Martial Law (New)
Martial Law
Ozpin stood at the window of his office, the vast window which offered him such an expansive view of Beacon, of Vale beyond, and of the skies over both his school and his city.
The skies that had become a battlefield.
He had his cane clasped in his hands. He very much wanted to lean upon it. Watching the Atlesian and Valish airships do battle in the skies above his school, above his city, he felt … he felt very old. He felt as though he had lived too long.
It was always true. It had been true for many years now — he had always lived too long — but there were times when he felt his age particularly intensely.
Anyone who had lived through the Great War as he had might look out and look up at this battle between the forces of Vale and Atlas, a battle of the sort that was supposed to have been banished forever, and think that they had lived too long. Anyone who had seen the days that he had seen, witnessed the bloodshed he had witnessed, who had passed through those battles and that bloodshed to chain up cruel war within the bounds of Vytal, might look up and see those same gates opened wide and war unleashed once more in all his horrors and despair of it.
He had … he had less cause than most men to lament, though it was a tragedy most grievous. When one lived as long as he did, it was inevitable that one would see the same things over and over again, cycles repeating themselves for good and ill alike. There came a point when one could only say that all of this had happened before, and all of it would happen again. He had never wholly believed that the era of peace ushered in after the Faunus Rights Revolution could last forever; he would have been a fool had he believed that the gates and chains that held back war would hold for all time until the utter end of Remnant.
But to see them fall at this time, in this way, in this place … had he not the right, as any old man with wizened skin and rheumy eyes would surely have the right, to lament, to shake his head, to weep, to feel that he had lived too long? To wish that he had not lived to see such times return, though he had lived and he would live to see all times?
Long had he lived, too long. It had been so long since he had heard the chimes of midnight that … it must have been a year ago or more.
And yet, there were times when he felt his age most keenly, and this was surely one of them. To watch Vale and Atlas at each other’s throats once more.
He closed his eyes and fought an inward battle against despair. This might not lead to war. The situation might be contained. If the Siren were defeated, if General Blackthorn was forced to surrender—
“Do you really believe that?” Raven asked. “Are you really still so naïve as to think that’s possible?”
Ozpin glanced at her over his shoulder. She was not really here, of course; this was not Raven, this … this was his fears, his doubts, made manifest out of his mind. Were Glynda to come in right now, she would see him conversing with the empty air.
“There is still a chance,” he said. “Still a chance that war may be avoided.”
“Look out of your window, old man,” Raven snapped derisively. “The war has started!”
“Even if it has started,” said Summer Rose, appearing on the far side of the room, “it may finish on this same night.”
She wore a cloak of white, a white exterior and a white lining, clasped across her chest by four crossbelts of black leather, with the silver rose that she had passed onto her daughter clasped in the centre of those belts. Beneath the cloak, her dress was red, with a knee-length skirt that billowed outwards, giving her plenty of room to move and no chance to trip or obstruct her. In one hand, she held her familial axe, looking large and brutish compared with its slight and — if he might admit it without seeming a goat — rather lovely owner.
She, too, was not here, worse luck. He would have welcomed her now. He would have welcomed her return at any time. If Summer had returned, not dead all these years but … if she had lost her memory, or were serving as a priestess in a Mistralian temple waiting for her husband to decide to take a third wife like some preposterous comedy, then Ozpin would have believed that there were other gods than the cruel ones that oversaw this world.
But she was not here, any more than Raven was; Summer, too, was conjured by his mind, though from a better part of it than Raven was sprung out from.
“You don’t believe that,” Raven said. “You can’t believe that.”
“Nobody wants a war—” Summer began.
“Someone wants a war, or else how did it start?” demanded Raven.
“You know why,” Summer responded. “If it weren’t for the Siren, then none of this would be happening.”
“But it has happened,” Raven declared. “And now, it cannot be stopped. No one knows about a Siren, about Equestrian magic influencing people’s minds, and no one will care. All that they’ll know, all that they’ll care about, is that a Valish airship opened fire on an Atlesian ship and that the Atlesian ship is about to destroy the Valish ship.”
Ozpin turned away from both of them, looking out of his window once again; though the air was filled with flying grimm, and with the smaller fighters of both the Valish and Atlesians locked in battle, the greater size of the Valish destroyer and of General Ironwood’s cruiser — not to mention the fire and smoke emanating out of the latter — made them easy to pick out.
The Atlesians were firing back. The Valish, as far as Ozpin could see, had not fired a second volley; the guns on the Valish destroyers were rather old, and each gun had to be individually reloaded in a process that took some little time. No doubt, the airmen on board that ship were working as fast as they could, pushing their systems hard to move the great shells from the magazine to the guns, but … during his time on the Council, he had never pushed for greater vigour on the part of the Valish Defence Force; if they had withered and died and left the defence of Vale entirely to huntsmen and huntresses, he would not have regretted.
Certainly, he would not have regretted it tonight. No, he would not have regretted one bit if those Valish sailors had not been there, had not been driven into a battle that did not need to be fought. If they had not been about to die.
But while the Valish reloaded, the Atlesians fired; their ship might have looked wounded, but it was certainly not stricken; missiles leapt from the undamaged parts of the port side, and so, too, did twin lines of shells from dorsally-mounted howitzers. Ozpin had been unfortunate enough to hear James holding forth on warship design on one occasion and knew that he considered the pair of howitzers to be an archaic feature, one that ought to be removed from the next iteration of cruisers, but whoever was commanding that ship up there certainly seemed to be getting some use out of them.
Missile and howitzer shell — the latter being pumped out with a rapidity that must make the Valish envious — slammed into the flank of the Valish destroyer, bursting on its armour in a series of explosions that, at times, managed to completely obscure the ship itself, hiding it behind smoke and flowers of flame. Neither shell nor missile penetrated the armour — the Valish ships were thickly armoured, if nothing else — but Ozpin guessed that the aim was not to destroy the Valish ship with that fire but to disorient the Valish crew, knock out their sensors, and possibly disable some of the starboard guns.
The fact that the Valish still did not return fire could be said to show that it was working.
The Valish destroyer attempted to turn; this ship, like all the Valish ships bar the purchased Mistralian ones, had a triangular prow jutting out from the main boxy hull, and in addition to the four guns mounted on the bow, there was a long ram jutting out beyond it.
Judging by the way the Valish ship was trying to move forwards, Ozpin thought they meant to use the ram as much as the guns.
But the Atlesian ship was moving too, turning even as it reduced the amount of fire that it could bring to bear, presenting its own bow towards the Valish ship.
The Valish fired their bow cannons. Two of them missed, passing beneath the Atlesians to strike … to strike the Amity Colosseum.
Ozpin blanched as flames erupted upon the arena. He could not imagine — he didn’t want to imagine — how many people had been killed or wounded just now.
Another of the Valish shots glanced off the Atlesian armour, now that it was angled more towards them. Only a single shell struck home, causing the Atlesian to shudder a little under the impact.
Then the Atlesians fired their lasers.
Twin red beams erupted out of the Atlesian ship, streaking across the short distance between the two vessels before slamming into the Valish hull.
As the lasers pierced through the armour on the Valish destroyer, it seemed to Ozpin that a sequence of explosions ripped the Valish ship apart from the inside out, cascading down the ship from bow to stern, causing the armour plates to bulge outwards, or to burst, gun and plate and shard of hull flying through the evening sky to fall on … he thought that the debris ought to land on the inner cliffs, facing towards Vale, around the Vault of the Fall Maiden; there should be no one there to get hurt by it.
Which was all to the good, as it seemed that there would imminently be falling something that was even more substantial than the debris thrown aside by the explosions within the Valish ship. The warship was wholly stricken, that was clear even to Ozpin at this distance; it had not completely exploded, but if anyone was still alive inside, that fact must have been small consolation to them, for the ship was burning from stem to stern, fires visible upon the hull and through the holes that had been blown in the hull by the explosions within; smoke billowed from every newly made orifice, and even with the Atlesian laser fire ceased, more explosions looked to be erupting within. The forward movement of the Valish ship had ceased; it hung listless in the air, leaning to the left — no, not leaning; it was turning, turning upside down as it began to fall, spinning in the air, towards the ground.
