Remnant - XXIV

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Requested By : Gib

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With the coastline between Harmonex and Menagerie cleared, it was time for a project arguably as ambitious as Harmonex itself - A transportation network, to link the two cities and expand both's control all along the coastline.

He began where it was the most complex, in Menagerie. He ordered his Insecticons to demolish the northern wall, where it was closest to the sea, and to erect a large station in its place. By his design, the transit station was as wide as the hundred feet of wall which had been brought down, reclaimed, and used to construct much of it, and twice as thick. Its walls were flat, and stood half as tall as the rest of the wall, where they domed up and inward, into a smooth, domed apex he ordered painted a rusty red color, in favor of the Faunus' displeasure at such vast tracks of dull gray.

It reached out into the water, standing on a heavy platform of concrete that carried it out beyond the land for fifteen feet. From its wall a long, fifteen foot wide dock had been erected using pure cyber-formed steel, fashioned by his own hands. Smaller walkways, dotted by tall pylons for tying ships in place, stretched out to either side of it all the way to its end. There it split into two curved sections, each just as wide as the man, which curved out on the deeper, blue sea beyond even Menagerie's shallows. With it in place, Menagerie's older docks had been stripped down and refurbished. Now they were lined by sheltered moorings built beside floating warehouses, for fishermen to come and drop their goods with less fear of spoilage, and for traders to dock and drop their own with less fear of theft.

Inside of the transportation hub were offices which ran along each wall all the way up into the dome itself, surrounding a wide, open space. A wide, dark silver road filled the spank, with a division between each directional side filled by two sets of heavy train tracks. Thinner tracks, befitting a tram-line, ran along the outsides as well. Both ran beyond the road, further in towards Menagerie itself. The tram-lines stopped inside the transportation hub itself, with two wooden platforms for either of the long tram-cars, each of which could fit a few dozen Faunus.

The train tracks, though, ran out of the building and further into Menagerie, only stopping beside the square in Menagerie's heart. There he'd built a large train station, fashioned after old Earth-America's own for the sake of Faunus aesthetics. Two old steam-trains, fueled by Dust-based steam conduction rather than coal for obvious reasons, sat on either of the tracks, flanked by the station and capped at the end by an unloading boom outside of a wide warehouse, already filled by Faunus workers familiarizing themselves with the ins and outs of industrial freight management.

Harmonex had a transportation hub exactly like it sans the docks - it had been built further inland, sheltered in fear of Mistrali attack.

All along the coast were cleared areas of land and stops for the trams, as well as road-crossings over the tram-lines. With the temporary, ramshackle walls plugging the gaps already scheduled to be replaced by cyber-steel and garrisons of Faunus fighters, he anticipated smaller helmets would crop up all along the coastline. All he needed for that part of the project were more fighters for the Faunus, but according to Sienna, there was no shortage of those now.

The war had bred the want to fight into plenty of hearts, he feared.

More importantly… Ghira and Kali wanted him to come to a 'christening' of the first train launch. A symbolic thing, he knew, but…

Well, he would have preferred to keep working.

Even so, he could not refuse them.

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Ironwood was not a man prone to drink often, but even he knew the fortifying nature of whiskey - and the bracing effect it had, too.

Tonight, he needed both.

He downed the drink and lifted the report in one hand, reading while he slowly turned the glass in his other, stirring the liquid in slow, lazy circles.

'Heavy development all along northern coast.' It read, in the clipped fashion of Squirrel's typical style of reporting. She was a quiet sort, well-suited to reconnaissance and similar, so he'd had her garrisoned on Mistral's southern coast for months now. From there, she could survey the northern coast and water, and watch. The report went on, 'Second settlement established. Name, unknown - designated Site B for now. Housing for several hundred at minimum, large installation attached. Piping, wiring - indications of advanced infrastructure.'

That was bad, to undersell the problem of it all… He had planned on overwhelming them with sheer numbers of refugees whilst bringing the conflict to an end, and then suing for peace terms. He was more than ready to provide supplies and advisors to help build up Menagerie and secure land, too. But the Faunus had done it themselves, rendering that entire aspect of his plan moot. Worse - he'd pushed an able-bodied population into his enemy's hands.

At least he could excise the last of the Faunus and offer terms for a white peace…

"It would end the war, if nothing else at all…" He sighed, taking a long drink from his glass and setting it on his desk. While he refilled it, he frowned, "But not on our terms."

At least, not as things were now…

'Mechanized units identified - large bipedal, flight capable.' All had already been known, of course, but confirmation was always a matter of course for reconnaissance elements. He took another drink and returned to the report, 'Grimm extermination as expected. Also, construction and forest clearing. Efficient workers for the most part, teams of two or three. However, they have several times devolved into messy brawls. Unknown cause. Zero sign of pilots to date. Similar result looking for infrastructure to support pilots all along northern coast. Additional - mechanized units observed partaking in what would be 'leisure' activities - walking, playing in the water, rough housing.'

