Chapter 103 – Remnant – Miscellany 74VE
Year 74VE, Late January
Cover Art by Mi Chumi
Lushu and Kuo - Refugees
White-haired and bearded Lucius Yin was bewildered and angry. During his decades as Captain of the Bountiful Reef, he'd made hundreds of voyages along the Vale - Lushu - Kuo Kuana - Lushu - Vale route, ferrying cargo and passengers through the southern seas, avoiding Grimm and pirates, and generally staying as far away from politics as humanly possible.
And now, for the first time in his career, he was being delayed in Lushu due to cargo inspection.
This was because, for the first time ever, cargo transiting from Vale to Kuo was being scrutinized beyond review of manifest, a cursory glance, and payment of transit duties. And it wasn't the Harbormaster, who answered to Lushu's Upper Council, that was doing the scrutinizing, either.
"I've been paid to deliver every single crate in this hold, every single one of which was inspected in Vale before loading by their Harbormaster!" he complained to the Lushu Harbormaster, a man he'd dealt with for years and with whom he thought he had a good working relationship..
"Not my decision, Lucius." the Harbormaster replied sourly. "Word came down from on high, the Atlesian there has final say on any cargo bound for Menagerie that contains non-consumer electronics." He grimaced. "That means he can open anything and go through its contents with a gill net, if he wants."
Captain Yin's brown eyes were drawn to the third man in question, who was even now stalking the cargo hold and comparing manifests to crates. A man whose crisp and clean uniform declared him as Kerrel Flake, Compliance Officer for Atlas TechnoTronics. He was accompanied by two dock hands, who were following his directions.
A man who had already flagged several crates for further inspection.
"Dammit, I have a schedule to keep. I'm not just a cargo vessel, I have departure and arrival windows for passengers, lah? I've got an entire complement of people sitting in their cabins or standing on the decks expecting to be at sea already. And you're telling me I have to sit here in port like a constipated man on the toilet waiting for something to drop?" He eyeballed the Atlesian and patted his pockets, pulled out a cigar and stuck it between his teeth, unlit. He needed something to chew on, or he might start chewing on the Harbormaster.. "If this takes more than an hour, won't be able to make up the time enroute. And that'll take extra fuel regardless. This whole thing is going to cost me lien."
"Die die must try," the Harbormaster replied, shrugging. His eyes followed Captain Yin's gaze to where the so-called Compliance Officer and his lackeys were sauntering to the next stack of crates. "I've already had my argument with that kaypoh. Told him not to spoil market, but he's got the council's ear, at least for now."
A hot ball of anger was forming in the captain's gut. This was garbage. Damn Atlesians and their damn embargo. "I'll bite. How long will it take to clear them, then?"
The Harbormaster gave him a careful look. "What do you think?" He looked back at the Atlesian. "If I were you, I'd arrow those crates here and be done with him today. Let him dig through them while you are about your other business."
"And then what?"
"I'll see they get to Kuo on the next local freighter for you," the Harbormaster replied, proving that the captain's instincts were right. He, too, glared at the back of the offending human as the inspection trio moved down the rows of crates. "No happier about this than you. You think you've got problems? I've got ships talking about skipping Lushu and making straight for Kuo, or maybe transferring cargo somewhere else on the low. Either of those costs me and Lushu lien. Council won't stand for that once it starts to hurt, Atlesian pressure on Mistral City or no."
Captain Yin bit down on the cigar savagely, brown eyes glinting. "And meanwhile we all act blur?"
"Lah," the Harbormaster agreed.
"Fine. But I'll need a receipt for them to give to whoever's expecting those crates at Kuo." he glared at the inspector one last time, on principle. "I'll send my own crew down here to offload the crates he flagged. I'm not waiting on his idiots to haul them off."
. . .
In the common 3rd class passenger area below deck, two-dozen families huddled anxiously. They'd spent weeks now, first crammed into the false hold of a fishing boat, then transferred to a Mistralian coastal transport, which had finally made port at Lushu and transferred them to the Bountiful Reef with their meager belongings. There hadn't been much worth taking with them from Gehen Camp Number 3, save some of their clothing and a handful of keepsakes. Any supposed lien they had accrued was held in the company bank, forever out of their reach.
Each family had been given a care package, containing sleeping bags, pillows, clothing, money, rations, and personal health supplies. For most of them, those items were the most valuable things they'd owned since they'd been tricked into signing a mining contract for the first time.
That and their freedom.
They were supposed to have cast off an hour ago, according to the crewmember who'd popped down to the 3rd class deck. But they hadn't, and it was starting to cause low-grade panic among some of the passengers.
And years of living outside Remnant's well-protected cities had taught them that panic was dangerous.
Panic attracted Grimm.
The fact that Lushu took pains to keep the local area culled was not something they knew. They had barely even seen the lower city, having gone straight from one boat to this ship during the evening. The fact that the harbor had Grimm defenses likewise wasn't known to them.
So they did their best to hold it together, despite their gnawing anxiety.
And then, finally, a ship's horn sounded, a series of booms was felt through the hull, and a gentle movement announced they were finally moving out to sea. The trip would take half a day, and would end at Kuo Kuana's passenger pier.
. . .
Ten hours later, they felt the ship slow, and a series of thumps. And then another series of horn blasts.
It took a full two hours for the upper decks, with their wealthy and middle-class passengers whose rooms had sported large windows and airy balconies, to gather their ample belongings and depart the ship. They were a mix of business travellers, tourists, and relatively well-off immigrants.
And then it was their turn.
The truth was, they'd been told they were free to roam the upper decks. Free to wander the corridors.
But these were people who'd spent months or even years in an off-the-books Solitas mining camp, where hope had been sent to die with them. And they were not of a mind to take risks. They'd feel different once they set foot on Menagerien soil, they told themselves.
And that included, strangely, one family of humans.
. . .
The family stood behind their brethren in the stairwell, feeling the sweltering tropical afternoon humidity washing over them from above.
"It's so warm…." Sunny Skye said to her mom.
"Yes. Yes it is," her mom, Bella, replied. She'd had the chance to bathe, and clean up as best she could. Clean clothes without a hint of tear or stain. Her cropped hair still bore the marks of mining. Long hair was a liability among jagged crystals, loose rock, and moving machinery, and even what little she'd had was damaged. She was strongly tempted to just shave it close and let it grow back out. And her skin would likely take months for the Dust stains to gradually wear away.
All that would be left were the scars, and most of those would fade, too, eventually.
Bella glanced over at her husband, Eric. Like her, his hair was cropped short. Like her, his bare skin was stained and scarred with a history of hundreds of abrasions.
