground with a soft bump as well.

A few yards away, she saw Team November's Bullhead, and closer still, a sight that brought a smile to her face. Three of the four members of Team November stood waiting for her. If her analysis was correct, Delta, Diego, would be somewhere in the vicinity, watching it all through binoculars, weapon safe but ready nearby.

Team November planned for contingencies. What if the Bullhead was a diversion? What if it had been hijacked by a terror cell? What if it was full of Grimm?

Some of those sounded inane or ridiculous. But Team November was still alive because they didn't assume stupidly improbable was the same thing as impossible. It was one of the many things she admired about them.

"Charlie," Winter called out, moving forward to disengage the brackets that held the rugged tote of additional gear in place. Echo and Foxtrot were by her side in a moment, shooing her away and lifting it easily. Winter wasn't weak, but they still, in some ways, treated the nearly-seventeen-year-old as a youngster. Charlie clasped her hand in greeting.

"Specialist Winter, how was your flight?"

"Uneventful," she smiled thinly, ice-blue eyes meeting his.

"The best kind, then." He turned toward the encampment but shot back over his shoulder. "Let's get you off this tub of rust so Lt. Fresca can get it back to base before it falls apart."

"I heard that," the Pilot called from the front of the craft. Charlie just grinned.

. . .

A few minutes later, her transport had disappeared through the haze, and she'd unpacked her cold weather gear, though she didn't need it in their primary bivouac tent. A portable dust heater and some impressive insulation technology kept the space warm enough. She just wanted it out, and near, because Team November had been wearing theirs. In truth, her Aura could keep her body from freezing, but it both drained it over time, and it made her stand out among her peers. And more than anything, she wanted very much to be an integral part of this team, not the odd Specialist out.

Charlie gestured toward a low canvas and frame seat around the central folding table. "Alright, the Colonel notified us that you'd be a little late joining us, which was surprising. Anything go wrong Atlas-side?"

Winter's face went grave, and she made careful eye contact with each of the three. She'd spent time considering how she would initiate this. "No. The Colonel was just concerned, and rightly so, that this being my first mission I might not be fully prepared. He wished to review all of my gear personally. You know how inexperienced I am, sir."

She had delivered the response in a matter-of-fact tone, and had the immense pleasure of seeing variations of confusion and disbelief on Echo and Foxtrot's faces. Charlie's expression betrayed nothing.

"Of course. Of course. And that's why you over-prepared, I assume," he nodded toward the tote that they'd hauled in out of the cold.

"Yes. The Colonel wanted to ensure we had everything necessary for a successful reconnaissance that could not be interdicted," she met the eyes of Echo and Foxtrot as she said the words, and their faces went stony.

"I see. Well, you're here now, Winter. What would you like to do first? We hadn't planned to begin assessment of Site Tumak for another few days, so we have plenty of time to get you oriented."

Winter nodded, "I'd appreciate a tour of base camp, as well as familiarizing myself with the cleared perimeter if possible, sir. As low-tech as possible to get a feel for the ground." She made a show of removing her own radio, and then her watch, and setting them carefully on the table in front of her.

To her satisfaction, Charlie shared a glance with the other two, and then tilted his head downward. "You get that, Delta? Meet us at Alpha, minimal gear."

"Roger that, Charlie," came the voice from his radio.

. . .

Within a few minutes the four of them had met their fifth, all wearing nothing but their cold-weather gear and carrying only with basic side-arms as a precaution, and were walking a wide circuit just outside the perimeter of their encampment.

And still no one had asked her any questions, which she appreciated. Her self-deprecation, along with her use of 'sir' repeatedly, had resulted in the desired effect.

But she was glad to move away from the initial rendezvous point. Colonel Ironwood's warnings had made her more paranoid than she would have imagined possible. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Charlie's hand went up, calling for a halt.

He made a set of simple gestures low near his firearm's holster. Trouble?

Winter nodded and signed back. Eyes and Ears. He nodded and gave her a quizzical look, and she spelled out the letters AMI.

