AUTHOR'S NOTES: This one took a bit to get through, partially due to working on Side Stories and partially just due to good ol' writer's block. But it's done, and now we can start the home stretch of this story arc...which is a lot longer than I thought it would be.

Wall Beach

Former Vandenberg Air Force Base, California Dead Zone

1 May 2002

Yang Xiao Long sat on the bluffs overlooking the beach, watching the surf come in, as the sun began to set over the Pacific Ocean. The sea breeze had a strong smell of salt and fish, which wasn't all that pleasant, but the view more than made up for it. Sure is pretty out here, she thought to herself. I can see why people decided to stick it out here rather than run for it, even with a bombed-out radioactive mess just next door. She leaned back against the bluff and kicked off her flight boots. She still wore her flight suit, but unzipped it down over her bust to let in some fresh air. Wonder how many sunsets are left for us. Yang laughed at her own dark thoughts. Shit, I sound like Ruby. Nah, Salem's not going to get me. She held up her artificial arm, admiring the way the sun reflected off the polished steel and plastic. This is as close as you get, you old bitch! The only thing that can kill Yang Xiao Long is boredom! She belched loudly. And overeating.

"From the belly of the beast." Yang looked up as Blake came down the short path to where she sat. The ruins of Vandenberg—or at least the part that the Branwen Tribe had rebuilt—was about half a mile behind them. Raven had told them that they were safe inside the base perimeter: the occasional biker gang or marauder group rarely tried on the Tribe.

"Hey, Blake." Yang scooted over a little. "Pull up some grass."

"Don't mind if I do." Blake dropped a bag next to her, sat and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. "Here you go. I liberated this from the dinner table."

"Mmm. Jim Beam." Yang checked the date. "Damn, last year. I wonder how they get stuff like this out here?"

"Smugglers, probably. Remember what Junior Xiong told us last year." Blake grinned. "You know, you pissed me off with him."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought it was demeaning that you were willing to suck him off for information." She laughed. "Of course, then you told me you bit him."

Yang shrugged. "Y'know, I was tempted to just let him screw me. He wasn't a bad looking guy, and he was hung. Then I thought, nah, he and the Malachite Twins were being jerkoffs, so I chomped down on him. He wasn't circumcised, but he was after me!" Yang laughed.

Blake leaned back against the hill as well, and unzipped her flight suit. "Is that what you look for in a guy? A big tool?"

Yang considered it for a moment. "Not really. There was this pilot in the 4th, back at Signal. This was, oh, two years ago, I guess. We got to talking at the O-Club about movies, and just really hit it off. It had been awhile and I wanted to get that itch scratched, so I said, 'What the hell,' and just asked him if he wanted to sleep with me. Naturally, he was all for it."

"Naturally," Blake said.

"Anyway, we get back to my room, we strip down, and he's hard as Chinese algebra. But he's not really big, right? I mean, five inches, I think. I didn't measure him, but I was thinking 'Geez, Yang. I sure hope you can feel that.'"

Blake opened the bottle. "Did you?" She took a drink.

"Oh, hell yes. Blake, girl, that guy made me climb the damn walls. He knew exactly where to get me off. Tongue, fingers, lips, dick—everything. Matter of fact, probably the best sex I've ever had." She sighed, grabbed the bottle, and took a drink herself. "I think I've been with about six or seven guys, I guess. Some of them were like ol' Tripod back in Patch—one pump chumps. But there's been two or three of them who just took their time, you know? They were there to make me feel good as well as themselves." Yang took another drink and handed it back. "We'd better go easy on that. That homemade wine we had with dinner was pretty potent."

"I brought this, too." Blake pulled out some bottled water—which they had brought from Arizona—and some fruit. "After dinner picnic, I guess." She set the bourbon down and watched the sun sink lower. It wasn't quite to the water yet, but the clouds were already starting to take on a purple and pink hue. The sound of the waves were lulling, but even though Blake was tired, she needed to stay awake. "How did we get to talking about sex?"

