ON RWBY WINGS VI: THE LONG MARCH

Part VI of "On RWBY Wings"

An Alternate Universe RWBY Fanfiction

By Sentinel 28II

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: It is September 2001. Despite the best efforts of the 77th Tactical Fighter Squadron—Ruby and Norn Flights—and NATO forces, Salem has won a partial victory. Poland, wracked by fighting and by the detonation of a nuclear mine, has become a no man's land. James Ironwood is dead, as is Penny Polendina, who used the Winter Maiden satellite weapon on herself rather than be taken captive and reverse-engineered by Salem.

Thanks to a plan largely created by Ruby Rose, a broadcast by Pyrrha Nikos, and air transport arranged by Whitley Schnee, most of the people in Poland have been evacuated to refugee camps and new homes in Western Europe, Menagerie, and the United States. Help came too late for Ruby, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, and Marrow Amin, however: all five were shot down and are now presumed lost. Pyrrha, Winter Schnee, Oscar Pine, Lie Ren, and Emerald Sustrai have been trying to find the downed pilots, but with no success. Despite Ruby Flight's prospects of survival in an irradiated and blasted landscape getting worse by the day, Pyrrha nonetheless refuses to give up…

Near Wschowa, Poland Dead Zone

13 September 2001

"Pyrrha, Fox Two." Pyrrha sounded almost bored as she pulled the trigger. A Sidewinder was ejected from the F-22 Raptor's side bay, ignited, and snaked off into the distance. A heartbeat later, it found its target: a Beowulf GRIMM. "Pyrrha, splash two."

"Ren, Fox Three." Pyrrha glanced in that direction as Ren fired an AMRAAM from his J-10 Vigorous Dragon. A tiny dot of fire was the only thing that betrayed the radar-guided missile, and seconds later, another Beowulf met its end. "Ren, splash two."

"Norn Flight, Haisla." It was the E-3 Sentry AWACS two hundred miles behind them, its powerful fuselage-mounted radar able to see deep into what had been the nation of Poland until a few weeks previously. "Picture clean."

"Haisla, Norn Lead, roger," Pyrrha acknowledged. She swept the sky and then the ground all the same; sometimes the AWACS missed things. There was nothing: no flash of sunlight off metal, or vapor trail, or movement across the green landscape below that would have betrayed another GRIMM. The sky was theirs, again. "Break," Pyrrha radioed, as she rejoined on Ren. "King, Norn, do you have anything?"

"Negative, Norn. No transmissions on any frequencies." King was a HC-130H Hercules configured for coordinating rescue efforts; it orbited just across the Oder River, the boundary between Germany and Poland—and now the front line of NATO's defense against Salem. Behind King were two MH-53M Pave Low IV helicopters, orbiting patiently, their crews praying that someone would come up on the radio and show them where to go to rescue downed pilots.

Today, as they had for weeks, they waited in vain.

"Pyrrha, Oscar." Pyrrha looked to the right, where Oscar's F-18 Hornet and Emerald Sustrai's Mirage 2000 closed up formation. "Bingo plus one."

"Dammit," Pyrrha breathed into the oxygen mask, though she did not hit the radio button. Oscar was running low on fuel; bingo meant he would have just enough to return to their base at Ramstein. There were other bases that were closer, and they could easily divert there, however.

"Norn Lead, this is Jehovah." Pyrrha gave a start at that. Jehovah had been Ironwood's callsign, but James Ironwood was dead. This should be his successor, Miguel Calavera, but it didn't sound like his voice. "Abort mission. Steer one-five-zero and recover at Tegel."

Tegel? Why Tegel? Tegel served the city of Berlin, though there was a military presence there. Pyrrha knew her flight could easily make it, but there was that new voice. "Jehovah, Norn. Authenticate."

"Foxtrot Oscar." The words came back quickly, and Pyrrha checked the list of radio codes in one of the clear kneepads of her flight suit. It was legitimate, and not one of Salem's people playing radio games.

"Jehovah, Norn, roger." Pyrrha waggled her wings, and turned northwest. Her flight followed her, staying in the expanded box formation—two miles between both sections—as long as they were over Poland. Pyrrha reached forward and switched frequencies. "Pyrrha on Guard." She knew there was a good chance Salem's forces would hear the transmission; everyone monitored Guard frequency. "Ruby Flight. We will not abandon you. We will not abandon you." Then she turned her radio back to the more discreet frequency used by her flight and the AWACS, and sighed.

Pyrrha didn't cry. There were no tears left.