The look of disgust on his face spoke volumes. He turned to Foxtrot and made a series of rapid hand gestures, which boiled down to This is your baby.

"I forgot something back at camp. Be right back," the bleach-blonde Specialist said, and turned away. Echo nodded and went with her. The other three waited another few minutes before the duo returned. Foxtrot held a small hard-backed case, which she opened, and extracted a device with antenna and dials, which she powered on and began walking around the group as she stared at its screen.

Her gradual scowl was answer enough. She motioned them to separate, and then after a few more moments zeroed in on Charlie, finally motioning him to begin removing his jacket. Then his belt.

Thankfully, she stopped him there, and after a minute allowed him to put his jacket back on, by which point he was clearly pissed off.

They left the belt looped over a tree branch, and walked another fifteen minutes making a broad circle, before they stopped again, and she did a second scan, and then nodded to Echo and they disappeared back toward camp again.

When they returned, Foxtrot sighed. "Alright."

"Mother. Fuckers." Delta cursed. Winter had never seen the sniper so angry in her life.

"Can it, Delta," Charlie said, then focused on Foxtrot. "How confident are you?"

The communications expert's mouth twisted. "It's possible they've got something I can't find, or that they've gotten into my gear, I guess, but that's not very damn likely."

"They got into my gear," Charlie pointed out, motioning toward his now empty belt loops.

"You don't tear down your belt once a week for diagnostics, Charlie," Foxtrot said flatly. "Wasn't the buckle an award for that Merlot mission?"

Charlie gave a sour look. "Direct from General Cinerus, according to the Colonel. Godsdammit."

Winter watched all this in fascination and a small sense of rightness. Because on the one hand, this was all cause for great concern. On the other hand, it proved that Colonel Ironwood's suspicions, and the extreme measures she'd gone to so far, were not useless paranoia.

No, they were completely justified paranoia. Atlas Military Intelligence had infiltrated Team November.

"Any idea what device was in the belt?"

"Based on the signals, at the least it's a location tracker. Might have audio packet recording and burst transmission. Didn't see any lenses so probably no video. Can't tell without poking around on it."

"Which might alert AMI. Shit. And I liked that belt. Looks like it's going to be going for a little sight-seeing tour," Charlie turned to Winter. "Specialist Winter, congratulations on mission accomplished, if the mission was to have us pissed off, cold, and wary of every piece of gear that we own." He smiled to take the sting out of it. "Now that we can actually talk, what the hell is going on?"

Winter nodded, and leaned in. "The Colonel believes that Atlas Military Intelligence intends to use him, and through him, Cadet-Specialist Tortuga, in a way that will cause harm to the asset and may damage Colonel Ironwood's future standing with the General." And with that, she launched into a detailed explanation of how the Colonel had been approached, what future Specialist Tortuga's mission had been, the Colonel's suspicions, and what he hoped they could do about it.

"Fucking Colonel Breck needs a godsdammed IED in his dick-hole," Echo groused. "I'm freezing my ass off out here because of that asshole." Foxtrot nodded in commiseration.

"Well, that's not on the table, even if he does deserve it," Charlie warned. "We need to make plans, and make them fast, because now we have to figure out how to get our asses from out here in the middle of nowhere to southern Mistral and get set up, without letting AMI know we've changed our mission parameters dramatically, and we've got less than a week to accomplish all of that."

"First order of business is to clear a tent and get it moved out here," Delta said. "Unless you can clear all of base camp," he eyed Foxtrot.

She shook her head, "I can try, but if that belt is any indication, they likely have multiple devices, and that means they might have something I'd miss. Safer to take a random emergency tent out here, set it up, and check a few items carefully than risk missing one out of gods-knows how many devices in all our gear."