"You started it." Yang unscrewed one of the bottles of water and drank from that. "You want to talk about work?"

"No."

"Politics?"

"God, no."

"Well, if we're not talking about work or politics, then I guess we talk about sex."

Blake snickered. "We could talk about movies or something."

Yang shrugged. "Yeah, that's true."

"But…I kind of want to talk about…" Blake hesitated. "Maybe not sex, but relationships. As in, you and me."

"Oh, shit." Yang put down the water and grabbed the bourbon. She didn't drink from it, just cuddled it like she would a stuffed animal. "Okay, let me have it. I can handle it. I can't throw myself off the cliff or anything." She leaned forward a bit. "I could jump in the ocean. Though Raven implied that the beach was mined."

"She told me the water's full of sharks," Blake said.

"I ain't committing suicide by shark," Yang stated. She smiled to show she wasn't serious. "Seriously, Blake. What's up?"

Blake took a deep breath. "I talked with Arashikaze about us."

Yang's eyes rounded. "You talked to the head of the CIA about us?"

"She's the deputy director of intelligence, not the head."

"I think that little terror actually runs the place," Yang said. "Hell, I'm starting to wonder if she runs the damn country. The President seems to do whatever she wants." She waved it off. "Never mind…how the hell did that come up in conversation? 'Captain Belladonna, are you fucking Captain Xiao Long?'"

Yang did such a good impression of Arashikaze's voice that Blake burst into laughter. When she stopped, she nodded. "Actually, that's more or less what happened. She was interrogating me, Yang—and I didn't even realize it. I guess she wanted to prove that she can actually find out what people are thinking without torturing them."

"And then she shot Fifestone."

Blake blew out her breath. "That was personal. Arashikaze really wants this Dr. Merlot guy. I mean, she's a master spy, but I don't think she was acting." Blake opened a bottle of water herself. "But yes, she did ask me if we had, um, had sex yet. And I told her the truth. We haven't." She raised the water to her lips, thought better of it, and grabbed the bourbon from Yang, taking a drink of that instead.

"Yeah, no shit. I think I'd remember that, even if we did get fucked up in Vegas." Yang still wondered if she had done the right thing. Blake had wanted to have sex, but she was so drunk that, even as intoxicated as Yang had been, it had felt wrong. Luckily, Blake had simply passed out. But we made out, and this girl can kiss, Yang thought.

"But she did give me some pretty good advice." Blake took another drink—more of a sip, because she could feel a buzz coming on, and she didn't want to get drunk. "She asked if it would be so bad if we did sleep together. I told her it probably wouldn't be. Then she asked if it would be so bad if we didn't. Same answer. So she said we should just let things happen naturally. If we end up in bed, we do. If we don't, we don't. If I fall in love with you, great…but if we don't, that's okay too. I guess." Blake drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on it. "Probably not the answer you wanted to hear."

Yang took the bottle and drank a little too, then set it aside. "Blake, I don't know the answer I wanted to hear. But…that's a pretty good one, really." She stretched out her legs; her feet dangled over the little bluff; three feet below, the beach shifted to sand and drifted out to the Pacific. "That little bitch is right, though. We try forcing this, and we're just going to break our hearts. But maybe…if we just let what happens happen…maybe it'll be okay."

"I'm sorry, Yang—"

Yang put a finger on Blake's lips, causing the other girl's eyes to cross comically. "Don't worry about it, Blake. Hell, a year from now I might be riding some guy's ten-incher—or five-incher—and thinking to myself 'Man, I sure was dumb to think I was in love with Blake and wanted her underneath me.'" She reached over and pulled Blake into a hug. "Except I'll always love you, Blake. Lover, sister, whatever. You're my best friend. For the first time in my life…I have one. And even if we never have sex—no, make love—that'll never change."

Blake wiped her eyes. "Dammit, Yang. Don't make me cry."

