Remnant - XI

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Requested By : Gib

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Under his wireless direction, the modified drones worked to open the long, squat crate that Khan had brought along with her. Inside, stuffed into loose, dry straw for all the oh-so-high intellect of the packers, were two dozen pairs of tanks slotted into metal-frame racks on wheels. Long tubes were wrapped around each, ending in heavy metal spark-units meant to ignite the gas. Each of them came with a corresponding set of leather aprons, gloves, and thick iron masks with a thin, dark T-visor. At his silent behest, a drone extracted one and set it on the ground to activate the gas feeds. It took three tries, for the clumsy fingers on the machine, but eventually the fire caught and a short line of white-hot flame burst to life.

He hummed and the machine deactivated the unit and stood over it, awaiting his next orders patiently.

Slowly, he stood and rumbled, "This will suffice. But it is not what I requested."

"Obviously not." Sienna Khan grumbled, leaning against a tree at the edge of a clearing he had encircled with straightened and repaired lengths of Atlesian warship support frame, long cables wound into tight circles and thick cyber-matter alloyed metal plates. "You asked for a hard-light chisel unit and a Dust driven scorch-torch."

"I did."

"Yeah, and do you have any idea how rare those are?" She demanded quietly, shaking her head and snorting when he didn't answer. She waved him off with a hand and sighed, tiredly, "Oh who am I talking to? Of course you don't."

"Enlighten me."

"Hard light is made by Atlas' engineers for the military, and Dust cores are made by the same, for the same." Sienna explained sardonically, "The Dust core is just a large crystal, but that makes it expensive. Mistral imports them at a premium and keeps them under guard. My raiders do sometimes get one, but it's luck. Not skill."

"Why not?" He rumbled, "Ghira told me your raiding crews were the best at supply procurement."

"When was that?"

"Two days ago." He answered, "When he read your report on the raid on Mistral's anti-piracy patrol. He had more than a little praise for you and yours. 'Some of the best fighters on the continent' I believe were his words."

It was an exaggeration to be sure - both in Ghira's praise, and Shockwave's repetition of it. But between Megatron and Starscream, he'd learned the value in pandering to one's ego. And now, it at least silenced the Faunus for a handful of amusing seconds.

"Yeah, well…" She seemed a bit off-put by his words and shrugged unsurely, reaching up with a hand to toy with her hair. "Then you should consider what it means when we tell you something is too hard to get. Basic acetylene torches are a dime a dozen. We can pull them out of almost any metalworking shop on any of the continents. With Dust core units, you'd be running into work delays every other week while we cased shipments and locales for more, hit them and brought them back."

"I suppose…"

"And besides that," Khan added pointedly, "once Atlas or Mistral realized the connection, they'd up security on Dust shipments across the board. Which would make it all so much worse for you, and all of us."

"I see." The points were solid, and while the basic tools were far less efficient, he had to admit that the lost time working on his constructs would likely neutralize any real benefit to the higher technology. So, finally, he sighed and concluded, "Very well. I will dispatch my drones to begin construction and oversee their work. Thank you for the supplies, Khan."

"Don't thank me." She shook her head, "Just supply me. Those weapons of yours are an equalizer between my men and women and what Atlas and Mistral have to offer. Keep them coming, and I'll keep running to town with your shopping lists."

"Acknowledge." He rumbled quietly and then, curious, asked, "What were your thoughts, then?"

"On?"

"The rifles."

"Excellent weapons." She shrugged, then seemed to pause and consider her words for a moment before adding, "Some of us don't like relying on one person, and a non-Faunus no less, for all our best equipment. But that seems unavoidable."

"You do not expect me to apologize, do you?"

"Not really," She smirked and cocked her head to one side, "Would you if I said yes?"

"No." He answered frankly, "I am what I am, and offer no apologies. As, I am sure, is how you would answer."

"Well put." She nodded and pushed off the tree, "I'll be in Menagerie for a few days. I look forward to seeing what you can get done in that time."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Yes." She smiled, "It is."

And then she turned and strolled away, back down the hill towards the settlement. He watched after her for a moment, amused and surprised all at once, before he ordered his droids to work. Then, admittedly a bit more eager to work on the base, simple construction than he had been before, he turned and knelt to begin laying out the reshaped and reinforced support beams he had salvaged from the ocean's depths. They were thick, iron reinforced by cyber-matter alloyed steel plates bent around their weakest sections, and would do the job well enough. As he worked, three drones trailed behind him, unspooling salvaged and repaired electrical cables that would also encircle the base as a means of power redundancy throughout.

It was all rather simple work, and so he expected to be done with the first base in less than two days, with his personal attention.

Such was…

Acceptable.

