"Mayday from flight nine-four-thirteen! She's taken an engine hit and going down!"
Greeve's head shot up from the holographic table. He raced over to the radio station and grabbed a microphone from the table. "Flight nine-four-thirteen, can you read me? What happened?"
Static answered Greeve's hail. Greeve dropped the microphone and turned to the attendant. "Did they say anything before you lost contact?"
"Nevermore sir," the radio attendant said. "They got hit in the port engine."
"Did they have a team onboard?"
"They didn't say."
"Keep trying to raise the transport," Greeve said. He returned to the table and panned to the transport's last location. "Get the other transports on the horn. Do we have any still in range?"
"What's going on?" Yarrow asked.
"Airship took a hit," Greeve said. "It's going down over the forest."
"Flights three and eighteen are still in range," a technician announced. "Should I have them turn around?"
"Yes, do it immediately," Greeve ordered.
"It's not going to be enough," Ebon said.
Greeve tuned to face the faunus. "Why's that?"
"Nine-four-thirteen had the heavy load," Ebon said. "The transports won't fit them."
"Heavy load, what—"
"I've got a hail from team LSTRDLN," the radio attendant called out. "They weren't on the ship, but they're encountering increased Grimm activity. More than they've seen so far."
"The big team," Greeve swore. Even if they left the strange vehicle, the extra weight would make a return to Atlas impossible. The airships only had enough fuel to pick up the students and return, with a few minutes spent loitering if the landing zone was not yet clear. If it were a four man team in trouble it might be possible. But team LSTRDLN had seven members. Even splitting them up would make the airships far too heavy.
"Their leader wants to make a run for it. He thinks he can get his team out.
"Tell him to run if he can, otherwise stay put," Greeve commanded. "Get some ships overhead while you're at it. They'll need the air support."
Greeve reached for his coffee cup when he realized his order hadn't gotten a reply. He glanced around to see the entire room unable to meet his gaze.
"Well? Is there a problem?" Greeve demanded.
"Sir, most of the home fleet is conducting exercises in the western peninsula. All that's left are transports and a strike squadron."
"Then get them in the air," Greeve said. "Give them ordinance if you can, guns if not."
The technicians shifted in their seats. The radio operator coughed in to his hand.
"Uh, Greeve? are you forgetting that—" Yarrow began.
"Not now Yarrow," Greeve ordered. He stormed to the radio set and grabbed the man by the shirt. "There are students in danger and I am giving you a direct order. Is there a problem officer?"
The operator gulped in fear. On his free hand, Haunted Toll uncoiled from Greeve's fingers. The wires reached toward the man's face when Ebon grabbed Greeve's hand and pulled it away. "You don't have clearance to call in the airforce, you know that Greeve," he said. "Only Ironwood has that power."
"Why didn't you say something then?"
"We thought you knew, and Yarrow did try to," Ebon said. "So how about you drop the him and get the general's permission?"
Greeve let go of the unfortunate radio operator, who collapsed back in to his seat. Haunted Toll coiled back around his fingers and Greeve watched it with surprise. He hadn't even noticed it uncoiling. He took several deep breaths before pulling out his Scroll and hitting General Ironwood's number. The only sound that answered his call was the busy tone.
"He's still in that call," Greeve said. The announcement elicited groans from across the room.
"Damn Schnee straight to hell," Ebon said.
Greeve left the radio station and began circling the holographic table. "Come on, think. Is there anything else we can do to get them some more time?" Greeve asked.
"You could teleport in," Ebon offered.
"Too far, I'd use too much Aura getting there to be any use," Greeve said. "Could we send in any more transports?"
"None in reserves sir," a technician spoke up. "They're with the rest of the fleet."
Greeve slammed a fist in to the table, denting the edge and knocking his coffee cup to the ground. The plastic lid burst free and the brown liquid spread across the floor. This couldn't be happening. Not on his first command. There had to be something that they were forgetting. Something they could send. He looked up, hoping to see someone had an idea. The only things he got was deafening silence and faces as helpless as he was.
