AUTHOR'S NOTES: Short chapter this week (shortest chapter in quite awhile, actually), but I have an early wakeup call. I imagine everyone will understand...there is an airshow tomorrow! (As I write this, I'm being constantly distracted by real F-16s practicing over my house!) After getting distracted for the past 24 hours, I wanted to get this done and out, as it was already late, and found a good stopping point.
Probably only three or four chapters left before this story ends. Yes, there will be an On RWBY Wings VI, but it will be after RWBY Season 9 is finished, so honestly it won't be out before late spring next year (assuming RT actually releases it in January 2023). No plans at the moment to adapt Ice Queendom, since that would end up being the AU of an AU, but never say never. Naturally, I'll be writing something over the next year-I really want to do another Summer Rose story, and get my Battletech story back on track after I sort of gave up on it.
But for now, enjoy.
Berlin-Tegel International Airport
Berlin, Federal Republic of Germany
7 September 2001
10:15 AM Local
Winter Schnee drummed her fingers on the canopy rail impatiently. "Come on!" she shouted at the ground crew. Normally Winter was very polite to mechanics and crew chiefs, since her continued survival depended on their skill, but she was listening to the battle on her helmet radio as she sat in her Typhoon. Not only was Weiss fighting Neo Politan and Cinder Fall, but Whitley and Winter were in the middle of it as well. Her entire family was in the middle of a dogfight now.
It occurred to Winter that she didn't consider her father much of family at all. He was still in his cell at Spandau, and as far as Winter was concerned, he could stay there.
The crew chief looked up at her apologetically. "Sorry, Colonel. We're just about done with the missiles—the Meteors' shackles are different than the AMRAAMs. But we've got all them but one loaded, plus the IRIS. Now we can load up the drop tanks and you'll be on your way."
"The hell with those!" Winter snapped. "I'll go with what I've got." The crew chief nodded and went back to getting the last Meteor missile secured. Winter raised her oxygen mask to her face. "Tegel Tower, Blizzard. I'm going to need priority clearance to takeoff. Even if General Ironwood has to wait, I need to be in the air now." Winter also normally didn't pull rank on people, but she would if she had to.
"Understood, Blizzard. Whenever you're ready, you have priority." The controller paused. "Blizzard, Ironwood took off about ten minutes ago with Ace Three."
Winter's eyebrows came together in confusion. She knew Ironwood was at Tegel, though she had purposely avoided him. She hadn't seen anyone taking off, but she had been in the bathroom. Ace Three? That's Elm Ederne. Why would he need escort if he's flying back to the United States? "Tegel, Blizzard…what was Ironwood flying?"
"Blizzard, he was in his B-52. Ace Three was escorting him."
"His B-52?" Winter asked. "Heading?"
The tower paused. "Heading two-nine-nine, Blizzard."
Southeast? He's heading into the combat zone. In a single B-52? Why would he…oh no. Winter leaned out of the cockpit. "Chief! Forget the last missile! I'm going now!" She began to bring the Typhoon to life. Luckily, the last Meteor was on—if placed hurriedly—and the ground crew scrambled to arm the missiles as she switched on the engines.
Near Leszno, Poland
10:16 AM Local
Ruby blinked away tears behind her visor, but she wasn't crying for Yang. In fact, Ruby wasn't even thinking about her sister. This wasn't because she was callous, but because she was trying to stay alive. Ruby pulled the turn tighter, her vision starting to swim as the G-meter on the HUD pegged at 9.1. She finally leveled out, then rolled left, her head moving, trying to find the Draken. She found it, above her, outlined against the sun, as the pilot rolled out to drop down behind her again. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw Cinder turning back into the fight, and well behind and below, the evacuation convoy of airliners. Weiss was positioning herself in front of the convoy; Ruby couldn't see Blake. Floating down placidly was Penny's parachute. All this she took in within the space of a second.
Who the hell is in the Draken? Ruby thought as she pushed the throttle up a bit. That's Cinder in the damn Night Raven…which means I have a bad feeling I know who's in that Draken.
"Ruby, Blake. Drag the Draken. I'm at your five low."
"Roger." Ruby made her break a little shallow and came off the power a little. C'mon, Neo, you little whore, take the bait.
