Fallout Equestria: Skyfire

by CamoBadger

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Comedy, Tragedy, Random, Crossover, Sex, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe
Length: 6870

An Enclave soldier is shot down in the midst of a firefight and wonders if she could have avoided the fight at all.

This is what happens when I get linked to the plane ponies tag on derpibooru. This is what happens when I'm also very bored and need something to do. This is something horrible that I still don't regret.

Nobody should take this story seriously or expect it to ever be continued or expanded. If you do, you're doing something wrong, and I hope you enjoyed it for what it is and can get past the wacky as hell concept.

Be warned, sexual innuendo and airplane puns await those who enter this magical realm, and I deny all responsibility for mental confusion or breakdowns as a result of this.

That being said, I hope it's fun to read.

Synopsis: In the midst of a firefight, Redline, an Enclave soldier, is shot from the sky and contemplates the day leading up to the operation that would end her life, and wondering if she could have found a way to get out before the fighting even started.

Published 2014-01-07 17:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-07 17:20:04 UTC

Skyfire

Crack crack crack.

Searing pain tore through my body, focused on my left wing and left legs. It was the kind of pain that didn’t fade, the kind of pain that makes you wish you had made different life choices than the ones that led you to the moment you wished you had just died. The pain that I never thought I would feel, but had seen so many others experience. This was the pain that I knew would only end with one thing.

I was going to die.

Countless alerts and alarms blasted through my head, warning me of the systems that were not only critical to staying in the air, but also for living through the next few minutes. Honestly, I didn’t need those stupid alarms to tell me what was wrong, I could feel everything that they claimed to be failing fall limp and disappear from my consciousness. The only purpose those whining complaints served were to make me panic even more than I already was, and to assure me of the imminent death I was rapidly approaching.

I could feel my wing fall limp at my side before I started careening into what would soon be a spiral. I felt my legs drop uselessly below me and destabilize my practiced positioning, ruining my balance and making the sudden tilt that much worse. Fear filled every bit of my mind and ruined any concentration I had, effectively dropping any chance I had of pulling out of my situation to zero.

One term flashed through my memory as I pitched and rolled to my left, something I had heard more times than I thought was necessary during training, and even more once I reached my station and listened in on the discussions of veteran fighters. And again, it was one of those things I never thought I would experience, one of the things I thought I was too good for.

Graveyard Spiral.

I wasn’t sure why, but I froze up. During flight school I never had that issue, I always recovered exactly like I was taught without even hesitating. It was easy enough once I got through the initial screw ups that were expected from every new flier; after all, we were young and hadn’t quite mastered flying yet, but it was essential to know what to do if we did spiral. But for some reason, I couldn’t think.

Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was the chaos of the battlefield; I couldn’t really tell you. All I knew was that I couldn’t have told you what to do if my life depended on it. And of course, for the first time in my life, it did.

I heard Ground Pound calling through the radio at me, screaming directions as she did everything she could to avoid the anti-aircraft fire that had crippled me, but it was just gibberish. I only recognized terms that had been drilled into my head since birth; redirect, lock, throttle; but they didn’t connect. They were just words with no meaning among the screaming alarms that continued to remind me that I was doomed.

I didn’t dare look down and ruin my balance further, not that I needed to do that with my altimeter showing off how spectacularly fast I was dropping. Not physically mind you, it was just numbers in the back of my mind that never seemed to turn off, not even now when I didn’t care to have a countdown to when I was going to die. I just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too bad when that number finally hit 534, which I thought was ground level according to the briefing before takeoff.

Currently, it was at 1258 and dropping faster than I could keep track of. I only had a few seconds, which should have been plenty long enough to at least try pulling out of the spiral that was making me heave.

So that’s where I was; spiraling to my death with no hope of pulling out of it after being blasted out of the air by that same asshole flak gun who I had tried to blow up earlier in the day.

I shouldn’t have even been there, none of us should have. It was just some stupid thing that some higher up decided was the best thing to do, and I would never even know why. I just wanted to go back to that morning before it all started and think of some way to get out of it.

<><><>

My eyes flicked open with a start as soon as the alarm clock beside my bed blared to life with what was undeniably the most annoying sound ever created. And as usual, I had to resist the urge to crush it under my hoof so that I would never hear it again. Instead, I just hammered down with an equal mix of rage and self-control to shut the thing up before rolling my head lazily to my side for my daily view of the pictures from ho-

This wasn’t my bay.

