AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yeah, air combat time! This chapter is mostly Yang's.

Yooper Air Combat Range

Upper Michigan Peninsula, United States of Canada

12 May 2001

Yang was relaxed by the time she and Weiss reached the Yooper Range. As the "visitors," Funky Flight had gotten their first, something she wondered was for the cameras. So far, the coverage of Vytal Flag hadn't been very invasive; nothing like the Big Brother reality TV the pilots had wondered about when it first started. Yang wasn't sure she was disappointed or not: she'd always wanted to be a movie star. This hop, however, they were carrying camera pods, and she was going to give the folks at home a good show.

Weiss broke into her thoughts, which was just as well. "Yang, Weiss. I have a spike. They're looking at us."

"Roger. Mine just lit up as well." Funky was going to start off with long-range missile shots. "Let's lock 'em up." Weiss was eyeball and Yang was shooter, but now she switched on Ember Celica's radar, and instantly had a lock on two high-speed targets.

"Neon, Fox Three!"

What the hell? Yang thought. We're at sixty miles, too far for—"Oh shit!" Yang yelled. "Break now, Weiss! Neon's using Phoenixes!" Yang broke hard left, dropping chaff, just like she would if it was a real situation. Weiss dived, but remained pointed at Funky Flight.

"Range Control. That's a miss, Neon." Yang cursed, because she knew she'd fallen for a trick. Phoenixes were best against big targets, like bombers or Nevermores; against maneuvering targets, they were less effective. Neon had simulated firing anyway, knowing that Ruby Flight would break, just as a foxhound would bark to chase the foxes back into the guns of the hunters. Yang came right, knowing she and Weiss were now pulled out of formation, but now she'd hit Funky from the flank.

Weiss knew the same thing, but also trusted Yang to come back and support. She came out of the dive into a shallow climb. Her DUST system had not lost track of Funky, and she was locked onto Flynt Coal's F-15. "Weiss, Fox Three!" She did a quick break left, then back onto her original course; Flynt was flying an older F-15A, and if the radar hadn't been upgraded, she'd just broken lock. The older radars couldn't keep up with a sudden break. She waited, but her display showed Flynt go into a hard dive, then DUST lost track; he'd gone behind a ridge. Weiss came around to meet him head on.

Out of the corner of one eye, she caught movement and a glimpse of an arrowhead shape. "Yang, Weiss, tally-ho Tomcat, at your three o'clock high." The latter was a guess, but DUST was keeping track of her wingmate too, so it was an educated one.

He's behind that ridge, Weiss told herself, and a split-second later, she saw the F-15 climb hard. "DUST, IRIS!" she yelled, but Flynt rolled over and came straight at her, closing the distance in a second. She switched to guns and climbed to meet him. "Guns—" she began, at the same time she heard Flynt say the same, but the closure rate was too much. They shot past each other, close enough to feel the buffeting of their jet wash, and Weiss grabbed altitude, then broke hard right, knowing Flynt was going to do the same.

Yang heard Weiss' call, and picked up the F-14, wings raked back to close the range. Well, well, she thought, somebody likes to speed. As the Tomcat rolled hard to get in behind her, Yang popped her speedbrake and throttled back a little. A slab of aluminum opened on the F-15's spine, slowing her considerably. Neon flashed below her and stayed in the turn, forced out front and unable to slow down in time. Yang pulled the speedbrake back in. "Bad kitty," she murmured, and swung in behind the Tomcat, settling in for an easy Sidewinder shot. The nose rotated up, then Neon dived, and Yang almost lazily turned to follow—only to be surprised when the F-14's afterburners flared and she climbed away before Yang could react.

"By all means, make it sporting," Yang said, and climbed after the F-14, still trying to lock up for a Sidewinder shot. Neon's F-14 came out of afterburner a good deal in front of her, then rolled over and dived again. Almost as soon as Yang followed, the Tomcat climbed again. "You dirty little bitch," Yang snapped, and followed—only for the same thing to happen again. Oh, I get it, Yang thought with a smile. You're baiting me. Same reason you were giving me shit about my tits on the ground. Trying to get into my head, get me frustrated so I'll make a mistake. Nice try, kitty cat, but I ain't playing your game. As Neon began to climb again, Yang went into a shallow turn, not following the F-14. She kept an eye on the Tomcat, knowing Kobalt was watching her from the backseat. She saw the nose move, then the wings as Neon hammerheaded around, and slowed a bit more. C'mon, kitty. Two can play the bait game. As her opponent hurtled down at her, wings sweeping outwards as Neon slowed down to drop in behind her, Yang counted two, then suddenly broke hard left and slammed the throttle to the stops. Ember Celica's afterburners lit and pushed her back in the seat as the F-15 suddenly left the F-14 in the dust—Neon was out of speed and energy, and Yang had a precious few seconds to do something.

"Weiss, want to switch dance partners?" she called. "Coming in!"

"Don't…mind…if I…do…" Weiss grunted against nine times the force of gravity. She had turned right, but Flynt had outmaneuvered her, going into a high-speed yoyo and rolling out behind her. Now she was pulling into an even tighter turn, an area where her Typhoon had the advantage: the high-G, close range knife fight. Flynt, however, was staying on her, throwing in rolls to keep from being forced out front, but unable to bring his nose to bear to use his guns.

Yang watched her airspeed blow past Mach 1, then Mach 1.5; below her, the ground shook with a sonic boom. She saw the Typhoon and Flynt's F-15 in the tight spiral, came out of afterburner, rolled away from Weiss and Flynt, then shed airspeed in her own tight turn. A quick glance to her right, and she could see Neon's F-14 charging in, but still out of the game for just a bit. "Weiss, drag him for me!"

