Slipstream

by BikerPon3

Rating: mature
Tags: Profanity, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Romance, Original Character, Flitter and Cloudchaser, Fleetfoot, Comedy, Violence, Wonderbolts, Sex, Spitfire
Length: 79437

When a routine flight goes astray, a superjumbo ends up soaring through dense skies over the Equestrian wilderness.

A skeleton crew of five unwittingly fly an A380 corporate jet into another dimension.

This story is my most underrated. It has its flaws (first person... eww) but it is my second best, in my opinion, and is worth reading. (That's why it's still here)

If I had the time, I'd re-write the whole thing in third person.

Hopefully I'll have the time someday.

Published 2014-10-21 00:10:08 UTC
Last updated 2018-09-08 00:05:42 UTC

1. Pegastrike [2018RW]

“You’re late,” a stern voice remarked.

No shit, Captain Obvious. Ever since the ‘incident,’ Captain Thomas had developed the rather annoying habit of pointing out all of my errors and shortcomings. I was only ten minutes late, but he still found the capacity to be a professionally-offended, salty cumbucket.

“My sincerest apologies, Captain. I’m afraid I overslept,” I gruffly muttered, trying to disguise the sarcasm dripping from my tone. I failed. Miserably.

“Think you’re funny, eh? You’ve got no respect lad, and your punctuality is disgraceful!”

The Captain continued his rant, but I tuned him out, a skill I’d gotten rather adept at in the past few months. The coffee machine hissed loudly, frothing out a large amount of steam as it prepared my requested cappuccino. To be completely honest, I was still pretty tipsy from last night, having drank perhaps a little too much whiskey. I needed to sober up. Fast.

Thankfully, the pre-flight briefing that followed, was just that—brief. Basically, we’d be flying our usual gig, the Skyland Corporation’s mobile headquarters—a balls to the wall, no expenses spared, garishly exuberant private jet.

In a word, it was huge.

I’d been the aircraft’s First officer under Captain Thomas for around five months. Today was just a ferry flight to go and pick up a few of the executives that had been attending a big merger meeting in Los Angeles.

We’d be flying empty, with just a small skeleton crew: two pilots, and three flight attendants. Normally there would have been more, but many of the flight attendants had chosen to stay in LA the previous week, instead of returning with the plane for its scheduled A-check at Heathrow.

I wouldn't have minded staying in California as well—maybe hitting up a few of the bars and trying my luck with the locals, but none of the stand in pilots had anywhere near enough flight hours on an A380 to cover for me on the return journey. Plus, I’d had to cosign a boatload of maintenance documents along with Captain Grumpy-Fuck.

Leanne—an orange faced flight attendant with peroxide blonde hair and the most obnoxious, high pitched voice, was currently chatting away to Jason—the only male member of the cabin crew. He was tall and thin, camper than a row of tents, and so deep in the closet he was finding christmas presents.

I didn't mind the guy. He was a barrel of laughs, but Leanne often had me facepalming so epically that Patrick Stewart himself would have been proud. She was just so unequivocally stupid.

“You’re on walk around,” Captain Thomas shot at me, as we made our way out onto the tarmac. No surprises there. Grumpy-fuck always ‘nominated’ me for walk around checks, especially when it was raining. Like now. Fucking old git.

Muttering several choicy curse words under my breath, I set off from the terminal building at a brisk pace, trying not to trip over my own feet as I headed for the jet’s left wing tip. The sky was still pitch black, and the rain was coming down hard, peppering my uniform with large droplets. Less than a minute, and I was already starting to resemble the likeness of a drowned rat.

“Why do I always have to do this shit?” I grumbled to to no one in particular, shining the inspection flashlight into each of the four engine intakes and exhaust areas in turn.

It was a cold November morning. Not quite cold enough for any ice to have formed on the fan blades or engine pressure ratio probes, but I still had a good look—or as good a look as my slightly impaired vision would allow. There was no evidence of any damage to the inner cowlings or access panels as far as I could see, and the thrust reverser sleeves on engines two and three were securely closed.

Quickly checking none of the fuel ports were leaking, I headed towards the rear of the aircraft. The familiar whir of the APU droned on as I shone the flashlight up, checking for any damage to the tail section. All seemed well, so I headed back under the fuselage to the landing gear, checking the brakes and hydraulic systems.

After a few more slightly overcompensated examinations, I finished the walk around with a somewhat half-assed inspection of the navigation lights. By the time I’d ascended the stairs into the cabin I was fucking drenched.

Jessica, one of the flight attendants, met my perpetual scowl with a grimace. “Wow, you should probably go change.”

I gave her a stiff nod. She was one of the few colleagues that didn't see me as just ‘that new pilot.’ She’d completely friendzoned the shit out of me, but I was glad to have somebody to talk to all the same.

“Go on. I’ll cover for you,” she urged, handing me a spare first officers uniform. She must have known I’d be the one doing the walk around.

“Thanks,” I said, accepting the uniform. She really was a better friend than I often gave her credit for. With slow, squelching footsteps, I made my way to one of the executive bathrooms to change.

When I finally entered the cockpit, Captain Thomas was busy talking to air traffic control. I settled myself into the first officers seat and began initiating various system checks. It had taken me a little while to get used to the highly automated flight management computer—called an ECAM—but I’d persevered, and now knew it like the back of my hand.

“You get lost out there?” the captain asked, his snide tone grating as usual.

I held my tongue, despite it threatening to fire several revelations about what I thought of him in his direction. I didn’t need the hassle of an argument right now.

The atmosphere in the cabin returning to somewhat professional levels, we started each of the four jet engines without a hitch. The deep rumble of the powerful turbofans reverberated through the behemoth aircraft and into the cockpit.

“You have control. We're going to 27L,” the Captain said, as he flicked a couple of overhead switches. He preferred to order me around like a lapdog, rather than fly the plane himself. I guessed it made him feel like the big ‘I-am’ or something. Prick.

I waited for the tug to push us clear the gate before applying power to the four Rolls Royce engines, carefully easing the aircraft out onto the taxiway, and heading for runway 27L.

Captain Fuckwit proceeded to request clearance for takeoff. Air Traffic Control took their sweet time, to absolutely no one’s surprise, but eventually granted us clearance.

“Flaps and droops are set. Proceed,” the old bag commanded.

The engines spooled up to a muffled roar as I pushed the throttle levers forward. It’s go time, baby. Releasing the brakes, I allowed the behemoth to roll, the huge aircraft steadily gaining momentum as the rain continued to lash against the windscreen. I always loved takeoff. The invigorating rush of defying gravity was almost as good as the burn of a fine whiskey. Almost.

After we’d gotten to around seventy-five knots, I applied around seventy percent power. Fuck yeah! The Airbus surged in acceleration, pushing us back into our seats.

“V-one. Rotate,” the Captain muttered, as we reached takeoff velocity.

I pulled the control stick back, the nose lifting into the air as the superjumbo began to climb. The tanks had just enough fuel to get us to LA, and we weren't carrying any passengers or luggage, so the rate of ascension was higher than usual.

The captain flipped the landing gear lever up as we continued to soar onward. Visibility was fucking awful. I couldn't see shit, and had to fly solely on instruments all the way out of London.

At about eighteen thousand feet, I flicked the autopilot on and let out a yawn. The weather wasn't great, but it was nothing the computer couldn't handle. The captain was glaring at me for some reason, pointedly flaring his oversized nostrils.

“What?” I shot at him.

“Have you been drinking?”

“No,” I lied. Shit. If he tells the bosses—I’m screwed.

“You smell like a fucking brewery.”

“Well, I may have had a couple of whiskeys last ni-”

“Get out of this cockpit, you’re relieved of duty!” the Captain suddenly snapped, flecks of spit flying from his mouth.

Fuck it. I couldn't be bothered to argue. I was probably going to lose not only my job, but maybe even my wings for this, as well. I made sure to slam the cockpit door on my way out, quickly heading for the bar. Might as well enjoy myself.

“Where are you going?” Jessica looked concerned, following me down the stairs and along the cabin as I snatched a bottle of Jack Daniels from a fancy display case behind the Sky Bar. “No, Jack—we talked about this!”

She grabbed the bottle from me, but I’d already downed half of it at that point. The familiar buzz shot through my senses. I was instantly one happy motherfucker.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jack!” She slammed the bottle down on the bar. “They’re going to fire you!”

“I know,” I sang, throwing up my shoulders in a wholly exaggerated shrug. I’d ran out of fucks to give.

“Bed!” Jessica snapped.

She practically dragged me over to the crew sleeping quarters and threw me down onto one of the cots. The familiar dizzy spinning sensation overtook me, as I closed my eyes, drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Now, this is where my recollections get a little hazy.

It started with a jolt. A big one. Gravity increased. A lot. My head smacked off the cabin wall as everything seemed to rapidly decelerate. I suddenly felt about four times as heavy. I managed to force myself out of the flight cot, idly rubbing my throbbing head. The fact that I was still blind drunk didn’t help matters much.

Muffled screams reverberated through the cabin as I stumbled out of the sleeping quarters. Something was seriously wrong with the bird. Even in my inebriated condition, I could tell we were no longer flying level. Jessica stumbled toward me, holding on to the edge of the Sky Bar to keep herself from falling over.

“Jack! There’s something wrong with Albert!” she squeaked, her voice too shrill for my liking.

Albert? Jess never called the Captain by his first name, he didn't like it. Something really bad must have happened. I forced myself to focus, stumbling my way to the cockpit.

Barging through the door, I found the captain clutching his chest, rasping out long, deep breaths over a blaring stall warning alarm. The autopilot had disengaged, and the plane was pitching up at a sharp angle.

I didn’t have time to think. Lunging over the central control column, I slammed the flight stick forward, along with the engine thrust levers. The superjumbo was sluggish to react. It seemed to take an age before the nose began to drop, the engines spooling up to a deafening roar.

A fierce battle with the flight stick commenced as I fell into my seat. The jet was being thrown about by a pretty aggressive side wind, but after a few tense minutes or so, I finally managed to get the wings fairly level, but the pitch was quickly becoming more of a problem.

It still felt as though the jet was flying nose up. Weird, the G force should have evened out by now. Visibility out of the windscreen was still non existent due to cloud cover, but I vaguely noticed it was now daytime.

“Terrain, terrain, pull up! Terrain, terrain, pull up!” the Ground Proximity Warning System sounded through the cockpit.

What the fuck? I glanced at the altimeter. “Holy Shit!” It was reading negative eight hundred feet, which was obviously bullshit. Still, I wasn't about to take any chances with GPRS warning. I pulled back on the control stick, just as the jet cleared the cloud cover.

What I saw through the windscreen chilled the blood in my veins.

The thing that was sat directly in our flight path must have been about the size of a fucking skyscraper. It had the resemblance of a purple bear, if anything, but it was blown up to ridiculous proportions. The weirdest thing was that it appeared to be slightly transparent, and had lots of little stars twinkling from it’s huge frame. Swathes of countryside could be seen through its massive form.

I was instantly sobered for a few seconds, my eyes going wide. Captain Thomas had fallen silent, the flight harness the only thing holding his slumped over body in his seat. The great beast spotted us, and I watched in absolute horror as it lunged up with surprising speed. Luckily we had already flown out of its reach, turbulently climbing back up into the clouds. It was just as well, there wasn’t a damned thing I’d have been able to do, otherwise.

“A-Al… A-Albert! Wake up, we’ve got a problem. A big problem.”

The Captain gave no response. Shit.

“Captain Thomas!” I yelled at him, whacking him on the shoulder a few times.

He continued to lay motionless. Well, not completely motionless—the turbulence was pretty bad. The atmosphere seemed a lot thicker than usual.

“Jessica!” I shouted, hoping the flight attendant would hear as I pushed the stick forward again. The Airbus gradually levelled out, once again clearing the clouds. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

A lush, evergreen wilderness was clearly visible from the windscreen. Large rolling hills, vast areas of savannah, and huge blankets of thick forest here and there. There was even a snow-capped mountain range spanning the horizon.

The flatter areas of terrain were littered with literally hundreds of the giant bears, all different colours and sizes. Some of them made the A380 look like a cereal box toy. Sweet Jesus.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Quickly requesting our current coordinates from the flight management system, I found I couldn't get a read on our location. The GPS wasn't getting any signals from any satellites.

Jessica appeared at the cockpit door. “Is everything okay-” she began, before gasping in terror when she spotted the bizarre view.

“Jess?”

She ignored me, her eyes glazed over, gaze scanning the terrain with a look of horror.

“Jessica?”

Still, she paid absolutely no attention. Ugh, I’m too drunk for this shit.

“Jessica!” I yelled. Finally, she snapped out of the stupor. “Captain Thomas is unconscious. Administer first aid immediately,” I said, in the most authoritative tone I could muster.

It must have worked, as a small whimper escaped her throat, and she nodded. Putting a hand on the captains neck, she checked his pulse, but her gaze was quick to find the windscreen again. I rolled my eyes, pulling back on the flight stick. We began to climb, the view of the ground slipping away slightly.

“I-I can't feel a p-pulse!” she squeaked.

“What?” I groped at the captains neck. Like she’d suggested, there was indeed no pulse. I licked the back of my hand and held it in front of his mouth. Nothing. The captain was dead.

I was shocked. We hadn't exactly been the best of friends in the past few months, but I’d never have wanted this to happen. Jessica was still whimpering, clutching a hand over her mouth in shock.

I grabbed a headset. “Pan, pan, pan! Skyland flight seven-seven super—pilot in command is deceased!” I had no idea how to formally let Air Traffic Control know that the Captain was dead. Not that it mattered, of course—no one answered.

I tried again. “Pan, pan, pan! Skyland flight seven-seven super, requesting position.” Nothing.

I scanned several frequencies. All were dead. I checked the GPS again, but I still wasn't getting any readout. How the fuck are we going to land? I shuddered, my thoughts drifting to the giant bears. Do we even want to?

“I’m scared, Jack! What the fuck is going on?” Jessica whimpered. “Where are we?”

“I don't know,” I sighed.

Jason and Leanne appeared at the cockpit door. “Is everything okay?” Leanne asked.

“Just turbulence,” I lied, deliberately going for a casual tone. If Leanne found out what was really going on the screams would be unbearable. Un-bear-able. Ugh, my drunk brain was trying to make a funny.

“Turbulence? It felt like we was gonna crash, innit?” she whined.

“Yes, turbulence, now go away,” I shot back at her. She promptly ignored me.

“What’s happened to the Captain?” she asked, rather accusingly.

Fuck it. “He’s dead,” I replied. Leanne stared in shock for a moment, before promptly exploding into a bout of hysterics. “Jason, get her out of here will you?” I yelled over the annoying screams of the panic-stricken hostess. He hesitated only a split second before dragging her from the cockpit. Thank fuck.

For mile after mile, we flew onwards into the unknown. I was pretty sure we weren't flying over England anymore—or Earth at all for that matter. The increased gravity still hadn't went away, even though we were flying quite level. I had scanned the terrain, both with my eyes and the flight management system several times. There was no suitable place to land a plane of this size. Big fuckin’ surprise.

I probably could have ditched her on to one of the vast plains, but I didn't fancy setting down too close to the giant star bears. There were shitloads of them. I eventually gave up my search, climbing to a more fuel efficient altitude and trying to figure out how to get us down alive.

I had tried to re-engage the autopilot so I could move the captain’s body, but it just didn't want to cooperate. After many unsuccessful attempts, I eventually managed to convince Jess to move him. She complained. A lot.

“So, how you holding up?” I asked her. She was sitting in the chair behind the now empty captain’s seat.

“I want to go home. Just take us home Jack, please.” She looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Believe me, I’ve been trying, but I haven't got a clue where we are.”

All I had were limited basic instruments. The altimeter and airspeed indicator were giving false readouts, the magnetic compass couldn't decide which way was north, and the magnetic heading wasn't giving any readout at all. The only thing that appeared to be working was the gyroscope attitude indicator.

“What are those things?” Jessica whispered in terror.

“I don't know what they were Jess-”

“No, those!” she croaked, pointing out of the starboard side window, all of the colour draining from her face.

Something that looked like a horse with wings—a mythical pegasus, even—was flying alongside the cockpit and making odd gestures with its hooves. It appeared to be wearing a blue garment of some sort, something that looked bizarrely like a flight suit. It also sported a pair of flight goggles. Its large feathery yellow wings were a blur, its fiery orange mane and tail whipping around in the wind as it rocketed along beside the window, effortlessly keeping up with the jet.

I laughed aloud, slowly rubbing a palm down my face. This horse. This horse had a fucking minigun strapped to its back.

There were loads of them, many different colours of winged horses soaring alongside the jet. I barely had time to do anything other than wipe the tears from my eyes before a muffled bang shot through the fuselage, and an alarm began to blare through the cockpit.

The laughter died in my throat. I glanced down with a pained grimace at the ECAM. We’d just lost engine one. Several error messages were flashing up, many failures I knew I wouldn't be able to deal with alone. Almost instantly, the jet started to roll to the left. I quickly compensated with the control stick, levelling her out again and throwing a nervous glance at the pegasus still gliding alongside the cockpit. It looked pissed off, and it easily had the firepower to shoot us out of the sky.

Jessica was whimpering in fear, staring at the flying pony as I attempted to prioritise the messages on the ECAM. Number one was starting to overheat. I flicked the master switch for the engine off and pulled the corresponding throttle lever back. The plane could easily fly on three engines, but that was the least of my worries.

The pony started angrily tapping a hoof on the window, the huge barrel of the gun on it’s back spinning as it continued to make the odd gestures. Jessica took that as her cue to nope the fuck out, bolting from the cockpit without so much as a backwards glance.

I sighed, noticed the pony’s lips were moving. It kinda looked like it was trying to say, “follow me.”Yep—I’m way too drunk for this shit. I slowly nodded my head. Incredibly, it gave a nod back, shooting out in front of the superjumbo, slowly gaining altitude and banking in a wide arc to port.

Can't believe I’m actually doing this. I pulled back on the stick and pushed the remaining three throttle levers forward. The engines spooled up to a roar. The superjumbo climbed, following the pony in an extremely wide left turn. It must have looked a bizarre sight from an outsiders point of view. I had no idea where we were going but I was certainly glad we hadn't been shot down.

The next three hours or so were fairly uneventful. There’s only so long you can stare at a flying pony’s backside without getting bored. I resorted to studying each of the flying ponies in turn, noting the the vast majority of them appeared to be female, if I had to guess.

Eventually the pegasus began to slow, gesturing a hoof in a downward motion. I got the hint and backed off the throttles a little, engaging the first level of flaps. I had no idea what altitude we were at, but I assumed the pony did.

I saw something that had the barest hint of familiarity up ahead. It almost looked like a row of lights. Odd. I looked a little further. There were more clouds, only they were oddly shaped—and clumped together in something that almost resembled a regular pattern.

The pony slowed even more. I adjusted with another level of flaps, and wound down the engines a bit. The nose raised slightly, the jet settling into a steady glidescope. We flew closer. I could make out a large mountain surrounded by the oddly shaped clouds, at the top was a… No way…

Two sets of lights spanned either side of a long runway. It looked to be just about long enough. This was just… almost too convenient. What are the chances of—oh, shit, the gear! I quickly slammed the gear lever down. We were closing in on the mountaintop a little quicker than I’d originally anticipated. Fuck. I flicked the flap lever down another notch and applied the speed brakes. The superjumbo pitched up even more, the gear lock lights eventually going green. I had to rely solely on the view from the windscreen as I guided her down. There was no landing beacon to lock on to.

The gear slammed into the tarmac. It wasn't actually as hard as I’d been expecting, but there was still a pretty big jolt. I could hear frantic screams from the cabin. I quickly pulled the three throttles back, fully engaging the two reverse thrusters and practically slamming my feet through the gear brake pedals.

“Come on, big girl! Slow the fuck down already,” I grunted through gritted teeth as the nose gear touched down.

The minigun pony was still flying along in front of the cockpit, throwing glances over its shoulder. It took quite a while for the jet to stop. I thought we might have ended up rolling off the edge of the mountain, but thankfully the Airbus ground to a halt with around thirty metres to spare.

“Holy shit!” I gasped, shakily began the process of shutting the engines down. I’d just landed a double decker superjumbo on top of a frickin’ mountain without any computer guidance—whilst drunk. It wasn't skill, it was a rather generous helping of sheer dumb luck. Once the aircraft was secure, I jumped up, quickly heading through the cabin down towards the Sky Bar.

“How the flying fuck did you pull that out of your arse-” Jessica began.

“Not now, Jack’s thirsty.” I brushed past her and grabbed another bottle of whiskey, pouring myself a glass this time as I sat at the bar. “They’re going to show up soon and I don't know what they’ll do, so I’m having a drink. Feel free to join me if you like.”

Leanne and Jason were shaking, clutching each other on a plush couch. Jessica merely gazed at me in shock, before jumping in fright when a loud banging sounded on the side of the fuselage. Well, shit. Might as well get this over with. I jumped up from the bar, stumbling slightly and taking my beverage with me as I headed over to a door and pulled the lever. It rotated, eventually swinging outwards, revealing a sea of pegasi gazing up at the jet.

“Well, hello there!” I said rather enthusiastically. “I hope you’re not expecting to charge a landing fee, because we’re broke,” I shamelessly chuckled, taking another gulp of whiskey.

The pony that had guided us in came out of nowhere, landing a swift kick to my chest and sending me flying back through the cabin—minus my drink. I heard the glass shatter against the tarmac below. Ouch.

Stumbling to my feet, I was more than ready to take a swing at my attacker, before I realised she had her huge assed gun barrell spinning in my face. She was a damn sight more intimidating up close, even if you disregarded the oversized firearm. Her head was about level with my chest, and she looked pretty damn strong.

“Okay… It occurs to me that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot… o-or hoof, if you’d prefer?” I nervously chuckled. Jessica, Leanne and Jason started screaming in hysterics, practically falling over each other in their panicked attempts to scramble into the conference room. None of them managed to get very far at all.

“QUIET!” the pegasus commanded. The flight attendants immediately fell silent.

“Shit, that’s pretty impressive. Wish they’d listen to me like th-”

“Shut up.” The pony was glaring at me, her minigun still pointed at my head.

“Okay!” I gave an apologetic grin, raising my arms.

“You in charge of this ship?”

“Well actually it’s not a ship, it’s an aero-”

“Are. You. In. Charge?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re under arrest for ponyslaughter.”

I’d intended to ask what the fuck she was going on about, but she was apparently done talking. Before I even had time to open my mouth, she grabbed me with her her forelegs, pulling me out of the open doorway and took flight—taking me with her!

Now, don't get me wrong—I’d always loved flying, but this was going a bit too far. I was shitting enough bricks to build an airport terminal as we soared over what looked like a bizarre cloud-built military base, eventually coming to rest in front of a huge Rolls Royce turbofan. Engine one.

She dumped me unceremoniously onto the tarmac. The blatant damage to the engine was unmistakable. There was blood splatter here and there. Several of the fan blades were bent, or missing altogether. One of the flying ponies had obviously been ingested. Shit—pegastrike?

The pegasus glared at me. “You killed one of our comfort stallions,” she stated, her tone more than a little accusatory. “You will now pay the price.”

I grimaced, groggily pushing myself to shaky legs. “Okay, look… I’m sorry that one of your peo-I mean hors… ponies, got sucked into the engine,” I slurred, my gaze finding the blood splattered turbofan as several more of said ponies landed, most of them mares. “But he mustn't have been very bright if he didn’t know enough to fly clear of a fucking jet engi-”

A loud sob pierced the air. A mare with a lilac coat, an ice blue and white mane and tail and a picture of a shooting star on her flanks levelled me with a tear filled gaze. “You killed Windrunner!” she squeaked. “He was my favourite…”

A wave of guilt washed over me at the sight of the mourning pony. It didn’t help that most of the pegasi were now shooting accusatory looks in my direction. “Look I’m sorry, I-”

CLONK.

Pain exploded through my head, quickly followed by a black void. I attempted to glance back to see which of them had thrown the cheap shot, but everything faded to black.

3. Sky Iron [2018RW]

Spitfire gestured a hoof to a small chair in front of her desk. I paused, re-adjusting the tie of my uniform in an attempt to regain a little composure before sitting down. I was shaking from the unexpected flight I’d just been subjected to and the adrenaline was still flowing, causing my muscles to twitch involuntarily.

Her office was painted a deeper blue than the corridor had been. Horizontal blinds were half-drawn down large arched windows, offering a generous view of the airfield outside. A light breeze currently flowed through the window that was still open, cooling the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on my brow. There was a model of a pegasus pony wearing one of the blue flight suits and a pair of aviator goggles on her desk, alongside an official looking plaque bearing a lightning bolt between a set of wings. It was the same emblem that featured in the many photographs of flight suit clad pegasi adorning the walls.

Spitfire herself looked oddly calm and businesslike, a stark contrast to the fierce mare I’d first met out on the tarmac. She currently sported a white shirt and black tie beneath a navy bomber jacket, which was decorated with various medals and other military insignia. I’d never imagined a pony would wear such formal attire. Her dark amber eyes were barely visible behind a set of designer shades, and her shortly cropped, two-toned orange mane was radically styled—a fitting tribute to her fiery personality.

Settling myself in front of her desk, I glared at her. “Damn right, we need to talk,” I panted, still trying to catch my breath from all the inaudible curses I’d been throwing at Fleetfoot. “I won’t be one of your whores. Ever!” I shot the last word at her as though I intended it to cause her intense physical pain.

She hardly gave any reaction at all. Instead, she responded with only three words: “Yes, you will.”

The fuck? I gritted my teeth in defiance. “Did you not hear me-”

“It doesn’t matter what I say. You have a dick, am I correct?” She waited for me to contradict her. I kept my silence, too angry to say anything at this point. “The Wonderbolt Academy is full of mares—all of them a lot stronger than you are. With the severe lack of stallions, one of them is bound to take an interest in you at some point. You might as well learn how to deal with it when it happens.” She listed off her reasoning in a matter-of-factly fashion, clearly implying I’d be rather foolish to consider any other course of action.

Something severely bugged me about what she had said, but I was more focused on the fact that she’d just insulted me. I didn’t take kindly to anyone insinuating that I was weak, and this overly-chatty flying horse was about to learn that the hard way. I lunged over the desk, aiming a fist at her muzzle in a blind rage.

Predictably—though not for me at the time—she dodged out of the way with almost effortless ease. A flurry of flapping wings temporarily clouded my vision before I was unceremoniously thrown backwards by a strong set of forehooves.

Had she let me fall back and smack my head off the floor, It probably would have been a very bad day for me. Thankfully, though, she darted forwards—grabbing my shirt with her teeth at the last second and using her wings to slow my fall.

We came to rest on the floor of her office. I was expecting her to jump up in disgust right away, but instead she let her hind legs straddle my waist, whilst pressing a fuzzy yellow forehoof to my chest. It was alarming how heavy she felt—the increased gravity ensured that I was well and truly pinned.

“You see—it’s that easy. Luckily for you though, it’s not my time of the month,” she said, with an air of coolness that reminded me of Fleetfoot.

I cleared my throat, desperately trying not to let fear betray my voice—and even more desperately trying to ignore a certain something else. “Fine. You’ve made your point, but I’ve got a better idea. How about you just let me and my crew go?”

She rose up, stepping aside and offering a hoof to me. Begrudgingly, I took it, pulling myself to my feet. “You’re useful, or rather—your ship is.”

“Then fucking keep it,” I spat at her. If she wanted the jet in exchange for our freedom, then that was a deal I was willing to make. It’s not like it was going to be of any use to us now.

She seemed completely unfazed by my anger, trotting back around to her chair and sitting down again. “I intend to. The thing is—you’re the only one who can fly it,” she pointed out. I drew in a breath, slowly reclaiming my seat in front of her desk. I didn’t like where this was going. “Plus—I’d lose favour amongst my soldiers if I let two young, relief giving males slip away.”

I suddenly realised what had been bugging me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait—Jason’s into guys! You can't expect him to… that would just be...wrong!”

Spitfire tilted her head to the side in light of this new information. “Hmm… I suppose you have a point. I’ll see to it that he is left alone.”

I blinked, caught off guard for a second. Well, shit—that was easy. I decided to try my luck. “Me too—I-I’m gay as well,” I quickly said, nodding my head enthusiastically.

At this—the pegasus smiled. “Oh, really? Then why did you get hard for me?”

Fuck. I’d really hoped she hadn’t noticed that. The fact that she’d went and brought it up made it a whole lot more difficult to deal with. I had indeed felt the first stirrings of an erection with her straddling my waist like that. Something about the intensity of her eyes, the way her wings had momentarily fanned out from her body and the weight of her tail against my thighs incited a biological reaction that I was definitely not proud of.

I shivered in disgust, concluding that my stupid penis just couldn’t tell the difference. A warm female crotch pressing against my junk was nice, but ultimately it was up to my brain to make the final verdict. It was definitely still a very resounding hell no.

A few tense moments passed. Spitfire didn’t press me for an answer, she just observed me for a while as though I was a mildly interesting television programme.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by an extremely loud explosion, causing the whole office to shake. My ears were instantly thrust into tinnitus hell, ringing as though I’d been to a Motorhead concert all day. Instinctively, I glanced out of the window.

What I saw shocked me almost as much as the giant star bears had. The airbus was still sitting safely on the runway, but there was a large ring of blinding blue and white light expanding across the sky directly above it. I dived for cover beneath the desk, fearing the worst.

I waited for the catastrophic shockwave, but… it never came. I then realised I was an idiot. If that had in fact been a nuclear detonation then I’d have been vapourised, along with the whole damned base.

Spitfire rolled her chair backwards, its castors squeaking a little as she glanced down at me with a bemused look. I returned her gaze. My face burned with mortification as I quickly realised that from this angle—I could see her...everything.

Two sparsely furred mounds with large teats on them sat nestled between her hind legs, eventually giving way to a patch of thick, bushy yellow fur beneath which a thin, faintly pink slit was barely visible between a thick pair of lips. I stared at that thin slit with nary an ounce of shame. It intrigued me a hell of a lot more than I’d ever care to admit. It was like seeing a car wreck—you know you shouldn’t look, but you can’t take your fucking eyes off the thing.

“Why don’t you take a photo? It’ll last longer.”

Her sarcastic remark pulled me from my mindless ogling. I hastily rolled myself out from under the table and jumped to my feet, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Apparently, the pegasus didn’t seem too bothered that I’d just been staring at her goods—evidenced by the fact that she got up to look out of the window.

I watched her scan the airfield, forcing myself not to look at her swishing tail. It was disgusting—the thought of what she wanted me to do. I was still very much adamant at that point that I wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort, despite what had just happened. As far as I was concerned, it had been a matter of simple human curiosity. Nothing else.

I sat back down in front of her desk yet again and cleared my throat. “So, you mind explaining what the hell that huge ass explosion was?”

“Fleetfoot,” the pegasus answered, finally turning away from the window.

I gave her a skeptical look. “Did she set off a bomb or something?”

Spitfire chuckled. “No. She’s just a showoff.” I waited for her to elaborate, but she changed topics instead. “So, will you fly with us?”

I thought about it, and the more I did—the more ridiculously farfetched and overly optimistic her little plan sounded. The jet required highly specified, regular maintenance, administered by trained professionals, not to mention it was pretty dangerous to fly without the proper guidance systems in place. I was pretty sure Equestria didn’t have a functioning ILS—this base certainly didn’t, at least. There was also the minor setback of engine one needing a complete overhaul, and the fact that the tanks had barely any fuel left.

I nervously glanced at Spitfire. She was still patiently awaiting an answer. I didn’t particularly want to deny her considering what she might do to me, but I couldn’t really see any other option.

“Look, Spitfire…”

Her observant expression never faltered as I explained to her why her plan wouldn’t work, nervously fiddling with my tie and silently hoping she wouldn’t overreact. By the time I’d finished, my palms were sweating and I was doing my best to avoid her gaze.

A few moments of silence passed before she spoke again. “Follow me.”

She strode past me, exiting her office into a sky blue corridor not unlike the one I’d visited with Warmfront earlier that day. I followed, unsure of where she was taking me. My mind immediately assumed the worst. What if she was going to lock me up? Perhaps with nothing but an estrogen crazed mare for company? I shuddered at the idea. If I thought I had any chance of escaping then I’d have probably made a run for it right there, but thinking back to how easily Fleetfoot had scooped me up as if I were nothing more than a helpless field mouse kept me in place.

Fleetfoot. There was something infuriating about that mare. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d made me squeal like a blonde in a horror movie, either. It almost seemed like she enjoyed tormenting me, and that weird little chuckle of hers just added insult to injury…

We rounded a corner into what appeared to be a lobby of some sort. A couple of ponies behind a long receptionist desk shamelessly stared at me as though I were the main attraction at a circus freak show, until they noticed Spitfire, of course.

“Ma'am,” they chirped in unison, hastily saluting the pegasus as she trotted by. Spitfire ignored them, the dynamic of her hoofsteps becoming more pronounced as she passed through the double doors of the carpeted lobby and out onto the heat shimmering tarmac of the airfield.

The sun was high in the sky, the climate resembling that of Los Angeles in summertime. I didn’t mind the heat per se, but I often found it a lot easier to deal with in small doses.

I glanced at the Airbus. Several ponies were milling around it. Some were even walking along the wings. A large blue cover had been placed over engine one, the sight of which caused an unexpected surge of emotion in me. The shock of meeting these sapient creatures had worn off enough for me to fully realise the implications of what had happened.

Someone… somepony had lost their life. Other ponies would mourn. Some would blame me, and if I was honest—they wouldn’t be completely wrong in doing so.

I could feel it already. The urge. The itch that demanded to be scratched. The dreaded shakes… It was manageable, for now. But if I didn’t satisfy that urge in a timely manner then life was about to become very unpleasant, as it always did during any prolonged period of abstinence.

We continued on in silence toward a very large cloud at the edge of the mountain top. Two pegasi were waiting for us there, one of which I recognised as the mourning pony that had accosted me upon first landing here. Her eyes were so full of hatred that I actually slowed my approach, even stepping a little closer to Spitfire. It was pathetic, I know—but this pony looked about ready to kill me.

Her ice blue and white tail flicked in a clear display of agitation, and it was easy to see that she was only holding her tongue—and possibly her wrath—due to the presence of her leader. Spitfire gave her a look, and the seething pony calmed down somewhat. It wasn’t really much of a comfort if I was honest…

The other pony—whilst a lot more cheery—looked only a little less formidable due to the presence of one of those huge miniguns on her back. She had a yellow coat with a slightly windswept mane and tail the colour of teal, and there was a picture of three water droplets on her flanks. Come to think of it, all of these ponies seemed to have pictures on their flanks.

I took the opportunity to study the oversized firearm on her back. It had six long barrels, supported by four guidance rings, and it was constructed of what appeared to be some sort of strengthened alloy. I couldn’t see any sort of motor, but it did have large glowing sapphire embedded into its base.

It was mounted onto a saddle on her back that was rather cleverly designed to allow unobstructed movement of her wings. A large box was attached to the saddle at her underbelly, from which an ammunition belt connected to the base of the gun. This was certainly a pony that it would be extremely unwise to fuck with...

Thankfully though—she smiled at me, her bright blue eyes shining with warmth. I would have smiled back—she did seem pretty friendly, after all—but the lilac-coated pony beside her looked furious, pointedly glaring between the two of us.

“Crack it open,” Spitfire ordered. The tension instantly abated with her command, the two ponies launching themselves into the air to carry out her bidding. I observed with mild enthusiasm, curious as to what that bidding entailed. They moved in almost perfect synchronized symmetry, darting from side to side in rapid succession. Part of the large cloud was eventually abolished by their efforts, offering a clear view of… Holy shit...

This cloud wasn’t a cloud at all, at least by any conventional definition of the word. It resembled what I could only describe as an aircraft hangar, complete with some of the weirdest machinery I’d ever laid eyes on. Large scaffold-like metal structures rose high up above several bizarre looking vessels that looked like aircraft, but had no wings. If anything, they looked a lot like an odd cross between a Concorde fuselage and an oversized missile.

There were six of them, all lined up parallel to one another. All of them boasted several side doors, each with its own mounted minigun. They didn’t even take up half the area of the hangar though. It was immense.

Spitfire smiled at my astonishment. “Impressed?” she asked, stepping closer to the edge of the mountaintop.

“Wow.”

The pegasus chuckled, before casually uttering four words I never would have expected her to say: “Climb on my back.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You heard me.”

I coughed, momentarily covering my mouth with a fist. “I’m sorry, it sounded like you said ‘climb on my back’.”

She raised both of her eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn’t advise trying to walk in there yourself, not unless you have a death wish, of course.”

I considered it—for all of about three seconds that is. “Nah, I’m good here, thanks.”

She grinned. “Really, Jack? You’re a pilot afraid of heights?”

I snapped my gaze to her. “How do you know my name?”

She didn’t bother to answer me. She did however, dart behind me and unceremoniously headbutt her way between my knees. Before I knew it, I was straddling her back. My immediate reaction was to try and roll off, but the devious pegasus flared her wings and hopped forward onto the cloud-floor of the hangar.

“Spitfire—damn it!” I cursed, slipping to the side as my left foot instinctively stretched down, searching for a solid surface. As expected, it sailed straight past her planted hooves and into the cloud with absolutely no resistance at all. I yelped, latching my arms around her neck and pleading with her to take me back to solid land.

“This seriously isn’t cool, Spitfire! Take me back and put me down, damn it!”

“Were not done yet,” she simply said, casually trotting toward the friendly pony that had greeted us on the mountaintop. The one who hated my guts seemed to have disappeared somewhere, for which I was grateful.

After a fair amount of panicked struggling—to which Spitfire seemed fucking oblivious—I eventually managed to pull myself upright. I didn’t have a clue what I was supposed to hold onto. Her mane seemed like the obvious choice but I was a little worried to touch it in fear of it being impolite. Although, at this point, she’d rendered me a hell of a lot less prone to manners by forcing me onto her back. Fuck it. I grabbed a handful of her fiery strands, just above the base of her neck.

“Raindrops—go get a sample of-Holy Celestia—”

Spitfire span her head and levelled me with an incredulous look mid-sentence. Her maw was slightly open, her ears were flat, and her wings gave a rather noticeable twitch beneath my thighs.

“You ever heard of boundaries?”

“Wait—what? Me! But, I—you…” I spluttered, my cheeks burning with utter mortification as I released her mane and tried to balance myself on her back with my arms. I would have been furious at her hypocrisy if it weren’t for the fact that I was terrified at the prospect of falling to my death.

Evidently, she noticed my discomfort and slowly smiled. “If you’re really that interested then come see me in a month or two. I have to warn you though, I like to play rough.” With that, she promptly turned back to the gun-toting pegasus. “Go get a sample of sky iron.”

I didn’t know where to put my face. It felt as though it was going to melt off from the sheer heat of my embarrassment. I was about to argue with her—claiming I wouldn’t be up for her little proposition at all—but I decided that it was probably a foolish idea considering the circumstances.

The pegasus aptly named “Raindrops” hesitated for a second, her maw hanging open in shock. She eventually cleared her throat. “Umm… sure thing, boss.”

I watched as she disappeared behind one of the strange looking aircraft. An awkward silence ensued, during which I sat on Spitfires back—pointedly glaring down at the top of her head and cursing her with my thoughts. Fuckin’ sarcastic horse makin’ me look like an idiot...

Her ears swivelled. She turned back towards the airfield just in time to see two pegasi landing. I instantly recognised one of them as Fleetfoot. Fucking great.

She was wearing a ponified version of a blue tracksuit with white stripes running down the legs, and her mane was tied back into a… ponytail, of all things. Quite frankly, I found the image bizarre. There was just something about her. I fucking hated the fact that I didn’t hate her. It was just weird—normally I didn’t have a problem hating anyone.

The other pony was a stallion. He was a little larger than Fleetfoot, and his coat was a slightly lighter shade of blue, creating a sharp contrast to his navy mane and tail. His green eyes regarded me with mild curiosity rather than the insolence I’d come to expect.

“Jack, meet Wing Commander Soarin. You’ll be answering to him in regards to your new comforting duties.” Spitfire declared, giving the stallion a nod. She then motioned to the pony beside him. “I believe you’ve already met General Fleetfoot.”

Fleetfoot's big lilac eyes flitted between me and Spitfire. She gave a particularly lazy grin. “You’ve got a little something on your back…” she trailed off, feigning concern. I glared at her, trying to summon my loathing. I failed… Fuck this shit.

Spitfire merely rolled her eyes, turning to face the rear of the hanger where Raindrops was now busy clamping a thin sheet of metal to one of the scaffold towers. After giving it a good kick to make sure it was secure, she fluttered back over to us.

“Stand back,” she said, as her left wing clipped against the gun on her back. A small, curved bar flew out from the mounting mechanism with a satisfying metallic ‘clunk,’ stopping just in front of her muzzle. The gun barrel began to spin with an odd, somewhat ethereal whirr. Spitfire, Fleetfoot and Soarin took a few steps back as Raindrops’ wings flared and she bit down on the bar in front of her muzzle.

An ungodly roar of rapid fire spewed from the oversized firearm. It was so loud that I snapped my palms to my ears, lost my balance and actually fell off Spitfires back. I would have fallen straight through the cloud if Fleetfoot hadn’t intervened. I didn’t even see her fucking move, but she was crouched underneath me in a split second, her wings spread. Instinctively, I latched my arms around her neck, trying to deal with the ridiculous amount of adrenaline flowing through my veins as she got to her hooves.
“F-Fleetfoot...take me back to the mountain. I don’t fucking like this…” I stuttered, clinging to her back in a rather undignified manner. I was pretty much lying on top of her—my stomach to her back, my head right next to hers. I could smell her earthy, distinctly feminine scent, as well as hear the air rushing in and out of her muzzle with crystalline clarity. Her mane brushed against my neck, surprising me with its softness as my arms remained clamped around her neck.

Of course—the only response I got from her was that stupid little chuckle. God damn it...

Spitfire gave a skeptical look. I wasn’t sure if it was aimed at me, or the still snickering pony I was clinging to. Either way, I returned a scowl. “Okay, can we get to the point please?” I shot at her, carefully pushing myself up to a sitting position on Fleetfoot’s back.

Spitfire gave another nod to Raindrops. I tightened my grip on Fleetfoot—half expecting the yellow pegasus to start firing again—but instead, she flew over to retrieve the thin sheet of metal.

“This is the armour we use for our ships. In order for your ship to be useful, it will need to be fitted with sky iron,” she said, retrieving the piece of metal from Raindrops.

“What!?” I snorted. “Okay, first of all—you try armour plating a three-eighty, and that thing’ll drop faster than a drunk girl in stilettos. Secondly—you want me to fly a superjumbo through a fuckin’ war zone. Are you serious?”

Raindrops gave a shocked expression, nervously glancing between me and her boss. Spitfire blinked, pausing for a second before speaking. “Catch.”

She threw the piece of metal at me. I caught it with ease, instantly noting it was a hell of of a lot lighter than I thought it was going to be. Like, featherweight light. Several large dents were visible on its surface, but not one single bullet hole.

“That gattling gun fires fifty calibre rounds at five thousand rounds per minute. As you can see, the sky iron is pretty effective. The griffons don’t have anything anywhere near as good as this, but they make up for it in numbers,” she explained, gazing out of the hangar at the jet. “As for flying through a warzone—no, that would be ridiculous. What you would be doing is flying nearby, with your ship readily available for pegasi to rest.”

I looked at her, idly turning the metal over in my fingers. The terms she’d just described sounded more reasonable, now that I thought about it. Still, I couldn’t see why it had to be the Airbus. “But, you already have plenty of ships,” I pointed out, glancing at the odd looking aircraft in the hangar.

“True, but those require pagasi magic to run. My soldiers can’t rest aboard them, for their power is constantly being sapped to keep the vessel airborne.”

Fleetfoot suddenly tilted her head back to look up at me, and… sniffed my fingers… the fuck? “You have griffon hooves,” she said, as if it were a completely normal thing to say.

I frowned. I literally had no idea how to respond to that statement, so I turned my attention back to Spitfire. “You guys have magic?”

“Not in the same way as unicorns, but to an extent—yes.”

Another problem that I’d mentioned to her earlier occurred to me. “You plan on using some of it to power the engines then? ‘Cause that thing don’t run on hopes and dreams…”

Spitfire lowered her eyelids, and I immediately got the impression that I was pushing my luck with the snide remarks. “We can get fuel. Earth ponies are particularly good at harvesting it,” she began. “We can also have one of our unicorn technicians take a look at the damaged engine. It’ll take a while before it’ll be ready to fly, but I’ll ask you this now-” She gave me a piercing look, “are you in?”

I glanced back down to the piece of metal in my hands, somewhat surprised to find Fleetfoot still gazing up at me with those big, almost hypnotic eyes of hers. I don’t know if it was a trick of the light—but it almost looked like she was pouting.

“Fine. I’m in, but I have one condition.”

“Name it,” Spitfire said.

“My crew flies with me.”

4. The Engineer - Part I

"Careful, Derp-"

CRASH.

I winced. The polished mahogany cabinet that had just exploded into splinters all over the runway was probably worth more than my monthly salary. "Was," being the key word. Now, it was worth jack-shit.

The jasmine-coated mare by my side slapped her hoof to her face for what was probably the fifth time, giving a loud groan in the process. "Why me?" she mumbled under her breath, falling back onto her haunches in exhaustion.

"Oops. Sorry, Raindrops," Bubblebutt chirped, fluttering down from the fuselage to inspect the damage. She even grabbed a few pieces of the mangled wreckage, as though she actually intended to fix it.

I chuckled at her childlike determination. I had quickly come to realise that five minutes of this pony's company was often funnier than an entire Weird-Al concert.

Her name wasn’t really Bubblebutt; I had just christened her that in my mind due to her unique butt-tattoo. Her actual name was Muffin, but I had heard other pegasi on the base refer to her as "Ditzy Doo" and "Derpy".

Both nicknames were rather fitting, seeing as she was clumsy as shit.

She eventually gave up trying to "fix" the cabinet, instead flicking her blonde mane out of her face and grinning sheepishly at Raindrops. As far as weird alien equines went, Bubblebutt was certainly one of the more adorable ones.

Nearly a week had passed since I'd agreed to fly for Spitfire. In hindsight, I probably should have consulted with my crew members regarding that particular commitment first. None of them had yet come to terms with the abrupt transdimensional predicament we’d found ourselves in. I wasn’t doing so great either, considering all I'd had to drink was a few stolen tankards of cider from a cellar I'd discovered on my nighttime wanderings. For a military base, the security around here was pretty pathetic.

Leanne was the worst. She was convinced she was locked up in some nut-house, hallucinating, despite the many assurances from Jason that she wasn’t. Jessica was faring a little better, but had been reluctant to talk to any of our equine hosts. She was currently holed up in some "safe room" with the other two. From what I could discern, it appeared to be a disused officers lounge.

I had quickly brought them up up to speed on Spitfire's intentions. Predictably, they hadn't like the idea. Well, Jessica and Jason hadn't. I don't think Leanne had even acknowledged my presence, given that she’d had her knees to her chest—and had been slowly rocking back and forth like a deranged mental patient.

Once I'd made sure they were relatively okay, I'd spent most of my time avoiding Gigolo-pony. Seriously, that cheery fucker was everywhere—always popping up when I least expected and trying to persuade me to take his "Horsefucker 101" class.

Thankfully, Spitfire hadn't mentioned anything about the dreaded "heat tamer training" when she’d burst unexpectedly into the dormitory to speak to me that morning. Instead, she’d requested that I oversee the stripping down of the "ship," mostly to prevent any of her subordinates inadvertently tearing out something important. She had even asked nicely, much to my surprise.

She’d then followed up her little request by by informing me a delegate from the Equestrian government would be stopping by to "investigate". No doubt some snot-snouted politician would come poking their muzzle into places it wasn't welcome...

Most of the jet's lavish interior was now sitting by the side of the runway. The bar, several cabinets, tables, barstools, expensive leather recliners, and various other business-traveller comforts were arranged on the tarmac. Anything too big to fit through the doors had been all but pulverised by the excitable pegasi. It was clear to see they were having quite a lot of fun looting the "alien ship". Personally, I didn't give a damn what they did with it, as long as they let me keep the whiskey.

The sweat I had worked up from organising the purged interior of the aircraft into specific categories was already soaking through my uniform. I'd since grown accustomed to the extra G-force of this strange world, but I was exhausted within a mere five minutes of dragging furniture around. The heat wasn't helping, either. According to Spitfire, we were thousands of feet above sea level. It was far from cold on the runway, though. The ridiculously stuffy, thick atmosphere made sure of that.