Instead, my eyes came to rest on a somehow still sleeping stallion on the far side of the bed, and one of his wings jabbing uncomfortably into my side. It only took a moment to remember that I never actually went home after a short, and unapproved, party at a local fuel bar last night. No, I had decided to go home with an admittedly handsome fueler of some model I never could figure out for a few more ‘drinks’. Unfortunately for my stupid self, he wasn’t a stranger either; no, apparently I had gone and hooked up with our wing’s rookie fueler.

Good job, Redline.

Well, at least I was still somewhere in the hanger, I just didn’t know exactly where. Hopefully not too far away from my bay, and not too close to the commander’s. I looked around to see if his roommate was around, but it seemed whoever it was had given up the room for us to have some privacy. Lucky for me.

I started scooting toward the foot of the bed as gently as I could as to not shake the mattress and wake up…uh…Stratus! That was his name, right? I couldn’t remember. When I finally felt my back hooves fall off the bed I grinned and rolled forward to stand up. Conveniently, there was a very fragile figurine of some war hero or another that I smashed quite painfully. I lifted my hoof and stifled a squeal of pain, which was pretty useless since my bed buddy was already awake from the sound of shattered porcelain.

“Sneaking out?” the stallion asked drowsily and lifted his head to look at me with heavily lidded eyes.

“Uh, yeah, see I have to go get my engines cleaned before formation…” I started spewing to not offend him more than I already did by sneaking out. Not that I was ashamed of sneaking out, I did it all the time, but usually that was with strangers I would never see again. This time I would be seeing him just about every day to refuel.

“Yeah, they are looking a little filthy,” he quipped with a hearty stare at either my nozzles, or my ass.

Whichever it was, I quickly spun around to face him, not wishing to give the young tanker any ideas. “Look, Stratus, last night was fun, but…”

“We can’t talk about it, I know,” he finished for me and waved his hoof dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’m not one to kiss and tell.” Score! Got his name right.

“Good, but we probably shouldn’t do it again either,” I explained and started backing toward the door. “I mean, you’re a fun guy, a really fun guy, but we have to see each other at work and I’m not really comfortable with that.”

“Whatever you say,” he agreed surprisingly quickly. “Just let me know if you’re ever running low.”

Not gonna lie, that was tempting. “Don’t count on it,” I told him somewhat playfully, but mostly in a way that I hoped communicated that I preferred to fly solo.

Before he could say anything else, I spun around and pulled the door open just enough to look down the hall and check if it was clear. I doubted Stratus cared about my caution, after all, he was getting another rather clear glance at whatever it was he liked staring at back there. After confirming the coast was clear, I quickly slipped into the hall and shut the door behind me before making my way toward what I hoped was the air-to-ground bays.

My luck held, and the first door I chose led straight into our hall. Even better; nobody else was up and around yet, so I was able to sneak to the wash rack without worrying about getting caught. Well, unless someone was already in there getting washed up, but even then they would probably think I just got out of my own bed.

I had almost forgotten that my roommate, Belle, was on wash duty that morning, so when I walked in and saw her face smiling over at me, I was a little worried at first, but didn’t really care. We’d been sharing a bay long enough for her to know my…eh, habits, so I didn’t feel too much shame seeing her first. Plus she probably already knew where I went.

“Good morning, Redline!” she greeted me in her usual cheery tone and spun her rotors a little. “Did you sleep well?” The vertibuck…mare… chuckled and started preparing the first station for me.

“Yeah, wasn’t too bad,” I conveyed and stepped into the stall made for smaller ponies like myself.

“Oh? Any plans to stick with him this time?” She pulled a hose into her mouth and hit the water, spraying a cold jet over my wings that always managed to wake me up.

“You know me,” I told her through the shock of the sudden cold. “I’m a one girl show.”

“So he was too clingy?” she probed and moved the spray to my other wing.

“No, but that doesn’t change anything.” I lifted my wing a little to give Belle a better angle, but instead the spray flashed across my body and soaked my face. I sputtered and turned my head away before squealing at her. “Oh come on! It’s gonna leave streaks!”

Belle giggled while I tried to wipe the water from my canopy before it dried. “Maybe if you would stop being such a loner I wouldn’t have to do things like that?”

“What if I like being a loner?” I asked grumpily and turned back to her. “Besides, I still get personal attention if I want it.”

“How will that help you if something bad happens, hm?” she asked for the bazillionth time since we started rooming together. “Sex isn’t the same as affection and caring.”