'Conclusion,' it went on finally, 'Machines not piloted. Leisure activities indicate sentience - conclusion, drones unlikely.'

The report ended there, Squirrel wasn't the type to advise or offer any other kinds of suggestions - he offered what he knew, and left it to Ironwood to decide the next course. A good value in a scout, knowing his place so readily. But it didn't help the weight that settled onto Ironwood's shoulders, and in his guts. Menagerie's metal titans were already terrifying. But if they were sentient…

Then that would mean that Menagerie had something in-human on their sides.

"Salem…?" Her name spilled from his lips before he could catch it and he flinched, shooting a look around the room as though she might leap out at him before he could catch that, either. Frowning, he shook the chill off and decided to simply send Ozpin a message with his suspicions.

He would know what the odds were - when he got it come morning.

A knock on the door dragged his attention away from matters of the supernatural - and Gods, how he hated how relevant that was to him now - and to the more mundane world. Closing the folder with the report in it, he slid it aside and took another drink. After a moment to take a breath, he stood and pressed a button on his desk to unlock the door. A moment later, the door opened and Arthur Watts stepped in, dragging it closed behind him and smoothing the white coat he wore over his brown slacks and off-white dress shirt.

Why he often wore such fancy clothing in laboratories full of all manner of corrosive materials, Ironwood would never know.

"Doctor Watts." He paid the man a polite nod, resting one hand on the desk and the other behind him in military, respectful fashion.

"General." He muttered sardonically, coming to a stop opposite him across the desk and clasping his hands in front of his waist. Turning his head slightly he affected a loose nod and added, "Good day."

"I suppose so." In truth, Ironwood's day had been horrible so far - and he had reason to believe it would only get worse from here.

"Mhm." Watts turned and gestured to the seat across from James' with a bob of his head. "May I?"

"Of course." As Watts sat, so did Ironwood, reaching out to tap a finger against the side of the half-empty whiskey, "A drink?"

"Do you have ice?" The man raised a brow, "I'd rather it watered down. For my focus."

"I could send for some."

"If it's no trouble, of course."

"None at all." He smiled diplomatically and reached into a pocket to fish out his Scroll and send a message to his assistant for a box of ice. He spread his hands over the desk in a peaceable gesture and added, "While we wait, shall we?"

"As you like, General." The man nodded, "You called me here, after all. And I do serve at your pleasure."

"And what a pleasure it is." He sniped gently - and saw the man's eyes crinkle a bit for it, which he called a success. "To get to business - the Council has elected to review your project proposal for potential finalization as one of Atlas' lead military department projects."

"Oh? Truly?" The doctor almost purred, just barely managing to feign proper surprise at the news.

"Indeed." The feigned surprise and pleased smile told him all he needed to know - Watts had something on Sleet, somehow, and had pressed him to support his project. Distasteful, sure, but not the least bit illegal.

Unfortunately.

"So," Ironwood smiled in spite of himself and leaned back in his seat, folding his hands on the desk in front of him, "now's your opportunity, Doctor. Present your ideas."

"Ah, so suddenly?" The doctor had the good acting to blink surprisedly and paw at his coat for a moment before he 'found' what he was looking for and smiled warmly, "Well, luckily I brought my Scroll. Hmm?"

"Indeed." Ironwood rumbled amusedly, "Very lucky."

"Quite." Watts agreed and rose, gesturing at the dock on Ironwood's desk and asking, "May I?"

"Of course." Ironwood nodded, pulling his own out to free the space.

The dock on his desk connected to two systems in his office. The first connected to a screen on his desk, which could raise out from its surface to project a larger image for him. The second, newer and far more advanced, was a pedestal that rose from the floor of his office in time with the shutters on his windows sliding down to dim the room, and make the holographic display easier to see.

As it rose, Watts turned and stepped to the side and said, "Computer, access and display file H-R-17."

"Voice authorization : General Ironwood." Ironwood called out to allow it, "Access primary holo-system. Recognize temporary user - Wats, Arthur."

"Confirmed." The office assistant AI chimed quietly, in a young, bright, warm kind of voice. "Temporary user recognized. Accessing holographic display systems. One moment, please, General."

A few seconds passed before the plinth lit up in bright blue life and a holographic image sprang to life.

It was a bipedal machine, with a blocky cockpit section flanked on either side by large, square shoulders. A thin socketed segment connected the cockpit section to the waist, which was flanked by similarly blocky hips. Its legs were thick, covered in armor, and digitigradial, with notes attached which state that at full height the machine would stand around ten meters tall. Its legs lead down to wide feet, with four separate, jointed 'toe' segments surrounding a ball-like center to allow better traction.