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Ironwood stood at the back of the long, open room that made up the weapons testing room. Or, well, one of them. But they were all the same. Long, narrow rooms that could be lined in cover or targets for mock-fights, bright white fluorescent lights, and stark white walls and ceilings. The floors, at least, were colored a dark grey that broke it all up. Without it, James was certain that he'd have gotten sick if he stayed too long in the stark room. It was too bright, and too featureless, for his liking.

Too unnatural.

Gods, his shoulder ached…

"Are you quite ready, Doctor?" He grunted, turning to the wiry man kneeling on the floor and working on securing the armor stand to the ground.

"I have been ready, General." Arthur Watts sighed quietly as he stood and laid his hand on the rounded shoulder of the armor, "I just… Well, the idea of my generator absorbing the shot but his bloody particle lasers flinging the entire system around the room and smashing it doesn't appeal. I'm certain you understand."

"Not even remotely."

"But… Why not?"

"Just get it ready." He sighed. The reason was obvious - if his armor system couldn't take being thrown about a bit, what good was it? But then, he was mainly hoping for the shield system to function, so… He sighed once again as he reached the other end of the room and grunted, "Polendina."

"General." The man said as he stood, staggering on a limp he'd had since James had met the man. He was older, with a shaggy head full of grey hair and a dark silver beard, but he was a good man. Ironwood could see it in his warm eyes as he held out his hand for him to shake. A gross violation of protocol, but…

He smiled as he shook the man's hand and nodded, "Doctor. Are you almost ready?"

"Oh, I think so." He sighed, grimaced and then shrugged as he turned to the machine. "Don't like usin' it for this sort of thing, but… Well, we don't have to like every part of our jobs, right?"

"Right."

The weapon Polendina had designed was a long tube of sorts, capped at one end by a bracketed circle and the other in a long hose. The hose was thick and opaque, and ran down to the base of a box the size of Ironwood's head. It had a simple, sturdy foregrip at one end, near the head of the weapon, and a simple button at the end of a grip near the end. Gently, the General picked up the long tube and held it off to the side, pointedly away from the Doctor at the other end of the room.

"All you need to do," Polendina said, "is aim and press the button. It'll take a moment to charge, and then fire."

"I see…" The weapon was fairly light in his hands, though he chalked most of that up to its power source resting on the floor instead of in the weapon. But the grips felt sturdy under his grip, and the actual placement of them was comfortable as well. He raised his voice to ask, "Doctor Watts, are you ready?"

"As I ever will be." He called back, standing and drawing that same low-caliber, suppressed weapon as he backed away. The shot glanced off the hard-light projection with a dull flash of purplish light and Watts turned, smiling as he came to join them. When he had, he waved a hand and grunted, "As you will, General."

"Understood." He rumbled and then, per protocol, added a loud bark of, "Firing live!"

"Obviously…"

He ignored Watts' quiet snarking, as he usually did, and levelled the weapon on the distant target. As the doctor had said, it took a moment for the weapon to charge up, but it was not a wholly silent affair. The power generator on the floor beside him hummed and thrummed loudly, sending vibrations out through the floor that Ironwood could feel even through his heavy boots. And the weapon in his hands warmed and glowed, flushing with power as it charged its shot. Finally, it clicked, and Ironwood held his breath, unsure of what would happen next.

A heartbeat passed, and then an undulating wash of vibrant green fury leapt out of the weapon. It writhed like an old great war flamethrower, but more constrained, and crossed the room to sear across the wall over the target.

"You're off target!"

"It's hard to aim." He grunted, forcing the head down against the kick of the… Plasma? He wasn't even sure, really, what it was firing.

"It's the stability system!" Polendina defended, "It's not done yet! I need a compute suite to monitor the output and-"

"It's fine." Ironwood cut him off, bringing the torrent across the armor finally.

Bright, vibrant waves of green, white, blue and purple light ripped across the room, bathing them in a rainbow of blinding power. Liquid fire seemed to dance at the end of his shot, writhing and flickering as its colors flickered and undulated wildly. He watched it until his eyes ached and then, when he closed them, he could see stars flickering against his eyelids. When his arm started to numb from the shaking of the weapon in his grip, he released the trigger.

But the weapon didn't stop, it only slowed, the fury pouring out trickling down over almost a minute until it finally died.

"Gods…" He murmured, turning and setting the warm weapon against the side of the power bank so that he could shake his numb arm. "What is that thing, Polendina?"

"My prototype point projected particle cannon!" The man defended, beaming all the while, "As I said, it needs a mechanical brace and a computational compensation system, but with that? Oh, the Grimm won't have a chance."