"Sorry." Yang sighed. "This'll do. Watching a beautiful sunset with my friend." She watched the tide start to come in. "Damn if I don't want to go swimming. I didn't bring a swimsuit, but fuck it, we've been in the same bed naked before."

"Yang. Mined beach? Sharks?"

"Raven's lying. And sharks won't come too close to the beach." She grinned at Blake. "Wanna go skinny-dipping? Why should Ruby and Pyrrha have all the fun?"

"Sharks will if they smell blood." Yang opened her mouth, but Blake shook her head and blushed. "I'm riding the cotton pony at the moment."

"Oh. Eww." Yang stared at her. "Hey, you can't be on your period! Ours line up! All four of us! That's how it works with girls who spend a lot of time with each other!"

"Well, Weiss is on hers, but Ruby said she's not."

Yang went pale. "Oh. Oh, no."

"Relax, Yang. It's probably just combat stress." Blake shrugged. "Besides, you'd make a good aunt."

Yang hung her head. "Yeah, just not ready to be one. Ruby's too…" She laughed. "God, I sound like every big sister ever."

"Ruby's lucky to have a big sister like you." Blake hugged Yang tighter. "And I'm damn lucky to have a best friend like you."

"God, we're a pair of sappy asses," Yang commented, but she didn't move. They were silent for a long while as the sun began dipping below the waves, turning the ocean into molten gold and the sky into orange fire. The breeze picked up, and Yang shivered. She zipped up her flight suit and put her boots back on. "I think we'd better head back in, Blake. Don't want to walk back in the dark."

"Yeah." They pulled each other to their feet, and walked up the small rise. Yang found three rocks and chucked them towards the Pacific. Two thunked nicely into the water. The third hit the beach—and the sand exploded in a dull report, like someone hitting their shoe on a stone floor. They both jumped. "Holy shit," Yang breathed.

"Antipersonnel mine," Blake said, her eyes wide. "It wouldn't have killed you, but it would've nicely separated a leg." She willed her heart to stop pounding. "Damn, Raven wasn't joking."

"Fuck, I can't afford more metal parts!" Yang laughed off the surprise.

"Then you'll be more machine than man, twisted and evil," Blake quoted. They looked at each other and started giggling. Yang and Blake talked Star Wars all the way back to their barracks.

Yang was woken out of a good sleep by the ringing of the telephone. She opened one eye and stared at the phone with murderous intent for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it. She saw Blake sitting up, one ear twitching, the other still flat against her head, like it was independently still asleep. "Yeah," she growled, her mouth feeling cottony. "Yeah, Yang here."

"Yang, it's Raven." Yang thought her biological mother sounded just as tired as she was. "Get your shit together and wait outside. I'm coming over to pick you up in ten. Fong backtracked that signal."

"Okay. We'll be there." She hung up the phone. "They figured out where the signal's coming from."

"All right." Blake flung off the covers and put on her flight suit; none of them had brought a change of clothes, so she had just slept in her underwear. Yang threw on her flight suit as well, ran her hand through her hair, and headed across the hall to Weiss and Marrow's room. Marrow had been given his own room, but Yang knew that Weiss wasn't letting opportunity get away from her. Oh wait, if she's on her period…ew. Yeah, let's not think about that. I mean, it's possible, but…no, let's not think about that. She knocked on their door. "Wakey wakey, hands off Marrow's snakey!" she yelled.

"She's not in here, Yang!" Marrow yelled back.

"Then hands off your own snakey!" Yang went over to Ruby's room. "Get up, sis! Duty calls! Weiss, are you in there?"

There was silence, but not for long. "Mein Gott, Yang! It's 0530!"

"They found where the GRIMM are coming from. Now get the lead out, you two!"

"Fuck off, Yang!" Ruby groaned.