Missile pods were ensconced into the machine's cockpit section, towards the rear where the armor-reinforced glass ended. A note explained these could be replaced with mortars as well as with anti-missile and ECM flares which could be launched both automatically and in reaction to lock-detection. It also featured a moderate caliber machine gun, mounted off center in its nose, to be in line with the weapon's systems manager's seat in the two-person cockpit. Using it, he could defend the fore of the machine while the pilot maneuvered or utilized its defensive systems.

Its arms ended abruptly below the shoulder, one in the multi-barreled form of a heavy caliber autocannon like his ground attack craft used. The other ended in a snub-nosed variant of the particle weapons his ships now carried. However, a note dictated that these arm segments could easily be removed and replaced with any sort of weapon system modified to socket into it, so long as the ammunition could be built internally to the arm.

"Impressive." Ironwood hummed, turning an eye to the cost of the machine - which was as much as four ground-attack craft, or a hundred of their cheap, disposable infantry support drones. "And expensive."

"The Paladin-2 is a war-machine built for the modern age, and with all the quality which Atlas can provide." Watts explained, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced forward to get a better look at it. "A two-an piloting system ensures that mobility isn't lost in deploying any of its numerous weapons systems in support of any objective. And its modularity ensures that it can be outfitted for virtually any mission. The Paladin-2A, the primary model, is capable of anti-infantry roles at a variety of ranges."

"And armor?"

"Computer, next file." Watts ordered quietly. The images changed inside a second, replacing the snub nosed particle cannon for a longer one and the auto-cannon for a launcher system with eight long missiles fitted on a rotating block and sheltered inside a long shroud system which exposed only their ends, to allow the exhaust and fire of their launch to escape without harming the machine. "The Paladin-2B is outfitted with a precision particle cannon, which can capture a globule of particulate fire as you have seen it used and project it at ranges of up to fifty meters without losing accuracy or impact. The sheathed Javelin system can also launch long missiles which can pierce heavy armor, and then explode violently, shearing apart internal systems using shrapnel from the sections which have pierced. Further, the nose-gun in this standard format is replaced by a higher caliber one, with explosive rounds which can destabilize and shock enemy crew."

"Further, should any system take compromising damage, it can simply be removed and replaced." He went on, "In the field, even. All one would need is for the machine to kneel while technicians eject the arm, and load on a spare brought along. This is also possible should the operational parameters change."

"Hmm…" He hated to admit it, but the Paladin system was remarkable. The modularity even meant transport was easier - his older ships could simply disassemble units for transport, and then rapidly prep them in the field for launch as needed. Quietly, he sighed, "Are these your only formats?"

"For now, yes." Watts nodded, rushing to add, "But the purpose of the Paladin-2 is not for basic templates to rule the day. Rather, it is for commanders to recognize needs and refit them as needed for whatever role is desired. For instance, the autocannon system is a standard ground-attack weapon-"

"So I noticed."

"-which means that it can be chambered with any rounds used in that weapon." Watts went on, holding up a finger to ask for his patience. "Not just standard explosive rounds. Flak, for instance, could be useful if deployed against aerial targets. And as the arms are ambidextrous, one could simply fit two of these for a dedicated anti-air platform. Or any other role, with any other combination of weapons."

"Astounding…" Finally, though, he recognized what was missing and frowned. "Where is the barrier generator?"

"Well…"

"Watts?"

"The Paladin-2 model was designed before my shield system-"

"Your and Polendina's shields, you mean."

"Yes, yes." Watts rolled his eyes, "Regardless, the Paladin-2 neither has a fitted unit for a generator or power capacities for it. I am already drafting design changes for the Paladin-3, which will have them. But these stand ready for production, and our infantry and ground armor already go without as it is."

"I see." It wasn't like Ironwood could refuse the system, either. The Council had agreed to fund his project, and that was what Ironwood intended to do. "I will green the production of one hundred units, with full kits for all of them. I will also transfer staff into engineering with the express purpose of designing new weapons systems for the machine."

"Splendid!"

"Your directives are changing as well." He said, easing back into his seat and explaining, "I want your full attention on the Paladin-3. And working with Polendina, to get his shield systems to function on ground-based units without the ground causing conflicts."

"But, I-"

"You have your orders." Ironwood cut him off, pressing a button to deactivate his Scroll and eject it from the desk-dock. "See it done."

"Very well." The man sighed, pacing over to retrieve the Scrolls as the shutters came up. "As you will, General."

"Mhm." He waited until the doctor left before turning his head and asking, "System - did you detect anything untoward on his Scroll?"

"Negative, General." The AI answered, "All systems as expected. All files clean."

"I see." He sighed, leaning back and tapping his fingers as the assistant finally came with the ice he had ordered.

Well, a drink wouldn't hurt while he figured out what to do next, he supposed.

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