Chapter 11: Cat and Mouse

Hermes stirred as a world of unfamiliarity slowly pulled him out of his peaceful slumber. With the blissful shield of dreamless sleep broken, the pain of a hundred tiny jackhammers thrumming against the inside of his head finally yanked the changeling to consciousness with an iron fist. “Ugghhhn...” he moaned as he felt the stiff chitin in his joints pop. “What happened last night... And why is this mattress so lumpy and warm?”

The mattress beneath him was gently rising and falling in a slow rhythm. An almost soothing aura surrounded the young changeling, helping to dull the pain, or at least it was until he pushed his head past the rising hump and felt his muzzle press against something feathery.

A gruff, but feminine, moan emanated from the lump below him. “Ugh. Did I get drunk, or did I get drunk?” Someone mumbled in a groggy, dopey tone.

All of a sudden, Hermes heard a sharp gasp and felt the bed shift under him, the hump completely disappearing. To replace it however, two hooves bucked him in the back, hurling off the bed.

Hermes groaned sorely as he picked himself up off the floor, only to turn to see Scootaloo bolt upright from her bed, wings outstretched and cheeks flushed. “Oh dear sweet bucking Celestia!” She squeaked,pulling up the bed clothes to cover herself.

Hermes groaned and writhed a little on the floor, massaging his temples. “Nggh, heeeey.” He complained as he looked up at Scootaloo on the bed. Scootaloo returned his gaze with a sheepish, nervous look.

“Um… I, uh… G-Good morning… I-I guess.” She stammered. “U-Um… did we, uh…?”

“Do what?” Hermes whined as he continued to run his head.

“Uh... Y-ya know...

The changeling wracked his brain to try and remember the events of the night before through the haze of pain swimming around his head. “I remember betting you I could cartwheel up the wall……” he recounted. “And then…”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about!” Scootaloo squealed.

“I'm sorry. I really don't remember anything beyond that point...”

“Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.’ Scootaloo panicked as she looked under the sheets. “Please be clean. Please, Celestia, let them be clean...”

At that point, the door was opened to reveal a suspiciously squeaky clean Marks and Fang. As they walked into the room to find the private on his back on the floor and the commanding officer frantically inspecting the bedsheets, the stallion smirked. “You pieces of filth.” He teased. Scootaloo looked up from the bed clothes to growl at him.

“Shut up!” She hissed, only to be tutted at by Fang.

“Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear, dear, dear.” She purred jokingly. “To court your commanding officer in such a callous way…” She crept up on Hermes like a manticore stalking its prey. “I hope you get schwanger, you cheap tart.” She giggled.

“Come again?” Hermes questioned.

“Ooh, careful what you ask for,” came the swift reply from Marks. “Do you not know what happens when a changeling copulates with a pony mare? If he doesn’t take precautions, he might very well find himself up the duff.” The changeling’s eyes widened.

“What? Seriously?” He turned to Scootaloo. “Could I be-?”

“No, of course you can’t, featherbrain, they’re just winding you up.” Scootaloo barked, throwing the sheets back. “And, anyway, the bed’s clean.” She huffed, folding her forelegs in front of her chest. Marks and Fang fell about laughing, clutching their bellies as they rolled about in fits of giggles.

“Oh, come on, Hermes, it’s basic sex ed one-oh-one, here,” Marks chortled as Fang wiped a tear from her eye.

“Ja, vhat do zey teach you back at ze hive?” Fang giggled.

“They don't teach us anything about mating. We don't do it for fun.” Hermes explained.

“Enough!” Scootaloo cried, earning the eyes of her subordinates. “All of you, get out now or I'll have you all court martialed!”

Fang and Marks gave a few wheezing chuckles before saluting and backing out the door, Hermes following immediately once he had gathered his armor which was strewn about the chamber haphazardly.

After about two minutes, Scootaloo emerged from the room dressed in her fatigues. “Not. One. Word.” She growled as Marks and Fang giggled quietly amongst themselves. The orange mare huffed and trotted towards the throne room, the rest of her team silently followed.

“So what's the latest word about this whole Zyanid thing?” Scootaloo asked.

“Dunno.” Marks affirmed. “I think the Princesses have a plan, but that's about it.”

Scoots nodded and trotted along, remaining almost completely silent.

After a short while, the four came upon the colossal door to the throne room. The orange mare pushed it opened to see the three Princesses and Chrysalis gathered around a table, each of them appearing as if they had not slept at all during the night.

“Ah! Centurions!” Celestia smiled. “Excellent timing!”