Berlin-Tegel International Airport was normally a hive of activity, but most of that activity would be commercial. There were a few commercial aircraft, Pyrrha reflected, but those airliners were moving troops. The rest of the traffic was military. As she left the active runway, the last to land, less than ten seconds behind her was a mammoth C-5 Galaxy. Ironwood had been criticized for bringing in three American divisions into Europe during the post-Beacon attack embargo, but now there were five American divisions, and a sixth arriving. Too late, NATO had mobilized, and Berlin was becoming an armed camp, with a level of troops not seen since the First GRIMM War in the 1960s, after the holocaust of the Third World War.

She taxied to a sandbagged hardstand, following the ground crewman's light wands. The sun was starting to set; the days were getting shorter. Once Milo had stopped—Pyrrha had finally gotten around to naming her F-22—she waited as chemical-suited ground crew washed down her aircraft. Southwest Poland was still highly radioactive, and sometimes winds blew radioactive particles into the air, to fall back to the earth as black rain. Once they were finished, Pyrrha opened the canopy, and yet another crewman went up the ladder to safety the ejection seat and help her unstrap. She climbed down to the tarmac and took off her helmet, stuffing it into a bag. Her shock of bright red hair spilled out and fell to her shoulders—it was out of regulation for the United States of Canada Air Force, but as a Huntress, Pyrrha had certain allowances.

A man wearing a blue-gray Luftwaffe uniform walked up to her and saluted. "Major Nikos?" She nodded. She had angrily resigned her commission weeks before, but the USAF had reinstated her with no questions asked—live heroes had certain allowances too. "Follow me, please."

Pyrrha returned the salute and gave him another nod, and followed the Luftwaffe man. Falling in to either side of her was Lie Ren, Oscar Pine, and Emerald Sustrai. Pyrrha watched Oscar; the bags under his eyes betrayed a lack of sleep. She knew she was going to have to ground him for a few days, which he would hate, but tired people make mistakes. We certainly learned that lesson, she thought.

They were led to a jeep and left the airport behind. To Pyrrha's surprise, they retraced the route that she, Ren and Oscar had taken months before, when they first came to Germany; the route took them to Spandau Prison, the old castle converted to one of the world's most notorious prisons, and now headquarters for Supreme Allied Commander Europe. Whereas Ironwood had contented himself with just a few guards at the gated entrance, Calavera—or whoever had been on the radio—considered himself in a combat zone. The gate was sandbagged, with two HMMWVs on either side of it, and two more armed with Stinger surface-to-air missiles further down the wall. Their IDs were checked thoroughly, all four pilots were subjected to a patdown, and forced to give up their sidearms. Only then were they allowed to go through the gate. Inside were more soldiers and vehicles.

They got out and walked through the castle entrance; the interior was well-lit, but musty. Pyrrha remembered that Jacques Schnee had been a prisoner here, though he was now somewhere deeper in Germany, about to go on trial for various charges, including treason. Finally, they came to Ironwood's old office.

The fixtures inside had not changed. Flanking the large desk was Winter Schnee, a typically sour expression on her face; that was not a surprise. What was a surprise was the presence of Glynda Goodwitch, who neither Pyrrha nor Ren had not seen since the fall of Joint Base Beacon. She also did not look happy, but that was fairly normal, almost refreshing.

Pyrrha wanted to greet her and Winter, but her eyes were drawn to the man rising from the desk's chair, and she came to attention, followed by the others. He was tall, his skin the color of dark coffee, and he wore the uniform of a four-star general of the US Army. Pyrrha read the nametape: GALE.

"Major Nikos, reporting as ordered, sir," Pyrrha intoned.

"Major." Gale put out a hand, and Pyrrha shook it. The grip was strong, and the hand was instantly withdrawn. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Theodore Gale. I'm the new SACEUR." He nodded to the others in turn. "Captain Lie, Lieutenant Pine, Lieutenant Sustrai." Emerald had been hurriedly made an officer in the USAF, which was an honor Pyrrha thought she didn't deserve, considering she had been working for Salem only a month or so before. "You of course know Colonel Schnee and Colonel Goodwitch."

"Certainly." Pyrrha smiled. "Winter. Colonel Goodwitch—it's good to see you again. Are you well?"

"As well as I can be, Major." A slight smile broke through Goodwitch's features. Pyrrha thought she looked older, somehow, though her mane of blond hair showed no gray. She had been shot in the stomach by Cinder Fall and left to die, and her recovery had been long.

Gale resumed his seat. "If you're wondering why Miguel Calavera isn't sitting here, it's because he's my new commander of VII Corps. If you're wondering who I am, I've commanded the US Army's forces in western Canada and Alaska for the past four years." Pyrrha glanced at the rows of medals over the left side of his chest: there were many there, and she noticed he had two Silver Stars and a Distinguished Service Cross—medals just below the Medal of Honor. "I've been tapped for this position and got my fourth star because I wasn't involved in the debacle in Poland." Pyrrha kept quiet; she had been closely involved in the debacle in Poland. "As you can see, we are preparing for an onslaught."