Winter smiled, again realizing that her careful preparation had paid off. "I brought replacement clothing from general stock, both cold and warm weather, with me. As a precaution, I had someone assist me with testing it all for unexpected electronics before departure," she added. "I also have some additional scanning devices packed away, though I dared not expose them until we had spoken. And I have brought what Dr. Buyanto assured me is a secure relay and encrypted scrolls, though he suggested I should not use them to communicate with anyone back at Atlas Headquarters, claiming that was too likely to be flagged in some manner even if they could not decipher the conversation."

"Right. Excellent work, Specialist," Charlie affirmed. Winter's lips threatened to smile, and she forced them into a thin line. "Alright. Let's get moving. Winter, you and Echo haul your special tote out here. Delta, you and Foxtrot grab an Emergency Shelter, scan the hell out of it, and get it set up too. Looks like this is our secondary base for at least the rest of today. Grab and scan anything else you consider mission critical for the moment."

. . .

Winter was impressed and pleased at how quickly they had both accepted her word and recommendations, and how smoothly they operated once set loose.

This is what I wanted. To be part of this machine.

It was a machine driven, at the moment, by anger and a desire to not freeze off various body parts.

. . .

Two hours later, the inside of the emergency shelter was slightly cramped, but it was at least warm. "Foxtrot, report."

Foxtrot's bleach-blonde brows drew down and her mouth went thin. "I've found a half-dozen surveillance devices in our portable gear that we weren't aware of," she rattled off a list of gear, "along with a beacon with dead-man annunciator attached to the Bullhead navigation systems."

"Fucking hell," Echo growled.

"At least they didn't bug your underwear," Delta said. "probably cause they couldn't handle how fast you go through 'em."

"Not funny, man."

"I'm trying to convince myself it's funny, so I don't end up court-martialed," Delta said with mock happiness.

"That's enough. Any chance you can spoof the locator on the Bullhead?"

Foxtrot shook her head, "Not with what I have available here. If I'd known ahead of time? Maybe."

"Alright, so the good news is, we can ditch all of the tainted personal gear and get replacements. The bad news is, we need transport," He stared off into the distance. "The good news is, I think I can take care of that."

. . .

When the message pinged on Reggie Cass's scroll, he read it twice before old habits kicked in. It was, frankly, gibberish. Or at least ninety percent of it was. Three things stuck out. One was a random word that was not at all random, but was a very old, very familiar codeword which only three or four other people in Remnant would recognize. The second item was a phrase that meant the sender was requesting immediate extraction, but indicating it was not dangerous.

The third item was a set of coordinates in northern Solitas.

. . .

It took them four trips with multiple backchecks of gear for unwelcome devices to get everything they believed they couldn't spare to the new Landing Zone, several klicks from Base Camp Tumak.

And back at Base Camp Tumak, Foxtrot and Winter had performed some limited magic of their own. They'd become reasonably confident there were no video recording devices, which had likely been deemed too obtrusive, bandwidth hungry, and likely to be noticed by those who'd placed surveillance on them. That left location and audio. So to counter that, they preprogrammed a scroll with snippets of conversations, along with the sounds of equipment being stowed or maintained, to be played randomly during daylight hours in the main tent. Charlie's notorious belt had been mounted on a small rover, which would periodically move around camp as well.

It was the best they could do with the time available to them.

When the Bullhead, shiny and new with the designation Vacuo-3 stenciled on the sides, touched down and the doors opened, they wasted no time.

"Let's roll, kids. We've got a long flight ahead of us, and we have to drop Reggie off in Argus on the way out."

"Aawww dad," Delta complained. "I was hoping for another three days in ass-deep snow. You ruin everything."

"Keep it up, and we'll make you sleep in a bathtub full of ice when we get to Lushu," Echo added helpfully as he and Foxtrot lifted a tote.

"Flirt," Delta leered, shouldering a pack.

"Not in front of Specialist Winter, you jackass, she's got standards."

"What's she doing with us, then?"

Winter smiled. "I am learning every day."

"Oh, you poor thing," Foxtrot mourned as she and Echo shuffled toward the cargo bay.

Charlie smiled, and turned to meet Reggie at the side passenger door.

"Reg."

