AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, this was supposed to be the beginning of the final, huge dogfight...but no plan survives contact with the enemy, or in this case, the background required to get everything in place for the dogfight, including the introduction of Ambrosius, reuniting Cinder and Neo, and getting everyone in Ruby's squadron where they're supposed to be. Next thing you know, it's over 7000 words and six hours of writing, so I ended up having to put off the big battle.

Now that the RWBY Season 9 trailer has dropped, I don't know how this will affect this story, since it's kind of hard to do Alice in Wonderland with fighter pilots and a mostly realistic setting (unless the characters take copious amounts of drugs). We'll figure something out.

Near Tuchola Wola, Poland

5 September 2001

Night had fallen, so it was easy enough to see the headlight from a motorcycle through the trees. Cinder Fall got out of the cockpit and climbed down the ladder to the forest floor as Neo Politan slid to a halt. "Took you long enough," she growled.

Neo smiled as she got off the motorcycle. "Fuck you," she said sweetly. "This is the second time in two weeks I've had to escape from a military base with this stupid thing." She patted the JINN console as she pulled it out of the motorcycle's side pack. "And I rode through a retreating army, a ton of refugees, and an irradiated zone, so you, Cinder, can fuck right off if you don't like it."

Watts dropped down to the ground, having climbed out of the rear cockpit. "Good evening, Neo." She gave him an equally infuriated glare, and Watts held up his hands defensively. "Now isn't the time to hold grudges."

"You're right," Cinder agreed, much to the scientist's surprise. "Neo…I am grateful. And I admit I haven't held up my side of the bargain." She looked down. "I'm sorry."

Neo's eyebrows went up. "Wow. That must have hurt."

"I will get you Ruby Rose, but not here. We're lucky we haven't been found already. Is there a place we can get to?" Cinder motioned to the long stretch of cleared woods. "This is an old emergency airstrip. The Hound landed the Night Raven here, so it should be no trouble taking off."

"Sperenberg. It's just south of Berlin. Crimson Jack's people hold the place."

Cinder nodded. "That should work."

"They'll want money."

"And they'll get it." She motioned to the backseat of the Night Raven. "Get in, Neo. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can work on getting what we both want."

"Is she supposed to sit on my lap?" Watts asked. "I suppose she's short enough."

"Oh yes," Cinder answered. "I'd forgotten about that." With one motion, she drew her pistol and shot Watts in the chest. The scientist staggered backwards and fell to the forest floor. He looked more surprised than hurt. Cinder stood over him. "Terribly sorry, old chap," she said with faux sorrow and a worse British accent. "But I don't think Neo here is going to consent to sitting on your lap. That seems like sexual harassment." Neo erupted into uproarious laughter.

"Why…" Watts groaned, gripping the bullet wound. Blood flowed out from between his hands. "You…you need…"

"Save your breath, doctor. Sounds like I penetrated a lung." Cinder told him, holstering the pistol. She reached down and pulled his cellphone from his pants pocket. "And I don't need you. Now that I have JINN, anyway." She bent over, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And you know far too much about me than I'm comfortable with." She straightened up as Neo scrambled up the ladder to the backseat. "I wonder what will get you first? The gunshot, the radiation, or the CIA? Oh well." Cinder smirked down at him. "Goodbye, Arthur."

He spit blood at her. "Burn…in hell."

"Probably." Cinder turned her back on him and went back up the ladder to the cockpit. She closed the canopy and began running up the engines. "Comfortable, Neo?"

"Yep." She threw Watts a wave as the Night Raven began moving forward.

SACEUR Forward Headquarters

Near Zielona Gora, Poland

6 September 2001

"Sir?"

The voice slowly penetrated James Ironwood's brain, then he felt himself being shook. Ironwood came awake, and stared up into the face of Elm Ederne. "What…what is it?" Through the tent, he could see it was dark outside.

"Sorry to wake you, General. General Calavera is asking to speak with you."

"What about?" Ironwood sat up.

"I don't know, sir." Elm stepped back and let Ironwood get to his feet. He rubbed his face, then checked his watch. He had been asleep for seven hours, the longest stretch of sleep he'd gotten since Salem had invaded Poland. It helped. He stretched, winced as his back popped, and nodded at Elm. "Thank you."

She came to attention. "Some of us are still loyal, sir."

He smiled at her. "Thank you," he repeated. He straightened his uniform, left the tent, and crossed the clearing. The tents were already starting to be broken down; the command post was moving. He entered his tent—Calavera's now, Ironwood corrected himself.

Miguel Calavera was standing around the map table, surrounded by staff people—his own and Ironwood's. All of them stopped what they were doing and stared at him, then Calavera snapped to attention, quickly followed by everyone else. Ironwood smiled wanly. "Not sure I merit that, Miguel. I've been relieved, remember?"