Like her, his eyes held conflicting emotions of hope and doubt.
Would they really be accepted here? Mr. Taurus had promised they would. But they were humans, not faunus. But he'd promised them. A debt was owed, he'd claimed, and they'd be repaid for it.
And so they made their way up the interior stairs near the back of the rest of the other mine workers and families. They'd built friendships, over the years, with their fellow contract coworkers. When you were at the bottom of a hole, whether or not the guy next to you had ears or a tail mattered a lot less than whether they'd pull you out from under a rockfall.
He tapped a compatriot on the shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs. "Any idea what we do once we leave the ship, Fleet?"
The goat faunus frowned back at him. "Crew said someone with refugee services would be here to meet us, I heard. Said we'll know 'em when we see 'em."
And then they exited the final corridor onto the side-deck, just before the gangplank.
Eric Skye's breath caught.
It was beautiful. More beautiful than Mantle. More beautiful than anything he'd ever seen.
Line upon line of low buildings, mostly wood, spread out as far as he could see over the rolling hills of a lush valley, climbing up slopes toward mountains to the south. Interspersed with them were tropical trees and, shockingly, a massive amount of new construction or expansion work, the skeletons of wood framing alternating with more solid concrete or brick structures going up. Some of the newer buildings looked blocky and utilitarian, almost out of place with the graceful feel of the older structures..
His eyes roamed more closely, to the pierside.
And the crowds…
The dockside was a roiling sea of people and stalls, with hawkers selling wares. The streets nearby were packed with people coming and going in, out, and along the harbor walk. Laborers, passengers who had just disembarked, some looking like he did. Laborers, Tradesmen, and tourists. City militia in uniform were interspersed, answering questions or pointing out directions or just keeping a watchful eye.
He noted there were very few vehicles. Almost everyone was on foot, and dressed for the heat and humidity in loose clothing.
Had he been from Atlas proper, or even most of Mantle, the sheer amount of obvious faunus traits would have been surprising.
But he had spent several years in a mining camp. Faunus traits were what he'd become used to. That at least was not a shock to his family like it might be to a typical visitor.
He realized he'd paused when a woman behind them cleared her throat, and he muttered an apology and started down the gangplank, his wife and daughter holding tightly in a daisy-chain of hands.
My gods… so many people, though. How in the world will we find these refugee-
"I think that's them," Bella said, pointing to a brightly colored stall, set a dozen yards to the left of the gangplank's bottom. It bore a series of recognizable White Fang banners, and he could now see that his fellow passengers, those who had the same beaten-down appearance as he and his wife, were filtering toward it. Behind and around the stall were several people wearing official-looking white and black uniforms.
. . .
It took almost a half hour to work their way to the front of the line, where a young faunus woman glanced up at him with a tired smile. Considering it was late afternoon, it was possible she'd been at this for a while. "Family name?"
"Skye."
She tapped on her scroll, reviewed some information, and something in her face shifted. "Mr. and Mrs. Eric and Bella Skye? Daughter Sunny?"
"Yes…" he said, tensing.
She nodded. "I've got a note here in your file." She smiled, and reached down into a box beside her to pull out an older model electronic device that had seen a lot of use. "Here's a loaner scroll for the family to use. Please take care of it, because once you get your own, we'll need that back for the next crop, and it's getting harder to get replacements." She handed it to Bella, who took it and immediately opened it and began exploring the CCT network. They'd had no access at the camp, and no scroll on the trip. "You've got an apartment pre-assigned, and a small stipend set aside for your family, Mr. and Mrs. Skye."
He glanced at the backs of his former coworkers, who were heading out toward a group of warehouses behind a White Fang member. "Is that... Normal? What about our friends?"
"Not at all," she followed his gaze, "Your fellow passengers will get assigned housing, too, but they'll be bunking in a converted warehouse for a few days while we work that out." She saw his expression of concern, and waved a hand. "Don't worry, sir, they'll be comfortable and we'll take care of them too. They just weren't pre-registered like you were." She pointed to the scroll in his wife's hands. "I've sent the directions for your housing and an unlock code to the scroll. Make sure you change the password on it. We'll wipe and reset the scroll when you get your own."
He nodded. "Right. Anything else you need?" He suddenly felt very very tired. It was as if all the tension were draining out of him, and taking all his energy with it.
She smiled again. "Not immediately. I'm sure you're exhausted, so I won't keep you here any longer. We've got your family's basic information on file, including your… well the fact that you won't have a trait. You'll also have a message with a link where you can fill out the remainder of your education and skills profiles, so we can try to match you with jobs."
"Right. Right" Eric replied, bewildered by how fast things were going. But…
"Oh and sir, ma'am, miss," the young woman held out her hand to each in turn. "Welcome to Menagerie."
. . .
It was a tiny apartment that appeared to have been occupied previously, but any personal effects had been removed. A single room with a kitchenette and small table. A couch that turned into a bed just large enough to fit the three of them. There'd be no privacy for him and his wife.
But it was clean, and the cabinets and refrigerator were stocked with staples, recently purchased on behalf of one , according to a note left on the counter.
Adam Taurus.
The young man whose life he'd saved from having a hole blown through him, and who had saved all of the contract miners in turn. Or perhaps it had been vice versa. An intimidatingly intense young man with fiery red hair and an air of barely controlled violence about him. A man who felt he owed them a debt.
A debt, which Mr. Taurus was apparently intent on paying.
The whole family managed, just barely, to each get a shower in, change into pajamas, and pass out long before a typical bedtime.
. . .
Over the next week they found Menagerie welcoming, or at least the services they were interacting with. They were able to contact some of their fellow miners, who were good-naturedly jealous of the Skyes' lodgings, but who also knew why they were getting special treatment, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were human. Not in Menagerie.
Sunny was enrolled in an onboarding program that would transition her to a local elementary school over the course of the next months, to provide extra counselling and guidance so she could integrate well. She seemed more excited than anxious about the prospect. The hard part was keeping her indoors. After growing up in Solitas, she was fascinated by the fact that she could just walk outside and sit on the stoop of their small apartment building wearing nothing but shorts, t-shirt, and sandals.
His wife, Bella, had caught the attention of a company called Broken Moon Staffing due to her past work history, from before they'd been lured with "opportunities on the Solitas frontier". She had an interview with a woman named Selene to discuss possible roles.
For his part, he had decided to sign up for the civil corp program. It was offering generous pay to refugees and recent immigrants with construction experience, who were willing to assist with building housing for the next wave of immigrants and other critical infrastructure projects. After working in the mines, that seemed like a reduction in difficulty and danger. His first project, he had been informed, would be building a new facility somewhere called Atlantia Island.