“Close enough for me,” I argued. “Now can you please wipe this stuff off before it ruins the glass?”

Belle sighed and grabbed the squeegee to wipe my canopy just as the door behind me opened up. “I’ll be right with you,” the little vertimare chimed.

“Take your time, please,” an all too familiar voice called behind us, instinctively locking my legs and straightening my wings.

“Uh, morning ma’am,” I snapped out for the commander.

After a moment’s pause, the old and very large gunship rigidly spoke up. “Red, your engines are filthy. When was the last time you actually went to the shop?”

“Uh, last week, ma’am.” I winced and waited for the coming storm.

“Is that what bi-weekly cleaning means to you?” I could practically feel her looming over me.

“No ma’am.” Here it comes…

“Then perhaps you need to learn why it’s important to wash yourself by helping Miss Belle here clean me up.”

“Yes ma’am,” I agreed and tried not to sigh. And there went half of my morning.

The water suddenly started up again, this time firing across my ass, making me squeal and flinch, much to the enjoyment of Belle and the smirking commander behind me.

* * *

Four hours.

It took us four hours to get the commander washed and waxed to her preference, and all the while she decided it was a good time to ask me everything about my personal life. Even though she had been ordering me around for almost five years and new most of what I told her, she still asked. Of course she asked Belle too, but the girl barely even knew how to have fun, let alone tell a story about it. Of course she had a few interesting ones involving her younger, Dash filled years, but I’d already heard those and had a hard time believing someone like her was even capable of drug use.

And I was still a little jealous of her claim of spending night with a young fighter jet while on the stuff, even if she did refuse to share the details I so craved. Not that I wanted them right after finishing up with cleaning Major Cloudcutter and her tremendously sized everything. I was certain to have nightmares for weeks.

“So, are we still on after close of business today?” Belle asked me a bit too cheerily. She was actually skipping a little. Skipping.

“Don’t you have show practice tonight?” I asked her pointedly. I didn’t hate going out with her, she was really nice and it was always fun to watch guys hit on her, but partying wasn’t really her thing. It wasn’t mine either, but it got me drunk on low grade fuel and generally ended in a quilted dogfight.

“It got called off for some reason,” she explained and shrugged. “So I’m free. Maybe I’ll be the lucky lady tonight?” She smiled and looked at me hopefully.

“What happened to looking for something long term?” I asked and smirked.

“Got to start somewhere, right?” she asked and nudged me.

I chuckled and nodded before we walked into the main hanger. Almost everyone was gathered around waiting for formation, but not everyone looked fully there. Not unusual for first thing in the morning.

I quickly jumped and rolled over Belle, trying to keep myself hidden behind her not-so-bulky body. Why? Because Stratus was already here, and even though he promised not to tell anyone about our night of fun, I knew he would. How did I know? He was a stallion. He would tell his roommate, who probably already knew, and he would tell the others in the fueling section. That’s how the hanger worked. Eventually everyone you worked with would find out, so you just told them. Unless you hooked up with a really old model, or an ugly one.

So why didn’t I want him to tell anyone? Because I didn’t want the commander to find out. She wasn’t exactly appreciative of fraternization within the wing, which is also why I tried not to go home with anyone in the wing. Of course most ponies in the wing wouldn’t share that kind of thing with certain others, the ones who we knew would bring it up to the Major right away just to suck up, but we still tried to keep it quiet.

“So Red, how’s the new guy?” was the first thing I heard when we finally reached our section; air-to-ground. Also known as the most useless section in recent Enclave history. Yeah, we were heavily armed and built like tanks, but we were slow and could barely turn, plus we were made to kill stuff on the ground, which we never fought ever. No, the true stars of the wing were the fighters, and everyone knew it. Us, we were just there in case something happened to the cloud layer, and nothing ever would.

I sighed to keep up the act that I was disappointed about someone finding out about my one night stand, but everyone knew I wasn’t; because I had one about once a week, twice if I was feeling adventurous. “How do you already know?” I asked, generally curious about who caught it first this time.

“Ground Pound saw you two leave together last night,” our section chief informed me, pointing a hoof to the only other dive bomber in our group besides me. My wingmare. She was also one of the biggest bitches in the wing, which might be why I loved her so much.

“Ever heard of subtlety?” she asked me with a smirk and a punch on the shoulder.