"Yes, sir, but there's still four stars on your shoulders." Calavera looked at his staff. "Why don't you folks grab some breakfast while James and I talk?" They moved out of the tent, politely giving Ironwood space as they did so. He wondered if it was actually politeness, or just a desire not to be too close to a disgraced man. Finally, it was the two of them, alone. Calavera shook his head. "I'm damn sorry about this, James. It wasn't my choice."

"I know, Miguel. The President and his little helper saw to that." Ironwood couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"That reminds me." He handed Ironwood an envelope. "Arashikaze had that typed up before she left. I got a look at it. Formal orders of relief, and orders to report to the Joint Chiefs in Washington by the soonest available transport."

Ironwood chuckled. "Not wasting any time, huh? Now I know how Ozpin felt. Throwing me to the wolves. Someone's going to have to be held responsible." He looked down at the map table. "Nice to know I'll be going down next to McClellan and Fredendall and all the other fucking incompetents of American military history."

"It's not like that, James." Calavera reached up and put a hand on his shoulder. "We know what you did here. And the Joint Chiefs will see it that way, too. Poland's always been hard to hold, for anyone. We fall back to the Czech mountains and the Oder, and we'll stop Salem cold. Get those refugees out of the way, then wait for the rads to die down, and we counterattack. She's hurting too. She's got to be." He met Ironwood's eyes. "We couldn't have done any of that without you holding the line."

"I appreciate the pep talk, Miguel." Ironwood sighed. "Well, I suppose the worst they'll do is ask me to retire. They can't afford to court-martial me, with all the publicity. There's going to be enough yelling and screaming about us running out of Poland. Like Patton said, Americans love a winner and won't tolerate a loser." Ironwood caught the look of concern on Calavera's face, and smiled again. "Ah well. I'll just make sure to wear my short coat, so the world can kiss my ass." The other general laughed at that. "Let's go over the strategic situation before I leave. That's what you needed me for, right?"

"Yes, sir." Over the next hour and some fresh coffee, Ironwood briefed Calavera, making sure the other man knew the situation. It was not a good one, but it could be worse. NATO forces in the north were steadily falling back towards the Oder, though GRIMM pressure had noticeably lessened. The forces in the south were heading south over the roads, leaving the fallout zone and trying to reach the Czech border. Calavera had detailed volunteer units—mainly Polish forces, but not a small number of Americans—to help the refugees get to airfields for evacuation. "I have to say," he said, "I guess the Schnees and that Nikos girl really came through. Having the civvies headed towards the airports is clearing the roads, and that only helps us. And we've got airliners coming in from everywhere to pick people up."

"Where are they going?" Ironwood took a drink of his coffee.

"You name it. Menagerie was the first to go public, and they're not limiting evacuees to Faunus. President Shawcross agreed next—he'll be addressing the American people tomorrow night. That's opened the floodgates. Then the Greeks, the Brits and the Danes, and pretty much all of Europe now. The Algerians and the Egyptians chimed in an hour ago. It's going to be the biggest evac of people in decades. Not bad for something thrown together at the last minute, basically."

Ironwood ran his fingers over the map, and had to grudgingly agree. Calavera hadn't mentioned her, but Ironwood wondered how much of this had been Ruby Rose's idea. An innocent soul, he thought. "That should do it then," he remarked quietly. He noticed scrawled names on the maps. "You put Steiner in charge in the north?"

"And Bob Davion in the south. They can handle it. Good people." Calavera grinned. "You know it's the end of the world when Poles agree to a German commanding them."

He's delegating. He trusts them. I should have. With the benefit of sleep, Ironwood could see where he had failed. Well. There will be plenty of time to go over that at the board of inquiry. He found himself wondering if the Joint Chiefs wouldn't have Ironwood court-martialed after all. The need for a scapegoat was strong in any government. Ozpin had been perfect to take the fall for Beacon, since he was dead, but Ironwood wouldn't have that fortune. Even if the Joint Chiefs ordered him to simply retire, there would be plenty in Congress who smelled blood in the water. Politicians, Ironwood thought with derision. The thought of months, if not years, of inquiries, chilled him. James Ironwood would be dragged through the mud, by younger men and women eager to make their mark, and by older men and women eager to deflect blame. The melancholy that had descended on him returned.

Calavera noticed it. "James…it'll be all right, man."

"Sure." Ironwood straightened up and held out a hand. "You're going to do well, Miguel. They'll make you SACEUR after this."

"Not if I can help it." Calavera shook his hand with a firm grip. "You can take my helicopter where you need to go. You got a plane waiting?"