Ozpin watched it fall, the burning shell of a once-proud ship, the burning remains of a housing for over a hundred men. He glanced up towards the Atlesian warship, wounded but victorious; she could not help but look proud as she remained airborne, the sole survivor of the brief duel, for all that she had been taken by surprise at its beginning. Were they celebrating on the Atlesian ship, he wondered; were they whooping and cheering on the bridge, were they filled with jubilation at their victory over Vale? Or did they, like him, mourn the loss of so many souls for so little purpose?
"Do you think that this war can start and end in a single night?" Raven asked. "Do you still imagine that such acts can be forgiven? It has begun in blood, and in blood it will be ended."
"That is the old way," Ozpin murmured. "But this is a new world, not the world that you — or even Summer — live in. We must … hope."
"Hope for what?" Raven demanded. "Hope that people will accept their losses, that they'll put aside their anger and resentment and move forward?"
"That people are willing to sacrifice to maintain the gift of peace, the pearl beyond price," Ozpin said softly. "That they are prepared to endure, rather than see their kingdom plunged into chaos."
Raven snorted. "Good luck with that. If you are so hopeful of the virtue of the masses, then why haven't you told them about Salem and all the rest? Where is this great hope when you sit up here like an old spider and spin your webs and entrap poor fools in your schemes and webs and wars?"
Ozpin did not reply. There was little enough to be said on the subject. "Nevertheless, in the circumstances," he replied, "hope may be all that remains."
Raven looked at him. She did not say anything, but he knew that he had not convinced her.
How could he, when he had not convinced himself?
He frowned, as a flashing light on his desk indicated that he was getting a call. At this time? In these circumstances?
Raven and Summer both joined him in looking at the green light projected above his desk.
"It must be important," Summer said.
Raven said nothing. She could not deny Summer's words because Ozpin could not deny them. Neither his fear nor his fragile hope denied that, well, one certainly hoped that nobody would think to bother him with trivialities at such a time as this.
He walked stiffly to his desk, feeling his years more than he sometimes did, more than he liked to, feeling an ache in his joints, feeling a desire to lean upon his stick for support and not for show. Nevertheless, he did not sit down. He did not want to sit down; sitting down, in the present circumstances, would feel like giving up.
Although it did mean that he had to lean across his chair in order to take the call.
It was Councillor Emerald, whom at some times, Ozpin would have considered one of the trivialities with which he hoped not to be disturbed, but now, it would be a relief to discover that someone in Vale wished to avert the looming catastrophe of war.
He looked tired. Ozpin could hardly blame him for that, in the circumstances; he supposed he must look rather tired himself. But even Councillor Emerald's normally majestic antlers seemed to be drooping from weariness or sorrow; he looked more like a weary king feeling the tremendous burden of the hollow crown than he did an elected official.
"Ozpin," Councillor Emerald said. His voice was hoarse, husky even, as though a permanent groan had settled in his throat and could not be discharged. "Are you watching the news?"
Ozpin kept his back bent a little so that the First Councillor could see him better. "I have no need to watch the news, Councillor; I can see what they're seeing perfectly well from my own window."
"You're talking about our ship opening fire on the Atlesians, the Atlesians returning fire, our fighters attacking theirs?" Councillor Emerald asked.
The way that he said it filled Ozpin with a sudden apprehension. A chill ran up his spine. "Is there … something else that the news is reporting, Councillor?"
"Attacks all over the city," Councillor Emerald replied. "Grimm worshippers, it seems, or radicals, or … someone. Not the White Fang, humans, but they're even attacking the broadcasting centre. You can hear the gunfire outside as Lisa Lavender is broadcasting from inside. The— damn! Ozpin, look out of your window again."
Ozpin did as the First Councillor bade him do, turning away from the Councillor's face projected above his desk and turning to the window. At first, he looked up, towards the Amity Arena in the sky, towards the three-way battle between Atlesians, Valish, and grimm taking place there.
"Look down, Ozpin, look to Vale," Councillor Emerald told him.
Ozpin looked and saw that part of Vale was dark. The whole city had been illuminated not too long ago, the lights turning on as the sun went down; the rest of the city was still lit up, lit up so brightly that it challenged the stars themselves, but there was one particular patch, a great square in the middle of Vale that had gone so dark, it was as though an immense pit had opened up and swallowed it.
"It's not just the broadcasting centre," Councillor Emerald told him. "They're attacking power stations, CCT relays; it's just like you warned me last night."
Ozpin turned away from the window. "But the police—"
"Are on guard at all critical infrastructure locations," Councillor Emerald said. "I told you, you can hear the gunfire outside the VBC headquarters; who do you think is shooting back? But the police … obviously, they're not holding every location, and I can't get hold of General Blackthorn or Commissioner Hingle. I don't know why we've fired on the Atlesians; I don't know what, if anything, is being done to reinforce the police under attack or retake the locations that have been lost, whether the military and the police are coordinating; I— you're the first person to actually answer me since … since General Blackthorn when the grimm first started to attack Amity. He told me then that preparations were nearly complete and that his forces would be joining the defence. I've not heard from him since." He rubbed his eyes. "I understand that this is a crisis, but for gods' sake, I'm the First Councillor! I'm entitled to be kept informed, even if it's just by some spotty second lieutenant telling me that everything's going according to plan."
"I very much doubt that things are going according to General Blackthorn's plan," Ozpin murmured as he walked back towards his desk.
"Which part, that his ship fired on an Atlesian cruiser or that the Atlesians blew up his ship in return?" Councillor Emerald asked bitterly. "Are we in a war, Ozpin?"
"That depends, in part, on you, First Councillor," Ozpin pointed out mildly.
"Does it? Who am I? I'm just a man in a house who can't get anybody to take his calls!" Councillor Emerald declared.
"You are the First Councillor of Vale, and you will still be the First Councillor when General Blackthorn is occupying a cell for his actions tonight," Ozpin said.
Councillor Emerald's eyebrows rose. "So you think he planned this?"
"You yourself noticed that he was acting … strangely," Ozpin replied.
"Yes," Councillor Emerald muttered. "Yes, I suppose I did, but … this? Why? What's gotten into him? This is madness; surely, he must see that?"
"I'm afraid I couldn't begin to imagine what is in General Blackthorn's mind," Ozpin said, somewhat deceitfully. It was a pity that the general would be forced to take the blame for all of this, but there was really nothing else for it. Nobody knew about the Siren, and it was for the best if it stayed that way; and even if there was some effort to put the truth about, who would believe it? A magical creature from another world, twisting the mind of General Blackthorn? It would seem like the most amateurish attempt to absolve him of responsibility. "But, if elements of his own military have mutinied against him to start this conflict, why hasn't he let you know? It would be an unfortunate moment to try and save face."
"He could have been taken prisoner, if the mutiny is widespread enough," Councillor Emerald suggested.
"Perhaps," Ozpin allowed. "Yes, there is that hope, I suppose." He paused. "General Ironwood is a sensible man, for the most part; a pragmatic man, and a man who, most importantly, does not desire a new war between kingdoms. And I believe that there is an Atlesian Councillor aboard the Amity Arena who is also a very amiable woman. I do not think they will lead the charge to make war on Vale. These are not the tortoises of old Mistral, and we are not the hares that Vale was then."
"I hope you're right about that, Ozpin, for the sake of this whole kingdom," Councillor Emerald said. A sigh escaped his lips. "I got into politics because I wanted to make this kingdom a better place. I wanted to reform social care, ensure that crimes were promptly dealt with by the police, repair the crumbling fabric of the state, not this. I never imagined anything like this."
