Flight 19

Chapters

Google Docs
Prologue: Takeoff
Chapter 1: The Perfect Storm
Chapter 2: A New Dawn
Chapter 3: Staring at Eternity
Chapter 4: A Rude Awakening
Chapter 5: Revelation
Chapter 6: Triviality
Chapter 7: Beyond the Rabbit Hole
Chapter 8: The Way Home
Chapter 9: And the Horse They Rode in on.
Chapter 10: Taking the High Road (End of Book I)
Midnight's First Letter
Chapter 11: The Road Less Traveled
Chapter 12: Eviction Notice
Chapter 13: Pride and Prejudice
Chapter 14: Bright Lights, Big City
Interlude: Midnight's letters
Chapter 15: The Widening Gyre
Chapter 16: Contrapasso
Chapter 17: Culmination (End of Book II)
Chapter 18: Departures
Chapter 19: The Reckoning
Chapter 20: Dawn
Intermission: Lest We Forget.
Chapter 21: On the Road Again
Chapter 22: Lost and Found
Chapter 24: Blood Price
Preface
Chapter 23: Alpha Strike
End of Act 2

Google Docs

This is a link to the table of contents for Flight 19 on google docs. It will be updated at the same time as the chapters on fimfiction. If you wish to leave a comment, please do that on the corresponding chapters fimfiction page. Enjoy!

Table of Contents

Prologue: Takeoff

(http://www.nasflmuseum.com/uploads/4/9/5/8/4958573/1083514.jpg?807)

5 December, 1945

The sun shone brightly over Fort Lauderdale as the crews of Flight 19 were preparing for takeoff. Well, mostly preparing. Takeoff was scheduled for 1345 and thirteen of the fourteen pilots were sitting in the training squadron briefing room as the clock ticked to 1350. A blue haze of cigarette smoke hung lazily over the assembled pilots, and the quiet was broken by the occasional restless movement of one or another of them on the leather chairs they sat in.

George Stivers, a Marine captain and the highest ranking member of the trainee pilots, finally broke the silence. “Where the heck is Charlie at? We’re gonna miss our takeoff slot.” He stubbed out a cigarette in the ashtray that sat next to him. “Christ, this is the third time this week.”

Aviation Ordnanceman Third Class George Devlin, one of the enlisted instructors, laughed loudly. “Typical Taylor, late as usual. Remember this rookies, he’s always late and he loves to fly by the seat of his pants...”

The door swung open and Lieutenant Charles Taylor walked in. “Yes I do, George. That’s how you log over three thousand flight hours.”

There were several quiet snickers as Devlin colored slightly, and the crewmember next to him, another Marine trainee, leaned over. “Oops. Shot down in flames, squid.”

“Sergeant, you got something you need to ask about?” Taylor’s voice was sharp.

“No sir.” Sergeant Bob Gallivan straightened back up and gave the officer an innocent look. “Just checking my watch and making sure everything’s synched up, Lieutenant.”

“Uh-huh.” Taylor looked around the room once more, then nodded. “Okay, let’s get our heads in the game. You all know the drill: Navigation Problem Number One.”

In the back row next to Gallivan, another Marine trainee began elbowing the sergeant in the ribs. “Nice recovery,” he whispered, smirking. “I’ll have to use that one sometime.”

“Oh shut up, Gruebel. You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it.”

Up in the front row, Stivers twisted around in his seat and caught both of them in his gaze. “Knock it off you two,” he growled. “Unless you want to become part of a really interesting bombing exercise.”

“Yessir,” they chorused in answer.

Taylor had broken off his introductory speech on the flight and simply stood there, waiting patiently. “You need to exchange crews, Captain?”

“No, nobody else would take those bozos.” Gruebel and Gallivan were the members of Stivers’ flight crew. “Sorry, Charlie, go ahead.”

Taylor nodded and continued where he had left off, going over the entire flight plan step by step, although all of the crews were familiar with the problems they would work through at this point. “Navigation Problem Number One” was a long and fancy name for a simple exercise to test the flight trainees in both navigational skill and combat readiness. The war in the Pacific theater had ended some three months earlier, but the pilots were still expected to keep up their readiness for whatever situation might be thrown at them; the exercise they would perform today was just another part of their training. Throughout the day, several of these flights had taken place, and Flight 19 was the last to fly.

Taylor finished up his preflight briefing and paused, looking over the group for a moment. “Any further questions?” He pointed at a raised hand. “Sergeant?”

“Any idea on when we’ll get back, Lieutenant?” Staff Sergeant Thompson was a gunner on the crew of another Marine officer. “I got a hot date tonight, took me a week to set it up.”

“Oh gee, I guess we’d better not mess up on the whole ‘navigation’ part, then, right?” Taylor’s face twisted in a wry smile. “No promises. I hope she really likes you, Sergeant, she might be waiting for a bit.”

“Okay... okay, thanks, sir.” Thompson slumped back into his seat, looking glummer than usual.

“Anybody else?” Taylor waited for a moment, then nodded once more. “Okay, boys and girls, let’s saddle up and hit the trail. Hee-yah!” He slapped a hand against one thigh and mimed riding a horse as he headed out of the ready room.

The pilots lugged themselves out of the ready room, leaving the smells of cigarette smoke and stale coffee behind and welcoming the more pungent smell of aviation gasoline as they walked out onto the tarmac, where their planes lay parked in a slant: four TBM-1C torpedo bombers and one TBM-3 torpedo bomber, the latter being Taylor’s plane, a newer model designed for higher speed and slightly longer range. The aircraft was known to the pilots as ‘The Avenger,’ and it was designed to carry a three man crew and a torpedo, or up to two thousand pounds of bombs to where the enemy was and give them a truly bad day. The crews began their preflight walkarounds of their aircraft, each member checking off items and then boarding once his particular list of items was reviewed and deemed acceptable.

One aspect of this was the inspection of the armament of the aircraft. Each one was fitted out with a long range fuel package and carried a full load of live ammunition. As Taylor put it, they would be dropping “hot rocks” today; besides the standard load of .50 and .30 caliber machine gun ammo, the bombers carried a variety of delightfully explosive ordnance. The internal bomb bays, designed to hold a Mark 13 torpedo, were all loaded with a pair of five hundred pound bombs instead, and the wings held racks of five-inch air-to-ground rockets as well. The crews had already made a few runs with practice ammunition before now and none of them objected to having to practice with the real deal in the slightest. Live ammunition was easily had, here at the tail end of the Second World War, and dropping live bombs was always more fun than the practice loads.

Once in the cockpit, another checklist was gone over by Taylor. The aircraft were all fully fueled, and the instrument checkouts seemed perfect, with one exception: the clocks on each airplane had been purposely removed by the ground crews at Taylor’s direction. Navigation of the route was intended to teach dead reckoning principles, which involved calculations and, among other things, elapsed time. The lack of timekeeping devices in the aircraft was deliberate; each man had a wristwatch and a brain; they were expected to utilize both.

Taylor’s voice rattled to life over the radio, “Alright rookies, start up your engines.” a chorus of stuttering then roaring engines was the reply. Taylor glanced over the other aircraft for a moment, then switched the radio frequency. “Control, this is Flight 19, requesting permission for takeoff, Over.”

“Roger, Flight 19, this is Lauderdale Control, the strip is yours. Have a nice flight, Over,” a bored voice droned back at him.

“Thank you, Lauderdale Control, have a nice day. Out.” Taylor switched back to the flight loop. “All right. Gerber? Take us out, you’re flight lead,” he commanded.

“Yes sir.” The lead plane's propeller began to speed up, dragging the fuselage behind it. The plane and its followers quickly rolled out onto the airstrip and accelerated, hastily heading down the runway as engineers standing off to the side waved at the departing aircraft. The planes parted from the concrete and pulled into formation above the rolling ocean.

“Flight 19,” Radio control droned over Taylor’s radio, “you are clear, see you when you get back. Out.”

“Roger.” Taylor glanced over the flight, then looked ahead once more. “Gerber, set course for zero-niner-one and proceed seven-three nautical miles, you have the lead. Take us through the routine nice and clean so we can get back home,” he ordered, loosening his grip on his control somewhat. So far so good, Taylor thought.

“Roger that, Lieutenant. I have the lead. Accelerating to one-three-zero knots indicated airspeed and holding. ETA til target, eleven minutes.” Gerber’s voice could be heard over the radio. There was a small break before it started back up again. “With the wind at our back, we could even save some gas.”

“And time,” Thompson cut in. “Speaking of, Lieutenant, how come they gave us so much gas? I mean, two wing tanks in addition to our main tank? Seems a bit excessive, don’t ya think?”

“Dunno Sergeant, not my problem.” Taylor replied lazily. “They wanted to give us gas in case we get lost probably. Or maybe it’s because this is a navigation exercise, and you’re not qualified, which is why you have the pleasure of my company, remember? So don’t get lost. I don’t want someone barking down my neck over wasted gas.”

The flight group continued their journey in contemplative silence for a while, until Taylor broke the quiet. “Gerber, how much longer we got to the Eye-Pee?”

“Sorry sir. Estimated two minutes to target,” Gerber sounded again.

“Roger, no problem. Remember to sing out your initial point so everybody’s ready and steady when they begin their runs.” What the hell, they were trainees after all, and rookies couldn’t remember everything. That’s why the Navy paid Taylor the big bucks to train them. “Everyone drop down to bombing altitude.”

The two minutes clocked away in silence. “Sir, we are above the target.”

“Flight 19, safeties off. Hold steady.” The bombers flew in line ahead formation, single file as they approached the empty spot in the ocean that had been designated the “target of choice for today.” The silver bellies of each aircraft opened up, the long twin doors on their undersides splitting apart to expose the bombs in their racks. “Prepare to drop in three, two, one, mark mark mark. Bombs away.”

The bombs released from each of the aircraft and dropped away rapidly, each one detonating on the surface of the Atlantic Ocean in a huge geyser of foam. As each plane released its cargo, it banked aside, one following the other in one of the more deadly dance routines mankind had recently invented. Once finished, they formed up again, the doors on their undersides closing once more.

“Bombing run complete, nice work everyone.” Taylor glanced at his watch, then jotted the time onto a notebook with one hand. “Gerber, turn to heading three-four-six and go seven-six nautical miles again. Mark.”

“Yes sir, changing heading,” Gerber replied. “Wind’s getting pretty bad Lieutenant. Good thing the sky is clear.”

Taylor rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Yes, good thing indeed...” The second leg of the flight went on rather silently to Taylor’s relief. The minutes slipped by one by one, and he engaged his own sort of autopilot that he had worked out over time; his hands and eyes seemed to work on their own, scanning instruments, keeping the plane level, while his brain mulled over other matters. He really wanted a smoke right now; boredom and nervousness both set off the nicotine fiend in his body. A smoke would be nice. He’d brought a pack of Luckies with him to share out after the flight, and he reached up to touch the outline of the pack in his pocket. Lighting up in an aircraft loaded with gasoline and explosives was, obviously, forbidden. But ah, the anticipation… As soon as we land, you’re all mine, baby.

A nervous voice broke over the radio, breaking Taylor’s reverie. “Lieutenant, I think we’re lost.” Gerber’s voice sounded shaken.

Taylor’s grip tightened around the control stick when he heard this. “Son, what do you mean, ‘lost’?”

“Like I think my heading was off. My compass is out of control, it’s spinning like crazy.”

“Erm... okay, uh... My compass is fine. Powers, give me your heading.” Taylor said.

Captain Powers flew the aircraft directly behind Taylor, and the Marine took a moment to respond. “I’ve got the same thing here Lieutenant. Spinning like a drunk man on St. Patty's Day.”

“This is not the time for jokes, pilot,” Taylor snapped. “Can anyone get me a reading?” In the ensuing silence, his compass began spinning as well. Taylor shook his head in frustration, and tilted his plane to look down below; beneath him was a series of islands. “I think we’re above the Keys...”

“How the hell did we end up here?” Stivers voice sounded over the radio. “Hell, we took off eastwards, didn’t we? And then turned north.”

“Dunno, but if we fly north we can find home, any objections? No? Good. Put the sun over on your port wing and fly straight,” Taylor said, confidence flowing back into him. “We’ll hit the mainland, fly up over the Gulf of Mexico, and land at Tampa if we have to.”

←---------------------------------------------------------------→

An hour later with no land in sight, Taylor’s confidence began to falter. The aircraft should definitely have been over the coastline by this point, and Taylor was still unable to see any land in sight. Only a few clouds ahead were visible in the darkening sky, seeming to mock him in the distance: Just a little further… land’s over here, just a little further... He shook himself and swallowed. That little voice had killed pilots over and over, and he was damned if he’d start listening to it now. “Okay, listen up, Flight 19.”

Silence, hissing over the airwaves.

“We should have hit the mainland by now, but we’re not there yet. So I want everyone to close up, tight as a tick.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment, hating himself for his next words. “We may have to ditch.”

More silence, and then a lone radio call. “Well shit, there goes my date tonight,” Thompson grumbled.

Taylor chuckled in spite of himself. “Look at it this way, Sergeant. You’ll have a real wowser of a story to impress her back to your side again this time.” He sighed slowly, rubbing his left palm over his face. “Okay. Here’s the deal. Keep an eye on your fuel gauges. Anybody hits ten gallons before we see land, sing out. You all remember your ditching procedures?”

A chorus of affirmative calls answered him. “Great. Okay, the trick is, stick close. We don’t want to run into each other when we hit the water, but if we don’t stay close, we’re gonna get separated. And I’m not gonna go looking for any of you bozos in the dark, got it?”

“It’s those sweet words of yours that make me want to follow you anywhere, Charlie,” Stivers voice sounded. “Thanks so much for caring.”

“Watch it, or I may decide to leave you… what the hell?” The clouds ahead had formed into one dark mass, and it began roiling about even as he stared at it. “Flight, break break, drop under that shit ahead of us.” It looked like no thunderstorm cell Taylor had ever seen, and it was getting closer rapidly, much more rapidly than his own speed could account for.

“Sir, electronics are going haywire and... what the hell is that?!” George Devlin, his gunner, had craned around and was peering over Taylor’s shoulder. “Sir, look out!”

Taylor looked up from his altimeter and saw a halo of light reaching out for him, filling the sky from horizon to horizon. “Oh my God...”

←---------------------------------------------------------------→

Staff Sergeant Howell Thompson blinked.

What just happened? And where did all of these clouds come from?

“Hey, Howell, you okay there?” Thompson realized someone was asking him a question. “Howie, wake up man!”

“George? What... What happened?”

“I don’t know, How. But whatever it was, it knocked out our radio." Sergeant George Paonessa, the radioman/navigator, sat in the middle seat of the three-seat plane in front of Thompson.

The rear gunner tried to look over his shoulder at his fellow crewmember and felt a sudden wave of vertigo. “Shit. Why is the plane spinning?”

“Because you hit your head when we hit some turbulence. We really need to toughen you up.” Paonessa was still fiddling with the controls of the radio. “Come on, you little—”

A gasp from their pilot interrupted their conversation “What the...” Captain Powers was staring, slack-jawed, out of the windscreen in front of him.

“What’s up, Cap’?” George said as he looked over to the cockpit for a better view. A second gasp met Thompson’s ears. His curiosity piqued in spite of the nausea that swept over him in waves, Thompson turned from his gunner's position to see what looked to be an explosion in front of their aircraft. “Jesus Almighty, is that flak? The hell? We’re over friendly ground and the war is over!” There was a lingering light that could be seen faintly through the clouds. As a second explosion appeared much closer to them, Captain Powers started to take evasive maneuvers to avoid being hit.

Thompson could barely see fifteen feet in front of him; between the tight formation the bombers were in and the wild jinking their aircraft was doing, he had no idea how the Captain was going to avoid crashing into the other Avengers. “Wait, isn’t that a mou —” Thompson was cut off as the aircraft shook violently as if gripped by a giant fist. He dimly noticed a large piece of something blue, one edge glittering bright with raw steel, flipping past his turret and vanishing behind them. The airplane veered violently, and he caught a glimpse of a large, rocky peak moving past, its upper limits obscured by cloud and mist.

“We’re hit!” The Captain yelled, “Mayday! Mayday! This is FT-36, we’re going down! Mayday! Mayday!”

Thompson couldn’t entirely comprehend the situation as his vision slowly receded. Wasn’t there a wing on the port side a minute ago? He heard a noise that he thought vaguely resembled speech. The gunner’s vision continued to black out as the spinning aircraft forced all of the blood from his upper body downward.

Since when are there mountains in Florida? he thought, and then darkness swept over his senses.

←---------------------------------------------------------------→

Twilight Sparkle sat on the balcony perched high above her library, staring through the telescope she had personally had installed there. The instrument was much larger than the average scope you could pick up at the Odds and Ends shop over on Threeshoes Avenue here in Ponyville; she had custom ordered it before she had moved here from Canterlot and had been thrilled when she first gazed through the mirrored tube at the night sky. Planets, comets, constellations, they were all readily visible through the precision instrument, and the unicorn could easily spend the entire night watching the skies, as long as the weather ponies cooperated and gave her a clear line of sight.

The clouds were obscuring her vision this evening, however, and she quickly became flustered. "Gah! Why did the Pegasi forget to clear the skies tonight? I wanted to look at the stars!" She smacked the telescope with her hoof and it spun on its pedestal. Emitting a slow sigh, she looked back up into the sky through the open window and thought of a particularly unpleasant word or two that she rarely spoke out loud. The clouds were thick as ever, blocking her beautiful night.

Off in the distance, a light flashed once and vanished. Then it happened again.

Twilight blinked and looked closer. She still saw it. Strobing red and green lights soared far off in the distance, fading out and brightening again as they moved through the dense cloud bank. The unicorn straightened her telescope out and angled it towards the lights, peering intently through the lens. She couldn't see much through the clouds, but she counted a total of five green lights and five red lights that seemed paired up independently of one another; each set would flash in unison, but out of time with the other sets.

Sitting back on the short, three-legged stool she used while stargazing, Twilight mulled the odd vision over in her mind for a moment. "Hey Spike, come here and have a look at this, would you?"

"What is it, Twilight?" Spike asked. The baby dragon’s voice floated up from the second floor of the library below her.

"There's flashing lights in the sky and I don't know what they are!" Twilight groused.

"Twi, if you don't know what they are, how would I?" Spike replied lazily. "Besides, I'm in bed!"

"Would you just come over here and look already?" Twilight yelled.

"Fine, fine," Spike grumbled. He slowly drew himself from his bed and walked up the stairs to the observation level. Meandering over, he peered down into the telescope. "Twi, I don't see nothin’."

"What do you mean? The lights were there a moment ago!" Twilight’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, a thin line furrowing the soft purple fur directly underneath her horn. She looked back out into the night sky and to her surprise, the lights had moved somewhat. She angled the telescope accordingly and told Spike to look again.

"Oh, I see now... Yeah, I don't know what they are. Can I go back to bed now?" He asked, stifling a yawn. He was looking out at the sky with sleepy eyes when a pair of small lights erupted into a giant fireball. "Whoa!" He quickly stared through the telescope again before another explosion blossomed through the clouds. "Look, Twilight!"

Chapter 1: The Perfect Storm

George Stivers opened his eyes, an act he had not really expected to ever perform again. He immediately shut them as they were barraged with light, the piercing sun thundering in and making his head pound. Oh God, what did I do to spite you?

He chuckled humorlessly as he forced his eyes open again, turning his head carefully to take a look around himself. The nose of his aircraft was mostly buried in the dirt, but the glass of his cockpit was still intact. He looked to his left and saw the mountain he had narrowly avoided colliding with looming over a field of what should have been a great expanse of ocean, but was instead grass. To his right was the start of a coniferous forest. The fact that none of these should exist in what was supposed to have been the Gulf of Mexico nagged at the back of his brain for a moment, before he pushed it aside.

He gritted his teeth and turned his head, wincing at the explosion of pain between his temples. He stopped in place, counted to ten, and opened his eyes again. Behind him in the cockpit were his troublemakers at large, Gallivan and Gruebel. Both appeared to be unconscious, but were breathing normally, from what he could tell. Turning back to face forward once more, he reached up and unlocked the canopy, then grabbed both handles on either side and slid it back. Clear, fresh air, slightly cool, wafted in. He could smell pine sap, grass, and what might have been the hint of a recent rain. He glanced toward the mountain again, his eyes attracted by a smudge that was moving near the ground. Stivers reached up, slowly rubbed his eyes to clear them, and peered closer.

It was smoke. Near the edge of the mountain, a great billowing mass wafted up from a tangle of torn and twisted wreckage that jutted from the ground. It was the plane he had followed in, the one piloted by Captain Powers. No way anyone survived that wreck. What happened?

Stivers forced his complaining muscles into motion, placing a hand on either side of the cockpit and lifting himself until he stood upright. He glanced behind him and noticed the tail of his Avenger had come off and was now lying some twenty feet behind them. That might not buff out... at least we made it, though.

The sound of someone coughing shook Stivers from his thoughts. He glanced involuntarily in the direction of the noise and his head sent another bolt of pain that seemed to jump from ear to ear. Dammit. He blinked rapidly and looked more carefully back behind his aircraft.

Another Avenger bomber lay about thirty yards away from his own. An angular shape rapidly separated from it and revealed itself to be Lieutenant Taylor, emerging from his plane, and looking relatively unscathed. The pilot carried one of the tiny onboard fire extinguishers in one hand, which he began spraying frantically at the after section of his crew compartment. The entire section aft of the pilots seat had grown a lively head of yellow orange hair; flames crackled and snapped viciously at the lieutenant as he fought to put out the conflagration.

“Shit, I’m coming Taylor!” Stivers yelled, panicking at the sight. He grabbed his own fire extinguisher from under his seat and vaulted over the rim of the cockpit, landing hard on the grass and going down on one knee with a grunt. Forcing himself upright, he ran over to join the other pilot and began spraying the extinguisher at the after section of the crew compartment where the rear gun turret was located. Live ammo, live ammo, please don’t cook off... The off-white powder settled and coated everything inside the aircraft, the flames dying back as Stivers aimed the stream at the base of the fire as they’d been taught. Starve the flame at the source, don’t let it eat.

As Taylor’s extinguisher ran out, he reached into the compartment and grabbed both Devlin and Parpart, hauling them out of the craft. From Stivers' position on the opposite side of the aircraft, he couldn’t see their condition, so he kept on the fire, continuing to spray the extinguisher even after the flames were out, coating the burned surfaces over and over until the bottle ran dry.

Taylor sat on the ground on the other side of the plane, staring mutely at the motionless forms beside him. Both of the men from his plane were dead. Third degree burns covered most of their bodies, and their clothes were covered in the flame-retardant chemicals that had arrived too late to help them.

“Shit. What happened?”

Taylor gave a resigned sigh and stood up, brushing the powder from his hands. “I think we got hit by lightning or something. Electrical fire. My instrument panel was shot to shit in a heartbeat. The guys... well.”

“Lightning? I didn’t see any lightning. What the hell happened here?”

“I don’t know, Stivers. I saw some explosions, and somehow, you ended up in front of me. So I followed you in. There was too much cloud cover to see anything else.”

“Where’s eight-one and three? You think they made it through?”

Taylor’s expression was answer enough for Stivers. “Whatever it was that forced us down probably took them, too. How’s your crew?”

“Alive, I think. Taking a nap... we all got pretty shook up on impact. I don’t know how long I was out, myself. Speaking of which, we should check on Powers’ bird. See if...” His voice trailed off as he looked at the smoking heap off in the distance. Stivers knew no one was walking away from that crash. Nose first into anything going at highway speeds was bad enough, let alone three times that.

“Oh, Christ,” Taylor said simply. He ran back to his own aircraft, fumbling around in the navigator’s compartment for a moment. He straightened up, holding the other fire extinguisher from the aft section, hissing as the hot metal scorched his hands. “SHIT!” He dropped the bottle, kicking at it angrily in reflex, then picked it up again, juggling it from hand to hand.

“Slow down, Charlie.” Stivers reached into the pilot’s compartment and grabbed a handful of maps from the right side pocket next to the seat. Wrapping them around the extinguisher bottle, he picked it up gingerly. “Okay, come on, let’s go check on E. J.”

The two pilots broke into a jog, heading towards the still burning aircraft. “Dammit, I told him to stick close to me,” Taylor snapped. “How the hell did he end up way out there?”

“Charlie, don’t even start. You didn’t make him crash. The lightning did. Or storm. Or whatever the hell we ran into up there.”

“Still my responsibility. My flight,” Taylor said, a mulish look on his face.

“So you’re in charge of acts of God, now? That load’s gonna get heavy quick, Taylor. Let it go.” Stivers said. The two drew closer to the wrecked aircraft and slowed to a halt, staring in shock at the damage that the impact had wrought to FT-36.

The crashed plane’s canopy was entirely shattered and the front half of the plane was nearly smashed flat. Both of the wings had snapped at the fuselage, and were nowhere in sight. A litter of glass, aluminium and torn steel carpeted the grass around the plane, and the ground itself was scorched and torn, a long, twisted furrow in the earth bearing mute testament to the horrific impact the bomber had sustained.

They drew closer to the still burning wreck, Stivers starting to hit the fire where he could with the fire extinguisher. Much of the rear of the aircraft was already out, a twisted and scorched frame that looked as if a giant had punted the airplane for a field goal. Stivers concentrated on the cockpit area, trying to get the flame to at least die back enough to get a look, but everywhere he looked, he only saw scorched and blackened metal.

Taylor’s voice brought him to a sudden halt. “Holy shit Stivers, Thompson is alive!”

Stivers would have thought it would be impossible to live through a crash like the one he saw before him. He walked around the tail of the aircraft to where Taylor was crouched over the motionless figure of Thompson, and wondered again if he was right the first time. The Marine gunner lay sprawled on the ground, his face, chest, and arms ravaged with burns, the flesh scorched and blackened in horrible patterns. His left arm was twisted awkwardly underneath him, and pieces of the canopy framework looked to be embedded in his chest and side, and only the faint movement of his breathing betrayed the fact that the form in front of Stivers was still a living being.