Ironwood smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do. There's a B-52 at Tegel with literally my name on it." He hadn't told Calavera about the nuclear weapon that was likely already aboard that B-52.

"Well, just don't get it in your head to go bomb Greenbrier, okay? As tempting as that is."

Ironwood laughed, genuinely. "It's a thought." He nodded at Calavera. "Kick Salem's ass, Miguel. I'll do what I can to help."

"You do that, James. Best of luck." Neither man said goodbye. It felt too permanent.

Ironwood walked out of the tent, feeling strangely better. He had made his decision now. He returned to his tent and found both Elm and Harriet Bree waiting there. "Hello there. I'm heading off to Berlin. Can I give either of you a ride?"

"Where are you headed, General?" Elm asked.

"Berlin," he repeated guardedly. "Why don't you come with me? We have some things to discuss." Ironwood looked around. "Where's Marrow?"

"Deserted," Harriet spat. "He's gone to join up with Ruby Rose or something, the stupid ass. I think Winter Schnee went with him."

"That's the way it is at times like this." Ironwood was surprised at how little it affected him now.

"We'll follow you to hell, General," Harriet added.

"Good," Ironwood replied. "Because that's where we're going."

Raszyn Radio Mast

Southwest of the Ruins of Warsaw, Poland

6 September 2001

His name was Ambrosius, and it occurred to Salem that she had never bothered to learn his last name, assuming he had one. He stepped out of the jeep and walked over to Salem. Ambrosius was taller than she was, an enormous man whose muscles strained at the casual clothes he wore, with sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, and though Salem figured that he had to be over fifty, he looked much younger. "Good afternoon, Your Grace."

"Good afternoon, Ambrosius." She nodded as he gave her an elaborate bow. Salem was never quite sure if Ambrosius was being respectful or sarcastic.

"It seems someone has come to engage my creative wiles!" He frowned. "All I can say is it had better be worth it after my last project. I still can't believe that Cinder woman managed to lose my Su-27."

"Perhaps," she replied. "I assume you have the current numbers on how many GRIMM are left. Air-based GRIMM."

Ambrosius rolled his eyes. "You know I have a photographic memory." She folded her arms over her breasts, clearly waiting for an answer. "Fine, fine…there are 261 GRIMM of various types available for immediate use here in Poland. We can bring forward another 152 within a week, and back home there are 556 under production, with delivery within the month."

"And ground GRIMM?"

"433 on the front line, including those that survived the nuclear detonation. That was quite the mistake, Your Grace, if I had been here—"

"Enough." The last thing Salem wanted to hear was another of Ambrosius' rants. They could get quite tiresome. "How many ground GRIMM can we draw from the reserves?"

"156 that could be brought forward within 24 hours. 365 within in a week. 226 under construction. Per your orders, I have been concentrating on aerial GRIMM."

"So you have." She motioned him forward, walking away from her staff, and motioned at the tower. "Ambrosius, our radio communication with the GRIMM may have been compromised. I don't believe they can be jammed, but they can now be triangulated. I am adverse to having one of the Maidens dropped on my head, so we can no longer rely on our main transmitter at the Palace of Culture in Warsaw, nor our backup here at Raszyn. Can you come up with something that is frequency hopping so it can't be tracked."

Ambrosius nodded. "Certainly. In fact, I've already done it."

Salem blinked. "You what?"

"I've had a frequency hopping GRIMM network for a year, Your Grace."

"Why wasn't I informed of it?" Salem demanded.

"You didn't ask," Ambrosius replied.

Salem closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew the eccentric inventor tended to be rather literal. When she had asked him to design the Nuckelavee, he had shown her blueprints of a monstrosity with four legs and some sort of mecha body, complete with torso and head. It looked like an abomination born out of an anime, and Salem had demanded he redesign it into something more practical. "All right," she said. "Good. Thank you, Ambrosius. Do you have it with you?"

"Of course. I suspected that might be what you needed to speak with me about."

That was another thing that annoyed Salem: Ambrosius had a bad tendency to be able to read her mind. If he wasn't fanatically loyal—and the most brilliant man she had ever met, even moreso than Arthur Watts—she would have disposed of him years ago. "Excellent. How long will it take you to set up?"

"Six to eight hours, Your Grace. But there is a catch, as the Americans say." Salem raised an eyebrow. "It only has a range of fifty miles. I've been working on piggybacking off enemy satellites, like we have with our other GRIMM, but it's been difficult boosting the signal."

"Will radiation affect it?"

