AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm not sure if it was because I'm trying to write this on vacation (when there's 10,000 distractions) or just because air combat chapters are harder than they look, but this chapter kicked my ass. It took me several days to write a relatively short chapter. In any case, hope this isn't too bad of one. I'm not sure if I'll be able to post next week, but I'll be back home after then, so I should get back on something resembling a regular schedule again.

Though we'd actually be getting close here to the end of canon RWBY V9, this story will go further. Whether or not you believe Team RWBY was in the right or not in Atlas, as one reviewer pointed out, there's not many people left to hold them to account in canon. In this story, there are a *lot* of people ready to come after Ruby and her flight, deserved or not. So Ruby defeating Neo and Cheshire is actually the easiest battle she's going to fight in the tail end of ORW VI-her real challenge will be in an entirely different battle of words and politics.

And then there's Raven...

Kosice Airbase

Kosice, Kosice Self-Governing Region

16 September 2001

"Not much of a plan," Blake observed, staring at the map.

"Doesn't have to be," Yang replied. "We fly over to Satu Mare, and either Neo and Cheshire go up to get shot down, or we strafe them on the ground and bring in Delta. They either surrender or die." She stepped back from the map. "I'm leaning towards the latter."

"How's Ruby?" Weiss asked.

"I'm okay." They all turned as Ruby walked into the little room Ruby Flight, Marrow, and Pyrrha had turned into a briefing area. She wore a new flight suit, a former Jabberwocky one. "Well...I'm not okay, but I'm up and around."

Weiss walked over and hugged her. "I'm sorry...I tried coming over to the hospital last night—Blake and I—but the doctor said you were asleep. I didn't—we didn't want to disturb you."

Ruby gave her a pained smile and accepted another hug, from Blake. "Wish you had." Her dreams had been a kaleidoscope of Neo as some savage monster hunting her through a jungle of multicolored plants, interspersed with air combat against balloon animals, and somewhere in there Oscar had made love to her while Yang, Weiss and Blake had cheered them on with pom-poms. The staff had said it was just her mind rejecting what was left of the kerasine in her system, but Ruby could do without dreams like that for the rest of her life. "Did Little get out okay?"

"Flew her out this morning on one of the C-17s," Marrow told her. "Don't I get a hug?"

Ruby embraced Marrow. "You sure do." She smiled for better reasons as she saw his tail wagging. "So what's the plan?"

"We are going to go find Neo and Cheshire," Pyrrha said. "We'll either take them prisoner or kill them. I would like to try to take Cheshire alive, at least—Alyx asked us for that—but Neo is fair game, as is anything else that tries to stop us." She looked pointedly at Ruby. "You are staying here."

Ruby put up her hands. "Easy. Right now I'm lucky to be upright."

"So just a sweep. Well, like Yang said, easy enough," Blake agreed. "Flight positions?"

"We can use our tactical callsigns—it's not like Salem cares we're here." Pyrrha pointed to herself, then Weiss, Blake and Yang in turn. "I'll lead with the F-22. Weiss, you'll fly wing; Blake and Yang, you're our other section. Marrow, I want you to take off five minutes after us and be our trailer. The AWACS didn't see any activity at Satu Mare, but it's not perfect—it would be good to have you back aways so you can get anyone who gets behind us." Marrow nodded. "Excellent. We won't have E-3 support, by the way—Gale said that he thought the E-3s were getting too far east for his comfort."

"Shouldn't need it," Yang said.

"I hope so. Weiss, are you all right with staying in the G.91, or did you want to switch over to one of the F-15s from Dragon Flight?" The four F-15s under Aaron Foulke's command had shown up the night before, and he had promptly offered to let Ruby Flight borrow one or two of his aircraft. Yang had eagerly accepted.

"I'll stay with the Gina," Weiss said. "I've gotten used to it by now."

"Blake?"

"I'll stay in the A-4," Blake told her. "I've sat in a few '15s, but not enough to feel qualified in it."

"Hey, I'd never sat in a Hunter before the other day," Yang grinned. "I still figured it out. Stick and rudder is stick and rudder."