"Oh my gods, where's Daniel?" Rojoe cried.
Scrapmetal bolted through the dense forest toward Atlas. Lunare's hands danced over the controls like the conductor of a vast orchestra playing the ballad of their frantic escape. Dodging trees, jumping boulders, the Grimm horde never far behind. Those that couldn't keep up were soon replaced by those who could. Those that could kept pace no matter what Lunare did. The only thing that stopped them was the constant barrage of fire coming from every member of team LSTRDLN.
A beowolf got a burst of speed and latched on to a spare tire on the rear. It gnawed at the rubber and scratched the back hatch. It clambered its way in to the back until Schatten stabbed it through the head with his claws. The body flapped in the wind as it dissolved, held in place by the teeth still embedded in the tire.
"Why didn't you take that tire off?" Schatten asked.
"I did, but the white walls went too well with the aesthetic," Lunare said.
Scrapmetal swerved around a cluster of snow laden trees and Schatten braced himself. "Well, if you're going for the scratch and dent look it still works.
Up ahead an Ursa burst from a snow flecked bush and charged the team. It roared and stood up to strike Scrapmetal. It never got the chance. A brilliant blue light enveloped the Ursa as the cannon on the roof discharged. Black dust splattered the windshield and Lunare turned the wipers on to remove it.
Dakota put the controller down. "That makes fourteen shots. Ty, get me another can."
Tiberius handed Dakota a can of Dust. Dakota read the label and tossed it in the back seat. "You think we need more ice right now?"
"You didn't complain about that last canister," Tiberius said but he handed Dakota another. Dakota tucked the can under his arm and opened the passenger door. A tree tore the door off its hinges and threw it in to a snow bank. Dakota recoiled and held the can close to his chest. He clambered from the seat and onto the side. Icy wind cut in to his exposed face. He grabbed the roof and started climbing to the roof. A branch snagged the hood of his parka and yanked his head back. He lost his grip and slid toward the back when a gloved hand grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to the roof.
"Seems you needed a hand there," Nick shouted over the roaring wind.
"Thanks," Dakota shouted back. "How are you two doing up here?"
"Time of our lives!" Nick said "On your left Ryler!"
Ryler pivoted and fired Vengeful Pixie in to a pack of chasing beowolves. Rose bushes burst from the snow and ensnared the pack.
Dakota steadied himself against the cannon. Like most of Lunare's designs it wasn't pretty to look at. But he knew from experience that beneath the exterior it was a feat of engineering. Built overnight and tested today in combat, it was only something Lunare could have created. The only thing he hadn't perfected was the energy source. The design called for a feed from the fuel tank, but there hadn't been enough time to build it. For now, the cannon fired from portable cans of Dust. Cans that frequently needed to be replaced.
Dakota yanked the empty can from the cannon and slotted the new one in. As he did, Ryler cried out behind him. A Beowolf had Ryler by the ankle and was dragging him off of the roof. He held Vengeful Pixie in one hand, the roof in the other. Nick moved to help him but another Beowolf pounced at him and he was forced in to a tussle.
Dakota acted on impulse. Reaper's Reach burst in to links and erupted in flames. Dust scraped through the veins of his left hand. He forced the pain to the back of his mind and whipped the weapon in to the Grimm. The flaming chains wrapped around the Beowolf's neck and seared through the tissue. The body dropped away, and the head rapidly disintegrated. The chains were whipped up, formed a solid bar, and struck the Beowolf fighting Nick with a backhand blow. Nick ripped the creature's jaws apart and it too disintegrated.
"Oh thank you Dakota," Ryler sobbed as Dakota pulled him back on top. "I thought I was a goner."
"You would've done the same," Dakota said. "How's the leg?"
Ryler flexed his ankle and grimaced. "I don't have much Aura left."
"Get inside and man the cannon. I'll go a few rounds."