"It shouldn't, no." Ambrosius beamed. "I'm calling it the Portal System. It's a pun on Windows. I've never understood that name. I don't understand why that Jobs fellow would call it that. The system is kludgy in any case…"

Salem considered as Ambrosius rambled on. It would mean sending someone forward to operate the system, which would put them into the fallout zone, if she was going to attack the evacuation flights. With only just over 260 GRIMM to use, it meant leaving her ground-based GRIMM in the north without much air cover. So be it, she thought. Wrecking the evacuation would be far more devastating to morale than attacking NATO military forces already in full retreat. She would lose most of those GRIMM before they reached the flights, but even if a few survived, they would wreak havoc. She realized Ambrosius had finally stopped, and was looking at her expectantly. "Can you train someone in its use?"

"It would be difficult, Your Grace, but if I had 48 or 72 hours—"

"I don't think we do." She sighed. "Very well. I have to trust you with this, Ambrosius. I will be sending you forward. Look at the map and pick a good spot to control the GRIMM from in central Poland. Pick a team to go with you, and draw NBC gear from our supplies."

"Oh, excellent!" Ambrosius grinned widely. "I'll have a chance to observe fallout and its effects."

"Fine, fine," Salem answered. "Just as long as you don't get distracted from your purpose. Dismissed, Ambrosius, and thank you."

"Of course, Your Grace." He bowed again and walked off, happy. Salem shook her head in wonder how she could be so lucky and unlucky at the same time.

Salem stood alone for awhile, her hair blown by the wind. Her knees ached; that meant a change of weather in the next day or so. Her chief of staff walked up to her. "Yes, Comrade Major?"

The major held up a cellphone. "It's Cinder Fall, Mistress."

"Oh?" Salem smiled. "The prodigal returns."

Sperenberg Airfield

Near Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany

6 September 2001

Cinder snapped the cellphone shut. "Handy invention. I should get my own." She got up from the lawn chair. Sperenberg was out of the fallout area, so Cinder was enjoying the fresh air and a beautiful sunset. The air felt cool and pleasant, and she shifted her hair back so that it blew on her scars. She ran her fingers over them, feeling the rough skin, the ridges of the skin grafts. Amazing how people can get used to hardship. I have trouble remembering what I looked like before I was burned, or what it was like to have two functional eyes, and no artificial arm. How strange.

Neo walked out of the hangar, in a new flight suit. "Well?" she demanded.

"Feeling better?" Not long after Cinder had landed at Sperenberg, Neo had vomited into the grass. She looked paler than usual.

"Doesn't matter."

"Salem intends to attack the evacuation flights." She pointed upwards. Neo followed her finger. The sky was crossed by no less than five contrails; at the end of each were airliners, large ones—Boeing 747s and 777s, Airbus A330s. The remains of other contrails were being spun away by high-level winds. "Ruby Rose will be there to defend them, so we'll get our shot at her."

"She's mine," Neo snarled.

Cinder looked back at her. "Neo, you don't look like you're fit to fly. You might have radiation sickness."

"Don't care."

"Did you love Roman Torchwick that much?"

"Yes." Neo sat in another lawn chair next to her. "He was the only one who treated me like I was human."

"Hm. I can sympathize with that." Cinder nodded. "I don't mind if you kill Ruby, so long as she dies. Our mission from Salem, however, is to cause as much of a distraction as we can. She's going to unleash a lot of GRIMM on that evacuation."

"Fine, but how do we know which one Ruby will be with?" Neo fumed. Cinder thought it was almost comical; Neo looked like a little girl that had been told she couldn't have any more ice cream. Comical, except that Cinder knew that the short woman had murdered her way across the globe. "And these people were loyal to Crimson Jack; they're loyal to me only so far as they can get paid. In fact, if we don't pay them by midnight, they're calling the Polizei."

"All right." Cinder reached down and picked up JINN, opening the console. "How do we switch this damn thing on again?"

Neo smiled. "Say her name."

Cinder was taken aback. "You're kidding." Neo shook her head. "How about that?" Cinder cleared her throat and said distinctly, "JINN."

There was a click and a hum, and lasers switched on around the console. They weaved above the device until the now-familiar nude form of the Joint Inter-National Network appeared. "I am JINN," she said in an almost sultry tone. "What can I do for you?" She looked down at Cinder and Neo, and actually seemed confused. "Query: to whom do I address?" JINN blinked, and then frowned at Neo. "Your face is in my database. Your name is Trivia Vanille, also known as the assassin and air pirate Neo Politan. I am programmed not to respond to known criminals."

"Your real name is Trivia Vanille?" Cinder snorted with laughter. "No wonder you changed it!"

"Shut up!" Neo shouted, her teeth bared. "Don't you dare ask her about me! I'll fucking kill-" Neo broke off, caressing her stomach, visibly fighting down the urge to throw up.

"JINN," Cinder said, addressing the hologram. Baiting Neo was fun, but could also end in getting killed. "Do you know me?"