And no one, after the woman who'd initially registered them, had commented on the family not being faunus. Though, to be fair, a minority of those they assumed to be faunus didn't have obvious traits anyway so… perhaps it was too early to draw any conclusions there.
But regardless. A place to live without thousands of tons of rock over your head? Without some third-rate SDC contract security asshole threatening you because you didn't move fast enough? Without having to worry about your daughter being sucked up into that life?
Eric Skye had been given a second chance, and he intended to make this place his home, no matter what was required of him.
Atlas – Summer Rose
Summer Rose was swimming through a thick fog.
No she was… she was lying on her back. She tried to open her eye, and it responded, sluggishly. There were bright lights around her, making her blink, and a machine hovered over her head, though it refused to come into focus.
Oh gods… it's… I…
"Watts!" Summer gasped, trying to jerk bolt upright. Her left hand tried to go to her ruined eye socket, her right for Sundered Rose, which wasn't there.
She realized she couldn't move them. She was unarmed. Helpless. Ripe for further butchering.
"Easy, Mrs. Rose! You are in Atlas! Remember? You are coming out of anesthesia," a rich male voice said. "You suggested we restrain your arms for this very reason. Remember?"
Atlas? Not Evernight? Not… that prison? She shook her head, which she could move, trying to focus her mind, focus her eye.
And two of Pietro Polendina's concerned but kindly faces swam into view to her right.
Wait. What!?
Summer blinked. Twice in sequence, one eyelid a hair slower than the other.
"Now… your new prosthetic will not be properly calibrated just yet, Mrs. Rose," he said reassuringly, as he began loosening the strap on her right arm and someone else worked on her left, "so please don't be alarmed."
Summer tried to speak, and realized her throat was raw. "Throat…" she managed to rasp.
"Ah, a common side effect. Here, have a sip of water." And with that, his assistant, two young men in white scrubs, handed her two glasses which resolved into one in her hand. She raised it to her lips, and the double-vision nearly caused her to spill it.
"Here, one moment," Polendina said. She felt a rounded metal implement against her temple, felt a gentle buzz, and her vision in one eye just… turned off. "Let's avoid any discontinuity, until you are fully alert."
Wait… one eye? Oh yeah. She managed a mouthful of water without help, swallowed, and cleared her throat. "So… it worked?"
Her natural eye roamed the room. It was a familiar one, a combination of examination room and operation theater, filled with what Doctor Polendina had explained were his own self-designed and fabricated machinery. Machinery that had performed the delicate procedure under Doctor Polendina's careful control.
"Oh yes. Quite a success, Mrs. Rose. We'll need to spend a few hours doing some initial calibration, now that you're fully alert and able to control your prosthesis. Blink reflex will resolve itself naturally, over time, so we'll be focusing on aligning focal direction and length with your natural eye." Summer nodded. "Your husband has called every thirty minutes," Polendina smiled and glanced down at the scroll by her bedside. "He should be ringing in about fifteen. Rest, eat something, and then we'll begin calibration." He paused. "There's a mirror here, when you are ready. I'll have Jericho bring you something to eat."
. . .
"Summer!" Taiyang Xiao-Long's eyes roved over her face via Scroll. "Thank the gods, you're awake."
"Doc says you were a pain in the butt," Summer smirked. Now that she'd eaten a little and fully woken up, she was feeling more like herself. She'd managed a quick look in the mirror already. Her artificial eye was currently not sending signals to her brain, but it was there and operating. A ball of plastic, metal, and hard-light, tucked nicely inside her skull where her original eye should have been. The iris didn't quite have the silver sheen that her natural one did, more a gunmetal grey. The pupil, rather than being a bottomless black, had a slight blue glow to it.
She could even wink it, an eyelid made of artificial flesh that matched her own skin flickering down to cover the prosthesis. "Do you… like it?"
"It's beautiful, Summer. You're beautiful."
And despite herself, Summer Rose blushed. "You really know how to sweet talk a woman."
"Only you, my sweet flower."
Summer snorted, but was secretly pleased. "Alright, alright, laying it on thick, Tai."
"All part of the job, hon."
She sobered. "How are the girls?"
"Bouncing up and down still. Excited about the adventure. Scared of leaving home. Happy they will make new friends. Sad because they're leaving the ones they already have. Yang is the easy one, with her Aura and Semblance unlocked, and all the training she's done with Raven and me, she's ready. Ruby's been harder." He smirked. "The new puppy helped."
"Told you."
"Yeah well, like mother like daughter." He scratched the side of his head. "She.. uh.. named it Zwei."
Summer rolled her eye. Her natural, silver eye. The other one just pointed forward, for now. "You let Ruby name it?"
He shrugged. "It worked. We'll have the house packed up this week. I had to make some judgement calls on what we'd take, what we'd ship, and what we'd store here."
His wife smiled. "I trust you, Tai," she said softly, and meant it with every fiber of her being. The two of them. Side by side. "Doc says it went well, we just need to do some calibration so I don't see two of everything. Then I can have Raven send me to Patch, and we can all go to Menagerie together."
"Hopefully we'll have Zwei paper trained by then," Tai said. "Love you, Sum."
"Love you more. Go tell the girls I'm fine. I'll call back after I've got two working eyes," Summer added impishly, and blew him a kiss.
Argus – The Lone Huntsmen
When Reggie Cass arrived at the Emporium, he found Saphron Arc, soon to be Saphron Cotta-Arc based on the rather lovely engagement ring she was sporting, manning the front desk. He eyed her carefully. "Safe to head down the hole?"
He got a noncommittal head tilt from the young woman. "It was fifteen minutes ago, Reg. Pete was doing paperwork, and Sophia was monitoring comms. But… I'd still enter with all due caution."
Pietro Mason and Sophia Keene were officially unofficially engaged, and officially unofficially absolutely weird about what sent them off for some 'private time' together. And the basement was, in many ways, their domain.
So yeah. All due caution.
He proceeded down the stairs to the Dread Portal. It had gained that name once as a joke among the kids who'd tried to snoop down here. Now it had the name for a different reason. He'd seen things. Things he never wanted to see again.
Nothing hanging on the door handle.
No sticky note on the biometrics reader.
He listened.
No unnatural sounds from within.
BUt then again, the soundproofing on the basement was incredible.
He shook his head, scanned his thumb, entered the keycode, and the door swung open.
"I'm coming in…" he announced cautiously.
