Yang Xiao Long did not do "maudlin."

She'd already spent several months, after all, wrestling with "depressed" and "traumatized," emotions that weren't going to politely pack up their bags and leave just because she found them annoying and inconvenient. It was nice, after all, to decide that she was going to face the future, get her head on straight, learn from the mistakes of her past, and get on with her life, but that didn't change the fact that her school was in ruins, her partner had vanished into the wind without a word, and her sister was on her way to Haven Academy to play hero. And that with Jaune Arc playing the role of "cute blond protector" for Ruby that was supposed to be Yang's job.

About time I got off my admittedly excellent butt and got myself back together.

Of course, there was also the fact that her right arm was now made of metal and sitting in a box on the cabin table. That was also a thing.

Heh, "put myself back together," she thought as she ran her fingertips over the gold-painted artificial limb. I've gotta remember that one.

She still didn't wear the arm 24/7. The technology was top-grade, but it wasn't flesh and blood, and the nerve interfaces still felt a little wonky now and again. Phantom limb pain was more common while she wore it, for example, and never really matched up with the arm's actual nerve impulses, which was just weird. Yang wondered what it would be like to be General Ironwood, who had half of his torso replaced by artificial parts. It was hard to detach a prosthetic and give your nervous system a break when the parts included half your vital organs.

Yeah, definitely a lot more iron than wood in that guy. I wonder if that's why he has such a steely glare, eh?

"Yep, you've still got it, Yang," she said aloud.

It was too bad, she thought, that she was traveling alone. Mind you, that was kind of the point. If Ruby or Blake or, hell, even Weiss had been there, she wouldn't be traveling because she wouldn't need to. Or, maybe she would be because they would be and she'd be with them and…bah! Screw the logistics of causality; the point is I'm wasting all these good lines on the inside of my head in an empty boat cabin!

As if to remind Yang that the world absolutely loves to screw with people's assumptions, her door was flung open and a woman rushed in off the deck.

"You! Don't move! Don't say a word!"

She looked to be in her early twenties, wearing baggy pants and a vest whose ragged armholes suggested it had once been a shirt. Her skin was sun-bronzed, her reddish-brown hair wild, and her bloodshot eyes even wilder. Yang absorbed these details in an instant because she was a Huntress-in-training capable of taking in the totality of a situation despite there being some specific detail that naturally drew focus.

A detail such as the knife in the woman's hand.

Really, it wasn't so much a knife as it was a hunk of metal snapped off some bit of machinery, the butt wrapped with tape to leave around fifteen inches of blade protruding. But it had been painstakingly sharpened against something to put an edge along nearly its entire length to make it into a surprisingly effective weapon.

The fresh blood that stained its tip testified well enough to that.

Yang's first instinct was to lash out at once. She wasn't wearing Ember Celica, but a Huntress could do plenty with improvised weapons or none at all, thanks to how they were trained to use their equipment as conduits for Aura. She remembered once in school when she'd been launched through a ceiling by a watermelon, of all things. Food fights at a Huntsman Academy were a little different than they were among kids.

At least, while there still had been an academy.

…a great hall wreathed in flames. A tall, red-haired man limned in orange-bronze light like hellfire, standing over a crumpled form in black and white, a sword-tip wet with blood…

Yang dragged her gaze away from the intruder's weapon, breaking the sudden flash of memory, and met the woman's eyes. Then she deliberately forced herself to look away from the eyes again, as hard as it was.

Eyes lied. She was too good a fighter to fall for their promises. Instead, she took in the woman's stance. The balance was all off. The knife was out of position, too outthrust from her body, so she couldn't use her arms to stab without first pulling it back in. It looked more like she was holding a magic talisman to drive off a ghost than readying a weapon for combat.

Yeah, Yang could take her. Probably with one hand tied behind her back. Or in a box on the table, as the case may be. Slap the knife wide so it wasn't a threat, probably even knocking it out of the woman's hands. Right-foot kick to the ribs that would be left exposed. Pivot back right and step in to a left hook and continue with a left-footed spin kick to knock her clear out the door.

But she didn't move.

She'd promised her dad, after all. Think first, not just fling herself into a situation head-on in response to emotion. And while she'd already done part of that, planning tactics before attacking instead of making it up on the fly, part of combat tactics was also deciding whether or not to fight in the first place.

And she had no idea who this woman was. Sure, Wild Eyes looked dangerous and a little crazy, but that might have been desperation, not criminal madness. Yang might lay her out cold only to have a couple of hoods or a stalker ex-boyfriend or something come in a second later and thank Yang for making it easy for them.

So yeah. This time she'd take a second to see what was going on first, before punching people.

And hey, she could always hit people later, once she knew who the right people to hit were.

"So," she said, having given the woman nearly twenty seconds of "don't say a word." And Nora claims she can beat me at the quiet game! Ha! "Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do we just stare into each other's eyes for a while? Because I can totally see why you'd want to do that."

"Shut up! I'm trying to think!"

Wild Eyes fumbled behind herself with her free hand, caught her fingertips around the edge of the door, and swung it closed.

"You might want to try harder," Yang said. "I mean, you broke into my room waving a shiv, while I was just standing here minding my own business. If you don't know why you're here, I really can't help you."