“Drunk and subtle don’t go together,” I informed her. “Plus, I had to show off at least a little, right?”

“Dear, you were acting like you picked up a Shadowbolt,” Belle broke in, earning a burst of agreeing laughter from the rest of my section.

I sat down and crossed my hooves. “At least I went home with someone last night.”

“That’s because you’re a slut,” Ground jabbed and got another round of laughter.

I leaned in close to her and whispered as loud as I could to ensure everyone in the little circle we formed could hear me. “At least he wasn’t a crop duster.”

I’d never seen a flat grey pony turn so red in my life. “Hey, he was r-really charming,” she argued over the chortling of me and the others.

“ATTENTION!”

We all spun to the front of the hanger and snapped our legs together while trying not to hit anyone else with our wings. Of course there was the one new guy who did, and everyone knew who after someone yelled out in pain and fell over. This time it was a new scout, some fancy high altitude model who looked like he couldn’t even remember waking up here.

The commander stood in front of the bubble door at the end of the hanger, proudly standing at least two heads taller than anyone else in the room. It wasn’t hard to tell she was from an older time, but that just made her that much more intimidating to look at. That and the fact that she had Kill Marks painted on her cheeks despite being a gunship and not a fighter.

“Listen up everyone,” she ordered confidently, not even needing to yell. “Formation is cancelled today, as well as any and all morale group practices.” A collective sigh of disappointment was held in by everyone who didn’t want to get put on rafter cleaning. “On top of this, this wing is now on lockdown. Nobody leaves the hanger, and nobody enters it.”

And that one forced the arguments out. No matter how fearsome she looked, she couldn’t stop over a hundred soldiers from protesting something like that. I heard everything from the simple “why?” to the ever so elegant “this is bullshit”. And the Major didn’t pay attention to any of them. Instead, she just cleared her throat and let out the loudest yell I’d ever heard in my life.

“Everyone shut the fuck up,” rang through the entire hanger and was followed by absolute silence. I think even the birds on the roof stopped chirping. “This is not a punishment. Trust me, I want to get together with my book club tonight.” That was always so hard not to laugh at. “Today, all of us will be on rest until 1700, at which time everyone will be fully fueled and in this room for a mandatory briefing.”

This meant one of two things. Either we were getting a visit from some very up high politicians and needed to be on our best behavior beforehand, or it was a surprise inspection. Neither one was fun, but one was more painful than the other. Seriously, politicians were uptight assholes who didn’t know how to party.

“Consider this a WARNO ladies and gentlecolts. I suggest you take advantage of it however you see fit.”

Oh shit…

* * *

My back bounced off the mattress once when I finally fell back panting and glowing in ecstasy, convinced I had made the right choice no matter what my common sense had told me before I started flirting at the fuel pump. No, it didn’t take long for me to get back in bed with Stratus, but he was available and eager to practice his maneuvers and everyone here knew what a WARNO really meant, so nobody would judge either of us. Sure, there would be jokes, but everyone else was going to be trying for the exact same thing, at least most were.

Everyone prepared for what was about to come differently. Most of us found a partner and did a little horizontal tango. Some tried to find the one pony in each section who stashed low grade fuel in case of this exact situation. Some took a nap or just talked with friends. But no matter how we dealt with it, we were all just trying to ignore what it meant until the time came to get serious again. Because a warning order with no further explanation meant someone was going to die, and maybe it would be you this time.

The fueler lowered himself beside me and rested his hooves on his chest, smiling happily and staring up at the ceiling just like I was. I didn’t know exactly what he was thinking about, but I could tell he was scared. Even with that smile on his lips, the kid still knew what was coming, and I could see in his eyes that he was worried. Hell, I was too, I had just gotten good at hiding it in the last 15 years.

“You ever done this before?” I asked him as softly as I could manage without sounding soft.

“What? An older mare? Yeah, plenty,” he joked and chuckled even though he knew exactly what I meant. In an instant, his smile faded and the worry that was trapped in his eyes only moments before spread across every bit of his face. “No, first time.”

“You’ll be fine, kid,” I tried to assure him. “You tankers usually just sit back here at the hanger until we get back, nice and far from the fighting.”

“I know, they told us that all the time in training,” he agreed, but didn’t seem to calm down any. “But there was this one instructor, Sergeant Jetstream. He told us how it really was. That sometimes we do have to go out there and fuel someone in the air, or recover someone who crashed and managed to survive.”

