AUTHOR'S NOTES: A slightly short chapter this time, for reasons that will become obvious.

Nora and Fiona's interaction with the FAC is as accurate as I could make it (at least from my sources in Mark Berent's great Vietnam War books). Covey and Sleepytime were real FAC callsigns during Vietnam; the USAF used the OA-37 as a FAC in the 1980s. These days, they use A-10s or drones, but that wasn't as fun. The reason why Nora and Fiona are constantly saying "FAC in sight" is because a number of forward air controllers actually got run over by strike aircraft in Vietnam, which was usually fatal for both parties...

German Armed Forces Hospital

Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany

1 September 2001

Winter made sure her hospital bed was made, to the point that she could bounce a pfennig off the covers. There was just one corner to get right, and her left arm, in its cast, was preventing her from doing it.

"Allow me." James Ironwood came in, his own arm still in a sling from where Watts had shot him. Between the two of them, they got it right. "You know, you could've let the hospital staff do this."

"No, sir." Winter stood up straight. The cast covered her from wrist to elbow; it had gone up to her knuckles, but she had demanded the cast be cut back so she could at least type. It was painful, but she ignored the pain. "I've been making my bed since I was eight, General, and I damn sure am not going to be babied now." She remembered as a child demanding Klein stop making her bed: she would do it herself. Winter hated for people to do things for her, especially when she could do it better.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ready to get back to work, sir." She hefted the arm. "I could fly, in an emergency." It was a lie: the doctors had definitely not cleared her for flying.

"Don't you dare." Ironwood had caught the lie. "Winter, I'm going to put you in charge of Ace Flight at Poznan. No flying for now; it'll be administrative. They could use you. Without Clover, they're…just not as effective." Ironwood paused. "Matter of fact, that whole wing could use your leadership—Ace, the Dragon F-15s, and the Poles. The 77th leaving hurt morale."

"Yes, sir. I will leave immediately." She hesitated, and looked a bit sheepish. "As soon as they bring my release paperwork up, that is." They shared a moment of awkward silence. "General…how is Qro—Colonel Branwen?"

Ironwood massaged his eyes. "He's fine, Winter. Stubborn as hell, but he's fine. Arashikaze is treating him like a king. Which I don't have a problem with," he was quick to tell her. "God, Winter, I didn't want to arrest Qrow. You know he didn't leave me any choice."

"He has that tendency, sir." Winter herself was torn over her lover. On one hand, she understood his need to defend his nieces, and his squadron; Ironwood was being stubborn himself over that. On the other, Qrow had disobeyed orders, and Winter could not forgive him for that. "And Watts?"

Ironwood dropped his voice. "I'm seeing him tomorrow—along with Arashikaze. She apparently put him in the ropes for a bit, so he'll be cooperative." Winter frowned. "He doesn't have any rights under Geneva, Winter. Watts is scum. As long as he does what we need him to, I don't care if Rissa Arashikaze lops his balls off with a rusty saw."

"We shouldn't stoop to torture, sir."

Ironwood didn't feel like arguing the point. "Anyway…I'll leave you to it. There was some sort of incident at Swidwin a bit ago; a couple of the 77th—we think it was Nikos, Xiao Long and Lie Ren—were after something. I don't know what yet; Robyn's not talking to us, as usual—" He was cut off as Winter's cellphone rang. "Go ahead and grab that."

"Sir." Winter reached into her pocket and withdrew her cell. She stared at it for a moment. "That's strange," she said softly, and flicked it open. "Whitley. What is it?" She was silent, then her eyes suddenly widened to comic proportions. "I did what?" She glanced at Ironwood, then lowered her voice. "I mean, she did what?" Another pause, then Winter closed her eyes. "No…it's all right. Try to figure out what she's doing with it." A third pause. "I don't know, Whitley, why don't you try calling her? Look, the general is here, and I…yes, that's fine. Good night."

"Problems?" Ironwood asked. The conversation had been in German, but he knew the language fairly well, and it didn't take a linguist to realize something was wrong.

Winter put the cellphone back in her pocket and let out a long, pained sigh. "It's my mother. She's done…something with one of our Gulfstreams." He chuckled; the Schnee family had several of them. "Nothing to worry about, sir. My mother's been trying to stop drinking, but she's been backsliding lately…again. Whitley will handle it."

