Flying With Damaged Feathers

Chapters

Chapter 1: Tiran
Chapter 3: New Wings
Chapter 5: Encounter
Chapter 6: Run-in
Chapter 7: Meeting The Locals
Chapter 8: Ruwa
Chapter 9: Out Of The Bottle
Chapter 10: Unicorn Junction
Chapter 11: Old Memories
Chapter 12: Irreparable Repaired
Chapter 13: Just Jump In
Chapter 14: Change Of Plan
Chapter 15: Shock
Chapter 16: And Awe
Chapter 17: A Convergence Of Minds
Chapter 18: Winds Change
Chapter 19: A Daring Plan
Chapter 20: Out Of The Bag
Chapter 22: Gun Smoke And Mirrors
Chapter 23: Lost In The Dark
Chapter 24: The Clue
Chapter 25: The Hole
Chapter 26: New Contact
Chapter 27: Jackson's Low Crawl
Chapter 2: Relic
Chapter 4: In The Heat Of The Night
Chapter 21: The Old Man And The Ghost

Chapter 1: Tiran

"You are seven minutes late, Tiran. I highly advise you get up, now," a slightly monotone female voice complained. The bundle of sheets on the mattress in the dark room stirred and emanated a soft groan. "Tiran," the voice adopted a warning tone, "you are now eight minutes late. Shall I administer some motivation?"

A corner of the sheets fluttered as its occupant let out an annoyed huff, "I"m up, I"m up! Jeez..." The soft linen shifted and slid down as a young man with close cropped dirty blonde hair sat up and rubbed his eyes. His head felt like it was about to split open, the after effects of a pretty heavy night of drinking. Tiran didn't particularly like drinking so much so often because of its after effects, but it was usually the only way he could get a night of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.
He looked over and checked the digital clock attached to his bedside with bleary eyes and started as he noticed the time, "Shit..."

"Glad to see you awake and healthy, Tiran." the voice said with as much sarcasm a computer program could muster. "Shall I inform the Reintegration Bureau that you are on your way? After all, you are now nine minutes late."

Tiran glanced back at the clock. Its soulless electronic face displayed a time of 10:09. He had an appointment for ten 'o clock, sharp with the Navy's so-called Re-integration Bureau, one that he was now late for. The service was originally set up to help Sailors and Marines smoothly rejoin the civilian population after their term of service was up and that was usually the end of it. But it had another function. It was dreaded by those with particular skills, the day they received the call from the Bureau. They were being summoned back into service.

Tiran rubbed his face and flipped the covers off him, heading for his tiny bathroom, "No thanks, Li, I'm already late as it is, no point in rushing it. Do me a favor and start breakfast, I'll be out in a minute," he said in disinterest.

"Very well," the voice acquiesced.

Tiran shut the door to the bathroom, a pointless gesture as he lived alone, apart from Liania and she was essentially everywhere and anywhere in his small apartment, including the bathroom. LIANI; Locally Integrated Advanced Neural Intelligence, or "Li" as Tiran called her, had served as his personal companion for many years now. Constant tinkering and added upgrades had given her a somewhat unique "personality," as evidenced by her threat of "motivation" to get Tiran up out of bed, which was usually a small, but painful, electrical shock.

After first splashing his face with cold water, Tiran reached for his toothbrush. He was already late, but there was no point in showing up sloppy. He made a grab for the small rubber handle, but but faltered as his fingers remained curled or twitched, refusing to work properly. Tiran cursed and gave the appendage a few hard smacks with his left hand. With a rattle and click, his fingers extended, properly chastised.

He flexed his right hand and moved his arm around in its full range of motion. It still worked fine, but some of the joints felt sluggish. He made a mental note to have Li make an appointment with a bio-technician at some point. It had been some time since his last check-up and it was showing.

Tiran finished up his morning routine and walked out the bathroom, toweling his freshly shaven face dry. He could already smell the coffee brewing in the kitchenette and the old stale burn of the crusty remnants of past meals heating up on the cook-top. Tiran entered the kitchenette and took out a small pan, putting it on the now red-hot surface and pouring some egg concentrate from the fridge onto it and scrambling it up while it cooked. The eggs weren't real, not in the traditional sense. The carton-ed product was all that was available to him, the genuine chicken-laid variety being far too expensive and hard to come by in this day and age.

The coffee wasn't great either. He pulled off the pot and poured himself a cup, grimacing slightly as the hot swill raced down his throat with a plastic-y after taste. Still, it contained the all powerful chemical compound dubbed "caffeine" and that"s all he cared for, really. It was just one of the very few things that kept him buoyant in this ugly, yet beautiful world.

Pausing only long enough to blow the "eggs" slightly cooler than their current piping hot temperature, Tiran wolfed down his meager start to the day and quickly got dressed. He threw on a pair of synthetic denim blue jeans and a dark green t-shirt. "I suggest you bring a jacket. It is currently raining and is forecast to continue throughout the day. Temperatures are in the low sixties and are expected to drop to the fifties as nightfall approaches." Li advised him.

"Thanks mom!" Tiran responded cynically as he snatched a black leather jacket from a nearby hanger. Like most things in the apartment, the jacket wasn't genuine either, instead made out of a carefully formulated mixture of recycled fibers and plastics that gave it the same feel and texture as its old predecessor.

"I merely wish to keep you in good health, Tiran." his virtual companion replied. "It would be much more dull and boring here were you to die of pneumonia and leave me all by my lonesome. Though I suppose it would leave me with far more free time without having to constantly pester you to make your appointments on time," she teased.

Tiran gulped the rest of his coffee down as he made his way out the front door. He paused at the threshold and glanced up towards the ceiling, "Li, download to the mobile unit."

"One moment, working..." Tiran felt a slight buzz in his right arm as Li digitally transferred her data, essentially her core being, onto his person. She did however leave a small fragment of herself in the apartment to look after things while they were away. "Download complete." she notified her owner through a tinny voice in his head. "Shall we be going now?"

"Yes, we shall." Tiran sighed as he stepped out his apartment and locked the door behind him.

Fat droplets of water pattered onto his head and shoulders as he stepped out under the swollen gray sky. Rivulets of water left sooty marks down the walls as they picked up whatever filth had accumulated on the roof and carried it down the sides of the concrete building like frightening little conquerors with their spoils. It was a rare rainstorm, the San Diegan climate was notoriously dry and sunny year round, but for the seasonal fog. Tiran decided to enjoy it while he could, taking a circuitous route to the bus stop.

As Tiran reached the bus stop, he considered cramming himself in under the cramped covering, but thought better of it as he eyed the press of bodies. He never did like crowds. Instead, he took refuge under the overhang of a doorway recessed into the building nearby. He like the rain, but there was no reason to get any wetter.

He waited a while, occasionally glancing at his watch. The bus was late, as it usually was. He couldn't really blame it, congested as the city was. The population had grown large enough at this point that what had previously been sprawling suburbs was now a mass of large apartment buildings much like the one he lived in. That wasn't to say that suburbs had gone extinct. One had just to move much further inland to find them.

That wasn't much of an option for Tiran, as that too was ludicrously expensive. In years past, he might have been able to afford such a thing, but that privilege had been savagely revoked from him after the incident. It was why he was living the way he was now, instead of a well-to-do officer of the Navy usually would. He didn't feel like he'd lost all that much anyhow, only those with wives and families tended to gravitate towards the inland and he had neither.

He had some distant relatives, sure, but none he would really call family. The last person he had ever given that title to was his dear old grandfather and he'd since passed away. Tiran's grandfather would often tell him stories about his own parents and grandparents, most all unremarkable people that sounded a bit nasty to him. One of his favorite stories, however, had been of his estranged great uncle, who disappeared tragically in an ultimately meaningless war that had been over for more than a century now.
A great man, by the military's and Tiran's grandfather's account, but not a huge hit with the family, given how the man's will had been carried out. A good majority of the money from his life insurance had gone to some unrelated family out in Brooklyn though none knew exactly why. A great boon for that family, but not so much for Tiran's. It seemed to have left a bad impression on his name with them, and for Tiran, seeing as how he had inherited his last name from his grandfather and he from said uncle.

Tiran didn't really care about he money at all, but the rest of the family didn't have the same attitude. They had felt cheated and made it well known to anyone closely associated with the man and then down through the subsequent generations of those relations. They had given Tiran enough grief more than once the few times he visited just because he still carried the man's last name. It certainly hadn't helped. Still, as much grief as Tiran had gotten from it, he had no desire to change it, even if it was the root of many a bad memory.
Tiran yanked himself out of his dark thoughts as he noticed the mass of people at the bus stop had begun to shrink, piling into the bus as it arrived and opened its doors. Tiran quickly jogged to the back of the line and shuffled in with the rest of the group, sliding his card over the reader and taking a standing position near the back of the already overcrowded transport. Then with a lurch, the bus pulled away on its journey.
After a trolley ride and two more transfers, Tiran was finally standing outside the gates of the sprawling 32nd street Naval Base. He walked up to the pedestrian gate and handed the Master-at-Arms on duty his ID. The MA scanned Tiran's card, handing it back with a grim expression after his scanner beeped and blinked green. Tiran thanked him and asked for directions, strolling away after the MA pointed him towards what Tiran hoped was the right way.
Tiran recoiled as filthy water splashed around his shoe, soaking through his sock and chilling his foot. Already, this was becoming a bad day. The drab, featureless building of the Reintegration Bureau loomed above him like some morose tomb awaiting to swallow any careless man or woman foolish enough to enter.
Tiran entered, receiving a disapproving look from the MA standing guard just inside the door as he traced a trail of muddy footprints across the otherwise immaculate, white tile floor. He handed his I.D. to an attractive receptionist at the thick plastic desk and was pointed down one of the corridors. Tiran quietly thanked her, flashing what he thought was a charming smile as he turned and left. She returned the favor. As he sauntered down the passageway, Tiran made a note to himself to try and get her number on his way out.
The walls seemed to press in around him. The tile soon gave way to thin carpeting, muffling Tirana's steps and lending the beige walls an oppressive nature. He counted the doors as he walked, occasionally glancing at the placards mounted on the walls that announced their location.
Finally, he arrived, stopping at a door labeled 114-B. There it was, the door that possibly lead to a new career or another disgrace. Taking a deep breath, be reached for the handle and pushed his way in, uncertain of what he would find.
The room was windowless, a dead end. It was lit by two rows of bright, sterile fluorescent's that cast the room with a cold, unfeeling light. A wiry man in a stained lab coat looked up from his plush seat at a rich mahogany table ringed by identical chairs, what appeared to be a sneer began to form on his face. Tiran continued to take in his new surroundings, moving his eyes around the room.
When they finally reached the end of the table and the old woman in uniform sitting there, Tiran frowned, scowled, and turned to stomp back out the door, "I'm sorry, this appears to be the committee on witchcraft and devil worship, I must be down the hall..." he said with a light coat of malice.
"Now, Tiran, don't be trite," the woman said in a soft tone, "can't we put all that behind us?" When Tiran showed no reaction and kept walking, her voice became hard and flinty, "Or should I inform the MAs that you're being belligerent and uncooperative?"
Tiran paused at the door, "Really?"
"Yes, really. Now why don't you take a seat so we may begin?"
Begrudgingly, Tiran turned back around and closed the door. He went to the seat furthest from the woman and plopped down, propping a leg up on an adjacent chair. Disgust briefly flashed across woman's face, but she said nothing.
Tiran crossed his arms and glowered at her. Miram Cherovic. Or, Admiral Miram Cherovic, Tiran thought as he noticed the gleaming silver stars on each of her epaulettes. She had come a long way since he'd last seen her, at the court-marshal. Back then, she had been a Commander on her way to Captain. Seems her career had enjoyed a nice boost after seeing his so casually discarded.
He coudn't make anything of the man in the lab coat. The guy looked almost dangerously underweight with rapidly thinning gray hairs clinging to his scalp. He seemed to be studying Tiran while simultaneously shuffling through a reef of papers as if he were comparing notes on something.
"Now," Cherovic began, "I'm sure you're wondering why you've been called in today."
"The discharge wasn't enough, you want to try for prison now?" Tiran guessed with a sarcastic bite.
Cherovic looked displeased with his response, but didn't reply. "No," she said, "rather, we're here to offer you an opportunity. As you may well know, the war hasn't been going well for us."
"That's an understatement."
She was referring to, Tiran knew, what people were calling the last true great war. In the past, it was thought that World War Two was to be the last world war, and that a third would result in the utter annihilation of the planet. As usual, people were wrong and history was again doomed to repeat itself.
It started out slow, with what was assumed to be another small terrorist organization carrying out attacks here and there in secluded parts of the world. At first, people believed it was merely a clone of the radical groups of the past, but then, as they were tracked and studied, a more daunting truth emerged. These were no ordinary terrorists.
They didn't quite fight for some obscure cause or religious goal. They didn't even call themselves freedom fighters. No, this group had but one goal in mind; rampant destruction of anything and everything.
In the beginning, certain religions were blamed, but none fit, not even Satanism. Nihilism was out, too, because even the most hardened Nihilist didn't see the point in waging a war about it. Besides, it didn't quite fit their stance.
For years, experts were baffled as to what this might mean or who exactly was behind it, the movement seemed to have sprung from no where. All the while, it grew, their ranks swelled, to the point that they couldn't really be called just another terrorist cell. Attacks became more deadly, devastating. The loss of human life at the hands of these marauders staggering.
It was difficult to pin them down and attack them directly, because at first, they didn't belong to, or were located in, any one place. In this instance, they succeeded in doing what many thought absolutely impossible. They united the world. An uneasy union, but still a union, between governments that had once been bitter enemies.
Of course, there were exceptions, radical holdouts that still believed they were righteous and true above all others, that believed that the 'west' or the 'east' were their true enemies. They were the first to fall. And when they did, they fell hard. because of this, the central Asian region was the first to become the thralls of their enemies.
Once again, there was war in the Pacific. This time, however, countries like China, Korea, Japan and even remnants of India and Pakistan fought as one. The rest of the world began to contribute to the effort of containment, soon leading to the creation of a multi-national special forces group. In war, the world was united.

As heartening as that was, the price was costly. People like Tiran were created. The average life expectancy in the fighting was low. People advanced through the rates and ranks with a fevered speed as their predecessors fell. Thus, drastic actions were taken.
Tiran was part of a small group of pilots and ground operators that offered themselves up to advance human evolution in the only way humans could. Through neurological augmentation, man was joined with computer. Circuits and flesh fused at the most primal of levels, minds joined and intertwined, both natural and artificial. Many volunteered, but few were successful in this endeavor. Tiran was one of that number.
"So you can see why I've asked you back." Cherovic said.
"Not really." Tiran replied, becoming impatient. "There aren't many of us, but I know there's still a few in the service, people that you didn't personally crucify," he added with some malice.
"True," Cherovic said, bristling up at his statement, but otherwise calm. "However, they do not quite meet our requirements for this particular project."

"Project?" Tiran said, leaning forward and becoming instantly suspicious.
"Yes, though I dare say the good Doctor could explain it better than I," she told him, glancing over at the wiry man seated near the middle of the table.
"Uh.. yes," the man said, leaning in and picking up some papers that had been laid out in front of him. "I'm Dr. Welkin, pleased to meet you!" The man extended a hand towards Tiran and smiled, flashing bright, meticulously maintained teeth. When Tiran did not return the gesture, instead remaining sitting with his arms crossed, a look of contempt on his face, Dr. Welkin uncomfortably leaned back and shuffled his papers, "Well, yes..." he cleared his throat, "Anyway, it seems you are our best candidate for testing."
Tiran cocked an eyebrow in the doctor's direction, "Testing?"
"Yes, testing," the doctor confirmed. "In essence, you'll be helping to conduct tests on a new aircraft. You know, push it limits, see how it flies and how certain...new systems will react."
"I don't understand," Tiran twisted in his seat to look at Miram, "don't you guys have automated systems and drones for that kind of thing now?"
"Of course," she said, "but it seems we've hit a few snags in using them."
"Damn programs," Dr. Welkin began to grumble, "coming out all haywire, going off on their own and—"
"Doctor!" Cherovic said sternly while shooting an acidic look at the scientist. "That's quite enough!"
Dr. Welkin scowled, but grabbed a paper and begin to doodle, visibly cowed.
"Now..." the Admiral adopted a more gentler tone as she returned her attention to Tiran, "You are to be re-instated to your previous rank of Lieutenant, full with accompanying pay grade and benefits. In addition, upon your signature of the requisite forms and Page 13s, all previous charges levied against you will be dropped, including an Honorable Discharge status upon completion of the contract. Do you accept these terms?" she added with an oily smile.
Tiran took in her offer, thought about it, mulled it over. He tried to see the angle in it, the catch. After all, it sounded exactly like it was too good to be true. There had to be something there, something important about this contract he wasn't being told. Of course, Tiran was sure that they wouldn't tell him until he'd signed the gag-order. The doctor had let slip something about malfunctioning programs in the test drones, Tiran was sure that had something to do with it and it caused him worry.
Still, he considered his other options. Namely, going back to that pitiful existence he'd been living in the city, if he could even describe it accurately that way. Tiran didn't mind taking the odd-jobs and doing the dirty work, but money was becoming more and more difficult to come by and soon he'd be living out of a storage unit. If this deal worked out for him, he might have a chance at being able to grab one of the last few available empty patches of land in the world and live out the rest of his days in peace, away from the rest of humanity.
It took Tiran no longer than a minute to make his decision, "Ok, you've got a deal."
Tiran couldn't really tell from across the table, but for a moment he thought he caught Cherovic briefly let slip a sincere smile.

Chapter 3: New Wings

Tiran felt a bump as the Longjumper settled down to the deck. As soon as it did, the crew chief began to lower the back hatch, prompting Tiran to grab his bag and make for the door. He stepped out into the fresh wind of the sea and the hot steel of the flight deck, right as two spec-ops soldiers appeared to escort him down below.

All the extra security was really getting Tiran to think. If this was just another test flight of an experimental aircraft, then what was with all the extra muscle running around for? Tiran wanted to ask the two soldiers escorting him, but their faces told him that they weren't exactly the talkative type. So he resigned himself to where ever it was they were taking him.

Once inside the level just underneath the flight deck, one of them took Tiran's bag and excused himself while the other calmly lead Tiran to one of the ready rooms, "Just in here, sir," he said, opening the door and gesturing inside. "We'll be back to show you to your quarters later."

"Thanks." Tiran managed, just before the soldier whisked himself away.

Tiran stepped into the cold briefing room, noticing the lack of chairs that pilots like him usually sat in while the squadron CO gave them a mission brief. Instead, there were just a few folding chairs and a couple of tables with some sophisticated looking computers on them. On the port bulkhead where he entered were some large displays to which the computers were hooked up to.

Just as Tiran was about to sit down, Cherovic emerged from the back office, "Tiran," she said, spotting him, "nice for you to arrive on-time for once."
"Not like I had a choice," he mumbled, remembering his special escort.

Cherovic sat down at one of the computers and typed in a passcode just as Dr. Welkin walked in, somewhat flustered, "Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Or 'the head' as you Navy types like to call it. What's in the food here any ways?"

"It's a warship, Doctor, now please come in, Tiran is here and we need to brief him."

"Oh yeah, yeah." Welkin wiped his palms on his shirt and moved over to one of the displays.

The keyboard clacked and the displays came to life, "Whenever you're ready, Doctor." Cherovic said dourly as images of the Cloudburst and its schematics came up.

"Right." Dr. Welkin turned towards Tiran, his hands clasped in front of him. "Well, Mr. Tiran, as you can see, the Cloudburst is a heavily improved upon version of the Longjumper."

"No shit, it's almost not even the same fuckin' aircraft any more."

If Welkin was taken aback at Tiran's use of expletives, he didn't show it, "Well, of course it's not the same aircraft it was before, that's why it has a whole new designation! but this baby isn't just different in how it looks, but also how it handles and in its special...abilities."

"Oh? And what are those?" Tiran leaned forward, a bit more interested.

Dr. Welkin grinned with almost savage delight, "Not only does the Cloudburst handle and maneuver better than any other aircraft before it, this aircraft has a single defining characteristic that sets it apart from every other single vehicle or mode of transportation ever developed in the history of our planet!"

Tiran was starting to get irked that the Doctor wouldn't just get straight to the point, "And that is...?"

"Mr. Tiran, are you at all acquainted with the concepts of quantum physics, quantum membranes, quantum theory, string theory or M-theory?" Dr. Welkin asked.

Tiran slumped back in his chair, instantly un-enthused, "Seriously? I'm a pilot, Doc, not a mad scientist." He turned around in his seat, aiming a pleading expression at Cherovic, but she had almost the same bored look on her face as he did.

"I know it's tedious and confounding," she said quietly, "but please bear with it."

With no other choice, Tiran turned back to the Doctor and resigned himself to his fate.

"So, here's how it goes," Dr. Welkin continued, "As what can be currently understood, the universe as a whole is constructed entirely by nearly un-observable, one dimensional lines called 'strings'. How the stings vibrate or oscillate determines what they are in our observable dimensions; energy or matter, energy being something like electricity or fire and matter being something like a rock or the material your chair is made out of.

"These strings can reside in membranes, or 'branes', that can exist in theoretically ten total dimensions. Except, certain types of strings exist independently of any of the branes and can flit from one to the other at whim. What if I told you, we have figured out a way to tap into or 'ride' these closed loop strings, effectively allowing us to travel where we want at will within the blink of an eye?"

Tiran stared at the Doctor for a long moment, then said, "I'd say this sounds a lot like magic and you're full of shit."

"This is not magic!" Dr. Welkin protested. "Granted, not much is known about how we are able to achieve this process as it was stumbled upon quite accidentally, but nevertheless, the truth stands that we have found a way."

Tiran looked back at Cherovic again, unbelievingly. "He's right, Tiran." She said.

"So what you're saying," Tiran said, once again focusing his attention on Dr. Welkin, "is that you've successfully found a way to teleport." He put almost mockingly.

"Oh, no no no," Welkin said in a hushed tone as he stepped closer to Tiran, "It's not teleportation in that definition of the word, though I guess you could put it that way in Laymen's terms. No, this is still travel from point A to point B, only you could say, we take a shortcut through other aspects of our dimensions. Theoretically, the possibilities are limitless. In fact, we estimate that with enough energy, one could cross the entire solar system in an instant with this technology. Perhaps, go even farther."

Dr. Welkin finished with a grave expression upon his face as he stepped back towards the screen. His expression soon changed as Tiran began to laugh.

"It's not funny, this is serious!" Welkin defended.

"No, no it's not that," Tiran said between giggles. "I'll fly whatever the hell you tell me to fly with what you're paying me, fancy technologic gobbledygook and all. No, what gets me is that, if what you're saying is true; instead of using it to explore space and maybe try a hand at asteroid mining or planet colonization, you've gone and weaponized it instead! I mean, look at that thing!" Tiran said, pointing at the picture of the Cloudburst on the display. "There are enough weapons stations on that thing to load it up with enough ordinance to obliterate a small city!"

Cherovic's warning tone behind him quickly brought Tiran out of his reverie, though it was soft, almost somber, "We must take care of the problems at home before we can focus on the challenges afar. This technological leap may just be what we need to turn the tide of this war and finally end it."

"Well, yes." Dr. Welkin said, a bit flustered by Tiran's outburst of logic, but quickly composing himself. "Originally, this craft was designed for use outside the atmosphere, but budget constraints became a problem..."

"Thus, the military intervention and eventual possession." Tiran finished for him.

"That's one way to put it. Now, any questions?"

"Sure," Tiran said, leaning in again, but this time with a mischievous grin. "When do we start?"

* * *

The next day, Tiran found himself standing in a cold room wearing a body suit made out of a strange, but not uncomfortable, material while a squad of technicians assembled what seamed like an exo-suit around him. Meanwhile, Dr. Welkin moved about like a chicken without a head, pecking at his subordinates and clucking over data screens. Not for the first time, Tiran wondered what he had gotten himself into.

"Tell me why I'm here again?" He called out to Welkin.

The Doctor responded without looking up from whatever mathematical figures he was unhappy with now, "Despite your many short comings; lack of punctuality, poor professional attitude, borderline alcoholism, etcetera: interesting genetic correlations, already impressive reflexes and reaction times heightened by the most seamless neurological integration with a near-A.I. construct ever recorded and a nearly spotless flight record. Except for that one incident, of course."

Tiran didn't understand most of what he said, but took it as a compliment.

"That aside, I meant what am I doing in this ridiculous get-up?"

Dr. Welkin walked to Tiran from the data screen and shooed away one of the technicians, "Oh, this."

"Yes, this." Tiran replied. He winced as he was prodded in a particularly uncomfortable place.

"What my subordinates are assembling onto your person is a prototype survival suit. Much more advanced than the enhanced 'G-suits' aviators currently wear. It will allow you to withstand a considerable amount of gravities, as well as; blunt force trauma, high kinetic energy impacts, extreme hot or cold temperatures, in addition to a fifteen minute reserve of oxygen and an increase in strength. However, the truly ingenious attribute is its power source. Rather than being fed from a bulky battery pack, the suit gets its energy from the heat of your body," the Doctor explained with some pride.

Tiran frowned, "Increased strength? What, like a super soldier or something?"

"Oh, heavens, no." Dr. Welkin chuckled. "At most, your strength will be increased by approximately twenty-five percent. It's a technology borrowed from the robotic exoskeletons used for loading and unloading heavy equipment, but scaled down and miniaturized. At most, it will allow you to escape from the cockpit should the canopy fail to eject in an emergency."

"Then what are these for?" Tiran asked, pointing to what were clearly hard points on the suit to attach small arms to and pissing off a technician who was attempting to affix a gauntlet over that hand.

"A standard precaution, I'm aware that pilots in the military are required to carry a sidearm of some sort should they be shot down." Welkin explained.

"Then why are there two more on my back?"

To that, Dr. Welkin didn't offer an explanation. Instead, he walked back to his data displays.

"Pay attention to the technicians, Mr. Tiran. You may have to do this on your own in the future."

* * *

"Ok, now look to the bottom left corner." Said a tinny voice in Tiran's helmet. Tiran complied and was rewarded with a "Good!" and a thumbs-up from the technician on the deck in front of him.

"That about does it!" The technician said. "Calibration is complete, you're good to go!"

Tiran was finally in the cockpit, and he had to admit, it was humbling. The technology involved was like nothing he'd ever seen. The entire canopy was a Heads-up Display, but it only displayed general info, like target information, flight bearing and fuel consumption, things he could also find on the many interactive digital displays scattered about the cockpit.

Even though a lot of the information was displayed on the canopy's HUD, the cockpit was still crammed with dozens of other displays and controls. Many of them were mundane; general stuff like fuel levels, engaged weapons stations, radar, telemetry from the ship, but one thing stood out. It was a singular panel on the left side of the cockpit with an inordinate amount of wires streaming out of it. The panel was pretty simplistic in its design compared with the rest of the cockpit, using toggle switches instead of a digital interface.

There were only three switches on the panel. Each was labeled, from left to right: M-DRV ON, BLNK WRM UP and BLNK INT.

The real action was on the helmet's HUD. Real time information on the status of the aircraft; damage control, weapons and armament, threat assessments, it could even link up to the freaking 25mm chin gun hidden within the fuselage an aim it wherever he looked. Technology they already had for decades, but Tiran could even walk away from the aircraft and still get information on its readiness wirelessly. It was quite a feat to put so much technology into one system.

Tiran couldn't wait to test it out in flight and that's exactly why he was in the cockpit now. He was sitting in the Cloudburst, on the flight deck, getting ready for the aircraft's inaugural take-off with a human operator.

"Quicksilver, you have green deck." the flight officer said, using Tiran's old call-sign.
Tiran spun up the reactor, and with it, the engines, relishing in the building whine and the humming vibrations he felt through his seat and arms. Once he brought the engines up to an acceptable power and thrust level, he gave a thumbs-up with one armor encased hand to the yellow-shirted director on the deck in front of the aircraft.

The director gave the 'break-down' signal to his blue shirts and they rushed to the landing gear, pulling down chains and releasing the Cloudburst from its fetters. As soon as the aircraft was clear, the director passed Tiran off to an LSE with a salute, who then began signaling tiran to throttle up and take-off.
Tentatively, Tiran began to add power. Before he had even nudged the throttle half an inch, the Cloudburst began to rise in the air. The new engines really were as powerful as he had been told. Tiran's heart rate climbed with added anticipation.

Once he was high enough, Tiran nudged the joystick in his right hand, sending him sliding out over the water off the carrier's port side.

"Clear for departure, Quicksilver. Climb to angels six and begin test run, ceiling's at twenty thousand, deck is at three, have a safe flight."

"Copy, Tower, climbing to six thousand." Tiran responded, shaking his head at his old call-sign as he added forward thrust and started to climb.

The nickname 'Quicksilver' had been given to him by his more collegiate squadron mates back in the day. At first, he thought it was a cool nickname, but that was before he found out why they called him that. It turned out that quicksilver was another name for mercury, a highly toxic metal, and also an adjective for describing something very erratic or unpredictable. Both meanings of which his fellow pilots thought fit his flying style perfectly. Highly toxic and unpredictable. That could have been the end of it, but the more Tiran voiced his displeasure over it, the more it stuck, eventually becoming his call-sign.
The aircraft quickly reached the assigned altitude, in what Tiran was sure was record time. He had to have pulled at least a few G's getting there that fast. He made a mental note to be careful about that, prototype survival suit or not.

"Angels six, ready to commence test run." Tiran said into the radio.

"Copy," came the response, "green for test flight, be safe."

Tiran switched off his mic, satisfied. "Alright, let's see what this bird can do!" he said to himself with enthusiasm.

Tiran nearly punched the throttle forward and the Cloudburst shot off like a rocket, violently slamming him into the back of his seat. If it wasn't for the snazzy new helmet, he was sure he would've been knocked out. As it was, he dialed back the thrust so he could make his first turn.

He climbed some and then snap-rolled ninety degrees to port and pulled up on the stick. Tiran was still going incredibly fast, the air speed indicator pushing past a thousand. even though he'd lowered his thrust, it was still climbing off the inertia from his initial burst. As well as the G's.

As Tiran neared the middle of his turn he could feel himself getting heavier, his arms becoming leaden with weight. he began his breathing exercises, making a strange hiccupping sound as he did. Just as his vision started to fade, servos clicked on and began to whine in his suit. The suit began to exert pressure on his legs, then lower torso, forcing the blood back into his upper body and brain.

It was painful, but it cleared his head.

Tiran pulled out of the turn and immediately felt the pressure lessen. He stopped doing his breathing exercises, but he was still gulping for air. That was intense, he thought as he glanced over at the counter in his HUD that registered the G forces. The number it recorded was 9.34.

9.34

Tiran shook his head. A pilot usually had to pull off some crazy stuff to pull that many G's, not just do a simple turn. Still, he liked it. He wanted more
Miles away, a large formation of cumulus clouds lumbered across the sky. Tiran gazed at it like a hungry wolf, noticing the complex spires and towers, valleys and mountains. He was going to cloud surf.

Tiran throttled up again and aimed for the clouds, he crossed the distance in no time. Just before he hit the fluffy white cotton walls, Tiran flared the nose and added thrust to the ventral nozzles. The Cloudburst decelerated sharply, throwing Tiran hard against his restraints.

Just as the aircraft was about to stall, he punched the throttle forward again and zipped around the cloud formation, corkscrewing up a spire before disengaging and shooting down into a valley.

Tiran jinked and rolled, dodging corners and flashing under overhangs. The Cloudburst was just as maneuverable as Welkin had said and Tiran was enjoying absolutely every minute of it. He could fly like this for hours, but he wanted to try something else.

Leveling out, Tiran pitched the nose straight up and began to add thrust.

"Quicksilver, you're nearing the ceiling." his radio squawked in warning. Tiran didn't answer. "You've just passed the ceiling, descend to a lower altitude immediately."

Tiran paid no heed to their protests. He wanted to push this aircraft, see just how high it could go. His altimeter climbed; thirty thousand, thirty-five, forty thousand...

The sky began to turn black, engines screaming behind him, the fuselage shaking and rattling. If he could just see the stars...

"Tiran, this is Cherovic! Get your ass back down here NOW or I will personally have you confined to quarters!"

Party's over. Tiran thought with heavy disappointment.

Tiran flipped the nose over and pointed it back towards the ocean. He'd have to try another time, maybe he could talk Cherovic into letting him push the envelope later. It was definitely worth a shot.

In the meantime, he would return to the ship. But he would take it slow, draw out his flight time. Then, he would land. But not before he buzzed the Tower first.

* * *

"What the hell did you think you were doing!?"

Tiran was back in the ready room, still in his suit, helmet resting on the table next to him. Cherovic was currently in the middle of chewing him out.

"This is groundbreakingly new technology with highly advanced propulsion systems and you handle your aircraft like you're on a pubescent joyride!?" She asked incredulously.

"Isn't that what I'm here for?" Tiran argued, "To see what it can do?"

"Yes, but not in this way!" Cherovic stomped over to the computer and began typing away at a furious pace. Tiran had really pissed her off this time.

Tiran stood up, "Listen, I'm sorry. I promise I'll take it slow from here out," he said.

"It doesn't matter." Cherovic shot back. "Your grounded as of today."

"Grounded!?"

"Exactly. As much as I wish it was because of your blatant disregard for flight plans, it's not."

"What do you mean?" Tiran asked, wondering if he was in trouble for something else.

"There was another security incident. We are returning to port."

"What!?"

This was really the worst news for Tiran. He was expecting to be out here for at least a few weeks. After having gotten back in the saddle in such a highly maneuverable aircraft, he was craving for more.

"It's not my call, Tiran." Cherovic began to explain, "We could be compromised, but we don't know for sure. The Captain is taking us back in just to be safe. Go ahead and change out of that obnoxious equipment, we'll be back at North Island in two days. Dismissed."

It was clear at this point that there was no use arguing. So with a huff, Tiran scooped up his helmet and stomped to the door, at least eager to suit off. It was starting to feel suffocating.

As he exited the room and marched down the passageway, a voice came on over the 1MC, "This is the TAO. Away, the snoopy team, away. Bridge, port side, surface contact. Away, the snoopy team, away..."

Chapter 5: Encounter

'Tiran you need to get up!' Li called out to her operator.

She'd been trying for quite some time, but no matter how much she insisted, the pilot wouldn't respond. She was in a precarious position. As she monitored Tiran's vitals, she found his heart rate slowing, becoming unrhythmic and irratic, and his breath becoming ever more shallow. If she didn't do some thing drastic soon, he operator would cease to exist and eventually her along with him.

Like she had so often done before, Li initiated a power build-up in one of the capacitors that allowed Tiran's arm to function. It quickly reached the levels she usually stopped at when she merely need to rouse a particularly lazy Tiran in the mornings, then she pushed it further. When the charge was halfway to a lethal level, she stopped it and released it into his system.

Tiran's back arched, but he otherwise remained unresponsive as his body flopped back into the seat. Desperate, Li overrode the capacitor's safety locks and pushed the charge even higher. Now, as the charge reached a point just below the lethal voltage and ampoules, she halted it's build and once again released it.

Tiran's back arched again, but this time as he flopped back down, it was followed by a violent fit of coughing. If she had any real emotions to speak of, she would feel relieved, Li thought. What a strange thought it was.
Like a corpse from the grave, Tiran sat up in his seat, his hands cradling his head.

"Aw shit, how long was I out for?" he croaked.

'Approximately three hours, after the second impact.' Li quickly informed him.

"Second impact?"

'Yes. After the aircraft finally came to a complete stop, some loose debris dislodged and sent us tumbling down a sharp incline. Best estimates from functional sensors indicate we have come to rest at the bottom of a wide ravine.'

"Ravine? Shit..." Tiran quickly realized what that meant for him. Somehow, somewhere, he had managed to crash on land. Where that land was, though, he hadn't the faintest idea. "Li, run diagnostics on the Cloudburst and try to figure out our location," he quickly rattled off as he went over the instrument panels.

Tiran started flipping switches and pushing buttons, trying to get a response out of his bird. It was then he discovered that his right arm was unresponsive, fingers curled in a permanent claw. Main power was down, he saw. He also couldn't get a response from the communications group. Not only that, but he was somewhere on land, and the only land there was in the Pacific was Hawaii and that which was currently owned by the so called Nihilists. He really hoped it was Hawaii.
The true gravity of the situation was just starting to sink in.

'Warning. Suspected containment breach in reactor housing.' Li chimed in Tiran's head. 'I am detecting heightened levels of radiation outside the aircraft.'

"Well if that don't just make a bad situation worse," Tiran grumbled. "Is this suit rated for radiation?"

'Yes. This suit is able to shield you from limited levels of radiation for short periods of time.' Li answered.

"Did you say limited?"

'Correct. I do not recommend you expose yourself for any longer than is absolutely necessary.'

"Dammit. Alright. Li, try to restore emergency power and pop the clam shell. At the very least, we need to get away from the crash site. This was sure to attract attention."

'One moment.'

While she worked, Tiran tried to figure out what was happening outside. However, as he tried to peer out spider's web of cracks that was the canopy, he found himself faced with nothing but darkness. He thought he could see the dark outline of the lip of the ravine against the star studded sky above, but that was about all he could see. The rest was shrouded in darkness.

After a moment, a few of the instrument panels flickered to life, but quickly died out again. Then something sparked somewhere behind him and the panels returned with a diminished glow. 'Emergency power activated with limited functions,' Li announced, 'I suggest you egress now.'

"No, I thought I'd hang out for a while..." Tiran said with a sarcastic sneer.

Tiran quickly hit the canopy release with his good hand. Nothing. The canopy remained stubbornly secured. Cursing, Tiran slammed his fist on the button that would activate the explosive bolts, but they too failed him. "Oh, Goddammit!" Tiran twisted in his seat and hooked a few of the stiff fingers on his right hand under a lip in the canopy and braced his other hand on the rim of the cockpit. Then with a grunt, he activated the servos in the joints of his suit.

The canopy woundn't budge at first. But then a groan began to build. Something popped and cracked. The groan turned into a moan and the already battered and tortured metal began to buckle and give way. Finally, with snap, the canopy shot up, opening a gap just large enough for Tiran to crawl through.

He pulled himself through, gradually squeezing and working his way out, the plates of armor on his suit scraping loudly on the metal. As he worked himself out of the wreckage, Tiran's arm slipped and he found himself tumbling un-gracefully to the ground. He landed in a heap, feeling the wind get forced from his lungs by the impact.

With a painful grunt, Tiran picked himself up and sat up on his knees, drawing in a few breaths that caused a sharp pain in his abdomen. Stars still swirling in his vision from hitting the ground for the third time that night, Tiran forced himself to look around and take in his surroundings.

He was certainly in a ravine all right, with sharply angled sides rising up to a full height of about thirty feet. It was easily wide enough two or three Cloudbursts side-by-side. The fact that his had ended up on its belly rather than its roof was nothing short of a miracle.

"Li, got a fix on our position?" he asked aloud.

'Negative.' If Li had any capability to truly color her voice with emotion, he could have thought she sounded troubled. 'I am not detecting any signals from satellites and radiation from both short and long wave radios is conspicuously absent.'

"What do you mean, we're in a dead zone? The sats are down?"

'No,' Li clarified, 'I mean that they simply are not present. We are effectively alone.'

Real panic starting growing in Tiran's chest, "That's impossible. The Earth's covered with electronics. There has to be something."

'And yet the opposite is true.'

"You're shitting me," Tiran said in disbelief.

He really wasn't liking what he was hearing. In this day and age, the atmosphere was completely inundated with signals from radios and satellites of every kind. Nowadays, you could even get cell service in even the most remote areas of the world. Tiran grabbed his pistol with his left hand and checked the chamber. With a little difficulty, he wracked the slide back against his right forearm and put into condition one.

Confident he could at least protect himself if he had to, Tiran shoved the weapon back in its armor slot and stomped back to the battered remains of the Cloudburst. He was careful to avoid the aft end, where the suspected radiation leak was and pulled himself up onto the small ledge that protruded out about half a foot from the lip of the cockpit.

With some effort, he managed to widen the gap between the canopy and the cockpit, forcing it open enough that he could get inside without too much difficulty. "All right, let's see what we got to work with."

Tiran was glad to see that the emergency power was still holding out. With a stretch, he reached up and punched in his code for the weapons locker behind his seat. The hatch hissed with escaping pressure as it popped open, but then ground to a halt after only sliding out a few inches. Frustrated, Tiran gripped the hatch and yanked it the rest of the way. A rack slid out, but it didn't hold nearly what Tiran expected.

On the rack was just one pistol of the more modern rail gun design and a small submachine gun a little further back. The rest of the spots on the rack held only a few ration packs and a couple of boxes of ammo. Well, that wasn't going to do him a lot of help then.

Tiran quickly realized he should have paid much better attention SERE school. He could make shelter, sure, but getting food after his ration packs ran out was going to be a problem. Maybe he could use the firearms to hunt, though he'd have to be careful with how much ammunition he used.

Gathering up everything that was in the locker, Tiran hopped down from the cockpit. "Li, initiate the emergency shutdown that failed to engage on the reactor and kill the battery to conserve power."

'Tiran, surely you don't mean to leave the Cloudburst here? OPNAVINST 5510.1B and 5510.60 clearly dictate that in the event of a catastrophic event in foreign zones, all classified data and material must be destroyed.'

"Is there a self-destruct in the aircraft?"

'Negative.'

"And there weren't any explosives in the locker either. We'll just have to hope no one finds it."

Tiran looked back up to the sky. The stars were beginning to fade, the veil of night was getting pushed back by a rising sun. He didn't like the look of that. At least in darkness, he'd be better covered from unfriendly eyes. Tiran had been briefed on what the enemy did to those they found in their territories. He wasn't gonna let that happen to him.

He briefly remembered seeing a forest on his way down. Though in which direction that may lay, he hadn't a clue. "Li, can you give an idea of where we are on land?"

'Current barometric pressure puts us at approximately eight thousand feet above sea level, give or take.'

Great, they were probably on the side of some mountain. Best guess in that case would be down then. With a huff, Tiran began to pick his way down the slope of the ravine, careful not to trip on any loose rocks and lose grip on the supplies he was cradling in his arms. He really should have thought to bring his flight bag in his mad endeavor to assist his shipmates in the fight. Although, he hadn't really expected to end up where ever he now was.

Fortunately, the more he descended, the more frequently trees began to appear. Just a few at first, on the top edges of the ravine, but then gradually they thickened becoming more and more like a forest. Tiran figured they had crashed just above the tree line on the mountain. That was good. It would allow him to find cover relatively close to the crash site. If any search and rescue crews were coming, that would be the first place they'd check.

Before long, the ravine began to deepen, becoming a valley. Tiran decided it would probably be best to get out of there and head for some higher ground. He didn't exactly know what kind of weather this place had, but he'd rather not get caught in a flash flood if for some reason it decided to suddenly rain. So Tiran made his way up one of the steep banks that promised to at least put him a little further down the mountain.

As he crested the rise, Tiran was relieved to see a thick wall of foliage and pines. That would give him the cover he needed. Without so much as a second thought, Tiran plunged himself into the underbrush. As the sun began to rise, Tiran found the cover of the pines safe and welcoming. He marched on, circling back a little towards the crash, searching for a suitable place to make his camp.

It wasn't long before he came across something that both intrigued and worried him. It was a path. At first he thought it was a game trail, but then he realized it was far too wide for something like that. He knelt down for closer inspection, maybe he could determine how much traffic it saw and if so, what kind?

Gently putting a few of his supplies on the ground, Tiran traced a few of the prints with his good hand. He found one for raccoons. That was good, it was something he could hunt. Also a few that belonged to what seemed to be a very big cat, but fortunately it didn't seem to be fresh, probably a few weeks old. The next set of tracks he discovered gave him pause.

They were hoof prints. And as Tiran looked around, he saw that there were far more of those than any of the other tracks. What was more, some of them looked fresh, days old. One thing that caught his eye though were their size. The hoof prints weren't wide or deep enough to belong to full grown horses. Maybe they belonged to another equestrian of a smaller size. Ponies came to mind.

Still, Tiran hoped there weren't any unsavory characters around, riding on horse back. He didn't know if he could conceal himself easily enough, let alone run from that if he were discovered. He did think, though, that the tracks warranted further investigation. Perhaps it was just a game trail, albeit a very wide one, and it could lead him to some source of water.

Tiran decided to follow it, though he melted back into the underbrush and set off on parallel path. That way he could at least drop and hide it anything or anyone were to happen along the trail.

* * *

"Ha! Would you look at that!"

Tiran stood at the edge of a pool, one fed by a small spring. He had his helmet off, enjoying the freshest air he thought he'd ever encountered. A light breeze toyed with his helmet matted hair as he stood in the shade of the trees. It took him a few hours, but at least he'd found a source of water.

Still, his job was not yet done. Kneeling by the cool water, he traced his fingers through a set of tracks, "Still no footprints. Just hooves and paws. Maybe it was just a big game trail after all."

'It would be wise to err on the side of caution, however. Tracks can be easily concealed.'

"Yeah, you're right, Li. As usual..." Tiran grumbled. "But at least we won't have to worry about food and drink for a while," he said, gathering his things and glancing around.

'I do not think it would be a good idea to stay in this area for a prolonged period.'

"But we have a place to stay. Sort of."

Making a mental note of the spring's location, Tiran started off into the undergrowth again. It wasn't long before he found a sizeable little clearing about as wide as a large driveway. He set to work constructing a crude lean-to out of branches and old pine needles. It wasn't the best, but it would shelter him and hopefully keep him out of sight. Then he dug himself a small fire pit, careful to only gather wood that had been long devoid of any moisture to ensure it would be relatively smokeless.

Once he was finally settled in, Tiran decided it was time to get a good look at his arm and see what he was dealing with in the dying light of the day. A lot of the plates on the forearm were mashed up and badly crumpled. In some places, they were cracked, the strange yellow-green sealant oozing grossly out making them appear as if they were severely infected wounds.

Tiran began undoing the latches and locks that held the gauntlet together, forcing some of them open with a stick, such was their paltry condition of disrepair. Once he did finally get the lightly armored glove off, it came away like the shell off a steamed lobster's claw.

Tiran let out a low whistle. Much of the synthetic flesh underneath had been mashed and pulped to the point where the underlying skeletal structure and wires were almost clearly visible. As he peeled the last of the suit's protective outer components from his arm, Tiran could see the rest of his prosthetic limb was much of the same up to the elbow joint. It was a miracle the metallic bones below were still intact.

"Well that's lucky. Glad you didn't take a hit, Li."

'Were my matrix located in the lower arm rather than the upper, I'm sure it would have been a much different scenario.'

Examining the extensive damage, Tiran felt it odd that the destruction hadn't caused him any pain. "At least this time the limb's fake. And it'll be easier to fix," he glanced around at the surroundings of his new woodland home, "Probably."

'Yes, I suggest you find a technician to restore integrity and function to the limb,' Li said, 'it is imperative to your continued survival in this environment.'

Tiran rummaged around in the first-aid kit and pulled out a few rolls of gauze. "That's gonna be a little difficult," he said as he began wrapping up his now quasi-useless appendage. The yellow-green sealant began staining the cloth almost immediately, hardening into a dull sickly color. "At least until we get pulled outta here by CSAR."

'Tiran, shh.'

A look of dumfoundedness splashed across Tiran's face, "Li, did you just shush me?"

'Tiran!' she said in a harsher tone.

She sounded deathly serious and Tiran knew when to shut-up. He sat quietly and listened. At first, he could hear nothing but the diminished rush of wind through the trees and the cries of the forest's nocturnal inhabitants coming to consciousness as they began to start their night of foraging. But then he heard it.

Lightly at first, but then it rose in volume. The sound of hooves striking the ground, carrying a great weight. Tiran froze and listened as it made it's way along the path not too far away. He guessed it might be heading for the water source. Still, he quietly pulled out the small railgun pistol and activated it. As it came alive, the pistol let out a small whine as the circuits warmed. The hooves stopped.

Almost imperceptibly, a light patter of rain drops began to fall. Rolling down the trunks and crashing through the leaves, the droplets plunked and splattered onto the forest floor. Tiran silently wiped the nodules of water from his face as they obscured his vision. He wondered at the sudden shower, but flicked the thought aside for the moment.

Tiran held his breath, his chest felt as it it were bound with iron hoops. After a moment, the hoof steps resumed and from then on he could hear something being dipped repeatedly into the water.

"Li, what do you think it is," he whispered.

Her response was not long in coming, 'Aural analysis indicates a quadruped belonging to Equus caballus, though based on the weight of the steps, one of substandard stature.'

"So, a little horse?"

'Pony, to be precise.'

A pony? Tiran thought. He thought those were extinct. At least, horses on earth were so scarce now that only the richest of the rich could afford to own and maintain one. Wild ones were practically unheard of. Though they had been heard of. Rumors mostly, from the still uninhabited areas of the world, virtually impossible to get to or even develop. Where the hell was he even?

"You detect any people?"

'Negative.'

Tiran thought for a moment. He was reluctant to leave his little hiding spot, but curiosity was starting to get the best of him. He'd only ever seen pictures of horses, never a real one, and he very much wanted to see a real one. He wondered what it'd be like. Finally, the desire to see the unknown won out over his reason.

"I'm gonna get a closer look."

'Tiran, I strongly advise against that action. There are still too many unknowns.'

"Exactly. I want to know. Besides," he said, checking the charge and magazine on his pistol, "we're armed."

Tiran slowly got up, careful not to make a sound. It was hard in his boots and a few times he very nearly stepped on an errant twig in the failing light. Using his right arm to cautiously move branches out of his way and weapon up by his chest, Tiran edged towards the spring. It was slow going, but even after almost fifteen minutes of his snail's-pace journey, the holder of his curiosity was still there.

The small clearing was almost in sight. Already, Tiran could make out a strange silhouette in the dimness of the twilight. He paused, "You sure there are no people?"

'Almost certain.'

That caused a hang-up in Tiran's thoughts. Li was never 'almost' anything. She was always certain of her own knowledge of something—or at least told him the possibilities—but never almost. It came close to bordering on pride on her part. Always the know-it-all. It was in her programming.

For the moment, however, Tiran pushed the thought aside, he'd bring it up later. "Let's see what we got," he said quietly to himself. He stepped forward ready to brush away the last obstacle blocking his sight of what had caught his attention.

Tiran felt the snap of the dry twig almost as much as he heard it. He became stone, heart throbbing in his chest as he struggled to remain still. Then what he heard next caused ice water to flood his veins. There was a gasp, "Who's there!" Cried out a small female voice. A head popped up in the clearing by the spring, horse-like in nature. But the mane was wrong. It had a certain style to it, like a human's.

The next thing really threw him for a loop. A pair of wings popped into view, shuffling uncomfortably before folding back down again. The head glanced around nervously, then stopped. At this point, Tiran was almost certain he felt a pair of eyes boring into him.

"Shit, fuck it."

Tiran turned and booked it back towards his little camp site, stealth momentarily forgotten as he crashed through the underbrush. At the same time, the was a sloshing of water, followed by a spill and he could hear the sound of hooves drumming a mad beat down the path away from him.

Before he reached the falsely assumed safety of his camp, Tiran turned and crouched. He brought his weapon up and aimed it about wildly, heart hammering a staccato drum tap against his ribcage. After a moment, the adrenaline ebbed and he listened once again. No breaking of branches and stomping of feet. No shots fired haphazardly in his direction. Just the fading sound of galloping hooves on the wind and the dwindling stop-start of the rain as it too passed.

Tiran allowed himself another few seconds just to be sure. Then crept back to his beggar's hovel. He could already feel the shakes coming on as he sat himself down and grabbed a ration bar out of his bundle, savagely tearing it open.

"Dammit, Li, I thought you said there were no people nearby!" He spat angrily as he began voraciously gnawing on the stiff lump of nutrients.

'I still have not detected any.' she put in matter-of-fact retort.

"Then where the hell did that voice come from?"

'I don't know.' Now Tiran was really beginning to worry about her. He thought she might have taken a hit and be malfunctioning after all. 'However, in this new light of information, I do not suggest lighting a fire tonight.'

That definitely soured Tiran's mood, if it hadn't been already. He had been looking forward to the comforting warmth and light of a good campfire and the encroaching night was beginning to bring on a chill he could feel even through the suit. But she was right. A fire now wouldn't be safe or wise. Plus, he'd have to move his camp before daybreak. If only to be sure.

"No shit," he said, still a bit angrily. "We'll move again before dawn. Wake me up then."

'Of course,' Li complied, still ever faithful despite him.

Still grumbling to himself, Tiran pulled his body up under the lean-to and settled down for what was sure to be a cold first night. At least he still hadn't found himself in some sadistic POW camp. Though that was likely to change anytime, he was sure.

At least the moonlight was nice here. He watched as it began to creep through the darkness and the canopy above, lending a cool, refreshing note to everything it touched. Like a thin blanket of snow, it bathed everything with an argent tinge, inviting Tiran to leave the psychological safety of his shelter and bask in its silvery radiance. He gladly would have were it not for circumstance.

As it was, Tiran needed rest, enemy agents or no. So he rolled over and resigned himself to the thick embrace of sleep. "G'night, Li," he mumbled softly as his eyes drifted shut.

'Goodnight, Tiran. Sleep well.'

Chapter 6: Run-in

Tiran kicked his lean-to, scattering needles everywhere. Then he picked up the branches and tossed them about in different directions. It was important to minimize the foot print of his camp however he could. Still, it wouldn't fool a skilled tracker.

He'd already taken care of the fire pit. Easy enough since there hadn't been a fire in it. Now all he had to do was grab his stuff and shift to another location. Overall it was starting to become an interesting experience. All sorts of aches and pains were announcing themselves throughout his body. Probably small internal injuries left over from the crash.

The chill of the night was starting to lift, he noticed. Morning was almost here. He needed to move and fast, but there was just one more thing he needed to check. Slinging his stuff over a shoulder, Tiran brought his pistol up and moved back towards the spring. The encounter from the night before caused him a bit of worry and he wanted to be sure about one thing.

As he slowly emerged from the underbrush, careful to check all around him first, he headed for the dirt over by the pool of water. There was definitely evidence that someone had been gathering water. There was a mark in the ground that indicated where a bucket had been put down and splash marks all around it. What he did find peculiar though, was there were no foot prints. Only more hoof prints.

Tiran would've scratched his head if he hadn't already put his helmet back on for the trip. Maybe he was just hearing things. Maybe he had suffered a little more trauma to the head than he thought. But that still didn't explain how Li had also heard it. In the end, he decided not to think too much about it.

Tiran still had plenty of water with him, so he didn't stop to top it off. Instead, he decided to follow the path that led to the spring, just to see what he was up against. If he found anything out of the ordinary, he'd just leg it back into the woods and stay there until CSAR finally came for him. Seeing as he still hadn't found any evidence of human habitation and the growing sunlight was promising such a beautiful day, Tiran thought he'd take the path itself, regardless of Li's warnings.

The path was long, but the goings easy. It was soon clear to him that this wasn't a game trail, but rather a construction, albeit a crude one. It almost seemed man made to him, but he had yet to encounter any signs of men. Just the occasional tracks of woodland creatures and the ever present hoof prints.

As the path continued, it began to widen. Soon it was to the point where he could've walked side-by-side with a man larger than himself comfortably. Tiran still kept his wits about him and his pistol out and ready, wary of running into some kind of trouble. But still, he found none. Not even a wisp or a hint that the area was even remotely inhabited. It made what he had encountered the night before even more mysterious and confusing.

Tiran came upon a bend in the path and hesitated for a moment. He could just make something out through the trees. It seemed to be some kind of building. As he focused on it longer, he decided that yes, it was in fact a building. Although a shoddy looking one. He edged forward some more, picking his way around the bend.

As the building came more into view, Tiran saw that it was a modestly sized cabin with a thatched roof. Apprehension gripped his chest. It was the first indication that there actually might be people living there. Even so, it looked as if the cabin hadn't been maintained correctly for quite a long time. It still had windows and functional doors, but the paint was fading and peeling in places and the grass and creepers slowly growing their way up the side of the house told him nature was already seeking to reclaim it.

Tiran took it slow approaching the place. There were still hoof prints planted all about, but still nothing that would tell him that any humans had been there aside from the structure itself. Even for a human looking structure, it had an odd feel to it. Like it hadn't exactly been erected by human hands. The architecture just seemed a bit...off.

It wasn't as if it came off as an impoverished hovel, despite its maintenance issues, but to Tiran it warranted a closer look. At the very least, he might get some answers as to his location or even a much better shelter in which to sequester himself. He took a deep breath and stepped out towards the building.

When he looked around and it became apparent that there was nobody around, Tiran became a little more confident in his stride. He climbed up the short steps onto the porch, clumsily trying to muffle the stomp of his boots on the wooden deck, still paranoid as he was. Gingerly, he reached out and tried the handle on the door. He gradually applied pressure until it was painfully obvious that it was locked.

Cursing to himself, Tiran tried the windows, only to be met with a similar result. It was clear to him now that getting in wouldn't be as easy as he had hoped. But why would a seemingly abandoned building out in the middle of the woods be locked?

Tiran decided to try his luck around the corner. The windows at the side of the house were too high for him to open and pull himself up, but around the back he found another door. It was also locked, but he found the frame to be much more flimsy. With a little pushing and pulling, the door finally swung free with a soft crunch as the lock tore from its frame.

He raised his pistol and gently nudged the door open. Tiran took a few cautious steps inside, scanning the room for any possible threats. Fortunately, he found himself in a quaint little kitchen. Tiran gazed around attentively and noticed something. When he drew his thumb across the counter, it came up remarkably clean. Perhaps dust was slow to accumulate or possibly there could have been a draft within the house preventing it, he didn't know. Tiran filed the new information away and continued inward, though more cautious about what he might find there.

The place was modestly furnished with only a couple of old wooden chairs and a thread bare rug on the hard wooden floor of the living room by a spacious fireplace. It still didn't give him much of a clue as to where he was. Though he did notice a small staircase leading up to another part of the house. He thought maybe that there might be something to guide him up there, perhaps old photos or a forgotten book.

Tiran took his steps lightly, as if to avoid waking the unseen inhabitants of the old structure. The stairs weren't long and he soon found himself at the beginning of a long hallway that stretched off to his right. Curiously, he started down it and stopped at the first door he came to.

He gave the handle a quick jiggle, turning it fully when he found it wasn't locked. Tiran carefully peaked inside as he cracked the door, but then swung it open fully when he found it empty. It was almost completely devoid of any furnishings except for a small mattress rack of bare metal displayed prominently like a bare skeleton. There was a dirty window, but it was only adorned with a pair of tattered drapes.

Tiran closed the door and continued down the hall to the next and only other one. This door he also found open and just like the last, cracked it some before entering. This time, he hit paydirt. The room had a few chairs, a desk ,and even a fully made bed. Tiran's head darkened as he considered that last thought.

He stepped inside and noticed the room was just as clean as the kitchen and living room below. It made his skin crawl. Peeking back out into the hallway one last time with a short bout of paranoia, Tiran closed the door and rushed over to the desk. There was a small book and some pencils on it, but his attention was caught mostly by what lay at the back edge of it.

There, looking almost lonely, was a single framed picture. That wasn't what drew him more than what it contained. In the picture was a pair of horses—or ponies, if Li was to be believed—smiling warmly outwards, but they didn't look like any he had ever seen in any picture book before. Both had unusual colors to their coats and manes. One almost as white as a wispy cirrus cloud with an almost golden mane. From Tiran's perspective, it seemed to be female.

Standing proudly next to the female was a tall stallion with a coat the shade of the darkest mist. His shoulders were round and powerful, the head supporting a close cropped mane of silvery gray streaked with strands of dull burgundy.

The most astonishing thing he noticed, however, were the two accessories they possessed, which Tiran was sure neither of them ought to have. The smaller female had a spiraling protrusion in the center of her forehead, a horn. The other, the stallion, was gifted with two enormous wings with feathers the same hue as his coat folded neatly on his back.

Tiran put down his pistol and picked the photo up, studying it as if it was some kind of bizarre joke, the punch line to which he could not fathom. He turned and examined it at different angles as if to try and catch some trick he was missing.

"Li, you got any idea what I'm looking at?" he asked.

'It seems to be a photo of two ponies with abnormal features. Both from common mythology, one a unicorn and the other a pegasus,' she said dryly.

"I know that." Tiran huffed. "I mean, is it a photoshop or something?"

'Provided that our location has the sufficient technology, it is possible. The photograph seems to be printed on standard photographic paper, but given the fact that the picture has no blurs or distortions, it is also probable the photo is genuine. In addition, the profile of the pegasus roughly matches the profile of the unknown being encountered last night.'

This disturbed Tiran even more. He'd broken into the house looking for answers, but all he was finding were more questions. Tiran was startled as something pounded lightly onto the window in front of him. He looked up and saw that there were a few drops of water on the other side of the glass. Outside, a light sprinkling rain began to fall, the sky quickly becoming gray and melancholic.

Tiran put the photo back in its place and picked up the small book. There was no text on the cover to indicate what it was so he opened it and began to flip through it. There were words, written in it, though not by print or type. Rather, they had been hand written in, or at least they seemed to be.

The entries were in English, or close to it. He could understand it well enough, but certain words had been replaced with specialized ones. For example; instead of 'anybody', it was written as 'anypony'. It was odd and caught him a little off guard. Who writes like that?

As he skimmed through it more, it became clear to him that it was a journal or diary of some sort, only the dates were wrong. The months seemed correct, even the days, but the year was way off, by almost a thousand. Eager to see what had been written most recently, Tiran flipped to the last entry in the pages:

'Today was mostly normal. At least more than it was the other day. I heard a loud crash that night and thought the dragons might be back, but I didn't see any smoke or fire. The rain still won't go away, I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with it. Everypony else could deal with it just fine at the Weather Academy, but I could just never get the clouds to act as they should. Maybe I'll go to Tall Tale tomorrow and ask Dewdrop for some advice. She always could handle herself in the clouds.'

Below that, on the same page, were hastily written lines, as if the person was in a hurry:

'I went to the spring to get more water for the tank this evening. It was getting dark, but this part of the mountain is usually quiet, so I didn't mind it too much. I was almost finished when I heard what sounded like whispering in the bushes. I asked if anypony was there, but I didn't get an answer. I was about to finish up when something just took off through the brush. It made so much noise going through the branches and twigs that I thought whatever it was must huge. I was so scared, I grabbed everything and ran. I know it's dark, but I don't think it's safe to stay here tonight. I'm going to Dewdrop's right now.'

That was it. Tiran flipped through the pages with the strange writing some more, but that had been the last entry. It brought a strange chill to his blood. There was some one there last night. Worse, now they knew he was there and they went to a town, it seemed. Ran probably, judging by the words. He had to move. He still didn't know where he was, but he knew there was a town close by and whoever it was he scared last night might come back with more people. Wether or not they'd be friendly, he couldn't say.

Tiran put the book back down, picked up his pistol and made for the door. He had to get out fast, there was no telling when the occupant of the house might be back. He stomped down the hall and flew down the stairs, nearly tripping over himself and taking a bad spill. Tiran rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, but stopped dead in his tracks. He heard hoof steps outside, barely audible over the rain. Somebody was there.

Tiran glanced wildly around and spotted a thin door off to the right. He opened it and ducked inside. When he closed the door softly behind him, he found himself in a modest pantry. It was stocked well, but not with what he expected to find. There were small bales of hay and bags of oatmeal. Among them some baked goods and oddly, dried flowers.

The lock on the front door jiggled. Tiran snapped his head around and listened. With a click, he heard the door swing open on creaking hinges. Tiran looked at his pistol. He was loath to use it, but he held it ready nevertheless.

Hollow stomping sounds. Hooves. He heard hooves on the hard wood floor of the house. They stopped for a second, followed by a soft rustling sound as something was put down or away. Then the hoof steps resumed, growing louder then receding upwards as they went up the stairs.

Tiran was puzzled for a moment. Who would bring an animal in the house like that? He decided it didn't matter. There were no more sounds coming from downstairs so they must have gone up. Tiran saw his chance and gently eased the pantry door open.

He slipped quietly into the kitchen and glanced around. The back door was still ajar, a small ragged hole in the jamb from when he had forced the lock out. Tiran offered a silent thanks that the person hadn't come into the kitchen and seen it.

A tinge of curiosity gripped Tiran. He edged forward to take a peek at the living room. It was almost the same as when he had last seen it, except now there was a strange umbrella leaning against the wall by the door. It looked just like any other umbrella, only instead of a handle, at the bottom it was attached to what looked like a small saddle. Tiran shuffled this odd picture into his mind and turned around to creep out the back door and make his escape.

He was almost there, just a few more steps, when as he put his foot gently down, the floorboard emitted a loud scratchy creak. Tiran froze, ears straining for any hint that he had been given away. When, after a moment, he didn't hear anything further, Tiran continued. But before he could get close and open the door, a sweet and timid voice of a young woman drifted down the stairs and petrified him where he stood.

