5: Across Distant Horizons



“So, let's make sure we understand each other correctly,” Ozpin echoed slowly, digesting the information in his head. “There exists a work of fiction on your world which depicts Beacon Academy, Vale, and the world of Remnant?”



Dawson nodded. “Yes, sir, that is correct.”



Qrow was more blunt. “I don't believe it. That's impossible.”



“No, sir, just very, very unlikely,” Colonel Hale responded. “There's a theory on Earth that anything that can and will be exists in some universe out there as an alternate reality. Somehow, our reality- where you all exist as fiction-”



“Or, perhaps, it was destined,” Ozpin mused. He turned to the Remnans who had been living on Earth. “Is this true?”



He received a chorus of affirmative replies.



“Hmm, if you have this RWBY show on your world,” Taiyang mentioned. His voice was controlled, but carried an edge to it. “Does that mean we're all just slaves to whatever reality you write?”



“Not at all, as far as we can tell,” Dawson assured him. “The fact that we are here discussing it suggests that it's not the case. There have been major differences between the series and reality even before the portals opened. For what it's worth, we regard it as nothing but a coincidence.”



“It seems that you have us at a disadvantage,” Ozpin said. “You know of our world from these various sources, but we know precious little of yours. All we know- or think we know- is from legend.”



“I'll try to answer as much as I can, and I'm sure our guests have much to say about our world. And there is a gift from our world to yours,” Dawson said. He opened his briefcase and removed a small book, which he passed to Ozpin.



“What's this?” the Headmaster asked, turning the book over in his hand.



“An introduction to Earth, sir. Our history, our culture, our technology, our world. I'm going to be completely honest, it's probably going to leave you with a lot of questions. It's been very carefully constructed, but it'll still leave you with questions. Hopefully you'll have an idea of what to ask.”



“Very interesting. The rest of our diplomatic delegation will be here shortly, and as I have been informed, so will your own. In the mean time, we have prepared accommodations. Glynda will show you to them,” Ozpin offered. “I'm sure you are very tired from the events of the day.”



“Thank you, Professor,” Dawson replied. “In fact, thank you for everything you have done to make this meeting as smooth as it has been.”



He smiled thinly. “It is a time of peace. I am only doing my duty to protect that peace.”



* * * * *



Thirty thousand feet above the American heartland, the senior leadership of the United States government gathered aboard the National Airborne Operations Center. A modified 747 airliner, it was designed to ensure continuity of government in the event of nuclear attack.



Aboard was the President and key parts of his Cabinet, as well as important military leaders including the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Notably absent was the Vice President, who had been evacuated to a bunker in Pennsylvania along with the Deputy Secretary of Defense. A pair of F-15C Eagle interceptors escorted the large jet.



From his seat in the conference room near the front of the plane, the President asked his staff, “So, we've made contact. What's the verdict?”



“Successful,” the Secretary of State replied immediately. “Right now it's just Dawson and the military contact team on Remnant, but they've sent the all clear signal. Our joint diplomatic delegation- with the Canadians, the Brits, and the other Gemstone countries- is on their way to the portal as we speak. According to Ozpin, Remnant is getting their own on scene shortly.”



“Can we trust him?” SecDef asked.



“Our guests have vouched for him,” the National Security Advisor said. “No, of course we can't trust him completely. But I think it's fair to assume he has no vested interest in destroying Terran-Remnan relations, especially given his previous actions.”



“And what about the portal? Is it secure?” the President asked.



“It's safe for the moment and we almost have enough forces on scene to be comfortable,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied. “British Army Training Unit Suffield is on site, the Canadians are bringing up their reserves, and the Marines are landing now.”



“I think if things keep going like this, we'll come out of it okay,” the Secretary of State opined.



“I think you're right, John,” the President acknowledged. “It's going to get pretty damn complicated, but we've avoided a shooting war, and that's-”



A frantic voice interrupted, “Sir, you have to see this!”