"Very well. If you need to get down to Zagan, we can spare you a day—"

"No, sir. No, you can't," Winter interrupted. "It will be fine. I will leave for Poznan within the hour."

Ironwood smiled. "Thank you, Winter." She came to attention as he left the room.

Then Winter leaned against the bed rail. "Weiss, what are you doing?"

Swidwin Air Base

Swidwin, Republic of Poland

1 September 2001

The sun had begun to set as Weiss made an easy, gentle touchdown in the Gulfstream IV. Blake, sitting in the copilot's seat, nodded. "Nice landing, Weiss."

"It's nothing that any other Luftwaffe ace wouldn't have done," Weiss replied, feeling rather satisfied with herself. The tower at Schonefeld had even apologized to Colonel Winter Schnee for the slight delay in getting them takeoff clearance.

"That's true," Blake said.

Weiss gave the Faunus a dirty look. "You took all the fun out of that, Blake." She grinned back at Weiss.

Ruby, who had been sitting in the luxurious passenger cabin, trying out all the fun things to be had there—wet bar, ultra-plush seating, Playstation—came up to the cockpit. "Hey, what's going on over on the transient ramp?"

Blake looked over as Weiss pulled onto the taxiway. "The Night Raven's gone. And they've got the floodlights on." The high-visibility lights were usually switched off: Swidwin was enough of a target as it was. "And there's ambulances over there!" Her voice rose in alarm.

Weiss followed a ground crewman's light wands to a parking space. As the ground crew chocked the wheels, she shut the engine down and began to secure the cockpit. "Go find out what happened."

Blake and Ruby dropped the forward passenger door and ran out. There were Robyn's security police everywhere, and they saw several bodies covered with sheets. Ruby checked the hardstands. "Yang, Ren and Pyrrha are gone."

"And the Night Raven," Blake repeated. "Something happened." She saw Fiona Thyme and waved as they jogged over to her. "What's going on?"

Fiona was staring at a pool of blood three feet from her flight boots. "Those guys that came in on the An-12 yesterday. They weren't mercs. They were Salem's people. That guy Copper Baxter, too." She looked up at Blake. "The Night Raven was Salem's."

"Oh shit," Ruby breathed. That made perfect sense, and she wanted to slap herself for not realizing it sooner. The prototype Night Raven—the one Strike Flight and Ozpin had stolen over twenty years before—was just that, a prototype. It made sense that Salem would construct another.

"Yang, Ren and Pyrrha lit out after him," Fiona explained, "but he got away. Yang got hit—she's okay," she assured them. "Just some wing damage. They're at Wroclaw for the night." She pointed at the blood. "The others either got killed by us, or they killed themselves."

"What were they after?" Blake asked.

Fiona looked at Ruby, pain in her eyes. "Oscar. They took Oscar, Ruby." She had waited until Joanna Greenleaf was standing behind her, because Ruby started to shake her head a second before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in a faint.

Blake and Weiss came out of the bunkroom. It was completely dark by now, but the summer air was still warm. There was the faintest hint of smoke in the air from the east, where the fighting was. Nora met them at the entrance. "How's Ruby?"

"She's okay. Just needed some rest—that was quite a shock." Weiss leaned against the doorjamb, while Blake sat on the steps and idly played with a dandelion that was growing through a crack in the concrete. "And she's exhausted."

"We all are," Blake put in. She leaned back. "Why Oscar? He doesn't know anything."

"It makes a sort of sense," Nora said. "I mean, he was the easiest to get to, sitting in a hospital bed. But even then, he can't really tell Salem anything she can use, right? And Salem probably knows more about our positions on the ground than we do." It was something that was taught to fighter pilots the world over, in case they were ever captured—though not by GRIMM, since GRIMM didn't take prisoners. One's usefulness was limited, because the tactical situation was so fluid; unless they were high-ranking, prisoners could tell their captors very little that was actually useful.

Weiss shook her head. "I don't think Oscar was a target of opportunity or it has anything to do with the tactical situation. He was targeted, all right—because he knows about JINN. Specifically, how to switch it on. It'll respond to him. I would imagine Ozpin programmed JINN not to respond to Salem." She sighed. "And it gets worse. Salem also would have something personal against Oscar. He's Ozpin's son, remember—the son she never got to have with him."