"Bad enough that Foulke stuck their FNG with giving you his bird," Blake grinned back. "He'll be lucky if you don't crash it." Yang stuck out her tongue.

"I'll keep my F-16," Marrow put in.

"And you'd better take care of it too," Yang said. "If that Cruz girl finds out you banged it up, she's going to turn you into Alpo."

"Assuming she doesn't jump his bones first," Blake snickered. "I think the lady doth protest too much. She was yelling at him, but there was that look in her eyes..."

"Not my boy Marrow!" Yang nudged the Faunus. "He doesn't stray on his girls. Right, Weiss?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Weiss turned away and crossed her arms over her breasts, nose in the air. Marrow shrugged modestly, and they all laughed, even Pyrrha and Ruby. Both of them knew this was just dealing with pre-mission jitters, what the British called taking the piss out. Ruby wished she could join in. She felt like an outsider now, like her friends had unconsciously eased her aside. She knew it wasn't true, but it was how she felt.

Pyrrha got them back on track. "All right, ladies—and gentleman." Yang blew a raspberry at that. "It's now 0858. Synch your watches at 0900..." They all held up their wrists, and Ruby was once more reminded of looking from the outside in; her watch was gone. "Three...two...one...hack. 0900. Wheels in the well in twenty minutes. Man your planes...and let's do it to them before they do it to us."

"Just...um...just one second." Ruby raised her hand, stopping them as they began to leave. "Look...I said some things the other day...yesterday...whenever. I shouldn't have said them. I haven't done a very good job, and I'm...I'm sorry." She bit her lip to keep from sniffling, hating herself for feeling the need to cry, again. It seemed like crying was all she was good at now.

All of them paused. "None of us have been at our best," Weiss finally spoke. "We've all made mistakes, Ruby. None of us are perfect...not even me." She tried a smile. It didn't really work.

"Let's just finish this," Blake said. "Then we can figure it all out." Her ears flattened back. "We all have skeletons in our closet, Ruby." She glanced over to Marrow. "Well, maybe not our resident Boy Scout."

Marrow didn't smile. "Wanna bet?"

Yang grabbed Ruby and drew her into a fierce hug. "We love you, Rubes. No matter what. You just rest, okay? We should be back in a bit." Ruby saw Blake go a little pale at that; it was an old fighter pilot superstition that one did not talk about coming back.

"I love you too, Yang." Ruby drew back. "I love all of you. Please...be careful out there, okay?"

"You bet." Yang messed with her sister's hair, then left. Pyrrha embraced her as well, then they all did, one by one, as they left the room and walked onto the tarmac. Marrow was last. Ruby noticed something strange in the Faunus' eyes.

Marrow did a quick preflight of the F-16. It was brand new, wearing the green tail trim of the 158th Fighter Wing, the Green Mountain Boys of northern Vermont. He saw that this Jessica Cruz girl had her name on the canopy frame, with a small green lantern as a personal symbol behind it. Must be a comic book nerd. Well, I'll take good care of it for you, ma'am. He checked the loadout: two AIM-120 AMRAAM, four AIM-9 Sidewinders, and a centerline drop tank.

"Marrow?" He turned as Weiss walked to him, her helmet over her shoulder. "I just wanted to say...well...good luck."

"Yeah, you too." He paused. "You okay?"

"Yes, I think so." Weiss glanced back to where Ruby leaned forlornly against the side of the tower building. "I'm worried about Ruby, of course. It's hard...whenever my leg was injured over Japan, I had a month of watching everyone else take off without me. The difference is that I knew my leg would heal. Ruby...she has wounds that I worry will never heal." She paused. "What was that in there about skeletons in the closet?"

"I followed Ironwood too long. I never told Vine what a good dude he was. I had a bad breakup with my last girlfriend, and she told me if she ever saw me again she'd kill me. I'll tell you about her someday." He looked down. "And I kinda acted like a dick the other morning, like I was bragging about sleeping with you."

"Oh? I found you very modest."

"Oh, good." Marrow scratched the back of his head. "Um, Weiss...I'm sorry...you know, last night." Weiss had crawled into his bed after getting back to the hospital, but both had been too exhausted to do much more than a brief kiss before subsiding into sleep. "I mean...I'd like to...again...if...if you're cool with it, eh?" He wanted to bash his head against the F-16, all the awkwardness that had made his high school years so hellish returning with a vengeance.