Stivers turned without a word and began sprinting back toward his own aircraft, hoping madly that something in the emergency medical kit on board would be able to do... something. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he ran, his head thumping sickly in tune with it. As he approached his plane, he heard coughing coming from within. He slid to a stop, catching himself on the side of the aircraft, and looked toward the rear of the crew compartment. He leaned inward, hands scrabbling frantically at the clasps that kept the small metal kit secured to the side of the cockpit.

Rob Gruebel’s coughing had slowed by the time Stivers released the kit from its moorings. “Captain Stivers, is that you?” He asked in a bleary voice. “What the fuck happened?”

Stivers forced himself to stop and take a deep breath. “We crashed, Taylor’s alive, Devlin and Parpart are dead, and now I need to go save Thompson’s life. If you’re not dead, pull yourself out of there and come help us.” Gripping the med kit in his hands, he turned and ran back toward the smouldering wreck of FT-36, leaving Gruebel behind to stare blankly after him.

Stivers ran as quickly as he could, the medical kit slapping against his side, where a stitch was forming. Christ, you’re out of shape, old man. Breathing hard, he slid to a stop and almost tripped over a section of torn aluminum near the remains of the airplane. Taylor looked up at him, and Stivers could see the relief in his face as he caught sight of the medical kit.

“Thank God that didn’t burn up. You... you have any idea how to treat any of this?” Taylor looked down at Thompson. “This shit is way beyond an alcohol rub.”

“Shut up and let me think.” Stivers knelt down over the form of the gunner, looking over his burns and the shrapnel wounds. “I’ll take care of this. You wanna check on the others?”

Taylor started. “Yeah, no problem.” He stood up, and glanced at the still burning wreck. “If it was going to blow up any more by now, it would have. I’m guessing the ammo cooked off while it was still on board or something—”

Stivers opened the medical kit and began fumbling through the contents. “Lieutenant, accident investigation later, okay? Just... check and see if anyone else is still in that mess.” He swallowed heavily. “Just so we’ll know.”

Taylor opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and simply turned away, picking his way gingerly around the remains of the aircraft while trying to find a way to get closer. Stivers watched him for a moment, and then looked back down at Thompson.

“Christ, what a mess,” he muttered to himself, and pulled out a pair of shears from the kit. He heard footsteps behind him, and looked around to see Gruebel walking up, swaying slightly, but on his feet. “How you doin?”

“Gallivan is still alive. Thanks for checking on us, by the way.”

“No problem.” Stivers turned back to focus on the wounded man in front of him, cutting Thompson’s flight jacket into pieces and removing it bit by bit. A large portion of the embedded metal came out as the flight jacket was removed, causing some of the wounds to tear. “Help me out Gruebel, will yah?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Gruebel knelt down beside him. “What do you need?”

“You’re the one who used to be a field medic. See if you can pick what’s left of that crap out of him without tearing him up any further. I’m going to try to get his arm back where it’s supposed to be.”

Gruebel removed a small set of forceps from the medical kit as Stivers gripped Thompson’s arm, feeling the edges of the broken bone beneath. Squeezing it carefully, he pushed the bone back into something resembling its original shape. While he was working, Gruebel started removing the smaller pieces of shrapnel, carefully easing each one out and eyeing the wounds for any sudden bleeding his movements might cause.

“Christ, Cap, this guy needs a doctor, not a has-been corpsman.”

Stivers looked up at Gruebel, his forehead beaded with sweat. “If you have one in your pocket, drag him out. Otherwise, you’re all he’s got right now. Just do the best you can, private.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Gruebel gritted his teeth and continued picking shards of metal out of Thompson’s side. “I just wish I had eight hands to put pressure on all of these.”

“You’re doin’ fine.” Stivers didn’t know if the makeshift medic was doing fine or not, but encouragement was all he could offer at the moment. He stood up and looked around, then jogged a short distance away and picked up a small branch that was lying in the grass. Breaking off the twigs from the rest of it, he carried it over and laid it lengthwise against Thompson’s arm and began binding it tightly with the strips of the crewman’s ruined jacket. Once he finished, he grabbed the small bottle of alcohol out of the kit and a small gauze pad and began brushing gingerly at the horrible burns, trying to clean them as best he could.

“Don’t swipe at those too hard.” Gruebel put down the bloody forceps and picked up a tightly bound package of fine twine. “He’s got third degree burns, Cap. You’ll pull his skin off.”

Stivers swallowed uneasily. “Okay, what do I do?”

“Just soak the pad and pat ‘em down, then wrap them. Not much else we can do right now.” Gruebel produced a needle from the kit, threaded one end of the twine to it and tied it off. “Rinse the wounds out, too. I gotta get this shit closed up before he leaks himself to death, here.”

Together they washed Thompson’s wounds as much as possible and began binding them up. Stivers concentrated on wrapping the wounded man’s face and arms, and tried to ignore the sight of Gruebel busily sewing the torn flesh together. If Thompson manages to pull through, he’s gonna have one hell of a set of scars to show off, the captain thought.

As they were finishing up, Taylor appeared, moving slowly, his face grim and blackened with soot and sweat.

“Anyone else left?” Stivers asked.

“No one. How’s Thompson?” The pain in Taylor’s voice was evident.

“He’s stable, or as close as he’s gonna get right now. I can’t do anything else for him.” Gruebel stood up, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. “Cap, we oughta get him away from this wreck, someplace with a little more shelter or something.” He eyed the sky mistrustfully. “We oughta make camp too, before it gets dark. If it decides to rain on him, we’re completely fucked. I can’t cure pneumonia with a band-aid and a pack of gauze.”

“You really think we should move him?”

Gruebel held his hands out in a helpless shrug. What choice have we got? was clearly written on his face.

“I know, I know.” Stivers reached out and gripped one of Gruebel’s arms for a moment, then let his hand drop. “Okay. Go check on Gallivan and see if the lazy bastard’s woken up yet. Taylor, help me carry Thompson back to the other planes, away from this mess. We’ll break out the survival gear and set up the tents.”

As Gruebel moved off, Taylor walked over to help gather up Thompson. “George, we...” The lieutenant trailed off and looked around them at the grassy field, the forest surrounding it on all sides, and the mountain looming nearby. “We should have landed in the water. Where the hell are we?”

“Charlie, I don’t know.” Stivers knelt and gripped Thompson carefully under his arms. “One problem at a time. Get his feet, would you?”

Gallivan had a nasty cut over one eye, but claimed he was fine. “I’ve had worse in bar fights, I’m fit for duty.”

“Like hell you are.” Gruebel looked at him closely. “You probably had a concussion when we hit. You shouldn’t even be standing up right now.”

“Heard that in a lot of bars, too.”

“Yeah, and I was usually the one telling you that, Sarge.”

Gallivan stopped and stared at the private. “What are you, my mother?”

“Nah.” Gruebel stopped and stretched. “I can’t make kids that ugly.”

“Knock it off, you two,” Stivers growled. “Come on, let’s get this done.”

The little survival tents were difficult to manage, but the four men managed together to finally get them set up. They placed Thompson in the one nearest Taylor’s downed aircraft; it provided a decent windbreak, and if any rain did occur, it would help shelter the wounded man, at least slightly.

“Okay, Taylor and I are going to go grab some firewood.” Stivers stretched, feeling his spine pop agreeably. “Gallivan, sit down like the good doctor said, and you,” he said, pointing at Gruebel, “join him. You need a break.”

“Cap, I’m fine.” Gruebel stood for a moment, swaying slightly. “I just have some other stuff to do.”

“Like what? You doing a book report?” Stivers shook his head. “Go take five, for Christ’s sake.”

“Cap, I... I want to get the other guys.” Gruebel swallowed.

Taylor spoke up, his voice not quite steady. “You can’t help them, private. I checked on everyone else.”

“Yes sir, I know, but we can’t just... leave them out there?” Gruebel waved a hand aimlessly at the forest nearby. “I mean, the animals... ya know?”

Gallivan immediately walked over beside him. “I’ll help. You can’t do it alone.”

Stivers stood for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Take it slow, and... put them where you think’s best.” He raised a hand to Taylor, who had opened his mouth to speak. “Not you, Charlie. I need your help with the firewood. The dead are dead, we gotta look after ourselves, too.”

“Thanks, sir.” The two Marines moved off, and Stivers walked over to Taylor, who stood still, his jaw clenched.

“What’s the matter? Think I can’t take touching a dead person?”

“Yeah, I think you can, Charlie. But right now, you don’t need to, okay?” Stivers headed off toward the nearby trees, picking up a branch or two as he went, forcing Taylor to follow him. “We’ve seen this kind of stuff before. Too many times. And right now you’re still busy kicking yourself for something you couldn’t prevent.” He put a hand on the other pilot’s shoulder. “The only reason we’re still standing here with you is because of the training you gave us. You didn’t let us down, Charlie, and you’re not God.”

Taylor shrugged the hand off, the mulish look reappearing on his face. “My flight. My responsibility.”

“Yeah, that’s what the book says, but it doesn’t tell you how to make sense out of it, does it?” Without another word, Stivers walked away and began gathering fallen limbs, breaking the larger ones into smaller pieces and stacking them in the crook of his left arm. He glanced around and saw Taylor move slowly over to join him.

Together, the two gathered as many small limbs as they could carry and brought them back to the makeshift camp near their aircraft. Taking a moment to check on Thompson, they headed back to get a second load. The sun had lowered to the point in the sky where twilight was fast approaching, the stars just becoming visible in the west. The woods looked thick and deep, and neither pilot wanted to wander too close to them after dark, looking for firewood.

As Stivers was picking up some detritus from a fallen tree, Taylor froze in place, his eyes wide. “Stivers, did you see that?”

“See what, Taylor?” Stivers’ annoyance was palpable.

“I... I don’t know. I just think I saw something in the woods. You think there are any bears nearby?”

Stivers straightened up and peered at the other officer. Taylor seemed genuinely worried. “Well Taylor, if there is a bear, I guess I’ll just have to wrestle it into submission.”

The lieutenant shot him a dirty look. “Ha-ha, real funny. I’m being serious. What if there is something dangerous out there?”

“You aren’t much of an outdoors man are you? Still got your sidearm?” Taylor gave a confirmatory nod. “Good. Just shoot it then.” Stivers picked up the last of his armful of wood and started back to camp with Taylor. “Come on Taylor, let’s—”

“Stivers, where the heck are we?” The look of frustration was livid on the pilot’s face. “I’ve got thousands of hours in those aircraft. The last time I got lost, I was still in flight school myself. I’ve flown over open ocean and back to a carrier again. Even the stars are right. Look, there’s Orion over there. Right where it’s supposed to be. We should be swimming somewhere off the coast of Florida. Florida, where there are people, houses, and power lines and roads and no goddamn mountains. How the fuck did we end up here?”

He kept coming back to that, and Stivers couldn’t blame him. “Taylor, let’s concentrate on survival for now. Don’t count on anything at the moment. Assume we’re in hostile territory.”

“Hostile? Who’s left to be hostile? We kicked Germany’s ass, and Japan’s ass, too.”

Stivers looked at him patiently, waiting.

“Right. Okay, whatever.” Taylor sighed. “So this is how it feels to be a grunt.”

“Gyrene. Get it right, squidhead.” Stivers grinned and clapped him on the shoulder with his free hand. “Come on, it’s darking up fast. Let’s get back.”

The evening gloom was coming on quickly, and they could make out the form of Gallivan pacing the area around the aircraft as they approached. “Evening, sirs. Gruebel’s watching over Thompson.” He rubbed his hands together and walked toward them. “Already getting chilly. Let’s get that fire started.”

Stivers and Taylor exchanged glances. Taylor’s look was one of surprised amusement, and Stivers held the look of a man who’s walked out of the bathroom with his pants still around his ankles. “Um... that might be a bad idea, sergeant.” Stivers looked down at the load of wood in his hands, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “We... discussed it, and we aren’t having that fire.”

“What, why not?”

“We really don’t know where we are,” Taylor said helpfully. “So we’re going to assume it’s hostile country until proven otherwise.”

“Dammit.” Gallivan peered at them. “Why’d you go get the wood then?”

“Just in case it’s proven otherwise,” Stivers growled. He and Taylor dropped their wood beside Thompson’s tent.

“Shit. All right.” Gallivan’s expression suggested he might have just bitten into something rotten. “Who’s first on watch?”

“Spike, we need to alert the princesses of this.” Twilight Sparkle had been studying the stars since she was a filly, and nothing she had ever seen or read about even remotely resembled what they had witnessed tonight. None of the astronomy books she possessed could shed light on what had happened, and the Ponyville library was one of the best stocked collections outside of Canterlot itself.

“Twilight, it’s two in the morning,” came Spike’s indignant reply. “Can’t it wait?”

“No, Spike, this could be a cosmic emergency!” Twilight was shouting now as she paced back and forth in her room.

“Fine, I’ll send a letter, but after that, I’m going to bed.” Spike was up far past his bedtime. As Twilight kept telling him, he was still a baby dragon, and as far as he was concerned, he was off duty. Owlolicious, Twilight’s nighttime assistant, could deal with this mess.

Dear Princess Celestia,

I was practicing my nightly ritual of sky watching this evening and to my utmost disappointment, the clouds had not been cleared away by the pegasi. It was in these clouds, however, that I saw something strange. After scanning for several minutes for any break in the clouds, I had discovered several flashing lights that were both green and red in colour. After tracking these lights for a few moments something else happened. Right where the lights had been before, several bright orange flashes of light appeared in the night sky. They almost seemed like explosions, but I cannot be sure. The lights came from over the Everfree forest, near the mountain ranges. I am bringing this to your attention with the hopes that you may be able to explain to me what I saw in Luna’s sky.

Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle

“Well, Luna?” Celestia looked up from the letter and over to her sister, who was still perusing the text. “You are the expert of the night. What say you?”

Luna frowned. The alicorn had been called back to Canterlot by Celestia to look at the recently arrived missive, and she was impatient to get back to her duty of herding the moon across the sky. “I don’t know, sister... but I say we exercise caution.”

“Agreed.” Celestia assumed a neutral expression and called toward the door of the chamber. “Sergeant?”

The door creaked open and the face of one of her guards poked through the door. “Yes, Milady?” His tone was even and formal.

“Inform the Captain that he is to send a detachment to Ponyville. They are to perform reconnaissance on an area in the Everfree Forest. The situation will be explained by my student, Twilight Sparkle, upon their arrival. The Captain is to bring the Elements of Harmony with him only if they are needed. Understood?”

The Sergeant took the information in stride as he saluted. “Yes ma’am,” he stated as he turned and left the room.

“So, sister, do you think it might be...” Luna’s voice drifted off, and she glanced at her elder sister. Celestia stood quiet for a moment, the expression on her face unreadable.

“Yes Luna. I fear it is.”

Chapter 2: A New Dawn

Twilight paced anxiously around her library as she waited for the return letter from the princess.

Spike watched her, his eyes bleary and bloodshot from lack of sleep. “Twilight, you’re gonna wear a hole into the floor if you keep up this—” He paused, hiccuped, and then emitted a belch that shook the books on their shelves. A gust of green-yellow fire burst from his mouth, a carefully bundled scroll riding its edge. Spike grabbed the letter between coughs and handed it to Twilight. “I hate this system, you know?”

“I know, Spike, but it’s the fastest way for communication between myself and the Princesses.” Twilight opened the letter.

Dear Twilight Sparkle.

A contingent of Royal Guard are en-route to Ponyville. The Captain will brief you on the coming assignment. I want you to have the Elements of Harmony ready for action, just in case. Best of luck,

Princess Celestia of Equestria.

Twilight looked out the window at the steadily increasing glow in the eastern sky. “If the Princesses received the letter and acted upon it immediately, which I know they would have, then that means that the Guard would have been readied one hour afterwards... on an hour flight from Canterlot... That means that I only have thirty minutes to gather the other Elements!” She dropped the letter to the floor, her eyes widening.

“But...” Spike looked lost. “If they just sent this letter, won’t it take them an hour to get here? If they left right before she sent the letter?”

“Spiiiike, we can’t just wait until they get here to get everyone! I need time to form a checklist!” Twilight stamped her forehooves on the floor rapidly. “Oh no, where’s my quill?”

Spike was bent over, reading over the letter where it lay on the floor. “Checklist for what? There’s nothing to do until they get here and tell you what’s going on, right?”

Twilight looked at the clock and grimaced. “Look, we’ll talk about this later, okay? Make a reminder on my calendar. I need to go get Rainbow Dash and get her to help me gather the others.”

“Um... reminder. Right, no problem.” The baby dragon trotted over to where Twilight’s calendar lay open on the desk and made busy scribbling motions without actually writing anything. Sometimes there were advantages to being Twilight’s assistant, and omitting lectures Spike really didn’t want to endure was one of them.

“Spike, watch the library!” Twilight yelled as she galloped out the front door. She tore down the avenue, skidding to a stop at the intersection near Sugarcube Corner and hooking down a side street, the details on the houses and shops becoming more distinct as the sun started to poke over the horizon. Her mind was thrumming rapidly as she ran, working out the calculations that would most efficiently accomplish her task. Rainbow lives four minutes away from the library. If I can get to Rainbow Dash, she can fly to Sweet Apple Acres and get AJ while I get Pinkie Pie. She lives seven minutes away from the library. So if I—

Twilight pulled up short, staring at the empty space ahead where Rainbow’s house had been floating yesterday afternoon. “Oh no... oh no no no, tell me she didn’t move it again…” She glanced around frantically, then spied a white tuft peeking out from behind the edge of a nearby house. Her forelegs trembled as she bounded forward again, relief flooding her system.

A cyan blur swooped into Twilight’s vision, closing rapidly, and by the time she noticed, she was already entangled in a jumble of hooves, manes and multicoloured tails. Rolling to a stop, she shook her head and saw Rainbow lying beside her, the pegasus busily spitting out dust and dirt.

“Hey, Twilight, watch where you’re goin’!”

“Rainbow, thank goodness!” Twilight disentangled herself and stood up. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Practicing.” The cyan pegasus stood up as well and shook herself thoroughly. “Some of us have to audition for the Wonderbolts.”

“No time for practice, Rainbow!” Twilight almost danced in place with impatience. “Princess Celestia needs us to gather the Elements. Go get Applejack while I... Oh no. I didn’t finish the calculations!” The unicorn began to feel sweat beading on her brow.

“Twilight, what are you worryin’ about now? It can’t be that important.” Rainbow’s reply was blunt and like always, drew a confused glance out of Twilight.

“Not important?” Twilight could feel her voice rising. “If I don’t map out the fastest route to each of our friends’ homes, we won’t be making the most efficient use of the time we need to prepare for the—” Rainbow’s forehoof thumped gently against her mouth and effectively stopped Twilight’s ranting.

“Twilight, I’ll just go get Applejack and Fluttershy, because they live the furthest away, then you can get Pinkie Pie and Rarity. Easy as that.” Rainbow slowly removed her hoof from Twilight’s muzzle and the purple coated mare took a deep breath.

“Wow, Rainbow. I guess we could do that.” Twilight exhaled and looked back to her friend, a new passion for the quest filling her eyes. “Go get AJ and Fluttershy, then meet me at the library.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. She clearly had no idea what was going on, but was willing to hold off asking for the moment. “You got it Twi.”

Royal Guard Captain Golden Sword led his pegasus flight team through the clouds surrounding Ponyville. Rather like the goal of his journey, he was fond of checklists, albeit for a different reason, and was mulling over one in his head now.

Gather forces, check. Equip arms and armour, check. Fly to Ponyville, check. Meet with Twilight Sparkle... maybe I can get one of my subordinates to do it. He quickly cut his train of thought before he decided someone else should do this job for him. Meet Twilight Sparkle, deal with whatever it is she’s complaining about, go home, get dinner. Sounds like a good day to me.

The library was in sight now, so Captain Sword gave the signal for his platoon to start their descent to the ground. Captain Sword noted that not a single pony was in the main roundabout in front of the building. Alighting on the ground smoothly, he trotted to the door, listening to the muffled sounds of his iron shoes on the Ponyville dirt, enjoying the early morning silence. All good things need to end...

The Captain raised his forehoof to knock on the door, closing his eyes to prepare himself for a meeting he did not particularly want to partake in. He did not dislike Twilight Sparkle; she was the titular head of the Elements of Harmony and thus deserving of the utmost respect. But he had heard stories about her... eccentricities. He moved his hoof forward, attempting to rap on the wooden door. It met no resistance, and caught off balance, he kept going forward with the motion until he fell flat on his face. Glancing up from a particularly undignified slump, he saw a pink pony waiting where the door was moments ago. But... The door. I didn’t even hear it op—

Sniggering from Sub-Lieutenant Midnight Arrow stopped his train of thought. “Lieutenant. I know I don’t hear you laughing.” The rumbling of Sword’s voice caused Sub-Lieutenant Arrow’s mouth to shut instantly as the Captain stood up. “Now then, Where is Twiligh—”

The Captain was cut off this time by a diminutive green and purple dragon. “Twilight’s upstairs. I’ll go get her.” The dragon’s tone clearly portrayed his boredom.

Sword clenched his teeth but restrained the retort that rose to his lips. Don’t deck the little bugger. He’s just a kid. Taking a moment to resume his composure, he entered the library, the rest of his troops following behind in single file. The six ponies that stood in the central area, waiting for him, caused several of the guards to murmur in admiration. Known colloquially throughout the land as “The Elements of Harmony,” it was a rare pony indeed who had not at least heard of their names and deeds. True to form, it was also rare to see all six of them together when something was not afoot.

“All right,” Twilight’s voice said, bringing his further thoughts to a halt. “If everypony could just have a seat around the table.” Captain Sword sat at the seat Twilight had motioned to. “I believe the good Captain here has some news for us.” Twilight's scowl belied her pleasant tone; the mare was obviously quite worried.

“Right.” Sword cleared his throat and began. “Yesterday it was reported by Twilight Spark—”

“I saw some unnatural weather phenomena.”

Captain Sword could feel his scowl growing. “Thank you, Miss Sparkle. Now, as I was saying, The Princesses have called us here—”

Rainbow was the first to interrupt this time. “Wait a minute, buddy, who’s ‘us’?”

Captain Sword waited for someone else to point out the obvious, but when nopony did, he started again. “I meant the oth—”

Pinkie’s voice was added to the fray in her usual jovial manner. “He means the other guards silly! Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?”

Sword’s eye twitched. As he opened his mouth again to speak, he held his breath, waiting. For two seconds he sat there, mouth askew, waiting for somepony to say something. When none rose to the challenge, he exhaled, readying his speech. “The Princesses have ordered me to escort you all to the location of th—”

“Wait, that’s what the Princess wanted the Elements for? To go into the Everfree Forest?” Fluttershy’s meek voice stopped the captain again. “But... there are scary things in the forest... like dragons... and shadows!”

The Captain did a double take. Did she really just say ‘shadows’? “Um... Yes. We will be going to the Everfree Forest. Yes, you will be under guard, Yes, we will investigate things, No there will be no party.” Before the pink pony could inhale enough air for a retort, the Captain had continued. “You will all follow us, without talking, or asking questions, or any general shenanigans. Let’s go.”

Pinkie leaned to Dash, “Wow, what a big bully. He totally interrupted me.”

Golden Sword gritted his teeth as he rose. Oh how I hate this aspect of my job.

Taylor and Gruebel stood watch outside the makeshift tent area, Gruebel watching the forest carefully. Taylor was ostensibly on watch as well, but his gaze kept straying to the motionless forms lined up to one side, a short distance away from the aircraft, where Gallivan and Grubel had carried and laid them gently in a neat row.

Stivers and Gallivan were asleep inside the tent with Thompson, and were quite obviously not preoccupied with any imminent feeling of danger; their snores wafted out clearly on the air, a competing chorus of malfunctioning buzzsaws. Gallivan tuned the noise out and kept scanning the edge of the treeline for anything, or anyone, that might dare to approach. Nothing had yet, but the Marine could not only see, but feel the eyes of hungry predators lurking in the forest, watching his every move. Waiting.

Thompson had not yet regained consciousness; he lay completely still inside the makeshift shelter and was oblivious to any possible threat. Taylor and Gruebel, however, did not handle it as well. Taylor was a vet with over three thousand flying hours under his belt, but he had never been shot down, never had to endure the smell of cooked, dead flesh. Only because of his experience, training and keen desire not to look a fool in front of the Marines prevented him from pointing his Colt semi-automatic pistol at the shadowy treeline and banging away at anything that moved.

Gruebel showed no such self-restraint. More than once he let loose a shot of in the direction of a howl or the angry glare of the forest’s eyes.

Taylor walked over and sat down near the nervous private. “Hey, listen here. I know this is a bit... odd. And we’re both kinda jumpy. I mean, I’ve never been on the ground behind enemy lines before, so this is as new to me as it is you, but you gotta keep a cool head out here otherwise you won’t survive.”

Gruebel looked at the naval lieutenant balefully. “How do you know I’ve never been on the wrong side of the lines before? Did you find that in my file or something?”

Taylor grinned. “Lucky guess. Look, you can’t keep shooting at anything that moves for two reasons, one being that gunfire is loud and every time you fire, you not only give away our position, you scare the piss out of me.” He followed the last comment up with a half-hearted smile.

Gruebel looked at his flight leader with tired eyes, “And the other reason, sir?”

“I’m something that moves,” Taylor held the smirk.

The young trainee pilot stared at his flight leader for a moment before managing a small smile of his own. “Yes sir. Sorry, sir.”

“No problem. Now, holster that pistol. You're still making me nervous waving that thing around. Save your ammo, you never know when you’ll need it. I just wish we could see past those clouds though.” He peered up at the sky for a moment, looking around. “You know, its strange. There are no clouds off that way,” Taylor pointed off to the left towards the moon, “but above us and towards the right, it's thicker than chowder.”

Gruebel nodded dumbly, his face scrunched in thought. “Why haven’t 81 and 3 come back for us, sir?”

