AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry this took over a week to get done. I was getting a bit burned out (trying to do two or three fanfics at once was a mistake), so I took a week off. I should be back to my regular update schedule now. This chapter is nothing but dogfights, so if you're just here for the air combat, this is your chapter.

In case you're curious (and you're probably not, but too bad), I listened to a few pieces of music constantly to get me in the mood for this fic. The three that I listened to were "Training Montage" from Rocky IV, "Livin' On a Prayer" by Bon Jovi, and "Mighty Wings" from Cheap Trick (of course). And if the Pyrrha/Ren dogfight scene sounds like something out of the original Top Gun...you're right. You take your inspiration where you can!


50 Miles North of Las Vegas

Nevada, United States of Canada

26 April 2002

0800 Hours Local

"All aircraft, Disco. Bandits, bandits proceeding Bullseye, 35 for 101. Raid count is 30. This is Disco, 1355 Zulu."

Pyrrha Nikos dipped the right wing of her F-22. Fifteen thousand feet below her, the Kobolds flew in a rough delta formation, in the contrail zone—which told her that they were either being remotely flown or they were being piloted by amateurs, since experienced fighter pilots knew better than to leave contrails. Of course, it may not matter—there's 30 of them, and ten of us. It was what made GRIMM so deadly: there was often more of them than the defenders had ammunition. With the Kobolds, it was doubly true: Pyrrha's Raptor only carried two Sidewinders, plus the gun. Her six AMRAAMs might as well still be on the ground. Ren carried six AIM-9s under the wings of his J-10; Raven had four.

She decided she would worry about that later. "Disco, Prince Lead. Tally ho on the bandits. We're above and behind."

"Roger that, Prince. Ruby Two and Four are on the way; Ruby Lead will follow. Prince Three is maintaining TARCAP." Pyrrha translated that in her head: Weiss and Yang were already headed south from Area 51, with Ruby following. It would leave Nora alone over the target, with only her A-10 to keep Blake and Emerald alive until Spooky 21 showed up. It should be enough, she thought, though she knew that it had to bother Ren—no one flew alone if they wanted to stay alive…or in dire emergencies, which this was. Ruby Flight would even the odds with the Kobolds, at least.

"Lancer Lead, Prince Lead," Pyrrha radioed Milosevic—she idly wondered why she had yet to hear Lancer Lead's first name. "Meet the bandits as far north as you can: we can't afford to let them crash into the city. There are ten to the west; those are yours. Prince will take the leftmost flight; Ruby will take the center when they get here."

"Prince, Lancer—understood; we're buster." Pyrrha was glad for that: Milosevic's four F-16s were headed north as fast as they could, rather than waiting to intercept the GRIMM over Las Vegas itself.

Pyrrha had kept her eyes on the GRIMM the entire time. The formation still showed no signs of detecting their enemies. "Prince Flight, check."

"Two." Ren was terse as usual.

"Three. Let's roll." Raven sounded bored. Pyrrha felt a pang of anger at that, but then considered that Raven Branwen had been doing this almost as long as Pyrrha had been alive.

"Prince is in." Pyrrha said a brief prayer to a God she wasn't sure she still believed in, then pushed the stick to the right. Desert and sky switched places for a moment, then she leveled out. The bright sun shone on the Kobolds; the reflection was enough for the Sidewinders to lock on and growl in her ears. She reflexively glanced behind, between the F-22's twin tails: Ren was right where he was supposed to be, below and to her right, but Raven had rolled high, preparing to fall on her foes like a hawk on prey. The distance closed to less than a mile, and Pyrrha pulled the trigger. "Pyrrha, Fox Two!" One launch bay opened and ejected the missile into the slipstream, where it ignited. It guided true and struck one Kobold broad in its back. The GRIMM disintegrated under the impact. "Pyrrha, splash one." 29 to go. A second explosion out of the corner of one eye revealed that Ren had scored as well. 28 to go.

