AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was supposed to be the "Penny vs. Pyrrha" chapter, but there's a lot going on (plus a few things I forgot to put in last chapter), so again, something of a "bridge" chapter to the beginning of the Battle of Beacon.

But I think Arkos fans will forgive me for this one...

Covert Base Hector

Near Former Fargo, North Dakota Dead Zone, United States of Canada

14 May 2001

0530 Local

The hangar was quiet as the sun just began to touch the eastern horizon. None of the White Fang were in the barracks or rooms they'd taken over; only a skeleton crew was manning the tower. The rest were in the hangar, most dozing, a few on security detail, the others checking weapons, packs, and everything else that was needed for the assault. It was coming, but none of the rank and file knew exactly when—only that it would be very soon.

Adam Taurus was awake, cleaning the blade of his katana. There was really no reason for him to be awake, but he was keyed up, unable to sleep. Unlike the rank and file, he knew the assault on Beacon would be tonight. That meant that, more than likely, he was going to have a reckoning with Blake Belladonna. He sincerely hoped he would not have to kill her, and admitted to himself that, should the black F-14 end up in his sights, he wasn't sure he could pull the trigger.

Arthur Watts was dozing, his back to the hangar wall. Next to him was a telephone. He also hadn't been able to sleep; he was expecting a phone call. In front of him was his open laptop, open to his e-mail.

Sienna Khan was asleep on a mound of packs next to one of the base's pickup trucks. It looked distinctly uncomfortable, but she had mastered the ability to sleep long ago.

Roman Torchwick and Neo Politan were not in the hangar, but in the now-deserted barracks, in the private room once belonging to the commanding officer. Sienna had given it up for the couple, who had passionately reunited. Roman was awake, propped up on his pillows, Neo curled up beside him. He smoothed her hair, not enough to wake her. She murmured something in her sleep, and put an arm over his chest. Both were naked; it had been a long, exhausting, wonderful night.

The telephone rang, startling everyone. Watts was instantly awake and answered it. "Hello."

"W. It's Cinder."

"Why, hello there," Watts said. "Where are you?"

"In Stevens Point. I've got Mike here with me." Mike was code for Mercury.

"Oh? Is he quite all right? I heard he was in a hiking accident."

"He's got some cuts and bruises, but he's fine. I picked him up last night. He had to hike all day through the woods, but I found him."

"And Em?"

"Em had to stay with her relatives. She's probably tied up at the moment."

Possibly literally, Watts thought. "Well, according to the internet, the show is on for today. Will you be watching it?"

"Definitely. Are you coming to see us still?" Cinder asked.

"We should be there by tonight. The whole family's coming down, and we're bringing a guest from Alaska."

"Great! Can't wait to see you. Oh, and how's the chess tourney going?"

"Good. I'm down a few games, but I think we're going to try the Queen's Gambit."

"All right. We'll see you at base plus 4." The agreed-upon base time was 5 PM local. "We're going to get some rest. See you." The line clicked off.

Everyone was looking at him. Watts held up a hand. "Patience." He opened his e-mail. There was only one message: COMING DOWN FROM ALASKA. BE THERE IN 12 HOURS. LOVE, S. He smiled. "Perfect," he whispered. He hadn't been sure his message had gotten through to her, but it had. The chances for the success of the attack had just quadrupled. No more failures or half-measures: Beacon was getting everything. He studied the e-mail one more time, deleted it, then stood. "That was Cinder. We are go."

Sienna was on her feet. "And Salem?"

"On her way."

Sienna took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "White Fang!" she shouted. Everyone was awake now. "Tonight we attack! We will strike a blow for Faunus freedom that will be remembered forever!" A cheer went up from the assembled troops. "Let's get started! Strike Team Alpha, on me."

Watts closed his laptop, put it in the bag, and walked briskly to the truck, as the hangar doors opened a little. Sienna took the driver's seat as he took the passenger side, while six White Fang piled into the back. His heart was hammering too, but not from anticipation so much as fear. Their objective was forty miles away, and there was no guarantee there weren't GRIMM on the way—and the GRIMM wouldn't recognize the White Fang as being on the same side. But there was no choice: he had to go, or the plan would fail.