Weiss smiled, rose up on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. "I would love to do it again, Marrow. But those are thoughts for another day. Do not think about it. Distracted people—"

"I know," Marrow finished. She winked at him, ducked under the F-16's nose, and headed towards the G.91. For some odd reason, Weiss thought, she didn't feel sorrowful or worried, but rather happy. Someone thought of her like that now.

Marrow watched her go, admiring the view; Weiss flattered even a baggy flight suit. "Man, girl...I sure hope you don't hate me for this." Then he climbed up the ladder into the F-16's cockpit. As one of Dragon Flight's ground crew walked over to help him strap in, he held up a hand, though he plugged in the radio line, and waited.

"Ruby Flight, check in," Pyrrha radioed.

"Weiss."

"Blake."

"Yang!"

"Marrow," he reported. He watched as their canopies closed in sequence. Just like the Thunderbirds. He waited a few more minutes, the crew chief staring at him in confusion, then toggled the radio switch. "Pyrrha, Marrow. I've got a problem here. My INS has gone stupid. Let me work on it a bit—you go ahead."

"Marrow, Pyrrha—are you sure?"

"Yeah, roger. If we can't get it going in three minutes, I'll scrub and send one of the Dragons as a spare." Pyrrha acknowledged, and the F-15, A-4, and G.91 followed the F-22 towards the runway.

"Sir?" The crew chief leaned across him, pointing to the inertial navigation system. It was fine. "Sir, the INS is fine—"

"Hold up, airman." Marrow waited until Pyrrha had hit her afterburners to take off, then gently pushed the crew chief back and got out of the aircraft. "Ruby!"

She had been watching her friends take off, and jumped when Marrow yelled at her. He motioned her over. "What's up?" she asked.

He took off his helmet and jammed it on her head. "Let me get out of the G-suit...glad you're already in the flight suit; we'd have a hell of a time finding you one for someone as short as you—"

"Wait, what?" Ruby reached up and grabbed the helmet as Yang and Blake took off. "What the hell are you doing, Marrow?"

"Fuck if I know...but I have to do something! You look like a puppy standing there."

"Huh?" Ruby was still a few steps behind.

Marrow growled in frustration and stabbed a finger towards the aircraft taking off. "That's your flight, Ruby! They need you, not me!"

"But—"

"Can you physically fly or not?"

Ruby hesitated. The doctor had said that she was physically fine, other than bruised ribs. "I—I guess—"

"Look," Marrow said, as he pulled off the G-suit. The crew chief finally understood what he was trying to do, pulled the helmet off of Ruby, and began adjusting it to fit her head. "Time's running out here, eh? Figure it out! You're either someone who can handle the strain, or you need to find someone who is and walk away. Which is it, Ruby?"

She watched Weiss climbing into a beautiful blue sky. I love you just the way you are. "I'll go." She grabbed the G-suit and pulled it on. "I'll go."

The trip between Kosice and Satu Mare was less than 180 miles; the four aircraft covered thse distance in minutes. Yang had her radar on; so did Pyrrha. They wanted Cheshire and Neo to know they were coming. Blake and Yang flew out front, the A-4 below and behind the F-15 to the right, with a mile separation; Pyrrha and Weiss, in the F-22 and G.91, were three miles behind them.

Yang caressed the stick and throttle. "Good to be home," she whispered. She'd gotten used to the F-23's control setup—which was not that different from the F-15's—but Yang had been flying Eagles since the end of flight school. It was indeed like being back home, easing into a comfortable set of slippers or into her old bed. She quartered the sky with her eyes, then noticed two returns on the radar. "Pyrrha, Yang. Contact, two bogeys, range 50, bearing zero-zero-three, angels five; they're climbing."

"Roger, Yang; I've got them. Continue to close." Pyrrha switched frequencies. "Cheshire, this is Pyrrha on Guard."

There was silence for a moment. "Oh good, you made it." It was Cheshire, and even through the radio, they could tell that his cheerfulness sounded forced.