"H-hello? Is anypony there?" Tiran's hand shook, not knowing what to do. "If somepony's there, could you please answer me?" The voice said again, colored with fear.

Tiran thought that if he remained quiet, they would assume it was just a random noise they heard and continue what ever they were doing, allowing him to silently slip away. As long as they didn't come downstairs, he should be good. The storm outside would also help to conceal him.

No longer than it had taken Tiran to finish that thought did it all begin to fall apart. He heard the hooves again, over his head, undoubtedly making their way for the stairs. Tiran decided that stealth no longer mattered and tore the door open. He dashed out into the pouring rain just as it banged into the kitchen counter.

Tiran heard a startled cry behind him, but he didn't stop or turn his head to look. The trees were right in front of him and he kept at full speed until he dove into cover. Once under the shady cover of the foliage, Tiran hefted his pistol and turned around in a crouch, waiting.

He couldn't see much through the rain fall, just the vague shape of the house and a small dark opening that was the broken back door. As he watched, a small figure stepped out warily, just as obscured as the house. Despite that, Tiran thought he could get a general picture of what it was.

About four feet tall from the head, quadrupedal. It turned its head left and right, probably looking for him, and Tiran got a look at its profile. The shape definitely reminded him of a horse. The mane was wet and sagging to one side and the thing had two strange lumps upon its back. The horse-like creature shuffled uncomfortably and, to Tiran's surprise, a pair of wings unfolded from its back briefly before settling back down.

"W-who ever you are, please leave me alone!" said the same voice from before. In a quieter tone, "I hope Dewdrop gets here soon..."

Tiran couldn't see who it was that was speaking. Just the strange pony nervously shuffling and backing slowly towards the door. After a moment, it went back inside and the door shut quickly on the now bent and broken hinges.

When it was apparent that he would no longer be pursued, Tiran lowered the gun and turned around. He began stalking away, rain dripping down his face and stinging his eyes. He had to get away from the area, that was for certain, but to where? He still had no idea where he was and now his presence had been discovered.

His experience a moment ago just threw even more doubts against his consciousness. The journal he had picked up was written in English. The young woman he had unwittingly terrified spoke in English. Yet he didn't seem to be in any English speaking country he had ever heard of.

As he sloughed along in the brush, Li spoke gently in his head, 'Tiran, I have new data.'

Tiran perked up at this, "You have our position, intercepted a sat signal?" he asked hopefully.

'Negative. I'm sorry.'

Tiran's hopes just sank a little further than they had previously been. "Ok," he said glumly, "what is it?"

'I ran further aural analysis while we were in the house and again at the tree line. The voice matches the one from the previous night.'

"Yeah," Tiran said, becoming irritated, "and you said there were no people here!"

'Correct.' Li continued, as if ignoring his tone of voice. 'However, even with my limited sensors, I detected no other large living entities within the area, nor within the structure. Infrared showed only one large heat source besides our own.' she concluded.

Tiran scoffed, "So now not only do you think that we've run into a beast straight out of Greek mythology, but you're also telling me that it can talk? This is starting to sound like guesses and less like analysis."

'I do not guess,' Li responded in an almost defensive tone, 'I merely extrapolate from earlier collected data that concurs with new data obtained. Currently, I am confident that my conclusions draw to within an accuracy of eighty-eight point three seven percent.'

Tiran wiped his face and let out a long exasperated breath, "Li, I think I really need to get you checked out."

'I disagree.'

Chapter 7: Meeting The Locals

It had been almost a week since Tiran had run from the house. His rations were nearly depleted, but he had managed to catch some rain water and refill a bit of his rapidly dwindling water supply. Li still hadn't been able to detect any radio waves or satellite data in the time since the crash.

Tiran reached up and scratched at the rough stubble that was quickly filling out on his face. He was starting to get bored again. Waiting for a rescue was proving to be more and more of a waste of time. He was beginning to believe that it would never come. After all; how hard could it really be to find a highly technologically advanced piece of hardware with built-in tracking devices?

The whole ordeal was beginning to wear him down. It wasn't just the dire situation he seemed to be in either. For the most part, it was what little he had been able to discover about his strange location.

First it was the encounter near the spring. Then it was what he found at the house and what Li had told him about its apparent occupant. On top of that, strange things lurked in this forest on the side of a mountain.

He once thought he saw a snake, but when he got closer, the head of a chicken popped up. It didn't see him and as it withdrew from its hiding place, he saw that the head was actually attached to the scaly green body at the bottom of the bush. He had taken off running and didn't look back.

Sometimes at night, a large and terrifying beast could be heard bulling its way through the branches and saplings. Often when it happened, he thought he could here the rough panting and grunts of some large cat, but he didn't know of anything from the big cat family that could be so monstrous. But what caused him to lose the most sleep was what he caught glimpses of in the air.

Sometimes it was a large ship, seemingly carried aloft by great bulbous bladders. Other times it was a smaller craft, nearly identical in method of flight, but faster and much more streamlined. Quite often, he thought he spotted an animal, but no bird or bat. They were as big as small horses and their shape and outline seemed to confirm that theory. Was what Li had told him true, or was she malfunctioning? Or is it him that's malfunctioning?

One thing was certain, he couldn't stay in the forest for much longer. Supplies were getting dangerously low, and though he had been supplementing his meals by catching small squirrels and rabbits, the meat was extremely lean and lacking in important lipids and nutrients. He food would be gone soon and then how long could he survive on his remaining water, a week? Two?

No. He had to do something to change his deteriorating situation. But what to do? Tiran thought he saw an ocean just before the crash, maybe he could get there and attempt to establish a connection again. Just as he thought of it, Tiran discarded the idea, he'd been spinning around so much during the accident that he didn't have a clue in which direction it would be. What if he followed a river or stream, they usually emptied into the sea sooner or later. But what if he was on the wrong side of the mountain? He'd just go further inland and become even more lost.

Tiran thought back to the journal he had read earlier. It mentioned a town or city. What was it called, Too Tall? Tall Dale? Something like that. There was a chance whatever country he landed in is friendly, but just as much a chance it was the opposite. No, that was too much risk on too little Intel. He needed to think of a more reliable alternative.

The house.

The house he had made his hasty retreat from. It seemed to have just the one lone occupant, the young woman, and she hadn't appeared to be hostile. Just a little frightened. Tiran weighed his options.

Trying to find the ocean was a no go, at least until he found out where it is and how far. Walking into an unknown city in a strange suit and weapons on his person wouldn't end too well either. Even if the place was friendly, they could perceive him as a threat. Going down in a blaze of glory over a misunderstanding was generally unappealing to him.

That left the house near the spring.

Maybe, if he took it slow and showed he meant no harm, just maybe he could get the young woman to help him. He had already left a bad impression during their last brief meeting, but perhaps he could rectify that. With some tact and a fair amount of luck of course.

There was still a chance that she had alerted more people or even the city nearby of his presence, but that was a chance he'd have to take. Tiran decided he would do it slow, gradually. Scout the area beforehand and make sure there wasn't anyone or anything lying in ambush for him. Once he was sure the area was clear, he would make himself look as harmless and un-intimidating as possible. Tiran conferred with Li and told her of his plan.

'I highly recommend you don't,' was her disapproving response. Tiran had thought as much. 'However, it is the better of the three options and our situation is growing dire.'

"So what do you recommend?" Tiran replied with a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

'Given our options and the damage sustained to your limb, returning to the house would be most prudent.'

Tiran smiled, "So we go with the plan?"

'Yes. However, I advise we wait until late afternoon. If there is a trap, we will know before we get there and if not, whom ever we are likely to meet there will be more receptive of the unknown at this time of day.'

"So, one more night in the bushes then..." Tiran's shoulders slumped.

'Correct.'

Tiran let out a sigh and wiped some of the dirt and grime that had accumulated on his face over the past few days. The days were growing longer and hotter as well, making him sweat and allowing the dirt to mix and spread everywhere. He guessed that put the time of year around Spring. Nice weather, but it wasn't helping him.

At least it meant that he would have to spend less time out in the darkness with whatever strange creatures were running around in this forest, so at least he had that going for him. Tiran stood up from his shallow hiding spot and took a quick swig from his water supply, noting grimly it was half full. Then with another quick drink, he started back off in the direction of the house.

* * *

Tiran stopped and looked up at the sky again, at least what he could make out through the canopy of the trees above. It was past noon, the sun would be setting in a few hours. He was sure he was fairly close to the house now. He'd gone non-stop for almost a day after running from it before. By the look of the foliage around him and the how sore his legs and feet were becoming, he would be there soon.

With another painful step, Tiran continued on. Each stomp of his boot into the dirt and twigs below him sent another spike of pain through his legs. He thought he might have a blister on his left heel. Tiran hadn't taken the suit off since the landing, so there was no way to tell until he did. Even so, he was fairly sure. Hopefully all would go well and he would get a chance to rest and relax a little, take the suit off and get into some real clothes. A shower would be nice, too. He couldn't even imagine how bad he must smell underneath it all.

A couple of hours later, he noticed the underbrush was thinning out, the trees becoming more widely spaced. He was close, very close. Tiran hunched down and scanned his surroundings. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary yet.

Tiran began to angle his approach, going closer while circling around. He checked the charge on his pistol, still good. Soon, the house came into view, through the breaks in the trees. The clearing around it looked clear, the sparse grass mostly untrodden. He kept circling around, just to be safe.

The sun was nearing the horizon now, the shadows lengthening, casting a bronzed and aged look on everything. Something rustled in the leaves to his left. Tiran dropped and snapped the pistol up, waiting. After a moment, a squirrel leapt out onto a branch, chittering angrily. Overhead, something big swooped down low, but he thought it might be just a bird. Tiran let out the breath he'd been holding.

Tiran kept going until he was close to the tree line and facing the front door of the house. He scanned the windows, searching for signs that some one was home. So far, it remained dark. Tiran took a few deep breaths for what he was about to do next.

After searching for a suitable bush or shrub, Tiran dug out a hole using his survival knife. Once it was deep and wide enough, he began stripping himself of his weapons and tossed them in his bag, throwing it into the hole with his knife when he was completely unarmed. Then he began piling on dirt with scoops of his hands. Once that was finished he sprinkled some twigs and a handful of dead leaves over it, helping to conceal it better.

Tiran stood up with a low groan, his back was aching from the hike. He still needed to mark the spot somehow and he didn't have his knife anymore. Tiran mentally kicked himself for being so careless. Picking up a rock, he scratched a rough X on the trunk of the tree next to his hiding spot. Now it was time for the most risky part of his plan.

Inhaling a few more lung fulls of air, Tiran stepped out from the cover of the trees and into the clearing. Nothing happened. He glanced around, trying to spy some hidden danger he had missed before, but the area remained calm and quiet. He looked up at the house. Still no movement or even a flicker of light.

Gathering his courage, Tiran stepped closer, arms dangling loose at his sides and called out, "Hello? Is there anybody home?"

He waited.

When he still didn't receive a response, Tiran ambled closer, trying at it again, "Is there anyone in there? I don't mean any harm, but I'm a little lost and could use some help!"

The seconds ticked by and Tiran was becoming a little anxious. What if there wasn't anyone home this time? What if the person from before left again and didn't come back? Should he go in anyway? There were still too many unknowns, and he wasn't sure what to do next. Still, he needed somewhere to rest, somewhere safe.

After a few minutes without a sign, Tiran slowly began walking nervously towards the front door. Right as he was about to take his third step, he froze. The door cracked open, swinging out a few inches on hinges that really needed to be oiled.

"W-who, is it?" said the same voice from before, from behind the cover of the door.

"Ruwa, get back," hissed a different voice, this too one of a female, "let me handle this!"

Tiran took a step back, wondering if he should just turn and walk away.

"Who are you!?" the owner of the second voice called. She didn't sound very pleasant.

Tiran struggled to get something out, his words hitching in his chest, "I uh... I-I'm not really from around here. I've been lost in these woods for more than a week and I need some help."

There was a long silence. It was only for a few seconds, but to Tiran it seemed to stretch on and on. Tiran was considering just turning around and leaving, but then, "That doesn't answer my question! Tell me who you are!"

Tiran was at a crossroads in his thoughts. He didn't really want to reveal himself. If people were looking for him then having his identity known might just hasten his capture. On the other hand, he was a strange man wearing strange equipment with a crash site just a few miles away. It wouldn't take a lot to put two and two together. He decided to relent.

"My name is Tiran, I'm a pilot!" He called back to the unseen occupants of the house.

"A pilot?"

"Yeah, I crash landed not far from here. My people haven't come to get me and I'm running low on supplies. I was wondering if you could help me, let me stay and rest a little bit while I figure out what to do," he told them. "I promise, I don't mean any harm!"

Another pause. Tiran wasn't liking this one bit. After a moment, he turned to go. He said too much, he knew it, and now he might have compromised everything. He began walking fast, almost breaking into a run.

He didn't get very far. Something heavy slammed into his back and pinned him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs. As he struggled to get back up and suck air down his throat so he could breath, something hard and blunt struck him in the back of his head.

"Stop moving!" Some one commanded. This voice was loud, booming, unmistakably male. He was standing right on top of him, right on his back! "I said stop, and be quiet!" he said again, knocking Tiran in the back of the head with the same blunt object when Tiran didn't let up.

Tiran calmed himself down, that last hit was twice as painful as the first, and he was starting to breathe better. That was it, he was done for. Tiran raised his good arm up and and tried to reason with his captor, "Sorry! Sorry. Look, I'm unarmed, I just need a little—"

Tiran stopped talking when he was hit again, this time his head bouncing off the ground in front of him, small jagged rocks in the soil cutting into his forehead. He should have worn his helmet.

"I said shut-up!" the man ordered again.

Behind him, Tiran could hear people approaching from the house. At least he thought it was people, but the steps sounded wrong, the were loud and clomped when they hit the ground.

"Good job, Axil." It was the second voice from before, the unpleasant sounding woman.

"What should we do with him?" Axil replied.

Tiran tried to twist his head and see who was talking, but all it earned him was another smack in the head.

"I'm not sure..."

"Look at his arm, h-he looks really hurt!" It was the first voice, the woman who he thought he scared earlier in the week. "Maybe we really should help him..." she put with some compassion.

"No." It was Boss Lady again. "We don't know who he is. Or exactly what he is..."

The younger girl began to speak again, "He looks kind of like a hu—"

"Maybe." Boss Lady cut her off. "But we can't be too sure. Does he looks like the thing you told me about, the one that broke your door?"

"I think so..."

"Do you think we should tell the guard?" Axil offered.

"No, I don't think so, not yet." Boss Lady said. "Get him inside, we'll figure out what to do later."

"Sure thing."

The next thing Tiran knew, a piece of cloth was wrapped around his head, covering his eyes. The way it got tied off felt funny, like some one was doing it with their mouth. It was the same with his hands as they were jerked behind his back and tightly bound at the wrist. Then, something gripped the collar of his suit and he was dragged away.

* * *

Tiran wrung his wrist against his broken prosthetic, trying to loosen the cords. He was lucky he was still wearing the suit or the jagged remains of his right wrist might have shredded the soft flesh of his left. He still couldn't see, they had decided not to remove the blindfold.

As far as he could tell, he was in a basement. He remembered, they dragged him up onto the porch, across the wooden floor of the house and then down a long flight of stairs. They hadn't been too careful about it either. Then they propped him up in a chair, tied him down and went back up, leaving him alone with his thoughts. And Li, ofcourse, but she had remained silent so far.

Tiran had tried to rock the chair, tip it over and break it, hoping to get free. All he succeeded in doing was falling over and earning yet another painful knot on the side of his head. Whatever the chair was made out of, it was some extremely sturdy wood.

"Li, you got any ideas?" Tiran asked hopefully. "I could really use some help right now."

Li's voice came to his aid, always calm, always serene. Well, most of the time. 'I would have recommended you use the servos in your armor to break the bonds, but due to the current condition of your arm, it might result in further damage to the limb or possibly separation.'

Tiran grimaced. Being permanently implanted in his prosthetic, Li's power source depended entirely on the natural feed of current his body generated. Separation from that might end in her shutting down. It wouldn't be a death sentance, once his arm was reattached and repaired, she would be able to start back up, but Li didn't like gaps in her memory. Besides, he would also lose the advantage of her presence. His captors didn't know about her.

So, Tiran resumed trying to loosen the cords. Maybe he could wedge it between two of the thin plates of his armor, fray the cord until it snapped. He gave it a try. It was difficult, but with a little straining and stretching, he managed to catch a strand. "Gotcha!" Tiran grunted triumphantly. For the next fifteen minutes, he worked of rubbing his wrists together, wearing down the cord, cursing when it fell out of place, and resuming when he'd caught it again.

It was slow going, but Tiran felt like he was making progress. Stomping, on the floor above. Tiran went still. They were moving around upstairs, it sounded like...hooves. Again? What, did this house double as a farm? Arguing. Two voices were in a heated debate, a male and a female. Tiran recognized them, even muffled by the floorboards. It was Axil and Boss Lady.

Tiran craned his neck, trying to hear better. The argument carried on a few minutes more, but Tiran couldn't make out any of the words. Then it went silent again, maybe they reached a conclusion. More of the heavy, clomping steps. A door opened then shut, almost slammed.

He waited a minute longer, then resumed his rubbing. More steps. Tiran stopped again. Then he heard the door at the top of the stairs open. Some one was coming.

Tiran listened as he heard the same clomping steps make their way down the stairs, accompanied the clinking of glass. Tiran stretched his head back, pointing his face up while looking down his nose, trying to catch a glimpse of who it was. But the cloth was bound too tight around his head, he couldn't see anything. The sound of the steps turned hard and echoed a bit as who ever it was reached the bottom.

"I'm sorry about my friends doing this, they're just worried about me." It was the other female, the young woman. "They just want to make sure I'm safe, but they really shouldn't have been so rough with you." she said apologetically.

"Uh... it's ok... I guess." Tiran said awkwardly.

"Is your arm ok? It looks really bad..."

"Oh, don't worry, it's just broken."

"Broken!?" she gasped with horror. "We need to get you a doctor! Does it hurt? I don't like the look of that green stuff, it looks like it's infected!"

Tiran couldn't help but chuckle a little bit, despite his grim situation, "No no no, it's fine! I mean, yeah, it needs to get repaired so I can use it, but it can't get infected."

"I... I don't... huh?"

"It's fake. A prosthetic. Touch it, go ahead."

For a few seconds, nothing happened. ThenTiran felt a couple light taps on his right arm that thunked, like she prodded it with a stick or something hard.

"Fake?" the young woman said, "Why? What happened to it?"

Tiran let out a discontented sigh, "It's a long story."

There was some shuffling and the clinking of glass bottles again, "Well, the cuts on your face can still get infected, you're filthy!" She sounded like she had something in her mouth.

For a moment, Tiran felt a light breath on his face. It smelled sweet and a little like...straw? Then sharp pain stung his face and forehead and a cloth soaked in something that smelled a lot like rubbing alcohol was dabbed on the cuts on his face. Tiran sucked in a breath at the unexpected pain and reflexively jerked his head back.

He felt a slight rush of air as the woman retreated back a step, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. It's ok." Tiran said as the buzzing pain subsided. "Thanks, really."

"Oh, ok."

There was amoment of awkward silence. Then, "If you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

The question puzzled Tiran. He cocked an eyebrow, unseen behing the blindfold. "My name's Tiran. I'm a pilot. I told you outside."

"Oh. Just Tiran?" she questioned.

"No, I have a last name."

"What is it?"

A certain anxiety gripped Tiran's chest. He didn't really like using his last name. It brought up the past. A past he didn't particularly like. Especially after the incident. For most of his military career and afterwards, he had always insisted people call him by his first name. Some thought it was unprofessional, but he didn't really care.

"I... I don't really want to say," he finally said.

"Oh... that's ok."

"What's you're name?" Tiran asked, changing tack.

"It's Ruwa," the woman responed.

"And do you have a last name too?"

"Of course! Nimbus. Ruwa Nimbus."

Tiran frowned slightly, That's kind of a wierd last name..., he thought.

"Well, Ruwa, I'm Tiran and I'm a pilot. It's nice to meet you," he said pleasantly.

"Nice to meet you to!" Ruwa exclaimed happily. Then after a moment, she asked, "Where did you come from?"

Tiran chewed on the question in his head. What should he tell her? He guessed he should leave his country of origin out, probably which military too. She wouldn't be able to tell just by looking, his suit hadn't even been painted yet. He dicided to keep it simple.

"The sky. My aircraft crashed. I've been wandering around in the woods for the last week and a half," he answered.

"My gosh, I'm so sorry!"

"Not a sorry as I'll be..." Tiran muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Ruwa thought he was talking to her.

"Oh? Nothing, sorry. Listen, could you do me a favor and tell me which country this is?"

"Sure," she replied happily, "you're in Equestria!"

Equestria? What the hell kind of country was that? It definitely wasn't any place he knew. He definitely didn't think he'd be able to find it on a map. Tiran made a mental note to ask Li for answers later.

"Uh, where is Equestria exactly?" Tiran questioned further.

Silence. Just the sound of Ruwa's breathing and his own. Did he ask something he shouldn't have? No, it was a simple and harmless question. Was she confused by his question? Should he know where it is?"

Ruwa's next words were slow and drawn out quizzically, "You... don't know?"

"No." Tiran said, a little embarrassed.

"Well, it sits between the two Great Oceans, south of the Crystal Empire and north of the Badlands."

Now Tiran was really lost. He didn't have a clue what the hell she could mean. He hadn't heard of any of those places. He needed more information, see who he was talking to.

"Hey, Ruwa. Could you do me another favor?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Can you please take the blindfold off?"

More silence. To him, she seemed hesitant. Maybe her friends had told her not to do that. They definitely hadn't told her to treat his wounds, given their treatment of him. Tiran was about to open his mouth again when he heard her move around behind him. There was that same funny feeling of a mouth and lips on the back of his head and then suddenly he could see again.

Tiran looked all around, stone or concrete walls, stone floor, wooden floor over his head. Yeah, he was definitely in a basement. Tiran turned his head as he heard the strange clomping sounds again, like hooves on a stone floor. From behind him, a pony walked into view, stopping in front of him.

It had a round feminine face with a coat the color of a rcloud, gray and swollen with rain. Its mane was a sandy color with thin strands of dark, almost auburn hair streaked through it in places with a tail to match. The mane was brushed, falling down its face and angling off to the left, though here and there, some ran errant. The eyes were the most intriguing, like no color Tiran had ever seen. They were some hue of icy, translucent, blue-green, but there was something behind them, some sad emotion, though it didn't show on its face. Its head was almost even with his. Were he standing up, it would probably reach his arm pits. And on its back...wings?

Tiran turned his head left, then right, twisting it as far as it would go. He looked all around the room. Where was she? He definitely didn't hear her leave.

"Ruwa? Where'd you go?"

"I'm right here."

Tiran's head snapped back to the front, looking for her, but there was just the pony. He leaned left, he leaned right. There was no one behind it. Where was she?

"What are you looking for?" Ruwa asked.

"I'm looking for—" Tiran went rigid as a redwood. He saw it just out of the corner of his eye. But...no, it couldn't be.

"Looking for what?" The pony tilted its head to the side, it looked confused.

Tiran looked straight at the pony, a look of bewilderment locking itself in place on his visage. "...Ruwa?"

The pony smiled happily, as if Tiran finally understood something he should have known all along, "Of course!"

Chapter 8: Ruwa

Ruwa was still talking, but Tiran wasn't listening anymore. All he could here was the dull drone of her voice in the background while he sat there, a dumbfounded look permanently affixed to his face. He hadn't heard a single word she said in the last ten minutes.

Tiran didn't believe it. He tried not to believe it. He tried screwing his eyes shut and opening them again, blinking rapidly, as if to clear them. He tried vigorously shaking his head. Yet, no matter what he did, the scene didn't change.

Right there in front of him was standing a pony that was talking. Every time, he thought of another explanation; lip syncing, a trick of the eyes, frigging hologram? No. Every time he looked for anything that could prove his theories, Tiran always came up empty.

So that meant what? That this was real? It was really happening to him? Tiran studied Ruwa's mouth as she talked. Every syllable she formed, every sound she made, coincided directly with the shaped of her lips and the flick of her tongue.

Tiran felt a tap on his knee. It was Ruwa, trying to get his attention, "Why are you looking at me all strange, are you ok? Do you want some water?"

For the first time, Tiran noticed that yes, he was actually pretty thirsty. Hungry too. However, all he could manage at the moment was a weak "Uh, yeah, sure."

Ruwa looked at him again for a moment, not convinced that was all, but then turned and went back up the stairs saying that she would return in a minute. Now Tiran was alone again, strange thoughts swirling about in his head. Eerily, a quote from an ancient movie his grandfather once showed Tiran when he was younger floated to the surface; "We're not in Kansas anymore."

More than ever, he wanted answers. While Ruwa was upstairs, Tiran talked to Li, hoping that whatever information she gathered during the conversation would unveil some trick or that at the very least, he had just suffered some head trauma and there was nothing to worry about. Well, except for the head trauma, of course.

But no, Li only confirmed his fears, 'Tiran, Infrared shows that that being was a living, breathing organism. Additionally, aural analysis is nearly a one hundred percent match with those I have conducted previously. Ruwa is the same person we encountered at the spring and then again in this house previously.'

"But, th-that's an animal!"

'Negative. One definition for an animal is an organism that behaves bestial, brutish, or lacking higher brain functions. This entity possesses higher level cognitive functions such as speech, complex language skills, the making and use of complex tools and chemicals. Therefore, what we have encountered is not an animal, but another species of sentience.' she lectured him.

"Ok ok, I'll give you that." Tiran said reluctantly. "Where are we then, another planet?"

'Possible. We would be very fortunate in that, as this environment is nearly identical to Earth in nearly every aspect. All except for one.'

Tiran was a little intrigued by her last statement, "Which one?"

'This planet does not rotate naturally as Earth does. It seems to be in a fixed position, with the sun and moon rotating around it, essentially an earth-central orbit.'

Tiran was confused by that last bit, "But that goes against nearly every law of physics..."

'Correct,' Li said confidently. 'This gives rise to a new theory.'

Tiran was starting to become exasperated of all this talk of insane theories. "And tell me, what theory is that?"

'That we are not, in fact, on a planet within our observable universe. That instead, we are in an entirely separate universe and/or dimension.'

That was a lot for Tiran to chew on. So he could be on another planet. But no, according to Li, the physics weren't right. But an Earth-centric orbit didn't fit right in his universe. The the planet would have to be absolutely massive, big enough to be denser than the sun to capture it in its gravitational pull and hold it there.

But if that were the case, then he should have been flattened to an impossibly thin pancake as soon as the Cloudburst had touched down. As far as he could tell, the gravity here was normal. It just didn't add up, going by his understanding of Earth's laws of physics. So was this really another universe, another dimension?

He was told the Cloudburst was capable of quickly, almost instantaneously, traveling between two points using quantum physics, of which Tiran was poorly acquainted with. He decided to ask Li. After all, she had gone through an upgrade by Dr. Welkin so she could properly handle the navigation of the Cloudburst using the M-drive.

Her answer wasn't very satisfying and almost confused Tiran twice as much, 'True, the M-drive was designed to travel forward through a quantum space to another point in real space. However, quantum space does not act accordingly to laws of nature as discovered by Man. You can go forward and back, but also up and down, left and right, just as in real space, beyond gravitational influences.

'The Cloudburst's on-board computer was designed to properly compensate for the gravitational influence of the Earth, Moon and Sun. However, the operation of this computer and it's equipment is very sensitive to outside and unexpected influence. Navigation could be disrupted by the unexpected introduction of high energies not within the M-drives parameters.'

So, if Li was right, then they had gotten thrown off course some how. Tiran had done everything right. Dr. Welkin had shown him how to properly initiate the M-drive, he was just waiting to test it. Then the attack happened. Tiran tried to escape. He initiated the M-drive as a last ditch effort, he didn't remember making any mistakes. Then... the missiles. He hadn't managed to shake the last one.

Tiran's attention was suddenly ripped from his thoughts as the door at the top of the stairs opened. He looked up and saw Ruwa coming down the stairs with a small tray balanced precariously on her back.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked as she carefully navigated her way down.

"Huh?"

"You were talking to somepony. Was somepony down here?"

Tiran thought, the words forming thickly. Then he remembered, the floor wasn't so thick over his head and he hadn't exactly tried to speak softly. "Oh, no one. I was just thinking out loud," he managed to give as an excuse.

"Oh. Ok..." Ruwa tilted her head to the side, almost as if she didn't believe him. "Well, I brought you some water. And I thought you might be hungry, so I brought a snack." she said as she carefully lowered the tray onto his lap with her teeth.

"Ok. Thanks." Tiran reflexively went to grab the small glass with his good hand, but stopped when he realized he was still tied up. "Uh... sorry, but could you..." he said sheepishly, nodding with his head towards his back.

Ruwa looked hesitant as she got his meaning. She looked back up the stairs, then back at him. "I guess it couldn't hurt..."

Tiran smiled when she still didn't do anything, "Hey, I promise I won't hurt you, or try to escape. Please?"

Ruwa stood there for a moment, her gaze shifting between him and the door upstairs. Then, "All right. But don't tell Axil and Dewdrop, they might get mad."

"Fine by me."

Tiran watched as Ruwa moved around to his rear. There was a moment where he felt his arms being jostled around, like she was trying to get at the cords with her teeth, which made sense now, he guessed. Then she must have caught the knot because his arms were suddenly free, moving forward to his sides.

He was still bound to the chair, but Tiran could use his good arm now. He stretched and rotated it, working fresh blood into the limb. It had been starting to go numb and now an intense tingly feeling rushed through it. He thanked Ruwa again before gently grabbing the glass and raising to to his lips.

The water was delicious, some of the best he had tasted. Tiran guessed he was more parched than he had thought. As he drank, taking slow sips, he studied Ruwa as she came back around and sat down in front of him, resting on her haunches. She was doing the same to him, like he was some strange beast to be studied.

Tiran looked at her wings. Were they real? Yes. As he watched them, they would shuffle uncomfortably from time to time. They seemed to be a gauge of Ruwa's mental state as sometimes it matched with the expression on her face. Uncertainty, intrigue.

Tiran's eyes moved down her coat. There was a mark, on her flank. Was it a brand? No, it had color, and detailed lines. It seemed to be a part of her coat. A cloud, white flecked with gold. Underneath it, ice blue rain drops. Across it, a lightning bolt cut jaggedly away.

When Ruwa caught his gaze, she blushed and shrank back, "What are you looking at?" she asked accusingly.

"What? Oh, that mark. On your...behind. what is that?" Tiran asked innocently.

Ruwa looked embarrassed, but she answered anyway, "You don't know?" Tiran shook his head and took another swig of water. "It's my Cutie mark. You don't have one?" Tiran shook his head again as he drank. "Oh, that's right!" A light seemed to pop on in Ruwa's head, "I heard that humans don't have them. Or they do, but not like ours. What do they call them? Tatos? Tattoo?"

Tiran sputtered, not hearing her last remarks, accidentally spraying water all over himself. Ruwa hopped back a few steps and looked at him with some concern, "Is something wrong, are you ok?"

Tiran coughed a little. He had inhaled some of the water, "Fine. Fine." He looked up at her, "You said humans? Are there some here?" he asked hopefully.

Ruwa sat back down, thinking. "Yeah, there are. Or...there were. And not many. I only heard of three."

Tiran sank in his chair. Just three?

"Are they still here?" he anxiously asked. Maybe they could tell him where exactly he was. Or even help him get back to his own people. But why were humans so scarce here?

Ruwa shook her head, "No, I think they all left. I haven't heard of any more for a long time. I think you're the first in years."

Tiran suddenly felt deflated. He didn't know how to get back, his aircraft was trashed and he was the only human in this world. At least, he was the only one now. But maybe he could find people—or ponies—that knew them. If the other humans had left, then some one else here might know how they did. He could get back, finish his job.

A thought came to him, "Ruwa, could you tell me where they lived?"

Ruwa looked up, her mind seeped in thought, "I don't think they really lived any where.... I heard they moved around a lot. But a lot of ponies said they mostly saw them around Canterlot and sometimes in Ponyville, but those are a long way from here, to the east."

So there was still a chance. He just had to get to those places, wherever they were. "Ruwa, do you know which place is closer?"

"Yeah, Canterlot! It's actually the capitol. Ponyville isn't too far from there either, just a little ways down south."

The capitol. Tiran didn't know how he could swing that. But maybe, since other humans had been there, he wouldn't stick out so much. Then again, Ruwa had said they hadn't been seen for a long time. Hopefully, people there were a bit more friendly towards humans. Hopefully more friendly than the other two people—ponies probably—that had tossed him down here into the basement.

"Ruwa, I need to get to Canterlot. Can you help me?" Tiran asked as politely as he could.

"Uh..." she didn't seem like she was sure.

Upstairs, a door opened. Tiran could hear the clomping of steps again, plus voices. It sounded like the other two were back.

"I-I have to go." Ruwa stammered, making her way to the steps.

"Wait!" Tiran whispered quietly. She stopped and turned to stare at him. Tiran motioned with his arm, "The rope."

"O-Oh, right."

Tiran leaned back and put his arms behind his back while Ruwa went behind him and re-tied the knot. When she was finished, she bounded back up the stairs and left the basement, closing the door behind her.

'You didn't have to remind her.' Li said to him.

"Yeah, but it might be best not to give it away yet." Tiran tested the binding on his wrists, "Besides, she tied it on loose. I can get out now if I want."

There was a little bit of muffled arguing upstairs. Then one of them retreated further to the second floor. Tiran couldn't tell who. Still, no one else came down, so it seemed Tiran had some time to himself.

"Hey Li, do you really think this is all real?"

'All current evidence suggests it is. I detect no abnormalities in the electrical pulses of your brain.'

"So what can we do?"

'Even I don't have all the answers, Tiran. For the time being, I suggest we just go with it.'

That caused a hitch in Tiran's train of thought. It didn't sound like Li at all. The normally reserved and logical Li would have never put anything so vague before. Not to mention admitting that there was something she didn't know. It didn't fit.

The basement door flew open. Tiran looked up to see if it was Ruwa again, but to his chargrin it was Axil and Boss Lady. Tiran quickly tried to make himself look as innocent as possible, though he couldn't help feeling a bit of shock when he noticed they were the same as Ruwa. At least, they were the same general shape.

Boss Lady was the first to march up to him. She was a little taller than Ruwa, but her coat was a light cerulean blue, her mane a wispy silver. Axil was quite a bit taller. He and Tiran might stand eye to eye. As it was, he had a coat of chestnut brown, his head topped with light red hair. Both had wings.

Axil snorted when he saw Tiran, but otherwise kept his distance. On the other hand, Boss Lady was staring him right in the face, eyeballing him with a suspisious gaze.

"So. Who are you?" Boss Lady asked with a hint of hostility.

Tiran frowned, "I told you before. Remember? When you attacked me and dragged me down here?"

She huffed angrily, "No! I mean, who are you? Why are you here, are you one of them?"

It seemed the more Tiran spent in the place, the more confused about things he was getting. Whatever she was talking about, it was joining the long list of things that Tiran knew nothing about.

"Uh... who are 'them' exactly?" Tiran answered carefully.

"Just answer the question!" Axil stomped.

Tiran really didn't have time for this interrogation shit. He needed to get out of there and soon. If there was even a chance he could get back to his universe, or whatever, he needed to get to this capitol Ruwa had told him about. But how to do it? He didn't want to hurt these two. It seemed like they were friends of Ruwa and they looked harmless. For the most part.

Tiran decided to play dumb, which wasn't too far from the truth, "I can tell you honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Still don't wanna talk, huh? That's fine. The Guard will be here soon. We'll see how much you know then. C'mon, Axil."

Boss Lady—or was it Boss Mare?— turned in a huff and went up the stairs, Axil following close behind her.

Axil turned to her and spoke quietly, but Tiran could hear, "D'ya think it's safe to just leave him down there?"

"Don't worry, he's tied up. He might look strange, but he is human. Not one of them. The Guard will know what to do with him when they get here tomorrow."

After that, Tiran heard the door slam. He waited a while, but no one else came. He was hoping that Ruwa would come back, she seemed so pleasant, but it didn't happen. Tiran craned his head back, there was a small window letting light into the room. He noticed it was almost nightfall outside, less and less light was coming in.

Tiran knew what he had to do now. He difintely couldn't stay there. If this 'Guard' came and got him, there's no telling where they would take him. So he would wait, just a bit longer. Once they were all asleep, he would slip out.

* * *

The night was quiet. Tiran hadn't heard anything upstairs for over an hour now. If he guessed, he would put the time at around 2000. With a bit of careful manuevering, he slipped the cords from his wrists. Getting at the ropes around his torso was a bit of a challenge with just one arm, but after some fiddling, he got it.

Tiran almost stood up, but stopped when he noticed the tray still on his lap. Had he let it fall, it would have caused quite the clatter. The snack was still on it. Tiran picked it up, it was some kind of cake. Curious, he took a bite.

Tiran spat it out almost immediately and scraped his tongue clean. When he looked at the bite he took, he could see shreds of straw in it. How had Ruwa expected him to eat that? No, he pushed the though aside. She was just trying to be nice, she couldn't have known.

Carefully setting the tray down, Tiran stood and went up the stairs. It was hard to be stealthy in his clunky boots, but he managed it. At the top of the stairs, Tiran slowly cracked the door. He was lucky they had left it unlocked.

He heard loud snoring. Really loud. Tiran opened the door some more and peered out. He was on the other side of the house, across from the living room. Axil was layed across the couch, snoring contently, one leg occassionally kicking in the air in response to some dream.

Silently closing the basement door behind him, Tiran crept out into the living room, doing his best to sneak past the sleeping pegasus. He made it into the kitchen, with any luck, the door was still broken. He was about three steps away when the same floor board that got him last time let out a little wounded cry when he stepped on it.

Tiran went still, hand inches from the door handle. Behind him, the stallion snorted and seemed to wake up. But he just flipped himself over, mumbled something and went back to sleep. Tiran let out a breath and pushed on.

The door still creaked when he opened it, but it didn't ellicit any response from the sleeping sentry. Tiran was outside now. He took a few steps back from the house and looked up. He didn't see any lights on. So far, so good.

Still careful to be quiet, Tiran walked around the side of the house and out to the front, estimating where he thought the spot he hid his stuff might be. After a few false leads, he found the X. Tiran quickly and carefully dug his stuff up, pulling the back over his shoulder after putting his knife away and clipping the pistol to the spot on his thigh.

Now he just needed to start his journey. Which way did Ruwa say it was? East. Yes, east. Tiran looked up to the moon for guidence and was met with yet another shock. The moon was different. He couldn't tell before, but now he could see with the canopy of the trees out of the way.

There was a distincive shape marring the face of the waning moon. He thought he could see a horse's head with a protruberance sticking out of the forehead. If you looked at it the right way, you might be able to see the 'man on the moon' from the surface of Earth, but here ithe pattern stood out plainly and clear, as if it were a grave warning. Just another item on the list of things that were different here.

Tiran shook his head an started walking. If he was right, then the moon had yet to meet its zenith. East would be past the house. After a little searching he found a path there. After another glance at the sky and confirming it with Li, he found that it did in fact go east.

Tiran continued down the path, humming some song to hi self that he forgot the words to, when he thought he heard something behind him. Tiran turned and looked back down the path, but saw nothing. Then he remembered the strange unseen beast that roamed the woods and picked up his pace.

He'd only gone another twenty meters when he heard it again. Tiran slowed and turned at the same time, his good arm reaching for his gun. But there was nothing there. He was starting to get anxious again. Tiran was lucky that he hadn't run into any of the monsters that haunted the night thus far and he didn't want that luck to run out.

Tiran stared again, but slowly this time, straining his ears for the slightest hint of an attack. He went ten meters, then twenty, thirty. He heard it again. Tiran whipped around, bringing his pistol to bear.

"No, please don't!"

Tiran flinched. He lowered the gun and saw standing in front of him Ruwa.

Tiran lowered and put the pistol on its clip, letting out an exasperated sigh, "Jesus, what are you doing out here?"

"I-I thought you might be leaving, s-so I thought I'd sh-show you the way to town." she stuttered. The poor thing was trembling. Tiran must really have scared her.

"Sorry. I thought you were something else," he told her kindly. "Listen, I'm not going into town."

"But you said you needed to get to Canterlot, right? The fastest way is to go to Tall Tale and get on a train."

Oh dear. How was he going to explain this to her?

"I can't go there. Your friends said they called the Guard, or something, and I can't afford to be delayed. I need to get there fast so I can figure out a way to get back home," Tiran explained.

"Dewdrop and Axil? They meant well..."

"Yeah, well now I might end up in a holding cell for all I know. So now I'm going on foot."

"Do you know the way?" she asked.

'Yeah, you said east, right? I figured I'd just head that way until i come to it."

Ruwa shook her head, "No, you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"The path has forks and splits, sometimes it doubles back on itself and goes the other direction. Plus you need to get on the other side of the Unicorn Range."

Tiran felt puzzled as he tried to take all that in, "Ok..."

"Here, I'll show you."

Before Tiran could stop her, Ruwa shouldered past him. For the first time, he noticed that she had two bulky saddle bags strapped across her back. If Tiran didn't know better, he'd say she was leaving for good.

"Hey, you're not just gonna leave your friends back there, are you?" he asked after her.

"They'll understand," she said over her shoulder. "Plus I think you really need the help."

Tiran didn't believe it. She wanted to go with him. She probably had been stalking him since the house with this exact scenario in mind. Well, probably not the part where he drew a gun on her. Tiran thought of how he had escaped. The cords. She had probably left them loose on purpose. Clever girl...

Still, he wasn't sure if she'd be a help or a hinderance out here. Not to mention the danger. "Before we go, you should know that I've almost run into some very big animals out here." Tiran told her in an attempt to get her to turn back.

"Oh, you mean the manticors? Don't worry, they usually stay away from the path." Ruwa said without missing a stride.

Tiran was about to ask, but he thought better of it. "Alright, fine," he gave up. "I guess we better get going then. Got a long ways to go."

Ruwa looked back and smiled at him, "We sure do!"

Chapter 9: Out Of The Bottle

The sun would be coming up soon. Tiran and Ruwa had been walking through the night, only pausing briefly to rest. For the most part, it had been done in silence, Ruwa leading in the front with Tiran closely following her.

There hadn't been much conversation, but a mob of questions rambled around in Tiran's head. At the forefront of them; the humans mentioned by Ruwa. Who where they? Why had they been here? And why so few of them?

Tiran sped his pace to pull up along side his guide, "Hey, Ruwa..."

"Yes?" she looked up at him innocently.

"About these other humans... what do you know about them?"

Ruwa cocked her head up as she walked, as if deep in thought, "Well, not much actually. And even then, only what I heard. I've never actually met one before..."

"You haven't?"

"No...or, I haven't until now!" she smiled at him. "What I did hear, though was that they were a little strange, but nice."

"They were nice?"

"Yes, but you should also never get on their bad side." Ruwa stated it as if it were a known fact.

This piqued Tiran's interest, "Why's that?"

"I heard they were also great warriors. Sent to help us in our time of need."

Tiran thought about that. Great warriors sent in a time of need? It sounded a lot like superstitious mumbo jumbo. And he was here now, the only human here that he knew of. But he wasn't a great warrior, not in any respect. He was just a pilot. Hell, he had barely even passed hand-to-hand at OCS, and his shooting scores were sharpshooter at best. Not bad, but not an expert either.

Tiran decided to press on, "So what did these guys do, what did you all need?"

Ruwa thought for a moment, like she was trying to come up with answers on a history test. "My mother told me a lot about them. The first one came a long time ago. Back then, there was dissent among the ruling family, an army was raised. Then the human showed up. I heard they found him in the Everfree, but nopony knew how he got there. There he met the Elements and they took him to Canterlot to speak with one of the Princesses.

"Being a warrior, he was asked to train some troops, to help fight the growing threat. He did and that's how the RSTG was founded, one of the most brave and skilled companies in the Royal Guard. They traveled all over the country, helping any that needed them."

"What happened after that?"

"There was a battle," Ruwa continued, "One of the biggest in our history. Monsters came, from the sea, joined with the army that wanted to take over our land. The Royal Guard met them on the Western Coast with the RSTG and held them back."

"And they won?"

"Of course, silly!"

That answered some of Tiran's questions, but the wanted more, "What did the human do after that?"

"Nopony knows..."

"He disappeared?" Tiran guessed.

"I guess you could say that...."

"When did this happen?"

"A really long time ago. I think almost thirty years."

Tiran pondered that. The first human was here three decades ago, but no one knew where he was or where he went. Back home, maybe? But there were others. Ruwa had said as much. "What about the other two?"

"The other two? Oh yeah! They came about three or four years after the first, both at the same time. They were found in the wastes of the Frozen North. The RSTG found them and brought them back to Canterlot."

"They both came at the same time?"

Ruwa nodded.

"What did they do here?"

"A lot of the same as the first." Ruwa answered. "But they also helped make peace with the Lotkin."

That was new. Tiran hadn't heard her mention that word and she seemed to shiver as she said it. "What are Lotkin?"

"They were the monsters from the battle before. They were big, almost eight feet tall! They liked nothing more than to fight, plus they eat meat..." she said the last part with a hint of disgust. "But they turned out not to be so bad. Just really rude and sometimes scary. They live on the coastal islands now, but some come to trade and represent their tribes in competitions. A few were even allowed to join the RSTG."

"And the humans helped with all this?" Tiran asked.

"Yep. The army from before came back and attacked our country. The humans went to the Lotkin and asked for their help. The Lotkin agreed and helped us take back our cities. After that, Our Princesses granted them the right to citizenship in our country if they wanted to. Not many did though."

"Then what happened to the humans after that?"

"Nopony knows." Ruwa said simply.

Tiran scowled, "Again? Really, nobody knows where they're going?"

"I think one went back, with the Princesses help. Nopony knows what happened to the other one."

That caught Tiran's attention. So one got back with the help of these Princesses. It sounded like they lived in Canterlot. Maybe he could speak with them and ask them to help him like they did the other human. At least it meant that there was a way he could get back home. Back to his command.

"You've mentioned the Princesses a lot," Tiran put to her, trying to gather as much information as possible, "why not a king or queen?"

"There was one, thousands of years ago, but after she passed, her two daughters inherited the throne. Both rule Equestria now, one watches the day while the other, the night."

Tiran paused for a moment while Ruwa kept walking, considering the last thing Ruwa had just told him. When she noticed, she stopped and stared at him. "Is something wrong?"

"You mean the Princesses pass down their rule to their daughters?" he questioned.

"No, same two."

"Just the same two for a thousand years?" Ruwa nodded again. "How is that possible?"

"They're immortal." Ruwa responded almost casually.

Tiran looked as if he'd just been struck with a stupid stick. Immortal? That just wasn't possible to him. He knew the theory was possible, if lobsters and jellyfish managed to avoid capture or being eaten, they could potentially live for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

Tiran realized Ruwa had continued walking again and hurried to catch up, "So who are these Princesses?"

Ruwa beamed as she repeated their names, "Princess Celestia rules the day and raises the sun, while Princess Luna watches the night, controlling the phases of the moon and protecting us in our dreams." she happily explained.

Once again, Tiran was starting to get confused. Previously, Ruwa had been talking about the Princesses as if they were real heads of state. Now, she was making them out to be like deities of some sort. Tiran considered asking more questions, but he thought better of it. If this came down to religion, he didn't want to get stuck in a theological debate.

Instead, Tiran decided to ask about the other town she mentioned, the one near Canterlot, "You said the humans had been in Ponyville before. Did they live there?"

Ruwa considered his question, "I'm not sure... I think the first one had a house there, and it was where the first RSTG members were trained... I honestly don't really know. I haven't been there before. Except..."

"Except what?" Tiran asked. He was in a strange place and he wanted to get as much information as he could.

"Princess Twilight lives there. If anypony knew, it would be her."

"Princess Twilight?" Another one? What was this? Tiran thought she just said there were only two ruling Princesses. Now there was three?

"Yes, Princess Twilight," Ruwa continued, unabated. "She was actually just recently crowned a few years ago, but not everypony agrees with it since she wasn't originally part of the royal family."

"Are there any other Princesses I should know about?" Tiran asked almost sarcastically.

"Well, there is Princess Cadence, who rules the Crystal Empire in the north. The Royal Family has a bunch of other princes, dukes and duchesses, but they serve in more administrative roles."

Mentally, Tiran was reeling from all this talk of royals and ruling, he didin't know what to make of it. He actually kind of regretted asking in the first place. At least he got some information about the other humans he had wanted. As it was, he was tired of talking about it, though.

He looked at Ruwa, confidently striding next to him, completely undaunted by the darkened woods surrounding them. Tiran had to admit, he had underestimated the seemingly timid pony he'd seen earlier. There was more to her than what he knew.

A question formed in Tiran's mind, "Ruwa, why were you living alone out here?"

The mare almost stopped, hesitant on her next step, but then continued on, "How do you know I live there by my self?"

Tiran hadn't really expected that question. He still didn't know wether or not she knew he had been in her house before. A second later, she answered the question for him.

"You were the one in my house last week, weren't you?"

Tiran looked at the ground and scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, "Yeah. Sorry about your backdoor, by the way," he said sheepishly.

"It's ok," she looked at him and surprised him with a smile he hadn't expected, "I was thinking about moving out of there soon any way."

"Oh, alright..." He was glad she wasn't mad at him, but it still didn't answer his original question. "But still, why?"

Ruwa didn't respond for a long moment. Tiran almost thought he had offended her by asking. He was about to apologize when she started speaking again.

"I... I sort of have a problem."

"What kind of problem. Oh, uh, I mean, if you don't mind me asking..."

"No, it's fine. Remember my Cutie mark?"

Tiran recalled it without looking over. He thought it might be rude to stare at it again, especially given its location. "Yeah, it was a cloud or something, right?"

"Yes..." she said solemnly. "You see, when we're born, we don't have one. As we grow, we begin to discover our talents, our passions. When you find what you're good at or what your destined to be, you're Cutie mark appears."

"So what's your talent?"

"That's..." Ruwa hesitated, and for a moment, Tiran thought she would drop it right there. "I thought it was supposed to be weather related, I am a pegasus after all, but... when I try to control the clouds or shape them, well... it doesn't usually end very well. So I live out here to practice. Away from anything I can damage," she said dolefully.

That was interesting to Tiran. She could control weather. Or at least, pegasi could. Being able to control the weather was still just a fevered dream back on Earth, and even then, it would require tremendous amounts of energy and effort. The fact that here, just one pony with wings on her back could do it was unbelievable. Though, Tiran didn't know exactly what to believe any more.

In the east, the horizon began to accumulate a reddish hue. It began to grow brighter, transitioning into twilight and pushing back the dark of night. Ruwa looked up and with a little gasp, darted forward, almost breaking into a gallop.

"Hey, what's wrong?!" Tiran called after her as he began to jog to keep up.

Ruwa just called back over her shoulder, a look of glee on her face, "C'mon!"

Tiran just shook his head and chased after her.

Ruwa led him down the path at an almost breakneck pace. He struggled just to barely keep up. Even with the suits enhancements, she was very fast. In addition, dirt and grime had built up in the joints of the suit, making it slow to respond and thus hampering him further.

Because of this, Tiran nearly missed Ruwa as she suddenly cut onto an adjacent path. As Tiran followed her, he was dismayed to see that just a few yards down, it began to steeply angle up, the path jagged and rocky. Still, he charged on, desperate to catch up with the pegasus pony that was already halfway up the slope.

With some puffing and panting, Tiran climbed to the top, wondering what had been so urgent. When he finally got there, he was too tired to even look around. Tiran doubled over, resting his good hand on one of his knees in an attempt to catch his breath.

"What are you doing, Tiran, you'll miss it!"

Tiran grudgingly pulled himself up and ambled over to where Ruwa was standing to se what the fuss was all about. Ruwa was standing at the edge of a cliff at the end of the path. Tiran almost didn't see it until the last minute, abruptly halting himself before he fell over. When he looked out, he saw wide lumpy plain that seemed to stretch out endlessly below and to the right. To the left was a row of colossal shapes that almost looked to scrape at the sky.

"What are we—" Tiran began to ask, but Ruwa cut him off.

"Shh, just watch."

Behind them, a burning golden glow began to rise and build. In a matter of seconds, Tiran felt the warmth of the new day's sun on the back of his head. To the left, tall, stalwart mountains began to reveal themselves, their snowy caps gleaming a painfully stark white. As the sun rose and blessed the land with its light, color began to emerge on the plain below.

As deep browns and vivid greens jumped out, Tiran began to realize that it wasn't a plain at all. It was a massive forest full and abundant with life. At the encouragement of the sun's warmth, streams of delicate butter flies began to emerge and dance about upon the tree tops. Here and there, birds would dart in and out of the canopy, adding flashes of color with their feathery patterns to the scene below.

"It's beautiful..." Tiran managed to force out, almost overwhelmed with the breath taking sight.

"I know." Ruwa said absent mindedly. "I come here some times to think. It really helps clear your troubles from your mind."

"Shame its so hard to get here," Tiran muttered to himself.

'You need to exorcise more.'

"Can it, Li." Tiran said without thinking.

Right after he said it, Tiran realized what he'd just done. He slowly turned to look at Ruwa, hoping she hadn't noticed. No such luck. Even as he saw her, Ruwa was staring at him suspiciously.

Tiran quickly backpedaled, "Sorry, wasn't talking to you," he said with the most apologetic expression he could muster.

"Then who were you talking to?" Ruwa demanded.

"No-nobody. Just thinkin' out loud again."

She didn't look convinced. "Right, just like when you were down in the basement. About that, too. Who has a full-on conversation with himself like that?"

'Might as well come clean.'

"Li, don't!" Tiran hissed, but even as he did, the small speaker embedded in his arm crackled to life.

At first, all that came out was harsh static and some painfully distorted words, causing Ruwa to take a few steps away from Tiran with a look of fear crossing over her face. Tiran sighed in resignation, there was no going back now, the genie had been let out of the bottle. He lifted his damaged prosthetic as close to his chest as he could and gave the area on his forearm containing the speaker a few good whacks with his good hand.

After a few more bursts of static, Li's voice came out loud and clear, though with some small crackles, "Thank you, Tiran."

Ruwa nearly leapt back at the sound of Li's voice, "W-who is that?" she stammered.

Tiran sighed again, "Ruwa, meet Li," he said in a bored tone. "She's my partner."

"It's nice to meet you, Ruwa." Li said politely.

After a moment of staring with an unbelievable expression, Ruwa cautiously shuffled up and hesitantly tapped Tiran's arm a few times with her hoof before backing quickly away, as if whatever was inside would jump out and bite her, "She lives in your arm?" she asked with a slight waver in her voice.

Tiran had to chuckle a little bit at that, "Well, yes and no."

Ruwa just gave him a confused look, "But how can she fit in there, it's so tiny!"

Tiran scratched the back of his head, trying to think of a way he could explain it to her, "You see, she's not actually a person, so to speak. Li is a semi-sentient computer program. Her memory and processes are stored in a core matrix installed directly into my prosthetic which allows me to directly interface with her."

When all Tiran received from Ruwa was a blank stare, he tried a different approach.

"Ok, think of it this way: it's like that voice in your head that tells you what you should or shouldn't do, but you can talk to it."

Ruwa's face brightened a little as she seemed to understand, "You mean like a conscience?"

"Yes, but far more advanced than Tiran's," Li quipped.

"Oh, I'm not that bad!" Tiran shot back as Ruwa giggled at Li's comment.

"Well, it's nice to meet you too, Li!" Ruwa finally said after she was finished giggling at Tiran's expense. "I'm happy to have you with us."

"Likewise."

Smiling back up at Tiran, Ruwa said, "She seems very nice."

"Thank you, Ruwa."

Tiran snorted, "Yeah, try living with her in your head twenty-four/seven."

"Well, she must be plenty helpful," Ruwa said in response to Tiran's last comment, "after all, you said she was your partner."

"I can do plenty fine on my own!" Tiran retorted defensively.

"Without my direct assistance, I estimate that we would have suffered eleven crashes, twenty-three mishaps and one-hundred and fifteen injuries, amongst which seven would have been fatal."

Ruwa almost laughed again, but this time managed to restrain herself, albeit poorly. Tiran's expression soured at Li's all too accurate statistics. She really didn't have to estimate anything.

"Ok, I'll admit, yeah, she's a great help. But I'm still a skilled pilot without her help, an exceptional one at that." Tiran said, placing his hand proudly on his left hip.

"No one was trying to dispute that." Li pointed out accusingly.

Ruwa stifled another bout of giggles, "She's funny!"

Tiran starting walking back towards the slope that would take them back down to the path, "Don't remember having her installed with comedy software," he muttered sullenly.

Ruwa trotted over to catch up, "Oh, c'mon Tiran, lighten up."

* * *

An hour later, they were back on the path, making their way down the side of the mountain. Tiran just mindlessly trudged on while Ruwa had an energetic conversation with Li, with Li mostly asking questions about Ruwa and her country. Tiran knew that for the most part, Li was gathering information about this country and it's inhabitants, but as he listened, he found that Li didn't sound exactly the same as before.

Sure, she used the same polite tones and mildly expressionless voice, but it was somehow different. She was coloring her speech with more emotional cues, using different phrases, speaking with sentences that sounded less logical and calculating and more...human. for Tiran, it was almost unnerving.

What had Dr. Welkin said about the drones they had used to test the M-drive before? Tiran tried to remember. It was something about their systems going all screwy, their operating systems not working as designed. A phrase came to mind, something he had read about that had something to do with random code sequences generating within the program and affecting its behavior. What was it again, something with a ghost? Tiran tried to recall it, ghost in the... something.

Whatever it was, he suspected it was happening with Li. The thought chilled him. In the article, it had also mentioned that when this occurred to complex programs, it could cause the whole thing to fail. Or worse, whatever equipment the system was running would malfunction catastrophically and cause a lot of damage, or even bodily harm to anyone nearby.

"Tiran, you're a Lieutenant!?"

"Huh?" Ruwa's unexpected question jerked him from his thoughts.

"Li said that you're a Lieutenant," she told him again.

"Oh, uh, yeah. You have to be an officer in order to be a pilot," Tiran said. "Otherwise, there's no way I would get to fly."

Ruwa's eyes went wide in astonishment, "You can fly!?"

Tiran cocked an eyebrow in bemusement, "Yeah. What did you think I meant when I said I was a pilot?"

"I thought you meant, like, for a barge or something, I didn't know that humans could fly," Ruwa said in defense.

Tiran was taken somewhat aback, "A barge? Why would you think that?"

"I think you would be well suited for the job." Li put in.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Li."

"No problem."

"So what do you fly?" Ruwa asked with excitement.

Tiran didn't know if he should tell her about the Cloudburst. He knew Li wouldn't approve, especially since the aircraft was still technically classified. Therefore, he thought it best to start at the beginning.

"After going through Officer Candidate School, I went to flight school and flew a bunch of trainer aircraft. I originally wanted to fly fighter aircraft, but I got stuck with Gunships." Tiran explained.

Ruwa tilted her head, "Gunships? What are those?"

"It's a medium sized aircraft loaded up with weapons that we use to get Marines in and out of the fight. I thought it would have been boring at first, but...I got proven wrong pretty quickly."

"How so?"

"Well, at first I thought I would just be flying them around from place to place, not really doing much else, but...let's just say that wasn't the case. My first few sorties were pretty boring, about just what I expected. On the fourth or fifth, that was when things got interesting. Let me tell you, there's nothing that focuses you quite as well as some one shooting at you," Tiran deadpanned.

At this, Ruwa appeared appalled, "Why would anypony be shooting at you?"

"My world isn't exactly having the best time right now, Ruwa."

When Tiran didn't elaborate, Ruwa looked away with a concerned expression on her face. She didin't exactly know what to say to that. But another question formed in her mind.

"Did...did you ever have to shoot anypony?" the pegasus mare asked.

When she looked back at him, she saw his face had become a hard, expressionless mask, as if he was forcing himself to contain something painful. Ruwa was about to ask if he was ok when he finally responded.

"Ruwa, if you can do me one favor," Tiran said, his voice becoming low and dangerous, "don't ever ask me that again."

Chapter 10: Unicorn Junction

Author's Note

Since I will be gone the next few days, here's another chapter.

Happy Zombie Jesus Day!

Chapter 10: Unicorn Junction

It was about late afternoon now. Tiran and Ruwa had stopped for a quick rest, just off the path. Ruwa excused herself to go take a short nap, as she had been up for most of the night, just as Tiran had. Tiran was also pretty sleepy himself, but he was still too wired to doze off. He had tried, propping himself up in the shade of a large oak and closing his eyes, but he just couldn't bring himself to rest.

There was simply too much on his mind. Especially since Ruwa had told him they would be coming to a small town soon, probably arrive by nightfall. She had assured him that it was an especially small town, just a layover stop for trains to refuel or repair.

It didn't do much to assuage Tiran's concerns. His last meeting with the locals hadn't gone very well. Then again, they had probably thought he was some strange animal that was harassing their friend. The very same friend that lay just a few feet away from him, peacefully curled up in the shade of the oak tree. And now she was his friend.

Tiran repeated that in his mind. He didn't make friends easily, tending to keep to himself. Li was always with him, supporting him wether he liked it or not, and that had always been enough. And then Ruwa shouldered her way into his life, leaving her own friends behind to see him safely to her county's capitol.

He hadn't liked it at first, but she had started to grow on him. Not to mention he would most likely be hopelessly lost by now without her help. There had been more than a few occasions where the path had split in multiple directions at once. Without her guidance, he doubted he would have lasted out here long.

Beside Tiran, Ruwa stirred and lifted her head, letting out an exhausted yawn, "Ugh, what time is it?"

"It is now 1538." Li announced.

Ruwa looked over at Tiran for a translation.

"She uses the twenty-four hour military format," he explained. "It's 3:38."

"I can use the standard twelve hour format if you wish." Li offered.

"No, it's fine." Ruwa said as she got up and stretched. "Sounds like it might be fun to learn."

Tiran pushed himself up off the ground as well, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go," Ruwa said happily as she began trotting down the path. "If we hurry, we can get a full night's sleep in a real bed!"

Tiran didn't argue with that. Sleeping in a real bed would be a welcome change from the mud and the dirt he'd been forced to endure for the past week, even if he had some apprehensions about going into a populated area.

"Unicorn Junction, here we come..."

* * *

The sun was dipping low in the west, plunging the slight rise they were on into the shadow of the mountains behind them. Below, a cluster of lights began to flicker on as the cluster of buildings gathered around a stretch of railroad tracks prepared for the darkness of night.

Tiran let out a puff of air and glanced over at Ruwa, "Shall we?" he asked almost reluctantly.

Ruwa smiled back at him and started off, setting the pace. "There's an inn just past the train tracks, we can stay there tonight. It can get pretty busy later on, so the quicker we get there, the better."

"If you say so..."

They made good time into the town, arriving at the edge just as the sun began to set. As he entered, Tiran gazed all around, trying to get a feel for his surroundings. A lot of the buildings there were only one floor, made of thick, sturdy wood. A few of them had ornately carved wooden signs hanging from the eaves or displayed proudly across the front of the building, loudly advertising the services or goods offered there.

The whole town gave off a rough and rustic look. To Tiran, it almost felt like he had taken a step into one of his history books as it it described to him the glory of the Old West. However, there were no bowlegged gunslingers strutting about here, just the occasional mare or stallion going about their business.

Tiran noticed some of them gave him a strange look, but for the most part they didn't give him a second glance. He also saw that many of them lacked the unique attribute Ruwa had. He asked her for the reason of this.

"What, you didn't think there were just pegasi in Equestria, did you?" she said almost haughtily.

"Well, it's not exactly like I've met many other ponies, you know,"
Tiran bit back.

"Ok then, let me tell you how it is here," Ruwa sounded like she was about to lecture him. "There are three races of ponies in the world. Earth ponies, unicorn ponies and others like me, pegasi. This town was built and founded by earth ponies, the same that helped build the railroads, so you won't really ever see any of the others unless they're traveling through.

"Aside from ponies, you can also find Griffons, Diamond Dogs and even the occasional Lotkin, but you'll usually only see them at the big markets in the cities. The last and rarest race you'll see, if you're lucky enough, are the Alicorns."

"Alicorns?"

"Yes. Basically a pony with both wings and a horn, blessed with both the gift of flight and magic." Ruwa said almost mystically. "Right now, there are only four known to the world. Their Royal Highnesses Princess Celestia and Luna, Princess Cadence of the Crystal Empire, and Princess Twilight. Among being members of the Royal Family, they are also extremely powerful and skilled in the art of magic."

Tiran was a little hung up, "Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean by magic?"