Carefully setting a large plasma screen TV down next to a bunch of other expensive gadgets, I wiped the sweat from my brow with a forearm. Raindrops nudged my side with her muzzle, nearly throwing me off balance. I promptly glared at her. I must have told her a hundred times that I wasn't overly keen on bodily contact, especially with freaky equine aliens.

"Sorry," she mumbled around the water bottle clenched in her teeth. Her ears flopped downwards. I scowled, finding it annoyingly adorable. "Here," she mumbled again, offering me the freezing cold beverage.

I took it. "Thanks," I said, taking a swig, before pouring half of the bottle's contents over my face and shaking my head. Raindrops chuckled at my chosen method of cooling off, lifting a wing to shield herself from the spray.

"You're acting like a dog," she giggled, playfully slapping my side with her outstretched wing.

"Hey!" I chastised, batting the feathery appendage away. She grinned, clearly unperturbed by my mock anger as she kept on batting me with her wings.

It was only when Bubblebutt saw what we were doing and decided to join in that Raindrops ceased her relentless teasing. She watched in horror as the clumsy grey mare slammed into me, with probably quite a lot more force than intended.

Thankfully, part of a sofa that had been ripped from the plane broke my fall. The clumsy mare landed on top of me, damn near cracking my ribs.

“Mpphh, gerroffmee!”

"Oh... Sorry, Jack," she mumbled, lying quite immobile on my chest.

Mouthing off a string of inaudible swear words—as they were muffled by the fur of her barrel pressed to my face—I managed to roll the ditzy pegasus off my chest. She hit the floor with a thud, and I wasted no time in jumping to my feet and storming off toward the jet. Fucking ponies...

Raindrops covered her maw with a hoof, her eyes brimming with mirth.

"Shut up," I shot at her, heading for the rope ladder I had fashioned from an old airship mooring line to gain access to the jet. It wasn’t a particularly practical way to board the plane, but the only airstairs the pegasi possessed—presumably for earth pony and unicorn visitors—were nowhere near tall enough to reach the Airbus.

Of course, there was an alternative, but I'd had quite enough flights of impending doom from Spitfire and Fleetfoot already. I certainly didn't need anymore.

No sooner had I put half of my weight on the rope ladder, it severed from the plane and came tumbling down onto the runway. A few more choicy swear words left my mouth as I gave the useless pile of rope a good kick.

"Oh, you were using that?" Derpy asked, getting to her hooves and giving me a guilty look. "I untied it... Sorry." Her ears flopped down, and my retort died in my throat. It was difficult to be angry when confronted with those ridiculously large, puppy-dog eyes, even if they often seemed to be looking in different directions from one another.

"It's fine, Derpy." I turned back to the pile of rope and bent down to pick it up, only to nearly jump out of my skin. “GAH! ...fuck!”

Fleetfoot’s large, fuchsia eyes were inches from my own. I hadn’t even heard her approach, much less get up in my face. Stumbling, I landed heavily on my ass. Thankfully, the pile of rope ladder broke my fall somewhat. “Damn it, Fleetfoot! You scared the crap out of me!”

Predictably, her only response was that stupid little chuckle of hers, along with a rather mischievous grin. I glared wearily at her. I’d almost been trying to avoid her as much as I had Warmfront, mainly because she seemed to get a kick out of messing with me.

She wore her Wonderbolts flightsuit, which clung to her body, and did nothing to hide her lithe, athletic form. Her mane was windswept, as always, and her eyes seemed to twinkle in the sunlight. As I was still sitting on my ass, she was around a head higher than me, and she looked quite imposing with the backdrop of the heat-shimmering tarmac behind her.

Realising I’d been gawking at her for the better part of ten seconds, I blinked. “What do you want?” I grumbled, before quickly glancing back at Raindrops. Both her and Bubblebutt were gazing apprehensively from a distance, that is, until Fleetfoot yelled at them to get back to work. They hastily took flight, abandoning me in an instant. Figures.

Fleetfoot turned back to me. “I need you to move your ship. One of ours will be coming in to land shortly.”

“Oh, sure!” I said, clumsily getting to my feet. “I don’t suppose you’ve got an aircraft tug lying around here, have you?” I looked at her expectantly.

Fleetfoot raised an eyebrow. “A what?”

"I'll take that as a 'no,' then," I pointed a thumb over my shoulder at the jet. “That thing can't go backwards without a tug.”

“Doesn’t it have reverse?”

“No.”

She frowned. “That’s dumb. What if you need it to go backwards and you don’t have one of those ‘tug’ things?”

I sighed, throwing an arm up in exasperation. “We always have dedicated ground crews for aircraft this big. Aircraft tugs are a vital part of those crews.”

She paused, briefly tilting her head to the side as though contemplating something. “How about we tie a bunch of ropes to it and pull it back?”

I snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that, the tanks aren't empty. Even with the stripping out, this thing will still probably weigh in at about four hundred tonnes—and that's without taking into account the freaky gravity on this planet."

"We can handle it," Fleetfoot boasted, with her familiar air of confidence.

"Heh, fair enough. Can't promise I won't laugh when you fail epically, though."

With absolutely zero warning, Fleetfoot suddenly lunged, locking all four of her legs around me and shooting up into the sky. Instantly, I clung to her like a needy ex-girlfriend. “Fleet-NO! Put me down this fucking instant, you crazy-ass flying horse! I swear to fucking Jehovah I’ll snap those physics-bending wings right off your back and beat your sorry flank with them!”

I continued to yell at her. She continued to ignore me, save for licking my cheek—fucking eww—and mumbling something that sounded way too similar to “kinky” for me to write it off as something else. “Ugh! Cut it out!” I growled, pressing the side of my face to her neck in an attempt to hinder her wandering tongue.

The mare simply giggled, twisting her wings. The resultant series of barrel rolls were highly unpleasant. I gave a rather high pitched scream, that to this day, I'm not particularly proud of.

Sky, ground, sky, ground, sky, ground. It felt like I was about to throw up as I clung to the horizontally-pirouetting pegasus. After what seemed like a good five minutes, but was probably only thirty seconds, Fleetfoot flared her wings and we decelerated rapidly. Her hooves and my lower body eventually came into contact with something solid. I was too busy clinging to her to notice, however.

After my senses had caught up and I’d realised we had, in fact, stopped, I opened an eye. It appeared we had landed on the top deck of the Airbus. It was void of most of the luxuries it had before, but that just meant there was quite a bit more room for the pegasi. The whole cabin was full of them, all of them mares, and all staring at me with their ridiculously large eyes.

It was at this precise moment I became woefully aware that I was still clinging to Fleetfoot’s underside, with my arms wrapped around her barrel in a death-grip.

She turned, grinning at her soldiers and gesturing to me with a forehoof. “Says he’s not into ponies.”

The whole cabin erupted into a fit of giggles. I quickly released Fleetfoot and scrambled from between her legs, scowling at her green-text one liner and turning to address the crowd. “No! Let me make this one hundred percent fucking crystal clear right now—this-” I pointed at myself for emphasis, “-not a horsefucker.”

Judging by the continued laughter and various expressions of exaggerated scepticism, I was clearly wasting my breath. Thankfully, Fleetfoot only allowed it to continue for a few seconds before stepping forward.

"Okay, that’s enough." She hadn't even raised her voice, but the whole cabin immediately fell silent. "We need to get this thing off the runway, and Jack here has just told me he can't make it go backwards from the cliff edge."

"Yes,” I added, thankful for the change of topic. “Unfortunately this thing has the turning circle of a freight-train and no reverse gear, so we need to work out a way to pull it back. If you guys can find rope strong enough, you might be able to pull it if you tie it around the landing gear. Chances are, though, you probably won't be able to. As you can imagine, it's pretty damn heavy." I smirked.

Fleetfoot rolled her eyes. "Gather up as much rope as you can, secure it in place, and tell the others we're going to pull the ship clear of the cliff-edge," she told the pegasi.

Having been listening intently to our instructions, they gave an eerie "Yes, Ma'am," in perfect unison, and wasted no time in scrambling for the exits.

Once the last of them had taken flight, I focused on the stripped-down cabin. Both fore and aft staircases remained, but everything else bar the interior wall lining and cabin lighting had been removed. I would no doubt get in a ridiculous amount of trouble if the Skyland bosses ever found out what had become of their prized flying headquarters, but the notion that this plane would ever find its way back to Earth was pretty absurd.

Fleetfoot suddenly nudged me with her wing. "Hey, quit daydreaming. I want to see the control room." She gave me a rather happy grin I'm pretty certain she’d never allow anyone else to see. It was so endearing I almost smiled. Almost.

"Don't you mean cockpit?" I said, descending the forward staircase and walking towards the room in question.

Fleetfoot snorted, fluttering down the staircase after me. "That's what you guys call it?"

I rolled my eyes, deciding not to dignify her with a response as I opened the cockpit door. It felt something akin to stepping back in time, seeing the familiarity of the gun metal grey control panels. This room was my life, my greatest ambition. I had achieved my dream job... Only to have it taken away after a few months by some failed griffin experiment...

Still, at least I'd still get to fly, though how safe that flying would be was anyone’s guess.

I sat down in the captain's seat, remembering with a pang of regret that I hadn’t even asked what had become of Albert's remains. I'd been so busy over the past few days that it had completely slipped my mind.

"... This is... I've never seen anything like this," Fleetfoot breathed, a look of utter bewilderment on her face as she gazed at the multitude of panels with their various switches and dials.

She had her ears flat to her mane—something I'd seen a few others do, but never Fleetfoot. I begrudgingly admitted to myself that she looked... cute, for considerable lack of a better word.

Her gaze caught mine, and once again, I became abruptly aware that I'd been staring at her. Fuck. I quickly turned to look straight ahead out of the window. I really need to cut that shit out. I certainly didn't want to give any indication at all that I'd be interested in playing along with Spitfire's original plans for me.

Fleetfoot didn't say anything, even though I was sure she'd caught me looking. She began examining the centre console, her ears still flat. I had no idea whether it was out of genuine interest, or if she was merely just trying to ignore the semi-awkward situation of us being completely alone together.

I risked another glance at her, before deciding I was probably being stupid. Yes, stupid Jack, as usual.

As the Airbus was so close to the edge of the cliff, nothing but blue sky was visible through the windscreen. It was a little unnerving for me, considering the cockpit was currently in a "cold and dark" state. I decided to change that, hitting the four battery switches in turn on the overhead console. A few switches and dials illuminated with an orange glow as an electronic notification tone sounded.

This earned a surprised gasp from Fleetfoot. "What... What did you just do?" she nervously asked.

I chuckled. "Relax, I just turned on the electrics."

I reached up once again, holding the APU fire test button to check that both of the red indicator lights illuminated before hitting the master and start switches. Fleetfoot flinched as another notification tone sounded through the cockpit, signalling a successful APU start.

After switching on the console back lights and APU bleed air system, I turned to look at her, grinning this time. If she was freaked out by a simple “dong” tone... then she was gonna lose her shit when the ECAM fired up.

“What’s wrong? Is the big alien ship scaring you?” I teased, idly placing a thumb and forefinger on the ECAM display selector dial.

Fleetfoot scowled. “Please,” she scoffed. “As if a few strange noises could-EEEP!”

The master warning notification blared through the cockpit, causing Fleetfoot to flap her wings in panic, which in turn caused her to fall over backwards in the confined space. I didn’t hesitate to express my amusement by laughing my ass off.

“You were saying?” I chuckled, hitting the master warning reset button. The alarm stopped immediately.

“What in Tartarus was that!?” she gasped, effortlessly flicking herself upright with her wings.

“Just the plane's computer reminding me that engine one ate Windrunner. It's kind of sadistic like that.”

Fleetfoot glared at me. “You shouldn’t joke about that. Cloudchaser would tear you apart if she heard you say that.”

“Sorry,” I sighed, the last of my laughter dying.

Fleetfoot was silent for a few seconds, but her expression softened. “Well, I was never really keen on him.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t need to know about your sex life.”

“What? No! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Whatever you say... I’m just here to fly the plane,” I snickered. It was nice to have some payback for all the times Fleetfoot had terrified me, even if it was only teasing her.

Fleetfoot nickered in anger, and I promptly had a mini-heart attack at how much she sounded like an actual horse. Fuck, that’s creepy! She opened her muzzle to say something, but ended up giving another “eep” as the cockpit door burst open and smacked her in the flank.

Bubblebutt came barrelling into the cockpit, tripped over Fleetfoot, and ended up faceplanting the floor rather spectacularly. She came to rest upside down, one of her hind legs hooked over the first officer's seat back and her female pony bits very much on display. I facepalmed, making sure to cover my eyes.

“Derpy!”

The clumsy grey mare flinched at Fleetfoot’s sharp tone as she fell to the floor. She didn’t stay down for long, however. “It’s making a noise at the back! It’s really loud!” she all but yelled, her wings fluttering wildly and launching a few feathers as she sprang to her hooves.

Fleetfoot gave another nicker. Yep, still sounded freaky as fuck.

Pushing that disturbing thought from my mind, I grabbed Derpy by the shoulders. “It’s supposed to be making the noise. Now calm down, or I’ll have to ask you to leave the cockpit.”

This seemed to have the desired effect, seeing as she suddenly went from panicked to indifferent in no time at all. “Okay,” she chirped, grinning goofily at me as though she hadn't just been causing a scene.

Fleetfoot gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm going to check on the others."

Derpy grinned enthusiastically. "Need any help?" she excitedly asked.

"No!" Fleetfoot hastily yelled, before lowering her voice a little, "... I mean, no. You stay here. But for the love of Celestia, don't touch anything," she added, her tail giving an agitated flick as she left the cockpit.

I wearily observed Bubblebutt for a few seconds, but she seemed to be heeding Fleetfoot’s order, albeit with that goofy grin on her face as her eyes wandered independently of one another around the cockpit. With a slight shrug of indifference, I switched the Captain side display screen to the gear-cam. The screen illuminated, displaying the four main landing gear. Raindrops appeared to be halfway through securing an extremely thick mooring rope to one of the starboard side sets.

Derpy leaned over the centre console and stared at the screen. “Woah… How did Rainy get in there?” she asked.

I slowly turned to look at her, my expression incredulous. I mean—I know she had quite the reputation for being a bit dense, but this was more than a little ridiculous. “She’s not actually in there. It’s just a monitor,” I said, resisting the urge to facepalm again.

The ditzy mare ignored me, instead leaning over and tapping a hoof to the screen. “Hey, Rainy! Can you hear me?”

I chuckled. “Oi! Bubblebutt, she can’t hear you! Now back off, you’re gonna break the damn screen.” I gave one of her large furry ears a cheeky flick for emphasis.

Derpy froze.

Instead of the minor flinch I’d been expecting, she gave a high pitched yelp and launched herself backwards, hitting the rear wall of the cockpit.

“Woah, what the hell are you doing?” I asked, utterly bewildered by her mini freak out.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she just looked frightened, and almost as confused as I felt. Even though I had no idea what I’d done wrong, it was still enough to get a pretty nasty guilt trip going. “Was it something I said?”

In a swift movement, she was gone from the cockpit before I could even finish the sentence. Fuck.

Staring back at the open door, I tried to make heads or tails of what had just happened… All I did was flick her ear. What’s so bad about that?

When no explanation came to mind, I gave a loud sigh and turned back to the side screen. A thick mooring line was attached to each gear segment in turn, all four of them trailing off slack on the runway. Raindrops was nowhere to be seen, but a few of the others were milling about, or talking in small groups.

“What did you do to Derpy?”

I nearly jumped out of my seat at Fleetfoot’s question.

“Jesus, fuck! I wish you’d stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” she asked, slowly trotting into the cockpit and kicking the door closed with a hind hoof.

“Sneaking up on me!” I adjusted my tie and smoothed out some of the creases on my shirt.

“I wasn’t being particularly quiet. Your ears must be bad or something.” She paused, ignoring my token eye-roll. “Speaking of ears, d’you want to tell me why you were fiddling with Derpy’s?”

“Fiddling!? I flicked her ear!”

Fleetfoot frowned. “Why? Do you want to rut her?”

It took me a few seconds to comprehend what she had just asked me. “... What?”

“I don’t think she messes around outside of her heat cycle. If you’re looking for that sort of thing, then you’d probably have better luck with Flitter. Word on the base is that she already has her eye on you.”

After even more brain lag, my mind caught up. “... What? Wait, who? I mean—no! It doesn’t even matter! I don’t wanna know,” I spluttered, already wishing I had some extra-strength Brain Bleach, or better yet, a large bottle of Jack. “You mean to tell me that when I flicked Derpy’s ear, she took that as me coming on to her?”

Fleetfoot snorted. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because… it’s stupid! And weird! You guys are weird.”

Fleetfoot chuckled. “No, you’re weird. That’s why Flitter wants to rut you. She’s into crazy shit… crazy shit like you.” She grinned.

“How the fuck can someone be turned on by having their ears touched? That just strikes me as unnecessarily inconvenient, if anything.”

Fleetfoot merely shrugged, one of her own ears giving a slight twitch.

Another thought sprang to mind. “So… should I avoid looking at pony ears?” I asked. The question sounded even more ridiculous out loud than it had in my head…

“Only if you don’t want to get jumped,” Fleetfoot deadpanned.

After an embarrassingly long length of time, I finally realised she was winding me up. A smug grin slowly spread across her muzzle.

I scowled, turning back to the controls. “Let’s just get on with this, for fuck’s sake…”

* * *

Three attempts.

Three attempts had been made, utilising nearly two hundred or so of the pegasi stationed at the academy—but the plane still refused to move. I was currently rocking my "I told you so" face at Fleetfoot. The scowl on her face was rather satisfying... For me, at least. Her disgruntled complaining was the cherry on the cake.

"Who builds a ship this big with no reverse? It's stupid,” she mumbled, sitting on her haunches behind the centre console.

"I told you, we have aircraft tugs for that," I half chuckled in a sing-song voice, re-activating the parking brake.

"Isn't there something you can do? We can't just leave this thing here blocking the runway."

I sighed. As much fun as it was to wind her up, she did have a point. "Well, it's a little unorthodox, but I could throw a bit of reverse thrust into the equation..."

"...reverse thrust?" She glared at me. "You mean this thing does have reverse?"

"Well, not exactly. It’s more a means of slowing down than-oww! Hey! What are you-OWW! Damn it, you crazy horse!"

Fleetfoot had reared up and began batting me with her wings. "We could have-" whack, "-had it moved-" whack, "bucking hours ago!" whack.

"Okay! Okay! Cut it out already!" I half yelled, attempting to hide behind the seat back.

Fleetfoot nickered, but stopped her feathery assault. “Well, go on then. Do what you need to do!”

“Slow down, it’s not as simple as that. We need to make sure everyone is well clear of engines two and three. We don’t want another Windrunner.”

“Fine. I’ll take care of that. You get them started.” With that, she trotted from the cockpit, her bright, silky tail swishing behind her as she went.

I watched her go. I wasn’t staring, though…

* * *

The whimpering had finally stopped, and now… now there was nothing. Jessica didn’t know if this was a good thing, or if she should be worried about her suddenly silent friend.

“Umm… Is she okay?”

Jessica glanced at the panic stricken flight attendant. “She’ll be fine… I think.”

“Are you sure? I can leave-”

“No, that’s quite unnecessary. She has to get used to ponies eventually.”

The stallion smiled uneasily, his bright cerulean coat shining in the light from the large bay windows. His mane and tail shone even brighter, just the right shade of blonde, and a lively volume some of her former colleagues would have killed for.

It was odd, but Jessica had come to find that she didn’t mind Warmfront’s visits so much. In fact—given that she’d been bored out of her wits end the past few days—she even looked forward to them.

“Well… If you say so.” Warmfront gave a nervous chuckle. “Where’s Jason?”

“He went out somewhere with Flitter about an hour ago.”

“It’s a shame she won't let you leave,” Warmfront said, nodding toward Leanne. “You must be crazy bored sitting in here all day.”

“Yeah…” Jessica sighed. It was getting old… Leanne’s fear. Six days had passed, yet the poor girl still thought she was going crazy. It would have been easier to deal with if she didn’t latch onto Jessica’s arm and start crying every time she tried to go for a stroll. “Never mind that. What brings you here?”

His smile faltered. “I’m looking for Jack.”

“Again?”

“Well, he’s really good at hiding… Or, I suck at finding him, I don’t know…” He rubbed his forehead with a wingtip, and Jessica couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes.

“I wish you’d tell me why you keep looking for him,” Jessica grumbled. “Maybe I could talk to him, get him to come round…”

“I told you, it’s classified for now. Spitfire’s orders.” He shivered slightly upon pronouncing the Captain’s name.

“Are you… Are you scared of her?”

Warmfront gave a noticeably forced laugh. “Scared? Of course not… I’m bucking terrified! You’ve met her, right?” he screeched, causing Leanne to flinch and retreat further back on her sofa-bed. “She keeps demanding I get Jack to comply! As stubborn as he is, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Fleetfoot won't let me get near him!” His voice broke as he fell to his haunches, his wings flailing pathetically at his sides. “I’m trying to keep Spitfire happy by persuading Jack to do the thing Spitfire wants him to do, but then Fleetfoot catches me and starts breathing down my neck to leave him alone! I can’t bucking win!”

“Okay, calm down, Warmy,” Jessica soothed… Wait… Warmy? Where the hell did that come from?

Quickly pushing the weird nickname aside, Jessica dropped to the floor next to Warmfront and wrapped an arm around him. “Can’t you just tell Spitfire someone else is giving you a conflicting order?”

“No,” he sobbed, leaning into her touch, “Fleetfoot is bucking crazy. If she found out I complained to Spitfire about her, she’d probably tear my damned wings off.”

Jessica rubbed his side. His fur was noticeably smooth against her fingers. “She kind of sounds like a bitch.”

Warmfront flinched, nervously glancing at the doorway. The corridor beyond was empty. “I just don’t understand why she’s so adamant that he be left out of the programme… unless…”

“Programme? What Programme?”

Warmfront gulped. “Nothing… Eh… I should probably get going.”

“Unless what?”

The stallion got to his hooves and began edging toward the door, a nervous grin on his face. “So, uh… You have a nice day!”

“Wait!” Jessica yelled, but he’d already taken off at full gallop down the hallway. Jessica made to run after him, but an extremely loud yelp from Leanne stopped her in her tracks.

God damnit… Why’d I get stuck with the orange bimbo?

* * *

Side display set to tail-cam. Check.

Fuel pumps set to auto. Check.

Engine mode selector set to ignition. Check.

Everything appeared to be in order, but I still thought it necessary to check the tail-cam display for a fifth time to make sure all of the pegasi were a safe distance away from the two engines I was about to start. I couldn’t see beneath the wings, but I’d already given Fleetfoot a good twenty minutes to warn everyone to stay clear.

I hadn't forgotten the look on Cloudchaser's face when she'd first confronted me about Windrunner. Sure, I'd been drunk as hell, but it was all too easy to recall the despair... I really didn't want to kill any more ponies, indirectly or otherwise.

With a drawn out sigh, I pulled the corresponding master switches. The auto-start sequence initiated for the two engines as normal. The engine RPM gauges, along with the vibration running through the fuselage told me they had successfully fired up.

Instinctively, I took another glance at the Captain’s side display. No pegasi were in the danger zone, but the ropes connected to the gear had been pulled taut. Clearly, the ponies were getting impatient. Wasting no more time, I applied maximum reverse thrust and disengaged the parking brake.

The two engines quickly spooled up to a loud roar, just as the cockpit door burst open. “Okay, no more messing around! Do your thing and let’s get this ship rollin-oh…” Fleetfoot’s face suddenly lit up. “We’re moving!”

Sure enough, the aircraft had began rolling backwards ever so slowly. I chuckled. I certainly hadn’t expected this little stunt to work. Man, if old Albert could see me abusing the engines like this, he'd have a fit... God rest his soul...

It took a while, but once we’d rolled back a few hundred feet, I set the engines to idle. The plane eventually stopped, with plenty of room ahead to manoeuvre.

Fleetfoot haphazardly clambered into the First Officer’s seat. The image of her sitting there on her haunches in front of the various switches, dials, and displays was pretty ridiculous.

She slowly turned to look at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I snickered. “You just look a little… out of place.”

She scowled. “I’m the best Raptor pilot on this base!”

“This is an Airbus,” I deadpanned. “What the hell is a Raptor?”

“That.” She pointed a hoof dead ahead out of the windscreen.

One of the strange vessels I’d seen in the cloud hanger was just visible in the distance. Its long, sleek, Concorde-like fuselage was painted in an elaborate blue and white livery, something akin to sky camouflage. It was travelling way too slowly to be staying up in the air, even with the increased air density. I was utterly baffled as to how it was managing such a feat… until I spotted something that I hadn’t seen on the hangar-bound vessels...

“Is that… the Magnus effect?”

Fleetfoot grinned. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

Several thin cylinders were protruding from either side of the aircraft, allowing it to glide quite comfortably along at low speed. It eventually sailed over the top of the airbus and out of sight, presumably heading for a go-around.

“That’s… really clever, actually,” I admitted. The dense atmosphere would certainly make it a hell of alot easier to utilize the Magnus Effect—a generally failed method of generating lift back on Earth. "Must be quite a bit of drag, though?"

"Felix takes care of that. She’s pretty good at anti-drag enchantments."

“Felix?”

Fleetfoot’s grin grew at my interest, her eyes momentarily showing an uncharacteristic softness. “Our engineer, and the only unicorn I trust to have my back in a fight.”

Up to this point, I’d never met a unicorn, and the prospect of actually witnessing honest to freakish-pony-overlord magic was a bit of an unnerving one. Fleetfoot must have noticed, as the googly eyed fondness vanished, to be replaced by her signature smirk.

“I feel like I should warn you. Felix is a very, ah... inquisitive pony. She has to know what everything is, how it all works, what its purpose is, where it came from-”

I scowled. “I got it.”

The smiling pegasus fell silent for a few seconds, during which I deliberately focused on the various pegasi loading the piles of extracted interior onto several large carriages.

“She’s not too good with boundaries, either,” Fleetfoot added.

I willed myself not to rise to her bullshit. She was well aware of my stance on personal space and was more than likely exaggerating just to get a reaction.

She wouldn’t be getting one.

“Where do I park?” I all but monotoned.

Still grinning, she motioned to a large area of tarmac over by the barracks, not too far from the large cloud hangar. With tepid throttle movements, I powered up the two running engines, giving a little more thrust to engine three to help ease the leviathan aircraft to the left. The jet slowly turned towards the intended destination just as the last of the looting carriages were pulled free of the runway.

“But really, though—don’t be scared of her when she, uh… examines you. Because she will do that-”

“Can you not?” I snapped.

“I’m just saying…”

The jet came to a halt by the barracks, with probably a little more braking force than was required. Fleetfoot nearly smacked her head off the screen in front of her. I smirked, engaging the parking brake and powering down the engines before hopping out of my seat.

Without so much as a glance back at my highly annoying feathered companion, I strode from the cockpit and down the staircase, scanning the cabin for anything I could use to get to the ground.

There was nothing.

I opened the cabin door anyway, scowling at the distance to the tarmac and cursing at the stupid ponies for not having a decent set of airstairs.

The sound of hooves on tarmac grew slowly louder, Raindrops eventually coming into view from beneath the fuselage. She looked a little out of breath, but bore her usual, happy smile regardless.

“Oh, hey, Jack,” she chirped, launching herself into the air and whizzing up to hover at my eye-level. “Do you need a wing-”

“Nope. I got this,” I lied.

The pegasus hovered perfectly still in the air, giving me a somewhat pitiful, bemused smile. I glared at the ground, several meters below, almost trying to will an independent method of de-boarding to spontaneously present itself.

To her credit, Raindrops was pleasantly patient with my insanity. “Y’know… I think the rope is still on the runway. I could go get it if you-”

“Please,” I croaked, hastily punching myself in the chest.

She nodded, darting vertically out of sight. I continued to glare at the tarmac, determined to stifle the sob threatening to escape my throat.

Men didn’t cry. Especially for stupid shit like lack of a staircase...

5. The Engineer - Part II

The sleek vessel touched down with an eerie silence as I reveled in the comfort of once again being safely on the ground. It was making a lot less noise than any powered craft I’d ever come across, and the grace with which it kissed the tarmac would have put even the keenest precision aerobatic pilots to shame.

It continued to roll the full length of the runway, despite having decelerated more than enough to come to an easy stop. From my vantage point beneath the gargantuan starboard wing of the Airbus, I was close enough to see the cylinders protruding from the strange craft were still rapidly rotating. Presumably, magic was propelling them. I was still unsure how I felt about that.

“Hey.”

The unusually quiet voice caught me off guard, so much so that I actually had to turn to verify that it had come from Fleetfoot. She gazed up at me with a soft expression, her ears involuntarily flat.

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for winding you up. Felix isn’t really that bad-”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I know you’re having trouble adjusting,” she continued, “I-”

“Really—it’s fine,” I insisted, not wanting to be reminded of my earlier miniature freak out… Come to think of it, the sneaky pegasus probably witnessed the sorry spectacle. It would certainly explain why she was being so nice…

I threw Fleetfoot another glance, but she had since joined Raindrops in observing the taxiing aircraft, which slowly rolled to a stop next to the Airbus. The pegasi vessel was tiny in comparison, its vertical stabiliser not even reaching the Airbus’ wings.

A mechanical hiss sounded, and part of the fuselage slowly swung down to reveal several wide eyed pegasi. They stood motionless, staring at me as though I were a fascinating documentary on the Discovery Channel. It was only when Raindrops gave a noticeably irritable nicker that they hastily took to the air to survey the superjumbo instead.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile at their looks of awe at the airbus. They might’ve had magic, but human ingenuity was certainly no easy opponent.

I focused once more on their Magnus vessel. The cylinders appeared to have stopped rotating. I took a few paces forward to get a closer look at their design, but stopped dead in my tracks.

Quite possibly the brightest pony I had ever seen was now standing in the doorway of the vessel. Her coat was pristine white, and bore a lustre shared by only the finest of silks. A long, rose-pink mane flowed in graceful curls from her head to just above her forehooves, partitioned to one side. Bright, cerulean eyes twinkled as they surveyed the jet, slowly scanning its entirety.

Clearly, she liked what she saw, as her maw gradually grew wider into a rather breathtaking smile…

It was at this point I realised that my perception of this pony was unlike any other I’d met. There was no unease. There was no resentment at my predicament. There was no distrust.

It was… odd, to say the least. I was never a people person, and I sure as hell wasn’t a pony person either—but this particular pony immediately stuck me as the type I should be looking to keep around if I had intentions on keeping my sanity.

I could practically feel Fleetfoot smirking at me, but I was unable to take my eyes off of the new arrival… She, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have noticed me at all.

I observed her some more, finally noticing the long, thin, spiral engraved horn protruding from her head. The fear I had been expecting upon first encountering a unicorn was nowhere to be found. I was more intrigued, if anything. She wore nothing but a golden collar, outlined in black leather, with a large sparkling sapphire embedded into it.

She blinked. “That thing flies!?” she asked, glancing at Fleetfoot. Her voice sounded as bright and refreshing as her coat appeared. “Yakshit.”

“It’s true,” Fleetfoot replied, matter of factly. “Just ask the pilot.” She gestured a hoof at me.

She may as well have tasered me.

Those electrifying, cerulean eyes finally found my own, and I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by an uncharacteristic bout of shyness. Before I had even began to mentally slap myself, Fleetfoot spoke again.

“Jack, this is Felicity,” she said, either ignoring or unaware of my sudden nervousness. “You’ll need to tell her everything you can about your ship so we can keep it airworthy-”

Fleetfoot continued, but my attention was focused on the unicorn slowly approaching me, a modest little smile on her face. Her tail curled in much the same way as her mane, except arching up from her rump before falling back down. The way in which it swished in the light breeze was rather mesmerising, to say the least. Adorned on her flank was a large image of an atom of some sort. I had the bizarre urge to examine it more closely.

“-Jack… Jack. Hey, Jack! Are you even listening to me?”

“What? Yeah, course…” I halfheartedly assured, giving the pegasus an idle wave.

“Really? Well, what was I saying?”

I finally glanced at her, then back at Felicity, completely drawing a blank. The unicorn gave the barest hint of a nod toward the Airbus, followed by the slightest of winks.

I glanced back at Fleetfoot. “Something about the plane?”

At my tactless response, Fleetfoot gave a sigh, briefly throwing an exasperated look in Felicity’s general direction. “Nevermind, I’m sure Felix will explain.”

Without another word, she trotted towards the Magnus aircraft, from which an ivory stallion—another unicorn—with a large brown mullet manecut was emerging. As soon as he spotted me he shot me the ugliest glare I’d ever seen on a pony. I was quite taken aback, not even Cloudchaser had been so hostile. It was gone in an instant, though, as Fleetfoot began talking to him. Raindrops, who had been silently observing, trotted over to join in the conversation.

Shrugging off the odd behaviour, I was suddenly aware that I was very much alone with Felicity. I didn’t mind, per se, but I didn’t like the fact that my mind regarded the situation as such a big fucking deal. This pony was just a pony like any other. Granted, she had a horn instead of a pair of wings, but still…

“So. Jack.”

A few silky strands of her mane briefly fell in front of her eyes, before she deftly flicked them behind one of her ears with a swift hoof. “I hope you don’t mind-” her horn started to glow the same shade of pink as her mane, and a strange sound that could only be described as ethereal wind chimes filled the air, “-if I do a little bio-scanning?”

Something seemed to click in my mind. “...the fuck!?” I stared at her horn, backing away several steps. I was truly not ready for magic. Such blatant disregard for the laws of physics was quite frankly, terrifying.

Felicity chuckled, her eyes closed, upturned to form cute little arches. The sound of her laughter eased my panic somewhat, but I maintained my distance. Her horn faded out, as did the strange sound. “Sorry. I guess I’ve seen one too many alien flicks and couldn’t bear a missed opportunity.”

“Not cool,” I chastised, fighting to maintain my disgruntled expression. Felicity’s resultant grin, however, made it extremely difficult.

“So, I heard you’ve been having engine troubles.”

“Uh… yeah,” I cleared my throat, motioning to the other side of the jet. “The damaged engine is right over there.”

The unicorn barely acknowledged my guilt, if at all. Instead, she set off into a brisk trot toward the port side of the aircraft. My eyes tracked the hypnotic swaying of her elegant tail, and I ended up getting quite a detailed view of what was beneath it.

The natural arch of her tail left nothing to the imagination—this pony was very much an anatomically correct mare…

Look away, Jack.

The fur surrounding her business end appeared incredibly soft, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what the texture would feel like. And no, it wasn’t from lack of trying.

THWACK.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through my head. I cursed loudly, stumbling backwards a few steps and only just keeping my balance.

Felicity turned to face me with a bemused expression. “Headbutting the thing won't help.”

I had no trouble glowering at her this time. “Funny,” I deadpanned, gingerly rubbing at the growing lump on my forehead. I had somehow failed to see the open gear bay door right in front of my face...

Felicity wiggled her eyebrows at me, and flashed that killer smile.

I gave a noncommittal grunt, walking ahead of her to engine one. I wasn’t in any sort of mood to question why I’d just been staring at her junk… voluntarily… for such a long assed time.

The unicorn came to a stop beside me, and I flinched as her horn began to glow once more. The plastic sheet covering the engine vanished in an instant.

“How did you do that?” The question spewed out of my face before I could stop it. Felicity merely raised an eyebrow.

“They really have no magic where you’re from?”

“None.”

“Pity,” she mused, turning to examine the twisted fan blades.

I considered arguing that humans didn’t need magic, but any witty retort I could have come up with was immediately forgotten at the sight of the mangled engine.

My stomach dropped, my sober mind acknowledging all the gory details drunk-as-fuck me had managed to overlook. Most of the remaining fan blades were covered in dried blood, and several tufts of fur and feathers were clumped up on the compressor blades. Glancing at Felicity, I expected the beautiful pony to recoil at such horror, but she didn’t appear to be phased in the slightest.

“Well, shit. That slimy fuck really made a mess of this thing, huh?” she chuckled, a pink aura of magical energy once again emanating from her horn.

I frowned, but the mare ignored me. She began slowly trotting in circles around the engine, her horn continuously illuminated and her bright blue eyes focused on things I couldn’t see.

“You didn’t like him?”

Felicity let out a brief snicker. “What gave it away?”

I paused for a moment. “What was he like?”

Her magic intensified, and one of the large engine bay panels suddenly detached with a loud clatter and began hovering in midair like it weighed nothing at all. “You really want the answer from me? Because I can’t exactly promise an unbiased opinion, sweetie.”

The endearment, along with another flash of her devastating smile caused my heart to stall for a moment.

I promptly punched myself in the chest and cleared my throat. “I just…” I began, a slight sigh of regret breaking the sentence, “I just feel bad, even though there was nothing I could have done… even drunk off my trolley as I was.”

Felicity frowned, and my heart sank a little more. “... You flew this-” She waved a foreleg up at the jet for emphasis “-drunk? Why?”

I shrugged. “I like drinking.”

Her incredulous look continued. “That’s… incredibly stupid.”

“Look, it wasn’t that simple. I’d had a few the night before the flight—was still a little out of it the next day. It happens.” I shrugged again, holding up my arms in a pitiful attempt for justification. “I made some coffee. Everything was fine.”

Felicity lowered her eyebrows, but kept her silence as she telekinetically ripped out the damaged fan blades. I winced at the sound of tearing metal, but continued with my recollections regardless.

“But then we take off. The captain—who hated me, I might add—smells the whiskey on my breath, and the shit hits the fan.” I let out another sigh, bringing a hand up to wipe the accumulated sweat from my forehead. “I knew he was going to report me and get my ass fired, so I thought ‘fuck it’, and hit the bar.”

“And you figured that’d be an adequate solution to your troubles?”

“Well, no, of course not. It was just a short term relief, if anything.”

Though Felicity still had her attention fixed on the engine, it was difficult to miss her look of disapproval. “Yet you hadn’t lost your job at that point, and still had a duty to fly the aircraft.”

“Actually, the Captain threw me out of the cockpit.”

“And what difference does that make? Clearly, something happened to him, as you were the one flying the ship in the end.”

I looked at her with vacant eyes, knowing I didn’t have a leg to stand on. She stared back, her expression morphing into something that resembled pity.

“Yeah, well… if it weren’t for that griffin warp drive or whatever the hell that thing was supposed to be, then it wouldn’t have mattered,” I countered.

Felicity snorted. “Yes it would. You’d be out of a job for a start.” She turned once more to the partly disassembled engine. “Hmmm, I take it we’ll need a counterweight,” she said, talking more to herself than me.

“Ah, dearest Felicity, there you are!” an over-articulate voice interrupted.

I spun around so fast I almost made myself dizzy. The mullet clad stallion that had been glaring daggers at me earlier had somehow managed to creep up on the both of us. His eyes were green, matching the green beret he sported for his obligatory butt-mark. He was disregarding me completely, much too busy gazing at Felicity with a look of poorly disguised adoration.

“Oh. Reginald,” Felicity intoned. Her magic flared again, and the engine’s drive shaft rotated full circle. I blinked in surprise. Given the damage—that would have taken a dedicated team of aircraft engineers several weeks, yet it had only taken her fifteen minutes.

“I figured you’d like to see the alien and examine its strange technologies,” The aristocratic unicorn said, glancing up at the enormity of the Airbus.

I did a double take. “...the fuck did you just call me? Excuse me, Reginald, but I am not an ‘it’-”

Felicity’s horn finally deluminated. She held up a hoof to me, turning to face the snobby stallion with a somewhat agitated expression. “Shouldn’t you be reporting to Soarin? You know how he gets when you’re late for de-briefing.”

Reginald's face momentarily adopted an abashed expression, not unlike that of an admonished infant, and his ears sagged either side of his perfectly sculpted mullet. "I wanted to watch you work," he said in a small voice.

The adoration in his eyes betrayed a longing that the mare's simply did not reciprocate. Even though this was a completely different species, I was all too familiar with this godforsaken ritual. One party's obsession with the unobtainable, and the other's politely treading on eggshells in an attempt to keep the peace.

Felix had friendzoned this poor bastard. Hard.

“Go,” she implored, “I’ll, uhh… catch up with you later.”

She didn’t sound very convincing, but Reginald lapped up her words as gospel. “I’ll save you a seat at dinner,” he chirped, dropping a less than subtle wink at her before trotting off towards the barracks with his head held high.

The unicorn gave a muted sigh of relief, wiping her brow with a forehoof and focusing her bright, sapphire orbs on my barely suppressed smirk. She looked as though she was about to say something, but ultimately decided to keep her silence, turning back to the engine.

I paused, debating whether or not to tease her with what was evidently a touchy subject. Given that I was a tactless idiot, said debating took almost no time at all.

“So, your coltfriend seems nice,” I said, sidling up to the engine with my hands in my pockets and idly nudging one of the discarded fan blades with my foot. “Wait, am I saying that right? It is coltfriend, right?”

Felix glared at me, and the way she hastily whipped her head back and forth to check if Reginald was well out of earshot was the cherry on the cake. “Me, and Reg?” she half whispered, flicking her long, pink curls out of her face with a swift hoof. “No! … Why would you think that?”

I shrugged. “No reason,” I lied, pointedly grinning at her. She continued to glare at me, almost as if sizing me up.

“Okay, maybe he has a little crush, but my relationship with him is strictly platonic… Not that it’s any of your business.”

I gave a muffled laugh, holding up my arms. “Hey, it makes no odds to me… Just seems like the guy has a major case of the blue balls for you-ARGHOLYCRAP!”

A rather annoyed looking, upside down unicorn nickered loudly in front of my face. Apparently—her patience had ran out, evidenced by the fact that I was now suspended by my ankle. She opened her mouth, but I didn’t catch a word of what she was saying. An alluring scent of something oddly nostalgic hit my nostrils before I blacked out completely.

…

“... Jack! Oh Celestia, JACK! Wake up!”

“Five more minutes…” I grumbled, rolling over onto my unusually hard mattress. Like, this shit was rock solid…

Something warm and soft nudged my side, something that smelled amazing and had a lot of hair. I opened my eyes to find Felicity’s inches from my own, full of worry and concern.

“Wuzzah… How did I?” I stuttered, blinking moronically as the rest of her remorseful face came into focus.

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought you'd had some sort of reaction to my magic,” she gasped, once again flicking her mane out of her face, her anger all but forgotten.

I slowly sat up, staring at the part of my ankle that had been gripped by her telekinesis. It didn’t feel any different… In fact, I didn't have any recollection of it hurting at all.

“Jack? Are you okay?” Felix asked, probably wondering why I was having a staring competition with my foot.

“... The gravity,” I mumbled, finally understanding the cause of my impromptu nap.

The unicorn frowned. “Huh?”

“Try not to make a habit of dangling me upside down in future, ‘kay?” I chuckled, bopping her on the muzzle with a palm before getting to my feet.

Felix flinched rather adorably. “So, you're okay?” she asked again, gazing up at me with a look of utter confusion. “I mean, I don’t want to take the rap for harming a borderline intelligent endangered species…”

“Relax, I’m fine—wait, borderline intelligent?”

She gave a devilish grin, swishing her silky tail as she turned back to the jet engine. “Well, from what I've seen…”

“Excuse me, Little miss Atom Flank—I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in-” I began, but paused when I spotted a particular shade of blue careening around the side of the Raptor. “Oh, no. No. Not him.”

“What’s wron—hey! What are you-”

“-hide me!” I whisper-shouted, ducking down and attempting to conceal myself behind Felicty’s long, silky mane as the overly-persistent winged menace touched down. Felix simply rolled her eyes at my pathetic attempt to avoid detection and greeted the newcomer with a smile.

“Hello, Warmfront.”

“Oh… H-Hi, F-F-Felicity.” The stallion’s cheeks reddened, and he shifted uncomfortably on his hooves. “I… um… I was wondering if I could borrow Jack for a moment… I-If that would be okay…” he stuttered, seemingly only able to maintain eye contact with the mare for short periods of time.

“Sorry, Honey, I need him. Why don’t you come back later?”

My idle grin steadily grew into a fully fledged smile as the realisation set in—Atom Flank could possibly be a useful deterrent against Gigolo Pony, provided I push some buttons, of course. Abandoning my piss poor attempt at hiding, I quickly sprang to my feet, gently placing a hand on Felicity’s back. If the unicorn gave any reaction, she hid it well.

“Ahh, Warmfront! Didn’t see you there. What was it that you wanted?”

Warmfront cleared his throat, looking rather relieved he had someone else to focus on other than the elegant unicorn by my side. “Well, we were supposed to start your heat tamer training a week ago-”

“Ahh, yes. I do apologise, buddy, it completely slipped my mind!” I lied, knowing full well I’d been doing my absolute best to keep “horsefucking” out of my skill set the past week. “Tell you what—why don’t you demonstrate with a mare first, and I’ll take notes, okay?”

Warmfront blinked. “Well, um… Flitter is assigned to be your training mare, but she’s out on a cloud exercise at the moment-”

I held up a hand. “That’s not a problem, pal. I’m sure there’s a mare around here somewhere that’s willing to volunteer.” I mock-glanced around, eventually settling my gaze upon a mildly annoyed looking Felix. “Ahh! How… convenient.”

I shifted my gaze to Warmfront, who appeared to be visibly shaking with nerves at this point. “I… I-uh… I-I… I have to go,” he stammered, before suddenly shooting off up into the sky, and only narrowly missing the leading edge of the plane’s left wing. I let out a chuckle, inwardly rejoicing that I finally had some breathing space.

“That was cruel,” Felix sighed, the disapproval evident in her tone as she watched Warmfront spiral off in the distance.

I chuckled again. “You say cruel; I’d say necessary. I guess he also has a ‘crush,’ huh?”

A somewhat pained expression washed over her face. “I guess you could say that,” she mumbled as she once again turned her attention to the broken Rolls Royce. “Anyway, I need to get this engine operational as fast as equinely possible. Soarin doesn’t let ponies skip debriefing unless it’s for something really important.”

I snorted. “Don’t hold your breath. Even with all the right equipment, fixing a Trent 900 takes weeks.”

Felix smirked, lowering her eyelids. “Yeah, for hyoomans, maybe, but I’m a unicorn.”

I crossed my arms, levelling the mare with a look of heavy skepticism.

Felix grinned in response, before exploding with a loud CRACK and a blinding flash of white light.

I yelped, tripping over one of the fan blades scattered about the tarmac and landing on my side, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to coax my impeded vision back. After a few seconds, I was able to glance around. Felix was nowhere to be found.

“What the… ?” I gasped, pulling myself to my feet to check if she was hiding behind the landing gear or something. Before I had so much as taken a step, there was another loud CRACK, accompanied by another flash. Thankfully, it had come from behind me, so I wasn’t blinded by the light this time.

Bewildered, I turned to find a grinning Felicity—thankfully intact, I might add—stood next to a pallet full of sandbags I was guessing she intended to use as a counterweight.

“Y-You can fucking teleport?”

Somehow, the unicorn’s grin grew wider, and I could have sworn she fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, sweetie, teleportation is merely the tip of the proverbial iceberg,” she said, her horn flaring up once more.

A series of shivers ran down my spine, either from her sultry tone of voice, or the eerie sound of ethereal wind chimes now filling the air. I wasn’t sure which. “That’s OP… You’re totally OP.”

The entire engine, along with a significant portion of the port-side wing, was now encased in her shimmering pink aura. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, as the large pallet of sandbags slowly began to levitate up off the ground.

With a slight wrenching sound, the bolts holding the engine in place popped out as though torqued by an industrial air gun, before beginning to levitate alongside the now free engine.

My jaw practically fell off my face. Seven fucking tonnes of jet engine floated in the air alongside the pallet of sandbags, which presumably weighed the same. And that wasn’t even taking into account the freaky gravity…

“... How?” I whispered, gazing in awe as I witnessed the fuel lines and electrical wires bridging the gap disconnect with a level of calculated intricacy the likes of which I’d never seen. Simply put—it straight up shouldn’t have been possible. How could this pony have the knowledge necessary to so easily manipulate something as insanely complex as a jet engine? To her—this was alien technology—yet she was making it look as simple as pulling lego blocks apart.

“Hmm… Ah! Yes…” The unicorn happily babbled away to herself as she set about attaching the thick ropes from the pallet to the engine mounting points on the wing, all the while still levitating both the pallet and the engine.

“How are you even? What? That’s impossible…” I stammered, yet the seven-tonne aircraft engine drifted lazily through the hot summer air regardless. Felix trotted along underneath it, happily humming a cheery tune to herself.

I never thought I’d see a pink-maned unicorn casually wandering off with a jet engine, but here it was, happening right in front of my face.

“Hey! Where are you going?” I called after her, almost jogging to keep up.