Neo appeared to oblige. The Draken's nose came down and she dropped in behind Ruby.
Blake had brought the rage over Yang's loss under control, because she needed to think straight in a dogfight, or she'd be joining her friend. She kept her radar off and her F-14 at only medium speed, knowing the Draken's delta wing gave it poor vision to below and behind. Once Neo followed Ruby into the turn, Blake advanced her own throttle and closed in. A flick of one finger switched to guns. No warning, Neo Politan. I'm going to stitch this across your fucking canopy. Blake's teeth bared behind the mask and she closed the distance rapidly.
Then the Draken's tail suddenly went left as Neo kicked it around, and Blake knew that the assassin was clearing her tail before she fired on Ruby—a smart move. Blake's eyes flicked to the range counter, and when they went back to the Draken, Neo broke off her pursuit of Ruby and went into a hard right break. "Dammit," Blake whispered, and snapped the switch back to HEAT. She fired a Sidewinder, only to watch in frustration as Neo rolled over and dived, leaving flares behind her, one of which the Sidewinder detonated against. "Ruby, Blake, Neo is diving away, three low. Your tail is clear." Blake started to pursue, then saw the Night Raven.
Weiss had come out of a dive, torn between protecting the convoy and protecting Ruby, her wingperson. She looked up into the mirrors set in the Typhoon's canopy bow and saw the Night Raven coming in behind her. "Schiesse," she grumbled, and broke hard to the right, knowing that the huge interceptor was not built for a turning fight. Her head moved sharply, checking to the right to make sure she wasn't going to hit the convoy, then her instrument panel for any other threats, then back to Cinder. Weiss cursed again as Cinder didn't try to follow her into the break: instead, the Night Raven had rolled out in the opposite direction, reversed its turn, and was now letting Weiss settle into missile parameters. Sure enough, there were the tinest of flares from the enemy aircraft, then two thick smoke trails. Not AMRAAMs, Sparrows, Weiss thought, and that meant Cinder would have to keep her nose on Myrtenaster to guide them. Weiss waited one precious second, her rear end involuntarily clenching as the missiles came right at her, then snapped the stick over to the right again and the throttle forward into afterburner for a moment. The Typhoon accelerated, and the two Sparrows broke lock to sail harmlessly past the fighter.
"Damn stupid missiles!" Cinder shouted; if she had been carrying AMRAAMs, Weiss Schnee would be dead. But she wasn't, and the Typhoon was coming around to take Cinder head on. I'll take that! Cinder thought, and switched to guns, only for her Radar Warning Receiver to chirp for her attention. She quickly looked to the left, and saw the Tomcat boring in, its wings raked back. Cinder was now trapped between Blake and Weiss.
"Have it your way!" Cinder threw the Night Raven to the right, headed for the convoy, knowing neither Weiss nor Blake would risk a shot into the formation of airliners. She passed the parachute, and noted with satisfaction that Penny was hanging limply in it.
"Oh my God!" Willow screamed. She was sitting in the copilot's seat next to Whitley, who was flying the Gulfstream. The black interceptor was coming right at them. "Turn! Turn!" Her hands gripped the seat's armrests.
"Whitley, hold course!" Oscar had come forward out of the cabin and grabbed the back of both pilot and copilot seats. "If you break, she'll gun us!" He reached forward, grabbed the throttles, and moved them up.
"What the hell are you doing?" Whitley screeched, though he held the control yoke steady. Then he looked up. "Oh shiiiitttttt—" The Night Raven flashed over the Gulfstream without firing.
"Hold on! We're gonna hit her jetwash—" The business jet suddenly climbed, then dived as it hit the roiling air in the Night Raven's wake. Willow lunged forward and grabbed her yoke, helping her son level the Gulfstream out. Oscar pulled the throttles back a little.
"Bloody fucking hell!" Whitley looked down at himself. "Wonder I didn't piss myself. Fuck!" He glanced over to Willow. "Sorry for my language, mother." Willow stared back, her eyes huge in fright, and nodded dumbly. Whitley turned back to Oscar. "Maybe you'd better fly this thing."
Willow nodded. "My airplane," she said, holding the yoke in a death grip. Somehow, Whitley and Oscar exchanged places. Every bruise Oscar had hurt in the exertion, but he felt a lot better with his hands on the controls. Willow let go. "I picked a hell of a time to stop drinking," she murmured miserably.