"Charlie. Long time no see." In fact, the last time they'd set actual eyes on each other in person, Reggie had been drunk off his ass, and had called the entire Kingdom of Atlas a den of faithless backstabbing bastards. Charlie hadn't taken it personally, and they'd long since settled things between them over Scroll. Charlie considered him a friend, and vice versa.

But this? This was a Specialist mission, and he'd just dragged Reginald Cass, former member of Team Wildcard, call sign "Joker", into it. He'd had no choice, but… "I appreciate you helping us out here, Reg. I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't critical."

Reggie regarded his former Team Leader calmly. "I figured that. And don't worry about it. I'm in a good place." He nodded toward the Bullhead. "Business has been good. Better than expected, in fact. I've got a fourth bird on order."

Charlie nodded in appreciation as the rest of Team November finished stowing gear.

"We're clear, Charlie," Winter said carefully from behind him. "Mr. Cass."

"Specialist," Reggie nodded toward Winter, and his expression was unreadable. He turned to Charlie. "Let's get your team aboard. You can ride shotgun." He turned toward the cockpit, and glanced back. "In fact, I'd appreciate it. We've got several hours until we reach Argus."

. . .

When the panel slid closed between the cockpit and passenger area, Delta gave a low whistle. "Man, I didn't think I'd ever see Joker again."

"Yeah," Echo agreed, "he looks good though. You told us you'd run into him a few times in Argus, right Foxtrot?"

"Hmmhmm.." she said thoughtfully. "We've got some friends in common. He never acted like that around me, though."

"It must be… difficult," Winter hazarded. "To see your former teammates and know that… you can't be a part of that world." Foxtrot had warned her about Reggie's ignoble removal from the ranks of the Atlas Specialists. And it, along with what she had learned about Atlas Military Intelligence, had given her a new and rather less flattering view of the inner workings of her own Kingdom.

There were a few moments of silence. "Yeah. It was bullshit, what they did to Joker. Wasn't his fault that egg-head fucked up his own code and got auto-fragged. Don't care what they claim." He gave the rest of them a careful look. "Never letting them get away with something like that again. I'll either walk, or teach them a lesson if they try it. Retirement pensions can go fuck themselves." Winter saw the other two nod in agreement.

And in contrast, watching Team November… being a part of this mission, is giving me the opposite impression of other aspects of it. This is service. This means something, something my father would never understand.

. . .

Charlie and Reggie were quiet throughout takeoff. Reggie programmed in a flight path that kept the Bullhead low and made a long, lazy loop north and then around the coast of Solitas rather than directly overland. Finally he eased back with a sigh.

Charlie cleared his throat. "It's good to see you doing so well, Reg."

His former team member smiled, and it was actually a warm one. "Yeah. I've got good people, Charlie. Really good people." The smile thinned and he locked eyes with Charlie. "And I don't have the Atlas elites breathing down my neck either. Watch your back, Syl."

Charlie took a deep breath, exhaled. "The Colonel has our back, Reg."

Reggie's sour look spoke volumes. "He had mine too, but he can't protect everyone every time. If you're calling me in on this, even this far, it means you've got big problems. Big enough to fuck yourselves up royally."

Charlie nodded. "Possible. We're being careful." His eyes wandered around the cockpit. "This is a good bird. You weren't joking."

"I'll give you some stick time once we're clear of the coast."

Mistral - Argus

When Reginald Cass entered the basement of Pete's Emporium, its namesake met him at the door.

"You doing okay, bud?" Pete asked, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Behind him, Reggie could see that Sophia had spun around in her chair, and was watching him with a concerned expression.

These two people… these two people care about me, like no one else in Remnant.

Reggie pursed his lips and then nodded. "Yeah, Pete. I think I am. It was… hell it felt kinda good, seeing them again, but… I have a team," he gestured toward Sophia and then covered Pete's hand with his, gripping it firmly. "And I wouldn't trade it for all the Specialists in Atlas."