"Harder daddy." Sophia called out flatly from somewhere near her workstation, accompanied by the staccato of keyboard keys. "I'm almost there."
"Hawt," Pete added from closer to the middle of the room.
Dammit…
Reggie made his way into the room to find Sophia peering through her glasses at screens full of data as she tapped furiously at her console. Pete was at the central conference table reviewing documents.
Thank the gods.
"You know, if the two of you were more careful about the proverbial sock on the door handle thing, we'd all be less annoying." And less traumatized.
Pete scoffed. "I try Reg. Really I do. But that woman… she tests me, Reg. Gods how she tests me."
"Oh sure, blame me. I'm not the one that-"
"Annnndd that's quite enough," Reg interrupted. Because not only were they irresponsible, they had no damn filter with him, either. The fact was, his years with the Specialists and their particular brand of battlefield humor had made this more a game than anything to really get worked up over. And they seemed to sense that.
It was another reason, he realized, that they were his team.
"So what's up?" Pete asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Ask your fiance," Reg lifted his chin toward her.
She paused from her typing, finally, and swivelled around in the chair. A small smile came and went. "Argent wants a secure scroll."
Pete stared at his fiance, then grinned at Reggie. "Called it."
"Fine. Yeah you called it," Reggie replied with a sigh.
"And fifty bucks says that Laurel's in, too," their conspiracist added.
"I am not taking that bet." Reggie groused.
Sophia piped up again. "You're our security guy. Do we call a full meeting for this?"
Reggie waived dismissively and eased into a chair across from Pete. "Moot point, she already knows or she wouldn't be asking for one, and you know Garek and Selene would approve it anyway."
"Yeah," Sofia said thoughtfully.
Pete just shook his head, fingers tapping on the table top. "Gods, this thing keeps getting bigger. We need to take stock. At some point, someone's going to open their fat mouth at the wrong time."
Reggie shrugged. "I think it had to happen, once we started moving in earnest. We just need to make sure we're taking steps to protect ourselves when someone slips up. You saw my recommendations?"
Pete nodded. "Gonna cost some serious lien to get it done but… well you're not gonna believe this but we can afford it. … we're actually in the black, finance-wise. We made money last quarter."
The gazelle faunus shrugged. "Of course we did, with the money Dr. P-"
Pete grinned. "No… no you don't understand babe. I'm telling you we made money. Not a lot of money. But even after our paychecks, our companies made money. Not all of them, but added together." He shook his head as if even he didn't believe it.
"That's bullshit," Sophia snorted, then seemed to realize something. "No. Pete. Seriously. That's impossible."
He just raised his eyebrows, and then saw that Reggie was starting to laugh, quietly but with his chest bouncing in an effort to not make any noise. What the hell?
"Dammit, Pete! I owe Reggie five hundred lien now!"
"The hell you say?"
She covered her face with her hands. "I… uh… bet Reggie we wouldn't break even until sometime this year."
Pete's mouth fell open. "Wait. Wait. Of all the damn things you could have picked up from me, you chose betting on stupid shit?!"
"Well it wasn't gonna be your hygiene, hon."
He huffed. "That's not fair. I'm doing a lot better."
"Of course you are, honey." She eye'd him for a minute, then wheeled her chair over to him. One graceful-fingered hand gripped his arm, and she rubbed her head against his shoulder, one small horn poking him. "Otherwise I wouldn't be interested in a little quality time." Her eyes flicked to the conference room door.
"You're just trying to get me to loan you five hundred lien," Pete said, but she could tell he was wavering.
"Maybe, but… it'll still be fun…"
"And… I'm heading back to Springhill. I wish you two would get married already. You're starting to embarrass me.:
"Not like you can't just go upstairs for five minutes," Pete quipped.
"Oh you're gonna regret that!" Sophia said with a laugh, and that was the last thing Reggie heard as he closed the Dread Portal behind him.
Argus – Argent & Laurel
"I'm looking for a volunteer to do some extra credit work this wee-" Professor Quirrel sighed as a hand shot up. "Yes, Miss Reece, I do see your hand up." He scanned the rest of the room hopefully. "Is there anyone else interested? No?" He looked back at the young woman with metallic-blue hair and a very intent expression. "Very well. Miss Reece, I will see you at 8:00 AM sharp, as usual." He paused. "Do you want to know what the work entails?"
Argent Reece smiled. "No sir. I'm in, regardless."
"I was afraid that's what you'd say."
. . .
When Argent headed for her next class, one of the standard core courses, she found Laurel Frost easing up in step with her.
"Hey girlfriend, you got plans for Saturday? Tommy was talking about us three getting together."
Crap. "I.. uh…"
Laurel's expression spoke volumes. "You signed up for lab assistant work again, didn't you?" She said with a resigned tone.
Argent rolled her head. "Mayyyybeeee?"
Her friend grasped her by the arm, stopping them both in the middle of the sidewalk. "Seriously, Argent. I know why you're doing this but… you're gonna burn yourself out like this. It's not healthy."
Argent felt herself trying to pout, and put a stop to it. She wasn't fifteen anymore, and it didn't work on Laurel anyway. "Is that your professional opinion, Laurel?"
Laurel snorted. "Keep your voice down. You're Gonna get me in trouble. I swear, you and Sarah and your big mouths."
Argent made a face of mock horror. "You take that back! I am nowhere near as bad as Sarah." Then she grew pensive. "I have to feel like I'm doing my best, Laur"
Her friend shook her head. "Argent, you're doing like 150%. 'Doing your best' was like five miles back. You're pulling even with mania." She paused. "Your mom called me and asked me if you were doing okay."
Argent's eyes narrowed. "She what? She could have just asked me. It's not like I'm not home every night."
"Argent, she said all you do is homework and then extra self-study. You're freaking her out worse than when Cinder was here. And I think she's starting to realize what's driving you."
Argent hugged herself and blew her hair out of her eye. "Well, crap."
"Yeah." Laurel tilted her head. "So how are your grades?"
She smirked. "Aces across the board."
"Great. That means you can take an afternoon off then. You. Me. Tommy. We're going to the Emporium. And then we're going to catch a movie."
Argent started to argue, then stopped herself. She'd promised Sarah and Cinder that she'd listen to Laura. "Fine." It'd be good to see Tommy again, anyway. She realized that she hadn't talked to him in like… weeks. "How's Tommy doing with the po-po?"
"Says he loves it. Easier than Combat School, and he gets to wear a spiffy uniform."
"Seriously?! That's what he focused on?"
Laurel blushed a little. "It… is a nice uniform."
Argent stared at her friend.