“Hangar three. Need somewhere to crack this thing open. Also, a mounting point would be nice, seeing as I’d rather not be stuck levitating it everywhere.”

“You’re really serious about trying to fix it?” I asked. Felix was smart, no doubt, but I was still skeptical that she’d be able to repair the engine without the proper tools and know-how.

“It’s not as bad as you think. I’ve seen some earth pony concept designs that are similar, but were never developed due to lack of funding.” Upon reaching the already open hanger, which just happened to be made of clouds, Felix trotted in, just like any pegasi would. I, on the other hand, was a little more hesitant.

“You can walk on clouds as well?” I asked, from the edge of the tarmac.

“What?” She asked, giving me a puzzled look, before seeing where I had stopped. “Oh, hold still a sec.”

“Wait. What are you gonna do?” I shot at her, but her horn had already flashed.

She busied herself with attaching thick chains from the overhead scaffolding in the hanger to the engine mounts whilst I tried to figure out if she had actually done anything to me. In less than a minute, the engine was hanging from the ceiling.

“I don’t feel any different.”

Felix gave me a confused look. “Why would you? It’s just a cloudwalking spell.”

I stared at the cliff edge. The floor of the cloud hanger shimmered like a superfluid, forming a perfectly level seam with the solid ground, yet I was still more than a little apprehensive about stepping foot onto what was essentially just organised water vapour.

“You coming in, or—”

“Just give me a minute,” I interrupted, trying to convince myself I wasn't about to fall to my death. Instead of the eye-roll I’d been expecting, the unicorn surprised me.

“Here,” she sighed, trotting over and stopping at my heel with her side to my thigh. “If you feel like you're about to fall, you can grab onto me.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, gently placing a hand on her back.

Steeling myself, I stepped forward with bated breath, applying only a slight pressure to the cloud surface with my foot. The spongy resistance it met surprised me so much I completely lost my footing, reflexively lunging at Felix and locking my arms around her barrel as I fell fully onto the cloud surface.

The unicorn let out a yelp as I inadvertently dragged her down on top of me, her head coming to rest on my chest and a rather large amount of her curly mane covering my face. It smelled like strawberries.

“Well, don’t you work fast?” said a voice.

Felix immediately sprang to her hooves, the barest hint of a blush on her face as she turned to face the newcomer. I also whipped my head to the hangar entrance, spotting a very smug looking Fleetfoot lying on her stomach at the cliff edge, her forehooves crossed and a stupid grin on her face.

“What? No! Clouds are slippery.” I pointed an index finger at her. “Don’t even think about twisting this the wrong wa- … Oh, why should I even bother…” I muttered, sighing in defeat as I cautiously got to my feet. Cue the annoying General and her stupid-assed chuckle.

“Y’know, fooling around with the hottest pony at the academy in an open hangar isn’t really the smartest idea. The mares will undoubtedly try to steal you away, and the stallions will probably hate you for going where they can only dream.”

I simply glared at the pegasus, whereas Felix rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you make it sound like I’m at the top of every stallion’s rut list…”

Fleetfoot smirked. “You are. Probably a few mares’ as well.”

“... And we weren't ‘fooling around’. Jack merely slipped because he’s not used to cloudwalking,” Felix continued, opting to ignore Fleetfoot’s interruption. She turned back to the jet engine suspended from the hangar ceiling. “I assume you’re here for an update on the repair job?”

Fleetfoot gave a nod, getting to her hooves and trotting onto the cloud floor for a closer look. “Can you fix it?” she asked.

“Well, the compression stage will need a good clean, but it looks like there’s been an oil fire further back. Possibly, a stub pipe has been blown off when Windrunner knocked the fan blades out. To be on the safe side, we should really get the turbine discs replaced along with the fan blades, as they look like they’ve taken quite a bit of fire damage.”

I blinked, still quite in awe of the unicorn’s knowledge of the inner workings of a jet engine. Fleetfoot seemed satisfied at the report. “You can get the parts?” she asked.

“I think I can reverse-engineer the blueprints off of the broken pieces. Might take a few weeks, though.”

Fleetfoot gave a satisfied nod, before turning to me. “Just try not to distract her too much,” she said, with a sly smirk. Before I even had a chance to retort, the General took flight, once again leaving me alone with the beautiful engineer.

Author's Note

Not to sound like a broken record or anything, but I'm sorry this took so damn long. Have a pic of sexi new unicorn to compensate, eh?

My god-awful 'art' doesn't do her justice, (I'm a total SAI n00b) but at least it will give you an idea of what Felix is supposed to look like.

6. Welcome to the Show

“You’ve been scarce, lately.”

I looked up from the mess of code on my laptop screen, wholly thankful for the distraction. Altering a simple program to control a few basic functions was probably easy for someone who knew what they were doing. I, however, wasn’t all that adept in this particular area of computing. I only really needed it to adjust engine thrust and a couple of other basic functions for when Felicity finally got the Rolls running again. It had been three weeks, and I still hadn’t made much progress.

With a sigh of defeat, I minimised the window. “Maybe if you didn’t hang around with Elric Von Keep-Your-Pimp-Hoof-Strong so much, you’d see a bit more of me. Where is that promiscuous little fucker, anyway?”

Jessica crossed her arms, giving me a scathing look from the cliff edge, though its effect was muted somewhat by her hair whipping around in the wind. “Warmfront is getting ready for the Wonderbolts routine. Y’know—the one that’s been planned for a month now? Speaking of which: shouldn’t you be doing the same?”

“Nope. Atom Thighs and I are extremely busy,” I said, jumping down from my perch atop the mid-level hangar scaffolding and landing softly on the cloud floor. Go Jack. Bonus points for not falling on your ass this time.

“I thought I told you I’d deactivate your cloud walk spell if you called me that again,” said a mildly annoyed, yet still silky smooth voice from the other side of the hangar.

The tall, snowy mare emerged from around the side of the jet engine, her graceful pink curls tied back into a ponytail so they wouldn’t get in the way whilst she was working. Being a unicorn, she did indeed use magic for most tasks. But I’d noticed she was a very hands-on, or hooves-on kind of pony, as well. Splotches of engine oil currently blemished her coat and muzzle, and I couldn’t help but compare her to a very effeminate looking, overly-adorable dalmatian wearing a wig.

She greeted Jessica with a smile, which promptly fell off her face when she turned to me.

“Well, aren't you a box of antidepressants? Heh, get it? Because Lithium Butt,” I chuckled. Yep, I had indeed counted the electrons. Three of them, and the same number of protons and neutrons. It had been bugging me for days, so I finally sneaked a closer look when she was busy removing the busted stub pipe from the engine. She’d given me a good telling off for “staring at her ass.” As if, but it was totally worth it.

I grabbed my laptop as her eyes rolled. A common occurrence, if truth be told. “I must have told you a hundred times already that I’m taking part in that display,” she said, idly rubbing the large blue gemstone on her dominatrix collar with a forehoof. Well, that’s what the thing looked like, anyway.

She rambled on about a magically induced something or other, but I was too busy searching iTunes for a particular Nirvana track that would emphasise my periodic pun. The music began to play, prompting Felix to make a cute little exasperated horse noise. She then cantered over and began jabbing me in the stomach with her damned horn.

“Oww! Cut it out!” I yelled, grabbing onto her magical appendage with my free hand. The unicorn ignored me, rearring up on her hind legs slightly and snapping my laptop closed with a nudge from her muzzle. She could have just used magic, but sometimes refrained from doing so to really drive home the point that I was being an asshat.

The music died, and I let go of her horn to idly rub my stomach. That thing was almost as sharp as her mind. Jessica stared at the two of us in confusion, her mouth half open and a frown adorning her features.

“What?” I asked, just as Felicity did exactly the same. I had half a mind to yell “jinx,” but I was pretty sure it would just go over the unicorn’s head.

“... But, aren’t unicorn horns… like… uh… nevermind,” she concluded, rather pointlessly.

Felicity’s eyes momentarily widened, her cheeks reddening somewhat. She snapped her gaze to Jessica. “You’re right. We should really get going.” With that her horn flared with magic, and so did the rest of her.

Three seconds later, and she was back to looking like a Playcolt centrefold. Her coat was the colour of freshly fallen snow, the long, gracious curls of her silky cotton-candy coloured mane falling down the side of her pretty face. The sapphire embedded in her collar glinted from the light of the sun streaming into the hangar, highlighting her beautiful azure ey- …

I blinked, the unexpected reverie evaporating like dry ice. The fuck are you doing, Jack?

* * *

I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands.

Jessica had rather conveniently disappeared off somewhere to find Blue Sex Pest, leaving me and Felix to endure a very awkward stroll to the arena, where the aerial displays took place. Neither of us had spoken a word to each other since Jessica had shattered glass all over us on the whole “unicorn horns” thing. I was ambling along like a confused ape, debating on whether or not to just stuff my hands in my pockets.

I vaguely remembered—back before I made avoiding his feathery ass a top priority—that Warmfront had indeed mentioned that touching a unicorn’s horn was a big no-no. He’d elaborated, but I hadn’t been paying much attention at the time—mainly because I hadn’t expected to actually meet any unicorns. Well, that, and Warmfront was annoying at the best of times.

I sneaked a glance at Felix as we passed over the mountainside and onto the much larger cloud section of the base. She was looking dead-ahead, still not saying a word. Probably for the best. I couldn’t help thinking back over the last few weeks. I had touched her horn. A lot. The weird thing, though, is that it was usually her that had initiated the contact. Mainly by stabbing me with it.

I guess I could be pretty annoying sometimes.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that she’d been assaulting me with the unicorn equivalent of her clitoris, right? …Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I was still happy to pin the blame on her. I just hadn’t known any better.

…Damn. That amount of times I’d grabbed that thing during the silly little play fights we often had was too damn high. Not once had she told me to let go of it, either…

“Oh, for buck’s sake,” Felix suddenly whispered under her breath.

I glanced up from my internal musings. Felix appeared to be cringing a little, her eyes fixed on a large cloud tower, complete with it’s own rainbowfall. The colours cascaded down several stories, passing straight through the cloud floor at the foot of the tower, where another white unicorn awaited.

This one had a mullet.

“Initiate Operation Stalker Mullet Avoidance?” I quickly whisper-shouted, getting ready to use my awesome ninja-skills to go hide behind one of the many cloud-hedges dotted around the base.

Felix gave me a look, shaking her head. I caught the barest hint of a smile before she turned away, though. Predictably, Reginald spotted us. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the creepy pony had been following us for the last ten minutes, but I didn’t ask. Felix would only get pissed at me.

“Felicity, darling!” he greeted, ignoring me completely.

I barely held back a snort as the sprightly stallion cantered over, his mullet bobbing up and down like an animated mushroom. He fell into a steady trot beside us. His horn looked extra shiny today, almost as if he’d been vigorously polishing it… oh god. Now I was stuck with that mental image. Yeah, that one. Heh, if my earlier assumptions were true, Reginald was a literal dickhead.

“Make it quick, Reg. If I don’t catch at least one of the routine rehearsals, Fleetfoot will be riding my ass for the next month.”

That mental image was a lot nicer. Wait…

“Ah, yes. Well, I was wondering if I could have a word with you. Alone.” He threw the briefest of glances in my general direction, a look of utter contempt upon his snobbish features.

Felix scowled. “Jack is my work colleague, and more importantly, my friend. Don’t look at him like he’s garbage,” she scolded. I shot the slimy bastard a smug grin for emphasis. “And we’ve no time for solitude—whatever you have to say, spit it out already.”

“Yes, well. Hmm. As it’s approaching a… uh, specific time of the month, I was wondering if you would be requiring my services again.”

I stopped as if I’d suddenly walked into a wall of concrete.

Felix immediately rounded on Reginald. “Your services?” she vociferated, also stopping dead in her tracks. “You gave me a backrub, to which I only agreed because you wouldn’t shut up offering.”

“W-Well, that’s exactly what I meant! A backrub is one of my services, is it not?” the stallion faltered, coming to a halt himself.

Felix snorted. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend like you don’t want the other stallions to think you might have rutted me. Tartarus, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you were after that bit pool,” she yelled.

Reginald looked as though she’d just hoof-slapped his mullet-clad mug, whereas I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Why the fuck did I care, though!? It should make absolutely no fucking difference to me whatsoever whether or not this stupid sexy wrench-wielding genius of a unicorn had had a good dicking from Stalker Mullet.

The image formed in my mind, and my hand betrayed my resolve, curling to form a fist.

You are not a horsefucker, Jack. You don’t get attracted to horses. And you certainly don’t get fucking jealous. Ugh.

Reginald stood with a dumb look on his face, his mouth slowly opening and closing like some sort of ugly, furry assed goldfish.

Felicity sighed, most of her ire having scarpered at his pitiful appearance. “I’m sorry. That was mean, and presumptuous.” She sighed again, throwing me a brief glance before quickly looking away. “Look, I have to go. I’ll catch up with you later, Reg.” She trotted off.

I wasn’t entirely sure I should follow her, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to stick around to chat with a slightly emotionally-rekt Reginald. Quickly springing my way over the cloud surface, I caught up. We rounded a corner, passing under a large archway made of sculpted cloud depicting several armour-clad pegasi. We appeared to be strolling through an upper-class housing estate, probably reserved for high ranking officers. Several huge cloud mansions were dotted about the place, some even sporting their own miniaturised rainbowfalls.

I was about to finally ask how the rainbowfalls worked, but Felix spoke first.

“I never did anything with him.” Her voice was soft, yet I had no doubt of her intention to make her point absolutely clear.

I blinked, a little taken aback. “Um… Okay?”

She focused her pretty eyes on me. “You better not twist this in any way. I don’t want to hear any more on the subject. I know what you’re like,” she said, narrowing her eyes, but grinning all the same.

I returned a grin of my own, until I remembered a certain detail in her conversation with Reginald. “I seem to recall you mentioning something in passing… Hmm. What was it? A ‘bit pool’?”

Her smile vanished, and she looked away for a second. “Oh. You picked up on that?”

I nodded, frowning somewhat. “Is that what I think it is?”

She turned back to me. “Well, that depends. Are you thinking that a certain comfort stallion started a pool of bits between himself and his band of colt sluts, the winner of said pool being the first to rut—and I quote—‘that hot piece of ass from engineering’?”

"Wow. Now, I have another reason to not be a ‘comfort stallion’,” I chuckled, with absolutely zero thought.

The unicorn raised her eyebrows. “Thanks.”

“What? No, wait! I didn’t mean it like that… I meant to say they sound like a real bunch of assholes to put a price on your… uh…”

“My ass?” she finished for me.

“Well, yeah,” I said, somewhat pathetically. Felix just kept trotting, the long, flowing curls of her mane and tail dancing in the light breeze. “So, who started it? Do you know?”

The pony scowled. “Windrunner.”

“I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t like him?” I asked, feeling the guilt of the stallion’s death slip away somewhat. I know it was no justification, but finding out he was a bit of a prick made me feel a little better, at least.

“Oh, no. I could handle him starting that stupid bet. It’s what he did to Cloudy that pissed me off.”

A crowd of pegasi were beginning to gather outside of the arena, mostly mares, but with a few stallions dotted about. Nearly all of the latter stopped to steal a glance at Felix as she trotted through the mass of ponies. I was around a head taller than the tallest of them, so I had no trouble keeping up. “What did he do to her?” I asked.

“He used her. Kept leading her on, pretending he cared about her more than his other clients. Then, he would go and brag to his friends about all the crazy stuff he got her to do when she was in heat,” the unicorn spat, a few pegasi hastily jumping into the air when they spotted how pissed she was. “I’m glad the Rolls fucked him up. He was a piece of shit.”

Damn… I followed her through a set of double doors into an elaborate red and gold themed lobby, unsure how to respond. Felix wasn’t usually this blunt—at least, not that I’d observed—so for her to have such a strong opinion on the matter got me thinking that maybe “bit of a prick” was a gross understatement.

“Didn’t anyone point out what was happening?”

“We tried, but she wouldn’t hear a bad word about him,” the unicorn replied with a sigh.

A burly looking pegasi mare wearing full military fatigues stood in front of another set of double doors, only these ones were currently roped off. They sat between two large glass-fronted trophy cabinets, chock full of enough golden trinkets to fill an ancient tomb from an Indiana Jones movie.

Upon spotting Felix, the mare unhooked the thick red rope from one of the shiny golden poles suspending it, quickly standing aside to let her through. I made to follow, but the pegasus held a wing to my chest. “Display team members only at this time,” she said, subtly stroking my chest with the feathery appendage and flashing me a sultry wink.

I scowled, batting her wing away and stepping back. “Fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Atom Flank.”

Felix rolled her eyes, but flicked her tail in acknowledgement. “Good, you can walk me to the dance tonight. Reg has been trying to ask me out to it for weeks.”

“Is that all I am to you? A stallion cock-block?” I asked, holding a hand to my heart in mock indignation.

The mare grinned. “Don’t be ashamed of your talents, Sweetie.” With that, the doors illuminated in her pink aura, and she deftly stepped through them as they swung open.

* * *

By the time I’d made my way back outside, the crowd of pegasi had managed to organise themselves into a line that I supposed could be considered passable. I headed toward the back, taking the time to get a look at the arena in a little more detail. I hadn’t even noticed the red carpet leading up to the door, having been much too curious about Cloudchaser. Several large white pillars that could easily have been inspired by ancient Greek designs rose up from the base of the building. They appeared at first glance to be constructed of solid marble, but I knew they were probably just cleverly arranged clouds. Each one of them sported a flagpole, complete with an indigo flag bearing the Wonderbolts insignia.

This whole section of the base seemed to be made of cloud, now that I thought about it. Huge expanses of mountain-like cumulus structures flanked the arena, making it appear smaller than it actually was. There was even a rainbow river running between the various small residences interspersed among the cloud “hills”.

I made to go and take a closer look to see what the flowing mass of colour was actually composed of, but two distinctly non-pony shaped figures at the back of the line caught my attention. One appeared to be clutching the other in support, causing the latter to stumble as a consequence.

“Godammit, Leanne! If you were gonna fall through the damn cloud, it would have happened ages ago!”

“I don’t like it. It’s not natural!”

“Neither are a lot of things in Equestria. Get used to it.”

“Now now, Jess. Let’s not be too mean, eh?” I chuckled, strolling up to stand in line with the two women. “I can’t imagine being torn away from a life of Essex clubs, fake tan, cheap booze and Jersey Shore wannabes is very easy to deal with.” Unfortunately, I failed to recognise the blonde-maned bane of my existence already standing with them.

“Oh, hey, Jack.” Warmfront beamed at me with a genuine smile. I swear to God, if he was born a human, he’d have been Canadian.

“Oh. Hi,” I muttered, a little disappointed that I didn’t have my wrench-wielding, horn-headed sidekick to scare him off. Leanne finally figured out I’d been making fun of her, and did a rather angry duck face at me.

Warmfront, however, maintained his toothy grin. “Lovely weather we’re having, eh?” he said, with the level of awkward usually only reserved for cab ride small talk.

Considering we were currently standing on the weather, such conversation was even more unnecessary than usual. I didn’t bother to tell him that, though, instead choosing to grunt a half-assed “Yeah, I guess.”

Leanne chose that moment to fully compose herself. “You been hanging about with that unicorn again?” she asked, failing to mask her nervousness.

After meeting Felix—and more importantly—her magical abilities, Leanne hadn’t come out of the safe room for three days straight. It was only when Warmfront had gone in for an hour long chat with her that she felt stable enough to return. Felix had made a point to stay out of the air hostess’ way ever since.

“She’s harmless, Leanne. Besides, you wouldn’t be standing on the clouds right now if it wasn’t for her kind,” Jessica interjected, fishing around in her aircrew jacket pocket and pulling out a handful of glowing blue vials. Two of them were empty. “These things are amazing.”

“What are they?” I asked, motioning to the vials.

Jessica frowned, handing me one of them. “How are you cloudwalking if you don’t already know? These are enchantment vials—basically potions, really. They can contain various small-scale spells. These are the cloud walking variant that Spitfire gave me, and they last around six hours. Apparently, there’s a storeroom full of them.”

“Huh.” I tilted my head, twisting the vial round in my fingers. “Felix usually just casts the spell directly on me, and it lasts around eighteen hours.”

“Oh, hey! They’re selling cotton candy,” Warmfront suddenly said, pointing a wingtip at a modest little pink and white themed stall. A sky blue mare with a pink and white mane and tail grinned back at us.

“Oooh, can we go get some? Jack, will you save our place in the line?” chirped Leanne, looking more like her normal self in weeks.

“Sure,” I said, just as Jessica pulled a handful of shiny golden bits out of her other pocket. They were a little larger than a two pound coin, and each was engraved with a horseshoe design, along with the year it was cast.

The two women linked arms, springing their way over the cloud surface to the stand. I pulled a bit from my own pocket, flipping it between my fingers as I recalled my earlier conversation with Felicity.

“Hey, Warmfront. Is it true that there’s some sort of bet on Felix?” I asked, turning to the stallion.

It took him a little while to respond. “What?” he choked, his face paling a little. “How’d you know about that?”

“So, it’s true?”

“Who told you?” he barked, ignoring the question.

“She did.”

“She knows?” he gasped, sliding to his haunches and bringing both hooves up to cover his face. “I’m surprised she hasn’t turned us all into latrine brushes.”

“With those feathers and that mane, I doubt she’d even need to,” I snorted, lightly punching him in the shoulder.

Warmfront scowled, whacking my thigh with a wing. “It was Windrunner’s idea, and I only contributed because the others wouldn’t stop bugging me. I want no part in this bet.”

“You still wanna bang Felix, though.”

The stallion huffed, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that now?”

A very un-Canadian grin spread on his face. “I said, I could say the same of you.”

I held up a hand, frown automatically deepening. “Hold up, are you actually suggesting that I have carnal intentions on a unicorn?”

Warmfront leapt into the air with unexpected agility, stopping dead at my side in a perfect hover. “Oh, Jack. Everyone on this base wants to bed Felicity on some level. Be it a stallion, a mare, or even a human.”

I lowered my eyelids, determined to disregard his words. Sure, Felix did indeed garner a lot of attention from the locals. But to think that I would actually go there was pretty damn ridiculous. “Wrong!” I blurted out. “Human females only for me,” I stated with no small degree of finality.

“Well, the only two human females on this planet are standing over there,” he said, pointing to the cotton candy stall with a sly grin. “Why don’t you show your game, eh?”

I snorted. “Pffft. One is a dead end, and the other I wouldn’t even touch with yours. You don’t stick your dick in crazy.”

Warmfront landed softly on the cloud, folding his wings. “You’d stick your dick in Felix, though, and she’s probably the craziest pony I know.”

I was about to unleash an angry retort, but the line started moving along rapidly. Luckily, Jessica and Leanne returned just in time to tag along. We were led through the trophy room lobby and into the arena proper. Four elevated cloud tiers of seating—or just slightly fluffier clouds, in this case—lined the walls. To my immediate unease, I noticed there was no cloud in the center of the arena. Sunlight streamed through the equally open ceiling, and down onto the ground, thousands of feet below. It really hammered home how high up we were.

Leanne was once again clinging to Jessica, and even Jessica herself didn’t look overly pleased at the huge expanse of open sky. We cautiously made our way along to the lowest tier, mainly because it was the only one we were capable of reaching. Warmfront flopped down onto the cloud, curling up like a tomcat. Jessica and Leanne followed suit, the latter still eyeing the void in apprehension, and I sat to their left. Not many other ponies decided to sit at the bottom, leaving our tier sparsely populated.

A magically amplified voice boomed out over the stadium, welcoming the audience and stating that the routine would be starting in around five minutes.

“Hey, how come you’re not on the display team, Warmy?” Jessica asked, gently running a hand over his back.

“Me? Ha! I’m nowhere near decent enough to get on the team.”

“Aww, why not?” Leanne chimed in, also joining in on the stroking of his back. He flinched a little, but hid any further reaction in a split second. Poor bastard.

“Well, only the most athletic of stallions ever make it on the team. We aren’t as slim as mares so we can't usually change direction as fast,” he chuckled, idly scratching his chin with a hoof. “Soarin trains every day to keep up to standard. He could fly rings around me.”

“So, who’s actually on the team?” I asked, grabbing a clump of mushy cloud and rolling it around in my palm. It kinda reminded me of a non-newtonian fluid, only denser, and more stable. My guess was that it would feel a hell of a lot different if I wasn’t currently enchanted to walk on it.

“Spitfire, Fleetfoot, Raindrops, Flitter, Cloudchaser and Soarin. Oh, and Felicity.”

“Felix? But, she doesn’t have wings,” I dumbly stated, turning to the grinning stallion.

“She doesn’t need them.”

* * *

“How do I look?”

“Like a vulture that hasn’t preened in a week. Also, your bow is crooked.”

Flitter scowled, batting the tall human with her wing. “You keep saying things like that, and one day, I’ll actually believe them!” she scolded, straightening her bow, which actually was a little crooked. Ponyfeathers.

“Oh, honey. You always bite. Jack is in for a real treat,” Jason commented, simultaneously running a comb through her mane and blasting her with generous amounts of Madame Regalia's Manespray for Mares. He grinned at her in the vanity mirror, whilst Raindrops and Fleetfoot changed into their flight suits on the other side of the dressing room.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me about that.”

“Why? You having second thoughts about volunteering?” Jason asked, now running the comb through her tail.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that Warmfront doesn’t seem to be getting through to him.” She lowered her voice, gesturing for Jason to lean in close. “And between you and me, Fleetie doesn’t seem too keen on the idea, either.”

Jason glanced at the General, who was busy chatting animatedly with Captain Spitfire.

“She can be a nightmare when she’s riled up. I certainly wouldn’t wanna get on her bad side,” Flitter continued.

“An angry Spitfire would be worse,” Jason countered, standing back up straight and giving the mare a few more blasts of manespray.

“True,” Flitter coughed, waving the aerosol away. “I just hope I can give Jack an experience that won't put him off ponies forever. Luna knows we need more comfort stallions. Half the mares here would go crazy without them.”

“Relax. He’ll come around. Just shake your tail at him when you fly by. He may not take a liking to you right away, but it’ll get his mind wandering.”

“He’s watching the show?” Flitter asked, an uncharacteristic shiver of nervousness running the length of her spine. “Are you sure? He can’t exactly walk on clouds.”

“Neither can I, honey, but I’m here now,” Jason chuckled, pulling a couple of pink vials out of his pocket. “Courtesy of our engineer.” He motioned over his shoulder to a beautiful snow white unicorn, with long silky spiralling pink curls flowing from her head and rump.

“Oh. I forgot he hangs around with Felicity all the time. Crap. How the hay am I supposed to compete with that?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about? You silly mare, you’re just as pretty as her,” he said, re-tieing her bow for the third time.

Flitter made to retort, but was cut off by a mildly annoyed looking Spitfire. “Get your damn suit on, filly! We’re on in five,” she barked, before slowly turning to Jason. “How the hay’d you get past Gloria?”.

* * *

Five minutes my ass. We ended up waiting fifteen before anything of any interest happened. The idle chatter from the audience suddenly quietened down, and everyone waited in silence.

For nothing.

Fifteen seconds passed—during which I was contemplating just laying down and taking a nap—before six specs of blue shot up through the gaping void. Each left a bright silver contrail that appeared to actually emit its own light—light that didn’t look even remotely natural. It appeared to flicker like the static from an old television set, and got momentarily brighter before it eventually began to fade.

I barely had any time to figure out how any of that was possible before a ridiculously loud explosion spontaneously erupted out of thin air in the middle of the abyss. The shock wave blasted through the stadium, shaking the very foundations of the cloud structure. I actually felt the whole thing shift by a few inches, and threw myself backwards in reflex.

Both Leanne and Jessica screamed, the latter wildly throwing her arms around a very surprised Warmfront. A bright light brought my attention back to the show, where something was hovering amidst a rapidly flashing sphere of what appeared to be… lightning. The light was so intensely bright I had to shut my eyes, and it was only when I studied the after-image burned into my retinas that I figured out the thing emitting the light was shaped like a unicorn.

Holy shit. That was Felix in there! I squinted through the relentless barrage of photons, her form eventually dimming. Seconds later, the light surrounding her dulled, the colour changing to her usual pink aura. Her eyes, however, still glowed white hot, and I noticed the sapphire embedded in her collar was glowing just as bright. A beacon of azure amidst the pink.

She began to trot, held up by nothing but her magical acuity. Her hoofsteps were planted, predictable. Almost as if she were walking on an invisible platform. Her mane and tail thrashed around her as the rest of the display team descended from the sky above. Six ponies spiralled down, before settling into a steady flat-plane orbit around her.

“This is crazy. How the fuck?” I stammered, still squinting slightly as I shifted to get more comfortable.

Warmfront grinned emphatically. “Oh, Felix is totally OP.”

“You’re not wrong.”

The pegasi circled faster, decreasing the radius of their orbit as their contrails intensified. It looked like they were closing in on the unicorn, almost as if they were trying to attack. My idle grin morphed into a frown, but I needn’t have worried—with another blinding flash, Felix reappeared.

Right in front of our little group.

The unicorn shot an eyes-half-lidded smile at me. She cantered a few paces on nothing but thin air a few feet into the void, before pirouetting on her hind hooves and simultaneously charging her horn. A beam of pearlescent pink fired squarely at the five pegasi that had been charging at her in a V formation. They scattered at the blast of energy, which ended up being harmlessly absorbed by the cloud wall at the other end of the arena.

The crowd erupted, cheering and jeering as the pegasi re-grouped for another go. This time, they flew in single file, with a ridiculous amount of coordinated agility. They cornered at right angles, at speeds that should have ground their internal organs into paste. Felix responded to their game of snake with a series of impossibly fast teleports, creating a strobe effect all over the arena whilst firing blasts of shimmering pink from all directions.

If I’d been drinking coffee, it would have been all over my shirt from the multiple spit-takes. Not one of the beams touched a living soul, all of them seeming to end up soaring off into the blue or right into the cloud.

Jessica and Leanne clamped their hands over their ears as Felix’s teleports got steadily more… violent. Each subsequent flash generated an almighty boom that blended together to sound like automatic canonfire. The deafening crescendo eventually relented with Felix simply hovering limply in the center of the arena, her hooves floating just as much as the rest of her and her mane and tail whipping about. A dead silence permeated the air. Something looked a little off about the unicorn.

It was only then that I noticed her pink aura was gone, and her eyes… The entirety of her eyes were now glowing blue. The very same blue, in fact, as the gem shining on her collar. The three points of light pierced the sky with impeccable clarity, despite the sunlight streaming from above.

Illuminati confirmed.

The crowd waited on bated breath, the silence eventually being broken by several gasps as five streaks of blue and silver charged from all directions, only to be knocked out of the air by the biggest shockwave yet. Felicity’s sapphire ignited, spewing forth a large, pearly white, scaly creature that could only be described as a giant-ass sea horse on steroids. It had partially webbed forehooves, fins coming off its jawline and a large ridge on its back. The thing expanded to the size of a dragon before it opened its mouth and let out an ungodly roar. The two girls beside me were practically catatonic as the huge beast shot off after the fleeing pegasi, snapping at their tails and leaving a symphony of snarls in its wake.

As if coming out of a trance, I slapped Warmfront on the shoulder a few times. “Uhh, dude… Is this normal? Should we be worried?” I blurted out, watching as the creature chased Fleetfoot through a series of loop de loops. It wasn’t even having all that much trouble keeping up, either, despite it being several times her size.

Warmfront grinned a little sheepishly. “Well… stranger things have happened?”

“You don't sound very sure about that,” I snapped, my frown darkening. “What the hell is th-Jeesus fuck!” I cursed. The creature had chosen that moment to violently tail-slam Cloudchaser right out of the sky. She spiralled a good seventy feet before managing to right herself and zig-zag her way out of the thick of the action.

The stallion gave a nervous chuckle, his ears pressed flat against his perfectly set mane. “Look, like I said before—Felix is nuts. And the rest of the display team have more bravado between them than an entire legion of griffins. No doubt they agreed to her summoning a monster for entertainment purposes…”

I looked to the mare in question, still hovering statically in the air as the great white beast chased her teammates around the arena. “And she called me stupid for flying a plane drunk. What if that thing attacks the crowd?”

As if on cue, the great white flying seahorse suddenly lost interest in trying to eat a fleeing Soarin and turned its glowing eyes to a small group of stallions on the second tier. They appeared completely oblivious to any danger, and just kept cheering along with everypony else. Leanne gave a muffled shriek as the creature lunged for them, only to receive a dive bomb kick to the face from the mare with the bow that Jason always hung around with. What was her name again?

The beast flopped about in the air, quickly losing its bearings, along with a large chunk of altitude. Fleetfoot swooped in to give it another hoof-slam to the top of the head, but the snarling beast dodged, shooting off after-

“Oh, hey! Flitter’s coming this way,” Warmfront chuckled gleefully.

“Yeah, and so is that big fucking monster!” I growled.

Jessica and Leanne screamed, ducking down beside Warmfront. The grin on his face gradually faded as the creature flew closer. The mare with the bow on her head—Flitter—looked like she was mouthing the word “run” as she dived under the arena cloud floor at the last second.

I took her advice, quickly leaping to my feet and bolting sideways along the lower tier, barely managing to keep my footing on the slippery cloud surface. Judging by the muffled snarl and grunt that echoed behind me, the beast had plowed into the side wall. I swung round to see Warmfront, his wingspan fully extended in front of Jessica and Leanne, both of whom were cowering behind him in terror.

The beast ignored the stallion and the two women, and instead bolted after me with renewed vigor. I let out a scream of… well, let’s call it questionable manliness, and promptly misplaced one of my feet.

Then, I began to fall.

The large gaping hole in the cloud starting to get smaller and smaller as I flailed around in terror, yelling all manner of colourful language at the stupid seahorse beast, and at Felix for conjuring it in the first place. Now, I was going to fucking die in approximately sixty seconds, and it was all because of her irresponsible showmareship.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the wretched creature was still chasing me! “Give me a fucking break already!” I yelled over the deafening sound of the wind, that is, until it… stopped.

A shimmering haze of pink filled my vision, and I slowed to a hover a few hundred feet below the arena. The pursuing creature sailed right past me, looping back up in a lazy arc until it was hovering just a few feet away. Its snarls were replaced with the happy purrs of a contented cat, almost as if it had just been pretending to chase me for the benefit of the audience.

Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly what had been happening. I slapped a palm to my forehead, just as the creature let out a snort.

“You’re an idiot,” it chuckled, in Felicity’s voice.

I glared at it. “Fuck you.”

SLAM.

Something blue suddenly collided with the white beast so hard it exploded rather spectacularly into a cloud of dusty giblets. I threw an arm up in front of my eyes as the fallout flew in all directions, only to recoil as I spotted another something blue. This one slammed into me, sending me spinning end over end, until its hooves captured my chest and thighs and its wings propelled us upwards at blinding speed.

“Damn it, Fleetfoot! I told you not to pull this shit ever again!”

Another string of barely coherent curses and besmirchments flew angrily from my mouth as the pegasus alighted on an extended part of the top tier platform, flopping down on top of me and splaying her wings out over the cloud surface.

“-ly smokes, filly. That was amazing! If that doesn’t earn you some brownie points then I just don’t know what will-”

“Jason!” the mare still sprawled on top of me snapped, nervously adjusting her wings. She sounded nothing at all like Fleetfoot. Jason was standing just a few feet away, and sported a pretty smug looking grin.

I did a double take, finally noticing the pink bow between the mare’s ears, and the large, heart-attack inducing violet eyes mere inches from my face. She gave a sheepish grin. “Uh… Hi,” she squeaked, averting her eyes at my confused look.

Now that I was seeing her up close, I couldn’t help but notice she looked shockingly similar to Cloudchaser. Same flight-suit-clad grayish-blue coat, similar ice blue mane and tail. All that was missing was the murderous gaze and the unspoken promises of castration. In a word, this mare was adorable. I wasn’t going to tell her that, though.

A quick succession of dull thuds pulled my attention from Flitter, and I turned to see Raindrops trotting over to us. “Jack! Are you okay? I would have caught you but I didn’t even know you’d fallen!”

“I’m fine,” I grunted, finally raising an eyebrow at Flitter. Who still hadn’t moved. “Thanks for saving my ass and all, but I can’t feel my legs.”

The mare turned an adorable shade of magenta, quickly scrambling to her hooves. “Sorry,” she squeaked, her ears lying flat as she slowly slinked off to Jason’s side and avoided my gaze. Great. Now I felt bad for essentially calling her fat. She was far from it, but the gravity of this planet made her seem quite heavy… Okay, maybe I hadn’t really minded all that much. It was actually quite comfortable having her there, but I had a “definitely not a horsefucker” image to maintain.

Two more mares landed in the form of Spitfire and Fleetfoot. The former shot me a firm glare, the latter displaying her usual smirk. The Captain trotted over, casually pushing Raindrops aside with a wing and getting up in my grill. “What the hay was that?”

I blinked, startled by the sudden aggression. Suffice to say, my surprise didn’t last. “Oh, you’re asking me!?” I snapped, pulling myself up to a sitting position and levelling Spitfire with an enraged glare. “What the everloving fuck was that!?” I snarled, motioning an arm to the spot where the sea horse had exploded. “I came here expecting to watch an aerial display, not get my ass handed to me by an overgrown sea monster!”

“Oh, come on! You hang around with Felicity every day. Surely you know she has a twisted sense of humour by now.” Fleetfoot snickered, but Spitfire continued regardless. “Next time, try to not jump to your potential death. Absolutely nothing at all—bar a griffin invasion, which is so unlikely it’s almost laughable—will harm you while you’re on this base. Do I make myself clear?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. As if I’d play along with all this military bullshit. Spitfire raised her eyebrows, before slowly backing away a few paces. “Well, General Fleetfoot, it appears that I’ve met my match.” She turned to the mare she was addressing. “Perhaps… you would have better luck getting through to him?”

Fleetfoot grinned, slowly pulling the zipper of her flight suit down and peeling it off of her glistening body. It appeared she had worked up quite a sweat from all that flying. “I’d be glad to give it a shot, Captain.” She set her eyes on me. “Wanna go for a ride, Jacky?” she whispered, making quite a show of flexing her powerful wings.

I cleared my throat. “Crystal.” I had no idea whether she meant flying, or sex. I certainly had no intentions of finding out.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Spitfire commented, pointedly flicking an ear. Bitch.

“I said, yes. It’s clear,” I mumbled through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the hole in my pride. Still, it was better than being Fleetfoot’s practice ragdoll… Or worse.

A sudden bang and a flash of light signalled the arrival of Felix, and I immediately scowled at her. Stupid unicorn with her stupid magic flying seahorse thingy. She took one look at me and burst out laughing. “I can't believe you fell for that,” she chuckled, just as Soarin touched down next to her. “Then, you literally fell for it!”

“Felicity!” Spitfire snapped, sobering the unicorn a little. “If you’re going to play pranks on him, do it in a place he can't accidentally kill himself! Imagine how pissed Princess Cadence would be if we let a member of an endangered species kick the bucket.”

Felix lost her grin. “Sorry, Captain. Didn’t think that one through.”

Spitfire gave a satisfied nod before once again taking to the air, Fleetfoot following along in her wake. Soarin waited until they were a few hundred feet away to give me a somewhat sympathetic look. “She’s just looking out for you, you know. At least you know she gives a crap,” he said, before taking flight himself.

* * *

“Oh my god! Is Jack okay!?” Jessica half screamed, her vice grip on Warmfront’s wing still unrelenting. Felicity was cool and all, but that little stunt with the flying monster had been going a bit too far. Jack would have fallen to his death if one of the pegasi hadn’t caught him.

“Nah, he’s fine. Felix hooked him with her telekinesis long before Flitter scooped him up. Looks like she was just playing with him… Lucky bastard,” Warmfront replied, muttering the last sentence under his breath.

Leanne frowned, studying the stallion for a few seconds. “You make it sound like…” she began, before giving a little shudder. “Never mind.” After fishing around in her pocket for a moment, she pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter.

Warmfront wrinkled his muzzle as Leanne sparked up a cigarette. “What is that?” he asked, eyeing the health hazard with a look of disdain. Leanne launched into a crude explanation, accompanied by her usual excuses for continuing to smoke, but Jessica tuned her out.

She hadn’t even noticed that one of her hands had been idly rubbing the flight muscles on Warmfront’s back, not to mention that she was currently sat cross-legged with one of his wings in her lap. She was pretty sure wings—or at least certain parts of them—were somewhat of an intimate area for a pegasus. Yet, Warmfront still hadn’t given any indication that he minded the friendly physical contact. Besides, that’s all this was…

Right?

“-kay, fine!” Leanne huffed, stubbing her cigarette into the cloud. The water vapour caused it to give a slight “hiss” as it went out. “I know I’ll have to quit soon enough. Spitfire let me keep the sky bar’s stock from Slipstream, but it won't last forever. Once they’re all gone, I’ll have no choice, innit?”

“Well, good. This ‘smoking’ sounds like an awful thing to put your body through. It would be like a pegasus repeatedly flying over a forest fire!” Warmfront exclaimed, going pale at the very thought. The disgust eventually faded from his features, leaving a small frown behind. “What’s Slipstream?” he suddenly asked.

“That’s our nickname for the three-eighty,” Jessica replied.

The jet had been grounded for over a month now, and Jessica was beginning to miss flying almost as much as she missed her family and friends. So much had changed in such a short space of time, and the outlook of ever making it back home was looking bleaker by the day. She had tried to seek comfort from her crewmates, but Jack was rarely seen outside of hangar three, much too busy working with Felicity to be good company. Jason had apparently become a permanent accessory to Flitter, and Leanne… Well, Leanne was pretty annoying at the best of times, and downright unbearable for any extended period of time.

No. It was Warmfront that raised her spirits whenever she was feeling particularly homesick. Jessica had no idea how she would have coped without him.

* * *

Prod.

...

Prod.

...

Prod. Prod, PROD!

FLICK!

“Okay—oww,” Felix said, rubbing her ear with a hoof and scowling at me. “Also, are you trying to flirt with me, or something?”

I bit back the urge to yell “What?” in her face, much too intent on not talking to her to explain I’d forgotten all about ponies and their stupid rule about ears being ridiculous, inconveniently placed extra clitorises or whatever. She could poke me with her horn all she damn liked. I wasn’t in any mood to talk to her, and that was that.

She sighed, probably giving me the most overpowered, soul-destroying puppy-dog eyes ever witnessed by anyone in the history of everything. I wasn’t going to look. I had already learned she possessed powers far greater than her magical abilities. Powers that had once had me stumbling mindlessly over the hangar floor, fully intent on giving a half-hour long hug, all because she’d stubbed her hoof on the corner of a toolbox.

“Jaaaaaaaaaaaccckkkkk! Talk to me!” she whined, nuzzling my arm like an overgrown housecat.

She knew I was mad at her. The fact I’d asked Flitter for a “lift” back to the base made it absolutely clear. Still, that hadn’t stopped her from following me. We were currently sitting in the cafeteria. Jason and Flitter had been sitting with us, but they’d left a little while ago to get ready for the dance. The lunchtime rush had long since died down, but there were still a few ponies dotted around the other tables. They paid us no mind.

“Look, I’m sorry—okay? It was just a stupid prank.”

…

“Jack… Can you… forgive me?” she asked, just as music started creeping in from… somewhere?

Felix didn’t bat an eyelid at the sudden tune, but I was frantically searching for the source of the sound. Did somepony have a radio? Were radios even a thing in Equestria? Just as I was finally about to break the silent treatment and ask where the hell the music was coming from, Felicity began to sing…

Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?

For throwing my pet monster at that wall

I only let her out to play

But, babe, you took it the wrong way

I’m feeling really quite ashamed

I let you fall

And just like that, I gave absolutely zero fucks about the unexplained music. I only had eyes for the beautiful unicorn sitting beside me. She sounded like pure awesome blended perfectly with everything I never even knew I wanted. But now I did. Oh, did I fucking want her. In nothing but a few fleeting seconds, my iron-cast denial of any… feelings I may or may not have been harbouring for her over the past few weeks fell away like wet tracing paper.

Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?

For throwing my pet monster at that wall

Sometimes it’s really tirin’

To hide my inner-

“Enough!” I shouted, suddenly torn between punching myself in the side of the head, or throwing my arms around the irresistible unicorn and attempting to kiss her. I settled for burying my face in my palms. What was wrong with me?

The music faded away to an unintelligible background din, and I immediately started to question whether I’d actually heard it at all.

“Jack, I…” Felix began, her ears lying flat against her pink locks and a forlorn expression on her muzzle.

“What was that? That… That wasn’t normal. No one can sing that well! It’s like you make angels sound like x-factor rejects or something. Fuck!”

Felix gave a sheepish grin. “Singing is… uh, kinda my thing.”

“I thought being really smart was your thing.”

“Well, yeah. That too.”

“What? No. You only get one thing,” I stated, holding up my index finger. “You can’t have two things… In fact, no! You’re totally OP already with the stupid fast teleports and the ridiculous magical abilities. Even I know you’re way stronger than the average unicorn.” She raised an eyebrow, giving me a confused little grin. “So, that’s three things!” Plus, you’re smokin’ hot. Four things. Fuck.

Once again, I slapped my palms to my forehead. “Can you just… not do that creepy voodoo mindrape singing again, please?”

Her ears drooped again. “You didn’t like it?”

“No, I did,” and that was the problem. “It just weirded me out a little.”

“But, I’m supposed to sing at the dance tonight,” she pouted. Clearly on purpose.

I scowled. “Fine, but I’m having a drink.”

A lot of drinks.

Author's Note

Only two months since the last update? Waaaaa?

I don't know how it happened, either. :pinkiegasp:

7. Horse****er 101

Author's Note

Busy moving house at the moment, so finding it difficult to make time for writing. Just know that this story ain't dead, and neither's TLR! :P

If you find any typos, grammatical mistakes or formatting blunders, let me know in the comments so I can jump on a transatlantic flight to Texas and slap my editor with a soggy trout. Enjoy, horse****ers!

7. Horse****er 101

Where is it? I know it’s here somewhere, damn it!

The dusty old lantern I’d commandeered from an empty corridor wasn’t really doing much to illuminate the windowless storeroom. But I squinted around in the semi-darkness regardless, looking for a particular fancy-looking cabinet composed of metal and glass. Sofas, chairs, wardrobes, and all manner of various other crap that had been on the plane were all piled up along the walls, but I couldn’t seem to find this cabinet to save my life.

After twenty minutes of hefting aircraft furniture around, I finally conceded defeat. I would have to head back to the dorm empty handed. Yeah, that’s where I was staying—a dorm full of colt-sluts. I’d asked to be moved to the safe room with Jason and the girls, but Spitfire was having none of it. Of course, I could have just ignored her and crashed there anyway, but she’d probably just threaten me with Fleetfoot. I wasn’t overly-keen on calling her bluff on that. Fleetfoot scared the crap out of me.

On the plus side though, most of the guys in my dorm weren’t that bad. Well, bar Warmfront, but he was just annoying more than anything else. It turns out not many of them really cared much for Windrunner, so they weren’t all that fussed that my “ship” tore him to pieces.

The dorm wasn’t really just one room. There were others, but apparently they were only used for sex. I’d made it adamantly clear that I didn’t want to see them, despite Warmfront’s many insistences of giving me a “tour”. The only room of the complex I’d set foot in was the communal bedroom. Heh, ponies and their little herding instincts.

Grabbing the lantern once more, I contemplated having a stroll down to the cellars as I stealthily closed the storage room door. The lone “guardspony” that always sat across from keg storage was always there, but never once had I seen him awake. It was like taking candy from a-

“Hi, Jack!”

Smash.

A few choicy curses flew from my mouth as the lantern exploded into pile of glass shards. “Jeez, woman! Don't sneak up on me like that!” I whisper-shouted, glaring at a certain jasmine coated mare.

“Sorry,” Raindrops chuckled with a sheepish grin. “What’s got you so on edge?” she asked, carefully hoof-brushing the broken glass out of her mane. “Wait, why are you hanging around-” She suddenly gasped, a devious grin adorning her muzzle. “You were looking for your human alcohol, weren’t you?”

“What? No! Of course I wasn’t-” I began, before her look of sheer skepticism got the better of me, “-okay, yeah. I was looking for the whiskey,” I grumbled, sweeping the remains of the lantern aside with my foot. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know I didn’t find it.”

“Well, of course you didn’t. Spitfire hid it in her office weeks ago,” Raindrops said, before smacking a hoof to her muzzle in playful self-admonishment. “Ooops.”

“She what now?”