"I do not. Who do I have the honor of addressing?"

Ozpin never had the chance to program JINN about me, Cinder thought. I wonder if Lionheart's false identity was ever changed? She decided to chance it. "JINN, I am Major Cinder Fall, United States Air Force. Your database probably does not have a current picture of me, after my…accident."

JINN was silent for a moment, and Cinder wondered if she had overplayed her hand. Then the hologram smiled. "Major Fall. It is a pleasure to meet you. What can I do for you?"

"I need a few things, JINN. First, do you have account numbers from the Grand Cayman Island Bank?" She'd read somewhere that the CIA maintained slush funds there.

Another pause. "I do. But I cannot convey them with a known criminal present."

Neo sighed and got up, threw Cinder a warning glance, and headed back to the hangar. "Trivia Vanille is no longer present, JINN," Cinder told the hologram, relishing using Neo's hated real name. "You may read the numbers to me." JINN dutifully did so, and Cinder hurriedly grabbed a pen from a pocket and scrawled them on her palm, awkwardly because she was using her artificial one. "Thank you, JINN. Can you access current events from the internet?"

"Wait, please. Activating wi-fi." JINN froze in place, staring at nothing for two full minutes, then blinked. "News services downloaded. What information is required?"

"The evacuation from Poland. Can you show me a map of flight paths and predict likely movements of aircraft over the next 24 hours?"

"Certainly." There was another short pause, and a map appeared; JINN's arms moved until it looked like she was holding it. Cinder studied the map. "JINN, do you know Ruby Flight?"

"Of course. Ruby Flight consists of—"

"Never mind that," Cinder interrupted. "Can you access their current location, then extrapolate their probable movements over the next 24 hours?"

"Working." JINN was silent for another minute. "Ruby Flight's last reported location was at Zagan Airfield in southwestern Poland. With a large number of evacuation aircraft moving into airfields in that area over the last 24 hours, and more expected to arrive within the next twelve hours, there is an 86 percent possibility that they will be flying escort on the first large evacuation flight. As this flight has been largely funded by the Menagerie government, there is a 91 percent possibility that this flight's destination is Glasgow-Prestwick Menagerie International Airport. I am showing the flight path." A red line appeared on the map. "At this time, according to current orders I have accessed and the probabilities of enemy attack on the evacuation flights, there are only three available flights for escort duty: Ruby Flight, Norn Flight, and Ace Flight. While I compute only a 26 percent probability that the GRIMM will attack the evacuation flights, as they are militarily unimportant, three flights is quite insufficient protection, given the GRIMM threat." Cinder opened her mouth to ask another question, but JINN continued. "There are several anomalies present in this analysis. Would you like to hear them?"

"Yes."

"There are other flights available for tasking: the Happy Huntresses have two flights of combatants at last known count, while Dragon, Demon, and Spider Flights may also be available. Would you like a breakdown of these flights, Major Fall?"

"Not necessary at this time," Cinder answered. "Is that the only anomaly?"

"Negative. There is also a large cold front coming in from the northeast. Computing times to load refugees, winds aloft, and tailwinds, the front could spawn thunderstorms. After the nuclear detonation, there is still significant radiation present in the atmosphere. This radiation could bind to the rain droplets in the storm, and fall in a phenomenon known as 'black rain.' This rain will be highly radioactive. Probability that a takeoff time will be before the storm arrives is 96 percent. It should be noted that the rainfall will happen over a limited area, and my computations may not be accurate, as such a phenomenon has not happened since October 1962."

"What time?" Cinder asked.

"Given the difficulties of a night takeoff and assembly, between 0800 and 1200 tomorrow morning, local time."

A smile curled Cinder's lips. "Perfect."

JINN automatically returned the smile, though it was nowhere near as cruel. "Will there be anything else, Major Fall?"

"Just one thing," Cinder said, getting up. "I will need current NATO transponder codes. I'm afraid I've misplaced the ones I have."

"Of course." JINN read the code. Cinder had run out of room on her palm, so she wrote on the top of her arm.

"Thank you, JINN. You've been such a big help."

"Of course, Major Fall." The hologram bowed deeply, then derezzed. Cinder shut the console, picked it up, and walked towards the hangar, humming to herself. She went inside, where the mechanics were refueling and rearming the Night Raven. There was another aircraft there as well, and she noticed Neo was walking towards it from the ladies' room, wiping her mouth. "A Draken?" It carried no markings, but was still finished in the glossy dark green of the Royal Danish Air Force, its last user.

Neo shrugged. "All I could find at short notice. Did you get it?"

Cinder held up her palm. "More than enough money to go around for everyone." Grins broke out around the hangar. She dropped her voice. "And we've got everything to get Ruby with. Tomorrow morning."