Ryler nodded and slid off the roof. Dakota stood and connected Reaper's Reach together. He was running on reserves too, maybe even more than Ryler. But the Grimm were getting bolder and they needed a melee specialist on the roof. Just a bit longer, and then he'd let Schatten take his place. Better to have a rested fighter and an exhausted one than two that were both tired.
"You sure you're good?" Nick asked.
"Never better," Dakota said. "You?"
The roar of Scrapmetal's revving engine drowned out Nick's response. A heaping snow bank bordering a clearing was approaching and Lunare seemed intent on barreling through it. Dakota braced for the wave of snow that accompanied the last snow bank they forded.
He never got the chance.
The passengers of Scrapmetal would all remember it in slow motion. Right before they hit it, the snow bank shifted and collapsed. Sparkling snow gave way to bleached scales and reptilian eyes. There was no time to evade, no time to jump. Scrapmetal ran headfirst in to the King Taijitu. The front bumper clipped the body and tore from the body. The forward legs pulled free from their solid titanium joints. Everyone became airborne before seatbelts reacted and held them in place. Dakota and Nick were not so lucky. As Scrapmetal flipped over the snake Grimm they launched in to the air. Years of dealing with unruly livestock was enough for Nick to manage a rough landing with minimal loss of Aura. Dakota had none of his experience and his Aura was all but gone. It collapsed when he hit the ground headfirst. Things broke; not the frozen ground.
The Atlesian hangars were in an absolute disarray. As the huntsman teams landed, news of team LSTRDLN's plight filtered through the pilots and mechanics. Misinformation spread amongst the ranks as everyone tried to make sense of conflicting reports. Some said their strange vehicle had accidentally shot the airship from the sky. Others were convinced the team had been on the airship when a Grimm had taken it down. The silence from the seniors supposed to be in command of the operation did nothing to dissuade the spread of rumors. In the midst of all the chaos, no one paid any attention to the actions of a lone redheaded teenager.
Daniel didn't know why he was doing this. Every rational part of his mind told him this was a terrible idea. Even if everything worked out, there was no way they wouldn't expel him or worse when he got back. If nothing else he could say goodbye to ever having an Aura again. And yet he kept on his course.
Daniel approached the area where the fighters were housed. In spite of the emergency none of them were being readied for flight. No bombs or missiles hung from the hardpoints, no way of knowing how much fuel or ammo they held. They had to at least have something in case they needed to scramble, but he had no idea what that might be.
A helmet sat on a bench pushed up against the hangar wall. Daniel picked it up and inspected it. A flaming ninja was emblazoned on the white surface, inspiring a memory he'd forgotten until now. Daniel put the helmet back down. He'd take someone else's fighter.
"What are you doing here?"
Daniel whirled around to see a fighter pilot standing with his arms crossed over his chest.
"Listen kid, I know you want to go help that team, but we aren't authorized to leave yet. You need to get back to your team before—" the pilot paused, his eyes narrowing. "You're that kid I ferried a few months back aren't you?"
"I need your starter card," Daniel said. He pulled his pistol from its holster and pointed it at the pilot. "Sorry I don't have time to ask nicely."
The pilot stood still, unconcerned by the gun. "How do you think this will go down? Even if you take off the tank barely has enough to get you there. This is a one way trip."
Daniel pulled back the hammer. "That's all I need."
The pilot raised his hands. He studied Daniel, and recognition dawned across his face. "That's your team out there isn't it? The one you were in before you came here." When Daniel didn't answer the pilot nodded in understanding. "They're in sector B7. They tried to run but a Grimm took out their ride. Key card's in the left pocket."
Daniel stepped forward and removed the starter card. "Thank you. Sorry about this." He struck the pilot against the temple and grabbed him before he hit the ground. He dragged the unconscious man in to an empty room before grabbing the helmet and clambering in to the cockpit. The sheer number of buttons and dials worried Daniel, but the words of the pilot he had knocked out came back to him. So long as they had the starter card, a monkey could fly the plane.