"You're joking. You and Tommy?!"
Laurel tilted her chin up in a challenge. "Listen… it's not like Sarah was ever gonna do anything. And she's in Menagerie. It wasn't gonna happen. I made a judgment call."
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. You and Tommy!?"
"We're just dating, okay?! Gahhh I wish I'd kept my mouth shut," she griped, and then started to stomp off.
And Argent followed her, grinning. "Yeah. Who's got the big mouth now?"
Vacuo – Rashem & Harvesh
"Uncle, I have been thinking."
Rashem Annar smiled. Many of his nephew's wildest, and in some cases most successful, ideas had come about preceded with this statement. "Oh? Tell me what marvel you have envisioned for me this month." Rashem had become somewhat used to his nephew's flashes of brilliance. The young man… seemed to have a mind that never ceased, much like his. But where Rashem's was bent to making lien, Harvesh's was a mind of hardware and software.
"With our current manufacturing capacity, we are limited in the quantities we can produce."
"Yes but, there is as yet no market for larger quantities of our base production. You have said so yourself."
"True, uncle. But with our friends requesting some special-purpose runs, we are already required to set aside base production too frequently. I was thinking…"
"Yes?
"Is there any reason I cannot reverse-engineer the machines themselves, and use them to produce their replacements?"
Steaming tea to his lips.
"You can… do this?"
"I believe I can. The machining tolerances, particularly for the etcher and slicer focal lenses and mirrors, may become the limitation, rather than the control systems. But it is the control systems that are tightly controlled by Atlas, not the machined components.
And I have… spent much time analyzing the code for the control systems, in part to evaluate what GNU has called attack surfaces. I believe that with a modest adjustment between production runs, I can fabricate chips required to create replacements for the original control boards, and produce duplicates.
Rashem considered the implications of what his nephew was telling him.
"You are saying you can create not one, but as many assembly lines as required?"
"If I can have certain parts fabricated to the required tolerances, yes Uncle."
Rashem Annar stared off into the distance.
"I will need to discuss with our friends. I suspect we will wish to set up another front corporation, at a separate location. Yes." His eyes bore back to his nephew. "Adjust the production schedule as you see fit. I will begin making arrangements."
. . .
It was important to keep up appearances. The Annar clan was making money, it was not a staggering amount of money, at least on paper. Not enough to capture anyone's attention.
Because the bulk of the money their efforts were earning now were going into a Valean bank account under a generic set of corporate initials. A very boring corporation which held a majority interest in several other companies, only one of which was Sandstorm Trans-shipping.
But even the modest income that was overt had to come from somewhere. That meant that all of the family members who worked at the actual chip factory also did rounds at Rashem's other businesses to justify the reported income.
Today was Harvesh's turn at Rashem's Electronics Repair and Resale Shop.
He didn't mind so much, really. Between customers he could continue his self-education, though with GNU's warnings and his past tragedy, he took what some might consider excessive precautions. Network address masking and a tunnel to a private server that GNU had set up in Argus was among those precautions. It provided him some security, but he was still careful with respect to search terms, it meant that often he had to find the information he sought through very roundabout means. Sometimes those means were the private white-hat forums he also frequented.
One of his alts had become quite popular there.
But that was between customers. And he still had to tend to those as well. And frankly, he enjoyed that part of his job as well.
The bell above the door chimed, and a duo entered the shop. Harvesh smiled. It was that boy from the Academy again, Argento, with his teammate, the one with the top-knot. Jack was the other boy's name, if he remembered correctly.
The two were arguing already, as was common when they entered the shop.
"I'm telling you, it's not the same thing at all!" Argento complained.
"I still don't get it."
They reached the counter. "Tell him, Harv," Argento demanded.
"Eh?"
"That the scrolls you resell aren't Atlas tech any more," Argento elaborated.
Oh. That. "Well my friend… it depends on how you look at it. I've done work on some older generation scrolls that bypass much of the walled garden that the CCT Network demands. But it still has many original components for simple communications."
"See. Atlas tech," the other boy complained, and Harvesh could not say he disagreed with his objection.
"Yeah but… it's better, Jax."
Oh yes. Right. Jax was his name.
"How many times do I have to say it? I. Do. Not. Trust. Atlas. Tech."
Harvesh felt a smile creep across his tanned face. I like this youth. "As well you should not, young sir."
"Huh?"
Harvesh tapped on a display model of one of his customized scrolls. "You are right to mistrust Atlas technology. It's as full of exploits as the desert is of sand." His voice lowered conspiratorially. "I swear, half of them must be Atlas Intelligence." He'd discussed this line of information warfare, and GNU had deemed it relatively safe. What he was saying wasn't quite true, but it was a useful falsehood if it made people cautious without alerting that devil, Watts..
"See! I freaking knew it!" Jax crowed.
Argento looked betrayed, then rallied. "Yeah, but we still have to have a scroll. Might as well be partly secure, right? It's better than nothing!"
"I hate the stupid things. Always watching us."
Ah, my friend, if you only knew.
"Look, when we're in the dorm, I keep it locked in that box you made me buy, okay? Pain in the butt, though."
"Let Carmine tell us if there's a change in class schedule or something. She's got her stupid Atlas Spy Tech."
Argento Sighed. He'd have to try some other angle. It was too much of a pain having to unlock the box and leave the room if we wanted to call or message people.
Maybe Derecho has something…
Vale- Amber & Crystal
"Alright. Tell me what it was like when you first used the Maidens' power." The two women were meeting in the central courtyard of a rather nice home in a middle-class neighborhood, leased at Ozpin's expense. No other homes or buildings overlooked the central open-air space. It had been one of the few requirements that Amber had set. Their breath fogged gently in the temperate winter air.
Crystal felt the question like a punch in the gut. "Ugh. Well.. it wasn't great. Lily had just bled out in front of me," and Crystal told her, in detail, the circumstances of the Maiden transfer, and what she'd experienced personally.
Amber nodded sympathetically, and considered how it had differed from her own experience..
She herself had not been anywhere near her predecessor when Barbara Thistle had died. Hell, it was worse than that. The last time she'd seen Barb, a half day prior, her friend hadn't even been the Fall Maiden, and Amber Quick had never even heard of such a thing.
It had been a series of unfortunate events.
The other girl had been a huntress in training at Academy, a fourth year like Amber, but there had been some weirdness about it. She'd been pulled off her team and spent a lot of time doing solo training with the staff. It was a quirk, really, that she and Amber had become friends at all, mostly because Amber was an odd duck at Academy as well. Barb, a muscular young woman with a thing for tattoos and wild haircuts, had been hesitant in the face of Amber's tentative overtures, as if she was reluctant to actually become friends.
