AUTHOR'S NOTES: Things begin to unravel as we ramp up to the Battle of Beacon.

Commanding Officer's Office, Joint Base Beacon

Wisconsin, United States of Canada

13 May 2001

Blake Belladonna walked into Ozpin's office. He was behind his desk, as expected; she hadn't expected General Ironwood. Nor had she expected a USAF sergeant, sitting in a chair with a bandage around his head. She came to attention. "Captain Belladonna, reporting as ordered, sir."

Ozpin gave her a short nod. "Thank you, Captain. Please, have a seat." Blake did as ordered. "Captain Belladonna, this is Sergeant Ryan Hofer, US Air Force. He is the sole survivor of the White Fang attack on the convoy. Sergeant, if you could—and I know it's difficult to keep reliving this incident over and over again, but I promise you, this is the last time."

"Yes, sir." Hofer described the attack, the isolation of his HMMWV, what happened after Torchwick was freed, and why he was spared. He didn't mention the attack warning.

Blake was careful to keep her features neutral, but it was not easy. She recognized the tactics, even could identify some of the White Fang troops just by his description, and of course there was no question Adam had been there; it took all of her self-control not to react to his description. Sienna was easy enough as well. But it was most certainly Ilia that spared the sergeant. She just needed confirmation. "Sergeant, if you don't mind, could you describe the person who saved you?"

"Well…she was about five feet one, slight build, dark red hair that's slicked back, freckles—big ones. She was dressed in USAF fatigues, probably surplus, but they all were."

Blake nodded, then looked at Ozpin. He stood. "Sergeant, thank you for your time. We'll get you back to the hospital now." Hofer looked a little confused, but he stood as well, shook hands with all of them, and left. Once the door was closed, Ozpin turned to Blake. "Is that someone you know, Captain?"

"It is, sir. Her name is Ilia Amitola. We…grew up together, actually. I thought she was still in Menagerie."

"Is she White Fang?" Ironwood asked, the first he'd said since the meeting started.

"She is. We actually joined up together."

Ozpin steepled his fingers. "So why did she spare Sergeant Hofer?"

Blake had to think about that one. Ilia had killed in the past, though she was nowhere near as bloodthirsty as Adam Taurus or Sienna Khan. "I don't know. She hates humans. Both of her parents died in a mining accident, working for the Schnee Company." She paused. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Of course," Ozpin answered.

"I don't understand why the White Fang would free Roman Torchwick. He's a human. Yes, he was apparently partnered with them, but they risked a lot to get him."

"We're trying to figure that out ourselves, Captain," Ironwood told her. "Our only theory is that he knew something, and was afraid we'd get it out of him. However, it would've been much easier to simply murder him, not rescue him. We have no idea," he finished.

It was silent for a few moments, then Ozpin asked, "Out of curiosity, Captain, what kind of Faunus is Miss Amitola?"

"She's…" Blake laughed a little. "She's kind of odd in that regard. In a good way, and especially for the White Fang. She's some sort of chameleon crossbreed. She's a Faunus, and warm-blooded, but a chameleon. She can camouflage into the environment around her. Her clothes can't, so it's limited."

"Can she look like other people?" Ironwood looked worried.

"No. Just what's around her. She's also a qualified pilot, and a good one." Blake paused. "She might've been the one flying either the F-5 Weiss—Oberleutnant Schnee, I mean—went up against. Or the F-22."

"Would you consider her a friend?" Ozpin wanted to know.

Blake sighed. "I thought we were, sir. I confided in her that I thought the White Fang was going off the rails, and she agreed with me. Not enough to leave, but…she never told anyone that I was thinking about leaving."

"Very well, Captain; thank you. That will be all." He smiled at Blake. "My leg is acting up, so you won't mind if I don't get up."

"Not at all, sir." Ironwood did get up, and they shook hands. "Sir," she asked, "what's going to happen to Yang?"

"That's the next thing on our agenda, Captain," Ironwood replied. "Sergeant Yorse should be waiting in the hallway. Show him in, if you don't mind, and you're dismissed."

"Sir." Blake came to attention with precision, then opened the door. Sure enough, there was a very nervous Technical Sergeant Darren Yorse waiting in the hallway. "They're ready for you," she said, unsure of what else to say.

"Thanks, Captain." Yorse got to his feet. "Ma'am…how's Captain Long?"

Blake smiled at him. "She's all right." She dropped her voice. "She thinks she's been set up. Tell them the truth, Sarge. I think it'll work out."

"I intend to, ma'am. Thanks." He went into the room, closed the door, and came to attention. Ozpin motioned him to a chair, but Yorse, to their surprise, went to perfect at ease, his hands clasped behind his back, legs slightly apart. "I would rather stand, sir."

Ironwood glared at the sergeant, though in reality he was impressed by the man's temerity. "That's an insubordinate action, Sergeant Yorse."