“Good question, Gruebel. I assume that they don’t want to be hit by flak, but judging by the lack of anyone hostile in the area so far, I seriously doubt that we are in enemy territory.” Taylor frowned. “Although there’s not supposed to be any enemy territory left. Besides, those explosions... that light storm that hit us, or whatever it was did not look like flak.” Taylor looked to the tent where Stivers was asleep. “Maybe 81 and 3 hit the mountain?”

Gruebel’s face adopted a look of solemn acceptance as he thought about his fellow marines aboard FT-81. “I hope they made it.”

“You were in the Reserves, right Gruebel?”

“Yah. Not enough room in the regular service before the war started. Jumped at the first chance at active duty I got, though.” Gruebel said, looking to the ground.

Noticing the turn of conversation, Taylor decided to steer the conversation to a more recent time. “So, if you’re a Marine, why are you in the air with us flyboys?” Gruebel’s face regained some of its cheer at the topic shift, making Taylor smile inwardly.

“Well, we were all part of a cross field training initiative. You know, find out if any of us were talented at flying. I mostly just operated the radio... It’s what I did in the Marines too, before they taught me how to plug up holes in leaky people. Usually they get Navy corpsmen to do that, but I was some sort of experimental program.” He shrugged. “The flight opportunity came up and I applied... didn’t expect to get accepted, but with the war over, they didn’t need medics as much anymore, I guess. Somebody’s still got to run the radio, though, so here I am.”

“Huh.” Taylor placed his hand on the back of the aspiring pilot. “This your first real flight?” Gruebel’s gaze returned to the ground, giving Taylor his answer. “Well, looks like we did a bang up job on this one, huh?”

“Sir, I’m not sure if—” Gruebel was interrupted by the sound of an approaching growl coming from one of the larger bushes at the near edge of the treeline.

Taylor had a baffled look on his face as he turned to face the creature. “Dear. Sweet. God. What is that?”

Chapter 3: Staring at Eternity

Fluttershy glanced around nervously as the group of guards escorted her and her friends into the Everfree Forest. Everything looked the same as the last time she had been here: dark and scary. The guards will protect us from all of the monsters, she told herself firmly. I know they will.

Looking to her right, she saw the last glimpses of Ponyville disappear as her vision was filled with the coniferous trees of the Everfree. She heard somepony let out a nervous “peep” and for two seconds, couldn’t figure out who it was. But when she observed the eyes of her friends showing looks of encouragement, she realized it was she who had spoken, and ducked behind her mane to better hide from their stares.

“What’s wrong Fluttershy? Chicken?” Rainbow taunted. Fluttershy just lowered her head more in response. “Oh come on Fluttershy, It’s just the forest...” Rainbow’s voice trailed off, her face betraying her dismay at making Fluttershy feel worse.

“Lay off her, Rainbow.” Twilights encouraging voice made the meek yellow pegasus’ head lift a few inches as she gained some courage.

“It’s okay dear. We’re all scared.” Rarity’s voice filled in the gap when Twilight stopped. “Right, Rainbow?” She said, her voice seething with venom.

“Yah... I guess I’m a littl—”

Rainbow’s apology was cut off as Captain Sword made his opinion known. “Will you all shut up? You are going to get us killed.”

Golden Sword’s harsh words immediately removed whatever confidence Fluttershy’s friends had given her; she ducked her head again and watched her forehooves intently. Left, right. Left, right. Hooves weren’t scary.

Pinkie Pie squealed with delight. "Hey, everypony! The sky is falling!" She motioned at the lowering clouds, the billowy grey mass seeming to creep even lower as she watched.

About half of the guard ponies looked up along with Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack. Twilight was the first to speak up to debunk Pinkie’s claim. “Pinkie, The clouds are just breaking up. It’s natural over places like this.”

“But Twilight, my Pinkie Sense is telling me there’s gonna be a doozy soon. And I think it has to do with the sky. I’m also sensing that something is gonna fall, so—” Pinkie was interrupted by a pinecone falling from one of the nearby pine trees and landing square between the Captain's eyes, causing his body to crouch and adopt a defensive posture.

As Golden Sword flailed left and right looking for his aggressor, Pinkie was on her side, huddled up with Rainbow Dash laughing at the absurdity of the captain’s reactions. “I guess... we... can count out... the sky falling.” Rainbow managed to stutter between breaths.

Fluttershy watched in concern as the Captain slowly realized that he was not under attack and regained a more neutral position. “Who threw that?” His voice was above a whisper, but barely.

“Threw what?” Twilight’s face contorted in confusion. “Nopony threw anything.”

As Pinkie Pie stood up, she offered the only suggestion she could think of. "Maybe it was a swallow?"

“Let’s just... keep going.” Captain Sword said through gritted teeth as he fought off a furious blush that had wormed its way onto his face.

The large group of ponies continued their trek through the forest without much incident for what, to Fluttershy, felt like hours. This place looks familiar. I wonder if we’ve been here before... No, we’ve been going in a straight line. Maybe we—

Applejack seemed to be thinking the same thing as she interrupted Fluttershy’s thoughts. “Now ah know we passed this here tree before.”

“What makes you think that, Miss Applejack?” Midnight Arrow inquired smoothly. "We’ve been going in a straight line."

"Ah don't know." Applejack pawed at the ground nervously with a forehoof. "Ah just get the feelin' we've been here before."

"That's natural. Everybody's nervous, but don't worry. Captain Sword's been through tougher times than this; he'll lead us out safe." The sub-lieutenant’s silky tone cut across the heavy air in the forest, and all of the ponies in earshot felt a bit calmer, the nervous flickering of their ears settling back into something more normal.

“Um actually miss... I think that maybe my friend is right.” Fluttershy responded meekly.

“Fluttershy, you need to speak up dear.” Rarity said as she nudged her friend.

“Oh... sorry,” was all Fluttershy could wrangle from her vocal cords before she hung her head limply again. She returned her gaze on the ground as they walked on, keeping her eyes fixed directly ahead. Rarity's hind hooves floated in and out of her peripheral vision, sometimes meandering off to one side before moving back. She let her thoughts drift a bit, content that, at least for the moment, no one was yelling at her. Or asking her something. Or even talking in her general direction.

Content, at least, until Rarity's hooves stutter-stepped in front of her as the white unicorn collapsed to the ground. "RARITY!" she yelled.

“What's wro— whoaah. Anypony else feel that?” Fluttershy stopped, looking past Rarity to see Twilight start swaying. “I’m feeling a bit woozy...”

Looking up, Fluttershy noticed that the falling clouds had reached the tallest trees in the forest and was still rapidly approaching. “Maybe it has to do with th—”

Fluttershy’s voice was drowned out by the captain yelling to his men. “Manticores, incoming! Midnight, take Shining Star, and get the Elements out of here!”

Fluttershy could see three manticores charging down the path towards the line of guards as her vision started to go black around the edges. She watched as the captain drew his sword and charged at the first of the manticores, while the nine other soldiers followed him in. She was faintly aware of her field of vision slowly shifting but she wasn’t moving her body. Her vision darkened as she saw a manticore punch one of the guardponies into a tree.

The last thing Fluttershy saw before being completely overtaken by fear was Shining Star picking up Rarity.

When Fluttershy awoke, she found herself on Midnight Arrow’s back. “Where are we?” she sputtered groggily. Sounds and smells flooded back into her senses, and she realized with a dull sense of shame that she had simply passed out from fear.

She couldn’t see two hoof spans in front of her due to the lowered clouds; the cloud deck had descended completely to the ground. The only indication that they weren’t alone was Midnight’s silky voice flowing through the fog. “I don’t know.” The normally smooth tone of her voice seemed ragged around the edges. “After we fled the battle, the fog lowered and we got lost. We... I can’t find the trail.”

“Where’s Rarity?” Fluttershy croaked weakly.

“I don’t know. Last I saw was Private Star trotting off with your friends. I think I heard them yelling, but I don’t know.” Her voice wavered and she stamped a hind-hoof in frustration. “I’m sorry Fluttershy... I failed.”

“Oh Midnight. You didn’t fail.” Fluttershy’s maternal instincts started taking over as she felt her fear of the forest around her leave.

“But Fluttershy, I did fail. I should have stuck with the group when the fog came down. But the ground started shaking, and there were snarling noises everywhere. So I—” her speech was cut off by a choking sob as Midnight Arrow came to a halt, sinking down until she lay with her belly pressed against the deep forest loam.

Fluttershy slid from the prostrate mare's back and crouched next to her, unfolding a wing and letting it drape over Midnight's shoulders. “It’s okay Midnight. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Fluttershy tried to keep her own voice from wavering as she tried to calm the depressed pegasus. “I probably would have done the same thing!”

“I’m a trained soldier, I’m supposed to keep my wits about me when ponies like you fall apart,” Midnight snapped. “The very first time I get in a real live situation and I choke up, and you? You’ve stared down dragons before. Plus Nightmare Moon, Discord, Cerber—”

“Stop it right now, Midnight.” Fluttershy had adopted her assertive voice and the guardspony stopped her rant. “You are a Royal Guard, Midnight. You are the best of the best and you know it. Now, I need you Midnight. I need you because I am not a strong pony. I need you because I’m scared, Midnight.” Fluttershy’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I need you, lieutenant.”

“Fluttershy...” Midnight took a deep breath, and then fixed the yellow pegasus with a stare and a wry smile. “It’s Sub-lieutenant.”

Fluttershy blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry..."

Midnight Arrow patted the pegasus with a forehoof. "Relax, Fluttershy, it was just a joke. Not a very good one, either." She took a deep, shuddering breath and touched her nose to the other mare's shoulder for a moment. "Thank you. For helping me."

Fluttershy's ears flattened in embarrassment, but she managed a small smile. "Oh, I didn’t do anything. After all, it was you who inspired me."

Midnight’s face adopted a rosy tone as she blushed. “We need to find the others... and I can’t do it alone. What do you say?”

Fluttershy stood up and met Midnight's gaze directly. "I say... let's go!"

Twilight’s horn was awash with purple fire as she lit the way for her group of followers. She needed to find Midnight and Fluttershy. The fog was making finding the path impossible so her group had been trailblazing for the better part of fifteen minutes. Every time she would think about calling out, she would either stop herself for fear of attracting monsters, or if she did speak, her voice wouldn’t carry further than ten hoof spans.

Aww horseapples. If this fog doesn’t lift soon, we’ll never find Fluttershy. Twilight looked around, eyes squinted in a vain attempt to see the ponies a metre away from her. Shining Star was only a few paces to her left so Twilight decided to check up on Rarity.

This energy drain isn’t natural... Why is it only affecting me and Rarity? If only I could think straight! Twilight was rapidly approaching exhaustion but knew that if she fell, the light she was emitting would die, and the minute that happened, she would stop being a beacon for everypony to rally around.

“How’s she looking, Miss Twilight?” Twilight kept staring blankly at Rarity, her mind occupied with keeping the simple light spell in existence, and her own worrying. “Miss Twilight?”

“Hmm?” Now aware she was being spoken too, Twilight swiveled her head towards the voice that came from a worried Star. “Oh... Um... She looks...”

So peaceful, maybe if I just closed my eyes...

“No!” She shouted. Private Star flinched at the sudden outburst.

“Are you okay Miss Sparkle?” His concern was starting to irritate Twilight, but she kept her voice calm.

“Yes. Just a bit tired, is all. Don’t worr—” A nudge from Applejack cut her off as she leapt away in fear. “Gah, AJ, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sugarcube, ah’ve been here for three minutes. Besides, Twi, you shouldn’t be workin’ yerself too hard. Maybe we should just take a break here?” Twilight was glad that nopony could see her blushing at being so unobservant.

Pinkie took the time as an opportunity to ruin more of Twilight’s scientific principles by miraculously hopping around everypony in the fog while avoiding a collision with any of them. “It’s okay Twilight. You don’t need to be embarrassed about being tired.” Twilight’s blush intensified as Pinkie outed her. “After all Twi, you hardly leave the library enough for proper exercise.”

Twilight’s resolve wavered as she felt more of her energy drain. “Fine. We’ll stop here for five minutes. Then we’ll keep going.” She sat down under one of the many trees and closed her eyes for what seemed to be only seconds, but was nudged awake by an impatient Rainbow Dash.

“Twilight, it’s been five minutes. We need to get going.” Twilight blinked in confusion. “C’mon Twi. Get up already! I did a bit of scouting above the fog, and I think it’s almost passed. The forest is just swallowing it.”

Twilight got to her hooves as steadily as she could, not feeling any better. “All right. Lets keep going.” The horn on her forehead blazed with light once more, but Twilight felt as if the world had suddenly tilted sideways, her vision dimming further. She let the illumination spell die out and sat down again in an ungainly sprawl.

“What’s wrong, Twi?” The nonchalant expression on the cyan mare's face vanished, replaced by a look of concern.

“Just... dizzy is all. Having a hard time seeing...” Twilight shook her head in what she thought would be a good idea for clearing her head, but instead ended up falling on her side, her concentration completely broken.

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” Rainbow said dryly. She glanced upward again, then back down at her friend. "Look, the fog is clearing up a bit, why don't you just lay off with the magical torch thingy and just take a break?"

Twilight lifted her head and gazed blearily at her friend. "But we won't be able to see..." She trailed off, belatedly realizing that she could see, at least dimly. Rainbow's form stood nearby, the multi-coloured swirl of her mane a simple mass of various grey shades in the darkness, but clearly backlit here and there against a torn curtain of cloud overhead. Whatever the mysterious fog was that had enveloped them, either the wind, some odd property of the Everfree Forest, or something else was causing it to slowly dissipate.

It was the "something else" option that had Twilight worried. "Okay, just let me rest a minute, and I'll be ready to go."

"Sorry, you're just too slow for me." Rainbow crouched down low to the ground, a crooked grin spreading over her face. "You're gonna have to learn to keep up."

"What? No, wait, I can get up, I just—wait!" Twilight emitted a startled screech as Rainbow Dash ducked her head low, and with a twist and a shrug, settled the purple unicorn across her back. "Rainbow, you can't carry me, I'm too heavy!"

"Yeah, right." The cyan pegasus rolled her shoulders slightly, settling Twilight's form just between her wings. "I've carried heavier stuff before, don't worry."

Twilight shuddered and let out a moan as her head spun. "Just... don't drop me, okay?"

Rainbow turned to give her a dirty look. "Just as long as you don't get sick back there."

Pinkie’s voice brought Twilight back to a semblance of attention. “Does anypony else hear that?” Her ears were swiveled and her right forehoof was pointing to something amongst the trees like a hound dog. “It sounds like somepony is calling for us!”

Twilight tried to lift her head to look, but couldn’t summon the energy. She did however hear what sounded faintly like a mare’s voice. “I hear it Pinkie... who do you think it is?”

“You don’t think it’s a ghost, do you?” Twilight could feel Rainbow start to shake under her.

Shining Star made his presence known by shouting back. “Midnight? Is that you?” Twilight’s head started to pound inside her skull. Unsure of whether it was from Rainbow’s unsteady movements, or from Shining’s shouting, she let out a soft groan.

“Shining Star? Where are you?” Twilight definitely heard that. It sounded as if it were only a few metres away.

“We’re over here!” Star answered back.

Twilight knew she was on the verge of passing out. The pain in her head was unbearable, her face was scrunched up in agony. She felt the cold ground on her side and what sounded like muffled voices. She couldn’t concentrate on any of them however. She let out one last shrill scream and then passed out.

Twilight’s eyes burst open in panic. “What happened? Where are we?” Twilight again felt her world shift as she fell from the back of Rainbow Dash.

Twilight shook her head and shot Rainbow a glare from where she lay on the ground. "I told you not to drop me!"

Rainbows retort was quick, “I didn’t drop you. You flung yourself offa me!”

“Twilight, You’re awake! Thank Celestia!” The lilting tone of Rarity's voice washed over Twilight in a soothing wave. “You’ve been asleep for the better part of an hour. Or so I’m told.”

Before Twilight could ask how Rarity was, she noticed that the pain in her head was completely gone, as was the fog. “Twilight, get up.” Captain Sword’s booming voice brought her to re-examine her surroundings. “We are nearing the base of the mountain.”

“Captain? What happened?” Twilight stared at the leader of the guards, noting the fresh scratches and dull spots on his armor.

“We protected you from the manticores,” he stated proudly. “As you made your escape, we held them back. We almost lost Tea Biscuit when he was thrown into a tree.”

“‘Tis but a flesh wound!” Tea Biscuit responded indignantly.

Sword rolled his eyes. “Anyway, after the fog lifted, we regrouped and your pink friend noticed some smoke in the distance.” He turned back towards the direction everypony was still marching and rejoined his soldiers, leaving Twilight with her friends.

Twilight stood in stunned silence at the brevity of the captain until Midnight Arrow nudged her, waving her head in the same direction the Captain went. “Let’s go, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight just shook her head and drifted behind the Sub-lieutenant, who had resumed her conversation with Fluttershy.

Hey, I don’t feel tired anymore! Twilight felt a smile work its way to her lips. I wonder what that cloud was?

The ponies continued along at a steady pace, their individual conversations a quiet murmur against the background noises of the forest. They continued on for several moments, the trees and bushes beginning to thin out somewhat. Just ahead of her, the others pushed through a low line of shrubs and there was a collective intake of breath. Breaking into a trot, Twilight shouldered past Rarity and came to a stop.

Ahead of her, the forest opened out into a clearing, and the sight before her froze her in place, dumbstruck with incomprehension.

What, she thought blankly, is that?

“Really Taylor?” Gruebel look at his fellow pilot in confusion. “You really never got out much, did you? It’s a brown bear. So long as we don’t act threateningly, it should leave us alone.”

The aforementioned bear stood only twelve metres away from the American pilots, standing on its rear legs to make itself more frightening. “I don’t care what it is. Getting this close without making so much as a sound is just unnatural.” Another roar made Taylor flinch.

This doesn’t make sense, we shouldn’t be anywhere near brown bear country, Gruebel thought worriedly. He stared as the bear dropped back onto all fours and started to advance towards them.

A muffled curse issued from the tent where the other pilots had been sleeping. “What’s goin’ on out there, guys?” The bear paused at the new voice. “We’re tryin’ to get some shut-eye, here.”

Gruebel saw Gallivan leave the tent, giving the bear another target. With the animal’s attention now otherwise occupied, he also saw the opportunity to take the bear down for good. Drawing his pistol, he took aim for the now exposed side of the bear’s skull. The loud percussion of two .45 bullets rang through the air as the bear collapsed.

Stivers fairly exploded out the tent with his gun in one hand, his belt in the other. “What the hell was that?” he yelled. Catching sight of the bear lying motionless on the ground made him stop. “Is it dead?”

“No sir. I think I just stunned it.” Gruebel could see the animal’s side rising and falling slowly as it breathed. “Should we kill it?” he added lamely.

“Well let me think, Gruebel. It’s a dangerous fucking animal, that happens to be delicious when toasted over a fire. I think we should defin—”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

The sound of a woman’s voice in the forest was surprising, but even more shocking was its source. Four heads turned to view the newcomer, four jaws dropping simultaneously. Sprinting towards the group was a small yellow horse, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Taylor just stood wide eyed. Beside him, Gallivan, who had sustained a concussion, gotten little real sleep and had dealt with sixteen straight hours of pure, untainted impossibilities, felt as if his brain had just flipped a breaker switch deep inside. Okay, that’s enough for now.

Gallivan sat down rather heavily as his brain attempted to rationalize the fact he was seeing a screaming horse. After blinking several times, he promptly lay down and closed his eyes.

Gruebel and Stivers exchanged a glance, both trying to figure out what they’d just witnessed. Gruebel turned his attention back to the oncoming horse. Are those wings?

“Nooooo!” it screamed again.

The closer the horse got to the group, the further Taylor’s jaw dropped. When it got within forty metres of the assembled pilots, Gruebel noticed something else about this horse; it was only four feet tall.

“Guys, what is this?” Stivers voice wavered. Gruebel dropped his gun, eyes still wide.

“Umm...” Taylor closed his mouth long enough to make the syllable. “I think it’s a—”

“Those are wings!” Stivers shouted, oblivious to the answer Taylor was providing him.

As the horse drew near, it pushed Taylor out of its way and continued to the bear. Once at its destination, it began to shudder and make sobbing noises.

“Is it crying?” Taylor’s expression contorted in confusion.

Gruebel took this moment to look away, deciding that whatever God had thrown at them, was just too much, but what he saw approaching them in the air was much worse. The shine of twelve armoured pegasi glinted off the morning sun as they quickly descended, spears under their wings.

Gruebel looked towards the forest edge where the yellow horse came from. Well. I guess I did die. As the pegasi encircled the group of pilots, a bright magenta flash lit up Gruebel’s field of view and deposited five colourful equines not five feet in front of him. What kind of hell is this?

“Drop your weapons!” One of the pegasi sported a plumed helmet and wore deeply burnished golden armour; he began to speak in a voice that would have made his drill sergeant proud. “You are under arrest by decree of The Royal Princesses of Equestria!”

Gruebel crouched down into a fighting stance, glancing at the ground near him for a rock, a stick, something to put into his hands so that they could do the work they were trained to do. Movement flashed in the corner of his eye and he turned, but not quickly enough to dodge the hoof that struck him just behind the ear. The Marine’s eyes rolled up, his knees unhinging as he collapsed to the ground.

Chapter 4: A Rude Awakening

Stivers stood in mute shock. That horse is talking. And that one... his eyes shifting to the yellow horse, that one is weeping.

“I said drop your weapons!” The gold clad stallion bellowed a second time.

“Taylor, are you seeing this?” Stivers rubbed his eyes.

“Yah Stivers. I’m seeing this.” Taylor replied awkwardly.

“This is your last warning.” The horse whom Stivers presumed to be their leader was pawing at the ground, ready to charge.

Stivers looked to the advancing ponies, then back to Taylor. Their thoughts became parallel, fight or flight, and flight wasn’t an option. Taylor nodded, Stivers raised his gun, intent on taking down the white and gold wall that stood between him and freedom. He reached for the trigger, but his finger didn’t move.

Why can’t I move? He tried to turn his head, but the muscles wouldn’t stretch. What’s happening? None of his limbs were following his commands, frozen in place. Stivers’ heart started beating faster. This is impossible.

The orange equine moved forward, a look of worry on her face, “Twi’, you sure you got them?”

Oh Christ, he thought to himself. The orange horse’s wearing a fucking cowboy hat. What isn't possible right now?

“Of course AJ, I’ve stopped plenty of bigger things before.” the purple unicorn piped up, her horn aglow with lavender light.

“If ya say so, Twi.” Taking note of the exhaustion evident in Twilight’s voice, Applejack erred on the side of caution and edged closer still, keeping her gaze fixed on the tall beings before them.

The armoured guards followed suit. “We warned you,” the angry tones of the leader stated. “and now we are forced to disarm you.” Applejack moved forward and gripped Stivers’ M1911 pistol in her mouth carefully, trying not to set off the dangerous device as she removed it from his grasp.

Oh God, now what? Stivers heard a thump behind him, and soon felt the inertia of the ground rushing up to meet himself as well. He flexed his arms, then his neck. I can move again... What happened? He tried to stand, but a powerful hoof kept him in place.

“Stivers,” Taylor said through clenched teeth, no doubt in a similar predicament to himself. “how do we get out out of this one, hmm?”

“Well, if this is real, I say we do what they want.” Stivers replied.

“Stivers! We can’t surrender!” The fear in Taylor’s voice was not heard, but felt. “They’ll torture us!”

“Taylor, we are outmanned, outgunned, and have injured. I am the senior officer here on the ground, and yo—” A timid voice cut him off.

“Um... do you have any... medical supplies?” The yellow pegasus had moved quickly from the unconscious bear to the partially subdued aggressors.

“Stivers,” Taylor’s body was shaking, his voice uneven. “Where are we?”

“Taylor, stop resisting.” If we are walking out of this alive, we need a peaceful solution. Stivers didn’t know if he was suffering from a concussion, a particularly odd brand of insanity, or if he was facing stark raving reality, but until given evidence to the contrary, he was sticking to the third option for now. “That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t trust them Miss Fluttershy. There could be more in the tent.” The leader of the group said, with as much hostility as he could muster, while still remaining calm.

“I have to. If I don’t, Joshua could die.”

Stivers did a double take, “Joshua? Who’s Joshua?”

The yellow pegusus answered him in her low tones as she made her way towards the tent. “Joshua is the poor bear who you almost killed!”

Stivers’ eyes closed to half lidded shock as his mouth opened in confusion. “You have got to be kidding me...” His whisper was quiet enough that he could barely hear himself.

One of the steel clad guards strode up to the canary-colored mare and stopped her, a pleading look in its eyes. “Miss Fluttershy, don’t trust it.” Its inflection made it out to be female.

“What are you?” The purple unicorn asked. “I have never seen any documentation of your species... nor your weapons, nor that,” She pointed one of her hooves at one of the still functional Avenger bombers, “thing...”

Stivers’ eyes lit with realization. “What am I...? What are you? There's no way that the boys back home will believe us about this. Talking horses...”

The present company of technicolour ponies all looked taken aback as the orange horse offered a more helpful term. “Horse? Ah ain’t never been more insulted in all my life! We’re one-hundred percent ponies, mister! Now what in tarnation are you?” The southern drawl was prevalent and reminded him of Texas.

“Stop talking to the prisoners.” The gold plated stallion had a scowl that spoke more of his irritation than his voice. “Shadow, Crimson, bind them.”

Stivers noted the two approaching war ponies and crouched into a defensive position, arms raised. “Hey, I’ve been cooperative. No need for any handcuffs.”

One of the approaching horses, this one noticeably more black than his comrades, stopped and contorted his face in a question, “What’s a handcuff?”.

Stivers stared blankly at the approaching black stallion, who he assumed was Shadow. “The rope. You don’t need to bind me up or anything.” When the two stallions kept approaching, Stivers decided to think on his feet. “You need me to carry the stretcher.”

The same black pegasus halted again, slowing his partner's movements. “We can carry these two—” He was interrupted by the gold armored pony.

