Transfer (Conti.)

We took off before I even reached the control room, Crocea Mors moving on ahead of me to get things started. The situation was far from ideal, sure, but I wasn't completely unprepared for it—taking off alone had been the last resort, but it was something that had been on the table form the beginning. It made a few, or a lot, of things harder, but I'd always been the one in charge of getting us to and from Mantle so this part didn't change all that much.

It was going to be more dangerous than I expected, granted, but that was starting to become the story of my life. By the time this was all over, I'd probably be able to write a book about it, or maybe an autobiography; 'Jaune Arc: It Was Worse Than I Expected.' Originally, it was supposed to be a little more subtle, or as subtle as you could make the theft of a giant airship.

Which is probably more than you might think, again because of human nature. I'm sure the empty space where a colossal airship used to be would be noticed in short order, if not immediately, but there'd have been confusion, with most people probably wondering what the hell was going on and complaining or wandering off or whatever but generally deciding it wasn't their problem. Once it reached someone whose problem it was, questions would arise that needed answering; what was the pilot doing? Can you contact him? No? Then what about the other pilots? The command center? Can someone force the ship to lower safely?

When all that failed, the reality of the situation would probably have settled in and they'd have contacted the right people, but at that point there were still infrastructural concerns. Whoever's at the desk needed to take the message, figure out what was going on from who was calling—and odds were there would be a lot of people calling—and then pass that up the line to whoever was going to get their day ruined handling the job. Odds were that they weren't already strapped into their aircraft, so they'd need to suit up, get in, and take off.

All in all, between time wasted and time needed, confusion and disbelief, I'd have given myself…at least three, maybe five minutes before anyone knew what was happening and maybe up to twice that long before anyone mobilized a response. If everything had gone according to plan, I could have had a ten minute head start—maybe fifteen. Even against fighter-craft, that's a hard difference to make up; I'd have been out of town by the time anyone figured out what I'd done and getting dangerously close to the danger zone by the time anyone caught up.

Under the circumstances, however, it seemed safe to assume that would not be the case here. In fact, I felt pretty sure that word of my actions had been circulating even before Weiss was safe, and that there were probably several pilots and ships on standby, which meant I'd have company a lot earlier than expected. Hell, if Ironwood wasn't calling in reinforcements right now, I'd be stunned.

I'd like to say I had a plan for how I was going to deal with that, but the truth was that it was a bit of a work in progress. The basics remained—I still needed to get out of the city, over the mountains, and into Grimm territory. I just needed to do it under fire against much smaller, more mobile ships.

Hopefully not a problem.

I pushed the White Whale as hard as I could and felt gratified at its immediate response. I used Crocea Mors, still deep within the metal of the ship, to monitor it and was glad that everything seemed to be functioning as expected. Nature Affinity's passive boost to Dust effects seemed to be functioning as expected, improving the fuel efficiency, speed, and maneuverability of the ship to give me a much needed advantage. I still had a few of those to rely upon, thankfully—my Elementals, my skills, my location, and the situation.

The latter two were, initially, the most important. What I was doing now…it wasn't something anyone could have been prepared for, not really. Airborne enemies were hardly new to Remnant, but the cities defenses had been largely designed to keep them from getting to the most populated areas of the city—but the White Whale had been stationed in the richer part of the Commercial District. I was now flying along its length with buildings far below me, Forever Fall some ways to my left and the Residential District some ways to my right. I had a little breathing room here because so long as I didn't attack—which I wouldn't—I could be relatively sure that they wouldn't try to start a fight, much less bring down the White Whale, over a populated area. They'd try to get people in position to watch me, monitor me, guide my path towards a place I could be safely disabled if they could, and even try to bring in specialized ships or even transport Hunters if possible—but they wouldn't want to start a fight where innocent people would get involved if they could avoid it.

Normally, that wouldn't be an issue because if, say, a murder of Giant Nevermore flocked to the area, they'd be seen far off and civilians would be sent into the shelters, but I'd effectively spawned inside the enemy base and while they were probably moving people as quickly as they could you can't evacuate such a large area that quickly. Initially, at least, they'd want me out of the city—it's just, they'd want me grounded moments after that.

