Friendly AC-130 Inbound

Chapter 1: Down in Kokomo

Struggle sat on the back of the lowered ramp of the AC-130 he would be flying, taking in the early morning sounds of a base just beginning its new day. The cold winter wind cutting through his thin layers on his flight suit, as he watched the rising sun peak over the tree line. The orange glow glinting off the windows of the dozen or so sleeping gunships on the parking pad. Normally he didn't have an opportunity to do this, their sortie was supposed to take off an hour ago, but a last minute repair had grounded them for just a bit longer.

A voice from behind him, interrupted him from his lazy sight seeing. "Hey Struggle, it's stations time, get out front." That was his engineer Story-Time, as his nickname implied he could prattle on for hours with little to no input into a conversation. With a grunt he jumped down off the ramp, and put his headset on from around his neck. He made his way around the aircraft, bracing the biting winds to make his way up front.

After he got in front of the nose, he picked up his rolled up comm-cord off the ground and plugged in his headset.

"Loads up, sorry for the delay."

They had been in the air for a few hours, and Struggle found himself asleep after all his system checks. His hammock swinging gently to the vibrations of the AC-130's massive engines. Normally sleeping on the plane was discouraged, but on a long ferry flight like this one, no one would have too much heart burn.

"Hey Struggle, you alive back there?" He could tell it was the Pilot nicknamed Chaos, but the usual uptick in his heart rate from being woken up on the plane had already started. Which is ironic because Chaos was one of the most easy going Pilots he knew, and they had a history together. A groan escaped his mouth, before he righted himself in the hammock so he could maneuver his mic to his lips.

"Yeah I'm alive, but barely, did I miss another checklist call?"

"Ha no, but I should have let you think you did, we were wondering up here if you had a patch cord to play some music?"

"Eh I'm not sure, let me check my bag real quick." From his hammock he did a quick scan of the gun deck for his boots, and sure enough sometime while he was sleeping they had tumbled down the ramp. Fuck me, if there is anything more cringe worthy then using the aircrafts shitter, it's walking around the plane in socks.

Foregoing his forsaken boots to their fate, he walked down the ramp to pass the 105millimeter howitzer. As he reached the gun, he ducked under its yellow painted safety cage, before lifting himself on his tiptoes to pull down his bag. After a few minutes of rummaging through his old helmet bag, he spotted the small curly patch cord under a half eaten burrito he had wrapped to save for later.

"Struggle, I know we've got all day, but what's the status on that patch cord?" said the Pilot.

"Just found 'er, give me a sec...any requests when its hooked up?"

"What music do you got?" said the Navigator who was nicknamed Papa Hotel. He was a soft spoken guy, with a bit of a forgettable presence. But out of all of us, he had the most interesting back story to his nickname. On his second deployment to Afghanistan, the base had been mortared, and a 'lucky golden bb' had managed to hit right next to the gunship he was in at the time. The shrapnel from the explosion had managed to cut through the aircraft, and one piece found his leg. One purple heart later, and he had a nickname. In fact now that he thought about it, the only member of their five man crew without a nickname was the Co-Pilot. A scrawny butter bar Lieutenant with a last name of Ticer...Or something, Struggle knew it started with a T.  He was a jittery young guy, and he was new. How new? He still had that new guy smell, that's how new.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that. But mostly just a lot of metal. But don't worry, I'll make sure to find something that will please all of your sensitive little ears."

"Struggle I swear if you play any 'I hate my parents music', I'll let the Co-Pilot fly while I come back there." said Chaos. Struggle let a soft chuckle escape his lips at the thought of a Pilot coming into the metal jungle that was the natural habitat of the mysterious tribe known as 'gunners'.

"You won't, and we both know as much as you like your nickname, you wouldn't dare cause that much chaos." By this point Struggle had hooked his ipod up through the patch cord to the comm system.

"So quit your yappin, DJ Struggles comin' at you with what's hot. In honor of our first stop, I got just the song." said Struggle.

Down in Kokomo

As the song opened up, Struggle spoke barely above the song.