* * * * *



Inside Ozpin's office, his inner circle gathered. Qrow, his trusted agent and right-hand man, was there, as was Glynda Goodwitch. Despite his earlier actions, Ironwood, too, was there.



The circle had once been much bigger.



“The Earthers are not what we expected,” Ozpin stated simply.



“No, they aren't,” Qrow concurred. “They say they don't have Dust and that they don't have Aura, which makes sense. When the Queen's scientists probed the targets, they didn't find any. We were just completely wrong about how much that would cripple them. Or, you know, wouldn't.”



“I expected that we would have to protect Earth against ourselves,” Ozpin stated, shooting Ironwood a pointed glare. “Now I worry that the opposite is true.”



“They're still way behind us technologically,” Qrow pointed out.



“They appear behind us technologically,” Glynda corrected. “We've been careful about what we're showing them. It makes sense that they would do the same.”



“You don't really believe they have doomsday devices, do you?” Qrow asked.



“It's unlikely, but anything is possible,” she acknowledged.



“It's a good thing you didn't invade them,” Qrow shot at the General, taking a swig from his flask. “Why are you even here? Which side are you playing now?”



“Qrow,” Glynda warned.



He glared at her. “What? Someone's gotta ask the important questions.”



“I'm playing the side that will keep the peace and ensure our survival,” Ironwood said uncomfortably. “We work to keep everyone safe. I saw an opportunity. You must understand the appeal of the Queen's plan. Unfortunately, she was wrong about what was on the other side.”



“She was also wrong about how she went about it, or do you consider killing a bunch of bystanders necessary?”



“Now is not the time,” Ozpin interrupted quietly but powerfully. “We have all experienced troubling, trying events. We must continue despite them.”



“Fine.” Qrow reminded them, “We know who opened that portal. Why are we messing around?”



“The Queen still holds a lot of sway in Atlas,” the General answered. “Do you have any idea what exposing her could do? We could have a civil war on our hands. Atlas is not Vale and there are a lot of people who will sympathize with her.”



Ozpin nodded gravely. He turned to his trusted associate. “Qrow, you've been closer to the Queen than anyone else. How likely do you think it is that she'll open more portals?”



“She's still got six sites and enough Spectral Dust to use them,” Qrow answered. “I think she'll pause now that she knows about Earth, but might try again once she learns about all the countries and how some aren't as well defended as others. She knows time is running out, that someone is on to her. I might even be burned. Either she'll start opening portals soon or she won't open any at all.”



“How much do we know about the targets?” Ironwood asked.



“The other primary target is another big city near a coast, very similar to Vancouver. The secondary targets are also near cities, but I don't know much about those. Actually, now that I think about it, we figured they were villages, not cities, but I think the scientists were basing that on Aura measurements mostly. There's also a desert, a forest, and a jungle- her so-called wilderness targets. Two coastal and three oceanic targets, but she figured those were next to useless.” He turned to Ozpin. “There's a map in that book, isn't there?”



Glynda shook her head. “It won't help. Nobody could find a location on Remnant from those descriptions, and we live here.”



“I believe we have no option but to wait and see,” Ozpin concluded. “There are too few of us to try anything else without knowing more.”



“What about Summer?” Glynda asked. “She was one of our best. Should we bring her in again?”



“Was,” Qrow reminded her. “She's definitely still there, but she's pretty messed up in the head. Can barely remember her own name, let alone anything we did. Whatever happened did a number on her.”



Ozpin nodded. “I will talk to her. Most likely, she will need time to acclimatize again.”



“So what do we do, Oz?” Qrow asked.



“We learn more,” Ozpin replied. He held up the book Dawson had given him. “We have some light reading. We have nine of our own who have spent time on Earth. We must learn as much as we can before we take any action.”



* * * * *



“Total portal count is now four confirmed plus one possible,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs reported to the President and his staff. “Confirmed just outside of DC, confirmed near Tokyo, confirmed in the Donbass region and one possible in Syria.”