Gale looked like he expected an answer, so Pyrrha said, "Sir, even with winter?"

"Especially in winter. Salem is Russian, after all." He nodded at the look of shock on her face. "Yes, Major. I've been read into Salem, the Maidens, JINN, everything." He held up a finger. "I want to make something very clear immediately. While your combat records are spotless, your judgement is not. Lie to me and I'll do a lot more than Ironwood did to you. I try to be fair, ladies and gentlemen, but I will not tolerate bullshit. In return, you'll get no bullshit from me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Pyrrha answered for all of them. She saw the darkening of anger on Oscar's face, and willed the young lieutenant to say nothing. Not all of what had happened in Poland was Ironwood's fault.

"Good." He got up, excused himself to move past Winter, and directed their attention to a large map on the wall. "This is our current dispositions. Sustrai, if I see you taking notes, I will have you crucified, and I am not joking. I am trusting you with this because they trust you with this." He pointed to the others. "Clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Emerald nodded.

"Excellent." Gale's hands went across the map, and Pyrrha followed his movements with a professional eye. NATO was building a defense in depth, with eight divisions on the Oder River; another nine were in the Czech Republic. "We are prepared if Salem wants to renew her offensive, but for now, she has been quiet. Our satellites and reconnaissance missions have detected no ground GRIMM activity west of the Vistula River." Gale paused. "GRIMM. Ground Launched Independent Multimission Munition. What a ridiculous acronym. Well, Ozpin always did have a sense for the dramatic." His eyes flicked to Oscar—the late Captain Ozpin's son—and continued. "Air activity has been heavy, however, if limited to certain areas. It is my assessment that Salem is rebuilding her force behind the Vistula, and when she's ready, she will strike." He pointed north of the Oder. "This would be the most logical route, because it's straight across the North German Plain—but she has to force a river crossing, and even if she gets across, we can eat her up in the forests to the west before she gets to Berlin. That is why I don't think she's going that way, people."

Gale's hand swept down to the south. "The Czech Republic and Hungary. Their forces were untouched by Salem's offensive in Poland, but they are not as well trained, and they cover too much ground." He moved across to the east. "Slovakia and eastern Hungary, as well as Transylvania, are lawless. Those areas are ruled by robber barons, air pirate gangs, thugs, and God only knows what else." He pointed to an area near the junction of the Czech and Polish borders—or where those had been. "They've even got one lunatic here calling himself the Red Prince. None of those little fiefdoms will last more than a day against Salem's force, and then we'll have her army sweeping towards central Germany or Vienna, without a lot of area to trade space for time. We're working on that, but I just wanted to give you some idea of what we are up against." He turned and faced them. "Because then what I say next might make more sense."

"Sir?" Pyrrha asked.

To her surprise, it was Goodwitch who spoke. "Our pilots are exhausted from what happened in Poland, especially our Huntsmen and Huntresses. The Happy Huntresses have reestablished themselves on Bornholm, but they're just as tired. Every time we fly into Poland, the GRIMM attack. True, we almost always win, but this is Salem's oldest tactic: grind us down into exhaustion, then attack. So we need to pull back behind the Oder, behind the Ironwood Line and the Bohemian Forest. This will make the GRIMM come to us, and we can rest our best pilots for what comes next." She opened her mouth to say more, then turned to Gale; it only lasted a moment, but Goodwitch looked worried.

Gale nodded to her. "There is no easy way to say this, so I won't. There will be no more attempts to rescue the pilots of Ruby Flight and Marrow Amin."

"What?" Pyrrha gasped. Oscar balled his hands into fists. Emerald looked confused, and Ren closed his eyes.

"It's been five days, Major. If they were still alive, they would have contacted us—"

"Sir, the radiation could be affecting radios—" Oscar began.

"Quiet, Lieutenant. Yes, that's possible…but those five have been down in a heavily irradiated area. You don't want to hear this, but we must consider that, even if they survived their shootdowns, they have died of radiation poisoning." He saw the tears in Oscar's eyes. "I'm sorry, son," he said with unexpected gentleness. "I know what Captain Rose meant to you. But my pilots and troops must come first."

"General," Winter spoke, the first time she had. From her expression, Pyrrha realized Winter had not known that the rescue effort would end. "We did see a flare in that area a few days after the Battle of Leszno, in my sister—in Hauptmann Schnee's crash area."