"Oh my God," Nora exclaimed, her hands going to her mouth.

"Then that confirms that Neo was working for Salem." Blake put her head in her hands. "And now Salem has JINN." She reached down and plucked the dandelion. "Just about the time you think we're starting to get ahead on that pasty bitch, and she tells us to hold her beer." She tossed the weed aside. "At least the others are okay. That's the only good thing to come out of this."

"Yeah, they'll be fine." Nora grinned; both Weiss and Blake noticed that the grin looked forced. "Pyrrha's still a great leader, and Yang's as good as they come. We'll see them tomorrow, probably." They both stared at her; she was now clearly avoiding talking about someone. She gave in. "Oh…and of course Ren is…um…" Nora's shoulders slumped. "Oh, hell...I don't know what Ren is, anymore."

Blake's ears went back. It had been obvious that there had been a lovers' quarrel between Ren and Nora, but this was confirmation. "What's going on with you two?" she asked gently.

Nora couldn't meet the Faunus' eyes. "Every time I think the two of us are making progress, he…" She sat down next to Blake, wiping her eyes. "We haven't had sex in two weeks. He's barely even touched me since Robyn's…since the night of the election."

Weiss blushed a little, but Nora had always been very forward with her sex life. She almost wanted to say that Nora should be happy with what she did have; it hadn't been very long since Weiss had been plotting to lose her virginity to Marrow Amin. "Well, we have been pretty busy lately—you know, with going rogue and stealing aircraft and such. Plus it's kind of hard to have any sort of, um, sex life with all those other people in the same room, like we are right now."

Nora gave a soft giggle. "Oh, that's not a big deal. We used to screw all the time in the barracks when we were rooming with Pyrrha and Jaune. If they were awake, we'd just use the fire escape or something. Hell, we banged in the shower back in Japan when you guys were changing into your uniforms." Weiss' blush deepened, Blake's ears flattened back completely, and Nora sighed. "We've been together our whole lives, but I feel like I understand him less now than ever…and I don't know if that's his fault or mine." She took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep from crying. "I thought that…when we got engaged…everything was going to be great. But now he won't even touch me, and gets pissed when I ask when the marriage is going to be." Nora spread her hands. "I mean, I get it, you know? We're at war. But still!"

Nora's words hung in the air for a minute, then Blake spoke. "When you've been at someone's side for so long, they become a part of you." She nodded. "I was with Adam for a long time. It was hard for me to leave him because I didn't want to see what he had become…or maybe always was. I'm not saying that Ren is like Adam," Blake was quick to tell Nora, who was giving her a strange look. "I'm just saying that they are only a part of you. Ren's a very important part of you, Nora, but he can't be everything. That's not healthy for either one of you."

Nora laughed, but the laugh sounded brittle. "I…I don't even know who I am without Ren." She shook her head. "Pretty sad, huh?"

Weiss leaned down and hugged her. "Well, we know that you're a great person, who is unique in her own way, and we love you for it. You're the strongest person I know, Nora."

"All I do is be strong and blow shit up." Nora's smile faded. "That's all that I am."

"Right now, that's pretty good," Blake told her. She hugged Nora as well. "You'll work it out, Nora. Both of you are too good of people not to." She winked. "And if you ever need us to clear the bay, you just ask, okay?"

"Yeah." Nora didn't sound too convinced, but her smile was genuine this time. "Well…I don't feel much like sleeping, so I guess I'll go see what's happening over at the CP." She got up. "Thanks, guys." Nora headed off towards the center of the base.

A few minutes later, she walked into Robyn's command post. The leader of the Happy Huntresses had an arm in a sling. She glanced up as Nora came in. "Evening."

"Hey there, Miss Hill. How's the arm?"

"Just a sprain," Robyn said. "Your friend Yang landed on me. She saved my life, so I guess I can't be mad at her." She bent over the map again. "Your friends are okay, by the way. It was easier to divert them there than bring them back here, since we didn't know if we were going to have to close the base or not."