It was only later that Amber figured out the reason for that. The previous Maiden wasn't doing well, and her friend had volunteered to be the next wielder of the Fall Maiden's power.
More like a prisoner of fate.
Because the actual Fall Maiden, Barb's mentor, had died unexpectedly, likely due to foul play, while Barb was training in the forests outside Vale. And her resulting panic at unexpectedly receiving the power before she'd been prepared for it had attracted more Grimm than she and her guard could handle.
In the course of less than two hours, both the current Fall Maiden, and her chosen successor, had died.
And unfortunately for Amber, she'd been the only close friend Barb had that met the mystical criteria. She'd ended screaming her head off in her dorm room, and had nearly blown the door off its hinges.
Being a Maiden was not a fate she wished on anyone else. It was one of the reasons she preferred to haunt the wilds of Sanus. She made a point of not having any close female friends of suitable age. If someone inherited the Fall Maiden's powers, she didn't want it to be because she had some random-assed connection, even if logically that was stupid. It had made her a loner, wary of the company of her fellow females other than those over forty.
Except now it seemed like she had a friend, someone she was training.
A fellow Maiden.
Can a Maiden inherit two powers? She wondered.
"Uh… Amber?"
The Fall Maiden emerged from her thoughts to find her Spring counterpart watching her with a raised eyebrow. "Oh… sorry, got distracted there." She leaned on her staff. "So… you've got your Aura unlocked now, too, right? How's that been going?"
"Yeah. Garek unlocked it after… Lily. Said he couldn't teach me Maiden power, but at least he could help me protect myself Aura-wise." She shrugged. "Garek says I'm coming along, but not to go looking for trouble. Aura is hard." She patted the firearm at her hip. "A high-powered dust round is a lot simpler."
Amber snorted. She wasn't wrong. Until you ran out of ammo. "Right. So you've felt the difference between the two?"
Crystal ruffled the side of her own hair, thinking deeply. "Mayyybeee."
"Right. Ok let's start there. To me, Aura feels very personal. It's a part of you, inside you. You can draw on it, and it's familiar."
Crystal nodded. "Right."
"On the other hand, when you invoke the Maiden power, it should feel really different. It's not something that comes from inside you, more like something you're drawing from…" she struggled to find the words, "from the world itself." She gestured around them, taking in the world in general. "LIke there's magic out there, just waiting to be tapped into, but most people just don't have the ability to sense it and grab hold of it."
"Huh. Okay. Yeah. I can see that."
"And the other side of that is… Aura is limited. You burn through it, and then regenerate it. This stuff, this magic, isn't."
Crystal blinked. "So… it's unlimited?" Holy shit.
"Not exactly. From what I've felt, there's a localized limitation. It's like you're pulling it from around you, and then pouring it back out in a form you choose. You can, sorta, deplete it temporarily if you work hard, but it comes back after a while." She thought. "And how much you can channel at a time depends more on how much you practice than anything else."
Practice. Right. "But the problem with that is…"
"Right. I know for a fact that Ozpin can tell when large amounts of magic are being used. It's how he showed up in my freaking dorm room before I even knew what was happening. And based on his warnings, I'm pretty sure that Salem can, too. On top of that, Maiden magic tends to be elemental and freaking showy. People notice a tornado, or firestorm, or what have you, in an urban area. So big, showy practice is a really, really bad idea, unless you are in disguise and plan to move on very, very quickly."
And then she smiled. "But if we're careful, and Ozpin knows exactly where I am, we can do some modest work here and he'll just assume it's me, honing my craft or whatever."
Crystal nodded. "Ok. Yeah."
Amber regarded her for a bit longer. "So what's your life goal?"
Crystal blinked. "Eh?"
"Look, Crystal, being a Maiden is a pain in the ass. If you don't want to end up like Omaira, who I'm told went full hermit out in the desert somewhere, you have to decide what you want out of life, and what risks you're willing to take to have that life. I'm one example. Omaira is another. I don't even want to talk about Fria."
"Oh. I… well, to be honest, I shouldn't even be alive, so… every day is a bonus for me."
Amber chewed on that. "Well… that's … not a bad attitude to take, really. Care to explain?" She motioned to the ground, and the two sat, cross legged, on the grass. The coldness of the ground immediately began to seep into them, but Amber figured that would help later.
Cautiously, Crystal gave Amber a high-level overview of her life-path so far. She didn't go into specifics of who or what Selene actually was, nor the real reason she had an obligation to protect her, but she got the point across.
Amber whistled. "You're right. You're lucky to be alive. Multiple times. Damn. No wonder you've got a good attitude about all this.".
"Yeah. So…" Crystal shrugged. "I figure, master this as well as I can, and then I can do what I promised, cover their back, and they'll cover mine."
"Must be nice," Amber said sourly.
"You know, you could join us," Crystal added smoothly.
Amber's brown face pinched. "What, hang out in Menagerie?"
"You got someplace better to be?"
Amber absorbed that, and glanced around as if comparing it to where she was now. "I'll think about it, once I've got Ozpin off my back." Maybe talk to Qrow. He knows more than he's letting on. "Anyway. Let's focus on the four elements, first. It's basically the building blocks of everything else. Do what I do here." She rested her forearms on her knees, palms upward. "Now, close your eyes, and reach out with your senses. Feel the elements around you. The ground cold and solid beneath you. The slight breeze through your hair. The warmth of the sun on your skin. The feel of moisture in the air. They aren't just elements. They're pieces and parts of Remnant, and they have their own innate magic."
As she spoke, Crystal felt like she could sense a growing energy across from her, where Amber sat. And then… ever so gradually, she became aware of a sort of latent energy around her, just out of reach.
Out of reach… for the moment.
Beacon - Ozpin
Ozpin sat behind his ornate clockwork desk. It was a reminder. Everything around him was a reminder. A reminder that the world was incredibly complex. A reminder that things must be not only beautiful, but should also serve a purpose. That he had a purpose, and was but one cog in an ages-long machine, whose goal was to hold Salem at bay for yet one more generation.
Regardless of how it wearied him.
At the moment, he was frustrated. Frustrated enough to actually speak to himself out loud. It had been years since his host had been able to speak back with a distinct voice, but the habit was hard to break. "I cannot believe that Summer and Taiyang accepted Leo's request." He gripped his cocoa mug. "I had believed… hoped, that she might stay at Signal. And eventually agree to teach at Beacon. To ensure that Ruby, at least, would remain where I could train and protect her."