“Holy shit,” the President breathed. “How do we know about these?”



The National Security Advisor replied vaguely, “Through our usual intelligence sources, sir.”



He nodded. “Okay, show me.”



A blurry picture of a portal much like the one in Vancouver appeared on the projection screen. The Secretary of Defense explained, “This is Washington. The Army and National Guard have moved to surround the portal. We've got air patrols up and more standing by if we need it.”



“We're reasonably confident we can defend the city against an invasion by Remnan forces or the Grimm,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs added.



“Okay. What's on the other side?”



“Intercepted transmissions suggest that there may be Atlesian forces across the portal, but we have no confirmation at this time,” the Chairman replied. “We have a U-2 en route to penetrate the portal and gather intelligence should you authorize it.”



The President nodded. “Do it.”



“Yes, sir.”



The National Security Advisor interrupted, “Mister President, I should mention that these portals fit the pattern we expected.”



“Pattern?” SecState asked.



“Yes, sir. We were expecting to see the portals match the initial emergence if more were to open up. It looks like our guess was correct,” the National Security Advisor explained. “I don't entirely understand the science behind it, but it has something to do with weak points between our realities. I should also stress that this is very much cutting-edge science that we could be wrong about.”



“We did pre-position some assets based on that assumption, though not so many that it would cripple our ability to respond otherwise,” the Chairman added. “It's a good thing it panned out.”



“No shit. Do we have any idea who or what is opening these things?” the President asked.



SecState shook his head. “Our new friends in Vale are either playing dumb or don't know. Given their scattered response, I'd be more inclined to believe the latter.”



“It's still possible, even likely, that a Remnan actor is behind this,” the National Security Advisor mentioned. “JNPR's testimony implied that someone on Remnant was working on a project that could very well have been interdimensional portals. But we have no reason to believe- or disbelieve- that any specific party is responsible at this time.”



“That's just great.”



“Mister President, the Washington portal is frighteningly close to home, but it's well secured. The Japanese can handle their own portal and we still need to get eyes on the Syria one if it exists,” the Secretary of Defense mentioned. “Our main concern should be the Donbass portal.”



“Why that one?” the President asked.



SecDef motioned toward the Chairman. “Martin?”



“Yes, sir. This was taken over Donetsk only minutes ago.” He brought up a photograph on the projection screen, circling a section of it with a laser pointer. “These are Russian tanks. They're not even bothering with the maskirovka this time. As far as they're concerned, this is a threat big enough that they can roll in and to hell with the consequences.”



“I can't say I blame them. That's one hell of a threat and the only thing standing between it and civilizations is a failed state and a bunch of terrorists. But I take it our European friends are not happy.”



“That's an understatement. The Brits, French, and Germans have condemned it and ordered a heightened state of readiness, but they were going to do that anyway. It's the Poles and the Baltic states that are going apeshit. They're going to support the Ukrainians and they're screaming at everyone else to join them.” The Secretary of Defense paused. “Sir, they're going in whether we want them or not.”



“What about the Ukrainians? What do they actually want?”



“They're scared shitless, both by the portal and by the Russians on their territory,” the Secretary of State stated. “They want NATO aid and they want it now. They're not in NATO, but they're allied with the Poles and the Lithuanians, who could drag us into it.”



“Jesus Christ.”



“Come on, let's get real. Nobody's starting World War Three over Russia's backwards little brother,” the Secretary of Homeland Security objected.



“No, but someone else might for us,” SecState replied. “The Russians are not going to like NATO forces in Ukraine, and it's not going to take much to start a shooting war. Hell, whatever's on the other side of that portal might do it for us.”



“Sir, I'd like to mention that our advisors are already in the Ukraine,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs reminded them. “We could end up dragged into this whether we want to or not.”



“So we're the peacemaker whether we can actually be the peacemaker or not?”