"Thanks; Blake and Weiss told me. Why divert them?"

"Given that none of Salem's people wanted to be taken alive, we had to make sure that An-12 wasn't rigged to blow up or something." Robyn leaned against the map table, trying to keep weight off the arm. "It's fine. I guess I got a new transport out of the deal." She hung her head. "Sorry. That makes me sound like a real bitch. I like that Oscar kid; hate to see him become a POW." With a wince of pain, Robyn straightened up. "You'd think they would've come after me, or Red or something—" She was interrupted by one of her controllers waving her over. Robyn walked to the controller's side; Nora tagged along out of curiosity. "What is it?"

"Got an emergency—troops in contact from the 3rd Mech, over by Pila. They were trying to get some refugees out to the safe zones. They're surrounded by GRIMM and need help," the controller reported.

"Who's on station?"

"Just Sleepytime." Nora knew he referred to the forward air controller, or FAC. During the day, it was Covey; night was Sleepytime. The FAC had no weapons other than smoke rockets; their job was to coordinate airstrikes.

"Sinclair." Robyn cradled her chin in her hand. "Is he calling anyone else in?"

"Ace Flight is scrambling out of Poznan, but they just got back from a mission—it'll take them some time."

"I'll go," Nora said. "I can be there faster anyway. I've still got a full load of thirty mike and some Snakes. That should hold the GRIMM until those morons from Ace get there."

"I'll send Fiona up with you. Her Alpha Jet's loaded up too." Robyn nodded. "Good luck. And thank you, Nora."

Near Pila, Republic of Poland

1 September 2001

"Ohhh, I wish I had a gun just like the A-10…" Nora sang. She had to admit she felt better. Talking to Blake and Weiss had helped. I just need to talk to Ren. Even if I have to tie him up or break his leg with a hammer or something. She hadn't mentioned to the other two women her pregnancy scare, which had been a week ago: Nora had missed her period. After an exam at Poznan, it had been found to be nothing but combat stress—Pyrrha had admitted to Nora that hers had been irregular too—but it had terrified Ren, more than Nora had ever seen him frightened, even more than the Nuckalevee. He had demanded that she ground herself and quit taking chances; she had refused. Nora understood why Ren was so scared, but people needed her to do what she did best.

She checked to see if Fiona was still with her; the little Alpha Jet was spread out, a shadow in the darkness. There was a good moon rising, which was helpful. Nora pressed the radio button on the stick. "Sleepytime, Nora. How are you receiving?"

"Five-by, Nora. What do you have?" The voice was male, authoritative, and steady—just what a FAC would need in this situation.

"Sleepytime, Nora is an Alpha 10 with a full load of thirty mike and six Snakes, and an Alpha Jet with a full load of twenty-five mike and some nape. We got plenty of playtime."

"Nora, Sleepytime—sounds good. We got Ace Flight on the way too. Here's the situation, sports fans. I've got two platoons of mech infantry pinned down on Hill 320, with about two dozen plus civvies. They're engaged with Sabyrs and Centinels. No air threat…yet, anyway. Hill 320 is the western hill; Hill 340 is to the east. Looks like a pair of boobs. No GRIMM on either one."

Nora snorted in laughter. "Roger that. Western boob." Nora peered into the darkness. One problem the A-10 had always had was that it was not really equipped for night fighting. She was trained to use night vision goggles, but Robyn hadn't had any to spare. Not the first time, Nora decided. With the moon and some good FAC work, it wouldn't make a difference—and Fiona could see in the dark. "Sleepytime, where are you? Don't want to run you over."

There was the briefest flash of navigation lights. "Sleepytime is high and right." Nora spotted the FAC; it was an ancient OA-37 Dragonfly, a converted trainer. Damn, Robyn must have robbed all the museums for her stuff. Still, the Dragonfly was a good FAC aircraft; Nora had flown one in training. "Hold west, Nora. Let me talk to the guys on the ground real quick."

She put the A-10 into a holding pattern, wagging her wings at Fiona and flashing her own lights twice, just in case. She watched the ground, and saw tracer going out and coming in. The GRIMM hadn't quite assaulted the trapped platoons yet, probably unsure of what they were facing and waiting for new programming, or stuck in a feedback loop, if they had conflicting orders. Nora found herself smiling at that: during her exchange program in China, she had watched a Sabyr going round and round, its computer brain confused as to what to do. The problem was, the GRIMM might not be too bright, but sooner or later, they always defaulted to simply attacking whatever was in front of them.