"Don't give me that shit! C'mon, fearless leader!" Another door opened and Pyrrha stuck her head out. Her red hair looked like she had stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. "They backtracked the signal, Pyr." Pyrrha nodded, yawned, and went back inside her room, leaving the door open. Not hearing any movement from Ruby's room, Yang banged on it again. "Ruby, dammit! Get your ass—"

The door was flung open, revealing a Ruby wearing a threadbare robe and looking undead. "Yang, shut up before I kick your ass. I hurt all over." She turned her back on her sister and headed back into the small room, pulling her flight suit off the floor between the two beds. Weiss was already pulling on hers.

"Rubes, are you hung over?"

"No…I'm just one giant cramp right now. Fucking period started last night. Thank God I had some tampons in my survival gear…"

Yang closed the door to give her sister some privacy, and smiled. "Well, at least I'm not an aunt," she said softly to herself. Weiss and Ruby came out of their room. "Hey, Weiss. Aunt Flo in town?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Weiss snapped. "Too early in the morning for your dumb American slang." Yang realized that Weiss was tired; her German accent was thick, which it only got when Weiss was exhausted. Ruby whispered in Weiss' ear. She rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Yes, Yang, Aunt Flo is in town. So much for privacy."

"No action for Marrow tonight, huh?" Yang needled her. Weiss gave her the finger and walked towards the door. "I know I'm number one, Weiss!"

They gathered out front, Blake running a comb through her hair and Pyrrha looking a little mystified why Ruby was nearly bent over, Weiss kept giving Yang dirty looks, and Marrow was gently massaging Weiss' shoulders, his tail wagging. A '57 Chevy pulled up, in mint condition, and Raven leaned out of the drivers' window. "Get in, losers." Somehow they all piled in—Pyrrha calling shotgun—and Raven pulled out onto the main road. She glanced in the rearview mirror. "Ruby, what's wrong with you? Food poisoning? Better not be."

"Cramps," Ruby struggled out.

"Oh, I see. Code Red, huh? Surfing the crimson wave? How's everyone else doing? Summer and I, our periods used to line up—Tai and Qrow knew to vacate the premises-"

"Can we cease talking about menses, please?" Weiss shouted.

There was silence in the car for ten seconds, then Marrow remarked, "I sure am glad I'm a guy, eh?"

They drove for another ten minutes—Weiss was now glaring at Marrow—and reached the northwestern end of the base. Raven stopped in front of what was clearly an old launch complex, one of the places where an Atlas missile had been fired towards the Soviet Union in 1962. Yang shivered a little, and not just because the ocean breeze was cold. She wondered where it had landed. Most of the Atlases were "city buster" missiles, inaccurate and unable to hit targets larger than major cities—but when they did hit, they were usually armed with megaton-yield warheads with cesium or thorium to make them "dirty." Wherever this one hit, it sure killed a lot of people.

Raven took a ring of keys out of her pocked and unlocked a door. She led them down a long staircase, six flights worth, and then unlocked another door. They went through this one—an old blast door, designed to stop any fire racing down the stairwell from a nearby nuclear detonation—and down another hallway. Lei Fong came out of one of the doors, zipping up his pants. "Oops! Company." He grinned at them, and motioned to what he was wearing. It was surprisingly a suit and tie, with a white vest and smock adorned with NASA patches. "Figured I might as well look the part." He waved them forward, and they went through another blast door, though this one was open.

The room they entered was large, with several rows of computers stacked upwards to a single desk. There were about twenty people there, dressed in varying clothes, working on the computers. Taking up the far wall were three giant monitors, each showing a map of the world, North America, and the United States. Ruby forgot her cramps for a moment. "Hey, this looks like Mission Control!"