"I'm not sure anyone does, First Councillor," Ozpin said softly.
Councillor Emerald twitched his nose. "Thank you for answering, Ozpin; it is especially appreciated for the contrast with certain other people."
"Think nothing of it, Councillor," Ozpin said. "Like you, I am … feeling my impotence at the moment."
Emerald snorted. "You mean that Ironwood is fighting the grimm up there, and you can't do anything but watch from down here?"
"Precisely, Councillor."
"Well," Councillor Emerald said, "if you are looking for some way to be of use—"
"You want me to send my students into the city to battle these insurgent forces there," Ozpin finished for him.
"I can't raise the police," Councillor Emerald reminded him. "I can only hear them struggling from outside Lisa's studio. Even if I could get hold of the Defence Force, I'm not sure whose side they'd be on. You're the only person with a body of men who I can reach and rely on."
"Not so large a body, at present, I'm afraid," Ozpin said. "A lot of my students — including most of my very best — are up on the Amity Arena for the finals, and until the battle in the air is done, they're stuck there."
"You must have someone," Councillor Emerald insisted. "Don't tell me that you've taken my call just to inform me that you intend to do nothing."
Ozpin was silent for a moment. The finals had left Beacon somewhat denuded, not only of Beacon students — including, as he had told the Councillor, some of his best teams like SAPR, YRBN, WWSR, and CFVY — but also of students from the other academies as well, and yet, 'denuded' did not mean 'empty.' Not all of the students had gone up to the arena to watch the finals; some of them remained at Beacon, and not just those like Miss Rose or James' team TTSS who could not be spared or trusted for such a request as the Councillor was making. To send those who remained, those who volunteered to go, would leave Beacon vulnerable, but Beacon was not under attack — yet.
Yet, indeed. The attack might come. It hardly seemed possible that it would not come, with so many grimm sitting outside of Vale, waiting. And yet, while the attack did not come, could he afford to just wait for it? Could he ignore the fact that Vale was in danger now because Beacon might be in danger in the future?
Could he ignore the fact that Beacon might be endangered soon because Vale was in danger now?
No. No, to both.
"I will send you all the assistance I can, First Councillor," Ozpin said. He did not promise any actual numbers, and that 'I can' would enable him to retain at least some defence for Beacon itself. "And when the students begin to return from the Colosseum, I will send more."
If Councillor Emerald noticed the caveats there, he was too relieved at the prospect of any assistance to make an issue of them. His whole body sagged in relief. "Thank you, Ozpin. I'll leave you to arrange the tactical details. In fact, I should probably let you get on with that. Goodbye, Ozpin, and good luck."
He hung up before Ozpin could say anything else.
"I'm not the one who needs the luck, Councillor," he whispered to himself.
Or perhaps to his companions of the mind sharing the office with him.
"You see?" Summer said. "It doesn't have to mean a war."
"Yes, indeed, the Councillor speaks comfort to me," Ozpin agreed. "He has turned out rather well, in the end."
"If he is still Councillor when all of this is over," Raven muttered.
That was an unfortunate point. Democracy was a fickle thing, so fickle that he sometimes wondered why anyone had thought it was a good idea. A few ill-chosen words, a video taken out of context, a storm in a teacup brewed by the press could bring down a government, to say nothing of legitimate disasters. Councillor Emerald could well be turned out of office for tonight's events, just as his predecessor had been by the Breach.
But that was a concern for tomorrow. For tonight, Ozpin called Glynda.
She answered him with alacrity, her face appearing projected above his desk. "Professor? Have you heard from James?"
"No, I imagine that he's a little busy at the moment," Ozpin replied. "But I did hear from Councillor Emerald, and this battle in the skies is not the only worry with which we must contend. I need you to halt the evacuation of people from the school down to Vale. Vale is not safe at the moment, as you will get some inkling of if you look down at it."
Glynda turned away from him for a moment. "Looks like a power outage," she observed.
"A deliberate one," Ozpin told her.
Glynda scowled. "Another part of the plan."
"Indeed," Ozpin said.
"What do I tell the people waiting to leave?"
"Tell them the truth, that it is currently safer for them to stay here than to return to Vale," Ozpin replied. "Apparently, it's all over the news; they'll be able to discover what's going on if they aren't already aware. Then I want you to gather every student willing to go and fight in Vale and lead half of them down into the city to assist the police in defending or retaking key infrastructure locations from these grimm cultists."
"Half the willing students, Professor?"
"I don't want to leave Beacon undefended," Ozpin said. "And I believe the students who volunteer to go will be the bravest, if not the best students; I am not entirely willing to entrust the safety of the school to those who are not willing to go and fight."
Glynda almost smiled, and perhaps would have actually smiled in less grim circumstances. "I've already had some students approach me asking if there's something they can do to help. I'll start there."
Ozpin didn't remind her to leave Miss Rose and Team TTSS behind; he knew that he didn't have to. "Thank you, Glynda," he said. "I know that I can count on you; and so can Vale."
"I hope so, Professor," Glynda replied. "I'll start at once."
Then she, too, hung up.
"Of course you turn to the children," Raven said, with a sneer in her voice. "Of course your answer is to throw them into the fire before their time."
"This is what they've trained for," Ozpin said softly.
"Would it matter if they hadn't?" Amber asked, appearing in front of his desk, a little closer to Raven than to Summer. Her scars seemed more pronounced upon her face than they were in life, although that might simply have been the fact that she had been using makeup to make her scars less visible lately. "Would it matter to you if they hadn't trained, hadn't chosen? Or would you use them all up just the same?"
"I will not force anyone to fight who does not wish to fight," Ozpin insisted.
"No, you just let the brave leap feet-first into the unknown," Raven said.
"Nothing they can't handle," insisted Summer. "It's like you said, Professor, just like you said: this is what they've trained for, so believe in that training — and believe in them.”
Ozpin did believe. He wished to believe. He wished to believe very much indeed. But he was afraid — he was very much afraid — that when this battle was done, he would be left with yet more things for his conscience to torment him over.
Yang's eyes widened as she watched the flanks of both the Valish and Atlesian ships erupt into flames.
The Valish ship exploded first, the mouths of its cannons belching forth fire, then the Atlesian ship, exploding in a different way, its side burning as the shells slammed into its body, pushing it sideways, tearing through hull and armour, setting fires that burned like beacons in the dark sky.
She couldn't believe it. For a moment, she thought that she must be seeing things, or that this was all some kind of very weird and hitherto very realistic seeming dream and that she'd wake up to Nora saying 'Come on, Yang, it's time for you to kick some ass in the Vytal finals!'
But no. No, it wasn't a dream. What she was seeing, what she had just seen, had really happened. The Valish ship had fired on the Atlesians, and now, their airships were streaking off to engage the Atlesian fighters that had been keeping the grimm at bay from the Amity Arena.
"What … what just happened?" Nora asked.
"Nothing good," muttered Ren.
"Yeah, but why?" Nora demanded. "Why would they do something like that? Did the Atlesians do something to them?"
"Like what?" asked Ren. "We didn't see them do anything except try and protect this arena."
It's not something the Atlesians did, Yang thought. It's like Pyrrha said; like Pyrrha said that Cinder had told her: the Valish Defence Force has been taken over by one of those things, those things from Sunset's home, the Siren.
And now, she's … have I just seen the first shots of a new war?
"What are we going to do?" asked Nora.
"We're going to continue to protect the arena, obviously," Ren declared. "With the Atlesians … distracted, there's a greater chance that grimm could make it onto the Colosseum."
"Okay, but what are the Atlesians going to do?" Nora cried. "Are we at war now?"
"No!" Yang said firmly. "No, we're not at war, and the Atlesians aren't going to do anything to us; just … let's all just calm down, okay? I know that this is a big shock, and I'm not thrilled myself at having front-row seats to … whatever this is."