"Yes, sir," Yorse replied. "And I intend to take the consequences of my actions." He glanced at the general. "General, sir…I loaded the gun. It was my fault. Captain Long is innocent." He returned his gaze to a point just over Ozpin's shoulder. "Burn me, General. Not her."

Ozpin's eyes rose. "Sergeant, you've got almost 20 years in service. You've got combat time in Germany, Iceland and Iraq. You have two fine children and a beautiful wife. You're putting a lot on the line with that statement."

"It was my fault, sir. No one else's."

"I see." Ozpin tossed the form with his and Yang's signatures onto the desk. "Please explain that, Sergeant."

Yorse glanced down at it. "Sir, that's the form that was handed to me that ordered me to load the F-15 with live rounds."

"And who gave you the form?"

"Captain Sustrai, sir."

"And where did she get it?"

"From you, sir." Yorse paused. "No, wait. That's not right. She said that she'd run into Captain Long, who signed it, but that she'd gotten the form from Major Fall."

Ozpin and Ironwood exchanged a look. Both men knew what the other was thinking: the two remaining members of Creamer Flight. Something was wrong. "Are you certain?" Ozpin asked the sergeant.

"Swear it on a stack of Bibles, sir."

Ozpin took back the form, and scanned it again. "Very well. Thank you, Sergeant. You're released from confinement to quarters, but…don't leave the base. There will be a formal inquiry, and you'll be needed."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed. And thank you again." Yorse walked out. He knew better than to ask if this exonerated Yang, but he felt much better than when he had walked in.

Once the door had closed, Ironwood faced Ozpin. "If that form is a forgery, then either Sustrai or Fall lied, and they were the ones that did it."

"Ruth Lionheart murdered. Now Mercury Black. Both of them may have discovered something that neither Sustrai nor Fall wanted us to know."

Ironwood snapped his fingers. "The infiltrator in the data center. Lieutenant Rose described a tall woman with a good figure. That would be a fair description of Cinder Fall."

"And a lot of other women on base. Still…we are not taking chances. Especially not with what Hofer told us this Amitola woman said about an imminent attack."

"Unless that was a trick," Ironwood pointed out. "Make us start jumping at shadows."

"Better to jump at shadows than be killed by them." Ozpin picked up his phone. "Amitola. She's a chameleon Faunus…interesting. What do chameleons do, James?"

Ironwood nodded. "I thought about that too. The CIA's Source Camo. Jesus. If she's a deep cover agent, then she risked everything." He shook his head. "God help her if she gets caught. The White Fang will roast her over an open fire."

"If we don't get to the bottom of this soon, James, we might be joining her." He dialed the number to Emerald Sustrai's room.

At the Visiting Officers' Quarters, Emerald Sustrai's phone rang. She had been trying to read a book, but without much luck: she knew that a phone call was coming. Feeling fear in her stomach—the old fear of getting caught—she picked up the phone, and managed to answer it in a normal voice. "Captain Sustrai."

"Captain, this is Captain Ozpin. Report to my office on the double. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. What is this about—" The line clicked off. Emerald sighed, the fear coalescing into a ball of ice. She set the book down. "Well, that was Ozpin. He didn't sound too happy. I think he knows."

Cinder Fall sat in a chair opposite the bed. "That was faster than anticipated, but not unexpected. All right, Emerald. You know what to do. Put everything on me. I was the one who handed you the form. They'll find the dance guestbook in my room, and deduce correctly that I used it to forge Ozpin's and Yang's signatures." Actually, it had been Emerald who had done it—as a thief, she'd had to forge a lot of signatures in her time. The guestbook from the dance had been a godsend to practice with, which was why Cinder had suggested it in the first place when the dance was being planned. "The most they can get you on was the small fib you told Yang's crew chief that you'd run into her. Make up some excuse; the worst they can do is confine you to quarters pending the inquiry, and we'll get you out when the time comes." Cinder did not tell Emerald that the assault was scheduled for the next 48 hours.

"Will you be all right?" Emerald asked, as she got to her feet.

"I'll be fine. I can be through the front gate in five minutes. Even if they pick me up, Mercury knows what to do. We won't have long to wait in any case." To Emerald's surprise, Cinder gathered her into a hug. "We will win, Emerald. We're already halfway to victory." Then she picked up a small overnight bag and left the room.

Cinder walked briskly out of the VOQ and to the parking lot, where her rental car waited. It was a sports car—fighter pilots rarely drove anything less. She threw the bag into the tiny back seat, climbed in, revved the engine, but gently pulled out. The VOQ was less than a block from the front gate. The air policeman on duty waved her through with a smile. Cinder threw him a wave and accelerated as she left the base. Less than two minutes later, she was headed north on Interstate 90.

As Ozpin and Ironwood waited for Emerald, the phone rang. He had tried calling Cinder's room to no avail; neither man knew she was already gone. Ozpin let it ring for a moment, then reluctantly picked it up. "Captain Ozpin."

"Ozpin, this is Jason Terasoma."