"Your little plan to get out of here won't work," Pyrrha informed him. "You and Neo will surrender now. Return to Satu Mare, or accompany us back to Kosice. Put down your gear. If you do that, you will live."

"You've always been the worst of the bunch," Cheshire sighed. "I do that, and you'll just forget the whole thing, right?"

"Of course not," Pyrrha replied, "but you will live if you surrender immediately. That I will guarantee."

"It's not up to you, Pyrrha—"

"You're not taking him!" Neo suddenly screeched. "You're not taking my Roman!" On Yang and Pyrrha's radar screens, they saw one of the contacts suddenly reverse course and start closing on them.

"That makes it easy," Yang said to herself, and locked onto Neo's F-5. She would be in range of the four AMRAAMs nestled beneath the F-15 in thirty seconds.

"Very well, Cheshire," Pyrrha said without a trace of sadness. "I can tell Alyx that I tried." She locked onto his F-5. He was still out of range, so she pushed the throttle up. "Goodbye, Tabey."

"Oh, I'm not dead just yet, Invincible Girl. Maybe you'd better look to the north."

Pyrrha did no such thing, intent on closing the range with Cheshire, but Weiss, falling behind—the G.91's top speed was less than the F-22's normal cruising speed—did look to the north, and spotted movement at low level. She didn't have Ruby's eyesight, but the pattern told her what they were. "Tally, tally! GRIMM, nine o'clock low!" Weiss used Guard so Pyrrha would hear.

"What?" Now Pyrrha did look.

"Sorry, Pyrrha," Cheshire said. "But I cut cards with Lady Satan, and she sent her bridge club. Enjoy! Neo, follow me now." Neo, still under the effects of the kerasine, suddenly broke off just short of effective AMRAAM range and turned southeast, to follow Cheshire, as ten GRIMM climbed from low level to engage Ruby Flight.

"Pyrrha, Yang! We'll take the GRIMM—you get Cheshire and Neo!" Yang shouted. "Blake, take the lead!" Yang rolled in on the GRIMM, knowing that Blake could turn tighter in the smaller, more manueverable A-4.

Blake clicked the mike twice to acknowledge she'd heard Yang, but she was already anticipating her wingperson's moves; lovers they might not be, but in some cases their bond was even more intimate. The GRIMM split up, their formation coming apart, and she could see they were Beringals, the Beowolf's swept-wing, more effective brother. They were still drones, and Blake's reaction was faster: she targeted the lead Beringal and fired a Sidewinder. The missile struck the GRIMM broadside and blew it in half. She then broke left to clear Yang, and the Beringals did something extremely strange: like a school of piranha, five of the GRIMM lined up to go after her—and flew directly into Yang's gunsight.

Yang's eyes widened behind her visor, and she snapped the stick to one side, afraid of a collision. At the same time, in the space of less than a second, she switched to guns and pulled the trigger. The M61 Vulcan gatling cannon in the F-15's roared, and she held it down, emptying the gun in seconds. The lineup of Beringals simply flew into the cloud of twenty millimeter shells and exploded in sequence. Yang rolled over the top of the last one as it fell towards the ground, burning. She craned her head back: she had gotten all five of them. "Son of a bitch," she breathed. It didn't feel fair.

Then one of the remaining Beringals fired a missile at her, and Yang didn't worry about fairness any longer.

The GRIMM were distracted by Blake and Yang, so Pyrrha and Weiss dived and closed the distance with Neo and Cheshire. Both F-5s turned back towards them, Cheshire under no illusions that Pyrrha would shoot him in the back. Pyrrha caught herself thinking it would be an easy kill, and shoved those thoughts aside: both of her enemies were skilled pilots, not to be underestimated just because they were flying inferior aircraft.

Neo soon proved it. Drugged or not, she flung her F-5 at Weiss with a scream of pure rage; Weiss had to twist away from Pyrrha to avoid a Sidewinder, breaking up her mutual support with Pyrrha. As Pyrrha turned to get in behind Neo, Cheshire firewalled his throttles to get behind her. Thatch Weave, she thought. You know better than that, Pyrrha. She felt more embarrassed than afraid: Neo had been the bait. She had no way of knowing that it had been an accident.