Neo's smile widened. Cinder thought it was one of the most frightening things she had ever seen.

Schnee Manor

Zagan, Poland

7 September 2001

Ruby yawned and shook herself. Weiss whistled lowly. "I'm impressed," she said. "Three cups of coffee with enough sugar to send a normal person into a diabetic coma, and you're yawning."

"It's been a long damn day, all right?" She looked up as Pyrrha walked into the room. "Hey, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha yawned as well. "Is there a reason why we're doing this brief after midnight?"

"Yeah. We just now finished up talking to Robyn." Pyrrha nodded and sat in a chair around the dining table. Klein came out of the kitchen and began distributing more coffee and small cakes, as the rest of Ruby and Norn Flights walked in, in various states of lucidity. Yang seemed as bouncy as usual, but she had always been a night owl; Blake was stifling yawns as well, her ears flattening back as she did so. Ren came in with Nora, who was finally free of the IV and dressed. Emerald shuffled in, a CIA guard leaving her at the door. May Marigold wheeled herself in, sitting in a wheelchair. Willow and Whitley came in together; Ruby noticed that Whitley took up the seat at the head of the table, where his father would have sat, while Willow sat to his right. Oscar arrived last, still limping a little.

"Okay, troops, here's the plan for tomorrow." Ruby unrolled a large aeronautical chart of Poland and Germany on the table. "I know Pyrrha's still torqued that we made her give her super awesome speech, but it's definitely worked. We've got ten airliners at Wroclaw—that's becoming our main loading point. A bunch of 747s and 777s, plus some A330s—Airbus even sent over a Beluga. That's that ugly-ass big ol' transport they have. The refugees are processing right now. It's slow, but we should have all the birds loaded up by around 0900 tomorrow morning."

"What's our takeoff time?" Yang asked. She was making notes on a pad.

"0930. Give the airliners thirty minutes to form up into something resembling a convoy," Weiss replied. She tapped the map. "We pick them up at Point Option, here. We'll escort them to the Elbe River, where the Royal Air Force and the Luftwaffe will take over—though we probably won't need them, since the GRIMM won't range that far in. Then we'll fly back to Zagan, eat, and get rested up for the next batch." She smiled at Blake. "Your dad really came through, Blake. He's covering all charter costs out of Menagerie's money. Seems they got a ton of cash in from the Tabey estate."

"Glad that old bastard was good for something," Blake mused.

"So the first convoy will land in Menagerie," Weiss continued. "The second one will load up and take off on the morning of September 8, and then two each day, to various locations, including the United States."

"Why not two tomorrow?" Nora wanted to know.

"There's a cold front rolling in tomorrow afternoon," Ruby said. "Shouldn't last too long, but we're not flying in it."

"Damn."

"Yeah," Ruby agreed. "Anyway, we should have everything done by Tuesday—September 11. Then it's home and cookies." She looked sheepish. "And whatever the hell happens after that. We're either gonna get more medals or they're going to court-martial us."

Yang kicked her feet up on the table. "Nah. Now that Arashikaze kicked Ironwood to the curb, I bet the President is going to have us at the White House."

"Well, let's not start popping the champagne and blowing each other just yet." All eyes went to Ren. He laughed and spread his hands. "I'm tired."

"Nora, you need to let him get some sleep," Pyrrha quipped.

"Hell no! It's a lot more fun now that I don't have to worry about the IV coming out." She winked at Ren, who blushed. In actuality, they had not made love at all, with Ren worried about hurting her; for once, Nora agreed. Her scars were going to be bad enough without tearing everything open again.

"Okay, okay…Ren's right." Ruby crossed over to where Weiss had set up a whiteboard on an easel. She quickly sketched a huge red arrow. "This is the evac flights. We'll set 'em up like B-17s back in the old days."

"How do we know what—oh." Blake grinned. "Forgot who I was talking to."

"We'll fly like this." Ruby drew a few crude aircraft—she had never been much of an artist—and then labeled them RWBY. "This is us. Me and Weiss will be on the northern side. Blake and Yang will be on the south." She drew more aircraft, and labeled those PRPM. "I think we better just keep Norn as the flight name, but this will be Pyrrha, Ren, Penny, and Marrow." She winked at Pyrrha. "Figured you and Ren didn't want to be there on your lonesome. You'll cover the rear."

"I appreciate it, but…Penny and Marrow?"

"Unfortunately Nora and Oscar can't fly, so they're out." Weiss turned to May. "You too. Robyn said she'll send someone over for your Harrier. You're welcome to wait here, or you can fly out tomorrow with Nora, Oscar, and Whitley and Mother. The Gulfstream we sort-of stole will head out with the first batch of refugees."