The relieved smile on Pete's face was all the confirmation he needed, and they made their way toward the conference table. Reggie sat with a relieved sigh. It was good to be back here.

"Did you find out what they needed a ride so badly for?"

Reggie barked a laugh. "Did I ever. Like I said before I left, the only reason they'd come to me is if they didn't trust the Atlas command chain. I doubted it was Ironwood, so that left General Cinerus or above, or a competing branch. And based on what he said, it's Atlas Military Intelligence, and it involves Menagerie." Pete gave a low whistle. "Exactly. From what little he was willing to tell me, they suckered Ironwood into loaning them one of his men to do a little recon, and they are trying to stab the Specialists in the back on the deal. Ironwood isn't taking too kindly to it, and my old crew are pissed as hell, too." He paused. "And I also found out that the Schnee family's oldest daughter is now a full-blown Specialist, with Academy training, too."

Sophia's eyebrows shot up. "Whoah. That's big news."

"Yep. And it's exactly what we've been shooting for, too."

Pete nodded. "Parallel fucking evolution or something. Funny how that works sometimes, eh?"

"Yep."

"I'll have Garek give Rhodes a heads-up, in case things are about to get ugly Atlas-side," Sophia mused, then considered. "You going to consider it a breach of faith if we tell Ursulus and Belladonna?"

"What, that word's about to hit Atlas? No. We just won't tell them how we found out."

"Sounds good."

"Oh, and Charlie gave me this. Thought you might like to have a look at it." He handed over one of the Specialists' encrypted Scrolls. "He said in light of AMI's shenanigans, he might want a way to securely contact me in the future, and I may have implied that I had resources he might want to tap into some day."

Sophia's eyes practically glowed as she took the device from his fingers. "Ooooooo… shiny…."

Mistral - Lushu

By the time the Bullhead landed outside Lushu, three days before the earliest that Tortuga was likely to arrive from Menagerie, Team November was unrecognizable. The hardest was Winter, who'd been forced to accept the fact that she needed to temporarily dye her hair and wear tinted contacts. There were just too few people in Remnant with that combination of skin tone, hair color, and eye color. A Schnee in Lushu would stick out like a sore thumb.

They'd also explored dozens of intercept scenarios. They knew that AMI had a "handler" in Lushu, but not what his name was, nor what he looked like. And they suspected there would be a safe house of some sort.

And that there would be… other assets.

Unfortunately, they only had three days, and they desperately needed to avoid tipping their hand. Delta and Charlie alternated overwatch at the Docks, on the off chance that Tortuga arrived early. Meanwhile Foxtrot and Echo took point on visiting dockside taverns and poking around subtly about rumors coming out of Menagerie.

By the end of the first day and several purchased rounds later, they had learned two things, first that a local Pirate Clan had gotten their asses spanked hard by the Menagerie Merchant Marine in a way that should not have been possible, and second that someone named Sparrow was the local information broker of note and was known to sell information to pretty much anyone. They even got a rough description of him, claiming they might have some to sell.

"I'm telling you," Foxtrot insisted, "If I was AMI, and I had an asset in Lushu, that's exactly how I'd position him. Think about it."

"You've got a point. The question is, can we track him down, and then track down his safe house in less than two days, or do we just sit tight and trail Tortuga from the docks?" Charlie turned to the youngest member of the team. "Winter, what do you think?"

Winter blinked. She'd… deferred to Charlie for most of the operation, once she'd managed to brief them safely in Solitas. She'd honestly considered that to be the bulk of her responsibility. Well perhaps that and one more critical task…

"Well… I would suppose that… this Sparrow will wish to debrief Tortuga privately and securely, and will attempt to lure him to the safe house. Rather than allow that, we should intercept him enroute. But to do that, we would at least need an idea of where that safe house must be."

Charlie nodded. "All right. You three have 24 hours. See if you can find out at least what part of town it might be in."

. . .

Tortuga Mellon and Sparrow were two blocks from the hostel when a low voice cut through the street sounds. "Cadet Specialist Tortuga Mellon, attend!"