Silver eyes, critical to the struggle against Salem. And they were at risk of slipping through his fingers. Yes, Leo would still train her, but… he would have been more comfortable, felt more sure, if she'd been here, at Beacon.
He reviewed the initial report he'd received from Kent Azulent. The instructor from Pharos Combat School had at first been reluctant to volunteer for Cove Combat School, but had agreed after Ozpin promised to consider him for a future spot at Beacon. Kent had long been a reliable sounding board for Ozpin at Pharos, but Ozpin was wary of using a man who was not part of the inner circle in this manner.
Summer had been, as had Taiyang. Now…
"Now I am unsure what to think," he said, allowing a rare frown to crease his features. "Summer appears to be recovering, slowly, much of her former headstrong personality." Dr. Mazarin had reported on her progress, as he would any huntsman's progress in dealing with trauma, to the Beacon Headmaster. Her agreeing to Ironwood's offer of a prosthetic, for example, Dr. Mazareon had indicated was a milestone. A very positive one.
But Ozpin couldn't help but feel she was not the Summer Rose of old. Something had changed indelibly in their relationship. She didn't ask his advice as she had. She didn't confide in him. She still wasn't volunteering for missions while she had jumped at the chance to assist her old teammate, and then had volunteered for this.
He shook his head. "Perhaps that is why I am frustrated, Mrs. Rose. There was a time when you would have been my trusted eyes and ears at this Breakwater Academy, at least until Leo took over leadership. But now?"
Now he was asking someone outside his circle of trust to monitor not only affairs in Menagerie, but indirectly someone he should have trusted.
He could not help but feel, deep down, that events had begun to slip from his grasp. Which was… not quite rational. True, he'd been surprised by Leo's news that he was accepting a position at this new Academy, but he was also heartened by his old friend's increased assertiveness. And Qrow's success in retrieving Amber Quick, likewise, should be reassuring.
"Then why am I feeling so unsettled?" He mused.
Because something is wrong, an inner voice answered.
Over lives, over millennia of reincarnations, he had learned to listen to that inner voice. And it was telling him to be wary.
He sighed and checked his messages.
An eyebrow went up. At the top of the queue was a notification from Glynda that young Winter Schnee, in her capacity as Atlas Specialist, had arrived in Vale from Atlas, and was enroute with a letter from her superior officer.
Winter Schnee, hand delivering a letter from James?
Most unusual.
Perhaps, most unfortunately, my instincts remain quite sharp.
Evernight Castle – Salem
Queen Salem considered the mustachioed scientist before her. One delicate eyebrow arched. "You wish to make a move, this fall, at the Atlas Vytal Festival."
"Yes, my Queen."
"Hmmm.." Pitiless eyes shifted up and to the right in deep thought. "Do you feel some… particular sense of urgency, Watts? That it should be this year, rather than, perhaps, in six years' time when Vale hosts this so-called tournament?"
Doctor Watts, he gritted. "Your Majesty, my particular skills are very well suited to infiltrating Atlas, and the Vytal Festival being held there provides me opportunities I might not otherwise have. It will not return to Atlas for almost a decade." He cleared his throat. "And with two of the Relics currently out of my reach, it leaves only Atlas and Vacuo as potential opportunities."
Alien eyes bore into his, and he fought the urge to flinch. "I see. You believe you can access the Relic of Creation." She considered. "Why not focus on the fourth Relic, in Vacuo, instead?"
Watts smiled. He had anticipated this, and had begun making plans there. "Oh I plan to, your Grace. I have set things in motion there, as well. We can potentially secure two Relics in a single masterstroke."
"Hmm…" She turned to Hazel. "And you, Hazel, are… supportive of this effort?"
Hazel bowed. "I can't obtain the Relic of Choice, not with the Fall Maiden out of our reach, but…" His voice lowered as he hissed the next sentence. "Ozma's latest incarnation will likely remain at Beacon during this year's festival. With his Deputy at Atlas, and most of Branwen's attention elsewhere, we can potentially set him back years by forcing a reincarnation when he isn't prepared for it."
Her eyes flicked between the two men, and then to Tyrian. "And what do you say, Tyrian?"
"My Goddess, I am content to serve you in any capacity. If you bid me remain here, I rejoice. If you send me abroad to bathe in the blood of your enemies, I rejoice. If you wish me to serve as your new throne, I rejoice." His smile broadened. "Though the blood of your enemies does hold a certain charm". He licked his lips.
Her smile grew. "I am sure that it does, and I cannot find fault in your reasoning, Tyrian."
She sat still for some time, lost in thought, and the men in the room waited.
. . .
Salem found herself of two minds on the matter.
Watts is not incorrect. This is an excellent opportunity.
On the other hand, it is not a critical one. Young Selene's efforts have borne significant fruit. It is possible she would, likewise, make similar progress.
But two Relics in one stroke as Watts suggests? Surely that is much to ask of Selene and her allies, whomever they are.
Then again, she has accomplished dramatic results thus far. Two Maidens, one Relic, one Headmaster, and now an entire Continent under her sway.
Queen Salem mulled over the truth of that statement. And it was true. But still, she had begun to feel… somewhat irritated by her inability to settle on a more aggressively direct course of action, in recent months. It was as if she were operating in a state of mental lethargy.
No. No. I think it is time to see what Watts and Hazel can accomplish. We cannot leave everything to Selene's skillful diplomacy, prodigious as it appears to have become, she thought, almost regretfully.
And she did feel a pang of regret. It was… pleasant and reassuring to think that Selene was building this network, co-opting Ozma's tools, and generally setting the foundations for his eventual shocked downfall.
Yes. Ozma will fall. Selene's efforts will serve my ends, whether she fully understands this or not.
And her second thoughts, in that, were fully in agreement.
. . .
Salem stirred, and seemed to focus on the trio again.
"While I personally do not feel a sense of urgency, I am… content to give you your own head in this matter, Watts. Perhaps it will yield fruit. I await your results with interest."
Mild interest.
. . .
After they had filed out of the Throne Room, Queen Salem sat for some hours, analyzing her thoughts.
And her desires.
She found herself wishing to, yet again, leave Evernight. She had taken to doing this, more and more frequently, finding the Castle's rooms and halls galling and conversations with her Agents frustrating. They kept bothering her with their proposed schemes. Schemes that she found less interesting than she might have before.
Instead she had, in recent months, found herself repeatedly visiting Blackfeather. Harnessing him and flying the skies of her domain while she let her mind drift. It was peaceful, to the point that she felt that she often lost track of exactly how long she had been afield. More than once, she had found herself over the open ocean, realizing with a start that she was unaware of how long she had been there.