Damn, I’d hoped he wouldn’t know about that yet. I don’t know why, I was sure that someone told him along the line. No matter how young he was, the kid needed to know the truth from someone, and it was better another fueler than me. “Well, you know they’ll give you a damn good escort, right? Best we’ve got.” He didn’t say anything, instead he just nodded. “Trust me, you’ll be fine,” I promised even though I couldn’t know for sure, and put a gentle hoof on his shoulder like my chief did for me after my first WARNO. I don’t know what it is about that little gesture from someone who’s been there and knows what it all is, but that hoof must have some kind of magic in it.

Stratus looked over at me and grinned a little. I could tell he was still scared, that would never go away, but at least he was smiling, even if it would only last a few more minutes. “How many have you gone on?” he asked once I pulled my hoof back and stared back at the ceiling.

“This is my fourth,” I told him. “But honestly, I’ve never been on the front line. I just come in after to mop up any enemies that couldn’t stay in the air.” He looked over at me with a strange look, like he didn’t understand, so I clarified. “If they get damaged but land safely and still shoot at us, my section goes in and takes them out. So usually one or two max.”

“That’s it? I thought you were some badass fighter or something,” he tried to flirt even though I was already in his bed. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it a little.

I chuckled and jabbed him in the side. “Thanks, but no. I couldn’t dogfight if I wanted to.”

“Well, at least you aren’t sitting here considering running away,” he admitted and grinned. “I’m just barely managing to stay.”

“Oh please, I think about doing that every time they tell me the bar is off limits for the night,” I told him.

“Is that why you’re always on rafter cleaning detail?” he quipped.

I sighed and nodded. “Yeah.”

That got another laugh out of him, and I felt a little proud of managing to at least showing him a good time before his first fight outside training. It may not have been the healthiest way to do it according to Belle, but I felt plenty fine with how we were handling it. Besides, she was probably hovering around that scout she’d been eyeballing for months.

“So, Redline,” Stratus spoke up after a few minutes of us just staring at the ceiling.

“What’s up?” I looked back over to him.

“After this mission is over, would you say ‘no’ to a few drinks sometime?” He grinned and looked at me confidently, which probably worked on the girls wherever he was from, but not this girl. He was cute, and definitely knew his way around a bed, but he wasn’t something I wanted for more than a few hours, not in this life.

“Nah, kid,” I told him bluntly. “But I’ll tell you what. If we both make it back, meet me here and we’ll celebrate.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

1659.

Everyone was standing at attention in the hanger long before we were supposed to be there. Even those of us who thought we could sleep up until the last minute or spend a few more minutes holding someone close, or not holding them close, were wrong. We had all been in the hanger for almost an hour, some even longer than that, just waiting for the word to finally come. Nobody said a word, nobody moved a muscle; we all just stared at the giant blank screen in front of us with one Major sized podium off to the side. Because soon, that screen would tell us where and why some of us were about to die.

I hated that fucking screen.

A single door flew open, but before anyone could call attention, Major Cloudcutter calmly commanded us to sit down. We didn’t argue. This was the one time she would ever be relaxed and unofficial, because none of us needed that shit before a mission and she knew it. And we all gave her the respect of shutting up and listening to everything she said without arguing or groaning.

“Evening everyone, and welcome to your mission briefing.” She paused and pushed a key on the podium which brought the screen to life and nearly blinded the front row at first. “I hope everyone enjoyed their day and got however much rest, or lack of rest, as they needed.” I had a feeling she was in the latter group, because she never mentioned it in past briefings.

The screen took a few moments to clear and stop crackling with the annoying white lines that seemed to cover almost every screen I’d ever seen, but instead of a mission name or some picture of the Shadowbolts standing in front of an Enclave flag like in every other briefing, there was just a blank fuzzy-green screen.

“Now, before we start, I want to assure you all that this is not just our mission. Our wing will be launching in unison with every other Enclave wing there is in exactly six hours to initiate this mission. Due to worries about security, all communications to civilian sectors have been cut off until we leave.” That wasn’t good. That was never good. What in Equestria could possibly require the deployment of every active wing of the Enclave?

“Alright, let’s get started.” The commander hit another key, and the screen displayed two massive red words that just themselves sent a shiver through the ranks. I don’t know what it was, maybe it was soldier intuition or something but those words seemed to radiate a feeling of friends dying.

“This is your briefing for Operation Cauterize.”

<><><>

“Start ‘em up!”