The mare gave me a playful smile, clearly enjoying herself. “I think she intends to use it as leverage to get you to agree to Warmfront’s—ahem—classroom activities-”

“That’s… not fair!” I gasped, suddenly having the overwhelming urge to sit down. I slid down the storage room door, briefly hugging my knees to my chest before letting my legs lie flat. I needed a drink. Not cider, I was sick of the stuff. No. Jack needed some Jackie D.

I gazed absentmindedly at Raindrops, now around a head lower than her. She wasn’t smiling anymore. If anything, she bore an expression of which I could only describe as sorrow.

“Hey, Jack,” she cooed, clearly torn between wanting to comfort me, and respecting my “keep your hooves to yourself” rule. I’d spent enough time with her to recognise the subtle tells: wings twitching, ears completely flat, eyes betraying her unspoken request for physical contact. Never once had I let her, and never once had I questioned that decision. But, as I gazed into her pleading eyes, I began to wonder…

“C’mere,” I whispered, lightly patting the floor next to me.

Raindrops frowned, taking a step forward, before stopping with a forehoof still in the air. “Why?” she asked, her tone an odd mixture of excitement and suspicion.

“Just get over here,” I chuckled.

She cautiously sidled up to me and sat on her haunches like a cat, but kept her hooves to herself. I reached up and gently scratched between her ears, something I had come to learn was acceptable contact for close friends… or, so I’d thought.

Raindrops gasped, leveling me with wide-eyed astonishment. Her wings briefly fluttered for a moment. “You’d better not be doing this for a joke.”

“What? No. I really mean it,” I said, giving her a warm smile. I’d been kind of an ass to her these past few weeks with the whole ‘no touching’ rule. If I was going to make amends, then this was a start.

“You do?” she questioned, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” I said, finally beginning to suspect that something was… off. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, we’re friends. We aren’t rutting, though.”

“Wait-” I slowly began.

“I mean, we could, if you wanted.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me.

I lost my train of thought, my mouth still half open from the unfinished sentence. Raindrops chose that moment to lie down, draping a foreleg and a wing across my thighs and resting her head on my chest. My fingers were still nestled between her ears. Four weeks ago, I’d have been repulsed by the contact, but now… Now, I didn’t really mind.

“But,” I choked, finally finding my voice, “It’s the ears that are off limits! I thought between the ears was fine for good friends.”

“Oh, really? Who told you this?” the pegasus chuckled, grinning up at me.

“Well,” no one, come to think of it. “Felix didn’t seem to mind when I…” Oh.

“Yeah, you two should really close the hangar door when you’re rolling around in the cloud together,” she commented. “Those little displays have started a lot of rumours…”

“Nothing is going on between me and Felix!” I snapped, sounding about as convincing as a sulky teenager denying a crush. Damn it.

“Well, either way—this,” she flicked the hand on her head with an ear, “is usually only acceptable for herdmates. But, I don’t mind you petting me there.” She pawed at my chest with a forehoof. “You’re kinda cute.”

I didn't really have a response to that last sentiment, so I kept my silence. I knew I probably should have stopped petting her, but my fingers had long since moved on to massaging her ears proper, instead of just resting between them.

Raindrops closed her eyes. I could tell she was trying to be quiet, but every now and then, a little moan or whimper would escape her. The wing draped across my things quivered occasionally, and her breathing grew a little deeper. I hadn’t even noticed the alcohol craving had all but vanished from my mind.

The sound of double doors bursting open echoed through the corridor, and I only had time to turn my head before a familiar, fiery Captain skidded to a halt in front of us.

“Ah. I had a feeling you might be- … Raindrops?”

Spitfire observed me and my jasmine-coated companion, the latter half-lying on me. One of her ears was still twitching between my fingers, and her tail had somehow managed to coil itself around my leg.

Raindrops gave a start, finally acknowledging her superior. She quickly sat up, disentangling her wings and tail from me. I sprang to my feet, hoping that doing so would help me explain to Spitfire why I’d been cuddling one of her Corporals in the middle of a corridor.

“So,” the Captain began, giving me an unbearably smug grin. “Not a horsefucker, you say?”

“That was just friend stuff! Like what any friendly friends do. All the time. Ask anyone,” I spluttered, my cheeks heating. I couldn’t even look her in the eye. Bravo, Jack. Give yourself a pat on the back, mate.

“It’s true, Captain,” Raindrops offered, but she too avoided Spitfire’s gaze.

“Oh, really? So, what? You’d just let anypony, hmm, let’s say—Reginald—play with your ears like that?”

Raindrops grimaced. “No, Captain.”

“That’s what I thought.” Spitfire turned back to me, a strange little smile on her face. She contemplated me for a while, before dipping her muzzle beneath her wing. She pulled out a small bottle—a very familiar small bottle—and held it in a forehoof. “You look like you could use a little drink.”

* * *

The sweet, familiar buzz was upon me again, but not nearly enough for this to be even remotely worth it. I was sitting on a blood red couch, in a master bedroom I’d vowed never to set foot in. A king sized four poster constructed of solid mahogany dominated the room. The red satin sheets matched the shagpile carpet and the thick blackout curtains perfectly.

I’d meant to tell Spitfire to shove it under her windswept tail. But instead, I’d snatched the pitiful little five cl bottle from her outstretched hoof and agreed to have relations with a quadruped. Sure, cuddling with a friend was one thing, but full vaginal with a stranger was another entirely.

Suffice to say, I was regretting my decision. Raindrops wasn’t even here. Spitfire had sent her away somewhere. All I had for moral support was an annoyingly cheery Warmfront.

“-already met her, so it won't be like you’re going to be getting intimate with a complete stranger,” he rambled.

Wait. “I’ve met her before?”

“Yeah. Remember? Flitter is the mare who flew you to safety this morning after you, um… fell.”

“The one with the bow?” She was… nice. As first impressions go, I supposed she’d already made a good one.

“Yeah.”

Knock knock.

“Ah, that’s probably her now,” Warmfront chirped, practically prancing over to the door. He opened it with his mouth, and I suddenly found myself contemplating if that was the only knob that had been in there…

Flitter stood in the doorway, the large lilac bow she was still sporting making her look ridiculously adorable as usual. Her mane and tail were a similar shade of ice blue as Cloudchaser’s, and appeared to shine with silky vibrance. She had obviously made an effort to make herself look appealing. She wore nothing apart from the bow—and was giving me some weapons-grade bedroom eyes.

“Hi, Jack,” she purred, with a subtle flutter of her gorgeous eyelashes. Warmfront’s eyes followed the graceful swaying of her shapely behind as she sauntered past him, his unspoken greeting all but forgotten.

“Hi, F-Flitter,” I stuttered. Actually fucking stuttered. Fucking really?

She hadn’t even touched me yet, and I was ready to smash the taboo to pieces, as well as her freaky horse pussy. I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol, either. She was putting the moves on me, and I was about ready to drop my metaphorical panties like a pubescent teenage girl under the bleachers.

The flirtatious mare stopped just short of the couch. Warmfront closed the door, also trotting over to the couch. “Now, I thought we’d start with some basic foreplay techniq-”

“Hooooold on a sec there, Pimp-Hoof,” I interrupted, holding up a hand to the stallion. There was an internal battle raging inside of me. My common sense was screaming at me to make like a tree, and forcefully reminding me that I didn’t fornicate with horses. My dick, on the other hand, wanted me to mount Flitter where she stood and fuck her so hard all of her feathers would fall out. Either way, I needed to buy some time. “Why don’t you demonstrate with Flitter first? Y’know, so I can… umm, observe how it’s done?” I suggested, nervously glancing between the two ponies and hoping they’d agree.

Warmfront frowned. “Well, it’s a little unorthodox, but I guess we could-”

“No,” Flitter interrupted him, still giving me the bedroom eyes.

“Why not?” I half-growled, slapping a hand down on the couch in frustration. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from those half-lidded, lilac orbs of seduction. They simultaneously promised an exotic encounter of which the likes I would never forget, and a lifetime of soul-crushing regret, should I choose to deny her.

“I’ve had Warmfront before. I came here for you,” she purred, sitting on her haunches and letting her wings fan out a little. Blatant peacocking. I slowly exhaled, hungrily taking in every inch of her beautiful feathers. Fuck my life.

“Okay,” I whispered, full of fear and self-loathing. Mostly self-loathing.

“Great,” Warmfront proclaimed, excitedly clopping his forehooves together. “Flitter—stand up, turn around, and lift your tail.”

I raised an eyebrow at the stallion, expecting Flitter to slap him upside the head with her hoof. When she instead simply complied, the other eyebrow jumped up to join the first. Flitter’s ass was now at head-height to me, mere inches away from my face. Her tail was flagging to the left, leaving her glistening marehood exposed in all its intricate, and extremely anatomically-correct detail.

Her lips were slightly parted, and judging from the moisture coating them, Flitter was somewhat of an exhibitionist. The thick labia were a slightly darker shaded grayish-blue than her coat, along with the donut-resembling anus that protruded out slightly from under her dock.

It wasn’t until her clitoris suddenly made its presence known by popping out to wink at me that I was suddenly reminded with no small degree of force that I was staring into the business end of an equine alien. An extremely appealing equine alien, but an alien nonetheless. Something snapped inside my self-abused mind.

Nope.

With a bodily lunge, I launched myself off the couch, ducking and rolling past the bed. Big ol’ bowl of Nope-Flakes. I caught a split second of Flitter’s confused look as I scrambled to my feet, intent on making the speediest exit I possibly could. Wrenching the door open, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, making sure to throw a few random zig-zags in my path for good measure.

Thankfully, I made it out of the dorm complex with my feet still on the ground. To think I’d agreed to do that for a pitiful little bottle of whisky almost made me want to quit drinking. Almost.

I headed for the hangars, sticking close to the side of the barracks building in case Flitter tried to snatch me up. When I reached the plane, I scrambled up the rope ladder, hauling it up into the cabin with me and quickly heaving the door shut. I was even half contemplating firing the engines up, taxiing to the runway and just taking off to giant star-bear country.

They’d probably be less trouble.

Panting from exertion, I turned toward the staircase. Flitter was leaning against it, levelling me with a frown.

“ARRRGGHH! FACK!” I screamed, nearly tripping over my own feet. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Flitter sighed. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t run away like I’m some disgusting mule,” she shot back at me, sitting down on her haunches and pinning me with those big, guilt-inducing eyes. Ouch.

“Look—I’m sorry, okay?” I gasped, trying in vain to get my heart-rate to drop back down to an acceptable level.

“A simple ‘I’m not interested,’ would have been fine,” she squeaked, her ears flat to her mane and her eyes… Fuck me. Those eyes. Now, my heart felt like it was going to explode for a whole new reason.

“No, it would have been a lie,” I growled, taking a few steps forward. Flitter shrank back as if I were going to hit her. My face fell. That single reaction managed to hurt me way more than anything else. “Look,” I said, stopping a few feet from her and giving a sigh. “Back home, we humans are the only intelligent race. And… whilst inter-species relationships are indeed a thing, they’re pretty fucking gross. That’s mostly to do with the scourge of humanity fornicating with dumb animals, but, you get my meaning,” I rambled, grimacing at her disgusted expression. “Look, whatever. Humans are cancer. Same old, same old,” I said with a forced chuckle, waving a hand and wishing I wasn’t having this conversation. “The point is: we don’t usually have sex with anything that isn’t sapient.”

Flitter blinked, her eyes seemingly boring into my soul for a few moments. “Ponies are sapient.”

“Yes… well…” I watched as my argument crumpled at the hooves of her logic. She certainly had a point. “What I mean is, we have horses, back home. They’re big. Some are beautiful, but only in the sense of being… like, a majestic creature, or something like that. They’re certainly not sexually attractive.”

Flitter frowned.

I quickly held up a hand. “That’s not to say that you’re not… um…” Fuck.

“I’m not what?” she asked, something sparking to life in her eyes.

“Uhh… w-what I’m saying is that the ponies here only have a vague resemblance to the horses back home,” I stuttered. Yeah, that was happening again.

“Uh-huh,” she said, taking a few steps toward me. Her eyes were definitely no longer sad.

I subconsciously backed away, completely losing my train of thought. Flitter was looking at me like I was a piece of meat. Or, a bale of hay? Whatever. My reasoning for rejecting her advances seemed more pathetic now that I’d actually talked about it. Ponies were indeed sapient. And hot, in Flitter’s case. There was no denying that.

My heel hit the fuselage wall, and the pegasus reared up on her hind legs. Her forehooves found my shoulders and her wings encompassed my back. I was suddenly surrounded by the intimate warmth of soft fur and feathers. My arms betrayed me: coiling around the mare, my fingers finding refuge in her mane.

Her scent was making me stupid. A volatile concoction of heavenly pheromones that instantly had me yearning for more of her touch. Her muzzle, now inches from my face, tilted, getting closer. She gently exhaled, giving me another dose of chemically induced desire.

CRACK.

A flash of pink light burned my retinas, and I crumpled. The afternoon sun suddenly made its presence known on my sweat soaked skin. “Fuck!” I yelled, scrambling to my feet and squinting through half-blinded eyes. I appeared to be on a grass verge, just outside the barracks.

“You’re welcome.”

“Felix!” I growled, quickly adjusting my pants to make my overactive dick less obvious. I was about to yell at her about inappropriate teleportation practices, but I faltered when I got an eyeful of what she was wearing.

“You can thank me for busting you out of horsefucker class later. Right now, I need you glued to my side. If Reginald manages to steal me away, I won't hesitate to transfigure your absent ass into a chipmunk.”

I barely even acknowledged her words. The mare was wearing what looked like the pony equivalent of a cheerleader’s uniform. A tiny blue and white one piece, composed of a vest and a short pleated skirt that barely covered her cutie mark. I couldn’t see from the angle, but I severely doubted it was covering anything else. A large blue bow was tied into her mane, behind her ears. It matched that damned sapphire in her choker collar perfectly. The long, glossy pink curls flowing from her head and rump should have clashed with her outfit, but the stunning unicorn somehow made the ensemble work.

“You like?” she gleefully asked, deftly stepping about in a twirl. I caught a brief glimpse of her nether region. I was right.

“You look amazing,” I breathed, taking in every gorgeous detail.

“You really think so?” she asked, observing me with a smile.

A grey-blue blur suddenly slammed into the ground beside her with a quick succession of reverberating thuds.

Felix didn’t bat an eyelid. “Good afternoon, Flitter,” she said, slowly turning to the pegasus.

Flitter gave a small nicker, her nostrils flared and her wings spread to their full height. “I was busy with Jack.”

“I’m sure you were, but Jack agreed to escort me to the dance, so if you’ll excuse us.”

CRACK.

“Cut it out, you crazy horse!” I yelled, picking myself up yet again and squinting around yet another new location. Fucking unicorns. “Why are we in Spitfire’s office?” I grumbled. Thankfully, the Captain was nowhere to be seen.

“To liberate your whiskey, of course,” Felix chirped, a devilish glint in her eyes.

I frowned. “Won't we get in trouble?” An annoyed Spitfire could possibly draw the attention of a certain bat-shit-crazy General. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

“If we get caught, yeah,” Felix casually replied, her horn casting one of her scanning spells.

SMASH.

Something suddenly barrelled clean through the window, scattering glass shards in all directions. I leapt out of the way as the intruder bounced off Spitfire’s desk and slammed into the wall, knocking several photo frames to the floor in the process.

Felix let out a sigh. “Somepony’s persistent,” she muttered, shaking a few glass shards from her mane and warily eyeing the greyish blue lump on the floor.

“Flitter?” I dropped to my knees, but the pegasus had already picked herself up. She quickly straightened her bow and glared at the unicorn, a devious grin on her face.

“It doesn’t matter where you port to. I’ll find you,” she said, giving her wings a shake.

Felix rolled her eyes, her horn flaring with light. The glass shards on the floor jumped up into the air, fusing together with little flashes of pink light. When nothing but an intact window pane remained, it floated over to its frame and slid into place. “Did you have to make such a mess?” she sighed again, levitating the fallen picture frames back onto the wall. “Spitfire will know someone’s been in here. You know how anal she is with her office.”

“Well, if you hadn’t stolen my student away-”

“Oh, please. You just want to rut him,” Felix interrupted, carefully adjusting one of the picture frames on the wall.

“Well, yeah, that was the idea,” Flitter countered, with an air of stating the obvious.

“How’d you do that?” I asked the unicorn, if only to change the damned subject.

Felix raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m a unicorn, Sweetie. We can do magic.”

I rolled my eyes. For the love of… “No need to be pedantic. I just meant I’ve never seen you fix something so effortlessly before.”

Her ears dropped a shade, and she smiled. “It’s a Controlzee Reversal Enchantment. Tricky spell, but it can be pretty useful around clumsy, or in this case—reckless ponies,” she said, pointedly throwing Flitter a look.

The pegasus pouted. “Maybe if you learned to share once in a while-”

“Fine,” Felix sighed, levitating several bottles of whiskey out of the cabinet. I made to grab one, but they suddenly disappeared in a flash of pink light. I scowled. “Come with us. With a bit of luck, Reginald might start stalking you, instead.”

The pegasus snorted. “Yeah, right. You know he collects your horn shavings in a jar?”

Felix froze. “Say what now?”

“Yep,” Flitter chirped, grinning from ear to ear. “I hear he also gathers up your mane and tail moult after you’ve been in the shower. Apparently, he enjoys sniffing it in his free time.”

Felicity’s jaw fell open, a look of utter disgust clouding her features. She held up a hoof. “Excuse me, one moment.”

CRACK.

Flitter fell over, clutching her sides, the gleeful sound of her laughter ringing through Spitfire’s office. “Oh, Celestia… Did you see the look on her face?” she chuckled, flat on her back with her hooves in the air and her wings spread. Judging from the half-lidded expression she gave me a moment later, the resultant view was intentional.

“Is that true? Is Reginald really that creepy?” I asked, quietly stepping toward the door and snaking a hand behind my back. It was locked. Figures.

“I dunno. Probably. I only said all that stuff so she’d leave.” She gave me a wink. It wasn’t with her eyes, either.

“Heh… great. Umm… maybe we should get out of Spitfire’s office-woah!”

A surprisingly strong wing suddenly hooked around my leg and pulled. Hard. I was sent crashing down, straight into the waiting hooves of the devious pegasus. She quickly rolled, pinning me to the floor and letting her weight hold me captive. Once again, the gravity of Equador was working against me.

“Now… where were we?” she purred, gently gripping my waist and shoulders with her hind legs and forelegs respectively.

“Get off.”

Flitter smiled, gently biting her lower lip. “I just might, if you play with me enough.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I grunted, attempting to push the mare away. I gave one of her sides a particularly forceful shove beneath her splayed wing, and Flitter was sent spiralling over the office floor. She hit a bookcase, and a number of dusty old Wonderbolt History tomes rained down on her.

Turns out she wasn’t nearly as heavy as I’d thought.

She gave a yelp of pain, one of the book corners hitting her squarely on her left wing joint. I cringed at my ridiculous overcompensation—I guess I’d gotten used to the gravity more than I thought. Being a Wonderbolt, Flitter was far from actually being considered heavy, by any standards.

“Sorry!” I hastily apologised, quickly pulling the books off her.

“That hurt,” she squeaked, her ears once again flat to her dishevelled mane and her eyes the size of saucepan lids.

“I didn’t mean to shove you like that! I just thought you’d be heavier,” he said, like a thoughtless Jackass.

Flitters eyes widened even further. “Are you saying I’m f-fat?” she half-sobbed, looking at me as if I’d just murdered a litter of kittens.

“No! No, that is definitely not what I meant,” I flapped, quickly dumping the books back on the shelf. “I just mean that I’m not used to the extra gravity here. I wasn’t calling you fat. You’re far from it.”

Flitter sniffed, regarding me with glazed eyes. “So… D-Does that mean you… Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked, gently brushing her mane from her face. Probably for dramatic effect.

“Of course I do,” I began, with just a tad more vehemence than I would have liked. Flitter’s eyes found my own, and I knew exactly what she was about to do. She lunged at my kneeling form, and I didn’t think twice about holding my arms out to catch her.

CRACK!

With a particularly bright flash of light, and even a little bit of smoke this time, an extremely pissed-looking unicorn cheerleader stepped into existence next to Spitfire’s desk. Flitter was immediately caught in a pink, shimmering bubble, and slowly floated a few feet up into the air. I quickly dropped my arms to my sides, suddenly aware of a large amount of heat coming from somewhere. It was almost as if I were sat next to a furnace.

“Bet you’re proud of yourself for that little stunt, eh? Because of you, Reginald now thinks I see him as nothing more than a creepy stalker.”

Flitter smirked, her ears straight and one of her eyebrows slowly creeping up towards her mane. “He actually thought otherwise?” she chuckled.

Felicity’s eyes narrowed, and I suddenly realised where the heat was coming from. There was a noticeable red glow at the tip of her horn, beneath the usual pink aura. I nervously cleared my throat. “Umm, Flitter…”

“He guilt-tripped me on to going out on a date with him!”

I did a double take. “What?”

Flitter burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, Celestia! Gullible, and susceptible to emotional blackmail. Good thing she’s pretty, eh, Jack?” the pegasus howled.

Apparently, that was the straw that broke the pony’s back. With a loud CRACK, Flitter and her shimmering pink bubble disappeared.

“Felix…”

“Relax, your booty call is safe,” she muttered.

I raised an eyebrow. “My booty call?”

The unicorn didn’t answer, instead choosing to let out a sigh and begin adjusting the picture frames once more.

I tried to contain the question bouncing around the inside of my skull, but the persistent little bastard found a way out. “So, you’re actually going out with Reginald?”

Felix grimaced. “Well, I may have went overboard with the accusations. He was in the dorm with a bunch of the other stallions. Everypony started laughing at him. It was kind of… brutal,” she sighed. “When I found out Flitter was lying, I couldn’t exactly say no…”

I paused, trying hard for a look of indifference. I couldn’t quite manage it. All I could picture was the pretty unicorn currently inspecting Spitfire’s office for anything out of place, and the mullet-clad stallion rearing up on his hind legs, clamping his overly-white teeth into those silky, pink locks…

CRACK.

Pain exploded through my hand. I didn’t recall making a fist, but the bits of slightly blood-splattered drywall raining down all over Spitfire’s immaculately clean carpet certainly suggested otherwise.

Felix paused her ministrations to look back at me over her shoulder, a curious expression on her face. “Was that necessary?”

I cleared my throat. You fucking moron. “There was a bug,” I croaked, slowly pulling my battered hand out of the hole in the wall and carefully examining it. Idiot. “I squished it.”

“C’mere,” the unicorn sighed, her horn already lit. The flakes of drywall on the carpet jumped up into the air, zooming towards the hole in the wall. I did my best to ignore the pain as the fragments stuck in my hand carefully extracted themselves and flew off to join the others. The hole gradually disappeared altogether. My hand began to bleed freely, and I cursed myself yet again for letting these stupid feelings get the better of me.

Felix caught the blood droplets with her magic, before casting a complex-looking spell that made my hand go numb. I wasn’t sure if it was actually all that difficult or not, but she put quite a lot of care and attention into casting it. Mere seconds later, the cuts were gone, leaving only a dull soreness.

She looked up at me. “It’s just one date.”

“It’s also none of my business. Thanks for fixing my hand.” I twisted the doorknob with said hand, only to be reminded that it was locked. Ugh.

“Oh, come on, Jack,” Felix cried, falling to her haunches and levelling me with the wide eyed, floppy eared gaze of destruction. “It’s just a pity date,” she exclaimed, wildly waving a hoof in the air. “Plus, you and I aren’t… y’know.”

I tensed up a little. She’d never directly addressed how close we were for just being colleagues. “Aren’t what?”

“Well… I… I never asked you, because I didn’t think you were into po-” Felix froze mid-sentence, her ears swivelling toward the corridor. A split second later, the room span out of focus, and I ended up stumbling face first into a brick wall.

“Holy crap! I wish you would warn me when you’re about to do that!” I hissed, rubbing my bruised nose.

Felix didn’t appear to be listening to me. “Oh, horseapples… That wasn’t Spitfire, that was Fleetfoot, and I think she might have heard us.”

“Did she see us?”

“No, I… I don’t think so.”

“Good,” I sighed, taking stock of the new surroundings.

We appeared to be in a small entertainment district a little ways off from the main base. There were a few bars and restaurants dotted about, and one large two-storey building with blacked out windows and loud, repetitive music booming from within. A large sign that read “STOMP” was mounted above the main entrance. It looked to be constructed of the magical equivalent of neon, the way it lit up with a blue glow.

Two pegasus mares which I presumed to be bouncers—judging by the body armour they were wearing—were standing guard in front of a thick red rope line, suspended by a series of golden stanchions. There were already quite a few ponies queueing up to get in, most of which waved at Felix. A couple of stallions even wolf-whistled.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” one of the guards said, unhooking the rope. It was the same guard that had groped me earlier that morning.

“Evening, Gloria,” Felix replied, stepping through towards the entrance.

Gloria made to raise a wing at me, but Felix spoke up. “He’s my date.” She positively beamed at me, whilst flicking her mane out of her face with a forehoof and adjusting the large blue bow behind her ears with her magic. I tried to ignore the butterflies having a party in my stomach, a feat that was made a little easier when a drawling, snobbish voice became audible in the distance.

“-was only a matter of time, I mean, we are perfect for each other. Don’t you think?”

This time, I noticed my hand curling into a fist. I wasn’t expecting the soft, warm fur of Felicity’s cheek to suddenly brush against it, though. The unicorn smiled up at me, and I begrudgingly relaxed.

“Heh… Um, sure,” Warmfront replied with a somewhat forced chuckle. Both he and Reginald were making their way to the front of the line, with Jessica and Leanne trailing slightly behind them.

“What’s he doing here?” Reginald shot at Felix, giving me the filthiest look he could muster. Yep. I wanted to punch him again.

“He’s with me,” Felix shot back, scowling at the stallion. Warmfront, Jessica and Leanne stopped, watching the exchange with rapt attention.

“Gonna have to ask you to move it along, Jewel. Are they all with you?” Gloria asked Felix.

Felix flinched. “Yeah, yeah. We’re moving,” she sighed, opening the doors with her magic and trotting agitatedly into the lobby. I could have sworn I’d heard a nicker.

8. Stomp

“Jewel?”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, though. Jewel?”

“Ugh. It’s my stage name—okay?”

“Sounds more like a stripper name.”

Felix frowned. “A stripper? …the hay is that?”

“He’s being an ass. A stripper is a person, or pony, I guess, who takes their clothes off and dances. Usually for drunk Asian business men,” Jessica added, shooting me a scathing look from across the booth. “Our nudity taboo kind of makes it a big deal.”

Jessica’s explanation earned me a swift tail swat to the arm, though the admonishment was lessened somewhat when Felix flashed me a small smile that my human companions didn’t quite catch.

We were currently sitting in a corner booth of the nightclub, so as to not draw too much attention. Warmfront had went to get drinks from the bar that ran across the opposite wall from the stage, and had somehow managed to drag a protesting Reginald along with him.

An assortment of magically powered lights hung from racks on the ceiling, most of them shining down onto a stage that ran the length of the far wall. A marble dance floor dominated the centre of the room, with several white pillars rising up from its perimeter to meet the ceiling. A DJ booth was situated in the opposite corner, behind which a white unicorn sporting a radically styled cerulean mane and tail was spinning disks and nodding her head to the beat of the music. The place was quickly filling up with off-duty ponies that had come to blow off steam, mostly pegasi.

One of those pegasi lived up to the club’s name, noisily stomping over the dance floor towards our little corner booth.

“Here we go,” Felix muttered under her breath, just as a fuming Flitter reached the table.

“You teleport me hundreds of miles away from the base, smack in the middle of the magnetic shitstorm that is the Inertia Peaks, and you expect us to just be cool?”

“You made it back, didn’t you?”

Flitter gave a loud nicker as she parked her rump in one of the booth’s empty seats. “You’d lose your stripes if I ratted you out to Spitfire,” she growled, pointing an accusing hoof at the unicorn.

Felix smirked. “Guess I’m lucky you don’t snitch on your friends, then.”

“I thought you said she was safe?” I cut in, levelling Felix with a frown.

“Oh, please. She can handle herself, Jack.”

“You owe me,” Flitter grumbled, staring Felix down with a steely glare.

The unicorn rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine! What’s your price?”

Flitter grinned triumphantly, leaning over the table slightly and flaring her wings a little. “Stop interfering with the curriculum,” she whispered, giving a less than subtle nod in my direction. Now, it was my turn to roll my eyes.

Felix also grinned, leaning in so her muzzle was just inches from Flitter’s. “No,” she simply replied, not even attempting to disguise the derision in her tone. The pegasus scowled, pulling away with a slight blush.

“What curriculum?” Jessica, who had been following the conversation with ample curiosity, asked.

I hadn’t given it much thought up until then, but Jessica’s question suddenly made me uncomfortably aware that both she and Leanne probably had no idea of the nature of my “assignment”. I shot Flitter a look so blatantly murderous that she visibly flinched. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the pegasus that I should have been worried about.

“Flitter has called dibs on the services of your new Captain,” Felix answered, merely grinning at my exasperated sigh. This was one particular can of worms I really couldn’t be bothered to deal with at the moment.

“What services?” Leanne asked, looking just as confused as Jessica.

“Hoof shining services—I’m starting up a hooficure business,” I wildly bullshitted.

Leanne frowned for a couple of seconds, before her face lit up. “Oh, like a pedicure, but with hooves—right?”

“Exactly!” I replied, probably with a tad too much enthusiasm.

Jessica’s frown deepened. “You’re going to be a beauty therapist?”

“Yes,” I replied, making sure to look her dead in the eyes.

“You?”

“Yep. Might even open up a spa one day. I’ll call it Jackie’s Garden of Tranquility.”

“You can give me a facial anyday,” Flitter snickered behind her forehooves. I scowled at her whilst Jessica levelled me with a stare.

“What’s going on, Jack?” she demanded.

“I just told you,” I remarked, craning my neck to see if Warmfront was on his way back. Hell, I didn’t even care that it would mean sitting with Lieutenant Mushroom-Scalp again.

“What is it that Spitfire is making you do?”

I turned back to her. “Spitfire? Who said anything about Spitfire?”

“Answer me, Jack!”

Felix idly adjusted a couple of pleats on her uniform. “Y’know, she’s going to find out eventually. Might as well hear it from you,” the unicorn observed, flashing me a “you-know-I’m-right” expression. I rubbed a palm down the side of my face as Jessica waited patiently, her expectant expression unwavering.

“Fine,” I sighed, silently cursing Bluepest and Stalker Mullet for taking so damn long at the bar. “D’you remember Windrunner?”

Jessica frowned. “The stallion that flew into the engine?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, it turns out Spitfire doesn’t take kindly to losing a comfort stallion. She wants me to take his place.”

Jessica blinked. “I… I don't follow… Wait…” Her mouth fell open. “Do you mean, like…”

I nodded.

“Oh god. You told her no, right?”

“Eww, that’s gross, innit?” Leanne added, having finally caught on.

Felix and Flitter shared a look, and Jessica’s face burned red. “Um… no offence…” she trailed off.

Felix smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she replied, waving the hostess down with a forehoof. “After all—who’d want to fornicate with livestock, right?”

“Yeah,” Flitter chimed in. “Getting down and dirty with a dumb and filthy horse? Disgusting.”

Jessica paled at their words. “I… I-I didn’t mean…” she stuttered. Even Leanne looked like she was regretting her outburst.

The two mares burst into a fit of giggles, which culminated in a shared hoof bump.

“What’s so funny?” Warmfront asked as he pulled up a couple of ponified bar stools and placed them at the edge of the table. Reginald levitated a tray full of beers on to the table and sat down next to the pegasus, flashing me the usual poorly-disguised filthy look. I pointedly wrapped an arm around Felix, with the sole intention of pissing him off. Yeah—that’s right, you salty fuck.

“Oh, nothing. We were just experimenting with the ingrained human taboos of inter-species copulation,” Felix happily replied, leaning into my side and flicking her tail around my back so it fell into my lap.

Displaying an impressive amount of restraint on his part, Reginald levitated the cap off one of the beer bottles and took a swig, all the while giving me the most ugly grimace his over-privileged snout could muster. Whilst witnessing such epic proportions of piss-boiling butthurt was indeed entertaining, I had a feeling I was overdoing the provocation a little.

Everyone was staring at us.

“What do you mean?” Warmfront asked. He shot me a panicked look, before throwing a glance at Jessica and Leanne. I took the opportunity to stealthily remove my arm from around Felix. That didn’t stop Flitter from pouting at me, though.

“I’m just saying that Jack’s new occupation—other than being a ship Captain, of course—is a bit of a… let’s say, controversial topic for Jessica and Leanne,” Felix replied, telekinetically popping the cap off of three beers, sliding two of them to the women in question, before taking a swig of her own.

“You told them?” Warmfront yelped. “That’s supposed to be classified!”

“No, Jack told them. And Fleetfoot only told you it was classified because she decided it should be.”

“She’s a General!”

“She’s also a nutbag. What’s your point?”

Warmfront sighed at the rhetorical question, throwing an apologetic glance at Jessica.

“I understand you couldn’t tell me,” she told him, before turning her gaze to me. “So, you’re a comfort… um, stallion now?”

I nodded, opting to spare her the details.

Reginald chose that moment to grunt out a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a nicker. I slowly turned my head to him. “Problem?”

“Well, given we assume that human anatomy is proportional to their size, I hardly see how you could be of much use to a mare in heat.”

Did he just make a dick joke at my expense? He did. Motherfucker.

I grabbed my unopened beer by the bottleneck and slammed it against the edge of the table. Glass and suds flew in all directions, some of it falling on Felicity’s cheerpony outfit. She rolled her eyes, already siphoning the liquid out of the material with her magic.

“I’ll cut you, you pompous, rich-boy fag-”

“No, you won’t,” Felix cut me off. With another flash of her horn, the scattered glass shards vanished. “Besides, do you really want to waste that?”

She gave a nod to my raised arm. The broken beer bottle I wielded was actually a very much intact bottle of Jack Daniels. “No,” I said, my anger instantly replaced with anticipation. “Thanks,” I added as I twisted the cap, taking a swig directly from the bottle. The familiar burn cleansed my throat, bringing with it the cherished buzz. Finally, some real relief.

And just like that, Reginald seemed less of a douche. Warmfront wasn’t as annoying. Jess wasn’t as nagging. Leanne wasn’t as stupid. Flitter wasn’t as rapey.

Felix, however, was just as alluring as always.

* * *

Strong, grayish blue wings encompassed my back, whilst slender grayish blue forelegs hooked over my shoulders. The pegasus they belonged to laughed once more at my drunken attempts to move in time with her, and the constant thud of the music booming through the club. I couldn’t quite manage it, but the trusty bottle of Jacky D I still grasped firmly in my hand ensured I give precisely zero fucks.

“You really suck at this,” Flitter chuckled, pressing her barrel against my chest and periodically flapping her wings now and again to prevent the two of us face-planting the dancefloor.

“Wuz yor idea,” I slurred, tightly wrapping an arm around her for support and taking another swig of whiskey.

She had indeed asked me to dance. I politely told her to go fly into a thundercloud. She’d asked me again. I told her I didn’t dance. Dancing was for simpletons. Then, Jacky D had intervened and suddenly here I was—making a tit of myself in front of strangers again.

I didn’t care. I was comfortably fucked up, and Flitter really knew how to have fun.

The heat of the lights and the constant movement was causing everypony to sweat, it seemed. A subtle haze of pheromones hung lazily in the air as pony bodies writhed to the music. Some mares were even grinding themselves against the few stallions, and… each other, as well.

“This a gay bar?” I blurted out, snorting at the implication of lesbian ponies.

“No,” Flitter chuckled, just as two pegasus mares actually started making out a few feet away from us.

“You sure?” I nodded in the general direction of the two mares that were practically munching each other's muzzles. They could probably tell what the other had for lunch, judging by their enthusiasm.

Flitter threw a glance at them. “They’re just herding,” she explained, as though it was obvious.

I blinked, the mares going out of focus for a second. “Wut?”

“They’re scouting as a pair. That way, they have a better chance of pulling a stallion,” she replied, wrapping her wings more securely around me as a pretty green pegasus mare brushed past my legs. “Failing that, they’ll just go back to the barracks and rut each other.”

“Sounds pretty gay to me,” I chuckled, raising my whiskey bottle in salute. Good on them.

“It’s not, really. With the shortage of stallions, many mares just please each other in return if they can't get laid any other way.”

“You ever done it?” I asked, the whiskey incapacitating my already incompetent filter.

“No,” Flitter snorted, before hiccuping unexpectedly. “Felix and Rainy would never let me live it down if I came on to-… I mean… um…” she trailed off.

“Felix and Rain-”

My sentence died, it’s subject forgotten as the pegasus hastily pressed her lips to mine. For a fleeting moment, my mind acknowledged what was happening. How taboo it was. The reasoning of it being somehow “gross” or “disgusting” was immediately presented.

Then, just as swiftly ignored.

Flitter’s scent was distinctively female. Far from gross or disgusting. Her feathers were soft, her fur—even softer. And she was warm. Almost like a living blanket. My eyelids involuntarily fell as my tongue sought out hers. Her taste was so foreign to me, but far from unpleasant. It seemed sweet, yet tangy, and bore traces of the beer she’d been downing all night.

My lack of inhibition made itself increasingly more apparent as I slid my hand up the length of her back, my fingers slipping into her ice blue and white mane. Our tongues battled for supremacy, mine promptly losing against her broader, more powerful muscle. The ponies around me became nothing more than ghosts. All that mattered was the mare in my arms—nothing could steal my full undivided attention away from-

Vinyl scratched, and the music stopped.

Flitter and I broke apart. Quite a lot of pony eyes were staring at me, as well as a few human ones. Jason had joined Jessica and Leanne in the corner booth, and was grinning at us like an idiot. The girls were smiling, though Leanne’s looked a tad forced. Warmfront also had a grin on his muzzle. Reginald just glared at me as usual, and Felix was… gone.

I inwardly facepalmed. Fucking moron. An influx of conflicting feelings raced through my mind, none of which I currently had the mental acuity to deal with. Hell, I tended to avoid thinking about this particular type of bullshit when sober, nevermind blind drunk.

I took another swig of whiskey, my drunk logic deciding that more alcohol was needed. Time to go find Atom Flank!

“Hey… I gotta go do a thing,” I slurred at Flitter, who was staring at the stage, mouth slightly agape.

“Alright, everypony!” came a loud voice that practically oozed charisma. I flinched at the sudden projection, taking a few seconds to realise the unicorn DJ with the rad mane was speaking into a microphone attached to her booth. “Time for the moment all of you fillies and colts have been waiting for. Give it up for for our very own Jewel of the Wonderbolts!”

Felix stood center stage behind a retro style microphone on a boom stand, her muzzle bearing a mechanical smile. The sapphire embedded in her collar began emitting a blue glow of seemingly exponential intensity, causing her outfit to shine as the overhead lighting dimmed.

I watched the glow get ever so slowly brighter, as did every other soul in the room. They were waiting for something, and I knew what it was. I was waiting for it as well. Flitter dropped down to her forehooves as Felicity’s eyes briefly flashed over me. My stomach dropped. The feelings I’d been trying to ignore burst back into the forefront of my mind.

For the past month, I’d been happier than I could remember. I’d always tease Felix about her ridiculous bed mane on those early morning starts in the hangar. Moreso, seeing as she could fix it in seconds if she wanted to. I was positively intrigued that a mare such as her could be so focused on the task at hoof, that she often ended up coated in engine oil by the time she finished the job. I remembered our lunch breaks, where we would often swap stories of the major engineering projects of Earth and Equador. She still had a hard time believing the avionics systems Skyland Corp was famous for were able to function without magic…

Music began to play. Not something new to me this time, though. This particular track was one I’d heard many times before. I had no idea how she’d got it off my laptop…

“Notice me…”

My eyes burned. What was wrong with me? While it was true that weird things happened when Felix sang, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to feel like getting stabbed in the chest with an iron stake.

But, that kiss with Flitter… That hadn’t meant nothing, either. If that much was true, then why was I regretting it so damned much?

Verse after verse, the unicorn sang. She couldn’t have even heard it that often, with it being only one song among hundreds. I didn’t even recall playing it at all in the past month, in fact. But she was singing it perfectly…

Nopony’s gaze strayed from her captivating performance. Nopony knew of the inner turmoil raging inside me. I didn’t even feel drunk anymore. It was as if Felicity’s influence had sobered me up, forcing me to deal with the fact that I wanted her. I needed her. Nopony, or human other than her would do…

With that epiphany, came a new feeling. I had to get out of there.

It was too much. I tore my gaze away from her and stumbled towards the door, my blood alcohol level rearing its blurry head once more. This was not a question of her species, but of the sheer desire. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Every step I took away from her hurt.

But I kept going.

I’d known this pony a month. Why the fuck did it feel like I was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her?

Her smile was infectious. I’d never been a morning person, but never once was I late to the hanger. Because, I knew she’d be there, head and forehooves already raking around beneath the open engine bay door. She’d hear my footfalls on the cloud, and smile as I brought her a coffee.

Then, I’d smile. See? Infectious.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I still had half a bottle of whiskey left. I took a big gulp. Big enough to make my eyes water. The pain lessened somewhat, but I still needed to move.

Batting Gloria’s wing away, I nearly walked through a rope barrier on my way out of the club. I could have sworn I heard a stanchion fall over, but that wasn’t my problem. I took another gulp of whiskey, revelling in the searing burn it left behind. The street wobbled from side to side, but I managed to hobble haphazardly in the general direction of the barracks.

The airbus loomed in the distance, partly obscured by a thickening fog that had rolled over the mountaintop. “Yes!” I suddenly yelled, raising my bottle at the magnificent bird.

I needed to put some distance between myself and the unending stream of bullshit that had taken place this evening. What better way was there to do that than utilising a jet aircraft?

“I’ve done it once! I can do it again!” I yelled, earning a couple of confused looks from a passing group of mares. I payed them no mind, setting off towards the aircraft.

Ten minutes later, and after getting lost a couple of times, I walked straight into the nose gear.

“Oww!” I muttered, rubbing my flattened nose. Aircraft tyres are hard.

I squinted through the darkness, looking for the rope I used to climb up to the cabin. Somepony must have kindly attached two more ropes, because I found three. ‘How thoughtful of them,’ I pondered, grabbing one of them. It jumped out of the way, no matter how many times I grabbed at it.

Ultimately concluding that that particular rope was being an ass, I grabbed the one in the center. That’s better.

A couple of close calls later, I crawled into the cabin, panting in exertion. The darkness was making my head spin almost as much as the booze. “Cold and dark,” I muttered aloud, stumbling to my feet. Once my eyes had adjusted enough for me to see where I was going, I made for the stairs.

And managed to fall up them. Twice.

Hissing curses and grabbing my bruised knee, I hobbled into the cockpit, slamming the door so hard it merely bounced off the frame and swung open again.

“... Cold and dark,” I repeated to myself, holding onto the back of the pilot seat as I groped around for the correct buttons on the center ceiling console.

The battery switches I was searching for eluded me for a full minute before I managed to hit one of them amidst my mindless button pressing. No sooner had the control panel backlighting illuminated, a barrage of alarms rang through the cockpit.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!

“Shut up!” I yelled at the centre console. When it ignored me, I groped around for the master warning switch, eventually managing to silence the alarms.

“Wuz it nut workin’ for?” I rambled aloud, before remembering that engine one was currently hanging from the rafters of hanger three. Oh.

The sound of muted hoofsteps ran through the cabin, followed by a flap of wings. I span around to the cockpit door, hastily grabbing the First Officer’s seat back to stop myself from falling over.

Grayish blue mare. Ice blue and white mane and tail. Lilac eyes. “Flitter!” I exclaimed. “Help me git her afloat-a—BARP—loft. She’ll fly on three but she won’t take off without a fight.”

The mare’s eyes narrowed in disgust. A small nicker escaped her muzzle as she stepped into the poorly lit cockpit.

“Hey, wu-wurrs yor bow?” I pointed at her head, where her usual accessory was indeed missing from her windswept mane.

“Haven’t you killed enough ponies?” the irate pegasus spat.

Confusion clouded my brain for a few moments, until it dawned on me. “Wait… Yuurr that angry one!” I slurred, rudely pointing a finger right between those lilac orbs. “...Well, shit.”

While I tried to remember what the contingency plan for running into Cloudchaser was, the mare turned, bucking my legs with her hind hooves. I hit the deck faster than a pony in stilettos.

“Oww! Y’fuckin’ crazy horse!” I yelled, rubbing my thighs. They were bruised, along with my pride, but I was otherwise unhurt.

“That was for Windrunner,” Cloudchaser hissed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! D’you really think I wanted to kill him? I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HE WAS THERE!” I shouted, my anger sobering me up a little. My bullshit limit for the evening had been surpassed.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been drun-”

“No! It wouldn’t have mattered either way,” I spat, staring at her with intent. “Believe me when I say—I’m sorry he’s gone. I know that’s not good enough for you, but it’s all I’ve fucking got. I’m the first to admit I’m a drunk, useless idiot—and, you know what? That’s probably not gonna change,” I shouted, gripping the bottle of poison so hard my knuckles turned white. “So go ahead and kick the crap out of me, if that’s what you came here to do.” I took another swig, every drop of whiskey fuelling my self loathing.

All the beatings in the world couldn’t compare to the regret I was left with.

Cloudchaser glared at me indecisively for a few tense moments. I glared right back. “I hear Spitfire’s having you trained as a heat tamer,” she calmly commented.

I paused. Of all the things she could have said, that threw me off guard. “Yeah. So?” I croaked, still unsure if she was going to start attacking me again.

Cloudchaser took a step forward. “I also heard you’ve been doing everything you can to avoid it.”

I shuffled as far back against the cockpit wall as I could. “I’ve been busy with stuff.”

The unruly pegasus took another hoofstep toward me. The anger was gone from her face, but it had been replaced with something much, much worse. “What’s wrong, Jack? You scared?”

I made to get to my feet, but Cloudchaser had already pounced. Her forehooves found my chest, pushing me back into the cabin wall. Her hind legs fell to either side of my waist, and she let her weight bear down on my crotch. Her powerful wings clamped down on my arms, thwarting my drunken attempts to push her away. With a fair amount of struggling, I managed to free one of them. I had no intention of hitting her, so I did the only other thing I could think of.

“How does it feel, Jack? To have a pony grind herself against your-ahhhhh! Ooooohhhhh!” Cloudchaser’s wings shot out in an instant, impacting the walls of the cockpit. Her intended cruel taunt morphed into a slew of pleasured moans. I blinked in surprise, keeping a tight hold on the handful of windswept mane I’d just grabbed.

“B-Bucking asshole…”

My crotch was damp, courtesy of her pulsating sex. My dick began to harden, for the same reason. I twisted my fist, the white strands at the base of Cloudchaser’s neck pulling taught. The pegasus groaned in reluctant bliss, grinding her hips against my crotch and throwing a string of pony curse words at me. Her ears and tail twitched erratically as her forehooves captured my shoulders.

Push her away, Jack. Now’s your chance!

It was a miracle I even had a voice of reason at this point. I should have listened to said voice of reason, but a potent combination of alcohol fuelled inhibition and shameless lust had me holding the mare close. I took in her scent. How could such a pretty pegasus hate my guts so much?

Her little plan wasn’t working. Deliberately barking up the wrong tree to get a reaction? News flash, Cloudy—this tree is swingin’ your way. What I didn’t understand was why she was so into it. Her ears, wings and tail were having mini seizures, and she’d already made quite a mess of my pants. A peculiar scent made its presence known. It was an unrecognisable, but strangely pleasant aroma that seemed to make me a little light headed.

Or, maybe it was just the whiskey.

“Bucking… B-Buck… me,” Cloudchaser whispered, her forelegs firmly clamped over my shoulders as she continued to grind her nethers on my dick. Her tongue rolled out of her maw, and she licked the full length of my cheek.

“... ‘Kay, what has gotten into you? One minute you wanna kick my ass, then the next, you’re DTF?” I asked, slowly rubbing my palms over her shooting star cutie marks. “I don’t get it…” Her fur prickled against my skin, almost as though it craved my touch…

* * *

Adoration poured from all directions, as it always did when Felicity sang. The rapt, undivided attention of every mare and stallion in the club, along with the exotic new additions of man and woman, was upon her. Felix would be a liar if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She thrived on attention. Fed off of it, even.

It was, of course, her nature to do so. If she took it upon herself to eschew every aspect of her kind for some silly noble cause or sense of righteousness, she would become so weak and frail that she would no longer be of any use to the Wonderbolts. Plus, it would make her mother cry. Celestia knew her mother had suffered enough.

Instead, Felix compromised. She fed, taking her fill, but always kept a level head while doing so. After all, it would be awfully cliché for yet another graduate of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns to go on some mad power craze.