The woman jabbed her knife towards Yang, not anywhere near enough to actually touch her, but in an obviously threatening manner.

"Right. Not good with sarcasm. I'll remember that."

"Shut up shut up shutupshutupshut—aaaah!"

She fisted her hand in her own hair and yanked hard, which made Yang wince in sympathy, especially when several strands actually got pulled out of the intruder's head. Hair today, gone tomorrow, she thought.

Like a dash of cold water or a slap to the face, though, the hair-pulling seemed to do its job as a hysteria cure. Wild Eyes gave a heavy sigh.

"All right. All right. We're still okay. They haven't found me yet, and we'll be in port tomorrow. I just need to stay out of sight until then."

"Stowaway, huh?"

"Yes—no—I mean, no, it's not like that! I stowed away, but because I couldn't afford to have my name appear on a passenger manifest, not after I barely escaped the last time!"

Yang's eyebrow quirked upwards.

"Now that sounds interesting. Someone's chasing you? It's not the police, is it?"

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"You're taking this awfully calmly."

"Hey, no point in panicking, right? Bad for the blood pressure. And besides, you're just naturally disarming." Yang waggled the stump of her right arm at her, just in case she was the kind of person who missed the point of jokes under stress.

"That…You…I…Argh, how can you say something like that?"

"Are you kidding me? I've got weeks' worth of 'em saved up that I've had nobody to use them on but my dad. So how about you just tell me what's going on and we can see how I can be helpful, without you having to do any more stabbing. 'Cause I've had enough of that lately, eh. Eh?"

Okay, fair, that one was really weak.

"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary."

They both swiveled towards the cabin door, where two things became apparent: when the intruder had closed it, she hadn't pushed it all the way latched, and the cabin really wasn't big enough for all the people gathering in it.

"Wow, I'm really popular today," Yang quipped to no one in particular. "Not that I'm surprised, but still and all…"

"In the future, Dr. Blacknoah, when you're trying to hide after stabbing a man, you should make sure that your weapon doesn't drip a trail of fresh blood right to the door you're hiding behind."

The two new cast members weren't ship's crew. The one who'd been talking was a woman in her fifties wearing a white ankle-length coat with a double-breasted front buttoned up to her neck and had the kind of long-nosed, sharp features that immediately raised comparisons to eagles, hawks, or turkey buzzards. The man with her was tall, broad-shouldered, stubble-cheeked, and his wardrobe screamed "Generic Thug" so loudly he should have asked for a refund from his tailor.

"Stay away from me!" Wild Eyes—or Blacknoah, since that was apparently her name—protested, turning away from Yang to keep the knife between herself and the newcomers.

"Or you'll give us a taste of what you gave Danilo? Don't worry; I don't think red suits me very well. We have other methods."

Thug Boy recognized a cue when he heard it, and produced a firearm that he immediately pointed at Blacknoah.

"Now, why don't you just give us back the prototype and just maybe Vulcan will be inclined to forgive you the trouble you've caused us on account of your long and previously loyal service."

"Whoa," Yang put in. "So Dr. Blacknoah, here, is some kind of researcher for Vulcan Applied Technologies—which, by the way, really needs a new name, because 'VAT' is a little too on-the-nose for a chemical science corporation—and she ran off with a secret prototype? And you guys are chasing her to get it back?"

"Succinctly put. Good Dr. Blacknoah's buyers in Mistral must have paid a high price to get her to take the risk. But, they don't call it the almighty lien for nothing, I suppose." Buzzard Beak smiled indulgently.

"You want the prototype?" Blacknoah said. "Fine! You can have it!"

She reached into a pocket and came out with a tubular device studded with lights and buttons.

"I push this switch and you know what happens next! The two components of Ulexium mix and this whole room goes up in flames! And don't think I won't do it!"

Thug Boy flinched visibly, but his boss was less easily impressed by the threat.

"Suicide by immolation is hardly your style, Dr. Blacknoah, not when there are other options besides dying like a cornered rat."

"I vote against it," Yang pointed out.

…a great hall wreathed in flames, a tableau of fire and blood…

She licked her lips, pushing out the image, and continued, "Y'know, innocent victim here and all. And really, I'm already hot stuff, so setting me on fire is just redundant."

Three incredulous stares turned in her direction. Yang didn't know if it was because none of them could believe she'd spoken up at all, or because she was actually cracking jokes under these circumstances.

"Seriously, Doctor, I think you've killed enough people for one day. I mean, at least that Danilo fellow she mentioned was a bad guy and it was probably self-defense, right? So that'll count for something at the trial."

Buzzard Beak actually looked affronted by that.

"I'll have you know that we are merely attempting to retrieve stolen corporate property for its legitimate ownership."

"Yeah, no, not buying that. Otherwise you'd have just gotten the captain and crew to help. Catching a stowaway thief packing a firebomb is textbook law and order stuff. But it's hard to toss a corporate traitor over the side if she's locked up in the brig, eh?"

"…How very perceptive of you."

"It's a gift. Though, no offense here, but you folks are kind of obvious about it. You might want to work on that when you all get out of prison."