Amid all the chaos, the whine of the engines attracted little attention as Daniel strapped in to the seat. It wasn't until he taxied out of the hangar that people became alarmed.
"Group leader, shut off your engine and exit the cockpit. We do not have clearance to strike."
"Understood, taking off anyways," Daniel said in to the mic.
"Who is this? How did you get in that aircraft?"
Daniel ignored their hails and focused on taxiing. He made it to the end of the runway and was about to turn onto it when several airships lifted off and positioned themselves on the runway. Daniel hit the brakes and surveyed the scene. There was no way he could use the runway to take off. Even if there was a clean line he could take, the airships would reposition themselves to block him.
"Unidentified pilot, do not take off. The airships are prepared to prevent your passage using any means necessary."
Daniel hit the plexiglass canopy in frustration. This couldn't be the end! He would not leave his team to die out there. There had to be some way to takeoff. Moving to another runway was out of the question, they'd see it coming a mile away. Maybe if he—
"Daniel? This is Greeve speaking. Please respond."
Daniel took a deep breath before answering. "Hello Greeve."
"Daniel what are you thinking? Stealing a fighter and trying to go off on your own?"
"Well you didn't give me much of a choice, did you Greeve?" Daniel shot back. He winced as a headache came on. That was the last thing he needed right now; the beast rearing its ugly head. "What was I supposed to do when you left them to die, sit on my ass and twiddle my thumbs?"
"It doesn't have to go down this way. Come back and we can talk this out."
"There is nothing to talk out," Daniel said, "If you can't send help then I'll go myself."
"You're not ready for a Grimm swarm," Greeve said. "This is out of your league,"
"That doesn't matter! If I don't go, my team will die. I don't want their deaths on me. You want more deaths on you?"
A long silence followed. The last sentence hung suspended in the air between them. Waves of pain drummed through Daniel's skull. He winced at every throbbing pulse. He looked out the canopy toward the hangars, begging for a release. To his surprise, the relief came. And with it, an idea.
"Mister Grigio," Greeve said. He took a shuddering breath before continuing. "Turn around and return to the taxiway. Don't make me come out there and stop you."
Daniel jammed the transmit button. "Fine. I'll turn around for you, Dad." He jammed the rudder pedals hard to the right. The fighter pivoted and rolled back the way he came.
"We'll be discussing this insubordination later," Greeve said. "Your actions are a poor reflection of what I've tried to teach you. We can't break the rules just because we don't like them."
"Save your breath Greeve," Daniel said. "I don't blame you for what you did."
"You don't?" The surprise in Greeve's voice almost made Daniel laugh.
You can't send any fighters after them and you won't risk any more Huntsmen. Can't blame you for that."
"Then why did you do this if we're on the same page?"
Daniel finished the turn and straightened out. "Because we aren't. Not in the slightest."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't give a damn what you can't do," Daniel said, "Not when there's something I can." He shoved the throttle all the way forwards and the jet roared down the taxiway. The g-forces shoved Daniel in to his seat, and the radio lit up with a litany of comms chatter. Huntsmen and ground crews scattered out of his way. The airships lifted off to block him and Greeve's purple portal materialized infront of the fighter. It was too late. Daniel pulled back on the stick and the jet leapt in to the air. the gear retracted with clunk and he banked toward the forest.
"Daniel, please don't do this," Greeve pleaded. "This is too dangerous for you."
"Sorry Greeve," Daniel said "but this is goodbye. Tell the others I said thanks for everything."
"Daniel—"
Daniel turned off the radio. Greeve's protests died with a squawk. Nothing but the sound of the engines to distract Daniel from his thoughts. He'd burned another bridge today. Whatever happened next, there would be no returning to team GREYD. And yet, he couldn't help but feel relieved. Six months of regret lifted from his shoulders. He was on his way home.
He just hoped some of those old bridges were still intact.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