Ironwood groaned; he could hear the voice on the other end of the line. It was the worst possible timing. Ozpin couldn't exactly hang up on the Secretary of Defense of the United States. "I'll make sure Sustrai doesn't go anywhere," he whispered, and headed out into the hall, though he left the door open so he could hear at least some of the conversation.

"Mr. Secretary," Ozpin returned. "It's a bit late, sir."

"Yes, it is. I just got back from a working dinner with the President. I had to brief him on this Yang Xiao Long thing. He's not too happy, but he'll put out an official statement in the morning that we've begun a court of inquiry. Which we have, right?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Secretary, General Ironwood and I are in the middle of it right now." Ozpin hoped Terasoma would get the hint.

He didn't. "That's good. Ironwood? Why is he involved?"

"We felt it would be best to keep the number of personnel involved to a minimum. Colonel Goodwitch flew over to Ellsworth this afternoon to look into the attack on the Eberle Line AWACS, at my request."

"Oh yes, that's another thing. White Fang involvement, I hear. The attack was a cover so they could break that son of a bitch Torchwick out?"

"Yes, sir. No idea what that was about yet…we're working on that as well."

Terasoma's voice hardened. "No, you're not, Captain. I appreciate you looking into it, and I know the MPs killed in the attack were from Beacon." Ozpin didn't feel like correcting the Secretary that it was Air Force Security Forces, not Army Military Police. "But leave that to the Army. Goodwitch needs to be back at Beacon ASAP for the demonstration tomorrow."

Ozpin realized he had an opportunity here, after all. "Mr. Secretary, I think we should either delay or cancel the B-1 Paladin demonstration."

"Why the hell would we do that, Captain?"

"Sir, there's something very strange going on up here. First we had Flying Officer Lionheart murdered—"

"What? Murdered? When the hell did that happen?"

Ozpin fought down a sigh of frustration. "Mr. Secretary, I sent you several reports, and so did Rissa Arashikaze from the CIA."

Terasoma was silent for a long minute, and Ozpin could hear him shuffling papers. "Oh, right. Yes, I forgot. Continue, Captain."

"Now we've had the incident with Captain Long and Lieutenant Black, and the attack on the Eberle Line, and the White Fang suddenly breaking out an air pirate that they had no reason to break out. I'm getting the two surviving members of Creamer Flight—Emerald Sustrai and Cinder Fall—up to my office to see what their involvement is. Until we know how these things are connected, Vytal Flag needs to be suspended."

"Absolutely not," Terasoma shot back. "It goes forward as scheduled. The Paladin demonstration tomorrow, followed by the conclusion of the one-on-one fights."

Ozpin wished he could reach through the phone and throttle the Secretary. "Sir, with respect—"

"Captain, I'm not going to tell you again. It goes forward. I told the President at dinner tonight that we would hold the demonstration. We've got to restore the people's confidence in the military; don't you understand that? Watching our newest weapon system kick ass against a bunch of drones simulating GRIMM will do that. If nothing else, it'll get their minds off this lunatic Yang Xiao Long."

"She may be innocent, Mr. Secretary. She may have been set up."

Terasoma stopped, but only for a moment. "That's great, Captain, if true. And I trust you'll find out who set her up, so we can burn their ass on national TV. But the Paladin demonstration goes forward. President Shawcross is looking forward to it."

Ozpin had one last card to play. "There's another problem, Mr. Secretary. Colonel Goodwitch was supposed to escort the B-1 tomorrow in her F-22."

"And?" Ozpin heard Terasoma chuckle. "That's right; you sent her out to Ellsworth. Well, call her back! That's not too hard."

"She's needed out there, Mr. Secretary. She has the only other F-22 in that part of the Remnant. If the pirate F-22 should show up again, I want something to counter it. I don't think we want to add the loss of an AWACS to our other woes. They got lucky today, but tomorrow may be a different story."

"That's a good point." For a moment, Ozpin thought he'd won, but then Terasoma continued. "Fine, we'll get someone else to escort the Paladin. Your best pilot…who is your best pilot?" Before Ozpin could respond, Terasoma said, "Hey, about that Pyrrha Nikos girl? She's already famous. Yeah, that'll look real good. Make the Greeks less pissed that she renounced her citizenship there. We'll emphasize her mixed heritage."

"Mr. Secretary, that's not a good idea. Major Nikos has—" Ozpin stopped himself. Terasoma knew about the Maidens, but not that Pyrrha had been selected. "—has other commitments," he finished.

"Then cancel them. Ozpin, I'm tired of you digging in your feet about this. You have your orders. Either obey them or I will find someone who will. I don't mind hanging this Xiao Long business around your neck. The demonstration goes on as scheduled, with Nikos escorting the Paladin. End of story. Do you understand?"

Ozpin fought down his temper. "Yes, Mr. Secretary."

"Good." Terasoma's voice softened. "C'mon, Captain. Let's end your career with a bang. I'll expect your report on the inquiry by tomorrow night. Good night, Captain." The line clicked off.