The four saluted the princess. “Reporting as ordered, your Majesties.” Scootaloo declared.

“Splendid.” Celestia nodded. “Before we begin, I believe Queen Chrysalis has something to say.”

“Indeed.” The large changeling stood up and slowly approached the centurions. “Private Herimestus.”

“Y-yes, my queen?”

“I cannot in good conscience ask a private what we are about to ask of your new team.” Chrysalis explained

The private's antennae drooped low. “I... Under-”

“Which is why, effective immediately, you are hereby granted the rank of Paladin.”

Hermes eyes widen as a gasp escaped his lungs. Immediately he donned a determined expression and saluted. “Thank you, my Queen! You honor me!”

Chrysalis nodded. “This is a promotion in title only. It is up to you to do the rank justice.”

The young changeling nodded and bowed. “I understand, my Queen. I’ll do you proud. I promise.”

Chrysalis nodded and returned to her seat. “Centurions.” Twilight beckoned.

The four sat down at the far end of the table.

Twilight cleared her throat and stood up from her seat. “I have spent the previous night extracting data from the holo-projector that came into our possession yesterday. Unfortunately, all I could uncover besides the set of coordinates was an encoded message reading ‘Lassen Sie uns, wenn Sie können’.”

Fang snarled as she rolled her eyes. “Zey’re taunting us. ‘Catch us if you can’? Vhat are zey? Narcissistic foals?”

The princess nodded. “This is clearly a trap, but unfortunately, we don’t have any other leads. Which is where you four come in.”

All four centurions nodded. “What are our orders, your majesties? Scootaloo inquired, prompting Celestia to stand up.

“Currently, we are having a Wyvern Aerial Command Center being prepared and equipped for deployment.”

Marks' eyes lit up like a foal on Hearth’s Warming. “A WACC!?” he gasped.

Hermes tilted his head. “What's a WACC?”

“A Wyvern Aerial Command Center is an experimental aircraft designed to transport small squadrons quickly and efficiently, while offering private sleeping quarters and a base of operations.” Luna explained. “Utilizing an experimental Automatic Recharging Mana Core, or ARMC, a WACC requires no fuel, instead, a WACC merely requires short periods of inactivity to recharge. In addition, Wyvern’s possess a decently sized armory and radar stealth technology.”

“That's some cutting edge tech!” Hermes admired.

“You don't know the half of it, bug boy! WACCs are supposed to have enough firepower to glass an entire mountain!” Marks exclaimed, drawing a glare from Scootaloo.

“If you're quite finished gun-gasming, Lieutenant, we have orders to receive.” She reprimanded.

“Indeed.” Celestia spoke. “The Grand General is overseeing the final preparations for the Wyvern in the castle's hangar bay. We've programmed an autopilot path that will bring you as far as Japon before needing to land and recharge. If all goes well, you should be able to reach the coordinates given to us by this Zyanid organization within a twenty eight hour time period, including the time spent recharging the Mana Core.”

“Understood, your highness.” Scootaloo bowed. “We’ll report in to him immediately. Is there anything else?”

All princess and Chrysalis shook their heads. “Nothing besides wishing you the best of luck. Come home safe.” Twilight said, earning a salute from the four centurions.

“Thank you, princess Twilight. Ad victoriam.”

“Ad victoriam.”

The centurions bowed and left the throne room, making their way for the castle's hangar bay. “Kinda ironic these Nazis are luring us to Russia, don't you guys think?” Scootaloo asked.

Fang nodded. “Zat's one vord for it. A Nazi base in former Soviet territory...”

“Doesn't matter where the cowards are hiding.” Marks spat. “Siberia, Caneighda, the bucking moon. These shits are gonna get what's coming to them.”

“That being a hearty serving of hot lead!” Scootaloo declared, earning a confident nod from the Lieutenant. “And Hermes.”

The young changeling looked to his commander. “Yes, commander?”

“Congratulations on the promotion, kid. Paladin, huh?”

Hermes blushed and chuckled sheepishly. “Thank you, commander.”

“So what's a changeling paladin equivalent to in Equestrian ranks?” Scootaloo asked.

Hermes thought about it for a bit before answering, “Paladin's are roughly equivalent to your sergeants.”

“Quite a jump, don't you zink?” Fang inquired.

“Not at all. There are only five real ranks in our military. Private, paladin, sentinel, hornet and finally scorpion.” He explained. “A simple hierarchy to avoid any confusion about authority.”

“I see.” Scootaloo nodded as she continued down into the bowels of the castle, heading for the hanger built into the side of the mountain. “Nazis... Well, this beats Hydra population control.” She joked, earning a chuckle from her subordinates.