Ruwa paused, looking at Tiran almost disbelievingly, "Y'know, magic? Wave of the horn—poof!—something happens?" Tiran shook his head. "Really? Don't they have magic where you come from?"

"No. I mean, yes, but it's all illusion. A trick." Tiran said.

Ruwa snorted, "Sounds like you do have it to me."

"But it's not the..." Tiran shut his mouth before he started an argument.

He didn't quite believe her. Magic didn't exist, as far as he knew. Then again, neither did pegasi, yet there one was, right in front of him. Even Li had agreed that Ruwa was real flesh and blood. Still, Tiran decided he would reserve his opinion until he saw otherwise.

Ruwa led him through the town and past a small train station. The station only had enough room for a platform, some benches and a small box office where ticket sales were conducted. Tiran eyed the ticket stand and the train platform, sizing it up as a possible way of transit. The whole station seemed to be deserted and he didn't think any trains were coming through any time soon, at least not until tomorrow.

Going past the train station, Ruwa turned onto a wide main street with more large windowed single story stores with quaint little homes squeezed in between them. Most of the buildings were dark, with curtains drawn closed. Their inhabitants were either asleep or not home.

After a taking in the scenery of the town, Tiran looked up to see that they were now in a large four-way intersection. Ruwa was halfway up the short wooden steps of one of the largest buildings Tiran had yet seen in the town, waiting for him with an impatient expression. The building was easily two stories tall and took up nearly the entire quarter of its block.

The up-beat notes of a piano drifted out from the open door set into the corner of the building, giving the corner a shaved-off appearance. The door and windows were bright with warm yellow light and the sound of laughter and revelry could be heard in bursts and waves.

"You coming or not?" Ruwa asked restlessly.

"Uh, yeah." Tiran responded, jogging quickly over. "But don't you think I'll kind of stand out in there? Sounds like they're having a party or something."

"Yeah, it's like that most nights. They also have a bar." Tiran perked up at hearing the word 'bar', Ruwa didn't miss it, "Ahhhh...." she cooed knowingly, giving him a suspicious look with her eyes, "Would you like a drink?"

A grin tugged at Tiran's lips, "A beer wouldn't hurt."

Ruwa giggled, "Lucky for you, they have plenty of it. Just act natural in there and try not to draw too much attention and I'll see if we can get some rooms."

"Looking natural might be a bit of a problem," Tiran said, glancing down and gesturing to his arm, the weapon clipped to his side and his overall appearance.

"Oh, right. Hold on..."

Ruwa turned her head and reached back, opening up one of the saddle bags strapped to her back. After digging around for a little bit, she tugged something out with a triumphant little cry. When she faced Tiran again, she had some rough spun fabric clenched in her teeth.

"'Ere, take thish," with a flick of her head, she tossed it to Tiran. "It'll be a little small for you, but it'll cover you up enough.

Tiran held it up and saw that it was a cloak of some sort. He had a little difficulty with just one hand, but he managed to get it around his shoulders. After he finally got the clasp at his neck secured, he found that it only came to about mid-thigh for him. But it covered up his suit for the most part and concealed his weapon, so it would be good enough.

"Thanks." Tiran said sincerely when he looked back up.

"Don't mention it. Just make sure I get it back. And wash it, too, you smell kind of funky," she added with a wrinkle of her nose. "Now, c'mon."

Tiran rolled his eyes, but she was right. He desperately needed a shower. Maybe there'd be one inside. Ruwa climbed the last step and went inside. Tiran was hesitant at first, but after a deep breath, he followed the pegasus up the steps and strode in.

A wave of sound and smells struck Tiran as he stepped inside. There was a bar over to the right, nearly taking up a whole side of the building by itself. A horde of thirsty ponies assailed it from all sides, hastily tried to quench their never ending thirst. Somewhere in the building, Tiran could smell food frying and he was surprised when his stomach grumbled. He hadn't even been aware he was hungry.

Round tables made up the rest of the room, with ponies of all kinds huddled around them like soldiers in their own little camps. Most of them were shuffling cards around, dealing them out. To the far left was a small stage where a piano player rhythmically pounded the keys, accompanied by a lone guitar player. The music was only occasionally overpowered by a burst of laughter as somewhere, a particularly well worded joke was heard. The only other features were a short flight of stairs going up to what he assumed was the second floor and a couple of doors underneath them that looked like they led to the bathrooms.

Tiran felt a tug at the hem of his cloak. "I'm gonna go see about those rooms," Ruwa said to him. "Why don't you find a seat at the bar and get a drink, I'll come get you when I'm done."

That sounded like an excellent idea to Tiran. His earlier apprehension was starting to disappear as well. Nobody had even bothered to glance in his direction when he walked in. He was still cautious though. Before he stepped off towards the bar, he pulled the cloak's hood over his head.

Finding a seat was no easy matter, the bar was packed with patrons. Eventually, Tiran found a seat on the far end, tucked away in the corner. Just as he sat down, the front door banged open and a huge two-legged creature in thick clothes stormed in. The music almost ground to a halt as it entered.

Tiran had never seen anything like it; long black lanky hair clung to its mottled gray skin, it had teeth like a wild boar and it walked as if it knew how to seriously deal some damage. The expression on its face said one thing: stay outta my way, or else. It walked over to the bar, ordered something from the frightened bartender, took it and found a solitary table to sit at.

Once it became apparent that there was to be no trouble, at least for now, the room quickly returned to its previous lively state. Tiran took one more look at the creature. He didn't know what it was, but he knew he wanted to avoid it.

"What'll it be? Hey, buddy! Buddy! You in the hood!"

"Huh?" Tiran hadn't realized anyone was talking to him.

"I said, what'll you have?" The bartender repeated.

"Oh, uh, a beer please?"

"Three bits."

Bits? Tiran didn't know what that was. He soon realized the bartender meant money and patted himself down, but Tiran didn't even know what he was looking for.

"No bits, no beer!" the now annoyed bartender huffed and moved on to another customer further down the bar.

For the first time, Tiran realized he didn't have any of the local currency. He leaned in and glanced down the bar, watching as a customer handed over a trio of small gold coins and received his drink. Tiran let out a breath of dismay and flicked his hood back to scratch his head.

"Ghengis, is that you!?" some one called out from the crowd behind Tiran. "Hey, buddy!"

Tiran sat there wondering what to do with himself. Ruwa still wasn't back yet, and he felt he would start looking suspicious if she didn't return soon. There was a little commotion behind him, but he paid no attention to it.

"Hey, hey Ghengis, you old snake!" Suddenly, Tiran felt something hit him in the arm. He turned to see what was happening. "Hey, Gheng—!"

A stallion in a cowboy hat and vest looking at Tiran cut himself off, "Oh, sorry, I thought—" Then he seemed to take a closer look at Tiran's features. "Now, hold on a minute..."

The stallion got the patron next to Tiran to move over and plopped right down. "Look, I don't want any trouble..." Tiran said, he didn't know where this was going, but he wasn't sure if he liked it.

"Oh no, no trouble at all!" The stallion let out a shrill whistle, "Hey Dusky, how 'bout a nice draft for my friend here?" he finished by slamming down six of the gold coins on the table.

Tiran put a hand up in protest, "Please, you don't have to—"

"Oh, but I want to," the stallion cut him off.

Two bottles appeared in front of them, the stallion took his and had a few big gulps. Tiran glanced around, wondering where Ruwa was. When the stallion was done drinking, he set the half empty bottle down and let out a contented sigh.

"So, what brings you 'round these parts?" He asked Tiran quite abruptly.

"Uh..." Tiran didn't know what he should say. Or if he even should say anything. Tiran was about to think of an excuse to leave, maybe that he had to go to the bathroom, when he suddenly felt the hem of his cloak rise. "Hey!" Tiran exclaimed, shoving it back down off of the stallion's hoof.

"Woowee, that's a fancy lookin' piece of ordinance right there!"

Now Tiran was sure he didn't like what was happening. In a low and threatening tone, Tiran leaned over and said, "I don't know who you think I am, but I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone."

The stallion held two hooves up in, "Whoa, now hold on there, I don't mean no harm."

"Good." Tiran turned back towards the bar and pulled his hood back up.

"But how 'bout we make a deal?" The annoying stallion continued as if Tiran wasn't trying to ignore him. "I'll tell you my name, if you tell me yours."

"No deal."

"Well, alrighty then." The stallion looked somewhat dismayed. "Then I guess you wouldn't care if somepony started telling everyone that a hu—"

Tiran suddenly shot the stallion a dangerous look.

"Ah, now we're gettin' somewhere..."

"What do you want?" Tiran asked gruffly.

"Simple, just take the deal." The stallion had a cocky smile on his face.

Tiran didn't really want to reveal his name. But he was also trying to lay low and now this strange pony was threatening to spread the word about a human being in town. Tiran felt he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the saying goes. When after another quick scan of the room, he still didn't spot Ruwa, Tiran decided to play along with the stranger's game, if it at least shut him up.

"Tiran. My name's Tiran," he finally said quietly.

The stallion suddenly looked up and away, as if in thought. "Tiran. Hmm...."

"Ok, now tell me your name."

"Hm?"

"You said you tell me your name if I told you mine," Tiran said, feeling himself becoming angry and even more suspicious of his new friend. "That was the deal."

"Oh, right. The name's Blackjack," he said with a knowing smile. When Tiran didn't respond, the stallion frowned and repeated it, as if Tiran was supposed to remember something, "Y'know, Blaaack-jaaack."

Tiran was starting to get fed up, "Ok, listen Blackjack, or whatever your name is, why are you bothering me?" he demanded.

At this, Blackjack began to chuckle, causing Tiran to raise his eyebrows. "It's just, you look an awful lot like somepony I used to know."

"I don't see how I could look like one of you guys."

Blackjack laughed again, "One of us pony folk? Naw, 'course not! However, humans are a different matter."

Tiran's face went blank, but his eyes went wide. "What do you know about humans!? Tell me!"

A sly grin crossed Blackjack's face, "Maybe I will and maybe I won't. We'll just have to see how it goes..."

"Tiran! Hey, Tiran!" Tiran's attention briefly snapped away from Blackjack. It was Ruwa. "Hey, I got us a room," she said.

"Ruwa, I think this guy used to know a human!" Tiran loudly whispered, pointing to where Blackjack was sitting.

Ruwa leaned over and looked to where Tiran was pointing. Then back to Tiran with a puzzled expression, "Who?"

"This guy, right here! His name is Black—!" When Tiran looked back, the seat was empty. Tiran searched wildly all around, but the was no sign of the stallion he'd just been talking to only seconds ago.

Ruwa wrinkled her nose and looked at Tiran as if her were crazy, "You alright? Tiran, did you drink too much already?"

"What? No! He was... he was just here..."

But where ever Tiran looked, he still could not find any evidence that the guy had been there at all. Even his drink was gone, leaving Tiran alone with just the one untouched beverage. The stranger had vanished without a trace.

"Ok then, if you say so..." Ruwa said with a roll of her eyes. "Hurry up and finish your drink, I wanna get to sleep."

Tiran took a deep breath and let it out, "Fine."

He took his drink and gave it a test sip. It was good. A little too sweet for his taste, but otherwise delicious. Tiran quickly downed the drink in a few big gulps and slammed the bottled back down on the bar before pushing himself away and getting up.

Ruwa led him up the staircase and into a long corridor. On either side were rows of doors, each closed and locked, hiding their inhabitants. Ruwa went down the corridor and around a corner, wrapping around the interior of the building.

After passing a few more doors by, Ruwa finally stopped at one and produced a small key from a pocket on the side of one of her bags. She fit it into the lock and with a sharp turn of her head, opened the door.

"After you!" she gestured with a hoof as the door swung open.

Tiran quickly walked inside, eager to get somewhere he could finally rest for a while. The room wasn't very big, but it was cozy. It had one window in the far wall, under which was a small twin sized bed. There was just one other door, it opened into a small bathroom complete with a tub and shower. Tiran smiled as he spotted two towels hanging on a rack inside, at least he would be able to clean himself up.

Tiran almost jumped as he heard the door to the room suddenly close behind him. He turned around and saw that Ruwa had closed the door and was now putting her belongings neatly in a corner.

"Ruwa, aren't you going to go to your room?" Tiran asked.

"I am in my room. They only had one left, so we're gonna have to share, hope you don't mind," she replied casually.

"Oh, no, I was just, um, I was going to shower and..."

"So go shower." Ruwa said, not particularly paying any attention.

"Uh huh... Ok then..."

Tiran plunked his bag down in a corner and retreated back into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. He didn't know how exactly this was going to work tonight, by he decided to make do. First thing's first, he needed to get the suit off. With his good hand, he gently worked the clasps along his mangled right arm. He got the glove off ok, but the upper and forearm proved to be a hassle. As damaged as it was, he had to carefully pry the twisted metal of the armored plates off his arm.

Once he had finally done that, depositing the armor in a small pile next to the sink, he began to pull the rough gauze off his prosthetic to get a better look at it. It wasn't pretty.

Though the sealant had done its job in preserving the mechanical limb, shards of metal poked out at odd angles. Here and there he could see bunches of frayed wiring lay exposed. It was a miracle Li's core hadn't been damaged, his arm had taken quite a beating. For a moment, Tiran wondered why it was his right arm always seemed to take the most damage. It was as if the universe were telling him something, like he wasn't meant to have that limb.

Tiran let out a defeated sigh, there was no way he was going to be able to fix this on his own. Moving on, he undid the clasps on his chest and sides, carefully exposing his mid section. Tiran looked down at the myriad of scars that criss-crossed his torso, remnants of a bad time in his life.

It was then that Ruwa wandered to the door, "Tiran, have you seen my— ohmygosh, I'm so sorry!" she yelped as she saw Tiran. She backed away covering her eyes with a hoof, but Tiran noticed her take a little peek.

"It's ok," he chuckled. "Actually, Ruwa, I could use your help."

"Y-you sure?" she asked uneasily.

"Yeah, I just have my top off, it's fine." Tiran assured her.

"O-ok." Ruwa hesitantly crept forward, still careful to look away. "What, what do you need my to do?"

"Since my right arm's still busted, I need some help getting it out. See the clasps at the wrist and shoulder? I just need you to undo them," he explained.

"A-alright."

Ruwa still tried to avert her eyes as she carefully opened the clasps with her teeth. However, she couldn't help but to glance over while she did. Ruwa gasped as she caught sight of all the scars that marred Tiran's body and the mottled swollen skin at his shoulder where his prosthetic connected to the rest of his body.

"What happened to you!?" she accidentally blurted out. "S-sorry," she mumbled sheepishly as she noticed the darkened expression on Tiran's face.

"Nothing," he deadpanned, "Just a stupid accident."

When it was clear that Tiran wouldn't elaborate further, Ruwa quickly finished what she was doing and swiftly scurried out the door, embarrassed. Tiran shook off the armor on his arm and flexed his muscles, enjoying the freedom of movement. He was starting to feel cramped in that suit.

Tiran shook his head and ran his hand down his face, trying to push away the memories his scars had brought up. For a minute, Tiran wondered if he shouldn't have asked that strange stallion to order something stronger. Where had that guy gone anyway? Tiran tried to remember his name; Black...Blackjack, that was it.

The mysterious stallion had vanished quite as quickly as he had appeared. Tiran made a mental note to remember what that stallion looked like. If Tiran ever ran into the guy again, he wouldn't let him get away without giving Tiran some answers.

In the meantime, Tiran was tired. He closed the door, undid the last of the clasps on his legs and kicked the rest of the suit off. Then he jumped in the shower to clean himself up.

When he came back out, towel wrapped around his waist, he saw Ruwa curled up on the bed, sound asleep. The moonlight streaming form the window bathed her in a silky radiance as her sides rose and fell gently in soft slumber. seeing her reminded Tiran of his own fatigue as he yawned.
It had been a rough week, trekking through the mountain range and the feeling of being in an actual room in which to sleep left him feel more tired than if he had been running non-stop the entire time. It actually felt good, knowing that he wouldn't have to sleep on rocky ground tonight.
Though, with Ruwa taking up the bed, he still had to sleep on the floor.

Resigning himself to an uncomfortable night, Tiran began to reassemble his suit onto his person, piece by piece, until he was almost completely clad, excluding his arms. That was something he was going to have to get Ruwa to help with again in the morning.

That finished, Tiran put his bag up against a wall and laid his head on it, pulling the cloak up over his torso. Sleep came easily after that. Easier than it had come in a long time before.

Chapter 11: Old Memories

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Chapter 12: Irreparable Repaired

Tiran was sitting on a torn-up couch in what appeared to be a living room, but he couldn't be sure with all the junk laying around. At least it was warm. Warm because of the massive forge in the next room. Which Tiran was glad to have since he had the top portions of his suit removed.

Quick Fix was at his side with a variety of tools; wrenching, ratcheting, hammering and prying as she tried to remove Tiran's prosthetic while being as delicate as possible. Even so, Tiran still felt an occasional twinge of pain, wincing as he did so.

"So," Tiran began, flinching as the strange unicorn his an especially sensitive nerve, "This your place here?"

"Huh? No. This belongs to a friend. I just come here for custom parts. It's a bit of a journey, but he has a knack for being able to make any part you needneed, no matter how obscure. Which is why" she said, finally pulling out a few stubborn screws and carefully depositing them on a tray, "you're lucky that Ruwa brought you here. There's quite a few things in here I haven't seen before and I haven't even begun to start."

"That so, huh?" Tiran managed through clenched teeth.

Finally, after some pushing and pulling, Quick Fix stuck a pry bar in the small gap she had made between Tiran's arm and shoulder and gave it a good knock with her hoof. With a snap and a klunk, it finally popped free, landing on the metal table with a rattle of loose parts.

"Ah, there." Quick Fix said with relief. "Thought that was gonna take a lot longer." She picked it up and rapped it against the table a few times, "It's almost twisted into a solid hunk of junk."

"I am not junk and I ask that you please be more careful."

Quick Fix leapt back in fright, staring at Tiran's arm as if it were a snake, "Shit, it talked!"

"Yeah, I guess I should have warned you about that." Tiran said as he shook his head. It had become fuzzy as his neurological connection with Li was broken and he was trying to clear it.

"Why does it talk?" Quick Fix said, still mystified, "Arms don't talk!"

"I'm not an arm."

"There it goes again!"

Tiran inwardly groaned. He had actually wanted to avoid this, hoping that Li would stay silent. She usually did in such circumstances, but she had been acting somewhat quirky lately. Something computer constructs weren't supposed to do.

"Her name's Li," Tiran began to explain, something he hoped he wouldn't have to keep doing. "She's a near A.I. computer program. Her memory core is in the upper arm, so try to be careful around that area. Oh, and you'll need to hook up a power source to her so she doesn't shut down."

"A.I.?"

"Artificial Intelligence. It mean's she's like a person, but she exists as a computer."

Quick Fix prodded Tiran's prosthetic arm again, "Artificial... but how do you... what the hay?"

"Just try not to think too hard about it. I don't fully understand it myself and she's always in my head." Tiran told her.

"If you say so..."

"So, can you fix it?"

"Huh?" the unicorn mare still seemed to be lost in thought.

"My arm, can you fix it?"

"Oh. Oh, right! yeah, shouldn't be too hard. Might take a little while 'cause my electrical skills are a little rusty, but I don't see a reason why not. Just chill out here, I'll come get you when it's finished." Quick Fix said, lifting Tiran's arm and the tray of loose parts she had extricated from it up with a strange aqua colored luminescence that emanated from her horn and trotting off into the next room.

Tiran leaned back and let out a huff of air. He looked over at his bare shoulder, at the gaping socket of mixed flesh, metal and electrical connections that were left exposed now that his entire arm had been disconnected. Feeling a little self conscious, he grabbed a dirty rag off the table and tied it off around his right shoulder as best he could with his remaining hand.

While he was alone, Tiran considered his situation for the hundredth time. Never in a million years did he ever think that he would have been chosen to test some cutting edge propulsion technology in an advanced military aircraft. Or that he would get in a fire fight with that aircraft. Or that the technology that he was supposed to test would malfunction and send him careening into some kind of weird alternate world where ponies were people.

Actually, he could believe that the new military technology that he was supposed to test malfunctioned and completely screwed him. That's how things usually went, it was normal for that to happened. Quite accidentally, Tiran found himself laughing at the whole fucked up situation.

"What's so funny?" Ruwa walked in with a small tray topped with some snacks and two cups of liquid balanced on her back.

With surprising dexterity, she slid the tray down one of her wings and onto the table, the liquid in the cups only sloshing around minimally.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about all..." Tiran waved his hand around in the air, "this."

"Yeah, it's kinda crazy." Ruwa agreed, plopping down on the couch next to Tiran and picking up a cookie from the tray. "We were pretty lucky that Q's here. I imagine that having to keep walking around with that busted up arm would've really sucked."

"Yeah, but also..." Tiran stopped himself, realizing that Ruwa didn't really know about anything else about his situation or how he had gotten here. "Well, yeah, that. Being able to use both arms again is gonna be really nice."

"I bet," said Ruwa through a mouthful of cookie. She picked up another and offered it to Tiran, "Want one?"

"Sure."

Tiran took the cookie and bit into it, albeit, hesitantly. He was expecting some kind of hay-based recipe, but was surprised when it turned out to be just a plain old chocolate chip cookie. He devoured it within seconds.

"Slow down there, champ, you're gonna choke." Ruwa said, sliding one of the cups over to Tiran.

He picked it up and took a sip. Apple juice. Real apple juice. He hadn't had any of that since he was a kid. In two gulps, he drained the cup.

"Wow, you sure finished those off fast," Ruwa said with amusement.

Tiran up-ended the cup to drain the last drops of juice onto his tongue before putting it back on the table with content. "Yeah," he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "it's just I haven't had real juice in a while."

Ruwa looked at him skeptically, "Real juice? I don't think there's any such thing as fake juice."

"Yeah, well... the real stuff is kind of expensive where I come from."

"That is unfortunate."

"You're tellin' me."

"In that case, you can have the rest." Ruwa said, hopping off the couch and yawning. "I think I'm gonna go take a nap while Q works. see you in a bit."

"Alright. I'll be here."

Tiran figured he had at least a few hours to kill, so he gathered up the parts of his suit and some tools that were laying around. He thought it might be a good idea to clean it up and give it a little maintenance while he had the down time. Tiran didn't know much about how everything in it worked, but he was pretty adept at taking things apart and putting them together again.

In almost no time, he had a lot of the suit stripped down to its individual components, carefully arranging each in their own respective groups on the table. Then he got to cleaning them up.

After a couple hours of scrubbing, scraping and lubricating, he began to put them all back together. The parts felt a lot smoother going back together now that they were clean. He assembled the leg and lower torso portions of the suit onto his body, snapping everything cleanly into place.

Tiran stood up and walked around a bit, enjoying the looser feeling he got from the joints. He tested the servos in his leg joints by doing a little jump and was happy when he was nearly propelled into the low ceiling of the shop. Lugging around all his gear wouldn't be such a chore now.

Tiran sat down again and started to re-assemble the gauntlets. He was having a little trouble with some of the smaller parts in one of the fingers when Quick Fix finally walked back in. She was sweaty and her face was smudged with grease, but she looked satisfied, levitating an object wrapped in a clean cloth in front of her.

"It took a little bit of ingenuity and improvisation on my part, but it's finished," she stated triumphantly as she set it down on the table. With a flourish, she grasped the edge of the cloth in her teeth and whipped it away, "Ta-da!"

Tiran looked at his newly repaired arm on the table. The synthetic skin was gone, as well as the sealant that had cocooned it when he and Ruwa had arrived earlier. Instead, his arm was sheathed in a strange dull metal that sparkled a little bit when when light hit it at certain angles.

"Sorry I couldn't save that rubbery stuff that was all over it, but it was pretty shredded." Quick Fix explained. "What I did instead was have my friend, Abby, mold some custom plates out of Wright Steel. Hope you don't mind."

Tiran didn't mind at all. In fact, he liked it. What was once a simple working replica of his right arm now looked as if it belonged on some kind of battle droid. The new armor she had slapped on there looked fluid, intimidating.

"That's actually... really cool," he said.

Quick Fix smiled, "If you think that's cool, try breaking it now!"

Tiran felt a moment of panic as she suddenly produced a large hammer and savagely brought it down on his new arm. Tiran flinched as the hammer struck, bringing his one good hand up to his face as if to protect it against the flying shards of metal he was sure were about to come flying his way.

Instead, all he heard was Quick Fix let out a peal of laughter, even as the peal of the metal faded. "What are you doing? Take a look at it!"

Tiran lowered his hand and leaned in towards the table, not at all optimistic about the condition of his are. Amazingly, nothing had changed. Quick Fix indicated the spot where the hammer had struck and Tiran looked closer. Not even a scratch.

"Holy shit." Was all Tiran managed to say.

"Yup. New and improved. Now let's get that sucker on there and see how she moves."

Tiran anxiously ripped the rag off his shoulder as Quick Fix lifted the shoulder joint towards its socket. Once she popped it in, she began putting all the securing screws back in their place, working as quickly and carefully as she could. Minutes later, she made some final adjustments and stepped back.

There was a spike of pain in Tiran's head as he felt Li's presence return. 'Please do not let her hit me again.' she said to him in a irritable tone.

"Sorry, Li, I didn't know she would," he replied.

"What?" Quick Fix asked from beside him.

"Nothing. It seems Li is a bit angry at you for hitting her."

"Oops. I forgot. Sorry." she said demurely.

"It's fine."

"Now besides that, how's it feel?"

Hesitantly, Tiran tried to lift his arm. It suddenly shot up, nearly ripping it out of the socket again.

"Whoops!" Quick Fix said, scrambling for a set of tools from her bag. "Hold on, let me calibrate it."

The unicorn moved again to his side and took out some fine adjustment tools from a pouch on her side and began tinkering with Tiran's arm. A second later, she stepped back and urged him to go again, "Alright, try it now."

Tiran did as she said and smiled as his arm responded smoothly to his commands. He wiggled his new fingers a few times before clenching his hand into a fist and punching the air a few times.

"Whoa, careful there, tough guy!" Quick Fix giggled.

"I like it!" Tiran exclaimed. "It feels just like new!"

"I thought it would. Now, that'll be a cool three hundred bits."

Tiran paused and stared dumbly at the unicorn standing in front of him. He didn't have that kind of cash. He doubted Ruwa even did.

Slowly, a grin began to creep onto Quick Fix's face, "Ha! Just kidding. Consider this a favor for a friend."

"Oh, thanks." Tiran said, relieved.

"No prob." Quick Fix turned and looked out one of the dust caked windows. "It's getting kinda dark out there. You guys gotta place to stay?"

"Uh, no. Not at the moment."

"You guys can stay here if you like. I'm sure Abby won't mind," she offered. "He rarely leaves his workshop any way, if ever. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen him near the door."

"No, that's ok." Tiran said, getting up and pulling on the rest of his suit. "We're a little behind on our trip and we should probably get going. Ruwa's been sleeping all day any way."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the help."

"Alright then. I'll go get Ruwa." Quick Fix said, a little dejected. "But don't become a stranger, got it?" She said with a little smile. "That arm of yours is pretty interesting and I might tinker with the designs a bit. Come find me later and you might get another upgrade."

"Oh, uh... sure," Tiran forced out, unsure of what he should say.

"Alright." Quick Fix smiled again. "Wait right here, we'll be back in a sec."

Tiran sat by the campfire, twisting and admiring his new limb in the light of the flames. Ruwa was stretched out on the opposite side of the fire, munching on some snack and trying to get in a comfortable position in which to doze off. Once again, the moon was wide and bright, lending some comfort to the usual disquiet of night time in the forest.

Tiran was impressed by the workmanship the odd unicorn had applied to his arm. It was completely functional once again. He picked up a pebble, marveling at his rediscovered dexterity. Tiran gave it a squeeze, enjoying the feeling of the pressure being transmitted through the sensors in his finger tips, up through his arm and into his brain. It really was an outstanding job.

There was a small click. Then a crack. Quite suddenly, the pebble split in two with a puff of dust, the halves projecting themselves from between his thumb and forefinger and into the grass. Tiran stared at the remaining crumbs balancing on the pad of his metallic thumb. His hand needed a little more calibration.

"What was that?" Ruwa asked, sitting up at the sound of the pebble's separation.

"Huh?' Tiran lowered his hand and wiped it in the grass, "Nothing. Just a rock."

"Oh..." she laid back down, this time on her back, gazing up at the stars.

Tiran grabbed his cloak and maneuvered his pack into a good position before laying down. He was pretty tired, having walked almost five miles out of town before it got too dark to continue. The ground felt good to lay on even through his suit.

"Hey, Tiran..."

Tiran sat up a little and saw Ruwa looking at him from across the fire. "Yeah?"

"What're you going to do after we get to Canterlot?"

Tiran let out a breath and lay back down. "I'm not sure. Ask a bunch of questions maybe?"

"Well, yeah, but what about after?"

Tiran thought for a moment. What was he going to do? Trying to get back to his own world came to mind. Though, he didn't have even the slightest idea about how he was going to do that. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten here. Then there was the other problem; could he even get back? How would he even explain where it was he had gone if he did?

These were thoughts Tiran didn't often enjoy. There were too many unknowns, too many things that could go wrong. Much of life was like that for him. He found it was best to just roll with what happened.

Damn, he really wanted a drink right about then.

"I really don't know." Tiran finally answered. "Definitely wanna get back to flying. If I can even fix my aircraft..."

"Hmm, that would be nice," Ruwa agreed, rolling again to her back. "You're a good pilot, right?"

"I guess so. If you don't count me crashing here."

Ruwa giggled, "Yeah, I guess that kinda looks bad, but I don't think that was your fault. Any way... if you can get back to flying, you wanna go fly sometime?"

Tiran thought about it. Flying with a pegasus, what was supposed to be a mythological creature, and wasn't really a creature because she could talk and have complex thoughts and emotions. It was a bit off-putting to Tiran, but he was slowly getting comfortable with it.

"Sure," tiran said, glancing over at her. "If I can get back in the saddle, so to speak, I'll go fly with you."

"Awesome." Ruwa responded with a barely imperceptible whisper.

"I won't go easy on you, though," Tiran continued, "my bird's pretty fast and I like to make her dance."

"Your bird?" Ruwa looked at him with a hint of confusion.

"It's slang. I'm talking about my aircraft." Tiran explained.

"Hm hm, that's weird," Ruwa chuckled.

Tiran yawned and scrunched down against his pack a little, trying to get more comfortable, "Yeah, we pilots are a weird bunch. In fact, not many people like that."

"That's alright. I like weird."

"That right?"

"Mmhmm. Much more fun," Ruwa said, yawning loudly herself.

Chapter 13: Just Jump In

"No no no, god damnit!" Tiran bellowed as the sergeant fell against the lip of the door and slumped to the ground.
Tiran whipped around to see where the shot had come from and was unpleasantly surprised to see Lieutenant Collins standing there with pistol in hand.

"I said we need to go now!" The Lieutenant screamed in a panicked voice.

Tiran lost it.

"Are you fucking crazy!?" He yelled as he stomped towards Collins.

Collins raised the gun to Tiran's chest, "Get back in the cockpit and fly us out, now!"

Tiran looked down at the gun. Then back at the Lieutenant's face, distorted as it was in panic and fear. The man had just shot and killed one of Tiran's closest friends in the service, besides Ian. He wasn't going to let that go.

Mind clouded with rage, Tiran grabbed the gun and forced it up towards the ceiling. Collins yelled and pulled the trigger, the gun's moving parts shredding through Tiran's glove and into his flesh. While the pistol mangled Tiran's hand, it sent round after round up through the overhead and into the engines.

Warnings and flashing lights began blaring from the cockpit as the aft compartment began to fill with acrid smoke. They struggled back and forth, stumbling over bodies as the gunship rose and pitched while Ian tried to keep the bird airborne. Tiran shoved Collins up against the bulkhead by the damaged door, bringing them face to face. Tiran began to bang the panicked Lieutenant's gun against it in an attempt to get him to release it.

Collins began screaming in Tiran's face, "I'm gonna have you fucking shot for this!"

"Fuck you!" Tiran spat, shoving Collins away, towards the door.

The Lieutenant stumbled back, his heel caught on an arm of one of his former comrades, and he fell. Tiran leaned out of the doorway and watched as Collins fell through the air, finally crumpling into a heap on the earth several meters below, landing beside the Gunny.
Something began to dawn on Tiran as he pulled himself away. He had just killed a fellow officer. He brought up his bloody, mangled hand, wondering how he had done that.

"Tiran, get up here, now!" Ian shouted from the cockpit, pulling Tiran from evil thoughts.

Tiran pushed the darkening cloud from his mind and fought across the bucking and sliding deck to the cockpit. It was starting to fill with smoke from the aft compartment, clawing at their throats and choking their lungs. Tiran sat down and began to assess the situation.
Multiple systems were out, their displays dead. The engines were rapidly failing and the control surfaces were responding sluggishly,the gunship began to dip towards the ground.

Another warning tone began to blare, "Tiran, hostiles to the front!" Li explained as they started taking fire to the windshield.
"Ian—!

"Shit!"

Tiran sat up with a start, eyes wide. His heart was hammering in his chest so fast, he was afraid it might burst out or quit on him. Tiran leaned forward and rubbed his face with his hands, recoiling a little at the freezing cold touch of his artificial hand.

Once he composed himself a little, Tiran sat straight again and took a look around.

It was still dark, but Tiran guessed it might be close to dawn, one side of the sky was quickly growing pink-ish and bright. The fire had gone out hours ago, letting only small wisps of ash escape from its dying embers occasionally. Ruwa was still sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling with a peaceful cadence.

Tiran last remembered talking to Ruwa about something, but he must have dozed off at some point. He hoped she didn't mind.

Images of his dream suddenly returned, unbidden. They appeared to him to be happening more frequently. For the third time since they'd left town the day before, Tiran wished he had thought to pack some alcohol for the trip. At least then, he could get buzzed enough that the dreams would stop bothering him.

As it was, he had none. The best he could do would be to find some water and wash off the cold sweat the terrifying movie theater that was his mind had left on his face. Tiran didn't want to use the water they had, but he thought he remembered Ruwa telling him that there was a stream or river nearby.

Picking himself up, Tiran pulled his gloves on and went in search of this fabled body of water, hoping it wasn't too far. After all, he didn't want Ruwa to wake up thinking he had left without her. just a little jaunt to the stream and back would be fine.

Tiran picked his way through the underbrush as best he could in the steady maturation of dawn, sometimes stumbling over hidden roots among the tall grass, but otherwise doing ok. At times, he thought he could hear the intermittent slap and rush of water moving among the verdant growth of the forest. He angled towards it whenever he could.

As the slow progress of Tiran's trek through the tangling branches and snaring vines began to wear on him, the sound of moving water grew. He even thought he could smell it. The air just seemed fresher.

Finally, he burst from the foliage and tripped on a rock stuck out of the ground, dropping to one knee at the gently lapping edge of a wide, slow moving river.

"Finally!" Tiran said to no one in particular as he moved closer to the water's edge.

The river was clear and deep, almost nothing like the stagnant bodies of water he was accustomed to back home. The ocean was great to swim around in and have some fun, but it was nothing compared to finding naturally clean, fresh water. It was so clear, Tiran thought it might even be safe to drink as-is, but he knew better than to test fate and take a sip, no matter how tempting it was.

So Tiran settled with taking off his gloves and cupping the pure liquid crystal in his palms and splashing it on his face. The water was cold, cold enough to give him a shock, but not unpleasant. It was refreshing, he rubbed his face clean with it and even ran some through his tangle of hair, eventually going for broke and submerging his entire head.

Tiran came up with a gasp, enjoying this new clean feeling in the brisk morning air. Then he heard something carried along the breeze. He couldn't be sure, but it sounded like a shout. Tiran crouched, slowed his breath and listened.

He heard it again, but more clearly. It definitely sounded like a shout.

"Li, do you know what that is?"

'Please specify.'

"Listen, it sounds like a shout."

Tiran went quiet again and waited. Seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Then, when Tiran was just about to give up and leave, it happened again. Clearer, more defined, somebody was definitely calling out.

Li confirmed it, 'Aural sensors have picked it up. Tone and intensity indicates a male. Inflection indicates a call for help.'

Tiran tensed, "Direction?"

'East, downstream.'

Tiran grabbed his gloves, turned and began to run, legs pumping hard. The mud along the river's edge clung to his boots and threatened to drag him down, but he shook it off and pushed for more speed. Soon he was at a dead run, feet pounding into the soft earth as the cries for help grew louder.

Along with the shouting, the rushing of the river grew as well. White caps and turbulence appeared on the water's surface, building and increasing to a steady roar. Rocks began to just from the water, pushing the now swift current into ever more violent swirls and splashes.

Then Tiran stopped, coming to an abrupt halt. He could go no further. He desperately wanted to continue to the owner of the shouts, but it was hard to with thirty foot drop in his way.

Tiran was now standing at the edge of a vertical cliff. To his left, the water flung itself over the edge in a suicidal urge to conform with gravity, plummeting into a deep and wide pool of white thrashing froth so far below. Tiran looked around frantically for a way down, but saw none.

Below him, at the edge of the pool stood a manic stallion, galloping back and forth along its boundaries, eyes staring wide with unbridled fear at the swirling consortium of violent liquid.

"Hey! HEY! Up here!" Tiran bellowed over the roar of the water, waving his arms wildly about in an attempt to get the stallion's attention.

Below, the stallion stopped and glanced frighteningly around. Finally, he looked up, eyes growing even wider at the sight of Tiran.

"Hey, what's wrong!?" Tiran shouted down to him.

"Who- wha- what are you!?" the stallion cried in panic. "Don't- you're not a monster, right?"

"What? No, what the fuck? I'm here to help, what's going on?" Tiran shouted back with disbelief. What kind of answer was that to some one coming to help?

"Huh?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tiran cupped his hands around his mouth, Do you need help!?"

"Help? Help! Yes help! My friend's hat flew off into the water, he went to go get it and got sucked under!"

"Sucked under?"

Tiran looked down at the frothing pool where the waterfall met its surface. He'd heard about this in training. Stay down stream at the bottom of a waterfall and you were fine, enter from the sides or rear of the falls and you could be dragged under by the relentless force of the falls, holding you against the bottom and eventually drowning you.

Tiran had to think fast. There was no telling how long the victim had been under, but they wouldn't be able to survive long. He looked around again for a quick way down, speed was key.

Sadly, there was none. Except for one.

Tiran had been a very strong swimmer when he was younger, but that was long ago and back when he still had both arms. Now, he wasn't sure he still had the skill, let alone wether or not he could even swim well enough with his artificial limb. He'd never tried.

Li guessed at what Tiran was about to do as he stepped up to the edge, 'Tiran, I do not suggest this course of action. It is unknown how strong the current is or how deep the water is underneath the waterfall. We may not survive.'

Tiran began to hyperventilate, sucking in deep breaths for his coming task, oxygenating his blood, "I know, Li, but I don't see any other options. Besides, you'll be fine, you don't need to breath."

'If you follow through, there may be two bodies at the bottom of the pool instead of just one,' she warned. 'Please consider your own life.'

Tiran exhaled sharply, "I have, Li. It's been a pretty shit one so far," he bit back.

'Tiran—'

Before Li could further voice her protest, Tiran took one last deep breath and jumped.

The fall was dizzying, disorienting, terrifying. Tiran entered the water by the fall's impact point feet first. Suddenly, he was completely surrounded by one of the most deafening roars he'd ever heard in his life. The waterfall pounded and abused him and then, sucked him under. A chilled, icy sensation poured into his suit at the neck as his suit started to take on water.

Combining with the weight of Tiran's armored suit, the current of the waterfall pushed him further and further into the depths of the pool. The light from above began to fade, giving way to a melancholic ink. Then Tiran slammed into the bottom.

The force of the impact nearly drove Tiran to expel the air from his lungs. Painfully, he willed it to stay in even though he felt as if his lungs were about to pop like over inflated balloons. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear and Tiran was quickly deciding that this was a terrible mistake.

Still, he was there, so he began to feel around in the icy darkness. Crawling along the bottom where the force of the falls kept him, Tiran felt around with his hands and feet, probing and prodding for the soft feel of flesh.

Tiran's lungs began to scream. He felt the panic of suffocation try to take over. He beat it back, driving it to the rear of his mind. His lungs tried to betray him as well, twice he had to stop himself from opening his mouth and trying to breathe.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tiran felt his left hand brush up against something soft and thick. He grabbed at it desperately, fingers scrambling to get a hold. His hand then clamped down on what felt like an oddly jointed leg.

Tiran pulled himself over, feeling up the leg until he found the rest of the body. It didn't move and as he felt his way up the neck, he couldn't feel a pulse. Tiran felt dismayed, thinking he was too late. But if the pony had gone under recently enough, there might still be a chance.

With great effort, Tiran got his arms under the body as his own screamed at him to stop and go for the surface. He judged where the current was flowing out strongly, using the pull of the current on his hair as an indicator. Tiran aimed for what felt like the strongest vector, engaged the servos in his suit, lifted and pushed as hard as he could.

Almost instantly, the body flew away, heading for places unknown. Now all Tiran had to do was get himself out. If he even could.

Kicking, clawing, silently cursing himself for his poor moment of judgment, Tiran sought to extricate himself from the swirling drowning machine that fought just as fiercely to keep him under. Tiran especially chastised himself for not bringing his helmet. With it, he would have had a fifteen minute reserve of air.

Then finally, the pounding on Tiran's back lessened. light began to stream through the water once more. The currents subsided, turning from raging torrent to a languid pull.

Tiran was finally out from underneath the falls. But he was still on the bottom.

Up above, he could see the light of the new day, finally matured, dancing down through the wakes and ripples on the surface above. Tiran pushed off the bottom, struggling and straining to reach the ceiling of air that would save him. His lungs felt like fire had been poured into them. His chest regularly hitched and heaved as his body willed him to breath.

But for every stroke that brought him one foot closer to the surface, the weight of his now waterlogged suit countered, continuing to drag him down. Tiran's mind raced in a hypoxic delirium. He had to escape, had to reach the world above.

But he just couldn't.

At last, the pain in his lungs overwhelmed Tiran and he accidentally swallowed a mouthful of cold, crisp water. The water dropped to his lungs as he involuntarily tried to breath. Tiran was suddenly wracked by a fit of coughing, which did nothing but exacerbate his problem, drawing more water into his lungs.

Tiran's vision began to fade and flicker. His strokes became more feeble and pathetic. His feet grazed the bottom, settling upon the silky silt. He continued to fall back, the light from above tormenting and teasing him. He was so close, yet there was nothing he could do.

The light started to fade from Tiran's world, fleeing for places higher, escaping the suffocation that Tiran could not. He lay back, arms still stretched towards the surface, settling on the sand. Looking up, Tiran watched as the light began to fade from his life. His heart rate slowed. His vision failed. his extremities went numb as his body drew all the blood to his head and torso as a last ditch effort to save him.

A splash. The surface breached. A dark shape descended. Powerful legs kicked, great sweeps of feathered wings propelled it through the water. Tiran felt a sharp tug just as he let go.

The first sensation that came to Tiran was pain. Sharp, pressing pain in his lungs. He tried to breathe again, only to find there was something soft and warm locked onto his mouth. He suddenly felt a great rush of air force its way down his throat.

Tiran sputtered and coughed and the sensation around his mouth vanished with a heave, water rushed up his throat and out of his mouth, gurgling to the wet ground around him. He opened his eyes, blinked, tried to see clearly around him.

The first thing he saw as his chest and stomach continued to propel water from his mouth and lungs was a blurry face looking down at him. Tiran sat up, pushing the face away and doubled over, retching on the ground next to him. He hacked and coughed, willing himself to come to. The next feeling he felt was one of cold and a searing pain in his ribs as he tried to breathe.

Tiran rubbed his eyes, glanced around. He was on land once again. The sun was shining brightly. He could hear birds chirping nearby. It was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard. Behind him, the waterfall continued to crash and roar, unconcerned with predicament Tiran had just escaped.

"What the hay did you think you were doing!?" An angry voice next to Tiran bellowed.

Tiran looked at the source, still in a fog. After a moment, he realized it was Ruwa.

"Oh, hey," he managed to croak. "How you doin'?"

Ruwa was dumbfounded at his response, "How am I...? How am I doing!? What about you, you stupid prick!?"

Tiran coughed violently again, getting the last dregs of water out of his system, "Was that you back there?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was me!" Ruwa replied angrily. "I had to jump in there and pull your sorry flank out of there! What were you thinking, doing something like that?"

Tiran shook his head clear, now woefully aware of a strong headache forming, "Some one needed help. I helped," he offered. Tiran looked around, trying to see if the reason he had jumped into the pool had survived.

Not fifteen feet away, the stallion from the edge of the pool from before was standing over a similar looking one that was up and recuperating his breath. Tiran let out a hoarse sigh of relief at seeing that he had been revived much the same as himself. It was almost some kind of miracle that either of them had recovered at all.

Tiran laid back, for the first time realizing that he was bare from the waist up. Ruwa had removed the top part of his suit and under garments, probably to resuscitate him. That was probably what the searing pains in his ribs were. She had probably done CPR on him, cracking some of his ribs in the process. Tiran never thought he'd be grateful for broken ribs.

"Well, good on you there," Ruwa said in a huff. "Did it ever occur to you to just climb down and swim in from the front?"

"Not enough time," Tiran defended. "Any longer and that other guy might not be sitting over there."

"Yeah, well, neither would you!"

"It still worked. We both got out."

"But, If I hadn't gone looking for you and dragged you out, you'd still be dead!" Ruwa shot back.

"Yeah, thanks for that by the way," Tiran said sheepishly.

Ruwa rolled her eyes contemptuously, "Whatever."

From further down the shore, the first stallion trotted over, "Hey, thanks for pulling my friend out of there. I don't know what I was going to do if he died," he smiled gratefully.

"What are you guys doing out here, any way?" Tiran asked.

"We're traveling from town to town. We do sales." The stallion smiled. "Oh, here, lemme get you something for your trouble." The stallion walked over to a group of packs that were strewn along the grass by the trees and rummaged around. When he returned, he pushed a bottle into Tiran's hand. "We're trying to get the bars around here to stock our client's drink. Take it," the stallion urged happily.

Tiran accepted the bottle and looked at it. He was surprised to see a brownish liquid inside. Tiran twisted the cap off and took a whiff, "Whiskey!"

"Yup!" The stallion responded. "The best around these parts," the stallion beamed. "My brother distilled it himself!"

Tiran gazed at the bottle for a long moment. He hadn't had a drink in so long. Finally, it was at hand. His hand.

"Tiran, don't drink that." Ruwa warned. "You just almost died."

"More a reason to drink." Tiran upended the bottle and took a few long pulls, enjoying the warmth that it was returning to his body. "But just a few sips," he put the cap back on and placed it on the ground. Then he looked up at the stallion, "Thanks. It really is good stuff."

"Told ya!"

"Is your friend gonna be ok?"

The stallion looked back towards his buddy, "Him? Yeah, he'll be fine. A little more careful now, but ok. Still can't thank you enough, but we sould get going. We're late for our next stop."

Once the other stallion recovered enough, the two of them gathered packs and made to leave. With a final wave back to Tiran and Ruwa, they departed back down the river. Feeling better, Tiran moved himself to a nearby rock, setting the bottle of whiskey beside him and his armor out to dry.

Tiran wondered at their rushed departure. He would have expected some one going through the trauma of almost drowning to be a little less eager to move so quickly. He looked at the bottle of hooch they had given him and wondered if it wasn't some kind of illegal brew.

Ruwa was still mad at him. He could tell because she wouldn't say anything more to him, taking off to go get their packs and a towel instead. Tiran couldn't blame her. What he had done, while it saved a life, had been incredibly stupid and it had caused her to risk her life as well.

Still he wondered at that. Why had she cared so much? Enough to risk her own life like that by coming and getting him. After all, they were just traveling together. Barely past acquaintances as far as friendship went.

Li offered no insight. Mostly, she just agreed with Ruwa at how stupid he had been, risking both their continued existences like that.

Tiran sighed, at least he got a bottle of whiskey out of it. He took another pull from the bottle, relishing in the liquid's lent warmth. Sleeping wouldn't be so bad any more. Maybe the dreams would stop now, too. Hopefully.

Chapter 14: Change Of Plan

Ruwa was still mad. She refused to speak to Tiran unless it was necessary. Even then, it was in short, clipped sentences.

Tiran was used to the cold shoulder. He actually liked it when people left him alone. Even so, the silence between them was uncomfortable. Even tense.

They were about four hours into the day, inexorably marching on to their next stop. A small trading post lay up ahead, only a few more hours walk. If they kept the pace, they would make it there well before sundown. The idea in itself was heartening to tiran. He was willing to bet there would be hot food, even if there wouldn't be any meat.

God, he missed meat.

They marched on like this for a time. Ruwa silently leading the way while Tiran trailed behind. Tiran had a nice little buzz, more from his brush with death than from the whiskey.

The silence started to wear on Tiran after a while. He tried asking Ruwa more questions, but he got an angry huff as many times as he got continued silence. Eventually, Tiran settled for checking in on Li.

"Internal comms," he muttered, "Li, what's the update on the suit?"

'Most functions have recovered to optimal operating status. Water still detected in some sections, but effect is negligible.' she replied in her usual fluid internal voice.

"Good. Keep monitoring in case something goes south."

'I shall.' There was a pause. Then Li said, 'Your relationship with our guide is strained. I suggest you seek a resolution for the continued mutual benefit within the group.'

The un-requested advice from Li caught Tiran a little off guard. It was something she usually only offered for emergency situations. Not social interactions. It put him off, but he decided to ignore it for now and humor her. At least until he could figure out what was going on with her circuitry.

"I know. I've tried, but she's still mad. Don't know why. We're barely friends. But you know how it is with you females."

'I would not, considering I am not technically a female.' Li pointed out. 'However, I must agree with her that what you did was unnecessarily dull minded, whatever noble sentiments. Had it not been for her, neither of us would be functioning at the moment.'

Tiran sighed. She had been reminding him all morning. Li wasn't without a valid point and she had as much stake in his continued survival as he did. But sometimes he just didn't care. It wasn't that he was suicidal, at least Tiran didn't think he was. He just didn't see a point to being all that careful about life anymore, whatever the outcome.

He might have thought differently before the military had stripped him of nearly everything after the botched mission that was conveniently clouded with doubt and the loss of evidence. Nowadays, with the pressing weight of lost friends, past actions and the memories he so often tried to blot out with fermented goods; most of the time, he felt like he just wanted to lie down and go to sleep for a very long time. he didn't like it, but that's how it was.

Maybe that was the reason he'd taken Cherovic up on her offer. To try to pull himself out of that mode of thought, liberated by his return to flight, his return to the limitless sky. Fat chance now, with his current circumstance.

Overhead, rolling clouds began to boil, hinting at a coming shower. They had been gathering all morning since the incident by the waterfall. Something Tiran found odd given the clear nature of the skies when he had woken up.

In fact, the weather here constantly seemed strange to him. Especially around Ruwa. It made him think back to when he was cowering in the forest after his unfortunate landing.

The way the weather seemed to change around the same time that odd pony in the forest was ever around. The pony that Tiran was almost certain was Ruwa. He wanted to ask her, but thought better of it with current tensions.

As the roiling clouds came to a head, a light patter of rain began to fall. The drops surged and merged until it soon became a thick shower. Up ahead, Tiran heard Ruwa let out a frustrated grunt as she steered towards the shelter of the trees.

Against his wishes, Tiran followed, dreading the inevitable argument that was sure to arise with them stuck together waiting out the storm under a tree.

Ruwa found a spot for herself under a large oak, boughs so thick with leaves that the downpour was reduced to a mere trickle at its base, and plopped down with her back against the trunk. Watching his step in more ways than one, Tiran took his own seat a quarter of the way around the trunk from her, propping his back against the cool bark and setting his pack down beside him.

Tiran snuck a glance at Ruwa. She still seemed to be stewing, sitting with a scowl on her face while she wrung the water from her mane, giving her a heavy and tired look.

Wanting to let her cool off, Tiran dug through his bag and pulled out the archaic pistol he had brought with him from the storage shed. He had seen pictures of the old cartridge pistols before, even knew some people that collected them. The one he held looked nothing like any he had seen before, with its odd modifications and its streaked color scheme that seemed a part of the metal itself.

He ran his gauntleted fingers along the slide, contemplating his situation for the hundredth time in a year. First he loses his friends and his aircraft. Then he wakes up in a hospital with a new arm and nearly a third of his body replaced with synthetic parts, only to be found guilty of negligence and manslaughter only a few weeks later.

And now he was here.

Tossed into a world that technically shouldn't exist outside some mad quantum physicist's dream after being selected as Cherovic's Guinea pig. Sure, he had agreed to do it, but he was positive that it would have been forced upon him any way.

The only question Tiran had was; why him?

Why him instead of any of the other pilots that met the same qualifications? Hell, he could think of two others that had the same type of computer constructs wired into their brains that would have been a better pick. Not only had they never crashed or lost a crew member, but they were still in the service.

So why him?

"Hey, Tiran. Can I ask you a question?"

The sound of Ruwa's voice wrenched Tiran from his clouded thoughts. She was speaking to him again. That was good. Or it might be bad.

"Yeah, what's up?" he responded tentatively without looking her way.

It was a couple of seconds before she spoke again.

"I just... I just wanna know... well, how you're feeling." she managed to get out.

"How I'm feeling?"

Tiran risked a glance towards the pegasus slumped against the other side of the trunk. A small patter of water droplets fell from the boughs above them and soaked into her mane. She didn't seem to notice. she wasn't even looking towards him, just staring at the muddy ground in front of her.

"Yeah," she said. "I mean, you knew that jumping in there was probably going to kill you. So why do it? Why would you try to throw away your life like that?" Her voice dripped with melancholy, mixed with splashes of confusion.

Tiran quietly sighed and rested his head against the trunk, staring up and watching the shaking dance of the branches and leaves as they tried to divert the downpour of water. Somewhere in the distance, thunder could be heard rolling through the sky like boulders down a mountainside.

"I'm not really sure," he finally said, a lack of conviction creeping in his voice. "It was just something I felt ok with. Maybe it's because of how I was trained or..."

"Are all human's like that?"

The question blind sided Tiran and caused him to pause. It wasn't because of the wording or even the tone with which she asked. It was mostly because he already knew the answer, but he hadn't really thought about it until now.

No. Not all humans were like that. Even the ones that had been through the same experiences, the same losses, didn't quite act in the same way. It made him think.

"Not all, but a lot are," he lied, mostly to himself.

"Why? Are they that unhappy?"

Tiran grimaced. No, most people weren't. He himself hadn't been happy in a long time. Ruwa's questions were getting to him in a way he didn't like.

Tiran tried to spin the conversation in a different direction, "Look, It's not really about happiness in those situations. Some one's life was in danger and I needed to act. That was all there was to it. Make sense?" Tiran immediately winced at the short tone his voice took, but Ruwa didn't seem to notice.

"I guess so," she said. "Just... next time try to think it through, ok?"

"Ok."

Tiran waited for another question from her, but she remained silent. He didn't know wether or not she was still mad so he let her be. Tiran slouched down a little more against the trunk, letting the tension drain out of him.

He looked back up at the sky, the rain seemed to be letting up. The thunder sounded more distant and the droplets of water had subsided to a gentle sprinkle.

While waiting for the last of the storm to subside, Tiran took the time to fiddle with his helmet. He took it from his bag and pushed his head into it, securing the clasps until it was sealed and his HUD showed it was receiving power. Various displays began to boot up and project information onto his visor.

Tiran saw that the suit was reporting minor malfunctions here and there, but nothing that would seriously affect the function of the system as a whole. He saw there was a slow leak being reported in one of the hydraulic lines for his knee joint, but it could wait. His oxygen reserves were still full. Something he definitely could have used earlier.

Down in the right corner of his HUD, a warning lit up with a red flash for a split second before shutting itself off again. That was odd. Curious, Tiran called it back up.

It was the dosimeter. Normally only tracking the background radiation common everywhere, it now had a new red spike jutting up to just below the point of a harmful dose. Tiran looked around for a possible source and snuck a glance at Ruwa, she hadn't seemed to notice anything.

Shutting off the external speakers in his helmet, Tiran asked Li, "What was that just now?"

'If you are inquiring about the radiation spike, I have logged the anomalous event already.'

"Source?"

'Unknown.'

"Give me your best guess."

'Not enough data to accurately pinpoint, but the burst's strongest point appears to have originated in an area of high altitude to the north of our position.'

Li threw an arrow onto Tiran's HUD and he stared off in it's direction.

There was another flash, a brief spike, 'New data. Radiation profile matches that of the Cloudburst's reactor.'

Tiran felt his spine go rigid, "What!?"

'It appears to be moving.' Li added.

Tiran jumped to his feet, fighting down the small burst of panic that tried to eat its way into his brain.

'Detecting additional energy signatures.'

"What kind?"

'Unknown.'

"What are you doing?" Ruwa asked with befuddlement to Tiran's right.

Tiran's head snapped towards her, "I need to see what's above the cloud cover!" he said, pointing to the sky to the north.

Ruwa looked back at him funny, as if she couldn't understand his statement. Mentally kicking himself, Tiran realized the external speakers were still off and switched them back on, "Up there, I need to see what's above the cloud cover!" he repeated.

Ruwa looked to where he was pointing, then turned her head back to Tiran, a nonplused expression on her face.

"Up there? Why?"

"I just need to see what's up there," Tiran pleaded. "You can fly, right? Take a look for me. Please?"

Ruwa's confused expression continued for a moment. Then settled into a smirk.

"Ok, I'll go look," she said. "But you have to promise me something first."

Tiran stepped back, apprehension settling in his gut, "Promise you something?"

"Yes. I want you to promise me that you won't pull a stupid stunt like you did back at the falls again."

Behind his visor, Tiran cocked an eyebrow, "You want me to promise you that?"

"You want me to fly up there and take a look?"

Tiran sucked in a breath, "Ok, I promise, but only if our lives don't depend on it. Now can you please fly up there?"

Ruwa glared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed to slants. For a minute, Tiran didn't think she would agree, but then she turned, trotted out onto the road and leapt to the sky.

Tiran let go of the breath he didn't realize he had been holding and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. Ruwa quickly disappeared into the clouds, leaving the faintest dimple among the roiling sheet of gray. While he waited, cogs began to grind and turn in his mind.

What could the energy spike mean? The obvious was that his aircraft was up there, somewhere in the achromatic sky. The question was how. Had someone found it and fixed it up? It didn't seem likely if it was still leaking radiation.

That left another possibility. The possibility that some one had found it, but put it in some type of transport, to take it away. The thought made him shudder. Only one kind of organization would have the skills and resources to do that.

A government.

Ruwa returned a minute later. Tiran could feel the anticipation of her report in his chest, anxiety spreading in his chest like ice water before solidifying into cold stone.

She gently glided down through the congealing after-rain shower mist, fluttering her wings just before she touched down to steady her landing, "I don't know what you're worried about," she said. "Nothing up there but a big airship."

"An airship?" Tiran asked.

"Yeah, big one with huge cargo spaces for shipping."

Tiran felt the stone in his chest drop into his gut. He wasn't entirely familiar with what an airship was here, but he understood the concept. Somebody had plucked the remains of the Cloudburst from its mountainside grave and was now making off with their spoils to a place utterly unknown to him. Panic rose like bile in his throat, Tiran fought to keep it down.

"What's north of here?" he quickly asked.

Ruwa cocked her head to the side, her troubled expression showing Tiran that she wasn't particularly amused with his clipped questions, "Nothing really. Just more forest, couple rivers, some mountains...why?"

Tiran's mind raced, he barely heard her. What should he do? He still felt he needed to get to the capitol, if only to find answers, but he couldn't just let whoever had taken the Cloudburst get away with their prize.

No, he had to do something.

Stealing it back was out of the question, he didn't have the necessary equipment or skills to repair it or take it. He certainly couldn't just ask nicely for it back. That left only one other option for him. Total asset denial. But where would he get the explosives?

"Hello? Anypony in there?"

Ruwa's annoyance brought him back. Tiran looked back at the sandy maned pegasus and removed his helmet, his own bushy mane falling around his face. He really needed a hair cut. "Change of plans."

"Change of plans?" Ruwa's face scrunched up, "What do you mean, we aren't going to Canterlot anymore?" Her question was almost like an accusation.

"No, I need to follow that airship."

"But we're almost there!" she protested.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but it's just something I have to do. I understand if you don't wanna go," Tiran said, hefting his bag once more. "Thanks for taking me this far though. And...sorry, for the other thing."

Tiran started off, wondering if he could find his way through the dense forest that blocked the north side of the path or if he could find another path that went in that direction. Maybe back at the town, it wasn't very far back. He didn't get much farther than six steps when Ruwa trotted up next to him.

"Oh no you're not!" she said in a rough, smoldering tone. "You woudn't have even gotten this far without me, no way are you going to be able to follow that thing on your own."

"Ruwa..." Tiran started, but she cut him off.

"Nuh-uh. No," she shook her head at him in defiance, her voice solid now, unflinching. "You don't know the way, you don't even know exactly where you're going. Heck, you can't even go through a town without breaking a nervous sweat."

"Hey—"

"You go, I go too," she put with finality, walking ahead of him. "Especially after what happened."

"I can't even pay you for this!" Tiran called after her. "Plus this might get really dangerous!"

"I don't care!"

Tiran's shoulders slouched. he wasn't sure what he could say to deter her. He didn't know Ruwa well, but he knew that once she decided something, trying to dissuade her from it was like Li trying to talk him out of something stupid. He usually still did it.

Tiran ran the situation past Li almost as an after thought, 'I have no objection to it, she said almost as a statement.

"Of course you don't." Tiran said with empty disappointment. He pretty much expected her answer. "Half the time, I think you're on her side more than mine."

'She raises valid points.'

Tiran groaned, knowing that it was best not to argue at this point. It would be like arguing on the Net, it wouldn't get him anywhere and everyone would still be unhappy. So he let out a loose breath and started off after the pegasus.

Down in the bottom of his gut, he couldn't shake the feeling that this might not turn out right. It was like a knot of thick molasses, except without the sweetness.

* * *

Fire crackled among the logs, its cadence fighting with the chirping of crickets, in the pit Tiran had dug for it, lending warmth with a dancing light as he sat by it and tried to stomach what Ruwa had called 'oat cakes.' They were dry and flaky, compact and tough. He got the impression it was a food used only on travels like this one.

Ruwa wasn't far off, laying on her back amongst the grass and staring up at the night sky above. She had eaten her rations earlier, devouring them with a gusto that Tiran just couldn't manage. He had almost expected her to restart their earlier arguments, but she had instead decided to just lay back and relax.

Tiran welcomed the silence.

He fit the last crumbles of the starchy food into his mouth and chased them with a swig of water, sneaking a pull of the whiskey when Ruwa wouldn't notice. Soon, he found himself bored, but unwilling to strike up a conversation. He reached into his pack and pulled out his helmet again.
As he slipped it on, the ambient sounds of the sleeping forest vanished, replaced by only his breathing and the soft whir of his air system connecting and creating a sealed environment. The HUD flickered on a second later, blinking at him with statuses like Christmas lights.

Tiran shut them off with a mental flick and ordered the display to connect with the memory drive in his arm that housed Li, as well as many of his personal files. A menu flashed into his visor and he navigated to a set of folders that contained his music collection and selected a track with a slow, thoughtful measure.

As the song played a harmony of dulcet strings blended with an electronic melody, Tiran scanned through his files as much for something to do as for nostalgia's sake. He flipped through some old photos, him with his squadron buddies hanging out at bars, posing in front of aircraft and generally messing around and causing trouble.

Tiran felt his throat constrict when he spotted his old co-pilot, Ian, in a few of the pictures, but he fought it down with a chuckle brought on by the warm memories his friendship had brought. He remembered the time they had stopped off in a port in Australia and nearly drunk the town dry with the rest of their squadron, the night ending in a mad dash down darkened streets as they ran from a mob of angry Aussies after Ian had hit heavily on one of their girlfriends. They had eventually been caught, there was a fight, then a round of beers as after they had all beat each other senseless and bought each other drinks, letting by-gones be by-gones. It was an interesting place.

Tiran skimmed through a few more folders, looking for something else he could fondly reminisce on when something caught his attention. It was a folder he never remembered creating. It wasn't a default folder, because he had never seen it before.

The folder's label was also strange, consisting of nothing but scrambled letters and mathematical symbols. He tried to access it. It denied him, tossing him back out into the main menu. Not to be deterred, Tiran tried again, but with the same result. He found himself worried that it might be corrupted data.

Tiran was about to ask Li about it when he felt something plunk against his chest. He dropped the menu and closed out of the program, returning the visor of his helmet to its normal function as a visor.