Building 1916 (Bachelor's Officers' Quarters)

Joint Base Beacon, Wisconsin, United States of Canada

14 May 2001

0600 Local

Pyrrha Nikos was awakened by the sunlight creeping across the bed. She stretched a little, winced as something popped, and then turned over. It was then she noticed that Jaune Arc was staring at her, already awake. "Hello, Jaune," she said with a smile.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I sure did," Jaune said. "And you?"
"Mm-hm." She sat up, looked around. "Oh. Where's Ren?"

"Spending the night with Nora, most likely."

"Good idea." She flung off the covers and got up. "Excuse me. I need to use the restroom." Jaune watched her as she walked across the room. It was a rather amazing sight, especially since Pyrrha wasn't wearing a stitch. Of course, neither was he.

As the door shut behind her, Jaune leaned back against the bed's headboard, wondering if he had dreamed the whole thing. An hour after Pyrrha had left him in front of the hospital, she had returned, still with the envelope in her hands; a guard at Base Headquarters had denied her entry, saying that Captain Ozpin and General Ironwood were in a meeting and were not to be disturbed. Unsure of what to do, and feeling terrible about Jaune, she had walked over to the BOQ to apologize. Jaune had been alone, and invited her in. They had forgiven each other fairly quickly, then talked for a bit.

And then Pyrrha had kissed him.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Pyrrha returned to the bed. Jaune swallowed nervously, taking in the girl's toned, muscular body, long legs, perfect breasts, and, most of all, her beautiful face. Everything about Pyrrha Nikos was perfect, and Jaune was reminded of something his mother used to say. "Pyrrha, when God made you…He broke the mold."

She blushed as she climbed back into bed. At first she tucked the covers over herself, but then asked herself why, when she'd just been stark naked in front of him—and had been stark naked most of the night. "Thank you, Jaune."

He slid down in the covers a little, mainly to conceal what Pyrrha's nudity was doing to him. "What did we do last night?"

Pyrrha giggled. "If you've forgotten, then I wasn't very good."

"No! You were…" Jaune didn't have the words. "But…why me?"

"You said I was the first person to really believe in you. And…well…despite what was said yesterday, I think you're the first person to really treat me like I was just another person, and not some Invincible Girl." Her smile could melt a heart of stone.

Jaune looked away. "Pyrrha, I said something to upset you."

"No, Jaune. I took it the wrong way."

He couldn't resist brushing her hair, so he didn't. "Something's changed."

Pyrrha brushed his cheek in return. "Someone gave me a different perspective." She almost told him, but Arashikaze's warning sounded in her ears. "I can't tell you who they are. But I will tell you this…they're in the hospital, and, well…they…she…she's dying, Jaune. She knows it."

"A friend?"

"She is now. I can tell you she's a pilot, or was. But I can't say any more, Jaune. Really, I can't." Even that was probably too much, but Pyrrha chanced it.

"Okay." Jaune turned over and faced her. He'd never been this intimate with anyone. He'd been no virgin, but the women he'd been with he'd paid for. "So what did she say?"

"That life was short." Pyrrha laughed a little. "So I decided to take her advice, and…here we are." She saw something cross his face, and shook her head. "I didn't go to bed with you because you were available, Jaune. I went to bed with you because I wanted you. I think I've wanted you ever since the party after Lake Michigan. And my friend, well…she made me realize I was kidding myself by not being with you. We're not 17-year old teenagers, Jaune. We're grown adults. There's no reason to play silly games—especially given our profession. It was sudden, maybe even stupid, but…I'm glad I did it."

"I'm not going to complain. I just can't believe you picked me." Jaune laughed. "I'm a noodle."

"You're a wonderful lover, Jaune."

He scooted over to her and embraced her. She was so warm, and soft. It was hard for him to believe that this girl in his arms was actually with him, much less that it was Pyrrha Nikos. Not Pyrrha the Invincible Girl of Greece, or Major Nikos—but Pyrrha. She nuzzled into his neck, and he could feel her smile. "What time do you have to be on the flightline?"

"We're flying in the afternoon, so I don't have to be there until 1100."

Jaune checked the clock. It was 0600. "Five hours? Plenty of time."

"For what?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

He gently turned her over, and knelt between her legs. "To make you glad you did it all over again."

Pyrrha put her hands on his shoulders. "But what if someone comes?"

Jaune kissed her. "I hope someone does."