After a solid three minutes of walking, the four came upon a massive metal door guarded by two armed soldiers.

The two guards stood at attention, saluting the four. “Phoenix Centurions.” One of them said. “Grand General Spike is waiting for you inside.”

“Thank you, soldiers. At ease.” Scootaloo replied.

The two nodded, one of them turned to his side and pressed a passcode into a number pad, causing the gigantic door to slide open, revealing a huge aircraft, easily the size of a small house. Two long wings extended from the body, folding upwards about halfway just after a propeller built inside of the wing pointing downwards. On the starboard side of the hull was a painted image of a beautiful young mare wearing a white dress riding on the back of wyvern clutching a cartoonish depiction of an atom bomb in its claws.

Marks jaw dropped as he inspected the gun turret on the underside of the cockpit, a 7.62 mm minigun capable of swiveling around, allowing the gunner to hit targets not directly in front of the plane. “Oh sweet Celestia...” He drooled. “Six thousand rounds per minute with an effective range of up to one kilometer with enough force to shatter a behemoth’s shell... I must be dreaming.”

Fang, however, was more fascinated with the aircraft’s engines. “Jetstream model engines, specially designed to operate even in thunderstorms at speeds of up to mach two! Zree hundred kilotons of pure wing power just in ze engines alone!” She gushed, going weak in the knees. “Und experimental hovering technology eliminating ze need of a runway! I zink I'm in love...”

Scootaloo smirked. “If you two are quite finished mentally fucking the plane, we have a General to meet.”

The two chuckled bashfully when the aircraft's loading bay slid open, revealing four massive purple claws. “Oh thank Celestia. Any more time in there and I'd be a dragon cube.”

The general pulled himself out of the loading bay, stretching himself like a dog who had just woken up from a nap. “Centurions!” He smiled. “Got this metal behemoth all squared away for you four. I'd take you inside for a tour, but I am not going back in there.”

Scootaloo chuckled. “Getting claustrophobic, ya big lizard?” She teased, making Spike roll his eyes.

“Watch it there, Chicken Little.” He teased back, poking his forked tongue out.

“Oh, save the tongue for your wife's heat cycle.”

“Go to Tartarus, Scoots.” The dragon chuckled.

Scootaloo snickered. “Love you too, ya overgrown propane tank.”

With another roll of his eyes, Spike looked to the aircraft. “Let's see... Four bed chambers, two bathrooms, a month's worth of rations, long range communication relay, fully stocked armory... Yep! All ready to go. And do us all a favor and don't scratch the paint.”

Scootaloo nodded. “We'll bring this lovely lady back without a scratch.” She chuckled as she climbed into the plane. “Huh... I expected it to be a lot more cramped. Looks about as comfortable as a low rent apartment in Manehattan.”

“For you maybe. I could barely move around, the ceiling is so low.” Spike sighed.

“Thanks, Spike. We'll see you soon.” The orange mare turned to her subordinates. “You three just gonna stand there staring at my ass all day? Get up here!”

The three nodded and climbed up the loading ramp, closing it behind them. Marks and Fang immediately rushed to one of the bedchambers. “It's not ze roomiest, but it'll do.” Fang said.

Scootaloo tilted her head and opened one of the other bedroom doors. A small chamber, furnished by a two pony bed, two chairs and a ceiling lamp, laid behind it. “Room is pushing it. More like broom closet” She joked. “Right. We have a mission. Let's get ready to set off.”

Fang nodded. “I'll man ze cockpit immediately.” Marks snickered subtly. “I heard zat, Dummkopf. Keep it in your pants for now.”

The silver stallion chuckled as his girlfriend took a seat in the pilot's chair.

“Control, zis is Wyvern 1, requesting permission for take off. Over.” Fang spoke through her head set.

A sound of static played through the thestral's earpiece before giving way to a masculine voice.

“Copy that, Wyvern 1. You are cleared to take off. Happy hunting. Over.”

Fang smiled and started powering up the plane. “Ready for lift off. Ignition on, thrusters primed, green across the board.”

“Good job, Fang.” Scootaloo commended. “Bring us up.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

The thestral grabbed the controls and lifted up, the plane shaking as it rose into the air. “Alright. Extending vings.” Fang alerted as she pressed a button that made the wings unfold and straighten.

“Excellent, Fang.” Scootaloo smiled. “Now get us out of here.”

With a confident nod, Fang engaged the autopilot and drove them out of the hangar and into the great blue sky. “Lift off!”