Pyrrha and Ren had timed their dive perfectly, rolling out behind the remaining eight Kobolds on the left side of the triangle formation. What should have been a turkey shoot, however, was ruined as the apex of the triangle suddenly pitched upwards into a loop to come down straight for them, faster than any human-flown aircraft. "Break now, Ren!" Pyrrha shouted, and pulled the stick back, throwing the throttles forward. The F-22 stood on its tail and roared into the sky as Ren broke hard to the left. Pyrrha strained against the force of gravity to see what GRIMM had followed her, but saw to her surprise than none had—they had all gone after Ren. She slapped the throttles back, let the F-22 go into a stall, then hammerheaded the nose down into a dive to help him. "Raven from Pyrrha…the others are yours," she radioed, and then she was at the merge.


Raven counted to herself, then pushed the Night Raven's nose down herself to go into a dive. The interceptor was far heavier and bigger than the Kobolds, so she couldn't try to dogfight with the GRIMM; instead, she would boom and zoom—use the Night Raven's weight to increase her dive speed, then convert speed to energy to climb out at a rate the Kobolds could not follow. She hoped. The trick would also require she pull out with enough room, otherwise she would make a very interesting and deep hole in the desert floor.

Like Pyrrha, Raven set up for a missile shot as she dived on the eight remaining leftmost Kobolds. The Night Raven's targeting computer, slaved to her helmet, immediately locked onto the drone she looked at. She fired at extreme range with her first Sidewinder, then selected another, and fired a second time. The first hit and destroyed the GRIMM; the second missed as the AIM-9 found the heat of the desert a more interesting target than the Kobold. "Fuck," Raven murmured, but her fingers were already moving, switching to the twin thirty millimeter cannon the Night Raven carried. She only had a bare second to fire, but it was enough: the heavy shells tore the Kobold apart. Then she was through the formation and she grabbed the stick with both hands, hauling it back into her gut. At first the Night Raven stubbornly refused to climb as she passed through eight thousand feet—which gave her about four seconds to contemplate her poor life choices before she hit the ground—but then the twin Tumansky jets brought the Night Raven out of the dive and into the climb through sheer brute force. Raven kept the engines in afterburner as long as she could, despite making a nice heat signature in the sky, but she had to grab altitude now. She glanced at the rearward facing camera display on her instrument panel. Two Kobolds had detached themselves from the remaining six and were now in pursuit of her.

Raven pulled off some power, coming out of afterburner, and dropped flares behind her. The lead Kobold closed into missile range. "Rearward defense pod, lock onto nearest target," she spoke aloud. "Fire." Behind the Night Raven, the rearward defense pod launched its missile into the Kobold. The damage didn't destroy the drone, but did enough damage that the GRIMM stalled and tumbled towards the ground far below.

That still left the second one, and Raven pulled back on the throttle even more, dropping her flaps. It was the oldest trick in her book, but the Kobold wasn't programmed for it. It overshot her, continuing to climb. Raven quickly pushed the power back up, raised her flaps, and fired a Sidewinder, her hands and fingers moving without conscious thought. This Kobold, however, dropped flares itself, decoying off the missile, and leveled out. Raven did the same, slowing down to stay behind it as the drone began to weave. She had to slow down even more to avoid the overshoot. A quick look at the rear camera showed that the GRIMM was not trying to drag her for another one; for the moment, the duel was one on one. She wondered if this one was flown by a human, because GRIMM weren't usually this smart.

Raven watched her airspeed as the GRIMM continued to try and force her into a scissors, only to finally accelerate into a dive and head for the dogfight below them. Raven resisted a sigh of relief and stayed behind the Kobold. She fired her cannon, but the drone dodged the shells. She mumbled a few choice curses and got ready to fire again—only for the instrument panel to beep for her attention. Low fuel warning? What the hell?

It would have to wait. Raven chopped speed back once more, letting the Kobold edge out—to her surprise, it started slowing down again. Piloted or programmed, it was a fraction too slow. "Sidewinder select," Raven said, and her ordnance display instantly highlighted her remaining two missiles. She fired a half-second later, and the Sidewinder ran true, smashing into the Kobold and blowing it apart. Raven looked to see if anyone ejected, but if there was a pilot, they were immolated with their craft.