As Cheshire's twin 20 millimeter cannon reached out for her, Pyrrha dived towards the forested ridges below. He followed her into the dive, letting Pyrrha edge out into Sidewinder range. She twisted and turned, but he stayed with her, though he was unable to get a solid lock, the Sidewinder's seeker head confused by the lack of the F-22's engine heat and the warm ground below. She pulled up to avoid the ridges, and Cheshire smiled as the Raptor made a nice target in his HUD. "Maybe you weren't as good as everyone thought," he murmured.

He didn't anticipate that now it was Pyrrha who was baiting the trap. As his finger began to close on the trigger, Pyrrha's right hand pulled the stick back as far as it would go, while her left split the throttles, throwing the F-22 into an asymmetrical controlled stall. The Raptor flipped end over end, over the top of a stunned Cheshire, and fell in behind his climbing F-5.

Weiss turned back into Neo, and the two exchanged cannon fire—too close for either to hit, though Weiss was sure she could count the individual shells skittering over her G.91. They passed canopy to canopy, and Weiss rolled right, knowing Neo would roll left to take her in the scissors. She reached forward and opened the speedbrakes on either side of the tail, slowing down for a moment and putting Neo neatly in front of her. It took a second for Neo to realize it-her reaction time seemed oddly slower-enough for Weiss to fire a Sidewinder.

The assassin swore and broke right so hard that the F-5 made groaning noises, releasing flares in her wake. It worked: she broke the Sidewinder's lock. The missile also didn't guide on the flares, but perversely found another target, directly ahead of it: Pyrrha's F-22.

Weiss realized in horror what had happened. "Pyrrha, break right, break right! Buddy spike, buddy spike!" She broke left, afraid that she would collide with either Neo or Pyrrha if she didn't.

Pyrrha spotted the onrushing Sidewinder out of the corner of one eye. There was no time but to frantically break into it, praying that the seeker head would lose lock and that it wouldn't detonate anyway. Her tactic worked as well: the missile flew past Pyrrha's Raptor, the fighter's stealthiness saving it again.

While her desperate dodge might have worked, it also caught Pyrrha with almost no airspeed or lift. The F-22 was an amazing aircraft that was nearly impossible to stall—nearly. The nose came down, the Raptor rolled over, and it went into an inverted flat spin.

Oh God, Pyrrha thought. She pulled the stick backwards, which seemed counterintuitive, but in an inverted spin, she needed to get the tail down. She glanced at the altimeter and wished she hadn't: she had maybe five seconds before she would have to eject. Then the F-22 got airflow over the wings, Pyrrha felt the aircraft bite into the air, and she advanced the throttles to the stops. She got into zero gravity for just a moment, floating upwards towards the canopy, her stomach doing a sickening flipflop; she fought down nausea, but the airspeed began to climb. She snapped the stick forward, getting the nose down, and Pyrrha now had full control, a bare ten feet above the treetops. Ahead was another ridge. In one second, she had a choice: eject, or chance that she could somehow clear the ridgeline.

Pyrrha kept going. "Oh, Jaune, this was probably a terrible idea," she said aloud, then pulled the stick back. Her canopy was filled with fir trees and green; for a moment, she thought she saw deer fleeing from the invader that burst into their world. Then there was a wisp of ground fog that blew apart around her as she went through it, and Pyrrha was through, bursting into open air. She took deep draughts of oxygen and saw that her hands were shaking.

Weiss saw Pyrrha spin past, but there was no time to spare for her friend. She glanced upwards and saw Cheshire rolling out at the top of his climb, then noticed Neo. Her F-5 had turned back towards Weiss, but now it was flying straight and level. Weiss watched for a moment, then decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She easily lined up her gunsight on Neo's canopy. She got ready to pull the trigger, then gave a minute shake of the head. Even after what Neo had done to Ruby, Weiss couldn't bring herself to simply and deliberately murder another pilot. She tweaked the stick slightly to the right and opened fire.