Tortuga yielded immediately to training. Both Combat School and Academy students, not to mention Specialists, knew what that order, in that tone of voice, meant. He halted mid-step, both feet coming together, and stood stock still, hands shifting behind his back. Chin up.

Halting in front of an alley entrance.

And then his eyes widened as he recognized the owner of that voice. Wait… what's she doing here? The young Faunus turned his head just enough to see Specialist Winter Schnee, trademark white hair dyed blonde and sporting tinted contacts, panting slightly in the mouth of the alley. She'd apparently been in a rush of some sort. She was dressed in local garb, wearing neither her Academy nor her Specialist uniform, but her bearing still screamed Authority, despite the fact that she was only a few years older than he.

"Specialist Winter! I… didn't expect to see you here!" He managed.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "I'm sure that is the case." She took another moment to collect herself. "Colonel Ironwood was concerned that something might delay you, and wanted to ensure you were able to return to Atlas without interference," she said as she took a step toward him.

"Those aren't the orders," Tortuga's companion objected, and Tortuga sensed Sparrow shift so that he was directly behind him. "You're working off outdated information, Specialist. We're heading to our safe house right now, to report to your superior." Sparrow paused. "You're welcome to come along, to observe. You can even confirm with your Colonel Ironwood there."

Specialist Winter's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I seriously doubt that, 'Sparrow', and if you move one step closer to my Cadet, or place your hands near your pockets, you'll find out exactly how far my orders go."

And at the same time, Tortuga's eyes were drawn to motion near Specialist Winter's waist. Winter's left hand was subtly repeating a set of signals over and over. Signals that he'd been grilled on by Colonel Ironwood as part of his pre-training.

Danger. Aura Up. Danger. Aura Up. Danger.

Suddenly things didn't seem at all so simple.

His face paled, but he did as she bid. And considering her words, he pushed it toward his back before giving her a brief nod.

Winter paused and seemed to be listening to a voice only she could hear, before smiling in a predatory manner. "I take it back. At this moment, Sparrow, I'm hoping you do try something. Please do. I've travelled a long way, and I've been forced to dye my hair," she frowned. "I would hate for all that work to merely end up with you walking away feeling put upon."

Something in Tortuga's stomach began to flip-flop.

Atlas Academy

Two days later…

When Tortuga Mellon exited the air shuttle from Mantle to Atlas Academy's docks, exhausted and trying desperately to stay warm, he was nearly knocked down by Harriet's hug. "Gaahhh!"

"Yesyesyesyesyes!" She cried into the crook between his shoulder and neck. "I thought you'd never arrive!"

He laughed tiredly and managed to pull back. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and there were bags under them. Which matched the fact that he'd gotten scroll messages pretty much every other hour from Lushu to Mistral City, and then on the Argus Limited to the north coast of Anima, and finally on the commercial flight to Mantle. "I told you to get some sleep, Amoré," he managed.

"Couldn't do it. Couldn't do it. Too excited," she pulled back, nearly dragging him by the hand. "Come on, let's crash in your room. You can tell me everything tomorrow."

No. No, I can't. But maybe after I've briefed the Colonel, he thought tiredly, as he glanced behind him to see Specialist Winter, a small smile on her face, trailing after them. She'd been his constant companion on his roundabout trip, and had also provided him the backup Scroll that he'd used to talk to his now-confirmed girlfriend most of the way.

. . .

"Cadet Tortuga, report please," Colonel Ironwood ordered when he arrived at his future superior's offices the next morning.

To say Tortuga was nervous would be an understatement. He felt like he was gonna pee himself, he was so freaked out. Because this was the very first time he was delivering his full report, and he was delivering it to two Colonels, because there was a second man in Ironwood's office.

"Sir. As ordered, I travelled to Lushu, and then to Menagerie, where I evaluated any remarkable or interesting developments in the area of naval forces, communications, or technology." He glanced to the other man in the room, whose face was stony.