“I'm afraid we'll have to be,” the President said. “The last thing we want is a shooting war in Europe. We can't not support our allies, and we can't just ignore the Russians.”



“What if they ignore us?”



“This is a volatile situation and they know it.” The President turned to his Secretary of State. “John, let's get on the line and figure out what they want and what they're willing to accept.”



“Sir, we're getting a message from Moscow,” a technician interrupted. “I think they're asking us.”



* * * * *



“I wonder what they're going to ask us,” Ruby mused, leading her team down the hallway toward the dormitories. The old walls of the stately institution felt like home after so long away from it, yet they felt oddly foreign at the same time. “Hey, I wonder what our room is like now.”



“I dunno. I thought they would have cleared it out by now, so I'm just surprised they didn't do that,” Yang told her sister.



“It was a mess when we left, so it's probably still a mess,” Weiss suggested. “The bunk beds have probably fallen, though.”



“Oh, come on, those were perfectly stable!” Ruby protested.



“No, they weren't,” Blake objected quietly.



“They really-” Yang stopped, noticing something about her partner that she never used to consider normal. “Blake, do you realize you're not wearing your bow?”



“You know I haven't bothered in months. Everyone on Earth knows I'm a...” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she'd missed. “Oh, fuck.”



“I don't think a lot of people saw us, so if you put it back on I don't think people will notice,” Ruby offered.



Blake turned to Weiss, who offered a different opinion. “Sooner or later, they're going to find out anyway. They're going to find out about Earth, about the show, and about you.”



“And about my past with the White Fang,” the Faunus realized. “They're going to throw me in jail.”



“Blake, we can deal with that later,” Weiss told her. “Yes, there are a lot of people- a lot of people I know, actually- that are going to try to get you thrown in jail. But we have powerful friends, too.”



“You can't keep running forever, Blake,” Ruby reminded her. “Besides, I'm sure people will like you for who you are.”



“Yeah, you're right. One thing at a time.” She resumed her pace, the rest of her team following quickly behind. “Come on. Let's go check out our old room.”



* * * * *



“What's the situation?” Major General Keating asked, stepping into the command post. He'd been appointed as the commander of the force defending Washington only an hour before, and he was arriving at the front for the very first time. “Do we have an invasion on our hands?”



The acting commander, an Army Colonel, informed him, “No, sir, they're holding on their side of the portal. We can hear sporadic gunfire but we have no reason to believe it's targeted at us.”



“Do we have eyes on the other side?” Keating asked.



“To a very limited extent,” the Colonel replied. “A U-2 just penetrated the portal and the Air Force has a pair of Raptors patrolling across the event horizon.”



“I guess drones aren't really an option, are they?”



“Well, sir, I heard they were using small drones with line-of-sight control up in Vancouver, but we don't want to piss off the other side here. We do have a few ready if you decide otherwise, sir.”



“No, that's fine. What are we looking at over there? What kind of force concentration?”



He motioned the General to a hastily drawn map. “Large capital airships here, here, and here. Airmobile forces that seem to be patrolling, providing ground support to their forces. Light infantry with some mech- that's literal walking mechs, not mechanized units- here, here, and here. This isn't completely accurate, sir, and it's out of date now.”



“And the Grimm?”



The Colonel shrugged. “The Atlesians are destroying them on the other side of the portal before we can even see them.”



“Atlesians?” On the way in, he had no idea what was on the other side, and was surprised the Colonel knew already.



“Based on intercepted transmissions and visual surveys, we guessed that the other end of the portal opened somewhere near Atlas. But we don't have to guess anymore, sir.” He motioned a technician over. “Just before you got here, we received this transmission on the contact frequency. Have a listen, sir.”



The technician produced a tape recorder and started it. “To the commander of the military forces on the other side of the portal. The commander of the military forces of Atlas wishes to meet for discussions. We wish for peace and recognize the potential danger of our forces operating close together with no coordination. This will be a meeting of military commanders, not a diplomatic mission. We intend for a small delegation of no more than a dozen troops to transit the portal by air and land in a location of your choosing. If this is acceptable, please respond.”