"Bermuda here we come."

Struggle huffed lightly as he finished up his after take off checks. What bullshit! Of all the shitty luck we could have. Apparently a tropical storm had appeared out of nowhere. Unfortunately, this had canceled the carefully planned bed down on the island of Bermuda. In order to not be stuck on the island when the storm hit, the plane had to be refueled to take off immediately, so they could try to stay on their timeline. So much for that island horizontal tango I was hoping for.

"Um Pilot, Nav main." Papa Hotel squeaked.

"Go ahead Nav." Chaos responded.

"How's it look out there? I just got some weird indications on the radar." Struggle was listening intently now. Radar problems over the Atlantic with an approaching storm could mean a hasty retreat back to Bermuda. He could already feel the hope of a tropical rendezvous reigniting in his chest.

"Nothing out of the ordinary out....wait what the hell?" Struggle could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. It was never a good sign when a pilot sounded baffled, even less so for a pilot as experienced as Chaos.

"Talk to me Pilot, what's going on?" Struggle said, his voice slightly elevated.

"Brace yourselves crew we're in for a bit of a bumpy ride, not sure how it caught us by surprise. But the storm is about to be on top of us." If Struggle had been on the flight deck, he would definitely define what Chaos said, as downplaying the situation. In the distance ahead of the gunship, a dark storm front was materializing out of nowhere, blacking out the sky as it advanced towards them with an unholy speed. Water spouts otherwise known as 'water twisters', were dancing between the gap of the water and clouds. Looking like load bearing pillars for the heavens. Lightning lit up the ere darkness beneath the clouds with a foreboding frequency.

"Can we just fly over them?" Struggled responded, while making his way up to the right scanner seat.

"We're too heavy after that refuel. We'll be fine, just find yourself a seat." Chaos said.

By the time Struggle made it to the right scanner seat and took a look out the window, they were seconds away from hitting the storm front. He stared into the gaping maw of a storm that seemed to swallow all light, save for the lightning strikes that danced within. As soon as they met the front, a torrential downpour cascaded and flowed around the window, making it hard for him to see anything in the storm beyond. But this wasn't the only thing he noticed, static electricity danced around the outside of the window. He had seen St. Elmo's fire before, but this was something new. Long strands of electricity danced from the aircraft into the heavens, he imagined that the aircraft looked like the center of one of those plasma balls one could play with in a store.

Major "Chaos" wasn't a happy camper, this storm and now his plane seemed to be fighting him every step of the way. His forearms burned as he fought the controls to keep the plane on the right heading. The entire plane shuddered, and bounced every time he forced the unwilling aircraft. His corrections quickly being undone, and the whole process starting over again. It was almost like they were being dragged along in a unseen current. At least the water spouts he had to dodge had finally disappeared, one less obstacle on their way out of this freaky storm. But before he could thank whatever deity was looking out for them, the instruments on his aircraft started going haywire.

The needle on the compass just kept spinning, and the electronic navigational aids went haywire. He spared a quick glance over to his co-pilot, only for him to look just as baffled at the sudden dramatic change to the instrumentation. He didn't have long to think about it however, before the engineer behind him pointed a shaky finger towards the window. Chaos looked up, only for his brain to grind to a halt with what his eyes were telling him. In the distance of the dark sky it looked like someone had kicked a beehive. The flashing lights of airplanes zigged this way and that in total anarchy. He spared his 'Traffic Collision Avoidance System' a glance, only to have it tell him there were no aircrafts in the sky. But with all the flight equipment on the fritz, he couldn't trust it anyway.

"Hey Story, pass me your NVD." He said in the calmest voice possible. Within seconds the small night vision monocle was passed to his hands, and he swiftly brought it up to his right eye. What he saw didn't register at first, as his eyes darted to each of the aircraft in the distance that were slowly growing larger. Dawning realization slowly crept in, as he recognized the unmistakable silhouette of guns sticking out of a C-130 on each of the aircraft. Gunships?

"What in the world?"

