AUTHOR'S NOTES: We're back! I needed a break, and I'm ready to finish up this story arc over the next few months. With any luck, I should finish this just about the time RWBY Volume 9 starts...no telling how that is going to fit into this story. I appreciate you folks having patience.
So this chapter does have a long bit of dialogue in it, but we need to cover how Team Metal is going to go after JINN and Oscar, and how Yang, Ren, Pyrrha, Winter and Ace Flight will fit into that. But this chapter finishes up with some action, getting Ruby Flight back into the fray too. From here on, it's likely going to be pretty much nonstop action, as Delta Force goes after Oscar, and Cinder and the Hound try to get Watts back. I get to try my hand at some ground warfare again...
Wroclaw Airbase
Wroclaw, Republic of Poland
4 September 2001
Yang, Ren and Pyrrha walked into the base's largest hangar. Though there was a F-16 down for maintenance there, it was otherwise empty of aircraft—and of Polish Air Force personnel. There was a row of metal chairs placed more or less in two rows; Winter and Ace Flight already took up the first row, so the three of them sat behind them. All three moved their chairs back a little, which got them a nasty look from Winter, but the three pilots ignored her.
"Did you get through?" Yang asked Ren.
He nodded. "Yes. Whitley Schnee was very gracious. Nora's still resting. She's in and out right now, so I couldn't talk to her…but she is recovering." Ren rubbed his eyes. He hadn't gotten much sleep, trying to get through to the Schnee Summer Manor at Zagan. "After this mission, I'm going there. I don't care about anything else."
Pyrrha put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about that, Ren. I don't think even Ironwood would stop you from doing that." Winter looked back at them again, but this time, her features were softer. She and Pyrrha exchanged a look, then she jumped to her feet. "Attention!" The pilots rose as Colonel Otome Higurashi walked in, accompanied by six other people. The last turned and shut the door, locking it.
"At ease," Higurashi said. "Take a seat." The pilots did so, and there was silence in the hangar as she and her team set up two easels, mounting large pictures on them. "Good morning and welcome back," the Delta Force team leader said, finally. "I don't think I need to tell you that this mission is considered beyond top secret. We were never here, what we're discussing isn't going to happen, and you've never met us. Understood?" There were nods and "yes, ma'ams" from among the pilots. "Cool," Higurashi said. "Let me make some brief introductions. Naturally, I'm only going to be referring to my operators by their callsigns. Under no circumstances are you to photograph them or describe them to anyone who has not been read into this operation…which now has a name: Operation Checkmate."
Higurashi motioned to her operators in turn. "This is Chaser, Trix, Shogun, Huma, Wraith, and Soap." Pyrrha looked them over. Chaser was a tall African-American, who looked all business. Trix was a short blonde rabbit Faunus, who reminded her of Velvet Scarlatina but seemed more bouncy. Shogun was a frowning Asian man with a goatee and black hair pulled back into a bun; he and Marrow apparently went to the same barber. Huma was female, her hair cropped close in a loose style, who could be from anywhere. Wraith was an androgynous person—Pyrrha wasn't sure if they were male or female—with purple-dyed hair shaven close on one side and pulled down over one eye on the other. Soap was a tough looking older man, his hair in a thin mohawk; alone among the operators, he wore a uniform different from the BDUs of the Delta people, with a British Union Jack on one shoulder. SAS, she thought.
"What kind of callsign is Soap?" whispered Yang.
Higurashi raised her voice. "Something you'd like to add, Captain Xiao Long?"
"Ah, nope!" Yang replied. "No, ma'am." The man called Soap glared at her; Yang winked back and made an appreciative noise at the back of her throat. Pyrrha had to admit that the SAS man was pretty good-looking, in a rugged way.
"Good." She peeled back the cover on the first easel. "This is what's left of the Palace of Science and Culture in Warsaw. It was built as a 'gift' to the Polish people by Stalin, and was overbuilt as hell—which is how it survived the nuclear blast. According to data we received from Miss Arashikaze, this is Salem's headquarters; at the very least, much of the signals traffic that controls the GRIMM emanates from here. Now I know what all of you are thinking," Higurashi smiled. "Let's just blow the shit out of it and end the war. Unfortunately it's not that simple. There is no guarantee that Salem is even there; in fact, our analysis says that it is highly doubtful that she is. Our objective is not to kill Salem…though if she gets in the sights of anyone here—namely Wraith there—feel free to shoot her."