"Nora!" Oscar yelled back. "How's the rest of the airliners look?"
"I can't see shit!" The Gulfstream's windows were not exactly made for all-around visibility. "I think we're okay." She peered through one of the windows. "Hot damn! I see Weiss! Get her, Weissy! Get her!" Despite being in the middle of an air battle with no weapons, still wrapped in enough bandages to shame a mummy, she sounded excited. Whitley dropped into the seat next to her, and watched as the Night Raven climbed, with the Typhoon now in pursuit. He pointed to the parachute. "Who's that?" It was gone below them before Nora saw it. She shrugged.
"Who's what?" Oscar asked.
"Parachute!" Whitley called out.
"Either Yang or Penny," Oscar replied. He reached forward and grabbed the radio. "Snowball to Norn Lead," he called out. "What's going on behind us? Ruby Flight is completely engaged."
"Can't talk," Pyrrha replied. "Fighting."
The sky in front of Pyrrha Nikos was filled with GRIMM, in two waves of ten. Her F-22 was running clean, with no tanks or external stores, which gave her six AMRAAMs internally and two Sidewinders, plus the gun. There were quite literally more GRIMM than she had ammunition.
She didn't care. Pyrrha found that she was enraged. Not a screaming rage or anger, but a quiet, white-hot fury. Salem was going to try and kill every civilian on the airliners that her friends had gone to so much trouble to gather. She had already killed dozens aboard the 727 and possibly Yang and Penny. Pyrrha was not about to let anyone else die.
Pyrrha switched on her radar, locking onto the lead GRIMM; she knew this would cause the drones' programming to react to the more immediate threat. She pulled the trigger, sending one AMRAAM on its way, and bored in on the GRIMM formation. The AMRAAM hit its target, and then she was in the middle of them.
Pyrrha cut across the flank of the drones, then turned hard, ending up between two Beowolves. She locked on the one to the left, fired, and was already engaging the second before the first exploded. She switched to guns and pulled the trigger, filling the air ahead of the Beowulf with cannon shells; the GRIMM flew into them and was torn apart. She reversed hard, grunting as the G-suit squeezed, and accelerated into a pair of GRIMM. They turned towards her, but she was already behind them, so the pair broke to the right. Pyrrha was a fraction of a second faster, and threw the Raptor upwards in a high-G barrel roll, dropping in behind the pair. She caressed the trigger again, and one Beowulf went down in a lethal spiral, trailing fire and missing most of its left wing. The remaining GRIMM continued its right break, but a quick glance behind showed that another pair had broken off their run on the airliners, and was heading straight for her. Directly ahead, two more Beowolves were coming in. Pyrrha calculated that the two GRIMM behind her were two seconds slower than the ones in front, and therefore could be ignored for now; the ones to the front were the bigger threat. They emphasized this by firing a brace of missiles at her.
Pyrrha dropped flares behind her and trusted the F-22's stealth to take care of the rest. She couldn't resist slightly ducking as the missiles shot past, unable to get a good lock, and then she shot between the two Beowolves. Now she could worry about the ones behind her. Somehow the GRIMM avoided a massive midair collision, and the two behind her closed to gun range.
Her hands and feet worked without conscious thought, Pyrrha's brain holding a mental picture of the aerial battle in four dimensions. She flung the Raptor upwards, using its vectored thrust to nearly spin in place, end over end, as the two confused GRIMM flew past beneath her. Pyrrha leveled out, pushed her throttle back up, and leveled out behind them, switching to Sidewinders in the meantime. One was ejected from its internal storage, homed in on one Beowulf's exhaust, and blew it to pieces. The other dived away, but Pyrrha was already accelerating past it, picking up yet another pair of Beowolves, trailing the others in the second wave. A switch to AMRAAM, another pull of the trigger, and a sixth Beowulf was turned into a rapidly expanding ball of debris. Then she was gone past that, climbing, her eyes searching for the next target. The entire GRIMM formation—now down to fourteen drones—was thrown into confusion, their initial target of the airliners now forgotten by computer brains that struggled to engage an enemy that seemed to be everywhere at once.