“We do not carry the prisoners. That just screams ‘stupid idea’. Keep your mouth shut Crimson.”

“No, I have an injured man. Taylor and I,” Stivers said, gesturing to a still stunned Taylor, lying on the ground, “can carry the stretcher so you don’t have to.”

“Captain?” Crimson had a questioning look on his face. “Maybe we should let them do it?”

The Captain of the group took a minute of thought while the orange mare’s irritation clearly grew. “Fine. But we will be watching yo—” A shrill scream came from inside the tent followed by a yellow blur.

Stivers grabbed for his gun, but Shadow reacted instantly to the movement, surging forward and bowling the human over. Stivers panicked, pushing his fist under the chin of his aggressor, forcing Shadow’s head up. Shadow raised a hoof, slamming it into Stivers’ chest. Stivers went with the impact, allowing the momentum to roll his opponent over to gain some leverage, but was swiftly tackled by the waiting Crimson, pinning him on his back.

Stivers was vaguely aware of the other guards closing around him, but his focus was fixed on trying to get his limbs unpinned by the sheer might of the two ponies above him. A dull moan caught his attention, bringing him away from the battle. Taylor.

Stivers noted the hemp loops being wrapped around his wrists, and a metal collar being applied to his neck. “Hey, get off of me!” As he heard the click of the collar, he turned his head to see Taylor facing a similar fate, and the little yellow pegasus they'd called Fluttershy hiding behind the scowling orange mare, a familiar green bag held between her lips.

The meek yellow pegasus peeked out from beyond the orange pony, her ears perking as a high pitched feminine voice emanated from the pink one. “What’s wrong, Fluttershy?”

“There’s another one inside... I think it’s wounded. And crispy...”

The six coloured ponies looked amongst each other in confusion till the blue pegasus spoke up, “Crispy? Really? Why would it be Crispy?”

“His plane crashed... he was the only survivor. He got badly burned in the wreck.” Taylor said blankly. Stivers was glad that Taylor had finally come out of his shock.

Fluttershy jumped to Taylor with speed Stivers didn’t think was possible. “Oh the poor dear. I don’t know what I would do if any of my friends had died...” Her eyes were starting to water and her breath was catching.

Sorry guys, but I need to use you. Stivers quickly glanced over to the poorly hidden line of the dead.

“We’ve all lost friends.” Stivers made a show of pouting and to his surprise, genuine tears sprang to his eyes. “We never got a chance to bury them.”

The yellow pony, clearly smitten with grief, moved off towards the bear, probably to go attempt to sterilize the wound. Why in the world would a pony care for a bear?

He continued to look at the line of his friends until he heard a soft murmur to his left. Looking over he saw Fluttershy looking at the collection of cadavers, tears in her eyes. He looked back again to the group of five ponies, noticing that they all suddenly had a similar look of sorrow stricken across their faces. So, they’re sympathetic...

Stivers looked back the yellow one again to see how far he could push her. He saw the pink pony beside her, two waterfalls cascading down her cheeks in arcs that shouldn’t have been possible.

Feeling a hoof on his back where his hands were tied, he felt his bonds being loosened, and then finally broken, with the golden Captain standing over him. “Go, bury them. We’ll keep watch.”

Stivers looked over at Taylor and saw that the lieutenant's hands had been similarly freed. Their eyes met for a long moment, and both seemed to share the same sentiment; they had a chance, not to make things right again, but at least to make them orderly, as much as they could, and neither wanted to waste it. They moved together over to the tent, each pulling out one of the short-handled issue spades meant for digging foxholes. Or trenches. Or anything you wanted, really. It was a simple tool meant for moving earth, meant to be small and portable, so why did it weigh so much now when the task was still the same?

Stivers gripped the cold steel of the handle in one hand and sighed. "Come on. Let's get it done."

How did I get myself into this mess?

Stivers observed the injured man whom he and Taylor were carrying. Thompson seemed to be doing fairly well for someone who was covered in third degree burns.

Gruebel and Gallivan had awoken while Stivers and Taylor were digging a grave for the other pilots, and were taken aback by the presence of the ‘Royal Guard of Canterlot’. Afterwards, the pink pony and the purple one, Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle, began asking cascades of questions, ranging from “Do you like cupcakes?” to “What is the capital of Neighssyria?” That question almost brought the entire convoy to a dead stop as Gruebel halted to stare at the pink pony in confusion saying, “How in the world would I know that?”

They continued on slowly, the group taking several moments to find a comfortable walking pace that balanced the smaller ponies speed with the longer strides of the humans. Taylor was at the head of the improvised stretcher they had cobbled together for Thompson, and Stivers saw him glance over at the yellow pegasus, named Fluttershy. "Um… how’s your friend?"

She emitted a small squeak and glanced around quickly, then seemed to realize he was talking to her. "Who?"

"The bear."

"Oh! Oh, he’s fine." She offered a tentative smile. "He was scratched across the head by that thing you used, and shaken up, but I’m very good with helping injured animals. He just needs rest, now." She turned her attention back to the path before them. "He’ll be okay, nopony would try to hurt a bear. Well, except for you, I mean." Her smile vanished, and she gave Taylor a stern glance. "That wasn’t very nice."

"Yeah… um, sorry about that." Stivers watched in mixed amusement and disbelief as the young lieutenant squirmed under the dressing-down he was receiving from a talking pony half his height. "He scared us pretty badly. I, uh, I’m glad he’ll be okay, though."

Golden Sword’s voice floated back toward them. "If you two would like to be alone for a bit, I can certainly arrange it. Because if you don’t shut up, I’ll leave both of you here."

Fluttershy and Taylor’s faces immediately turned almost identical shades of red, and Stivers wondered absently just how the pony was managing that feat when her features were covered in short yellow fur. Things like that were losing their capacity to surprise him at this point however, so he just kept his own mouth shut and continued walking. Considering the Captain’s stated orders to take them all into custody, it seemed an empty threat, and the yellow pony’s companions didn’t seem unduly alarmed, either.

After that, Sword declared that no one was allowed to talk, making it a very boring trip through a very boring forest. Which all of the ponies seemed afraid of. “Why are you guys so afraid of a forest?” Stivers asked in a low voice.

Before the Captain could silence Stivers, the orange pony, Applejack, spoke up. “T’aint natural, that’s why. All the clouds move on their own, and the plants can grow without help.” Stivers stared at Applejack with his mouth open.

We have definitely died. And this is definitely hell.

“Okay. Now that we’ve gotten the crazy part out of the way, why are all so afraid of the forest?” Stivers asked again, much to Applejack’s chagrin.

“Applejack isn’t lying, darling.” Rarity, the white unicorn, muttered in fear.

“Can you all please shut your mouths?” Captain Sword grated, what little patience he had displayed to this point clearly gone. “It’s hard enough concentrating on your safety while you’re all talking and luring the monsters closer.”

Monsters? At that time, fate thought it would be a good time to have three corpses appear in the middle of the path ahead of them. All three had the head of a lion, the tail of a scorpion, and the wings of a bat.

Taylor stopped, forcing Stivers to stop as well, but Gallivan was the first to speak. “What are those things?” The four pilots faces ranged from horror to shock.

“Those are manticores. We killed them on our way to find you.” The Captain’s face was dead serious.

“How have you never heard of a manticore before? They’re all over the world!” Twilight stated in confusion.

“Damn...” Taylor trailed off as he stared at the odd beasts, ignoring the distraught mare’s question. The import of the captain’s words finally hit home, and he turned his gaze to the armor clad pegasus. “Wait... you knew about us?”

The Captain's eyes widened but a fraction. “Why does nopony ever listen when I tell them to stop talking?” He let out a long sigh, eliciting an involuntary chuckle from Stivers.

The rest of the trip through the forest was quiet, as everyone was lost in thought.

The group made their way out of the forest as the sun was setting, nary a word said between them. Stivers used his practiced military eye to spot anything that could be relevant to their situation; a cottage, a lake, and a town. Everything seemed cheerier than usual. Where the hell are we?

Upon the road to the town was a bipedal purple lizard, breathing heavily as if it had been running for some time. “Twilight! Urgent message from the princess!”

The lavender unicorn galloped forward, much to the disdain of the captain, and embraced the small reptile. “Where is it, Spike?”

“It’s... at the... library.” His laboured breathing forcing him to stutter. “The princesses said they wanted you there as soon as possible.”

Taylor looked back to Stivers, eyebrow raised. Stivers shrugged.

Captain Sword trotted towards Twilight. The guards, who encircled the now prisoners of war, forced them to move forward as well. “Miss Sparkle, we will escort you and the Elements... and these things,” The Captain said, gesturing towards the humans, “to the library as well.”

“Captain, do you know what’s going on? You don’t seemed very perturbed by this whole situation.” Twilight’s voice betrayed her concern.

“It doesn’t concern you Miss Sparkle.” The captain kept his tone professionally neutral, with only a small scowl adorning his face.

That definitely caught Stivers’ attention. If they knew about us, how come we’ve never seen or heard about talking ponies before? I thought America knew everyone...

Pinkie bounced towards Twilight, oblivious to the guards who were trying to restrain her. “Maybe Princess Celestia sent you on this mission for a reason Twilight! Maybe she already knew about these talking apes but doesn’t want you to know too much?”

Rainbow Dash wasn’t far behind the pink mare. “Pinkie, that’s as crazy as playing a game of doubles with five ponies.”

Doubles? Stivers’ head began to ache. How do they even play tennis?

“Yah Pinkie,” Twilight retorted, “That doesn’t make any sense. If Princess Celestia knew about something like this, she would have told me.”

The small lizard spoke up, irritation arose in his voice, “Twilight, c’mon! The Princesses are waiting!”

Twilight froze. “You mean they’re at the library? Spike! Why didn’t you tell us that? Come on Captain, we need to move!”

“Company, double time!” Captain Sword shouted, the war ponies moving faster now, pushing the humans along with them. Silence fell over the group as they resumed their journey towards Ponyville, broken only by the sounds of laboured breathing, and both boots and hooves making contact with the cobblestone road.

The guards were on edge as the group approached the little hamlet, eyes constantly flickering back and forth, searching for pedestrians that might get the wrong idea. When one such incident occurred, an aquamarine unicorn who was practically prancing about the circle of guards trying to get a better look, she had been shushed away to a small unassuming house by Rainbow Dash.

As the group approached what appeared to be the town center, they came to a halt outside a giant tree. Stivers looked about, noticing very little through the pegasi blockade. The next moment, the five humans were being ushered towards a door built into the trunk of the tree.

The door was smaller than what the humans were used to, and Stivers knew he would have to duck. The warm air from the library flooded out to meet the soldiers as a purple glow enveloped the door, pushing it open. Gallivan entered first, moving off to the left, then followed by Taylor and Stivers, still carrying Thompson. Gruebel and the six colourful ponies came in after, their order unknown to Stivers as he straightened up in surprise, the wide open space of the library offering the pilots enough room to stand upright. His examination of the room’s contents was brought to an abrupt halt as Stivers stared in shock at the white being in front of him.

Much larger than the other ponies, the slender figure met his gaze evenly, a multi-coloured swirl of pastel mane and tail flowing steadily despite the lack of a breeze to stir the air. Immense wings were spread out to either side of her form, and she looked poised to launch into flight at any instant. Unlike the smaller pegasi in the room however, she bore a gleaming silver horn on her brow, light sparkling and corsucating around its length. The whole effect lent her with an air of dignity and authority, and Stivers felt like he'd just been called into his air group commander's office after screwing up royally on maneuvers.

Why do I have a feeling, like everything is about to go downhill?

"Come, sit down." The white alicorn’s eyes held each of them in turn for a moment. "We have much to discuss."

Chapter 5: Revelation

“Before we discuss anything, this man is badly injured and needs medical attention.” Stivers’ commanded, trying to make himself look as powerful as possible.

“Very well,” The white princesses’ silky voice weaved through the air. “We shall send him to the nearby medical centre.”

Stivers glanced around the room, taking in the long walls full of books, the tables full of opened books, the ponies arranged around him all bowing, faces hugging the floor. Hmm... I should know the protocol for meeting foreign royalty. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Stivers nodded his head in the direction of the princess. I don’t care right now.

“Rise my subjects.” her voice soothed.

Captain Sword took the time to sneak up behind Stivers, “Show respect to the princess, before I give you a nasty lesson in court etiquette.” His whisper was quiet, but filled with unveiled threat.

“Golden Sword. Stay your tongue. They are visitors to our land, and we shall treat them as such.” the Princess then gestured to the injured Thompson, raising an eyebrow at the same time.

“I would much rather him not leave my sight, your majesty.” Sword’s voice was laced with acid.

“I understand your concern. I will arrange for the nurses to be brought here.”

Stivers blinked at this. Compassion again? Hmm. “So, since you say we’re ‘guests to your land,’ I assume you know what we are?”

“Yes, I do. But my real question, is why are you here?” Her brow was lowered in an almost hostile manor.

“Why are we here? I don't even know where the fuck ‘Here’ is!”

Golden Sword was on him in an instant, “You will watch your tongue when addressing the Princess!”

Taylor took up the slack from Stivers. “Oh shut it, Goldy. We want answers!” Taylor and Stivers lowered the unconscious Thompson onto a nearby table.

“You are begging to be taught a lesson here, whelp!” Sword’s face now hung mere inches from Taylor’s.

Taylor responded with a quick headbutt, stumbling the now dazed pony back a few feet. Shadow and Star were on Taylor instantly, holding him down. Stivers threw himself into the pile of bodies, trying to rip the assailants off of Taylor.

“All of you,” The new voice cut across the air like angry velvet. “Shut up and stand down!” Midnight pushed her way between the five fighters, trying in vain to get them to stop.

By now, Golden Sword had recovered and launched himself at Taylor, trying to get revenge. A swift jab to the jaw from Stivers sent him reeling a second time.

“Tia, I made some—” A midnight blue alicorn stood in the far doorway across the room from the entrance, wide eyed at the display, levitating a plate of confections. The fight stopped upon hearing the new voice, as the guards all recognized it to be Luna, sister of the ruler of Equestria.

Luna stared at the mingled pile of ponies and pilots. “Lunch?”

The two humans both stopped and stared at the new figure in the doorway. Finally seeing a chance for action, Shadow gave a hard buck into the back of Taylor, who went flying into the dark alicorn, sending food and plates flying in many directions, spattering Luna’s face with seasonings and bits of lettuce.

Her wide eyed gaze suddenly hardened through the mixed meal spread across her face. “WHY DOST THOU CONTINUE THINE AGGRESSIONS?” Stivers was stopped by the impact of what felt like a freight train ramming into his eardrums as the darker princess spoke. “THOU ART IN THE PRESENCE OF ROYALTY AND WE EXPECT THOU TO ACT AS SUCH!” Her horn glowed with righteous fury, lifting the offending pony off of his hooves, and bringing him face to face with her.

Shadow’s pupils shrank to mere pinpricks as he began to cower before the princess, “I... but... he—”

“We have heard enough,” her powerful voice falling to a reasonable indoor volume as she lowered him to the ground. “You are relieved of active duty.”

Shadow's mouth opened, then closed again abruptly. The guard straightened to attention, then turned and left the library with as much speed as the remaining shreds of his dignity would allow. Looking to Celestia, Stivers saw a very noticeable grin on her face.

Luna stamped a forehoof. “Tia, tis not amusing! It took us an age to make these gala luncheons.”

Gruebel, who had a grin spanning his face as well, raised an eyebrow. “Gala luncheons?”

The dark alicorn turned to the newcomer, wiping assorted vegetables off of her face. “Yes. Gala luncheons. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that... you know, Gala luncheons are kind of outdated, aren’t they?”

The midnight alicorn’s face contorted into one of a challenge. “There’s naught wrong with Gala luncheons, lad. We have had more Gala luncheons than you’ve had hot dinners!”

“Well I doubt that. I’ve had one hot meal a day for a good twenty years.” His reply was mirthless.

“And we have attended at least that many plays.” Her rebuke was just as serious. Celestia’s grin only seemed to grow.

“That would mean you’re at least a few hundred years old.” Stivers face had lost its hilarity and his expression was now one of extreme doubt. “Which is impossible.”

“Yeah, if you’re saying that you’re that old, then how are you still alive?” Greubel pointed out.

“A few hundred years?” Luna stamped a forehoof hard enough to make books jump in their shelves. “For your information,” she started, pointing a wing at Celestia, ”we are both thousands of ye—”

She was interrupted by that very sister. “Luna, mares don’t reveal their ages to strange males.”

“Thousands...” Greubel’s face was devoid of expression as he absorbed what the princess said. “Right. And I’m a kraut.” he deadpanned.

The pink pony bounced in front of the private with a grin that defied biology, “Oh, is that like pickled cabbage?”

“Erm, no,” Greubel responded. “That’s sauerkraut. A kraut is a Ger—”

A polite cough from the white princess interrupted Greubel. “I believe that we had some things to discuss?”

“Not till we have a medic here.” Stivers felt that he needed to be adamant about that.

Again fate took a turn for the convenient as two white unicorns wearing hats with red crosses rushed through the door of the library, wielding anti burn cream and sterilization liquids. Celestia took the opportunity to show her amusement to Stivers. “You were saying, Captain?”

“I see. Fine. Where are we?” Stivers’ annoyance was clear as he muttered the question.

“You are in the land of Equestria. What are your names?” Her voice change from the mirthful tones from before to that of a hardened ruler, cutting straight to some point that only she knew.

Stivers’ eyes narrowed in defiance. “Why should we tell you? And hell, why should we trust your doctors? I’ll do the work myself.” As Stivers began moving towards the nurses, intent on taking over their job, he was stopped by one errant thought. She called me ‘Captain’.

“Because, if you would like a comfortable accommoda—” Her eyes widening as she was interrupted.

“Who the hell are you?” Stivers shouted. “I never told you my rank!” Golden Sword moved between the enraged human and his princess.

“Yah, how did you know that?” Gallivan seemed more confused than concerned, while Taylor was the opposite, eyes wide in panic.

Her eyes darted to her sister for but a second. “Those insignia on your shoulders, they’re similar to the Zebra military ranking system.”

Stivers looked at her in confusion. “You mean there are other sentient talking animals here?”

“Excuse me, but we are hardly animals.” Rarity protested hotly. “The nerve!”

“And you will not speak to the princess like that.” Sword’s tone was again hard.

“Look you walking merry-go-round reject, we have been through hell and back, and I want some answers.” Stivers’ could feel his discipline slipping, anger starting to take hold. The look of fear that crept onto the two princesses faces only goaded him to continue. “Why does this shit always happen to me!”

A burst of unrepressed laughter broke the silence. "Merry-go-round reject," Rainbow Dash snickered. "I'm so stealing that one."

Celestia managed to recover before Luna, and interjected before Sword could headbutt Stivers. “My little ponies, I think it would be best if you all left. This man is right, he deserves answers.”

“But princess, these things are dangerous!” Twilight’s concern for her princess was palpable.

“As Miss Sparkle has stated, those things are dangerous and we will not leave you.” Sword dropped to a defensive stance.

“I want everypony who isn’t me, my sister, and the humans out of this library, now.” Her face again adopting the no nonsense look of a ruler who has seen everything, and then some.

The two nurses started putting down their equipment. "We’d like to take this one to the hospital, Your Highness; he needs better treatment than we can give him here."

"Certainly… with your permission, Captain?” Celestia arched an eyebrow. “We’ll let you know if his condition improves, I promise."

Stivers nodded reluctantly. "If you think you can help him… yeah, I’d appreciate it."

"I’ll send one of my troops to keep an eye on him." Golden Sword motioned with a forehoof, and as the medics began fussing over Thompson, preparing him to be moved, the rest of the ponies began filing out slowly. Twilight offered Celestia a pleading look, her form slumping in dejection as the princess shook her head.

"C’mon guys, let’s go." Rainbow shrugged and leapt into the air, soaring out through the open window of the observatory up on the top floor. The rest of the group took a more prosaic route and exited, with various nods and bows, until only Captain Sword, the princesses, and the humans remained.

“Captain Golden Sword, I asked you to leave.” The princess’ gaze could have cut through granite.

“I will not leave you, Your Majesty.” He stared at the humans, his gaze flat with distrust.

"Oh, enough. Shoo shoo shoo." Celestia's horn flared brightly, and the pilots stared, open mouthed, as the Captain floated up off the ground and out the door. His protesting voice was muffled as the door glowed and then slammed shut, emitting a low click as the lock engaged.

“How do you know what we are?” Stivers asked, “And... thanks.”

Luna’s eyebrow lifted in amusement while her sister spoke to the humans. “There are legends about your people. I made an assumption, and it seems I was right.”

“What are these legends?” Stivers’ concern growing.

“A great bipedal people with advanced technology that could do anything that a great mage could do.”

Stivers looked to the ground for a moment before looking back up. “Why did you call us here?”

Luna’s gaze hardened as she answered for her sister, “We needed to know if what Twilight said was true, because if so, then you are not from here.”

“Really? You don’t say.” Taylor’s sarcasm made Stivers cringe. He had just made some positive leeway, and that most certainly destroyed it.

“Taylor, shut up for five minutes will you?” Stivers ignored Taylor’s hurt look. “I’m sorry erm... Your Majesties?”

Celestia frowned. “Yes. Now, I want to be frank and not insult you, as you are our guests, but I fear it might not be possible at this time, however, le—”

Luna cut in. “We don’t want you here.”

“Luna, did you just—” Celestia stared at her sister, her shock capable of powering a small town.

“Tia please, don’t sugar coat it. They’re soldiers, and they want the truth, without you buttering it up.” Stivers admired her honesty, and almost respected her bluntness.

“I hate politicians...” Greubel mumbled.

“So,” Stivers began, “since you seem to know everything, why… are… we… here?”

“It shouldn’t be possible that you are here,” The elder alicorn’s eyes shifted again to her sister. “But since you are, there may be a great event on the horizon.”

“Right. And how do we leave before that?” Stivers’ anger was replaced by irritation.

“I think that you will cause it.” she responded.

Taylor raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “That’s cryptic...”

“Taylor, seriously.” Stivers’ gave Taylor a chiding look, “Snide comments get you floated out the door.” He looked back to Celestia. “What if we do cause this... thing?”

“Everypony... everyone, will die.” her look turning grim, the lights in the library dimming.

Stivers didn’t flinch. “Taylor, don’t even.” Taylor, whose mouth had been in the process of opening before Stivers cut him off, shut his jaw with an audible click of teeth. The smaller alicorn, Luna, chuckled lightly under her breath at this, and her older sister shot her an irritated look for a moment.

“Can we all be serious for a moment, please?” Celestia scraped at the wooden floor of the library with a forehoof. “This is a matter of survival for us as well as yourselves, not a matter of casual mirth.”

“And what if we don’t believe a word you’re saying?” Gallivan asked suddenly. “What if this is all a bunch of bullshit? Or horseshit, whatever.”

Celestia, who was now clearly getting annoyed, spread her wings in a grand display of dominance. “There are two paths that you can walk, humans. You can do as I say, or you can be jailed. I have tried being nice, but you insist on throwing my good graces back into my face.” Her voice was never raised, but instead became firmer, as if she were angry with a child.

Stivers was taken aback, his eyes widening in fear, before his resolve returned. “Good graces?” he shouted, “We never even met you and you were doing nothing good for us. Hell, first thing out of your lackey’s mouth was something about arresting us!” His glare could have melted steel.

Before Celestia could continue, Luna stepped up, “That was for your own safety, and you would have died if we had not warranted that.” Her calm demeanor was the direct opposite of her sister’s.

Taylor approached Stivers from behind, placing a hand on the Marine’s shoulder, “Calm down Stivers,” he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “We can still get out of this.”

Stivers took three deep breaths, “Fine. Tell us how to get home, and we won't be able to cause this disaster.”

“We need to re-open the portal that brought you here,” Celestia said. “And to do that, we will need to do some research.”

“You mean you didn’t know how to do this before?” Gallivan asked, incredulous.

Ignoring the comment, Luna spoke on behalf of her sister. “Stay in the library, make nice with the ponies in Ponyville. We shall call on you when we know what you need.” The two sisters’ horns started to glow, and before anyone could get a word into question their judgement, they were gone.

“Well, fuck.” Greubel’s inelegant remark made Taylor snicker.

“All right,” Stivers sighed. “What now?”

“Well,” Taylor suggested, “I guess now we go tell the horses th—”

“Hey! We are not horses!”

Stivers jumped back from the pink blur that flew out from behind a bookshelf. “Where in the fuck did you come from?” he yelled.

A resounding crash came from the direction of the door as Golden Sword charged through the opening. Glancing around, his eyes widened, and he let out a bellow that bore the full extent of his voice, “What have you barbarians done with the princesses?!”

Chapter 6: Triviality

Golden Sword stared around the library, glaring at each human in turn. “You will tell me!” he shouted.

“Oh stick it up your ass. We didn't do anything to your precious princesses, so lay off, ya prick.” Greubel brought his best glare up to compete with the iron faced stallion.

“Back down, Greubel.” Taylor stated. “They said we needed to stay here till they got back or something like that,” he said to the fuming guard captain. “I wasn’t paying too much attention.”

Sword dropped his aggressive posture, but retained his wary expression. “I see.” The remainder of the ponies continued to trickle back into the library. “I suppose that she also—”

Golden Sword was interrupted by a flash of green flame, the sound of a burp, and all of the human soldiers taking cover behind various objects. “What the fuck was that?” Stivers shouted.

“Flamethrower?” Taylor hazarded, peeking around the chair he hid behind.

Captain Sword looked at the humans with bemused confusion etching across his face. “That... was dragonfire. You know, a way to instantly transport messages across great distances?”

Stivers looked out from under his table, and surely enough, the baby dragon was lying on the ground grasping his stomach, with a letter floating in the air before Twilight. “But... that’s not possible...” Stivers mumbled.

Gallivan left his hiding spot beside a shelf, “Really sir? Instant communication is the thing that you find most confusing about this place?”

Stivers felt heat rising to his face. “Er... I mean... Why—”

“Hey listen!” Twilight shouted, “I got a letter from the princess.”