The sapphire pendant around her neck grew hot, pulling her from her musings. She could feel every heart in the nightclub soar as they listened to her voice. Their adulation permeated the air—a subtle blue haze, only visible to those with an eye for such things—drifting toward the stage. A rich variety of emotion, reverence, exaltation, lust… even jealousy. Her pendant always had a choice of what to consume.

It promptly discarded the majority, once again desperately searching for a particular signature. Felix inwardly rolled her eyes as the treasured memory ran through her thoughts for probably the hundredth time that day…

It’s like you make angels sound like X-Factor rejects or something…

Felix neither knew, nor cared what an ‘X-Factor’ was supposed to be, but the potent concoction of explicit desire that cascaded from Jack’s heart in that moment had left her speechless, and… more reciprocative than ever.

It hadn’t been just that one incident, either. That was merely the most recent of many. The dark creature of the depths that dwelled within her had taken quite a shine to Captain Jack, and Felix knew that there was no such thing as a “passing fancy” to a siren. A suitor was either a consort, or a nothing.

Jack sure as Tartarus wasn’t a nothing to her. Whenever Felix laid eyes on him, the creature purred in approval. Every joke he told, even if it was awful, was granted a chuckle. She had even become so distracted by her siren pining for his attention that she’d started making mistakes at work…

~~~

Vouloir Jack, the siren whined.

No. We’re busy, Felicity thought in response, her magical aura highlighting the massive engine fan, all of its blades intact.

Vouloir Jack.

No. We need to balance these fan blades before sun down.

Regardez vers lui.

She looked, cursing herself. Jack was sat at his usual perch on his favourite bit of scaffolding, typing away on his laptop. His brow was furrowed, broad shoulders hunched, eyes scanning the screen in concentration.

Vouloir lui.

He does not want us, Felix replied. A fair assumption, if past experience was anything to go by. Felix was used to stallions falling at her hooves at the flutter of an eyelash—something that Jack seemed to have an admittedly irksome immunity to. Normally, such a reaction—or lack thereof—would be a welcome change, but like her siren, the unicorn had grown accustomed to Jack’s company.

Vouloir, the siren demanded regardless, her ignorance matched only by her stubbornness. Felix sighed, relaxing the telekinetic hold she had on the engine fan. The blades promptly fell out of alignment. Ponyfeathers. Between her lack of productivity, and her darker half throwing a temper tantrum, this day was turning out to be a long one.

Vouloir!

Shut it! The unicorn scolded, attempting to maintain her composure as she stepped around the hanging engine to take yet another glance at the earth-pony reference blueprints laid out on the workbench. Unfortunately, she failed to spot the toolbox planted right in front of her hooves.

“Ouch!” the unicorn yelped, nearly face-planting the cloud floor as she stumbled over the box. She’d barely fallen to her haunches and began rubbing her bruised forehoof before Jack was at her side.

“Picking a fight with a toolbox, eh? What’d it do to you?” he joked, sitting on the floor, pulling her into his arms and taking her injured hoof into his hands to inspect it more closely.

Felix laid her head against his chest, willingly falling into his embrace and letting her eyes do the talking. The siren purred in delight, relishing in the physical contact with the object of her affections. If only such contentedness had lasted.

Prétendre lui.

Choosing not to dignify such foolishness with a response, Felicity settled for nuzzling his chest. Any pain in her hoof had long since been chased away by the delicate touch of his dexterous appendages. After all, fingers were amazing, and just thinking about the sheer potential of their application instigated a burgeoning warmth in her nethers.

She could see the indecisiveness in his eyes, could tell he had a desire for a greater level of intimacy, but something was holding him back. Probably some silly taboo from his home world, if she had to guess.

Moments passed, turning into minutes, those minutes stretching past a quarter of an hour and beyond. Both pony and human sat clinging to one another, with no agenda other than enjoying the close proximity. Neither of them broke the silence. The siren, on the other hand, wouldn’t shut up.

~~~

Through all of the raw emotion, the pendant filtered. It recognised Jack’s desire, locking onto it, feeding from it. Such a satisfying meal was his need for her, it made her lightheaded.

Flitter had eyes for him. That much was clearly evident, given her insistence on following him, not to mention what happened on the dancefloor. He’d also more than likely fallen onto the radar of a much higher ranking mare, as well as a couple of other Wonderbolts. No doubt, Felix would have to share him.

Mine! hissed the siren, clawing at the edges of her mind.

Felix wasn’t overly keen on the idea of sharing, either. But, considering Jack’s secondary occupation, exclusivity was never going to happen anyway. Don’t fall for a Colt Slut, Spitfire had warned, all those moons ago on the first day of basic. It’s the fastest way to getting your heart broken.

Felix smiled as she continued to sing. Such advice had been simple to follow, up until now. All she could hope is for Jack to do his duty as a comfort stallion, but come home to her waiting hooves every night. The siren growled, glowering through the unicorn’s eyes at Flitter. Yes, sharing would indeed be a hard pill to swallow. But, Jack was worth it.

He was also leaving.

Follow.

We can’t leave. We have a performance to finish, Felix thought, as she watched Jack stumble drunkenly towards the exit of the nightclub. Flitter didn’t seem to notice he’d wandered off, still too entranced with the music.

Protect!

Protect? Since when do sirens care about protecting anything?

Follow.

I can't. Dropping Vinyl in a barrel full of horse apples was not something Felix wanted to do, but the thought of Jack wandering around blind drunk and vulnerable on a military base full of oestrogen fuelled mares set her stomach churning.

We’ll finish the set, then we’ll go after him, the unicorn compromised, hoping Jack didn’t stray too far.

9. The Siren's Vengeance

The whiskey was gone, and my hardened tolerance to alcohol was gradually throwing my previously incapacitated faculties back at me. Cloudchaser was clearly not in the right frame of mind. She hated me, yet she was currently grinding her junk against me like a mare in…

Oh god.

The strong, intoxicating scent, the crazy eyes, the persistent/borderline rapey persona seemingly out of nowhere. Was Cloudchaser actually in heat?

“Umm… Cloudchaser?” I timidly asked, discreetly withdrawing my hands from her flanks.

The mare didn’t appear to have heard me. She continued to press her muzzle to my face, her eyes glazed and her hips undulating against my junk. Carefully placing an arm behind her, I leaned forward, attempting to pull my legs out from beneath her.

“No!” Cloudchaser suddenly growled, her irises shrinking and her wings clamping my arms once more. “This used to be Windrunner’s duty. Now, it’s yours.” The manic gleam in her eye left no doubt in my mind that she meant business.

In that moment, Spitfire’s warning rang through my head. ‘One of them is bound to take an interest in you at some point. You might as well learn how to deal with it when it happens.’

Well, shit. Was I about to become a victim? I could hardly imagine Cloudchaser would actually force herself on me if she was of sound mind, but under the influence of her heat, it could well become a reality. I only had two choices: accept it, and do my best to rut the crazed mare into submission, or fight, and escape.

Cloudchaser was a very pretty mare, and after my earlier conversation with Flitter, the reservations I once held regarding the taboo no longer held as much merit. I could just do the deed, banishing her lust and keeping my dignity. There was only one thing holding me back, and as it turned out, she was currently gazing at me through the open cockpit door, her eyes and pendant glowing azure…

* * *

Having successfully slipped out of sight after a—thankfully short—encore, Felix scanned the entertainment district for any sign of drunken human pilots. Unfortunately, she found nothing other than a pair of navy pegasus stallions, that whilst indeed drunk, were neither pilots, nor human.

“Blimey! That’s Jewel, that is!” one of them slurred, barely managing to keep his drunken gaze focused on her. “You fancy comin’ back to the barracks, gorgeous?” he asked. His companion, on the other hand, had no trouble letting his eyes wander all over her body. Particularly her tail.

Felix rolled her eyes as the siren let out an internal hiss of disdain, sensing their intentions. Lust was not a meal she very much cared for. Turning her back on their ogling, she swiftly set off into the night.

Jack was a clever enough guy—when sober. When he was drunk however, he was as stupid as they come. That’s why Felix found it highly unlikely he’d chosen the rational option of heading back to the barracks. No. He was a flight risk at the best of times…

The unicorn paused, slowly turning her gaze toward the gargantuan Airbus looming in the mist.

Jack, whined the siren, breaking a rare period of silence.

Flight risk… Felix grinned. Yeah, he probably would, wouldn’t he?

Without another thought, her hooves automatically turned towards the jet. Teleportation was out of the question, given the time of night. Spitfire would have her horn on a platter for the sheer noise pollution alone. Speaking of noise pollution, if Jack actually managed to get the APU started then he’d end up waking half the base.

Breaking into a brisk semi-gallop, Felix bounded across the tarmac, deftly launching her lithe form into the air when she reached the jet, allowing her magic to propel her straight up and through the open cabin door. She landed softly on the carpet, and was immediately aware of a very pungent odour hanging in the air, slightly accented by the scent of hard liquor.

Awoken by the unmistakable odour, the siren began clawing at the confines of Felicity’s mind. The cockpit door was ajar, a soft glow escaping from it. Sompony was in there. Somepony in heat. Sompony with Jack.

Don’t jump to conclusions, Felix determinedly thought. You knew we’d have to deal with something like this eventually…

Unconsoled, the enraged hissing grew louder. Felicity’s pupils began to dilate. The cockpit drew nearer, yet simultaneously farther away as her field of view increased. A voice could be heard… feminine moans perhaps? Four sharp pinpricks of pain emerged between her teeth—something she hadn’t felt in years. Something she dreaded. Ponies were about to have a bad time.

A new light joined the glow from the cockpit. A deadly blue shimmer, erupting from her very own eyes.

Having finally reached the doorway, Felix laid her spotlight gaze upon Jack, lying on the floor, his discarded whiskey bottle beside him. The dishevelled, lust-crazed form of Cloudchaser lay on top of him.

The siren screamed.

* * *

Felix took one look at the pegasus pinning me to the deck and released the most bone chilling, unequivocally terrifying shriek I’d ever heard. My skin began crawling with the unchristened toddlers of the first circle of hell, whilst Cloudchaser seized up as though she’d just flew into a power pylon. Before I even had time to cover my ears, the pegasus emitted a terrified squeak and scuttled around the enraged unicorn with the almost comical agility of a cartoon road runner. Launching herself from the plane, she somehow managed to slam the door shut behind her.

She needn’t have bothered, however, seeing as it was blasted clean off it’s hinges by a blinding ray of blue light less than a second later. Shards of scrap metal rained down the tarmac below, the door nothing but a memory.

CRACK!

Felix vanished, the rebounding vacuum shockwave of her violent departure wrecking my eardrums. I grimaced, tinnitus ringing. I could only hope Cloudchaser managed to hide herself. If not, Spitfire would more than likely have another dead pegasus on her hooves.

A dead silence filled the air for a brief moment, only to be broken by the sound of distant explosions and panicked shrieks. I shook my head in disbelief. For a smart pony, Felix could really be an idiot at times.

The lateness of the hour finally catching up with me, I sat down on the cabin floor, my legs hanging over the edge of the now doorless exit. She wanted me enough to be jealous. It was more of a surprise to me that I was actually happy about it, truth be told.

A disgruntled looking Spitfire appeared through the foggy void surrounding the plane. When I saw she was wearing a nightgown with a floral pattern embroidered onto it, I laughed aloud.

“What the hay is the meaning of all this noise?” she yelled, her wings beating to keep her aloft through strategically cut slots in the back of the gown. “Wait, why are there bits of your ship on the floor?” she shot me a puzzled gaze.

“Ask Felix,” I chuckled, enjoying the cool breeze provided by her wings. “Nice nightgown, by the way. It really brings out your eyes.”

* * *

Stupid pegasus with her stupid high rank. I kicked a bench aside, dragging my mop back and forth over the seemingly endless mess hall floor. As if Captain Horse Feathers had given me a disciplinary—when I hadn’t even done anything wrong! What was more—she’d refused to listen to my argument, instead setting General Batshit-Crazington on my ass and laughing as I ran for cover.

“Hmmmph-hmph-mmphm!”

“Oh, now you wanna talk?” I shot at my partner in crime. Even stood next to a rubbish bag with the weathered handle of a sweeping brush stuck in her maw, Felix still looked ten times hotter than any other mare on the base.

Spitting the wood out, she scowled at me. “I said, at least you have hands. Jackass.”

“Y’know, there are stallions that’d pay top bits for a show like that,” I observed, motioning to saliva-covered handle of the sweeping brush.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Felix growled, the solid alloy inhibitor ring encompassing her horn glowing red hot and beginning to smoke.

I rounded on her. “Why are you acting like you’ve got a stick up your ass? Christ, Felix, shove that broom back in your mouth and it’s like you’re a ponified skewer snack.”

Felix feigned ignorance. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you ratted me out to Spitfire!” she spat, bellowing the last five words at me.

I gave her an incredulous look. “Oh, sure!” I mocked, holding my arms up in frustration. “The busted door was the real kicker. It obviously wasn’t any of the three huge craters in the runway, the half-demolished cloud hanger, or the disintegrated Raptor!”

Sobered a little, the unicorn turned back to the rubbish bag, nudging it forward a bit with a forehoof. “I could have cleaned that up if I’d had time. Still doesn’t change the fact that you snitched.”

“I wasn’t thinking, okay?” I said, letting out a sigh, kicking the bench back beneath the table and grabbing my discarded mop. “Why did you go all murder-corn on Cloudchaser, anyway? If your aim was any better, she’d be a pile of ash right now.”

Felix hissed, before slapping a forehoof to her maw and looking every bit as shocked as I felt.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. “Okay… That was creepy. Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” she asked, sounding like her normal self once more.

“You sounded like that crazy bitch from The Exorcist. If you start randomly pissing everywhere I am not cleaning it up,” I warned, brandishing the mop at her with an air of finality.

Felix frowned. “What?”

“Token movie reference—not important. Just tell me you’re not secretly evil inside or whatever. I’ve nowhere near enough whiskey to deal with that bullshit.”

“I’m not evil… even though…”

“‘Even though?’ There’s an ‘even though’?” I questioned.

A flash of worry clouded her pretty sapphire eyes for a fraction of a second, but then it was gone, as if it had never been. “Nothing. Some ponies can be prejudiced because of my parentage, but I don’t let that get to me.”

“Your... parents? How so?”

“Well, it’s just ‘parent’ these days, but I come from a very wealthy family.”

“You’re rich?” I chuckled.

“My mother is worth more than Filthy Rich’s entire business empire.”

“Really?” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “Why the hell are you working on a military base, then?”

“I love my job. Fixing things makes me happy, and the military has a lot of broken toys.”

I stopped mopping for a second. “And yet, you’re currently stuck cleaning up a mess hall with your zapper in a chastity belt,” I pointed out, grinning.

Felix rolled her eyes, clumsily attempting to sweep up a few stray breadcrumbs using her hooves to hold the broom. “If my mother ever saw me wearing this thing, she’d have a fit. Do me a favour, and don’t ever tell her. She’d probably try and get Spitfire Spit-fired.”

“What makes you think I’ll be meeting your mother? Doesn’t she live in Canterlot?”

“Yes, but she’ll no doubt want to meet you when we fly out there to show Princess Celestia the latest addition to the war effort.”

I paused once more. “Wait—are you telling me Spitfire wants to parade us around like a circus freak show?”

“Well, not so much you. More the huge flying medical base that isn’t dependant on magic to function,” she smiled, flicking her mane out of her eyes. A high-frequency “crack” echoed around the mess hall, and Felicity’s mane was suddenly showered with tiny fragments of inhibitor ring, some of which rained down on the floor. “Oh, ponyfeathers!”

“Did you just break it?” I chuckled, rinsing the mop head in the steel bucket I’d been nudging along the floor in front of me.

“No, I transfigured it into a teapot,” Felix snapped, brushing the remaining shards out of her mane with a forehoof. “Of course I broke it.”

“How? Aren’t they supposed to be indestructible, or something?”

Instead of answering, Felix gathered all of the broken pieces up in her pink magical aura. They flew back together so fast the fully intact inhibitor ring was left spinning end over end in mid-air. When her magic receded, it fell neatly back onto her horn. She gave me a look as if to say “what?”.

I rolled my eyes, casually resting my upper arm against a message board full of newspaper cuttings. “You really are OP. It’s almost getting old at this point.”

BANG.

The double doors to the mess hall burst open, and I hastily sprang back to mopping the floor—but not before Captain Horse Feathers got a freakishly large eyeful of me slacking off.

“Jack! Stop leaning on that wall. Felix, take that broom out of your mouth. You don’t know where it’s been.”

Felix spat the broom handle out. “Where’s it been?” she hastily asked.

Spitfire ignored her. “The trip to Canterlot has been moved,” she said, not even bothering to look at the floor, despite claiming she’d be conducting a meticulous inspection earlier.

“You mean the one you didn’t even bother to tell me about?” I sniped.

“Yes. That one. We’re leaving tomorrow,” she coyly replied.

“Tomorrow?” Felix all but screeched. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Spitfire demanded. I had to admit, I’d seen funeral directors with less serious expressions.

“But, what about the sky iron? It hasn’t even finished being cast yet, let alone fitted, and the structural enhancements? They take twelve hours to cast, not to mention the two days of solid meditation I need to outfit a ship the size of the Airbus-”

“Have you fixed the engine?” Spitfire interrupted, holding up a hoof.

“Well, yes, but we haven’t tested the new components-”

“As long as you can get it flying. You can add the armour and enchantments at Foal Mountain,” Spitfire cut her off again, trotting over to the unicorn and deftly plucking the inhibitor ring from her horn. “Oh, and try not to destroy half of the base while you’re at it? There are only so many times I can get away with slapping your hoof, when I should have court martialled your reckless ass.”

Felicity’s ears dropped a shade as Spitfire turned to leave. “Get to work on the ship. It needs to be ready by sunrise.” With that, Spitfire trotted from the mess hall, the doors closing behind her.

Author's Note

Just a short one this time, but don't worry, a larger update is coming soon.

In the meantime, here's a pic of Atomflank. I'm no artist, so excuse the n00btastic quality...

If you find any errors, let me know down in the comments.

10. Flight to Foal Mountain

“Let’s go over it one more time, just to be sure,” Felix said, tapping a hoof to the fuel display screen for the third time that morning. She was sitting in my old First Officer’s seat, her big blue eyes darting between the various screens, dials and gauges of the Airbus cockpit. She had figured out how to use some of the more basic functions of the ECAM a hell of a lot faster than I had. Not gonna lie—I was a little salty.

“Stop making me look incompetent, you nerd,” I huffed. She ignored me, instead reciting the calculations we’d prepared the night before, whilst flicking through a few of the other info screens.

“It’s around four hundred and thirteen nautical miles to Foal Mountain, and we’ll burn about thirty three and a half thousand Earth pounds of fuel, give or take. That leaves us roughly eleven thousand for go-arounds. There’s no other airfield in our range, so you’d better not fuck up the landing.”

“You’re starting to sound like Captain Thomas.”

Felix levelled me with a frown. “Your dead co-worker?”

“Yeah. He was an insufferable dictator, too. God rest his soul.”

“Ugh. I’m serious Jack—I can’t just pull us out of harm’s way if things don’t go to plan,” she retorted, jabbing the APU bleed air switch and throwing me a scathing look.

I snorted. “Bet you could, though.”

Felix sighed exasperatedly. “Yes, I could just teleport us. I can’t, however, teleport the whole damn plane!”

A slightly windswept Spitfire flew up to the cockpit windows and gave the signal to start the engines. The routine action of moving my hand up to the ignition mode dial was unexpectedly interrupted by something warm, soft, and covered in fine fur. Felix quickly withdrew her hoof. I retracted my hand as though I’d just grabbed an electric fence. Neither of us had managed to toggle the dial to ignition mode.

My brain seemed to crash for a moment, trying to figure out why such slight contact had turned out to be so damned awkward. I would have said something—changed the subject, lightened the mood. The power of speech, however, had bizarrely abandoned me.

Ethereal wind chimes, followed by a reassuring “click”. Felix held the dial with her magic, and the unmistakable sound of engine one charging for ignition rang through the cockpit. She gave me a peculiar little smile as the turbofan fired up, just as well as it always used to.

I grinned. “You did it. In four weeks, no less.”

“We’ll have to keep a close watch on it. Bolting it back on with minimal testing is asking for trouble.”

After we got the other three engines running, I checked the tail cam. The four mooring ropes attached to the landing gear were pulled taught. With maximum reverse thrust applied, the jet began to roll back away from the barracks.

We were to be flanked by four Raptors, for “insurance,” as Spitfire had claimed. I had no idea what a griffin attack would look like, but I knew I wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. After a short delay while the mooring lines were being removed, and an even shorter stint of taxiing, we were lined up at the edge of the runway.

The cockpit door swung open, revealing a mildly flustered looking Jessica, wearing her flight attendant uniform. “Do you guys need anything?” she asked, before throwing me an annoyed glance. “I told you to wear your hat!” she exclaimed, snatching it up off the center console and slapping it down on my head. She had been annoyingly persistent in her quest to “make a good impression” for the princesses, even threatening to tell Warmfront that I secretly wanted private lessons on how to “be the best comfort stallion I could be” if I didn’t wear my uniform.

“It’s uncomfortable!” I shot back at her, though I didn’t dare remove it. Her threat was way below the belt.

“It’s more professional to wear the full uniform. Spitfire agrees.”

I scowled. “So?”

“And Fleetfoot.” She grinned.

I scowled even more.

“For what it’s worth, I think you look pretty dapper wearing it,” Felix chimed in, flashing that weapons-grade smile of hers.

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll wear it, okay?” I muttered, ignoring my stupid heart doing backflips in my chest.

Satisfied, Jessica smiled. “Knew you’d be able to get him to wear it,” she said, giving a slight nod to the unicorn.

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” I accosted, but she’d already left the cockpit, closing the door behind her. Goddamn smartass trolley wench.

Felix made quite the show of performing the pre-flight control surface checks, manipulating the flight stick and rudder pedals with her magic and determinedly not looking in my direction. I could see her smiling from the corner of my eye.

Ignoring the thoughts barreling through my mind, I focused on the ailerons visible on the tail-cam monitor moving up and down. The flaps and slats weren’t currently set, so I flicked the lever to the one plus F takeoff configuration. They slowly extended into place on the monitor, just as the cockpit door burst open again.

I turned, fully intent on getting an answer out of Jessica. Only, it wasn’t Jessica.

“Felicity, darling! I saved you a seat. Or rather, I would have, if this ship had any.”

Felix’s smile vanished. “I have a seat. I’m currently sitting in it,” the mare deadpanned.

Reginald turned his snout up. “You’d rather sit with the help?”

I gave him an incredulous look. “Could you possibly be any more obnoxious?” I asked, but Felix held up a hoof.

“Reginald—listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. Spitfire personally asked me to co-pilot the ship with Jack, mainly because nopony else knows how. And yes, she did ask Jessica, Jason, and even Leanne, first, but they all said they’d be as much use as any pony. So no, I can’t sit with you like I normally do on transfer flights, okay?”

“But… you’re always hanging around with him these days!”

Cue filthy look. There it is. Ahh, that salty goodness.

“Reg, it’s my job. You can go and complain to Spitfire if you like, but she probably won’t take kindly to-”

“-to what, exactly?”

Reginald visibly flinched, and hastily stepped aside to allow Spitfire into the cockpit. The Captain coolly removed her shades and stowed them under a wing, waiting for an answer.

Felix faltered for a split second. “Reg was just inquiring about seating arrangements.”

Spitfire gave the stallion a bemused look. “Well, considering the only two seats on the ship are needed by the pilots, I’d say you're shit out of luck, Lieutenant,” she chuckled, roughly smacking Reg on the shoulder with a forehoof. “There are beds in the cabin crew rest area that Jessica requested we not rip out. If you really need a comfortable journey, you could go ask her if you can take a nap in one of them.”

Evidently too scared to turn down a suggestion from a Captain, Reginald trotted from the cockpit without another word. Spitfire waited until he was out of earshot before turning to me.

“We’ve just been cleared for takeoff. We shouldn’t run into any trouble en-route, but if we do, let the gunners and Raptors deal with it,” she said, slipping her shades back on. “ I’ll be out front, so just stick on my six, and don’t deviate course.”

“Aye aye, Capt’n!” I cried, saluting with enthusiasm.

Thankfully, Spitfire merely rolled her eyes at the mockery. “Make sure he behaves himself, for Celestia’s sake,” she added to Felix, before turning to the door. “Let’s get moving.”

“Would you like to do the honours?” I asked Felix, once Spitfire had left.

The unicorn turned to gaze at me, brow slowly rising. “What? Deprive you of the thrill of pushing the throttles forward after an excruciating hiatus from flying, then forever be reminded of said depriving whenever you need a favour?” She grinned.

I rolled my eyes. “Wasn’t my game, but whatever.” I pushed the throttles to maximum.

The jet lurched, the engines spooling up to a loud roaring whine. Felix was pressed into the seat back by the acceleration, and a few shrieks and the sound of scraping hooves came from the cabin. I grabbed the tannoy microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, mares and stallions, welcome to Air-Horse One. I haven’t bothered turning the fasten seatbelt sign on, seeing as there aren't any seats, but hey—this ain’t a luxury liner anymore thanks to Captain Horse Feathers.”

Felix gave me an incredulous look, slapping a forehoof to her face. I shot her a grin, pulling back on the flight stick. The Airbus rotated up off the runway and began to climb.

“I should remind you all that this is still a non-smoking flight, so if any of you see Leanne sparking up, be sure to kick her in the teeth. Might even be doing her a favour. I happen to have it on good authority that her nickname was ‘Beaver Chops’ when she was in school.”

“That’s enough.” Felix snatched the microphone from my hand with her telekinesis.

“What? I was only joking,” I chuckled, easing the stick to the right to keep in line with Spitfire’s ass.

“No, there’s joking, then there’s being an asshole,” she snapped, placing the microphone back in its holster. “You know she has enough trouble fitting in already.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be telling me! Go say it to her, preferably without the sarcasm. I can handle things here.”

“Alright, jeez, woman,” I muttered, clambering up out of my seat.

Felix took the controls, using her magic to manipulate them as she had done on the ground. It suited me, in all honesty. Flying manually in a straight line with nothing but Spitfire’s ass to look at was kind of a drag.

“Let me know if you need me,” I yawned, absentmindedly stretching my arms. Felix waved a forehoof, her eyes still surveying the ECAM between glances at Spitfire’s position through the windshield.

The lower deck cabin had been fitted with temporary safety harnesses—essentially just modified seat belts that were anchored to the wall. A few ponies were still wearing them, but most had evidently discarded them after takeoff. They sat in small groups on the cabin floor, chatting away to each other. Jessica and Leanne were sat on the forward staircase, along with Warmfront.

I wasted a few moments re-checking the newly repaired exit door—even though both Felix and I had already done it about four times before the flight—before biting my tongue and strolling over to them.

Leanne glared daggers on catching sight of me. Jessica just had a smirk on her face. “She made you come apologise, didn’t she?”

I scowled. “No! I just thought I’d come back here and make sure Leanne knew I was only joking,” I gave what I hoped was an apologetic nod in Leanne’s general direction.

She flipped me the bird, much to Warmfront’s amusement. “I’d be jumping through hoops as well if I had even the tiniest shot with Felix,” he chuckled.

“Shut it, Pimp Hoof!” I growled, just as a disturbance at the back of the plane caught my eye.

Disregarding Warmfront’s continued guffawing, I headed for the rear of the jet. Raindrops appeared to be in a very real fight with a large red pegasus stallion. He was roughly twice the size of her, had a short blonde mane and tail, and what looked like a cyclone as a cutie mark. Several of the other pegasi had gathered round and were jeering at the pair. Not one of them was attempting to help her.

“Hey!” I yelled, but it fell on deaf ears. Roughly shoving a silver-coated mare aside, I stepped into the fray just as the stallion brought his forehooves down on her face.

“HEY!”

Blood burst from Raindrops’ muzzle, showering the deck with drops of red. Without even thinking, I grabbed the stallion by the back of the mane, grabbing his throat with my other hand. With a heave that nearly snapped my spine, I lifted him clean off of Raindrops, slamming the top of his head into the side of the aft staircase for good measure.

He was quick to recover, however. Before I knew it, he’d landed a well aimed kick to my chest. Pain exploded through my ribcage. I could’ve sworn I’d heard an audible crack. Toppling back onto my ass, I clutched my chest, gritting my teeth. The stallion reared up, a manic gleam in his eye. “She’s mine, alien freak!”

Raindrops dived on top of me, spreading her wings protectively. She needn’t have bothered.

CRACK.

The stallion's head suddenly whipped to the side so fast I could’ve sworn it had teleported. He crumpled into a pitiful heap of unconsciousness before Fleetfoot’s hind legs had even touched back down again.

“GET THE BUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT! ALL OF YOU!”

Nearly every pony on the lower deck had scrambled up the two staircases before Fleetfoot had even finished speaking… Or shouting, as the case was. Even Raindrops attempted to flee, but I latched onto her. Hurt like a motherfucker, but I had to know she was okay.

Jessica and Leanne hurried over, followed by Warmfront, though the stallion was keeping his distance somewhat. “Jack! Raindrops! Are you okay?” Jessica yelled, dropping to her knees beside us. She pulled a hankerchief out of her uniform breast pocket and began mopping up Rainy’s muzzle.

“Warmfront,” Fleetfoot practically growled, causing him to jump a couple of inches into the air. “Make sure this idiot doesn’t die. When he wakes up, tell him to expect a shitstorm.” She turned her back to both stallions, ears flicking in agitation. “Raindrops, are you hurt?”

“No, he just bust my lip,” Raindrops mumbled through the handkerchief.

“I told you before, if he gets too pushy—you come to me.”

“I can handle him.”

Fleetfoot raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Raindrops scowled, before grimacing, bringing a forehoof to her swollen lip.

“And you,” Fleetfoot snapped, training her fuchsia eyes on me. “If you want to play the hero, at least finish the job before you get your ass beat.”

I gave her an incredulous look. “Well, I might have, but you stole the opportunity!”

Fleetfoot took a few steps forward. From my viewpoint sitting on the floor, she practically towered over me. “What? You think I’m just going to stand and watch you get beat up by some egotistical boneheaded prick?”

“Well, no.” But I could've done without the emasculation, I finished in my head. Mentioning that particular thought aloud would’ve probably been a dick move on my part, seeing as she may well have just saved my ass. “Thanks,” I quietly muttered instead.

“Don’t mention it.” She grinned. “Now, take off that jacket, and open your shirt.”

I blinked. “‘Scuse me?”

Jessica, finished with tending to Raindrops, began unbuttoning my uniform jacket. “Hey! What’re you doing?” I asked, attempting to bat her hands away.

“Checking your injury, you moron!” Jessica snapped, shoving my hands aside. “He may have broken your ribs.” She unbuttoned my shirt, pulling it apart to reveal a deep, hoof-shaped bruise, mostly obscured by a thin covering of chest hair.

“I didn’t know you had fur there…” Fleetfoot observed, tilting her head to the side like a curious feline.

“Yes, and I would’ve much preferred it stayed that way,”

She raised her eyebrows a shade, and… pouted? “Really?”

I blinked. Probably rather stupidly. Was she flirting? I was pretty sure she was flirting. Thankfully, Jessica hadn’t picked up on it. Leanne had stopped paying attention ages ago and was now engrossed in her phone. Raindrops and Warmfront, however, were gazing at their superior with looks of disbelief.

Fleetfoot sat on her haunches, bringing a forehoof to lightly brush over the fuzz-coated bruise. “Felix will be able to fix this. But for the love of Celestia, don’t tell her how you got it.”

“Why not?” I asked, my eyes tracking the subtle caress of her hoof over my chest.

“Because she’ll probably turn Twister’s wings to lead, then teleport him over an active vol-”

Fleetfoot was suddenly interrupted by the periodic crackling of the public announcement tannoy. “Jack, I need you up front. We’re about to cross the boundary of the Inertia Peaks,” said Felix’s voice.

Fleetfoot lowered her hoof. “You’d better go,” she said, with an oddly forlorn look. She turned to Warmfront, who was still trying to revive the downed stallion. “Bring him upstairs. Misty Fly has some meds that should bring his sorry ass around.”

Warmfront hoisted the stallion over his back and headed up the staircase without a word.

“We’ll help!” Jessica blurted out, quickly grabbing Leanne by the arm and following Fleetfoot up the stairs. Leanne scowled, but allowed herself to be led away, her eyes mostly still fixed on her phone screen. I raised my eyebrows a shade. Even when the evidence was clear that a pony was an asshole, Jessica still couldn’t bear to see one of them hurt.

“Are you okay?” Raindrops quietly asked, shuffling over to my side.

I rounded on her. “Never mind me. What about you? How long has that prick been hassling you? Why didn’t you say anything to anypony? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Raindrops sighed, discarding the bloodied handkerchief. “Twister’s a walking stereotype—thinks he’s Cadence’s gift to mares the world over. He took a liking to me a few months ago, but I don’t go for guys with egos too big for their heads. He can be forward at times, but he’s all talk-”

“I don’t care what he thinks he is. If he ever lays a hoof on you again, I’ll tear his bastard eyes out,” I muttered, meaning every word. I’d vowed to never hurt another pony, but I’d gladly break it for that motherfucker.

Raindrops looked at me with what I assumed was a pained expression, but then she suddenly pounced right at me. I grunted in discomfort as her barrel collided with my bruised ribcage, knocking me back against the fuselage wall. Her hooves encompassed my neck, wings hugging my torso just a moment later.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I immediately forgot what it was when she pressed her lips to mine. Momentarily frozen in utter confusion, I let out a gasp that her broad tongue thoroughly took advantage of. Her taste was exceedingly pleasant, with just the barest hint of spice. An alluring cinnamon scent made its presence known at such close quarters, chasing away any reaction to her forwardness. Even the pain in my ribs seemed to melt away beneath the soft caress of her coat.

My arms automatically snaked around the mare’s back, fingers barely brushing over her flight muscles. Raindrops let out a gasp, gripping me more fiercely, her tongue easily overpowering my own. A small voice in my head suggested I put a stop to what was happening, that it was stupid, considering where we were.

The mare shifted, her hind legs eventually straddling my hips. Even through my uniform, I could feel the heat radiating from her core, followed by a small patch of dampness. Well, shit.

“Uhh, Rainy? Maybe… Maybe this isn’t the best place to be doing this? Not that I’m complaining.” Huh, weird. I am actually totally okay with this.

Raindrops broke the kiss, her roaming hooves had long since knocked my hat off, and she had fire in her eyes. She opened her mouth, but the tannoy system cut in first, along with a loud, blaring alarm.

“JACK! Get your ass up here right now before we all die in a fireball!”

“Shit.” I sprang to my feet so fast Raindrops was all but launched into the air. She caught herself with her wings, gently fluttering to her hooves. “We’ll talk later,” I called over my shoulder, sprinting toward the cockpit.

Bursting through the cockpit door, I was greeted with white-out windows and a blaring ground proximity warning. Spitfire was nowhere to be seen.

“What the hay took you so long?” Felix snapped. “Sit down and take the stick. I need to find us a way out of this fog that doesn't end in us ploughing into the side of a mountain.”

I did as she asked, taking the flight stick, though I had no idea what to do with it. “I can't see shit. Why is the ground proximity warning going off? We should be nowhere near the ground.” The instrumentation wasn’t of much help, most of it still being non-functional.

“It’s a peak. Fog can form on them nearly instantly,” she replied, closing her eyes and charging her horn. “I can sense we’re close to one of them, but if you keep us flying straight, we’ll be safe.”

“A peak?” I dumbly repeated. “This high up?”

Felix gave me a bemused look. “Yeah. Hence ‘Inertia Peaks’,” she shot back, just as the Airbus suddenly cleared the fog as if it had never been.

The next question died on my lips. A huge, snow capped land mass rose up from the fog, perilously close to our flightpath. My stomach nearly dropped out of my ass at the sight. “Fuck!” I gasped, yanking back on the flight stick in reflex.

The jet pitched upwards. Hard. We cleared the peak with only a few hundred meters to spare, the ground proximity warning finally silencing. The sky ahead was filled with what I could only describe as a collection of floating mountains. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I muttered, taking in the sight in awe.

Felix glanced over at me, a smile slowly spreading over her muzzle.

Huge chunks of land, with no visible support, hung in the air as though filled with helium. Most of them were ice-capped behemoths, but there were a few smaller ones at lower altitudes that appeared to have forest-like ecosystems living on them. “This… This is amazing…” I whispered. I’d thought Earth was beautiful, but I was only just realising that the nature of Equador was much more significant.

Felix allowed the magic running through her horn to fade. “Looks like we caught a break,” she smiled briefly, before her expression morphed into one of annoyance. “What took you so long to get here? You couldn’t have went very far.”

I blinked, only half acknowledging her words, still very much engrossed in the physics-defying scenery. Felix leaned over and tapped my upper arm with a forehoof. “Hey! You got selective hearing now, as well?”

“Oww!” I flinched, her roughhousing jostling my ribcage.

Felix frowned, her ears suddenly pointing straight up. I quickly slapped an unfazed look on my face, but the damage had already been done. “What happened back there?” she asked, her large, pretty eyes boring into my soul.

“Nothing,” I replied. Probably a little too quickly.

“Jack, Darling. You’re a terrible liar,” she purred, her voice terrifyingly sweet all of a sudden.

I clamped my mouth shut. There was no way I was going to tell her what happened. Especially after she tried to murder Cloudchaser over a little dry humping. Much to my dismay, she picked up on that little resolution all too swiftly. In a surprisingly graceful movement considering the cramped space, she fluidly crawled over the center console and into my lap.

“Uhh… Felix?” I murmured. Her hind legs straddled my hips, and she deliberately pressed her core to my groin so there was no space between us. My face reddened, my body already reacting to her touch. What the fuck has gotten into her? “Mm… k-kinda busy here, flying…” I muttered, keeping one eye glued to the windshield. The other was obscured by a large amount of silky, strawberry scented, pink flowing mane. Gods, she’s so pretty…

She shifted again, deftly aligning the contours of her lithe frame to my torso. I barely held back a wince. If only that asshole hadn’t have kicked me, I’d be able to enjoy this properly like the depraved bastard I was becoming.

I scowled. You’re a horsefucker, Jack. And a filthy hypocrite to boot. I didn’t care. I wanted her too much. All this time, this was all she had to do. Fuck. Her eyes are glowing. Why are her eyes glowing? Her cheek nuzzled against mine, fur softer than silk gliding over my burning face. My cock twitched involuntarily, having long since reached full mast. She had to have felt it. Something sharp gently brushed over my exposed neck, her hot, sweet breath adding to my addiction.

“Qui vous a fait cela?” she breathed, her voice bearing a knife-edge quality that sent goosebumps down the back of my neck.

“I… Wh-What?” That sounded like… French? With the accent to boot? The fuck did that come from?

I was vaguely aware of Spitfire reclaiming her position in front of the jet, and a soaring Raptor pulling off into the distance. The pegasus glanced back a couple of times, but I had no idea if she could see what was going on in the cockpit.

“Qui vous a fait cela?” Felix repeated, her tongue joining the sharp pinpricks digging into my flesh.

“I… I don’t know what you’re saying,” I stammered, fear welling in the pit of my stomach. Were those… Did she have fangs? I didn’t understand a lick of French, so gods knew what she was saying.

“This,” she hissed, thankfully, in English. I winced in pain, her hoof pressing into my chest for the briefest of moments. “Who?”

“I-It was an accident,” I stuttered. She pulled back, revealing her face. Her sapphire eyes glowed like dimmed spotlights, not quite as bright as they had before she’d attacked Cloudchaser, but bright enough to tell she was not herself. Her maw was slightly open, tongue running over a set of sharp, pearly white fangs. Fuck me… She was a porn-fantasy vampire princess come to life.

“Tu mens,” she hissed again, her steely gaze pinning me in place.

The creaking of a door sounded from somewhere behind me. “Hey, Jack. You left your hat…” Raindrops began, before catching an eyeful of Felix being a weirdo. Her maw dropped. “I’llcomebacklater,” she squeaked, dropping my cap like it was a hot poker.

She was gone before it even hit the floor.

Felix shuddered against me, prompting another twitch from my cock. Her eyes were back to normal, fangs gone, and her face was slowly reddening beneath her fur. “Shit,” she muttered, in her usual Canterlot accent. I could do nothing but stare at her. One hand gripping the armrest, the other clutching the flight stick. She just sat there, her warm core pressed firmly against my aching manhood. It was torture. And bliss.

An awkward grin spread over her muzzle, and she began idly fiddling with her mane. “Well… That just happened,” she trailed off, unable to look me in the eye, yet still straddling my diamond-tier boner as though it were a perfectly reasonable place to sit. Not that I’m complaining. All of my previous reservations about being attracted to ponies were pretty much dead in the water by this point. Slain by shapely rumps, bedroom eyes and killer smiles.

“I should probably… um,” she began, making a move to head back to her seat.

My hand made its way to her face without my knowledge, thumb slowly caressing her cheek, fingers slipping into her mane. Felix paused. One of her ears flicked against my fingers, and she gave me a curious little smile. I must admit—I wanted to know why she had suddenly sprouted fangs, and started interrogating me in French. But in that moment, all I wanted to do was just be close to her.

The sound of tinkling wind chimes took me by surprise. Felix let out a little chuckle, the pain in my chest seeming to dissipate with the musical sound of her voice. The glow from her horn receded, leaving my chest a little numb, but my ribs intact.

“Thanks,” I whispered, one hand still gripping the flight stick. The other was sliding deeper into her luscious flowing locks.

Felix breathed a sigh, leaning forward once more to connect our bodies. Her muzzle found the crook of my neck, her breath warming my skin. Her forelegs snaked over my shoulders. “De rien, mon chéri,” she replied, though in French. Her voice sounded normal, with none of the hissing undertones.

Curiosity burning, I could no longer wait. “Since when can you speak Fr-”

CRACK!

A large crack appeared in the left-middle windshield, through which a rather angry-looking Spitfire could be seen yelling quite animatedly. Felix and I both nearly jumped out of the Captain’s seat in fright. “Fuck!” I yelled.

Felix spun around, warily eyeing the damage. “Did she just throw one of her shoes?” Her horn flashed, and the crack disappeared instantly. “Fucking crazy bitch,” she added, finally rising up from my lap. She half stumbled over the centre console, her hind legs acting more like jelly than limbs. I got a faceful of cutie mark as a result. Her tail flagged quite a bit higher than it usually did, and I was suddenly hyper aware of the most alluring scent that had ever graced my nostrils.

“Lucky this is a de-pressurised flight,” I muttered, trying to ignore my sudden light-headedness. Whilst an actual broken window would be bad, it wouldn’t be as catastrophic as it would if we were flying at a higher altitude. “I think I’ll have to have a few words with her about basic aircraft safety when we land.”

“Speaking of landing, we’re almost there. Look, there’s Canterlot,” Felix happily chirped, pointing through the port-side windshield.

I couldn’t help but gasp at what I was seeing. Gone were the floating mountains of the Inertia Peaks. Instead, a sprawling metropolis composed of what appeared to be white marble interspersed with gold spanned the entire side of a gargantuan mountain. The city was perched high up above the surrounding countryside. Even from our vantage point on the Airbus, we were at about the same altitude as the tallest towers of the city.

“You ponies sure love high altitude strongholds,” I thought aloud, adjusting course to keep in line with Spitfire. The jet rolled to port, revealing a small town at the foot of the mountain.

“That’s Ponyville,” Felix commented, strongly reminding me of the Airtours that Skyland Corp sometimes ran for their executives. “Home to the Elements of Harmony. And over there,” she pointed to large expanse of cloud off in the distance, “is Cloudsdale.”

“A cloud city?” I asked, trying to make out a few the cloud structures sitting atop the large expanse of white.

“Yeah. Think of it like the base, only bigger, and without any solid ground.”

“How come it doesn’t just float away?”

“There are spells that keep it in place, the same spells I use to maintain the cloud sections at the Academy,” she added, a slight blush forming on her cheeks.

I smiled, my brain still half-baked by the delicious scent still present in the cockpit.

“Look, there’s our runway,” Felix said, unaware of my musings. A large open valley between two low-lying peaks lay dead ahead. I could easily make out a long runway that ran alongside a winding riverbank. Several buildings were situated on its other side, including a few aircraft hangars of varying sizes, a tall building that resembled an ATC tower, and a sky dock hosting several airships.

I gazed in awe at the large zeppelin-like structures, never having seen them in the flesh before. They bore resemblance to old pirate ships, though they hung below huge gas bags rather than sails. I could even make out a few pegasi working on the rigging.

“So, it’s flaps next? For the glidescope?” Felix prompted, snapping me out of my sightseeing. She rolled the throttle levers back with her magic, the roar of the four turbofans gradually winding down a little. “Huh, there’s still a decent amount of fuel left,” she added, flicking through the ECAM. “Gives us a bit of leeway on the landing.”

“Hopefully, we won’t need it,” I said, adjusting the flap lever and gently easing the flight stick back. The jet pitched up, settling into a steady glide behind Spitfire. “What’s our speed?”

Felix’s horn briefly illuminated. “One hundred and eighty knots, by my calculations,” she replied, flicking her mane out of her face. “Do we set the gear down now?”

“Altitude?”

Felix gave me a bemused look. “Altimeter’s inaccurate too, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” I muttered, glancing at the instrument in question. It read negative twelve hundred feet. “Do you have a spell for that, too?”

“Hmm… Gimme a sec’.” She scrunched her muzzle in concentration, her horn flaring once more and her tongue poking out. I couldn’t help but find the image ridiculously adorable. “One and a half thousand hooves, give or take.”

“Hooves? What about feet?”

The unicorn shrugged, just as the Landing Gear Alarm started blaring. I frowned. “We should probably lower the gear now,” I muttered.

Felix pushed the gear lever down with her hoof, a satisfied grin on her face. “I’ve been waiting hours to do that,” she sang. The deep rumble of the undercarriage deploying reverberated through the cabin, the gear lock lights eventually illuminating one by one.

Lower and lower we sank into the valley, with more and more ponies on the ground and in the air starting to take notice. “Are those earth ponies?” I asked, squinting at a small crowd gathered around one of the hangars. Quite a few of them were lacking a horn, or wings. They gazed up in awe of the looming Airbus, which easily dwarfed even their largest airships.

Felix grinned. “Yep. They’re gonna be all over this thing when we land,” she replied, peering over the high dashboard to get a better look. “Slipstream is right up their street.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking a ride on one of those airships,” I began, before spotting something unsettling on the runway. “Wait—why isn’t that Raptor moving?” The long, sleek vessel had been taxiing over the runway, but ground to a halt just after the centre line. Its magnus cylinders were halfway extended, and its gem-powered light beacons flashing. “They need to get out of the way.”

“Huh,” Felix observed, tilting her head to the side. “They were definitely told we were coming.”

Spitfire, abandoning her steady glide in front of the jet, darted off toward the Raptor at breakneck pace. A number of earth ponies could also be seen galloping toward the stationary aircraft.

“Good thing we have that extra fuel, eh?” I said, gently easing the throttles forward.

“She’s going to murder them,” Felix quipped, flicking the gear lever back up with a forehoof.

* * *

With a leap that demanded all of her strength, Buttercup launched herself from the tarmac, her hoof hooking into the emergency release plate on the door of the Raptor, while the rest of her slammed into the side of the vessel with a dull thud. The thunderous roar rattling through the entire base grew exponentially louder with each passing moment, vibrating the air so much it made her coat ripple and her ears pop. She fought the urge to glance back at the gargantuan alien ship that loomed eerily in the distance, seemingly defying physics by being so large and not dropping out of the sky. All she could do was hope beyond hope that the otherworldly being piloting the mysterious craft was aware of the obstruction on the runway.

“Bucking idiots! I’ll break their stupid heads!” she growled, attempting to unstick the stubborn latch, her other three hooves flailing for purchase against the smooth sky iron. “Stupid, prejudiced assholes!”

She knew exactly who they were. Ever since Felix had been transferred to the Wonderbolt Academy a month ago, the rumours of aliens from another world had been spreading around Foal Mountain at an alarming pace. It hadn't taken long for certain individuals to protest an alliance with the new arrivals to Equador. Thankfully, such individuals were only a small-minded few.

They were also about to get their flanks handed to them. A fiery, flight-suit-clad blur slammed into the front of the Raptor, shattering the windshield into a thousand tiny pieces. Oh, dear. Spitfire’s screaming and cursing could be heard even over the ungodly roar of the alien craft, until the large ship started to roar even louder.