She raised the picture of the Palace to briefly show what Yang, Ren and Pyrrha instantly recognized as the JINN console. "This is our objective. You don't need to know what's on it, though from what I've read some of you already know. It is a console. It must either be recovered intact or destroyed, but our superiors would greatly appreciate it if it's intact. Where it is we don't know, exactly, but we will be able to find it with this." Higurashi held up a small metal cylinder with an LED readout on the side. "This is a homing beacon. When you're within fifty feet, even through walls or floors, it will detect the console's satellite link and give you distance and direction." The last was more addressed to her operators than anyone else.
She pulled back the picture of JINN to show another, this of Oscar Pine. Yang gave a bit of a start at the sight of her friend. It had been taken at Pensacola; he looked even younger than he usually did. "This is Ensign Oscar Pine. He is our secondary objective. We can assume that he has been tortured, and may have divulged sensitive information. We are directed to try and recover Pine and bring him out; short of that, he is to be killed." Pyrrha couldn't suppress a gasp. Higurashi gave her a sad nod. "I know he's your friend," she said, "but we can't afford to leave him in enemy hands. We will do everything in our power to bring him home, but we cannot and will not guarantee it." She paused. "Better to die by the hands of people who care for him than by the hands of the enemy."
She dropped the two pictures to return to the picture of the Palace, then crossed to the other easel, pulling back the cover. "These building plans are out of date—they're pre-1962—but they were the best that the Polish National Museum in Poznan had. We can assume Salem's not using the surviving upper floors of the Palace; they would be too unstable and possibly radioactive. The basements are another story. The Soviets built these as an emergency command post: they were nuclear-hardened, with their own power source, communication systems, escape passageways, living quarters, medical facility, and air filtration systems. Salem would know about them, so we can assume she has taken them over for her own use." Higurashi's hand came down over a central area. "This is the main command post and communications node. JINN would almost certainly be here." Her fingers ran to the bottom of the plans. "These are jail cells, where Polish dissidents were held. Ensign Pine is likely there, if he's still alive." She stepped back. "As a matter of routine, SR-71 missions have been flown over the area, but since we identified the Palace last night, three more have been flown, along with two satellite passes. There is activity around the Palace, but not particularly obvious activity. Therefore, more than likely, the garrison is minimal. Salem would not want to call attention to her command post, whether she's there or not. GRIMM control seems to be decentralized; besides Warsaw, there are at least eight other locations we have identified through Polendina's direction finding, but again, much of the control signals seem to come from here. Don't ask how we suddenly can track GRIMM.
"We also got lucky. One of SR-71 passes last night caught a small convoy parked in front of the Palace, including what appeared to be an ambulance. This is roughly about thirty minutes after an aircraft went down east of the Vistula. Given communications and other intercepts, plus a small search-and-rescue effort in the Gulf of Gdynia, we assume that the person who was in the ambulance is this person." Higurashi raised the plans to reveal several photographs. She pointed at the top one. "Her name is Cinder Fall. She is one of Salem's lieutenants—possibly her chief lieutenant." Pyrrha noticed the picture was taken at Beacon; her fingers tightened against the metal seat of her chair. Higurashi tapped at other pictures. "We may assume that some or all of these other people are there as well: Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black, Tyrian Callows, Hazel Rainart, Neo Politan, and Copper Baxter." The pictures of Emerald and Mercury were clear, also taken at Beacon; the picture of Tyrian was a mugshot; Hazel, Neo, and Copper's pictures were all blurry to one extent or the other. "Every one of these people are considered targets. They are armed and extremely dangerous, especially Callows and Politan—Callows is a serial killer of some skill, and Neo Politan is one of the deadliest assassins on the planet." She faced her operators. "You are to kill them with extreme prejudice if encountered."
Higurashi returned to the picture and plans of the Palace. "Operation Checkmate, in broad strokes, is as follows. Team Metal will perform a HALO jump from 30,000 feet from a Combat Talon five miles west of the target. We will drop just after dark. Upon landing at our LZ, we will infiltrate on foot with three troops—Chaser, Soap and myself in command—using the old rail lines. Chaser, you will set up blocking positions here and here. Soap, you will set up here, along this cross street; your troop will act as reserve. Most of the area here is flat, with rubble and wreckage, but the rails and railyard is mostly clear. Plenty of cover in these areas. Radioactivity is manageable, but we certainly don't want to stay there long; right now, the rads are about as bad as a couple of chest x-rays, but they increase the longer we hang around. Try to take cover away from large concentrations of metal to minimize exposure.