She gestured out, to where the burning Atlesian cruiser illuminated the sky; it was so close. Both ships were so close. There were times when the Atlesian cruisers had seemed like toys, toy ships that could move and shoot — so very expensive toys, then, the kind that Yang or Ruby would never have gotten, not even courtesy of Uncle Qrow's shady friends — and fly through the air. These two ships, the Atlesian ship that had been hit and the Valish ship that had hit it, looked even bigger than that. They looked so close that Yang could reach out and touch them, too big for her to put her hands around.
A pity. If she had been able to grab them, she could have shaken them until they came to their senses.
"I don't know what's going on out there," Yang went on, "but I know that nobody is stupid enough to let it affect what's going on in here. That being said," — she got out her scroll, grateful for the fact that she didn't have to bother dialling or anything like that; all she had to do was yell — "Rainbow Dash, we need you down here now!" Her voice erupted out of the intercom, her volume causing a metallic echo and a screech of the speakers.
There was a moment's pause, and then a rainbow streak flashed down the promenade before resolving into Rainbow Dash, shotgun in hand. Neon Katt was only a second behind her, and Yang could see the rest of Rainbow's reserve coming up behind, with Team WWSR leading the way, gliding along atop Weiss' white glyphs.
"Yang," Rainbow said. "What's— what in the frozen tundra happened to our ship?"
"Looks like someone shot at it," Neon said. "And it doesn't take Shadow Spade to work out who."
"Neon, that—"
"That's what happened," Yang murmured.
Looking at Rainbow's eyes widen, Yang imagined that that was what her own face must have looked like not too long ago. She looked from Yang to the burning ship and back again. "The … the Valish?" she asked.
Yang nodded silently.
Neon folded her arms. "That was kind of obvious, but … why?"
Team WWSR caught up with them, as did Reese Chloris of Team ABRN with her hoverboard.
"What happened to your ship?" demanded Russel.
"A griffon shot it," said Neon.
"Griffons can shoot?" Russel cried, aghast. "Like fireballs or something?"
"No! It wasn't a griffon; it was the Valish ship over there, obviously!" Neon shouted.
"Neon! Not the time, not helping" Rainbow snapped.
"There's no way the Valish Defence Force would—" began Cardin.
He was interrupted when Blake, Arslan Altan, and, um, Rainbow and Blake's friend with the purple hair, what was her name, Rarity, caught up with the growing gathering.
Blake began, "What happened to that—?"
"Why don't we wait until the last of the stragglers catch up, okay?" Rainbow suggested, raising one hand. "We only want to go through this so many times."
Fortunately, it didn't take that long for the rest of Team ABRN, the rest of Team FNKI, and the whole of Team UMBR to join them. They all seemed pretty shocked by the sight of the burning Valish airship, although for obvious reasons, the Atlas students seemed the most shocked to see it. Flynt Coal took off his sunglasses as though they might have been deceiving him.
"The Val—" Rainbow started, and then stopped herself.
"The Valish did this?" Flynt exclaimed.
"Yeah," Yang said, loudly enough to be heard but in a voice that was softened by distress. "Yeah, we saw it happen right in front of us."
"No, no, you did not see that," Rainbow said.
"Yes, we did," Yang replied.
"No, you saw one Valish ship fire on an Atlesian ship; you did not see 'the Valish' fire at us," Rainbow insisted. "We're not going to talk about 'the Valish,' and we're not going to blame 'the Valish,' because the moment we start blaming 'the Valish,' then we have to blame Yang and…" — she looked as though she was about to gesture at Ren and Nora before realising that they weren't actually Valish. She gestured at Cardin instead — "Cardin and Russel, and we're not gonna do that. We're not gonna play us versus them, and we're certainly not gonna do it when we're all stuck up here with nowhere to go and no one to rely on but one another. Whatever's happening out there, we're gonna do our jobs, and I don't want to hear any 'but how do we know we can trust them?' crap out of anyone, understood? We're all in this together, understood?"
There was no response.
"I said, UNDERSTOOD?" Rainbow bellowed, in a voice that was as loud as the intercom and maybe louder.
"Perfectly," Weiss said calmly, as she rubbed her ear with one hand. "Did you have to be quite so loud?"
"You should have answered me sooner," Rainbow muttered.
"It's fine by me," Yang said.
"Do you really think it's that easy?" Cardin demanded.
Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "Explain to me how you think it's hard."
The Atlesian ship began to return fire on the Valish vessel, unloading missiles and shells too — Yang hadn't known they still had guns on those ships, huh — into the Valish hull. They didn't seem to be doing much, just bursting off the armour with a lot of fiery explosions that left the Valish ship scorched but unharmed, but Yang guessed the Atlesian crew knew what they were doing.
The Valish didn't fire again; their guns must have taken their sweet time to reload for another volley.
Rainbow didn't look back. She didn't turn around. She didn't move as the flames blossomed behind her. She kept her eyes fixed on Cardin.
"You can't say that this doesn't affect us," Cardin declared. "If our kingdoms are at war—"
"We're not at war," Rainbow said.
"Our ships are shooting at one another!" exclaimed Cardin. "Are you going to stand there and say that that doesn't mean anything?"
"I don't know what it means," Rainbow said. "You can run along and ask the Atlesian Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza, and she'll tell you that she doesn't know what it means either; what I do know is that, until somebody in authority tells me that we're at war, we're not at war. As far as I'm concerned, this is just something very unfortunate for the politicians to sort out tomorrow."
"Ships don't just fire on one another by accident," Cardin replied. "This is happening for a reason."
"Maybe it is, but what do you want?" Rainbow demanded. "Do you want to fight? Do you want to go at it right here, right now? Do you want to take a swing at Weiss?"
Cardin started. He looked down at Weiss guiltily. "I … of course I don't—"
"Come on, big guy," Russel said, putting a hand on his arm. "I don't wanna start a fight over this right now; haven't we got enough problems?"
Cardin didn't reply. He looked down at his feet, and his arms began to sag downwards.
"We can be enemies tomorrow, if our governments want it that way," Rainbow said quietly. "We can fight then, if that's what they want. But until then, let's just fight the grimm, okay?"
Cardin's arms fell down by his sides. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that makes sense. Yeah that … it's just—"
"You don't have to explain," Rainbow said. "I—"
The Valish ship, which had turned to present its bow towards the Atlesians even as the Atlesians were doing the same, fired its bow mounted cannons. Two of them missed — and flew straight for the Amity Arena.
"Incoming!" Yang yelled.
She grabbed hold of Nora as she threw herself backwards; she was prepared for the explosion, ready to be picked up by the blast, to feel the flames ripping at her aura, to be pummelled by the debris. Only … she didn't feel any of it. Not a bit of it. She heard the explosion, she heard the sound of part of the arena being torn apart, she heard people cry out, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel anything at all except for the way that she hit the ground with Nora.
Yang had closed her eyes. Now, she opened them to see that the entire of the archway that led out onto the docking pad was covered by a wall of beautiful blue diamonds, or at least, flat diamond-shaped … shields or barriers or constructs, whatever you wanted to call them.
Rainbow's friend Rarity knelt before the barrier, arms up, panting heavily.
As she got up, Yang could see that there were cracks in the diamonds, and in places, chinks of them had fallen away, letting in the light of the burning ship from outside.
"If…" Rarity gasped. "If it's all the same to you, darling, I … I'd rather not have to repeat that. I'm not sure I have the aura for it."
Rainbow put one hand on Rarity's shoulder, but before she could say anything, they all heard Lucius Andronicus calling for help.
"Help!" he shouted. "We need help over here!"
Yang turned that way, at first thinking it might be a quiet grimm that had foregone the usual shrieking and wailing, but no, it wasn't the grimm; it was the other shell fired by the Valish ship. Only one of them must have hit Rarity's barrier; the other had struck the other docking pad, Team BALL's docking pad, where they had had no Rarity to raise a shield for them.