Neo, for her part, was not completely sure where she was at. The adrenaline shooting through her system in the dogfight had burned away just enough of the kerasine that she was confused. She remembered Roman, she remembered the wonderful night before, and she remembered getting into the F-5 and fighting Ruby Flight, but now everything seemed fuzzy, with Roman Torchwick's face somehow overlapping with Charles Cheshire's. She couldn't remember exactly where they were even going. Neo certainly never saw Weiss' G.91; her first warning was the 30 millimeter shells slamming into the fuselage and tail. Flames burst from holed fuel tanks and both engines were quickly turned to scrap. As weird as she felt, Neo knew that the F-5 was seconds from exploding, so she leaned her head back and pulled both handles on either side of the seat. She ejected from the dying fighter a second later.

Weiss flew past the burning F-5 and saw that Neo had a clean ejection. She now began to search for Cheshire, when Yang's voice blasted across the radio. "Tally GRIMM, eleven o'clock high! Raid count ten!"

"Dammit," Weiss sighed. She left Neo and headed west, and noticed Cheshire with a head start.

Ruby was supersonic, pushing the F-16 as hard as she could. She had to catch up with her flight; she heard them over the radio. "Come on, come on!" she urged the fighter. She punched off the centerline tank; it was almost empty in any case, the afterburner gulping the fuel down.

"Tally GRIMM, eleven o'clock high! Raid count ten!"

That's great, Yang, but bearing and altitude! Ruby silently admonished her sister. Without any way of knowing which way Yang was pointed, the eleven o'clock high could be anywhere. She reached forward to switch on her radar, then her eyes caught movement, and she saw the ten GRIMM, racing out of a fat cumulus cloud. They were Beringals, to her left and down. From the way they were flying, they were more intent on the fight ahead of them: they didn't detect Ruby. She was in a perfect position, though outnumbered. Still, she could break up the formation, buy enough time for the others to help her. She readied to roll in behind the GRIMM.

Her hand wouldn't move. Ruby willed it to, but she found that she was frozen in fear. What the hell is going on? C'mon, let's get in there! My flight needs me! Her heart was pounding, as if she had been dosed with kerasine again. She was filled with terror. I can't do this. If I do this, I'm going to screw it up. I'm going to get shot down. I'm going to get killed. I can't. I can't. I can't.

Then she saw the Beringals turn and begin to break up their formation. Ahead, Yang and Blake were circling around to engage head on. And before she even realized it, her hand was moving. Her doubts vanished, her mind cleared. It was time to fight.

She switched on her radar, immediately alerting the GRIMM to Ruby's presence, throwing their formation into disarray as they detected threats to the front and rear simutaneously. The Beringals reacted quickly, with the formation starting to divide—but by that time, Ruby fired both her AMRAAMs. Both guided perfectly, and blew two Beringals out of the air. Then she shot through the formation like a hawk through quail, and went into a climb. She came out of afterburner and rolled out at the apex of the climb. "Ruby, splash two!" she called out, forgetting that she was supposed to be Marrow.

"Ruby?!" Yang shouted.

Ruby ignored the shout. The GRIMM formation was now truly gone, but the Beringals were programmed better than Beowolves, and reacted faster. Three were following her into the climb, with one lagging either through accident or design as a trailer. Three more had ignored her, continuing to go for Yang, who was in afterburner, trying to close the distance. Ruby saw the battlefield as one picture, thinking through four dimensions. "Yang, Ruby! I'll take the ones headed for you—get the ones behind me!" She spotted Weiss trying to get back in the fight; she didn't see Pyrrha. "Weiss, help Yang! Pyrrha, get in when you can! Blake—"

"Ruby, Blake! I'll get their attention!" The A-4 was in trail behind Yang's F-15; Blake broke away and went low, then started dropping flares behind her. It worked: one of the GRIMM was decoyed off. "I've got this one!"

