It's amazing how much you can say without ever using words.

Yang considered herself an expert on the subject, both as a speaker, as she leaned forward over the table, and a listener, watching the young starship captain she was negotiating with's eyes go wide as his pupils shifted right down to where she intended, his comments on per diem costs seeming to evaporate on his lips. Hook, line, sinker.

Unfortunately, his companion interrupted by clearing his throat and sliding over a paper bearing the route map. So, alas, the game wasn't over yet. "If we're avoiding jump points, the trip will not only be much slower, but we can expect fuel costs to be higher, seeing as we're not on the main lanes—and while I understand you've requested secrecy on your circumstances, I'd still like to discuss our hazard pay concerns."

It wasn't hard to figure out their little game—the friendly, disarming captain paired with the ice-in-his-veins business manager. But if it was intended, they weren't as good at it as they thought. They certainly had the look of two opposites—a big, gregarious guy with messy blonde hair and a wide, easy smile vs. the lithe, analytical figure with straight black hair, and permanently pursed lips. One draws you in, the other goes for the pocketbook. The thing is, the only way that scam works is if the business manager was the one making the decisions—and it seems that this Mr. Ren was stuck trying to reign in his captain instead of driving the deal. As long as she had the captain following her lead, she could lead them on a goose chase all day.

"I understand your concerns." Fortunately, Blake could handle the aboveboard diplomacy. They were playing their own version of the scam, with Blake going in for the kill once they'd been dazzled by Yang. Blake kept her voice to a conspiratorial low. They were in a mostly private corner of one of the galaxy's godawful dive bars, but Yang knew this territory well enough to know that meant someone was always keeping an ear open. "Our client is an Atlessian noblewoman, who, for matters of political expediency, needs to travel in utter secrecy. As you described your ship, it seemed more than capable to evade or outrun any craft, without relying on violence. But we don't expect we should need it-"

The flames roared around them as a metal scaffold groaned, and then collapsed with a terrible crash. But as Yang bashed out the door, she heard the shriek of metal grinding on metal. Turning, she saw the bull Faunus still, somehow, alive.

"Does he ever quit?" But Blake stood transfixed at the man, blood streaming down his face and tangled in debris, powered by pure, ceaseless fury, seemed to simply force himself through the rubble, stretching his arm at them and crying out, "BLAKE!"

To Yang's disbelieving eyes, Blake began to take a half step towards the madman. There was no other choice; she slapped her across the face and yelled, "We have to go. Now!" Grabbing her hand, she took off without looking back. She could hear him scream "TRAITOR!" with hatred enough to bring the whole building down on them.

"-and it should be a simple and quiet delivery of our employer to Atlessian space."

Mr. Ren prepared a response, only to be cut off by his companion. "I can assure you, the ship's more than fast enough to outrun anything you might want to avoid: Grimm, bandit, or law enforcement. And we've got plenty of experience taking the slow road across fringe space. You're in good hands here."

"That's what we were hoping to hear, captain." Yang shot her subtlest, smuggest smile to Blake. Her "poor, helpless maidens" act was a bullseye, and only they could really pull it off. Ruby, too young and excitable, Weiss, too dignified to ever deign to seem not in control. It's why she recommended the two of them take the task of chartering the flight, even if Blake thought it was too ridiculous to even want to talk about it. That girl, in Yang's estimation, needed to just own up to the fact that she was super hot.

"You can trust, when I take on a job, my crew and I see it to the end. We've never failed a delivery yet, cause after all," as he flashed a smile as self-satisfied as Yang's own, "An Arc never goes back on his word!"

And sometimes, even when speaking out loud, it's still the unsaid part that carries the most weight.

Weiss Lexissima Maria Severina Hochzerhollen Schnee, Protector of Alsius, Duchess of Mantle, and Crown Princess and Heir to Atlessian space, had seen more in the past year than she had ever dreamed of in her previous nineteen. She'd been in gunfights, both on land and in spacecraft, and even fought in a boarding action, using Myrtenaster against an actual opponent—not a drill, not a spar, a real, life-or-death sword duel. And she'd learned of her own prejudices, she'd learned to be a kinder, better person, and how to let friends into her life.

And right now she was learning what a fried pickle was.

Well, that might be a strong word for what she was doing. She'd taken a dainty nibble, anticipating the poison to come quickly and viciously, and, when it failed to kill her immediately, grimaced, waiting for the shock to set in.

This was not acceptable to her companion.

"Aww, come on, you've gotta take a big bite!" To illustrate her point, she chomped half the pickle in a sickening CRUNCH. "Mmmmm," she said, while chewing, "This is the good stuff. Best part of going on resupply runs with my dad when I was a kid is he'd get us fried pickles at the starport. Ooh! And we'd get to go to the movies if I was good! We should go do that, too!"