Then she saw four green flares appear in a diamond pattern. "Nora, Sleepytime. Friendlies are between the flares. Bad guys are to the north. Stand by." She saw the shadow of the OA-37 flit across the ground, and just the briefest of flashes. Then the treeline and the hill were suddenly illuminated by double sprays of white, beautiful and deadly: white phosphorus, Sleepytime's marker rockets. "Nora, Fiona, hit my smoke!"

"Fiona, you first." The Faunus girl had ended up closer.

"Roger! Fiona's in, east to west. FAC in sight." Nora climbed a little, and now it was the Alpha Jet's shadow that came in, as Sleepytime climbed away, dropping flares as tracers and a missile trail followed him. The white phosphorus was still burning—it would burn until it ran out of fuel to burn—but then everything was thrown into even brighter light. Nora blinked the spots in her vision away as the treeline, the hills, Fiona's Alpha Jet, even the OA-37 in the distance was suddenly lit up like a dawn: Fiona had dropped her napalm. The jellied gasoline spread like a dragon's breath as it torched trees and the ground itself, then there were explosions in the tree, big ones, where the napalm had hit GRIMM. The tracers switched to follow Fiona, but they were far off the mark. "Whoa!" Sleepytime exulted. "Shit hot, Fiona! We'll call that 100% BDA." One hundred percent bomb damage assessment was what every close air support strike wanted to hear. "Nora, you put your Snakes right north of the burning nape."

"Roger, Nora's in, west to east." She checked out of the canopy. Where did—oh, there he is. She spotted the Dragonfly against the moon. "FAC in sight." She rolled in the A-10, jinking to avoid any ground fire. The burning napalm made it easy: she could see the Sabyrs backing away from the flames as easy as if it was daytime. She positioned the pipper of the gunsight ahead of the line of GRIMM, then hit the bomb release as she flew past them. The A-10 immediately felt lighter as the six Mark 82 Snakeye bombs fell away from the wings, metal fins opening behind the bombs to slow them down, so that they would be more accurate and Nora wouldn't be caught in the blast. She rammed the throttle forward all the same, throwing Magnhild back and forth as green tracers curved towards her; Nora briefly remembered that usually only every fifth shell was a tracer, which meant there were plenty of bullets she couldn't see in the night. As she turned south, she saw her bombs go off: it wasn't quite as spectacular as the napalm, but it was impressive all the same, as the earth seemed to leap upwards, trees flying through the air, one Sabyr simply vanishing under the bomb explosion. "Yeah, boyeee!" Nora laughed as she continued her turn south. Her bombs had been right on the target too.

"Nice bombs, Nora! Hell, you're making my job easy tonight. Both of you hold high and south while I talk to the boys on the ground." Nora resumed her circle, out of GRIMM range, while Fiona joined her. While she waited, she kept her head moving: not all the GRIMM were on the ground. Her heart rate jumped when she saw the briefest flash of metal off moonlight to the south, but relaxed as her radio crackled. "Sleepytime, Ace Lead. Entering AO. Ace Flight is two Fox 35s with four Rocks each, and two Fox 35s groomed for air." Nora recognized Vine Zeki's voice, and translated what he was saying: two of Ace Flight was loaded with four Mark 20 Rockeye cluster bombs, while the other two would assume top cover in case any aerial GRIMM decided to show up.

"Ah, roger, Ace. Hold…southeast; talking to the Army at the moment. Your air-to-air birds can go high for CAP." Nora admired the FAC for being able to keep track of everything in a rapidly crowded airspace and on the ground as well.

Finally, the FAC came back on line. "Ace, Nora, Fiona: the Army guys are breaking out to the west. Fiona, Nora, I'll have you strafe a lane on the south side of the road. Do you have the road to the southwest?"

Nora dipped the wing of Magnhild. "Roger that, I've got the road." Fiona acknowledged a moment later.