"Ruby, Yang! Going between them!" The closure rate was too fast for either Yang or the two remaining Beringal to fire their missiles; the GRIMM engaged with their cannon, but Yang rolled the F-15 onto its right wing, tried to ignore the flaming tracers, and roared past both Beringals. She slapped back the throttles, coming out of afterburner, and hauled back the stick, vaulting over Ruby, who passed under her in a flash. She could see the two Beringal reach the apex of their climb, then drop over to pursue Ruby; the third was still climbing, and Yang wondered if it was waiting for her to commit or simply hadn't found a target yet. It was two seconds behind, so she could ignore it for now. "Yang, Fox Three!" Two AMRAAMs dropped from under the F-15 and guided; one hit, one miss. "Splash one!" She was down to her two Sidewinders now, the other AMRAAMs expended earlier. The Beringal went past, and Yang screamed to keep blood in her brain as she rolled the F-15 down at high-speed, the G-forces pressing her into the seat, the G-meter on the instrument panel pegging at 7. She knew the third Beringal was there somewhere, but it would have to wait. She saw the second Beringal, the one her missile hadn't tracked on, ahead of her. Her Sidewinders growled, but not far ahead of the GRIMM was Ruby and the two drones she was pursuing, and Yang held her fire.

Blake had missed the long reach and radar of her F-14, but now the nimbleness of the A-4 came into play. The Beringal fired two missiles at her, so Blake climbed, expended the last of her flares, then rolled upwards and down, hoping her guess was correct. It was: the Beringal was starting to climb towards her, but was a fraction too slow. She pulled the trigger, and her cannon added another burning GRIMM to the day's total. "Blake, splash three; Ruby, check six."

Ruby stole a glance behind her and spotted the Beringal bearing down, with Yang behind it. "Yang, stand by, on three!" She returned her attention to the two GRIMM ahead of her, who were breaking to the left. "One!" She fired two Sidewinders, wanting to be sure of the kill. "Two!" Then she broke to the left as well, clearing her tail. "Three!"

"Yang, Fox Two!" Yang fired both her remaining missiles as well. The Beringal pursuing Ruby vanished in an orange fireball. Then she threw the tail around, trying to find the GRIMM that had been pursuing her.

"Weiss, Fox Two." Yang saw a tiny ball of flame detach from the little G.91 and find the Beringal. "Splash two. You're clear, Yang." The GRIMM went into a fatal spin from the impact, tearing itself apart as it descended.

"You're on the last one, Ruby!" Yang called out.

Ruby cheated her turn a little tighter, then switched to the gun and pulled the trigger. Her shells marched down the Beringal's length and found its fuel tanks. The GRIMM flared and exploded, and she climbed to miss the explosion.

"Ruby, Pyrrha." As Ruby leveled off, checking the sky around her, she saw the F-22 coming up to altitude. "You really seem to have an issue with orders."

"Pyrrha, Ruby—sorry, it was Marrow's idea—"

"Save it, Ruby; we'll figure it out on the ground." Pyrrha didn't sound overly upset. "Anyone see Cheshire?"

"'Chute at two o'clock low, five miles," Blake radioed.

"That's Neo," Weiss said.

Neo. Ruby spotted the white parachute. It was descending towards the runway at Satu Mare; she could see vehicles heading towards it. She checked her fuel: she had used a lot going supersonic to catch up to her flight. Even if she went after Neo in her parachute—which was strongly tempting—the assassin would reach the ground before she reached Neo. Strafing Neo risked hitting whoever was coming to get her, and Ruby, as angry as she was, could not, would not do that.

Instead, she switched frequencies and pushed the radio button on the throttle. "Satu Mare, this is Ruby Lead on Guard. You are about to recover Neo Politan. We will land and take her into custody. Do you understand?"

There was a brief bit of static, then a new voice. "Ruby Lead, this is Satu Mare. Negative. We are neutral. We do not take sides—"

"Satu Mare, Ruby Lead," Ruby snapped. "I wasn't asking. Neo Politan is a wanted fugitive from my country and many others. Harbor her and we will consider you an enemy. The Jabberwockies were our enemy. The Red Prince was our enemy. Do you understand?"

Another bit of silence. "Understood, Ruby Lead. You are allowed to land...under protest."

"Duly noted, Satu Mare. We won't stay long." Satu Mare radioed landing instructions, and Ruby slowed down, entering the downwind leg.

"Ruby, Pyrrha." There was more than a note of concern in the Greek woman's voice. "What are your intentions?"

"Pyrrha, Ruby." Ruby's voice was hard. "Justice."