In the center of this swarm of impossible gunships, a single bright light emanated, and as their gunship joined the swarming cloud of planes it grew till it encompassed all of them. The light poured through their aircraft, unhindered by physical barriers until the whole crew was left blinded.

Struggle sat in the window rubbing his eyes trying to get his vision back, while wondering just what had happened. As the floaters in his vision faded, his sight slowly returned to him. He was immediately relieved to see sunlight pouring through the window next to him. Perhaps they had managed to finally break through the storm. With his eyes no longer crying out in agony, he decided to take a look out the window. What he saw immediately set off a tiny red flag, after all there wasn't much land in the Atlantic this far out. Yet no matter where he looked there was land, vast mountain ranges with green fertile valleys. With forests interspersed sporadically between colorful fields.

"Ugh Pilot, Load. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked.

"Roger Load...I've been to just about every island in the Atlantic, and this place doesn't look like any of them. That's another thing, we were just over the ocean, I've been circling and I can't spot it anywhere. Nav, what does the GPS say our coordinates are?" Chaos said.

"Nothing Pilot, before that light it was going crazy...but now it just keeps showing the drift from our last known coordinates. Normally I would think there is a fault in the system, but it checks out green. It's almost like there's some kind of connection issue." Said Papa Hotel.

Whatever else the nav said fell on deaf ears as Struggle gaped out the window.  There in the distance was a castle on the side of a mountain, that however isn't what bothered him. He had seen plenty of crazy medieval castles and towns in Europe. No, what bothered him was the purple shield encompassing the entire thing. It looked like something straight out of science fiction, several scenes from Star Wars flashing through his head about energy shields.

"Ugh guys....Not to interrupt your debate about what's going on, but when you were looking for that ocean I think you missed something in your scan." Struggle choked out. This time it was the nav who responded first.

"Why? Did you figure out where we are?" he said.

"Not exactly. But just to be sure, Co-Pilot could you take a look out your window at two o'clock. About twenty miles out halfway up the mountain, tell me what you see." Struggle responded. There was a long pause followed by a muffled gasp over the comm channel.

"Wha..What the hell is that?!? It looks like a giant purple orb surrounding a city!" the co-pilot responded. Not justified that he wasn't losing his mind, Struggle decided to voice a crazy opinion.

"Crew, Load. I don't know what's going on, but I bet if we go check out that city we might get a better idea of what is."

"Good idea Load, what direction is it now?" While the plane was orbiting, the city in question had drifted behind the wing line of the aircraft.

"About the five o'clock position Pilot." With that said the plane banked to the right, and flew in the direction of their new target. All the while Struggle out of nervous habit, scanned the world below looking for threats. Had he been paying more attention, he might have noticed the shadow that lingered over his window for a few moments.

Strong Scales wasn't sure what he was looking at. A few minutes ago he was happily sleeping on his hoard in his lair, before a loud noise he had never heard before kept buzzing about outside his cave. He had tried ignoring it for a time, before it grated on his last nerve, driving him to investigate. Before departing he grabbed a large ruby in his long green tail for a snack, in case it a while. With his jewel secure, he flapped his massive wings barreling down the cave on his legs till he picked up enough momentum to fly.

It hadn't taken him long to realize that the noise wasn't coming from right outside the cave, as he hovered there searching the surroundings of the forest out side of it. He grunted softly to himself, realizing that the best way to find it, would be to scan the forest from the sky.

Strong Scales had followed the noise for several minutes, but realized that the noise kept moving. He had followed it in a circle of the forest several times now, and could only guess it was two steps ahead of him. No matter, he would wait for it right here, and there would be no way for it to escape him now. So he hovered over a clearing in the tree line, waiting for the noise to circle back over this spot so he could finally catch his foe. It didn't seem like he had much more time to wait as the noise grew louder, and he could barely contain his excitement at catching some new quarry. The other dragons in his clan would surely love this story about how he outsmarted his prey. But before the noise could grow to its crescendo, a large shadow dashed across the canopy below to his right, startling him.