May waved it off. "Sounds like fun. I've never been to Menagerie."

"Anyways," Ruby continued, "Penny volunteered. With Ironwood out, Winter's kind of become the fighter commander. Winter wasn't too happy about it, but Penny insisted, so they're giving her Oscar's old F-18. Marrow told Ace Flight to shove it up their ass and flew down to Swidwin this morning, so he'll be bringing his F-35."

"Can we trust him?" Ren asked.

"He seemed all right when he was flying with us before. He's a good dude." Yang almost said good boy, but realized that might not have great connotations with a Faunus. She nudged Blake lightly and inclined her head at Weiss, who was trying to hide a blush. She wrote on the notepad I think Weiss wants her some Marrow. Blake stifled a snicker.

Emerald raised her hand. "What about me?"

Yang's good mood evaporated instantly. "What about you? You can ride on the Gulfstream, and be pretty happy we're not telling you to get steppin'."

Emerald returned Yang's glare. "I'm a qualified fighter pilot. You're going to need all the help you can get."

"Oh sure," Yang snapped, "and have you asshole me with a Sidewinder the moment you're behind my three-nine line."

"I'm not with Salem anymore! Madre de Dios, how many times do I have to say it?"

"You could be a deep-cover agent for Salem," Blake said. "You were before. Why the change in heart, Emerald?"

Emerald groaned. "I told you. Yes, I was with Salem, but I was loyal to Cinder—"

"That makes it so much better!" Nora yelled.

"—because Cinder was the one who kept me from being killed by the mob! She taught me to fly! What was I supposed to do—I had nowhere to go." She looked away. "Just like now."

"I'm still not seeing the part where we trust you," Yang told her.

"All right." Emerald pointed at Weiss. "In the Sea of Japan. I saved her life. When Weiss hit the water, she was out cold. She rolled over face down. I kept her head up. I kept her alive." She fixed Weiss with a look. "Tell them." Weiss nodded. "Then I had plenty of opportunity to kill any one of you in Warsaw. I didn't. I've had a lot of opportunity here, too, while all of you were asleep. I'm a professional thief; do you think I couldn't slip away from the CIA? Yet I'm still here." She sighed. "I'm still here because Salem doesn't intend to take over the world; she intends to destroy it and kill everyone. I may be untrustworthy, but I would prefer that not to happen. I don't like you and you don't like me, but we all hate Salem."

"Nice speech, but not happening. I haven't forgotten the shit your buddies pulled at Beacon," Yang snarled. "You tried to ruin my career with that forged signature, remember? To say nothing what your bitch Cinder did, or the White Fang. A lot of people got dead at Beacon, Emerald. You know, like Jaune Arc?"

"All right, that's enough." Pyrrha got to her feet. "Emerald is right. We need all the help we can get. I think Salem will try and have a go at the evacuation flights, just to spread terror. If the evacuation fails, NATO will collapse. Any friends we can get, even reluctant ones, will help."

"We'd have to find her an aircraft," Ren reminded them.

"She's not getting my Harrier," May warned.

"Hold on. I've already thought about this." Weiss looked at Emerald. "Can you fly a MiG-21? The Poles still have a few in reserve. It's been upgraded, but it is a MiG-21."

"Yes. I can fly a MiG," Emerald confirmed.

"We'll put you with Norn," Ruby said. "If Salem takes a shot at us, it'll come from the east. And Pyr's right; she probably will, the pasty old bitch."

Yang looked ready to strangle Emerald, but she blew out her breath. "Yeah, whatever. Fuck it. Any other support in case we run into GRIMMY GRIMM GRIMM?"

"Dragon Flight out of Poznan, plus Uncle Qrow at Swidwin. The Huntresses are going to be busy up north with everyone else. That Foulke guy and Uncle Qrow will be up and ready to support either us or the northern force." Ruby looked at them. "I guess that's it. We'll roll out of the sack at 0700, so we'd better get some sleep. Oh yeah—one other piece of bad news. Maybe it'll affect us or not. Looks like Neo got us again—she managed to get JINN back and escaped."

"What the hell?" Oscar exploded. "How?"

"Remember the Polish refugee girl?" Yang and Oscar both nodded. "That was her. She strangled a Faunus Delta person and got clean away."

Yang put her head in her hands. "Oh, shit. Trix. She killed Trix. Fuck." Then her head came up. "Wait, you mean Benedykta? She saved my life. She gunned down that guy who had me over an AK." Her head came around like a radar to fix on Emerald. "Wait, that makes sense. She did it so we would trust her."

"Yang, please. This isn't getting us anywhere," Pyrrha said.