"My troop will make the assault on the Palace itself, moving towards the console and Pine per the usual routine. Wraith, your sniper team will cover the main entrance from whatever height you can find—the old Warsaw Financial Center is my suggestion. Trix, you'll be coming with me; your job is to hold onto the console once we find it. Shogun, your CQB bunch will find and recover Ensign Pine if possible. Huma, you're on JTAC duties—sorry. I know you wanted to be a door-kicker this time around.
"Once JINN is recovered, we will exfiltrate through either the main entrance or one of these escape passageways. We will then fall back to this large, walled cemetery here to the northwest, where we will be picked up by the Ospreys. If something goes wrong and you cannot exfil to the cemetery, escape as best you can in small groups. We will be on the ground no longer than four hours. If by 2 AM we have not recovered our objective, we will immediately exfil; we cannot be there by dawn. If you're still there by 7 AM, then you'd better hope Salem's merciful. Colonel Schnee?"
Winter got up and faced the pilots. "Our job is to provide air cover for the operation. If Team Metal is successful in reaching the Palace unseen, that buys them some time, but once the assault begins, we must assume that someone will call for help. If so, we can expect GRIMM to arrive onsite quickly—very quickly if Salem herself is present. Our job is to keep the GRIMM from interfering in the operation, and cover the Ospreys. Should aerial GRIMM attack, we will also be calling for backup from Dragon Flight at Poznan…and Ruby Flight at Zagan, where they will stage from rather than Swidwin." There were some murmurs at that from among Ace Flight. "It is against my better judgement," Winter informed them, "but we cannot risk informing the Happy Huntresses about this operation, and other Huntsman/Huntress flights are currently committed to the northern sector. Ruby Flight is read-in regarding the console. Again, this was not my decision, nor General Ironwood's." Ren gently stepped on Yang's foot; the blonde was about to say something they would likely regret. "Because there is the strong possibility of ground forces in the area, either human or GRIMM, Ace Flight will partially be carrying air-to-ground ordnance: Marrow, Vine, and Elm."
"Dammit," Marrow groaned.
Harriet snickered at him. "Sorry, FNG."
"Harriet and myself, along with Xiao Long, Nikos and Ren will be flying with air-to-air only—provisional on if Xiao Long's aircraft is fixed by departure time." Yang sighed at that. Fixing the composite F-23 was proving a lot tougher than the Wroclaw ground crews had thought. "We will have AWACS and tanker support…among other things."
Winter reached into the pocket of her uniform and spread a map of central Poland over the picture of the Palace of Science and Culture. "By 1700 hours today, the 1st Armored Division will launch a feint towards the Vistula River, operating on the axis Kalisz-Kepno-Wielun-Belchanow-Piotrkow. This will be a brigade level attack, with heavy air support. This will not only cover our approach to Warsaw, it should pull GRIMM forces towards the attack and away from our objective." Winter ran her fingers down the attack axis, to the Vistula River. "This morning, General Calavera requested, and received permission from, General Ironwood to turn this feint into an actual attack if minimal opposition is encountered. If he does, then so much the better: Salem will be too busy trying to save her forces on the west bank of the Vistula to worry about a single C-130 flying towards Warsaw, assuming she even notices at all. Now, let me go over callsigns, radio frequencies, and such."
Yang pulled a pen from the pocket of her flight suit and began jotting down notes, to be inserted into the clear thigh pockets, allowing for quick reference. She was doing it more or less automatically, because she had an idea. It was a dangerous one, extremely dangerous, but the more she thought about it, the more it appealed to her—less as something that she should be doing, but more what she had to do.
Finally, after a period of questions—during which some of Higurashi's operators actually spoke for the first time—the briefing concluded. Yang got up before anyone else, and made her way to Higurashi. "Colonel, can I have a minute?"
The Delta commander nodded. "Sure, Captain. What's up?"
Yang took a deep breath. "I'd like to go in with the ground force. With your guys."
Higurashi stared at her for a moment. "Excuse me?"
"Yeah. I want to go with you."
Winter heard Yang's question, and came over. "Xiao Long, have you lost what I laughingly refer to as your mind?" Pyrrha had heard as well, and stopped from following Ren out of the hangar.