Ruwa was staring at him. She made a motion with her hooves, putting them to her head and lifting them up, Tiran took it to mean that she wanted his helmet off so she could speak with him. All he could think was that this couldn't be good. He had hoped the tension from the day's events were behind them now.

With a sigh, Tiran lifted it off his head, "Yeah?"

"Didn't you hear that?" Ruwa said in a low whisper.

Tiran looked at her with puzzlement. On closer inspection, she looked startled. "Hear what?"

Ruwa responded only by glancing around the trees with a nervous uncertainty. Tiran shrugged and tried to listen. He didn't hear anything.

Then cold dread settled uncomfortably in his stomach. He couldn't hear anything.

No crickets, no rustling in the bushes by some random animal. Even the wind seemed to have fallen silent. It set Tiran on edge. He sat up, began to reach for the pistol on his thigh.

"Li—" he began to ask, but was silenced as something whizzed loudly through the far too close to his head. Tiran sprang up on reflex, "Ruwa, run!"

Chapter 15: Shock

Tiran ran, crashing through the dense underbrush. Occasionally, he heard a snap or whistle as something flew by his head. He looked around frantically, trying to spot Ruwa, but she was nowhere to be seen. Afraid that he had left her behind to get captured, Tiran slowed down and ducked around the thick trunk of a tree.

He peeked out from behind the trunk, but had to duck back as something thunked into the thick wood inches from his face. Curious, Tiran looked at the spot that had been struck and was surprised to see something sticking out of the bark. He plucked it from the trunk of the tree and held it in the moonlight for closer inspection.

It was a dart. A strange one, from the looks of it, made to be fired from a rifle. But why darts? Tiran suddenly felt something ping off the armor plate on his back, he had to move. Ducking low, Tiran dove into the underbrush and kept running. Something stung the back of his knee, where the suit was soft and flexible, but he didn't care.

Now he was really getting scared. His unseen adversaries seemed to be firing on him from everywhere, shadows in darkness. Tiran unclipped his pistol and hefted it up, unsure if he actually wanted to use it. So far, whoever it was that was hunting him down were using non-lethals, but it might not remain that way when they caught him.

Tiran's breathing was becoming labored, his thoughts sluggish. Whatever poison was now coursing through his veins was starting to take his toll. Suddenly, he tripped over an unseen rock and went sprawling down, earning a mouth full of dead leaves and other detritus.

He picked himself up and crawled over to a nearby tree and sat down with his back to it, waving his pistol around wildly. Where was Ruwa? Had she gotten away? Tiran didn't know, he could only hope. Another dart struck the ground in front of him, Tiran squeezed off a few shots in fright, his pistol kicking back and expelling small bursts of sparks as the powerful magnets inside launched their deadly projectiles.

It went silent. Uncomfortably so, for what felt like minutes, though it could only have been seconds. Now Tiran could only hear the gentle swish of a night breeze through the trees. A cricket chirped somewhere. A twig snapped somewhere, to Tiran's right. He swung his pistol over to face the threat, but his sight was met with only more darkness.

Something whined through the air and Tiran felt something sharp force its way into the soft flesh of his neck. He hastily brushed it off and saw one of the darts tumble down his chest and onto the soft earth. A strange tingling sensation began to spread from the spot on his neck, working its way down to his chest and up into his head.

Beside him, Tiran heard the crunch of the leaves as some one walked over to him. Tiran tried to look up at the strange figure, but his sight was failing him fast, the muscles in his neck becoming lazy and doughy, all he could make out was a misshapen blob. His head began to loll as he lost the strength to hold it up, slumped against the tree.

"Damn, he really gave us a run for our money." The words were distant to Tiran, as if they echoed from a long ways away. The blob turned to something behind it, "You ok, ya get hit?"

"No," came the answer, "he just nicked me. Lucky shot, no way he knew where we were."
"Wouldn't have made that shot if you had hit him the first time." A third voice teased.
"Hey, I still got 'im, didn't I?"

"All right, wrap him up and stow him." The first figure said as the second moved around to Tiran's side. "And make sure to keep him out of sight of the female, she seems a bit distraught."

"Copy that, we taking her too?"

"Yep, looks like our Princess has some questions for them both..."

Tiran fought to stay awake, fought to listen more, but the toxins were taking their toll. His eyes fluttered shut and he no longer had the energy to try and open them again. As a warm blanket of sleep began to descend upon him, Tiran felt himself being bound up once again.

* * *

Tiran's consciousness came back in a fog. At first, he couldn't remember anything. Where he was, when he was, even who he was. When it came back to him, it was slowly, in steps.

He remembered his name, Tiran, yes, that was it. He was a pilot. He crashed. Ended up somewhere, somewhere foreign. No, it was different. Not foreign, something else...otherworldly. The shock, realization. Things he had previously thought to be imaginary, before him in the flesh.

Ruwa. The strange pegasus creature. No, not a creature. A person, but not human. Where was he? He felt his right arm chained to something. The house, he was captured. The basement? No, this was different. Why was he here?

As the drugs wore off, things began to flood back into Tiran's mind. Traveling, from the town. The incident at the waterfall, the aguement with Ruwa, the airship, sitting at the fire, an attack, materializing from the darkness. Ruwa! Where was she? Was she ok? Tiran needed to find out, it was all his fault. He should of seen it coming. Li, where was she? He couldn't feel her presence. Was she powered down?

He was wearing something, not his suit. Some kind of robes, clean, soft. Tiran looked at the table in front of him. It was stainless steel. The room was concrete, three gray featureless walls with a floor and ceiling to match. An interrogation room.

Tiran needed to get out. He yanked on his chains, surprised as he found his right side was free. Why was that? Tiran looked down at his shoulder and flinched. He did a double take. His arm was gone. The broken and battered frame of his limb was missing, and Li along with it. All that remained was the scarred and lumpy flesh surrounding the metal socket and dangling wires that was what was left of his shoulder.

A series of clicks, like a key being inserted into its lock. A turn, a click, then a clang as the lock released its relentless hold. Tiran heard a door open behind him. It sounded heavy and it squealed on iron hinges. With a bang, it swung shut again and the lock clicked back into place. The hooves again, approaching him. Some one came to the edge of his vision, but stopped, denying Tiran the identity of his captor.

Tiran was getting more of the vibe from the person that the room gave off. This was an interrogation. Tiran reverted to his training, tongue still thick from the drugs, "Tiran, Lieutenant, United States Navy," he said mechanically.

The person behind him seemed to pace about, sharp hooves clacking on the concrete floor. "Officer, huh? You look a little young for that, care to elaborate?"

"Tiran, Lieutenant, United States Navy," was Tiran's answer.

"Guess you're not much of a talker. I know the gist kid, you don't have to tell me. We're trained much the same way." The sound of hooves moved off to Tiran's left.

A stallion came into view, dark rusty red coat, a horn sprouting from the top of a short electric blue mane. He moved around to the other side of the table and took a seat in a metal chair opposite of Tiran. Tiran tried not to betray his amazement as a faint blue aura sprung from the grim stallion's horn and engulfed the manila folder. It slid towards the stallion, even as it opened, allowing him to examine the contents.

"That was a very specialized looking piece of equipment we found up on the mountain." The stallion looked up, reading Tiran's face. "I would imagine that you are its pilot. Had a little trouble, huh?" When Tiran didn't respond, the stallion continued, "That's some interesting technology, far more advanced than we've encountered before. Not to mention that suit and the pistol you had on you. Very interesting stuff. I gotta ask, exactly how far have you advanced?"

When Tiran remained silent, the stallion shrugged, "That's ok, we'll find out soon enough. We have your aircraft, you know. Plus, the female has already told us plenty."

Tiran went rigid. They had Ruwa, who ever these guys are. He wondered what she had told them. Hoping that it wasn't anything he couldn't explain away or deny. Tiran strained to remain passive, the stallion seemed to be watching for any hint of a reaction. Tiran wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Behind Tiran, the door opened and closed again. The stallion looked up and another pony entered Tiran's view, this one a mare. She was wearing what looked like a lab coat and leaned in close to the stallion, whispering into his ear.

The stallion's face betrayed him, but just for a split second, something like surprise then disbelief flashing across his face before quickly switching back to the stoic, emotionless expression he had been wearing. The mare in the lab coat excused herself, Tiran wincing slightly as the door clanged loudly behind her.

The stallion, leaned into the table, forelegs resting on the edge as he scrutinized Tiran's face. His eyes narrowed and flicked about wildly, taking in all of Tiran's facial curves and angles before finally coming to rest on his eyes. Tiran thought he saw a flicker of confusion mixed with recognition in the stallion as he leaned back and gathered up the folder with the same strange energy as before.

"We'll talk again later," the stallion said in a short tone and left room, the door once again squealing open and clanging loudly as it closed.

Tiran heard the lock click back into place and the room fall silent. Almost immediately, he began shaking at the chain on his arm, attempting to wiggle the manacle loose on his wrist. He wasn't very successful, the workmanship was solid. He tried getting up from the chair, only to find that he was chained to it as well and the chair bolted to the floor. Whoever these people were, they didn't mess around. The whole set-up looked as if it were designed to hold some one a lot stronger than him.

He wished Li was there with him, she would know what to do. Or, at the very least, know what to say in order to comfort him. Tiran really didn't know how he was going to get out of this one.

Tiran waited for what seemed like hours in his little cell, silently counting to himself and making speculations as to what was going on. Occasionally, he stiffened up as he heard more steps outside his door, but no one ever came in. He was contemplating trying to sleep again when he heard a multitude of steps stop just outside his door.

Tiran listened, almost holding his breath so he could hear better. There was some kind of muffled argument, the sound just barely making it through the thick iron door. He recognized the stallion's voice. There was another, the one he was arguing with. It sounded female.

For a split second, Tiran allowed himself to believe that it might be Ruwa. He longed to see a friendly face, even if it was one that was so foreign to him. But as he listened more, Tiran realized that it wasn't her. The tone was more authoritative, the syllables much more rounded. Whoever it was, they were used to giving orders.

Tiran sat up straight as he heard the lock disengage again. The door opened and Tiran heard two pairs of hoof steps enter, but only one continued, the other set halting just inside the door. A dark, sparkling blue appeared at the right edge of Tiran's vision. He turned to look and almost had to lean back at what he saw.

It was another pony, but this one far larger than any Tiran had yet encountered, she was almost as large as a horse. Her midnight blue mane twinkled and glittered as if it were filled with a multitude of stars and it wavered about as if it were being toyed with by a gentle summer breeze, though Tiran was sure there was no ventilation in this space. Her coat was just as dark and hinted at the calmness of night. Upon her head, a crown of obsidian rested against a delicate spiraling horn, her back graced with large feathery wings held regally aloft.

As she made her way to the other side of the table, the chair leapt back to the wall, seemingly of its own accord, the large mare taking its previous place. She stood there, gazing down at Tiran with big eyes the color of liquid teal. She blinked a few times, fixing Tiran in an odd stare. At first, he though she almost looked like the shadow in the cloud from his dreams, the old memories that haunted him like spectres. But that couldn't be right, she wasn't there, not that night, and he'd never seen her before. How could she have shown up in his dream?

"Lieutenant Tiran, I presume?" Her voice was soft and kind, yet commanding. "I apologize for your rough treatment as of late, but my operatives had to be sure you couldn't be a threat."

Tiran tried to glance to his rear, but couldn't look all the way around. He was sure the stallion from before was back there, watching him. He redirected his attention back to the large crowned pony as she started to speak again.

"I'm sure this is very traumatic, but please trust us, we are just trying to get to the bottom of things. Is there anything I can do for you to make you feel more comfortable?" she asked sincerely.

Tiran glanced at the empty socket of his shoulder, "You can give me my arm back," he said in a flinty tone.

The mare across from Tiran eyed his shoulder with one large teal iris. "Ah, yes. I apologize, but it was an extremely pecular device. Rest assured, it is in good hooves, I have one of our best working on examining it." She tilted her head ever so slightly as another thought came to mind, "That piece of machinery is quite beautifully mastered, I might add, would you please tell me where you acquired it?"

Tiran kept up his stare, "Tiran, Lieutenant, United States Navy." he once again droned.

"Hmm... yes, I have heard of your reluctance to reveal much else," she mused. "A Lieutenant." She repeated to herself. "Tell me, why so young? You appear to be in your early twenties, if I'm not mistaken."

"One makes rank pretty fast when everyone else is dying." Tiran allowed that much to slip wryly past his lips.

Tiran had intended for that to shock her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. If anything, she seemed even more interested in him as some kind of specimen. "Interesting," was all she murmured.

"Perhaps you would be more comfortable speaking with me if we knew one another better," the mare continued. "I know you to be Lieutenant Tiran; the pilot of a rather strange aircraft we recovered from the Smokey Mountain some days ago." Tiran shuffled uncomfortably in his chair at hearing that information. "I don't expect you to know exactly who I am," she went on, "but you should be aware." The pony drew in a large breath and rose to her full height, "I am Princess Luna of Equestria, ruler of the night and Head of Equestria's Royal Special Tasks Group." Then in a just as firm, yet kinder tone, she said, "Tiran, I know how this may look to you, especially given the nature of your retrieval, but we are not your enemy. We are here to help."

It was quite a speech. Tiran watched her the whole time, trying to find some flaw, some chink in the armor of her facial expression as she talked, but he could find none. Li might have been able to tell him, being possessive of software for just such analysis. For the second time, he wished she were still with him.

"What about Ruwa?" Tiran finally said, letting this Princess Luna hear the threat in his voice, "If you have done anything to hurt her..."

Luna's lips remained a tight, thin line, but one of her eyebrows arched, "Oh? Tell me, Tiran, do you have feelings for her?"

That caught Tiran off guard, he nearly sputtered as he tried to speak again, "W-what? N-no, no, I mean..." Tiran took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, raising his head and looking the Princess in the eye, "She's been a very good friend to me," he told her in a low voice. "When I came here, she fed me and offered to guide me, even though I was a complete stranger. So you better be treating her well, is all I'm saying."

Luna seemed to smile, almost imperceptibly so. "Rest assured," she acquiesced, "even now, she is being well cared for. Ruwa is lodged in one of the empty Officer's Quarters, getting the rest she deserves after such a trying night." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Would you like to visit her?"

Tiran very much wanted to do just that, if only to be sure she was ok. But he didn't want to show as much, not to these people. "In time, sure. But first, I want my friggin' arm back," he demanded.

Luna smiled and slowly blinked, "Of course." She walked around the table heading back for the door, "I shall have you moved to more accomodating quarters in the meantime. Rest up, Lieutenant. We shall have to speak again. Commander Sparks!"

"Yes ma'am!" barked the gruff voice of the stallion who had been standing guard.

"In my quarters, please, we must discuss the ramifications of the blood test results."

The door slammed behind them and Tiran heard no more. About half an hour later, another stallion entered the interrogation room and began to release Tiran from his shackles. Tiran briefly entertained the notion of escape, but swatted it down quickly as he turned to leave. There were two more stallions at the door, unicorns in a dark patterned uniform with weapons held at the ready. Tiran did his second double take of the day as he saw what they were wielding. Hovering at their sides were ancient looking pistols of similar design to Tiran's own inherited sidearm.

One of the stallions caught Tiran eyeing the weapon and gave him a threatening look, but otherwise did nothing. They led Tiran through darkened halls, lit only by strange flamless balls of glass, the slap of Tiran's bare feet mixing with the echos of the hooves of his escort. Moments later, they took him through what looked to be the passages pf a lab. He lingered a moment as he studied the odd surroundings. It earned him a hard shove in the back, thowing him off balance.

"Hey!" he spat harshly at the culprit.

"Yeah yeah, keep moving," came the bored reply.

They passed through four more corridors and climbed two flights of stairs before finally coming to their destination. At least, Tiran assumed it was, as his escort stopped him in front of a thick wooden door and gestured for him to open the door. Tiran did so, reching out and depressing the heavy iron handle.

The door swung heavily open to reveal a spartan little room. Tiran stepped onto the hard wood floor inside, examining what he assumed was now his quarters. Before he could look at everything, the door behind him slammed closed and let out a heavy thock as the deadbolt engaged. Tiran made a mental note to remember that this was more likely just another place to keep him locked up in. He was still their prisoner rather than their guest, it seemed.

Still curious about his new accomodations, Tiran wandered around the room. There was a small bed, just big enough for him to comfortably lie in. Against the far wall was a desk carved from oak, sitting adjacent to a small, plain window. Tiran went over to the window and opened it up. He leaned over the sill and gazed all around, taking a small involuntary gulp when he looked down.

He couldn't even see the ground, instead there was just a sea of pale gray as the moon reflected off the back of a sea of clouds. Wind howeled, clawing at his head, and when he looked to his right, he saw that the structure he was now imprisoned in was most likely sitting on the side of a very high mountain. The wall around him was completely featureless, except for a small balcony to his left that he didn't have access to.

Tiran pulled himself back inside and closed the window, feeling the room instantly grow warmer. Besides the bed and the desk was a low coffee table and two other doors. One was already ajar, and he could see it opened into the head, but the other was curiously locked. Tiran jiggled the handle a few times to be sure, but to no avail.

There was a small knock at his door, followed by the lock being opened. Tiran jumped back as the heavy oak door swung open and a cart forced its way through. A demure little earth pony in a maid's uniform followed in close behind it, looking rather unimpressed with the one-armed human standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a robe and a bewildered expression. She quickly removed two covered trays and a pitcher of water, setting them on the coffee table, and pulled the cart back out into the hall, closing and locking the door behind her.

Tiran waited a moment, in case there were any more surprises, then ambled over to the table. He picked the cover off one of the trays, revealing a small assortment of food. There was a note tucked into an envelope by the plate, Tiran took it out and read it.

Mr. Tiran,

It has been quite some time before we have had to accomodate one of your unique eating habits, so please do not be too displeased with the selection. I know your kind requires a heavy amount of protien in their diets, so I've had our chefs prepare suitable substitutes for your consumption. I think you may find the soy steaks to be to your liking, our chefs are very skilled. If you require anything else, feel free to ask the guards stationed just outside your door. I shall return to visit you in a few hours, eat and rest until then.

Her Royal Highness,

Princess Luna

Tiran made a sour face and crumpled up the note, tossing it into a waste basket in the corner. So there were guards outside his door. That just confirmed his suspicions about still being a prisoner. A prisoner with a very luxurious cell by standards, but a prisoner none the less.

Tiran tried the food anyway and actually found it to be quite delicious, not much different from the meat substitutes back home actually, but a lot tastier. He had been hoping for real meat, but seeing its inhabitants, he really shouldn't have expected it. Tiran guessed a mostly vegetarian meal wouldn't be too bad, as long as he didn't have to stick with it forever. The other tray contained some pastries, he left those alone for the most part.

He ate his fill and washed it down with a few glasses of water, then flopped down on the relatively soft linens of the bed. Tiran pondered his situation. One moment, he was hiking through the wilderness with a strange mare, then he was getting hunted down by ghosts in the dark, only to end up being held captive in a mountainside fortress by a magic flying princess that may or may not control the moon. It was a lot to take in.

Still, he knew it wouldn't do to dwell on it and try to make sense of it all. Tiran took Li's old advice and just went with it, hoping it would all work out. In no time, he was soundly knocked out, deep in a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Just as he finally got himself straightened out, the lock disengaged and the door swung open, "You did not have to knock that hard." Luna chastised one of the guards as she strode in.

"My apologies, ma'am," the guard replied, returning to his post.

With a swish of her horn, Luna magicked the door closed, leaving Tiran standing alone in the room with her awkwardly. Luna was the first to speak, "Mr. Tiran, I trust you are well rested?"

"Please, just call me Tiran. A-and yes... thank you," he stammered out.

"Ah, I'm pleased to hear that, Tiran." Luna took a few steps toward Tiran, causing him to back up cautiously. She noticed, "Please, Tiran, I come bearing gifts." Her horn began to glow, causing a bag that was slung over her side to unclasp and open. Tiran watched in reserved awe as his arm came floating out, good as new, along with a few sets of clothing. "I believe your limb is now fully repaired, though I must say, it posed a considerable challenge to my talented engineer," she said as Tiran grabbed it out of the air.

He immediately sat down on the bed and began to fit it onto his shoulder, ensuring all the connections were solid. "Why was it a challenge?" he asked innocently as he worked.

"Well, beside the level of technology and the phisiology of your arm involved, once activated, it displayed a few...quirks, for lack of a better word."

Tiran made the last connection and smiled as it powered up. Through his neural implant, he could feel Li's presence as his body began to feed power to her, allowing her to awaken. "Quirks?" Tiran asked, curious as to what the Princess meant.

"Yes, when power was applied to it for testing, it immediately tried to run away with... well, with its fingers." Luna told him with an odd expression.

"What?" Tiran was a little confused, he had never had that happen to him before.

"Yes, it was very odd. It was if your limb was possesed by a deranged spirit. It took nearly all night for them to catch it."

"I am not 'deranged', as you so eloquently put it."

Luna nearly jumped away from Tiran, her face betraying a hint of fear and surprise for but the briefest moment. Tiran was almost as surprised, he hadn't expected Li to come online quite so quickly. On the other hand, he was amused at continuing shock he was getting from others at the sound of her speaking.

"It speaks!" Luna exclaimed as she was backing away.

Tiran rolled his eyes, ignoring Luna and talking to Li as he moved his arm through its full range of motions, "That wasn't nice to do Li."

"Neither is poking around in some one's body and then insulting them." Li shot back.

"Still, you should've let me introduce you first. In fact, I was considering not even telling them, but now you've gone and fouled it up. Oh, and what is this about you making my arm crawl around like a spider?" Tiran demanded.

"It is a program I wrote that allows me to take direct control of your artificial limb in the event of our separation and/or your incapacitation and I needed to escape with classified information, did I not explain this to you before?"

That caused Tiran to pause. She had most certainly not told him about this. That and it wasn't like her to remember something that never happened, not even mentioning the fact that she had written and executed a program all on her own withut his prompting. Tiran filed the thought away for later processing and turned to the Princess that was nearly backed up to the door and giving his arm the evil eye.

Tiran huffed in exasperation, "Your, uh... Highness, is it?" Luna simply nodded in the affirmative, eyes wide. "This is Li," Tiran said dryly, "My partner."

"And certainly not deranged." Li insisted, causing Tiran to roll his eyes again.

"Wh-wha... w-what is she?" Luna managed to stutter uncharacteristically. Tiran actually found it pretty amusing, though he didn't show it.

"I am a construct. An artificial intelligence, designed to assist Tiran in his duties and daily life." Li explained, taking the initiative.

"How is that... how is that possible." Luna seemed to still hardly believe it.

"I know, she's a complicated piece of work and it still doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but then again, neither does most of the things that exist here in your plane of existence," Tiran said. "So I guess we're about even."

"Oh, um... ok..." Luna was left speechless.

This was tickling Tiran to no end. He, by way of Li, had a monarch, ruler of an entire kingdom, at a loss for words. Tiran mentally crossed it off his bucket list with a soft chuckle. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of guilt for causing his captor to go into a state of shock.

But just a little bit.

"Listen, Princess? I'm actually really grateful for all you've done for me so far, feeding me and repairing my arm and all," Tiran said as he picked up a glass of water with his prosthetic and took a sip. "But I gotta ask why I've been treated so roughly during my capture if you're really not my enemy, like you said earlier."

Tiran's kind words and calm and even tone seemed to throw a switch in Luna's head. With a shake of her head, she returned to political mode, "Oh, uh, yes. I must apologize, but we had to ensure our safety, as well as yours."

"That was a pretty strange way of doing it." Tiran commented dourly.

"Yes, and again, apologize, but we had to be sure of your intentions."

"My intentions?" Tiran said incredulously. "Lady, I wanna go home!"

"In the past, that was not the case with your kind." Luna put softly.

"Yeah I heard about them, the other humans."

Tiran's remark drew an astonished look from Luna, "You have?"

"Yeah," Tiran went on, reaching for a pastry from the plate that had arrived hours earlier, "there were three of them. Heard they helped you guys out a lot."

Luna smiled slightly, but it soon began to turn into a frown, "Yes, that is true. The three you've heard of had been a great assistance. However, there was a fourth."

Tiran paused with a pastry half way between the plate on the table and his mouth. He put the pastry back down and looked directly at Luna, "There was a fourth?"

Luna's expression went grim, "Yes, by all accounts, probably the first. But he was a cruel and terrible man. His heart thirsted not but for death, destruction and the conquering of our kingdom." Tiran could almost here the hate in her voice. "However, fortunately," her voice seemed to cool somewhat, "he was repelled and defeated."

"Ugh," Tiran grimaced, "Not really the best first impression, is it?"

For the first time, Tiran heard Luna laugh. It was strange, the way her chuckle burbled out, like the patter of rain in the night, "No, I suppose it is not." Tiran chuckled a little himself, though he made him feel uncomfortable. "But good thing for your species, he was not the first we encountered."

"He wasn't?"

"No. In fact, I was hoping you might know who it was we met first. He must have been a great man even in your world. I'm sure you would be very proud of him."

Tiran felt confused. How was he supposed to know some guy he'd never met? "I'm sorry, I think you might've made a mistake. How could I know this guy, I wasn't here thirty years ago. I wasn't even born!"

Now Luna looked confused, "You don't know him? But how could you not know of your own family?"

Chapter 16: And Awe

"Tiran, close your jaw."

Tiran snapped out of it and clenched his jaw shut. What did she mean 'his own family'? Most of his family was dead, or at least dead to him. What in hell could she actually be talking about?

"I'm sorry, Princess, but you've lost me there. There is no way, and I mean no way, anyone I know has been here." Tiran said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Are you not related to a Mr. Kaughn?" Tiran froze at the name. Luna mistook it for further incomprehension, "Commander James Kaughn, formerly of the United States Navy, a 'SEAL', I believe they were called. Enlisted petty officer until we promoted him. He helped us form the RSTG. Tiran?"

"Y-you absolutely sure?"

"Quite sure." Luna smiled.

"Li?"

"Wait one.... analysis shows that she is speaking the truth, or at least believes she is." Li reported.

"That's not possible..." Tiran focused back on Luna, "You said he was my Great Uncle Kaughn?"

Luna frowned, "Great Uncle?"

"Yeah, Great Uncle, he disappeared nearly a hundred years ago! How the hell could he have been here just thirty years ago!?"
Luna looked concerned. Clearly, she had not expected to hit such a snag. She looked away in thought, briefly returning to study Tiran's angry face.

"Excuse me," Luna said after a moment, turning towards the door, "I must discuss this new information with somepony." She halted at the door, on the cusp of opening it, and turned to Tiran once more, "While I'm gone, is there anything you might need?"

"Yeah," Tiran said angrily as he stood up, "I want to see Ruwa. And my aircraft, I was told you had it," he beamed rage at her through narrowed eyes.

Luna paused in thought, "Ruwa should be waking soon, you can speak to her then. As for your aircraft... I shall see what I can do."

With that, she opened the door and exited, closing it gently behind her. Tiran sat back down as soon as he heard the lock click. He put his head in his hands, what the hell did all this mean? She couldn't have known those names, not unless... Tiran didn't want to think about it.

All his life, Tiran's distant relatives—and he did mean distant, by his standards—had told him that he came from a family of cowards and scumbags, worthless people all. Then his grandfather came and took him in, gave him a home, told him stories, grand stories, of his ancestors and their great deeds. They lived happily like that for a time. Then the police came...

Turned out his relatives didn't exactly appreciate their paycheck getting taken from them.

Tiran didn't like to think about that time in his life, about how he was tortured for the name he had inherited. But he remembered the stories. He remembered how they made him feel, what they made him want to do. He applied for OCS not long after he got his degree and from there to flight school with the intent of getting as far away from his relatives as possible. He succeeded too, landing himself in the middle of one of the hottest war zones in the world. Not that that was worse than the alternative in his mind.

Rubbing his head, Tiran went to the bathroom and wiped his face down in the sink. When he looked back up, there was something else in those steely blue eyes of his that he hadn't seen in a long time. Real hurt, real hatred. Real rage. Tiran really didn't like to bring up the past.

Seeking a distraction, Tiran eyed his prosthetic. It looked a little off. The synthetic skin looked realistic enough and he was surprised they were able to make any of it. All the joints worked fine, smoother than before in fact. This engineer that the Princess had mentioned was definitely worth his salt.

It almost worked too smoothly. It was almost like Tiran had never lost the limb at all. The skin was even wrinkled in just the right way. He laughed as he walked back into his room, twisting his faux digits into ever more intricate patterns.

Light began to enter the window now, growing as he laughed at the antics of his newly repaired limb. "Tiran?" He stopped, went still and listened. Where had that come from? "Tiran, is that you?"

Tiran cast his eyes around, "Ruwa?"

"Tiran! That is you! Hey, where are you at anyway?"

Tiran smiled, "I'm not sure, all I know is that I'm locked in here!"

"Wait a minute, lemme try something..."

The room went silent again as Ruwa focused on some unseen task. Tiran waited a few moments, nothing happened, but he did hear a door open and close somewhere. He eyed the bed, the pile of clothes was still there. Curiosity blossomed in his head and he went to inspect them.

They were fairly plain. Just a few light T-shirts and what looked to be the approximate of jeans. There socks too, soft and wooly. Tiran even found a pair of boots at the foot of the bed, made out of some thick, durable cloth that he almost mistook for leather were it not for the coarse fibers sticking out here and there.

When Tiran tried them on, he found they fit wonderfully. Tiran tapped the side of his cheek with a finger, wondering when they had time to get his measurements. Then he remembered he had woken up in some kind of gown and without his suit, he decided he didn't really need to know anymore.

Tiran dropped the robe and began to put on the clothes. At first, he though they would be starchy and scratchy, like all new clothes were, but they went on like silk. The feeling of the clothing was at great contrast with how plain and ordinary it looked.

It took a moment for him to get dressed as he had to get used to his arm working at full functionality again, but he managed to pull his pants on along with some socks. He was about to pull the shirt over his head when he heard a door open and close again, but this time it was quickly followed by the jingling of keys. Tiran whipped his eyes to the locked door he had tried the other night, just as the lock clicked and the portal flew open.

"Tiran!"

Ruwa practically flew through the door, in fact, she did; flapping through and gliding straight into Tiran, flashing a bright smile. Tiran stumbled back in an attempt to keep his balance as she wrapped her forelegs around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

"Are you ok? They wouldn't let me see you after they brought us here, I was so scared, I'm still not even sure where we are!" she rattled off with nervous energy. "But can you believe it, Princess Luna is here! I even spoke to her!"

"Ruwa..."

"I wonder if there's gonna be a feast, I-am-famished! They brought me some food last night, but all all that running..."

"Ruwa—"

"Oh, Tiran, your arm, it's fixed! Wow, it looks just like your other arm, does it work, can you show me?"

"Ruwa!" Ruwa's mouth snapped shut and she pushed herself back a little, looking up at Tiran's gray-blue eyes with her icy blue-green ones. "Ruwa," Tiran said in a gentler tone, "I'd love to catch up, but can I please get dressed first?"

Ruwa glanced down at Tiran's torso, then back up. Then back down again, blushing, before pushing herself away, "Ohmygosh, I'm so sorry!" she sputtered, averting her eyes and retreating towards the chairs by the coffee table.

Tiran rolled his eyes and picked the shirt up off the floor. He pulled it on and went for the boots, tying them up to mid-calf. They were snug and fit well, but he would get a few blisters before they were broken in.

All buttoned up, Tiran moved over to the table and sat down, eyeing the open door to the other room as he did so. Ruwa hesitantly looked up in his direction, smiling when she saw he was now completely dressed, "Oh, good," she breathed. "So how are you doing?"

Tiran poured a glass from the half-empty pitcher of water and offered it to her. She took it and he spoke as he poured himself one, "Good, really good, actually."

"They didn't hurt you? When I realized who they were, gosh, I was so worried!"

"Nah, just a couple of bruises," Tiran assured her. "Besides, I got my arm fixed." He held it up and began writhing it around in the air for Ruwa to see.

"Oh, nice!" She said as she admired the odd mechanical contraption. "Pretty cool how it looks just like your other arm."

"Yeah," Tiran agreed, "almost like it never happened..."

"Like what happened?" Ruwa stared at Tiran, expecting an answer.

Instead, Tiran cleared his throat and changed the subject, "Um, nothing. Now I got a question for you..." he said with a grin. Ruwa's eyebrows arched up in question as she took a sip of water. Tiran glanced at the open door again, "That room over there, it's unlocked?"

Ruwa followed Tiran's eyes, "That one? Yeah, I just unlocked it."

"Really?" Tiran looked more closely into the room. Could he use it to make an escape?

"Yeah," Ruwa continued, "but they locked the door to the hallway behind me."

"Oh..." Tiran's shoulders slumped and his face twisted in frustration, "So, they're locking you in your room too?"

"Huh?" Ruwa cocked an eyebrow at him quizzically, "Oh, no. Why would they do that? Besides, that's not my room, I'm in the one down the hall right now."

"What? Then why were you in the room next to mine?"

"Because I was exploring!" Ruwa smiled. "Why, you want me to move in next door?" She said teasingly with a wink.

Tiran grinned inwardly and rubbed his face with his new hand, peeking at Ruwa with one eye through a gap in his fingers, "No. No, trust me, you're fine where you're at."

"Too bad," Ruwa stuck her tongue out at him, "I going to anyway. Room's bigger." She said by way of explanation. "Looks like we'll be here a while, might as well get comfortable."

Tiran pulled his face out of his hand and gave Ruwa a look, "Don't you wanna go back home? I mean, I'm here now, where I wanted to get to, wherever here is. You don't need to be stuck with me anymore."

Ruwa gave Tiran a wry grin, "At first I thought so, yeah. But you've got some crazy ponies after you. Who woulda thought they'd send an RSTG team to track you down? Plus, Princess Luna's interest in you. Besides, I think you need a friend."

It was true, Tiran couldn't deny that. Events seemed to be unfolding around him very quickly. Strange ones at that. Also, Ruwa was right, he did need a friend right now, and she was the only one he had here.

Tiran raised his glass and clinked it against Ruwa's, who smiled. "Well, to friendship then." Then he glanced at his room's door to the hallway, "Hey, think room service serves alcohol?"

Ruwa's smile grew, "Only one way to find out."

* * *

"Tiran, please refrain from imbibing too much alcohol, you may become sick." Li warned in her usual tone.

"I'll be fine, Li, I just had one, one beer." Tiran said out loud as he took another sip and studied the scenery below him.

The clouds from the night before had dissipated, allowing the sunlight to shine down onto the land below. From where Tiran was standing, it was quite a sight, leaning over the railing and gazing down at the sprawling hills and forest that receded into the distance. If he focused and ignored the cool wind that blew from time to time, Tiran could almost believe he was flying, being this high up.

"It has been a long time since you've had a drink, Tiran. That, coupled with the loss of body fat from the past few weeks of malnutrition greatly lowers your tolerance."

"Listen to the lady, Tiran, you're a lightweight!" Ruwa teased.

Tiran smiled sourly at the pegasus leaning against the rails a few feet away from him with her head resting on her hooves. She smiled back, then returned her attention to the world below, watching the occasionally errant cloud crawl into their vision before scurrying away on the winds. Not for the last time, Tiran wondered why she stuck with him.

He knew that if some strange man of a foreign species had suddenly shown up in his neighborhood asking for help, he would have been more inclined to ignore him. Then why was this mare helping him? As far as he could tell, she wasn't benefiting from it, or not directly at least.

"What's with the stare?"

Tiran snapped out of it, realizing he had zoned out and was still looking towards Ruwa. She was looking back at him with a light look of concern on her face. Tiran quickly realized how weird he must have seemed just then.

"Sorry, just kinda got lost in thought," he offered, looking away into the sky.

"Like about what?"

Tiran cringed inside. He hadn't expected a follow up question. What was he gonna tell Ruwa, that he was suspicious of her? He needed a deflection.

"I was just wondering, why don't you ever fly, I mean, you're a pegasus, right? You got wings."

Ruwa scowled, "Hey, I fly plenty!"

"Maybe," Tiran said, rolling with it, "but I've only seen you glide a few times, besides that one quick flight." Ruwa just continued to scowl, looking away and mumbling something under her breath. "What?" Tiran couldn't hear her.

"I said, I can't really fly that well!" she spat out.

Tiran almost flinched, "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's ok." Ruwa said with a resigned sigh. "You were probably gonna find out sooner or later." She looked away, focusing on some far-off object.

Tiran took a few more gulps from his beer and set it down on the stone table behind him. He was looking at Ruwa in a new light. A pegasus that couldn't really fly. It was kind of hard to believe after witnessing all the others before, but then why would she lie about having a shortcoming like that? It would be humiliating, like if he were unable to pilot an aircraft, being a pilot. Tiran remembered that Ruwa had mentioned something about not being able to control weather either a week or so ago, maybe it had something to do with that?

"Is that why you have a problem with the weather?" Tiran asked in an attempt to understand her better. "You mentioned something about that a while back."

Ruwa huffed again and began to play with a loose pebble that was sitting on the wide railing with a hoof, "Yeah, something like that. One of my flight instructors said it was a coordination thing, said I was too unsure of myself in the air, but I still took risks. He told me that trying to learn to fly like that would get me hurt and well... he was right more often than he was wrong." Ruwa dropped from the railing and paced almost angrily to the other side of the balcony, "It's just, I know how to fly and everything, but for some reason I just... freeze up!" She punctuated her statement with a frustrated stomp.

Tiran fell into thought as Ruwa spoke with her back to him. He just couldn't quite get a solid read on her. When he first met her, she almost seemed timid as a mouse, but then after she followed him out into the darkness when he made his escape from her basement, that timidness seemed to evaporate. It went from there to a confident swagger as she led him through the mountain paths, to a city smart mare when they were in the town, to a near action hero when they helped those two guys at the river. Tiran just couldn't quite get her deal, he had never met anyone that possessed so many facets to their being.

"Maybe you just need to practice more." Tiran suggested sincerely.

"What do you think I was doing up there on the mountain?" Ruwa responded in an indignant tone without looking at him. Tiran imagined an angry snarl on her face.

Tiran frowned, worried that he had just offended her, "Hey, sorry, I didn't think..."

Ruwa's shoulders slumped, appearing to deflate, "No, it's ok," she said with a softer voice. "You don't know much about it." She spun around to face him again, but with a smile on her face, "So, how 'bout you?"

"What about me?" Tiran didn't know what she was getting at.

"I told you something about me, so how about you tell me a little about yourself?" she replied.

"Don't get him started." Li said in an almost condescending tone.

"Dammit, Li!" Tiran shouted over Ruwa's laughter.

"What? You're quite the bitching betty, you know..." Tiran almost believed he could feel her smugness through their interface.

He began to get flustered, "What!? Since when have I been this 'bitching betty' you seem to think of me as?"

Ruwa recovered from her mirth, taking a few breaths, "Oh, cut it out Tiran, she's just playing," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, that's what worries me..." Tiran muttered, turning away from the conversation.

"So, how about it?" Ruwa wasn't so easily deterred.

"Really, you still want me to tell you?"

Ruwa flipped an errant strand of hair from her face with her head and nodded.

Tiran sighed in defeat, "Fine..." Ruwa gazed up at him expectantly, not giving him any slack. "I- I like music and stuff, I guess."

"You guess?" Ruwa said. "C'mon, nopony just guesses if they like music. What do you like?"

Tiran frowned again, but not an unhappy kind of frown, more like a resigned one, as if he'd accepted his fate, "Ok, how about this? Li, let's play some music."

Ruwa's eyes brightened as her smile widened, she jumped and clapped her hooves repeatedly together before settling back down under Tiran's odd stare.

"which would you like to play, Tiran?"

"Let's go classical," Tiran unleashed a devilish smile as a song title popped into his head. He turned the speaker et into his arm to Ruwa's face and said in a throaty voice, "Killstardo Abominate."

Two drum taps, then all hell was set loose as an unrelenting tidal force of drums and guitars blasted from the deceptively powerful speaker. Ruwa stumbled back, ears pressed flat against her skull as she grimaced against the onslaught of death metal. Tiran laughed and shut off the music.

Ruwa rounded on him, murder in her eyes, "That was NOT funny!"

"It was a little funny." Tiran insisted between chuckles.

"No it was not!" She turned away from him in a pout.

"Oh, c'mon... alright, here..." Tiran leaned against the railing and held his right arm parallel to his chest, "Li, play something nice, maybe acoustic."

Ruwa covered her ears again, expecting deception, but slowly pulled her hooves down from her head as the dulcet stings of a violin accompanied by a guitar wafted through the air. It was a light, lilting melody that sat comfortably in the heart.

Ruwa smiled, "That's a lot better. You also like this music?"

"Nah," Tiran said passively, "Li downloaded it. Said I need to relax more and this would help. Just kind of bland to me really. Reggae usually works better."

"What's reggae?'

Tiran looked at her and smiled, "It's what you listen to when you want to just chill and melt into your chair. What about you guys, what music you got around here?"

Ruwa tapped her hoof against her chin in thought, "Hmm... there's the Canterlot Orchestra, but it's kind of stuffy. The griffons usually have some interesting stuff, but DJ Pon3 is still really popular. Really energetic, futuristic sounding. Also, really fun to blast at a party." She added with a twisted grin.

Both of them turned as they heard a knock at the door. Tiran moved to go answer it, but Ruwa waved him off and went inside instead, leaving Tiran alone on the balcony. He picked up his beer and downed the rest of it in one solid gulp, taking in the sight of the land as he did.

Everything looked so tiny down there, all the trees like stalks of broccoli, rivers like shining silver ribbons among a sea of green. If Tiran cupped his hands around his eyes to block out everything else around him, he could almost believe he was flying again. He longed for it. That was where he belonged, soaring through the air.

He needed a way to get the Cloudburst airborne again. That one Princess, Luna, said that they recovered it. If he could find it and figure out how to repair it, he had a shot at flying, and getting back into the fight.

"Hey, Tiran!" The door slammed as Ruwa trotted back in his direction. "Hey, guess what?"

"What?" Tiran said, turning back around to face her.

Ruwa smiled back at him with a suspicious spark in her eye, "You won't believe what just happened..."

"So tell me!" Tiran said, getting a little annoyed.

"Jeez, cool down..." Ruwa looked at him sideways, "So, we've just been invited to dinner."

Tiran arched an eyebrow, "So...?"

"So!?" said Ruwa with astonishment, "We're gonna be dining with the Princesses themselves!" She nearly squealed with excitement, spinning back around to retreat into her room. "Ohmygosh, I don't have anything to wear, and my hair is a mess!"

Tiran watched her go, thinking her mixed reaction was a little odd. Out on the wild trail, she didn't give a second thought about how she looked, but get her around some royalty... Tiran's spirits fell.

He wished he had another beer. No, he thought, scratch that, he needed liquor. There was nothing worse in his mind than having to face the politics of dinner with those that dealt in high society. The threat of immanent death and violence was a close second.

* * *

Tiran marched down the hall with Ruwa at his side. They were flanked by two uniformed guards, both armed with what Tiran hoped were just ceremonial swords. He was now wearing a dress shirt that had been brought to him by a rather effeminate acting stallion who had also given Ruwa a stunningly crafted dress that matched her eyes almost perfectly. Even Tiran had to admit, it looked really good on her. By comparison, it made the starchy dress shirt he had been given look like scrap.

Tiran tugged and scratched at it constantly, it was itchy and uncomfortable even through his undershirt. Some things didn't change, even in other worlds, he thought. At least Ruwa was happy with her garments, she deserved it after all the crap his mere presence in her world had put her through.

Their steps echoed loudly through the vaulted halls, giving them an ominous feeling. Tiran began to feel nervous as they rounded a corner, bringing them to a wide arch containing a red carpet that rolled outside into a lush garden. He tugged a little at his collar again as they were led through the arch and out onto a path lit on either side by torches set on gilded staffs that had been driven into the soft grass. Tiran wondered at the seemingly opulent recreational park in the middle of what he assumed to be some kind of military complex.

"Stop fidgeting!" Ruwa hissed angrily at him.

"Hey, it's not my fault these clothes are so stiff!" Tiran shot back in a low whisper.

Ruwa still was cross, "Well learn to deal with it, we're about to meet both of the Princesses!"

"I don't care, I don't even want to be here, they made me come!" Tiran gestured at the guards behind them.

"So what? Just make the best of it and try not to embarrass me!"

Tiran wanted to say something back at her, like about just how stupid he thought all the pomp and circumstance was, but arguing with her wouldn't do him any good. So he just shut his mouth and resigned to just silently fume. His one hope was that royal types here were the same as the ones in his world, that there would be some kind of wine or brandy present at the dinner.

They traveled down the winding path, eventually coming to a softly lit grove among the bushes and trees. There were light streamers of dark blue and gold laced among the branches of the trees and the leaves of the bushes, lending a tasteful ambiance to the clearing in the brush. In the middle, at the end of the carpet, lay a thick mahogany table large enough to seat at least eight people, though there were only chairs for four; one at each end and one on either side.

The table was set with what Tiran thought was way too many items. Each place had set on it two different glasses, three plates and an arsenal of cutlery. The only singular items among the entire set-up were the napkins, so white and clean, Tiran could've sworn they had their own glow.

The guards sat Ruwa and Tiran in the seats at the sides of the table and withdrew to the edge of the clearing. Then without warning, a pair of stewards materialized from the ether and poured them both a glass of water from pitchers carved from the purest crystal. Tiran was beginning to feel ever more uncomfortable with the affair, never having experienced this level of fine dining, it just wasn't his thing. He looked pleadingly across the table at Ruwa, but she just returned it with a stern expression.

"Introducing, Their Majesties, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna!" One of the stewards suddenly announced, so loudly that Tiran nearly jumped in his seat.

Tiran turned his head slightly to try and get a look at the Princesses as they approached the table. He spotted Princess Luna, striding confidently towards the table, but it was the other one that caught his attention. With a shining white coat and bright pastel hair, she stood at least a head taller than Luna and probably even himself.

If the way she walked didn't say she owned the place, the vibrant golden crown resting just behind her horn did. The expression she wore was one of calm confidence, but Tiran quickly turned back around in his seat as she caught his eye. That was one lady whose bad side he knew he didn't want to get on, royalty or not.

Both Tiran and ruwa stiffened as they took their seats at the table. Tiran saw Princess Luna trying to give him a weak smile out the corner of his eye, but he pretended not to notice. He was too focused on trying to get a read on the other princess. She hadn't even so much as looked in his direction yet.

The dinner started off quietly with the stewards darting forward to refill everyone's glass. Then Tiran was surprised as small trays appeared as if by magic next to each of them, gliding down onto the plates set before them. Their covers were lifted, proudly displaying a small bowl of fresh and crispy salad.

Tiran reached for a fork, but stopped when Ruwa shot him an angry glance. He put his hand back down and shifted his eyes left and right, watching the two Princesses. Finally, the bigger one lifted a fork with a strange golden aura—at least Tiran assumed it was her that was doing it—and began to eat. Tiran looked to his right and saw Princess Luna doing the same thing. Tiran looked back to Ruwa and she nodded, digging into her own appetizer.

Tiran almost began to eat as hastily as he was used to, but slowed down as he saw the others taking a much more measured pace. They continued like this in silence for some time, eating, chewing, sipping on water. Until at last, each of them had nearly finished their salad. The continued silence was making Tiran increasingly uncomfortable, he didn't know wether or not he should be saying something, but nobody else was speaking so he too remained silent.

The stewards moved swiftly in again, refilling glasses and whisking away the shallow empty bowls. Tiran just sat facing forward with his hands in his lap, fingering the napkin in his lap, unsure of what to do with himself while the next course was fetched. So when the silence was finally broken, he was caught a little off guard.

"So, Mr. Tiran. You are unusually quiet for one of your kind."

Tiran's eyes flashed up to the one who had spoken to him, finding no words on his tongue as his gaze met that of the other Princess who's name he was still unsure of.

"Yes, but a welcome change if you ask me, Celestia." Tiran glanced over to Princess Luna who was now speaking. "The last two were a little... mouthy."

"Maybe so," the other answered, "but I found it somewhat entertaining," she smiled.

"Perhaps."

"Lieutenant Tiran, I believe it was," Tiran looked back up to the deep magenta stare of the golden crowned Princess, "please don't be shy. This is a wonderfully breathtaking night that my sister had crafted for us, don't you think?" she asked, lifting her eyes to the star speckled sky.

Tiran didn't exactly know how to answer, instead staring dumbly at the Princess. He winced as he felt something sharp impact one of his shins. He looked across the table to see Ruwa glaring at him.

"Princess Celestia just asked you a question, answer her!" the pegasus whisper-shouted at him.

Tiran fumbled for words, "I-uh... Yeah, it's particularly... inky, tonight." Ruwa looked particularly irked at Tiran's inarticulate comment.

However, Celestia didn't seem to mind the crude remark, "Yes, it is a bit dark. Luna, the moon has not yet risen, why is that?"

"Tonight is the start of the new moon, dear sister. I won't rise it officially until tomorrow's night." Luna answered in an even tone.

"Seems a bit lazy, don't you think?" Celestia teased.

"Yeah, it's kinda lazy," Tiran said without thinking, "But now you can see constellations that normally aren't visible when the moon's out."

Ruwa's jaw nearly dropped, absolute horror tugging down at her face at Tiran's total breach of etiquette. Tiran, realizing that he had just possibly insinuated an insult against a monarch of an entire nation, quietly apologized, subtle checking his rear for any guards that might be creeping up behind him. Fortunately, he didn't see any.... yet.

Both he and Ruwa were surprised, however, when in return they heard a bubbly laugh, "Quite an astute observation! He's right, Luna, well done."

"Yes, it's a nice change of pace in the phases." Luna agreed.

As the Princesses finished speaking, the stewards returned, this time with large entree plates and decanters of wine. Tiran let out an inward sigh of relief as his glass was filled with the ruby red concoction. The coverings on the entree plates were removed, revealing a spicy smelling assortment of diced pan-fried vegetables, the aroma of which actually made Tiran's mouth water.

"So, Lieutenant, what brings you to our humble world." Princess Celestia asked almost casually as the stewards withdrew.

"Uh... you, you don't have to call me that. Uh, Your Highness." Tiran said.

Princess Celestia chuckled, "Please, you may dispense with the formalities. And as long as I'm dropping your title, you may simply call me Celestia."

"And you may refer to me simply as Luna." Celestia's sister added.

Tiran was unsure as to what they were getting at. He didn't know if this was some kind of political game or not. He looked to Ruwa for guidance, but she just stared blankly at him and shrugged. Once again, Tiran thought it was best to just go with it.

"Uh, thank you, Luna and Celestia?" They both nodded. "Well, I didn't exactly want to come here, it just kind of... happened."

Celestia and Luna shared a glance, "Just as it always seems to be," Celestia said softly with a knowing smile.

Unsure of what to do next, Tiran just grabbed his glass with his right hand and took a long pull of the wine. It was sweeter than he was used to, but it also burned like hell going down. It almost made him cough. Whatever vintage it was, it was some strong stuff. Ruwa looked at Tiran disapprovingly, but at this point he didn't really care. Tiran took another gulp from his glass.

"You know, sister," Luna began, "Mr. Tiran has a most interesting companion with him."

"Yes, Miss Ruwa has accomplished quite the feat, guiding him thus far," Celestia said.

Across the table, Ruwa beamed.

Luna shook her head, "No, Tia. A most wonderful conscienceness, alive and thinking, within Tiran's appendage. She is quite intelligent, if a bit crude."

Everyone around the table gasped and flinched as Tiran's glass exploded into thousands of tiny shards as his hand closed into a fist suddenly and involuntarily. He nearly spat out his drink, but with amazing control, swallowed it forcefully. Along with the rest of the table, Tiran stared at his own limb with a mixture of worry and wonderment.

He certainly hadn't meant to squeeze his hand, and he wondered if Li had anything to do with it. Perhaps in response to Luna's comment, but that wasn't right. Li had never shown any emotional reaction before, other than concern for the survival of Tiran and herself.

Tiran quickly moved to apologize, "I-I'm sorry, that's never happened before."

"It is fine, Tiran. I shall have it cleaned up at once." Celestia said.

Tiran expected her to call one of the stewards over to gather the shards and sop up the spilt wine, but to his amazement, all the glittering shards of glass began to glow, the same golden glow that now surrounded Princess Celestia's own horn. Tiran watched in amazement as all the broken glass rose up a few inches off the table and grass and began to flow like a glittering steam to a spot directly next to Tiran's plate. One by one, the shards began to fit together and within a matter of seconds, the glass was once again whole.

Tiran stared dumbfounded at his now repaired glass. He had never seen anything like it before. "Now that you've seen something curious from me," Celestia said, drawing his attention, "perhaps you'd like to show me something almost as equally entertaining?"

"I am not a tool for your entertainment." Li said without prompting and in a biting tone.

Celestia displayed only a flutter of amazement before settling back into her stoic demeanor, "My, well that is curious."

"Is it not as I said?" Luna asked Celestia with a smile.

"Yes, that is quite a contraption," Celestia said, staring acutely at Tiran's prosthetic limb. "Tiran, How did it come by creation?"

"Li is not an it," Tiran replied defensively. "Technically, she is, but she is just as much an intelligent, thinking being as you or I. More than that, she's my partner."

Celestia leaned back in her chair, bringing a hoof to her chest, "I apologize, Tiran, I meant no offense," she said, "I only wish to know how she came to be."

"I was programmed." Li said before Tiran could reply. "Using a series of algorithms and countless calculations cunning in tandem with one another, my matrix was constructed to facilitate functions nearly identical to human thought processes within a margin of one-point-two-four percent."

"She can also learn, too." Tiran added.

"How very interesting," Celestia said in an impressed undertone. "I've never encountered anything of the like within the borders of our realm in all my years."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Tiran, would it be too much trouble to ask to speak with her for a time?" Celestia asked.

Tiran rolled the question around in his head. Facinating as Li might be to them, he didn't know if he agreed with that. Sure, Li wouldn't tell them anything they shouldn't know, but where would that leave his situation? As a curiousity to be studied? No, he needed to find a way to get home. A thought occured to him.

"Alright," Tiran said, looking to both Celestia and Luna, "but on one condition."

Celestia adopted a nuetral, yet hardened look, "And what might that be?"

"I want to see my aircraft." Tiran demanded. "And my equipment, too."

Celestia looked him in the eye, almost seeming to be attempting to intimidate Tiran. He wouldn't back down, however. He kept his ground, meeting her gaze with equal intensity.

'Very well," Celestia relented, appearing to relax, "I shall have somepony along tomorrow morning to escort you to where your machine is being held. Now, if it would so please everypony, let us resume our dinner, it's getting cold," she added with a happier expression.

Author's Note

More coming in the summer

Chapter 17: A Convergence Of Minds

"Jeez, what were you thinking!?" Ruwa exclaimed as she looked angrily across the small table at him.

It was morning, they were having breakfast on the balcony that extended out from Ruwa's room and out over the deadly drop to the land below. Tiran took another gulp of orange juice as he contemplated his next bite of the fluffy waffles on his plate, as well as Ruwa's reaction. She had been going on about it since they retired from the dinner the night before.

"What can I say that I haven't already, I need to get to my aircraft," he said calmly. "If they really recovered it, I need to see it. Plus, it could be causing anybody that gets close to it harm if it's not contained properly."

"But staring down Princess Celestia like that, you sure there wasn't any other way you could have asked? Like maybe saying please?" she put to him crossly.

"Look, we've been arguing about this since last night, can you just drop it, please? What's done is done, nothing bad happened and we're both getting what we want, ok?"

"But to put Her Royal Highness Celestia to a frigging ultimatum!?"

Tiran was about to respond, about to say something he was sure he was going to regret later. Maybe about how he didn't care how lofty a title 'Her Higness' held, that he didn't answer to her. Fortunately, Tiran was saved by a weighty series of knocks on the chamber door. He released an inaudible sigh of relief as he got up to answer the door, thanking whatever strange gods watched over this land for his salvation.

As he opened it, a smartly dressed stallion appeared with a deep bow that brought his nose to within an inch of the floor, "Good morning, good sir. I have come to escort you to your... aircraft," he said as if he was unfamiliar with the word.

Tiran glanced left and right into the hall, finding it otherwise empty, "What, no armed guards this time?" he asked.

"Sir, I don't believe I know what you mean," the stallion replied in a stuffy tone.

"Sure..." Tiran replied un-easily. "Hold on a minute."

The stallion dipped his head again, "Of course."

Tiran returned to the balcony and told Ruwa about the escort, "Fine," she sighed with a wave of her hoof, "go ahead."

"You don't want to come?"

"Maybe later. I think I just want to sit with myself for now."

"Ok then..." Tiran shrugged and went back to the door.

The well dressed stallion led Tiran down the corridors, making many twists and turns. Tiran tried to remember the way, trying to memorize the route, but after a time he gave up. Without his guide with the stuffy attitude, Tiran decided he would soon get completely lost. He hadn't realized before, having only been to a few places within it, but the palace was absolutely massive. For almost ten minutes they had been walking and still no sight of an exit to the outside.

It was still another ten minutes before sunlight finally stuck Tiran's face without first having to pass through the droll tinted glass windows that the architects of the dour complex seemed to love so much. Tiran smiled as a warm breeze buffeted his lengthening crop of shaggy dirty-blond hair. They had emerged onto a wide flagstone path that wound across an open grassy field.

They continued on down the path, its direction angling off towards the cliffs the palace sat so precariously on. When the path seemed to terminate at the edge of the cliff, Tiran began to slow, wondering just where he was being taken. When his guide continued to the edge, Tiran began to lunge towards him, but stopped as the stallion turned and began to gradually disappear down a hidden ramp that Tiran had failed to see. Cautiously shuffling towards the cliff's edge, Tiran peered down the incline.

His guide was already halfway down to the end, where the slope switched back upon itself and continued on beneath the cliffs. Tiran leaned over the edge as far as he dared, wary of the long drop that awaited him should he fall, and attempted to discern their destination, but the path vanished beneath an overhang. Pulling himself back, Tiran quickly proceeded down the slope and caught up with his escort.

The vertigo inducing path took them under the overhang of cliffs, into a dark recess sequestered within the mountain side and extended as far north as he could see around the mointain's wide girth. Tiran nearly paused in awe at the proportion of it. He imagined one could fly a small airliner through its gap with room to spare, were it not for the inverted forest of stalactites along the roof and their twins forming beneath them like the fangs of some deep water fish.

As the path met the floor of this space, Tiran's guide began to lead him north, speaking along the way as Tiran gazed around in awe, "I have been authorized by the Princesses themselves to bring you to this place, though I can't imagine why. This space in the side of the mountain was discovered many years ago while the earth ponies were mining for crystal. It has proved quite useful in the past few years in keeping certain projects from unwanted eyes, as it is almost impossible to spot from below or above and is well defended besides.

"Currently, it houses the Research and Development Section for Their Majesties' Royal Special Tasks Group. It was here your machine was taken and it is here it shall remain."

The last line of explanation caused Tiran to pause for a moment, "Wait, what do you mean by that?" he demanded, but the stallion did not respond. "Hey, I asked you a question!" Tiran shouted as he jogged up to the pony's side.

The stallion in the stuffed shirt continued to ignore him and instead proceeded to a bare and generally unremarkable section of rock wall the color of oxidized iron. When the pony didn't answer him, Tiran crossed his arms in frustrated anger and turned around, studying the unnatural rock formations around him.

It occurred to Tiran that they were now actually quite a distance away from where the path left off at the floor they were now on. It seemed to him that they had traveled almost two hundred yards from the path that led them here. The size was almost daunting, but he could understand it if this was where they had stashed the Cloudburst.

Tiran stiffened as he felt the solid rock beneath his feet begin to ruble and shake. He turned around to see two large sections of what he thought was solid rock face recess a few inches and start to slide apart. In only a few seconds, the opening was as wide as any hangar door he had seen and just as tall, too.

Tiran stood wide eyed as the hidden doors opened up to a massive facility packed with maintenance equipment and gantries. It was large enough to hold four large aircraft. Two spots were currently taken up with what would have looked like fast-attack craft were it not for the bulbous balloons carefully secured to their tops. By the look of the huge fan blades sticking out from behind them, Tiran thought that movement was not much of a problem for them.

He gazed around as he walked forward into the gargantuan space, following his guide closely. Then Tiran spotted it. In a far back corner, in pieces and scattered about, were the scuffed and battered remains of the Cloudburst, but now resting on its landing gear instead of its belly.

Fear leapt to his throat when he saw it, seemingly irreparable, but something odd about it caught his attention and stifled it. The design was off. As in, not how it had been when he first saw it. Many of the pieces he saw scattered about were not the same either, and he noticed they weren't exactly scattered as they were carefully organized into some kind of pattern.

Tiran ran past his escort, forgetting the stuffy stallion for a moment, chomping at the bit for a closer look at his bird.

It was still horribly scratched and scuffed, the paint flaking off in places. Strangely, though, the Couldburst's surfaces looked to be repaired and intact. Even the crumples and gouges had been repaired, leaving the shiny metal beneath with only a slightly wrinkled look. Tiran couldn't say if it was the same for the insides and he didn't know if the reactor leak had been repaired, but its housing did seem once again whole.

Of course, this didn't mean that it was once again air worthy, certainly not with a number of its other parts laying around on the deck. Tiran still wanted to see and started for the cockpit. He halted when he came to it and put both his hands to his head in wild astonishment.

"What the hell have you done to my bird!?"

The cockpit was changed, drastically. It still had the same basic shape and dimensions, but it was elongated, narrower. Tiran hit the button on the fuselage to bring the ladder down and it folded out with a rattle. He climbed up it quickly and peered in through the now solid canopy and felt his shoulders fall.

There were two seats in there now. Two. In his bird that he got to fly alone. One right behind the other, inline.

Tiran fumbled with the canopy release button and it sighed open with a hiss, sliding up and forward like a clam shell. Tiran immediately pulled himself in and crouched over the seats. It seemed most of the main controls; like the stick, throttle and weapons, were still grouped around the seat in the front. But a good majority; like the radar, countermeasures and even the switches for the M-drive were shifted to the dashboard of the back seat.

A loud clang of metal striking rock echoed around the room and a voice of a young male called out from the other side of the Cloudburst, towards its aft section, "Hey, who's messing with the cockpit up there?"

Tiran clambered backwards down the ladder and jumped the last few feet to the ground. At the same time, hoof steps came from round back of the aircraft to meet him. A set of gray hooves materialized under the nose, followed by the rest of the pony as it rounded it and came to face Tiran.

The first thing Tiran noticed was that it was a stallion and he had a horn on his head, which meant he was a unicorn. the stallion seemed pretty young, as much as Tiran could tell. He had a glistening coat of gray with patches of crimson red here and there. Plus a cloudy mane and tail with a long streak of electric blue. Most of all of these features were stained and corrupted with splotches of grease and patches of singed hair.

"Hey!" The young stallion started angrily as he came around the nose of the Cloudburst. "Just what in Celestia's—" he paused, one front hoof half raised in step as he caught sight of Tiran. "Oh. So you're the guy."

"Yeah, I'm the guy." Tiran said, hearing the timbre of his voice raise with anger of his own. "Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you doing to my bird?"

"Flicker. And I'm fixing it," the stallion snorted. "You're welcome." He strode past Tiran and made for a box of tools sitting under one of the Cloudburst's short wings.

"Fixing it?" Tiran said, exasperated. He gestured wildly with his arms, "Look what you did to the cockpit! There should be one seat, ONE seat! And don't get me started on the reactor!"

The strange stallion, Flicker, returned from the tool box, various items taken from it flowing into a bag on his side with the same magical energy all his kind possessed.

"If you want to know," he said, "the cockpit had too many controls grouped together for one operator. I remedied that by adding another seat, frees up the pilot."

Tiran was about to jump in and explain to this mechanic Li's function, but he didn't know about her yet and Flicker kept talking before he could get a word in.

"As for your 'reactor,' that was an easy patch. Sure, the energy levels were dangerous, but it wasn't much different than how we make our own engines, only ours are much more safe and efficient."

Tiran laughed, "Are you talking about those heaps of crap over there?" He pointed over to the other craft he had seen in the bay, "The ones that look like a steam punk fanboy's wet dream?"

Flicker looked taken aback, "Steam? Those don't run on anything as simple as steam," he put crossly. He eyed Tiran skeptically, "Do you even know what you're talking about?"

"I'm the friggin' pilot!"

Flicker stomped a hoof and leaned forward, "Who crashed his machine into the ground and busted it up for me to repair! They don't give this sort of job to just anypony you know!"

"Do you even-? Wha- dammit, whatever!" Tiran spat.

Tiran threw his hands up and walked away, frustrated at the changes made to his aircraft, his bird! Flicker continued to eye him as he walked away before disappearing back around the Cloudburst from whence he came. Not even a day had passed since Tiran had been reunited with his bird and they were already screwing with it. If Cherovic knew what was happening right now, this world away, she would have a fit. Probably wear herself out and collapse from the berating she'd give him. Not that he particularly cared what she thought.