“Well that was fast... I mean... she just left and all...” Taylor’s face was contorted in confusion.

Ignoring Taylor, Twilight began reading the letter aloud. “‘My most faithful student, I had urgent business to take care of in Canterlot—’”

“Urgent business my ass!” Greubel interrupted. “She just didn’t like how we whooped her ass in conversation!”

“Ahem,” Twilight cleared her throat violently, as if to say, We’re all still in the room. “May I continue?” Stivers nodded an affirmative. “Fine then.” Irritation was evident in her voice as she resumed reading the letter. “Urgent business, blah blah blah, stuff you would mock us about, and, aha.” She scrunched up her eyes in concentration before letting out the most inelegant expletive of surprise any of the soldiers had ever heard.

“That... was...” Taylor began, but even his wit failed him at the moment. “Well, it definitely was.”

“The princess,” Twilight began again, only to falter a second time. “She says that you are free to, and I quote: ‘wander around Ponyville’ until she has found the ritual you need to get back...”

“What?” Stivers, Taylor, and Sword all shouted at once, simultaneously slapping a hand, and in Sword’s case, a forehoof, to their faces.

Greubel and Midnight Arrow laughed. “What a total balls-up,” the Marine opined.

“So,” Stivers’ puzzled expression betrayed the motif of his question. “She expects us to just meander around your quaint little village, unsupervised, and not do anything bad? After, of course, she captured us for absolutely no reason.”

“Umm... I guess so.” Twilight looked just as lost as Stivers.

“I refuse to let you go around unguarded amongst the citizens of Ponyville,” Golden Sword stated. “If it wasn’t a direct order from Celestia, you wouldn’t even be leaving this library.”

Midnight cleared her throat and took a few steps toward the group. “Erm, it was actually rather indirect, don’t you think Captain? I mean... it was directed from a letter...”

“Regardless, Captain, you and your guards are dismissed from my library.” Twilight flushed as she came to the realization that the princess had blown her off. “And you humans,” she said, her voice rising angrily, “get out, too.” The horn on her forehead glowed a bright violet, and with a sudden flash, all of the room's occupants, minus the bearers of the Elements, found themselves outside.

“Huh. Now what?” Stivers asked as the door to the library shut behind them, leaving only four humans, and five armoured pegasi looking about in confusion.

“Well, now we—” The Captain narrowed his eyes as a mint green unicorn interrupted him.

“Oh... My... Celestia! What are those?” She galloped to the humans, eyes wide in wonder, oblivious to the glare turned her way as the captain turned to block her advance.

“Not so fast citizen, This is property of the Royal Guard of—” The captain’s explanation didn’t get very far as he was abruptly knocked over by Gallivan. The Marine sergeant stood over him, his expression livid, his fists bunched up in tight knots.

“We are not your property!” Gallivan yelled through clenched teeth at the stunned pony before him. “Don’t even think about—”

Shadow took the opportunity to jump on Gallivan, knocking him away from Sword, while Crimson Hoof took up a defensive position near his commander.

Taylor and Stivers grabbed the pony atop their friend by his armoured collar and hauled him off. “Everyone just calm the fuck down!” Taylor shouted. Stivers still held the struggling guard while Taylor eyed Gallivan closely. “What the hell was that?”

“I am no one's property.” His voice hardened as he stared at Golden Sword, then at Shadow. “I am a legal citizen of the United States of America, which is a free land.” His voice rose to a shout. “And I am no one’s slave!” He spun on his heel and started walking away towards a small apple orchard in the distance.

Midnight Arrow flew in front of the Marine, a concerned look in her eyes. “We would never presume to own somepo... er, someone.” Gallivan simply stalked past the well-meaning pegasus without a reply, his hands balled up tightly into fists, the tendons in his neck standing out in high relief as he fought to suppress a response. She turned to follow his movement, looking at him unhappily. “Sir, please stop. If you don’t stop, I will detain you. I want to be nice, though.”

Gallivan stopped, took three deep breaths, and turned to face the gold clad stallion who was still getting to his hooves. “You will never own me,” he stated, pointing a finger at Sword. Beside them, the amber eyed unicorn who had set everything off now stood forgotten for the moment, staring at Gallivan in awe while apparently oblivious to the conversation around her.

Behind the raving Gallivan, stood a crowd of ponies who had been minding their own business until the humans were thrown from the library. Stivers released Shadow as Sword moved to address the crowd. “Return to your business, everypony. There is nothing to see here.”

Nopony moved.

“This is a matter of the Royal Guard of Canterlot. You will vacate the premises immediately or be incarcerated under royal law.” The various ponies scattered, going out of their way to look busy while still remaining in earshot of the strange creatures.

The mint-colored unicorn still stared at them in utter fascination, not moving from where she stood.

Gallivan glanced at her; the mare was almost close enough to him to qualify as a fashion accessory. “You heard the Captain, piss off,” he hissed, his face hardening again.

“All right Gallivan,” Stivers said, anger in his voice. “Stow that shit. What the hell is wrong with you? I have never seen you act so outright... hostile. Ever!”

Gallivan turned away from the nonplussed unicorn, looking Stivers in the eyes. The sergeant said nothing, but the mute expression in his eyes was clearly begging his commander to change the subject.

Sighing, Stivers complied, glancing over at Captain Sword. “So, what do we do while we wait?”

The Captain's eyes lit up in surprise. “What do you mean, do?”

“You know...” Stivers replied. “Around here? We're here till the Queen says we can go... right?”

“Princess. And yes. I guess you are...” Sword looked around at his assorted guards. He was left with Shining Star, Midnight Arrow, Shadow, and Crimson Hoof. “Where are the rest of my troops, Lieutenant?”

“Erm...” The pegasus floundered for a moment. “I... The Princess told me to dismiss them. She gave me a letter and everything!” she added, seeing her commander’s withering gaze.

“Give me that letter, Arrow.” Sword’s order was flat and toneless, giving away nothing.

Shakily, she retrieved the letter from a saddlebag on her armour.

As Golden Sword read over the letter, Taylor was looking at the saddle bag in complete confusion. “How do you do that?” he asked dumbly.

“Do what?” she shot back. Her commander had never, ever addressed her in such a tone of displeasure before, and Midnight was quite flustered.

“Live with having to reach over your back whenever you need anything. I mean really... that has to be inconvenient.”

Midnight looked at Taylor quizzically. “Well, I’ve been a pegasus pony all of my life, so... I guess I’m just used to it?”

“Huh.” Taylor scuffed at the dirt with one boot and put his hands in his pockets. So... what’s it like having wings, anyway?”

Stivers noted the two lieutenants chatting, and looked back to Sword, who was now looking at the letter in shock. “Well?” the Marine asked.

“It says that we’re to escort you all around town, so you can get a feel for ‘the environment.’” Sword dropped the letter and stared past Stivers at nothing in particular. “This assignment is ridiculous.”

“You’re telling me.” Stivers mumbled.

Sword glared at Stivers, then looked quickly amongst his squad. Arrow was talking with Taylor, both Hoof and Star were watching over the brooding Gallivan, and Shadow was chatting with Greubel; the two had scuffed a tic-tac-toe square in the dirt and were rapidly working their way to a tie game.

“Guards!” Sword shouted, all conversation ceasing as both ponies and humans looked to him attentively. “You all seem to have already found a buddy, so go and show them around the town, as per the Princess’ orders.”

“Sir, is that such a good idea?” Star said, looking at Gallivan uneasily.

“Not in the slightest.” Sword replied ominously. “But the Princesses have never failed us before so we shall... trust them again.” The last of his words had lost his earlier passion, and he let out a loud sigh of annoyance.

“Well that was unexpected.” Taylor said, realizing it was not himself that was being addressed. “Maybe we can get some food. I’m starving,” he said, patting his stomach.

“So...” Private Star began. “What do we do now?”

“Um... I guess we let him do what he wants?” Corporal Hoof shrugged.

“So...” Star turned toward the human. “What do you want to do, then?”

Gallivan stared blankly at the pair of pegasi, he turned and again started walking towards the apple farm that stood off in the distance.

“I guess we go to Sweet Apple Acres then?” Hoof inquired, trotting beside Star. Both pegasi kept a wary eye on the visitor, whom continued to ignore them.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Hoof cantered forward to catch up with Gallivan. “So big guy, how’s your day going?” Gallivan stopped.

“What?” he asked, staring at Hoof in complete and utter disbelief at what he had just been asked.

“You know... how have you been?” Corporal Hoof asked sincerely. Private Star put a hoof to his own forehead and groaned.

“You... but...” Gallivan stuttered, still confused.

“But I...? Finish your sentence.” The Corporal said slowly, as if talking to a child.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Gallivan deadpanned.

Private Star moved to catch up, interest perked, “What’s ‘fucking’?”

"Are you simple or somethin’?" Gallivan retorted, looking at both guards for a moment. "Please don't make me explain this," he sighed. "Didn't your parents ever explain where little ponies come from?"

Star paused, then reddened and then placed a forehoof to his brow again, shaking his head. "Oh. Um... okay."

Hoof blinked, momentarily nonplussed. "What does that have to do with me kidding you? Which I wasn't, by the way."

Gallivan gave him a long look. “You don’t get out of the guardhouse much, do you?”

Star snickered, then clammed up as the corporal gave him a dirty look. “Ahem. As I was saying...”

“How was my day? Aside from being arrested, threatened, beaten, and generally not having a great time? Pretty fu— um, pretty darned low.”

Corporal Hoof shrugged uncomfortably. “Sorry about that... orders, you know.”

Gallivan stopped for a moment, stretching, his spine making muted popping sounds. “On that, I can agree with you, short stuff. Orders... the source of most of the problems in my life.”

“What’s your army like?” Star asked eagerly. The concept of this foreigner’s military excited him.

To the guards' surprise, Gallivan burst out laughing, a cheery, hearty sound neither pony had expected to hear from the tall human. After a moment, he straightened, wiping his eyes. "The army’s pretty sorry in my opinion, but I'll admit, I'm prejudiced. I'm a Marine, not a doggie."

“What’s a ‘Marine?’” asked Star.

“Marines do what the army does, but more and better,” Gallivan replied smoothly. This was a question he had fielded many times while on liberty, and the pride in his voice was evident to both his listeners. “We’re assault troops. We take the names, kick the butt, and move on to the next target.”

“Sounds like you’ve seen quite a bit of action, sir,” Corporal Hoof said respectfully.

Gallivan came to a total standstill. “Listen here, fella,” he said in a tight, clipped voice. “If we’re going to get along, here, you need to remember to never, ever call me ‘sir’ again. I’m a sergeant, not some dumbshit officer who thinks he knows everything.”

“Got it, Sarge,” Star replied. Both of the guards exchanged a somewhat relieved look. This was a soldier from the ranks: somebody they could understand, at least, and not some pompous ass who would demand everything brought to him on a silver platter.

“Anyway, yeah, I’ve been there and done that a few times.” Gallivan resumed his slow, even pace, the two guard ponies falling in unconsciously on either side of him and matching his stride. “I will say this though, this is a hell of a nice place you folks live in.” The Marine turned his head to watch a flight of birds swoop past them, flitting from tree to tree. “Do you live here? In this town, I mean?”

“No, we live and work in the capital of Canterlot, at the Royal Court.” Corporal Hoof took note of how adroitly the tall figure had dodged his question about battle experience, and decided not to pursue the matter. Hoof had asked the question out of politeness only; the guard had seen a skirmish or two himself, and he wasn’t much inclined to chat about the experience to somepony he’d just met, either. The three meandered off the main path, cutting through a low field toward a farm several hundred yards away. “The town itself is named Ponyville, and we’re familiar with some of the residents, but that’s about it.”

Gallivan frowned. “Canterlot?” The name sounded vaguely familiar, for some absurd reason. “So this is just a temporary duty station, huh?”

“Oh, you have those, too?” Star was delighted once again. “I got stationed in Fillydelphia once, and there was this one mare...”

Corporal Hoof groaned. “Oh Celestia, not this story again.”

Star offered a wounded expression, and Gallivan motioned to continue. This sounded like it had the makings of a good sea story, after all. The three continued walking slowly, passing under the shade of a large apple tree at the edge of an orchard.

“Anyway, I was on leave, and trying to ask for directions, and there was this one mare, oh, you should have seen the mane she had! Well, I walked up to her, trying to look all young and pitiful—”

“Star, you are young. And pitiful,” Hoof interrupted.

The other guard began a retort, but their conversation was abruptly cut off by a screech that set the teeth on edge. “What in tarnation are y’all doin in my apple orchard?” The three looked over to see a small, green pony of advanced age glaring at them openly. “Helllp! Thieves! Thieves in th’ apples!”

Corporal Hoof stepped forward. “No ma’am, we’re not thieves, honest!”

The sound of heavy hoofbeats approaching filled the air, and a reddish pony, much larger than any of the others Gallivan had yet seen appeared, trotting up to stand next to the oldster who still stood staring at them, her expression dubious at best. “Well who are ye, then? Speak up, now!”

The red pony offered them an equally stern expression. “Eeyup,” he offered laconically.

“Well, we, that is, I... um.” Hoof backed up a step, and then glanced helplessly at Gallivan.

“Christ,” the Marine sighed, “sometimes I hate shore leave.”

Shadow and Gruebel had paired off rather accidentally, and at the Captain’s command they had obligingly wandered off, each holding to the old military maxim that orders were orders, even if they made no damned sense at all. They had wandered aimlessly for several minutes, with Shadow quietly shooing away anypony who ventured too close, but Gruebel made the task more difficult by repeatedly changing direction, seemingly at random.

Several turns and one dead-end alley later, they both came to the realization that they had each been trying to follow the other, both also following the much older maxim that you were never actually lost as long as you didn’t admit to being lost.

“Where are we going?” Shadow finally asked.

Gruebel eyed the familiar-looking intersection ahead with suspicion. “I have no clue, anywhere away from that asshole Sword, or whatever his name is.”

“Captain Golden Sword; and he may be tough, but he’s a great leader” the pegasus said proudly.

“Sure...”

“How about we head over to Carousel Boutique?”

“What's that? A night club?”

“Uh, no.” Shadow stared at him as if he’d gone insane. “It’s a famous fashion shop that sells-”

“Fashion? Hell no,” Gruebel interrupted.

“Oh come on, you're going to need something other than... whatever that is your wearing.”

“It’s a jumpsuit, used by pilots like me.”

“What’s a pilot?” Shadow asked.

Gruebel blinked. “It’s somebody who flies planes.” He stuck his arms out straight and waggled them. “Zoooom, you know?”

“Wait, you things can fly? But I thought only pegasi like me could.”

“We don’t fly like you do, heck, I don’t even know if those wings really work,” Gruebel said, pointing to Shadow’s wings.

“Well, time to prove it.”

Shadow extended his wings and flew straight up into the sky, leaving a cloud of dust behind. He flew around in circles, did a few loops, and finally skirted to a stop in front of Gruebel who stood speechless.

“Well?” Shadow asked.

“Damn, you really can fly,” Gruebel said in amazement. “I thought I was imagining things when I first saw you guys.”

“Thanks, I practice when I can.”

“Heh,” Gruebel chuckled. “So do I... that’s kinda the reason I’m in this mess, I guess. I was on a training flight when... well, when whatever happened to us, happened.”

Shadow was moved by the forlorn tone in the human’s voice. “Don’t worry. If there’s a way to fix everything, the princess will find it. You can trust me on that.”

“Well. We’ll see, I guess.” Gruebel looked down at his companion. “You know, for a flying, talking pony who’s tried to kick my ass more than once over the past twenty-four hours, you're not that bad.”

Shadow digested that one for a moment. “Thanks, I think.”

Gruebel examined the guard’s gleaming armour, and then looked down at his own grubby jumpsuit. “You know what? You're right, I might as well get some new clothes, or at least get this cleaned.” He sniffed and grimaced. “Soon.”

Shadow beamed, inwardly grateful that he didn’t have to bring up the delicate point. “Come on, I saw it from the air. It’s this way.”

Shadow and Gruebel walked for a little bit, turning a corner now and then until they came upon a three story purple and pink building.

“Well” said Grubel. “If it were a nightclub, it would be terrible.”

Shadow snickered at the joke. The two walked through the entrance, with Gruebel ducking carefully to avoid braining himself on the doorjamb. From overhead, a bell jingled, the sound striking Gruebel with a palpable pang of homesickness; in some ways, this place was too close to his own world by half.

A melodious voice floated out to them from a nearby doorway. “Welcome to Carousel boutique, where everythi- oh, it’s that thing!” The white pony with the horn on her forehead and the purple mane stared at Gruebel with obvious disdain. “I don’t have time for a ruffian like you, get out.”

“Please stand down Miss Rarity, he’s with me,” Shadow said.

Gruebel scanned the inside of the building: dresses and fabric were displayed on the walls of the shop, and almost every one of them had gems decorating them, glittering viciously in the sunlight that streamed through the main window.

Probably fake, he thought to himself.

“Ugh, fine, what can I help you with, uhh, what was your name?”

“Private Robert P. Gruebel” he said, sketching off a sloppy salute. “At your service.”

“Right... I’m Rarity, future world-famous fashion designer extraordinare!” she said proudly. “Now what can I help you with?”

“Well since I’m going to stuck here for a while, I thought I needed some new clothes—”

“Yes!” Rarity yelled, leaping forward with measuring tape and fabric. “Ok what would you like? Something flashy? Something classy? Or maybe-”

“Woah, woah, easy now” Gruebel said, stepping away. Shadow who was sitting in a chair, just laughed. “All I need is a simple shirt or two, shorts, and my jumpsuit cleaned.” His eyes wandered back to the precious stones applied liberally to every garment in sight. “Oh, and no fake gems.”

“Fake?” Rarity gasped. “These gems aren't fake,” she said with a touch of wounded pride. “I only use real gems, straight out of the ground.”

“There’s no way those are real. Real gems rarely get bigger than an apple,” Gruebel said, using his hands to illustrate the point.

Rarity sniffed haughtily. “Nonsense. I assure you, darling, that these are real.”

“Whatever.” Gruebel held up his hands in surrender. “Just don’t use any in my clothes.”

“Oh fine, I just need some measurements and I’ll start right away,” Rarity said. The horn on her forehead glowed a bright azure, and the measuring tape lying on the desk next to her matched its glow. It shot over to Gruebel and did a rapid dance about him, unreeling this way and that.

"How very odd," she muttered. "Still, we can work with this. Please have a seat, and don't... touch anything," she sniffed, eyeing his coveralls with a shudder. "I'll have something for you in a tiff!" The measuring tape shot back over to the desk and landed in an untidy heap, the glow fading. The unicorn turned and trotted up a staircase out of sight, reciting the numbers under her breath.

“Ugh, women,” Gruebel signed before taking a seat next to Shadow.

“I know what you mean, that’s why I never got married,” Shadow said. “So what do you think of Equestria so far?”

Gruebel looked blank. "What's Equestria?"

Shadow returned the expression. "This is. I mean, that's what we call our land."

The Marine digested that information for a moment. “It’s a whole new world, a very colourful one,” he said diplomatically. “And it takes a little getting used to.” The expression on Shadow’s face showed that this wasn’t the response he’d hoped for. Gruebel tried a different tack. “Hey, at least I got somebody to show me around.”

Shadow grinned at this. “Yeah you're not half bad either.”

The two fell into a discussion about flight, the one subject that most easily connected them, and the conversation rapidly became a one-up contest about who had flown through the worst weather. Gruebel was motioning with both hands and describing the storm the human pilots had encountered just before arriving...well, wherever here was, when they heard Rarity's hooves descending the stairs.

“Ok,” Rarity said, levitating a few items. “I have a couple of plain shirts and a couple of shorts. And now for your jumpsuit.”

Rarity’s horn glowed once again, and with a bright flash, Gruebel’s jumpsuit was completely clean.

Gruebel tugged and pulled it; the jumpsuit was as clean as if it had been just been pressed, but without the harsh feeling the starching always gave it from the base laundry. “You know what? I’ve seen enough strange things today to last a lifetime, I won’t question this.” He fumbled around his pockets moment in reflex, then looked at Rarity, his face turning red. “Uh, I don’t have any money...do you even use money?”

“Oh it’s on me darling, I always love to design something new!” Rarity said. “Just remember to tell everyone where you got your fabulous...plain...well, at least be sure to give me a reference, hmmm?”

“Well ok, thanks.”

“Goodbye, darling.” The unicorn had already turned away and was fussing over a half-finished dress, the measuring tape, a pair of scissors and several gems coming over to hover about her in a glowing cloud. “Oh my, this won’t do at all...”

Grubel crouched down once more as he and Shadow walked outside into the sunny afternoon. "I take it back. If that's what a clothing store is like around here, I don't even want to know what a nightclub looks like."

Shadow snorted and laughed. "Your loss."

Midnight Arrow glanced over the form of the tall human that stood beside her, then cast a wistful glance back at the closed door of the library. She couldn’t help but wish that Fluttershy was here with them; the yellow pegasus seemed to have a depth of understanding that brought out the best in a pony, and if ever Midnight needed help understanding someone, now was the time.

Get a grip on yourself, girl. Are you going to go running to her every time you have a problem that needs solving?

She took a deep breath, and turned back to the human. "So, um, you said you were hungry?"

Taylor, who had been bemusedly looking over the upper floors of Twilight’s library, started. "Oh, yeah, definitely." He glanced around, frowning. "You have a café or something around here? I mean, what do horses, ponies, whatever you are, do for lunch?"

"Usually, we go to a café, or something," Midnight replied dryly. "Unless you’d prefer to go out in a nearby field and just chow down on some grass?"

Taylor blinked. "That wasn’t my first choice, no."

"Mine, either. I’ve done it before, on exercises, but I’d prefer a hay sandwich any day of the week." Midnight was surprised at how smooth and normal her voice sounded, and she reminded herself that the tall fellow in front of her was completely out of his own element and likely more nervous than she was by far. "Sound good to you?"

"A sandwich sounds great. Just maybe not hay."

"Suit yourself." If he wanted to eat a dandelion club sandwich instead and get indigestion, that was his business. Midnight turned and began to walk slowly down the street; she glanced down idly as if looking at an interesting insect on the path, and noted that Taylor was obligingly following along. Good. "So…if we’re going to have lunch together, would you mind a proper introduction? Between the name-calling, cursing, angst and general mayhem since we met, I haven’t figured out what to call any of you."

She was inwardly pleased to see him blush slightly; her instinct had been correct. This had been the one who had spoken to Fluttershy on the way back from that first disastrous meeting, and if anything, he seemed to have a well-developed sense of propriety.

"Yeah, um…sorry about the language." He shrugged. "We get a bit salty sometimes when we’re under pressure. It’s kind of an occupational hazard of being in the Navy, I guess."

"Ah, you’re in a naval militia, then? I’ve heard of them, but never met anypony who belonged to one before."

"Um, no. The United States Navy. We have thousands of ships and hundreds of thousands of sailors." Taylor’s professional pride was showing. "It’s a little bit more than a militia, ma’am."

"Fascinating," Midnight said. "And when they ask you to sail to this place or that, do they call you anything other than ‘Hey, You?’"

He laughed, the sound light and pleasant, causing several heads to turn and look at them curiously. "I’ve definitely been called worse things. My apologies." He stopped and came to attention. "Lieutenant Charles Taylor, United States Navy Reserve."

Midnight nodded professionally. "Always pleased to meet a fellow officer, sir. I am Sub-lieutenant Midnight Arrow, Cloud Section Leader, Second Company of the Canterlot Royal Guard, at your service."

Taylor’s eyebrows arched. "Damn, that’s a helluva mouthful. Royal Guard? I don’t feel as bad now, at least we got captured by somebody important."

"We do what we can," Midnight replied modestly. "For brevity’s sake, please call me Midnight. Or Sub-Lieutenant, if you want to stand on formality."

"I don’t think rank protocol is going to be a picky issue right now," Taylor said, an odd smile on his face. "Midnight it is, then. Call me Taylor; Charles is my given name, but I’m used to being Taylor." The crooked smile vanished, and his expression turned abruptly stricken.

"What’s wrong?"

"Just thinking about the rest of my squadron back home. They probably wonder where the hell I am. Shit, I wonder where the hell I am. What am I doing here?"

"Language, Lieutenant." Midnight nodded at a couple of fillies who were peeking out at them from behind a large fountain in the town square ahead. "Mind the children." The human immediately clapped a hand to his mouth and turned bright red, and Midnight couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his distress.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"No harm done, I believe." Midnight motioned with a foreleg and they began moving slowly forward, into the press, hustle and bustle that was Ponyville during a business day. "Why and how you’re here, I can’t tell you, Mr. Taylor. However, what you’re doing here is simple. You’re going to have lunch with a lady who’s about ready to eat the flowers off of a cheap, two-bit hat if she doesn’t get a sandwich in her soon."

Taylor, who had been gawping at a nearby fruit stand, came to a stop again, clapping a hand to one leg. "Sh…uh, I mean, shoot. I don’t have anything to pay with, Midnight."

She feigned shock. "Take a lady out to eat and then stiff her with the bill? What kind of officer and gentlecolt are you, Taylor?"

"No, no, it’s not that, I swear! We don’t fly with any mo…" He broke off. "Officer and what?"

"I’m just twisting your tail, Taylor. So to speak." Midnight giggled and shook herself slightly, the small saddlepack she wore emitting a soft jingling noise. "I don’t carry a pile of money around on operations either, but I do have enough to buy lunch for myself and a guest."

Taylor raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, your treat." He shook his head. "Thank God I’m not one of your troops. You fight dirty, lady."

"And I rarely lose," she replied agreeably. "Ah, that looks like a good spot." Midnight changed direction and angled toward a small outdoor restaurant off to one side of the main square. Taylor followed close behind her, casting nervous glances about him at the ponies on every side: ponies arguing over prices, hawking wares such as clothing, food, ornaments, and every other thing you could think of…it looked practically like a small town back home on a Saturday, except for the bewildering multicolored hues of talking ponies. The crowd around him peered back at him with just as much interest, and he overheard several remarks about his height, his clothes, his strange accent. News from Captain Sword had gotten around fast, however, and he was never confronted directly. Staring was apparently in open season, though, and he felt his ears burn.