The same voice blasted through the intercom like it did every day, giving me the same orders as it did every day since this nightmare started. Day after day it was ‘blow up this town’ or ‘kill this settlement’. Yeah, they kept telling us that everyone down there were monsters who only wanted to kill us, but I was starting to have a hard time believing it. I never saw anyone attack us first on Day One. All I saw were ponies looking up at our massive ships and watching while we spilled into the sky, probably wondering what the hell we were. Our kind had been above the clouds so long that I doubted many of them remembered us.

They only started shooting when we did.

And of course I was one of the ones to start it. It was my job, drop fast, blow something or someone up with one of the six bombs strapped on my wings, and pull up before I became a fireball. I was finally on the front line, a member of the most useful section in the entire Enclave force for fighting the almost entirely ground based Wastelanders, and suddenly I found myself begging for the days when I was just one of the useless air-to-ground soldiers I used to be.

I started up my engines and crouched down, waiting for the order to jump. Me and Ground Pounder were at the front of the 2 rows of soldiers waiting to disembark over the likely helpless town below us. Sure, most towns had a few AA ponies wandering around, but once they were taken care of by me and my wingmare, the rest were just target practice for the others.

Even then, most of our section had been shot down in past engagements. The first to go was our chief, taken out by a lucky shot on Day Two before we were even all off the Thunderhead that crated us around from target to target. It was the same story for most of the others. Lucky shots from below knocking out an engine or crippling a wing, always ending in them either crashing and burning from the fall, or surviving only to be shot on the spot by a tank or some other Wastelander who was nearby.

Ground gave me a nudge and a nod before the tinted visor slapped down over her eyes, and she joined me in the crouch. The wait was agonizing, and I took the time to ensure all of my bombs were ready to go. All six checked out perfectly, and I looked over the edge curiously. The town looked like any other from up here, maybe a little bigger, and swarming with the bodies of ponies who were preparing to fight back against us. I could already see four or five AAA’s bracing themselves on rooftops, just waiting for us to flood out into their sights.

Everything slowed down in those final seconds, and my legs tightened as I leaned back slightly. Engines and rotors roared through the jump bay, and I kicked mine into high gear just as the order finally came.

“Go go go!”

My hooves left the metal and I shot straight down with Ground at my side. As soon as the wind ripped into my flattened ears, the ponies below opened up with everything they had. Whizzes and snaps of bullets and shells tore past me, some a little closer than I liked, but not managing to hit my sleek form. I pitched slightly to head right at one of the AAA gunners below me while my wingmare chose another, and I braced myself to pull up as hard as my body would allow.

One of the bombs fell away from my wing and I yanked up on my flaps to pull out of the dive. The edge of the roof ripped by behind me and I barely managed to pull away just before my hooves could hit the dirt. A wave of heat washed over my back from the explosion less than a second before another wave came over my side from Ground’s bomb. Two down in less than 10 seconds.

I was suddenly very aware of the storm of gunfire all around me, both from the defenders and from our own soldiers overhead, and I felt lucky not to have been hit, just like I did after every dive I survived. My engines screamed as I ascended back toward our agreed altitude before the next dive, based entirely on me not being as comfortable with short dives as Ground was.

We both hit the altitude and started circling slowly, picking out our next targets and also taking a moment to take in the sight of the battle. As usual, it was hell down there. The vertibuck section, led by a recently promoted Belle, circled low to the ground, picking at any enemy forces who lacked the AA capability to take down their typically slow moving unit. It wasn’t perfectly safe since anyone could just look up and shoot at them, but it was better than trying to take out the specifically equipped anti air forces that me and Ground targeted.

Just like with the last town, this one had gained some help from something we were much more used to fighting; griffins. While they weren’t nearly as fast as our fighters, they had much more firepower and could take a hell of a lot more punishment. Luckily, we had brought more fighters this time in preparation for them showing up.

I looked to the Thunderhead just in time to see the fighters of our wing take to the sky, and rip into the distance before turning around to engage the new targets.

“I see three AAA left, you take the one on the south side of town, I’ll take the north then come back in for the one at the center,” Ground Pound’s voice called through the radio, pulling my attention back to where it should be.

“Let’s do it.”

Both of us pitched down and punched the throttle, tearing straight down toward the ponies who had noticed that we were still around. Flak tore by me and popped where I had been a few moments before, reminding me that thankfully the Wastelanders weren’t used to firing at flying targets, let alone dive bombers like me. Still, I dodged back and forth as little as I could to still dodge the shots as I descended on the pony who was dedicated to knocking me out of the air.