"Hear me out, okay? Look—your bunch has only seen pictures of those fuckers." She waved in the general direction of the easel. "I've met all of 'em, except for that Tyrian bastard…I don't think I've ever met Neo face-to-face, but dammit, I've fought her over Mountain Glenn. And I certainly know Oscar. I can identify him. You're going to need that, right? He's much more likely to come with someone he knows as a friend. And I know JI—er, the console, too." Yang remembered that Higurashi had never referred to JINN by its actual designation.
"Trix knows the console as well," Higurashi said.
"Yeah, but it doesn't know her. I recovered the damn thing in the first place, from Tsushima. We don't know if it's got some sort of anti-tampering device or something. If it does, she—it—will recognize me. Trust me on this."
"She's right about that," Pyrrha chimed in. "As much as I hate to say it."
Higurashi looked Yang up and down. "All right, Captain. Since you're a fighter pilot, I assume you've done your share of parachute training."
"Sure did. And I can shoot pretty damn well too. Dad used to take me squirrel hunting. Scored pretty high on marksmanship."
Higurashi folded her arms over her breasts. "That is true. It's in your file, though you scored just short of what you needed to get the Air Force Marksmanship ribbon."
Geez, Yang thought, she's probably read up on all of us. Probably knows what color undies I'm wearing. Higurashi was right: Yang's score was one point shy of what was needed. Ruby had that ribbon; she was a deadly shot. Those silver peepers of hers. "I'm also a qualified JTAC." Yang referred to the official US military designation for a ground forward air controller—JTAC standing for Joint Terminal Air Controller. It was also a lie: Yang had done a little JTAC training, but when she found out it could land her in an Army unit, she had backed off in a hurry. JTACs were usually enlisted in any case, and Yang would sooner lose her other arm than get stuck in a ground job.
"There's nothing in your file about that." Higurashi's voice was full of suspicion.
"Yeah, uh, I never actually qualified. But I know how to do it."
"Hm." It was clear to Yang that Higurashi was not falling for it. "Captain Xiao Long, how many kills do you have?"
"At the moment? Uh, about 36."
"That's pretty impressive. Pretty close to Major Nikos' mark. You'd give that up to go in with a bunch of grunts like us?"
Yang nodded. "Yep."
"We can't babysit you. If you can't keep up, you get left behind, got it?"
"Yep." Yang suddenly remembered Higurashi outranked her. "Ah, yes, ma'am."
Higurashi regarded her again. "Very well. I'll attach you to Huma's bunch. That will free her up to help out with clearing the command post. She'll appreciate that." She clapped Yang on the shoulder. "Well, you're crazy, Air Force, but welcome aboard. Meet us over at the dispersal in an hour or so to draw equipment." She shook her head and walked off.
Winter grabbed Yang's shoulder. "Are you insane?"
"Probably," Yang admitted. "But I want to do this."
Pyrrha got closer. "Yang, Colonel Schnee's right. These people are Delta—and if I'm guessing right, that Soap character is Special Air Service. They're as professional as you can get, and you want to go in with them? You're a fighter pilot, not an operator!"
"Yeah, Pyr, I do. Because you know something? I owe it to Oscar. And I owe it to Ruby. I may not think he's good enough for my sis, but they love each other, or at least something like it…and dammit, Oscar's our friend. I want to help get him out of there." She shrugged. "And JINN was kind of our responsibility. We blew it. So maybe I want to make up for that too."
"You don't have to do this," Pyrrha said.
"Nope…but I want to."
Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "All right. Colonel Schnee, we'll have to reshuffle the flights a little, but I think it'll work out. We'll have seven aircraft instead of eight."
Winter rubbed her temples. "Captain Xiao Long, I knew your band of morons were reckless, but not lunatic."
"Yeah, well, I'm still going. With or without your permission, Colonel." Yang smirked. "Hell, you've already had me arrested for a bunch of other things. Might as well add insubordination to it."
Winter dropped her voice so only Yang and Pyrrha could hear. "Listen to me. This does not go beyond us. Higurashi knows, but her operators don't." She hesitated, then continued. "Tomorrow morning, if Delta fails, General Ironwood plans to destroy Warsaw. He plans to use the Winter Maiden."
Pyrrha's eyebrows came together. "He got Penny to agree?"