She did a quick check of the sky around her, then addressed the problem. The Night Raven should have plenty of fuel, enough to fly to Wisconsin without refueling, even given the dogfight, but for some reason she had a low fuel light. Raven tapped the light, but it stayed stubbornly on. I'm on reserve fuel. Something's wrong…maybe it's not feeding from the main tanks…maybe the lines got screwed up in that hard climb? She didn't know, but it also meant that she couldn't stay in the fight. On reserve tanks, the Night Raven would run out of fuel in a few minutes in a dogfight.

Raven climbed, getting back more altitude in case something else went wrong. She spotted movement below her, and dipped the nose a bit. Her eyesight wasn't quite as good as Ruby's was or Summer's had been, but it was enough to see Yang's F-15 roar into the fight and down another Kobold with a missile shot. She felt a burst of maternal pride at that. Goddamn…you'd be really proud of her, Sum. Off to the right, a furball between Lancer Flight and the right-side ten Kobolds was well underway, but the Arizona unit seemed to be holding its own, and she spotted Weiss' Typhoon moving to support them. Oh hell, they're fine…they don't need you, old lady. Time to head for the barn.

Then Raven spotted movement. Two more Kobolds had burst out of the battle and were racing south; either the E-3 didn't notice in the confusion of the fight or the GRIMM were too low to be picked up. She watched as they streaked past the dogfights, headed for Las Vegas. Yang, Weiss, all the others were out of position to see them. Raven looked for Ruby's F-16, but she was not to the battle yet. Another frantic glance at the fuel gauge. Don't do it, Raven, she told herself. You don't owe Vegas a damn thing. The chances are the GRIMM will go after the first hotel they see, and that's yakuza territory. Screw them. They're not going for the Palace and I doubt they'll go for McCarran—and who cares if they do. I don't owe the Mafia anything either. The only people I owe shit too is Yang, Tai and the Tribe, and Ruby, for Summer. Fuck the rest of them. That's how you survive, Raven. It's how you've always survived.

In her mind's eye, Raven could see the accusatory stare of Summer Rose, and the disappointment of Taiyang Xiao Long. "Oh, hell," she said aloud, opened the throttle, and dived back into the fight. As she did, she saw Yang suddenly appear and head for the same Kobolds.


Ren came out of the break and turned back into the fight, only to find five GRIMM right behind him. Unbidden, the memory of Glynda Goodwitch's lesson at Vytal Flag came back to him: only one enemy can be behind you at a time. He threw the J-10 back into another left break as a missile flashed towards him, only to chase a flare. "Ren is defensive," he reported, then had to dodge another missile. As he risked a quick look behind, he saw one of the GRIMM break off and climb, even as Pyrrha arrived.

Pyrrha noted the Kobold climbing away from Ren and then ignored it—it was out of position, and would be a few seconds before it could get behind her, and she could deal with it then. Then she realized that it wasn't climbing to eventually get behind her—it was climbing to ram her. "Gamoto!" she screamed, and threw the F-22 to the right even as the Kobold almost filled her windscreen. The two aircraft missed each other by only a few feet, and the drone continued to climb. Pyrrha rolled back into the dogfight, but now was the one out of position. "Skata," she breathed.

Ren was hardly telepathic, but he had noticed Pyrrha almost get hit, and anticipated her next move—the two had flown together for so long that he knew what she would do. Ren pulled the J-10 into a hard, 6-G turn that rattled the airframe, but the manuever forced the Kobolds to follow him—directly into Pyrrha's gunsight. She was already set up for a Sidewinder shot, so she simply pulled the trigger before her brain registered that she should. The AIM-9 fired from its bay, crossed the distance in an eyeblink, and blew the wing off the last GRIMM in line. It tore free from the drone, which went into a burning spiral.

Two of the three remaining Kobolds evidently decided Pyrrha was the bigger threat, and broke away from Ren to engage her. Pyrrha slammed the throttles forward to leave them behind and closed in on the last GRIMM still on Ren's tail. Ren climbed and the Kobold followed; Pyrrha could see it lining up for a gun pass. "Ren, break left!" The J-10 did so and it overshot. Pyrrha turned to follow it, even as Ren dropped back to cover her—and the Kobold that had tried to ram Pyrrha headed for him, and the other two reversed their turn back into the swirling, confused dogfight.