"The Grimm?" Watts scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "We're developing prototypes to go against menagerie, you old cripple."

"I, well…" Polendina grimaced and then, unsure of what to say, gestured at the end of the room, "Well, at least my prototype worked. Unlike your shoddy excuse for armor."

Ironwood hummed his agreement and looked at the armor as well. Layers of metal had melted away, slagging down in front and pooling on the ground. But it hadn't given way entirely, and even as he watched, violet sparks flickered across its surface. The hard light Dust, trying its damndest to layer its defenses over the ruined surface again.

"My armor-"

"Is impressive." Ironwood cut him off and turned to address both the men who looked up at him in shock. "Much like your… Energy weapon, Polendina. Watts, could you engineer your shields on a larger scale?"

"I could, yes…" He nodded, "But the expense-"

"Is not relevant to you, Arthus. Continue to work on your armor." Ironwood cut him off, "And draft up plans for application to larger, armored vehicles. Aircraft especially."

"Alright, then…"

"Doctor Polendina, I want you to work with Doctor Watts." He saw the man's face fall and sympathised with the reaction. But, unfortunately, Atlas needed them together for this. "Help him manage his energy supply. Compact it, if you can. And work on what you need to get that energy weapon of yours field-ready."

"I… Have a few ideas for that." Polendina hedged, "But, ah, it skirts a few boundaries. Legal and, uh, moral."

"In what way?"

"Nothing harmful." He defended hotly, waving Ironwood off with a hand. "It's just… Well, old laws about too-intelligent computers. From back during Mantle's day. And a few questions surrounding that problem, too."

"I see." Ironwood nodded, considered, and then said, "Act with my authority, then. Get it under control. Atlas needs these weapons deployable as soon as is possible. And the same applies to your armor, Doctor Watts. Am I understood?"

"Yes, General."

"I will do what I can…"

"I expect progress reports from you both by month's end." He nodded, turned and paid the new weapon one last look before he took his leave.

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The location he had been told to come to was a small bay up the coast from Menagerie's one true settlement, surrounded on all sides by beaches ringed by steep hills that rolled out to ebb away in Menagerie's rolling landscape and out to spire up into the mountains on the other. The little inlet was too narrow and watery for any real construction, and the water was itself too shallow for any use as a port or fishery. And it was just far enough away from Menagerie that anyone living out here would have been in dire straits should a Grimm come knocking.

But Ghira had called him, so here he was, kneeling in the briny water and pressing down on the platform Ghira had asked him to set up.

"It is done." He rumbled as he stood, water thunder off his legs as he turned to look down on the group of Faunus pulling a shallow-keeled row-boat into the sand under the water. It was filled with more supplies - long bamboo rods and long white cloths rolled up, as well as disassembled furniture. Curious, he asked, "What is happening?"

"This is for the wedding." Ghira explained as the men got to work, pressing the long poles into the sand around the wide platform and then drawing a thick white cover up along each. A pillar had been erected at the center of the platform, secured by nails being beaten in by the workers now, to hold the cloth up.

Humming, Shockwave rumbled, "Yours?"

"Of course." He smiled and folded his arms, watching the men work for a moment before asking, "You, uh, want to come?"

"To your wedding?"

"Yes?"

"I suppose I ought to."

"I didn't ask if you ought to come, Shockwave." Ghira pointed out, "I asked if you wanted to."

"I see…" It had been a rare instance, when someone asked what he wanted to do. Beyond scientific endeavours, of course. But even in those there had always been conditionality - he could do what he wanted, but Megatron demanded weaponry. Or progress on projects to similar ends. Not since he had been on his own had anyone deigned to consider his desires without an overtly obvious thing to gain.

What could Ghira have hoped to gain here, though?

He could think of nothing…

How interesting.

Finally he considered to ask, "Would I be welcome?"

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"I see how some look at me." There was respect there, to be sure, but plenty of fear as well. He understood, of course, he was a towering figure with a weapon capable of annihilating Menagerie entirely if he so desired it.

But understanding it did not make it any more pleasurable.

"Khali wants you there." He shrugged, "Sienna doesn't care, I'm sure. And there's not really anyone else whose opinion I give a damn about, frankly."

"I see..." He murmured, watching the men work and kneeling in the water once more, the way he had observed Autobots would do when speaking to their Human allies. A way of offering respect, he'd been told. 'Getting down on their level'. "I suppose I have little choice then."

"Not unless you want her coming after you with a shoe and a bad mood." Ghira chuckled, "But I'm serious, Shockwave, it's up to you."

"I see…" He hummed and, finally, said, "Very well then. If I am able to get away from my projects, at least."

"Great." Ghira chuckled, "Khali will be happy to hear it."

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