Ruby was, in many ways, her least essential companion—Blake had crucial intelligence against the White Fang, Yang was her bodyguard, Ruby was just the tagalong, the little sister—but of all of them, who had become her unexpected and dear friends, Weiss cherished Ruby the most. They were opposites in almost every way, but once Weiss had gotten over herself, she'd realized an opposite was what she needed. Someone who was brash and enthusiastic and never gave up, not when challenged and not on the galaxy, which seemed increasingly cold and distant as she and her companions untangled the conspiratorial skein before them. But facing that hopelessness never felt impossible so long as she had Ruby at her side.

The door burst open. "Heya nerds, Yang-ing out without us?" An interruption. Thank the gods; she slid the fried pickle back into its paper wrapper.

Yang plopped herself down on one of the room's flimsy chairs, which creaked from the force. "Got us a ship," and she tossed a file of schematics on the table, which Ruby eagerly snatched up and pored over. "You shoulda seen it. Captain's just oh-so-eager to help some lost and desperate Atlessian noblewoman get back home. Especially when she'll be ever so grateful."

Weiss swallowed, "Yang, who exactly did you-"

"She's teasing you." Blake poured herself a glass of water, grimacing slightly at the slight yellowish tinge it had. Though hardly the worst aspect of her recent journeys, Weiss knew that a return to Atlas would mean putting as much distance between herself and these nightmarish backwater motels. "He's a kid, barely older than you and Ruby. Seemed honest enough, for this line of work, plus, we came under budget."

"Did he ask any questions? About me, the route, privacy, anything?"

"Not so much, professional enough to get that we weren't interested in answering anything. Yang had some concerns about the first mate, though."

Yang sighed. "Yeah, he was definitely on the ball. Not necessarily bad, but something we're gonna have to—Ooh! Fried pickles!" She snatched the paper sleeve from Weiss (Oh no. That's mine. Stop.) and popped it in her mouth. "Oh, sho good," she chewed, "Anywaysh, nhot a bad guy, but-"

"Yang! Don't talk with your mouth full!"

Yang gave her an eye roll before she swallowed it all in a messy GULP. Ruby took the chance to chime in. "Did you get a chance to check out the ship?"

"Er, no, but the registry paperwork seemed all in order. Is something wrong?"

"Uh, I wouldn't say wrong, but," Ruby started fanning the papers across the table, jabbing a finger at relevant lines and schematics. "Almost none of these are factory standard, and some of it almost doesn't make sense. This is saying they've got a nearly Frigate-class engine crammed into a consumer-grade model of a Valean assault ship, and I've got no idea how they're running this many ion thrusters without overdrawing their power demands."

If this meant anything to anyone other than Ruby, it certainly didn't mean anything to Weiss. She absentmindedly scratched her leg, still unused to the rough denim. They'd pawned her wardrobe early in their travels—partly for the quick funds, mostly because it would simply get in the way for this work. They were too bulky and space consuming for non-luxury travel, and were too fragile and loose for the tight, edged spaces demanded by ship maintenance. Do the clothes make the woman? Had her change in outlook necessitated the new wardrobe, or had the new wardrobe changed her outlook? Worse, she was mostly borrowing from Ruby's wardrobe, something Yang mercilessly teased the both of them for.

"So?" Yang yawned, pulling Weiss back to the matter at hand. "Just means it'll be a faster trip than expected."

"Or, they're lying about their capacities to try to impress us, and we'll be stuck puttering our way through hostile space."

Even if nobody knew what she was talking about half the time, it was undeniable that Ruby knew her ships. But her tone had an undeniable edge of excitement underneath the caution, a clear sign that, if nothing else, she really wanted to see this ship and see if it lived up to its reputation. Yang shrugged. "A ship's a ship, and it was never going to be a fast trip. And if we did get suckered by interstellar con artists, their crew complement's only four, and judging from the two I met," she punched her fist into her palm to make her point. "Pow! If we need to go pirate, it shouldn't be too hard to take the ship."

"Oh, we're already thinking of robbing them?" Blake's sarcasm cut the room deep.

"No." Weiss interjected, "But our mission is too important to be left to any chance. Whatever it comes to… I'd really prefer not to, but…"

It wasn't a pleasant thing to imagine, and a year ago, it'd be wholly unimaginable. But, like it or not, it was the truth. For the good of Atlas, for all the kingdoms, they could not afford to fail.