"Two GRIMM, dead ahead," Pyrrha warned Ren.

"Roger, passing between us." The two sides merged so fast neither human nor robot had time to fire, and the two Kobolds went between the F-22 and the J-10. Pyrrha went into a climb and saw the third Kobold closing in on Ren. "Ren, you've got a GRIMM on your left, three o'clock high."

The Kobold fired, but Ren broke left and the missile sailed past him. Ren climbed, rolled to kill some of his forward momentum, and was rewarded with the Kobold pushed out in front. "Ren, Fox Two." He fired and the GRIMM died a moment later.

Pyrrha looked upwards—she was now upside-down—and saw yet another Kobold drop in behind Ren; where it had come from, if it was a new arrival, or she'd simply lost track of how many were in the confusion of the furball she had no idea. "Ren, Kobold, six o'clock high! Break!"

If Ren had the time to do so, he would have remarked that he was getting damned tired of dodging GRIMM. He didn't; instead, he broke right. This time, he was the one that was a moment too slow. The Kobold's guns barked, and several shells slammed into the J-10. Smoke erupted from Ren's fighter as he twisted away from his opponent.

Pyrrha dived onto the Kobold that had damaged Ren, even as two things happened at once: it turned right to finish off the J-10, and her RWR shrilled that a Kobold had found its way behind her. She had a second to make a choice: continue after the Kobold in front or break away from the one following her. Pyrrha never actually considered the latter. She would lose no more friends, ever, even if it meant her own life in return. A quick look, and she realized the GRIMM behind her was just a second or two away from a firing solution.

She wasn't. Pyrrha put the pipper on the Kobold coming after Ren and pulled the trigger. The M61 cannon in her port wingroot roared and bisected the GRIMM. She didn't wait to see if she had destroyed it, because her hands were already moving, pulling the stick and the throttles backwards, manipulating both. The F-22 flipped backwards, end over end—something the Kobold's computer brain could not compensate for as fast as an experienced human pilot might have, as Pyrrha killed her Raptor's speed in a single move. She came out behind the GRIMM and held down the trigger until the round counter hit zero. Most of her shells missed, but enough hit to fireball the Kobold. She dived under the debris, got her airspeed back up, and quickly looked around. The sky was suddenly empty around them.

"Ren, Pyrrha. Are you all right?" she radioed. "You're clear."

"Thanks, Pyrrha. Can you give me a quick look-over?" Ren turned the J-10 in a long curve towards the south. She dropped in behind him.

"Ren, you've got tail and stab damage. No fire…but you might be losing oil. There's a streak just forward of the engine."

"It's handling sluggish, and the engine temp is high—not in the red, but not where it's supposed to be." Ren sighed. "Disco, Prince Two. I am damaged and have to RTB."

"Disco, Prince Lead. I am Winchester." Pyrrha now had no weapons left, aside from the six AMRAAMs—which weren't much use, unless she fired them ballistically. She flew up alongside Ren. Pyrrha kept her head moving, looking around for more GRIMM, but all of a sudden, there weren't any.

"Roger that; RTB as able. Be advised, Ruby Four reported ten Kobolds still inbound Bullseye; she is moving to engage. Ruby Lead is also on the way. Prince Four took heavy damage and has recovered at Objective Alpha." Ren and Pyrrha exchanged a look at that: Nora had been hit as well, but had landed at Area 51.

"Disco, Prince Two, is Prince Four actual all right?" Ren hoped the AWACS would get the somewhat cryptic reference to Nora being hurt herself, rather than just her A-10.

"Prince Two, Four actual reports they are fine. There are casualties at Objective Alpha, but we don't know anything yet."

"Roger that. Prince Lead and Two—"

"—Charlie Mike. We will assist Ruby Four and Lead." Pyrrha looked over at Ren again. He did not look back, but accelerated. Then he did look at her. Pyrrha just nodded. Damaged or not, out of weapons or not, they were still in the fight.


The ten remaining Kobolds had fought their way free of the dogfight and resumed their single-minded run towards Las Vegas. Behind them, Lancer Flight and Weiss were still in a turning fight to keep ten more GRIMM from joining them.