Buttercup yelped in terror, losing her grip on the latch as the din spooled up to a deafening blast of engine noise. Her hooves slipped, and she fell to the runway, her rump bouncing on the tarmac. She ended up flat on her back, gazing in awe at the huge alien craft soaring overhead. The ground vibrated due to the sheer volume it was projecting. An age seemed to pass before its massive fuselage cleared the Raptor—it was just so huge, easily dwarfing her own ship by a considerable margin.

Springing to her hooves, she watched in awe as the giant vessel climbed out of the valley, its multiple sets of wheels gradually folding away into its vast underbelly. In a graceful movement for such a large craft, it rolled to port, and began heading back west towards Canterlot Mountain.

Buttercup could only assume it was heading for a go around. “We need to get this Raptor off the runway, now!” she all but yelled at the ponies that had rushed onto the runway behind her. Thankfully, a few of them had had the sense to bring their harnesses. Wasting no time, Buttercup grabbed the mooring line from Private Blossom, who was standing idly by, unhelpfully gawking at the alien craft with the rope hanging loosely from her maw. Securing it to the nose gear of the Raptor, Buttercup signalled for the harness-wearing earth ponies to pull. The Raptor started to roll with their efforts. Spitfire’s yelling could still be heard from within.

“-IN EQUADOR POSSESSED YOU TO DO SOMETHING SO INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS AND IDIOTIC? I’LL HAVE YOU COURT MARTIALLED FOR THIS, YOU INCONSIDERATE LITTLE BUZZARDS!”

The small vessel cleared the runway, coming to a halt on the adjacent taxiway. Its door extended downwards, and two pegasi tumbled out, followed by one irate-looking Spitfire. Buttercup scowled at the ponies that had seen fit to block the runway. Gust Cloud, a charcoal coated stallion with a lime mane and tail, and Ariel Ace, a silver mare with an off-white mane and tail. Both of them often bent the rules, but Buttercup never thought they’d go quite this far.

“ON YOUR HOOVES!” Spitfire barked, her eyes practically bulging out of her head. Gust and Aerial scrambled up off the tarmac, their faces gaunt. They stood to attention, legs trembling. Their usual bravado had completely abandoned them, much to Buttercup’s satisfaction. They probably hadn’t expected to be reprimanded by Captain Spitfire, after all.

“Captain Buttercup,” Spitfire acknowledged with a slight nod. “I’m going to escort these two to the guardhouse. If I’m not back by the time Slipstream lands, take the humans to your ship. I don’t want them swamped by curious groundcrew.”

Buttercup nodded, a small smile adorning her muzzle. It was good to see Spitfire again. “You got it, Captain.”

Spitfire turned back to the troublemakers. “March!”

The three pegasi set off at a brisk trot toward the main building. Buttercup let out a sigh, the earlier apprehension she had felt returning. Everything needed to go perfectly to keep these hyoo-mans safe. They were an endangered species on Equador, after all. Only the thought of finally seeing Felix again truly calmed her down. Butterflies made their presence known in her stomach at the thought of greeting her friend again. It had only been a month, but Buttercup had missed seeing the unicorn everyday quite a lot more than she thought she would have.

With a squint up at Canterlot Mountain, Buttercup could just make out the large ship flying a wide arc around the city. “Everypony clear the runway,” she called, stepping away from the hijacked Raptor as it was pulled away to a nearby hangar. “All pegasi to ground,” she added, the few ponies in the air descending. She’d gotten word of Windrunner’s demise, and the thought of such a fate meeting one of the ponies under her command made her sick to her stomach.

Once all of the ground crew were safely clear of the runway, Buttercup made her way to the Hurricane hangar. It was by far the largest hangar at Foal mountain—and was named after a prominent Wing Commander that had lived around the time of the unification of the three tribes. It was usually used for Raptor maintenance, but had been cleared out the previous week in time for the otherworldly ship arriving.

Another glance at the ship itself revealed its wheels had dropped out from its underbelly again, its wings curled for extra lift. Now heading straight toward the runway, the eerie illusion of it seemingly hanging motionless in the air became apparent once more. A small speck of blue became visible in the foreground, soaring ahead of the large metal bird way faster than an average pegasus could hope to fly.

Buttercup could just make out the gatling gun on its back. Then, the familiar face came into focus and her heart soared. “Flitter!”

The mare flared her wings at the last second, decelerating rapidly to a hover, before fluttering down to the ground. Buttercup pulled her friend close for an affectionate nuzzle.

Flitter chuckled, gathering Buttercup firmly with her wings and hooves. “I missed you too, Bee.”

“That is one huge ship,” Buttercup called over the growing noise level, stealing another glance at the alien craft. Even downwind of them, the massive metal machine still drowned out most of the noise on the base.

Flitter beamed, folding her wings. “It doesn’t even use magic to fly. Spitfire said it might run on kerosene.”

“Really?” Buttercup squeed, sitting on her haunches and excitedly clopping her forehooves together. She had never seen a flying craft that didn't rely on magic somehow. Maybe these hyoo-mans had also developed other forms of interesting technology? “Do you think they would let me take a look inside? I want to see how the engine works!”

Flitter grinned. “Actually, there are four engines, and they’re all on the outside. Look—you can see them now,” she yelled over the din, gesturing toward the pod-like structures on the wings.

“Oh, wow,” Buttercup breathed, catching sight of the engines. “Are they spinning on the inside?” It was begging to make more sense to her how this ship could be extremely dangerous to pegasi. Windrunner had learned that the hard way.

“Yeah. We’re not allowed to fly too close to them. Aside from what happened to Windrunner, the blast out of the back of them could tear a pony to shreds.”

Buttercup shuddered, glad she was a good distance away from the runway. The ship was looming much closer now, and its nose was tilted up. The rate at which it was sinking eventually tapered off as it drifted over the start of the runway, until its wheels—which she could now see were also huge—skimmed just a few hooves above the tarmac. Whoever this pilot was, they had some serious skill.

No Raptor pilot could have pulled off a smoother touchdown, considering the vast size and weight differential between the two aircraft types. The large wheels under the wings spun up on contact with the runway, the wheels under the nose eventually touching down not long after. As soon as they did, the engines began to roar so loud Buttercup had to cover her ears with her hooves. A series of panels on the wings flipped up, and the wings themselves seemed to curl even more than they already were. Kind of like Flitter had just done when she’d wanted to slow down, in fact.

The huge ship rolled the full length of the runway. Buttercup was worried it was going to roll off the end and onto the riverbank, but it had slowed enough to start turning around by the time it had passed the airship docks. Her own ship was about half the length, but the gas bag made it taller in height.

It turned onto the taxiway and began slowly rolling toward the Hurricane hangar. Ponies from all over the base were gazing at it with looks of wonderment, and Buttercup could tell the pegasi were itching to get into the air for a better look. It maneuvered again, its huge wings swinging over the tarmac until its nose pointed into the hangar entrance.

Slowly rolling the last few hooves, it finally came to a complete stop just short of the hangar. Buttercup felt like a little filly again now it was right up close to her. It was so big it made Raptors look like foals’ toys, and the thunderous, ground shaking roar of its engines set her nerves on edge. She knew it wouldn’t hurt her if she kept her distance, but it was just so big and unfamiliar that she couldn’t help feeling a little scared.

The roar of the engines gradually died down, along with the spinning. Buttercup suddenly realised the pods actually looked shockingly similar to the forced-induction fan blade bypass concept that had been dropped a few years back. She gulped. At least Windrunner would’ve died quickly. If she remembered correctly, the funding was cut because the engines were deemed too dangerous for pegasi.

“I think Jack would be happy to give you a tour of Slipstream if you asked him nicely,” Flitter commented, her eyes focused on Buttercup’s look of awe.

“Huh? Who’s… Jack?” Buttercup repeated, wondering if she had pronounced the name correctly.

“He’s one of the humans, and the Captain of this ship,” Flitter gleefully proclaimed, waving a hoof up at the stationary vessel. “He’s also a comfort stallion.”

Buttercup did a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah. I even got to help train him. Showed him the goods and everything.” She grinned, a somewhat dreamy expression on her face. Her wings even twitched a bit.

“What did he do?” Buttercup asked.

Flitter’s grin faltered a little. “Well, he kinda… ran away. I don’t think he was ready. But, I know he likes ponies. We kissed in a nightclub later that night.”

CRACK.

Buttercup nearly jumped out of her coat, just as Flitter’s wings flared, one of them slapping her in the muzzle. “Ouch,” Buttercup muttered, bringing a hoof up to her maw.

“Sorry,” Flitter whispered, with a sheepish grin.

Felix had just teleported right in front of them. “Bee!” she squealed, before the tall, cloth-laden creature that had materialised along with her immediately fell over her withers.

“Damn it, Felix!” barked a gruff voice. “How many times have I told you now?”

“Bee, this is Jack,” Felix chirped, ignoring the bipedal creature using his oddly shaped hooves to push himself up off her flanks, “He’s a Captain, like you!”

Felix threw her hooves around Buttercup and gave her a lengthy nuzzle. Buttercup would normally have been more reciprocative in greeting her friend, but as it was—she just sat there, her eyes transfixed on the first hyoo-man she had ever seen.

Her first impression of him was that he was big, not unlike his ship, she supposed. Tall, with a flat face, brown eyes, and a cute little nose. His mane was dark brown and cropped short. His upper limbs likened him to a minotaur, more than anything else. He wore a lot of clothing, and it was very posh clothing, at that. A white shirt and black tie, beneath a black suit, with gold buttons, and three gold stripes around the cuffs of the upper limbs. There was also a Wonderbolt badge pinned to his chest. This hyoo-man wouldn’t have looked out of place at the Grand Galloping Gala, mingling with the Canterlot elite, if it weren’t for the fact he wasn’t a pony. The parts of him that weren’t covered by cloth were a tan colour, not unlike her own coat. The only difference was that he didn’t have fur, apart from his short mane, and a small amount of stubble on his face.

He stooped down to pick up his hat, which had fallen off, his eyes never leaving her. Buttercup barely suppressed a shiver. She found he had a similar effect on her as his ship. Such curiosity could get a mare into a lot of trouble, but she was unable to resist. He was a Captain, like her. Though she had only recently been promoted, she was already hoping they could exchange stories and experiences, Captain to Captain. He had to have been on some adventures in his ship, and she wanted nothing more than to hear all about them.

Author's Note

I apologise to any native and learned French speakers for butchering the language—as I no-doubt have.

Google translate sucks, and I wish I'd payed more attention in French class. Yes. Felix's darker half is Prench, though she can speak broken English. Felix herself can speak both, though rarely speaks Prench without the influence of the siren.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As usual, point out any errors in the comments.

11. The Captain and her Thorn

“Wow,” Jessica gasped, her eyes glued to the magical sight of the unicorn city. It sat on several artificial ridges of differing heights, that wrapped around a large portion of the mountain it resided on. The entire dwelling was walled off with polished marble. She could even see a castle, with two large towers each accented with shining gold and midnight blue respectively.

“You like?” chuckled a warm voice.

“Can we visit? I really want to go there!” Jessica squealed, finally tearing her gaze away from the window. She grabbed her feathered companion by the shoulders, his large amber eyes surveying her with amusement.

The flight was nearly over, and Jessica couldn’t wait to get back on the ground again. It was pretty uncomfortable flying with nothing to sit on. She had just taken to sitting cross-legged on the cabin floor with Warmfront leaning against her leg for most of the flight, her fingers idly stroking his mane as they talked. While she could have just rested in the crew quarters, there weren’t any windows in there to see the sights of Equestria.

Plus, she didn’t really much care for Reginald. He often gave her funny looks.

“I think that’s the plan,” Warmfront replied, lying back down on his barrel again.

Leanne moved to his other side. She had gotten bored of playing games on her phone, and had taken to petting Warmfront to pass the time. Her hands played with his mane and tail, and she’d even stroked the part of his back between his wings a few times. It was hard to tell what Warmfront thought of her fiddling with him, but if she had to guess—Jessica would say he was much too polite to tell her to cut it out.

As if on cue, the handsy air hostess ran a palm between his wings, and they gave a noticeable twitch. He blinked, his muzzle scrunching up for a second. Jessica scowled. For whatever reason, it bothered her. “Leanne, will you please stop feeling him up? He’s not some Shetland pony you can just pet at your will!”

“What? I’m not feeling him up!” she retorted, her cheeks reddening. “I’m just stroking him,” she said, her palm still running through his coat.

“You’re not supposed to touch pegasi wings!” Jessica chastised.

“Jack touches Flitter and Rainy’s wings all the time.”

“That’s different. He’s supposed to-”

“Ladies, please,” Warmfront cut in, the fur beneath his cheeks a little redder than usual. “A certain amount of contact is indeed normal for ponies. We’re very social. But, if you want full disclosure-” he looked Leanne dead in the eyes. “Stop playing with my wing joints, Sweetheart. It’s making me want to mount you.”

The effect was instantaneous. Leanne snatched her hands away from him so fast she nearly slapped herself in the face. “Oookaaay,” she squeaked, getting to her feet and slowly backing away. With one fleeting glance back at him, she ran the full length of the cabin to the crew sleeping quarters, several ponies giving her adorable looks of confusion as she flew past them.

Jessica snorted, before bursting into laughter. “Oh, priceless!” She slapped Warmfront on the flank. The stallion let out a surprised whinny, before chuckling along with her.

“What’s up with Leanne?” asked a pale olive-coated mare wearing a Wonderbolt flight suit. Her mane and tail were a very pale arctic blue, and she had the “windswept” look going on that was popular among fast-fliers.

“Oh, hey Misty. She’s just learning about boundaries,” Jessica chuckled, patting the floor next to her. “Come join us.”

Misty Fly sat down on the opposite side from Warmfront, giving Jessica a quick nuzzle before leaning against her leg. Jessica ran her hand over the mare’s flightsuit, finding the ponies’ love of social contact endearing.

“So, hey—I gotta ask you something,” the mare began, gazing up at Jessica with those pretty green eyes. “What would be the best way to get Jack into bed?”

“Uhh…” Jessica faltered, the question catching her completely off guard. Sure, she was over the initial reaction of finding out Jack was going to be having sex with the mares, but it was still really weird for her. “Well… I’m not sure. I’ve never tried to sleep with him,” she added, somewhat lamely. “Don’t you already have a… um…”

Misty Fly frowned, her ears drooping a shade. “Ehh… Twister’s not doing it for me anymore. Plus, he’s kind of an asshole. I’ve been thinking of transferring to a different stallion for a while now, and Jack seems… well, kinda perfect,” she said, grinning happily.

Warmfront snorted. “He really has no idea how lucky he is,” the stallion muttered. More to himself, than anyone in particular. “It’s only ‘cause he’s all exotic…”

“Really?” Jessica asked Misty Fly, ignoring Warmfront’s jealousy… which, she had to admit—was kind of adorable.

“Well, yeah. Not having to take those disgusting herbs will be a welcome change for one thing.”

“Herbs? What herbs?”

Misty Fly’s grin was replaced with a grimace, her snout scrunching in disgust and her feathers ruffling. “Birth control. Tastes like rancid seaweed that’s been marinated in milk left out in the San Palomino desert for three days.”

Jessica turned her nose up. “Eww. Gross,” she muttered, wholly thankful she didn’t have a heat cycle. “So, wait… you’re not put off by him being human?”

“Of course not. It’s not all that rare for ponies to do it with other species. This one time—my cousin got drunk at a Trottingham barn party and let a minotaur rut her under a water tower,” she chuckled, her wings adjusting slightly. “Besides, Jack’s kinda cute, and his hands look… useful.”

“Hmm. I don’t know. I just guess it’s weird for me, because where I come from—humans are the only intelligent species.”

Misty Fly gave Jessica a wistful look, a devilish smile curling her fur-covered lips. “Well, ask yourself this—would you let Warmfront rut you?”

Jessica felt as though someone had just poured ice cold water down her back. She glanced at the stallion, but Warmfront was busy meeting Misty Fly’s look of glee with a less-than-amused glare. Her initial reaction was to say no, but when she opened her mouth, the word refused to leave it.

“I… I don’t… know?” she ended up muttering, the upward inflection confusing her even more.

She’d pretty much accepted that leaving Earth had kind of ended her sex life. Between a guy who liked cock, and a guy who drank so much whiskey he’d probably pass out during, her options were slim. Plus, Jessica paled at the thought of what Felix might do to her if she made a move on Jack. He may as well have “PROPERTY OF FELICITY” tattooed in big letters across his back, surrounded by lots of little pictures of lithium atoms. The unicorn was ridiculously protective of him. The way she often found excuses to touch him with her horn at any given opportunity was evidence enough. Sometimes she would just rub it against his chest for no reason at all, even when there was magic running through it. Spitfire had said that it would be highly inappropriate to touch a unicorn’s horn, but even moreso when the unicorn was casting.

But, Warmfront… Warmfront made her smile when no one else could. He made her laugh when she was feeling down. He could even make her completely forget she was stranded on an unfamiliar planet, with next to no hope of ever getting home. The fact that he was easy on the eyes was an added bonus. His golden coloured mane and tail were always shiny, and the large blue feathers of his wings were always well preened. It was easy to see he took good care of himself, unlike some of the other stallions she had seen.

The sudden, unexpected pondering of what his cock might look like took her by surprise, causing a hot flush to replace the ice at her back. Would it be too big for her? He was a horse, after all. What if he was hung like one? Would the end of it flare deep inside of her when he climaxed? Jessica felt a shudder rattle down her spine from the lewd thoughts running through her head. Was she really considering sleeping with a pony? Maybe he would wrap his wings around her… That would feel really nice—those things were so soft.

“Got’ya thinking about it now, eh?” Misty Fly snickered.

Jessica cleared her throat, suddenly painfully aware she had been lost in her thoughts for a good thirty seconds.

“Ignore her, Jess. She’s just trying to wind you up,” Warmfront interjected, brushing a wing against her side.

“No, I’m not,” Misty Fly countered. “I just don’t want the filly to go without some fun. If she waits until you pluck up the courage to ask her if she wants to, then it probably wouldn’t be all that fun by that point.”

Jessica blushed. She couldn’t believe Misty’s casualness about the situation. Warmfront scowled. “Will you just give it a rest?”

“Okay, fine!” she sighed, turning her eyes once more to Jessica. “So, back to Jack. I wanna be sleeping with him at least once a month. How do I make that happen? Is there anything specific a human would appreciate that I should be doing? I mean, I’ve got game in spades-” she expanded her wings, “-but I’ve never tried to pull anypony that wasn’t a pony before.”

Jessica blinked. Jack seemed really popular among the ponies… “Well, like I said, I’ve never tried to sleep with him, so I don’t really know what he likes,” she began, before spotting Fleetfoot stomping towards her. The General’s wings were flared, her eyelids low, and several ponies scarpered to get out of her way upon catching sight of her.

“Lieutenant Misty Fly,” she addressed, her voice sickeningly soft. It still managed to terrify Jessica, despite the fact Fleetfoot wasn’t even talking to her.

Misty Fly’s face paled, her wings snapping shut with an audible slap of feathers on fur. She jumped to her hooves, saluting the higher ranking mare. “General Fleetfoot.”

“Did I just overhear you asking Jessica for advice on how to get Captain Jack under your tail?”

Misty Fly trembled a little. “Yes, ma’am.”

Fleetfoot stepped a little closer to Misty Fly, until their muzzles were almost touching. “He will do his duty when he’s good and ready. Under no circumstances are you, or any other mare under my command, to try and trick him into sex before he is ready.”

“That wasn’t what I meant! I would never-” Misty Fly spluttered, her ears were so flattened into her mane they were barely visible anymore. Jessica thought of coming to her defence, but she really didn’t want Fleetfoot to lose her cool. The pony really was a nutbag…

“Do I make myself clear?” Fleetfoot barked, fire in her fuscia eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” With that, Fleetfoot turned to Warmfront, surveying both him and Jessica for a few moments. Jess wondered if she was going to get a telling off, as well, but Fleetfoot just blinked. “You’re a big guy, Warmfront. Be careful not to break her.” She tapped him on the shoulder, before trotting off, leaving Jessica blushing furiously, and Warmfront scowling.

* * *

CRACK.

Going from sitting down in a pilot seat, to suddenly standing up on solid tarmac in absolutely no time at all was not something I’d ever experienced before. As a result, I fell over in plain view of many unfamiliar ponies, most of which stared at me with their big round inquisitive eyes.

“Damn it, Felix!” I yelled, falling partly on the unicorn’s back. “How many times have I told you now?” Not once had she ever warned me we were about to teleport. Fucking unicorns, man.

“Bee, this is Jack!” Felix greeted one of the ponies, pulling the mare in for a nuzzle. “He’s a Captain, like you!”

I picked my fallen cap up off the floor, catching an eyeful of the pony she was talking to. Holy smokes… I put my cap back on. It was crooked, but I was unable to care.

In two words, this mare was breathtakingly beautiful. Her huge, heart wrenching turquoise eyes roamed all over my frame, until I caught her gaze directly. It was weird. I kinda had the sudden urge to just scoop her up for a hug.

Her coat was a light tan colour, her mane and tail strikingly ginger and full of voluminous curls. Both were secured with turquoise hairbands at the ends, though her mane parted to either side of her pretty face, hanging freely on one side. It was an adorable look for her. She had neither horn, nor wings, and a subtle glance at her voluptuous flanks revealed what resembled a golden pirate ship wheel with several rubies embedded into the spindles. There was a small yellow flower in her hair. All I could think was that this mare had the “perfect girl next door” look down to a tee.

“Jack, this is Buttercup,” Felix said, giving me a curious look as she pulled back to stand next to Flitter. The pretty flight suit-clad pegasus was also looking at me like she was trying to gauge my reaction. If I had to guess, I’d say that this earth pony was a rather close friend of theirs.

I don’t know what made me do it—perhaps a culmination of their expectations, and Buttercup’s endearing charm—but I dropped down on one knee, and took one of her pretty hooves in my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I purred, planting a chaste kiss on her fetlock.

The cute little mare didn’t react at all for a moment. A moment in which I asked myself what the feathering fuck I was doing. Kissing her fetlock? Are you fucking serious? I was halfway through internally swearing off talking to any pony ever again out of sheer embarrassment, but then she let out a cute little squeak.

Her hooves were suddenly around my neck, and the soft fur of her cheek rubbed against my face in a traditional pony greeting. Fuck it… I gave her the hug I’d been considering a few moments earlier. She was warm, and had a sweet scent that reminded me of pears.

“Hi,” she squeaked, withdrawing her hooves and blinking at me with those pretty turquoise orbs. Both Felix and Flitter were beaming at me. Perhaps I hadn’t messed up after all.

The sound of an upper deck door on the Airbus opening caught my attention. I turned in time to see two more doors open on the lower floor, several pegasi spilling out of them. Jessica stepped right out into the air, a pair of cerulean hooves about her waist, and large cerulean wings flapping behind her. Both she and Warmfront gracefully fluttered down to the tarmac. The stallion set her down, before going back up for Leanne.

“I’m gonna go wake Jason up,” Flitter announced, flaring her wings. “Felix, can you get this?”

Felix nodded, her horn flashing. The large gatling gun on Flitter’s back vanished. The pegasus adjusted her bow with a hoof and fluttered up to the upper deck, brushing a wing against me and smiling as she passed. I grabbed at her tail, but missed by quite a bit. Stupid cute pony.

A large number of earth ponies and unfamiliar pegasi began to crowd around the jet, a lot of them closing in on me and Jessica with inquisitive muzzles and observant eyes. I glanced at my co-worker. She was smiling, but it looked a tad forced as she observed the sea of ponies.

“Don’t you ponies have jobs to be doing? Get back to work!” barked a cute little high pitched voice, a mild southern accent making itself known in the pronunciation. I almost did a double take when I realised it was Buttercup that had spoken.

The ponies met her order with looks of disappointment and little pouty faces, several of them voicing their disdain with an “aww!” or a lengthy sigh. Floppy ears reigned supreme.

“Oh my goodness, they’re adorable,” Jessica cooed, her nervousness all but forgotten.

Warmfront set a slightly whitefaced Leanne down on the tarmac, just as Flitter fluttered down with Jason. “What’d I miss?” he asked, glancing around at the crowd. “Oooh, look at all those cute little faces!” I slapped a palm to my forehead. They may have been cute, but most of them were trained fighters.

Gradually, most of the ponies trotted away to their duties, though a few remained to admire Slipstream. Captain Buttercup seemed unfazed by the stragglers. “Spitfire said I should take you to my ship,” she addressed the four of us, her ears flattening a shade. “So, um… it’s that one.” She pointed a hoof to the largest of the five airships sitting moored above the sky dock.

“Well, lead on, Honey! We’ll follow you wherever you want to take us,” Jason beamed at the mare. That seemed to give her a little confidence, and she smiled.

“I gotta get to debrief,” Flitter sighed, rearing up on her hind legs. She briefly captured me with wings and forehooves, quickly pecking my cheek with her muzzle. “Later, horsefucker,” she whispered into my ear, launching herself into the air a split second later.

I scowled as she flew away, deliberately letting her tail flag wildly in the breeze. That suit wasn’t doing much to cover her feminine charms, either.

“I gotta go too,” Warmfront said, more to Jessica than anyone else. “Felix, you coming?” he asked the pretty unicorn.

He hadn’t even stuttered—something I found a little odd, seeing as he was always a little nervous around her. Felix shook her head, her mane falling briefly over her face before she swept it back with a hoof. “Go ahead without me, Sweetie. I’ll catch up later.”

The stallion gave a nod, spreading his wings. Jessica gave him a quick scratch behind the ear and he faltered for a split second, both of his ears giving a quick flick. Not a moment later, he had launched himself into the air.

I blinked, giving the air hostess an overly inquisitive look. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You just scratched his ear.”

“No I didn’t,” she chuckled, fiddling with her hair and avoiding my gaze. Jason gave an incredulous look, but it was directed at me for some reason.

I snorted. “Jess, we all just watched you do it-oww!”

I grabbed the sharp pointy white horn that had suddenly embedded itself into my stomach, pushing its owner away with my other hand. “What was that for?” I yelped, rubbing my bruised abdomen.

Felix nickered, overdramatically turning up her muzzle and trotting away toward the sky docks. “Hypocrite,” she muttered, flicking her tail from left to right, but she glanced back at me with a devious grin after a few paces.

Buttercup stifled an adorable little giggle behind her forehooves, before flashing me a sheepish grin and trotting off after the unicorn. I wasn’t sure if it was her intention, but her tail was swishing even more than the Felix’s. My eyes were drawn to her delectable equine treasure like a moth to a flame.

A slap to my shoulder snapped me out of my ogling. Jessica gave me a filthy look, but ruined the effect with a small smile. “Pervert,” she muttered, before striding after the two mares.

We set off toward the sky dock, side stepping the multiple wooden wagons the earth ponies had pulled over to unload the sky iron plating from the Airbus cargo hold. Spitfire had mentioned it would probably take a couple of weeks to get the jet fully outfitted with a full skin of armour, so we wouldn’t have much to do until then.

“Wow… That looks like a flying pirate ship!” Jason gasped, gazing up at the magnificent Equestrian airship.

He wasn’t wrong, either. Buttercup’s ship bore a striking resemblance to an eighteenth century Man-of-War, with a horizontally striped yellow and black paint job to match. Hell, it wouldn’t have looked out of place in the British Navy of the time, if it weren’t for the complete lack of sails. Well, that, and the fact it could fly. Constructed almost entirely of wood, it was quite a bit larger than the other airships. A large white gas bag held the craft aloft, connected by three sturdy masts along the middle and several sets of rigging along the sides. A multitude of cannons—too many to accurately count in any short length of time—protruded from several gun ports on its side, and a wooden figurehead in the shape of an earth pony reared on her hind legs adorned the top of the hull.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Felix began, stopping just short of a wooden platform at the base of the tall wooden docking tower. It was attached to a system of pulleys and counterweights, and looked to be a primitive version of an elevator. “I’d like to welcome you aboard Princess Celestia’s Airship, the Thorn of Canterlot,” she finished, with a cute little courtesy of her forehooves.

* * *

The sky was calm. Near enough perfect conditions for stunt flying—a little pastime of Fleetfoot’s. Not that she was really in the mood for such an activity at that moment. Normally, she would’ve gladly taken to the skies after such a lengthy time cooped up on a ship, or better yet—flown the journey herself. Her ulterior motive for opting to be a mere passenger on the flight to Foal Mountain was born of a simple conclusion: mares were curious creatures.

Fleetfoot knew it to be true, being a mare herself. The hypocrisy was not lost on her, either. She lay on a cloud, her forelegs hanging over the edge as she gazed wistfully down at the docked warship, the Thorn of Canterlot. The vessel was currently playing host to a precious payload of humans.

Jack had a hand on the wheel at the aft of the ship—which happened to be a spitting image of Captain Buttercup’s cutie mark. The mare in question was sat on her haunches quite close to his side, chatting animatedly and gesturing with her forehooves to various parts of the ship. No doubt she wanted to impress upon him the magical might of Equestrian technology, given the sheer technological marvel of Jack’s own ship.

Either that, or she too wanted to rut him.

It was becoming a common occurrence, as of late. Fleetfoot found she didn’t mind such behaviours toward him from ponies she considered her friends, despite said ponies often being ranks below her. Felix, Flitter, Spitfire and indeed Buttercup were a few notable examples. But the same could not be said of less familiar mares.

Sure, Misty Fly had irked her on board Slipstream, but that had been more a case of bad timing than Fleetfoot’s opposition of such an appointment. Misty was a fine Lieutenant, and really—what business did a General really have meddling in something as trivial as to which mare gets to have her fun with a comfort stallion?

Fleetfoot scowled, her wings ruffling at her back. She had tried her best to remain professional, but her best efforts had gotten her nowhere. She was supposed to be supervising a mission debrief, but had instead dumped responsibility onto Soarin just so she could goof off on a cloud and gaze down at the object of her affections.

Ever since Jack had shown her the control room of his ship, Fleetfoot had known she was going to have to tread carefully around him, especially considering Spitfire had immediately appointed him Windrunner’s replacement. What had initially been intended as a punishment for him had inadvertently stuck as an actual duty—something that annoyed Fleetfoot to no end. Of course, she could have just put her hoof down and said no to the idea, but then ponies would’ve started asking questions. Annoying questions.

Fleetfoot sighed into the gentle breeze. Felix was at Jack’s other side, her face lit up with laughter. Probably at something he’d just said. Whenever she saw the two of them together, she suddenly developed a serious case of butterflies in her barrel and had to fight back the urge to catch the unicorn on her own and try her luck.

If somepony had asked her a few years ago if she would ever consider herding, she would’ve laughed in their face. But now… Fleetfoot scrunched her muzzle, observing the alabaster unicorn with those perfectly pink, gorgeous curls flowing from her head and rump. If there was ever a mare that could make Fleetfoot want to swing both ways, it’d be Felicity. Not surprising, seeing as she was the daughter of the most successful supermodel Canterlot had ever seen…

An irregularity in the breeze flowing over her coat caused Fleetfoot to scan the skies for any potential assailants. She spotted Soarin in an instant. The Wing Commander soared up to her cloud, a piece of paper clenched in his muzzle and a worrisome look on his face. He alighted on the cloud next to her, removing the sheet from his mouth. It had a Wonderbolt letterhead on it.

“Uh, General? You should probably take a look at this.”

Fleetfoot took the sheet, her eyes scanning its contents. Grouped listings of mostly unfamiliar female pony names were written on it, each corresponding to the underlined names of comfort stallions under her command. Each of the mares’ names had a date beside it. “A heat roster?” she surmised, shooting the stallion an inquisitive look.

It wasn’t uncommon for stallions visiting different bases to service the mares stationed there. Foal Mountain was particularly bereft of stallions, mainly because it was primarily an earth pony base, and not many stallions could handle the ground dwellers’ enthusiasm when they were in season. Several earth pony stallions had even requested transfers to more race-balanced stations. The few that remained were seriously overworked, but all of them chose to remain of their own volition.

Soarin grimaced, pointing a hoof to an underlined name that Fleetfoot had missed. “I thought you should know…” he trailed off.

Captain Jack (Human - no herbs required)

Fleetfoot’s face paled. She clenched her jaw, eyes flicking through the considerable number of mares that had signed up to rut her human. She was going to murder every last one of them… No—that would take too long. “Who gave you this?” she hissed through gritted teeth, her wings flared skyward and the hoof holding the roster visibly shaking.

Soarin gulped, beginning to talk extremely quickly. “General Swift Hooves, ma’am. I saw Jack’s name right away, and I knew you wouldn’t like it. I tried to tell her, but she was having none of it-”

Fleetfoot rolled, her body smashing through the cloud as her wings skyrocketed her down towards the base at breakneck speed. Sailing through an open window, she rocketed down a corridor, her wake nearly ripping the plaster off the walls. Barely a few seconds later, she all but smashed her way through General Swift Hooves’ office door.

The dark-coated bespectacled grey mare was sat at her desk, a quill in her maw, hoof holding her long black mane aside as she signed a piece of paperwork. She didn’t even look up at Fleetfoot’s intrusion. Instead, she let out a sigh, setting the quill aside. “And just what have I done this time to earn the ire of the fearsome General Fleetfoot?”

Fleetfoot reared up and slammed a paper-clad forehoof to the desk so hard it cracked the wood. “This.”

Swift Hooves pushed her spectacles back on the bridge of her nose, inspecting the half-crumpled document beneath Fleetfoot’s hoof. She raised an eyebrow. “You intend to deny my soldiers relief?”

Fleetfoot nickered. “They can have all the cock they want. They cannot, however, have Jack,” she all but spat, her wings flared toward the ceiling.

Swift Hooves glanced at Jack’s name on the sheet for a moment. Fleetfoot thought she was going to foolishly try and argue, but the mare just shrugged. “Okay,” she conceded. Taking her quill, she crossed out Jack’s entire section.

Well, that had been a lot easier than anticipated. Fleetfoot would have taken the matter directly to Celestia herself, but no such ruling would be necessary… She frowned. Just what was Swift up to?

The earth mare smiled. “Hey, I was curious. He must be something quite special if you’re not willing to share.”

Fleetfoot scowled. “It’s nothing like that,” she lied, folding her wings. “Jack is still coming to terms with his new duties. I don’t want him overwhelmed, especially by a horde of amorous earth ponies,” she muttered, stomping a hoof to Jack’s crossed out list for emphasis.

Swift Hooves snorted. “That’s rich.”

Fleetfoot glared at the infuriating mare. “Just don’t try pull this crap again,” she concluded, turning to leave.

“And just what exactly do I tell the mares who expressed a desire to utilise his services?” Swift Hooves asked, the words rolling off her tongue like silk. Fleetfoot could tell she was rather enjoying herself.

“Tell them to use somepony else.” With that, Fleetfoot slipped out of Swift’s office before the earth pony could ask any more questions.

* * *

“That thing’s an engine?”

It sure as hell didn’t look like one, that was for sure. There were two of them—long cylinders constructed of some sort of alloy material that widened in circumference at one end. They each had two large embedded crystals, basically bigger versions of the gems that powered the pony-back mounted gatling guns I’d seen.

“Yep. They’re called Star Drives—named after the pony that’s credited with inventing them. He disappeared before he ever created a working prototype, but everypony agrees he did most of the research that finally helped ponies make the first one,” Felix explained, her horn glowing. The crystals embedded into the engines emitted a brief glow for a few moments. “They seem to be in fully working order, despite your aerobatics,” she said, winking at Buttercup.

Felix, Buttercup and I were in the engine room of Buttercup’s ship, below her private Captain’s quarters. The room was dimly lit, and had no windows, or any other form of natural light. Space was at a premium, as the walls were lined with bins of spare or broken parts, not that the engines looked all that complicated. I had no idea how they were supposed to work, even though Felix had already tried to explain when we were topside. Apparently, they were just bigger, slightly more complex versions of the engines found in Raptors, gradually sapping the latent magical potential of the crew in order to function. Of course, airship Captains had the advantage of being able to completely shut off the engines without plummeting to the ground, which was a definite plus for tired ponies.

Various parts of the engines glowed in turn as Felix worked her magic, her muzzle scrunched adorably and her tongue sticking out of the side of her maw. I blinked, completely unaware for a moment that my fingers had began running through her mane. She looked up at me and smiled, her eyes capturing my soul as they always did.

“How’s the shield generation capacitor?” Buttercup asked, her attention on another, smaller cylindrical device nestled between the two engines that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Could do with swapping out, but you know Swift Hooves will want at least a few more voyages out of it before she raids the coffers for a replacement,” Felix replied, re-scanning the device in question with her aura.

“What’s it do?” I asked, eyeing it with mild interest.

“That’s the thing that stops us getting sunk,” Buttercup answered. “When the engines aren’t being used for kinetic output, they charge that unit, which generates a magical forcefield around the ship, including the helium chamber.”

“That’s amazing…” Humans would no doubt kill for such a device. Probably a good thing they didn’t have access to it, truth be told.

“The griffons have their own version, but it’s crude, at best. Downright doesn’t work at all, most of the time,” Felix added, finding the small wooden staircase with her hooves. “Come on, we should get back to the others.”

We made our way back to the top deck via a wooden trapdoor. I had just emerged when I was greeted with the sight of an annoyed looking Spitfire. “Agh!” I yelled, clutching my chest, probably with a bit too much enthusiasm.

“Captain Jack!” she barked, as I stepped up to allow Buttercup to emerge. Felix was already sat on the deck with her ears a shade flatter than usual. I had a feeling she was deliberately not looking in my direction. The fiery Captain jumped up into the air and began hovering in front of my face. “Would you like to explain to me just what you were doing with Lieutenant Felicity whilst at the controls of an airship?”

“That depends—would you like to explain to me-” I forcibly grabbed her left forehoof. It was currently shoeless, “-why you threw one of your shoes at said ship’s windscreen? You do know that had our altitude been higher—that could’ve cost lives if the glass had smashed, right?”

Some of Spitfire’s bravado seemed to escape her. I could’ve sworn I saw her ears droop a bit. “I’ll admit—I didn’t mean for that to happen. Rest assured, I’ll be be shoving this hoof right up my farrier’s ass the next time I see her, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were fooling around when you were supposed to be working.”

I snorted, releasing her hoof and holding up my arms. “Please, spare me the details, Captain.”

Buttercup snickered, as did Jason, Jessica and Leanne. All of them were leaning against the railing of the ship, greedily lapping up the drama like high school soccer moms. Felix barely suppressed a snort, but Captain Spitfire was onto her in an instant. “And you!” she rounded on the unicorn. “If you’re going to jump his bones-oh come on—don’t give me that look. Everypony knows,” she added, when Felix glared at her with the intensity of a burning hot kitchen knife. “Just wait until you’re both off duty before you finally pop his pony cherry—understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Felix sassed, though Spitfire let it slide.

“Good. Now,” she said, turning to address Jessica, Leanne, Jason and I. “I’ve spoken to General Swift Hooves. She has granted the four of you access to all base facilities, and has set aside a VIP visitor suite for your accommodation while you’re here. Get some rest, as the Thorn will be taking you to meet with Princess Celestia tomorrow morning.”

Jason’s eyes grew wide. “We get to meet a pony Princess?” he squealed, clapping his hands together with glee.

Spitfire gave him a bemused look. “Oh, boy,” she muttered, more to herself than the ecstatic flight attendant, before spreading her wings. “You’re all off duty,” she said, speaking to the four of us once more. “You can explore the base, but don’t get into trouble.”

With a flap of her wings, she launched herself into the air.

Author's Note

I'm back off holiday (or vacation as some of you call it) and ready to write about sexy horses again!

Spot any errors? Let me know in the comments.

12. The Bastard King of Dysnomia

Gilda observed, clicking her beak in distaste at the two young soldiers being led away to the dungeons of Griffinstone fort. She hadn’t a clue why the bastard King of Dysnomia had spared their lives, but it was just as well. The would be assassins had failed to realise that undertaking such a monumental task would require a lot more than good intentions and a couple of service pistols.

“Third attempt this month. You’d think this insolent resistance would have submitted by now, yes?” King Grognak sneered to the throne room. His battle hardened claw tightly gripped a golden staff, a large cerulean gem embedded at the top of it. A large gold crown was perched atop his head, boasting several smaller gems of different colours, though they paled in comparison to the staff’s centerpiece.

Most of his advisors murmured in agreement, though some were less enthusiastic. Gilda merely nodded, her gaze unwavering.

With a loud bang, gold met stone, and a disproportionate wave of energy blasted from the impact at the foot of the King’s throne. “They think they can kill me? They shall be shot at dawn!”

So much for mercy. Gilda closed her eyes for a few moments, slowly opening them again as she inhaled. It was rumoured that prior to gaining power over Dysnomia, Grognak had managed to defeat a beast so powerful, that he now possessed the means to overcome death itself. A lot of it could be put down to speculation, of course. Dysnomia was rife with propaganda, and there was no shortage of gullible griffins lapping it all up. But Gilda knew there might be some truth to those claims. Such truths did not bode well for anyone.

“Dismissed!” Grognak spat. His advisors wasted no time in exiting the lavishly decorated throne room, some of them even pushing their peers out of the way to get through the archway.

Gilda was quick to make herself scarce also, but a harshly barked “Colonel!” put a stop to her gait. No sign of frustration escaped her, even though she wanted nothing more to be free of his wretched presence.

“Yes, your Imperial Highness?” she uttered mechanically, stopping short of the stone archway leading out into the corridor.

The king waited until every other soul was out of earshot before continuing, albeit in a more reserved growl. “It has been brought to my attention by our spies in the west that Equestria has gained an ally.”

“Equestria has many allies,” Gilda replied, her tone as dead as those poor incarcerated griffins come dawn.

“Yes, but their most recently aquired are said to be from another world,” he croaked, leaning heavily on the arm of his throne, “and they brought a flying fortress with them.”

Gilda blinked, slowly turning to face the king. “A flying fortress?”

“My informant tells me there are four otherworldly beings that have recently been transferred to Foal Mountain along with their enormous craft. We do not yet possess the knowledge of how to disable it, bar blowing the blasted thing to pieces. Admittedly, such a feat would be…” Grognak faltered, an ugly grimace claiming his beak as he gripped his staff tightly, “-difficult, considering how well guarded the area is.”

Gilda was struck with a sense of unease. Grognak wasn’t usually one to share his secrets so freely, even with his most ‘trusted’ advisors. “Forgive me, your Imperial Highness, but why are you telling me this?”

The king let out an angry squawk, rearing up out of his throne. “We can’t blow it up, so we must find another means to disable it,” he spat, the staff now audibly creaking within his grip. He began to pace the length of the throne room. “Only two individuals are capable of flying this ship. The first is one of the aliens—a ‘human’ named Jack. These ‘humans’ are weak, and as far as we know, have no magic to speak of. He shouldn't pose much of a challenge. The second, however, may prove a little trickier. She is a unicorn by the name of Felix-”

“Felix?” Gilda repeated. That name struck a chord. A devastating chord. “White coat, pink mane and tail, choker collar with a sapphire pendant?”

Grognak stopped, turning to face Gilda with a smile. A sickeningly smug smile. “You’re familiar with her, then? Yes?”

“You want me to kill Felicity?” Gilda grimaced, her stomach churning at the very thought of attempting such an act. “But… she’s a… a… ” Gilda faltered, unable to speak of the deadly race. It was not widely known that the seemingly innocent military engineer was cursed with harbouring one of the most destructive creatures known to Equador. Dysnomian intelligence had stumbled upon the fact after a series of extremely risky operations involving sending changeling spies into the Equestrian government.

Grognak seemed to revel in Gilda’s unrest. “They’re tough, but…” he tapped a claw to the gem embedded into the top of his staff, “... not invincible.”

Gilda swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Such a statement was true of the average siren, but Felicity was a different story. The files stolen from the Equestrian government painted a thoroughly gruesome picture, even to a griffin. The deadly unicorn had learned to control herself in recent years, but most of her early teens were spent in a spiralling dark haze of slaughter. Her mother had been completely incapable of controlling her. It was said that Princess Celestia herself had escorted Felix to the battleground—the only outlet capable of sating the desires of the beast. Entire legions of griffons—originally thought to have been missing in action at the time—were lost to the siren.

“The bug I have on the inside is a great spy, but not much of a fighter, which is why I need you to infiltrate the base and dispose of the two pilots.”

Gilda slowly nodded. The urge to finally act that had been building within her for weeks now bubbled to the surface. The war was futile, and it seemed the only one who didn’t realise it was the king. “I will leave for Foal Mountain immediately,” she said, her mechanical tone returning. This suicide mission was the last straw.

With a flick of her lion tail, Gilda finally escaped the company of the king, swiftly padding through the stone archway. Once she was out of sight, her wings spread, and she launched herself from a battlement-lined balcony at the end of the corridor.

Not five minutes later, she stealthily slipped around a corner in a dimly lit dungeon passageway, deep below the fort. A burning wooden torch on the wall cast a flickering orange glow over the floor, which was caked in dirt, and what looked like the bones of small rodents.

Gilda crouched low, slowly edging into a hallway lined with wrought-iron bars. Hiding was not a necessity, but she’d prefer not to have griffins asking questions, if she could avoid it. When she was certain there wasn’t a guard patrolling the hall, she carried on. Passing cell after cell, she finally reached one that wasn’t empty.

The two would-be assassins were laying on the floor, their feathers in disarray and their claws and paws covered in dirt. Glory, the falcon corporal of the duo, was busy whispering in hushed tones to her accomplice, Grendel, a tiercel of the same rank. Gilda rapped a claw to the bars of their cell, causing both of them to jump. A split second later, they were stood to attention, wings neatly folded, and rapping claw to breast thrice in salute.

“Colonel!” they barked in unison.

Gilda sliced a wingtip through the air. “Quiet! We don’t have much time.”

A small desk sat at the end of the corridor full of cells, on which a few dusty old bits of parchment sat. Gilda swiftly padded to it, opening several of the drawers until she found what she was looking for—several sets of spare keys. Many of them had no cell numbers, so through a system of hurried trial and error, she finally found the right one.

Glory and Grendel remained silently puzzled as the cell door slid open. “Get out. Fly far away from here, and don’t ever show your faces in Griffinstone again,” Gilda said.

The two griffins merely gave her a dumbfounded look, as though trying to figure out if Gilda was pulling their tails. After a few moments, Grendel scrambled from the cell, taking off down the corridor without so much as a backwards glance. Glory remained where she stood.

Gilda scowled. “He’s going to have you killed. Get out of here!” she urged, motioning her claws to the passageway through which Grendel had fled.

“But… w-what?” Glory stuttered, her features awash with disbelief. “Why would you?” she trialed off.

“It doesn’t matter, you need to go,” Gilda hissed, swiftly making her way to the small desk again and throwing the keys in the drawer. “And so do I.”

Passing the open cell once more at a semi sprint, Gilda made for the exit. The sooner she set off for Equestria, the less likely someone would find out she had just broken out two of Grognak’s prisoners.

“Wait! Take me with you!” Glory called, finally darting from the cell.

With a backwards glance, Gilda observed the young falcon silently stalk her pawprints, frame low and eyes peeled. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring some company for this particular ‘mission’. She clicked her beak. “Fine, tag along if you must. You’ll probably live longer in Equestria anyway.”

Quiet as a whisper, the two griffins slipped from the fort of Griffinstone and out into the night.

Author's Note

Short background chapter for now.

And yes, this was split from a larger draft, so no need to throw your keyboards at me for the lack of writing. Another chapter should be posted in the next few days. :fluttershyouch:

13. The Garden of Self Possession

The atmospheric rumble of the four Rolls Royce turbofans reverberated through the cockpit as I grinned over at a starry-eyed Buttercup. The ecstatic earth pony was sitting on her haunches in the First Officer’s seat with her maw open, and her forehooves bunched up against her barrel. She hadn’t uttered a word since taking a seat, but kept gazing around at the various screens, buttons and dials like kid in a candy shop.

“Hey, Buttercup. Gi’me your hoof,” I chuckled, holding out my palm.

She didn’t even appear to have heard me. Her ears swivelled almost like little radar dishes on her head, and her eyes darted over the flickering screens, trying to take in as much information as they could. It was one of the most amusing and adorable things I’d ever seen.

“Buttercup?” I tapped her shoulder, and the poor mare nearly jumped out of her coat.

“I…” she squeaked, her eyes snapping to me. “It’s… It’s so… I don’t even… How do you even control this?”

Another chuckle escaped me. “I know it looks complicated with all of the switchgear, but the main controls are quite simple. Let’s start with something easy. Now, gi’me your hoof.”

She tepidly extended the requested limb, and I grasped her by the fetlock, gently positioning her hoof at the throttles. “Now, slowly push this forward,” I instructed, removing my hand from the equation.