As Pyrrha rolled out at the apex of her climb and picked out her next prey, she found that she was grinning beneath the oxygen mask, and then she started laughing. She had never felt so alive in her life as in that moment.
Near Pila, Poland
10:19 AM Local
Qrow Branwen watched as the two sections of the Happy Huntresses reached the merge with their own group of GRIMM. These kids are pretty good. He was not monitoring Guard frequency; since he was supporting the Huntresses, they used their own frequency. Qrow had no idea that one of his nieces was gone and the other was fighting for her life.
"Qrow 13, Ace Three, are you on this frequency?"
Qrow actually looked down at the radio button on his throttle, as if he could see Elm Ederne there. He keyed it, wondering what was going on now. Elm was supposed to be on the ground somewhere. "Ace Three, Qrow 13 here, roger."
"Qrow 13, go button five."
Qrow spared a quick look at the Huntresses, checked the sky around him—his F-117 was practically invisible to the GRIMM, but only a fool never watched the sky—and switched frequencies. "Make it quick, Ace Three, I'm busy."
"Are you engaged, Qrow 13?"
"Not yet."
"Qrow 13, no one else is on this frequency that I know of. I'll be quick. I think Jehovah has gone crazy." Elm let the radio button go for a moment in case Qrow needed to break in, then continued. "Jehovah is in a single Bravo Five Two that I am escorting. Target unknown, but he is carrying a shape. Understand?"
A shape? Qrow thought frantically. What the hell is she…oh fuck. Now he remembered. A shape was the Air Force's official, obfuscating term for a nuclear bomb. The term hadn't been used in decades; the only reason Qrow knew about it was from his time in Strike Flight. Jimmy's got the nuke. Two guesses where he's going with it.
"Qrow 13, Ace Three, come in."
"Ace Three, alpha check." Elm quickly read off her location, course, altitude and speed, and Qrow realized that they were only twenty miles from him. He glanced in that direction, but there were too many clouds, and he didn't have Ruby's eyes. Jimmy's at 15,000 feet. He's using the dogfights as cover, trying to slip past them to drop on Salem. Brave, but the stupid bastard will never make it.
"Qrow 13, Jehovah won't make it." Elm came to the same conclusion. "Ace Two is onboard."
Harriet's with Ironwood? Yeah, you can't fly a BUFF by yourself. "Ace Three, wait one." Qrow switched frequencies. "Haisla, Qrow 13. Need sitrep on bandits westcentral Poland, immediate."
"Qrow 13, Haisla. Bandits at the following cords." Qrow checked the AWACS' information against his own map display. So there's five groups of GRIMM. One is engaged with Robyn's bunch, two against the evac convoy, one headed in that direction, and one…shit, that one's after Jimmy. Salem's made him; she knows what he's trying to pull. Bitch! She's still two steps ahead. "Qrow 13, be advised," the controller continued. "Heavy bandit presence in Leszno area. Ruby Three and Norn Three are down; Jolly Greens have scrambled. Ruby Flight is engaged with two bandits, one Draken and one Night Raven."
Ruby Three? That's…oh God, Yang. Qrow felt fear grip his middle. Yang was down. He tried to relax: if the rescue helicopters were in the air, that meant she was probably okay, probably cursing all the way to the ground for losing the F-23. Norn Three—Penny. Dammit. And the Night Raven's got to be Cinder Fall, since that Hound SOB got whacked at the Manor. Don't think Raven's got the balls to be over here, and she damn sure wouldn't be working with Salem again. The Draken's probably Neo Politan. Qrow realized he had a choice: go help Ruby, or go stop Ironwood. He had to choose between his family and his duty.
"Picked a hell of a year to stop drinking," Qrow growled, and switched back to Elm. "Ace Three, Qrow 13. I'm headed your way. So are about 20 GRIMM." Before she could respond, he went back to the AWACS. "Haisla, Qrow 13, I am assuming CAP with Ace Three on Jehovah. Vector any help you can."
"Qrow 13, Haisla. Be advised, no assets available your area. All assets are committed."
"Qrow 13, Blizzard." Qrow smiled at Winter's voice. "Blizzard is airborne and supersonic, course two-nine-nine, ETA ten."
"Roger that. Huntress Lead, Qrow 13, leaving you. Best of luck." Qrow turned the F-117 southwest.