"Yes." Winter knew she could not tell them the real reason. Penny might agree, but even if she didn't, Ironwood would have a B-52 drop his nuclear bomb on Warsaw, with the aiming point the Palace. This time, the structure would not survive, not a one megaton direct hit. "Do you still want to go?"
Yang's gaze didn't waver. "Yep."
The Palace of Science and Culture
Ruins of Warsaw, Republic of Poland
4 September 2001
Hazel Rainart walked into the command post. Salem was back in her uniform; to his surprise, her hair was down, rather than in its typical braids and bun. She must have noticed his surprise, because she smiled at him. "I was caught in the shower. I haven't had time to do anything with my hair yet."
"What's going on?"
Salem raised a hand and bent over the shoulder of one of her technicians. "What is happening now around Kepno?"
"Our recon GRIMM report a heavy barrage of artillery—tube and missiles, MLRS. There appears to be a large number of tanks forming up for an attack." He turned to Salem. "Your orders, ma'am?"
"Just a moment." Salem crossed into the vault part of the command post, and checked her maps. Hazel watched her through the open door as she picked up a pair of calipers and measured distance. She walked back into the main area of the CP. "Order the GRIMM to begin falling back in full retreat. When the Americans reach Belchanow, send the code 'Vesuvius.' They should reach Belchanow by tonight. Keep me informed." She motioned Hazel into the vault.
"Vesuvius?" Hazel asked.
"Yes," Salem replied in a low voice. "Remember how I told little Oscar that there was going to be a boom? And remember when Ironwood thought he had gotten one up on me by recovering a nuclear warhead from the coal mine at Belchanow?" She chuckled. "He should've sent his NEST teams a little deeper into that mine, because there was more than one warhead there. There were five: three I recovered and sent back to Mount Yamantau to join the rest of my stockpile; one Ironwood recovered, and one…is my little surprise for General Calavera, because it's still there." She bent over the map. "Some men are very predictable, Hazel. Calavera, as I've said before, is a cavalryman at heart; he will wish to attack. And I will give him that opportunity. I will pull my forces back to the Vistula River, perhaps even beyond it, and when Calavera moves up his division to Belchanow—not his leading elements, but the main body—I will detonate the nuclear weapon. It is six hundred feet below ground, but the crater will be several miles across, and it will blast a million tons of earth into the air. The 1st Armored Division will cease to exist. If the winds hold, it will send highly radioactive fallout over most of southwest Poland. That will secure my southern flank. Ironwood will be blamed for the detonation, further sundering the NATO alliance."
"And Cinder and the Hound?"
"They will leave tonight, just before dusk." She came around the table and put a hand on his shoulder; she had to reach up to do it. "Hazel, I have told you all of this because I trust you. You have remained faithful; you have not gone off on some foolish crusade as Cinder has, and you're not a lunatic like Tyrian or a money-hungry fool like Mercury or Neo. You have done everything I have asked. And speaking of which…" She withdrew, putting a hand down on the JINN console. "Did Oscar finally break?"
"No." Hazel leaned against the map table. "I must admit to some respect for that young man. I did not break all of his fingers, Your Grace. Only the ones on his left hand. He still refuses to talk. I…I could not go on."
Salem's eyebrows rose in surprise. "He is the son of your sworn enemy."
"He is still worthy of respect."
"I suppose." Salem tapped on the console. "Respect or no, Hazel, he must talk. Finish the work you started. If he still will not talk…then I will have to turn him over to the Hound. Do not kill him, that is all I ask. Not until he gives you the passwords, after which, you can beat him to death for all I care."
"Yes, Your Grace." He pushed off the map table, gave her a small bow of respect, and left the vault.
Phase Line Wyoming
Near Kalisz, Republic of Poland
4 September 2001
Karelia Bighorn-Vlata was having a wonderful time.
When the M1 Abrams main battle tank had been designed, it was at a time when the world had been in a stalemate with the GRIMM. The M60 Patton, a Cold War design, had shouldered the burden for decades, but it was getting old. The Abrams reflected a new idea of offensive warfare, of taking the battle to the GRIMM, of advance rather than retreat. As a result, it was equipped with a turbine engine: not very fuel efficient, but far more powerful than a diesel, propelling the Abrams up to 45 miles an hour—almost unheard of in a heavily-armored MBT. Of course, it could go a bit faster than the factory said it could.
Heather Redfeather, her driver, had the Abrams going at least 50 mph.