Whipping around to find the source, he scanned the skies until he had found the source. It wasn't a cloud like he half expected. No, higher then most things fly, was some type of grey metal bird. His curiosity piqued, he decided to get a closer look at it. So he flew higher, proudly dancing back and forth. Breaking up small clouds, and undoing the small flying ponies work. But as he drew closer, he started to realize the noise he had been chasing, was coming from his new object of attention. With that realization he was fuming, all that time wasted hunting, not to mention his peaceful slumber being interrupted. Oh I'm so having words with you, my metal avian friend.

It wasn't long before he had come up behind the bird, overtaking and flying above him in the sky. It wasn't till he had gotten close, that he had realized just how large it was. The bird was easily the size of most full grown dragons, not to mention, it looked like nothing he had ever seen. He even doubted it was a bird, but flying above it in a show of dominance eased his apprehension.

"Hey buddy, just so you know somedragons are trying to sleep around here, and I don't appreciate how much noise your making." said Strong Scales while not so subtlety adding a growl at the end to sound threatening. If the bird heard him however, it didn't seem to care as it continued to circle the land below. He...or maybe she is hunting. But this is my territory if it won't leave I'll make it.

"Just so you know this is my territory pal, so if you don't leave I'll make you."

He made to start building up the flames in his mouth, when he noticed it bank right and leave.

He just smiled to himself and let it go, proud that the beast had backed off in the end, clearly intimidated about facing him. The metal bird was an unknown, and while he liked a challenge as much as the next dragon, he didn't really reveille in the idea of taking on something his size without knowing if he would win. Still, he couldn't help but gloat at the loud retreating bird.

"Don't forget to tell your friends, about the day Strong Scales the dragon showed you mercy." He brought the ruby in his tail up to his mouth, and slowly munched on it while he watched it go. Perhaps I did get a story to tell the clan, how many dragons can say they scared off a metal bird the size of a dragon. Might need to add a few details, to make it a good story of course.

Big Mac was lying against his favorite tree in the orchard, basking in the shade it provided while sitting on his haunches chewing on a stalk of hay. The best part of this spot was that it sat on the largest hill in Sweet Apple Acres, overlooking the whole farm and Ponyville as well. With his sister Applejack up in Canterlot for some high fallutin royal wedding, and Applebloom doing some kind of project with the crusaders, he finally found himself some peace and quite to come here. Sure he still had to look after the farm and Granny, but apple bucking season was over, and Granny was busying herself with making pie. But he didn't just come here to relax, no he came here to think and have a hard drink or two.

So with just a little bit of trepidation and glee, he made to pull the object of his desire from his saddlebag. There in a small mason jar cradled in his hoof, was the Apple families special hard cider. He didn't get to drink a lot, what with being the role model as the oldest. But every now and then he got a chance to indulge, just like right now.

So after carefully removing the top with his other hoof he drained the jar slowly as the minutes passed. Basking in the warm pull he got from the cold beverage, and delighting in its not overly sweet taste with just a hint of bitter burn. Soon enough it was gone, and he quickly pulled out another. All the while thoughts about up-coming work on the farm dashed through his head, as well as about a few mares in town who had caught his eye.

As he reached the bottom of the third jar his head was swimming, and he felt more relaxed then he had been in weeks. But his cool mood was interrupted when his ears twitched at a unfamiliar noise he just started to notice. He drew himself a bit straighter, and madly began swiveling his ears trying to pick up the source of the disturbance. He didn't like that it sounded like it was getting closer, his hackles raising as he prepared to confront some intruder on his farm. When his ears finally swiveled to lock onto the noise, he jerked his head so fast that he went light headed. But when everything came back into focus the noise was right over him, and he watched in disbelief as some gigantic bird flew overhead towards Canterlot. Clearly imagining things he let his head dip to think about what he just saw, and when he did his eyes rested on the empty jars littered around him. The picture came into focus and he chalked it up to a alcohol fueled delusion, before loudly proclaiming "E'nope." and setting out to find something to help sober up.