"And what did you learn, please be comprehensive, and explicit."

"Yessir," and with that, he launched into a detailed explanation of everything that he had seen and heard, in full detail.

And the more he spoke, the darker that other Colonels' face became. A few times, the man tried to speak or ask a question, and each time, Colonel Ironwood gave him a look that would have cut stone, and he clammed up.

And when Tortuga explained his interactions with 'Sparrow', he thought that Colonel Ironwood might turn and strangle his counterpart. By the end, Colonel Ironwood's jaw muscles were jumping, and the other Colonel's face was red as a beet.

"Thank you, Cadet Specialist. You have done a great service for Atlas. I want to emphasize that under no circumstances are you to discuss this matter with anyone without my express approval. Nor are you to answer any questions from anyone else claiming to have a national interest in this matter. It is of the utmost sensitivity. Am I clear?"

"Yessir."

The other Colonel cleared his throat.

"You have something to add, Colonel Breck?"

"His Scroll."

"Ah yes. How could I have forgotten," Ironwood drawled. "Cadet Specialist, you will turn your Scroll over to me immediately. We will extract and all relevant contents from the beginning of your mission and return it to you with any more benign content retained, consistent with your cover story for the visit." Tortuga's face paled, and Ironwood smiled. "We will not retain any personal conversations that are not suitable for archiving from our data, Cadet-Specialist. Don't worry."

"Whew… sorry sir… I… may have overreacted there," he pulled out his Scroll and handed it to Ironwood.

"Happens to the best of us, Cadet-Specialist," ironwood motioned to the door. "You're dismissed. Go enjoy a few days off with Ms. Bree. She's been given a long weekend as well."

"Thank you, sir!"

. . .

When the door closed, Colonel Breck turned on Ironwood. "James-"

"Don't 'James' me, Colonel. You and I both know what almost happened here, and to say I'm displeased is the least of it."

Colonel Breck's expression darkened, and then he deflated slightly. "I wouldn't have enjoyed it." He gestured toward the door. "But you damn well can't let him wander around with that information in his head. At least have him confined to quarters until the Council can receive and evaluate our report, and make some public statements."

"I will damn well not." Ironwood said flatly. "Cadet-Specialist Tortuga is my student as Headmaster, and reports directly to my team. He will follow orders." Ironwood considered, "Better than you keep your word. And let me make myself perfectly clear. If Mr. Tortuga so much as stubs his toe over the next year, I will go directly to the Council with it, career be damned. I'll take both of us down if needed."

Breck's eyes widened. "Dammit, James, you can't be-"

Ironwood placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Try me."

Breck was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't want us to be enemies, James."

"Then don't do anything like that ever again."

Breck frowned. "I could promise that I won't, but you wouldn't believe me, and I can't actually guarantee it. And you know why. We live in a dangerous world, Colonel."

"And that's the first honest thing you've said to me, Breck. Let's get the copy of this Scroll made, and Mr. Tortuga's personal information scrubbed, and you and I can part ways without me punching you in the throat."

. . .

"Cadet-Specialist Tortuga, report please," Colonel Ironwood ordered late that evening.

To say Tortuga was concerned would be an understatement. His previous report had been rehearsed and vetted by Specialist Winter the entire trip back to Argus. But this time, he was giving the full report with her present to assist if needed.

And he wasn't in Colonel Ironwood's office, but instead somewhere in the bowels of Atlas Academy in a dusty meeting room.

Tortuga Mellon began spilling all the tea that he'd gathered in his week in Menagerie, focusing on the details that he'd left out of his original report. The details that Specialist Winter had deemed would change Atlas Intelligence's reaction from something that would cause concern in the Atlas Council to a reaction that would likely cause a diplomatic incident or worse.

And the longer he talked, the more details he shared, the darker Colonel Ironwood's face got. By the end, he thought he could hear his Headmaster's teeth grinding.

"And you're one-hundred percent positive that this… Aura Training Center… is actually a Combat School and Academy?"