"What? Oh." She gave him a dirty look. "I meant Ren."

"Ren's going to be with Nora. And he's discreet."

"Then by all means," Pyrrha said, kissing his nose, "make me very glad."

USS Cushing (DD-985)

Cascadia Barrier, Northern Pacific Ocean, West of Washington Dead Zone

14 May 2001

0630 Local

Radarman Second Class Timothy Fronsee watched the green screen of the air search radar and tried not to yawn. Much like his counterparts on the AWACS, his job was long moments of crushing boredom interspersed with moments of sheer terror. However, there had been very little terror on this cruise, so he fought sleep in the darkened Combat Information Center, or CIC. Fronsee and his friends maintained that it stood for Christ I'm Confused.

He caught movement in the southeast quadrant of the radar screen. It was a blip, but on the second sweep of the radar, on the mast several decks above him, it was gone. Then it was back on the third sweep, and gone again. "Mr. Eitzen?"

Lieutenant (junior grade) Aaron Eitzen walked over, coffee cup in hand. "Whatcha got, Fronsee?"

"I dunno, sir. A contact bearing two-nine-nine. Keeps fading in and out." They saw it again. "There it is. Looks like…range 200, angels five thousand, speed…1700? That can't be right."

"Not unless we're about to get buzzed by a SR-71." Eitzen picked up the phone to the bridge. It was answered after the second ring. "Lieutenant Eitzen, CIC. We're tracking an intermittent contact bearing two-nine-nine, speed 1700, range 200. Recommend we go to GQ."

"Lieutenant, this is the Captain speaking." In his mind's eye, Eitzen could see Captain Joseph Logan. Logan was a good captain, liked by his men. "Confirm it's not a radar issue?"

"Negative, sir."

"Very well." The line clicked off, but a second later, the gonging noise of the General Quarters alarm went off throughout the ship. Half-asleep crewmen leapt out of bunks and grabbed helmets and lifejackets as the ship went to battle stations; most didn't even bother to dress. There wasn't time.

Fronsee watched the radar intently, and suddenly the contact was no longer intermittent. "Solid contact, Mr. Eitzen! Still bearing two-nine-nine, speed now 1200, range 90—Vampire, Vampire! New contacts, bearing two-nine-nine, speed 700, range 85!" Eitzen felt a wave of nausea: Vampire was code for incoming antiship missiles. Looking over Fronsee's shoulders, he could see the four new contacts; the first one was gone.

The Cushing turned towards the target, going to flank speed to try and present the smallest target to the missiles' seeker heads. The ship's Sea Sparrow mount swung out to bear on the incoming missiles, but its range was only twelve miles. The crew had to wait as the ship began making hard turns, trying to throw off the missiles' seeker heads. They didn't have long to wait as the distance closed rapidly. Rockets fired from the ship, bursting overhead and filling the air with chaff that drifted into the Cushing's wake. One missile suddenly broke away, chased a chaff cloud, and detonated behind the ship, shaking it but causing no damage.

Then the Sea Sparrow fired. Two missiles burst from the boxlike launcher and sped towards the incoming missiles. They met three seconds later, destroying one missile. Now there were two left, and the missiles abruptly pitched upwards, prepatory to diving into the Cushing from above. The ship had one card left: atop the bridge, the Close-In Weapon System swung over and turned its twenty millimeter gatling cannon upwards. The gun roared, and one of the missiles exploded, showering the Cushing's decks with fragments and knocking out the ship's radars. Fronsee's display went blank.

The last missile was not to be denied. The CIWS missed, and it knifed into the Cushing amidships, going through one deck before it exploded.

The initial fireball destroyed much of the crew quarters, which thankfully was mostly empty, and blew a twenty-foot wide hole in the side of the ship. Shock effect traveled through the Cushing, enough to break the destroyer's back. Fire quickly began to spread, and the ship heeled over to port, where the damage was. Water flooded in, snuffing out some of the fire, and though more of it spread, the fact that the ship was at general quarters mitigated the damage.

Captain Logan ordered the ship counterflooded and radioed for assistance. It was picked up by the naval air station at Juneau, and by a destroyer further down the line. The Cushing would sink and take thirty of her crew with her, but most of her crew would live, and it would take a long time to die.

It also left a hundred mile gap in the Cascadia Barrier.