He came to a halt, staring open-mouthed at a newspaper stand. There seemed to be a variety of publications on display, and his eyes moved over the headline of what appeared to be a popular tabloid titled "Cantertainment Weekly."

Octavia! Is she a tortured soul who pours out her immortal longings into dignified passages of stately music, or is she just a silly poof who writes tunes? Answers INSIDE!

A picture on the cover showed a pony with a forbidding expression, dark, flowing hair and wearing what appeared to be a bowtie while playing a cello. Taylor rubbed his face and turned away, breaking into a jog to catch up with Midnight Arrow.

"Here we go!" Midnight took a seat at a low table, settling herself comfortably on a clump of hay that seemed to stand in for a chair. Taylor stared for a moment, and then sat down on the matching clump across from her, wincing as he heard it crackle under his weight.

"Relax, silly, that’s what it’s there for."

"Right." After a moment or two, a buff colored pony wearing a white-collared shirt edged hesitantly over to them, placing two menus on the table. "G-Good afternoon," he managed to stammer out. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sarsaparilla, please." Midnight picked up the menu absently out of habit, fairly certain of what she wanted to eat, but checking over the specials just in case.

"And y-you, sir?"

"Just water, thanks." Taylor had never wanted a beer so badly in his life, but he felt alcohol might be a bad idea right now. A very bad idea. As the waiter moved hurriedly off, Taylor looked sharply up at Midnight. "Wait. You have soda pop?"

Midnight looked briefly up at him over the edge of her menu, her expression patient. "Yes, Lieutenant. We also invented the wheel a short while ago, as I recall."

"Okay, okay." Taylor sighed and picked up the menu. The first few entrees on the list made him freeze up again, and it was only with a heroic effort that he suppressed the first words that threatened to jump out of his mouth. Hay bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich? Dandelion Club Classic? Hay fries?? His stomach and brain both began to debate the wisdom of this venture.

The waiter returned with their drinks, then produced a pad. "Are you ready to order yet?"

"I’ll take the hay sandwich special, light on the sauce, please." Midnight closed her menu and handed it over to the waiter as he busily scribbled down her order. "How about you, Taylor?"

Taylor’s eyes frantically scanned over the offerings before him. A few seconds of silence passed, and the waiter, mistaking the lieutenant’s reticence for indecision, spoke up hesitantly. "Perhaps the—"

“Do you serve any form of meat here?” Taylor interrupted.

“You eat meat?” Midnight’s eyes were wide as saucers as she took in the new information. “Dear Celestia...”

“Don’t worry Midnight,” Taylor looked to the armoured pegasus, wary of scaring the only guard who hadn’t tried to hit him yet. “Humans are omnivores, meaning we can eat both meat and greens.”

The waiter, whose eyes matched Midnight’s in size, timidly pointed to the front of the menu before Taylor. Boldly emblazoned on the front in big letters was what appeared to be the café’s motto. This is a vegetarian restaurant — we serve no meat of any kind. We're not only proud of that, we're smug about it.

“Oh...” Taylor said as he continued looking through the menu.

Another minute passed by in silence as Taylor scanned through the menu, the two nearby ponies too afraid to ask him anything.

"Oh thank God!" Taylor shouted, causing several heads to turn. The waiter jerked back, his pad flying off the table and nearly knocking the water glass over. "I’ll have the house salad!"

"E-Excellent choice, s-s-sir," the waiter stammered. Seizing his order book from the ground, he took their menus and beat a hasty retreat toward the kitchen as Taylor grinned triumphantly at Midnight.

The sub-lieutenant arched an eyebrow at him. "Really like your greens, hmm?"

"Honey," Taylor said, "you have no idea."

As Stivers watched his comrades and their odd body guards walk off in their various directions, he gave out a long sigh.

“Well then Captain, what do we do now?” Stivers asked the still irritated Sword.

“I guess now I give you a tour of the village.” His irritation quickly became a grimace as he too let out a long sigh. “This is the town library, as well as personal abode of Miss Twilight Sparkle, prodigy of our loving and benevolent empress.”

“I can’t help but notice the sarcasm there.” Stivers stated.

“Seems your perceptive abilities don’t need any work.” Sword retorted.

“I need good eyes to be a pilot.” Stivers commented as they walked towards a house that appeared to made of candy.

“What’s a pilot?” the Captain asked.

“It’s a guy who flies planes.” Stivers replied, nonplussed.

“And those flaming metal contraptions you were camped around when we found you are ‘planes’?” Sword raised an eyebrow, as he stopped before the candied building.

“The ones that didn’t turn into scrap metal on impact, yes.” Guided tour or not, Stivers still considered himself in enemy territory, at least for the moment, and he wasn’t about to divulge any technical information if he could help it. Changing the subject, he stopped and pointed. “Please tell me this building isn’t edible.”

“No, you barbarian, it’s a bakery,” Captain Sword snapped. “Haven’t you ever heard of theming?” He caught himself and took a long, slow breath.

“So,” Stivers said in a dull monotone. “This is a themed bakery?” Sword nodded his head in affirmation. “What’s the theme?”

“Uh,” Sword looked towards the top of the building, eyeing the candy like structures. “I think it’s for—”

“Wrong!” Stivers and Sword jumped at the sudden appearance of the pink pony. “It’s theme is delicious is what it is!”

Stivers and Sword shared a glance, neither sure of what to make of the pink blur that was bouncing faster then their eyes could follow.

“Oh, you should come in I baked all kinds of delicious muffins and cupcakes and, Oh! I haven’t thrown you a welcome to Equestria party yet have I? Oh I am so sorry—”

Stivers starred in mute horror as the small pink machine spoke at a seemingly impossible rate, not once stopping to take a breath.

“—and there will flour and pin the tail on the pony and—”

Stivers leaned over to the pegasi Captain, “Is this normal behavior?” he asked in a hushed voice, so as to avoid offending the pink pony.

“No... I don’t know what this is...” Sword responded in kind. “But from what I know about the Elements of Harmony, she is the manifestation of laughter. So...”

“So... what?” Stivers concern was splayed across his face. “So what do we do?”

“We take it like stallions, and hope for the best.” Sword stated plainly.

“You’re not being very encouraging, here.” Stivers frowned down at the pegasus. “If it’s as bad as you make it out to be, maybe we should just go somewhere else.”

“No, she outranks me, and gave a direct order.” The fear in his eyes told Stivers that he did not want to go in with her.

“—and then they put a bag on my head and threw me in the trunk of the carriage again! After a while, we got back to Ponyville and they threw me out! I mean, how rude is that?” The pink chatter box was staring at them intently, clearly expecting an answer.

“Yah,” Stivers answered, the first of the two to pick their jaws up. “How very rude of them... I can’t believe they would do that... thing.”

“Most unpleasant indeed Miss Pinkie Pie.” Sword took up the slack where Stivers had faltered.

“I totally know right?” she answered while working her hooves around the necks of both pony and human and dragging them into Sugar Cube Corner.

“Stivers,” Captain Sword looked at the human squarely. “Brace yourself.”

“For what?”

“Anything, Captain. Anything at all.” Sword took a deep breath.

“Roger. You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.” Stivers was vaguely aware of being dragged into the kitchen of the establishment, but he was too busy trying to fight his way out of the pink ponies impossibly strong grasp. “We… we have a term for this where I come from.”

“What’s that, Captain?”

“We’re here!” the pink pony had interrupted, dropping both of them in the pitch black area surrounding them. As Pinkie fled into the darkness, the sound of knives being sharpened was all that was heard throughout the dark.

Stivers spoke into the blackness. “It’s FUBAR.”

Chapter 7: Beyond the Rabbit Hole

The sudden appearance of a bright light and hundreds of hues of colours made Stivers jump for cover behind a nearby table.

“Surprise!” the colors yelled. The other side of the room was filled with a bewildering array of ponies of all shapes, sizes and coloration. Some had unicorn horns, a few had wings, and all of them were currently heading toward a long table filled with food.

Looking from behind his cover, Stivers noticed that Taylor, Gallivan, and Gruebel were all present, the latter of which looked just as concerned and surprised as himself.

“What just happened?” Gruebel shouted as Stivers noticed he was in no real danger.

“Well silly,” Pinkie said as she started cutting a nearby cake into slices. “Since you said you wouldn’t make it here on time, I brought you and that silly filly Shadow here!”

Gruebel looked to his travel companion who had passed out on the floor. “I’m almost afraid to ask this, but how?”

The large mass of ponies seemed to be mingling now, the major surprise portion done, so Stivers made his way over to the punch bowl. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, it’s better not to ask, Gruebel.” He picked up a plastic cup, started to ask how a pony was going to hold it, and quickly followed his own advice. “Grab some snacks, we’ve earned them, I think.”

Stivers looked around at the other ponies, all holding various cups, filled with various drinks. The pink pony however, had a red bottle. Beside her was Gallivan, who was getting her to pour a generous helping into a cup similar to his own.

Filling his own cup with a red liquid, he saw the label on the bottle that the pink pony was pouring. He couldn’t read the writing, but he could definitely see the universal skull and crossbones of a toxic substance.

Dropping his cup, Stivers ran to intercept Gallivan before the substance could hit his lips, but stumbled over the assorted mass of ponies. “No!” he yelled, causing everyone in the room to look at his horror stricken eyes.

As Gallivan put the cup to his lips, the viscous liquid ran into his mouth. After one swallow, he coughed, and Stivers yelled again. Most of the party had stopped at this point, all to stare at the horror struck Captain, while Golden Sword moved to check on him.

“That has quite the kick, Pinkie.” Gallivan said, exhaling a large breath of air. “What’s in that?”

“Ghost chilies!” the earth pony screamed with delight.

Ghost chilies? Stivers thought. “Are you drinking hot sauce?” he yelled.

“No silly! It’s whiskey.” She stated with glee.

“Whiskey?” Stivers deadpanned. “Whiskey? Seriously? You put hot peppers in whiskey?” he stated in disbelief.

“You don’t?” she asked, just as incredulous.

“Who in their right mind puts—” The entire party ground to a halt once more as a brilliant flash lit the room. Blinking rapidly as his vision cleared, Stivers was able to make out Twilight Sparkle’s form. “Christ, don’t you ever use the door?”

“I was in a hurry,” she snapped. The horn on her brow glowed a soft shade of lavender, and a rolled-up scroll lifted out of the saddlepack she had slung over her shoulders. “I figured you might want to see this, since it’s practically addressed to you, anyway.”

Gallivan eyed the floating message sourly. “Lemme guess. Another joy-filled note from the Glorious Leader?”

“You got it,” Twilight grated. “Looks like I’m the new mailpony now.” She glanced over at a smoke-grey mare with a blonde mane who had frozen in apparent shock at the punchbowl. “Just a joke, I’m not serious.”

Stivers followed her gaze and did a double-take at the grey mare who smiled and went on helping herself to a glass of punch. Her eyes were focussed in two separate directions, neither of which was on the glass she was filling, but she pulled off the operation without spilling a drop and headed off toward a plate overflowing with muffins. The glowing scroll interposed itself in front of him, cutting the sight short, and he reached up and plucked it out of the air. The other pilots began to drift over towards him as he unrolled it, stopping short at the salutation. “Hey, you sure this is the right letter? It’s got your name on it.”

“Go ahead,” Twilight said. “I’ve already read it. Like I said, it’s mostly for you, anyway.”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and began to read out loud. “‘Dear Twilight. I am happy to announce that I have found what I was looking for. Or at least, something that will serve. It will involve some preparation on the part of our guests, both mentally and physically, but I will not bore you with the details right now.’

“‘I hope all is well and that our guests have learned something of the magic of friendship in my absence. Tell Captain Stivers and Captain Sword that neither of them is as much of a...’” He paused, frowning. “I have no idea what this word is.”

Twilight managed a small, quirky smile. “It’s an archaic word in Traditional Canterlot. It’s a polite way of saying ‘jerk.’”

Stivers reddened, and Golden Sword nearly choked on his punch. “Um. Okay. ‘not as much of a jerk as either of them thinks the other is, and they will need each other’s help in the time to come.’” The Marine frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Taylor leaned over, trying to peek at the letter. “Is that it?”

“No... ‘I am sending chariots for the humans to return to the castle. Once they and their escort arrive, all will be made as clear as possible. Until then, I remain gratefully yours, the Princess Celestia.’” Stivers paused a moment, glancing up from the parchment in his hands to Twilight Sparkle.

Gallivan snorted and took another shot of fiery liquor. “Hell,” he wheezed, handing the glass back to Pinkie Pie, “that made two things perfectly clear. Jack, and shit.”

Still eyeing Twilight, Stivers continued in a quieter tone. “‘P.S. I am aware that you may be disappointed that I have excluded you from my research. However, know that I do nothing without a reason, and the less you are involved in this matter, the better. I can only ask you trust me in this. You are, as always, my most beloved and faithful student. C.’”

Twilight snorted and stomped a rear hoof. “Right. Sure I am.”

Stivers rolled up the parchment carefully, then knelt down and tucked it back into the saddlepack on Twilight’s shoulders. “Sounds to me like you two have a history together.”

“Had, up until you showed up.” The unicorn scrubbed at her face angrily with a foreleg. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked, all my life, at being the best at what I do? And now I’m kicked to the side like I’m a novice who’s still working on basic spellcraft and research!”

It was Golden Sword who broke in abruptly. “Sometimes, when a captain has an excellent officer, he will assign that officer to a duty which will keep him or her out of the way.” The stallion’s armor gleamed as he rubbed over a small dent in the foreplates, studiously avoiding eye contact with anypony. “Especially when the duty promises to be extremely hazardous.”

“I’ve risked my life before to save Equestria,” Twilight said proudly. “More than once. I’m no coward, Captain.”

“Nobody said you were, little miss,” Gallivan broke in. His eyes were watery from the booze, but his voice was steady. “Have a little grace and accept the favor she’s doin’ you. Bein’ in a safe place when the shit hits the fan ain’t a bad idea.” His gaze was fixed on the far wall, on something that only he could see.

“A little inelegant, but accurate.” Sword glanced around, noting that more than a few curious looks were directed their way. “Perhaps we should continue this debate later. We’re attracting a bit of attention here, and you... fellows... do tend to stand out in a crowd.”

“So, does it say when to expect the chariots?” Gallivan asked.

“Well, where’s this Canterlot playsh?” Gruebel slurred. “Wow, thish shtuff ish shtrong.”

“Gruebel...” Gallivan began, “You’ve had like, half a glass of that stuff... And I know you aren’t a lightweight...”

“Well,” Twilight interrupted, “Canterlot is about thirty leagues away, so... an hour?”

“An hour?” Stivers said, face contorted in disbelief. “Do you know how long a league is?”

The unicorn blinked, nonplussed. “Um… a league?”

“No! I mean… crap.” Stivers face scrunched up even further. “Something like three miles. Even the horses where I come from can’t go even half that fast at a full gallop, and not for an hour straight!”

Twilight shook her head, a wry grin finally appearing on her face. “Come on, Captain. Even you know how to fly. The chariots will be drawn by pegasi, and they’ve made the trip before many times.”

Gruebel brightened at this. “This I have to see. You should’a seen the loops Shadow was doin’ earlier. That sucker can fly like nobody’s business.”

Gallivan coughed on his drink. “Um, I’d just as soon skip that demonstration if I’m riding in back of him with no parachute.”

“Really?” Shadow asked, a look of insult spread across his face. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not really. I mean, how many times have you tried to punch me?” Gallivan retorted.

“Whatever.” Shadow said dejectedly. “It won’t even be us pulling the things, so you’re safe.”

“Still not much of a relief—” Gallivan was interrupted as one of the nurses they had seen in the library earlier emerged from a crowd of ponies and walked up to Stivers. Besides the nurse’s cap on her brow, the large red cross on her otherwise white flank was a dead giveaway to her occupation.

“Excuse me… um, Captain?”

Stivers nodded. “Yes?”

“I’m Redheart sir, with Ponyville General. It’s about the other… well, whatever you are. Your friend, the one we admitted earlier today for treatment of his burns? His condition is… well, it’d be better if you came and looked yourself, sir.”

Almost in one motion, each of the humans put down whatever drink or plate they had been holding. “Take us there,” Taylor said in a clipped voice.

Golden Sword stood up immediately and motioned to his guards. “You’re not going alone.”

Stivers shot the captain a warning look. “I don’t care if you have orders from God, you’d better stay out of my way, buddy.”

“I have no intention of stopping you, nor would I try.” Sword met the human’s gaze, and for once there was absolutely no scorn in his voice. “I’d need to verify his condition in any case, and if things are going badly, well...” He shrugged. “A soldier is a soldier. We’re not barbarians, Captain, whatever you think of us.”

As the peculiar group of companions set out with Nurse Redheart towards the hospital, Stivers spied the mint-green unicorn they had seen earlier in the day watching them from a nearby hay bale.

“Who is that unicorn that keeps following us?” Stivers asked, nonchalantly pointing a thumb in her direction.

“I don’t know; I’m not familiar with the locals, I’m afraid.” Midnight answered. “She does seem taken with you, doesn’t she?”

“Well that’s just great...” Stivers said with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s just ignore her then.”

“That’s rather rude, Captain.” Midnight said, a frown on her face, as the company continued towards the large alabaster medical building, now visible in the distance.

After another minute of quietly walking, Star broke the silence. “So..” he ventured hesitantly. Gruebel, Midnight, and Taylor all looked at him with interest. “How about that weather?”

Gruebel and Taylor face-palmed, while Midnight just sighed. “Really man?” Stivers said, overhearing his question. “It was the terrible weather that brought us here.”

“Oh yeah...” Star’s ears drooped. “I guess that was just really bad timing...”

“You think?” Stivers said, one eyebrow cocked. “Whatever, we’re almost there.”

The remainder of the walk continued in silence as they reached the hospital doors. The entrance was surprisingly oversized for ponies, and the pilots barely had to duck their heads when entering. The lobby was equally spacious, and Stivers stretched self-consciously, glad of the change. After Golden Sword held the door open for the small flock, their attending nurse trotted up to the receptionist desk.

“We’re here for... him,” Redheart whispered.

The duty nurse behind the desk nodded sagely, turning to the attending humans. “Please come with me. Captain, leave your men here.”

Stivers looked to Golden Sword, who shrugged. “Um, Nurse? There’s two of us.” Stivers said sheepishly. “Perhaps you could specify?”

The nurse stopped, eyes wide in shock. “Oh, my apologies, sir. I meant for Captain Sword to leave his men. It isn’t good to crowd patients.”

Sword scowled at having to go alone with the humans, but didn't voice a complaint as Redheart took up the duty nurse’s station. Without bothering to introduce herself, the other nurse simply said, “This way,” and led them off to the wing on the right side of the lobby.

“Well Cap, how do you think he’s doing?” Gruebel asked, pointedly avoiding asking the nurse herself.

“Well, Gruebel, we’ll see when we get there won’t we?” Stivers replied, face locked forward.

As they walked down the pristine white corridors of the hospital, Stivers noticed Gallivan shivering out of the corner of his eye. Moving closer to the marine, Stivers gave Gallivan a concerned gaze. “You okay, Sergeant?” he whispered.

“Yah.” Gallivan replied, far too quickly. “Fine. Let’s just hurry up. I hate hospitals.”

“So Nurse...” Stivers grasped for a name.

“Tenderheart,” she offered.

“That’s... fitting.” Taylor muttered, and received an elbow from Gruebel. He shot the private a glare, but the young Marine seemed suddenly interested in the lighting fixtures overhead. “All right, Nurse Tenderheart, how far are we going?”

The nurse stopped, and turned to face the entourage she had built. “Right here.” she stated simply, opening the door.

The room they entered was just as sterile as the rest, but there was a large bay window dominating one of the walls, with a bed positioned so the occupant could look out across the rolling countryside.

Stivers moved to the bed, astonishment gracing his face. He hadn’t expected Thompson to be anywhere near a level of consciousness where he would be looking out a window. Turning to face the occupant of the bed, Stivers immediately jumped back, letting out a startled cry as he found an aged pony, instead of his flight mate.

Rushing to see what was the matter, Taylor and the other Marines moved to inspect the area. “What is it, sir?” Gallivan asked.

Looking at the shocked expressions of the humans who had failed to notice the second bed in the corner, the nurse moved to alleviate the fears of the pilots. “Sirs, this stallion could really use his rest—” She stopped as she observed the pony in the bed. His head was far more blue then his yellow coat should allow, with a long piece of medical tubing wrapped around his neck. “Celestia help us...” she whispered.

Golden Sword, who had followed the nurse, started scanning the room for the murderer. “In the corner,” he stated. “Everypony stay back.” He turned to regard a dark blob behind the second bed. The pilots all crowded behind the defensive guardspony, ready to watch his back. “Come out of the shadows, you coward!” Sword commanded.

Reluctantly, the shadow moved out from its hiding spot, revealing a very confused looking human in a hospital gown much too small for his frame. “Guys?” he asked tentatively.

“Thompson?” the remnants of Flight 19 responded in unison, shock evident in every set of eyes. The crewman had been burned almost beyond recognition the last time they had seen him. Now, except for a few reddened places on his face and neck, he was almost pristine.

Captain Sword dropped his guard slightly, but not enough to be considered helpless by any means. “Who did this?” he asked. “Did you see anything?”

“Cap, where are we, and what is this?” Thompson asked, visibly shaking with fear.

“It’s okay Marine.” Stivers soothed, “We’ll answer your questions in a minute, just tell us what happened here.”

“He was threatening me Cap. I didn’t know what to do.” Thompson said, his eyes welling with tears. “I woke up here, and there was a talking horse! Who threatened me, Cap! Please tell me we died.” he finished solemnly.

“No son. We’re not dead. Just… somewhere else,” Stivers said. “Now tell us, did you kill this... pony?” he asked.

“Yes sir. He was threatening me, sir, I didn’t know what else to do.” Stivers could see the resolve of his fellow Marine breaking, second by second.

“You are under arrest for the murder of...” Captain Sword frowned as he realized he didn’t know the name. He glanced quickly at the clipboard fastened to the foot of the other hospital bed. “How do you pronounce that, Nurse?” his befuddlement clear on his face.

“Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern-schplenden—”

“You are not arresting him, Captain. Not for defending himself,” Stivers said, backing towards Thompson. Taylor, Gallivan, and Gruebel all quickly followed suit.

“-apple-banger-horowitz-ticolensic—” the nurse continued, heedless of the fact that no one was listening to her.

“Midnight!” Sword called out, never removing his gaze from the humans before him. “He will be tried in a court of law for his actions.” He growled as he stooped to a more aggressive stance.

“-bahnwagen-gutenabend-bitte-eine—” the nurse droned on, oblivious.

Midnight burst through the doors, followed by the three other Canterlot guards. “What is it Capta—” She paused as she noticed the hostile posture everyone had adopted, as well as the fifth human. “Captain?” she asked, worry creeping into her voice.

“The fifth human killed somepony, and the others refuse to let us bring him to justice.” he monotonically stated to his subordinate.

“-gumberaber-shönendanker-kalbsfleisch—”

“Close order corral. Now,” Midnight snapped. Instantly the other guard ponies spread out behind her, blocking the exit and forming an arc around the humans.

Thinking quickly, Stivers asked the only question he could think of that would buy more time. “Is the Princess the leader of your judicial branch?”

Sword only looked at the other Captain with apprehension for a moment. “Yes...” he responded slowly.

“We are going to her today. We can settle this matter with her then.” He glared at Sword, daring the Captain to challenge himself.

“von Hautkopft... of Ulm.” The nurse finished. “That is his—” she stopped as she noticed the other guards in the room. “Captain Sword.” She berated. “What did I tell you about having too many ponies in this room?” Her scorn was almost palpable.

“I am a Captain of—” Sword started to shout, before the nurse put a hoof to his face.

“I don’t care if you are Princess Celestia herself.” she said, her voice cold enough to freeze water. “While you are in my hospital, you will follow my rules.” she hissed, staring the Captain right in the eyes.

“Uhh... Right. We were just leaving for Canterlot anyway,” the now confused guard said, trying to save face. “Come on,” The Captain said to his team and the humans. “The chariot will be here any minute.”

“Now if you will excuse me, you have created quite a bit of work for me in here.” The mare stated angrily, removing the coil from around the limp pony’s throat.

As Stivers turned to follow the Captain, quietly amazed that his stalling tactic had actually worked, a sharp intake of breath made him flinch.

“Celestia be praised!” the nurse yelled. “He’s alive! Johann Gambolputty de von Ausfern -schplenden—”

Stivers looked in the direction of the opposing Captain. “Well, I guess he didn’t kill him then, did he?”

Sword deadpanned. “I guess he didn’t, no.”

Thompson’s voice rose up, quavering, from behind everyone. “Can I please trade this kiddy apron in for some pants? I’m freezing over here.”

After twenty minutes of finding Thompson’s pants, and explaining the situation they were currently in, the chariot finally arrived. It was a massive version of the standard ceremonial chariot the Princesses normally utilized, created for large groups, although the designers had never dreamed of the particular grouping of passengers about to embark on it now. Boarding the flimsy wooden craft, Thompson offered his opinion on why it was a bad idea to board an aircraft with no wings, powered by ponies who had the wings instead and who also had a grudge against humans, and who, incidentally, could easily drop them from the sky.

Taylor, for his part, just laughed at the notion of the ponies ever doing something like that, noting as how he had witnessed one cry over a wounded bear; in response, Midnight smacked him with a hoof.

“Ouch,” he muttered, rubbing his leg. “You wouldn’t drop me, would you, Midnight?”

“Like a rock,” she shot back. “Unless you behave yourself.” She gave him a level stare. “You are going to behave yourself on this trip, aren’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.” he replied warily.

“Good boy,” she responded with a sweet smile. “I think there’s hope for you yet.”

Glancing over at the sparring Lieutenants, Stivers noticed the smiles on their faces. “What are you two smirking at?” he asked candidly.