“They want to meet us this badly?” the General asked.



“Yes, sir, as far as we can tell. Which, I'll admit, is limited.”



General Keating considered it for a moment. “I like this guy. He's smart. Inform the National Command Authority and tell the Atlesians we'll do it.” He surveyed the map before picking up a spot. “They can land here. If they try anything, they'll have to contend with the Marines here and the National Guard units here. Get some aerial firepower if you can, too.”



“Yes, sir.” The Colonel turned to a Lieutenant beside a stack of communications equipment and relayed the general's decision. One message would be sent by satellite to the National Military Command Center in the Pentagon, the alternate NMCC in Raven Rock, USNORTHCOM headquarters at Cheyenne Mountain Complex, and the National Airborne Operations Center. The other would be sent across the portal to the source of the transmission.



The General stopped a Marine on his way out of the tent. “Lance Corporal, give me your sidearm.”



As the confused Marine unstrapped the weapon and handed it over, the Colonel asked, “Sir, is that going to do you any good?”



“No, but they don't know that,” the General answered. “Hell, they probably expect generals to carry sidearms.”



“Sir, this could be a trap,” the Colonel pointed out.



“I know. Arrange transportation for myself and a few troops that you can spare,” the General ordered. He turned to leave before thinking of something else. “FUBAR code word is Stalingrad. You hear that, no matter the context, you wipe the Atlesian delegation off the face of the Earth and take whatever actions necessary after.”



“Yes, sir.”



* * * * *



The current Earth delegation, consisting of Dawson, Colonel Hale, and a handful of technicians and assistants, occupied a conference room five floors up one of Beacon's iconic towers. Like the rest of the Academy, the architecture was more in line with the stately old institutions of years gone by rather than the newer, more sterile ones. A startlingly contemporary steel and glass table sat in the middle with sixteen seats arranged around it, though the room could have held three times that number. A single door led to a (no doubt guarded) hallway and a pair of sliding glass doors opened to an outdoor balcony.



“Yes, sir. I'll relay it as soon as possible.” Dawson exhaled and handed the phone back to an Air Force comm tech.



The comm tech had set up a directional transmitter on the balcony, pointing toward the portal. It gave them secure two-way communications with Washington via a relay station near the event horizon. They'd asked permission from Ozpin and received it immediately, the headmaster recognizing the importance of communication. While the radio link was secure, the room was not, so they had to be careful about what was discussed.



“What was that?” Colonel Hale asked the official.



“New portals,” Dawson told him. “One near Washington, one near Donetsk, one in Japan and possibly another one in Syria.”



“Jesus. I'd expect the good Headmaster to show up any-”



He was interrupted by the man in question entering through the single door. Ozpin was tense, but not angry, his movements quick and measured but not aggressive. He held out a Scroll toward the ambassador, with images showing portals very similar to the Vale one. “These are portals that have opened near Atlas, Mistral, and Vacuo. Were you aware of these?”



“Yes, sir, but only as of five minutes ago,” Colonel Hale answered honestly. “These came to us as a complete surprise.”



“For what it's worth, I do not believe you are responsible for these,” Ozpin replied. “But understand that this will seem very suspicious to many people on our world. We do not know what is creating these, and your assurances may fall on deaf ears.”



“The same is true on Earth, Headmaster,” Dawson reminded him.



“I know,” Ozpin acknowledged. “I believe the matter of who created the portals will be a centerpoint of the discussions. You are no doubt very interested in this, as are we.”



“That's definitely true, sir.” He switched topics. “Do you have any idea when the Remnan delegations will arrive? Our own are several hours out.”



“I'm afraid I still don't know,” Ozpin replied. “You mentioned your world has nearly two hundred countries. They won't all be represented, will they?”