Weiss had little choice in the matter: Myrtenaster could actually take more than she could. Blackness crowded the edge of her vision, and even bearing down as hard as she could with the G-suit squeezing her, she was seconds from passing out. She went out of the turn and leveled out.

Then Flynt did the unexpected. Instead of following Weiss for the easy gun kill, which would have left him a nice target for Yang, he also came out of the hard turn, but dived, dropping a shower of flares. Yang hesitated for a moment, not sure if her Sidewinder was growling at Flynt's F-15 or flares, and a moment was all the other pilot needed. He came in under Weiss' Typhoon, in her blind spot. "Flynt, guns, guns, guns on the Typhoon!"

"Range Control; Weiss is a mort."

Weiss acknowledged her "death" by waggling her wings and going level, but now it was Flynt who became the target. He went past, climbing into the sky—and leaving the protection of his flare shower and ground clutter. Now there was no question who her Sidewinder was looking at. "Yang, Fox Two!"

"Flynt is a mort," Range Control reported a second later.

Now it's 1V1, Yang thought, and she saw Neon's F-14 swing in behind her, finally in position and bent on revenge. "Okay, bitch," Yang grinned, "let's see how bad you want this."

And she dived. Her windscreen was filled with the forested ridges of the Upper Peninsula for a moment, then she leveled out, her altimeter showing less than five hundred feet above the ground. Yang grinned as she dodged a ridge, then rolled past a hill, stealing a quick glance into the mirrors set into the canopy bow. Neon and Kobalt were game: they were following her. Down this low, the F-14's radar would be blanked out and the Sidewinders would be guiding on the reflected ground heat, which meant if Neon wanted the kill, she was going to have to do it with guns.

Yang was laughing with the sheer thrill. This was no longer an exercise for her, and she cheated each turn tighter and tighter, to the point that trees were bending in her wake, the ground seemingly close enough to touch, death only a split-second wrong move away. Her heart was pounding, her G-suit contracting, but Yang barely felt it. This was life. This was what she lived for. Neon was still following her, but the Tomcat's wings were cranked out, and Yang thought she saw a little hesitation.

They hurtled into a shallow valley, and now Neon had a chance. She leveled out behind Yang, creeping into guns range, but Yang, her grin turning predatory, eased the throttle forward a little. Before her loomed the end of the valley, a low ridge that was getting closer by the second. If Neon was smart, she'd hold position and wait for Yang to either climb into the sky—to "kill" her the way Yang had Flynt—or to hit the ridge and die for real. Yang was betting that Neon was getting rattled by an opponent who was not flying as if this was merely an exercise. "Come on, Neon," Yang chanted. "Show me what you got."

Neon's nerve broke. The F-14 suddenly climbed, headed for the safety of the sky. Yang pulled the stick into her lap and went into afterburner, enough to clear the ridge by a bare fifty feet, then came out of afterburner and fell in behind Neon upside down, the Tomcat a spreadeagled target in her gunsight. A small touch of the speedbrake, and Yang had the shot she wanted. "Yang, Fox Two!"

"Neon's a mort," Range Control reported, sounding out of breath. "Ruby Flight wins. Jesus, Yang."

Yang laughed as she rolled out, coming alongside the F-14. Neon turned to her, her features hidden behind oxygen mask and helmet. She gave the finger to Yang. Kobalt, however, held up both hands, cupping them as if he was holding two enormous balls. Yang waved, did a victory roll, and headed back for Beacon.

Ozpin sat at his desk, fingers steepled, trying to keep a smile off of his face. Ironwood was in another chair, and Rissa Arashikaze in a third. A fourth was for Glynda Goodwitch, but Glynda was on her feet, a foot from Yang Xiao Long, who stood at attention, still in her sweat-stained flight suit. "What the hell were you thinking?" she shouted. "God Almighty! You were about two seconds away from buying the farm for real!" Yang was not a good poker player; there was a smirk on her face, no matter how much she tried not to. Glynda's eyes were smoldering. "Wipe that smile off your face, Captain! What were you doing?"

"Winning," Yang replied.

Glynda's hand came up, and for a second Yang thought she was about to get punched by a superior officer. "Don't get smart with me, Long! I will bust your ass down to a slick-sleeve!"

Ozpin decided to step in, because Yang was still smiling and Glynda was on the verge of doing violence to the other pilot. "Colonel." Glynda stepped aside, still fuming, and Ozpin kept his voice even. "Captain Long. As I have said in the past, Vytal Flag rules exist for the safety of you and your team. True, there was no hard deck for this hop, but that's because we trust our pilots not to do something foolish. Which you did. Were you doing this for the cameras, Miss Long?"

Yang shook her head. "No, sir."

"Then why?"

"I wanted to win, sir."

Ozpin sighed. "Which you did," he said again. "All right. We won't officially punish you, but you are confined to base for a few days. You know the Navy term 'in hack,' Captain?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then consider yourself in hack. If this happens again, you will at the least get a letter of reprimand. Assuming you're alive to receive it. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir." She was still smiling.

"Very well. Dismissed, Captain."

"Sir." Yang braced for a moment, executed a parade-ground about face, and marched from the room.

"Captain." It was Glynda.

Yang turned. "Yes, ma'am?" She was fairly certain that Glynda was not through getting a pound of flesh from her.

"Some of the best flying I've ever seen, Captain. But don't do it again."

Yang's smile widened to a grin. "Yes'm." She left the office.