Karelia was outside of her commander's hatch slightly, spotting with her binoculars; it wasn't particularly necessary, but she wanted to see what was going on. It was also how tank commanders got decapitated—she had a pair of dogtags wound around her left ankle in case that happened—but she figured the risk was worth the situational awareness.
She spotted movement. "Designate! Gunner, sabot! Centinel!"
"Identified!" Bobby Lee yelled. "Range 600!"
"Up!" Sammy Lougheed announced, slamming the sabot shell into the breech.
"Fire!" Karelia ordered.
"On the way!" The breech of the 120mm cannon slammed back into the turret, ejecting the spent shell and filling the turret with the smell of cordite. The Centinel exploded, and her tank soon swept past the burning wreckage.
Karelia checked her other tanks. Team Snowbird was racing across the open farmlands, going through fences and bounding over small hills. She grinned. This was what she had joined the Army for. This was what the Abrams and her crew was meant to do. She ducked as artillery, fired by someone else at someone else's target, arced over and exploded among a copse of trees. She saw a Sabyr go end over end at the impact. To her right, Snowbird 55 opened fire, and another Centinel died in a flaming explosion.
More movement, to her front. "Designate! Gunner, HEAT! Sabyr!"
"Identified! Range 900!"
"Up!"
"Fire!
"On the way!" The Abrams shuddered with another shot. The HEAT shell blew the Sabyr apart. Karelia checked the wreck with her binoculars. That's odd. We hit it in the rear. The GRIMM are…retreating? She'd seen it before, but rarely—and then only to ready for a counterattack. These GRIMM were pulling back. Then again, the briefing back at Kalisz an hour ago had warned that this would happen: this Salem person was repositioning, falling back to shorten her lines and free up her reserves for the push north. The 1st Armored was not going to let that happen: Calavera wanted to overrun the GRIMM before they could reach the river. Ironwood had finally given his permission, which did Karelia's heart good: she was tired of retreating.
"Snowbird 77, spot report!" Karelia swerved around to look to her north, where the 77 tank would be. "Air attack warning, northeast!" She looked up and saw the specks of aerial GRIMM—a lot of them. She let her binoculars drop to her chest, reached forward, and pulled the charging lever on the Browning M2. A .50 caliber machine gun could kill a GRIMM if it got close enough. She glanced upwards and thought she saw more specks—her own air cover. "C'mon, you guys," she whispered, unheard over the whine of the turbine, the whistle of the wind, and the roar of cannon. "Don't let us down."
20,000 feet above Team Snowbird, Ruby had been watching the tanks roll across the countryside in awe. Then the AWACS had called, letting her know that there was a large group of Beowolves headed to support their ground brethren. Ruby ordered her flight—today it was Weiss, Blake and May Marigold in her Harrier—to leave their radars off. They would let the Beowolves get in close, then fall on them from above. Behind her flight was Dragon Flight, Aaron Foulke's four F-15s, flying top cover; their noses were also cold. "Dragon, Ruby. We'll drop in on them. You clean up any GRIMM that climb out of the fight."
"Roger that, Ruby!" Foulke sounded eager. His F-15s had been getting a lot of work in the northern sector, and whatever Ruby's legal status was, he was happy to work with her again.
Ruby counted to five, until the GRIMM were out of sight under her right wing. "Ruby Flight, take 'em!" She rolled in to a dive, Weiss right behind her, giving her the lead. Blake and May waited a few seconds, then followed. None of them were carrying drop tanks today, and Blake had left her few remaining Phoenixes at home: it was going to be a close-range fight.
The GRIMM scattered, their programming reverting to defensive mode, with some climbing up and others evading at low level. Ruby latched onto one Beowulf who dropped down to tree level and slowed down, trying to force an overshoot. Ruby's fingers moved from Sidewinders to her gun and opened fire. The 20 millimeter shells tore through the GRIMM and the aircraft went into a line of trees, immolating them. Ruby pulled up, hedgehopped another line of trees, and spotted another Beowolf, which was circling around for a run at the tanks. She opened the throttle and cut across the circle, firing a Sidewinder. The Beowolf dodged that one and broke off its run, the Sidewinder chasing a flare, and Ruby once more closed in. Just as before, this Beowolf got low, and either through accident or design, headed straight for a village. Ruby's finger moved away from the trigger; the village should be deserted, but she couldn't take a chance. You can't hide forever! she thought. Ruby made a quick check of her tail; it was clear, and she got a split second view of May dispatching a Beowolf.