That was what Yang had heard, the explosion, the shouting, the destruction; that other docking pad, the arch, that section of the promenade beyond the arch it was all ruins and rubble now, the arch collapsed, the docking pad gone or else turned into the detritus that littered the promenade, with smoke rising up out of it.
Yang could see people — mercifully few people, but still — lying under the rubble and others staggering uneasily through the smoke, swaying back and forth.
Yang started to run that way, but Rainbow and Neon got there first with their semblances.
“Neon, grab that other end,” Rainbow said as she knelt down at one end of a metal beam that was lying … lying on top of Lavinia.
She was unconscious — at least, Yang certainly hoped that she was unconscious — and perfectly still, her body lying on some rubble even as the metal bar lay upon her. Her eyes were closed, and her honey-blonde hair lay splayed out around her head.
“Is … is she—?”
“We don’t know yet,” Rainbow said. “But when Neon and I lift this up, you drag her out.”
“Right,” Yang said and bent down over Lavinia’s head, preparing to grab her by the shoulders and pull her out.
“Okay,” Rainbow said. “Now one, two, three!”
Rainbow and Neon grunted as they lifted the metal detritus off of Lavinia.
Yang seized her by the arms and lifted her up so that her head wouldn't bump against any of the other rubble and debris as she dragged her out. She pulled her clear, and once she was past all of the wreckage and the destruction, she laid her out upon the cold surface of the promenade.
Rainbow's voice echoed through the intercom. "Bella, Jaune, get to docking pad ten; we need you!"
Yang left Lavinia lying there and went back to rejoin the others. Lavinia wasn't the only person who had been caught in the blast, nor even the only member of Team BALL. One of the ones that Yang and Nora hadn't fought, Yang couldn't remember his name, had been laid out too. Yang found herself thankful for that griffon from earlier — not something that she could ever have imagined herself thinking — for having driven any civilians still tempted to hang around the promenade away in fright. With no aura to protect them … that could have been nasty.
Instead, it was only the huntsmen who had been caught by the blast.
The other stricken member of Team BALL — Yang thought he might be their team leader, but that was of little help to her in remembering his name other than giving a clue that it started with 'B' — was half-buried under a mound of rubble; Yang could see half of his lithe, pretty-boy face, albeit covered in dust, she could see his arms, his upper torso and his white and purple tunic, also covered in dust, but everything below his waist was buried and hidden from view.
Yang got around behind him, and started to clear away the wreckage.
"Yang!" Ren cried. "Behind you!"
Yang turned just in time to see a giant nevermore lunging at her, head resting on the ruined remnants of the docking pad, beak snapping.
Yang made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp of shock and a roar of anger. She swung instinctively, swatting the nevermore on the beak with one hand, and her Ember Celica unloaded a shot into it. Not her best or her most practised punch, by any means, but it made the grimm jerk; it twitched away from the blow and gave Yang a second to collect herself.
Her next two punches were much better, a classic one-two straight into the nevermore's beak, punctuated by two more shots from her gauntlets. Yang grinned as the nevermore shrieked, twisting its head this way and that. The nevermore slid backwards, its bony beak and its head decorated with red stripes retreating out of range of Yang's fists — although not out of range of Ember Celica; Yang snapped off shots at the monster, throwing her fists out in its direction to send blasts flying from her golden gauntlets.
She wasn't sure if she was getting close to actually killing this thing, but she was certainly making it uncomfortable.
“Get back, Yang!” Nora called. “I can’t get a shot off with you standing right there.”
“I can’t move back; there’s someone unconscious right behind me,” Yang replied, still shooting.
She wasn’t the only one firing at the nevermore by now: Ren’s Stormflowers blazed in his hands, peppering the nevermore’s skull with bullets; Rainbow fired, pumped her shotgun, and then fired again; Arslan’s pink-haired teammate with the little rifle fired; and the green-haired girl had turned her hoverboard into a pair of pistols shooting bursts of energy.
The nevermore screeched and screamed and shrieked as it looked this way and that, but it did not die. It didn’t like the sensation of being shot at so much, but its armour was proof against all that they could dish out.
At least, its skull was, anyway.
“Weiss!” Yang and Rainbow Dash both called out to her at once.
The two of them kept on shooting as they looked at one another.
“I was going to ask her to catch me,” Yang said.
“I was going to ask her to trap the nevermore’s wings in glyphs so that it can’t get away,” Rainbow explained.
“You think it wants to get away?” Yang asked incredulously as the nevermore snapped its beak in their direction.
The nevermore let out one last shriek before it dropped off the platform and disappeared from sight.
Rainbow growled wordlessly, then shouted, “Blake, take command!” as she leapt off the platform, her wings expanding outwards to bear her even as she dived down, following the nevermore out of sight.
Yang went to the very rent and jagged edge of the battered, tattered, and ash-blackened platform, where the metal creaked and groaned beneath her weight, and leaned out. She couldn’t see either Rainbow or the grimm, although she could hear Rainbow Dash’s shotgun roaring and hear the grimm screaming in answer.
If I can’t see them, that means they must be—
The platform — it felt like the whole arena — shuddered as the nevermore’s head burst through the floor beak first, tearing through the deck, tossing the rubble and debris aside. If the nevermore had been an inch or two to the left, it would have swallowed Ren whole; as it was, he was knocked off his feet and scrambled backwards as the nevermore stuck even more of its head through the hole it had created.
Yang threw out her arms on either side of her, trembling on the ledge as the platform shook.
“Whack-a-grimm!” Nora yelled as she brought down her hammer on the nevermore’s skull; there was an explosion of pink that made the docking pad shake all the more, but aside from screaming, the nevermore didn’t seem hurt by it.
Nora roared wordlessly as she hit it again, to just as little effect.
“Nora, everyone, back off!” Blake cried. “Let it come further!”
“Let it come?” cried Nora. “But—”
The nevermore’s claws jammed upwards through the deck, digging into it, ripping through it as the nevermore tried to … either it was trying to tear the arena from under them, or it was trying to get up there with the rest of them.
Yang didn’t really have time to consider which it might be, because the platform on which she stood, already unsteadily connected to the rest of the arena, bent with a groan, and Yang found that her footing had become a ledge facing downwards.
She cried out wordlessly as she began to fall.
“Yang, catch!” Blake shouted, flinging out her hook at the end of its black ribbon.
Yang caught the hook in one hand, the sting as the sharp blade bit her aura as nothing compared to what the fall would have done. With her other hand, she reached for the unconscious member of Team BALL as they slid towards the edge.
A series of those blue diamonds appeared around them, building up like a cocoon to cushion the unconscious huntress from any further harm.
The nevermore roared as it pushed itself upwards, ripping through the floor — and exposing its unarmoured neck.
Flash slid forward, skating along a line of white glyphs straight towards the grimm, coming in beneath its head even as it bent towards him to jam his spear into the unprotected neck.
The nevermore screamed as it began to tear at the floor even more assiduously.
Blake hauled back on her ribbon, pulling Yang away from the ledge and through the air — towards the nevermore.
Yang grinned as she pulled back her free fist.
She hit the nevermore in the nape of its neck, below the skull and the armour that protected it, with everything she had. Her Ember Celica roared as her fist struck home.
The nevermore made a kind of choking sound, its head jerking, then lolling to one side.
Its beak was left hung open as it began to dissolve.
Yang set her feet back on a more solid patch of the floor and opened her mouth to say something—
The sound of an explosion behind her made her turn and see the Atlesian cruiser … 'obliterate the Valish ship' was the best way to say it; the Valish vessel exploded from the inside, and it was really just a burning frame of that outside that was left to fall away down to the ground below.
As she watched the blazing wreck fall away, Yang couldn’t help but be reminded of what Rainbow had said to Cardin, about them being enemies tomorrow. Was that really what was in their future?
This morning, she would have said it was ridiculous, but right now, watching that ship fall, she couldn’t say it wasn’t possible.