Yang streaked in, having touched twice the speed of sound in her run from Area 51. Her gun was empty, but she still had three Sidewinders. She slowed down, picked out the last Kobold in line, and fired. The missile leapt off the rail and hit the GRIMM, which pitched end over end and exploded. She shot through the Kobold formation and rolled to the right. "Yang, splash one! Nine bandits left! Disco, distance from bandits to Bullseye?"

"Yang, Disco, you have about 30 miles to go."

"Shit," Yang said to herself, "that's cutting it close." If she shot down a GRIMM too close to the city, it could still coast into a target. She also hoped that the AWACS was measuring the distance to the outskirts of Las Vegas and not the Strip; she didn't want something coming down in the favela. She craned her head over her right shoulder and saw she had caused the GRIMM to split their formation again: four of them had broken off to come after her, while the other five continued towards their target. Yang immediately pulled the turn tighter, to take the Kobolds head on. She'd kill one, pray that the other missed her, then jump the ones headed south. "Ruby Four to any friendlies—I've got nine of the bastards cornered over here!" Yang was not going to ask for help—not out loud, anyway.

"Yang, Ruby! I'm in at your six low!" Ruby had finally arrived, pushing Crescent Rose III to its limits; she'd had to dump the gunpod to get rid of the extra drag. That still left four Sidewinders and her own internal weapon. "You're covered."

Yang let out a whoop of delight. "Two Kobolds coming head on! I got the first guy!" Yang's eyes widened as the lead GRIMM fired two missiles at her, and she fired two herself, then threw the F-15 upwards into a roll, dumping flares behind her. The sudden maneuver worked: the missiles went under her, while her two Sidewinders blew the Kobold apart. The other GRIMM passed under her too.

The destroyed Kobold's missiles had missed Yang, but now they locked on Ruby. "Oh, shit!" Ruby remarked, and dodged them by a hard right break. This meant the Kobold could now swing in behind her. "Yang…go after the others…" Ruby grunted into the radio against the force of five Gs. "I got…this guy…" She glanced into the mirrors in the canopy bow. The Kobold was still with her. Okay, Crescent…let's see what we can do. Ruby pulled the turn even tighter. The F-16 shuddered as the G meter crept past eight, and then nine Gs. Shadows darkened her vision, slowly closing it to just what was directly in front of her, even as her G-suit squeezed Ruby and she screamed to keep blood in her brain. The fighter was now shaking as she began to overstress the airframe. It was a race to see which could take the Gs more: the F-16 or the Kobold-or Ruby herself.

It was the F-16 and Ruby. The Kobold suddenly dropped out of the turn, its self-preservation algorithm activating before the wings were torn off. As Ruby barely saw the Kobold pull out of the turn, she reacted instinctively, snapping the stick to the left. Her vision began to clear, and she saw the Kobold cutting across her nose. Ruby switched to guns and fired, her silver eyes giving her unnatural clarity to where the Kobold would be relative to the arc of her Vulcan cannon. The twenty millimeter shells shredded the Kobold from nose to tail. "Ruby, splash one!"


Yang closed in on the five headed for Las Vegas, chewing her bottom lip in thought: she had one Sidewinder left, two AMRAAMs that were there for moral support, and four targets—plus the two that were still somewhere to the north. Y'know, this never came up at Vytal Flag or Weapons School, she thought, but then Yang had an idea. It might not work, but it was worth a shot, literally. She went a little lower on the Kobolds, switched to her AMRAAMs, and fired both. Neither would guide on the stealthy GRIMM, but she was hoping the two missiles might have other effects.

She was right. The two AMRAAMs went ballistically over the Kobolds, whose computer brains reacted instinctively to two missiles zipping above them: the five broke into several directions. The GRIMM would know they were facing a single opponent in seconds, but Yang had slowed them down a little. She selected the lead Kobold. "Ruby Four to friendlies. Am engaged just northwest of Bullseye with four bandits and I'm about Winchester."

"Yang, Ruby! I'm catching up—be there in thirty seconds!" Ruby called out.

"Yang, Raven. I've got your six." Yang glanced behind her and saw the Night Raven, black and malevolent against the blue sky, diving in to help her. She took a deep breath, prayed her sister and mother would cover her, and went after her target, which even now was climbing hard and headed south again. Yang knew that it was climbing to give it a high-speed dive into Las Vegas, and went after it.