An arched eyebrow from Buzzard Beak greeted this statement.

"Prison? I hardly think so." She produced a small pistol from up her sleeve, bringing the total number of guns to two. "Now, please stand next to Dr. Blacknoah, so that it's easier to keep our eyes on all of you at once. You really don't want us to be nervous and desperate."

"No! Put those guns away or I swear I'll set this off!" Blacknoah shouted.

"Confidentially, I don't think they believe you," Yang stage-whispered. "Though, to be fair, neither do I."

"You see, Dr. Blacknoah, even the random bystander you've dragged into this understands you well enough."

"Thanks!" Yang said. "I like to think that I've got a pretty good handle on it. Get it? Hand-le? Because I only have one?" Stunned silence was her only response. "Yeesh, tough room."

"You're nuts," Thug Boy boggled, surprising everyone by having a speaking role.

"Nope, just confident." And, since moving towards Blacknoah as she'd been ordered put her close enough, she slashed her right foot upwards in a scything kick to the doctor's wrist, while simultaneously grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it up into the other two.

Her foot connected with the doctor's arm with a satisfying crunch that sent the prototype flying harmlessly out of her grip. The woman was too shocked in the moment to lash out with her knife, so Yang shot a side-kick into her belly and slammed her up against the wall.

That gave her the breathing room necessary to take on the other two, and she went for Thug Boy first since he was both closer and probably more dangerous. He was pushing the table away with his left hand, so Yang grabbed his right wrist and twisted his gun-arm out away from her body. Aura was great stuff, but there were only so many bullets of unknown firepower a girl wanted to take at point-blank range.

Unfortunately, being one-armed made her upper-body defense in a clinch extremely weak, and the corporate goon hammered her ribs hard with his left fist, which had some kind of studded metal knuckles slipped over it. He punched her twice more while she was torquing his wrist to make him drop his gun, and the third hit sent a shock of pain through her just to remind her that Aura or not, she could still feel those blows.

Yang responded by headbutting Thug Boy in the face, breaking his Aura and his nose with one strike.

"Dad always did say I should use my head in battle more often," she said, dropping him to the floor.

Buzzard Beak shot her.

The bullet didn't strike like an accelerated piece of metal. Rather, it exploded like a miniature warhead with a flash of green light and a concussive blast of wind that sent her flying back against the cabin wall.

"Uuugh. Dust…ammunition?"

"Refined and processed for maximum impact, though a bit too cost-heavy for widespread military use." Buzzard Beak glanced from the fallen Dr. Blacknoah to her own unconscious thug. "You are a remarkably resilient young lady."

"Eh, I always make sure to eat a balanced breakfast. Helps when fighting someone who's got ammo that helps them get their wind up."

Buzzard Beak actually flinched at that one. Which was a mistake, because it gave Yang the chance to dive at her legs. The gun went off again, the bullet passing over Yang's head (hopefully not clipping any hair), and Yang's shoulder crashed into the shooter's legs.

Unfortunately, it was her right shoulder, which prevented her from properly wrapping up. The woman only went sprawling as Yang fell across her feet. Yang got kicked by a stiletto heel for her pains, but the bigger problem was the fact that Buzzard Beak had held on to the gun, and her hand was out of Yang's reach.

Desperately, Yang groped on the floor, and her fingers closed on something cold and hard. She whipped it out in a flat arc, and the closed fingers of her artificial arm crashed into the gun barrel, knocking the weapon away. Yang pushed off with her feet, lunging forward just enough so that her next swing could deliver a solid blow to the woman's head.

It will be noted that a two-foot hunk of metal made for a pretty good club.

"…Still a better fight than the one when I traveled by train," she sighed.

~X X X~

"So these two claimed to be agents of Vulcan Applied Technologies?" the captain asked, his round, bearded face set in an expression that was in no way "right jolly." Yang got the idea that he really didn't like people who turned his ship into a battlefield for their private fights.

"Uh huh, along with some other guy they called Danilo. I…I think he might be dead."

The captain nodded.

"We found the body an hour ago. Apparently this Dr. Blacknoah had hidden it behind some machine works after she killed him."

"Or it could have been his friends. They wouldn't have wanted you to know about it and start searching the ship or asking inconvenient questions."

"Yeah, that sounds right. But she was the one who killed him?"

It was Yang's turn to nod.

"I think so. She seemed to think she had, at least. And I'm sure when we get to port the cops can sort that all out with autopsies and forensics and stuff."

"So where do you come in? You took down all three of them, so what's your part in all this?"

Yang held up her hands (both of them, now that the artificial one was back installed in place).

"Nothing! I'm strictly an innocent bystander here."

"Who beat three criminals, one who'd already killed once and two more armed with guns?"

"Huntress in training."

"Ah, I see." He scratched his chin.

"Though I'm guessing Dr. Blacknoah must have thought I was the purser."

The captain blinked in confusion.

"The purser? Why?"

"Well, she was a stowaway, but I definitely punched her ticket!"

Pained silence was her only reward.

"Oh, come on, you can't just let that sail on by, Captain. Eh? Ehhh?"

"…"

"Geez, tough boat."