"It ought to," Fong said, "because that's basically what it is." He led them down to the floor in front of the monitors. "If the Big One hadn't happened in '62, more than likely Vandenberg would've been turned into a satellite launch facility. The Atlases were obsolete anyway and due for retirement. So, in an alternate universe where we didn't nuke each other, the Atlases and the missile wing would've been deactivated in, oh, 1964 or thereabouts. NASA had already launched some polar-orbit satellites here in '59, so it's not a leap to think Vandenberg would've been a major space launch facility—maybe they would've even based the Space Shuttle here." He shrugged. "Anyway, this facility was built to track satellites launched into orbit and test missiles launched downrange into the Pacific. It was pretty much intact when the Branwens got here, and the JPL folks got it up and running in 1969—just in time to track Apollo 8 headed to the Moon." Fong sighed. "Man, I wish I could've worked on that, but they wrapped up with Apollo 19 in 1976—I just missed it."

Raven cleared her throat, and Fong nodded. "Right, right. Jane, can you punch up that GRIMM track for me? Thanks, dear." The map of the world acquired three satellite tracks; it was repeated on the North America map. "Okay, so this Salem person, or whoever's working for her, bounced the signals for the Kobolds off three communication satellites, all commercially-owned ones. Makes sense; easier to intercept than miltary ones. The last one is in orbit here—" he pointed at the map "—and it makes this run basically once a day right over the Southwest. So I'm guessing the Kobolds were launched out of Area 51, they pick up the satellite guidance feed, and follow it to wherever. Las Vegas was probably easy; they just fired them ballistically, like the old V-1 in World War II."

"How did they hit Florida?" Pyrrha asked.

"We haven't figured that out yet. Either they used a different sat network, or it was another ballistic launch with in-course guidance, like Tomahawk cruise missiles. I'm guessing those babies were launched from Cuba." Ruby and Yang exchanged a glance at that, since that had been the CIA's conclusion as well.

"So where does the signal originate?" Weiss wanted to know.

"Jane, zoom in, hon…yeah, there we go." The US map zoomed into the Pacific Northwest, the Washington and Oregon Dead Zones. The controller highlighted the spot. "Right there. Mount Rainier. Highest point in the Pacific Northwest, and a good place for a ground station. The winter would be a bitch, though, which could explain why Salem or whoever held off until now to start launching."

"Isn't that a volcano?" Weiss asked. "I remember some mountain up there blowing up back in 1980."

"Mount St. Helens," Fong answered. "About a hundred miles to the south. Yeah, it went up in May 1980—good thing there wasn't anyone around; that would've killed a bunch of people." He peered at the map. "Rainier is active, but it's not supposed to blow anytime soon. Anyway, there's your ground station."

"Why there?" Raven mused. "Seattle's gone; just nothing but ruins up there, after the GRIMM took care of it. The naval bases got hit hard up there at Bremerton, and the Navy blew everything up that was left. I know because I've flown over it. Just a few fishing villages here and there."

"Vancouver's gone to the north for the same reason. The GRIMM ran us out," Fong added. "Portland…too far south, the GRIMM flattened the place, and when St. Helens blew that really did a number on the Columbia River—"

"I know why." Everyone turned to look at Ruby. "Can you zoom in on that any more?"

"Hold on," Jane said, a short, raven-haired woman that reminded Yang of the veternarian from Garfield. "Here's the latest satellite picture. It's about three years old." The map was replaced by a picture of what had once been Seattle. The resolution wasn't very good, but parts of the city grid system were still visible, along with what remained of downtown; the forest had taken over most of it, and some of downtown was inundated by Puget Sound, where the seawalls had failed and floods had done the rest. "I wonder if the Space Needle is still there," Fong said wistfully. "Mom and Dad took me down there to that..."

Ruby wasn't interested in that, however. She pointed to the bottom of the picture. "Right there. See that runway?"

Raven looked closer. "You mean the one that looks like it's in suspiciously good condition for being abandoned for over 30 years?"

"Yep," Ruby confirmed. "If I remember right, that's Boeing Field—where they built B-29s and B-52s. But Boeing abandoned the place when Seattle was evacuated—"

"I remember that!" Fong exclaimed. "Their plant got hit pretty hard too."