Pyrrha and Ren had also pushed hard to the south, with Ren watching the engine temperature of his wounded J-10. It seemed to be holding, so he gave it as much speed as he dared. Another warning light came on. "Pyrrha, Ren—I just lost my radar and my HUD. I may have some electrical failures going on somewhere." That meant the J-10 was hit worse than he had thought. He checked the fire warning light, but it was still dark.

"Ren, Pyrrha. I'll vector you in on the bandits." Pyrrha accelerated her Raptor and climbed. The stealthy F-22 might not be detected by the Kobolds, and she would now act as something of a mini-AWACS herself. It was all she could do, besides act as bait. That might work as well, Pyrrha considered.

Ren squinted through the now blank HUD. No one had thought to give the J-10 a simple gunsight in case the holographic projection failed. The Sidewinders would guide themselves, but what about his guns? Suddenly, he had a very Nora-like idea. Ren quickly took off his oxygen mask—they were low enough that he didn't need it anyway—and pulled a stick of gum from his survival suit. He always carried a stick for long-distance flights, since it helped keep him awake. Ren stuffed it in his mouth, chomped on it a few times, then pulled the gum out, reached forward, and stuck it against the canopy. He laughed out loud at that, and knew he had to survive this battle—if for no other reason that he had to tell Nora about this.

"Ren, bandits, eleven o'clock high. Two Kobolds," Pyrrha warned.

"Roger. Ren, Fox Two." Ren was all business again. He heard the Sidewinders growl, and fired three of them, an extra for insurance. It worked: actually, all three missiles guided, destroying the Kobolds before they had a chance to fire. "Ren, splash three."

"Sierra Hotel," Pyrrha radioed. "Follow me!" She brought her F-22 out of orbit and resumed going south to help Yang. Ren pushed the throttle up, and glanced at the engine temperature. It began to rise.


Yang heard her RWR go off as two Kobolds dropped in behind her. She sped up, keeping her peripheral vision on the missile warning light as she closed in on the GRIMM ahead of her. It began to jink and try and throw her off, but she held steady, her metal hand and her feet moving automatically to compensate for what her eyes were telling her.

Ruby saw the Night Raven come in ahead of her, flattening out from its dive. "Raven, Ruby—I've got the guy to the right."

"Roger, Summer—I got the guy to the left." Ruby blinked at the use of her mother's name. "Going in for guns."

The second Kobold—the one to the right—fired its missiles at Yang. "Yang, smoke in the air!" Ruby shouted.

"Yang, Fox Two!" Yang fired her last Sidewinder and offered up a prayer that it would guide. Her prayer was answered: the GRIMM exploded. Then she rolled into a split-S, leaving flares in her wake. One missile blew up going after the flares; the other dived after her, got confused between the heat of the desert and the heat of the F-15, and flew into the ground.

"Ruby, Fox Two!" Ruby fired her wingtip Sidewinders; both hit. "Got one! Raven, get that asshole!"

"On him." The Kobold had rolled into a dive to go after Yang, but Raven fired the last of her cannon ammunition in front of it, and the GRIMM simply ran into her fire. It was torn apart under the heavy impacts. "Raven, splash. You're clear, Yang." Under her mask, Raven grinned. "A squid for a shark."

Ruby's sense of triumph was wiped out by the AWACS' next transmission. "Ruby, be advised—two Kobolds left, ten miles north of Bullseye."


Ren heard the radio call. "Disco, Prince Two. I have the intercept."

"Ren, Pyrrha. I'll drag." Pyrrha dived in front of the two Kobolds, dropping both chaff and flares, even opening her weapons bays to make her an even bigger target—the bays would temporarily hurt the F-22's stealthy profile. Confronted with an easy kill, the two Kobolds abandoned their run on Las Vegas to go after the Raptor.

Ren lined up on the rearmost GRIMM and fired his remaining two missiles. The Kobold began to break just as both hit, immolating it. He then swung to the left, even as the engine temperature went into the red. It was a 50-50 guess which way the Kobold would break.