Team TTSS stood not far from the Beacon Academy docking pads, on the path that led back down to Beacon Academy. They were far from alone, there were a lot of other people here too, most of them tourists who had been first told that they should evacuate to Vale just in case, then told that actually, no, the evacuations were off because Vale wasn’t safe right now, and they should stay here, and … well, hey, the fairgrounds were still open! Who wants more cotton candy?!
Starlight didn’t blame anyone who was a little put out or disturbed by this. She was kind of put out and disturbed herself, and she knew things that these people didn’t.
Maybe she was a little put out and disturbed because she knew some things that those people didn’t.
Mind you, anyone who had the ability to raise their neck and look up had noticed enough to disturb them tonight: first, the grimm attack on the Amity Arena that had prompted the initial evacuation from Beacon — strictly as a precaution — and then the start of a fight between the Valish and the Atlesian forces around the same arena, which the Atlesians looked to be winning handily, judging by the way that that Valish had gone plummeting down past the cliffs not too long ago, but combine that with what was happening in Vale, and you had the makings of an ugly mood.
Vale was under attack; that was on the news. The Valish newscaster was reporting even while you could hear the shots being fired outside the studio — you couldn’t fault her courage; she’d have made a good huntress — meanwhile, Vale and Atlas had started shooting at one another in the skies, even while the grimm were still a present threat.
The news wasn’t reporting on why the Valish had opened fire on the Atlesian cruiser, but if you were a person, an ordinary Valish person say, who might be worried about their city, whose city had been growing more and more anti-Atlas recently and who could now look up and see an Atlesian cruiser absolutely eviscerate a Valish warship in no time at all, well … it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together, was it?
And when the leaders of the land failed to be honest with their people — as they weren’t being honest now; there was a lot they weren’t saying, and Starlight knew that because General Ironwood had shown her and Trixie just a piece of what he wasn’t saying to anyone else — then the people would come up with their own answers, however ugly those answers might be.
“Are you satisfied?” a woman demanded of them, advancing towards them with a scowl. “Are you happy with what you’ve done?”
“What do you mean?” Sunburst asked. “We haven’t done anything—”
“Atlas is doing this!” the woman yelled. She was middle-aged, with dirty blonde hair and amber eyes, wearing a Beacon Academy T-shirt. “Atlas attacked our ship—”
“Actually, I think that you’ll find that your lot fired first,” Tempest observed.
“Not helping,” Starlight hissed; it was not a thought that she liked, but considering what General Ironwood had told her, she couldn’t help but consider that the lack of help might have been the point of that little intervention.
They probably shouldn’t have come out here. They certainly shouldn’t have stayed out here. But when the announcement had gone around that Vale was under attack and Beacon’s Professor Goodwitch was leading volunteers down to assist the local law enforcement … probably, most likely, almost certainly a strict obedience to General Ironwood’s orders would have meant sitting tight in their room and continuing to keep an eye on Tempest, however difficult it would have been to explain that lack of activity to Sunburst. No doubt, Tempest was the reason why Professor Goodwitch had not selected Team TTSS as one of the teams that would accompany her down into Vale, and they had been left to linger by the docking pad and watch the Bullheads take off for the city — Professor Goodwitch must have been in the know about Tempest as much as they were. With hindsight, of course they weren’t going to allow someone whose loyalties were uncertain into a battle where they might turn traitor if it could be avoided. But, when the word had gone around, with Vale under attack and volunteers requested, it hadn’t seemed right to just ignore it.
They were Team TTSS, after all, the Raging Wave of Atlas, and they answered the call.
Only, sometimes the call didn’t want to answer them.
And so, here they were, farther from the school than from the docking pad, listening to a justifiably irate Valishwoman suggest that they or Atlas or both was behind all of this, while others began to turn an attentive ear towards her.
“How long have you been planning this?” the woman demanded. “What is it you want from us?”
“We don’t—” Trixie began, and then stopped. She glanced around, to the other tourists who also seemed to be regarding Team TTSS with a degree of hostility. She licked her lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” Trixie declared grandiloquently, in her best stage voice that carried across the grounds. “One and all, you’ve truly been a wonderful audience, but I’m afraid that now is the time for the Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie and her glamourrrrous assistants to take their leave! Until next time, adieu!”
Trixie dropped a smoke bomb at her feet; Starlight, who had suspected this was coming when Trixie had started to thank the crowd — thank them for what? — had already grabbed Tempest by the arm before the midnight blue smoke began to spread out. She dragged her possibly untrustworthy teammate behind her as she ran.
Trixie was running too, and Sunburst, their capes billowing out behind them as the entire of Team TTSS took to their heels before an angry woman could turn into an angry mob.
Trixie’s magic might not always work — something that Starlight could think but never say — but a well-placed smoke bomb would never let you down. And while it might seem inglorious to run away like this, it was better than picking a fight with someone who was accusing Atlas of deliberately picking a fight.
They ran down the path, towards the central courtyard and the school. Thankfully, nobody seemed too interested in pursuing them.
They began to slow down under the shadow of the fountain and the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the courtyard. There were still plenty of people around, but they didn’t seem as riled up by the presence of Team TTSS as they had been closer to the docking pad.
Sunburst leaned on his staff. “I wonder what got into them.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Starlight asked. “They’re afraid. I can’t even say that I blame them.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t try and talk them down,” Tempest said. “And you can let go of my arm now. In truth, you never needed to hold onto it in the first place.”
Starlight didn’t reply to that. She looked at Tempest, wondering, if they had tried to talk the woman down, whether Tempest would have found any more ‘helpful’ comments to stir her right back up again.
Not that Tempest needed to be secretly a traitor in order to put her foot in her mouth; she just had that kind of abrasive personality.
Starlight let go of her arm and hoped that Tempest was only an ass and not a traitor.
Trixie fluffed out her cape with both hands, flicking it so that it rolled up and outwards before falling down straight behind her. “Trixie is not convinced that anyone there was in the mood to listen to reason.”
“It’s hard to blame them,” Sunburst said. “What do you think is happening up there? Do you think Twilight and the others are okay?”
“Rainbow Dash will look after them,” Starlight assured him. “And so will Blake.”
“Right,” Sunburst agreed, nodding. He frowned. “I wish we’d been allowed to go down with the others, instead of waiting up here with nothing to do but think … and worry.”
“We all wish that,” Starlight murmured. “We all wish that we were in Vale — or up on the arena with Twilight and Dash and Blake.”
She looked up, towards the floating Arena high up in the sky. The good news was that it looked — from this distance — as though the battle was turning decisively in Atlas’ favour. Surely, it couldn’t be long now until Rainbow and Blake and Twilight and all the rest of them were back down here, and then…
And then TTSS would still be grounded here at Beacon because Tempest couldn’t be trusted.
It was enough to make her want to just grab Tempest and shake the answers out of her.
But at least when everyone was down from the arena, that would be something that they didn’t have to worry about.
“But,” she went on, “someone has to hold the fort down here, just in case.”
“Exactly,” Trixie said, “and we of Team Tsunami can be trusted to hold down this vital position because of our universally recognised skill and talent! But, as there is nothing—”
She was interrupted by the screeching of a nevermore, flying low over Beacon. Flying very low, much lower than any of the grimm that had attacked Amity Arena; this nevermore was flying lower than the CCT tower, so low that its talons were scraping the roof of the dormitory that it flew over.
And it wasn’t as though it was coming in low to avoid the Atlesian airships and then heading upwards to join the battle around Amity; as this nevermore turned, it got lower, swooping down onto the fairgrounds to the north of Team TTSS’s position in the courtyard. Starlight heard people scream in shock as the nevermore dropped, and when it rose up into the air again, she could see that it had someone — they were too far away for her to even try and recognise them — writhing in their talons.
Another nevermore passed overhead, heading over the courtyard towards the docking pads.