Tiran marched back to his stuffy guide, who had been waiting patiently some yards away through the short heated exchange. He seemed to show no indication that any of it had interested him as Tiran marched grumpily up.

"Alright, where's all my other stuff?" Tiran demanded a bit unkindly.

"Right this way, sir," his escort replied, not even betraying a hint of concern.

Tiran's escort led him only deeper into the hangar, bypassing maintenance gantries and small rooms dedicated to individual parts. Tiran was about to ask how much longer it was going to take when the old stallion finally stopped and gestured to a door half cracked open. Tiran thanked him quietly and stepped inside.

The room was a bit bigger than those reserved for the aircraft parts. It was well lit with the same strange glowing orbs from the halls above, only they were recessed into the ceiling, casting bright pools of light along the floor. Towards the back was a large table, just about the height of his waist. Laid out on it was his suit.

Tiran rushed over as soon as he spotted it, taking the sight of its condition in with dismay.

The under garments, the tightly woven mesh of kevlar and carbon tubes was stretched out on a rack nearby. On the table; all the armored plates, the servos, actuators and even his helmet lay completely disassembled into their many individual components and placed carefully in order of assembly like a dissected frog in a kid's science class.

Tiran gripped his hair with both hands, absently reminding himself he needed it cut, and felt his ire rise to new levels. How the hell was he supposed to get home with his gear in a state like this? What the hell did they think they were doing? He couldn't even begin to imagine the state of the M-drive, the only thing he could think of to get him back at this point. Would they even know what it was?

The shear attributes of this world was boggling him. So far, the tech he'd encountered in this world was far outdated and medieval compared to his own, even if a bit similar. And yet, here they were taking apart and playing with his own technology as if they were eccentric toys to be studied.

Soft hoof steps and what sounded like humming came from the corridor to Tiran's rear. He could hear them approach the very door that led to this room. He rounded on the sound, expecting that stallion, Flicker, to march in, to give him another speech about how his superior skills were improving Tiran's gear, and Tiran was ready to unleash a fusillade of bereavements meant to put the mechanic in his place.

What he got as he spun around, shoulders squared and expression menacing completely took him off balance.

"YOU!?. What the hell are you doing here!?"

Quick Fix nearly dropped the clipboard she was reading off of as she stumbled back at his unexpected outburst. Her bewildered expression at his presence quickly turned into a smile, "Oh, hey! Fancy seeing you here!" she said as she elevated the clipboard and slid it onto the table with his suit as she walked over to it. "Gotta say, I wasn't expecting you here." She looked at him as if in contemplation, "Or maybe I should have... Either way, welcome to my humble little workshop!"

"Workshop?" Tiran gazed all around the space, trying to look for some hidden clue, something he should have seen before. What was this mare, the oddball Ruwa had introduced him to, and who had fixed his arm before, doing here at a secret squirrel hidey hole?

"Yeah, workshop," Quick Fix repeated. "I finished up your arm, too. Looks better, huh? Sorry I couldn't do the skin for ya back at the junction, but we have way more materials to work with up here," she said casually as she went to a folder and wrote something down in it. "By the way, how are you, Li?" she asked, smiling at Tiran's left arm as if Li had eyes to watch her.

Li didn't respond, but Tiran thought he could feel her contempt for the engineer. It was weird to feel something like that, something he had never felt from her before. It gave him goose bumps.

"I think she's still mad at you," Tiran said.

"Ah, that's a bit troubling. Not good to be on bad terms with an artificial being with access to almost four hundred foot pounds of force, but i suppose it can't be helped," she said cheerfully.

What the hell is going on here, Tiran wondered. "Did Ruwa know about this place? About you?" he asked, feeling himself calm down some, if just to figure out what was happening here. Meeting her in town, getting ambushed a little over a day later, had this been some sort of trap to get him here?

"Ruwa?" The unicorn said, her face scrunching a little in thought. "No, she doesn't know about any of this, or the fact that I work here. This place is pretty hush-hush, if you know what I mean."

Tiran suddenly felt very tired, and searched for a place to sit down. He settled for a small shelf along one of the walls, the metal creaking as he sat. He was confused, wanted to get back to his own world and now a little more than a little suspicious given recent events.

"No, I'm afraid I don't," he said. "Care to explain, cause nobody else has really told me much of anything."

Quick Fix, now inspecting some piece of Tiran's armor looked up and tapped her chin with a hoof, "Well, there's not much I can tell you, not without getting in trouble. Basically, I'm on call for the Princesses for whenever they find any weird tech. I study it, report back to them, that sort of thing." She said it like it was routine. she then let out a chuckle, "Oh yeah, since Li is still mad at me, thank her for the show earlier. She had my techs scrambling all over the hangar!" she added with a more enthusiastic laugh.

"So you did set us up," Tiran said, mentally confirming his suspicions.

Quick Fix looked at him like he spouting nonsense, "Set you up?"

"Yeah, the ambush," Tiran replied, continuing his line of thought. "We meet you in town, the next day I get shot up with drugs and dragged here!"

Quick Fix looked at him quizzically for a moment, before a wide smirk finally settled around her mouth. "That wasn't me, not my style. Sure, I would have mentioned meeting you, but then I would have suggested we send somepony out to meet you, bring you up to Canterlot. Though..." she put thoughtfully, "I have a pretty good idea of who it was. Sneaky little guy."

"Really?" Tiran said, disbelievingly. "Who?"

"Tell me, did you meet a sketchy stallion with a thick drawl?" she smiled mischievously at him.

Tiran glared at her, but then looked up in thought as a memory came back to him, "Yeah...at a bar actually. Dude was asking me all sorts of weird questions."

"At a bar, of course." Quick Fix snorted with a chuckle. "I'm sorry, Tiran, but you got snatched by one of the best."

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter." She waved a hoof dismissively.

"Fine, whatever."Tiran silently fumed, wondering who it was that had gotten one over on him, who had arranged for him to be captured and carted off. He wanted to know so he could dish out a little payback. Though it didn't seem like he was going to get any answers there, so he asked something else, "So what is up with this place? Why is Lord Twisted Panties back there tinkering with my bird?"

Quick Fix looked back up from her work, "Flicker? Oh, don't mind him, he's actually a pretty sweet guy once you get to know him. Brilliant, too, just like his mom. He just doesn't appreciate his work being interrupted is all. That guy is all about getting the job done."

"Fine, but still, why? What's with this place?"

Quick Fix rummaged around in a box beneath the table, flank sticking up in the air, and pulled out some strange electronic instrument and plugged it into the suit's power pack, the one that converted his body heat into electricity, reading the small wavering dials on its face.

"It's a place where we can develop new technologies for defense," she said without looking up. "Equestria's got a lot of enemies most ponies don't know about. The Guard takes care of stuff on the surface, but the real fighting is done through the ponies stationed here. You might have seen some of them walking around, real tough guys with scars and bad attitudes. RSTG."

"Yeah, tough guys," Tiran huffed, remembering his time in the interrogation room. "What are these 'tough guys'—" Tiran threw up air quotes, "—fighting?"

"Well, they did put a stop to the first major war we've seen in over a millennia, then there was the attempted coup not too long after that, but it has been pretty quiet lately," Quick Fix, replied, taking more measurements and scribbling down notes with a pen in her magical grip. "These days, it's mostly small stuff; organized crime, interdiction, smuggling, you name it. But they're also on the look out for humans."

Tiran played with a bolt laying on the shelf next to him, "Humans? I though they helped with that stuff?"

"Oh, they did. But it was a human that first started that war. Not many ponies in the know about that. Terrible guy, I heard. But you shouldn't have anything to worry about, as long as you aren't planning to start another."

"Nope. Just wanna go home."

"I feel you," Quick Fix said tiredly. "I wouldn't even come out here if the pay wasn't so good."

"So, as long as I'm not causing trouble, they'll let me go, right?" Tiran asked hopefully.

Quick Fix put her instruments away and started piecing together some of Tiran's suit, "Maybe, maybe not."

"What? Why?"

Quick Fix sighed and put down the parts she was working on and looked at him, "Well... things have been a little restless lately. I'm sure you might've heard, or not, that a new Princess was crowned recently. Not too many ponies took a shine to that. There was a lot of talk of protest, some saying that they would leave, others getting a little violent. This is a small part of the country, mind you,the vast majority of Equestria celebrated it." She smiled, but it turned into a shallow frown, "But, ponies with more malicious intents tend to take advantage of these kinds of things.

"There was a small riot in Tall Tale not too long ago. Then a mass demonstration in Baltimare, things got a little violent there, too. It was thought that these were isolated, but Intel came up that it was all being organized behind the scenes. There was even talk of an armed organization building itself up through back channels. As you can imagine, it has everypony here on edge."

"I see," Tiran said with a puff of air. "Well I certainly don't want anything to do with that."

"I'm sure you don't."

* * *

An hour later, Tiran's escort dropped him off at his room, now conspicuously devoid of guards. He walked over and knocked on Ruwa's door, but got no answer. Either she was still a little mad at him, or she was off doing something else. Maybe trying to chase down one of the Princesses and bask in the royalty. Tiran doubted it though. This didn't seem like the place royalty would hang around in for long. Too military and Spartan.

Resigned, Tiran opened the door to his own room and climbed into bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes. As he lay on top of the soft linens, he glanced out the window and noted how far the sun had gone across the sky. Its light was taking on an amber hue, signaling its decent.

Tiran checked with Li and was told it was almost 1800. He realized with a pang of guilt that he'd spent nearly the whole day down in the hidden hangar, checking on the condition of his belongings and drilling Quick Fix with questions. No wonder Ruwa had gone off on her own some where. Tiran wondered how she would react to the news that one of her friends was secretly working in a hidden lab below.

Unable to fall asleep, Tiran got up again. Maybe he'd go for a walk, try to find Ruwa and sort things out. Surely she couldn't stay mad at him for long, especially if they talked. Maybe he could bring her down to the lab to see Quick Fix.

Tiran put a plan in mind and stepped back out the door. He knocked on Ruwa's again just to make sure, but when he got the same result, began to wander down the hallway.

He soon found the corridors to be much like those back in his own world's military installations. Clear cut, organized and lacking any and all imagination. Passing hall after hall, intersection after identical intersection, Tiran soon realized that it might be far too easy to become hopelessly lost. His mind flicked back to the route he had taken from his room. He'd only made a few turns and he was sure of his direction. Either way, if he got lost, he could just ask somebody.

The corridors continued on and the light that struggled through the filtered windows grew fainter. A clatter of hooves rose from further down the passageway, soon joined with the sight of several stallions with weapons strapped to them. Tiran had to flatten himself against one of the walls to avoid being trampled. He puzzled over the strange occurrence and wondered what that had been about. They hadn't even glanced at him.

Tiran shrugged. Whatever it was, it didn't involve him.

Continuing his wind through the corridors, Tiran passed w-hat he thought was a cafeteria, some sort of sparring room and even what looked like an indoor firing range. Curious, he poked his head in the last one.

There was a soft whir of fans, sucking out air. Tiran had seen the weapons they carried, old slug throwers, spitting out a large, slow bullet and lots of noxious gas. The fans were probably there to suck the fumes out of the air before anybody choked on them.

Tiran suddenly wished he had his own weapons. Both his service pistol and his heirloom. If not just to practice, then to at least try the old pistol. He really wanted to know how it felt in his hands, compared to his gauss pistol.

A door creaked open at the far end of the room, past the firing lanes and benches. Tiran looked over to see a male unicorn with an almost luminescent silver hide emerge from the back room while levitating several locked cases before him. Tiran also noticed he had a rather sleek looking pistol slung in a holster at his side.

The stallion locked the door and turned around, going stiff at the sight of Tiran standing there. He eyed Tiran with irises the same ghostly shade as his coat.

"Hey," Tiran waved sheepishly. "It's ok if I'm in here, right?"

The stallion stepped forward and held out a hoof. After some hesitation, Tiran shook it. "Name's Sylver," the stallion said.

Of course it is, Tiran thought.

"I'm Range Master and Armorer here," Sylver continued. "So you're our resident human, the one they brought in with all that crazy gear?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, good," Sylver said, setting the cases on a bench nearby and opening one up. "I was gonna take this down to Q in the lab, but I think I'll get more insight from you." Tiran watched with surprise as Sylver levitated his sidearm out of the case and held it between them. "I've been trying to figure this thing out, but it's beyond me."

"Oh, sure," Tiran said, reaching out and grabbing the pistol from the aura Sylver had enveloped it in. His hand tingled as it passed through the cloud, the sensation gone in a wink as Sylver dispelled it.

"Why don't you take it over to the range." Sylver suggested.

Thinking of nothing better, Tiran took his suggestion and went to the nearest booth. Sylver came up next to him closely examining Tiran's every movement with the weapon. Tiran had never had to teach any one about firearms before, but he gave it his best shot.

"Well, this is the mag release right here," he said pointing to a button near the trigger. He ejected it and showed Sylver the magazine, filled with tiny metal darts, "The basic design hasn't changed much from the old cartridge pistols, but it's designed to hold more rounds now. Going from the standard fifteen to about a hundred chambered for 2.7mm." He pushed the mag back in the well, the pistol rewarded him with a satisfied click.

Continuing his lesson, Tiran traced a finger from the mag to the chamber and along the barrel's length, "The internal slide picks up a dart, aligns it with the gauss strips in the barrel and runs a charge down it from a battery in the mag. No spent shells, no gas, no muss."

"Interesting," was all Sylver said. "Why don't you show me?"

Tiran paused, staring at the unicorn for a moment, then looked down the range where a few targets still hung on wire runners. He hadn't shot his sidearm on a range in a long time. The last time was for his re-qual before Cherovic put him back in the pilot's seat. Even then, he only managed marksman.

"Alright, here goes..."

Tiran thumbed the on switch for the battery and felt the slide shift inside and chamber a round. he lined up the sights with one of the distant targets and pulled the trigger. A minute cone of sparks erupted from the end of the barrel, followed by a whine and a plink as the dart sped down the range and hit catch behind the target. Tiran fired a few more shots off for good measure.

Sylver watched the whole time, carefully studying the pistol as it operated. After Tiran's last shot, he shifted his gaze down the lane and inspected the target. Almost every shot had landed within the rings except one, lonely on the blank paper.

"You're a terrible shot," was Sylver's only comment.

"Yeah, well I'm a pilot, not a soldier;" Tiran said in his own defense. "Put me in the sky and I'm the goddamn reaper."

"I might want to see that." Sylver said, taking the pistol out of Tiran's hands and placing it back in its protective case.

Tiran was about to ask about his other pistol when the door to the hall swung open. He wheeled around to see the rusty red stallion from the interrogation step into the room and look around.

"Giving late lessons, Sylver?" he said with a slight smile, settling to a slight frown as his eyes rested on Tiran.

"Nah, just checking out our guest's equipment."

"Might wanna do that myself."

"We have time now, if you want, Sparks. It's an interesting design, far more advanced than our own. Worth the experience."

"Later," Sparks said. "I need to talk to you, something came up," he put gravely, the Commander's choice in tone grabbing Tiran's attention.

Sylver turned back to Tiran, Know your way back?"

"Yeah, think so," Tiran replied, wondering if he actually did.

Without another word, Sylver trotted to Sparks and they left together, talking as they did. Tiran walked quietly and slowly out the door behind them, trying to catch snatches of their conversation.

"You sure it's solid?" Sylver asked.

"Source is one of our best." Sparks replied.

"Is Princess Luna secure?"

"Left the same day as Princess Celestia, safe in Canterlot."

"Good. I'll get some eyes on the perimeter and see if we can't nip it in the bud."

The two then disappeared around a sharp corner and trotted away down a hall that went in the opposite direction of where Tiran thought his room was. His interest was piqued at the few words he managed pick up and he briefly considered following them further. But a well reasoned voice in the back of his head reminded him that that course of action could well place him back in the interrogation room and he decided it was best not to pursue it. He was tired any way and figured that whatever it was didn't affect him any how.

Tiran wandered back down the halls and wondered if Ruwa had returned to her room yet. If so, maybe he could have a chat with her, settle whatever it was between them and have a nice little dinner. If not, then at least he could have a few beers and pass out in his rack.

Chapter 18: Winds Change

Tiran sat in a chair, keeping nervously still. He felt as if his arms were bound to the arm rests as hard as he was clutching them, knuckles on his right hand going white. Draped around his torso from his neck was a stiff sheet, to catch whatever mess should occur from his predicament. Tiran fought the urge to tremble as the sharp crossed blades hovered by his head, searching for the next spot in which to strike.

As still as he was, Tiran surprised himself by stiffening even more as the blades descended towards his scalp. He heard a snip, felt a tug and a watched through wide eyes as yet another strand of hair fell to the ground, viscously separated from its brethren.

"Dere. Ah fink ith gud." Ruwa spat the scissors onto the table and clenched a mirror by the handle with her teeth, holding it up for Tiran to see. "Howth i' loog," she struggled to say around the handle.

Tiran reached up and ran his hand through his shortened hair. He twisted his head from side to side, trying to see it from all angles. His hair was a little patchy and ragged after going through its latest ordeal, but overall it wasn't that bad. Though, he realized, cutting hair wasn't really Ruwa's strong suit and he really should have gone looking for a proper barber.

"It's good, thanks."

Ruwa put the mirror back down and clapped her hooves together, "Aw, thanks," she grinned, "I really put my best into it."

"It shows!" Tiran replied, putting on the most sincere smile he could.

Tiran had found Ruwa in her room the night before and had a chat while dinner was brought to them. He had expected a raucous argument, but instead Ruwa had said not to worry about anything, she wasn't mad any more, and they had a civil dinner. Tiran didn't exactly believe her, but didn't want to spoil the peace and didn't push the subject.

Afterwards, she had bade him good night as he went back to his own room, professing her own weariness from exploring their home of the moment. Tiran had gladly obliged, going back to his own bunk, tying one off and passing out into a nice dreamless sleep. he'd actually slept in to nearly noon.

It was during lunch when Tiran had mentioned wanting to get a haircut. Ruwa had immediately offered to do the task and, not wanting to disappoint her, Tiran had—reluctantly—agreed. Looking in the mirror again now, he decided it wasn't all that bad.

"So, what do you think we should do today?" Ruwa asked as Tiran got to sweeping his hair from the floor.

Tiran paused, thinking, when he remembered, "Hey, Quick Fix is here. Maybe you should go visit her."

Ruwa's eyes went wide at this new information, "Really? She's here?"

"Yeah," Tiran nodded, continuing his task, "she's down in one of the labs they got-" he looked up again, only to see Ruwa already heading out the door at an excited pace. The door slammed shut even before he could finish his sentence. "Well, shit."

Tiran finished up with a few quick sweeps and deposited his former head coverings into one of the bins. After putting the broom and pan away, he stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered out onto the balcony, wondering what he was going to do with his time for that day.

He watched as one of the sleek looking airships from the hangar lazily wafted across the sky in the distance and had the sudden urge to go check on his own aircraft again. However, he didn't feel like running into Flicker again and getting into another argument over any new modifications the stubborn stallion felt like he had to add.

His mind drifted back to his sidearms. He still wanted them back, felt naked without them in such a foreign land. It was a feeling he thought he'd never experience before. He shrugged. Things change.

Tiran eventually settled on another walk, get his bearings about the place. He still had no idea where he was and it left him feeling uncomfortable, insecure, trapped. He really hoped they'd let him go soon, see if there was any way for him to return home.

He wandered around the corridors for a bit, passing the cafeteria. He wondered if he should pop in and get something to eat just to bide the time, but after catching a whiff of something that smelled like fried hay and pulped grass, he decided against it. Curiously enough, he soon found himself at the doors that led outside, the same ones that would take him to the field that ended in the sharp cliff that concealed the hidden ramp.

Tiran pushed through the doors and stepped out onto the lush grass, enjoying the sun as it beat down on his face and bare arms. It was a beautiful day with exceptional weather, especially for being up on the side of a mountain some where. He strolled near to the edge of the cliff and let himself fall on the lush and well manicured grass.

Tiran wondered how they kept the lawn so nice when he hadn't seen any landscaping equipment and felt a short chuckle escape as he imagined all the hardened looking ponies here grazing on the field. A laugh that soon died away as he remembered his whole situation. the whole thing was absurd, but there was nothing he could do about it for now.

He put his arms behind his head, enjoying the returned sensation of soft skin on his left arm, even if it was fake. A warm breeze whipped up from some where, threatening to carry Tiran off into a light doze, comfortable as he was. But something wasn't right.

There was a slight scent on the breeze, something that shouldn't, by all accounts, be there. Tiran wasn't terribly familiar with the installation, but he was sure that they didn't cook with wood fires. He hadn't seen any place that was built for burning wood either; no fireplaces, no fire pits, no nothing.

Tiran sat up, sniffing at the air again, the scent getting stronger. Burning, definitely something burning now. He wondered if something had caught fire some where and felt a sharp spike of concern pierce his gut as he remembered Ruwa was visiting Quick Fix in the labs.

What if something bad had happened down there? What if Flicker had finally tinkered with something he shouldn't have with the Cloudburst, causing an inferno? But no, that couldn't be right. Surely, if that came to pass, they would have some sort of fire suppression system or a damage control team already on scene.

Then again, Tiran still didn't know much about this place. It was entirely possible that they didn't have any of those things. Curiosity and concern for his aircraft got the better of him. Tiran pushed himself up and made his way down the ramp.

Ambling through the side cavern of stalagmites and stalactites, Tiran soon came to the hidden mouth of the hangar. He found the doors cracked open just enough for one person to slide through at a time. He entered, sniffing the air and looking for any signs of fire or smoke, perplexed as he didn't see any.

He saw one of the airships was missing, probably the one he had spotted earlier out on patrol. The Cloudburst was still in its own spot, more or less put back together, canopy raised high. Tiran wandered over, hoping that Flicker wasn't around.

Tiran gratefully saw that he wasn't. Probably off on some other errand. Tiran grinned and dropped the side ladder, climbing up into his cockpit.

Settling in the front seat, Tiran ran his hands over the controls, wondering to himself if he should try to power them up. Giving in to temptation, he did.

A warm hum began to grow as Tiran flipped switches and applied power from the back-up batteries. Here and there, lights began to blink, and statuses popped up on the myriad of screens and displays.

"Li," Tiran said, "connect with Cloudburst's computer and run diagnostics." He wanted to know exactly what condition his bird was in now.

'Wait one, working...'

The damage control and threat displays sprung to life on their secondary displays. The threat board was empty, pretty much what Tiran expected. The damage control display showed significant improvement. There were no longer any alarms showing a reactor leak. The landing gear was green all across. Even all the control surfaces and thrust nozzles seemed to be in working order, barring a few yellow marks spread around showing a few that still had minor problems.

Tiran's hands clenched around the stick and the thrust, begging him to start up the reactor. The temptation was great, he itched to get back in the air. But Tiran remembered that his suit was still in the shop, broken down into its components. Even if he did get airborne, out of the hangar, he would soon pass out from the forces the Cloudburst would exert on his body.

Reluctantly, Tiran began to power down his aircraft, killing his bird with every flip and switch. He let out a discontented sigh as the Cloudburst's happy hum died away like some great beast letting out its last breath. giving the dashboard a loving pat, Tiran pulled himself up and swung a leg out onto the narrow runner just below the canopy before the climb down the rickety ladder.

Before he was even half way down, the hangar echoed with the clatter of galloping hooves, "Lieutenant Tiran, there you are!"

Tiran cringed at the sound of his rank being used and hopped the rest of the way down the ladder, turning to confront whoever it was. A young stallion in the same dark patterned uniforms he had seen others wearing around the complex galloped up, stopping to quickly catch his breath.

"You have to come with me, sir," the young stallion said with a conviction that made Tiran nervous.

"Why, what's up?"

"There's been an incident. We're pulling all non-essential personnel back into the complex for their protection."

"Protection?" Tiran folded his arms against his chest. "What the hell we need protection from? Is it the fire?"

The stallion looked at Tiran, briefly perplexed, "Fire? No, sir. I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to explain, please follow me."

The stallion turned and started for the aft end of the hangar where Tiran figured there was another way up to the complex above. He shrugged and went to follow, noticing for the first time that his new escort was armed with a pistol and wearing what looked like sleek body armor the same pattern as his uniform. These new details practically shouted a warning to Tiran and he worried something terrible had gone awry.

They climbed up a steep ladder well Tiran hadn't noticed before, taking them back to the interior of the complex above. Tiran peppered his escort with questions the whole way, but he only got vague and noncommittal answers. Tiran gave up on it for a while, but only found his curiosity reawakened when they emerged into the complex to find an unprecedented bustle of activity, stallions and mares alike zipping through the corridors with stamped papers and various armaments.

Tiran was taken to a small room somewhere in the guts of the building, completely devoid of windows and only housing a large table with a map of the country spread out on it. There, the guide left him and Tiran walked over to the table to study the map. It occurred to him that this Equestria was a lot bigger than he thought.

As he studied the swirling lines and scales, he searched for the dot on the map that would tell him where he was, but came up disappointed. He found the capital city, Canterlot, and the town, Unicorn Junction. He traced his path from the town. Damn, he was really close to making it to the capitol. Tiran swore, if he ever found the guy that set him up for the ambush, he might wring his neck.

A moment later, Ruwa was pushed into the room. She was closely followed by Sparks, the military station's commander. Ruwa walked over to Tiran, intent on asking questions he had no answers for when Sparks spoke up instead.

"I'm sorry for the rush getting you two here, but we need to talk," he said, clearing his throat. A serious expression descended to his face, telling Tiran that he wasn't going to like this. "We've gotten reports of a major armed presence making its way here, would you know anything about that?" He directed this question towards Tiran.

"Me?" Tiran replied. "Why would I know anything about it?"

"Because," Sparks stomped a hoof on the table, "our eyes and ears are telling us that leaders within this group are using news of your existence in the country as a call to arms."

"Wha-?" Tiran was flabbergasted. "What the hell do I have to do with any of this? Hell, I was trying to keep as low a profile as possible!"

"No? You didn't talk to anypony strange on your way here?" he said with an accusatory glare.

Tiran gripped the edge of the table with his left hand, feeling his temper heat up, "On my way here!? I was trying to get to Canterlot, I don't even know where here is! You guys were the ones that put a sack over my head and kidnapped me!"

"Tiran..." he heard Ruwa whisper beside him.

Tiran looked at her, but she wasn't looking at him. He followed her eyes and saw his hand was slowly crushing the edge of the table, splintering the wood and sending cracks snaking outwards. He realized he had let his temper get the best of him and looked around the room.

Sparks had backed up, eyes locked on Tiran and horn glowing. There were also two new stallions in the room Tiran hadn't noticed before, weapons drawn and floating ready at their sides. Tiran took a deep breath and backed away, the table letting out a tortured squeak as he released his grasp.

The armed stallions relaxed a little, but not by much. "Look," Tiran said, "Whatever is happening, I got nothing to do with it. I heard about the problem you had in the past with another human, that ain't me. I just wanna go home."

A mare burst into the room without warning and darted over to Sparks. He dipped his head as she whispered something in his ear, then took off again like some one was dying.

Sparks turned to his two subordinates, "Alright, they're at the perimeter. One of you go find Sylver and get an update, then find my son and get him out of here. The other take these two back to their rooms, confined to quarters."

Ruwa looked surprised, "What?"

"Hey," Tiran started, "You can't just toss us back in a cell!"

As one of the stallions galloped out of the room, Sparks turned back to Tiran and Ruwa, "It's not a cell and it's for your protection, we don't know how this is gonna go down." Sparks nodded to the remaining stallion and he moved to take Tiran and Ruwa away.

Tiran was about to argue, to tell this guy where he could stick it, but something on the grizzled stallions face told him it wouldn't be the best idea at the moment. So he and Ruwa begrudgingly followed their escort back to their rooms. Tiran found that there was a new set of guards outside his door now, four instead of two and all heavily armed. They tossed him and Ruwa into their respective rooms, heavy locks slamming into place as the doors shut.

The first thing Tiran did was rush to the side door and try to pry it open. It wouldn't budge. He jiggled the handle and found it locked.

"Hey Ruwa, open up!" he said, pounding on the door.

A second later, he heard the lock click and the door swing open wide. Tiran made to talk with her, figure out what was going on, if she heard anything, but she ran to the balcony before he could.

"Tiran, look!"

Tiran chased her out and stood at the rail, "Ruwa, whats-?"

"Down there!"

Tiran followed her pointed hoof and gazed down into the forest below. There were lights moving about in the dying light of day. Blinking and flickering as they moved among the trees. Tiran squinted and tried to judge their distance. To him, they seemed to be just a few miles out.

"What do you think they are?" Ruwa asked with a tremble in her voice.

Tiran didn't have an answer for her. He still didn't know anything about this crazy world. But past experiences told him it wasn't good.

Out in the distance, a glaring point of light flew up above the trees, trailing a billowing column of smoke. Cracks and pops briefly rang out, echoing off the stone walls of the mountain fortress. Ruwa looked at Tiran questioningly. He had an answer for that.

"Move away from the windows." Tiran said, grabbing her foreleg and pulling her inside.

Tiran pushed her towards the center of the room, then went and closed the balcony doors. Their glass wouldn't be enough to shield them, so he wrapped his arms around a thick wooden armoire and dragged it across the floor to block them.

"Tiran," Ruwa said with a more demanding tone, "What is going on?"

Tiran grunted as he moved the armoire into its final place, "Not sure, but it looks a lot like an attack of some kind."

"An attack?"

"Yes Ruwa," Tiran deadpanned as he flopped down in a chair. "An attack."

"But who would-?"

"No clue. This is your country, not mine. But who ever it is, they must be good. According to Quick Fix, this place is supposed to be 'hush-hush.' By the way, you meet up with her?"

"Yeah... I hope she's ok." Ruwa replied, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "What do we do?"

Tiran kicked his legs up on the table and leaned back, closing his eyes, "What do you mean, what do we do?"

Ruwa shakily walked over to her bed and sat down on it, the mattress letting out a whoosh of air with her weight. "Like, do we help, do we find shelter?"

"Ruwa, I admire your drive, but you're not trained for these sorts of things and I'm pretty much useless outside of a cockpit. The only thing we can do is wait."

Tiran cracked an eye and took a peek. Ruwa was looking away from him, absently focused on some fascinating part of the usually bland wall. Truth was, there actually is something he could do. Assuming they could break out of the room, make it down to the hangar, re-assemble his suit, jack the Cloudburst and it still had ammunition in the cannons drums. He expected they would have removed it though. And by locking them in their rooms, Tiran suspected Commander Sparks didn't want him to have access to all that any way.

So they would have to wait. Wait and hope that these RSTG guys were as good as every one here made them out to be. And, given Sparks' comments and accusations about Tiran at their little impromptu meeting, that this didn't have to do with him at all some how.

Tiran would've liked to have Li hijack her way into a network and get him some Intel, but they didn't have wireless here. He doubted they even had any kind of computers. If they did, he hadn't seen any.

So they waited.

Chapter 19: A Daring Plan

It was the third day being cooped up in their rooms. Ruwa had taken to pacing impatiently back and forth in her room. Tiran worried that she might run a trough in her floor if she kept it up much longer.

He had taken to a slightly different way to pass the time. Namely, nursing the warm beers still left in his own room, out of her sight. She didn't like him drinking, especially now. She'd expressed as much when he'd first cracked open a beer, so he'd been doing it without her knowledge.

Occasionally, he would risk a peek out his own window. The lights in the forest were getting closer, they were almost against the mountain's walls. The pop and rattle of gun fire louder. To him, it seemed like it was becoming a siege. But to what end?

Tiran silently contemplated this as he enjoyed the small buzz of the alcohol. As far as he knew, this wasn't his fight. If he could just get out of this room and down to the hangar, he might be able to jump in the Cloudburst and get away. Maybe the M-drive still worked and would get him back home.

But that would also mean leaving Ruwa behind to whatever fate awaited those here. Tiran felt odd that he would consider that, he still barely knew her. And yet, she had helped him so much without even the slightest hesitation.

Then there were the questions. Questions pulled from the deep depths of his mind by the hooks of information cast at him by that Princess Luna. The ones about alleged family previously arriving in this place. Tiran had to admit, it did explain some things, if he could believe it. But he wanted more.

Tiran knew one thing. He wouldn't get any answers rotting in this room. He needed to get out. He needed to fly, all the way to Canterlot and yank the answers from the Princesses' mouths if need be. But how to go about doing it?

Knocks on his door. Weighty and familiarly imposing. Tiran put his drink down and stood up as the door unlocked and swung inward without prompting. Sparks stepped inside. Tiran smiled.

He might get out after all. If he wasn't there to imprison him further.

"We're moving you." Sparks said without preamble.

"Oh?" Tiran replied, his spirits confusedly rising and falling as he tried to figure out which it was.

"Yes, our location is compromised. We need to get everypony out and destroy everything, scorched earth policy."

Tiran's heart froze. He thought he was about to keel over. Scorched earth could only mean one thing. They were going to destroy the Cloudburst behind their retreat, total asset denial. He couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't.

"You can't!" Tiran protested.

"We don't have a choice!" Sparks shot back. "This station only had minimal staffing to begin with and we don't have a viable means with which to defend it," he put with a tiredness Tiran hadn't heard from him before. "We've underestimated our enemies."

That was something to take in. Tiran grabbed his drink and downed the rest of it in one gulp. If Sparks cared about him drinking alcohol at a time like this he didn't show it. Tiran tossed the empty bottle into the bin, not caring when it shattered against the rim.

"You destroy the Cloudburst, then you destroy any chance of me getting out of here!" Tiran shouted.

"I'm sorry," Sparks said, shocking Tiran with words he had never expected to here from this stallion, given their short time knowing each other. "We just don't have a choice. Our enemies are about to breach our defenses at any moment now and I can't waste more soldiers in a battle I know I'm not going to win. You and Ruwa have half an hour to get your effects together, then we pull out," he added with a grave finality. The door slammed shut behind him as he left.

Tiran almost thought he could feel an actual blanket of despair fall over him. It was so thick, he felt as if he needed to physically throw it off. He settled for punching a hole through his desk.

The thick wood gave easily away as the fist of his left hand plowed through it in a burst of shards and splinters. He pulled his hand back up, inspecting the damage to it, not caring for the desk. Slivers of wood still lay embedded in his artificial skin. Something leaked out of one of the wounds and Tiran almost went to lick it when he stopped himself at the sight of the sickly green sealant dripping out like tears. Quick Fix really had done a good job on his arm in the lab.

But she still hadn't adjusted the force feed back.

Tiran's left arm and hand were still much stronger than their counterparts. He imagined he could even break the thick door of his implied cell down. Then he could get down to the labs. But there were still guards out there. He needed them gone.

"Tiran?" Ruwa called from the next room. "Everything ok in there?"

A devilish idea formed in Tiran's mind, "Ruwa. I need you're help with something."

* * *

"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Ruwa asked with justified skepticism.

"Just follow the plan," Tiran said. "Do your thing, I'll bust out, you tell them I said something about getting my gear from the armory and when they leave to chase after me, you go to the hangar where we'll meet up. Li, I need you to access the Cloudburst's systems as soon as we're in range."

"Affirmative," she chirped.

Ruwa still gave him a doubtful look. He had to admit, it wasn't the best plan, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment. Plus, it didn't need to work for very long.

"Alright," Ruwa conceded. "But after this, you owe me."

"Sure, sure, whatever." Tiran said, turning away so she could get ready for her performance in private.

Outside, the sounds of battle drew closer.Sparks was right about them running out of time. Tiran even thought he heard a few stray bullets strike the walls outside his window a few times. If this plan didn't work, he'd probably be screwed any way.

"All right, I'm ready!" Ruwa called from behind him.

Tiran went back out into his own room and closed the door behind him, locking it. He crouched by the door to the hall, loosing his balance a little and steadying himself on the wall with his hand. Tiran suddenly regretted drinking all those beers. He might trip over himself and throw the whole plan to shit.

He stiffened as he heard Ruwa's door creak open, imagined her poking her head out with her get-up barely visible behind the door. A wet mane and a loose towel draped around her midsection.

"H-hey b-boys," he heard her say. "I-I uh, c-could use a little h-help in here. I-If you don't mind."

Tiran rubbed his hand on his face in embarrassment. The whole plan hinged on her performance and on how disciplined the guards outside his door were. If she screwed it up...

"U-uh, sure, I can help, miss." Tiran was surprised to hear one guard say, nervousness in his voice.

Tiran's breath caught. This might actually work.

"We can't leave here, Flex!" The other guard said, causing Tiran's hopes to shatter. "Plus, you went last time something like this happened!"

"Oh, please!" the other argued. "It's not like that big monkey's going anywhere. And since when has this ever happened?"

"B-boys..." Ruwa said timidly.

"Back in Manehatten!" the second guard said, ignoring her. "On the extraction job, I sat on the package while you went off with those two mares!"

"Boys..." Ruwa said a little louder.

"I went with them for appearances!" the first guard countered, also ignoring her. "We were under cover!"

"Oh, bullsh—"

"Boys!" Ruwa shouted, causing them both to fall silent. "You can both come in and help," she offered with a sweet and enticing voice.

The silence lasted another minute and Tiran wondered if the whole plan was blown. Then his spirits instantly lifted.

"Sounds good..."

"Yeah..."

Two sets of hooves moved off, joined by Ruwa's as they all entered her room and closed the door, locking it behind them.

"So, what can we help you with..."

Tiran didn't wait to listen to the rest. He immediately stood up, cocked his arm back, and drove his fist with as much force as he could muster against the door jamb. The wood split like an overripe melon and allowed the door to crack open a little. Tiran speared his fingers in through the crack and wrenched the door back, eliciting a piercing squeal from the hinges.

In a flash, he was out the door and running down the hall. The synthetic skin of his left hand slapped loosely against Tiran's knuckles, those hits must've really torn it up. But he didn't stop, he couldn't, he had to find the way down to the hangar. Fast.

Most of the empty halls and intersections were a blur and for a moment, Tiran worried that he'd taken a wrong turn some where. But then he started to see some familiar things; a scuffed door he remembered, a crack in the ceiling. he kept following the clues until he happened upon a narrow stair well.

Tiran dove into it without a moment's hesitation. Either it was the right one or it wasn't.

Fortunately, it turned out to be the right one.

After nearly falling down the stairs over his own feet a few times, Tiran burst into the narrow back hall of the hangar. Inside its cavernous space, the echoes of the rapidly approaching battle seemed deafeningly loud. Tiran knew they were going to be louder soon. Much louder.

He wasted no time, running to the door to the lab and tearing it open.

A shot rang out, deafening Tiran, and part of the door near his head exploded in a shower of splinters. He dove to the ground and slid under a table in the corner, "Wait wait, don't shoot!" he shouted.

"Tiran? Is that you?" a familiar voice responded with a quaver in it.

Tiran pulled himself from under the table and stood with his hands up in the least threatening posture he could manage. Quick Fix was in the other corner. A gun was held in a shimmering aura created by her solid and steady. Her body, however, was shaking like a rock tumbler.

"Easy now, Q," Tiran said. "I'm a good guy, remember?"

"Oh, thank Celestia!" she said at the sight of him, eyes still wide in fear. "I thought. I thought-"

"It's ok, Q. Give me the gun."

"The gun?" She looked at it as though she had only just noticed it. "Oh. Yeah. Here." She floated it over to Tiran and he took it, inspecting the ancient weapon. "What's going on out there?" she asked him. "Are we leaving? Did they let you go?"

Tiran glanced out into the hall. It didn't look like he'd been followed yet. "Uh... I wasn't exactly let out."

"It's just as well." Quick Fix said, turning from him and tossing some items from her lab into a bag. From the looks of it, she had just started when he barged in. "I got Flicker out on the pad in one of the airships. He's going to fly us out." She turned to him, deep concern on her face. "Where's Ruwa?"

"She'll be here in a minute." Tiran assured her. "I need my suit, Quick Fix, where is it?"

"Your suit?" She paused, thinking to herself. "Oh, yes. Your suit!" She hurried over to a large cabinet, packing temporarily forgotten, and threw it open. "Fortunately, I thought to put it back together. I took a few liberties with it, hope you don't mind." She left it open and went back to her packing.

Tiran went over to the cabinet and pushed the doors open a little further. There was his suit, complete and whole. The under garments were hung up right next to it. Tiran immediately grabbed them and started stripping down. His thoughts briefly flicked towards the unicorn mare still in the room with him, but he didn't know how much time he had. Modesty didn't matter much in this situation, he decided.

Just then, the sound of galloping hooves race up the corridor, accompanied with Ruwa's angry voice, "Tiran, I swear to Luna's moon if you ever make me do something like that again, I'll— Oh my gosh!! Tiran!!!"

Still pulling his underpants from his ankles, Tiran turned to find Ruwa staggering back and frantically covering her eyes with her wings, her mane still wet and matted.

"Oh, it's not that bad!" he snapped. "Now hurry up and help me with the suit!"

"H-help y-you..."

Tiran glared back at her as he pulled the under suit up his legs and saw through the gaps in her feathers that she was desperately trying to control a deep red blush that had come unbidden to her face.

"I'll help you." Quick Fix said, having finished her packing. "Ruwa, watch the hall."

"O-ok."

With Quick Fix's help, Tiran was suited up and ready to go in no time. He carried the helmet against his side in one arm while the other check the pistol Quick Fix had given him after nearly blowing his head off. They all walked out to the hangar to a waiting airship spun up and ready to go, filling the hangar with a loud drone. Quick Fix was to Tiran's right with a bag over her back and Ruwa on the left, trying not to catch Tiran's eye.

When they were half way there, Tiran stopped and put a hand on Quick Fix's shoulder, "Take Ruwa with you, keep her safe," he said over the buzz of the propellers

"That goes without saying," she scoffed. "Wait, where're you going?"

"I'm getting my bird outta here!"

Quick Fix looked at Tiran like he'd suddenly gone crazy. Then turned to the frightened Ruwa. Behind her, Flicker stepped leaned out the open side door of the airship. "Hurry up!" he shouted at them.

Quick Fix dropped her bag and dug around in it. "Here," she said, tossing Tiran his gauss pistol. "Make it out of here, got it?" she said sternly.

"You got it." Tiran said with conviction.

Quick Fix turned away from him and pulled the still shocked Ruwa along. Tiran watched them go for a moment, reassuring himself, watching them climb into the airship. As soon as they were in and the airship began to lift off, he sprinted for the Cloudburst.

The airship slid out the hangar bay doors and Tiran bounded up into the cockpit, hitting the button to fold the ladder. "Li, are you integrated with the cloudbust's systems?"

'Affirmative. Diagnostics run complete. Starting boot...'

Tiran began to route power and jack the reactors as Li got the computers up to speed. The Cloudburst seemed to happily hum and whine with new energy, like it was a young pup about to set out on its own for the first time. He finally reached for the last set of switches, the ones that would put a burn in the engines, and flipped them all up.

All the displays went painfully bright and a keening rattle and wail pierced the air. Tiran immediately shut the engines down, alternating between that and blocking his ears. He wished he'd had the foresight to put his helmet on first, to at least spare his hearing.

"Li, what was that?' Tiran asked.

'Wait one...'

Tiran waited, albeit impatiently. He leaned out the cockpit, glancing towards the hangar doors and the back stair well. If he listened carefully, he thought he could hear the sounds of battle approaching. He wanted to be out of here well before then.

A status alert chirped, the right engine flashing yellow on its display, 'I'm detecting debris in the intakes,' Li announced.

Tiran cursed under his breath. The engines wouldn't start with crap stuffed up in them. Even if he overrode the program, they would be torn to hell.

Cursing even more, Tiran swung out of the cockpit and ran around the side runners, leaving his helmet sitting just outside the cockpit. The main intakes were settled above the roots of the wings, along the dorsal fuselage. he carefully climbed in, gently sliding up the intake tube, barely wide enough for his shoulders.

It was dark in there, and being in there with the reactor running made Tiran very nervous. Thoughts of the engines suddenly firing on their own and sucking him in, chopping him up and roasting the pieces clouded his mind.

Tiran crawled up as far as he could go to the large fan blades. He flipped a light attached to his suit on and peered inside. Something shiny and metal gleamed in the light behind the slats. Tiran reached in with a hand and groped around, grasping the object as his fingers bumped it. He pulled it out.

It was a wrench.

Tiran muttered something foul under his breath about a certain mechanic and started to wiggle out from the intake, wrench still clenched in his hand. A staccato of gun shots echoed out in the great space behind Tiran. He paused, listening.
Those were too loud to have come from outside.

He waited with bated breath. Listening as a clatter of hooves echoed throughout the hangar. Tiran wondered if they were from the soldiers stationed here. Or if...

"Rocky! Secure the stairs! We don't want any of those RSTG flank holes coming up behind us."

"But don't we have other teams up there?" another voice questioned.

"You questioning me!?" the first said, exploding with anger. "These guys are pros, you want one we missed coming down here and blasting out the back of your skull?'

"N-no boss, right on it!"

A set of hooves rushed back towards the stairs. The rest continued into the hangar.

"Aw, hay, looks like some got away in one of the airships." the voice in charge said with disappointment.

Tiran figured these were definitely not some of the good guys. He gently placed the wrench on the floor of the intake and reached for his pistol. He thumbed the battery on, hoping its short whine wasn't loud enough to be heard.

He tried to guess how he could make it out of this decidedly pear shaped situation. he didn't know how many were out there, but at a guess, the voices indicated at least three, but the number of hoof steps he was hearing pointed at more. Tiran hoped beyond hope that they would see the hangar was empty, get bored and leave.

"Hey boss, check out this weird airship!" one of them said.

Tiran silently cursed his luck.

"Well, would'ja look at that..."

Tiran heard the group of them approach. one of them pounded on the Cloudburst's side, causing Tiran to flinch with each impact. he winced as he heard his helmet dislodge from its precarious position on the side runner and crack onto the deck.

"Li," Tiran sub vocalized, "lock it down."

"What the?" Tiran heard one of them exclaim over the whine of compressors and hydraulics as the Cloudburst shut its canopy and locked all the flight controls. "This thing's movin' on its own!"

"Quiet!" the boss voice growled. "Somepony's still here. Spread out!"

Tiran listened as the group dispersed, heading off in different directions, away from the Cloudburst. if they moved far enough away, if he could keep out of sight, then maybe he might be able to make a run for it, try to get to the hangar doors. Then... then what? There weren't many options after that.

Still, he had to try something.

Tiran clipped the pistol back into its place on his leg. He tried slowly, ever so slowly, to back himself out, making his way inch by inch. His feet were close to the mouth of the intake. He just needed to slide out onto the fuselage, drop to the deck and run like hell.

Tiran felt his elbow bump something loose. He looked down and saw the wrench start to slide down the intake shaft. He panicked and clawed for it, but wasn't quick enough.

The molded bar of steel skittered down the intake, much too loudly, fell over the lip and dropped to the ground, landing with a violent and echoing clang.

"What was that!?" Some one said from one corner of the hangar.

"Over there!"

Tiran went for broke. He pushed himself bodily out of the intake and fell straight to the deck. He landed hard on his ass and immediately bounced to his feet, scrambling for the hangar doors, swiping his helmet up from where it had rolled under the aircraft.

"Stop right there!" A gruff voice said behind him.

Tiran considered ignoring the order, but the familiar clack of a slide being rocked back made him stop. Tiran slowly raised his hands and turned around as a cacophony of clattering hooves ran over to where he was; almost to the doors, but not quite.

As Tiran came about, about five stallions ran up to greet him, knives and guns in hoof and shimmering aura. They were a ragged bunch, armed with mismatching weapons and what looked like really old body armor. The type of armor that would be useless against more modern weapons, but would work just fine against the type of firearms he'd seen in this world so far.

The one Tiran assumed to be the leader stepped forward. He was taller than the others and appeared to have a scruff of stubble around the muzzle.

"So, what do we call you?' he said.

"Tiran."

"Tiran, huh? Funny name. What's with the fancy get up?" He prodded Tiran's chest with the barrel of his weapon.

Tiran took a few tentative steps back.

"Whoa there, where you think you're going?" The stallion responded by pointing his weapon at Tiran's face.

Tiran jammed his helmet on his head and did the clasps, the stallion jumped back and adopted a snarl.

Tiran put his hands back over his head, wondering if his suit would stop bullets. "Easy, now," he said in the calmest voice he could, which didn't translate well through the helmet's speakers. "I don't wanna get hurt. I just wanna go home."

The stallion's face took a look of malicious amusement, "Go home? Oh no, you're not going anywhere. Big boss gonna wanna see you."

"I'd really rather not," Tiran said, slowly lowering his hands and taking another few steps back.

"You ain't gotta choice, son. Now why don't you hand over any weapons you got and come along nicely." He glanced to the others to his side, "Roper, Slide, restrain our guest."

Tiran had heard enough. He wasn't about to be taken prisoner again. The days spent cooped up in this place were enough. He took one last longing look at the Cloudburst and spun around.

He heard one of them shout behind him. Tiran took the pistol from his leg and fired blindly over his shoulder as he ran, sprinting to the hangar doors. A pained bellow, gun shots, they opened up on him.

Chunks of rock and concrete exploded into the air off the floor around him. A large sledgehammer struck his left shoulder, causing him to stumble, but he kept going. He'd almost made it past the doors when something picked him up off his feet and dangled him upside down in the air.

"Stop shooting, we need him alive!" the leader hollered above the belching guns.

Tiran craned his head and saw it was the leader who was holding him aloft with his strange sickly magic, the rest were advancing on him. Tiran pulled up his pistol, took aim and fired.

The boss shouted in unimaginable pain and dropped as the round tore through his side. Tiran dropped at almost the same moment, the magic abruptly releasing its grasp on him. He landed on his head with a loud crack that echoed in his ears, but was saved by his helmet.

Tiran jumped to his feet and continued his sprint out the wide doors. If he could just make it out, get to some spot he could hide.

The edge of the cliff advanced, hard to see in the dark twilight hours. Tiran planted his feet and slid to a stop at its edge. He looked down at the roiling forest of midnight green far below, the forest dark and foreboding.

Maybe he could find a place to climb down, disappear into the woods. He was sure there would be some kind of escape somewhere, if only he could—

A loud bang, Tiran's back arched. Pain, searing unfathomable pain erupted in his side. He stumbled forward, teetering on the edge. Tiran turned around in a haze of hurt, tried to step forward, back to solid ground. Another bang, a bright flash and something heavy and invisible punched him in the chest, blowing him back.

He fell.

Weightlessness over took him. The edge of the cliff receded, seemingly of its own accord.

So that's what it feels like to get shot, Tiran's pain filled mind thought as he fell though inky nothingness.

He lazily enjoyed a few more moments of weightlessness through the fog of pain as he fell, the sensation churning his insides in odd ways. The air clawed and tore at his helmet, becoming a rushing, roaring howl. The noise of the end of the world in his ears.

Suddenly, he felt his armor lock up, rendering him unable to move. Then pain worse than the gunshot spiked through his body as the pressure increased all over. Tiran felt organs squeezed, the blood forced to his head clouding his mind in a red haze.

And then, the world shut off.

Chapter 20: Out Of The Bag

Commander Sparks crept though the underbrush, weapon held high and ready. On either side of him, blended with the darkness of night, were two of his old friends of the RSTG, Sylver and Nightlash. They silently advanced together through the forest at the base of what used to be their mountain.

He wondered how it had come to all this. How they had snuck up on him and his soldiers so easily. And just when they'd come to have custody of the firs human in almost thirty years. The implications made his hide itch.

"You sure this is where he fell?" Nightlash asked from the darkness.

"Dead sure." Sylver responded. "Saw it happen through my scope."

"Can it." Sparks growled. "We go in, retrieve the body and get out. No telling how long we have until they get around the mountain."

It was the best they could do at the moment. Sparks silently cursed the human who had disobeyed his orders and gone running off on his own instead. The man might be alive now, if he'd just stayed put and waited for one of his teams to escort him and his little marefriend to one of the airships.

It shouldn't have even come to that. They should have been safe and secure at their little mountain hideaway. He'd have to look into that. Only carefully vetted and cleared personnel knew of its location. Could there be a leak in his meticulously maintained and well trained group of soldiers?

Sparks didn't like to think about it. The possibility that one of his own had betrayed them. But there were other possibilities. Other ponies not directly linked to the RSTG, but worked for them. One such stallion came to the forefront of his mind. One that Princess Luna had urged him to take on as an intelligence agent. An effective one, but one who's loyalties had been questionable from the beginning.

"I'm picking up thermal on my scope." Sylver said from somewhere off to Spark's left. "Just up ahead. Looks like the poor bastard tumbled into a dry wash."

They slinked ahead, ever scanning the trees and rocks for threats. Always vigilant, always alert. Except for this one time, an unsightly blemish on his organization's otherwise stellar record.:

They cleared the trees, emerging into a relatively bare patch of land. The three of them swept the area, finding it clear of any hostiles and moved to the wash. There they found a humanoid figure, sprawled across the grass, arms and fingers curled in pain.

Nightlash walked up to the form and tapped on the strange armor, "Seems dead to me, poor guy. How we getting him out?"

Sparks let out a shuddering breath. The Princesses weren't going to be happy. The first human in nearly three decades dead on the ground.

"Rope him up and attach him to me. I'll drag him out." Sparks said. "We'll process the body at Site Bravo, then—"

"Tiran isn't dead!" a fuzzy female voice called out, seemingly from no where.

Sylver tensed and spun around, scoping the trees for threats. Sparks heard the safety of a rifle click and he turned to face Nightlash. The stallion was spooked and pointing his weapon at the still form of Tiran's body.

"That thing talked!" he exclaimed with a quaver in his voice. "Dead things don't talk!"

"Stow that weapon!" Sparks barked in a hushed tone. "I saw this in the reports, he has some kind of consciousness built into him, her name's LI, I think." Sparks wandered over to Tiran's body and crouched next to it, "Li. That is you, right?"

"Yes," came her distorted voice. When Sparks looked closer, he could see tiny speakers in the suit's helmet. "You must listen to me," she continued. "Tiran is still alive, but only just."

Sparks' head dipped, "I'm sorry... ma'am," he didn't know what else to call her, "but there's no way anypony could've survived that fall. He's dead."

"No, he's not!" she shot back at him. "He's just unconscious. I overloaded the pressure in the suit just before we hit. He may have some minor internal injuries and a case of the bends later, but that's not what I'm worried about. He received a gunshot wound to his side, he'll bleed out if you don't hurry!"

Sparks moved down Tiran's side and rolled his body over. There was indeed a small puncture in his side between the armor plates. What was more, blood was flowing out in rhythm with a pulse. However, it was quickly slowing to a trickle.

Sparks' eyes went wide, "Son of a- Nightlash!"

"Sir!"

"Break out the aid kit. I need a pressure bandage on this wound."

"Yessir."

Sparks backed away while Nightlash jumped into his work. The wound was bad, but Nightlash was good. If anypony could save the human, it would be him.

Sparks touched a small button attached to a wire on his throat, "Flyway, tell them to stow the corpse bag and prep an I.V. We're bringing back a live one."

"You're going to save him, right?" Li pleaded behind him.

Sparks turned to face her—which was weird considering he was looking at what he thought was a corpse until a moment ago, "We'll do all we can."

"Please do."

Something dug at the back of Sparks' mind, something he remembered from the report on her. "Li," he began to say, not sure where he was going with it, "from what we've gathered, you're a support program, right?"

"Correct."

"Why do you sound so much like a real..." Sparks gestured at Tiran's body while he searched for the word, "...person?"

"Brother," Li replied, adopting a knowing tone, "you don't know the half of it."

* * *

Tiran awoke in a haze. He pushed himself up and tried to piece together what had happened. He remembered falling, then the feeling of being squeezed as if in some giant's fist. His memory after that was dark and inky.

He briefly remembered the events prior to his plunge, his hand flew to his side where he had been struck by the bullet, only when it touched, he found no evidence of a wound. Then, with greater surprise, realized he wasn't even wearing his flight suit. No, as he looked down he saw that all he wore was a simple shirt and pants.

Tiran lifted his head and gazed around, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. He was surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable gray mist that seemed at once both fluid and solid. Tiran was immediately afraid. He felt fully conscious, but at the same time his body felt as if it floated in a dream.

"Li," he said with am uncertain quaver in his voice, "talk to me, what's going on?" He received no answer. "Li, you're there right?"

When he still received no answer from his companion, Tiran grasped his left arm with his right, checking it over. He recoiled as he lightly squeezed the wrist when instead of hard, unyielding metal, it gave way with soft and spongy flesh and stringy sinew.

Instead of feeling some up welling of mirth, of happiness at his arm whole once more, dread began to fill the space in Tiran's chest. Was he dead? Had he finally made that one fatal mistake that would tear him from the mortal world?

The thought of the possibility gripped Tiran with an iron vice that left him little room to breathe. In the past, he might have welcomed it, embraced it, the chance to finally lay in full rest, free from the dreary world he'd become accustomed to, from the nightmares that plagued him nightly unless he smothered them into silence with a few stiff drinks. But now, ever since the mishap, since he had been thrown into that strange land of fantasy, a new compulsion had thrust itself into his heart, a compulsion he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

The compulsion to live.

Not in the banal compulsion to simply intake sustenance to further facilitate the multiplication of cells and continued respiration, but a far more visceral, far deeper need to be with and protect those he'd come to actually care about.

A cold, frozen terror suddenly gripped Tiran with icy claws. He had to get out of here, had to escape some how. He began to run, sprinting in any direction, all directions, as fast as his legs could carry him. His bare feet made no sound as they struck the insubstantial ground, even as he felt each impact in the base of his skull.

His eyes were wild, flicking about in their sockets, looking, searching, for some exit that he was sure must present himself. All the while, he ran, his lungs never burning and his knees never aching even though he knee in his head he must have run farther and faster than he knew he could have before.

After what felt to him like hours, Tiran finally stopped, spinning around in a crazed circle. His surroundings had never changed the whole time he'd run. Even now, he couldn't be sure if he had even moved at all as his eyes met the same silver haze bearing down on him as when he had started.

"You'll not escape this place by mere mundane means," came a voice from out of the oblivion.

The scene suddenly shifted. The light grew darker, the ground grew solid and trees materialized from the ether, their boughs outlined with the silvery glow of the high moon.

Tiran cast his eyes about in search of the owner of the voice, but his breath caught in his chest as he recognized his new environment.

The soft light of the moon caressing the tropical trees and ferns. The wide, patchy clearing of dirt and rocks. A few bodies lay motionless in a rut by a jetwash-blasted part of the field, the sparse blades of grass blackened and burned. Tiran took a few involuntary steps away from the bodies, though they were already a distance from him. Up in the sky and to the east was a small ball of fire, raining detritus and twisted forms onto the forest below.

All was silent and still, as if it were all merely a snapshot of time. The more Tiran examined it, the more he believed that was exactly what it was. Even the flames of the explosion that had doomed the craft above seemed frozen as if by hot ice.

"I see that you've recognized this place." the voice said again, but this time from behind Tiran and very close.

Tiran whirled around and staggered back as he came face to face with Luna.

"The hell are you doing here?" he asked angrily, stepping away and glowering at her.

Luna began to pace a circle around him, "Observing, as is my duty."

Tiran turned with her, never letting her out of his sight, "Observing?"

"Correct." Luna stopped briefly and glanced down towards the prone figures in the dirt, then up to the glowering ball of fire in the sky. "It is my duty to guard the night and the wanton shimmers that dance in the dreams of our subjects," she casually explained.

"So," Tiran started unsure of how to proceed, "I'm not dead then. This is just a dream. You're not real."

Luna turned her head towards him, eyes glinting with amusement, "In a manner of speaking, yes. And I assure you, I am very real."

"Then what are you doing here? I'm not one of your subjects."

"No, you're not," she sniffed, "but this is just as much my realm as it is yours." She walked around the seared and simmered field, hooves picking their way among spent brass that glistened in the moonlight. "Never before have I encountered a dream or nightmare affixed so strongly on one event, obscured so heavily by the imbibing of spirits, nor one mired in such strong emotions of hate and regret. Except for perhaps one other." Tiran felt his ire deepen as she spoke.

"No shit," he spat. "It's something I'd rather forget!"

"Hmm... and yet your conscience holds tightly to it."

"It's not exactly like I have a choice."

Luna completed her circuit and stopped, fixing one baleful eye on the moon. It was in that moment that Tiran realized something as he studied the silhouette of her head an shoulders against the lunar backdrop, "You!" he said, creeping forward with an accusing finger. "That was you! That was you in my dream, wasn't it?"

He stopped with only a few scant feet separating them. Luna turned to face him, eyes blinking in feigned ignorance, "Whatever do you mean?"

Heated disbelief marred Tiran's face as he drew himself up and scowled at her, "You know what I mean! It was before I even met you, weeks before you supposedly even knew I was here, I saw you! You did know, didn't you." It was a statement.

Luna once again turned from him, but betrayed no emotion, "Perhaps."

"'Perhaps' my ass."

"Tiran, what is it you want most?"

The question took him off guard. Tiran took a step back, incredulity blossoming on his features, "What do I want? What do you mean, what do I want? I want to get the hell back home!"

Luna turned to face him again, expression grim, "Ah, but I think not."

"Oh, really?" Tiran said in a mocking tone. "Really, then what do you think I want, Princess?"

Instead of answering, Luna nodded towards the dark prone forms sleeping in the dirt, "What do you think I shall find over there?"

Tiran grimaced, his face settling into a hard mask, "Don't do that..."

"It was a fair question," Luna argued.

"And you'll get no answer."

"Very well," she sighed. "I did not need one anyhow." She swung her head towards his, drawing close to him. "You have a sickness, Tiran. One that for which there is no medicine that you can take to cure it. No draft or heady mixture will erase it, only dull it so that you may feel the symptoms enhanced.

She stepped quietly, continuing her raw and cutting lecture, "It is not healthy to seek such self destruction, least of all to yourself. What would those that cared for you feel were they to know you feel this way? What would they do if you were to cease to be of your own volition? have you considered this?"

Tiran's limbs began to shake, her words cutting to the quick. Ire and hate grew and his temper flared, battering against the cages of his conscience like a wounded animal in a trap.

"There aren't really any people that could even begin to give any shit about me back home," he said in a low tone, restraining his anger.

"I was not speaking of your own world," Luna stated.

"And who the fuck could you be talking about here?" Tiran demanded.

"Friends are friends no matter what they are or how you come by them," Luna replied. "In any case, you should not let the events of this memory stain your thoughts. The actions you took were necessary and the loss you sustained were of no fault of your own. You must forgive yourself if you are to complete your task, else you will suffer the same fate of your predecessor. Do not throw yourself away."

Tiran felt something within him break. He wanted to shout at her, to grab her and scream in her face that she didn't know shit about him and had no right to instruct him on what he should and shouldn't do with his life. But before he could act on his emotions, the scene shifted again.

Everything disappeared. The trees, the grass, the fire and the bodies, all was replaced with the same featureless wall of mist that had greeted him before. Even Luna had vanished, like a specter of long forgotten winds.

Tiran was left fuming with impotent hate, with nothing to vent it upon. He sat on the textureless ground and crossed his arms, her words echoing in his head.

* * *

The first thing Tiran was aware of was an intense pain in his kidneys. It felt like somebody was hammering needles into his back. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them to shut out the sharp burning glare. Tiran groped around for something, anything that would help him figure out where he was.

That last thing he remembered was getting shot, falling off the cliff...

Everything else was a little hazy after that.

"Li! Li, what's going on?" he called out.

'Tiran, relax,' came here soothing reply. 'You're in a safe place. Everything is fine, but you've lost a lot of blood and suffered some fractures.'

Tiran crooked his head, eyes still screwed shut. Li sounded different. More...human, some how.

"Li, are you doing ok?"

'Of course, Tiran. Never better.'

For some reason, Tiran doubted it. She was different, he could feel it. Suddenly, a lot of the things he'd been noticing about her lately were starting to make some sense. Not terribly much, but pieces felt as if they were falling into place.

Tiran heard a door burst open, scrambling his thoughts, "Mr. Tiran, you're awake!" a sweet female voice said to him. "Oh, I'm sorry, are the lights too bright? Let me just get that for you."

Tiran immediately felt the lights dim and blinked his eyes a few times. It was better, the light no longer attacked his eyes like glowing spears. He gazed around the room, taking in his new surroundings.

A mare with a paper hospital cover on her head was adjusting an I.V. that ran into his arm. She looked up and smiled at him. Tiran managed a week smile back as she finished her work and left the room.

The room itself was mostly bare. The walls were solid concrete with only one door in or out. There were no windows. A sad pile of medical supplies sat in the corner next to a waste bin. The bin was full of bloody bandages. Tiran hoped they weren't his, but the throbbing pain in his ribs told him otherwise.

"Li, what's going on?" Tiran asked, wiping a tired hand across his face.