“Nothing Stivers.” Taylor responded instantly.

“You know, Taylor, I do outrank you.” Stivers stated.

“Only on the ground, Cap’n Bossman.” Taylor pointed out, with a cheeky grin.

Stivers rolled his eyes at the Lieutenant. “We are still on the ground, so get in that flying contraption now.”

Sighing, Taylor complied, while Midnight chuckled. “My, he has you well trained, doesn’t he?”

Taylor shot her a surprisingly wounded look. “He knows what he’s doing. I just...” His voice dropped low, barely audible. “I’m feeling a bit useless. We’re both technically the same rank, but I haven’t had much to say about what we’re doing lately.”

Midnight blinked, the confusion evident in her expression. “Wait. He’s a Captain, and you’re a Lieutenant, correct?”

“Yeah, but different branches, Midnight. I’m navy, remember?”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that. I didn’t know it was so different where you come from.” She looked over the chariot for a moment with a practiced eye, doing her own version of a preflight check. “So he’s from the ground troops then, am I right?”

“A naval variant, but yeah, it’s pretty much the same thing.” Taylor glanced at the chariot uneasily, the wooden frame giving out a squeak as he settled his weight into the main compartment. “They’re called Marines. Usually assault troops, but Stivers and many others learned how to fly in order to help their troops out when we’re unavailable.”

“Learning how to fly is never a bad thing,” Midnight said, her own wings giving a little flicker before settling back. “And it’s good to learn new things.” She craned her head down, peering close at one of the chariot’s wheel hubs. “Maybe you could learn a few things from him.”

“Thanks,” Taylor said in a flat tone. “I didn’t feel inadequate enough before.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Midnight looked up at him. “He learned skills you already had… maybe you could do the same.” She shrugged. “For example, I’ve already learned that your people can fly without your own wings, that you have horrible taste in dining on occasion, and that in general, you’re not as bad as some of the old legends might have us think.”

Taylor leaned back against the side of the vehicle, and then straightened up again when it groaned alarmingly. “Uh... thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, you big sod.” She clipped him playfully with a forehoof, not quite as heavily as before. “Now stop moping about and get ready—”

The Captains both turned to their respective lieutenants, anger showing on both their faces. “Shut up and sit down!” they shouted in unison, causing Taylor and Midnight to shrink back, then rush into their positions in the chariot.

Thompson looked over the side of the chariot as the six stallions who were to be their pilots started to accelerate. “Cap, this don’t seem safe to me.” he looked to Stivers pleadingly, almost asking to be let out.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s safe or not Thompson. They...” Stivers let himself trail off, looking off into the distance. “They hold all the cards.” he whispered, frowning.

As the chariot started to leave the ground, all five pilots started to get fidgety. Not only were they in an aircraft they weren’t in charge of, but if they looked closely, they could see through the floorboards. After discovering this, Gruebel advised everyone to not look down.

As the chariot got higher into the air, and started moving faster, the pilots all noticed something; there was no windblast. Deciding to test the theory, Taylor licked a finger and raised it into the air.

“Midnight,” the pilot asked, “where’s the wind?”

“Hmm?” the sub-lieutenant said absently, eyes fixed on the ground below. “Oh, pegasus magic.”

“I thought only unicorns could do magic...” Taylor mumbled.

“Very sharp,” she said approvingly. “See, you’re learning already. The unicorns are the only ones who can actively do magic. Everypony has their own bit of magic though. Among other things, pegasi can eliminate wind resistance, at least at moderate speeds like this,” she responded.

“That makes no sense, Midnight.” Taylor objected, shaking his head and moving to look over the side banister.

“Careful Taylor!” Thompson yelled. “This thing ain’t got a seat belt!”

“So he just won’t fall out then.” Gallivan stated. “How did you get fixed up so fast anyway Thompson?” he asked.

“Get fixed up? What happened to me?” Thompson asked, incredulous.

“Listen, mac,” Taylor looked back, intrigued by the conversation. “You should be fucking dead! You were literally covered from head to toe in third degree burns. And that was yesterday!” Taylor was waving his hands wildly, much to Gallivan’s dismay, to emphasize his point.

“Shit.” Thompson said, face blank of emotion. He looked towards the ponies who acted as their escorts. “So... I should be dead, and we were transported to a magical land of talking ponies?”

“Not this again...” Midnight mumbled.

“Yes, you were all transported here, now can we please all shut up and enjoy the ride?” Crimson Hoof asked with a grimace.

And shut up they did. Stivers shuffled to the side of their carriage, looking over the rails. Time seemed to fly at speeds faster than Stivers imagined possible as he watched the rolling plains and the squares of farmland roll by.

Looking over to Taylor, he shared a knowing glance. “Reminds me of home.” Taylor observed to Stivers before looking over the edge again. “I miss it there already...”

The chariot touched down with a gentle bump in an open courtyard, high castle walls looming on three sides with a granite rock face dominating the fourth. A small contingent of Royal Guard stood off to one side, apparently awaiting their arrival. As the mixed species group left the confines of the chariot, their escorts immediately stopped and stood at attention.

“Sir,” Captain Sword said. “Delta Wing reporting as ordered.”

A pony clad in purple armour with a golden trim stepped forward. “Good. The Princess is expecting you and your guests,” he stated with venom. “Let’s go.”

“Yes Sir.” Sword said, moving his head as an indicator for the humans to follow.

Stivers, moved into marching position next to Sword, leaning over to him conspiratorially. “Who is this guy?” he whispered.

Leaning towards the quizzical human, Sword whispered back to him, keeping his voice low enough to not be heard. “That’s Field Marshal Shining Armour, Captain of the Royal Guard of Canterlot.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Stivers stated noncommittally.

“Quiet back there. I would expect this from a human, but not from one of my men, Captain.” General Armour stated, disdain flooding his voice.

As the rag-tag group made their way towards wherever the princess was waiting for them, Stivers took in the imagery around him. The conical towers of the castle were placed in almost random patterns, and were several stories higher than should have been structurally safe. The gardens in almost every area of the courtyard were immaculately tended to, fielding a wide assortment of various pastel flowers. And most importantly, on every blank space of castle wall, was an obvious symbol of heraldry, promoting the two Princesses, circling around the sun and moon.

I wonder what it means... Stivers thought to himself as they were led inside a wide corridor.

The inside walls were decorated with all sorts of paintings, ranging from landscapes to portraits, and where there was nothing actively covering the walls, there was a statue, or a flower pot. The winding hallways all looked alike to the Marine Captain, but eventually the company came to a halt outside a very large set of wooden doors.

The doors themselves were more beautifully crafted than some of the artwork. One door, was painted in very bright yellows, and somber oranges, depicting scenes of a white alicorn through, what Stivers assumed to be, history. The other door was painted in somber blues and cool greens. This door however, differentiated from the other in the fact the midnight blue alicorn turned black, the door was void of more history.

Moving up to the finely carved doors, General Armour placed a hoof on the door, took a deep breath, and knocked authoritatively three times. The door opened to reveal a scrawny pont wearing a severe black butler’s suit. Upon seeing the Captain of the Guard, he turned and announced that they had arrived.

The inside of the large room was incredibly spacious and was probably only held up by the eight massive pillars that lined a long red carpet that led directly to two thrones. The ambient light in the room was coloured in a rainbow hue due to the massive stained glass windows that lined the walls, depicting yet more historic events. The whole thing reminded Stivers of the churches back home.

The center of the room was dominated by a twin set of thrones, one gold, one silver. In each sat one of the royal alicorn sisters. Celestia, who looked pensive, motioned for the newly arrived group to come forward.

The guards, who were well versed in the royal protocol, moved forward and bowed, keeping their chins on the ground. The humans however, who had never known royalty outside of the British Monarchy, attempted to mimic what the ponies did, failing miserably as they more or less pussyfooted their way to the thrones, trying not to look like idiots. As Stivers approached the dais, he dropped to a knee and brought forward his center of mass, as he had read the Knights Templar did a long time ago.

Looking to his left, Taylor was just lowering his head in what Stivers hoped was respect, and Thompson was just standing there, eyes wide, looking like a deer caught in some headlights. To his right, Gallivan and Gruebel were doing much the same as Taylor.

“Rise, my little ponies,” Celestia said calmly. “And you as well my little—” Luna burst out laughing.

“Seriously Tia, Look at them! You totally owe me twenty bits.” Luna said between chuckles, receiving an angry glare from her sister.

“Luna.” Celestia said. “We already talked about this.”

“And you said they would all be stone cold and not do anything.” Luna retorted. “And then they go and do this?” she said, starting to laugh again as she waved a hoof lazily towards the humans.

Rolling her eyes, Celestia continued. “Rise, humans. We have found out how to get you on your way home.” she said.

“Permission to speak, your highness.” Captain Sword said, looking up to his beloved Princess.

“All are free to speak in this chamber, Golden Sword.” Celestia said.

“The new human almost killed a hospitalized pony.” Sword said, “His name was Johann von something or other. I didn’t quite catch it all.”

Celestia’s look of benevolence faded the instant Golden Sword finished his first sentence. “He did what?”

Chapter 8: The Way Home

“This human,” Sword raised a hoof towards the newly healed Thompson, “had attempted to strangle and kill a hospitalized pony who was completely defenceless. When we arrived at the hospital and entered the room where the human was being held, we found an elderly pony with a bit of surgical tubing wrapped around his neck. We believed him to be dead until he started breathing again.”

Thompson wilted visibly as the statement progressed. The instant Golden Sword finished, Stivers jumped in. “He was being threatened, Your Majesty. He would never do something—”

Celestia interrupted him with a raised hoof, “You will speak when spoken to, Captain Stivers. We will ask Thompson what happened.” Turning to Thompson, she gave him a rather deathly glare. “And we know when somepony is lying.”

Stivers and the others turned to look at Thompson. “Go on, tell her,” the captain said. “State your case.”

“Sir? What… I mean, why...”

Gallivan elbowed him and leaned in quickly. “Howie, what part of ‘field court-martial’ are you not gettin’?” he whispered. “Tell ‘em what happened.”

Thompson turned white as a sheet at this, the red blotches on his neck and face standing out lividly. “He… uh, that is, I woke up in bed. I called out… I think. Yeah, I did,” he said, his voice becoming a bit steadier. “I remember, because I didn’t hear anything but this damned beeping noise—”

“Watch your language in the Royal Court,” Shining Armour growled.

Thompson’s mouth clapped shut with an audible snap. Stivers leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. “Keep going. Just watch the salt.”

“Yessir.” Thompson cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, I called out again, and I heard somebody tell me to ‘shut up, ponies are tryin’ to sleep.’ It didn’t make any sense, so I pulled the curtain back...” He made a sweeping motion with one arm. “Everything looked sorta normal, and I remember wondering why I was in a hospital, and why there was a television bolted to the wall, and then I saw the… guy… in the next bed.”

“Was that when he threatened you?” prompted Luna.

“Yes… yes ma’am.” Unsure of who or what exactly was standing in judgement over him, Thompson fixed his gaze between the two princesses and continued on. “He jumped up and was yelling and waving something black at me… I thought it was a gun. Said I couldn’t have it, and he’d stomp me if I tried to take it. I didn’t think, I just grabbed him, smacked it out of his hand and shoved him back on his bed.”

“I saw it,” Golden Sword broke in, his voice suddenly bleak. “It was lying in a corner when we came in. It was the TV remote, Your Highness.”

“The what?” Taylor broke in.

“Never mind,” Celestia said quickly. “It was no weapon, Mr. Thompson. Go on.”

“Well, I was just panicked, I guess. He was yelling like crazy and I was afraid he...” Thompson looked at Stivers. “I thought I was nutso, Cap. I thought he was a monster and that more monsters would come if I didn’t shut him up, so I just grabbed the IV line hanging there and tried to strangle him, you know, like they showed us at boot camp.”

“It’s a basic self-defense technique,” Stivers said to Celestia. “We teach it to all our recruits in case they’re disarmed or trying to escape capture. They’re taught to use ropes, vines, or even their bare hands, if necessary.”

“Your soldier is very lucky he didn’t learn very well,” she sighed. “This could have been a lot uglier than it is.” Celestia shook her head. “This also could have been avoided.”

“If I woke up and saw that guy next to me in the hospital,” Crimson Hoof spoke up, “I’d have freaked out too. Can’t blame the poor pony.”

“And my guy was defending himself,” Stivers shot back. “Or at least thought he was.”

“Enough, everypony.” Celestia’s tone brooked no argument. “I believe we’ve heard enough to render judgement in this case.” She looked over at Luna, and the two sisters shared a long glance while silence hung thickly in the hall.

Luna nodded and turned her gaze toward the group assembled before them. “Thou shalt hear our judgement and obey,” she said. The timbre of her voice had deepened, and the words carried clearly in the still air. “We shall weigh our judgement upon your return.”

“Our return?” Stivers asked. “I thought we were here for a meeting with you.” The confusion on his face mingled with disappointment.

“You must acquire an item for us,” Celestia intoned, all anger from the previous incident gone, “if you wish to return to your homeland.”

“Wait,” Taylor interjected. “Aren’t you some sort of immortal god-princess kind of thing?” A nod from Celestia allowed him to continue. “They why don’t you just use your hippy-dippy magic and bring it here?”

Shining Armour’s expression forced Stivers to stifle a chuckle, as the General looked on in pure horror.

“Unfortunately,” Luna said coolly, suppressing snickers of her own, “This is an artifact of great value, which our magic has little effect on.”

Taylor emitted a sheepish apology as Stivers looked quizzically towards the celestial goddesses. “So... in order for us to leave this... place,” he said, his voice dropping lower in tone as each facet was laid out, “we need to go on some quest, find some artifact, in a land we don’t know...”

“Yes.” Celestia said. “You will leave once your escorts are outfitted for the journey.”

“Escorts?” Sword asked. “Why do they need escorts?”

“The artefact is deep in the gryphon territories, they will need ponies with combat experience, and survival skill.” Celestia gestured to the ponies of the room, excluding Shining Armour, “And you five will be those escorts.”

Golden Sword’s face shifted from confusion to pure unbridled horror. “But, Your—”

“No ‘buts,’ Captain!” Celestia stated with enough force to make the humans cringe in fear. “You will be outfitted with whatever you require, and you leave tomorrow morning.” She paused, collecting herself, her features composing themselves once more. “I apologize for the brusqueness, but this is very important to me, Captain.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Sword bowed deeply, unaware of the odd looks the humans were giving him. “Weighty matters can wear down the soul.”

“And then some.” Celestia sighed, then stood quiet for a moment, the alicorn biting her lower lip without being aware of it. “Please excuse yourselves for the time being. I need to confer a bit and finalize the details of your journey. We shall speak with you again this evening.”

“By supplying ourselves when we don’t know what we need, and planning for something we have no clue about?” Taylor’s voice grated in the silence. “Easy-peasy, yeah, no prob—” The pilot grunted as Stiver’s elbow shot out and caught him in the ribs, silencing him momentarily.

Celestia’s teeth clicked together as she visibly bit back a retort. “By the time you return, I’ll have a better idea of what I can tell you, Lieutenant. Until then, you are all dismissed.” Without waiting for a reply, she punctuated her sentence by picking up the ten beings in question and levitating them out of the room, the double doors of the hall slamming shut behind them with booming sound that echoed down the corridor.

“What the fuck!” Taylor yelled.

“Jesus-Tap-Dancing-Christ, what was that all about?” Gallivan asked in a slightly calmer tone.

“Alright Fillies,” Golden Sword said as he stood and dusted himself off, clearly getting used to being forcibly thrown out of rooms by magical creatures. “You heard our benevolent goddesses.” The irony was dripping off of his scowl. “Let’s get to the armoury then.”

“And take all the expensive weapons.” Taylor intoned.

Midnight froze in mid-step and shot a look of disbelief at the tall lieutenant. “We can’t do that! They’re reserved for state functions, and besides, they’re more ornamental than practical— ”

Taylor grinned and leaned over, rapping his knuckles lightly against the shoulder plate of her armor. “Gotcha.”

“What?” Midnight looked at him uncertainly for a moment, and then the realization struck her: she was being had. “Ohhh, just you wait. I’m going to—”

“Guys, wait.” Thompson said, his voice a bit more steady now that he was not on trial for his life. “We aren’t seriously going to just take them on their word, right?”

Stivers looked towards the sergeant, motioning for him to continue.

“I mean, think about it, sir. They didn’t give two fucks about us, and the minute we started asking questions they kicked us out.” He looked towards all of his companions, human and pony. “And maybe she’s gonna send us to our deaths? Us for being... well... us, and you,” he said, pointing to the ponies, “for knowing of our existence!”

“Thompson, that’s ridiculous.” Stivers stated plainly. “There were at least thirty guards between here and the landing zone, as well as the rest of Sword’s squad.”

“I thought this was all of his men?” Thompson queried.

“Uh… oh yah, you were dead when that happened,” Taylor laughed. “There were about half a dozen other grunts with him when they picked us up. This is his core group of hardasses, apparently.”

“Then maybe they’re the ones who get the dirty job.”

“What job?”

Thompson gestured around. “Core group of loyal troops. We go out on a ‘quest’ with them, and a few days later, they come back without us. And we’re never heard from again.”

“Oh come on!” Taylor shook his head. “If they wanted to off us, they could have done that when they found us.”

“Sir,” Gallivan broke in, “he does have a point. They didn’t know who the hell we were before we met Miss Majesty in there.”

Golden Sword growled lightly at this. “Mind your tongue, there. She’s our leader and our protector, and she’s done things for this land you can’t imagine.”

“My point being,” Gallivan continued, ignoring the captain, “that they do know what we are, and this is an easy way of getting us out of sight, no muss, no fuss.”

Corporal Hoof spoke up. “Wait a minute, Sarge, that’s not what we—”

“Don’t call me that, you little shit. You were quick enough to take that dimwit pony’s side in the hospital when Thompson was trying to defend himself in there.” Gallivan’s face flushed an ugly scarlet. “At least he knows who his friends are in here.”

Everyone but Thompson looked at Gallivan in shock. The other sergeant had a mollified look on his face, content that at least somebody here was not entirely insane yet. “Gallivan, ease up,” Stivers said quietly. “He didn’t know what the heck happened in that room, and neither did we. It was an honest mistake.”

“And I still don’t think it was a mistake,” Thompson said. “Captain, we have to find some way to get the hell out of here. I think this whole ‘quest’ is just a trick.”

“Look, Thompson,” Stivers said, rolling his eyes. “We are dealing with an all-powerful government agency here. If they really wanted us gone, they could have done it in that throne room, and just cleaned it later. And for somebody looking to assassinate us, they worked pretty hard at saving your life, from the look of it.”

“Are you saying you trust them, Cap?” Thompson retorted. “Who’s side are you on, huh?”

“I am on the side of the United States of America!” Stivers shouted. “And you will not question me again, Sergeant! Understood?”

Thompson lowered his eyes, scowling. “Yes Sir.” he stated mutely.

“Well, as interesting of an exchange as that was,” Sword said, shifting on his hooves nervously. “We really should get going, lest we disturb Their Majesties, and we all get shitcanned.”

“Wow, you have been hanging around us too long,” Taylor said. “Where’d you pick that one up?”

All of the eyes in the room settled on the obviously edgy Captain, his rapid eye movements and restless pawing at the ground with one forehoof revealing his fear.

“What’s got you so worked up Captain?” Midnight asked.

“Nothing.” he replied, far too quickly. “Let’s just move along then, shall we?”

The trip to the armoury was much like that to the throne room; full of odd twists, and similar halls. As the group wandered in a seemingly random direction led by Captain Sword, Taylor whistled aimlessly and Gallivan did his best to memorize the route.

Stivers could eventually predict the reactions of all of the guard posts they encountered, as they all without question, sat and stared at the humans. The more ponies who stared at them, the more uneasy the unwavering Captain Sword became. Stivers took note of the reaction but said nothing; either the Captain was going to say what was bothering him, or not, and the Marine knew him well enough by now to know talking to him wasn’t going to push him one way or the other.

They descended a short flight of stairs and made a left turn into a well lit corridor with archways on either side. Passing by a few of them, the humans noted several racks visible with armour somewhat like what their own guards were wearing, along with a few weapons visible. “Hey, how come you don’t keep these locked up? Anybody could walk in here and just help themselves.” Gruebel stopped and pointed in demonstration.

“First of all, the armour is custom fitted for each pony.” Midnight didn’t bother to turn her head, but kept on following Sword. “Secondly, anypony who comes down this far into the castle is supposed to be here in the first place and isn’t going to steal anything.”

Gruebel blinked. “Oh,” was all he managed. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Clearly we ponies have less of a penchant for thievery than you,” she replied in a clipped tone.

It was Taylor’s turn to look nonplussed as he glanced at the Sub-lieutenant. The cold, even tone of her voice was unlike what he’d been used to hearing lately; it was almost as if they were back in the field near the Everfree Forest, facing off against each other with a bear between them. “Well, we’re not all that bad....”

“Here we are.” Golden Sword stopped at the seventh archway on their right side. “My own troops are well equipped at the moment, but there are some things in here that your pon… erm, people, may be able to use, Captain.”

“Well, let’s take a look then, huh?” Stivers kept his tone neutral; there was some undercurrent in the group that had not been present before, and it bothered him.

Inside the room, weapons of all kinds were lined up against the wall. Everything from swords to bows and all in between. Greubel however, was not impressed. “How are we supposed to use these?” he asked.

“With those fancy hands of yours?” Midnight quipped, earning a stare from her captain.

“What he means, Midnight, is that none of us have formal training in medieval weapons.” Stivers said, looking over the array of weapons.

“It's easy to use these,” Gallivan said, eyeing a gladius. “just pick it up and swing.” As he did just that, Thompson was forced to duck as the sword was flung in his direction.

“Holy fuck man!” Thompson screamed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Gallivan’s eyes were wide as saucers as he watched the sword ping off one of the other weapon racks, sending all of the weapons onto the floor with a clattering loud enough to wake the dead.

A moment of shocked silence filled the room, until Taylor’s voice broke it in a deadpan tone. “Captain Sword, there’s your evidence. We’re all deadly killers and it’s time to get rid of us.”

Crimson Hoof looked over the mess the human had made, eye twitching. “I’m not cleaning that up,” he stated evenly, looking towards Golden Sword to confirm what he said.

“Sergeant,” Stivers said, “If I ever see you holding a sword again...” He let his sentence trail off, the threat clearly implied.

Looking around the room again, Gallivan turned around and moved to a corner where he promptly sat on his hands.

Stivers stood still for a moment, looking over the various weapons on display; the steel on the swords was polished to a high gloss, and he made a mental note to have anyone taking one of the things to blacken the edges before they even walked out the door. He walked down one aisle, hands clasped behind his back, humming an aimless tune.

“What are you looking for, Captain?” Midnight walked over to pace behind him, her ears pricking up at the sound of his humming.

“Gotta find Betty in here somewhere.”

“Who?”

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “It’s a catchall term I use. You want the right tool for the job, correct?”

“Always.” she replied.

“Well, in this case, we don’t exactly know what the right job is. So I need to find something that suits my abilities best instead. That way, I can be adaptable, at least.” He continued pacing down the aisle to the end, stopping to examine a row of spears critically. “No good with those.”

Midnight cleared her throat. “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Try something with a little more range to it. I didn’t notice any of you using hand-to-hand weapons when we met you.” She went around him and cut across one aisle. “These, maybe?”

“Hell yes!” Stivers stepped forward and glanced admiringly at the row of recurve bows that hung up in one corner. “Shit, I used to use one of these when I was a kid. We’d go out hunting… well.”

Midnight quirked an eyebrow, “Well... what?” she asked innocently.

Stivers seemed to lose his voice as she looked at him curiously, but eventually managed to whisper, “Deer.”

Midnight laughed. “It’s quite all right, sir... I’m well aware you don’t exactly dine on hay and oats all the time.”

“Yeah.” he said, blushing. “Anyway, this is something I’m familiar with, at least.” He walked along the weapons for a moment, picking up one occasionally and testing the heft. “I think this might do. It’s a bit small, but it feels strong enough.” He lifted it up and pulled it back to full draw, the ends of the bow curving back alarmingly. “Nice.”

“Good pick,” Midnight said approvingly. “I may pick up a new one as well; the haft on mine is looking a bit weak lately.”

“You can use a bow?” Stivers looked at her then her hooves, one eyebrow arched. “Hell, I guess you can, otherwise they wouldn’t be in here. Just... it’s kind of weird when you don’t have fingers.” He waggled his own in demonstration.

“It’s easy.” She picked one up quickly and pulled it back to full draw in an eyeblink, her weight settling back on her haunches as she balanced. “You just pick it up, and pull back.”

Taylor’s jaw would have hit the floor at that point, were it not connected with his face. “You know what?” he said to no one in particular. “I’m not even going to ask.” He then moved over to keep Gallivan company in the corner.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Stivers stated, voice low.. “You managed to shut Taylor up. I could hug you Midnight.”

Midnight looked at the captain, blushed, and shoved the bow into her pack before retreating back to her commander.

“It was an expression, Midnight.” Stivers said quickly, trying to salvage what he could of the situation.

“No, I know, it’s not that!” Her expression was as miserable as he’d ever seen it. “I… Captain, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. It was unfair, and uncalled for.”

Stivers mulled that one over for a moment. “Fair enough. I’m sorry about Thompson… he’s really a good guy, and a hell of a Marine.” He waved a hand about aimlessly. “We’ve spent a little more time with you and I don’t think he’ll be like that once he gets to know you a little better.”

“One can hope,” she said. Her tone was a little more normal though, and she managed a small smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Not a problem.” He hefted the bow again. “Now, where can we get some ammo for these? I need a little practice.”

The group that finally emerged into the training courtyard was armed to such an eclectic degree that several of the guards stationed around the perimeter stopped to peer at them with interest, the disparity of species being only one topic of conversation.