She did so, and the engines reacted, spooling up to a considerable volume. “Eeee,” she squeaked, her ears flattening and her forehoof snapping back to her chest.

I barked out a laugh, my feet slipping off the brakes. The jet began to roll forward into the hangar. “Okay—now we need to stop. You’d better be quick, or we’ll end up going right through the back wall,” I warned, unnecessarily pointing at said wall.

“Wh-What? B-But, I don’t know how to stop it!” Buttercup yelped.

“The brakes are on your side—look, it’s just the little doohickey by the whatyamacallit,” I muttered, pointing to an obscure redundancy control that I’d never actually used before. I think it had something to do with passenger cabin ventilation cycles, but I wasn’t entirely sure. “Hurry up, Buttercup, or Hurricane hangar is gonna have a Slipstream shaped hole in it!”

“No! No, Jack! Ah’m not ready for this. Ah can’t,” she panicked, pawing at the control panel in completely the wrong place. Her southern accent thickening under pressure was the icing on the cake.

I waited as late as I dared to jam the brakes back on and shut the throttles off. Buttercup let out a yelp, almost face-planting the ECAM as the jet ground to a sudden halt. Her face was hidden behind her forehooves, and she was visibly shaking. I probably would’ve felt a bit guilty, if it hadn’t been so damned funny.

“Oh, man, that was priceless!” I snickered, just as the cockpit door swung open, revealing a snow-white unicorn with graceful pink curls.

Felix took one look at Buttercup cowering behind her forehooves and levelled me with one of her steelier glares. “D’you want me to headbutt you in the chest? ‘Cause I’ll do it!”

“Relax! It’s just a little prank. Isn’t that right, Buttercup?” I chuckled, pulling the engine kill switches one by one. The din died down, leaving only the distant hum of the APU, which I hadn’t bothered shutting off before.

“Never do that again! A-Ah thought we were going to crash,” Buttercup squeaked, her eyes wide and accusatory.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I chuckled, climbing out of my seat and flicking the APU and battery switches off. I leaned over the center console, rubbing a palm over the earth pony’s cheek and partway down her long neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Gazing into those brilliant turquoise orbs, I leaned closer and whispered, “I just think I’m funny sometimes.”

Buttercup’s expression melted, her lips curling into a somewhat reluctant smile. Success!

“I can vouch for that,” Felix muttered from behind us. “Come on—we need to get off the plane so the groundsponies can plate her up.”

CRACK!

“GAH! FUCK!”

Narrowly avoiding a faceplant, I stumbled sideways and ended up tripping over Felix’s hindquarters. Again. “I swear to god, woman! One of these days I’m going to snap that horn off your head and shove it right up your arse!”

“Ooh. Kinky,” Felix chuckled, already trotting away from me along the corridor we’d just teleported to. Where the corridors at the academy were painted a bright blue, it seemed the earth ponies prefered a more reserved gunmetal grey. “Come on. I’ll show you around. Care to join us, Bee?”

Buttercup, who had braved the teleport with a fair bit more grace than I had managed, shook her head. “Ah’d love to, but ah’ve got a mountain of paperwork to fill out for tomorrow's voyage. Turns out transportin’ an endangered species comes with a whole lotta red tape.” She gave us an apologetic grin. “Ah’ll see you guys tomorrow. Swift Hooves appointed me to watch over y’all when you’re in Canterlot… Not that you’ll need it.” She winked, before disappearing through a doorway to a smaller, equally grey corridor.

I watched her trot away, her shapely, toned earth pony flanks gently swaying side to side, causing her tail to swish slightly behind her. A sudden, unbidden thought of what it would feel like to slide a certain part of my anatomy between those toned flanks burst onto the forefront of my mind. I closed my eyes, shaking my head a little. Since when did I fantasise about ponies and not be grossed out about it? It just wasn’t like me…

“Like what you see?” Felix suddenly asked. She was standing right beside me again. I hadn’t even heard her trot back over.

“What? No!” I spluttered, flinching at her proximity. I cleared my throat. “I mean, Buttercup seems like a nice pony.” Yeah. That’s what I meant. Totally saved it. Go Jack.

Felix slowly smiled, her eyes studying my face. “You can like more than one pony, Jack.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t sound right.” Like, not right at all. Was she seriously okay with this? Even if that was the case—more than one pony was a bit of an understatement at this point, if I was being honest.

Felix made her way once more along the corridor, throwing back a sultry glance in my direction. “Maybe back in England. But here in Equestria, things are a little different.”

I slowly followed her, trying not to ogle her swaying flanks. Her tail was swishing, but not quite enough to reveal any of her exiting bits. “Different? Different how?”

“Well, have you noticed that everywhere you go, there are a lot more mares than stallions?” she asked. Her flanks continued to sway. Quite unnecessarily, if you asked me.

“I thought that was a military thing? Like how men are supposedly the dominant sex back home, so there are more men in the armed forces.”

Felix let a musical chuckle escape her throat, and it surprised a passing earth pony stallion so much he walked straight into a closed door. “The skewed gender ratio is apparent throughout the entire nation, not just the military. For every five mares, there is only one stallion.”

“Wow. That… sucks.” All those mares without any company. No one should have to be lonely.

“Yeah, but mares make do. Most of us don’t mind sharing,” she expressed, throwing a glance to the lime green stallion now rubbing the growing lump on his forehead. When he spotted Felix’s gaze, he threw up a hasty salute, yelping out a strangled “Lieutenant Felicity” and determinedly staring at the floor, his ears flat and his hooves trembling.

Felix gave him a friendly nod as she passed by. No sooner had her gaze left him, his own began to roam over her slim barrel, eventually homing in on her flanks and tail. “Hey—Hungry Eyes, her face is at the other end!” I snapped at him.

Felix threw a glance over her shoulder, her eyes flashing over me, then settling on the stallion. He jumped about a foot into the air with a look of sheer terror, then bolted so fast he nearly took one of the doors clean off at the end of the corridor.

Felix blinked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Was that necessary?”

“He was getting an eyeful of your business!” I protested, motioning both hands to her backside for emphasis.

Felix sighed. “Not to sound like a stereotypical vain member of the Canterlot elite here, but nearly every stallion checks me out. It’s not like I don’t notice.”

“So… You don’t mind them seeing your junk? Because let’s be honest, your tail ain’t hiding much most of the time.”

The unicorn stopped, her gaze once again levelling me. “And just how would you know what my tail is or isn’t hiding?”

“Just a passing observation,” I replied, absentmindedly adjusting my tie and avoiding her gaze.

Felix smirked. “Yeah. Right,” she muttered, shaking her head as she set off again.

We passed out through a set of double doors onto a small courtyard. The sun had long since sank below the mountains, and the first stars were beginning to appear in the night sky. I gazed up at the unfamiliar constellations, marvelling at their otherworldly beauty. Apparently, there was a Princess of the Night that controlled the passage of the moon, and arranged the stars as she saw fit. I’d had a hard time believing Raindrops when she had explained it to me a couple of weeks ago, but after everything I’d seen since then, it seemed a lot more fitting.

The courtyard was situated at the edge of what appeared to be a botanical garden, beneath a canopy of tall birch trees. A large number of exotic plants that I didn’t recognize were situated in neat little rows in the grass, with small gravel paths running next to them. A lot of the plants were glowing a light blue, not unlike the gem in Felix’s collar often did.

“Not hard to tell this base is run by earth ponies, eh?” Felix remarked, her hooves crunching along in the gravel as her eyes scanned the colourful flora.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. The magical biome spanned over many acres, some of it even lighting up part of the mountainside. What had looked like a plain old forest from the air had transformed into a glowing wonderland by night.

“Welcome to the Garden of Self-Possession. Princess Celestia planted the first tree here when she was just a filly. Since then, ponies from all over Equestria come to visit.”

A frown crossed my features. “But, this place looks ancient. Just how old is Princess Celestia?”

“Nopony except Celestia herself actually knows the answer to that, except maybe Princess Luna. But, if I had to guess, I’d say at least over four thousand years. Luna is slightly younger, but not by much in the grand scheme of things.”

I did a double take, hastily sidestepping something that looked suspiciously like a venus fly trap. “Four thousand? How is that possible?”

“Well, they are immortal demi-gods, not to mention supreme leaders of all three of the equine races.”

“And we—Jess, Jason, Leanne and I—the four of us, are supposed to meet them tomorrow?”

“Celestia? Yes. Word is she’s quite curious about you. She would have met with you guys earlier but her schedule is pretty hectic,” Felix replied, with an air of nonchalance. “As for Luna, she usually sleeps through the day. Ah, here we are,” she added, stopping just short of a copse of trees.

Her eyes scanned the glowing undergrowth surrounding the white, scarred trunks. After a few moments, she slipped through a small gap in the brush, motioning for me to follow her. “Where on God’s Earth are you taking me?” I muttered, stooping low to fit through the gap.

“This isn’t God’s Earth, and you’ll see,” she softly replied.

On the other side of the undergrowth, I was greeted by moonlight, and a low hanging cloud of steam. “No way…”

“Ta da!” Felix sang, trotting a couple of paces into the steam.

Three naturally generated rocky pools of hot, crystal clear water dominated the center of the clearing. Two of them were elevated, and running into the larger third one that was sunk partway into the ground. The glowing flora intertwined with the trees of the clearing perimeter was so thick that it was impossible to see through. The hot springs were completely secluded from the rest of the forest.

“I’ve wanted to show you this place for a while now,” Felix said. She approached the water’s edge, slowly dipping a hoof to the surface. “Just the right temperature,” she added, with a half-lidded smile.

“You want to take a dip?” I asked, eyeing the steaming pool. I had an idea of where she was going with this, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

“I want us to take a dip,” she purred, deftly stepping into the water. Knew it.

With a swift movement that somehow barely disturbed the water, Felix slipped beneath the surface, horn first. She surfaced after a few moments, a combination of gentle ripples and slight displacement causing water to cascade over the sides of the pool. Hooking her forehooves over the rocky edge, she blasted me with her most sultry gaze yet, gently biting down on her lower lip. The pink locks of her mane, now saturated, hung limply either side of her face. The deep black lashes framing her eyes suddenly seemed twice as long as they usually were.

“My, uh… uniform will get wet,” I muttered, before actually thinking about how incredibly stupid that excuse was. Fuck.

“Take it off, genius.”

Her logic was flawless. I kinda had reservations about her seeing me naked, though. She was used to stallions, presumably. Whilst I was more than adequately endowed—in my humble opinion—I wasn’t a freakin’ horse.

“Come on, Jack. Don’t be shy,” she purred, fluttering those exquisitely long lashes.

Fuck it. “No peeking, you hear?”

Felix snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause you’ve always averted your gaze from my tail.”

Ignoring her last comment, I fumbled with my tie, eventually removing it along with my blazer. They were quickly followed by my shirt, boots and trousers. Before Felix could even say anything about my boxer shorts, I lunged toward the pool, jumping at the last moment and dive bombing.

Heat engulfed my body. I gasped in thermal shock, inhaling a large amount of water. Quite a lot of it sprayed everywhere, drenching a few of the strange glowing plants and causing them to physically recoil. Felix would’ve got a faceful if she hadn’t been quick with her forcefield. I eventually managed to resurface, nearly coughing up a lung in the process. Once the waves had settled, she gave me a bemused look. “You’re such a foal, sometimes.”

I splashed a bit more water at her in response, grinning all the same.

“Quit it,” she giggled, before suddenly swimming over to me alarmingly fast, her horn sticking out of the water like a shark fin.

“Woah!”

Determined forehooves embraced my shoulders, as a strong set of hind legs encompassed my waist below the waterline. Before I had even registered what was happening, she had me pinned against the rocky edge of the pool.

“W-Whaturyudoin?” I stuttered.

I hadn’t seen her move anywhere near that fast before. Shit was fucking creepy. The weird thing was, the fluid movement had barely disturbed the water at all. A sweeping chill travelled the full length of my spine as she opened her eyes. They were glowing as brightly as the flora surrounding us. “Je crois que je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi,” she breathed, the deadly, terrifying undertone in her voice making my skin crawl. Oh shit.

I gulped. “Felix. You’re fucking crazy.”

The unicorn blinked, shaking her head somewhat, before levelling me with an innocent look, her irises swiftly receding to their normal size.

“Okay. Seriously. You need to tell me why you keep spacing out. What’s with the glowing eyes? Why do you start speaking French? You know I don’t understand a word you’re saying, right?”

She blinked again, seemingly contemplating me for a few moments. I waited, even though my patience was slowly draining. “Are you going to drink that?” she finally asked.

“What?” I inquired, perplexed.

She threw a nod over my shoulder to the edge of one of the smaller pools, where a bottle of Jack Daniels was just sitting there, waiting for me. Score! “Fuck yes I am,” I muttered, grabbing the bottle and opening it.

I was just about to take a swig, when I clicked she’d just fucking played me. Quite easily, as well. “Hold on a second there, Atom Flank. You still haven’t told me-”

“Ugh. Fine,” she snapped, flicking her wet mane out of her face. Water droplets sprayed the entire length of the pool. “There’s something about me that you don’t know. Hardly anypony knows, in fact.”

I choked, halfway through a swig of whiskey. “You’re a dude?”

Her eyes rolled. “You’ve seen my vagina before, on several occasions,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry,” I snickered, taking another swig of Jack. The first stirrings of intoxication washed through my senses. I grinned. All was well.

“You need to take this seriously, Jack,” she implored, resting her forehooves over my shoulders and giving me a mock stern look.

I immediately wrapped my arms around her, without even thinking, and pulled her to my chest. Never had I felt so content. I had the beginnings of a nice buzz, and I had the prettiest unicorn in Equestria draped over me like a fine silk. She fit against me perfectly. “I’m listening.”

“I…” she began, the breath catching in her throat. I felt her shiver against me, despite the water being toasty warm. Putting the bottle of booze down on the ledge, I snaked my arms more securely around her and waited for her to continue. “I… want to tell you, but…” she trailed off, her ears hanging limply against her mane and one of her forehooves tracing little circles on my shoulder.

“Felix, it doesn’t matter what it is. I’m not going to think any different of you,” I whispered, bringing a hand up to her cheek.

She nuzzled my palm, her eyes closing for the briefest of moments. “Okay… I’m… I’m a siren,” she whispered. It was subtle, but I caught a little uncharacteristic wobble in her voice.

“Oh,” I said, unsure of how to react.

She blinked, looking at me quizzically. “You don’t know what a siren is, do you?”

“Not even a little,” I replied with a grin.

She let out a sigh, her pretty eyes regarding me for a moment. “Sirens are an ancient all-female race. We emerged from the oceans many millennia ago-”

“Wait—all female?” I interrupted. “How does that work?”

“Well, we can only have daughters. There has never been a male siren, nor will there ever be. Not much genetic information is taken from the father’s side during conception, so the offspring always takes the form of a female unicorn, regardless of what species the father is,” she softly explained, her eyes observing me intently.

I almost stopped breathing. Something sparked to life in both my chest and my mind that set my thoughts running a mile a minute. “Wait… So, does that mean…” I trailed off, staring deeply into her pretty blue eyes.

I felt a little shiver flow through her, and she clung to me just a little bit tighter. “Honestly, I don’t know. But, Jack—you need to know the full story before you start asking questions like that. Sirens… well, we’re kinda… bad news,” she muttered, her expression darkening.

Bad news? “What… What do you mean?” I urged.

“There’s a reason I don’t tell ponies I’m a siren. Ponies hate sirens.”

I frowned. “Why?”

Taking a hoof from my shoulder, she brought it to the pendant embedded into her choker collar. It glinted menacingly in the semi-darkness. “You see this? Every siren has one of these. It’s what we use to… feed on ponies’ emotions… when we sing,” she added, her voice breaking on the last word.

I frowned, trying to figure out why she looked so damned ashamed of herself. “Feed on emotions?” I had thought the sapphire was just that—a sapphire, albeit one she was particularly fond of. I would never have guessed it had an actual function—and such a nefarious one at that.

“You remember when I sang at the nightclub? How everypony couldn’t take their eyes off me?”

“Well, I was pretty wasted. Can’t really remember much-”

Felix held me at hooves length. “How badly did you want me that night, Jack?”

I dug through my recollections. It wasn’t all that difficult, truth be told. I had wanted her a whole damn lot that night, but to blame it on her singing would be downright dishonest. I wanted her all the time, every second of every hour of every fucking day. If what she was saying was true, that she could garner people’s affections through singing, then I guess it had no effect on me. I was already smitten with her one hundred percent of the time.

Felix blinked, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek and splashing into the water. “Sirens feed off attention. If we don’t, we get sick, but nopony seems to care about that. They just don’t want to be brainwashed, and I get that. I really do-”

I cupped her cheeks in my palms, massaging the soft fur of her face with my thumbs. “If ever you’re feeling a little low, just remember—you can feed on me anytime you like.”

Felix smiled, leaning into my touch. “You’re so sweet,” she croaked.

I wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. “I mean, it’s not like you’re hurting anyone. What’s so bad about giving you a little adoration?”

Her smile faltered a bit. “Well, that’s where certain other aspects of being a siren come into play. To say I’m a siren is not technically the truth. Technically, it’s more like I’m… um, possessed by one,” she finished with a sheepish grin.

“Come again?” I muttered, blinking in disbelief.

“You remember my little stunt at the Wonderbolts aerial display?”

“Yeah—I’m not forgetting that anytime soon.”

“That’s a siren’s true form. Or at least, it used to be.”

“That thing?” I stammered.

“As I said before—we evolved from seaponies. Every once in a while, I let her out to stretch her fins by way of ethereal projection. She prefers that form.”

Seaponies. Actually makes sense. “Wait, you’re talking about ‘her’ like ‘she’s’ a separate entity altogether. Back on Earth, people have been sectioned for less,” I muttered, incredulous.

“Yes, and that’s part of the reason ponies don’t like sirens. They think we’re nuts. Well, that and the oftentimes aggressive temperament, the fangs, and the glowing eyes,” she added, her tone becoming steadily more unbalanced as she spoke.

I laughed, incapable of any other reaction other than complete bewilderment. After everything she’d just told me, I was still besotted with her. “So, when the fangs come out, and your eyes glow blue—that’s her?”

She nuzzled the end of my nose with her muzzle, giving my hips a squeeze with her hind legs. “Yes.”

“Okay, and the French?”

“I think you must mean Prench. Equestrian—or English, as you call it—is my second language. My darker half just happens to take it less seriously than I do, considering we live in an Equestrian speaking country,” she added, with more than a little sass. The weird part was I could tell she was directing it at her siren.

“So… uh, what’s she like?” I asked, a little apprehensively. I had to admit, I was more than a little intrigued at the existence of this supposed “she demon”.

Felix gave me an amused grin. “My siren? Well…” She let out a tepid sigh. “In the interest of full disclosure, she’s… dark, moody, overly possessive—of you, I might add—and has a volatile capacity to become incredibly violent when provoked.”

“Oh…” I muttered. That thing with Cloudchaser was starting to make a lot more sense, not that the knowledge filled me with much confidence.

“But, hey—don’t take my word for it,” she went on, her tone overly sweet all of a sudden. The grin she gave me suggested she was about to do something incredibly stupid for such a smart pony.

I gripped her sides. “What’re you-no. No, Felix-”

Felix closed her eyes, her grin widening. “She’s been dying for some one on one time with you. I think you’re ready.” The sapphire in her collar began to glow, causing goosebumps to sprout over my arms and neck.

“No. No no no no—not ready!” I snapped, pointing a finger at her muzzle, the words spewing out of my face a mile a minute. “Felix, I don’t like it when she comes out! I was just curious, that’s all. I don’t want to see her, I mean—not yet, at least. She scares the fucking crap out of me-”

Felix opened her eyes, and I was damn near blinded by blue light. I panicked, completely freezing up and closing my eyes. I had no idea what the siren was going to do, especially now Felix wasn’t even trying to keep her in check.

The tinkling sound of magic filled the air, followed closely by music. My eyes sprang open at the unexpected reverie, and I frowned at the blue aura surrounding the unicorn’s horn. “But… Isn’t your magic…” I trailed off.

The mare briefly nuzzled my cheek, before pulling back, her sweet breath rushing over my lips. “Ne pas avoir peur, mon étalon,” she uttered. The light of her eyes had dimmed to a soft glow, along with the pendant at her neck. “Je ne pourrais jamais te blesser.”

Her words were lost on me, but their tone spoke volumes. The debilitating fear of having those fangs sink into my flesh, or being incinerated by a blast of volatile magic lessened somewhat. I found myself gazing into her eyes, and realising that the pupils, along with the irises, had completely vanished. All that was left was a swirling sea of blue light—a sea I quickly became mesmerised with. The currents seemed to flow in time with the music, eddies waltzing down to endless depths.

“I… can’t understand you,” I whispered, but it didn’t matter. I knew in that moment she wouldn’t hurt me. I would even go so far as to say I had just become the newest of only a few individuals that could be truly considered safe in her presence, untethered as she was.

With another swig of liquid courage, the last vestige of common sense swiftly abandoned me. If sirens were so bad, then why did they smell so good? Why did they feel so good? What… what would they taste like?

She was closer now. I’m not sure how, seeing as she was lying on top of me to begin with, but all I could see were those glowing eyes. Her breath, sweetly laden with powerful mind bending pheromones, washed over my lips, which decided to part of their own accord. Something wet suddenly brushed over the upper one. Wait. Was that? I pulled back slightly, just in time to see an honest to gods forked tongue slip back into her maw. At the same time, the muted sound of a twig snapping came from somewhere beyond the clearing.

Felix screamed, her eyes instantly blinding. The music came to an abrupt halt.

I threw an arm up to shield my eyes, the sudden influx of blue light pouring from hers nearly burning my retinas completely. The demonic duality of her voice never failed to set my skin crawling, and I almost choked on a lungful of water trying to get away from her. Crazy assed demon horse!

Surprisingly, the siren made no attempt to prevent me from frantically doggie paddling away, instead turning her spotlight gaze to the wall of vegetation surrounding the pools.

* * *

Griffon! Griffon!

Shut up. Let me think, for pony’s sake.

Tuer le griffon!

Felix could feel the blast coming. Fangs were out. Horn glowing that deadly shade of blue. Fuck. Jack was scrambling away from her, sending water flying everywhere. Why on Equador had she thought introducing him to the siren would be a good idea?

Le griffon doit mourir!

Several blue rings of energy encircled Felix’s horn at varying heights, and she gasped so forcefully she almost choked on her tongue. Not in pain, but in dumbfounded recognition of the incredibly stupid shit her darker half was trying to pull.

Don’t you bucking dare, you inconsiderate little harlot! There’s no way Jack will survive if you cast that!

Thankfully, the beast was sobered by this little detail enough that Felix was able to summon a strong enough mental bitch slap to lock her down. Releasing a drawn out breath, Her eyes delaminated, along with her horn, and the fangs receded.

Tuer le griffon!

Okay, dammit! The simplest of detection spells revealed the location of the intruder, who was indeed a griffin. Her claws were embedded into a nearby tree branch, and her big yellow eyes squinting through the vegetation. She was clearly under the impression she hadn’t yet been rumbled. Felix feigned ignorance of her position, though she kept her eyes peeled.

“F-Felix?” Jack murmured.

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m here,” she reassured, stealing subtle glances at the motionless griffin. The vegetation was too thick to get a clear view with eyesight alone, but the spell enabled Felix to see right through it.

Il y a un autre!

“What’s going on?” Jack muttered.

Felix held up a hoof, her eyes instinctively flashing over another tree hidden behind the vegetation, where another griffin lay in wait. How many in total?

Seulement deux. Tuez-les maintenant.

That’s your go-to response to nearly everything. Her horn charged, but not with the death blow her darker half desired.

CRACK.

Instantaneously ripped from their perches at the atomic level, the uninvited guests were violently reconstructed into two very confused griffins. They fell in a heap by the side of the hot springs, their grace and poise abandoning them in a fit of ruffled feathers and scattered limbs. One of them tried to flee, but her companion, even quicker to recover, grabbed her by the wings. “It’s too late for that. Sit down and shut up,” the captor squawked through gritted beak.

Felix knew that voice. If she was not mistaken, a vital member of Dysnomia’s high command had just wandered so willingly into her open hooves.

“Are… Are those… griffins?” Jack gasped, staring in awe at the two feathered warriors. The larger of them sported a very familiar dark tan coat, that gave way to a thick breast of equally familiar white feathers encompassing head and neck. Her eyes were the colour of a dragon’s fiercely guarded horde; gold. Dirty rotten gold. Being a griffin, her forelimbs were not hooved, but rather clawed—boasting long talons meant for slashing. Slashing and deception. Her rear limbs were of the pawed variety, not unlike the thieving nine-faced cats of the southern shithole Badlands.

The other griffin was an unknown. Younger, slightly smaller, with a vibrant red coat, and feathered wings and breast of the same colour. Her eyes were also gold, but darting in fear, as opposed to the calm and collected gaze of her superior.

“So…” Felix began, rising from the water. Her horn flashed, causing the droplets clinging to her coat to instantly evaporate into a small cloud of steam. “Do you have an ace under your tail, or are you really this stupid, Colonel Gilda?”

The bastard griffin clicked her beak, arrogant as always, keeping a tight hold on the younger buzzard visibly shaking by her side. “It’s a wonder you’re still a Lieutenant. I’d have thought you’d be a General by now, at the very least,” Gilda idly commented.

“Pushing paper doesn’t suit me, but of course—you know that already,” Felix coolly countered.

“Um… aren’t they the bad guys? Are we really just gonna sit here and have a chat with them?” Jack mumbled, slowly climbing out of the steaming pool with his whiskey bottle and stumbling toward the pile of discarded clothing.

“That depends how you define ‘bad’, Sweetie. Colonel Gilda here was a very bad griffin, a decade ago. In recent years, though, she has become somewhat… innocuous.”

That earned another click from Gilda’s beak, but the glare that followed was noticeably half-hearted. The expression gradually faded, morphing into a grimace that showed fatigue beyond her years. Felix was thrown somewhat, her facade breaking for the briefest of moments. This was not the Gilda she remembered. The Gilda she remembered wasn’t much of an actress.

“Tell me, are the theatrics for my benefit, or his?” Felix questioned, deftly stepping around the two griffins in a circle and motioning to Jack with her horn. The human scowled, attempting to clothe his dripping wet body. Felix’s eyes lingered on him a shade longer than they probably should have, given the circumstances.

“You killed a lot of good griffins,” Gilda spat.

The young griffin cowering at Gilda’s side let out a muffled squawk, her eyes transfixed on Felix’s horn. The siren purred in delight, reminiscing in the abhorrent slaughter of those dark years. Felix turned her muzzle in disgust. The memories of the bloodshed caused her to wish her darker half could be cursed away.

“Wait… wut?” Jack interjected, his wrinkled uniform damp in places and haphazardly fastened.

“I’m a siren, Jack,” Felix reiterated, keeping her eyes fixed on Gilda. The griffin had known for a while now, that much was obvious. “Sirens are evil, remember?”

A brief silence gripped the clearing, during which Felix wanted nothing more than to look at her human coltfriend. She realised in that moment that’s what he was, now she had willingly shared with him her darkest secret. It was a damned shame that two griffins had come to fuck up the joyous afterglow of such an epiphany.

“Why did you come here?” Felix growled, her horn sparking little pink streaks of fire that left scorch marks on the surrounding rocks. The magical appendage was a hair trigger away from turning the two of them into piles of ash, but that would solve nothing.

The younger griffin squawked even louder this time, hiding her face in her claws and flattening her frame to the forest floor. Even Gilda recoiled a little. “The king wants you dead. He wants your alien friend over there dead as well,” she gruffly admitted.

Jack frowned, his eyes darting between Felix and the griffins as though he wasn’t sure if they were being serious or not.

“Grognak’s scared of the ship, then.” Figures. The griffin king always had a problem with things he couldn’t understand, especially when it involved technology that was foreign to him.

Gilda gave a solemn nod, her claws digging into the ruffled mane of her companion.

“Who do you have on the inside?” Felix countered. There was no way Grognak could know who was capable of flying the jet without solid intel.

“I’ll tell you, I promise, but I want you to hear me out.”

“I’m not interested in your web of deception, Gilda-”

“You know I didn’t come here to try and kill you. I’m not that deluded,” she interrupted, briefly digging her claws into her beak. “He doesn’t have the support he used to. If someone can get close enough without him blasting them with that damned staff-”

Felix rolled her eyes. “Who’d have thought that the great and illustrious Colonel Gilda of Griffinstone would be considering treason against his imperial highness?” she mocked, taunting the griffin. “Oh wait, that’s right—nopony.”

Gilda gripped the mane of her cowering companion, wrenching her up to a reluctant sitting position. The younger griffin screeched in protest, attempting to hide behind her wings as though Felix’s gaze alone would burn her. “Look at her! Even this terrified little cub of a soldier was desperate enough to try and end him. It’s a wonder she still has her life.”

“Isn’t it just?” Felix grinned.

Gilda squawked her frustration. “You are so stubborn.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “You really expect me to take you seriously?”

Gilda scowled, letting the younger griffin fall back to the ground, where she curled up into a ball of feathers and shame. The Colonel, however, took a defiant step forward, lowering her voice and narrowing her eyes. “If anyone has a chance at getting rid of him, it’s you. Take out the King, and diplomacy will prevail. Isn’t that what you ponies want?”

Felix smiled. If only it was that simple. “Of course. The problem is that it’s not what ‘you griffins’ want.”

Gilda clicked her beak. “It’s true that if you asked the average griffin whether or not they want to continue fighting a pointless war, they’d say yes—but it’s not like they have any choice in the matter when saying no gets them sent to a forced labour camp.”

Felix frowned, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. “That’s just a rumour,” she dismissed, flicking her mane from her eyes and mirroring Gilda’s imposing stance. Not much was known to ponykind about the inner workings of Dysnomia, but this particular ‘rumour’ often had ponies calling upon Celestia to invade the griffin nation on the grounds of liberation.

“Hold on a second—labour camps?” Jack chimed in, giving Gilda an incredulous look. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“She’s lying, Jack,” Felix maintained. She had to be lying.

“I wish I was,” Gilda sighed, dejected, folding her wings to her sides.

A long silence followed, during which pony and griffin considered one another. Felix weighed up her options, none of which seemed all that appealing. There was no doubt in her mind that Gilda had allowed herself to be captured, and more than likely intended to rely on deception to get what she wanted. If she was telling the truth, however, and Grognak actually had a spy in the ranks, then Felix would need to find out whom it was.

Her horn flashed, instantly summoning a piece of parchment and a quill, which began scribbling a note:

Fleets, your old pal Gilda has popped in by the hot springs to say hi. She even brought a friend. Apparently, King Shithead was dumb enough to send them to kill me and Jack. LOL. Where do you want me to put them?

Felix. Mwah xxx

Another flash, and both the note and the quill vanished with a few wind chimes and a small pop. The silence it left behind could have been cut with a knife. Even the birds had stopped chirping. Much to Felix’s satisfaction, Gilda was scowling. One, two, three, four…

WHOOSH—THUD…

Fleetfoot slammed into the ground so forcefully that her hooves left fractures in the rock. She gave a loud nicker, looking positively menacing in her Wonderbolt flight suit. It was a well known fact that she hated her training being interrupted. The younger Griffin squawked at the violent entrance, before the sonic boom finally caught up, rendering her catatonic. Even Jack cursed loudly at the soul shattering blast, diving to the ground amidst the swaying trees and covering his ears. Felix shook her head. If Fleetfoot wasn’t a General, there’d be hell to pay for a stunt like that at such a late hour.

Gilda was quick to subdue her companion again, giving Fleetfoot a scowl. “You always did like to make an entran-”

“Shut it,” Fleetfoot snapped, trotting to Jack’s side, her eyes already scanning for injuries. “Did they hurt you?”

Jack blinked. It took him a few seconds to respond. “What? No, I’m fine,” he answered, with a somewhat puzzled expression.

Fleetfoot wasn’t buying it, apparently. Only when she had trotted around him a few times, her tail flicking in agitation, did she finally turn her attention back to the two griffins curiously observing her actions.

“I’m fine, too. Thanks so much for asking,” Felix remarked. Typical Fleetfoot. It was something of an old fashioned trait to mollycoddle stallions, and especially peculiar for a mare still in her twenties.

Fleetfoot snorted. “Please. No griffin is getting the drop on you.”

Jack scowled. “What? So I’m some kind of liability now?”

Instead of answering, like a normal pony might, Fleetfoot reared up on her hind legs, nickering out a war cry at him and flapping up a small gust that whipped leaves, twigs and other debris around the forest clearing.

“Okay, okay, damn! You feckin’ crazy horse!” Jack yelled, backpedalling a few paces and nearly tripping into the hot springs.

Her ridiculous point proven, she dropped back down to her forehooves and glared Gilda right in her golden eyes. “Start talking.”

Author's Note

So a "couple of days" turned into nearly two weeks. Yeah...

In other words, take my posting predictions with a pinch of salt. We all know I'm useless at timekeeping...

That said, I'm already 1k into the next chapter. Hopefully it won't be too long. :)

14. That Feel When Your Marefriend is a Psychopath

The blissful ignorance of sleep slowly receded, giving way to a bludgeoning pain battering the inside of my skull. Fuck me sideways. I’d had hangovers before—many, many hangovers, as you can probably imagine—but this particular morning had me convinced that my brain was going to fall out of my arse.

Coffee was most certainly needed. Lots of coffee. With a primal grunt that turned into a surprisingly accurate impression of a South African baboon, I sat up. Or, at least, I attempted to. What actually happened is I ended up twatting my forehead against something long, hard, and slightly warm.

“Wuzzah?” I grunted, squinting in an attempt to get my sleep crusted eyes to focus. A long, spiral engraved alabaster horn came into focus, protruding from a large amount of strawberry-scented, gloriously pink mane.

Felix was straight up sprawled all over me. Her hind legs were shamelessly straddling my waist beneath the covers, her barrel pressed to my chest. Heat radiated from her, so much so that I was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Her fur was so soft against my skin. It still annoyed the fuck out of me how much I liked that.

Something clicked in my lagging brain. My hands shot to my waist, and I silently thanked Jesus’ left flip flop I still had my boxer shorts on.

Felix began to stir in her sleep, her hind legs clamping about my waist and her muzzle burrowing into my neck. The action sparked an internal struggle for me. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a—well, shit.

Who was I kidding? My cock was harder than a graphene-coated metallic glass battering ram. Not that such a thing existed.

I tried to ignore how torturously amazing her soft, warm pony bits felt pressed against my junk. Suffice to say, it was rather difficult. I resorted to trying to recall just how the hell I’d ended up in bed with her in the first place.

I remembered going to the hot springs in the forest. What was it called? The Garden of Self-Possession? Then those two griffins had shown up. Mythical creatures back home, but as was often the case on Equador, they were a thing here. Weird eagle-crossed-lion creatures, and one of them had looked gnarly as fuck. Like, gnarly as in you wouldn’t want to meet the crazy beak-faced bitch in a dark alley, that’s for sure.

I couldn’t remember anything after that, though. Why was I in bed with Felix, in what looked like her private quarters, no less? Where were my clothes? Did anything happen between us? A small part of me resented the fact I’d have no recollection of such an act if we had.

It was pretty obvious we were in her bedroom. A large desk covered in various blueprints, bottles of ink and quills sat beside her bed, a modest four poster that she currently had me pinned to. The walls were a more pleasant shade of grey than the rest of the base, but were barely visible due to the many posters covering them. Several airships of varying sizes and colour schemes—Buttercup’s ship among them—filled most of the space, save for a large painting of… Felix herself?

Yes. That was indeed a painting of Felix, wearing her choker collar, and a long red gown of some sort, directly opposite her bed. Fuck me if that wasn’t a tad narcissistic. Maybe it was a siren thing?

Shit. Of course. I’d forgotten about the little knowledge bomb she’d dropped last night. I glanced down to her eyes. They were closed. I couldn’t see any blue light. Her maw was slightly open, but devoid of those terrifying fangs. Thankfully, the crazy Prench psychopath was nowhere to be found… for now.

I let out a yawn that turned into a sigh. I could see no way out of my current predicament that didn’t involve an awkward encounter. I was pretty sure my cock was poking into her abdomen. How the hell it hadn’t woken her up was beyond me.

Her scent wasn’t helping, either. She was a walking aphrodisiac at the best of times, but sharing her bed was like some sort of lewd themed party for my nasal passages. Was it possible to get high off of unicorn pheromones? It sure as hell felt like it.

I caved, dragging my fingertips through her coat, caressing the soft, extremely fine fur. It was weird. She felt so delicate, yet I had seen her do things with ease that very few could ever hope to achieve.

This was a pony capable of killing, if that griffin was to be believed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. The fact that it didn’t seem to bother me was worrying, to say the least. I mean, griffins were supposed to be the bad guys, right?

Felix stirred at my touch, a soft moan escaping her throat. One of her ears flicked, lightly brushing my cheek. It made me smile. I don’t know what prompted me to do it, but I gently brushed my lips over the base of her horn.

The spiral appendage flashed pink for a second, sending a tingling sensation through my lips. I blinked. Did she just cast something?

I waited, but nothing happened. She lay motionless, her breathing slow, breath blowing a pleasant breeze over my neck. “Felix?” I whispered, momentarily holding my breath.

She didn’t respond, save for another adorable ear flick. Was she pretending to be asleep? I wouldn’t put it past her to try and catch me showing a little affection. It wasn’t really my style.

I let out another sigh. Maybe I could roll her off without waking her? Then I’d be free to go and drown myself in coffee.

BANG!

A few things suddenly happened in incredibly quick succession. The door flew open, revealing a slightly out of breath, jasmine-coated pegasus. A flash of pink light damn near blinded me as the room seemed to visually distort, and a low hum of unmistakable power vibrated the surrounding air, causing my heart to thunder in panic. Felix clamped me with all four of her legs, her horn pointed over her back straight at the pegasus in the doorway.

“Woah, woah! That’s Raindrops! Don’t blast her!” I shouted, or at least, I attempted to. What actually came out of my face was more of a slightly hoarse whisper, which was weirdly echoless. What’s more, there was some sort of pink magical force field surrounding the bed. Raindrops’ maw was moving, but no sound made it past the shimmering barrier.

Felix's grip relaxed a little. “Oh, ‘sjust you,” she grunted, her morning voice a little gravelly. The shimmering force field vanished, and sound seemed to burst back into life.

“-supposed to leave ten minutes ago! Spitfire is going to fuck your collective shit up. Get up!”

Felix blinked, attempting to sweep a serious case of bed mane from her face with a forehoof. “What time is it?”

“Eight forty. We have to go, now!” With a swish of her tail, she took flight along the barracks corridor. “I’ll tell her you’re on the way!”

Felix turned back to me. Her eyes peered through the considerable amount of mane still covering her face, a smile that made me slightly uncomfortable forming.

“What?” I muttered.

Her eyelids lowered. “Is that for me?”

“Is what?” I began, before the penny dropped. I scowled.

Felix responded by wiggling her hips, at which point I all but threw her across the bed and dragged myself up to look for my uniform. My feet had barely touched the carpet before the giggling unicorn full body tackled me from behind, sending us both to the floor.

“Will you behave already?” I grunted through gritted teeth. It felt as though someone was hammering an iron stake through the side of my head.

“Aww, does Jacky have a hangover?” she mocked in a motherly tone of voice, her horn igniting. Gravity suddenly ceased to exist, as both Felix and I floated weightlessly in the air. “Drink too much whiskey, did he?”

“Put me down.”

“Not until you brush that chip off your shoulder,” she chuckled, her limbs once again gripping me as she nuzzled my neck.

I supposed she had a point. “You got a miracle cure in your box of tricks?”

“No, but I do have some insight into what happened last night,” she replied, setting us back down on the bed. “Do you remember any of it?”

Fuck. “Did we have sex?”

“Well, I had to teleport you back here. What do you think?” she deadpanned.

A small weight lifted from my chest. Knowing I hadn’t potentially embarrassed myself was something of an unexpected relief. “I need a shower,” I said, playfully flicking one of her ears. I was starting to smell.

“Just through the door on the left,” Felix said, just as playfully snapping at my finger with her maw. She motioned to what was presumably an en-suite. “And hurry up. Spitfire’s probably foaming at the mouth by now.”

* * *

Spitfire, as it transpired, was nowhere to been seen when we finally arrived at the docks. I even thought we’d gotten away with it for a blissful minute or so. Oh, how wrong I was.

WHOOSH—SLAM!

The pissed off pegasus shot down from the sky like a feathery whippet, tackling me to the ground in a fit of accumulated rage. My headache flared painfully at the roughhousing. I still hadn’t had my damned coffee yet.

“Fuck!” I grunted, grabbing a the back of Spitfire’s mane and giving it a good tug, not that it did anything to deter her admonishment.

“Where the buck have you been!” she yelled, her wings flapping angrily, kicking up dust all over my uniform.

“Sleeping, you crazy horse,” I yelled right back, clamping my palms over her frantic wings, carefully avoiding the joints. She was practically sitting on me at this point. I had half a mind to lob away her like a rugby ball, but I doubted that would help the situation.

“You were supposed to be here at eight-hundred hours, like everypony else!”

“We slept in, Captain,” Felix argued my defence, though the immediate gasps of several ponies after the words left her mouth had her slowly closing her eyes in instant regret.

“Shit,” Felix muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. I cringed. Of all the times for common sense to temporarily abandon her…

“Oh, really? You—slept in—did you?” Spitfire questioned, sitting up on my lap and levelling Felix with a heavily exaggerated look of dubious inquisition. Quite a few ponies surrounding the docks began whispering in hushed tones. I could even hear the pegasi hovering about near the air ship’s rigging begin to gossip. Several stallions glanced at me with sour expressions. A few others shared looks of awe, but Reginald looked as though he was about to pop a blood vessel.

“Um, can we move this along, please?” said a small voice from somewhere behind me. Craning my neck back, I realised Buttercup had descended the lift. She was wearing what appeared to be a black seventeenth century Captain’s hat, with gold accenting lining the rim. It was a look that suited her surprisingly well. “We’re nearly half an hour behind schedule.”

“Yes, we best get a move on. These two might start ‘sleeping in’ again, otherwise,” Spitfire snarked, her wings breaking free of my slackened grip. She soared up on to the ship’s deck in less than a second, but not before slapping me in the face with a bunch of her primaries. Ugh… Stupid bird horse.

“Come on, buddy. Up you get,” said a cheery voice.

I turned back to see Warmfront holding out a pristine blue foreleg. His grin was even wider than usual for some reason. “Thanks,” I muttered, taking his hoof and pulling myself to my feet. “Ugh—I’m absolutely covered in dust,” I grumbled, attempting to brush my uniform clean. I needn’t have bothered, however, as a quick flash of pink light removed the dirt in an instant.

“Come on,” Felix urged, nearly headbutting me on to the lift. Her eyes scanned over the many ponies still staring at us as her magic triggered the mechanism. Warmfront, on the other hand, had his wide-eyed gaze fixed on me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at his stalker eyes. The guy had wings. Why the fuck was he even bothering to ride the lift with us?

“I bet you could help a lot of stallions.”

I blinked. “What?” Had he taken too many happy pills this morning?

Felix sighed, her gaze fixed on the surrounding mountains. “He’d better get that bit pool. I’ll turn every comfort stallion into a ferret if he doesn’t.”

Warmfront gasped, slapping both forehooves to his mouth. “So, you guys actually did it?”

The penny dropped. “What are you doing?” I asked Felix. Was this supposed to be a ‘steering into the skid’ kind of deal? I was not okay with this. I didn’t want that money, anyway.

“When it happens, they’d better honour the deal,” Felix finished, stepping onto the Thorn.

Warmfront looked like he was about to explode with excitement. “Yes? No? Tell me already!” he all but yelled, his wings flaring as he watched Felix trot away without so much as a backwards glance.

I rolled my eyes, following Felix onto the ship. I could practically feel the collective gaze of the pegasi crew bearing down on me from above, not to mention the not-so-subtle stares of the earth ponies on deck, but I did my best to ignore them. Ponies could arrive at their own conclusions to their heart’s content. I really didn’t give a shit.

Jessica, Leanne and Jason were already aboard, situated on the quarterdeck, the latter of the three sitting on one of the huge cannons pointed over the side, chatting animatedly to a flight suit-clad Flitter. Upon spotting me, the pegasus spread her wings, slipping off the wooden railing she was perched on and allowing herself to glide down to me. I held out my arms to catch her, but was beaten by a pink bubble. It enveloped her whole, slowing her to a hover.

“Hey!” Flitter mouthed, searching for the culprit. I couldn’t actually hear her.

“Not yet,” Felix muttered, not even bothering to look at Flitter as she trotted by. The bubble vanished, depositing Flitter on the deck in front of me. Not a second later, she leapt into my arms regardless, her wings enveloping my shoulders.

“You really need to learn to share,” Flitter retorted, casting the unicorn a glare, but Felix had already made her way up to the golden wheel of the ship, where Buttercup stood on her hind legs.

The earth mare had one foreleg on a spoke. The other was holding up an amber spyglass, through which she was scoping out a few smaller airships floating off in the distance. “We’re good to go,” she announced, to which Felix responded by flicking one of the levers next to the wheel. A slight creaking sound reverberated through the ship, and I noticed the platform bridging the gap to the lift tower recede into a slot beneath the main deck.

Stowing the spyglass on a small harness around her midriff, Buttercup flicked another lever. The ship suddenly jolted upwards and began to rise at a steady pace, as though it had been eagerly waiting to escape the dock all morning. I would have faceplanted the deck if Flitter hadn’t flapped her wings to steady us.

“Are you still drunk?” the pegasus chuckled, the pink bow in her mane shifting slightly in the breeze.

“Funny,” I deadpanned with a scowl, but seeing Leanne actually fall flat on her face at the sudden departure did brighten my mood a bit. Warmfront, apparently having lost interest in being a nosey pervert, flew up to the quarterdeck to help her.

The Thorn rose higher and higher at Buttercup’s command. I had been told that it was odd even in Equestria for a Captain to be their own helmspony, but it suited Buttercup well. She certainly looked the part, what with the old timey Captain hat and weathered harness. Give her an eyepatch, and she could pass for a pirate.

Our eyes met, and she flashed me a smile. It caught me completely off guard, kind of like a mental slap in the face reminding me just how breathtakingly beautiful she was. I nearly dropped Flitter in my abysmal attempt to appear nonchalant.

“Come on… I… uh, wanna see the view,” I half-coughed, striding to the side of the ship. The Garden of Self-Possession still looked disappointingly similar to a regular old forest in the daytime. I sighed, leaning against one of the large broadside cannons.

Flitter dropped to her forehooves, following me with a smile. “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”

“What?” I don’t want to talk about this. Why was she making me talk about this? Things were confusing enough with Felix alone. And her. And a few others as well. Shit was fucked.

I shot her a look of mild exasperation. She nodded toward the earth pony Captain regardless. “What’s wrong, Jack?”

I glanced over the landscape. The Thorn wasn’t quite as fast as the Airbus, being limited to a relatively low cruising speed when ponies were above deck. Maximum speed was only ever approved when in a battle, or an emergency. Canterlot was visible on the mountainside, but still a fair distance away. I’d say about half an hour, at least. “Is polygamy really an accepted thing here?”

Flitter flexed her wings, before hopping up onto the cannon with catlike finesse. “Well, if it wasn’t, there’d be a lot of lonely mares out there.”

I paused, trying to think of the best way to convey my point. “Back home, in the culture we used to live in, having multiple partners could get you into a lot of shit,” I clarified, turning back to the pegasus. “I know that’s not the case here, but it still feels… weird.”

Moving closer, she placed a wing over my shoulders. “I think you’ll get used to it. Felix will come around eventually, despite her… possessive streak.”

I snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

A brief chuckle escaped Flitter’s maw. “Oh, but I do.”

I gave her a look of scepticism, keeping my mouth shut.

“Come on—voice of an angel, taller than any mare you like that isn’t an alicorn, has a body most mares would kill for, and a temper more volatile than the fires of Tartarus? I know exactly what she is. Everypony who spends any considerable amount of time with her knows what she is, or at the very least—that she’s not your average unicorn. We just don’t talk about it because it’s pretty damn obvious to anyone with two brain cells to rub together that both her and her mother are nothing like the rest of their kind,” Flitter explained, her eyes regarding me with idle curiosity. “She told you, didn’t she?”

I kept my silence. Felix obviously didn’t like talking about it, and I was beginning to find that I didn’t either.

Flitter continued regardless. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter, is that Sirens don’t usually share. But, as I said—Felix is different. I think she’ll be willing, when the time comes,” she said, before gently placing a wing to my chest. She gently placed a hoof to my jaw and kissed me on the cheek, her gaze tracking the orange blur of Spitfire whizzing past. “See you in Canterlot.”