Near Bogdanki, Poland (West of Leszno)
10:22 AM Local
Penny descended through a cloud, and her head came up. She reached up and grabbed the risers, slowing her descent some, then checked everything she could. Despite ejecting at high speed, her reinforced skeleton had kept her from injury, though she had played dead in case Cinder decided to strafe her in her parachute. She checked the Winter Maiden bracelet; it was secure. Wish I could use that on an airborne target. I'd get that jerk Cinder! Can't believe I fell for that…Oscar's going to be upset with me for losing his aircraft.
She saw the ground coming up, and put her feet together. She landed in an open field and made a perfect landing. Once down, she grabbed her parachute and gathered it in, then quickly divested herself of her harness. Penny knew she didn't have time to bury the parachute, much less dig a hole, so she jammed it under some bushes and ran for a forested knoll to the south, crossing a road in the process. Once to the top, she found some cover, made note of several landmarks, and pulled out her survival radio. She twisted the little wafer switch to a different frequency, and brought the grill to her mouth. "Norn Three on Bravo. Norn Three on Bravo. Any station, come in."
She repeated the words twice, then a voice came up on the radio. "Norn Three, King Two. Have you five-by." Penny smiled; it was the HC-130 Combat King, the modified transport that coordinated rescue efforts. "Say condition?"
"King Two, I am good to go. No injuries."
"Roger that, Norn; outstanding. What's your favorite color?"
Huh? Then Penny remembered: the controller was asking her certain questions to make sure it wasn't one of Salem's troops playing radio games. It was not something done by GRIMM, since they didn't take prisoners, but the American armed forces didn't always fight robots. "Green," she answered.
"What's your favorite sports team?"
Penny had never told anyone but her father, but she had a secret love for basketball. "The Heat."
"Verified, Norn Three. Hold tight. Jolly Greens are holding short until that dogfight above you gets resolved."
"Roger." Penny had assumed the rescue helicopters would not enter an air combat zone. "I can evade."
"Hold tight for now, Norn Three. We'll have you pop smoke when they head in." the controller repeated. "Can you see Ruby Three from your position?"
Penny looked west, but there was a low ridge blocking her from the lake Yang had gone down in. "Negative, King. No chute from Ruby Three."
"Roger, understood, Norn Three. We'll be there presently. Listening, out."
Penny sighed and settled in next to a tree. She took a baby bottle of water from her survival vest and drank it, then forced herself to take it easy. It might have to last; there were water sources around, but they also might be irradiated. She was probably breathing in fallout right now, but Penny gave that a shrug. There was no point in worrying about it. She took out her pen flares, set them aside, then drew her knees up to her chin. Above her, she heard the roar of jet engines, the occasional muffled explosion, and saw one or two smoke trails that terminated on the ground a distance away, with more explosions. She had to smile. Air combat was noisier than she thought. She thought about her father, still in the hospital, though doing a little better. He's going to be mad at me for getting into this, Penny mused, but it's my friends. I had to. It's what he would do, if he could. It's what Ruby does. It's what the other Penny would've done.
Then she spotted movement to the northeast. Penny stood, squinting as she looked in that direction, then her eyes widened and she dropped to her stomach. "Oh, no," she groaned. "Oh, no." She grabbed her radio, dropped it in her panic, and quickly picked it up, keying the wafer switch. "King Two, Norn Three. Enemy ground units heading my position." She pulled out her rubber survival map from her vest, and read the coordinates.
"Understood, Norn Three; enemy ground units. How many and type?"
"GRIMM…Centinels, four of them. One Bravo Tango Romeo with…oh dear. Zip Gun in the BTR. Ground troops with small arms and RPGs, about a platoon."
Concern crept into King Two's voice; no one had forgotten what had happened to the Pave Low in Warsaw only two days before. "Roger, Norn Three. Do you have cover?" Penny clicked the mike button twice to affirm it. "Stay down. We'll try to get some air in your direction. Do they see you?"
Penny squirmed back into the treeline, but saw the platoon get out of the BTR and start fanning out. She noticed they were wearing gas masks and chemical suits. One of them pulled off their mask and yelled something that was lost to distance, but it was obvious: they were running towards where her parachute stirred in the wind. "No…but they know I'm here."