Ruby dodged around a church steeple, then saw the Beowolf clear the village. Her finger tightened, ready to loose a Sidewinder, but the Beowolf swerved to the left and she followed—and screamed. The Beowolf had made a mistake and flew right into the side of a tree-lined hill. Ruby hauled back on the stick and jammed the throttle to the stops. No, no, NO! her mind shouted, but she cleared the trees by a few feet, her afterburner setting fire to the tops and bending the trees in her wake.
"I think I better get some altitude," she told herself, came out of afterburner, and climbed.
Blake, for her part, was not too happy about fighting at low-level; this was not the Tomcat's forte. Still, one went where the targets were. She spotted a Beowolf rolling in on May. "May, Blake, check six." May didn't answer, but the Harrier went into a flurry of maneuvers to throw off the Beowolf's aim. "I'm on him." She settled the gunsight in the HUD onto the GRIMM. Her Sidewinders were growling, but they were too close; the missiles might be sensing the Harrier as well as the Beowolf. Blake switched to guns and opened fire at extreme range, knowing she wasn't going to hit. It worked all the same: the GRIMM broke off and climbed. Blake followed, pressed the trigger again, and tore the Beowolf apart with another burst of gunfire. The GRIMM's pieces fell like confetti, and Blake rolled upside down—and saw another one, this one stalking Weiss at about the same level Gambol Shroud was. "Weiss, break left!" she shouted, and the Typhoon snapped over. Blake closed in and was about to fire a missile when the Beowolf broke hard right. Blake instinctively followed, snapping the stick into her right knee, skidding the F-14 hard—a little too hard. She coughed as the G-suit squeezed her, and bits of shadow appeared at the edges of her eyesight as the G-meter on the instrument panel crept past seven. When her vision cleared, however, the Beowolf was in front of her. She pulled the trigger, and a second Beowolf was blotted from the sky by a Sidewinder. "Blake, splash two."
"Blake, break left!" She did so, racking the Tomcat tight as its wings raked back. She strained against the Gs and saw a Beowolf on fire, spiraling down, even as a F-15 with a dragon splashed across its tail roared past. She joined up on Foulke. "Dragon, Blake, I've got two bandits, ten o'clock low."
"Roger, Blake, tally-ho. I got the one on the right!"
"I got the one on the left. Blake, Fox Three." An AMRAAM shot forward, a split-second before Foulke fired one of his own, dropping from the belly of the F-15. The missiles raced each other to the targets, and both GRIMM were destroyed within a second of the other. "Blake, splash three." Something flickered in her peripheral vision, and Blake turned to see it—a Beowolf, flitting across a little lake. "Beowolf, nine o'clock low. I'm on him."
"Blake has the lead." Foulke stayed high as Blake rolled in, covering her. The Beowolf went into a tight circle, daring Blake to match it. She waited patiently for two seconds, then dived down, pulling the throttle back as the wings cycled forward. She fired the Vulcan again, and barely a second had gone past when the gun clicked empty. She went back to her last Sidewinder, but the damage was done: the Beowolf fluttered for a moment, then simply fell into the lake with a splash. "Splash four," she radioed. "Literally."
Blake climbed away. "Dragon, there's a Beowolf at your eleven o'clock low. I'll cover you." She smiled: one good turn deserved another.
It wasn't much longer before the sky was empty.
Karelia couldn't resist a cheer and shot a fist into the air as the last Beowolf hit the ground. The ground assault hadn't paused; her tanks were destroying everything in front of them. "Snowbird Six, Snowbird 55," her radio earphones crackled. "We are at Phase Line Colorado. Do we stop?"
Karelia did some quick mental figuring as the report of another tank cannon cracked over the landscape. Phase Line Colorado was Kepno. The plan had called for reaching that phase line in half an hour; it had taken them fifteen minutes. They were supposed to stop there, wait for the supporting infantry, and then move up to Phase Line New Mexico—Wielun—then on to Phase Line Arizona—Belchanow, and the huge coal mine there. The expectation was they would reach Belchanow by midnight, the Vistula by the next morning, if they pushed on through the night.
"Negative!" she shouted. She was not going to stop, not now, not with the GRIMM running. "Bypass Phase Line Colorado! Your objective is Wielun!"