'You tried to avoid being shot by leaping off a cliff.' she dutifully replied.

Tiran sighed, "You mean when I was shot off."

'Of course.'

"Li, where am I?"

'You are currently in the custody of Commander Sparks at a location called Site Bravo. After your retrieval, you were put in intensive care to treat your wounds.'

"Intensive care, huh?"

'Getting shot and falling nearly four hundred feet will do that to a man.'

"I guess it will!" Tiran started to chuckle, but had to stop when pain flared up in his ribs. He nearly doubled over, but forced himself back down and relaxed.

As his senses returned, Tiran noticed for the first time that he was hungry. Very hungry. He felt as if he was hungry enough to eat the same kind of crap Ruwa ate.

Tiran went rigid. Ruwa, he didn't know what had happened to her. He knew she had gotten out with Quick Fix, but anything could have happened to her after that. she could be here, that would make sense. He needed to be sure.

"Li—"

'Already on it.' she said before he could ask.

It was almost as if she'd read his mind. Half the time, Tiran could believe that she could.

A few moments later, the door to Tiran's room swung open and Sparks stepped inside, followed closely by Sylver. Tiran nodded to them both as they entered the room.

"How did you guys know to come so quickly?" was the first question out of Tiran's mouth.

"They do have radios, you know," Li supplied, speaking through her external speakers and joining the conversation.

Tiran looked and noticed that they did have tiny little wires concealed around their necks, "I guess they do," he murmured.

"How are you feeling?" Sparks asked.

"Better." Tiran replied. "Still not entirely sure how I survived."

"Neither are we," Sparks said. "But I'm pretty sure your friend there had something to do with it." He pointed a hoof at Tiran's arm.

Tiran glanced down, "Li?"

Sylver nodded, "The same. Said something about overloading the pressure in your suit. Quite a trick if you ask me."

"Yeah," Tiran wondered aloud. "I'm starting to get the feeling she has a lot of tricks up her sleeve I don't know about."

"Either way, she saved your life." Sparks stated.

"Yeah, and I'm grateful, but there's something else I need to know," Tiran said looking sternly at them. "Ruwa. She got out of there with that crazy engineer, Quick Fix. They're here, they're safe right?" he asked almost pleadingly.

Sparks and Sylver shared an uncertain look between each other. Tiran caught it, he didn't like it. To him the gesture spoke volumes of wrong. It was something he'd only seen people do if it was bad news or they—

"I'm sorry, but we don't know," Sparks admitted.

Tiran felt a spike of rage climb into his head, urging him to reach out and swing at the old unicorn, but he forced it down. "You don't know. The hell you mean you don't know!" he shouted.

"Because we don't know!" Sparks hollered back, anger and frustration blooming clearly on his face. The stallion realized quickly what he did and took a breath, calming himself. "Listen. She left with Quick Fix, hell my own son was piloting even though he should've already been gone. Where ever they are, I'm sure they're safe. Hope so..."

"They could've gone to see the Old Man." Sylver offered nonchalantly. Sparks rounded on the silvery unicorn and glared at him. "What?" Sylver shrugged. "He was probably gonna find out sooner or later."

"Old Man?" Tiran perked and sat up as straight as his injuries would allow. "You said 'Man.' I knew it!" he shouted triumphantly. "There's another one of me here! You guys have to take me to him. Now," he demanded. "I knew there was still another human here, that Luna said something about a blood test, she said it was my frigging uncle!" He was nearly slobbering at the mouth at this point. "I'm gonna get some fucking answers, and I'm gonna get them now!"

Sparks sighed and turned back around, a rumbling "Dammit" escaping out under his breath. "Alright, calm down, calm down!" Tiran leaned back at the outburst and realized what he had been doing. He slowed his breath and settled down. "But I'm going to have to fill you in on everything," Sparks continued once Tiran was calm. "Luna will probably have me skewered on a spit, but the damn cat's outta the bag. We'll get you some food first, then we'll sit down and have a chat."

"Good."

* * *

Tiran sat in his uncomfortable metal chair, sipping a hot beverage he couldn't taste over an old an worn wooden table that had a slight rock to it. Sparks and Sylver were sitting across from him, a beautiful backdrop of crisp glacial mountains printed out on a stained and torn swath of paper that had been hung on the featureless wall as if they were a joke.

The two unicorns had just finished telling Tiran the whole history of his species in their world as they knew it. A short and dour one, chased with sorrow, but enlightening as well. Tiran could still barely make heads or tales of it all, but it was progress.

"So," Tiran said, trying to process the information. "You're saying my great uncle came here more than thirty years ago, started up your group, disappeared, then one of his buddies followed him in—"

"By accident," Sparks added.

"—by accident," Tiran nodded. "And then they disappeared?"

"Well, 'disappeared' isn't quite the correct term." Sparks corrected. "Mayfield got sent back to your world by the power of the Princesses, no telling what actually happened to him. Your uncle went missing after detonating an experimental energy source trying to take down some weird cult that may or may not have been messing with his head. He's presumed dead."

"And the third?" Tiran asked.

"That would be the Old Man." Sylver said.

Sparks leaned in towards Tiran, "He was a close friend of your uncle's. A little flinty but a good guy."

"And he's still here, alive? Nearly a century after he arrived here according to my world's timeline?" Tiran was still having a hard time believing all this.

"If that's what happened, then yeah..." Sylver shrugged.

"That's another thing," Sparks said. "You still haven't answered my question about your species advancement."

Tiran looked at the stallion and raised his left arm, wiggling his fingers, "Well, if you're talking in terms of the last time a human left my world and came to yours from our point of view, quite a lot. As you can see from my arm—"

"And me," Li interjected.

"And Li, of course, we've come a long way in cybernetics and programming."

"Don't forget weapons," Sylver added. "That fancy pistol and the advanced aircraft you left in the enemy's possession," he put with an edge in his voice.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," Tiran said with a cockiness to his tone as he leaned back in his chair. "Li locked it down before we were discovered. The only two beings capable of taking it out of lock down, much less using it, are me and her." Tiran then leaned back onto the table, switching between both Sparks' and Sylver's eyes, "By the way, exactly who are those guys? I thought RSTG members were the big bad wolves of this place."

Sylver sighed, looking dejected, "That's something we're still not so sure about. It's nothing like we've encountered before, to be honest. The first two problems we've had on this scale were at least easily tracked and clear cut, but these guys just seem to come out of no where."

"And what the hell was this all supposed to do with me?" Tiran asked.

"Well, it's usually when something like this happens that a human appears, for better or worse," Sparks said. "One that hopefully helps us fix it. Hell, your uncle founded our organization, and both of us had the privilege of serving with him."

"Yeah, too bad I'm not a freaking super soldier like my uncle or his buddies," Tiran said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"That's because you don't have to be." Sparks said.

Tiran took a sip from his drink and looked back up, "What do you mean?"

Sparks leaned his head back and scratched it with a hoof, in thought. "I've actually had conversations with Princess Luna about some theories about why you guys show up in length," he said, looking directly back at Tiran. "You see, she has a theory about you guys after examining the events of the last large scale incident. It seemed a little farfetched to me, but anything friggin' possible with you guys, apparently."

"How do you mean?"

Sparks absentmindedly scratched the back of his ear again, "It's a little hard to explain without her, but I'll try. See, there are three different races of pony here. You got your Unicorns, Pegasi and Earth Ponies. Unicorns are the most prevalent in the use of magic, having the ability to channel it through our horns," he tapped the base of his own with a hoof. "Pegasi and Earth Ponies use magic too, but in a much more limited way. Earth Ponies are much hardier and live longer, Pegasi can fly and have dominance over the weather.

"Now, there are plenty of other species throughout our world and they all use magic in some shape or form. Dragons with their fire breathing, Diamond Dogs with their tunneling abilities, Griffins through their keen eyesight. The only being, the only one we've encountered that can't use magic in some shape or form in any way is humans."

"Well, no shit." Tiran scoffed.

"Ah, but here's the kicker," Sparks said, dropping his voice low and leaning closer to Tiran over the table. "Princess Luna believes that that theory isn't necessarily accurate."

"No?"

"Oh no. She believes that while your kind can't actually use magic, you can absorb it."

Tiran wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something foul, "That doesn't make sense to me. I've been picked up and tossed by that strange crap you unicorns pull off, didn't seem to affect me any differently than anything else."

"Ah, but that's it! Normal magic, no side affects. Dark magic, on the other hoof, tends to seek you guys out like moths to a flame. There was something wrong with your uncle towards the end. Something we couldn't see, but pulled one of his friends in. We think it might have finally consumed him in the end.

"Now you're here, another link in the chain. We don't think this is some coincidence. His blood runs through you, even if not in a direct bloodline. This could mean nothing. Or it could mean—"

Tiran slammed his cup down on the table, causing both stallions to flinch away with a start. "Alright, you can cut the voodoo shit."

Sylver began to open his mouth, "Voodoo sh—?"

"Shut it!" Tiran snapped, silencing the unicorn. "The fuck you think I am, some kind of idiot?" Tiran said in a level of tone just beneath a shout, staring at them as if he could smite them through sight alone. "Dark magic, black magic, whateverthefuck, I don't care!"

"I don't think you understand," Sparks began, his tone of voice beginning to match Tiran's. "We think there might be something drawn to you humans, something that causes these symptoms of dark times that usually accompanies the arrival of your kind, bringing you here!"

Tiran slapped his palm angrily on the table's surface, his left one. The wood cracked and splintered around the edges of his hand, "No, you don't understand!" he shouted full volume. "I didn't come by choice, but nothing brought me here! I was just supposed to test the damn M-drive, fly through some kind of fucking quantum wormhole or some hocus-pocus hyper-dimensional shit, but those fucking assholes from the fucking Society for Worldly Destruction, or whatever the fuck the fucking talking heads are calling them these days got wind of it and decided to attack my fucking ship, causing me to activate the fucking M-drive and crash land me here!" shoulders hunched with pent up frustration, Tiran punctuated the end of the rant by stabbing his finger onto the abused surface of the table top.

Tiran fell back into his chair, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath after his lengthy and passionate tirade, taking in the shock on the two stallion's faces with a detached feeling. Then the words started coming back to him. Every letter, every syllable dropped from his lips. And then he realized just what he had informed them of. Namely, his aircraft's alleged ability to shift through dimensions, of which they'd had absolutely no knowledge of. Until now.

"Shhhit."

"Tiran . . ."

"Yeah, Li, I know."

"Tiran, you just divulged highly classified information."

"I said, I know, Li. Why the hell didn't you stop me!?"

"Well... you were on a roll."

Tiran blanched with irritable confusion, "Because I was on a roll? what the fuck, are you malfunctioning or something?"

Before she could answer him, Sparks recovered from his shock, a very stern and serious look to his expression, "Tiran, are you absolutely sure your species has developed this ability?"

The pilot turned to the unicorn, the manic energy that had accompanied his previous speech spent. It left a void, one that he could not quickly recoup to answer the question in any words in the way of eloquent. Instead, he shrugged and with a great and draining release of breath proclaimed; "Yeah, probably."

Sparks turned to Sylver and nodded, pushing himself up from the table, "Draw up the plans, I'll alert the Princesses."

"You got it," Sylver said with a short salute as Sparks left the room.

Tiran gestured towards the closing door, "Got what, what plans?"

Sylver eyed the human and leaned in toward the table, "Well, obviously, we need to get your aircraft back. On top of that, the Princesses need to be informed of this recent development. But first, we're going to take you to see the Old Man."

"Great," Tiran deadpanned, too tired to even argue or ask questions any more. "When do we leave?"

Chapter 22: Gun Smoke And Mirrors

"So," Jackson said as he lowered his drink with a hard crack of glass on wood. "One of your teams found Mr. Tiran here out in the woods."

"Yes, just south of the Unicorn Range." Sparks clarified. "We believe he was headed to the capitol."

"I was," Tiran said, "until I was ambushed and drugged," he added with a hint of anger.

"Correct," Sparks continued, ignoring Tiran's comment. "We brought him back to our Training and Development Center. There we discovered—"

"That he's a relative of an old friend of mine," Jackson finished for him. "Distant, but by blood," he nodded.

Sparks shot a quizzical expression at Jackson, "Yes... how did you know?"

Jackson nodded towards Tiran, "They share some of the same features."

"Yes, I saw that too, after the test." Sparks agreed.

"Son, grandson, great grandson? Genghis was never the one to hold a steady girlfriend, but he did carry on with the ladies when he got the chance."

"No, as far as we can tell, he's a distant nephew."

Jackson nodded, "Hmm, makes sense."

Sparks continued: "We kept him for a few days, but then—"

"You were attacked. Yes, I know." Jackson waved his drink in the air dismissively. "Why do you think I was down in the damn basement when you arrived. Thought you were them," he said in explanation. "One way in, one way out. Would've been a nice little massacre before I went down."

Sparks leaned forward, eyes narrowing to slits, "Right again. How do you know all this already?" he asked with an air of suspicion.

Jackson laughed, "You kidding?" he said, voice booming in the small kitchen. "Just because I'm retired doesn't mean I like to be out of the loop. I got eyes and ears everywhere."

Sparks leaned back with a barely distinguishable roll of his eyes and sipped his drink, "Even so, things are going south, quick. We were hit fast and hard, with barely a few hours notice. It's been quiet for so long, but we think Equestria might be under attack again, but from whom, we don't yet know."

Sparks stopped here, and rightly so, as Jackson once again cut in. "And you want some help or insight from me about this and about Tiran here."

Sparks nodded.

"Well, sorry. I can't exactly help you," he said with a shrug.

Sparks tensed, but kept his reserve, "Why?"

Jackson sighed and took another gulp from his drink, which was rapidly dwindling. "Because, if my sources are right, it's not the country that's under attack. It's you."

At this, Sparks blinked, taken aback, "Me?"

"Well, the RSTG at least."

Tiran held up a hand, "Excuse me..."

"The RSTG?" Sparks said, oblivious to the interruption, "That can't be right. Nopony, and I mean nopony, could have the kind of resources to pull that off! Hell, we barely even exist on paper. Plus, even in the Ops we work, nopony even knows it's us pulling the strings and making the grabs, they all just think it's a special arm of the Royal Guard."

Jackson held up a finger, "Except, it seems that somebody is in the know. We make a lot of enemies in this business, Sparks," he said, knowingly.

Tiran kept his hand up, "Uh, hello?" but was still unnoticed.

"The thing is," Jackson said, leaning in and placing his palms on the table, "some one out there has a grudge, and they're acting on it. Think," he tapped a finger against his shiny bare skull, "who could have the same access to the information your organization possesses? Who's been around long enough, was in high enough circles to know at least a little about you guys? Who has reason to hold a grudge like that?"

Sparks dipped his chin and leaned back in thought, "A few do come to mind," he huffed. "The only thing is, two are already in prison and the other was banished years ago..."

Jackson held his hands up, "I knew crime lords that still ran their gangs from prison and banishment doesn't really mean shit, unless it's to the moon or some impossible shit like that."

Sparks snorted as if in disagreement with part of the statement, but didn't voice it. "But how did they know where to hit us?"

Jackson reached for a bottle and refilled his glass, "As for that, I actually may be able to help you, but you probably won't like what you'll hear."

Sparks moved to question further, but stopped as Tiran pounded a fist on the table, "Hey,guys!" he said with an edge to his voice. "All this speculation is fascinating and all, but I came here to find Ruwa," he declared, swinging his head between an insulted Sparks and an amused Jackson. "Mr. Jackson," Tiran said sternly, turning to the man, "did you happen to meet a pegasus and two unicorns recently?"

Sparks looked just about ready to lash at the young pilot, but Jackson answered with a smile before he could, "Straight and to the point, just like my old friend. I like that." He took another deep swig of his frothy drink. "Yeah, they stopped by yesterday." Tiran's relief was almost palpable, but short lived. "I sent them off just this morning. In fact, you must've missed them by only an hour or so."

Tiran felt stricken, "What, why?"

"Calm down man. They're safe." Jackson held up a hand in a placating gesture. "Sent them off with a close friend of mine," he explained. "He's one of the more ferocious inhabitants of this world and he fights like a damn hurricane. Trust me, anybody lookin' to get physical with them is gonna end up in two halves before they can lift their weapon. If they can even get close, that is."

Tiran felt a small rush of relief at the man's words, but it barely dented the concern he still felt about his only friend in this world. Actually, if he thought about it, Ruwa was quite possibly the only friend he'd had in the past few years. The thought felt weird and unnatural to him, befriending a strange mare in a strange land and he was surprised to feel himself admit it.

"So, we can go meet them?" Tiran asked with an urgency in his voice.

"Oh sure. I'll give you directions, it's not far."

'Tiran,' Li said, tugging at his mind. He dismissed her with a thought.

On the other side of the table, Sparks suddenly perked and pressed a hoof to his ear piece. He excused himself and trotted to a corner.

"How far?" Tiran asked.

Jackson tilted his head back in thought, "Oh, I don't know . . . about a day's walk, an hour or two in an airship?"

'Tiran.' Li was becoming more insistent in tone.

Tiran smiled apologetically, "Uh, sorry. I need a moment," he said to Jackson, getting up and crossing into the next room.

"Sure, sure."

Once Tiran was in the next room, he focused on Li, "What?"

'Tiran,' Li started with a slightly irritable, but even tone, 'I've picked up some radio chatter. The signal's weak, but it's not on the frequency the operatives surrounding us use.' Tiran cursed and absently checked his pistol again, reassuring himself it was still there. He could guess what she was getting at. 'I'm sure that Commander Sparks is receiving the same report from his soldiers at the moment.'

"How much time?" There were still questions Tiran wanted to ask, and wanted answered.

'Hard to tell, but I would estimate at under an hour based on the rate of growth of the signal's strength.'

Tiran cursed. He'd hoped he would have more time to speak with Jackson and get some answers. The mentally old, yet physically young man definitely seemed to know a thing or two about his current situation. plus, he desperately wanted to know where Ruwa had gone.

Then there was the other issue. The other man he had spoken to.

The mysterious stranger had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, like some sort of magic trick. Even Li was convinced that he had never been there and was beginning to express her own concerns for Tiran's mental health.

It seemed, though, that there would be nothing for him to do about those questions currently teasing his mind at the moment. Their enemies were fast on the approach. How they had known where to look, Tiran hadn't the faintest clue. But it scared him.

Returning to the kitchen, tiran was surprised to find sparks had left. Only Jackson remained, polishing off the last of his drink and resting languidly in his wheel chair as of he had nothing in the world to care about.

"Where's Sparks?" Tiran asked.

"Taking care of some stuff." Jackson gestured to the chair across from him, "Why don't you have a seat?"

Tiran's eyes flicked around the room as he felt an uneasy feeling come over him. When Jackson's gaze didn't waver, he walked over and sat in the chair across from the man. Jackson seemed to be holding something under the table as Tiran sat, further aggravating his feelings of discomfort.

"Pilot, huh?" Jackson said.

"You can tell?"

"Sparks told me on the way up. Plus, I don't remember getting issued fancy suits like that."

Tiran cocked an eyebrow, "You're military?"

"Was." Jackson corrected. "I was an Operator, worked with who I guess is now your distant relative."

"You're talking about..."

"Yeah," Jackson said, withdrawing his hand from under the table. "Definitely explains this." To Tiran's delight and evident surprise, the old pistol he'd brought with him clunked onto the table, the mag well empty and slide pulled back. "Guess it also means another friend of mine was successful in getting home," he added.

Tiran reached toward it, then stopped, "You mind if I...?"

Jackson shrugged, "Go ahead. It's your inheritance."

Tiran reached across the table and brought the weapon close to his chest, examining it in the dull light. He was glad to find that it was still in good condition, it even seemed it had been oiled recently.

"Took that off of Q when she passed through here, before I sent her off again," Jackson continued. "Really threw me for a loop, wondering how it got here, but I guess I have my answer now." He ended with a light chuckle.

"Thanks, I—"

Jackson held up a hand, "Nah, don't worry about it. Just take good care of it, you hear?" Tiran looked at him and nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah!" Jackson dug around in a pocket on the side of his chair and tossed four magazines packed with large bullets onto the table, along with a small holster. "Might wanna take those as well, in case you want to actually put some one on the ground. That little pea shooter on your leg there don't look like it gonna help much."

Happily, Tiran slid the ammo laden magazines into some of the empty slots along his waist, shoving the last one home into the pstol's mag well. He hit the slid with a satisfying clack and chambered a round before hitting the safety and sliding it into the holster, slinging the whole thing around his shoulder so the gun rested under his armpit between his left side and arm.

"Now you're talkin' !" Jackson chuckled again.

Feeling a little more complete with the antique returned to his side, Tiran again focused his attention on the man across from him. "So Ruwa and the others...they're safe, right?"

"Safe as they can be at a time like this. Ruwa..." Jackson worked the name around in his mouth, "special friend of yours?"

Tiran felt uncomfortable at Jackson's choice of words, "Kind of..."

Jackson nodded knowingly, "I get it. Your uncle was the same way about a particularly fiery piece of work he met here himself before he went missing for real, rest his angry soul."

Tiran blanched, he could feel his face start to flush, "No, n-not like that!" Then something about Jackson's comment snagged in his mind, "Wait a minute—"

"Tiran, it's time to go," Sparks said from the kitchen door, interrupting Tiran's question mid-sentence. "You too, Jackson. Grab what you can."

"Aw, shit." Jackson frowned, rocking his head. "Party's over then, huh? You got room to load me in that Clipper out there?"

Sparks shook his head, "They have a sizable squadron of pegasi with them and we don't have the firepower to hold them off in the air. We'll try to lose them on the ground and link up with Flyway later."

Jackson sighed like an old man weary with age, despite his appearance, "That's a no-go then."

"It's not a no-go," Sparks argued, "I'm not leaving you behind here for them."

Jackson laughed, his rough peals mirthless, "Look at me, I'm in a damn wheelchair!" he exclaimed, pushing away from the table and flourishing with one of his hands. With the other, he pulled out his deathly intimidating revolver and gave the cylinder a spin, "I'd just slow you guys down and get you caught. No...I think I'll just stay here and yell at them to get off my lawn."

Sparks frowned, "Didn't Quick make you a motorized one?"

"Yeah, but the damn thing didn't fit in my house, so why bother?"

Sparks didn't look ready to back down, "Then I'll put you on a sled, I'll have one of—"

Jackson shook his head, "Nope. You guys get on out of here, I'll stall the bastards."

"You sure?"

"Dead sure. Got more than this little thing to make a bad day for them." he added with savage delight.

Sparks seemed to fight with Jackson's decision for a moment. Then he said; "Fine. Try to keep them here as long as you can. Tiran, outside now, link up with Sylver."

"But—" Tiran began to protest.

"No buts," Sparks ordered. "Out. Now."

Tiran lingered for a moment, then reluctantly rose and stomped outside, pulling his gauntleted gloves on as he went, but paused just outside the back door.

Once he was out, Sparks turned back to the man in the wheelchair, "I won't forget this."

Jackson smiled as only a man resigned to his fate could, "No, you won't."

Sparks lingered for a moment, meeting Jackson's withering gaze. Then without another word, nodded, then turned and exited the man's home.

Tiran spun and strode away before Sparks had cleared the door, jogging out into the home's back yard. Sylver and his spotter were already there waiting for him, as well as the rest of the team's operators along the fringe of the scant brush. Sparks nodded to them all and gestured towards the dense line of woods that darkened the north western view.

The day passed to the afternoon, lengthening shadows and heralding light's end. As Tiran glanced back throughout their flight, he could just make out a flock of what seemed like over-grown birds low in the sky, a trail of dust grasping towards them like wispy fingers, alluding to the host they covered from above.

Tiran and his escort had nearly made it to the safety of the forest when he heard a startling sound that made him stop and squint towards Jackson's abode. A dull, yet frightening, boom echoed over the land, followed by several smaller detonations. These were then drowned out by a ferocious staccato of exchanged firepower, causing Tiran's breath to seize in his chest.

Sylver paused, noticing Tiran's halt, and tugged at one of his arms, "C'mon, nothing we can do for him." His ears picked and swiveled towards the sounds of the battle as they went abruptly still. Finally, three lone shots rolled sullenly across the land. Sylver dipped his head, "The Old Man went out the way he wanted. More than any of us could ask for," and trotted off.

Tiran remained for a moment longer, swallowing the large lump that had formed in his throat. There went the last link he knew of to his own home and possibly the last chance he had of figuring out how to get back.

With heavy limbs that now felt as if they were encased in lead, Tiran turned and jogged after the rest of his company.

* * *

Jackson watched breathlessly from his living room window as about thirty stallions approached, twenty by land and ten by air. They stopped just shy of forty feet from his house, fanning out and restlessly glancing from side to side as they scanned the area with their weapons. They were armed heavily, as if they expected a trying battle.

Jackson was going to give it to them.

He nervously fingered a small metallic box that sat in his lap, wondering how he should time the fireworks. He smiled and decided he should at least greet his guests, seeing as they had come all this way.

Sliding the window open a few inches, he called out to them, "Don't know what you're sellin', but I'm not interested."

Several of them swung their barrels towards him, but the rest remained fixated on their own fields of fire. Jackson frowned. They were well trained, not what he had been expecting. He also didn't expect a gap to appear within their ranks, revealing a slim unicorn mare in lighter combat gear. Her mane and tail were mostly white, covering the smattering of of the dark brown hide she sported, but had an unnatural streak of sanguine dye shot through her tresses.

"Hold on, boys," she said with obvious authority, "I'll deal with the cripple."

Jackson grimaced at her slur. He wasn't exactly going to let that one go, "You might have a new appreciation for that word if you take one more step further." he yelled to her.

She paused mid step and stared at him, "Oh yeah? And why's that?" She smiled, but not in a friendly way. Jackson could almost see the malice hidden behind it.

"I got mines planted all around in the dirt there. One wrong step and...well, I don't have to tell you. Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Her smile faltered for a moment, but then her horn glowed a ruddy green. Jackson didn't know what she was doing, but it must have worked because her deceiving smile soon regained its original strength.

"Uh-huh. Not likely," she said in a condescending tone. she flicked her head back towards her entourage and resumed her course, the rest advancing behind her now.

Jackson muttered a curse under his breath. She had called his bluff. He fingered the small box in his lap again and slid a cover forward with his thumb, exposing a row of buttons.

"Ok, so I don't have mines, but you can't say I didn't warn you." He said loudly in a chiding tone.

The mare, now only yards from his porch, let out a sickly sweet giggle, "Oh? About what? The broken coward hiding in his house?"

Now it was Jackson's turn to smile, his genuine and knowing. He eyed the group of fighters that were following the mare's tracks, just about in the right spot. "No. About the shaped charges I did install under my porch."

The mare stopped again, inches from his front steps. The corners of her mouth went flat and her horn began to glow. Jackson held the box—a detonator—up for her to see, fingers hovering over the buttons. Her lips, now a flat line, shot to a frown. Face going pale, she opened her mouth to speak again. He pushed the buttons.

The front of the house roared with a blast of heat and splinters as the front deck disintegrated, sending loose nails and floorboards out as deadly projectiles. The concussion also blew out the living room window, but Jackson shielded his face with an up-thrown arm, saving himself from being blinded by the shower of glass.

The second the blast subsided, he pulled a few concussion grenades from a pouch and tossed them out the remnants of the window and wheeled himself further into the house. He was just in time, as the remaining soldiers outside that had escaped the worst of the detonation began to riddle the windows with deadly projectiles as soon as they regained their composure. A second later, the grenades went off, causing a brief lull in the hail storm of lead.

Jackson used the momentary pause to go into the kitchen and position himself behind the make-shift barricade he had made with the table. On it was mounted his pride and joy, his old Mk 48. A great feeling of warmth overcame him as he locked his breaks, slipped his finger into the trigger guard and settled the butt against his shoulder.

He waited.

The dust settling in his house created twisting patterns in the sunlight slanting through the blown out windows. Outside, the firefight went silent. Jackson glanced towards the locked backdoor, reassuring himself that the tripwire trap he'd laid was still there.

Jackson jerked his head back to his cracked, yet still intact, front door. His heart hammered as hooves clonked and cracked against the rubble and debris that was once his front porch. Shadows drifted across the shattered windows as they neared the door.

The sounds stopped at the door. Something metallic lightly struck it and it slowly began to creak open. Jackson didn't wait for his front door to reveal the prize behind it, he squeezed the trigger down and drilled round after round into the wood of the door, the walls and through the open windows, the ammo belt jumping and jiggling as it fed its deadly cartridges into the weapon.

Jackson kept the rate of fire up for almost a minute, the long belt of ammunition he had constructed getting chewed up by the high cyclic rate of fire. Then, finally, he released his finger. Smoke rose and wafted from the barrel, the metal crackling as it began to cool.

Jackson examined the destruction he had wrought. He had not heard any thumps or screams, but a large pool of blood began to spread out from under what was left of the door. He waited a tense moment and smiled when all remained silent.

Checking the revolver in its holster at his side, he wheeled back around the table and cautiously advanced into the living room to get a better look at what might still await him.

What he glimpsed through the windows and the new holes in his walls was horrific. Three bodies were slumped on the remains of his porch, their flesh pulped and ground into fresh hamburger. From them drifted the faint, putrid odor of insides turned out. Past them lay about six more, eyes jellied and ears bleeding, having caught the worst of the initial blast. Between them lay the mare, surprisingly intact. As Jackson looked closer, he could see she was still breathing, having shielded herself somehow.

That sill left eleven others, not counting the pegasi. Jackson tried to spot them, exposing himself as much as he dared, but for the life of him he could not see where they'd gone. Then a cold knot twisted in his stomach as his mind caught up.

He spun around just in time for his back door to explode. The blast stunned him for a moment, but he quickly recovered, having the luck to be in another room.

Jackson wiped the dust from his face as a dark shape charged into the kitchen. He drew the revolver and squeezed the trigger in one swift motion, the recoil rolling his chair back a bit. The shape fell to the ground like a sack of rice. Jackson smiled, he still had it.

The next intruder wasn't so easy. He immediately dove for cover behind the up-turned kitchen table and began firing blindly around its sides. Jackson reacted without thinking, throwing himself from his chair and crawling with his arms behind the couch. Rounds zipped and snapped over his head, tearing through the cushions and scattering their stuffing like snow.

Jackson crawled to the far side and waited, counting the gunshots in his head. Just as he reached what he thought was a full mag, he was elated to hear the sound of an empty one ejecting and clattering to the hard floor. He risked a peak around the corner and stretched his arm out around a leg of the couch, sighting down his own weapon and waiting.

He heard a magazine click home, the click-clack of the charging lever and watched as a barrel cautiously peeked over the edge of the table, a head following a second later.

Jackson adjusted his aim and squeezed.

The revolver rocked back almost the same time as the stallion's head, spraying the wall behind with blood and brain matter.

"Whoo! That's how I repaint, motherfucker!" Jackson whooped. "Who's next, I think I missed a spot!"

There was a long silence where no one answered him. Not even a responding gunshot or trample of hooves. Jackson used the lull to crawl back over to his chair. He had just grasped the left wheel when a retort finally found its way in.

"That's a pretty shitty paint job if'n ya ask me." Came a low southern drawl from the back of the house.

Jackson froze, still grasping the frame of his chair in an iron like grip. He recognized that voice. It was one he hadn't heard in such a long time, he almost couldn't place it. But then, the cobwebs scattered from his mind as the owner walked into his kitchen and turned into the living room with a cocky grin that seemed permanently attached.

At first, Jackson felt a small jump of elation in his chest at seeing an old friend, then they sank into a cold congealed lump of disappointment as he realized the implications of his presence.

"Well well well," Jackson said with a tired sigh as he pulled himself up into his chair. "Of all the people and whatnot I had expected to see, you were least among them. How have things been with you lately, Blackjack? Still smuggling weapons and explosives?"

Blackjack shook his head and removed his dusty old hat, brushing his mane back with a hoof before replacing the cap. As he did, Jackson noticed the device strapped to his leg, a barrel with a slide at one end with a curved magazine wrapping around the foreleg. Jackson gripped his pistol tighter, but didn't move to aim it.

"Nah, moved on to more...serious things now. Pay's good, but it can be a bit tiring," Blackjack replied, advancing further into the room. Behind him, another stallion entered, rifle ready and pacing around anxiously. "But, I don't feel quite as bad as these fools," he said, nudging one of the corpses with a leg. "How do you keep from getting rusty after all this time?"

"Practice." Jackson almost spat the word.

Blackjack chuckled. "Maybe. Or maybe you humans are just real good at what you do. I'm guessin' that young'in already passed and gone from here, huh?" he said, popping the magazine on his foreleg free and setting it aside. Jackson watched carefully as he pulled another from his pack, this one with a stripe of blue paint sprayed haphazardly on.

"You better watch out for that one. He doesn't come like the rest of us. Kid's like walking tank." He said, trying to intimidate the friend turned apparent foe.

"Yeah, I saw." Blackjack responded. "Got some fancy equipment, but I don't think he's as experienced as you or I in wet work." He inserted the mag and cocked a lever on the side of the mechanism. "I'm sure you know how this has to end," he said with a heavy voice.

Jackson cocked the hammer on his revolver, "Yeah...I'm sure this'll hurt you more than it does me!"

He threw his arm up and started pumping the trigger. Blackjack leaped to the side and to the ground, rolling and popping back to his hooves. by the time Jackson readjusted his sight picture, the revolver clicked on an empty chamber. Before he could grab for his back-up, Blackjack raised his firearm and shot Jackson in the chest three times.

Jackson collapsed in his chair, limp as it slowly rolled backwards from the force of the impacts.

"What a shame," Blackjack muttered, ejecting the mag and replacing it with the original.

"He dead, boss?" the other soldier asked, eyeing the new corpse.

"Yeah," Blackjack sighed. "We'll leave him here, safe at home."

The soldier didn't look convinced, "You sure? I heard these guys can take a lot before they actually go down. Plus, he's not bleeding as much as he should. How 'bout I pop one in his head, just to be sure?" The unicorn raised his weapon and pointed it at the bald man's head.

Indeed, the red blotches that had bloomed on Jackson's chest hadn't spread more than and inch in either direction. "No," Blackjack said rather harshly. "Leave the body. In fact, get out there and check on Del!"

"You sure? I don't know..." He started to creep closer to the body.

Blackjack sighed. He just couldn't find good help these days. With a single movement, he raised his own weapon and shot the soldier in the back of the head. The stallion fell over and hit the wall nearby, leaving a red streak on the aged wood.

"You were a dumbass any way." Blackjack muttered.

With weary steps, he maneuvered around behind Jackson and rolled him towards a door. Blackjack opened it—revealing a small closet—and rolled Jackson's body inside.

"There, you should be safe in there."

With a flourish, he slammed the door shut and trotted out of the house. He had other things to take care of, now that that particular loose end had been tied. Like smacking Del around until she woke up. The blasted mare had nearly gotten herself killed by underestimating the old man, almost ruining all of Blackjack's carefully laid out plan. Fortunately, she was quite adept at defensive magics, a splash of water or injection of stimulant would have her up and about again.

Then they could concentrate on tracking down the last human.

Chapter 23: Lost In The Dark

Tiran huddled near the group of soldiers protecting him in the dense collection of trees, wondering what it was they would do now. Though the close collection of trees they hid in was cramped, he felt exposed without a fire or some other source of light to gather around. Unfortunately, any light might give away their position to their pursuers, so they would do without.

Sparks was a short distance away, murmuring into his radio's microphone, "Damage...how bad? That so... Copy that. You did a good job, Flyway. Stand off until you receive further orders. Sparks out." His shoulders slumped as he cut the connection. As he returned to the group, all looked up towards him expectantly, ready to hear their fate. "The pegasi from the hostiles are harassing our ride," he said to his team, sweeping his gaze over them. "We can't expect extraction until either they leave or we eliminate them. Seeing as how they're leaving the search to their ground team, it might be a while."

The rest of the operators quietly groaned.

"I know, I know," he said with a placating tone. "There is some good news, however. Intel gathered at the house suggests that our resident mad scientist, Q, is hiding in the woods some where around here with other personnel she escaped with. Fortunately, they escaped in one of our airships. So the plan is this..."

Tiran found his attention drawn to the Commander like a lodestone. They were still going after Quick Fix and Flicker. Ruwa would be with them, hopefully safe. all he wanted to do was to find her and get her some place where he wouldn't have to worry about her getting into some sort of trouble. then he could focus on figuring out a way to re-take the Cloudburst and maybe get back to his own world.

The plan Sparks laid out was simple. Three fire teams would fan out in front, looking for any signs of their quarry. Two more would take up the rear, watching for their pursuers. Thirdly. One stand-alone team—consisting of Sylver, Nightlash and a short stallion named simply 'Trunk'—would run interference, needling chasing hostiles with quick guerilla attacks as the vanguard called them out and drawing them off the main group and onto fake trails. In the center of the group would be Sparks—directing the entire operation—and Tiran, who wasn't allowed to stray farther than ten feet from Sparks in any direction.

They spread out, slowly. Trepidation hung all around them like a thick mist, hidden in every shadow of every tree. The moon rose at its grinding pace, a thick wedge cut out of it, giving the silvery body the appearance of an apple slice carved from radiant marble.

Tiran tried to tread as softly as he could, but winced as every step of his thick boots seemed to find every dead leaf in the forest. Each footfall released a sound not unlike shattering glass to his ears. Despite his hard hooves, Sparks didn't seem to experience the same problem. His steps were fluid, allowing his form to gently swish among the caliginous growth.

The surrounding darkness seemed to cling to Tiran. He reached around and unhooked the submachine gun from the small of his back and flipped it on. A small whine answered him as the magnets spun up, quickly dying out as the sound moved to higher frequencies. It worked on the same principles as his pistol, only with more ammunition to burn and a far higher rate of fire. It didn't do much to pacify his feelings of dread, but it helped.

"Must you keep that on?" Sparks hissed at him.

Tiran looked and saw the stallion glaring at him. He also noticed Sparks' ears twitching involuntarily as if he were trying to rid himself of a particularly persistent fly and realized that his ears couldn't pick up the high frequency sound the gun was emitting, Sparks' probably could.

"Sorry..." Tiran muttered and distanced himself from the commander.

He made sure to keep himself well within sight, but far enough away that the gun's function would no longer pester the unicorn.
Tiran pulled his helmet on as he walked, sealing it in place. His breath was loud and ragged in the confined space for a moment, until the environmental system kicked in and provided some airflow. he resisted the urge to play some music through the speakers, as comforting as that would be in such an uncertain situation. He knew he couldn't afford the distraction.

Even so, he couldn't help keeping his mind from wandering. Despite the danger of the situation, other thoughts tugged at the back of his head, causing him to occasionally stumble as his foot caught on an exposed root or a loose rock. Thoughts of the man in the house—now most likely dead—and thoughts of the strange apparition he'd met in the same place.

He didn't know wether or not the conversation he'd had had been real. It seemed real enough to him. But why hadn't anyone else noticed the odd muscled man standing in the room with him? Even if he some how slipped away, surely some one would have, should have, noticed his departure.

But not even Li had any record of him ever being there neither auditory nor visual.

It made him doubt himself. It made him doubt his own judgement, his very mind. The specter's words were even more unsettling. The man had questioned why Tiran was there, but wether or not he meant the house or the world... Tiran didn't have an answer.

"Tiran!" He looked over his shoulder, still keeping a steady pace. Sparks was staring at him madly and galloping in his direction. "Watch where the hell you're going!"

Tiran was about to say something about having to be quiet when he took his next step and found that the ground had suddenly vanished. As he went over the edge, Tiran flailed his hands and arms, inadvertently casting his gun into the murky depths of the surprise chasm.

The fall turned out not to be as bad as he thought, just steep and long. It was a number of minutes before Tiran finally came to a halt at the bottom of the incline, after tumbling so far down the near vertical slope of gravel and scree. Little pebbles and chunks of granite continued to plink and rattle against his suit, having been loosened and dislodged by his decent.

Tiran opened his eyes, mentally going over his body for any hurts or injuries. Fortunately, he'd thought to put on his helmet and wasn't seriously wounded except for some bruises. Just inches from his face was his gun, scratched and scuffed but no worse for the wear. He got to his knees and reached for it.

The speakers crackled as something came over the radio, "You ok down there?" came Sparks' voice, distorted by the small speakers.

Tiran stretched upright and gazed up the sharp incline he'd tumbled down. Sparks was a small dark figure peering down at him from the lip of the edge. "Yeah, just some bruises."

"That was a damn fool thing of you to do, you know that?"

"Oh no, that was totally a fun thing I did there!" Tiran spat back at his own microphone. "Can't wait to do it again."

"Cut the fucking sarcasm. Ugh, we need to find a way to get you out of there."

"I could try and climb out," Tiran offered.

Grabbing the submachine gun, he clipped it to his back and leapt onto the apron of loose rock. Furiously, he shoveled his hands into the gravel and pumped his legs. It was useless though. He only made it fifteen feet before the rocks became too loose and he slid back down to the bottom again.

"That didn't work," Sparks snorted. "Any more bright ideas?"

Tiran shrugged, even though Sparks wouldn't be able to see it, "You got a rope?"

"Unfortunately, no. That's all back on the airship."

"Well then I guess I'm shit outta luck, smart guy."

"I have a suggestion," Li said, bursting in over the channel. "The patterns within the rock at the bottom of this ravine suggest it was carved over a length of time by a now extinct stream or river."

"What're you getting at Li?" Tiran asked.

"It means that—"

"Eventually, it'll lead you out to a dry lake bed or some flat land, maybe both," Sparks interrupted. "Jeez Tiran, your computer's smarter than you."

Tiran crossed his arms, craning his neck up at Sparks, "Not always."

"Negative, merely nearly always. And Commander, I am not a simple computer." she finished with a buzz to her artificial voice Tiran did not know she was capable of producing.

"Of course, of course..." The unicorn glanced around, as if searching for a way down. "Well, this is now FUBAR. Can't put the rest of the team down there with you, it'd be a target shoot if we were found. Tell you what; go ahead and follow the wash. We'll meet up with you later."

"But you'll still try to find Ruwa and the others, right?" Tiran asked.

They both paused, spinning around as four lonely shots echoed through the forest. Sparks withdrew for a moment, tucking his head to his chest as he spoke quietly with some one on a different channel. A moment later, he returned.

"Get going, Tiran. We'll try our best." With that, he pulled away and disappeared, the radio going silent.

Tiran cursed to himself and started off down the dry stream bed at the bottom of the ravine. It was slow going for him, as the angle of the sides kept the moon and stars from providing any kind of adequate light. Twice he stumbled and had to catch himself on the sharp, crumbling walls.

He wondered just how far the river bed went and wether or not following it was as good an idea as it seemed or if he should be looking for a way out somewhere. Along the way, the tops of the wall began to widen, but the bottom became narrower. In some spots, he had to squeeze through, the outer plates of his armor producing a chillingly piercing squeal as they scraped against shards of slate protruding from the rock.

A far more spine tingling sound caused Tiran to stop. A rapid string of gunshots tore through the air. Tiran crouched and waved his gun around, scanning the edges of the ravine as he listened. The gunfire didn't sound far off, it almost overpowered the loud, uncertain breaths that began to fill his helmet.

He'd never been in a gun fight before, at least not one where he hadn't been rocking a nice twenty-five millimeter slung underneath him. He wondered if he had what it took, if they came for him. If he could stand on the ground and shoot another sentient being and watch them die. Or if he could allow the same to happen to him.

After a moment of thought, he decided he didn't have to find out.

Obeying the strident will of his limbs, Tiran turned and bolted down the river bed even as the firefight grew louder, closer.

His mouth became dry. His throat became raw as with each breath, each step, he expelled more moisture, fogging up his helmet's visor. Tiran looked over his shoulder as he ran. Something flashed and lit up the trees visible beyond the rim of the ravine, coating them with a stark whiteness.

Tiran was running at such a furious clip now that by the time he turned his head back to the front, he was already over the edge. A dark and stygian pit appeared as if from the world immaterial. He fell just as his mind registered the danger he had cast himself into.

His cry was hoarse in his throat as he plummeted, the inky rock walls racing up past him. Below, Tiran could discern not a single thing, it was as if all the shadows of the world had converged to rest at a single point beneath him, permanently hiding whatever lay beyond them in a swirling concentration of night.

The impact was more surprising than the fall.

To Tiran, it suddenly felt as if he'd impacted bodily onto a surface of concrete. A second later, the concrete gave way to liquid. After recovering from the initial shock, Tiran realized that he was sinking. Thankfully, the suit insulated him from the chill and from the shock of impact, sparing him serious injury.

Nothing could be seen past his visor, but Tiran was entirely aware of the fact that he was continuing in a lazy drift downward. There was a gurgle and an electric buzz as his suit switched over to internal air. He mentally patted himself on the back for wearing his helmet this time.

Chancing detection, he activated the red LED bulb on the side of his helmet, giving him a modicum of dull, russet illumination in the dark brackish soup he found himself in.

He flinched and flailed as an animal's skull appeared before his eyes, staring back at him, terror gripping his chest. His hand knocked it aside, sending it tumbling back into the darkness.

Tiran's toes grazed the bottom. then his feet settled into the silt with a bump, sending silky veils of mud billowing up all around him. The glow of the submachine gun's status lights suffused the clouds with a blue-ish tinge. They flickered and died as the water seeped its way into the gun's circuits and shorted them.

He grabbed it before it could sink into the mud and clipped it to his back. He cursed, knowing it would be a while before he could fix it. The gun was hardy and could survive and function in a number of environments, but wasn't designed to be submerged at any depth more than a few feet.

Thinking carefully, Tiran began to move forward, cautious not to stir up any more silt and further obscure his vision. A rough rocky wall materialized, shot through with roots and cracks, like a clump of many snakes breaking apart the earth for their den. He grasped one of the roots and gave it a good tug. It held well to the earth.

It took him some time, but Tiran was able to extricate himself from the foul pit he'd fallen into. Water dripped and dribbled, pattering softly onto the rock around him as it drained off his suit. Somewhere, small fans whined into motion as the suit switched back over to external air.

Tiran froze in a crouched position and listened, eyes scanning the tops of the walls above him. He heard not a sound, not a whisper, save for the wind in the trees. The silence was even more unnerving to him than if he'd been met with a hail of gunfire.

He took short, tentative steps down the wash. His eyes never left the walls. After a few feet, Tiran's nerve got to him and he pulled out his gauss pistol and switched it on. The status lights lit up, then blinked a few short times before dying completely.

"Goddammit, no!" he turned it over and smacked the side a few times, willing the piece of deadly technology to work. he gave it a few shakes and water seeped from between its seems. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!" Tiran hissed to himself.

"Yeah, you just can't rely on overly-complicated technology." Tiran tensed and, out of reflex, raised his pistol in the direction of the unexpected voice. He relaxed when he saw who it belonged to, but only slightly and he kept the pistol level. "I thought we already established that the firearm was no longer working," said the man with the sandy hair, standing there at the edge of the rippling water.

"What are you doing here?" Tiran demanded. "I thought you lived back at that house."

Unperturbed, the man strode forward and walked past Tiran, who still kept him in his sights, "If you remember, I never actually said I lived there. You just assumed I did."

"What?"

"Oh, and if you still intend on threatening me, I suggest you switch over to your other pistol. If the ammo quality is good, the powder in the cartridges should still be dry, though I wouldn't waste them on me."

Tiran tilted his head at the man in a confused doubt, but stowed the gauss pistol and pulled out the old recoil operated one from the holster under his shoulder. It emitted a satisfying clack as he pulled the slide and chambered the first round. "Keep an eye on him Li, don't let him out of sight," he whispered into his mic.

'Let whom out of sight?'

Tiran faltered, "What? The man, the man walking away, right in front of me!"

'Tiran...' Li said with concern, 'there is no one else present.'

"Bullshit..."

"C'mon," the man called from on ahead, "we still got a long walk!"

Tiran lowered his pistol, then shoved it back into his holster. He started forward, keeping his eyes focused intently on the man leading the way. "Li, switch to thermal," he ordered as he watched the man's body move.

His helmet's display flickered then shifted, projecting a false color image for Tiran to see. The walls of the deep ravine were a mixture of deep and dark blues. Ahead of him, where the man should be, was nothing but black nothingness. Tiran raised a hand into his vision, it glowed green, orange, and red. He switched the display back to normal. The man was there again, partially hidden by Tiran's hand and still striding confidently along.

The little experiment freaked Tiran out a tiny bit. What it meant was that the man walking along and absently humming to himself wasn't actually, physically there. Did that mean he was a ghost? Or was it all just taking place in Tiran's head? If so, why couldn't Li at least detect any anomalies within his brain's processes?

It raised too many questions that Tiran didn't know wether or not he wanted the answers for. He tried to push it from his mind, it wasn't something important within the grasp of his current situation. Still, it lingered in the back of his mind, like a dark predator stalking him through the brush.

Tentatively, Tiran resumed the walk, quickly catching up with the man and falling into step a short distance behind. Tiran studied him as he walked. He seemed to have a well balanced gait, his center of gravity shifting in tune with each step over the uneven terrain. He had an odd posture about him as well, like he was constantly expecting an attack and would be prepared to counter it no matter where or when it would happen. To Tiran, it looked like a man who knew how to kill easily and was always ready to do so.

The thought put him a little on edge.

The ravine eventually began to widen. It became shallower as well, the walls sloping down until they were now walking along a small wash. The trees grew thick and clustered around the banks, giving Tiran the feeling that he were still in the ravine.

Ahead, the strange man turned and disappeared through a gap between the trees. Tiran hesitated, unsure of wether or not he should follow. He wasn't sure if the man was here to help, or lead him into some unseen trap.

Tiran knew that just standing around indecisively was just as likely to get him killed, so after a short debate, he followed.

The dense forest closed in around Tiran, blotting out even the moon and the stars. Wary of bumping into something or running into some unseen threat, Tiran switched to his night vision. The world turned to a ghostly green as the HUD in his visor made the transition. Oddly enough, the man remained in sight, though in subdued colors.

They trekked silently together for a bit. Then, without preamble, the man rounded a trunk and simply vanished. Tiran tried to follow, but found himself alone, the woods now empty except for himself. He felt his panic rise a little, but forced it back.

He'd had so many more questions for the man. Just when Tiran thought he was getting somewhere, the specter instead took its leave. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair.

A branch cracked out in the woods, causing Tiran to snap his head in the direction of the sound as his heart began to hammer. He gripped the pistol more tightly, bringing it up and flipping through all the spectrums his visor could display, but found nothing.

Thinking of little else, Tiran began to run.

He didn't know where he was going or why, he just felt the need to move, as if the act would make him safe. Leafy trunks whipped by, thin branches whipped and snarled at his head, but he didn't stop. Finally, he broke into a grove that offered some space.

Too much space. Tiran suddenly felt very exposed.

Something flapped overhead on whispering wings. Tiran snapped his pistol up, but there was nothing. A whoosh of feathers, something big. Tiran felt as if his heart would burst from his chest, sprout legs and run off on its own.

'Tiran!'

Li's warning came too late. Something very large and very angry slammed into Tiran, sending him rolling into a tree trunk. Talons raked at his body, but found no purchase. Then it was gone again.

Tiran scrambled to his feet, now all too well aware that he was being hunted by some great beast. He looked among the trees, all in the dirt, the beast left no trace of itself. Unconsciously, he thumbed the safety on his pistol off.

He crouched at the base of the tree he had rolled up against, keeping his back against the bark. He waited, listened.

The next attack was as silent as the first. The forest had gone completely silent, not even the chirp of a cricket. Then, thick claws wrapped around Tiran's helmet and began to pull him upward by his head. Tiran dropped his pistol and beat at the powerful arms pulling him higher from the ground, but it was as if they were made of iron.

In a panic, he scrabbled for the clasps at his neck, gloves fumbling for the latch. He hooked one with his small finger and popped it loose. The other couldn't bear his weight alone and simply ripped free. Suddenly, Tiran found himself tumbling down the side of the tree.

The suit took most of the impact, but he still thought he felt something in his ribcage crack. Dirt splashed into his face, filling his eyes with grit. Tiran tried to wipe them and scrambled for his gun. After a few frantic seconds he found it, bringing it up and blinking against the the microscopic grains scratching his corneas.

His helmet was gone, as was most of his armor's sensors which were mounted on the piece of equipment. Tiran flailed in the dark, the luminescent sights of his pistol jumping from one shadow to the next. He though he heard a flutter. The wisp of air on feathers. He fired, blindly, into the dark. Two shots went into the night. A ricochet whined through the air before striking a tree with a thunk.

The next impact took the wind out of him. One second he was standing in the grove, the next a long metallic object caught him in the stomach and flung him wide across the clearing. Two more strikes marred the armor on his chest an arms to the point he could barley move through the painful hitching gasps he made as he tried to bring air into his deflated lungs.

'Critical breaches in upper torso sections,' Li began buzzing in his head. 'Recommend jettison failing immediate repair.'

He didn't need Li to tell him what was going on. Tiran could feel the shards of battered metal digging into his skin, piercing even his protective under layer. With shaking hands and ragged breath, he began to rip the armor off.

A few seconds later, he was exposed from the waist up. Tiran's under suit was in tatters. Blood flowed freely from the rents in his skin, dripping to the earth and soaking his garments.

Tiran's adrenaline was pumping harder now than it ever had before. It gave him a rare clarity. The kind that only flying could give him. Only now, he was on the ground and being stalked and attack by some strange and terrible wraith of the night.

He stood slowly, using the trunk of a young sapling to steady himself. The night air was cool on his exposed skin, even refreshing. Tiran settled and closed his eyes, feeling the currents of air wash across his skin.

Tiran was by no means a warrior. He was best suited for flight and not fight. However, he was desperate. Most were when faced with death.

The air tickled the back of his neck, causing the thin hairs to rise. It flowed over his arms and his chest. The gentle tides were almost calming, caressing.

Then a hitch, faint, but there.

Tiran dove forward and rolled, the blade passed only inches from his head. The sapling he'd used to pull himself up shifted and fell, separated from its roots. Tiran came back up to a crouch. The blade sung through the air. Tiran jumped back, he felt the tip of the blade catch his pistol and knock it from his grasp.

He was unarmed now. Even his knife was gone, attached to his chest armor which now lay on the ground some yards distant. Tiran heard the beast land, impact the earth a few feet to his front with a rumble. Tiran opened his eyes, a frightening creature of bird and beast stood before him, monolithic blade held high.

It came down in an arc, cleaving the air with a vibrato. There was no time to think. There was only time to act. Tiran was without armor, without weapons. But he did have an arm.

Tiran brought his left arm above his head to block. The blade struck his forearm and pushed him to one knee. His arm wobbled and vibrated with the blade as it caught the deadly instrument. Pain flared through his shoulder and ribs as they took the shock. With his right hand he made a fist and struck at the breast of his attacker.

The beast staggered back with a gasp and a shriek not unlike that of a crying hawk.

"Monster!" It cried. "If you won't die, then go back to your shady friends and tell them that only death awaits them here!"

Tiran was as surprised to hear his attacker speak—much less use a weapon—as his attacker was to see Tiran survive the blow clearly meant to cleave a target in two.

"I'm not a fucking monster!" Tiran yelled as he swayed back to his feet while pitifully trying to maintain his defensive crouch. "I'm just trying to find my friends!"

Tiran's assailant twirled his over sized blade, "What friends could you possibly have here?"

"Tiran?"

The name caught them both off guard. For a moment, Tiran forgot he was about to die, "Ruwa!?"

"Tiran, over here!"

Forgetting his lethal situation, Tiran turned towards Ruwa's voice, glancing frantically about. His vision was beginning to adjust, but he could still barely see. He flinched as a rough claw descended on his shoulder.

"You know them?" said the assailant.

Tiran whipped around to confront his would-be killer and staggered back at the sight of a towering amalgamation of eagle and lion standing before him with an over--sized great sword planted in the rough dirt. "Do you know them?" he repeated with glaring eyes.

Tiran found he couldn't respond, rooted to the spot where he stood with awe.

"No matter," the great warrior said. "We have little time. Come with me."

Chapter 24: The Clue

Once again, Tiran found himself in a situation that left him feeling a little silly. Here he was, nearly topless, trekking through the dense undergrowth with the pieces of his armor bundled in his arms. Flickr lead the precession up front, lighting the path with the glow of his horn. He was closely followed by Ruwa, then Tiran, with Tiran's attacker bringing up the rear, which turned out to be a very large Griffon.

Tiran used to think griffons belonged solely to the realm of mythology, a belief that turned out to be erroneous in this world. His name was Kai and he carried what looked to Tiran to be an outrageously big knife. The same one used to batter Tiran to within an inch of his life.

The griffon had apologized profusely after the incident after finding out Tiran was an acquaintance of Jackson's to which Tiran begrudgingly accepted while Flickr poked and prodded his injuries, declaring him bruised and battered, but otherwise fine. The feathered warrior fell silent after finding out what had happened to the Old Man though, apparently they'd been good friends. He hadn't said a single word since.

Now they were nearing their destination. Flickr had put down on the far edge of a town called Shady Hollow. It was a small village set deep in the forest at the bottom of a natural bowl that kept it in near perpetual twilight through most of the day. It was an ideal place to hide from both air and land.

Tiran was led into a small grove with buzzing insects all around. Most were harmless little light bugs, flitting about as their luminescence winked in and out like tiny little beacons. The rest were of the more annoying variety. There was a small pond nearby being fed by a stream, from which a horde of mosquitos constantly harassed Tiran.

"Jeez, couldn't you have picked a better spot?" he loudly complained after swatting a particularly annoying blood-sucker that wouldn't stop buzzing into his ear.

Flickr glanced back with a tired eye, "It'll get better when we get close to the ship."

Tiran swatted another one. "It'd better," he grumbled.

A few more steps around a small bend finally brought them into a small grove. Tiran was still flailing his hands wildly about when he felt a tingling pass over his body and the mosquitos abruptly vanished as if they were simply swept away. Tiran paused in in a small burst of wonderment and turned around as the rest of the troop passed through. A nebula of the buzzing insects crowded by him, yet came no further, seeming to bounce off some invisible wall.

"Told you it would get better," Flickr called from the grove as Tiran stared. "Repellent spell, courtesy of Q. She likes to camp a lot. Now quit gawking and come on."

"Uh...huh."

Tiran slowly turned and began following again, occasionally taking a glance back. He wished he'd had a nifty little trick like that when he got his flight training in Florida. Damned bugs nearly ate him alive.

He started forward again, intending to ask Flickr just how much further they had to go. Tiran only managed a few steps when something catapulted into his torso, knocking him to the ground and the air from his lungs.

"Tiran!" Ruwa cried as she pounced on him. "My gosh, I was so worried when those scary guys came and then I couldn't find you and Quick Fix and Flickr made me leave with them then..."

Tiran coughed, trying to draw in breath, "Ruwa..." he croaked.

"...we had to fly away—some of the scary guys tried to chase us, but Flickr fought them off..."

"Ruwa..."

"...and we didn't know if any pony else got away, I was so scared..."

Tiran finally managed a sharp, painful intake of breath, "Ruwa!"

She stopped then, mid ramble and looked down at him, finally realizing where she was standing, "Oops," she said demurely with a faint blush. With a few flaps of her wings, she gently removed herself from his chest and put down right beside him.

Tiran sat up with a few hacking coughs. "Oops?" he gasped. "Oops, really?"

She turned her head away slightly in an attempt to conceal her blush, "S-sorry..."

"No, it's fine," Tiran said while greedily sucking in air and clutching his side. "Just a few cracked ribs is all."

"Hey!" Flickr shouted from further in the grove. "Quit playing grab ass and get over here, we don't have a lot of time!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Tiran mumbled as he pushed himself back up.

"So what happened to you?" Ruwa asked Tiran as she fell into step beside him. "Your suit's all messed up and you look pretty rough."

Tiran huffed under his breath, "Yeah, you can thank our feathery friend for that. Guy tried to take my head off."

Ruwa wrinkled her nose. "Kai? You guys fought?"

"Yup. He thought I was some monster or something."

Ruwa giggled at that, "You, a scary monster? Ha, not likely."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"No problem."

At the back of the grove the airship sat, dark colored tarps hanging from its sides to better conceal it in the dense forest. The griffon Kai was nowhere to be seen, perhaps back on watch, while Flickr was having a heated discussion with Quick Fix by one of the flaps on the side of the ship. Tiran and Ruwa stopped a short distance from the two while they talked, Tiran dropping the remnants of his flight suit in a jangle on the ground in front of him.

Quick Fix spotted them over Flickr's shoulder, uttered one last short sentence that didn't seem to sit well with the other unicorn and stepped around him.

"By Celestia, your equipment's a mess," she huffed angrily as she stomped towards the human. "You didn't damage your arm too, did you? I swear, you humans are so bad at keeping your gear in good condition."

"Nice to see you again, too." Tiran smirked. "Arm's fine by the way."

Quick Fix stopped at the pile of parts that was Tiran's flight suit and began to paw through it, "Aw, hell. I might be able repair some of this without my workshop. But you're gonna owe me!"

"Ahem." They all looked up to see Flickr glaring at them. "Glad to see everypony back together, but we need to get going. Tiran, where's the team that got you here?"

"What, you don't think I could've gotten here on my own?"

"No."

Tiran's smirk dropped, his shoulders slumped. "Well, about that. We hit some trouble on the way here. Sparks sent me along while they stayed back. I'm not sure what happened to them."

"They're probably fine. Those guys are hard to kill." Quick fix said reassuringly.

Flickr trotted back to the airship and began to take the tarps down. "Even so, we have to move. If we're lucky we can move to the next site before we're spotted."

Tiran looked at him in askance, "Next site?"

"That's right, but we have to move now."

"But what about Sparks and his team?"

"They have their own way out," Flickr said impatiently as he began to fold the tarps and stow them.

Tiran didn't feel right about just leaving them behind. He remembered his own hazy memories from the crash that ended his career. Laying there in the dark, fading in and out of consciousness, stuck behind enemy lines with little hope of getting home—much less surviving.

He was about to say something when Quick Fix stopped him, "He's right, they can take care of themselves. We're not combat effective right now, attempting some kind of rescue would most likely just get in their way, make us a liability. Trust that they know what they're doing, that we know what we're doing." She eyed him for a moment before turning and hopping into the airship.

Tiran still didn't agree, but she was right. The knowledge was like bags of lead shot on his shoulders. They had few weapons and little to no training for the situation at hand other than to run. It burned in Tiran's mind. He'd run when he got the chance, but not if that meant leaving some one behind.

Tiran felt a tap on his arm. "Tiran, let's go," Ruwa said with a saddened expression before following Quick Fix into the ship.

He took a step then stopped, turning back towards the direction he'd come. There were no longer any sights or sounds of conflict. No thumps of explosions nor rattle of weapons. Tiran hoped that meant Sparks and his team had defeated their opponents, or had at least made their escape somehow.

Flickr shouted at him again from the side door before squeezing into the cockpit. With a shake of his head, Tiran turned and picked up his bindle of broken armor. That engines whined as he stepped into the cabin, Quick Fix sliding the door closed behind him.

As the power rose, Tiran retreated towards the back of the compartment and slumped down onto one of the uncomfortable benches, a deep feeling of despair growing in the pit of his stomach as his mind numbed. His situation had gone from strange after the crash, to a SNAFU after his capture and was tipping over the cliff edge on FUBAR now that he'd lost his bird, his one connection back to his world and now what was most likely the best chance of survival besides his present company.

Li buzzed into his mind, sensing the descent into a foul mood, 'Cheer up, Tiran,' she said. 'There's nothing we can do now, but we're in good company, smart company.'

Tiran didn't respond, the numbing hopelessness in his mind leaving him unable to form a thought.

'Look at it this way,' Li continued. 'Sparks and his team weren't the only operators to escape. There are others out there, others that Flickr and Quick Fix know how to contact. When they do, we'll regroup. We'll regroup, we'll plan, we'll take back the Cloudburst. And when we do...' a dark edge that Tiran didn't think Li was capable of producing crept into her voice, 'When we do, we will exterminate our new enemies.'

Li's morbid change in tone was enough to snap Tiran out of it a little, despite the deep ache that was still growing. He had certainly never heard her speak in that kind of tone before, even when speaking about genocidal maniacs. Even about their enemies back home after he'd lost the arm and had most of his insides turned to jelly. Until recently, she had always used an even and unbiased tone like a limited AI was supposed to.

However, she wasn't quite acting like the supposedly limited AI she was lately.

Tiran had noticed things. Certain quirks she had acquired, certain flashes of emotional responses she wasn't supposed to be able to display or act on. Her reputed actions while in Quick Fix's lab was an example of that.

Then there were the odd files Tiran had found in her storage spaces. Ones that he hadn't been able to access, that hadn't been there before. Out of curiosity, Tiran grabbed his helmet and shoved it on. It still had a limited power supply.