“Not individually, no,” Dawson admitted. “There will be individual representatives from Canada, the United States, and the United Kingdom. Possibly Russia and possibly China as well. There will also be a representative from the European Union and at least one from the United Nations. That's subject to change, of course.”



“Politics must be very complex on your world,” Ozpin remarked.



“That's an understatement, Headmaster.”



Ozpin nodded. “Indeed. I will let you know as soon as I hear from our delegates.”



* * * * *



General Keating stood in the middle of a grassy depression beside a pair of Humvees and a dozen National Guardsmen. A group of Marines, supported by M1A1 tanks, surrounded the depression. An AH-1Z Viper attack helicopter circled overhead, supported by a pair of F-16 fighters watching from above.



A strange aircraft emerged from the event horizon of the portal, arcing toward their position. It was vaguely scorpion-shaped, with a long segmented tail boom and long straight wings with engines mounted at the end. They recognized it as an Atlesian dropship, but this was the first time any of them had seen one in person. It appeared far more elegant in motion than it did in the pictures they'd seen.



“Wave,” General Keating told his subordinates, doing the same himself.



The aircraft slowed to a hover, turning its powerful engines downward. The noise was overpowering and the men on the ground could feel the hot, fast-moving exhaust from where they stood twenty feed away. The aircraft descended slowly, landing gear unfolding just before it hit the ground. The engines shut down and a ramp extended from its rear.



Seven men and women stepped out of the machine. Six of them were wearing the silver-grey armour of Atlesian soldiers and carried large assault rifles. The seventh was a tall woman in the grey and white uniform of an Atlesian general. Her uniform was very similar to the one worn by General Ironwood, but not identical. She wore black gloves, her boots were a different taller design, and she only had one gold square on each lapel. Her eyes flicked to the Earth soldiers, the turrets on their vehicles, and the tough-looking vehicles on the edge of the depression.



“Major General Jeffrey Keating, United States Army,” the Terran general introduced, stepping toward the woman and saluting.



She briskly returned the salute. “General Lili Rook, Atlas.”



Keating dropped the salute. “Welcome to Earth, General Rook.”



“Thank you, General Keating,” Rook replied. “First, I should mention that I am not the official diplomatic delegation. They are in Vale, along with representatives from the other Kingdoms. Strictly speaking, I should not even be here on Earth.”



“Are you doing this without the knowledge of your government?” Keating asked.



“That's a complicated situation for an Atlesian commander,” she dodged. “But if you can keep this meeting discreet, I would appreciate that.”



“I think I understand what you're saying, but I can't offer any guarantees.”



“That's all I can ask for.”



“You have an important reason to come here.” It was more a statement than a question.



“Yes, General, it is,” she replied. “Atlas does not want a war, especially not with an enemy we know nothing about. I know firsthand how dangerous it can be to have two armies operating in close proximity with no coordination, and that's with ones we've worked with before. I have no knowledge of your tactics, your equipment, your capabilities. A mistake could turn into a battle and then a war. We need to get a few things straight before that happens.”



* * * * *



“Well, they don't want us to get involved in the Ukraine at all,” SecState reported, reading the printout again. “They're saying they want us to pull out, get the Poles to pull out, essentially leave Ukraine to them. Not just the east, but the whole country.”



“Yeah, give them a nice open road all the way to the Polish border,” the Secretary of the Treasury said sarcastically.



“Can we even legally do that?” the President asked.



The Secretary of Defense responded, “Strictly speaking, sir, if we pull out of Ukraine and as long as the Russians don't keep pushing into Poland or Lithuania, they could have one hell of a shooting war and we wouldn't have to get involved in it. They could argue the semantics of Article 5, but we could argue back and tie it up until this is over at the very least.”



“If we do that, our European allies will fucking crucify us,” the Secretary of State argued. “We may be within our obligations by the letter but we sure as hell won't be on principle. It could tear apart NATO!”



“I'm saying it can be done, not it should be done,” SecDef defended.