"And rescue forces scoured the area for 48 hours," Gale replied. "And found nothing but ground fire that nearly cost us a helicopter and ten men and women. More than likely that is a flak trap, set by Salem's forces. While we haven't detected GRIMM on the ground, there have been patrols sighted, and those soldiers speak Russian." He sighed. "I know they were your friends. I know this is difficult. I have lost friends—all of us have. James Ironwood was a friend. So was Oscar Ozpin." He walked back to his desk and stood behind it. "Based on evidence from the evacuation convoy and yourselves, we are changing the status of Captain Ruby Rose, Captain Yang Xiao Long, and 1st Lieutenant Marrow Amin to killed in action."

"No!" Oscar shouted, and would have charged the general's desk had it not been for Ren grabbing him. "Goddammit, sir, you can't! She's alive! They're all alive—"

"Lieutenant!" Gale's voice whipcracked across the room. "Use your brain and think! Captain Xiao Long was last seen going nose first into a lake; there was no ejection, and that was reported by no less than Captain Belladonna herself! The last we saw of Captain Rose, she was spiraling into clouds with a wing missing after Neo Politan rammed her. And Lieutenant Amin's F-35 was caught by the shockwave of the Maiden explosion and disintegrated. There was no beeper heard from any of them!" He leaned over the desk. "My God, Lieutenant, don't you think I've already had this conversation with their parents? I stopped by Alberta and Patch on the way here!" He shook his head, remembering the defiance Taiyang Xiao Long had shown him. There is an empty grave of my wife back there, General, Taiyang had snapped, and I'll be damned if I put two more next to her! But he would, Gale knew. Summer Rose was still officially listed as MIA, and yet there was the gravestone.

He blew out his breath and straightened up. "We'll leave Hauptmann Schnee and Captain Belladonna as missing in action…pending a review of their status." Pyrrha didn't need to be told that the MIA status would be quickly downgraded to KIA within weeks. "There will be medals and posthumous promotions, of course, and by the wishes of their family, I will not have formal funerals—not even a remembrance ceremony and a missing man formation, unless you want there to be one."

"You can't do this," Oscar said, tears rolling down his face. "You can't."

"I don't want to, Lieutenant, but I am. We have five pilots missing and likely dead. I do not want to add any more to that list anytime soon." Gale sat down heavily. "You're given two weeks of leave. Don't argue with me; that's an order. Find someplace to go and relax—the French Riviera, Sylt, Menagerie, whatever you choose. Captain Lie, I understand your fiancee is in London, getting skin grafts? Why don't you visit her?"

"Yes, sir," Ren replied, but his voice held no conviction. Nora Valkyrie was still recovering from ejecting through the canopy of her dying A-10 Warthog, an ejection that had left her arms and legs badly scarred, even open to the bone. Ren and Nora still loved each other, but she had demanded that Ren not give up on their friends. Now he was being ordered to.

Gale was quiet for a moment. "All right. Dismissed. I'll see you in two weeks, and we'll discuss how we're going to employ our Huntsmen and Huntresses—right now you, Major Nikos, and you, Captain Lie, are our most senior pilots next to Colonel Schnee." He paused. "Who has been grounded."

"For now," Winter snapped.

"Colonel, knock it off with the insubordination." He pointed to the black bracelet on her wrist. "Penny Polendina and Fria Gletscher died so you could wear that damn thing. I'm not risking you getting shot down over no man's land. Clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Winter barked.

"All right. Enough. As I said, dismissed." The four pilots came to attention and filed out. "Major Nikos," Gale called out.

"Sir?" She turned back to face him.

"Don't you even think about using these two weeks of leave to go looking around on your own. I will send you back to Greece in chains."

Pyrrha shook her head. "No, sir. I had not even thought of it," she lied.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Welcome to "On RWBY Wings VI"! Now that RWBY Volume 9 has concluded, I'm ready to continue this story. Naturally, in a (mostly) realistic AU, it's going to be a lot different than the Ever After, but not entirely so. Ruby Flight and Marrow have a long walk home to get to NATO, and to quote the Undertaker, it's hell to get to heaven.

For the first few chapters, there won't be much air combat, as it'll be awhile before Ruby Flight are in a position to fly. The first third of the story arc is getting them to that point, and while there will be some ground combat, most of that part of the story will be intrigue. (The Red Prince in this story is FAR from a petulant child.) Once they get through that, then there will be all the air action you can stand. After all, Neo's still out there, and we know what she has planned for Ruby...Anyhow, thanks for giving this story a chance, and thank you for being patient during a long hiatus (though not one as long as canon RWBY). Be sure to leave reviews-I love to hear from readers! This story is far from over. Welcome to Remnant...with a twist.