"Shit hot. Ace, I want you to get your Rocks off to the north of the road. Make sure you're well north of the road; don't want any of your stuff getting on it. Understood?"

"Sleepytime, Ace Three. Roger." Nora smiled at the sound of Elm Ederne's voice. Despite everything that had happened between Norn Flight and Ace Flight, she still liked the big girl.

"Okay, boys and girls, here we go. Sleepytime's in, east to west." Against the flames, Nora watched the Dragonfly dive, swoop in, and fire two more marker rockets. Now it was the road that was even better illuminated, and she could see the Army M113s and M2s beginning to make their way down from the hill, firing their guns to either side. There was not much tracer from the south, but enough from the north side that Nora knew that was where the bulk of the remaining GRIMM were.

"Fiona's in, west to east. FAC in sight." The Alpha Jet dived in next, Fiona executing a superb dive and turn to miss the OA-37, then roared over at low level. Nora squinted, but didn't see any hits. Maybe there's nothing there? The reason made itself known a moment later. "Sleepytime, Fiona, no joy! I think I have a gun jam."

"Roger, Fiona. Nora, you're in next."

"Roger." Nora rolled in next, setting her gunsight now for strafing. In the light of the burning phosphorus, she suddenly saw a Centinel emerge from the treeline, its main gun pointed at the lead M113. The 100mm cannon would go straight through an APC. She gritted her teeth and set the pipper on the hovertank. "Be strong and blow shit up!" she shouted, and pulled the trigger. Nora was thrown forward against the straps as the Avenger 30mm cannon roared, spitting milk-bottle sized shells made of depleted uranium. The shells tore divots of earth as they marched into the GRIMM, hitting its magazine and blowing it to pieces. Nora spotted another Centinel just to one side of the first, adjusted her aim slightly, and ripped the second one to shreds as well.

As she came off the target, gun gasses streaming white behind her, the third Centinel she didn't see fired.

As a rule, the Centinel was the GRIMM main battle tank; its main gun was not designed to engage aerial targets. However, GRIMM, when confused, would attack whatever was in front of them, and Nora was directly in front of the tank. The 100mm gun elevated and fired. It was a one in a thousand shot: the shell should have passed harmlessly below the A-10. Nora's strafing run had slowed Magnhild just enough that the tank shell struck the aircraft in its right engine, and detonated. The force of the explosion tore the engine completely away from the fuselage, to fly back and carry away Nora's right tail. Fragments spiraled through the aircraft; the armored bathtub around the cockpit saved her from getting hit, though one or two large pieces starred the canopy next to her.

The impact threw Magnhild into a spin. Instinctively, Nora stomped the left rudder and increased the power to bring it to level flight. Her instrument panel was alive with warning lights, warning of fire, loss of hydraulic pressure, and seemingly everything else. "Nora's hit!" she yelled. The A-10 leveled, then started into a spin again as she climbed.

"Nora, Marrow, you're on fire!"

"Yeah, no shit," Nora murmured; she could see the flickering in her rear view mirrors. She slammed the stick right, trying to get the aircraft to level itself, but it was fighting her, nearly tearing the stick out of her hand. She heard her remaining engine powering down, and looked at her instruments: oil pressure was gone too, and with the loss of both engines, not even the tough A-10 could stay in the air. Magnhild was dying, and it was determined to take Nora with it.

"Aw, shit," Nora sighed. "Sorry, girl." She let go of the stick, felt the aircraft immediately roll towards the right, braced herself, and pulled the ejection handle between her legs.

Nothing happened.

Oh shit! she thought. She hadn't heard anything hit the seat; it should be fine. Magnhild completed one complete roll, then started another as the nose dropped like a rollercoaster. Ren, I'm sorry if this doesn't work; I love you—Nora pulled the handle a second time, and this time felt the heavy G-jolt as the seat fired. Ah, there we go—

The seat worked perfectly. The canopy didn't. Instead of the canopy being blown free by explosive charges, clearing the way for pilot and seat, it stubbornly remained fastened to the canopy rail, the firing mechanism damaged by shrapnel. The force of the ejection seat was still enough to punch Nora through the canopy anyway; the seat was designed to do that in an emergency. Nora's helmet protected her face; her visor protected her eyes. Nothing protected her limbs.