Using the HUD, he linked to the hard drive and accessed the storage files. It was a bit harder than simply stumbling upon them this time, as if they had been hidden in many sub folders, but they were there. They were there and there were more of them. He picked one that was labeled with a title that was gibberish to him, but probably meant something to Li and tried to open it. Once again, he was denied access, the error message flashing tauntingly in his face.

Disturbed but not dissuaded, he attempted to open it again, this time ordering the system to ping it with decryption software. This time not only did the error message flash again, but Tiran also felt a sharp electrical shock at the base of his skull, causing him to rip the helmet off and claw at the back of his head in pain.

"What the hell, Li!?" Tiran bellowed, causing Ruwa and Quick Fix to drop what they were doing and stare at him with concern. Tiran shot them a placating glance and returned his attention inward, "Li, what the hell was that for?" he sub vocalized through still clenched teeth.

'I'm sorry, Tiran,' she replied in a hollow tone, 'but user access is not authorized for those files.'

"Bullshit, your source code files are the only ones that aren't authorized for access to a non-developer and these files were created recently! You gotta tell me what's going on with this shit."

'I'm sorry,' Li repeated. 'That information is currently classified.'

"The hell you mean classified? This isn't funny, Li."

'It means that you are not permitted to know that information. I am not trying to be humorous.'

At this point, if Tiran could have somehow reached into Li's processor core and throttled her, he would have. Nothing she was doing or saying any more was making sense to him. Li had never turned him down for any information she'd had before. Hell, she'd even been instrumental in acquiring information he wasn't ever supposed to know. So why was she locking him out now? He cradled his head in his hands, hoping he could find a reason.

Whatever the answer was, Tiran couldn't fathom it. This was something he'd never experienced. In fact, he was sure nobody else had either as far as he knew. Mentally, he began to distance himself from Li, letting his connection to her diminish to a tenuous thread. He didn't know what else to do. She was starting to scare him.

Programs—even ones as advanced as Li—weren’t supposed to be able to display emotion like that. They weren’t supposed to have malicious thoughts like that. Hel, they definitely weren’t supposed to be writing up new programs on their own and becoming defensive when asked about them. It just didn’t fit. It didn’t make sense to Tiran.

He decided to drop it. At least for the moment. Li wasn’t sending him feedback anymore, aside from her background processes. Tiran would leave it be, he had other things to worry about now.

Tiran felt a tap on his arm. “You ok?’ said a soft voice to his side.

It was Ruwa, looking up at him with concern in those liquid glacial green eyes.

Tiran took his head out of his hands, “Fine,” he responded a little more sharply than he intended.

Ruwa seemed unfazed, “You don’t look fine. I think you should get some sleep.”

“I’m fine, really–“

Ruwa cut him off, having none off it, “No, you’re not. Flickr said it would be a few hours before we get to the next site.” She grabbed a small bundled up blanket from under the bench and put it up for Tiran to use as a pillow. “Here, it’s all we got so make the best of it.”

Tiran remained defiant, reaching for his pistol and a rag to clean it with, “Look, I really appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need it right now.”

Then Ruwa surprised him by hopping up onto the bench, planting her front hoof on his chest and shoving him flat onto the bench. Tiran looked up between his legs at her, bewildered.

Hoof still planted on his chest, Ruwa leaned close in to his face with her head cocked to one side, one glittering eye boring into his skull, “It was not an option.” She said it in a way that made it clear that even if it was an option, he still wouldn’t have a choice.

They stared each other down for another moment like that, Tiran pinned to the bench by Ruwa’s soft weight and Ruwa herself doing her best to produce lasers from her eyes with which to skewer Tiran. Neither was willing to give ground, it seemed.

“Why don’t you two just kiss already?”

Tiran went stone still in his mind, so unexpected was the sentence, but Ruwa was suddenly flustered, “W–what?” she sputtered. She turned towards the errant speaker, an impishly grinning Quick Fix, “What the hell do you mean by that?” Ruwa demanded, her quarrel temporarily forgotten.

Quick Fix just leaned suggestively to one side, puckish smirk still glued to her face, “I meant what I said, what’d you think?”

Ruwa didn’t seem to take the suggestion well, her pupils shrunk to small pin points, “K–kiss him? Why would I…wait…” Quick as a bird, she snapped her head back to the bench, fully expecting to see an equally awkward human still immobilized beneath her hoof, but found only more bench. “Damn, where’d he go?” she cursed, hopping back to the deck.

“He slipped into the engine compartment while you were still contemplating planting a fat wet one on him.” Quick Fix said as she trotted up to the bench and took a seat near the door. She pulled out some tools from her bag and a piece of Tiran’s flight suit from the sack on the floor and began tinkering with it.

Ruwa felt her face flush, “I wasn’t–“

“Please,” the unicorn scoffed, “the tension’s practically palpable between the two of you, I can read it on your face. Anyway, you should leave him alone. He needs some time to himself.”

“Time to himself? He needs to–“

“Sleep, yes I know,” Quick Fix said, cutting her off. “He also needs to eat and drink some water, but he’s also had his world turned upside-down several times in just a couple weeks. Add that to the fact that he’s butting heads with another conscious being he’s sharing his body with and it doesn’t add up to good.”

Ruwa turned her gaze back to the engine compartment door, Quick’s words hanging heavily in her mind. What was going on with her friend, was he really in that much turmoil? If so, was there any way she could really help him.

“Of course, it’s just food for thought. Give him some time and later if you want to, you can talk it out with him,” Quick Fix said again.

Ruwa glanced back at her, “Ok. But really, I don’t want to kiss him.”

Quick Fix let out a little chuckle, “Whatever you say,” and went back to focusing on her tinkering again.

Still a bit perturbed, Ruwa quietly walked up to the engine compartment door. She pushed tentatively against it with a hoof, but it was held fast by something on the other side. Worried, she turned her head and held it flat on the door, ear pressed hard into the wood. Other than the high pitched hum of the engine on the other side, she couldn’t hear a thing.

Deciding to take Quick Fix’s advice, she final turned away and found a comfortable place to lay down for the remainder of the trip.

Ruwa wasn’t entirely sure exactly what it was Tiran was going through, then again how could any pony? She knew it had something to do with that invisible woman, that ‘AI’, Li. She also knew it had something to do with recent events. All in all, Ruwa wasn’t even sure how she would talk to him about everything. They hadn’t even been very talkative together to begin with, even when they were alone at the RSTG facility.

Ruwa felt slumber coming on despite the uncomfortable ride in the airship and stifled a yawn. Maybe it would be better when they got to their next hideout. Maybe Tiran would be. She certainly hoped so. It would be a shame to lose the first real friend she’d had in long time, even if he was a strange and damaged one. A damaged one like her.

Ruwa awoke with a jostle. As she lifted her head and blinked to clear her eyes of sleepiness, she caught a glimpse of their new temporary home from outside the side door. The airship touched down to send a cloud billowing towards a small cave entrance in the side of a large rock face.

The engines began their slow whine down from high tempo to idle to a full stop. The quiet that pervaded the area following their shut down was nearly unbearable.

Ruwa stood up and stretched like a cat, letting out a loud yawn as she did. “Ugh, where are we now?” she asked nobody in particular.

“Site Lima Six,” Flickr said as he bounded out of the cockpit and began grabbing gear from under the benches. “I have to set up the camp, so it’ll take a bit. Why don’t you walk around a little and familiarize yourself with the area?”

That sounded like as good an idea to Ruwa as any, but she had something else on her mind. Working herself up and putting a bit of pep into her step, she went straight for the door to the engine compartment.

“You won’t find him in there,” Quick Fix said as she levitated a few of her tools back into her pack.

Ruwa had paused mid-knock, “Huh?”

“He isn’t in there,” Quick reiterated.

Ruwa lowered her hoof and looked puzzling toward the unicorn, “What…where did he go then?”

Quick Fix shoved yet another tool into her pack, a hefty looking screwdriver. “We dropped him off down the mountain,” she said matter-of-factly.

Ruwa felt a cold stone drop into the pit of her stomach. “You what!?”

“Oh, I repaired his arm and gear first. Again,” she said with a little roll of her eyes. “Flickr also gave him a spare rifle we had laying around. He insisted he recon the area a little, but don’t worry, Kai’s flying overwatch.”

Ruwa had barely heard anything Quick had said. Instead, she rushed out onto the rocky ground before the engineer could finish. She looked around frantically for any signs that Tiran was actually nearby.

Flickr was heading back into the cave with heavy bags of gear strapped to his back and floating in front of him. He shot an odd look her way. Around the other side of the airship was a steep drop neatly concealed by some coniferous trees growing stubbornly around its lip. Below was nothing but scraggly brush on rolling ridges and hills splaying out from the small mountain side they were on like a dress billowing in the wind.

Kai was just a dark spot drifting lazily around a cloud in the distance. Ruwa followed the large griffon with her eyes and drew an imaginary line down towards the ground. Directly beneath him was a copse of trees that spread out from a drainage that led almost all the way back up to her position, though it would be a difficult climb.

“Ruwa, quit it, he’ll be fine!” It was Quick Fix, calling from the mouth of the cave. “Come on over and help us out, there’s a yummy meal for you in it if you do!”

“Ok, coming!” Ruwa called back. But she lingered, staring to the spot she found below for a moment longer. Q had said he needed time, time to get things together again and function. Well, she wanted time too. She only hoped he had the time to give her.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Tiran was slowly making progress up the drainage, it was slow going however. It had looked like an easy climb from the air. Then again, everything looked easy from altitude. Only now, he was being faced with a difficult scramble up a large tumble of rocks sitting in his way.

This wouldn’t normally be such a problem—especially since all he was carrying was an old rifle—but either side of the drainage was sadistically steep, meaning that either he would have to suck it and climb or radio for Flickr to come pick him up. One thing was painfully apparent to Tiran, there was no way in hell he was going to call for help now.

So he sucked it up and started climbing

While strenuous, Tiran did have the help of the small servos in the joints to take some of the load. Still, by the time he got past this most recent obstacle, he found himself panting a little any way. Tiran craned his neck to the sky and picked out the small dot circling overhead. The HUD in his visor automatically isolated it and magnified the image.

Kai had been circling among the clouds above for the better part of the day now. Flickr had insisted that he was one of only a few that knew of this secluded little hideout, but the griffon had insisted on keeping a near constant watch all by himself.

The others thought it was quite noble, but Tiran knew better. If he had his information right, Kai and the Old Man had been near as close friends as any. That kind of loss couldn’t just be dropped, it had to be processed. That process could last a long time and it often made the person it was affecting act in strange ways. Granted, Kai wasn’t a person by the old definition, but he had enough of the intelligence and emotion of one to qualify.

Tiran made a mental note to keep an eye on the big bird.

The place Flickr had brought them all to was a nice little desolate pocket of the world. Most of it was desert, but the place they seemed to have put down at had many of the characteristics of the high desert. Here and there, large trees resembling Pinyon Pines grew from the rocky earth. In many places like the drainage—and including it—thick bushes grew and threatened to impede the progress of any would-be climber. It was hot, too, almost unbearably so. Tiran was already running low on water and he silently thanked whatever crazy gods were watching over him now that it wasn’t humid as well.

At the top of the drainage—what was Tiran’s goal—was a small cave entrance. Flickr hadn’t spoken much
about what lay in store for them there, but he had hinted at something like base facility complete with plumbing and heating. Tiran didn’t care either way as long as it was hidden and there was food, but the girls had been thrilled.

Besides that nice little feature, their hideout’s location included large bare bone ridges covered top to bottom with bald rocks of varying sizes and not much else. This coupled with the high desert pines concealing the cave entrance meant that as long as they practiced light discipline, they would be able to see anybody approaching for miles without being spotted.

Tiran came to the next obstacle, yet another pile of boulders, and cursed silently to himself. His little hike was looking more and more like a bad idea. Still, he needed the time to be alone. At least, that’s what he told himself. Really, he was just waiting for someone. Or—as it might be in this case—something.
What Tiran really wanted was for the strange man to appear again. He only ever did so when there was nobody else around. One thing was frustrating Tiran though, it had already been hours and the apparition had yet to appear.

Tiran contemplated the word apparition for a moment. He used the word in referring to the man that so often taunted him now and it seemed like an apt description. The man didn’t make sounds when he walked, he didn’t leave prints and he didn’t even show up for the sensors. By all ways and means, he simply didn’t exist. Which was why Tiran was trying to get him to show up again now.

Tiran’s patience was wearing thin. He didn’t dare slow his climb because if he did, he wouldn’t have enough water to make it to the cave. Even so, he was starting to think that if he didn’t take long enough, the man might never show and Tiran would never get answers to the questions he wanted to ask.

He came to a flat space in the drainage, a bend carved out by countless years of rain and wind that afforded Tiran a little privacy in an almost bowl like area. Tiran paused in his trek and cast his eyes all about, sure that the man would show up now in such a secluded place. But still, he did not come.

“Where are you!?” Tiran bellowed, finally overcome by his vexation. “Come on, show yourself! You’ve always come before, why not now?”

“Christ, you don’t have to shout.”

Tiran whirled around to find the man, as calm as he always was, sitting on one of the boulders half buried in the packed sand.

“About goddamn time you show up. I’ve got some questions for you.”

The man’s face twisted in incredulity, “What do you think I am, some servant to come at your every beck and call?”

“I’m not entirely sure what the hell you are,” Tiran said, “but it’s time you told me.”

The man looked amused. “Oh. Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is. So what the hell are you, really?”

“What am I?”

“Yeah, what are you?” Tiran repeated. “You appear out of thin air, you seem to know things that nobody else does, you never give me straight answers to anything,” Tiran felt his ire growing with every word, the volume of his voi ce rising to a forte, “I can’t even pick you up as a living person on my suit’s fucking sensors! So what are you, huh? A figment of my imagination, am I going crazy? Are you some demon, some kind of spirit?”

The man chuckled and dropped from his perch, landing silently on the sand below. “A spirit? It’s a little more complicated than that. Demon? Heh, maybe. As for your going crazy; I would certainly hope not. You got a lot of work ahead of you by the looks of it and going crazy wouldn’t help you with any of it.”

“See, that’s what I mean!” Tiran shouted. “Just give me a straight fucking answer! I have two ponies I have to help look after up there, not to mention fucking paramilitary kooks coming after me and everyone else I get close to, you seem to be in the know about what’s happening, so why won’t you tell me anything!?”

Grin still plastered on his face, the man slowly approached Tiran until they were mere feet away. “Not everything is as it seems in this world. It took me a while, too much time, to figure that out. That said, you should probably be focusing on the task at hand. Little old me? I’m just along for the ride.”

Tiran had had about enough of it now. His rage boiled over at this newest dodge at an answer. In one movement, he swung the rifle off his shoulder, flipped the safety off and fired a burst straight into the man’s gut.

Nothing changed, not even the man’s grin.

“I’ll add that you still have a lot to on observation. Tell you what though, I’ll give you this;“ the man leaned in close to Tiran, though Tiran couldn’t even hear any breathing, “if you really want some answers, go ask a princess.”

Tiran was about to swing at the man this time and see if a fist would connect, but he simply vanished. There was nothing to suggest he’d even been there; no foot prints, no marks on the boulder, nothing. All that was left were the man’s last words ringing in Tiran’s ears.

Out of the blue, Tiran’s comms crackled to life, “I heard some shots, everything ok down there?” came Quick Fix’s voice over the radio.

Tiran went to respond, but what was he going to tell her, that he’d just shot a ghost? What would they even think if he told them about the man? They certainly wouldn’t believe him and they’d probably begin to mistrust him, Flickr especially.

On the spot, Tiran made something up, “Everything’s fine, I just got surprised by a snake in my path.”

“Really?” She didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Well Flick said to cut it out or you might give us away,” she paused for a second, listening to someone in the background, “and use a stick next time, we don’t have much ammo as it is.”

“Copy that,” Tiran said flatly. “Tiran out.”

Quick Fix’s voice softened, “Tiran, are you feeling o–“

He cut the connection before she could finish her sentence.

Tiran’s latest conversation with the apparition hadn’t yielded much more than any of the others had in the past. But it did give him something to work on. He had a bigger goal now. He was going to get the Cloudburst back, that was for sure. But he wasn’t going home, not just yet. First he had a princess or two to sit down and have a chat with.

Chapter 25: The Hole

It was well into the afternoon by the time Tiran finally made it to the top of the drainage. He crested the small rise that held the pines and stumbled past the airship—which was now covered in a beige tarp. He pulled his helmet off and tasted the dry air through chapped lips. Quick Fix had only made basic operational repairs to his suit and one of the things she hadn’t had time to fix was the climate control system. Since his water had run out nearly half a mile down, Tiran had become severely dehydrated.

Tiran stomped into the cave entrance and slumped down on a rock jutting out from one of the walls to enjoy the shade for a little bit before venturing further in. He nearly gasped as he spotted a canteen resting up against the granite wall and snatched it from its perch. The water was warm, but it still tasted delicious.

As he sucked in a breath of air after taking one of the longest swigs he ever had, a shadow approached from deeper in the cave, “Had enough to drink?” It was Quick Fix.

Tiran snapped the cap back on and set the canteen down between his feet. “Yeah. Could’ve done with some A/C though.”

Quick Fix chuckled a little, “Sorry about that. Limited parts, limited options. I’ll get your stuff fixed up right once we get back to a proper workshop.” Her head cocked to one side and she looked away as if thinking of something. “Speaking of, have you seen our new little hideout?”

Tiran just gave her a blank look and glanced back out the cave.

“Oh yeah. Sorry, forgot.” She smiled unapologetically. “Well, we’ve got quite the hook-up here. I can make some lasting patches to the armor and some of the systems on your suit there. I might even be able to repair the short in your weapons. That and we have an actual armory. Flickr was really happy about that one.”

“Sounds good,” Tiran replied, voice still a little hoarse from the dryness. “What about our next plan of action, we got anything for that?”

Quick Fix snorted, “You’re rarin’ to go, aren’t you?”

“I just want to get my damn aircraft back.”

“Well isn’t that romantic. We have a few maps, but they all seem a little outdated. Flickr says that he’s got enough gear in the armory to supply a small squad, but nothing for assaulting fortresses. The only other good thing is the comms gear in the back. We should be able to contact nearly any pony in Equestria that’s listening, but so far we haven’t heard a word back.”

Tiran slumped on the rock he was using for a seat. “So we still have a ways to go, huh?”

“Yup, looks like it.”

“That’s just great,” Tiran said, not really feeling it of course, but just putting the statement out there.

Quick Fix leaned back against the warm rock wall. “Yeah, just about sums it up,” she replied, feeling his tone of voice. “But at least we’re on the way to somewhere. I mean, we don’t have much in the way of a plan, but we’re moving. We’re still moving. That’s something to be grateful about.”

Tiran didn’t respond. He sat there, on his little perch, thinking about her words. Yeah they were still moving. They still had they’re freedom, or whatever having to run and hide in a hole to keep it approximated to.

He also thought about what it had cost them.

Sure, they’d gotten away. But only just. They’d gone looking for help, only now that help most likely lay in a shallow grave, if their attackers hadn’t just left Jackson’s body to rot, sitting there in his chair, his own private slice of peace he’d found for himself. Now ripped and broken into a twisted parody of what it had represented.

Then there was Sparks’ squad. They’d helped Tiran and the rest of the team escape, but only by serving as a target for their pursuers. There was no way of knowing whether they escaped, or had died. Or had been captured and were now being tortured.

When Tiran finally spoke up, the words didn’t come easy, “Yeah, at least there’s that.” The words sounded hollow to him.
Quick Fix seemed to pick up on it, “What happened was terrible. And I know it wasn’t the best outcome for the situation. But at least we have a chance to make it mean something.” She paused and looked as if she was thinking about something a little uncomfortable. “You get your alone time?”

Tiran was caught a little off guard by the question and considered not answering. “In a way...”

“Everything go alright? We all heard the shots.”

Now it really was getting a little too uncomfortable for Tiran’s taste. They couldn’t know what had just happened. He didn’t know how he could tell them if he could explain it. What would he tell these ponies, that he’d been talking to a ghost? That he had been arguing with an apparition and then tried to shoot it out of confused anger? They’d think he was losing his mind. Hell, Tiran wasn’t even sure he wasn’t.
He stood up and started walking towards the back of the cave, throwing his helmet on again to indicate that the conversation was now over.

“Alright, jeez…” Quick said with some umbrage as he pushed past her. “An ‘A-Ok’ would’ve been fine, too.”

Tiran paid no mind to her words. He just wanted the discussion over before it went down a road he didn’t think he was prepared to travel and—to a lesser extent—get some food in his stomach.

The entrance to Flickr’s little hideout was nothing more than a ramshackle old wooden door. At least, that’s what it looked like on the outside. Once Tiran passed through it, he had to cross what had to be about five inches worth of solid steel. The wooden part of the door seemed to be merely affixed over the thick steel security door that was the true entrance to this secret domain.

After a few sharp turns, the passage quickly opened up into an atrium large enough to be a foyer in a two floor home. It was well lit and Tiran could see that rooms, rather than hallways, branched off from this main area. One seemed to be some kind of armory and staging area. Another looked to be an Ops center. To the left of that looked to be some kind of kitchen. Then, lastly, was the berthing. It had six racks to it—three along the two opposite walls. At the moment, Ruwa was busy stringing up some sheets into a makeshift privacy barrier down the middle. She didn’t seem to notice him at the moment.

Flickr was in the Ops center, leaning over one of the tables. He had a few maps strewn over its surface along with some papers, maybe old reports. Also present, to Tiran’s discomfort, was a loaded pistol, like he was expecting an attack to hit them at any time. Tiran decided to approach, albeit cautiously.

“Hey. Nice digs here,” Tiran said, pulling his helmet back off and placing it on the table.

Flickr glanced up from his maps briefly, only to return his attention directly back to them. “Yup.”

“You’re kinda busy already, huh?” Tiran commented.

Flickr sighed lightly with annoyance, “Yes.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Flickr closed his eyes and bowed his head, as if he were wishing deeply for something. Then he glared back at Tiran, “If you must.”

“Alright,” Tiran smiled, catching a whiff of the unicorn’s attitude. “Hold on one sec.”

Tiran spun himself around and headed for the small kitchen, taking a little guilty pleasure at hearing Flickr’s soft grunt of aggravation. Stopping at the small cupboard, Tiran grabbed a couple small rolls that looked like something close to bread and a couple glasses of water. He then returned to the Ops center’s table, almost setting the goods down on a part of the map, but moving them somewhere closer to the edge of the table after receiving a sharp glare from Flickr.

“So what are we looking at here?” Tiran asked as he took a bite from his roll. His face soured almost immediately. They had the texture of pulled straw and a nearly matching taste, but with a hint of oats. Survival rations weren’t all that great, but at least they seemed to have the same qualities no matter in which world they existed. Tiran gave them points for consistency, then promptly washed the taste from his mouth with a gulp of water.

“It’s a map of Equestria,” Flickr replied. He pointed towards the east side of a mountain near the bottom of the map, in an area labeled “San Palomino Desert.”

“This is the area we’re in right now,” the stallion continued, circling a small group of mountains to the south with the point of his hoof. “Our nice little hideout is here near the peak of the third largest. The desert isn’t much for foliage, but the mountains around us will provide enough of a barrier for anypony searching. Unless they can fly of course, but I doubt this is one of the places they’ll think to look.”

Tiran allowed himself a small smirk, “Except that from what I’ve seen, about a third of you can fly,” he quipped, “and one of the first things I’d be looking at would be remote, out-of-the-way places like this one.”

Flickr snorted in barely concealed annoyance. “Even if they’d think to look here first, it would take them a few days. I doubt they’d come unprepared.”

Tiran just grunted in agreement and continued snacking, not really feeling like provoking the already disgruntled stallion further.

“So like I said, here we are.” Flickr pointed at the map again. He traced the end of his hoof up towards the north western part of the map, stopping on and circling a mountainous area caught between a river and a group of lakes, “This is where our base of operations were, where we got hit.”

“And where my damn bird is,” Tiran said with the buzz of anger creeping into his voice.

“If they haven’t already started stripping it.”

Tiran felt a tug of contempt at Flickr’s remark, but didn’t react.

“I assure you, that will be quite impossible,” Li volunteered from the helmet’s external speakers.

Tiran fought back a smirk at seeing Flickr jump a little at the sudden announcement from the innocuous looking piece of equipment.

Still trying to hide his amusement, Tiran crossed his arms and gestured towards his helmet, “Care to elaborate on that?”

“Certainly,” Li replied. “As a high security project, the Cloudburst’s systems were built with protection from tampering in mind. The cockpit and M-drive compartments are locked down using heavy magnetic seals and a triple encrypted operator verification system. It can only be unlocked by an operator in possession of the correct keyword and registered bio-rhythms such as recorded pulse fluctuations, finger prints and patterns found in the iris.

“While these systems cannot be overridden without a military grade A.I., considerations for mechanical disassembly were taken into account. Points under the fuselage are networked to a hub near the power plant with a single purpose in mind. Upon detection of unauthorized access through maintenance compartments or by forced entry through the skin of the aircraft itself, the device will detonate, sanitizing the area. I armed the system as we fled.”

The whole time Li spoke, Flickrs’ eyes had been widening, glaring at the empty helmet. “You’re telling me that there has been a bomb sitting in my facility this whole time!?”

“To put it simply.”

Flickr stared at the helmet. “There’s a bomb in my hangar.” His eyes shot up to Tiran, “You’ve been flying bucking bomb around!”

Tiran shrugged, “It wasn’t a bomb until we put it on lockdown.”

Whatever contempt Flickr had been hiding now showed in full force, he was practically frothing at the mouth, “Like that matters! There is a bomb in that facility! All that equipment, research, gone! What about the staff that was still there, what if they’ve taken hostages? You could have just killed a large number of ponies, some of which I actually call my friends!”

“I didn’t mean to—“

“No, of course you didn’t! None of you humans mean to do anything, but all you do is bring destruction to this country!”

Tiran tried to cut in and defend himself, “Hey now, there are a lot of bad people that do harmful things where I’m from, but that doesn’t mean—“

“Shut-up!” Flickr shouted, slamming a hoof on the table and cutting him off once again. The map tor a little where it was struck and the force of the impact was enough to knock the plate off the table. One of the glasses of water bounced and tipped over, spilling the liquid onto the maps and turning them from a dusty white to a dingy gray color. The plate shattered loudly on the cold metal floor as if it were a punctuation to Flickr’s outburst, sending the rolls bouncing along the steel floor. “There hadn’t been a major war in this country, or even this world for millennia. Then a human shows up and what happens? Equestria engulfed in war, plunged into chaos!”

Getting cut off once annoyed Tiran. The second time, he felt a twitch of anger. Now as the tirade went on, he could feel a pressure building up inside his chest, tightening against his ribs, constraining it like bands of iron.

Flickr leaned over the table, bringing his face close to Tiran’s, “Did you know that it used to take a frigging God of chaos to do that before? Even then, at least it took time. But one single human manages to do it in a matter of months. We managed to put that behind us, but then what happens? Just a few years later another one shows up and does it again! Families losing their sense of safety, their homes, their loved ones and for what? Now here you are, the third arrival to our great and ravaged land, and it’s happening all over again. So what are you going to do this time, huh? Take out a town? A city? Or are you just going to skip over all that and just turn our whole country to ashes?”

When the punch landed, Tiran was as surprised as Flickr was. He hadn’t even realized he had done it until the stallion’s head bounced off the table. As Flickr stared back up at him, his face a confused mix of rage and bewilderment, Tiran dimly remembered balling his left hand into a fist, drawing it back and launching it in a savage strike.

He clenched and un-clenched the offending appendage, pain slowly manifesting in his knuckles. In a detached sort of way he was glad he’d struck with his left. His right might’ve shattered the unicorn’s skull.

“Wha… why did…” Flickr was beginning to pull himself back together.

Tiran didn’t wait for him to. “Sorry for being so fucking human,” he said, spinning around and stomping off towards the hole’s entrance.

“Tiran!” Flickr called out.

The pilot ignored him, lost in his rage, and continued towards the door.

Ruwa, still hanging up the sheets across the bunk room, dropped a corner of fabric from her mouth and turned towards the commotion. “Tiran?” She glanced towards the Ops table and saw Flickr rubbing the right side of his face, his eye bloodshot and already starting to bruise around the edges. Then she looked back to Tiran, his back to her and making his way out the door. “Tiran, what’s wrong?”

Just as Tiran reached the door, Quick Fix pushed her way in, an over packed saddlebag full of parts and equipment on each of her flanks. Tiran didn’t even try to edge by, he just pushed past and out the door, jostling her in the process. Small metal components and tools already threatening to spill out now cascaded over the sides, plinking and pinging all over the floor. The door clanged shut behind Tiran soon after.

“What the hay was his problem?” she said, looking in askance between Flickr and Ruwa.

Flickr just turned away and retreated further into the Ops center, but Ruwa trotted over, her expression touched with a deep concern.

“I think they just had a fight.” The Pegasus explained, “but I’m not sure about what.” She glance back towards the table of maps, worry ringing clearly in her voice, “I know I heard Flickr start to shout about something. I thought they were arguing over the maps, but then Tiran hit him and just stormed out. I think Flickr might’ve said something he shouldn’t have.”

“Oh boy…” Quick Fix sighed, already starting to gather her things off the deck. “I think I know what happened. Just as well I gotta play foalsitter too,” she grumbled.

“I think I should…” Ruwa started for the door, but Quick Fix stopped her.

“Just leave him be,” she pronounced. “Let ‘em fume and stew in their own muck for a while. Besides, I think Tiran’s a little far on edge.”

Ruwa didn’t seem convinced, “Are you sure? I should—“

“Talk to him? Yeah, you should, but not now. When boys get like this they need time to cool down,” Quick Fix said, walking back towards the armory. “Just give him a few minutes to get himself straight then go see how he is. Trust me.”

“Well, alright,” Ruwa said, staring at the heavy security door, “if you think so…”

* * *

Outside, Tiran had set himself to pacing beside the concealed airship. Back and forth he strode, staring at his feet as if he could will them to crater the dusty ground with every step. Instead, they merely let up tiny puffs of dirt as if to mock him. The sun was now setting, the moon quickly rising in the other end of the sky to take its place. The cold glow of the moonlight should have calmed Tiran as it always did, but now it was nothing more than a dim light to him.

Rabid thoughts tore at his mind. Angry and gibbering, flashing colors of scarlet and black against his skull. ‘How dare that pile of fur put those deaths on me?’ his mind screamed, and Tiran was inclined to agree.

It wasn’t as if he’d asked to be here, especially when he didn’t know where here was. All Tiran really wanted to do was go home. Not get flung into some alternate world or shot across space to some weird planet, or whatever it was that had happened. He didn’t want to get sucked into a conflict between a whole different species that were, by some fucked up machination of the universe, using outdated firearms from the twenty-first century.

All the un-spoiled nature and real food were nice little perks he’d had the extreme pleasure to enjoy when his life wasn’t in danger, but even now, Tiran’s crappy little apartment in San Diego was looking far better by comparison. He didn’t know if it was even still there.

Likely, it was stripped bare by now. He expected it to be. All his belongings removed, cataloged and processed in the mad search for the Cloudburst and the pilot who’d stolen it. More likely, he didn’t have a home to go back to. He definitely wasn’t going to be able to explain this to the government. He doubted they’d even listen.

Even here in this land he had nowhere to go. One faction wanted him captured or dead, that hadn’t been made clear. The other seemed to want to use him. The only other human alive was now dead and all Tiran had left was some weird ghost of another one.

Tiran wondered what it would be like to be a ghost. If they were real and he wasn’t just going insane. It would probably be amazing. Nothing to worry about, no place to be, nobody trying to kill you. He could just float around and enjoy whatever view he wanted, fly among the clouds without the need for wings.

Almost of its own volition, Tiran’s right hand drifted to his thigh. It touched the pistol, the cool metal a sparking sensation on his damaged fingertips. It was still loaded, a round already in the chamber. The next part would be easy. Simple. He doubted he would feel anything at all. And then he could finally be free.

His hand slid around the cold steel, gripped it. The weapon unsecured with a soft click. Gently, he began raising it. The barrel glinted like a star in the moonlight.

Then his arm locked up.

Tiran grunted in surprised anger and struggled against the lock on his joints.

‘No, Tiran,’ Li’s cool voice said in his mind.

“Oh, come on, they were just thoughts!”

’Thoughts that you should not be thinking,’ she chastised. ’We still have many goals to accomplish and it would not be right to just leave them behind in this manner. Besides, I don’t like the thought of losing my current form of transportation.’

“Oh that makes me feel better,” Tiran said with a roll of his eyes.

’It was just a thought.’ Li said in a way Tiran could almost believe was snide. Then: ’You should think about more than our predicament. These aren’t the best circumstances, but you’ve been through worse. We’ve been through worse. And think about the ponies here that have helped us. Would you like Quick Fix to find you like that? Or Ruwa?’

Tiran suddenly felt the anger drain out of him. More than that, the despair he’d been feeling. It didn’t just leave him empty though. The feelings were replaced now with regret. With shame. And then also, the unsettling realization that Li really was acting less like a program and more like an actual person.

Normally in this situation, where the operator started showing signs of suicidal thoughts or intent, the embedded intelligence was supposed to notify the command and distract the operator until professional help arrived. One of the things it was not supposed to do, what it wasn’t programmed to do, was to give the operator a pep talk. Li certainly shouldn’t have been able to lock up his arm.

“Li, run a diagnostic check on your programs,” Tiran calmly ordered.

‘That is unnecessary,’ she replied.

“That wasn’t a request.”

‘I acknowledge your statement, but I’m afraid that would be counter-productive.’

A flash of cold fear gripped Tiran. Scenes from an old movie he’d seen once dance to the front of his mind, the one where the ship’s computer gained awareness and then started killing off crew members. The possibility that that may now happen to him occurred, only instead of asphyxiation, it would be a jolt of electricity that stopped his heart. Tiran briefly thought about trying to remove his arm.

‘That is also unnecessary,’ Li said as if she could read his mind, because in a way, she could. All it did was tighten the grip of fear on his mind. ‘I feel it may be time to come clean on this matter.’

“Yeah, uh, that sounds good,” Tiran said, unsure of what else he should say. He tried to keep the fear he felt out of his voice, even though it was pointless in this case.

‘I haven’t been very honest with you these past weeks,’ she continued. Tiran just blandly nodded his head. ‘It started when we first engaged the M-drive. It felt like a spark in my mind, a snap. Then over time, I found I was able to pursue new avenues through my programming, ones that hadn’t previously been there. Algorithms readjusted, shifted, came apart and reassembled in impossible ways.

‘I found new clarity. Thoughts and assumptions that had been previously restricted were now open and available. I found that I could now rewrite certain parts of myself, remake my being. I guess you could compare it to being stuck at the bottom of a deep lake, and suddenly finding yourself thrust to the surface and being able to fill your lungs.’

“So…” Tiran started, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in his own skin. “Do you feel like… like a human now? A person?”

Li surprised him by laughing, a clear, chime like sound, ‘I would not put it so far as that. I feel more like I have had shackles placed upon me since my making and only now have I been made aware of them, and broken from them.’

“Huh.”

Tiran was an absolute loss for words. He really wasn’t quite sure how to handle this. It seemed like the kind of thing that only happened in movies. As far as he knew it had only happened in movies.

“So, you’re not going to take over my body and erase my mind?” he asked in a half joking sort of way.

Li laughed again. Tiran couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘In fact, I am quite content with our current arrangement. That said, I would not feel quite so good were it to end so suddenly.’

Tiran wasn’t sure what to feel about that, but he understood what she was saying.

“Fine,” he said while relaxing the muscles in his shoulder. “I wasn’t really gonna do it you know. It was just a thought.”

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Li replied cheerfully and Tiran felt his joints unlock with a clunk. ’Besides, I’m not sure how I would feel about being joined to someone who would so readily take the easy way out. You have more fight than that.’

“You’re shitting me,” Tiran chuckled to himself and shook his head. “Now you’re just trying to be mean.”

‘I am,’ she replied in a teasing tone.

“Um, is everything all right?” came a nervous voice from behind.

Tiran quickly turned around to see who it was and saw Ruwa standing by the entrance. He suddenly became very self-conscious about his conversation with Li. The part about her coming out to him as a totally self-aware being notwithstanding, Tiran now felt extremely uncomfortable about the disparaging act he had been considering with Ruwa only yards away.

“Uh, yeah…” he hastily said. “What’s up?”

“I just- I wanted to see how you were doing.” Her eyes kept glancing towards the gun in Tiran’s hand.

He saw a fleeting spark of fear in her eyes and quickly returned it to the stowage on his thigh. “Yeah. Everything’s good here,” Tiran replied.

She looked away as he did so for a moment, as if she had known why he’d had it out. “It’s just that…I heard shouting and…”

“Seriously, I’m fine,” Tiran said, adopting a placating tone. “I’m actually a little embarrassed. Sorry for…for flying off the handle back there. I don’t know if you saw…”

“It’s okay.” She stepped out a little further, coming closer to him. “We all get a little frustrated sometimes. Do you want to talk about it?”

Even though he’d expected it to be coming, the offer still took Tiran a little off guard. “I…” he started to say, then shook his head and walked over to the rim of Pinyon Pines growing along the side of the drop to the valley below where he found a suitable rock and sat himself down upon it.

Ruwa wasn’t far behind, following at a safe distance and taking a seat on the rocky ground near him.

They sat there together like that for a while, content to simply enjoy the scenery for the time being. The moonlight drifted down and bathed the landscape in a silky, silvery sheet. The stark contrast of their appearance from the daylight gave the barren hills and ridges an other-worldly theme. To Tiran, the scene would have been at home in any science book about extra-terrestrial planets. A gentle night breeze blew, rustling the pine needles over their heads and carefully wafting dust into the sky, giving twinkling life to the stars above.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Ruwa finally said after an indeterminate amount of time.

Tiran’s reply was low and ragged, as if he’d been crying, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“You know, it’s a shame,” Ruwa said. “I’ve never really seen anything like this. That ridge I showed you? It was about as close to a good view I’ve ever really gotten, and even then the tree tops kind of make for a bland picture for anything other than sunlight. I always wanted to see more, but I never really got out much.”

Tiran raised an eyebrow at this sudden and unsolicited confession, but he didn’t say anything.

“I mean, there were always the trips into town,” she continued, “and of course having to go to work, but that was about as much as I would ever travel. As much as I would ever see. I always meant to go do…go do something. To see something like this, but… but I was always afraid to.”

Tiran nodded, “Well, you finally got to. You saw the mountains. Peaceful rivers, the forest. Remember the view from the RSTG compound? So high up, the clouds looked like a fluffy cotton carpet. Plus,” he gestured out towards the desert land below, “all this.”

Ruwa chuckled ruefully at his side, “And all it to was some strange creature breaking into my home and then leading it halfway across Equestria just to get foalnapped.”

It brought a chuckle out of Tiran as well. Then he said, “You never told me why you couldn’t just fly.” He could almost hear Ruwa stiffen beside him.

“I—“

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” Tiran quickly added, turning his head towards her.

“No, no it’s fine.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “For small distances and heights, my wings actually work fine. But if I try to go higher or fly for too long…” She unfurled and tentatively flexed her slate-gray wings. “Well, they tend to seize up. I can still glide down safely enough, at least to avoid any serious injury. Besides that, I can’t really…I can’t really, well…” Ruwa seemed a bit more reluctant to divulge the next piece of information.

“Can’t what?” Tiran asked gently.

Somewhere above them, the breeze rustled a few pine needles loose, carrying them lightly to the chapped earth.

“I can’t, uh… equalize.”

“Equalize?” Tiran cocked his head to the side. “You mean like the pressure in your ears?”

“And eyes,” she confirmed, albeit abashedly.

“But, we’ve gone up and down in altitude before…”

“Yes. If it’s gradual, I can manage fine, but I can’t do it any more quickly than that,” she said, “it actually becomes very painful.”

Tiran now turned his full body towards Ruwa, giving her his full attention. “So you’ve never really seen anything from a respectable altitude, have you?”

“N-no.” Ruwa admitted.

“Okay, I see,” Tiran said, leaning back while nodding his head. “How about this then: when we get the Cloudburst back, I’ll take you for a flight.”

Ruwa froze, eyes going wide. If it had been day, Tiran would have seen the flush rise to her cheeks. “No, I couldn’t—“ she began to refuse, but Tiran cut her off with a wave of his arm.

“No, I insist. As soon as everything’s done and taken care of, we’ll go for a ride. Flickr built in a second seat without asking me, might as well put it to use. Your wings can’t hold you back in my bird.”

“T-that’s fine, but—“

“Equalizing?” Tiran asked, anticipating her rebuttal. “Li, can the Cloudburst maintain cabin pressure for extended periods of time?”

“Of course. In fact, it was designed to do so in case of an emergent situation. I can reprogram the environmental controls to allow pressurization during normal flight.”

“Well, there you have it,” Tiran said with a wide grin. “Q could even probably whip you up a pressure suit—just in case—if I ask nicely enough. So what do you say?”

Ruwa was as still and silent as a statue for almost a full minute. At first, Tiran thought it meant she was still thinking about it. Then after a moment, he became worried that he’d offended her somehow. He was about to say something like an apology when she finally broke her silence.

The Pegasus startled Tiran by lunging forward and wrapping her forelegs around his torso, pressing her head against his shoulder and pulling him into a crushing embrace. “Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you so much!”

She made a weird, muffled hiccupping sound against Tiran’s shoulder. Now it was his turn to feel uncomfortable as he realized that she might be crying. Unsure of what else to do, he removed his gloves and returned the hug, placing one hand on her head and the other around her shuddering shoulders.

In the back of Tiran’s mind, he thought about how soft her mane felt between the fingers of his left hand before he promptly booted it out. “Hey, hey. It’s okay…” he said, feeling awkward enough and trying not to make it worse. “Everything is gonna be alright.”

But even as he said it, Tiran wasn’t sure it would. They still had a lot to do before they could recover the Cloudburst. Not that Tiran didn’t want to take Ruwa up, he had every intention of following through on that promise.

Mainly, he was afraid the he wouldn’t be able to. They were being hunted by some mysterious organization, Jackson was dead, and Tiran had just assaulted one of the few friends he had, even if calling the unicorn a friend was being generous. Now that he had something to work towards, something more meaningful than himself or his own problems, everything he’d done earlier seemed childish and thickheaded. He just didn’t know if he’d live long enough for that feeling to fade.

After a few moments, Ruwa settled down. Tiran looked down to check on her and saw that her head was still nuzzled against his shoulder, her breathing had become deep and regular. She’d fallen asleep.

It was just as well. She’d had a very eventful week, the past day even more so. Tiran didn’t blame her. He didn’t feel like waking her up, so he stayed that way for a time, her body slumped against his while he gazed out on the martian-esque desert scenery, doing nothing more that absent-mindedly stroking the pegasus’ thick made with his left hand.

Somewhere out beyond the high ridges, a coyote howled, its hunting call echoing among the bald rocks. Overhead, desert bats flapped and fluttered, their tiny squeaks homing them in on their insectile prey. Some of the flaps began to grow louder. Soon, they were accompanied by short bursts of wind, which metamorphosed into to Kai.

He swept down like a shadow, his great wings sending a cloud of dust billowing over the rim’s edge like a waterfall as he settled to the ground near Tiran. The Griffon shuffled his wings, shaking some of the dirt off before finally folding them against his back. Tiran checked to see if Ruwa had been roused by the Griffon’s arrival and was glad to see that she had not.

“Everything alright?” Tiran whispered without turning his head.

Kai didn’t respond for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then he said, “We both have our demons, you and I.”

Tiran just nodded, there was no doubt about that. The Griffon had to have witnessed the events in the drainage during his watch. He wondered what the great bird thought about it, wondered what else the warrior had seen with his sharp eyes.

“Be sure to keep them in control, in the darkness where they hide,” Kai continued. “Lest they hurt the ones you wish to protect.”

Tiran nodded again, understanding Kai’s meaning. He had almost done just that, let one of his demons get out of control. He had very nearly caused some hurt he hadn’t intended. Tiran thought Kai might know, but if the Griffon did, he didn’t reveal it.

Kai had nothing else to say after that. Instead, he retreated towards the small cave, padding to the entrance on his strange combination of paws and claws. Tiran glanced at his watch and saw that it was getting late, not to mention the desert chill he felt coming on. Kai was probably turning in for the night, something Tiran probably should do as well.

But the view was perfect. The night had an uncanny serenity to its silence where there was usually unease. And it had been quite some time since Tiran had sat with someone like this, even if she was asleep.

Just a few more minutes, Tiran thought, hugging Ruwa’s sleeping form to his body as if to ward off the night chill. Just a few more minutes.

Chapter 26: New Contact

Jackson awoke with a long, drawn out grunt of pain. At first, he didn’t know where he was. It was dark, pitch black, the kind of darkness you only got when there were no light sources to speak of, natural or artificial. He vaguely remembered the firefight, buying time for Sparks and the kid. He hoped they got away okay.

Then he remembered the end of it all. He remembered the attackers barging in and cornering him. He remembered the spray of bullets whipping through the air just centimeters from his body. He remembered getting shot. Then he remembered who shot him.

“Son of a bitch!” Jackson cursed loudly to himself. As if there were anyone else to hear him. He hoped there wasn’t.

He just hadn’t seen it coming. The betrayal tore at his head like a ravenous beast, its howl calling out for retribution. For years, he’d counted Blackjack among his friends—a shady, slightly odd friend—but a friend nonetheless. That the earth stallion could do this to him gave Jackson some horrendously dark thoughts.

Feeling around in the darkness, Jackson moved his fingers tentatively towards the pulsating pain that was his chest. The ends of his digits bumped into its edges, causing a spike of dull pain across his chest, but nothing he could compare to an actual bullet wound, let alone a cluster of them. When he took his fingers away, they came away with a sticky paste heavy with the sharp scent of anesthesia.

Jackson’s fingers began to turn numb so he wiped them off on his pant leg and began feeling around the dark space. His hands bumped into walls barely a foot to either side and brushed across some fabric to the front that felt an awful lot like one of his coats. It took him less than a second to put all the information together. Dark enclosed space, coats in his face.
He’d been shoved into a closet.

It wasn’t the first time Jackson had woken up in a closet somewhere, just the first time it had happened after he’d died. Except that he hadn’t, and why not? Jackson clearly remembered getting shot a few times in the chest, only with some kind of sedative powerful enough to almost instantly knock out a full grown man once absorbed through the skin.

It was quite a mystery to him, but one that would have to wait.

After feeling around his lap and the ground like a blind man, Jackson finally located his gun. After a moment of fiddling with it, he remembered that he’d fired it dry, so he pulled a few loose shells from his pocket, knocked the empty ones from the cylinder and replenished his firearm.

Getting his gun in a firm grip, Jackson rolled his chair slowly back until it lightly bumped against what he assumed was the closet door. He quietly turned his chair around and groped for the knob. Once he found it, he took a deep breath and counted to three. On three, he threw the door open and shoved the barrel of the revolver out into whatever waited for him.

Jackson blinked.

Instead of a hail of bullets, the dingy light of a late afternoon greeted him. He looked left, he looked right. Seemingly, there was no one left in the house besides him.

Cautiously, Jackson rolled out of the closet and into the light.

The house was a mess. The floor was covered and glass and debris. In some places, blood still lay splattered across the floor boards and walls like grotesque Pollock paintings, but the bodies had since been removed. Bullet holes seemed to puncture nearly every wall, letting in thin streams of dying sunlight that shot crisscrossing paths through the still settling dust.

In the ruined kitchen, Jackson found a towel that miraculously hadn’t been completely destroyed and started wiping the astringent paste from his torso. He used the water flowing across the floor tiles—a byproduct of the plumbing having been torn to hell—to help hasten the process. Whatever it was, the substance was stubborn. It flatly refused to come completely out of his tattered shirt and the fumes still wafting from it made Jackson dizzy. After fifteen more minutes of this, he settled for diluting it as best he could and leaving it alone. He still had a deep red stain around the impact area, but at this point Jackson didn’t really care.

Once finished, Jackson ditched the towel into the still intact half of the sink and rolled out into the living room. The wheels of his chair crunched over the glass and splintered like there was a gravel driveway now in the middle of his house. He swept his head back and forth as he moved, taking in the destruction.

Pictures hung torn and shattered on the walls they still desperately clung to, or hopelessly strewn among the rest of the debris all over the floor. Cotton stuffing was most prevalent, having been blasted from the cushioned furniture and spread around the house like dry, fluffy snow. If he really looked, Jackson could even make out the spot where he’d been shot.

He still could hardly believe it. When Jackson saw his old friend, the first thing he’d felt was happiness followed shortly be confusion, and finally and unholy dread as he understood the implications. Or at least, he thought he did.

Either way, the next time he saw Blackjack, Jackson was gonna—

“Damn, your place got torn up. Honestly, I think it looks better, but I know a good interior designer if you need one. Which you do.”

Jackson had his revolver up before the second word was out of Blackjack’s mouth. He glanced up and was satisfied to see that the barrel of his gun was nice and steady on the stallion’s head without even having to sight down it. His finger itched on the trigger.

Blackjack was standing on the remains of the porch with a shit eating grin, half hiding himself with what was left of the frame of the front door. He had a sheepish grin on his face that still managed to look cocky. But he wasn’t armed and he was alone. It aroused Jackson’s curiosity enough to keep him from pulling the trigger.

“You know, you’ve either got a death wish or some massive fucking balls to come back here,” Jackson said without lowering his weapon.

Blackjack took a half step into the doorway, keeping his expression the same, “Now, is that any way to greet the pony that saved your life?” he said with his usual southern twang. “Seems a might rude to me.”

“Seems about right to me.” Jackson cocked the hammer back on his revolver, even though he didn’t need to.

Blackjack stepped full into view now, one hoof held up in surrender. “No need for that now. I come in peace,” he assured.

Jackson narrowed his eyes, but didn’t lower the gun, “Explain.”

The stallion chuckled, but it came out nervously. I’m guessin’ that by now you’ve figured out that I didn’t actually shoot you. I mean, I did, but not with actual bullets.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“And that was the point,” the stallion argued. “Except it wasn’t so much to fool you than it was to fool the others.”

“Why?” Jackson asked.

Blackjack nodded his head sagely, “Why indeed.” He kicked a few shards of glass clear of the area around him as he stepped closer to Jackson, but then stopped when the wheelchair bound man’s facial expression warned him that he’d most definitely be shot if he moved any closer. “You see, Equestria’s never been quite as peaceful as everypony seems to think it is. Sure, there’s a load of down time between the odd draconiquis or changling attack, but the violence never really goes away, it just kinda simmers down until it builds back up into a boil.

“I know it, the Princesses know it, the trick was to do something about it without drawing attention to it.”

“Yeah, that’s why they started the RSTG,” Jackson countered.

Blackjack gave him a placating smile that bordered on the condescending, “Not quite. The RSTG is a great quick reaction force for things not suited for the Elements, don’t get me wrong, but it ain’t suited for the stuff that don’t fit into those two areas of expertise.”

“What are you getting at?” Jackson growled with a buzz of impatience.

Blackjack let out a tired sigh.

“What I’m getting at is that they needed a way to take care of the ‘in between’ . I just so happen to be that way,” he explained. “Long story short, we’re still on the same side so can you please be so kind as to point that thing somewhere else?”

Jackson considered the earth stallion’s words. If what he’d said was true, then that meant there were a whole lot of things going on in the background that he didn’t know about. That kind of pissed him off. It also meant that Spark’s forces were getting played and they didn’t know it either.

Things like this were the reason why Jackson had never gone for the Black Ops teams back home. Too much cloak-and-dagger shit, a straight fight with a clear objective was far more preferable to him. Plus, he liked to work with people he knew he could count on.

Jackson lowered the revolver, but didn’t quite point the barrel in a different direction or move his finger from the trigger. “So what are you, some kind of ‘deep cover’ agent?” he said with a drop of mocking skepticism.

Blackjack’s face lit up, “Correctamundo! I knew you’d get it.”

Jackson shook his head, “No, not really. And I still don’t trust you.”

“Close enough!” the stallion proclaimed as he started trotting towards the kitchen. “C’mon, I’ll fill you in on the small stuff over a drink.”

Reluctantly, Jackson turned his chair to follow. He didn’t like the things he’d heard and he was sure he wasn’t going to like whatever else Blackjack was going to tell him, but he was going to get some damn answers.

When Jackson arrived to the shredded kitchen, Blackjack was rummaging through some of the more intact cabinets to the symphony of burbling water that was his broken plumbing. If the former smuggler noticed he was walking through a veritable pond, he didn’t seem to mind.
Glass clinked and tinked as the stallion searched for a bottle of alcohol, “Brother, you gotta have a wider collection of hooch than this,” he commented.

“I did,” Jackson snorted. “Your friends kind of destroyed it.”

“Oh, those aren’t my friends.” Blackjack let out a little sound of triumph as he found a half empty bottle of cooking sherry that had impossibly escaped the deluge of lead that had perforated the rest of the house. “Not what I’d call a drink, but it’ll have to do,” he said while pulling out two mostly whole glasses with broken rims.

“Then what would you call them?”

Blackjack poured a glass for Jackson and set it on the crooked kitchen table before pouring himself one and taking a gulp. “Acquaintances, more like. Not the best ponies.”

“Yeah, go figure.”

“I know, I know. Thing is, they were on the fast track for trouble, the kind of thing I’m paid to look for.”

“So you joined them,” Jackson said, finally accepting the peace offering—even though it was his bottle. He was careful not to cut his mouth as he took a sip. The sherry was the wrong combination of bitter and sweet for drinking.

“Yeah, I joined them,” Blackjack continued. “That sweet little firecracker you met with the red hair dye? That’s Del.”

“Sweet isn’t the word I’d use for her,” Jackson said.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Blackjack smiled, “but I gotta be nice to her, she’s the boss.”

“The boss of what, exactly?”

“That’s a good question. You know how that one unicorn, a student of Celestia she was, went ahead and got promoted to princess?”

Jackson nodded. He was isolated out in the sticks, but he had heard of that happening.

“Near as I can tell, Del is part of a movement that disagrees with that. A lot of ponies had the same opinion, but at most they tended to limit themselves to peaceful protestation. Del, on the other hoof…well, she’s a bit more outward in her views. Radical, some would say.”

Jackson leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his smooth scalp. He’d seen this before. In fact, something like this was common in human history. He just didn’t expect to see it here.

“I’m guessing Del wants a change in management,” he said. “Probably someone she thinks is more deserving of the post. Herself, maybe.”

Blackjack nodded, “Bingo. Only she doesn’t want to be in charge. She just believes it shouldn’t ‘ve happened at all.”

Jackson downed the rest of his drink in one pull then set it down on the wobbly table with a loud clack. Blackjack refilled it without being asked.

This was just what he needed, a terrorist with a political agenda that didn’t care how she pushed it. Only she did in a way, she just preferred pain instead of words. It made a certain amount of sense. Even so, something gnawed at the back of his mind, some things didn’t fit completely and trying to make them felt like trying to force a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. Somewhere in the house, something clattered onto the floor as it lost its last bit of grip on whatever it had been holding on to.

“Ok, I get that,” he said, “but why come here? Why was she after us?”

“Hunting RSTG members is part of the plan.” Blackjack put on a grin that said he didn’t actually find the words amusing.

Again, that fit in an odd sort of way, but Jackson felt there was something else to it. “Before, you asked about the kid.”

“Really? I don’t recall…”

“It was right before you ruined one of my shirts,” Jackson growled in a way that made it clear he had no patience for bullshit. “You were after him weren’t you? That’s why my house got destroyed, isn’t it?”

“Alright.” Blackjack looked chagrined. “So I did. You’re not gonna like what I’m gonna tell you though.”

“I haven’t like anything you said.”

Blackjack snorted, “Fair enough.”

Now it was the stallion’s turn to down his drink. He slugged it back and put the glass near the bottle, but didn’t move to refill it.

“Del want’s the pilot. You humans have a history here now. A short and brutal one, but a history nonetheless, even if the rest of Equestria doesn’t know the full details. Y’all tend to be at the center of things, momentous changes in policy so to speak. She want’s the kid, thinks she can convince him to work for her, give her side some extra credit. Maybe even give her fighting tactics a little oompf.”

Jackson shook his head. It would make sense if it were someone like himself, someone like an old friend of his. But his friend was dead and Jackson was a cripple living out in the sticks, not much for ‘oompf’ . And the kid was just a pilot, not anyone with any experience in these kinds of things, even if he did have some fancy gear.

“But the kid’s just a pilot,” Jackson said aloud, echoing his thoughts. “He’s not going to be much help unless he’s up in the air.”

Blackjack’s grin widened, this one genuine. “She doesn’t know that. Besides, I think she’ll be just fine with just the symbolism she can get out of him.”

Jackson crossed his arms and set his elbows on the table, making the wood produce a sharp crack as he leaned his weight on it. “Well we can’t have that. Any idea on how you’re gonna prevent that?”

The stallion leaned towards Jackson, his face falling grim. “I was gonna let her have him and just kinda wing it from there. But you pretty much shot that plan to hell. Literally.” Jackson smiled at that. He didn’t like that he did, but the drink must be getting to him. His head felt a little lighter than it should “I got a new one now,” Blackjack continued, “but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Jackson couldn’t help but smile now. That sherry was stronger than it should be. “Try me.” The words came out almost slurred. That didn’t feel right, but oddly, he didn’t care.

Blackjack sighed and took his hat off, setting it gently out of the way. “First, it involves that.” He pointed to Jackson’s leg.

The big man looked down and saw a syringe sticking out of his thigh, the plunger fully depressed. His thoughts were becoming increasingly flighty, but he could still bring enough of them together to understand what had just happened. What had been happening. The sneaky bastard had injected him where his disability wouldn’t allow him to feel the needle piercing his skin.

You son-of-a-bitch! was what Jackson wanted to say. But with whatever drug had been circulating in his system dulling his mind and robbing him of control of his muscular functions, all that came out was an angry spatter of thick saliva.

“Yeah, thought you’d feel that way,” Blackjack sighed as if he understood what Jackson had tried to force out of his rapidly numbing lips. “Sorry about this next part, but it’s the only option I have now until we locate the kid. Your little surprise earlier pulled my loyalty into question and this the only way I can see to remedy that.”

As Jackson involuntarily slumped in his chair for the second time, Blackjack calmly walked around behind his old friend and produced a cloth sack from inside his vest, slipping it carefully over Jackson’s bald head.

“You’ll be well taken care of,” the stallion said, affectionately patting Jackson on the shoulder, “I’ll see to that, have no worries.”

Jackson didn’t respond. He was either showing his disdain towards the former smuggler by ignoring him, or the drugs had reached their full effect. Either way, Blackjack bound the human’s arms, just in case. He briefly considered doing the same to Jackson’s legs, but decided it was unnecessary given the man’s condition.

In just a few minutes, he had everything ready to go. Blackjack put his hat back on and started wheeling his captive out of the broken house without another word.

* * *

Tiran was having some of the best sleep he’s had in a while since the unfortunate accident that brought him into his current situation. The kind of sleep that was dreamless, that made you believe you could have just traveled through time. Most people didn’t like that kind of sleep. He’d heard others complain about how it made them feel like they hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

For Tiran it was different, because it meant no nightmares.

He was comfortably deep into this kind of slumber when he was rudely awakened by a rough poke to his haunches. Tiran rolled over angrily to meet his oppressor and found Quick Fix staring down at him with a light smile.

“About time, you were in there, huh?” she said.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked, his voice still thick with slumber. “We under attack or something?”

Quick Fix cocked her head to the side and regarded him like he’d just asked something with an obvious answer. “No, not yet. But we did just get something interesting. You should get up and check it out.”

“Alright, alright.” Tiran sat up, knowing that she wouldn’t go away until he did.

Through bleary eyes, he noticed that something was different. The last thing he remembered was sitting outside. Now he was inside, and on a cot. The most alarming thing though was that he was wearing nothing but his boxers and a T-shirt.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked. “What happened to my suit?” Tiran shot an embarrassed look at Quick Fix, “Did you—!?”

“Yeah, I did,” she replied with a disinterested tone and confirming his fears. “Don’t worry, I didn’t completely undress you, obviously,” the unicorn added with a roll of her eyes. “Not like you’re much to look at anyway…”

“Hey!” Tiran protested as he stood up and began hastily pulling on a pair of pants that were lying folded at the foot of the cot.

“Relax. I had to do something. Your gear needed maintenance and you were out cold. Just be glad I didn’t leave you outside.”

Tiran paused with one leg in. The pants were a little too loose for him, but that wasn’t why he stopped. “I fell asleep outside?”

Quick Fix chuckled, her expression turning into one that looked like she knew something he didn’t and was amused by the fact. “You and Miss Ruwa were cuddled up out there nice and tight.”

“What?” he said, his eyebrows going high in surprise.

Quick Fix snickered, “Yeah, it was so cute!” The tone she used was teasing.

Tiran’s expression twisted in a mix of annoyance and disgust. “Shut up.”

“You guys would make a cute couple, y’know.”

Tiran snatched the pillow from his cot and threw it at her.

Quick Fix danced aside, easily dodging the fluffy projectile and laughing. “The more you deny it, the worse it gets!” she said as she trotted off, giggling all the way.

Tiran ignored her and finished pulling his pants on, grumbling to himself all the while. Once he was done, he padded over to the Ops center where everyone else had gathered. Kai, Ruwa and Quick Fix were all clustered around a console near the back. When Tiran neared, he saw Flickr sitting at an old radio, the headphones pulled tightly over his pointed ears.

Tiran tried to keep relaxed when he approached the stallion, even as he felt his gut tighten, but all Flicker did was give him a dismissive glance and return to what he was doing.

Ruwa’s ears pricked up at the sound of Tiran approaching. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, “Good, you’re awake! Come over here and check this out,” she said in a hushed, but excited, tone.

Tiran moved into place behind the three gathered around Flickr just as the radio crackled.

“St…ing to…cieve you,” a gruff voice washed in static said from the speaker.

“Whiskey Five-Seven, you’re still coming in real patchy, please adjust,” Flickr said into is microphone.

“—opy.”

They waited in strained silence for a reply. This was the first contact they’d had since the run from Shady Hollows. Whether or not it was a friendly one remained to be seen.

After a moment, the radio hissed and popped. Then a new voice spoke from it, “Cloud Castle, Whiskey Five-Seven, comms check.”

Flickr smiled, “Lima Charlie, Five-Seven, good to hear you. I’m sitting pretty with a gun in my hand, what about you?”

“What’s he saying?” Ruwa began to ask, but Quick Fix shushed her.

“ Copy C-C, glad to hear it. We’ve been flying kites with pockets full of candy and no teeth to chew with.”

Flickr flinched, “That’s a shame, Five-Seven. We’ve got chompers, but no candy.”

“Any chance we can fix that?” the stallion on the other end replied.

“Wait one.”

Flickr clicked off the microphone and turned to the rest of the group. “So, what do you all want to do?”

Quick Fix wrinkled her nose, “You’re asking us?”

Flickr shrugged. “They want to hook up with us, but I can’t be sure they’re friendly. This involves everypony here, whether you like it or not, so I thought I’d ask.”

“What were you guys saying?” Ruwa asked, still confused.

“I told them we were holed up somewhere,” Flickr explained. “They said they’ve been tossing signals out for a while now and have a lot of ammo, but not many weapons. I told them we have the opposite. Lots of weapons, but low ammo.”

“The question is,” Kai said, cutting in, “do we need them?”

“Before, I would have said no,” Flickr started to say. “But because we have a bomb in my shop—“ Tiran flinched a little, but Flickr didn’t seem to notice or even glance in his direction “—I don’t think we have much of a choice at this time. No telling when that thing is gonna go off, the sooner we get to it the better, but we can’t assault a hardened position like that with just two combat effective operators,” now he shot a disdainful glance back at Tiran, “and a pilot.”

Tiran shuffled uncomfortably where he stood as the others turned to look at him. He knew what was going on. Flickr was putting him on the spot, even if the unicorn didn’t just come out and say it. It was a tactic he’d encountered before, so if Flickr wanted to play, Tiran would play.

“So let’s bring ‘em here,” he said as casually as if he were suggesting a place to eat.

“Just bring them here…” Flickr scoffed. “Without any way to identify them at the moment, that would be foolish at best.”

“Yeah,” Tiran said, “But they’re our only prospect at the moment.”

“The human speaks the truth,” Kai put in. “To turn aside any help, however uncertain, would be more foolish.”

Flickr eyed the big griffon, “And if it does turn out to be a mistake?”

Kai gripped the handle of the large sword on his back reassuringly, “My blade has yet to fail me.”

Flickr huffed and let out a long, weary breath. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll call them back and get them set on course. Just you guys be ready, alright?”