It broke left. Ren lined the piece of gum up on it and fired his cannon. The last Kobold flared and died, going into a terminal spiral that ended in the foothills to the north of Las Vegas. They had destroyed it only two miles short. "Ren, splash five. And I'm in trouble." He saw the fire warning light come on. Ren pulled the stick back into a climb. He had to get clear of the city.

Pyrrha saw flames lick back from the J-10's engine, and the smoke had increased considerably. "Ren, Pyrrha! You're on fire! Eject, eject, eject!"

"Hold on," Ren said. "Got to get clear." If he ejected while still pointed at Las Vegas, the J-10 could coast into the northern favelas. He knew that he had seconds to live; even now, the heat of the fire might have reached the fuel tanks. I love you, Nora, he thought, and if he didn't make it out, he hoped she would understand.

"Ren, Ren! Get out of it! Get out of it!" Pyrrha screamed. The entire tail was on fire now.

Ren rolled upside down, made sure that the nose of his aircraft was now pointed north, and tightened the straps. He heard the scream of tortured metal; without oil, the overheated engine began to tear itself apart. It was time to go. Ren braced himself, reached between his legs, and pulled the ejection handle. The canopy blew free and the seat blew Ren clear of his doomed J-10—upside down.

Ren blacked out in the sudden ejection, but woke up when his fighter finally exploded, two seconds after he had left it. The seat righted itself, then separated from him as the parachute opened. It jerked him upwards, but the canopy billowed out. Ren looked upwards and saw that he had a good parachute. He saw Pyrrha fly by and raised both hands over his head, and clasped them together. She waggled her wings at him and made a few more orbits around him before she flew off.

Ren grasped the risers and rather enjoyed the ride down. It was rather beautiful from ten thousand feet, after all.


"Ruby Lead, Disco. Picture is clear. All bandits destroyed."

Ruby shot her hands into the air. "Hot damn, Disco! What about Octavia?"

"Wait one, Ruby." Ruby settled back into her seat, and checked her fuel state. She was getting a little low, but still had enough for another fifteen minutes before she needed to worry.

"Disco, Raven. Declaring an emergency. Low fuel. I need a straight in approach to McCarran." Ruby sat up at that.

"Roger, Raven. Contact McCarran on 141.5. Do you need fire and ambulance? Jolly Greens are in the air as well."

A pause. "Nah, Disco. I'll make it."

Ruby looked over and spotted the Night Raven, headed for Las Vegas. Well, she doesn't sound too worried…I guess she's okay. As she flew south around the western side of the city, she saw Weiss' Typhoon catching up to her. She looked over, grinned under her mask, and wiggled her wings. Weiss did the same in greeting. Ruby held up two fingers, and Weiss did the same. Oh hell, Ruby thought good-naturedly, she's still ahead of me. Oh well. Ruby knew that she had 43.5 kills—that half kill she picked up somewhere was doggedly hanging on—but wasn't sure what the rest of her flight had. Weiss keeps track of that. Anyways, Pyrrha's way ahead of us…wonder if she's beaten Nishizawa yet. He had, what, 82 kills? I'll have to ask. We're gonna party tonight! Ruby's stomach rumbled in warning. But no more White Russians for me. Nuh-uh. Wonder why Raven called me Summer? I must sound like Mom…

"Ruby, Disco. Relay from Weirdo on Octavia."

"Go, Disco," Ruby told the E-3. Blake—or Emerald, or Metzger—was relaying their call through the Compass Call EC-130.

"Ruby, Weirdo advises that the objective has been secured with no casualties to the Joe force." The AWACS controller hesitated. "Ruby Three is good. Prince Four has flown west." Another pause. "Ruby, do you understand my last?"

Ruby stared. Flown west was the fighter pilot euphemism for death. Emerald. Emerald's dead. Oh my God…Emerald is dead.


AUTHOR'S SUPPLEMENTAL NOTES: The part with the chewing gum? Based on a real incident. Gabby Gabreski couldn't quite figure out the radar-ranging gunsight on his F-86 Sabre, so he would just stick a piece of gum on the inside of the windscreen and use that.

Next chapter will be dealing with the fallout of Emerald's death...