The President shook his head. “We have to support our allies. We have commitments. But those commitments are not fighting over a country that isn't even in our alliance. Give me an out.”



“Sir, the Russians know they're not going to get what they want,” SecState clarified. “They know they have to talk to us or risk a war, and even Putin isn't that crazy. But they have leverage and if they can get some concessions out of this they'll do it.”



The President mulled it over for a moment. “Tell the Russians no, no way. We have commitments and we have to support our allies. But we're willing to work with them to come up with a solution that will satisfy all parties. Drop the hint that we're willing to make concessions because of the extreme emergency of the situation.”



“Okay.” The Secretary of State drafted a reply, and they waited in tense silence for the response from the Russians. The red phone seen so often in fiction did not actually exist. In fact, the Moscow-Washington hotline used secure email through a dedicated network link from the NMCC in Washington to the Kremlin in Moscow. It was supported by a backup satellite fax system, which was what they were using aboard the NAOC.



As soon as the response came, a technician handed it to the President. He read it silently, scoffed, and handed it to the Secretary of State.



“They're basically saying the same thing, just a different way. Turn the Ukraine into a neutral zone, which means turn it into a Russian zone,” he said.



“Do we really care that much about the Ukraine?” SecTreas asked.



“No, but the Poles apparently do, and they're already dragging NATO into it,” SecDef said. “It's dubious whether they really care about the Ukraine either, but they do care about having Russian tanks on their border.”



“Jesus Christ, we've got a fucking portal to another world and we have no idea what's on the other side and we're arguing about the goddamn Ukraine,” the National Security Advisor grumbled. “Sorry, sir.”



“It's called realpolitik,” SecState said ruefully. “How are the portals doing, by the way?”



“The delegation in Vale is still waiting at Beacon,” she replied. “The Japanese have their portal surrounded and the country's scared, but nothing has happened yet. They've killed some Grimm, but no other contact yet. You already know about Washington and I don't know any more about the potential Syria portal than you do.” After a pause, she asked, “Speaking of Vale, did we offer the Russians a spot at the table?”



“Yeah, we offered that right away. They took it as a given,” SecState told her.



“We have to give them something,” the President mused. “They don't want a war any more than we do. We consider the areas the Russians are occupying to be part of the Ukraine, and the Russians breaching their sovereignty. They don't look at it that way. What if we can get the Ukrainians to pull out of the East and rescind their claims on Crimea? There's a good chance that's what they really want out of this.”



“You think the Ukrainians will go for it?” SecDef asked. “You're asking them to give up part of their country, for Christ's sake.”



“A part of their country they haven't controlled in months and now probably won't ever get back,” SecState reminded him. “If they want American tanks between Russia and Kyiv this badly, yes. It's give up the eastern regions or give up the whole country and they know it.”



The President nodded. “Let's table it. While we're at it, tell them they can draw their line on either side of the portal site. That might be what they're really after, and there's no way we're going to get it anyway.”



“And they Ukrainians?” SecState asked.



“Better give them a heads-up. Spin it like we're the good guys.”



“Always, sir.”



“Nobody's going to be happy with this, Mister President,” the National Security Advisor mentioned.



“No shit.” The President leaned back in his chair. “God, I hope this works. Now give me an update on the situation in Washington.”



“We're now in communication with the Atlesian forces,” the Secretary of Defense answered. He brought up a portrait on the projection screen of a woman with white and black striped hair, an angular face, and steel grey eyes. “This is General Lili Rook. She's the one who initiated contact, and claimed to do so of her own accord.”



“Why?” the President asked.



“Her stated reason is to avoid an accident that could result in a war,” he replied. “To that end, she's agreed to provide communications equipment to our forces and to try to avoid stepping on our toes.”



“Smart.” It was a nice olive branch, the President reflected, but could be a trap. “What are the Atlesians up to on their side of the portal?”