I saw a shower of metal from Ground’s wing flutter behind her as a shot sliced across the top of it just before she screamed from the pain. Because of that, she dropped her bomb early and pulled out of the dive, desperate to get away before another shot tore her wing off. I released mine a second later and pulled up, not wanting to go to low without my wingmare by my side just in case something went wrong.

Even with the early pulls, we both hit our targets and rose again. My radio crackled and her voice filled my ears yet again. “Hey, you take the last one, I don’t want to go in until I’m sure my wing is okay.”

I swallowed and nodded over to her, then peeled away and circled just long enough to zero in on the final pony. I took a deep breath and dropped, turning my nose at the poor soul below and diving at him as fast as I could go. I had to fight the urge to drop my payload too early in favor of pulling up where I felt safer without my partner, but knew it might miss if I did. We had gotten lucky with the last dive, and I doubted my luck would hold through another early release.

In the end, I still dropped and pulled early. Not so early that I doubted I would hit, but early enough to make me worry that I might be a little off. Still, I felt safer, and we could always go in for another dive if I missed and I had more time to prepare my dive. I streaked upward and rolled to the side, barely dodging one of our fighters as he tore past me at one of the griffins.

“Watch where you’re going Red!” His voice bit into my ear and made me curse myself for not watching where I was going, but it only lasted a moment before I heard my bomb detonate below me. I looked down between my legs to check my success, but couldn’t see anything through the smoke that lingered where my target was.

Close enough, I assured myself. If I hadn’t hit him, I had hit the building he was on and collapsed it. Wasteland buildings weren’t exactly sturdy in my brief experience.

“How’s the wing, Ground?” I asked and started looking around for her.

“I’ll be fine, just a little gash.”

“Good. See anyone else we need to hit?”

She didn’t answer until she rolled in beside me, and pointed her hoof down to the outskirts of town. “There. We should strafe that group. Don’t think we’ll need bombs for them.”

“Alright, lead the way.”

The mare nodded and her visor slapped back down before she rolled down and began her descent. I waited a few seconds, then followed in behind and left of her. I took off the safety on the gun mounted inside my chest and followed her lead exactly, waiting for my turn to unload the dual .50s I was packing. I would’ve preferred something with a little more firepower, but the armorer had refused to give me anything bigger.

Brass jingled out from under Ground as she opened fire on the unsuspecting group of ponies, it looked like some trucks at the most, and she pulled up to give me an open lane. My guns flared to life and rained lead down on the ones who hadn’t been taken out by my wingmare, spilling hot brass across my chest uncomfortably until I stopped shooting and turned up to follow Ground back around for another run if we needed it.

But it wasn’t going to happen.

Streaks of glowing incendiaries suddenly filled the air around me, forcing me to jink and roll from side to side just to stay in the air. My engines roared and pushed me faster until I shot past Ground and radioed her to speed up. Instead, she slowed up and let the shots pass her as they continued to track me, then punched it to keep up without risking herself. I didn’t know what I did to piss whoever this was off, but I really regretted it.

When I finally got a chance to look down and see where it was coming from, I caught the sight of that damn AA gun I pulled too early on walking out of the wreckage with his eyes locked onto me.

God damn coward, I told myself and rolled again, hoping to get a chance for a dive at him. But he wouldn’t give it to me. He tracked me everywhere, and if I tried to go right at him I was done for. I just had to hope Ground had a better angle.

“You gonna kill this asshole or what?” I screamed through the radio at her and continued my evasive maneuvers, begging for the pony’s bad aim to continue or at least for him to run out of ammo.

“On it.”

I watched her dive down from across town and point straight at him, all I had to do was keep dodging until she dropped that damn bomb. Left, right, roll, up, down.

Crack crack crack.

* * *

Eventually I didn’t even hear the alarms anymore, I just heard the wind tearing into my ears and the faint clatter of continuing gunfire that still filled the town that had no name to me. My wing flopped uselessly at my side, pulling me down while my left engine sputtered and started to die while fuel spilled from somewhere I didn’t care to check. My spin tightened and I started to pitch into what probably wouldn’t even become a nose dive by the time I crashed.

It was over.

I hoped it wouldn’t hurt, I hoped it would just be over as soon as I hit the dirt.

I never got to experience that, because I blacked out before I could even hit the ground.