"—and they relocated down to Wichita and Atlanta," Ruby finished. "Boeing probably took everything they could, but I bet they didn't get everything…"

Fong was nodding. "And that's where they build the Kobolds. That's where the signal originates, so that's where the Kobolds are programmed."

"And that's where all those missing people went," Blake said. "Yang, remember what Junior Xiong said? That smugglers still use the rail networks? And Fifestone said they loaded the prisoners onto trains in Reno." She pointed to the map of North America. "The trains head right up the coast."

"They'd still have to cross the Columbia," Raven began, but Jane was already switching the map to show the ruins of Portland. There was even less left of that city; Portland had been the first city to bear the fury of a mass GRIMM attack. "The bridges should be down...I mean, even if the GRIMM didn't knock 'em down, the mudslides and the fact the Columbia hasn't been dredged in 30 years would…"

Yang put her hands on her hips. "At least one of the bridges is intact." She pointed. The satellite was pointed straight down, but the bridge cast shadows on the river. The others were indeed gone, collapsed into the river, but one was still there. "I bet you next month's pay that's a rail bridge."

Blake chewed her bottom lip in thought. "So Salem—or Merlot, or whoever—takes over the old Boeing facility, they restore it, and they use slave labor to build the Kobolds. The trains smuggle the completed GRIMM down to Reno, and they truck them to Area 51."

"And there's a rail line that goes right past Boeing Field," Ruby said.

"Well, ladies," Marrow smirked, "I think maybe it's time we talked to Arashikaze about this…y'know, if your menses can handle it."

Weiss elbowed him. "I'll mense you."

"Gross!" Ruby stuck out her tongue.

Pyrrha studied the maps a little longer, memorizing them. "We should leave now." She turned back to them. "No offense, Raven, but the longer we wait, the more chance Merlot has of finding out Area 51's compromised, and the more chance those prisoners, slaves, whatever get murdered when he destroys the evidence. We need to brief Arashikaze and plan our next move."

Raven hesitated, then gave her a nod. "You're right. I'll make sure you're fueled up. I have to stay, though—I can't go, not with the Duke of San Fran sniffing around north of here. Besides, that little bitch might not want me there anyway."

"Ladies? And gentleman?" Pyrrha smiled. "Shall we go? We have an operation to plan."

AUTHOR'S ADDITIONAL NOTES: Some history scattered through here. Vandenberg did indeed become a major space launch facility in the 1960s-1970s, and the Shuttle was supposed to launch from there, but the Challenger disaster ended those plans. Naturally, Mt. St. Helens went up in 1980 (geology doesn't follow AU history), but since there was no one living there any longer, the eruption would've merely been a scientific curiosity, rather than killing over 50 people. St. Helens' lahars did flow into the Columbia River and cause a lot of issues there; in our world, the river was dredged to reopen it, but in ORW, it never was.

Portland, Seattle and Vancouver are in ruins and abandoned, but the Space Needle would indeed still be there-badly rusted, but still intact. It was built in 1962, several months before the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Fong also gives us some hints as to how the American space program fared. With no Soviets to drive the race to the Moon, more than likely the Apollo program would've been cut, but in this world-probably for morale purposes-it still went forward. Apollo 8 orbited the Moon in 1969 (instead of 1968), and Apollo 11 landed in 1970. Also unlike in the real world, the last two moon missions (Apollo 18 and 19) were not cut and the last Moon landing took place in 1976. I wonder why the US government would be so interested in the Moon...maybe there's a fifth Maiden? (I don't know if anyone got my joke last week about "Voyager 6"-Star Trek fans know Voyager 6 better as "V'ger" from the Motion Picture. Fong said he was involved in launching Voyager 6, so in the future of ORW, one of Ruby's ancestors might be dealing with a superpowerful robot...)

Anyway, that's it for this week! Next week, the big briefing...and the return of Oscar Pine.