And from the east, in the direction of the Emerald Forest and the cliffs that separated Beacon from that grimm-infested forest, Starlight could hear a growing sound, like the thunder of a storm that was far off but being blown in their direction by strong winds.
Except it wasn’t thunder; it was the roar of the grimm.
Starlight locked eyes with Trixie. Even if Tempest couldn’t be trusted, even if she was against them, even if she was a traitor to her team and Atlas and everything else, none of that mattered right now.
They had no choice.
“We’re going to intercept the grimm beyond the edge of the fairgrounds and prevent them from reaching the civilians,” Trixie declared. “Starlight, Tempest and I will be up front, Sunburst will provide support.” She brandished her wand in the air. “Team Tsunami: move out!”
Aspen could hear the shots coming out of the television. He hoped that the noise wouldn't keep Bramble up, but he couldn't turn it off; it was the only place he was getting any information from.
If you hadn't been able to hear the gunfire, you might never have realised that there was anything untoward going on outside Broadcasting House at all; the newsroom, the editing, even Lisa Lavender's hair and outfit were all polished as ever.
It was only the audible gunfire that gave the game away.
It was incredibly admirable, what they were doing, not only Lisa but her team as well; if they came out of this alive — if Ozpin's students came to their rescue — and if he somehow found himself back in control of Vale when this night was over, then he would have to see them suitably honoured for their work. Membership of the Legion of Honour, perhaps, in the New Year Honours list.
If they came out of it alive.
Come on, Ozpin, where are your students?
"We're getting reports of further blackouts, this time in the dockside area," Lisa Lavender declared, in a voice that was calm and controlled despite the circumstances. "We're seeing on social media that power has failed completely and that the problem is not located in individuals' fuse boxes. A reminder to all our viewers that although the police remain out of contact, the ambulance and fire services are responding to emergency calls and will do all they can to assist you should you require it." She paused. "We don't know where the blackouts will spread to next, and so we advise everyone to conserve battery on your scrolls, as it may be your only way of receiving updates or contacting the emergency services."
The arm of a producer — or possibly a production assistant — in a blue jacket intruded in from offscreen as they handed Lisa a note.
Lisa glanced down at it. Her eyes widened, and Aspen was filled with a sense of icy dread at the thought of what could possibly be happening now. More blackouts? The impending fall of Broadcasting House? Had their purchased Mistralian battleships joined the fighting to avenge the Terror, whose destruction had recently been confirmed and displayed on screen thanks to video taken by citizens up at Beacon? What was it now, what further misfortunes would pile upon the heads of Vale on this night that seemed full of misfortunes?
He could barely conceive that there might be some good news; there hadn't been much so far, although there was a spark of hope in him that perhaps Lisa was about to announce that Ozpin's students had arrived and were routing the insurgents outside the building before rolling on to get the power plants back under control.
Where are your students, Ozpin?
Lisa cleared her throat. "In breaking updates, we're now getting reports that Beacon Academy is under attack by grimm."
The spark of hope was extinguished in Aspen's breast, snuffed out by a darkness blacker than the grimm themselves. He felt his legs tremble beneath him. He wanted to collapse. He wanted to sink down into his chair. He wanted to pour himself a stiff whiskey, down the entire glass in one, and then pour himself another. Beacon under attack? Beacon now? There were grimm at Beacon? No wonder there was yet no sign of Ozpin's students; they were probably all tied up defending the school now.
Vale isn't safe, Amity Arena isn't safe, Beacon isn't safe; where can anyone go to escape the danger?
"We're getting reports of nevermores," Lisa went on, "and that terrestrial grimm appear to have scaled the cliffs to reach the school grounds. We're hearing from people present at Beacon for the final day of the Vytal Festival that small numbers of students are attempting to hold back the grimm away from the Vytal Fairgrounds and that people are taking refuge in the classrooms and dormitories."
Aspen bowed his head. There would be little chance of help from that quarter now. He looked at his scroll, tempted to contact Ozpin, but if the grimm really were attacking Beacon, then he would doubtless be too busy to speak to the First Councillor. And Ozpin, unlike General Blackthorn, had the excuse that he didn't have any pimply second lieutenants to take calls on his behalf.
Beacon under attack by grimm, Vale under attack by insurgents, and our defence forces preoccupied with fighting the Atlesians. A madness has taken hold of this city.
He resisted the strong desire for stronger drink; on the rare off-chance that he actually had the chance to do something, he wanted to be sober. It wouldn't do to wallow in this situation.
And yet, what was he doing but wallowing? Standing here, watching the news, mentally complaining that no one would talk to him. Well, if he couldn't get hold of the police on his scroll, then he would just have to go down there and find out what was going on personally, wouldn't he? Yes, yes, he would do that. He'd go even if he had to walk there, and then, once that was taken care of, he'd go to military headquarters and give Blackthorn a kick up the backside and stop the shooting at the Atlesians and hope that General Ironwood was amenable to stop shooting back.
Yes, yes, he would do that. It was the only thing that he could do, and he really couldn't justify not doing anything.
His jacket was sitting on the armchair, draped over the back. Aspen picked it up and quickly pulled it on. He was about to head out when Lisa Lavender's voice from the television arrested his progress.
"I have also," she said, her voice trembling now, "been informed that the unidentified forces attacking us here at Broadcasting House have breached the doors and are inside the building."
Aspen stopped; he found himself unable to look away. The sound of gunshots did sound a little louder now.
Lisa blinked. "I'm told that there is still fighting going on in the lobby, but it is quite possible that they will reach the elevators soon. My colleagues are attempting to barricade this and neighbouring studios, but I should warn you, viewers, that we may not be on the air for much longer. Nevertheless, for as long as possible, we will continue to supply you with updates on—"
She disappeared. The screen was consumed by a burst of static for a moment that left Aspen fearing the worst — had they broken through so quickly? Had the barricade failed already? Surely, the gunshots could not have been so close; they hadn't sounded so close, and nobody had sounded so panicked as they would have been with gunmen rampaging in the room — before a picture returned.
Except it wasn't Lisa Lavender now; it was General Blackthorn, standing in a dark room somewhere, lit by a spotlight shining down from above that underlit his face and left him looking rather sinister. The cold, almost contemptuous expression that he wore certainly wasn't helping matters in that regard.
"Citizens of Vale," he declared, his voice ringing out of the TV. "My name is General Blackthorn of the Valish Defence Force. These are dark times: our city is under attack by sinister forces without and within. Terrorists roam our streets, hostile enemies dominate our skies, and our elected Councillors, whom we should be able to trust to work for our best interests, have betrayed us! Councillor Emerald conspires with criminals and Atlesians to bring this kingdom to its knees! Well, I, for one, will not allow it! As of this moment, due to the unprecedented state of emergency, I am declaring martial law."
Martial law? Aspen thought. That … that was ridiculous. Blackthorn couldn't just declare martial law on his own initiative; it could only be approved on a preliminary basis by a vote of the Council, subject to a confirmatory vote by the Chamber of Deputies within seven days of the initial Council vote. Blackthorn could only be invited to assume such powers; he had no authority to take them on himself.
"A full curfew is in immediate effect," Blackthorn continued. "All citizens are instructed to return to their homes immediately. Anyone found not complying with this instruction will be shot on sight. As we speak, our troops are moving out to secure our streets and arrest certain subversive elements that I have deemed a danger to the integrity of our society. Trust us. Trust me. Vale will be made safe. The Atlesians will be defeated. Vale will rise again. Remain indoors. Everything will be fine."
Why does he sound so robotic all of a sudden? Aspen wondered. More importantly, perhaps I should head to him first, find out what in Remnant is going on.
He might not be happy to see me.
I don't care. He can't just do this of his own volition; I won't allow it.
Aspen heard the sound of footsteps marching down the hall.
He reflexively fastened one button of his jacket.