“We're very close to their city. They've got airships, hunters, soldiers, and mechs sitting between the city and the portal, and they're killing most of the Grimm before they can get anywhere close,” the Secretary answered. “We're counting at least seven capital ships as well as hundreds of armed transports. We'd need nuclear weapons to stop them.”



“So is the situation stable?”



“For the moment, yes, sir. The Atlesians are a significantly greater threat than the Grimm,” he answered. “Sir, it's my recommendation that we station a B-2 bomber with strategic weapons on watch nearby. Just in case.”



The President thought about it for a moment before asking the Secretary of State, “What will the Atlesians think?”



The Secretary of State turned to the Secretary of Defense. “It'll be on our side of the portal, right?”



“That's right.”



“They won't know about it, and if they do, they won't know what it is.”



“The latter is not necessarily true, sir,” the National Security Advisor interrupted. “Keep in mind that we've handed over nine people who have spent significant amounts of time on Earth. They may recognize it if they see it. With that being said, as long as it doesn't penetrate the portal, they won't see it.”



“What's our reaction time if we don't?”



“Several hours, sir,” SecDef replied. “Versus minutes if it's already in the air and patrolling. As an alternative, we could make that about an hour if we station a B-2 at a closer airbase.”



The President nodded. “Okay, do the repositioning. Let's not get that close to ending the world just yet.”



“Yes, sir.”



“General, what about the Syria portal?” the President asked the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “You told me you had confirmation on it.”



“Yes, sir.” He brought up an aerial photograph, taken from a slight angle. It showed the edge of a city, along with farmers' fields and a strange distortion covering the top half of the image. “This was taken by a drone near Raqqa. We're still trying to confirm through other sources, but we believe with ninety percent certainty that this is a portal.”



“Holy shit,” the President said. He pointed to a few small spots below the distortion. “What are those?”



“We believe those are Creatures of Grimm, sir.” The General paused for breath. “And their victims.”



“Wait, we haven't seen this with any of the other portals,” SecState pointed out. “Why are they rushing through and dismembering people?”



“Maybe they went through and stirred them up,” SecDef suggested. “They didn't suddenly run out of the Vancouver portal, but once we were on Remnant they did follow us back. And this portal maybe has some light forces defending it. Versus a shitload of combined arms on the Vancouver portal, the Tokyo portal, both sides of the Washington portal and even the Donbass portal once the Russians moved in.”



“Frankly, sir, I'm surprised they didn't attack like this sooner,” the National Security Advisor added. “The Grimm are attracted to negative emotions- or so we believe- and there are plenty of those on Earth. It's possible that the portal blocks this or repels them for some reason.”



“This is one hell of a mess,” the President mentioned.



“Grimm versus ISIS, who do we bomb?” the Secretary of Homeland Security asked grimly.



“We're going to have to sit on this one,” the President concluded. “Get me intelligence, get me projections, get me plans. We're going to have to rethink our strategy in the region.”



“Yes, sir.”



“Okay. What about Vale?” the President asked.



“Our delegation is still en route- they might be there now, actually,” the Secretary of State reported. “It seems that whatever diplomatic talks will be held at Beacon Academy. The other Kingdoms, provided they're not lying to us- and I don't think that's likely- are sending representatives to meet there. They might already be there but we're still waiting for the talks to begin.”



“So, just waiting.”



“Yes, sir.”



“What about the portal itself? Is it secure?”



The Secretary of Defense answered, “Well, the Canadians are still antsy about it, but yes, we believe it's secure against any reasonable threat. There are limited Remnan forces on the other side of the portal- hunters, not military. We've had limited contact with them.”



“And I thought things were going to get less fucked up,” the President breathed. “Okay, good work, people. Stay on it.”



* * * * *



I expected this chapter to be shorter than the previous one, but it kind of ballooned. The pacing is kind of off, and I feel there's too much talking in it. In other words, there was a lot more to get through than I thought. One more chapter, then an epilogue, and that will be the end of Convergence. It's been a hell of a ride.

d