It was a… polarizing ship, in Yang's most diplomatic opinion. Bulbous and ungainly from numerous amateur repairs, as well as some clearly unlicensed, function-over-form upgrades, made even worse where the sleek, military-grade features of the ship it once was poked through. An old war horse, with only scraps of its past dignity still on display. Please! It cried out to her, Put me out of my misery! She'd come in expecting a smuggler's puddle jumper, and this ship was, undeniably that. It was however, still substantially uglier than even that most very low bar. She could feel apprehension and, honestly, disgust, radiate off Weiss (though she had to admire how much the princess had grown in that she didn't say what she was oh-so-clearly feeling).

But Ruby… the girl was off like a rocket, practically teleporting from one feature to the next, all of her previous skepticism dissipating into the air, pointing out each bulge and plate while babbling off a string of letters and numbers, which, from the intense smile on her face, were good numbers and letters that meant the ship lived up to its description—and really, a good ship was a good ship. It could be an interplanetary ice cream truck, and as long as it got them to Atlesian space, she could live with it.

Blake was Blake, which was to say, indifferent with an air of opaque mystery. Yang knew her well enough that this was her practiced indifference, not her usual one, so she either hated it or adored it, with no in-between, and just didn't want anyone to see she felt things. She was even more an aesthete than Weiss, and this ship sure wasn't winning any awards in the looks department, but Blake, despite her air of quiet disdain and mystery, was also a dyed-in-the-wool romantic, and this ship just screamed rag-tag band of heroes living on the fringe of society. Either way, Yang saw Blake's course as the wisest course of action—let Ruby flatter the captain with her enthusiasm, then keep it coolly professional as she made any further negotiations on Weiss's behalf.

"Yang! Yaaaang! You're not liiiistening!" Well, obviously, she wasn't. "They've reinforced the nacelle transept arms into the dorsal augment vents! It's how they're able to handle the flexile torque of a TX-35 engine! It's! So! Cool!"

"Ha! Just wait until we've got it powered up!" A girl popped out from an access port. Short, redheaded, and eyes, framed by the smudge of engine grime and a pair of welding goggles, sparkling with an all-too-familiar manic energy. "We can overdrive the main turbine and you can just feel it hum through the whole deck! It sounds like the dang thing's about to explode!"

Not a good sign, not a good sign at all, but Ruby evidently hadn't heard the words "explode," and was immediately bolting out a string of rapid-fire questions, to which the girl was firing back rapid-fire answers—presumably. Yang wasn't entirely sure they were still speaking at a pace or frequency humans could understand.

"Oh gods," She heard Blake behind her. "There's two of them."

Yang could now see that this strange girl's bomber jacket had the words "HAMMER WIZARD" crudely embroidered on the back, around a hammer-and-thunderbolt logo. What hammers and wizards had to do with each other, Yang could only guess, but the image it suggested was very much a "move fast and break things" look. So, of course, she was instant friends with Ruby.

"Nora? Who are you- Oh!" A familiar blond face revealed itself as a door to the ship opened. "I didn't think you'd be here until," he checked his watch, "Uh, now." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that, lost track of time with the precheck. You must be Ms. Kristall," he nodded to Weiss, "I'm Jaune Arc, ship's captain. Can I help with your bags? Oh! And the woman your friend's speaking to, that's our engineer, Nora Valkyrie. Nora, say hi to our guests."

In a flash, Nora was in front of them, fast enough to set off Yang's bodyguard reflex to move to intercept between her and the princess. "Hiiiii! I'm Nora, and this is," she took a deep breath, "THE JUNIPER! Da-dada-da-da! Kapowsh! Kapowsh!" Sound effects punctuated with jazz hands.

And it did read The Juniper on its hull, or, more accurately, THE JUNiper, seeing where the name had been, crudely and partially, re-stenciled after plasma scoring had burned off the last few letters.

Weiss was the one to break the silence. "Were those… fireworks?"

"You know it! Here, let me take your bags!" She grabbed the luggage out of Yang's arms, and she marveled at how easily she flipped it into her own grasp—girl was strong as hell, and, she noted, definitely not someone to be underestimated in close quarters if things got physical. As Nora turned to carry the baggage back to the ship, Yang whispered to Weiss, "Seems like their crew's almost as-"

She was cut off as her mouth and her eyes suddenly became disconnected from her brain and the final member of the Juniper's crew exited—really, she seemed more to glide—from the ship. Long, bright red hair seemed to flow like a river of fire down her back, a stunning contrast to her olive skin, as a pair of green eyes, piercing, yet tempered with such a soft kindness, seemed to draw all light into them. First Blake and now this? Whatever gods watched over her travels, they were good ones. She wore a simple brown cloak with a simple bronze tiara as her sole decoration, as though she was making a futile, doomed attempt not to stand out. In a word: Damn.

A tiny elbow jabbed her in the lungs to jog her back to reality, just in time for the beauty to walk up to her. She didn't seem to notice the gawking. Or she was simply used to it enough to tune it out. Yang was pretty sure that even if she was straight, she'd be checking her out.