The door opened, and a tall, clean-shaven captain in the green fatigues of the Valish Defence Force strode in. He had a black beret on his head with a white cockade, and his sleeves rolled up to expose tanned lower arms. One hand hovered near the pistol at his hip.
"Mister Emerald," he said, "by order of General Blackthorn, you are hereby dismissed from office and placed under arrest. You will come with me."
"'By order of—'" Aspen spluttered. He was about to protest how ridiculous this was, what a waste of time when so many real crises were engulfing them, how Blackthorn had no authority to remove him from office. But, if he was going to be taken to Blackthorn, then he might as well get on with it rather than waste time himself blustering at the captain. "Where are you taking me? To see the general?"
"No," the captain said.
"Then I refuse," Aspen said. "And I demand to speak to General Blackthorn immediately."
The captain drew his pistol and levelled it at Aspen's head. "Mister Emerald," he said coldly, "you will come with me or you will be shot while resisting arrest, and your son—"
"My son has nothing to do with this!" Aspen snapped.
"Not if you come with me," the captain said, his expression devoid of feeling.
Aspen swallowed. What has happened to you, Blackthorn? Is this the kind of man you always were? Regardless, he couldn't let Bramble come to harm. "Very well," he said softly. "I'll come with you."
The captain lowered his pistol a little. "Very good," he said. "I have men waiting outside to—"
He was interrupted by the sound of gunfire from outside, gunfire and a lot of panicked shouting. Both started very suddenly, rising swiftly to a crescendo and then, almost immediately, beginning to slack off.
"Report!" the captain shouted, as the volume of fire began to die down. "Sergeant? Corporal? What's going on out there?"
There was no reply, only a volume of gunfire that wound down and down.
A scowl broke through the captain's impassive expression as he strode forward, grabbed Aspen by one arm, and began to drag him towards the door.
With his other hand, he aimed his pistol at Aspen's head.
He manhandled Aspen — who did not protest, for obvious reasons — out of the room and down the hallway, towards the open door of his official residence.
The sound of gunfire out there had died down completely.
"Sergeant," the captain called out as he approached the broken doorway. "Has the situation been—?"
The officer's pistol was wrenched out of his hand, flying through the air out the doorway and into the street beyond.
A bolt of green light soon flew the other way, through the doorway, hitting the officer square in the chest and blasting him backwards. He landed on the floor with a crash, skidded a couple of inches along the floor, and lay there, motionless.
A familiar-looking figure stepped through the doorway, wearing a black leather jacket which, unusually in their acquaintance, she had done up, which might — combined with the black motorcycle helmet with the smoky visor she was wearing that concealed her face — have confused Aspen as to who she was, if it wasn't for the fiery tail of red and yellow dangling between the legs of her blue jeans and the voluminous hair of those same flaming streaks spilling out of the helmet and down her back.
Miss Shimmer raised her visor. "Good evening, First Councillor," she said. "I hope I'm not too late."
Aspen looked down at the unconscious officer on the floor. "Good evening, Miss Shimmer," he said. "I think you may be in the nick of time."
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Yes! I knew Sunset would come through for Councilor Emerald in the end. Is it really surprising that she can take down a whole squad of soldiers?
And great... now Beacon is under attack. Not that that was unexpected.
Huh, I heard of that scene from this video breakdown.
I really liked that scene in the first version, so I'm glad you were able to keep it.
And so the war continues...
I am relieved that no civilian was killed in the Amity Colosseum, because that would be ugly as fuck. I love Ozpin talking to himself by using his old students as it was a highlight on the original story and I’m happy that it remains here as well; Tempest makes me very nervous about when her betrayal will come true and I am just waiting to see when Ruby will return to the forefront, as we still need to complete her arc and her seeing the chaos that is happening may be just what is needed for her to realize her flaws. Beacon under attack, and the General is on TV publicly denouncing Atlas, while Sunset comes in clutch again to save Aspen!
I am excited to see what will happen next and what more surprises we will have on the climax of Volume 3!
Colonel Skybeak's testimony will be needed more than ever after this.
Well, General Blackthorn's broadcast has actually helped with the fallout after tonight (I can't stop thinking of damage control for this mess). The whole world will know his face now and that he was the one responsible for this mad attack against Atlas. Not to mention that the Valish Destroyer's own volley hitting Amnity Collessium will cement the (mostly accurate) story this attack was the work of one madman. Not only is the Collessium a beloved symbol of unity across the world, but no 'sane' military official would ever position his cannons where a civilian structure (holding mostly Valish citizens) would be directly behind the target.
Outstanding work, Rainbow Dash! I'm truly proud of her. She's come so far from the days where she wouldn't miss an opportunity to boast about Atlas and rub it in everyone's face. She's finally coming into the leader that Ironwood always knew she could be, and is making Team Rosepetal true heroes during our darkest hour. As opposed to SAPR who are now hardly the same team of inspiring greatness without Sunset.
And speaking of Sunset... welcome back! She already has key intel and has saved the First Councilor! I can't WAIT to see what else she accomplishes tonight, as opposed to the prison!
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Oh yeah, Sunset saving Councilor Emerald does a lot to prevent Sonata and her sisters performing a complete takeover. As I said last chapter, all Sonata needs to do to win at this point is survive and escape capture, but having the Valish army wipe out Vale's legit government is a victory condition for her dominating Vale in the aftermath.
That being said... I'm confident that Sunset might be about to head back to Beacon to pick up the Dark Regalia from under her bed. Because Sonata alone might be beyond her, but Sonata and a controlled Cinder? No way in hell.
It would also be interesting if Sunset is the one who discovers Ruby.
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Makes me wonder if anyone would dare accuse Sunset now for the Breach after the atrocities General Blackthorn has committed and nearly crippling Vale in defense against the Grimm.
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True, Sunset's semblance might be the only thing that can wake Ruby up after the fact. Sure, Penny's semblance can counter Amber's while in progress, but when it comes to waking up people, it ain't Sunset's first rodeo. Ruby might just have to suck it up and put aside her resentment and defend Beacon with Sunset while Pyrrha, Jaune and Penny are still up in Amity.
Finally we see Sunset again. This is a joyous occasion.
Rainbow is one of the best parts of this story for me. When it hits the fan, she is a professional and she acts like it. She doesn't always make the right calls, but she always tries, and she's a natural leader. Some - including herself - may regard her as simply a blunt instrument. Thing is? Sometimes you need a blunt instrument. Something that can get to the heart of the problem - no BS, no distraction, no hemming and hawing - and just make a good enough plan, execute that good enough plan, and get work done. She is a very, very good blunt instrument.
Your note on the Atlas ship hammering the Valish ship well enough to disable its ability to fire back by disorienting and harassing the crew applies to a lot of combat, from pinning down infantry to pounding battleships. Killing the other guy directly is not the only reason to expend a round. Sometimes, denying the enemy movement, restricting his ability to fight, denying his ability to return fire, or just screwing with him so much that he lies down and stops fighting you is far more effective than directly trying to make every shot a kill shot.
People forget that war isn't about killing an enemy per se. It's about removing your enemy's ability and/or will to fight, ideally both, in the most efficient manner possible.
I don't know if you've read Clauswitz - I think you'd find him interesting if you haven't - but you demonstrated an awareness of some of these lessons he talked about with how you applied the IFV vs Tank fight to warship vs warship for this scene. War comes down to how you apply your tools to prevent the enemy doing to you what he wants to do before he can do the same to you. From infantrymen up to armored warfare up to warships up to nations, it's all just a matter of scale, and you intuit that very well in this scene.
I also appreciate that you note that two ships firing on each other doesn't automatically mean war. There have been plenty of times in history where two powers fired shots in anger, people died, and even warships were destroyed, but war was averted because of how people handled things in the aftermath. At the same time, wars have started because one man was killed. Getting two modern, industrial nations into a war - or averting one - is a complicated affair. Not many authors tackle that, and I appreciate that you do.