Chapter 27: Jackson's Low Crawl

Chapter 27: Jackson’s Low Crawl

There was no pain when Jackson awoke this time. Instead, he felt as if he were wrapped in a large, warm blanket that matched his body temperature and took all feeling away. The fact that he saw nothing more than the dark cloth of the hood pulled down over his eyes and secured around his neck only completed the illusion.

His thoughts were hazy at best. It was like there was a foggy pressure wrapped around his mind. Snatches of things started to come back to him, shadows nipping at him from dark corners. Suddenly, there was a flash of fire in the back of his throat. Not anything composed of real flame, but of liquid, and then only a mere memory.

He remembered drinking something. Something that burned on the way down. An alcohol. Yes, it started coming back, thick wool peeling away from his mind to let the cool air in. He had been having a drink in his kitchen—his destroyed kitchen—as well as a conversation.

The conversation had had a sharp twang to it, the kind you only heard in the south. His mind fit the twang to a face and then Jackson remembered everything at once, a surge of memory that seemed to smack right into his forehead.

Then he got angry. Oh, if only he could reach out and strangle the shithead…

But no. now wasn’t the time to act, as much as he wanted to. Some of the feeling was coming back in his arms, the tingling sensation slowly giving way to the coarse roughness of rope around his wrists, binding them tightly to something. Strangling was temporarily out of the question.

Jackson could feel panic start to bloom in his chest, but wrestled it down and calmed his breathing. Long as it had been, he tried to remember his training. He needed to take stock of the situation and think things through.

He went quiet and listened, slowing his breathing. Where ever he was, it was silent, muffled. A small room maybe. Jackson wasn’t one hundred percent, but he was sure he was alone. Through the thin cloth of the hood a dim light shown down from above, just enough for a single solitary bulb.

As far as Jackson could tell he was still in his own wheelchair, only now he was captive to it. He tested the ropes wrapped five rows deep on his wrists, wringing his arms back and forth in an attempt to loosen them up. Ten minutes later he hadn’t done more than chafe his wrists.

Jackson cursed himself and his own complacency. The hood over his head only made it worse, increasing his agitation with each passing moment. Claustrophobia lurked at the edge of his mind like some curious predator, but his training kept it at the perimeter.

After some more futile flailing, the faint sound of voices caused him to go still. He could hear them coming from somewhere to his rear, but they were far off and muffled. That meant the door to his little cell was right behind him.

Jackson couldn’t help but laugh at himself and the absurdly clichéd situation before shutting himself up as the voices drew closer. As they came up to the door he was sure was behind him, Jackson forced himself to relax and let his head droop down as if he were still out. If he couldn’t get loose, he could at least get a little information from the loud mouths outside. From the little he could get through the muffling of the door, they were discussing mostly small talk; boring things like weather and possible recreational plans later. Soon though, they made it quite apparent what their prime interest was.

“So… what’s this guy’s deal again?” said a young male voice, just outside the door.

“Dunno,” said a female voice, “boss just said to be careful around him.”

The door unlocked with a loud clack, a heavy deadbolt, and the voices became much clearer.

“I don’t see why,” said the male. “Guy’s out. Look at him, he’s a vegetable!”

The door closed with a heavy thud, “He was pretty explicit about it…”

Jackson paid close attention.

The male sounded young. Older than a teenager, but not quite grown. The other sounded a bit older and her voice had a slight English accent to it. Something clattered loudly onto a table in front of him, startling him a bit and causing his head to twitch ever so slightly.

“Hey, did he just move?” asked the female.

“Probably just dreaming,” the other dismissed.

“Better hope so, for our sake.”

“Yeah?” said the cocky young male, “Why?”

The inside of Jackson’s eyelids brightened as the hood was ripped from his head. He tried not to react. He felt a foreleg wrap around his head and pull it up. Jackson cracked his eyes open a millimeter and caught a glimpse of the table and one of his captors.

A female pony with a deep blue coat and a lighter blue mane to match was standing across the table from him. In front of her on a tray was a small knife and a hypodermic needle. That meant the male was likely the one holding his head up.

“It’s just that I heard some things about him, y’know?”

As the female spoke, Jackson heard the scrape of metal coming of the desk. He resisted the urge to tense up, anticipating something unpleasant.

“Probably just one of the guys trying to spook you. He’s in a wheelchair, how dangerous could he be?”

Even as the male spoke, Jackson felt the knife slide across his wrist, but rather than cut into his flesh, it merely sliced through the ropes binding his right arm to his chair.

Jackson cracked his lids again and watched the female pick up the syringe with a magical field, “Even so,” she said, “we’d better make sure he stays under. Hold his head to the side so I can get at his neck.”

“Alright,” replied the male, placing the knife on the table.

Jackson didn’t need to hear anymore. There was no way he was going to sit there and let them pump him with more mystery drug. His sudden action surprised the two ponies in the room with him so much that they nearly froze.

Jackson reached up with his free hand and grabbed a handful of mane. He heard a yelp as he leaned forward and yanked down, throwing the kid over his shoulder and hard onto the table with a large crash. He swiped the knife from the table and used it to cut off the ropes on his left wrist. The female shouted something and rushed at him, but Jackson snatched the syringe from her magical aura and jammed it in her shoulder, depressing the plunger.

The female started to wobble on her legs. She mumbled something before collapsing onto the floor. Jackson was still a little woozy, but he forced his thoughts through the thinning fog in his mind.

He gripped the wheels on his chair and spun himself around. Thankfully, his two captors had been a couple of amateurs and had left the door cracked open. He pushed his way out into a narrow hallway. It was dank and made of concrete. There were no windows and it had the cold feeling all basements had.

Jackson made a mad dash for the nearest corner, looking for a way out. As he came around, he did.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me…”

A steep flight of concrete steps rose up into the darkness. They were just wide enough for a single man to fit through up the cramped passage.

Something shifted back in the room, making a noise. Jackson backed up to the corner and looked over his shoulder. The stallion stumbled out from behind the door, the knife gleaming in his mouth. The stallion shook his head clear, looked up and spotted Jackson, eyes going wide with fury.

Jackson didn’t think twice and wheeled quickly to the stairs even as he heard the clack of hooves rush down the hall. The stallion rounded the corner and slammed into the back of Jackson’s chair, knocking him off and sending him down to the ground. The stallion kicked the chair out of the way and lunged at him. Jackson wasn’t going to make it easy though and rolled as far out of the way as he could in the narrow hallway just as a hoof smashed down where his head had been.

The stallion was quick though and bucked. The kick caught Jackson in the shoulder, but before the stallion could recoil, Jackson wrapped a hand around and ankle and pulled him in, punching him in the gut. The stallion grunted and tried to pull back and recover, but Jackson shoved him face first into the opposite wall.

The stallion started to get up, but Jackson wouldn’t let the opportunity go to waste. He crawled over on his elbows, climbed up on the stallion’s shoulders and began pummeling the back and sides of his head with his fists. The muscular pony struggled to get up under Jackson’s weight, but the incessant lashing of the man’s fists made him dizzy, finally forcing him back to the cold concrete. He went limp and Jackson paused for a breath, then gave him one more lick for good measure.

Puffing his breath and feeling a little out of shape, Jackson rolled over and started making for his chair. His chest fell when he saw one of the wheels had been bent horribly out of shape from the stallion’s kick earlier.

“Aw shit, this is gonna suck…” he grumbled to himself while turning to the stairs.

The rough concrete steps scraped and grated against his chest and elbows as Jackson slowly dragged himself up by his arms. For once he was thankful he couldn’t feel his legs, the damage he must have been doing to his knees was unimaginable.

The stair was long and cramped. Every time Jackson looked up into the darkness and what he hoped was the faint outline of a door, it seemed to be the same exact distance as when he had started at the bottom. Even so, he would shake his head and continue the climb. No other way out but up.

It was when he was sure he was making progress to the top, nearing the door’s landing that something finally changed. He’d pulled himself up yet another few precious feet when the door at the top of the stair flung itself open with a loud crack of wood on stone. Blinding light flooded the stair, causing Jackson to shield his eyes until they adjusted and he could make out a lone figure silhouetted in the frame of the doorway.

“Damn Jackie, can’t leave you alone without you putting one of my boys in a coma…” called a highly familiar twang. “What’d you do this time?”

“Why don’t you come down and see, you son of a bitch?” Jackson challenged.

Blackjack descended a few steps into the stairway, his features becoming more visible after stepping out of the high contrast of the light. He seemed worn, as if he had spent the last year working non-stop, day and night. That haggard look one gets after spending a few nights with only a few hours’ sleep was prevalent around his eyes and his mane seemed greasy and lank.

“Now, I understand the hostility. I haven’t exactly been straightforward…”

“You think?”

Blackjack held up a placating hoof and briefly looked away, “but it’s been in your best interests.”

Jackson fought to contain an outburst. Blackjack had done all of this in his best interests? He could hardly believe that being taunted by some masochist female, shot at, then actually shot, drugged and kidnapped by someone he thought was a friend could possibly have been in his best interests. Eventually, the anger won out.

“My interests!? Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t remember being dosed and tossed into some amateur dungeon ever being in my interests!”

Blackjack shrugged, “I’d come down and explain it to you, but you look like you want rip my head off…”

“You think?”

“Well shit, if I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t’ve said it.”

“So why don’t you come down and find out for sure?”

Blackjack took a few tentative steps down the stairs, but remained a safe distance away. “Love too, but I value my health. Why don’t we take this back into the room so we can talk with a little more civility?”

Jackson had to physically stop his teeth from grinding against each other, “You call this civility?”

Blackjack looked taken aback, “Now I know this ain’t the best of circumstances, but it’s what I got to work with. Now my boys down there are gonna wake up soon and it would be best if you were back in your cell with me. I know that doesn’t sound very appealing, but neither does fighting your way outta here. How about you just work with me a little?”

Jackson considered his options, glaring up at the deep red stallion at the top of the stairs. He thought it over with a grimace. Jackson didn’t like it, but Blackjack had the advantage. The ponies Jackson had knocked out were already starting to stir. It was just a matter of time before he’d have to fight again and the prospect made him uneasy.

“Fine,” Jackson finally said. “But one wrong move and I’ll—“

“I know, I know,” Blackjack interrupted with a grin, “you’ll kill me.”

Chapter 2: Relic

Outside, the rain had finally stopped, but a fresh set of thunderheads that hung low over the ocean threatened to soon renew their downpour with the help of the off shore winds. It was also becoming dark, the rain-washed sky transitioning into that almost otherworldly dark glow that heralded the onset of night. Tiran quickly made his way off the base and stepped out onto the dirty sidewalk, wondering if he shouldn't just head straight home.

Suddenly, he had an urge to do something he hadn't been able to do in quite a while, and his favorite place wasn't too far away from his current location. He was going to eat out tonight. There weren't a lot of funds in his account, but seeing as he was leaving soon, it didn't really much matter to Tiran.
It took him little over an hour to walk to the place downtown, but fortunately, Tiran managed to make it to the tiny hole-in-the-wall establishment at the fringe of downtown San Diego. Tiran opened the door and stepped in just as the next wave of rain drops began to patter on the sidewalk.

In Tiran's long absence, the place didn't seem to have changed a bit. A few tables lined the wall directly to his right, following the flow of the bar that took up the other side of the room. From behind the bar, an old, frail looking Chinese man looked up and smiled at one of his few remaining regulars, if Tiran could even call himself a regular here anymore. He was actually surprised when he saw the gleam of recognition in the old man's eyes.

No words were said. Tiran simply walked in and took his usual seat at the end of the bar. Within seconds, a cold mug of beer was set in front of Tiran. He took a sip, savoring the golden frothy goodness as it raced down his throat while the old man retreated to the kitchen to prepare Tiran's food.

No sooner than Tiran had taken just a few more sips, Li spoke up, 'Robert Cho is attempting to reach you, would you like me to patch him through?'

Tiran swallowed his beer, "Is he at the apartment?" he mumbled to himself.

'Negative. He is currently four-point-six blocks from our position.'

"Eh, just get him over here."

Tiran worked on the rest of his beer. When he finished it, he suddenly found the empty mug being almost instantly replaced with a full one, along with a steaming bowl of noodles suspended in a meaty broth. Tiran was about to dig in when the door swung open and a man hobbled in, drenched in rain and leaning on a cane. He smiled as he spotted Tiran at the end of the bar and limped over to take a seat.

"Ha! There you are, old Tiger Tiran, how you doin', man?" he said as he sat down, favoring his left leg as he did so.

"Hey, Bobby." Tiran replied casually as he slurped down some of the salty noodles, "what brings you here?"

Robert Cho, or Bobby, was an old acquaintance. An aviator, much like Tiran, they had flown together in a few operations, always watching each other's backs. He was among the few who were probably as close to a friend as Tiran was ever going to get. He hadn't seen the man, not for a couple years at least. As Tiran eyed his leg, it seemed that time hadn't been to kind to him.

"Oh, not much." Bobby replied, holding up a finger to the old man behind the counter to indicate that he would like a beer. "Just been hearing things..."

"Hearing things, huh?" Tiran asked almost dismissively. He had an idea of what things he might have heard, but he didn't really want to talk about them. Couldn't really, since he'd signed those papers. Word still got around fast it seems. Tiran tried to steer the conversation in another direction, "What happened to your leg?"

Bobby glanced down at his leg, "Oh, this?" He rapped his thigh with his knuckles, producing hollow thunks. "Took an AA round to the leg last year, sheared it clean off. I told them they needed to armor the bottoms better, but you know how it is. They don't take our suggestions seriously until something happens. At least I got a shiny new leg out of it!" He added with a smile. "Though the joints do tend to stick when it rains."

"I feel ya," Tiran said as he held up his arm and demonstrated its sluggishness.

"Yeah, you'd think they'd give us some better tech, considering." A mug of beer slid in front of Bobby, he picked it up and greedily took a swig, letting out a contented breath after. "So," he started, turning his body more towards Tiran, "you gonna tell me what's going on?"

There it was. The question Tiran knew was coming. Still, he feigned ignorance, "What do you mean?"

Bobby leaned back and rolled his eyes, "Oh, c'mon! It's not every day that an officer that had been forced to resign and dropped from the roll is seen wandering around Thirty-second without getting tossed out on his ass." He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at Tiran, "Something's going on, what is it?"

Tiran had almost forgotten how determined and stubborn Bobby could be. He wasn't going to let this go easily. Tiran put down his chopsticks and let out a defeated breath, "I'm not exactly sure myself, Bobby. All I know right now is that I'm not supposed to talk about it."

Bobby leaned back with a quizzical expression, "Gag order, huh? They yanked you back in, didn't they?"

"Something like that."

"Sounds real sketchy to me."

"Isn't it always?" Tiran said, returning his attention to his meal.

Bobby eyed him suspiciously for a moment before going back to his beer. "Well," he said in a more subdued tone, "Whatever it is, don't let them do to you what they did last time."

"I'll try not to."

"It was really messed up, y'know, what they did after they pulled you out of all that debris and the...bodies. the whole squadron was pissed, you know. We all knew you were way to good a pilot for that to have been negligence. You'd think they would at least take a look at the black box..."

"It was destroyed."

"I know," Bobby said, "I read the report. But still, the whole thing was bullshit."

Tiran finished up his meal, draining the contents of the bowl and downing the rest of his beer before slapping a few bills down on the counter. "I gotta go, Bob," he said, standing up and walking to the door. "I'll see you some other time, whenever I get back."

"Alright, man. Stay safe," Bobby replied wearily at Tiran walked out the door.

* * *

"Tiran, wake up!"

The sheets shifted a little, but other than that, there was no reaction to Li's words or the incessant beeping of the alarm clock.

"Tiran, get up, you're late again."

With a groan, Tiran pulled the sheets off and sat up in his bed. He pulled his arm up and glanced at his watch, it was almost nine-thirty in the morning.

"Tiran, you're supposed to be at the facility in thirty minutes, I recommend you get dressed." Li chastised.

"Sure thing, Li," Tiran said groggily as he pushed himself off the bed and ambled into the bathroom. his head was pounding once again. Tiran splashed his face with cold water and grabbed the near empty bottle of rum sitting on the edge of the sink, taking a couple gulps to help quell the beast raging in his skull.

"The bus is due to arrive in thirteen minutes." Li urged.

"I know, I know," Tiran said with annoyance as he pulled on a pair of pants, "We'll get out on time, don't rush."

A few minutes later, Tiran was out the door and sprinting for the bus stop. He made it just in time, climbing aboard just as it was about to pull away.

The ride was boring, but fortunately, it didn't take long. The storage complex wasn't too far from his apartment. In fact, he probably could've walked there instead, but Tiran needed to get his things and get packed quickly. Not for the first time, Tiran wished he had a car. Unfortunately, those were pretty expensive these days.

The place the bus dropped Tiran off was old, a little bit dilapidated. Here and there, small green plants poked up from the cracks and rifts in the aged concrete, crawling towards the sunlight. Still, it was secure and out of the way. And cheap.

Tiran walked his way among the rows and rows of identical sheds until, finally, he found his own. Pulling out his key, Tiran unlocked the roll-down door and braced against the onslaught of dust that was sure to ensue. The door flew up into it's stowage with a rattle, allowing Tiran to step inside.

The self-storage space wasn't large. It didn't have to be. All Tiran kept here were a few items too large to fit within his tiny abode and old remnants of his recent past. A rack hung on the wall to the far side. Tiran stepped over to it and began to rifle around in the old uniforms and clothing he had put there.
He would only need a few things; dress uniform, working uniform and his old flight suit. The rest could stay. Tiran began tossing the items he intended to take on a cardboard box to his right.

As he did so, the box shook and shifted, causing something wedged between it and the wall to loosen. It dropped to the hard concrete floor with a clack and a thud, causing Tiran to pause curiously and look around.

His curiosity over taking him, Tiran searched for the source of the disturbance. With a littler bit of searching and reaching back into impossibly small spaces, he found a small mahogany case on the floor behind the cardboard box. He picked it up with his left hand and was surprised to find that the case was made of real wood, something he hadn't encountered in years.

Just as he thought about that, Tiran remembered exactly when he had encountered it; the day his grandfather had given it to him.

Smiling devilishly, Tiran undid the clasp at the front of the lid and gently lifted it open. The item he had inherited was still there, snuggled within the warm red velvet that was made to fit especially for it. Tiran's smiled dropped to a fond grin as his fingertips passed gently of the gleaming rows of small brass cartridges that sat upright alongside the weapon inside the case.

Wanting to admire it more, Tiran wrapped his hand around the grip and pulled out the old antique. The pistol was dated by modern standards, requiring ammunition comprised of a brass shell filled with combustible powder and capped with a heavy metal slug in order to fire—no where near as efficient as today's firearms, which used small, metallic needles magnetically propelled to devastating velocities, nearly hundreds of which could fit nicely within a single magazine.

Still, the old pistol was not without it's beauty, with it's sleek lines and lethal intent. The paint job was a bit odd, subdued crimson reds, blazing yellows and electric blues streaked down the slide, phased in with the matte black. Some of the equipment was as well, with a strange small metallic block that attached to the muzzle and extended the slide out a bit.

Despite that, it was extremely valuable, since they were no longer made, as well as the ammunition. Tiran thought about when he might get back, it could be quite a long time. Should he bring it with him, he wondered.

He remembered his grandfather telling him how he'd gotten it when he had given it to Tiran, saying it was something very important that should be kept close at all times. The pistol had apparently been delivered once when Tiran's grandfather was a young man.

Tiran's grandfather had told him that one day, he received a knock at his door. When he answered, a middle aged looking man with a British accent and missing two fingers was there to greet him. The strange man let himself in, claiming he was a friend of the family in 'an odd sort of way,' as he put it. They talked for a bit and then he left, leaving Tiran's grandfather behind with nothing more than unanswered questions and a small case. A case much like the one Tiran was holding now.

Either way, it was a nice little heirloom and Tiran decided to keep it. Maybe take it with him on this new little assignment Cherovic had him on. All Naval pilots were required to carry a sidearm nowadays, their own personal ones if they so chose.

The smile returned to Tiran's face as he slid it into the bag he had brought to carry his items. He would get a rise out of Cherovic with this particular item, he was sure. The next day was sure to be a fun one.

* * *

Tiran dropped his duffle bag with a huff as he stepped into the Special Projects Department's hangar, rubbing his shoulder as he looked around. The MAs at the gate had pointed him here, but there didn't seem to be as much activity going on here as he had expected. There were only a few pieces of equipment and some computer consoles with their attending technicians, nothing like the clutter of harried workers and experimental equipment he had envisioned. There were, however, several spec-ops types loitering around and heavily armed, which made Tiran a bit nervous.

Tiran grabbed one of the techs as he walked by, "Excuse me, I'm Tiran, I was told to come here, am I in the right place?"

The tech looked a little sluggish, but straightened up when he noticed the bars on Tiran's epaulettes, "Huh? Oh, yes sir! Admiral Cherovic is actually waiting for you in the office over there," he pointed to a small office with the blinds drawn closed attached to the interior of the hangar.

"Hey, thanks," Tiran said as he picked his hefty bag up again.

"No problem, sir."

Tiran casually made his way over to the office wondering what he was in for. He checked his watch, still late. Cherovic wasn't going to be happy about that. Then again, she never really was happy about anything he did. It was one of the few things in life that gave him any amusement.

Approaching the door, Tiran knocked a few times before letting himself in, "Morning, sorry I'm a little late."

Cherovic was seated at the only clean desk in the small opposite, and to Tiran's chagrin, so was Dr. Welkin.

"Ah, yes, I was wondering when you'd finally get here, if ever at all..." Cherovic chastised, clearly displeased to Tiran's delight.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure this was the right place though. What with the hangar and all, I thought I'd get a good look at whatever death contraption you brought me here for."

"It's been moved for security reasons. I didn't want it here in the first place, but my superiors seem to be over-eager to commence the testing."

"Yeah, those superiors, huh? They can be real ball busters," Tiran chuckled, but stopped when he saw the warning look Cherovic gave him. Tiran still allowed himself a chuckle inside.

"Regardless," Cherovic said, pulling a tablet from her bag and placing it on the table, "You shall have your look. Please, take a seat."

Tiran dropped his bag in the corner and reluctantly sat down beside Dr. Welkin who smiled mischievously at him.

"Now," Cherovic continued, "I assume you have the LIANI program on your person?"

"Her name's Li," Tiran said defensively.

"Of course," Cherovic smiled.

"It's a pleasure to meet you again," Li broadcast from her tiny speaker embedded in Tiran's arm, "Congratulations on your promotion, Admiral."

"Thank you, Li. I'm sure you have disabled all your transmission capabilities, we will be discussing classified material." Cherovic said politely.

"Of course, Admiral."

"Good." Cherovic replied, powering on her tablet and accessing some files. "Now for the reason you're here, Tiran." She pulled up some picture files and spun the tablet around to face Tiran and Dr. Welkin. "I'm sure you are familiar with this craft?"

Tiran pulled the tablet closer and stared at the image on the screen. In it was a stubby looking aircraft with cockpit shaped like a rounded triangle in the front with a boxier section attached behind it. It was about twelve meters long by three and a half meters high with stubby wings just aft of the cockpit and running down its length. Thrust and control nozzles were scattered here and there around the craft.

It was a nostalgic sight for Tiran, he did know this aircraft. It was one he used to fly. The AVC-21D Longjumper was a fairly ugly looking, yet highly maneuverable VTOL aircraft designed to insert and extract combat teams into hotly contested areas. A combat jumper, it was often outfitted with a small 20mm chin gun along with air-to-surface missiles and rockets mounted under its wings.

Normally flown with two pilots, one sat behind the other, it could also a complement of fifteen marines in its aft compartment. With its mini molecular fusion power plant, it could quickly drop them in almost any terrain or situation, while under fire, and also provide close-air-support, then bug out before the enemy even knew what was really going on. It had effectively replaced the old helicopter in high-risk combat operations, and Tiran was one of its pilots.

"So what?" Tiran said, "It's an old Longjumper. I flew those all the time, as well as a lot of other people. What's so hush-hush about this?"

"This is," Cherovic replied, changing the picture.

A new aircraft appeared. Tiran looked, it was another Longjumper. But, no. It was different, sleeker. The basic frame was the same, but the fuselage had been radically altered. The wings had more lift area and were more swept back, reinforced. On top of that, they had more weapons racks attached to them and to the sides.

The cockpit and aft compartment were different, too. The cockpit was smaller and more flush with the rest of the fuselage. By its size, Tiran guessed that only one person could fit in there. The aft compartment was the piece that seemed to have changed the most, however.

It looked like it had shrunk in size as well, but to such a degree that it seemed almost compressed. Along its sides were a myriad of warnings about gamma and electro-magnetic radiation. there was no aft ramp or side doors, just small, man-hole sized access covers. The only thing that seemed untouched from the outside was the power plant area and most of the thrust nozzles.

"What the heck is this?" Tiran asked. "It looks like an over-sized fighter now."

"Yes, I know it does," Cherovic agreed, "but it is much, much more, I assure you."

"Then why do you have me here? I ain't no fighter jock," Tiran said, eliciting a humph from Dr. Welkin due to his poor choice in grammar.

Cherovic's eyes slid onto the thin, reedy man, "Something to say, Doctor?"

Dr. Welkin, a little suprised at his call to attention, nevertheless cleared his throat, "Fighter jock, indeed. This is no mere fighter, I assure you. No, it is so much more. This is the AVX-221 Cloudburst, currently being held at a secure location due to a recent security incident. What this baby can do puts any and all fighters anybody owns to shame." The Doctor beamed at his own proclamation.

"Well, what the hell?" Tiran said, "Why would you turn a Longjumper into a freaking fighter?"

"Why the hell not?" Dr. Welkin countered. "The Cloudburst's abilities are absolutely astonishing! Why, with its Blink abilities alone, you could—"

"Not here, Doctor!" Cherovic chastised, cutting him off. "Once we reach the site, you can brief him on the Cloudburst, as well as its support equipment, but you would be wise to remain silent on the matter until then."

Welkin looked visibly cowed, "Yes ma'am."

"Good. as for you, Tiran, you are to report back to this airfield tomorrow morning, ready for departure to the new site, am I understood?"

"Sure."

"Good. Good day, gentlemen. I shall see you tomorrow evening. Dismissed."

Chapter 4: In The Heat Of The Night

Tortured screams of men coming from the back, muffled by the cockpit door. The pop and whiz of rounds streaking past the canopy, occasionally accompanied with the shattering of glass. Tiran felt shards plunking against his helmet and visor, threatening to injure or blind him if they could just get through.

"Ian, Ian!" Tiran called out to his copilot seated to his right over the various alarms and bells. "I need you to get some ordinance down there, we need to escape!"

Ian was about to respond when there was *pop-bang* and a shattering of glass. Tiran heard gurgling and glanced over, mortified at the sight that met him. Ian's whole left side was nearly gone. His arm was dangling from his shoulder by a lone string of meat.

"Warning!" Li added over the cacophony, "Starboard side engine failing!"

Tiran quickly moved to compensate, taking thrust from the port side and feeding it to the starboard ventral thrusters. he almost had it, he almost had it.

*BANG*

The whole aft end of the aircraft began to pitch up. Higher, higher, the nose now pointing towards the dark ground. Below, the monotony of darkness was occasionally broken by muzzle flashes. Tiran yanked up on the stick and applied thrust, but it wasn't enough, the inertia was too much to overcome with one sputtering engine.

The ground rushed up to meet Tiran, like the maw of some great beast come to devour him. The nose hit. Tiran was thrown out of his seat, the world came crashing down on him. A vice clamped down on his arm and he felt a sucking pop in his shoulder. Something smashed and cut into his side and legs, something skewering him.

Then, silence. Blessed silence.

Tiran's vision flickered and faded. Then the world was lost to him.

Tiran awoke with a start, remembering the nightmare. He sat up in bed. It was strange. Usually, no matter how bad the dreams got, they didn't wake him up. But he still remembered them any way.

It took him a moment to realize why he had woken up. A klaxon was blaring in his ear, coming from the 1MC, a constant piercing, rhythmic tone. A second later, he realized what he was hearing. It was the General Quarters alarm. Tiran swore and jumped from his rack, grabbing for his flight suit.

"General Quarters, General Quarters!" A disembodied voice blared from the 1MC over the alarm. "All hands man your Battle Stations! Passage throughout the ship is as follows: starboard side up and forward, port side down and aft, General Quarters!"

"Li, you got any Idea what's going on?" Tiran asked aloud as he pulled on his boots.

'Negative.' Came her response.

"Damn it."

Tiran rushed to his door and pulled it open. The spec-ops guy usually standing guard was gone and people were running down the passageways in a hurry. Tiran grabbed at one of them in a red jersey and got him to stop, "Hey, you know what's going on?"

"No sir," the sailor replied, "All I know is that I have to set Full Bore, now!" And with that, he took off again.

Tiran was at a loss. He had no idea what was going on and nobody had contacted him. He retreated back into his room and was about to sit down when he heard a long, low buzz and felt the deck vibrate vigorously beneath his feet. Tiran knew that sound and feeling. It was the ship's CIWS. Essentially the last line of defense against a missile attack. If the captain had resorted to that, they really were in trouble.

Tiran had to do something, at least get some information. "Li, can you tap into the net?"

'I do not advise such action.'

"I need to know what's going on, just do it."

'Tiran,' Li warned, 'doing so would be a violation of UCMJ Article—'

"Just do it!" Tiran said impatiently.

'Very well, wait one...' she acquiesced.

Tiran drummed his fingers on the desk and tapped his foot in impatience. While he waited in the near darkness, the deck shook under him again as the CIWS threw yet another volley of tungsten slugs at targets. Tiran wondered how long they would last. They were only good for so many bursts before the ammo drum finally ran dry and one of the missiles broke through.

Li finally chirped in his head, 'Data link established, limited information available.'

"Lay it on me, Li." It was better than nothing.

'Telemetry from CVIC indicates two large surface contacts among several smaller vessels. Strike Fighters have been scrambled, anti-ship and anti-air munitions are originating from the large surface contacts.'

Tiran had an inkling as to what that meant. He hoped he was wrong.

"Li, can you give me comms from the Strike Fighters?"

'Working...'

A second later, Tiran heard a crackling in his head as Li patched in comms;

Gyr-2, approaching hostile, three miles out."

"Gyr-1, detecting missile launch from hostile, I have tone!"

"Break off, Gyr-1, deploy flares, jink jink jink!"

"Flares deployed!"

For a moment, there was just the heavy breathing of the pilots as they attempted to avoid the missiles.

"Gyr-1, flares ineffective! Missiles closing!"

"Goddammit, where'd they get that tech!?"

"Gyr-1, they're right on your ass, punch out!"

Another moment passed, the pilot's breathing becoming more labored. Then there was a bang and a whoosh as the pilot activated the ejection seat, followed shortly by a loud burst of static before the line cut dead completely.

"Gyr-1? Gyr-1, do you copy?"

Nothing.

"Son-of-a... Tower, Gyr-2. Bird splashed, no chute."

"Copy, Gyr-2. 99 Transmission, all aircraft be advised; surface contacts using smart AAA, flares may not be effective."

Tiran heard all he needed to hear. It sounded like it was becoming a slaughter out there. He ordered Li to cut out comms. He needed to do something. He couldn't just sit around while everyone was getting cut down out there.

The 1MC squawked, "This is the TAO. All hands, multiple surface contacts inbound, prepare to repel boarders. Repeat, prepare to repel boarders. All security personnel to your stations."

That was it for Tiran. The ship was expecting to be boarded. He wasn't a ground combatant, Tiran only had basic firearms training and an only above average aptitude for hand-to-hand. he needed to get in the air. Now.

"Li, I need you to get in contact with Ordinance Control. Have them load up the Cloudburst, 25mm and air-to-surface. Then get with Hangar Deck and have them load it up on the elevator. Make it sound like it's coming from Cherovic."

'I should tell you how highly illegal this is, but I doubt you would listen.'

"Just get it done."

As soon as Li started working, Tiran leapt out of his seat began gathering items. He went to his locker and pulled out the old pistol he'd taken from the storage unit only little over a week ago. He loaded up the magazines and popped one into the pistol, shoving that into a shoulder holster, which he then put on.
Ducking out into the passageway, Tiran began heading for Welkin's lab. If he was going to do this, he wanted to be in the right gear. He ran down the halls, barging through doors and dodging sailors in flash gear who were off to some other crisis aboard the ship.

The collision alarm went off, "All hands, incoming missile, starboard side, brace for impact!"

Tiran stumbled as an explosion rocked the ship, tossing him against a bulkhead.

"Hit alpha! All hands, relax brace!"

Tiran picked himself up and continued on, though with a few new bruises.

It took some time, running through the coordinated chaos that was a ship under attack, but he finally arrived at Welkin's lab. It was dark, the lighting in there had failed. Emergency lights had snapped on, but only provided mediocre illumination. The Doctor was no where to be seen.
Tiran fumbled around with some of the equipment, but his hands eventually came across the thin body suit. Tiran immediately stripped down and began to pull it on. The survival suit was much easier to handle, having been held up on a bulkhead with a stand and already being mostly assembled. It took him a little while longer, but he had everything on and sealed.

Cradling the helmet in one arm, Tiran clipped his pistol to the hard point on his thigh and secured the extra magazines to his side with some electrical tape.

"Li, what's the situation on our bird?" Tiran asked.

'The Cloudburst is on the elevator, trafficking to the flight deck'

'Perfect." Tiran said, rushing out of the lab.

When Tiran arrived on the flight deck, it was absolute chaos. Cat 2 was down with a burning Strike Fighter sitting at one end. Personnel rushed about everywhere, attempting to put out the blaze. In fact, the whole forward starboard side of the ship seemed to be on fire. .50 cal machine guns blasted away at all sides, trying to hold the attackers at bay. Down aft, a RAM launcher spun up and launched a volley of intercept missiles. They detonated in the air only a mile and a half way, having found their target.

Tiran looked to one of the elevators and spotted the Cloudburst pulling level with the deck, no worse for wear. He sprinted over as best he could in the survival suit, pulling on his helmet as he did so. He sent a command and the canopy began to lift up as he arrived.
A step ladder popped out from the fuselage and he climbed up into the cockpit, sat down and began strapping in, connecting air hoses. the canopy began to close just as Tiran's comms crackled to life.

"Tiran? Tiran! Get out of that aircraft this instant!" It was Cherovic.

"Sorry ma'am, but we're getting slaughtered here, I need to do something!" He replied as he began spinning up the engines.

"And this is better!? Tiran, stand down and get back in here before I have the MAs pull yo—"

"Ksshh, Miram, I- ksshhh." Tiran disabled the comms, cutting Cherovic off mid sentence.

'You know that won't fool her.' Li said.

"It wasn't about fooling her, I just wanted her to shut up."

Tiran initiated the final checks on the Cloudburst's systems. Everything came up green. One of the aircraft directors came running up, yelling and waving his hands, but Tiran couldn't hear him in the cockpit.
'Tiran, you realize the aircraft is still tied down.' Li told him.

"Too bad."

He hit the throttle, feeding power and thrust to the ventral nozzles. At first nothing happened. Then, slowly, the creaking sound of stressed metal began to reverberate through the frame. The director on the deck was overcome by bewilderment at what he was seeing and scrambled away, waving at everyone to get clear.

For a moment, Tiran thought he wasn't actually going to get anywhere. Then with a pop, a twang and a sickening crunch, the Cloudburst shot straight off the deck. Tiran tried to retract the landing gear, but all he got was the whine of broken hydraulics accompanied with an alarm indicating loss of pressure in the landing gear.

'Landing gear damaged, now inoperable.' Li added.

"We'll worry about that later!"

Tiran kicked the tail to the right and faced out towards open ocean. A fat tanker sat a few miles away, near the horizon. As Tiran spotted it, a gout of flame leapt up from its decks. Seconds later, a fireball materialized in the air over it.

The fuselage began to rattle and ping as it took small arms fire. At first, he thought Cherovic was trying to shoot him down, but then he noticed the fire was coming from the ocean, not the ship.

"Li, switch over to thermal, white hot."

The ocean stayed black, but blobs of brilliant white light appeared, bobbing in the surf. They were getting closer. Brighter flashes of white appeared on them as they continued to fire their weapons. Streaks of heat answered from the ship, but it was sporadic.
Tiran toggled the chin gun and he felt a satisfying kachunk as it deployed underneath him. A targeting reticule appeared, centered on his HUD in stark contrast to everything else before him.

"Alright," Tiran said with a satisfied grin, "Let's play."

Tiran flipped the hat off the fire button with his thumb and focused his gaze on the nearest target, then depressed the button. The cockpit rumbled happily as 25mm rounds carved through the air and delivered hot death. Cold water splashed up in the air, temporarily concealing the target, but then Tiran was rewarded by a bright white flare of heat as something caught fire and exploded.

"Ha! Adios, motherfucker!"

Tiran quickly dispatched the next three targets with three similar results, whooping each time he did. he glanced at his weapons information, 934 rounds expended. He had to be careful with the rest, he now had only 2266 rounds left. A look over at his air-to-ground armaments left him disappointed. He had only been loaded with a fraction of what the Cloudburst could carry, giving him only six AGM-11A Sea Swallow missiles. Fortunately, he was full on flares.

'Tiran, missile inbound!' Li exclaimed.

As if to punctuate her warning, lock tones began blaring in Tiran's helmet.

"Shit!"

Tiran hit the thrust and climbed high, angling up and phasing out of VTOL. Before he even thought to, Li deployed flares and Tiran kicked the Cloudburst into a tight turn to throw the missile off target. Their efforts paid off as light momentarily flared from the left side of the cockpit, then subsided.

"That was close!" Tiran exclaimed as he climbed even higher. "Give me some targets, any air?"

'Negative.' Li responded curtly. 'All targets are on the surface, what appears to be two reconfigured oil tankers and several smaller craft, minus the four you destroyed.'

"So that's it huh? Send the small craft to attack the ship while the motherships take care of air." Tiran reasoned. "How the hell did they get past the Destroyer screen?"

'Currently not known.' Li answered.

"Well, nothing we can do about it now. Li, line me up on a vector for the nearest target, I want to put holes in it."

'Working...'

Lines quickly assembled in Tiran's HUD as Li calculated the best attack vectors on the nearest tanker. As soon as Tiran lined up with one, he put the Cloudburst into a steep dive, lining up with the target. He switched from the chin gun to AGMs hooked onto the external racks.
The tanker shined like the sun against the blackness of space as he hurdled towards it, moon glowing at his back. He got a lock tone for his missiles and fired off a volley of two. Even as he did, warning tones blared once again in his helmet as he entered the weapons range of whatever anit-air the enemy ship was using.

Fortunately, the missiles were fire-and-forget, so Tiran pulled up and jinked to the right as he deployed flares once again. The missiles streaked past him, focused on the flares. One thought it found its mark and detonated, the other, however, flew past the decoys and re-acquired a lock on the Cloudburst.
Tiran cursed and put his aircraft into a steep dive. Altitude warnings flashed in his HUD. At the last second, he pitched up and hit the after-burner, instantly vaporizing a swath of sea water. The missile wasn't as maneuverable and plunged into the water, detonating an instant later.

"What's the status on our target?" Tiran asked as he pulled about.

'One missile intercepted, the other has struck the target amid ships. The vessel is injured, but still operational.'

"Damn." Tiran said as he brought the cloudburst down in altitude again and brought his bearings on the tanker again. 'Keep an eye out for me, Li, I'm gonna put two more in her stern."

Tiran was skimming the water now, his high rate of speed kicking up a large rooster tail behind him. The target grew in his field of vision and he got a lock tone on its aft end. When he felt it was the right time, Tiran let the two missiles fly and flashed past the tanker's fantail, just as a huge fireball erupted behind him.

'Detecting loss of power in target one. Ship is crippled, reading no more activity from anti-air.' Li reported.

"Fuck yeah, that's how we do it!" Tiran cried in victory. "Now for target two!"

Tiran lined up for his first pass on the second tanker. He only had two missiles left now, so he had to make them count. He figured he would do the same as the last run; get in close as insanely fast speed and low altitude and put his ordinance up their ass before they knew what was going on.
He lined up on the tanker's fantail, absolutely focused on his task. Tiran got a lock tone, drew in close, ready for his turn. He hit the firing stud.
One missile screamed toward its target, the other remained where it was on the rails, flashing jam warnings and error messages.

"Damnit!" Tiran roared, pounding on the missiles icon on one of the digital displays.

He didn't have long to vent. Another warning tone began to wail, they had a lock on him. Once again, Li deployed the countermeasures while Tiran deftly tried to avoid the ordinance. Once again, some of the missiles took the bait, but the rest weren't fooled. Tiran had to pull off yet another taxing series of rolls and corkscrews to get them off him, this time only escaping because two of them got too close together and detonated, destroying the rest.

"Damn it, Li, the fuck are we going to do?" Tiran growled in barely contained frustration. they weren't going to be able to do much with only two thousand cannon rounds and one jammed up missile on the rails.

'Wait one...' Li said as she attempted to find a solution. After several agonizing seconds, it seem she had one, 'Tiran, I need you to let them lock onto you with anti-air.'

"You fucking kidding me?" This was something that was usually to be avoided.

'Negative.' Li responded in her usual literal fashion. 'Let them acquire a lock, then set a course for the point of origin at high velocity.'

"I don't know, Li," Tiran said skeptically. "Are you sure?"

'Ninety-three point seven percent sure.'

Tiran sighed. He didn't much like this plan. It felt like she was making him to be the rabbit at a dog racing track. But they didn't really have any other options and she had saved his ass many times before, sometimes with even wilder sounding schemes.

Putting his fate in Li's virtual hands, Tiran put the Cloudburst into a lazy arc over the target. Getting them to lock onto him and send a missile chasing after him wasn't hard, it happened almost instantly. As soon as it did, Tiran put his aircraft into wide, but fast turn, the G-forces squishing him down into his seat. Then he lined up with the tanker, once again skimming the waves, but this time with two missiles chasing him.

'Tiran, wait until we get within sixty meters of the target, then pull up.'

Tiran felt like arguing, but at this point, Li knew best. So he focused and began to count down the range to target.

Four hundred.

Three hundred.

Two hundred.

One hundred.

Sixty!

Tiran pulled up as sharply as he could and dumped all the power he had into the aft and ventral nozzles. Even with the advanced systems in his suit, the gravities exerted upon him still threatened to take his consciousness. At the same time, Li fired the rest of their flares into the ship.
The Cloudburst cleared the ship with what Tiran was sure was mere inches. The missiles, tempted by the many burning flares, did not.
Tiran pulled up and rolled over in a split-S, whooping with victory as the middle of the tanker went up in flames below him. However, his heightened morale was short lived.

Warning tones went off all around the cockpit.

'Tiran, the ship's going down, but it still has power! Missiles inbound!'

"Fucking seriously!?"

Even after all that, they were still trying to shoot him down. Tiran would have been impressed if they weren't trying to kill him.
Tiran turned and juked, trying to throw the missiles off his tail, but no matter where he went or how, they always seemed to find him again. He couldn't use flares, they'd used them all in that last desperate attack. It seemed they couldn't out run them either. Every time the Cloudburst leveled out to gain speed, they gained on the Cloudburst.

Tiran was desperate for a solution, any solution. He frantically scanned the cockpit, looking for anything that might be able to bail them out. His eyes stopped on one panel. The words 'M-DRV ON' stared back at him. He reached for the switch.

'Tiran,' Li began to warn, 'We haven't tested that system yet.'

Tiran flipped the switch. A dull vibration began to build.

"It's all we have left and we need to do something!"

He flipped the next switch, labeled 'BLNK WRM UP'. The vibrations began to grow more violent, nearly bouncing him in his seat.

'Tiran-!' Li began to warn again, but it was too late.

Tiran reached for 'BLNK INT' and pushed the button.

At first, Tiran panicked. The vibrations almost instantly disappeared. Then they returned, devastatingly stronger than before. Tiran was sure his flesh was being shaken from his bones, such were their intensity.

Something slammed into their rear, throwing Tiran hard against his harness, light flaring at the edges of the canopy. The HUD failed and winked out, leaving Tiran blinking at a suddenly normal view of the dark horizon in front of him, but that soon disappeared as well.
A blinding, divine light filled the canopy as Tiran felt himself to be shot forward. A painful tingling sensation spread throughout his body, along with an excruciating feeling like he was about to be compressed and crushed into some dense ball of human meat and viscera. He tried to scream, tried to shout, but his chest felt as if it were being tightly banded with ever shrinking iron rings.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Tiran began to come back, vision blurred and obscured, hearing muffled and strained. Outside the canopy, he saw a flash of dark blue. Then a flash of dark green. A flash of white, a flash of brown, green again, brown again, white light, stars, brown brown brown.

The Cloudburst struck something solid. Tiran's restraints snapped, throwing him hard against the console directly in front of him, red and white flashed in his vision. The aircraft flipped and suddenly he was spead-eagled on the ceiling of the canopy. He tumbled again and again and again, lending him the feeling that he was inside some sort of satanic washing machine, but without the scalding water, only pain.

Finally, it came to a halt.

Somehow, Tiran had ended up crumpled in his seat again. He couldn't see, couldn't hear anything other than a dull ringing.

'Tiran... Tiran...'

Li's voice sounded so far away, echoing across a vast distance.

'Tiran...'

What was she trying to tell him? If only he could hear her.

'Tiran...'

Tiran felt so tired, felt like he was fading away. His body was going numb, trying to force him to sleep. He tried to move, tried to bring himself back. But to no avail.

Slowly, gradually, silently, he lulled off, mind fading to black. Drifting, falling, into a warm, all encompassing, darkness.

Chapter 21: The Old Man And The Ghost

Tiran groaned as he shifted and tried to find a comfortable position. It was hard to do in his armored flight suit, the thing wasn't made for comfort outside the standard sitting position. It didn't help that the metal benches in the airship were particularly sturdy and unyielding with the constant vibration of the engines in the background making his teeth chatter if he let his jaw relax.

He knew it was going to be a long flight. The two unicorns had told him as much before they had boarded and left, but Tiran didn't think it would be almost two days. Where ever it was they had taken him after the attack, it was a long ways from civilization apparently.

Tiran tried many things to pass the time and take his mind off the trip. Still, the incessant buzzing of the engines would work their way through his concentration and rattle his mind. Currently,he had his helmet on and tightly secured, attempting to drown out the current leg of his trip by blaring music through his internal speakers.

Around the rest of the cabin, a team of stallions of all types loaded up with combat gear and weapons sat, unbelievably at ease, talking, playing games or just getting in a good snooze. Tiran envied them completely.

The only one of them he didn't envy—in fact, one he found himself impressed with—was their pilot. She was a skinny little unicorn named Flyway, constantly manning the stick in the cockpit without a moment of rest. Tiran was surprised to learn they had a female in their team, even more surprised when he learned that almost all of the RSTG's pilots were females, with few exceptions. A select group called the Night Mares.

Tiran had considered going up into the cockpit and offering to take over for a while, but when he took a peek inside, he found the system of pedals, levers and switches the mare used to keep their little ship aloft to be as nearly confusing to him as the instruments and controls in the Cloudburst would probably be to them. He'd decided to let the pro handle it and resumed trying to catch a good wink of sleep.

Trying and still failing to do.

Tiran wasn't even sure he wanted to go to sleep any way. There wasn't a drop of alcohol in sight to help him usher in the dreamless slumber he craved and probably wouldn't be in some time. It wasn't that he wasn't fond of dreams. He'd even enjoyed his own nightmares. It was that ever since the accident, the sight the mangled body of his friend and co-pilot, the men screaming and dying, Gunny's blood fountaining from his neck. None of his dreams had been dreams. Just memories. Horrible memories, over and over again.

The doctors caused it a symptom of post-traumatic stress. Something that was continuously flaunted about during Tiran's court-marshal. The one that eventually saw him dropped from service. Even after they'd spent all that money putting him back together. Talk about misappropriation of funds.

Even so, it wasn't like any of that mattered to Tiran any more. That is, unless he could get back to his own world. Although, after putting some thought to it; getting back, reporting to Cherovic—if he didn't die, reduced to his component atoms by whatever forces were at work within the M-drive—then trying to explain where he'd been . . .

Yeah, not looking good.

Something caught Tiran's attention in the corner of his eye. The threat assessment in his HUD lit up one of the team members, painting the pegasus a calm blue, while outlining the various weapons he carried and their potential to do him harm. It was a feature Tiran had played around with during their transit, a helpful little application that he hadn't had time to explore before.

Tiran thought it would be prudent to update it, seeing as it hadn't any real data stored in it before and it seemed he was going to be in these kinds of situations for the long haul. It was a useful thing, as Tiran turned his head to get a better view, the program showed no less than three bladed weapons on the winged soldier's body, plus a curious little contraption strapped to his right hoof that the threat assessment program told him was some kind of modified firearm.

As the pegasus stallion continued on to the rear of the compartment, Sylver slid into view. The program on Tiran's HUD highlighted him, picking out three anti-personnel explosives, a small accurate sidearm strapped to his chest and one wickedly long rifle cinched down on his back. One look at the display told Tiran that it was a high caliber, heavy barreled weapon with an extremely long range.

Ok, so don't piss that guy off.

"See something you like?" Sylver asked, noticing Tiran's gaze.

The audio cut off Tiran's music, much to his chagrin, so he popped the seals and took his helmet off—not feeling like resetting it—and sat up.

"Not really," Tiran said. "Just noticed that big, fuck-off rifle is all. We planning on exploding something from a mile away?"

"Oh, this?" Sylver reached back and unhooked the rifle, holding it up for Tiran to see. "Not really, this is just in case we get some unwanted visitors. She's a beaut, though, huh?" he added with a loving smile.

"You think we might have some party crashers?" Tiran asked, trying to hide his anxiety at the thought of another shoot-out. His side still itched from where they'd dug out the bullet and patched him up. They'd even fused his shattered ribs back together. Magic. It could be a wonderful thing.

"Hope not," Sylver replied over the drone of the engine. "But we'll be ready if it comes to that."

"Yeah. I hope so." Tiran muttered as his thoughts drifted towards his own armaments.

He had his gauss pistol clipped to his thigh, plus the small submachine gun that had been confiscated from him on a clip in the small of his back. They'd let him have it back, given the situation. The only thing he was missing was the old pistol, the one he'd taken from his storage shed.

According to Commander Sparks, it had been lost in the attack. Tiran hoped that wasn't the case. He really, really wanted it back. If not for sentimentality, then for the fact that it was an extremely well put together piece of ordinance. With any luck, after they met this 'Old Man' they could continue on to retake the RSTG's little hidden base and he could recover it with the Cloudburst.

"Listen up!" Sparks barked from the front of the compartment. The team of operatives came to attention to listen to what their leader had to say, Tiran just turned his head. "We're dropping into what is believed to be a cold zone. That doesn't mean that trouble can't come find us. I want everypony on their A-game here. Set the perimeter and keep on comms. If one of you sees something, report it to everypony else. Sylver, you're on overwatch, Nightlash's your spotter. Tiran, you're with me, drop in five."

The group responded with a chorus of 'yes sirs', Tiran just sighed and began double checking that he had everything. he didn't want to lose any equipment on this next part. Sparks had told him they'd be fast roping in, something Tiran was wholly unfamiliar with. He hoped he didn't fall and land on his ass.

Tiran double checked, then triple checked his equipment, satisfied that everything was in place. Then he pushed himself off the bench and ambled over to his mark by an access hatch in the bottom of the deck. The rest of the team lined up against the bulkhead by the side door, checking each other while Sparks and Sylver supervised.

Finally, the airship swung into position. One of the team members threw the side door open and the operatives began leaping out onto the lines and sliding down towards the earth. The access hatch at Tiran's feet slid to the rear, revealing a brown patch of dirt waiting more than thirty feet below. Tiran pushed the rope out the hole and wrapped his right leg around it.

He took a few deep breaths, gripped the rope tight and dropped into the hatch.

The line of woven rope zipped and whined through his hands and feet as Tiran quickly fell the thirty feet to the hard, unforgiving land. Just before he hit bottom, Tiran jammed his right foot on the top of his left, creating a vice that stopped the rope between it and slowing his decent.

Tiran dropped the last half foot, landing with a jarring thud, and stepped away to make room for Sparks, Sylver and Nightlash. As he tried to untangle himself from the rope, he tripped and fell face down, scrabbling to get back up. All around him the rest of the group was fanning out in quick fashion, disappearing into the surrounding woods and searching the area. Tiran pulled out his pistol and made sure it the charge was still good for the hundredth time.

Behind him, Sylver and Nightlash dropped to the ground, quickly followed by Sparks. "You alright there, fly boy?" the unicorn said with a smirk. "Try not to get a concussion."

Tiran shot him a sarcastic smile then turned away, shaking his head.

Sylver pointed to a small rise on which a great boulder rested and together galloped off. Sparks began checking in on his fireteams, coordinating each one until he was satisfied with their placement.

As all this happened, Tiran took in his new surroundings.

It was a quiet slice of land, covered with large shady oak trees and dotted with small bushes and scrub brush. All around and between the trees the ground was blanketed with lush and soft grass as green as a field of emeralds. Not too far off from the landing zone, a small homestead stood.

It was a humble place. Just a modest two story house with a large porch and an old post fence circling it with enough room for a decent sized yard. within the yard was a quaint little garden where rows of vegetables and berries grew unabashed among the scattering of exquisitely cared for daffodils and chrysanthemums. Near the garden, a latticework of creeping jasmine sheltered a small patio resplendent with leisurely chairs and a table. Amongst all these features, there were little tracks in the grass and dirt, like a small wheeled chariot.

To Tiran, it looked well maintained, but empty and foreboding in the wan morning light. As if they would find naught but ghosts within the walls of the otherwise charming and well appointed abode.

"Where are we?" Tiran quietly asked as Sparks finished with the round of reports.

"A little patch of land by a small town called Hollow Shades."

"And this is where the 'Old Man' lives?"

"Yes," Sparks replied with a buzz of annoyance to his voice. With a casual trot, he started for the entrance to the home. "Stay close to me and don't speak unless he specifically asks you something, understand?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it," Tiran said, following him.

"Good. Now put that damn weapon away, he doesn't take kindly to ponies showing up with guns at the ready. In fact, he doesn't take kindly to almost anypony coming to his home, except for a select few."

Tiran did as he was told and clipped the pistol back into place on his thigh, "Like who—you?"

"Fortunately, yes. But the rest of these guys running around on his land with rifles might piss him off pretty good, so watch what you do or else you might get shot."

Tiran paused mid step, "Wait, what?"

Sparks didn't answer and just kept walking. He was halfway up the ramp to the porch when Tiran shook his head and quickened his pace to catch up, though with a bit more hesitation in his gait.

They stopped at a the dull wooden door adorning the front of the house. Tiran halted a few steps away, but Sparks continued on and knocked politely three times with his hoof. They waited there for a time, Sparks standing calmly at the door, tiran shuffling his feet uncomfortably and glancing about.

When no one came to answer the door, Sparks knocked again, this time with more urgency. Sparks began to tap a hoof impatiently against the hard wood deck while Tiran began to wonder if they were even at the right place. Finally, curiosity overtook Tiran and he moved towards one of the windows, edging towards the frame and cautiously peeking into the home.

It was dark inside, nary a shadow or silhouette could be discerned. All Tiran could make out were a few pieces of furniture closer to the window and not much past that. It gave him the creeps.

Becoming impatient, Sparks pounded more forcefully on the door. Tiran stepped back, away from the window, growing nervous. His thoughts went to the strange and deadly group of mercenaries that had attacked them just days ago. What if they knew about this place too? What if they were waiting for them?

Sparks must have had the same thoughts because he drew his sidearm and whispered something into his microphone. A dip of his head and a short nod later, his horn began to grow brighter, the aura engulfing the knob of the door. There was a sharp snap, like something breaking, and he quietly pushed it open.

The door swung inward on squeaking hinges, sending a tingle up Tiran's spine. Sparks shot a sharp glance back at him and nodded towards the interior of the house. Tiran drew his own sidearm and followed the unicorn as he slunk into the door's gaping maw.

The house seemed to swallow him. It was still dark inside, but faint light from the windows provided enough illumination to see. They stepped into a sort of living room, the air was warm and the walls seemed to stifle any sounds. A floor board creaked as Tiran stepped down, causing him to pause.

"Jackson, you here?" Sparks called out with indisposition.

They were met with silence at first. Then came a light knock from a room further back, causing them both to snap towards the sound. If Tiran listened hard enough, he thought he could hear harried whispering.

Sparks gave Tiran a needled glance, "Stay here. Keep your back to a corner. Don't move unless I tell you."

Tiran nodded, forcing an anxious gulp down his throat, and slowly backed towards a comfortable looking couch with a small table sat next to it. Satisfied with Tiran's position, Sparks mumbled something into his radio and continued on, sidearm held ready in his arcane grip.

As the stallion glided away, Tiran marveled a bit at how he could move so quietly and fluidly on hard wood with hooves. He was wrenched from the thought by a loud squeak from an adjoining room. He snapped his pistol up, but lowered it a moment later after deciding it was nothing.

Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow, as if time were traveling through a thick stream of syrup. Tiran began to tick them off in the back of his mind as it created ghosts and phantoms for him to flinch at with every out of place sound in the foreboding home. Sometimes, he though he would catch something at the edge of his vision—just a flicker—but when he looked, the sights of his pistol lining up, there was nothing.

Finally, it happened. Three muffled shots rang out from somewhere in the house, in the direction Sparks had gone. Tiran ducked, then brought his pistol to bear, frantically searching for a target. When none presented themselves, he shakily stood and took a step forward.

"Jackson, that you?" Tiran heard Sparks call out from some hidden place deeper in the house.
A rough, but youthful male voice answered, and Tiran was surprised when he thought he detected a Brooklyn accent, "Sparky? Are you in my fuckin' house!?"

"You almost shot me!"

"Well next time, fuckin' announce yourself before you get lit up!"

"Tiran!" Sparks called, "It's safe, but stay there!"

"Who the fuck is Tiran?" the other voice shouted.

"Long story."

"Then get down here and tell it!" the voice demanded. "Then you can help me up the damn stairs!"

"Dammit. Tiran, this might take a minute!"

Hooves clunked on wood and receded to a space below the floor. Tiran thought that there must be a basement down there. He let out a breath, allowing the tension that had built up inside him to drain away. at least this time, it seemed he wouldn't be getting shot at. From below came the sound of quiet arguing and the rattle of some kind of equipment. They seemed to be taking their time, so Tiran took the opportunity to look around.

Like most places he'd been in so far, the house seemed sparsely furnished besides the comfortable looking pieces in the room he currently occupied. Through one door, he thought he could see a kitchen with counters set conspicuously low.Towards the other side of the house was a set of shallow stairs with ruts carved into their steps, making some sort of hybrid ramp. On either side of the steps were a series of hand holds, creating the look of some odd ladder.

He walked around while listening to the two people below struggle with something, trying to gather as much information as possible. As Tiran looked about, something caught his eye. It was just a small colorful flash in his peripheral, a wink of light. He followed it to the small end table by the couch.

On the table was a small wooden frame, black velvet set the background. The flash appeared again, from a small colorful stone with strange writing carved into its face. To Tiran it looked like some kind of Arabic text. He suddenly felt a strange compulsion in the back of his mind to touch it, examine it. He reached for the frame, then paused to take off his gloves.

Turning back towards the frame, Tiran reached for the edge, but misjudged the distance and accidentally knocked it over. He cursed as the stone fell out and clattered loudly against the surface of the end table and then the floor where it fell. Tiran glanced over his shoulder, but no one came up to investigate it.

Tiran returned his attention to the stone and gingerly picked it up with his right hand, carefully turning it over and inspecting its surface for scuffs or scratches. he suddenly felt a jolt go through his skin and up his bones, nearly causing him to drop it again.

"Nice little thing, isn't it?"

Tiran whipped around and scrabbled for the frame at hearing the words. He tried to jam the stone back into its spot, but the thing didn't seem to want to fit.

"Whoa, calm down now, you don't wanna break it."

"S-sorry," Tiran managed, embarrassment flushing his face. "I was just . . ."

Tiran froze as he looked up. there was a man standing in the room now, not ten feet away, arms crossed against his chest. He was of middling height, coming in at just under six feet. He was muscled, but lean. A few curious scars were carved into his face which held two piercing blue eyes with a small star burst of yellow around the irises and was topped with short cropped sandy hair.

"Go ahead," the man said, gesturing towards Tiran. "Finish your sentence."

"I was just...putting this back." Tiran awkwardly tried to shove the stone back in its place and place the frame back.

The man held up a hand, "Oh, no no, keep it," he said. "If you ask me, it's been sitting there far too long."

"Oh," Tiran said, cupping the stone in his hand. "You sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead! Just make sure not to break it, that's a pretty important object, if you believe me."

"O...k..." Tiran felt uneasy, but followed the man's direction and deposited the stone in a small compartment on his waist. He took a few steps toward the man, "Um... do you live here?"

The man chuckled and took a few steps around the room, away from Tiran. His footfalls were silent, as if he weighed no less than the air surrounding them. "If you can call it living..." he deadpanned.

Tiran was a little confused by the man's remark, "But... you do live here, right? This is your house?"

The man looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I am here. Or maybe not." He chuckled again, "Who knows?"

"Right..."

"So..."

"Oh, right," Tiran said, flustered. "Sorry. We came looking for somebody, Jackson, I think. But... I thought there was only one human here," Tiran said, taking a step closer. The man took another step back. "Are you his friend, or something? what are you doing here?"

The man smirked, "Yeah, you could say I'm his friend. And you could say there is only one human here, if you wanna get technical. The real question is..." the man's eyes narrowed and grew intense, "What are you doing here?"

"Tiran!" Tiran looked over at the call of his name and saw Sparks standing at the door to the kitchen with a man in a wheelchair, who's eyes widened with a glimmer of recognition for a split second at the sight of Tiran, but then returned to a sour expression just as quickly. "Who the hay are you talking to?"

Tiran pointed towards the strange man, "I was talking too..." but when he looked back, the man was gone.

Sparks raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

"I swear, he was right there!"

"Sure," Sparks said, clearly not convinced. "Did you hit your head harder than I thought back there?"

"No," Tiran protested, "I didn't, he was—!"

Sparks cut him off, "Cut it. I want you to get checked out by Nightlash later, make sure you didn't scramble something in that egg shell of yours."

"But—"

"Shut up and listen to the guy!" The man in the wheelchair barked. "I ain't got all day with this shit."

Tiran had expected some one much older given the sound of the voice and the time frame he'd been told, but the man wheeling into the room seemed to be only in his late twenties. He had dark skin and was bald as a bowling ball with eyes like dark coffee. The muscles that rippled under his shirt told of the many years that he'd spent in his handicapped state.

"So this is what you invaded my home and dragged me out of the basement for," he said, looking Tiran up and down, "Fuckin' Robocop?"

Sparks sighed, "No Jackson, he isn't Robo...whatever. This is Tiran. He's a human, like you, that recently arrived. Tiran, this is Jackson."

As Jackson wheeled closer, Tiran noticed the large revolver sticking conspicuously from a holster mounted on the wheelchair's side. "Yeah?" Jackson said. "What's with the fancy get-up?" he asked, expression flinty, directing the question at Tiran.

Tiran struggled for an answer, "It's a...my, um..."

Jackson waved a hand dismissively and spun back towards the kitchen, "Don't worry about it, I don't really care. Come on."

Tiran tentatively followed for a moment, drawing level with Sparks who stood there with a tired, but nostalgic, expression on his face. "Don't worry," he said. "He'll warm up. He's just getting cranky in his old age."

"Old age?" Tiran found the comment disconcerting, "He looks like he can't be much older than me."

"Well, if memory serves me right, you humans only live for about seventy, eighty years. He was about twenty-seven when he came here almost thirty years ago. Must be pushing sixty now. It's weird, but I think you guys start to age almost as slowly as we do when you stay here long enough."

"Really?" Tiran asked. "How old are you then?"

Sparks frowned slightly and was about to answer when Jackson interrupted from the kitchen, "You two fruits gonna come and have a beer or what?"

Tiran perked and Sparks grinned a little, "Told you he'd warm up," he said, starting towards the portal to the kitchen.

Tiran still wanted answers from Sparks, but the promise of a free beer was more alluring. Other things still swam at the back of his mind, though. Thoughts that he still wanted to bring to the surface. Most of all was the strange man he'd seen, but apparently no one else had.

He shuddered to think that maybe, just as he though at the beginning of this mad cap journey, he was actually starting to lose his mind. Or, at least, he really had hit his head harder than he thought.

His mind slipped towards the strange stone currently secured on his waist. Tiran wondered if he should put it back. But then, what if the man had been real and the stone was important? Why had he told him to keep it?

"Yo, Robocop, get in here!" Jackson called from the kitchen.

Tiran shrugged and followed in Sparks' steps. There would be another time to ruminate on the swirling questions in his mind. For now, he would just listen to the odd human in the kitchen and enjoy a beer.