"There's something you should know about Neo," Emerald said, not looking at Yang. "She has a personal hatred for you, Ruby. It's an obsession. She might have taken JINN to get back in the good graces of Salem again, or to sell it on the open market—but I imagine she came back with Delta so she would get closer to you. Nothing matters more to Neo Politan than killing you in revenge for Roman Torchwick."

"Yeah…though I didn't kill Roman. He flew into the ground."

"I think the distinction is lost on Neo."

Willow cleared her throat. "I've been assured by the CIA that no one has entered the manor grounds since you came back from Wroclaw." She didn't feel like mentioning that the Hound and his team had managed to get past the CIA in Zagan.

Ruby shrugged. "Neo can get in line. Anyway…it's almost one in the morning, guys. Let's get some sleep."

"You don't seem too bothered by one of the world's best assassins having it in for you," Emerald observed.

"I'm all out of fucks to give," Ruby replied. Laughter rippled around the table. She left the easel up, but rolled up the map. "See you in the morning, folks."

The meeting broke up. Yang gave Emerald a homicidal look as she walked out, Blake behind her. Emerald hung back as all but Pyrrha left. The Greek girl was checking the whiteboard, looking at it from different angles, occasionally drawing lines around the formation, seeing where the GRIMM might approach. "Thank you for sticking up for me," Emerald said into the silence.

"As I said, we need the help. But you should know, Emerald. If I see your nose pointing at anyone that isn't enemy tomorrow, I will put cannon shells through your canopy. If you eject, I will kill you in your parachute." Emerald shuddered, remembering Pyrrha's reputation. The fact that the other woman said it in a flat, conversational tone, without even looking at her, made it all the more chilling. "Do you understand? Because I have not forgotten that your help contributed to Jaune Arc's death."

"Yes." Emerald fairly fled from the room.

Pyrrha leaned against the table, picked up a cake, and munched on it, staring at the whiteboard.

Oscar fluffed up the pillows on the bed. He still had the master bedroom to himself; Ruby, Yang and Blake had taken one of the guest rooms, while Weiss slept in her own room. He laughed softly, remembering Yang telling Blake she could sleep with her, as long as she didn't steal all the covers and used protection. Blake had rolled her eyes. Wish I could joke like that, Oscar thought. He was part of the family that the squadron had become, but he still felt a little like an outsider.

He lay down on the bed—painfully, because he was still bruised and bandaged—and wished he was flying tomorrow. It was likely that nothing would happen, but he felt useless. At least my fighter will be up there. Penny will take care of it. He wondered if he should've named it; he'd never gotten around to it. He had found a picture of his father with his F-8. Ozpin had named it The Long Memory, but that didn't make a lot of sense to Oscar, and he wanted to have his own identity. He turned over on his side, which was less painful. "I'll think of something," he said aloud, then reached over and turned off the lamp. Even if he wasn't flying, tomorrow was going to be a long day. He thought about asking Ruby to stay behind, to do something, anything—better than sitting on his rear end in Menagerie, worried about his friends.

The door opened softly, then closed. He blinked in the darkness. "Ruby, I sure hope that's you." A wild thought that it was Neo Politan there to kill him flitted through his mind, and he reached for the pistol that he kept on the nightstand. It was a Beretta he had borrowed from one of the CIA people.

"It's me," Ruby whispered. She jogged over to the bed and got onto it. Now he could see that she was covered in a blanket, like a cape. Then Ruby threw off the blanket to reveal she wore nothing beneath it. "Um, surprise?" Oscar stared popeyed at her. Even in the dim moonlight from outside, he could tell she was turning red. It actually made her look more alluring, as the moonlight shadowed in some places and revealed others. "I'm not so good at seduction, you know."

"The hell you're not!" Oscar was only wearing his boxers, but those came off in a hurry. Ruby lay down next to him. "You sure about this? I don't have any…" Ruby tossed him two packs of condoms. "Oh."

"I guess Weiss' dad had some." She reached for him, then stopped. "I mean…if you feel up to it. I mean, you're still busted up."

"We'll take it slow."

And they did. It took almost an hour. It wasn't perfect, of course. There were times they had to stop because Ruby put a knee wrong and hit one of Oscar's many bruises, or one of them ran out of breath and needed to get it back, and once when Ruby tried dirty talk so ridiculous that Oscar started laughing, which made her start laughing too, and that ruined it for a few minutes as they giggled. It was strange to be naked and laughing, and yet felt incredibly right, somehow.

Finally, sated, they lay next to each other, covers drawn up, embracing each other. If the sex hadn't been terribly romantic, the end at least was, with Oscar caressing Ruby's face and kissing her before they both fell asleep, facing each other.

It helped stave off the fear that they would never see each other again.