"I'm Pyrrha Nikos." She reached for a handshake. "I handle security for the Juniper."

Ah, hell.

Couldn't she have been, like, ship's counselor or something? Or literally any other job where she wouldn't be Yang's first priority to choke out if things started to look bad? Well, she resolved, as unfortunate as it might be, this trip was business, not pleasure. And if the worst thing that happened on this journey was being cruelly forced not to flirt, she'd endure it. But she would absolutely complain about it the whole way.

"Yang Xiao-Long. Bodyguard for Ms. Kristall. Blake Belladonna," she jabbed her head back, "is Ms. Kristall's personal assistant. And the girl who's about to start kissing your ship is my sister, Ruby."

She giggled at that (was her voice seriously that darn musical?), and Yang inwardly cursed the fickle gods that let them meet, but only in these circumstances. "We are ready for you to board, even if Jaune might have lost track of time."

Yang nodded, and the group moved to board. But Blake quietly tapped Yang's shoulder. "People approaching. Moving fast, get ready." Heightened Faunus senses, coming in handy once again.

"Get Weiss on board," Yang whispered back. Then she turned with the swoosh of the hanger doors opening, and a group of men entered. Bad news.

"Oh, is this about the refueling fees?" Apparently, the captain wasn't as attuned to his danger sense, "Because I told your-"

"JAUNE!"

Four things seemed to happen in that instant.

- Pyrrha shoved her captain out of danger.

- The men pulled out their weapons.

- Yang brought her gauntlets up, and armed an overcharged shot.

- Pyrrha whipped out a blaster rifle from her robes.

If that was the correct order of things, Yang wasn't sure, but in a single moment, everyone opened fire and full chaos broke out. The rest of the group scrambled into the ship as she and Pyrrha laid down suppressing fire.

"Ren! Nora!" She heard Jaune yell, "Get the ship moving, now!"

She heard the whir of the hanger's anti-ship deck guns deploy. Shit. "Shoot out their sensors! It'll take 'em a second to switch it to manual!"

Two quick shots hissed as twin cameras burst into a shower of sparks. Yang had never seen anyone shoot so quickly, so fluidly, and so accurately, even among the celebrated pirates, bounty hunters, and mercenaries she'd grown up with. What the hell is someone this good doing on a smuggling vessel? But she'd have time to think it through later—whatever this girl might be, she wasn't the one shooting at her at the moment. Yang prepped a flash grenade and hurled it to the door. "Get in the ship, let's go!"

She raced up the gangway as it closed up behind her. She heard the burst of the grenade and felt the brief surge of light and heat across her back, before the gangway clicked into place, and the ship rumbled and shook as it started to rise into the air.

As she entered the ship, she made a quick headcount—Ruby, Weiss, and Blake were all accounted for. Good. All looked unharmed—a little startled, Weiss looked a little shaken up, but they'd all been through a messy departure before.

She threw back her head and laughed. "Alright! Woo! Don't this just make you feel alive!"

"I'd prefer" Weiss sniffed, "If we had fewer takeoffs like this in the future."

Ruby pulled Weiss into a tight hug, which she struggled to escape. "Aww, you know you'd miss it."

"And let's be honest," Blake added, "We most likely still have a few more violent exits in store for us. Prepare for the worst."

As Weiss broke free from Ruby's grasp, Yang let herself sit down and take a breather. The ship wasn't any prettier on the inside, but it had a certain hominess to it that she, a former spacer, could appreciate. A few decorative weavings hung from the metal walls, and a holographic chess set stood in the corner. Someone had hung a needlepoint "Ship, Sweet Ship," with an image of what the ship, presumably, used to look like, pre-modifications. Whatever else they might face on this journey, they were a long way from home, a long, dangerous way, and she knew that chances to appreciate these little luxuries would be few and far between. She reclined back and kicked her boots up on an already well-scuffed table.

"Pfft. After all we've been through, the worst had better be preparing for us!"

Wow, I was not expecting the positive response "The King and I," my first attempt at writing and publishing fanfiction, would receive. Thanks to all of you who left positive comments and follows, and if you've never written fanfic before, it's kind of intoxicating, and I very much appreciate it!

I suppose this story could be summarized as "I was playing FTL, and realize the ships capped out at an 8-person crew." That's not to say the story will work with FTL's mechanics, setting, etc., but some of the aesthetics might be borrowed from it. This story will be more classic space opera (which is to say: heavily cribbed from Star Wars): you've got the scoundrel, the kid, the princess, the mystic, Chewbacca is also there, and the plot's drawn from the media theory of Marshall McLuhan! Good times for some swashbuckling space adventures and romances lit by laser fire! I'll see you all in Chapter 2!