“Hell yeah!” Marks screamed. “This is awesome! We're so high up! I'll never understand how this is normal for flyers!”

“It isn't...N-not f-for all o-of us...” Hermes studdered.

“What's wrong, kid?” His commanding officer asked softly.

“C-changelings... we... aren't built to fly this high...”

Scootaloo smiled and walked to his side, trying to offer some comfort by letting the recruit lean against her. “Don't think of being in a plane like flying. You got a stable floor beneath ya after all. Think of it more like... hmm... like you're on a boat and the sky is the ocean.”

The young changeling nodded. “I... I guess... Thank you, Commander.”

“Don’t mention it.” The orange mare offered a reassuring smile before bumping the young recruit away. “Alright we got twenty eight hours to kill. Marks, I want you to take stock of the armory, see what kind of firepower we're packing. Fang, you and I will take shifts in the pilot seat to make sure we stay on course. Hermes... I dunno. Help Marks out or something.”

“How come I get stuck with the maggot!?” Marks cried indignantly, making Hermes wince.

“Because, dumbass,” the orange mare scolded, “you need to learn to play nice with him.”

“You know I hate bugs!”

“Yeah, and I hated ghost stories as a filly. Guess what Marks. I got over it.”

Marks grumbled. “C’mon, bug. Let's get this over with.”

“He has a name, Lieutenant.” Scootaloo growled, growing more and more annoyed. “Use it.”

“Whatever, mom.” He snarled. “Hermes, let's go.”

“Yes sir!” The young changeling smiled, making the lieutenant roll his eyes as they walked into the armory.

Scootaloo sighed and walked over to Fang. “Your boyfriend is a piece of work all right.”

“Amen to zat.” The thestral giggled.

With a smirk, Scootaloo sat down in the copilot's seat. “How're things looking?”

“Clear skies all around, optimal vind conditions, everyzing seems to be great.”

“Perfect.” The orange mare leaned her head back and smiled. “I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me up when you wanna switch.”

With those words, Scootaloo closed her eyes and let the gentle roar of the WACC’s engines lull her to sleep.

Seemingly instantly, Scootaloo felt a chitinous hoof nudge her awake. “Wha-... Hermes? Wasn’t I in the cockpit with Fang?”

The young changeling nodded. “I brought you in here about thirteen hours ago, so you could rest-”

“Fang's been piloting the ship for 13 hours, nonstop!?”

Hermes nodded. “She’s amazingly sharp.” He commented, awestruck. “I’ve never known anyone with her kind of attention span. But, I’ve just come from the cockpit. Fang says we need to land in Japon to recharge the plane’s mana core for the night.”

As soon as he uttered those words, the plane seemed to lurch ever so slightly, and a slow, controlled sinking feeling came over the pair. After a few moments, the slight weightlessness subsided as the plane touched down on solid ground. The duo made their way up to the cockpit to check in with the pilot, who seemed to be warily staring out the right side window along with the lieutenant.

“Something up, Fang?” Scootaloo asked, following the bat pony’s gaze.

“I zink zere is somezing wrong viz ze plane.” She mused. “She did not seem to fly as sveet as she vas vhile ve vere flying over Equestria.”

Hermes walked up to the window and pressed his face up against the glass. “Well, we could check if there’s something wrong with the wing, while we wait for the mana core to recharge?” He suggested.

“Yeah. It’d give us something to do, at least.” Scootaloo agreed. The group donned arctic camo gear to keep warm in the mountainous snowy air, disembarked and started inspecting the wing, checking it for any rips, dings or any other anomalies that may have caused the craft to act so differently.

A faint rustling in the nearby bushes drew the attention of the young changeling, who turned his head to look just in time to notice something glint in the dying light. With a gasp, Hermes dove to the side, only seconds away from finding himself pinned by the face to the side of the plane with a sharp metal dagger that had been thrown directly at his muzzle. The weapon whistled past his ear and embedded itself in the body of the aircraft, alerting Fang, Marks, and Scootaloo.

“Herm!” The orange mare dashed to his side. “Are you OK?”

The changeling shuddered as his mind briefly buzzed. “I… I think so.” He slowly rose to his hooves, just in time to see a new pony, a unicorn mare, shrouded in a pitch black garb that only showed her fierce violet eyes. The new arrival struck a menacing, battle-ready pose.

“Shin'nyū-sha? Matawa asashin?” The mare reached to her side and drew a long, ornate sword. “Izure ni seyo, anata wa tatakai nashide koko ni nokoshite imasen!”