"Sir, it's… well it's not like Atlas but… I think the results would be the same. It's pretty chaotic, and nobody… and I mean freaking nobody, sorry sir, will call it a Combat School or Academy. It's like they're allergic to the words."

As well they should be, Ironwood groused internally. Ironwood turned to Winter. "And you have the original contents of his Scroll?"

Winter nodded, and handed the device over. "We were able to send his to Argus directly with Team November, giving them two days to scrub its contents for the copy you received earlier. This one contains the images and video that we felt would set AMI on decidedly more militant course, sir."

Ironwood nodded, and turned back to Tortuga. "The backup Scroll that you gave us before will still be scrubbed, as I told my counterpart. You'll get a safe copy of your files back tomorrow, so you can share its contents with Ms. Bree." He gave Tortuga a careful look. "Cadet-Specialist, I need to impress upon you again the politically catastrophic consequences of some of these details being leaked. Am I clear? You are free to discuss the general experience you had in Kuo Kuana, but you cannot tell anyone about this Training Center, nor this CCT Relay. This is critical."

"Yes sir. I'll… be very careful, sir."

Ironwood paused. "What was your impression… of the citizenry of Menagerie? The Faunus."

Cadet-Specialist Tortuga considered the question, rolled it around in his head. "They seemed really happy and excited, sir. Like… super optimistic about things."

Ironwood sighed. That is likely to change in the near future, and that's a pity. "Thank you, Cadet. Carry on. I look forward to beginning your more formal training at the end of the year."

"Yessir! Thank you sir!"

. . .

For minutes after Tortuga Mellon left, Ironwood sat at the dusty desk, Specialist Winter at ease nearby.

"Specialist Winter."

"Sir."

"You and Team November exceeded my expectations, which I suppose should be my expectation by now."

Winter felt her chest puff out with slight pride. "Sir."

"I'm not exaggerating, Specialist. Had Colonel Breck received what I just heard as the full report, not to mention seen the images that you deemed problematic, he would have gone straight to the Council with a demand that they authorize an immediate and broad response. Political consequences, military pressure, economic impacts, and covert action would all have been on the table. It might have been Team November who was ordered to take part in that. As it is, we've managed to temper that to something that may prevent an immediate over-reaction by the Council, and may… and I stress may… allow time for cooler heads to absorb what is happening… to allow a new political balance to be obtained." He gave her a careful look. "Don't underestimate the value of the time Team November's efforts bought us here, not to mention the consequences for young Mr. Tortuga had you failed."

Winter felt a strange combination of elation and dread. Elation at the praise, and the criticality of the successful mission. Dread over the future consequencea of even the watered-down version of what they'd provided. "I won't, sir."

"Good. Because we're going to require more of you, soon. We're going to have a rough path ahead of us. One that we must tread very carefully, for the good of Atlas, and Remnant as a whole."

"We won't let you down."

"I believe you, Specialist. Dismissed."

[A/N] The clock advances. We are now less than 7 years before canon Volume 1 and things are getting complicated!

In this chapter, finally, young Winter Schnee gets to participate in a critical manner, in her first field mission. And I daresay she performed admirably. A lot went on off-screen here. In case you didn't notice, they were unable to pinpoint the safe house exactly, so Winter likely had to run her legs off to intercept Sparrow and Tortuga. And of course, she had Delta on overwatch, which is why she was very, very confident (not to mention that Tortuga had Aura active once he was warned). And no, Sparrow wasn't stupid enough to take on a Specialist once his bluff was called.

Team November, minus Winter, flew directly back to Argus and then back to Solitas, which gave Foxtrot time to do some voodoo on Tortuga's Scroll and hand a clone over to Winter when she and Tortuga reached Argus the "slow way".

And Ironwood is still pissed, but he knows that he now has some leverage with Colonel Breck for the future, and has knowledge that AMI doesn't. I think we're about at the point where the Headmasters of the Academies will be having a conference call about a certain school in Menagerie...

Coming soon, another chapter with Dr. Polendina!