And that was starting to irritate her. No, that wasn't quite true. She was becoming angry, but with no clear target for that anger. She had felt, initially, that she was angry at Ozma and his continued existence. But when Hazel had mentioned his name just now, that old rage had resurfaced, fresh as a funeral bouquet. No it was not Ozma that had her chronically angry and frustrated. And it wasn't her Agents, when they weren't underfoot. And the Servants were… tolerable.
She realized, with a start, that she was angry with herself.
This bears consideration.
Later, perhaps. After she had seen to Blackfeather, and cleared her mind of Watts' trivial plans.
Well not so trivial, but… she felt the beginnings of a headache, layered on top of the nonstop background pain that her condition imparted. Bah. Never the mind.
Blackfeather awaited. Things were simpler riding upon his back, with the wind roaring in her ears and the surface of Remnant far below.
Grimmlands – Watts
Derecho's scroll rang.
In truth, it wasn't a "Scroll" at all. It was an apparatus that collected sound and modified it, along with a speaker, and then transmitted it in emulation of a scroll. There was also a motion-capture subsystem, which along with a renderer of his own creation, could in a pinch create a very believable image of the woman named Derecho on the recipient's Scroll.
He had not been required to use that yet, neither with the children at Shade, nor with the buffoons of The Scarred in Atlas.
He checked his monitoring subroutines against the incoming ID, and verified it was indeed the one named Argento Pocoron. He connected the call, and via his hacked firmware, turned on the other scroll's camera remotely, without the indicator light notifying them. He could see that only Argento Pocoron was present in the room at the moment.
"Mr. Pocoron," Watt's voice stated and Derecho's smooth voice transmitted to Pocoron's scroll.
"Hi Derecho, um… can I ask a favor?"
"Of course, my friend," Derecho responded. "What is it?"
"Well, Jax is getting really weird about Atlas tech in the dorm and… I was wondering if you had something we could use instead. Like… a scroll, but not from Atlas, and without a camera. He's weird about that, too."
Arthur Watts blinked, and Derecho laughed. "Oh I see," her feminine voice replied. "Yes of course. I will discuss with my employer, and see if we can get you a suitable substitute. Something without Atlas' taint upon it."
"Awesome!"
Yes. A custom device. Something that would further cement Team GRAJ's and Team CBRA's utility. And perhaps a few other features, to ensure their reliability as well. "Of course, there is a task, a small task, that I would ask of your teams in turn."
"Oh. Right. What do you need us to do?"
"Two things. There is a woman we need you to locate. I will send you what information I have. Young Mister Asturias will be critical to ensuring her cooperation."
"Alright. And the second?"
"We wish your team to arrange a teacher conference with Professor Rumpole."
Vacuo – Team GRAJ
"Ok sure, but what are we getting out of it?" Jax asked dismissively, when Argento told him what he'd negotiated.
"The scroll-"
"Nah, don't give a crap about that. That's your baby, Argento. I want something else. A show of good faith."
. . .
Finally they called Derecho together. "Alright, I'm ready to set up a meet with Professor Rumpole. That was the first thing you wanted, right?"
"Excellent," the woman replied.
"But we want something in return," Jax said quickly. "Something other than that stupid scroll thing."
Watts grit his teeth, careful that the sound didn't transmit through Derecho. "What do you wish?"
Jax and Gillian shared a long look. "We need something… out there in the public domain, something that I can see with my own eyes. Something that at least talks about my family history. Something people will believe if they see it."
"I told you-"
"Not gonna announce, Derecho. Not even gonna confirm if people ask. Just… we just want people to be able to find it. You get me?"
Watts considered. "Fine," Derecho said. "Yes. We can do something along those lines."
"And then I'll set up the meeting."
When I have no further use for you… "Of course. It shall be done. Thank you, Mr. Asturias. It is a pleasure."
. . .
The next day, a link was sent to Argento's Scroll, and once he checked it, he immediately showed it to Jax and Gillian.
It was a paper. A scholarly paper, written by someone they'd never heard of before, supposedly a genealogist, and published in an actual Vacuan historical society journal.
It was a paper tracing the Asturias family line, with modest confidence, back to Malik the Sunderer, First King of Ancient Vacuo. There were places where the information was sketchy, unconfirmed, but with citations stating that research was ongoing.
And this was followed by a text that any further confirmation would be withheld, until after their work was complete and the Asturias twins graduated Shade.
"Freaking awesome!" Jax crowed.
"This is gold, Jax," Gillian said, looking at her brother with shining eyes. "Pure gold. People can find this. Use it in their research!"
None of the teens were smart enough to question who the paper's author, Dr. Salam Eb Ashar, actually was, nor how he had come into existence only 48 hours prior.
[A/N] Special thanks to Rookie80, Shadowstorm-Vash, AtomicR4y and GreenEyesOrigamiDragon!
Rookie, yep definitely making some moves. Storm was absolutely hand-picked, though the Combat Schools are not known for prejudice.
Shadowstorm, Nagata it very much looking forward to when Leo gets to Menagerie. Now I feel I missed an opportunity to do a Team STRQ airdop.
Atomic, yep Ursulus is showing his age now. In canon he would have retired I think by now.
Dragon, gonna see more interior stories later!
And so we get snippets of ALMOST everyone that didn't appear in recent chapters and pretty much close out January 74VE. Qrow didn't appear, because he got stupid drunk and was too hung over to bother.
Hope you enjoyed some screen time for the Skye family, human refugees from Gehen Mining Camp. Eric Skye and his faunus compatriots are going to figure heavily in a future chapter.
You may have recognized the captain in the first bit. He's the unnamed canon captain of the ship that Blake and Sun took back to Menagerie after Volume 3. I decided to give him a name and personality. :-)
Next "month" in the story we will be... revisiting the Schnee manor to see what insanity Rhodes has gotten up to!
And for this chapter, I stole a bunch of Singlish slang because Lushu feels a lot like that to me. A quick translation of some terms (my apologies to any Singaporeans who I offended with my clumsy use):
"Act Blur" means play dumb.
"Arrow something" means make it someone else's problem.
"Don't spoil market" means making business hard for everyone.
"Die Die must try" is kinda self-explanatory.
"Lah" emphasizes confidence or agreement.
"Kaypoh" is a nosy busybody
I hope you enjoyed the catch-up, and there are a TON of little foreshadowing gems buried in this chapter, which might make it worth a second read. It kinda ballooned up on me (the fun ones to write tend to do that).