And yet…I still had the edge. I thought I might have, at least, but the logic made sense. Again, I was pretty sure this was a new one for everyone involved and it wasn't a simple issue to deal with. If it's shooting the enemy down, that's one thing. If it's shooting the enemy down before they reach some location, that's harder but still doable.

But forcing a much larger ship to fly the way you wanted? Without attacking or even touching it?

That's something completely different. It's a tactic that doesn't lend itself well to three-dimensional movement, because of basic geometry. If you imagined the volume of space above Vale as a sphere for the sake of simplicity, and you considered the White Whale as the center of that sphere, then my path to escape was the sphere's radius—a line from the center to any point outside of the city. I needed to take one of those paths to get out of the city, but I could choose almost any path, ignoring the ones heading in a direction I didn't want.

But they had no idea which one I would pick—how could they, when even I wasn't sure now? To them, I could travel any route within that space, leaving them to guard the spheres area, its circumference. They had a much larger amount of manpower then I did, but they also had a far more difficult job. They'd want to guide we towards a specific location, but the added dimensions of up and down meant that method that worked on the ground tended to be completely ineffectual in the air, especially against an opponent as large and fast as me. They could try to predict me or spread out enough that at least some of them would be able to get to me, but in this first move, I had the advantage.

For a while. Once they could get Hunters aboard crafts that moved fast enough, they could literally just drop them on top of the White Whale and let them claw their ways in through the hull to get to me. Or sabotage the ship. Or both; it didn't really matter, because I'd be pretty screwed either way at that point.

I twitched once and then sighed.

Speak of the devil…

Crocea Mors continued to hum a warning, spotting something through his eyes in the ship's hull and alerting me of incoming ships. I closed my eyes for a moment, suppressed the urge to swear, and decided on my path, turning my behemoth of a ship a bit further South.

There was no way of telling if my pursuers had Hunters aboard, but the way my day, week, and life was headed lately, it seemed like a safe assumption to make. Given that and seeing as they were the greatest danger to me—at least until I left the bounds of the city—there was only one this I could really do.

What they didn't expect—and what they feared.

Levant placed a hand over mine and felt Crocea beneath my fingers. The former gave me a reassuring smile as I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. I felt that same air in my lungs, felt more on my skin and beyond it, beyond the ship itself. I felt the ship humming beneath my feet, felt the parts and pieces that caused that feeling deeper yet, engines and tubes and more bright to my senses. My Aura, my soul, flowed through that immensity, guided along certain paths towards my decided purpose.

It'd tried this before, several times. Hadn't been able to make it work the way I wanted to, but…necessity was the mother of innovation. The design was different and so was the purpose, but it was easier to gather because I wasn't focused on making it small or focused or deadly. In fact, it wasn't anywhere close to what I'd been trying to make, but…

"Close enough," I muttered as the seconds passed.

And then I pulled back hard, bringing the White Whale up into a turn that must have shocked anyone watching. I didn't have the time or patience for a larger turn, so I made it narrow, barely wider than the ship was long, pushing it beyond what it's makers probably intended. As I reached the top of the circle I couldn't help but absently note that I could literally see my house from here.

The moment passed and I pulled the trigger.

"Fragarach," I named it as I unleashed the incomplete attack, a rush of air and steel combined clumsily into an attack that flashed across the sky, a mostly unsuccessful attempt to combine two affinities in one spell. A single bullet from the White Whale lashed out, curving in midair in a burring arc that lashed past—and just above—the wings of a ship before continuing its turn to approach another before puttering out. The first ship wobbled roughing and began going down, while the second shook for a second, as if facing turbulence, before steadying.

I watched the falling struggle for a moment, spinning, before recovering enough to hover in place for a moment, apparently a close save. I glanced at its fellows as I completed my turn, shifting my gaze to my Map to keep track of them.

"Prototype," I added with a sigh.

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