Leaning over the edge of the cannon, Flitter allowed herself to fall from the side of the ship. I nearly had a mini heart attack and attempted to grab her. Then I remembered she could fly. Dumbass.

I sighed, rubbing my palms into my eyes, before gazing up at the vast white expanse of the gas bag. A few pegasi were still stealing glances at me from time to time. I had half a mind to climb up the rigging and slap them in their stupid faces.

One of the ones wearing a flight suit wasn’t even bothering to disguise her glances. I blinked in confusion. “Flitter?” Hadn’t she just left? I glanced in the direction Flitter had just flown off, easily spotting her gliding next to Spitfire, way off in the distance. I gulped.

Oh shit.

The mare perched on the rigging paused indecisively for a moment, obviously aware I was looking at her. I caved, hastily turning my attention to the surrounding mountains, but it was too late. Before I could even get up, she had touched down in front of me.

I was determined not to look at Felix. If Cloudchaser wanted to start some shit, then I would deal with her on my own. One hand gripping the railing, I looked the pegasus dead in the eyes, expecting another shitstorm of anger and aggression. But, that’s not what I found staring back at me.

“Jack,” she began, her delicate whisper barely audible above the wind. Her eyes were wide, with nothing but regret pouring from them. Ears flat to her mane. “I… I think I owe you an apolo-”

“FELIX, NO!”

A siren scream raped my eardrums, just as a terrifyingly loud, magically generated “GONG” sound reverberated through the entire ship, accompanied by a blast of energy so powerful it created a shockwave that ripped through the surrounding air like a serrated blade.

“FUCK!” I yelled, the blast of air dropping me to the deck. Thankfully, the beam of energy had missed Cloudchaser, but not by much. The cannon adjacent to the one I had been leaning on was now a puddle of molten metal, which consequently set the wooden deck on fire in a matter of seconds.

I risked a glance up at the quarterdeck, just in time to see Buttercup violently kick the untethered siren in the face, full force, with both hind legs. If I hadn’t witnessed it, I’d have never believed it. I’m surprised the mare was even capable of walking around properly with those massive balls hanging beneath her tail. Felix shrugged the attack off like somepony had merely thrown a pebble at her, instead aiming her horn once more.

Cloudchaser stood like a deer in the hornlight. Her maw was partly open, and her unblinking eyes were staring at the Prench psychopath in utter confusion. Without thinking, I launched myself at her, just as something travelling way too fast to properly see shot over our heads, slamming into Felix with enough force to propel them both clean through the wall of the Captain’s quarters.

Cloudchaser and I slid a few feet along the deck. I held onto her so tightly I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had cracked one of her ribs, or at least sprained a wing. It’d be completely my fault if Felix killed her. I really didn’t want any more ponies to die because of my drunk ass.

The sound of a scuffle rang from the Captain’s quarters, during which several ponies were yelling, and the siren was screeching like an enraged banshee. I risked another look, keeping Cloudchaser pinned to the deck, my arms cradling her to my chest. All I could see over the quarterdeck railing was a group of ponies gathered around the hole in the wall, that is, until a determined looking Fleetfoot shot out of it, flying straight at me.

I don’t know if it was the shock, or if I had taken one too many knocks to the head, but I inexplicably came to the conclusion that she was trying to offer Cloudchaser up to the enraged siren as some sort of sacrifice.

Fleetfoot flared her wings. She yelled something, but I had no idea what it was. Felix’s screams were too loud, tearing through the air like metal talons, until a loud “CRACK” momentarily broke the din.

The siren appeared in a flash of blue light above the main deck, her eyes lit up like blue spotlights. Fleetfoot took one look at the floating unicorn and grabbed me. I swore a string of curse words, attempting the bat her hooves away. I’d be damned if I let her take Cloudchaser as some sort of blood token. The mare didn’t deserve it.

A dull pain shot through my left shoulder blade. Did she just fucking bite me? I growled in pain and rage. I just wasn’t quick enough. Two earth ponies I didn’t recognise quickly pried Cloudchaser from my arms, dragging her through a trapdoor in the deck. It slammed shut, trapping a few of her feathers.

Something broke in me. An excessive, unrelenting, poisonous rage erupted in my chest. It surprised the hell out of me, but I was completely powerless to stop it. The screaming siren above suddenly grew a lot clearer in my head, a deadly serenade, fuelling the burgeoning torrent of unrelenting anger. I twisted, my flesh tearing, Fleetfoot’s bite too slow to slacken. I swang.

My fist, an actual fucking fist that I had no idea I had even clenched, collided with the side of her face. That alone was enough to break the stupor. The mare stumbled, her jaw whipping to the right, her eyes wide in shock.

All of the blood seemed to drain from my face, my heart sinking in my chest. What the fuck had just happened? I didn’t hit women. No matter what species they were.

Something slammed into my back. It completely knocked the wind out of me, but I barely even felt it. Jasmine forehooves dragged me up, spinning me like a ragdoll through the air and hurling me straight at the screaming siren.

I collided with Felix mid-air, causing us both to sail over the side of the Thorn. Her scream was cut short, and her magic imploded, revealing the red hot glow of her horn tip. Her eyes were just as wide as mine as we began to fall.

* * *

“PONIES OVERBOARD!” Buttercup yelled, her voice considerably louder than it normally was. “Corporal Raindrops—get after them!”

Between Jack giving her a solid left hook, and Buttercup actually sounding like the Captain she had been promoted to, Fleetfoot was having a bit of a weird day. Raindrops darted overboard, and Fleetfoot wasted no time launching herself from the ship as well.

“Lieutenant Reginald, get that fire under control! You, Private Blossom, take the wheel-” Buttercup continued to yell, before the sound of the rushing wind drowned her out.

Fleetfoot rocketed herself down toward the ground at breakneck speed, eventually catching and passing Raindrops altogether. Her eyes scanned the surrounding air, but neither Felix nor Jack were anywhere to be seen. “Fuck!”

With a flare of her wings, she slowed to a hover, eyes desperately combing through the hills below. Not that she actually believed they would have impacted the ground—it was much more likely they had teleported.

Raindrops descended to a hover beside Fleetfoot. “Did it work?” she asked, slightly breathless.

“We can only hope,” Fleetfoot grunted, eyes still frantically searching for any sign of man or unicorn.

“Did he… hit you?”

Fleetfoot smirked. “Well, I did bite him. Can hardly expect him not to take a swing after that.”

Raindrops frowned, her face full of concern. “Even still, that’s not like him.”

“You’re right. But, I don’t think he was himself,” Fleetfoot muttered, finally abandoning her search. She soared upwards, back towards the ship. If her hunch was correct, Felix had a lot more influence over Jack that anyone had previously suspected.

Raindrops fell in position by her flank. “What do you mean?” she yelled over the rushing wind.

“I mean that if it was his touch that eventually calmed her down, then it’s pretty likely that it was her siren rage that made him do it in the first place. It might have infected him.”

“Infected?” Raindrops repeated, as they both touched back down on the quarterdeck.

“Yes. I’m no expert, but that’s what I think happened.”

Felix was a badly kept secret among the Wonderbolts, and certainly a liability. But her talents rendered her invaluable. Fleetfoot had personally addressed calls for her dismissal in the past with a solid “go fuck yourself” attitude.

“Somepony fly ahead and tell Spitfire to come back. We need to solve this Cloudchaser issue,” Fleetfoot called to the ship as a whole.

“No shit,” Buttercup muttered, pointedly glaring at the flaming hole in the main deck of her airship.

* * *

CRACK.

The wind quietened considerably, but didn’t stop altogether. I gasped, gulping down rapid lungfuls of air. I still fucking hated teleporting. Teleporting while falling over a thousand feet was even suckier.

A hard surface greeted my back. Something warm lay against my chest, panting just about as much as I was. “What the fuck just happened?”

The warm lump stirred, her mane in complete disarray and her horn smoking slightly. “I fucked up,” Felix gasped.

A short section of mast protruded through the small deck we were laying on. A quick glance through the perimeter railing confirmed my suspicion. We were on a small platform above the gas bag. “What the hell, Felix!?”

Felix pushed herself to her haunches, her eyes not meeting my gaze. “I don’t know what happened. I saw you talking to her… and she… she just completely flipped her shit.”

I held a palm to my face, certain recollections even more horrifying now I wasn’t full of adrenaline. “I smacked Fleetfoot in the jaw. I… fuck!” Absolute disgust coursed through my body. I wanted to throw myself over the side all over again. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Felix sighed, gingerly pressing a hoof to the tip of her red-hot horn. I caught a disgusting whiff of burning flesh and fur. “It’s not your fault,” she muttered, eyeing the freshly incinerated hole in her hoof with a dirty grimace.

“Yes it is! I hit her!” Like a wife-beating asshole. I needed to go find her. Tell her I was sorry. Maybe give her a free pass at a shot of revenge. Hell, she’d probably get a kick out of it.

“No, the siren did,” Felix choked, still not looking at me.

“What?” I asked. Of all the things she could have said, I hadn’t been expecting that.

“It’s… not just me she can influence.”

“Are you telling me that she can possess other people?”

Felix closed her eyes for a brief moment, before slowly opening them again, and finally looking at me. “Not others… Just… you.”

My jaw opened and closed a few times. Felix looked like she was actually on the verge of tears, something I’d have never expected of her. Even now, I hated seeing her so upset. An internal battle raged within me. I knew I should feel disgusted. Contaminated, even. But seeing those eyes glaze over, I just couldn’t summon the anger. I didn’t have it in me.

“Why… me?” I managed to croak. Why was I vulnerable to the siren, and not just anyone? Was there something wrong with me? Was I going to make a habit of lashing out at innocent ponies?

Felix peered at me through her messy mane, her ears flatter than I’d ever seen them. Her eyes were almost fearful, but resolute. “You’re my consort,” she whispered. The pendant around her neck seemed to glint at me in the sunlight, as though it had been waiting for her to utter those very words.

I wasn’t even sure I knew what she meant, but I had an idea. Those three words… They alone filled me with more hope than I had ever felt in my life. I was done pretending I didn’t want her, had been for a while now, in fact. She was one half a murdering psychopath, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care. This tiptoeing around each other bullshit would end now. One way or another.

A dull pain radiated through my shoulder blade, but I persevered in the act of pushing myself to a sitting position. Speech had abandoned me, though thankfully had left a healthy dose of determination in its wake. No tells showed on my face. Felix still harboured that same fear, judging by her expression.

I moved a little closer. My palm slid over her cheek, brushing a few of those disobedient pink locks aside. Her eyes widened, one still partly obscured by her mane. I could feel her breath on my lips. Gods, she’s so pretty. A tremble ran through my arm, but I was determined not to bitch out. My eyes closed. Our lips finally met.

The kiss was chaste. At first. But then, I felt her climb into my lap, her hind legs clumsily clambering around my waist, her forelegs mimicking the action with my neck. As soon as my palms slid over her cutie marks, her tongue slid into my mouth. A wave of purest emotion slammed into me with the force of a nuclear bomb. I could feel my heart beating faster. My skin tingling, arms trembling as I held her. Most of it was my own joy, but I couldn’t help noticing a foreign undertone, almost like the contented purring of a sated beast.

Her tongue fought for dominance, the matriarchal instinct ingrained in her taking hold. I fought right back, but this only seemed to spur Felix on to kiss me even more ferociously. Her taste was an exquisite blend of strawberry aphrodisiac so mind-bendingly euphoric, my previous assumption of such paled in comparison. Her hooves held me captive. I couldn’t have escaped, had I had any desire to do so. The sultry unicorn explored my mouth with her tongue, running over the sharp edges of my teeth. I was barely aware of the ethereal wind chimes sounding over the breeze. My hand shot up to her horn before the thought had even finished forming in my dopamine-flooded brain.

Her resultant moan was music to my ears. I clenched the magical appendage in my grip, despite it being hot enough to burn my hand. Her ears flicked, one of them tickling my wrist. It was subtle, but I could feel her hips grinding against the adamantium rod in my pants. If this went much further, I was pretty sure I’d soon have a solid claim on that fucking bit pool.

I didn’t want it to end, but neither of us deserved to get laid after what happened below the gas bag. Several minutes of bliss, and we finally broke apart. I didn’t even hesitate. “We need to go and fix our shit, Felix.”

She smiled, her sapphire glinting at me again. It almost made me wish I hadn’t stopped kissing her. “You’re right,” she breathed, affectionately nuzzling my cheek. I caved, briefly pressing my lips to hers once again. I just couldn’t get enough of this irresistible mare. “But if you bluebean me like this again, I’ll transfigure your drunk ass into a dildo and shove you so far up my cooch it’d take a skilled gynaecologist to get you out.”

CRACK.

The main deck burst into my sight as I popped into existence on the same broadside cannon I’d been sitting on before. I blanched, frantically attempting to adjust my boner to be less conspicuous. Many ponies jumped in surprise at Felix’s sudden reappearance, some even stepping away in fear, but she paid them no mind, instead turning her horn to the smouldering hole in the floor. Reginald appeared to have just finished extinguishing the flames, given his wet mane. Or maybe it was just greasy? Fuck knows. Either way, his scowl was deliciously salty.

The melted cannon obediently reconstructed itself at Felix’s telekinetic command, floating up out of the crevice and hovering for a few seconds while the charred edges were magically chipped away. A slight ‘pop’ signalled the arrival of several planks of timber, which were then cut to size and swiftly installed in an impressive display of telekinetic carpentry.

“Seriously? You’re good at carpentry?” I muttered.

“You really think this the first time I’ve put a hole in an airship? That’s sweet,” Felix chuckled, though her grin was quick to vanish as Spitfire landed.

Captain Horse Feathers, as expected, was pissed. She began yelling at Felix, but the moment I spotted Fleetfoot walking towards me, the Captain’s rant just turned into background noise.

“Fleetfoot… Fuck… I’m so sorry for-”

The flight suit-clad pegasus pounced. I closed my eyes, not even bothering to put my arms up in defence. I knew full well I had thoroughly earned any retaliation.

I waited, but all I got was… a hug. Yes, General Bat-shit Crazington actually threw her hooves and wings around me. I blinked. To say I was confused was an understatement. “Um… what’s happening here?”

Fleetfoot pulled back, looking me dead in the eyes. “You owe me.”

“What?”

“I expect favours.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sexual favours.”

“I… what?” I honestly couldn’t tell if she was yanking my flightstick. If she wasn’t, I could see one glaring problem. “Haha, yeah. Great,” I nervously chuckled. “But Felix might, y’know… murder you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she whispered, giving me a very rare nuzzle. She dropped back down to her hooves. “Felix, a word, please. In my office.”

Spitfire, apparently done yelling, gave the General a nod.

CRACK.

I fell off the cannon. It took quite an embarrassingly long time for me to figure out I was still on the ship. Even longer to realise Felix and Fleetfoot were missing. “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, picking myself up. Everyone was staring at me. Again.

Spitfire adjusted her shades. The grin on her face made me want to tear my eyes out.

“What?” I snapped. Probably a tad too forcefully.

She took a step back, levelling me with look of fear. Or, she tried to, at least. It wasn’t particularly convincing. I seriously doubted the mare was even capable of such an emotion. “You’re n-not going to hit me, are you?” she fake-whimpered.

I knew she was just messing, but her words really hit home. I hated the fact I’d raised a hand to a mare. Spitfire’s snark was too soon. “Fuck you, Spitfire.”

Several ponies gasped, but I gave zero fucks. Pushing a few of them aside, I stomped my way up to the quarterdeck. Thankfully, Spitfire wasn’t stupid enough to follow me.

Author's Note

Don't ever think that I'll forget about this fic. I love it way too much.

It's not my most popular, not by any means.

But it shall always remain my favourite.

Because Felix <3

Also, if you haven't already, check out my two new fics, eh?

15. Into the City

“Where is she?” I growled at the blue earth mare, my fingers digging into her throat. The pony’s gasps barely registered with me, her eyes bulging and her ears as flat as pancakes. This was the clumsy bitch that had damn near snapped Cloudchaser’s wing in half with that heavy ass trapdoor. It was taking all my mental restraint not to slam her head repeatedly into the gun deck wall. The realisation hit me like a brick, and I cursed, taking my hands away from her.

Fuck. That damned siren rage. I knew I shouldn’t be this angry, but I just had to know Cloudchaser was okay. The earth pony fell over a cannon, rasping out laboured breaths and clutching her throat with her hooves. The pitiful sight made me hate myself.

“S-She’s… in the… c-crew quarters,” the mare panted, still massaging her throat, her eyes wary.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I muttered, half-forcing the words. “Thanks.” The few ponies that had witnessed my little outburst scampered away when I looked at them. I let out a sigh. A tired sigh. A shameful one.

Deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Thorn I trudged, until I finally came upon a passageway that led to a small door, which I opened, stooping below the low frame. The room was empty, save for a whole bunch of small wooden bunks. The only light source was a small lantern by the only occupied bed. Cloudchaser’s flight suit was torn, her feathers bent and her mane dishevelled. A quiet sob escaped her curled-up form.

“Cloudchaser!” Dropping to my knees, I knelt by the side of her bed, my jaw hanging. I didn’t even know what to say.

“Jack? Is that you?” she sniffed, rolling toward me. “Jack! No, you can’t be here!” she squeaked, her voice breaking through the tears.

I reached for her, needing to feel that she was okay, but she pushed my arms away with her hooves. “Cloudchaser, what’s wrong?”

“No, you should go! She’ll kill me, Jack-” she whispered, but I pulled her off the bed, capturing her frame to my chest.

This pony had given me nothing but trouble from the start, but I couldn’t stop myself from holding her close if I’d tried. “She won’t hurt you. She’d have to hurt me to do that, and she’d never hurt me. I don’t think she even can…”

“Oh, Jack. Why do you even care about me?” Cloudchaser sobbed, her muzzle buried in my neck. Forehooves and wings capturing my torso, the sobbing pegasus held onto me as though her life depended on it. “It wasn’t your fault Windrunner died. It was never your f-fault, but I b-blamed you anyway.”

I don’t know how long I sat on the floor of the dusty old crew quarters, cradling the pegasus in my arms. Cloudchaser eventually fell silent, her head resting on my shoulder, her barrel pressed to my chest.

“‘M sorry for trying to scorch you,” the mare croaked, after several minutes of silence.

I barely heard her. The gentle creaking of the ship, the semi-darkness of the empty cabin and the warmth of her feathers and fur was slowly beginning to lull me into a state of semi-consciousness after the fiasco that had taken place above deck.

“I was in heat… Should’ve left you alone,” she whispered, her muzzle gently nuzzling my neck.

“Doesn’t matter now,” I muttered. It didn’t feel like anything mattered at that moment.

Cloudchaser drew back, giving me a small smile, a small smile that highlighted just how pretty she could be when she didn’t have a murderous expression on her face. “We should go back topside,” she announced, giving me one final nuzzle, before stretching her wings and getting to her hooves. “Separately.”

“She won’t hurt you.”

Her wings snapped back to her sides, her expression hardening once more. “Jack, she’s a siren who thinks I’m trying to steal you away from her. She’d tear my wings off and set me on fire if she knew you followed me down here,” Cloudchaser argued, puffing up her feathers and giving them a good shake. Some of them were still a little bent, and her chest floof was matted with tears.

I rolled my eyes. “No, she wouldn’t.”

“Well, she might,” said a voice from behind us.

Cloudchaser span so fast her wings flew back out from her sides. Felix was trotting casually between the two rows of bunk beds, a menacing glint in her eyes and a smile on her face. The sapphire in her collar appeared even brighter than usual in the semi darkness. I frowned. There was only one door into this room, and she hadn’t used it. Could she teleport discreetly?

Cloudchaser let out a sort of muffled squeak and tried to bolt for the door, but ended up face-planting into a shimmering pink forcefield instead.

“Not so fast there, Cloudy. I think it’s time we all had a little chat,” Felix suggested. Her tone, whilst fairly civil, almost begged contradiction.

“I want nothing to do with him—I swear!” Cloudchaser yelled, pretty convincingly, as she backed herself into a corner, her eyes darting everywhere but the advancing siren.

Just a simple sentence, and the inexplicable affection for the pegasus that had manifested itself in me lessened somewhat. It wasn’t her words, more the conviction in her voice as she said them. It felt as though I’d just stepped through a waterfall. “You… You really mean that, don’t you?”

A pause.

Even Felix frowned. It took Cloudchaser a moment to figure out what I’d said, but the panicked indecision on her face was all I needed to see. I turned, the door giving a loud ominous creak as it swung open, my feet carrying me away without the aid of conscious thought.

I heard her shout. A protest at my leaving. I didn’t stop. I didn’t even look back.

The gun deck was empty as I passed between the cannons. The clatter of hurried hoof steps on wood sounded behind me, and I tried to find words, painful words to throw that feathery little mind-fuck of a pegasus, but it wasn’t her.

“Hey!” Felix barked, and I felt something hard and familiar poke me in the back. I turned to grab it.

Of course, it was her damned horn. “What?”

“I had a whole speech planned about sharing and herd culture and all that other polygamous crap, only for you to decide you don’t want her anymore? What gives?” she asked, meeting my glare with mock annoyance, though it was clear to see she was rather pleased, hence the horn abuse.

“I didn’t decide that. She did,” I countered, keeping my grip tight on her magical appendage. It became a real nuisance when she was in one of her playful moods. Like now.

“Like hell she did—she wants you more than I do,” she shot back at me, sticking her tongue out of the side of her maw as she attempted to wriggle free.

I scoffed. “No, she doesn’t. She said so herself-oww!” I rubbed the side of my ribcage with my free hand. “Will you cut it out already?”

“She only said that ‘cause she thought I was going to set her on fire,” she said, completely ignoring me. As per usual.

“Felix, stop!” I growled.

She grinned, before giving me a pitiful imitation of a pout. I slowly let go of her horn, giving her a tired look, seeing as stern ones had no effect on her.

I’d been heading for the trap door, but I found I wasn’t quite ready to go back up to the main deck yet. Not after the way I’d acted. Instead, I sat down on the floor, leaning against one of the broadside cannons. “I… don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” Felix asked, the playful glint in her eyes finally relenting.

“This… herd thing.”

Felix paused. It was a long pause, during which she didn’t say anything, or even look at me. But there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that her thoughts were ticking a mile a minute.

“Uh… I was kinda hoping for your input here,” I prompted, when her impression of an inanimate object lingered. She knew more about this shit than I did, after all.

A few more seconds, and she sighed, the scowl on her face unmistakable.

“Oh, I’m sorry—am I boring you?”

“No, you idiot. You’re just making it really hard for me not to be a shitty pony,” she said, her tone irritable, yet she plonked herself down beside me, resting her chin on my shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Another sigh, as though it was obvious and I was just being difficult on purpose. “I don’t want to share you, Jack. Not with Cloudy, not with Flitter or Raindrops, not even with Buttercup. You saying this shit… Ugh… If only you could hear her right now.”

“Hear who?”

“Who do you think?”

“Oh…”

Another pause, and the soft, fine fur of delicate pony muzzle brushed over my neck. “Just think on it,” she sighed softly. “What would Raindrops feel, when you tell her ‘no’? What would Flitter say? You’ve only just met Bee, but I saw you looking at her last night.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. “That’s a lot of ponies.” Not to mention an incomplete list. “I’ve only just come to terms with having you as my… my marefriend.”

Saying the word aloud sent another shiver down my spine, though this one was decidedly more pleasant. All denial and aversion to having a non-human as a significant other had abandoned me, given my reaction, or lack thereof, of uttering those words.

Felix seemed to almost guess my train of thought, giving me a wry smile. “Bet you never thought you’d say that, huh?”

* * *

“Are you three okay? You look like you’ve just seen a windigo,”

Jessica glanced between her colleagues, both of whom did indeed appear rather more pale-faced than usual. It was understandable, given the commotion that had just taken place. It was certainly clear now that Felix had some serious issues.

“Never mind us! What about Jack?” Jason exclaimed, waving his arms to the vast expanse of sky over the railing of the ship. This was one of the rare occasions his outward flamboyance was actually justified. “Felix nearly blasted him, then Raindrops threw him overboard… I thought they were friends,” he weakly finished.

“He’s fine,” Buttercup assured. “You all saw him go below deck just a moment ago, right?”

“That’s not the point, innit? Felix is a nutter,” Leanne shivered.

Jessica had to agree, if she was honest. Reginald didn’t go around melting solid metal cannons into boiling hot liquid, and she was almost certain the vast majority of other unicorns didn’t, either.

Buttercup seemed unfazed by such an accusation. She even laughed it off. “Well, yes. There’s no denying that.”

“But, she could’ve killed Cloudchaser-” Jessica added, but Buttercup held up a hoof.

“This is a tired old topic I’ve personally debated for years now,” the earth pony began, sounding quite tired herself all of a sudden. “Please forgive me if I seem like I don’t take it as seriously as others think I should.”

She sat on her haunches, throwing a brief glance to the nervous looking young mare filling in for her at the wheel of the ship before continuing. “Look, you’ve obviously figured out that Felix isn’t a normal unicorn. I mean, how could you not, right? I won’t tell you exactly what she is, because it’s not my place. But I can tell you that she belongs to a race of creatures that are inherently dangerous.”

Jason frowned, shifting uncomfortably on the cannon he was perched on. Leanne’s scowl deepened, but she didn’t say anything. Jessica merely gave Buttercup a questioning look. “Well, that’s not very reassuring,” she said, not really knowing what else to say. Her mind was ablaze with conflicting thoughts. Felix had seemed alright in the brief time that Jessica had known her, bar the odd hiccough, maybe. In fact, she would even go as far as to consider the unicorn a friend.

“Ahh, you haven’t let me finish,” Buttercup continued, gently nudging her Captain’s hat back upright after a particularly strong gust of wind. “Felix and her mother, they’re different. Let’s take what just happened as an example—she attacked Cloudchaser in a fit of uncontrolled rage, yes, but she missed. Now, I’ve known Felix for years, and fought by her side in a number of battles. She never misses when her horn is pointed at a griffin, or a war manticore, or an ursa… Well, I’d actually be pretty worried if she managed to miss an ursa, but that’s besides the point. What I mean to say is, she’s never hurt a pony. Even ones she doesn’t like.”

“So, you’re saying… she just wanted to scare Cloudchaser?” Jessica asked.

“Precisely. If you take Jack out of the equation, they get on quite amicably,” Buttercup concluded.

The ship gave a lurch, suddenly decelerating. Jessica had been so busy listening to Buttercup that she had failed to notice the gleaming white metropolis now gliding gracefully by the side of the ship. It looked even more magical up close than it had from the plane.

“Careful, Blossom! You’ll give everypony airsickness,” Buttercup chastised, trotting back to the golden wheel. “I’ll take it from here. Go and ready the mooring lines.”

Over the span of five minutes or so, the Thorn glided lower and lower over one of the vast ridges of the city. Warmfront, who had been tending to his flight scouting duties, finally landed on the deck, confident no-one was going to attack the ship in such close proximity to the capital. He reared up on his hind legs, joining Jessica leaning against the balcony.

“Impressed?”

Impressed? Such a conclusion would be an understatement. Just about everything in this city seemed to be constructed out of white marble, with nearly every building sporting a pole bearing little triangular flags of varying colours. It was such a simple thing, but it brightened the whole place up just that little bit more. Everywhere Jessica looked, there seemed to be something impressive to see. And the ponies… they were absolutely everywhere. Some of them gazed up at the low-flying Thorn from gleaming lime-tinted cobbled streets that were easily wide enough for a two lane road, but of course, there was not a car, truck or bus in sight. It was utterly bizarre, seeing a city as big as this, with absolutely no traffic, and no pollution. The air was as fresh as that of a country hamlet.

The gigantic ridges were a marvel all on their own. They had to be held up by magic—there was simply no way they would remain intact, otherwise. The ship was currently gliding over the lowest one, which was also the largest.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’, shall I?”

“Huh?” Oh, he’d asked a question. “Sorry, yeah… this… this is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Warmfront grinned, apparently content to just let Jessica admire the scenery. Without even realising what she was doing, her fingers found his ears, and she’d already given him an absent minded scratch in thanks before she caught herself.

I really have to stop doing that. It was so easy to just pet him like he was an overgrown dog. Of course, he was anything but.

“Oh my days! Is that a market?” Jason practically screeched, prompting Jessica to throw a glance over the railing at a large white plaza full of rustic wooden stalls. The place was positively packed with ponies of all three races buying and selling wares. “I can’t wait to go shopping! That’s allowed, right? Where’s Spitfire? Someone ask her if we can go shopping.”

“On one condition,” said a voice, but it wasn’t Spitfire’s. Jessica turned her attention back to the deck, where Fleetfoot had just landed.

“What’s that?” Jason gleefully asked.

“We’re not expected at the castle until later on this afternoon, as the Princess still has her duties to attend to,” Fleetfoot began, speaking to the group as a whole. “So that leaves us a little free time. You can explore the city if you wish, as long as you’re accompanied by a Wonderbolt.”

“Aww, yeah!” Jason yelled in triumph. “Where’s Flitter?”

The corners of Fleetfoot’s mouth twitched, despite her professional stance. “She’s at the dock,” she replied, her smirk emerging as she pointed to a series of platforms up ahead. The Thorn began slowing down to a crawl as she finished speaking.

“Sweet!” With that, Jason shot down the steps to the main deck and began excitedly hovering around the gangway railing as it slid into place next to the polished wooden platform. Several ponies were already in the process of securing the ship with thick mooring lines, and Jessica was just as anxious to get out and explore the city herself.

“Feel like showing me around?” she asked Warmfront, already envisioning the two of them strolling happily together through the busy streets.

“Does an ursa shit on the plains?”

“What?”

Warmfront snorted, shaking his head and dropping back down to his forehooves. “Come on. Let’s go.”

* * *

Mien.

Felix smiled. It was a perpetual smile. The kind that lingers even when the voices in one’s head would just not shut the hell up. Well, one voice, anyways. One very smug voice.

Ours, Felix corrected, but her darker half was too busy purring away like a contented kitten to take any notice.

The marketplace was packed with ponies, most of whom were trying to get a good look at Jack, Jason, and Leanne. There were a few shouts of “Jewel?”, but most of the attention was on the new species in town. It was a good thing, really—as Felix was in no state to talk to anyone, let alone a bunch of ponies that idolised her.

After only twenty five years of being alive, she had stumbled upon something that the majority of her kind had to wait thousands of years to find. With pretty much zero effort, no less!

Her mother was going to have a fit when she found out.

“Are we done here?” Jack muttered, hands in his pockets as he sulkily observed Leanne and Jason fawning over a luxury hoof-stitched quilt. Many ponies were staring, whispering to one another and pointing their hooves at the three humans as though they were the main attraction at a zoo.

Mien.

That had been quite a different tone. Felix took a subtle step closer to her consort… Her actual freakin’ consort! She almost didn’t care that they were staring at him. The siren, on the other hoof…

Click.

Non!

One barely perceptible flash of her horn later, and the pap’s camera belched out a plume of purple smoke. “Maybe we should hurry things along, Jason?” Felix growled.

She all but smacked herself in the jaw with a hoof not a moment after the words left her mouth, the demonic rasp of her darker half having accompanied them in an eerie unison. You little bitch!

Jason went white, his eyes snapping to Felix, hands fumbling the bag of bits he was counting out. Coins spilled all over the stall counter, but she caught them in an instant with a simple summoning spell.

Can you not? They’re already scared of us, you little fucking harlot!

Felix cleared her throat. “Sorry, I just meant that my mother will be expecting us shortly,” she mumbled, neatly stacking the bits in front of him and avoiding his wary look. Even the salesmare looked a little shaken, her ears standing on end.

“Oh… S-Sure,” he replied, his stutter slapping her with a pang of guilt. The siren merely chuckled. Bitch.

Flitter chose that moment to lean into her side, a knowing smirk on her muzzle. “The old seapony giving you trouble?” she asked, quietly enough that all of the ponies trying their best to eavesdrop couldn’t hear.

Well, shit. That was brave. Even for Flitter. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Fifty bits is fine!” the salesmare squeaked, practically throwing the quilt at Jason and Leanne, just as three more paparazzi showed up.

MIEN!

“Come on. Let’s get going,” Felix reiterated. It was a wonder she could even hear herself over the semi-tantrum being thrown in her head. Another flash of her horn fried the film in no less than four more expensive cameras.

“Hey!” squeaked the owner of the first camera to bite the dust. Paps weren’t as stupid as they looked, it seemed. “What gives?”

Something snapped, the siren suddenly utterly uncontainable. An internal battle was fought and lost in a split second, with the next seeing the wide-eyed journalist bathed in the deadly blue glimmer of-

Puuuuuuuurrrrrr…

The soft, cool touch of human flesh encompassed Felix’s horn, and an intimate warmth spread the length of her spine from the point of contact, culminating unapologetically between her hind legs so forcefully that her tail gave a noticeable flick. “Silly pony,” Jack grimaced, with a somewhat forced smile.

It certainly shut the siren up, but Felix wasn’t so concerned about that as much as the fact she was currently burning the shit out of Jack’s hand. She pulled her horn from his grasp. “Idiot!”

“Just calm your crotch tits, a’ight?” he shot back at her, flexing his fingers with a poorly disguised wince. His palm now resembled a giant blister, and there was a noticeable smell of burning flesh in the air.

Instead of answering, Felix poured a stream of healing magic into her stupid human’s hand, simultaneously charging her horn for a more powerful spell at the same time. About five more cameras appeared in the crowd, but all their lenses managed to capture was a blinding flash of pink as the small group of humans, along with their chaperones, vanished from the marketplace in the blink of an eye.

Author's Note

Be on the lookout for any typos, eh? :twistnerd:

2. A Comforting Revelation [2018RW]

Cloudchaser sniffled, her ears lifeless and drooping as she followed Captain Spitfire through the lavish interior of the alien ship. Windrunnner was dead. Sure—he hadn’t been her special somepony, but he’d taken care of her last six estrus cycles like a true gentlecolt. It had been his job, of course. He was expected to take care of the soldiers like any other comfort stallion, but she’d sometimes daydreamed of having him all to herself. There wasn’t any chance of that happening now—and it was all down to one of the strange creatures that had arrived with this abnormally large ship.

They had been taken away somewhere—which was probably a good thing, considering Cloudchaser had been ready to rip the pilot’s throat out. It had been obvious he’d been flying drunk. Maybe if he’d been paying attention then Windrunner would still be alive.
At least somepony had smacked him in the back of the head. Even though they’d gotten one hell of a scolding from Spitfire for it, Cloudchaser herself probably would have done it if nopony else had.

She stifled another sob, turning her attention back to the ship. There were two floors, a concept unheard of in any conventional flying vessel. Its interior was full of technology she didn’t understand, oddly coupled with the type of luxury that she surmised would only be reserved for aristocracy. The decor consisted mainly of polished wood, metal and glass. A small bar sat below a staircase, its elaborately varnished wooden cabinets housing a large selection of wines and spirits. It had offices, bedrooms, bathrooms, and even a large conference room, dominated by an expensive-looking oval table.

“Skyland Corporation,” Spitfire muttered. Cloudchaser glanced at her superior, who was holding what appeared to be a coffee mug adorned with some sort of logo in her hoof. After a few moments, she set it down on the table. “This ship may have flew in from griffon territory, but I think the creatures that brought it here are innocent.”

“Innocent?” Cloudchaser scoffed. “What about Windrunner?”

Spitfire paused, her face falling. “Windrunner should have known better than to fly too close to something that is clearly a dangerous power source. It is a shame to lose a stallion, but I don't think it was the pilot’s fault.”

“He was drunk!” Cloudchaser cried, slightly abandoning the respect she should be showing.

Thankfully, Spitfire overlooked the insubordination. A soft, somewhat uncharacteristic expression briefly crossed her features. “I know you cared for Windrunner,” she said, pressing a forehoof to Cloudchaser’s shoulder. “But, he knew what he signed up for.”

Cloudchaser nodded. The Captain’s words were thoughtful, but they still couldn’t fill the hole left in her heart.

“This ship is unlike any other I have seen. It’s more technologically advanced than anything the griffons have—Tartarus, it’s even better than our own,” Spitfire observed, hoofsteps muffled on thick, luxurious carpet taking her further through the strange craft.

Cloudchaser followed, her agitation rising. “Is that all you care about? This ship? What about its murderous Captain?”

Spitfire stopped just short of a bland looking door, dubiously adjusting her shades. “He may have been blind drunk, but like I said—I don’t think he could have done much either way. Besides, this ship is a godsend. Do you know of anypony that would be able to fly it?” She pushed the door open with a foreleg.

Cloudchaser was about to argue—claiming that somepony would figure it out, but stopped dead in her tracks when she caught sight of what was beyond the door.

They’d reached a small room, at what was clearly the front of the large ship. Many dials, levers, switches—and weird blank cuboids that she didn’t even recognise—were all intricately arranged on a large gun-metal grey control panel. It spanned the full width of the windows combined, and ran all the way down between the two pilot seats. There was another on the ceiling, this one containing even more dials and switches.

Words abandoned the mare. There was literally nothing in this alien control room that she even remotely recognised as a conventional means to control a ship. On a standard pegasi craft, there was just a barrell cradle and a mouthpiece. That was it. On this considerably larger ship however, she wouldn’t know where to start.

“Want to know what’s so great about this ship?”

Cloudchaser tore her eyes away from the control room, glancing at her boss. “What?”

Spitfire smiled. “It doesn’t require magic.”

* * *

I was in pain.

Not a lot of it, mind you, but still enough to have valid complaints regarding. I’d woken up in what I could only describe as a dormitory. Metal bunk beds arranged in almost a maze-like fashion, separated by large wooden divider boards—that offered only a small modicum of privacy—filled the room. It reminded me of summer camp a little, only, there was no-one here but me.

I was laid on a top bunk in the corner. A dull, throbbing headache plagued my hungover brain. I could feel something soft wrapped around my head. My body still felt heavier than usual, almost as if the gravity was stronger here. It made sense, considering what the plane had done upon first entering this realm.

The increased gravity would suggest a denser atmosphere. Thinking back, the malfunctioning altimeter now suddenly made sense—seeing as that particular instrument functioned by measuring air pressure. A dense atmosphere would also explain why the plane pitched up so much. The only thing that remained a mystery was how we ended up here in the first place.

The sound of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts. Someone started whistling a cheerful tune—which would have been nice—but my currently over-sensitive ears thoroughly disagreed. I grunted, weakly pulling myself up, and glancing around for the culprit. My eyes squinted through the bright sunlight streaming from a set of large bay windows.

What I saw, was a horse. It was the unsettling confirmation that I’d subconsciously hoped I’d never find—but here it was. It was bigger and more muscular than the other ponies I’d seen, with a cerulean blue coat, complemented by a clearly well-kept golden mane and tail. Its large, stereoscopic eyes appeared to shine, highlighting its amber irises. A picture of a heart nestled between a set of wings adorned it’s flanks.

“You’re awake!” it exclaimed with a smile.

The deep voice clearly indicated I’d just met a stallion. Upon further examination of its features, I noticed the more defined jawline and slightly thicker muzzle.

My brain—now unimpeded by the effects of alcohol—swiftly concluded that I must be going crazy. Horses weren’t supposed to talk. Or fly, for that matter.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I had nothing. The stallion leapt into the air, a set of blue wings springing from his sides to propel him upwards. He landed on the bottom of the bed, immediately holding out a hoof.

“The name’s Warmfront.”

Despite the bizarre reality of the situation, I held out a hand and awkwardly shook his offered hoof. “Jack.” He gave me a slightly confused look, but then gave another friendly smile.

“You’re a weird looking thing, aren’t ya?” he casually observed, a bemused expression on his face.

“Excuse me?” I was rather surprised that he had the audacity to claim that I was the weirder of the two of us.
“Well I’ve personally never come across anything like you before—and don't even get me started on your ship. That thing’s huge!” he said excitedly, reminding me of a kid in a toyshop as he he clopped his forehooves together in glee. “I hope Spitfire doesn’t have it torn up for parts.”

“Wait, they’re gonna—what?” I yelled, my eyes squinting in pain as a result. “I need it to get home!”

I didn’t really have any plans as to how to go about achieving such a fear, but still, if the plane was destroyed, then we would have no connection whatsoever to our own world, however small a comfort that connection would have been.

“Oh.” Warmfront murmured, gazing at me with sympathy in his eyes. His ears wilted slightly. “Even if Spitfire would let you leave, there’s no way you could go back.”

Fuck. That.

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” I defiantly replied, struggling to get up off the bed. “Where is my crew? If anything has happened to them, heads are gonna fucking roll.” I was still dressed in my First Officers uniform, which currently clung to my body with sweat. Ignoring this slightly gross revelation, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and slid over the metal frame.

As you can probably imagine—this was a pretty stupid idea.

Warmfront landed next to the crumpled heap of my body on the floor. He snickered somewhat, but he at least tried to hide it under the guise of clearing his throat. “Er… Are you alright?”

I pushed myself up to a sitting position, trying to ignore the pain in my legs. “Seriously. What is with the gravity here?” I muttered.

The pegasus merely shrugged, the corners of his mouth still twitching.

I let the matter drop, returning to more pressing question. “How won’t we be able to get back?”

He idly contemplated me for a moment. “Well, everypony I spoke to reckons your ship came from another failed attempt at a griffon warp drive.”

I gave him an incredulous look. His answer had just raised many more pressing questions. Ultimately, my bewildered mind settled on a rather simple one: “A what?”

Warmfront chuckled. “I should probably bring you up to speed on the war.”

* * *

I listened in awe, as Warmfront explained.

Equestria—the nation I’d inadvertently ended up in—was at war with the griffon tribes of Dysnomia. They were led by a dictator by the name of King Gragnok. Apparently, he had a particularly strong grudge against pegasi.

Both sides fought for reign over the skies. There once was a time when pegasi had tried for diplomacy, but the few discussions that had taken place hadn’t lasted long. The griffons were said to be barbaric, hateful creatures that were prepared to go to any lengths to win. Recent intelligence suggested that they’d been experimenting with magical warp drive technology—something that by unicorn calculations was still centuries away from perfection. Needless to say—the griffons kept messing it up, often creating temporary wormholes that sometimes spewed out unsuspecting visitors.

“So that’s why I’m here?” I asked, as we walked along a brightly lit corridor. I was tiring quickly due to the increased gravity, but Warmfront had suggested we go and get something to eat. The corridor was painted a pleasant sky blue, and the walls were lined with wooden message boards. I could even recognise several posters bearing anti-griffon propaganda.

“‘Fraid so,” the pegasus replied, “It doesn’t happen often. In fact, I think you and your crew are the only ones to ever come through alive.”

“There have been other humans?”

“That what you guys are called? Huh,” he chuckled. “I think there might have been one or two a few years back, but neither of ‘em survived.”

I couldn’t help but wonder at the many missing person reports back home. Maybe some of them had ended up here? “Speaking of my crew, you didn’t answer me before. Where are they?”

“Oh they’re fine, for the most part,” he said, stepping through a set of double doors into another corridor. This one had ponies in it. They didn’t even attempt to disguise their stares as we walked past. I ignored them, keeping my eyes on Warmfront.
“For the most part?”

Warmfront glanced at me with a smile. “Well two of ‘em calmed down after a while, but that one with the blond mane had to be sedated,” he chuckled, before seeming to remember something that wiped the smile clean off his face. “Oh, umm… apparently they found another one… dead, as well.”

I paused, my face falling. I had forgotten about Albert. “He was dead before we landed.”

“Sorry to hear that,” the stallion said, with all sincerity.

Despite our differences, Albert had been a good man. I could only imagine what he would have thought of these ponies had he lived to see them.

Warmfront stopped in front of another set of double doors, pushing one of them open with a forehoof. He waved me through into what appeared to be a cafeteria. Rows of tables, flanked by benches on either side took up much of the available space. A large number of pegasi occupied the benches, many of which glanced up at our arrival. All of them appeared to be female. The ones that weren’t wearing blue flight suits stood out, their vibrant colours seeming to light up the whole room.

A quick glance at all those big inquisitive eyes seeking me out was more than enough. “So, what do you do around here?” I asked Warmfront, pointedly keeping my eyes fixed on him.

“Comfort stallion,” was his casual reply.

I blinked. “What? That’s actually a thing here? I thought minigun-horse was joking!”

Warmfront sucked in a breath through his teeth, his eyes nervously giving the room a once over. “Yeah—I wouldn’t call her that to her face if I were you,” he muttered, quickly stepping in line behind a sky blue mare with a windswept ice-blue and white mane. With a whip of her matching tail, the mare span on her hooves to face us. Warmfront immediately froze in place at her gaze. “Oh… Hello, General F-Fleetfoot,” he stuttered, hastily saluting her with a forehoof.

She ignored him, instead turning her large fuschia eyes up to me. “Minigun-horse?”

I shivered. She was just as intimidating as the yellow pony I was referring to, yet she had an air of what I could only describe as “coolness,” about her that I hadn’t seen before. I didn’t know whether to fear or admire her.

After a few moments, the corners of her mouth twitched, eventually forming a fully fledged smile. An odd little chuckle escaped her muzzle and she briefly closed her eyes, before turning away and disregarding the both of us.

Neither Warmfront nor myself felt the need to say anything as we were given a portion of vegetable soup by a disgruntled looking gray mare. She seemed to be one of the only ponies in the room that was distinctly uninterested in me, and I found myself rather thankful for it. Once we had sat down at one of the tables—out of earshot of Fleetfoot—Warmfront turned to me.

“Ponyfeathers, that was lucky. Normally Fleetfoot would tear the wings off somepony insulting Captain Spitfire like that!” he half gasped, half chuckled.

I merely shrugged. “Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have any, then,” I muttered, tucking in to my soup. It was surprisingly good, despite its bland, mushy appearance.

“Yes you do—or at least, your ship does. I’ve never seen a ship with wings before.” He frowned. “How does that thing even fly when they don't even flap?”

“Well it’s simple really,” I began, rather confused at how he didn’t already know. “The wings are shaped that so when the engines pull the plane forwards, the air pressure below the wing is greater than the air pressure above it. This creates what’s known as ‘lift,’” I explained, before realising Warmfront had been making a joke.

The stallion’s muzzle scrunched, eventually emitting a snort.

“Funny,” I deadpanned.

We sat in silence for a while. I couldn’t help but notice a few mares were still staring in my direction with disapproving looks, as though I shouldn’t be eating in the same room as them. Warmfront seemed to notice as well. Oddly, he looked even more worried about it than I was.

“So… your training starts tomorrow,” he nervously began.

I frowned. “What training?”

“Well, um… I’ve been ordered to oversee your heat tamer training. Some ponies wanted to put you on trial for ponyslaughter, but Spitfire overruled them. Since she’d face a potential uprising if she just let you off scot-free, she’s decided to… assign you Windrunner’s old job,” Warmfront explained, muttering the last sentence as quickly and quietly as possible.

It took a few seconds to process this information. When my brain finally caught up, I promptly dropped my spoon against the table with a loud clatter. “Nope.” Several ponies turned toward the noise as I got up and strode toward the exit. Surprisingly, none of them moved to stop me as I strolled through the double doors and back along the sky blue corridor.

Nope! Nope, nope. Nope. Nope. There was no way in hell I was going to put my dick in a horse. I rather have my balls surgically removed with a chainsaw. Picking up the pace, I broke out into a jog along the corridor in my haste to leave. Maybe if I could find the others, I could get us out of he-

SLAM.

Something collided with my back. I would have been sent sailing along the polished floor if four strong, sky blue legs hadn’t wrapped around me with vice-like intensity—two around my chest and two around my lower thighs. Holy shit! My feet lifted off the ground as I was accelerated through an open window at the end of the corridor.

I screamed. Fleetfoot merely laughed, climbing with the speed a Eurofighter Typhoon. We were now soaring high above the base. The only consolation of the terrifying ordeal was the fact that I spotted the jet—thankfully still intact.

After a few intricate barrel rolls—probably just to scare the shit out of me—we soared past a large cloud tower with a breathtaking rainbow fall streaming from its side. I probably would have questioned how the hell they’d managed to make buildings out of clouds if I weren't scared shitless of Fleetfoot potentially dropping me to my untimely doom. Eventually, and with great relief on my part, we soared through another open window into what appeared to be an office.

Fleetfoot set me down on the floor, giving the same odd little chuckle she had in the mess hall. I stumbled to my feet, pointedly glaring daggers at her. She grinned, before sauntering out of the room without a care in the world, leisurely swishing her pristine tail in the process.

Spitfire sat behind a desk. She levelled me with a peculiar look that suggested she was sizing me up. After a few moments, she spoke:

“We need to talk.”