Stivers and Midnight each sported a recurved bow, each of cunning fashion and well strung with the coloured tail hairs of the bowyer who had wrought it, lending each weapon a definite distinctive appearance. Taylor had opted for one of the bows as well, but selecting instead a smaller short-bow with less draw and easier for him to load. The two humans also sported a small but vicious looking dagger on their belts for close-in defence. Golden Sword carried his namesake strapped to one side, the polished hilt gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. Gruebel carried a short stabbing sword; although the weapon was much more humble than the one the pegasus wore, it served much the same purpose. Crimson Hoof carried one of similar design and size, but the edge was slightly curved, giving it the look of a shortened cavalry sabre.

Shining Star and Thompson each carried a spear, with the former carrying his weapon strapped crosswise over his back between his wings, and the latter using the pony-sized weapon almost like a walking-stick. Only Shadow and Gallivan were unarmed: the pony by choice, and the human by necessity; the Marine had reluctantly admitted that none of the archaic weapons felt comfortable and that he felt better off with his own two hands and whatever the situation might present. Shadow had opined that, between the two of them, they could handle whatever danger might present itself, thereby sparing the officers the possibility of chafing, blisters and self-inflicted wounds.

That comment had broken the moodiness that had surrounded Gallivan since the unpleasant scene in the throne room; he had burst out laughing and clapped the pony on the shoulder. “Be damned if you don’t even talk like a Marine.” The two now brought up the rear of the procession in companionable silence as the group made their way into the center of the courtyard.

Stivers paused in mid-stride, stopping to watch a small group of ponies engaged in what appeared to be some sort of self-defence course. The instructor was shouting in a hoarse, almost screeching voice at one of his pupils who had apparently offended him.

“Sooo, we want to learn about pointed sticks, do we? Feeling all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough, eh? Oh oh oh. Welll, let me tell you something, my lad!” The instructor closed in on the student, who, understandably to Stivers’ eye, shrank back. “When you’re walking home tonight, and some ponycidal maniac comes after you with a bunch of loganberries, don’t come crying to me!”

“What in the holy hell is he talking about?” Stivers glanced over at Golden Sword. “I took three different self-defence courses and even taught one at Parris Island one year, and I never had to show anyone how to defend against produce.”

“That’s Old Fruity,” Shadow said. “Sergeant Gorseberry Jam, really, but everyone in my class just called him Old Fruity. Best unarmed instructor you’ll ever see, and none of his students has ever let him down yet. I was the only one in my class to graduate,” he said proudly.

“Really? He’s that tough, huh?”

“Yes sir. If you don’t survive, you don’t graduate.”

All of the humans did a double-take at that. “Survive?!” Grubel’s voice shook. “Holy Christ.”

Shadow grinned. “Yeah, it’s a great motivator.”

“I’d say.” Taylor glanced at the students, feeling a sudden overwhelming sense of sympathy at their pensive expressions. “Uh, let’s try training at a less lethal level, guys, what do you say?”

“Yeah, bleeding out on the training ground isn’t going to help us out much.” Stivers glanced around. “Okay, everyone split up and find a place to work on your technique. Daylight’s wasting, and I don’t think we have a lot of time.”

“True enough,” Golden Sword said. “I would recommend leaving at first light in the morning; all of our provisions should be ready by then, and we’ll have the benefit of a good night’s sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” agreed Stivers. “Okay people, let’s move.” Stivers headed toward a row of archery targets in one corner, Taylor following him close behind. At a command from Sword, the ponies spread out as well, each group heading off to an unoccupied area to practice with their particular choice of weapon and accompanied by one of the pilots.

Golden Sword and Crimson Hoof headed over to a line of practice dummies, each shaped like a rearing creature with some sort of weapon tacked on. Gruebel followed behind, examining the targets for a moment with a critical eye. There were several pony-shaped mannequins, one that looked like an eagle with lion-like legs, and one God-awful looking shape on the end that the Marine immediately recognized. “Crap, I remember that thing from the woods.”

“Oh yes, the Manticores,” Sword said. “They’re fairly nasty creatures on average.”

“You got that right,” Crimson Hoof muttered.

Gruebel looked at the shape askance, noting the scorpion-like tail that arched over the beast’s head, as well as the outstretched paws, each with sharp hooks of metal embedded in them to simulate claws.

One fuckup with this baby, and I’ll be shedding very realistic blood. He drew his sword and examined it for a moment. “How am I supposed to get inside the reach of those claws? The arms are twice as long as my reach with this.”

Golden Sword laughed. “That’s the point of the exercise, then, isn’t it? Here, I’ll give you an assist.” The Captain moved over to behind the stuffed creature and flipped a lever. The outstretched arms dropped down. Crouching on his haunches, the pony gripped two other short handles behind the mannequin. His forelegs moved oddly, and in response, the faux manticore’s forepaws rose up to match Sword’s movements as he controlled it from behind. “Come at me, and we’ll run through some parries and ripostes. You never just charge in at the beast, you have to wait for it to make a mistake.”

Gruebel set his feet and hefted his sword, then glanced at the pony behind the target. “Wait… what if I make a mistake first?”

Golden Sword’s features assumed a predatory grin that Gruebel remembered quite well from his own instructors at boot camp. “My advice would be....don’t.”

The Marine swallowed heavily. “Aye-aye, sir,” he muttered.

The group found themselves walking back to the throne room shortly after sunset, following Captain Sword through the seemingly identical hallways yet again. Looking back on the day of training, Stivers surmised that they weren’t ready, but had very little choice in the matter. Like it or not, they were going.

Stivers had been impressed, if somewhat perplexed, by Midnight’s technique with the bow. Her form made no sense to him; her holding it in in her hooves, rearing back to fire each arrow with a smooth, methodical motion. She was also a better shot than him, which really gave him perspective on the land. They all knew how to do what they did well.

Gallivan and Shadow had spent the better part of the afternoon sparring, hand to hoof. Gallivan had shown his skill towards Shadow by beating him seventeen to sixteen. The results were not very noticeable on the pony, but the Marine sported several interesting hoof-shaped bruises here and there, and both of them were a bit slower and stiffer in their stride than when they’d gone out earlier.

Shining Star had shown Thompson the intricacies of spear fighting, which, while few in number, were surprisingly complex. The human had nearly mastered the art of thrusting the weapon forward from a set position when Star decided to test him one on one. The result was that Thompson had several minor cuts on him from when he failed to block, and a bit of grudging respect for the guard pony. They had worked on blocking after that, and Thompson had progressed enough that Star pronounced his work satisfactory, at least for a beginner.

Taylor proved to be fairly adept with his short bow. However out beyond one hundred yards, he couldn’t ‘hit the broad side of Celestia’s flank’, as Midnight put it. The Lieutenant switched his focus to speed instead, and was now reasonably quick at nocking an arrow and letting fly at the target, although Midnight put both him and Stivers to shame; her speed and accuracy simply were not imitable.

As Sword led them around a familiar corner, Stivers took note once again of the decorated frieze that paneled both sides of the immense hallway leading to the main throne room. He started to remark on the strangely blank panels showing the moon hanging in a starlit sky, then paused. “Shh… anyone else hear that?”

The group shuffled to a stop, heads tilting and ears pricking up on the ponies. Several muffled voices could be discerned through the doors ahead, rising and falling in what was clearly an argument of some sort. The voice of both princesses could be heard, sometimes overlapping one another, occasionally punctuated by an interjection of a heavier male voice.

“Oh shit,” Stivers breathed. “It’s that asshole we ran into when we first got here. Field Marshal whatsit...”

“Shining Armour,” Sword supplied. “It would appear that not everypony is in agreement about your little... trip.”

“Our trip, buddy.” Taylor looked over at the pony Captain. “You’re in this with us too, remember?”

“All too well,” Sword replied in a grating tone. “Let’s get this over with.” He moved forward, and without bothering to knock, the guardspony shoved one of the doors open with a forehoof and walked through the opening.

The heated conversation instantly stopped, and Celestia, Luna, and Shining Armour all turned to stare at the Captain in surprise. “Did our ‘guests’ rub off some of their bad habits on you, Captain?” Shining Armour’s voice was grating, the pony looking more irritated than the princesses at the interruption. “Looks like you already forgot how to knock.”

“I tend to forget such things when I hear my Princesses arguing with somepony,” Golden Sword bit off. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”

“We’re very safe, Captain, I assure you,” Celestia said in a tone more resembling her normal speaking voice. “Just talking over some... internal matters we happen to disagree with the General on.”

“‘Disagree.’ That’s rich,” Luna muttered.

“Now,” Princess Celestia interjected, “Shall we begin? Captain, you’re fairly champing at the bit, go ahead and speak your mind.”

“Your Highness,” Sword spoke to the princess, throwing protocol out the window entirely. “You never actually said where we are to go, or what we are looking for.”

“We decided to get a day of practice in while you were figuring that out,” Stivers mentioned offhandedly, earning a glare form Sword.

“Looks like we were all making good use of the day then, doesn’t it?” Celestia glanced over at her sister, who nodded. “We did talk it over, and I’m afraid there are no better candidates for escorts than you and your group. I’m afraid you’re stuck with this one, Captain.”

Golden Sword’s eye twitched.

Luna’s horn flared brightly, and a rolled-up parchment appeared in the air before her, hovering. “The item you are seeking,” she said, unrolling it to reveal a map, “is a Pentachoron. It will be—”

“What the fuck is a Pentachoron?” Taylor said, holding his head as if even the word ushered pain.

Luna stopped speaking and glared at the pilot long enough to make him wince. “We were about to speak plainly, but thou hast offended us with thy vulgar attitude.”

Celestia blinked and frowned at her sister. “Luna, I don’t think—”

“Pray keep thy mouth closed and thine ears and mind opened, Charles Taylor,” Luna continued. “Thou shalt receive this riddle. Unravel it as thou wilt.” She closed her eyes and began speaking in a low, sonorous voice. “What you seek will be found, twixt the sky and the ground on a pedestal of three, thou shalt find me. The key to my secret will come from a friend, All you desire will be found within.”

Silence descended for a moment as she finished. “Well, that was mysterious, I guess,” Crimson Hoof said.

“Terribly mysterious,” Luna corrected with a smile, her voice returning to normal. “Did you like it?”

“Sure, why not.” Taylor said. “Can we at least get a country to work off of, though?”

Celestia looked to the brash Lieutenant. “It is in a gryphon monastery, located high up in the Shadow Whisper Mountains, deep within their lands.”

Taylor looked over at Stivers, then back at the princesses. “A map would help a lot, though, you know?” He waved a hand in a wandering motion. “The whole direction thing is a bit vague.”

“Oh! Yes.” Luna’s cheeks colored slightly as her horn flared again and the map floated over to Taylor’s outstretched hand. “Make of it what you will.”

Stivers leaned over to study the parchment for a moment. “Wait… is the scale on this thing accurate?”

Luna snorted. “Of course. We drafted it ourselves.”

“Jesus Christ, we’ll spend a year or two getting to this place!” The map showed Equestria laid out clearly… in one small corner. The apparent object of their journey was marked at the extreme other end of the land mass on the map with an ubiquitous ‘X.’ “I thought you were trying to get us home in a hurry.”

“I am. I suggest you find some alternate means of transportation that’s faster,” Celestia said. “Balloons are too slow and the winds undependable beyond my borders where the pegasi hold no jurisdiction. And the trains do not run to the gryphon lands, at least not yet.” Her face twisted into a wry grimace. “We can’t seem to agree on which of us will provide the funding.” The alicorn arched an eyebrow. “And no, you may not use my chariot again. That would be cheating.”

“Cheating?” Stivers face was becoming redder by the moment. “This is no game, Your Highness.”

“On that, we agree. So I recommend you get started as soon as possible,” Celestia stated, her horn glowing softly around the edges again. “I want you on your way by first light tomorrow. I’d also recommend you take a shower soon, Captain Stivers… you’re starting to become a bit offensive in company.”

“Why you...” The Marine’s reply was cut off in an all too familiar flash as the group was teleported out of the throne room, Luna’s laughter ringing in their ears.

Chapter 9: And the Horse They Rode in on.

Stivers awoke in a near panic, jerking upright and taking in the unfamiliar sight of the room around him before remembering where he was. Taylor was sitting up in the bed across from him, the creaking sound he had made as he sat up being the small stimulus that had reached into Stivers’ dreams and snapped him awake.

“Sorry,” Taylor mumbled incoherently. “Jus’ woke up myself.”

“Yah,” Stivers replied. He pressed both palms against his eyes, rubbing gingerly for a moment. “What time is it?”

“Oh-dark thirty. The sun isn’t even awake yet.” Taylor squinted at his watch, frowning as he tried to make out the dial in the dimness. The hands had stopped moving ever since they had arrived in this odd land… or, at least, they didn’t move normally. Every time he checked his watch, it seemed to have jumped randomly, anywhere from a few minutes to several hours within the same amount of elapsed time. Giving up, he yawned hugely. “Gimme a minute to get my heart started and I’ll wake up the men.”

“I’ll get Gallivan,” Stivers said, coming fully awake. “Him you don’t just shake and hand him his cornflakes.”

“Roger,” Taylor said, not fully understanding, but it was too early to discuss anything that needed real brain power at the moment. He hissed as he stood upright, wincing. “Six feet don’t fit very well into four feet of bed.”

Stivers could feel his own legs tingling as they came awake; his calves had been lying on the foot of the bed all night, and were starting to complain merrily about it. “Thanks for the bulletin.”

Taylor stretched, his back crackling dully, and grinned in the dimness. “That’s the Navy; we aim to please.”

“You need gunnery practice, then.” Stivers stood up and stretched as well, hobbling gingerly from one foot to the other as the blood began flowing normally again. Uttering a curse under his breath, he padded barefoot across the room to its third occupant, who had begun stirring on his own undersized bed.

Gallivan opened his mouth and stretched it wide in a yawn, and reached his arms out as far as he could. He leaned over lopsidedly on the bed, still half asleep. Please don’t let reveille be here yet... just five more minutes. As if someone had read his mind and decided to shit on his prayers, something firm touched his foot and gave it a shake. Of bucking— oh Christ I’ve been in pony hell for too long. He cracked his eyes open just a bit before growling at whoever was touching him. “I swear to God if I roll over and whoever is touching me isn’t wearing a Marine patch, heads are gonna’ roll.” He quickly rolled over into the sight of Stivers looking him down on him, a tired smirk on his face.

“That’s not a good way to make friends, Marine,” he said mockingly.

The Marine shot out of bed and saluted his superior officer. “Sorry, sir.”

“At ease, son. No need for that right now. We aren’t on the record,” the Captain said nonchalantly, still holding his smirk.

“Sorry sir, you know how it is. Training and all that jazz.”

“Aye, I do know how it is.”

“As for making friends, thats not my job. My job is to go where I’m told and shoot what I’m told. I’m a killing machine sir, and a free man. These ponies, they’re not like us, not like humans, I mean. They show compassion where there should be violence. They also have no problem being ruled by a tyrant,” Gallivan spewed, wiping away the smirk on Stivers’ face.

“Whoa, where did that come from?” Stivers asked, confused.

“I...” The sergeant paused, glancing across the room at Taylor; the lieutenant was fumbling with one boot and didn’t even look in their direction. Gallivan looked back at Stivers and sighed heavily. “Bad memories. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime, skipper. Just… not right now, okay? I’d need to be a lot more awake and a lot less sober, let’s put it that way.”

“No problem, sergeant. Just try to roll with the punches, hmm?”

“Aye-aye, sir. They’d just be easier to take if I knew when to expect them.”

“Reading that loud and clear.” Stivers reached down and squeezed the other Marine’s shoulder for a moment, then dropped his hand to his side. “Go ahead and get squared away. I’m going to go see about some chow.”

Gallivan nodded and waited until the officer moved away. Reached up, he scrubbed his cheeks with his hands, frowning as he heard the raspy sound of his beard stubble against his palms. Unfortunately, a shaving kit was not standard issue on training flights, or in magical winged unicorn palaces, either, so he resigned himself to looking somewhat less than shipshape until he could locate a decent razor, if one could be had in this surreal land.

With another heavy sigh, Gallivan rubbed his eyes slowly, willing the early-morning drowsiness away. The pressure of his knuckles against his eyes made odd starburst shapes flare on and off in his darkened vision. The shapes roiled about aimlessly, then seemed to come together for a moment in a leering face, one that looked at him laughingly and wanted to know why he was so stubborn, when he could have a decent meal and maybe even a cigarette if he would only answer the questions...

The Marine’s eyes snapped open and he reached out to grip the covers beside him, his forehead awash in a cold sweat, and the beat of his heart playing in his ears. He glanced around and saw a sliver of warm yellow light seeping through the doorway where Stivers had left it open. His mind grasped at it like a drowning man will seize upon anything floating, anything at all, that will keep him afloat one more moment and prevent the dark, cold waves from closing over his head forever.

Gallivan sat there for a moment, letting his breathing return to normal, before leaning over to grab his shirt. “I’m getting too old for this...”

The pilots, as well as the guard ponies that were accompanying them on their journey, had all been quartered together in a large room off the south wing of the castle. Their sleeping quarters all connected with a sort of common room in the center, which seemed to serve as both a social area as well as a kitchen, dining room, exercise area, and any other activity that didn’t involve sleeping.

A huge table (by pony standards, and at least respectably sized, for the humans) dominated the center of the room, surrounded by several carved wooden stools and even a chair at one end. Stivers walked in to see Golden Sword seated in the chair and blinking owlishly at a knot in the fine-grained wooden table before him. “Morning.”

Sword’s eyes rolled up to fix on Stivers for a moment, before finally recognizing him. “Guh,” he replied noncommittally.

“What, you don’t do mornings?”

“When you get to be a Captain, one of the nice things is that you don’t have to do mornings if you don’t want to.” Golden Sword blinked rapidly and scuffed his face with a foreleg. “Today, I don’t really want to.”

“I hear that.” Stivers walked over to sit down next to the other Captain. “So, what’s the plan of the day?”

“I took the liberty of getting breakfast sent down. We don’t really have time to cook… or eat, for that matter, but I’m not stepping forth on something like this without a full belly to start with. Celestia knows that meals will get rare enough before long on something like this.”

“That’s the way it pretty much works where I come from too,” Stivers agreed. He leaned his head back, letting it roll about on his shoulders as he stretched his muscles for a moment. Suddenly he froze, staring at Sword in shock. “Holy shit. You’re naked.”

“I what?”

“Where’s your armour?”

“We’re in the castle, I don’t sleep in it here,” Sword said, rather stiffly. He tilted his own head to match Stivers’ pose, the golden forelock between his ears flipping down to settle over one eye. “You’re going to get a cramp if you sit like that much longer.”

Stivers straightened back up. “Sorry… I just got used to seeing you in uniform, I guess.”

“Well, even so. I am not naked. We don’t normally wear clothes, unless it’s a special occasion or the situation warrants it, like our armour. Besides, you did notice the fur coat? It’s standard issue.”

Stivers raised his hands in surrender. “Too early for this discussion. I need coffee before we decide anything important, anyway.”

“On that, I agree with you.” A knock sounded at the door to the main hall, and Sword brightened. “Right on time. Here comes your coffee, Captain, and mine too.”

A steward opened the door and shuffled in, tugging a laden cart behind him. Stivers blinked and stared at the contents. “Wait. Eggs? You eat eggs?”

“You don’t?”

“Hell yes.” Stivers sat up straight and patted the table in front of him expectantly. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

The door creaked behind him and he glanced over a shoulder to see Taylor and Gallivan come wandering out. “Is that coffee I smell?” Gallivan asked.

“Yep. The real deal.”

“Thank God, Celestia, and Buddha’s belly button,” Taylor said. “That’s the last thing I...” He stopped, frowning, peering at Golden Sword for a moment. “Captain?”

“Yes, it’s me. No, I am not naked. I’m half-awake and hungry, and not a zoo exhibit, so do you mind the staring?” Sword said testily.

“Sorry,” Taylor said. “I just didn’t-” He stopped again as a bluish-purple pony with a sable mane and tail emerged from one of the other rooms. “Shadow?”

The pony shook its head and emitted a low growl, the tone clearly identifying the owner. “Taylor,” Midnight Arrow grated, “you and I need to talk about the difference between colts and fillies.”

Stivers, who had been sipping gingerly at a steaming mug before him, nearly choked on his coffee. “Strike one, Navy.”

Taylor threw his hands up in exasperation. “Aw come on! They look different without the armour on.”

Midnight seated herself at the table beside Sword. “And so do you with that interesting hairstyle.”

Taylor reached up and brushed a hand through his hair; the lieutenant’s blonde hair was cut military short, but long enough that sleep had been able to give it a thorough touseling.

The wrinkles furrowing Golden Sword’s forehead were building up like thunderheads, and Stivers stepped in hurriedly before the storm broke. “I think I already had this discussion once. Try the coffee before you say anything else this morning, Lieutenant.”

The wisdom of this argument was beyond debate, and one by one the members of the group came in to sit down and prepare themselves for the day ahead. The food was excellent, and almost like anything the humans might have found back home; breakfast, apparently, transcended any barriers time and space might have thrown up between the worlds. The bacon tasted somewhat odd, but Taylor decided not to bring it up at the moment; it obviously wasn’t real bacon, from the way the ponies were crunching it down, and it wasn’t the first time in his military career he had dined on food that wasn’t exactly made of the traditional ingredients.

When Sword had finished, he sat back reflectively for a moment, rubbing idly at one ear with a forehoof. “One should never begin a journey on a sour note. I hope I didn’t get off on the wrong hoof with any of you this morning; if so, I apologize.”

Stivers and Taylor blinked at one another. “Sure, Captain,” Taylor offered. “Same here. I mean, sorry about the staring and everything.”

“Of course. What I mean to say is...” The Captain paused, frowning. “We’ve had very little time to train together, and not spent much more in each other’s company at all. But today we set out on a journey into dangerous parts of this land... places I’ve only heard about, and not seen. Dangerous places, and we’ll need to be able to count on each other, for certain.”

Stivers straightened. “Captain, my men know their duty. They won’t let me down. Or you.”

Midnight nodded. “You’ll be able to depend on us, as well,” she said to Stivers. “Whatever you need, we’ll be there.”

Golden Sword glanced at her, then back to meet Stivers’ gaze directly. “Well, Captain, it appears we have each other’s word. That’s a good enough place to start for me.”

After breakfast, the ponies had donned their armour once more, and the combined group was met outside their chambers by a small escort who led them along a meandering pathway through the castle that ended by the southern exit. A set of elaborately carved doors stood open, the archway over their heads surmounted by a portcullis set cunningly into the stone; the iron tips of the lower edge gleamed dully in the pre-dawn air. The escort came to a halt, and was dismissed by a higher ranking officer. Stepping closer, he greeted them pleasantly enough, and they were surprised to see Shining Armour.

“General,” Golden Sword said, stiffening at attention.

“Be at ease, Captain.” He tilted his head to study them for a moment. “You sure do make for an odd group… but maybe it takes one to get a job like this done.”

“We’ll be there and back before you can say ‘Jack Robinson,’” Taylor quipped.

The ponies all turned almost as one to look at him. “Why in Equestria would we say that?” Crimson Hoof asked.

Before Taylor could reply, there was a low beating of wings from above. Glancing up, the ponies immediately knelt down in supplication. There was almost a feeling of music filling the air, a sensation more felt than heard, as Princess Luna alit on the ground before them. The cobalt flow of her mane and tail seemed alight with stars, a shifting, shimmering pattern of light that came and went and came again in random patterns. She nodded at them, folding her wings to her sides. “Please, subjects, stand up. Do rise.”

“Great,” muttered Gallivan. “Here we go again.”

The alicorn’s expression looked pained; she had clearly heard the remark. “Please... allow us a moment to bid you farewell. We would...” She paused, her stance altering subtly before them. “General,” she said to Shining Armour, “would you excuse us? We shall inform them of the details.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Shining Armour’s hooves clicked as he came to attention, and then nodded at Golden Sword before moving off.

Luna watched him until the pony was out of earshot. “I would like,” she continued more quietly, “to explain something to you all.”

“Yeah, you did pretty well with that riddle of yours, Your Highness,” Taylor said, folding his arms. “I think we’re confused enough at this point.”

Luna glanced at Stivers.

“Don’t look at me,” he said curtly. “I happen to agree with him. But go ahead. Explain away, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“No, Captain, that’s not why I...” Luna glanced up at the castle, then off towards the east, where the dark sky was beginning to show a hint of losing its grip. “Captain Stivers... Golden Sword knows of a tradition concerning journeys like the one you are about to make. One should never leave ill will behind one’s hoofprints on such a trip.”

“Yeah, he did mention that,” the Marine acknowledged.

Luna nodded. “I thought he might. He’s one of our best, most loyal troops.” Sword stirred at this, but said nothing. “And what’s more important, he’s a good pony. Inside and out.”

“Thanks for the news flash,” Gruebel said.

“At ease, men.” Stivers held up a hand, not removing his gaze from Luna’s face. “Go on.”

Luna dug at the ground with a forehoof unhappily. “He’s a good pony. Nearly all of us are, Captain. Even my sister and I, although you probably don’t think so at the moment.”

“How very perceptive of you,” Taylor said icily. “Was figuring that out another riddle? Because you hid that one pretty damned well yesterday.”

“I’m aware of that.” Luna dropped her gaze and looked at the ground, plainly ashamed, a sight that shocked the ponies in the group. “I wish I could explain, Captain. As it is, I’m pushing the limits in even telling you this much.”

“Princess, you haven’t really told us anything.”

“And I wish I could,” she said, her voice suddenly bitter. “All I can say is that even we have to play by rules, Captain, and I’m aware this is not a game. My sister and I both know that. However,” she added, her voice lightening a little, “I’ve become adept over the centuries at learning how to bend rules to my advantage. And maybe even to yours.”

Stivers uncrossed his arms. “You’ve got my undivided attention, Your Highness.”

“Your provisions and supplies have been prepared,” she said, one wing flicking out from her side to point towards a small nearby cart laden with saddlebags. The weapons they had chosen the day before were laid out neatly as well, the edges of the swords and spears honed to a bitter sharpness, the arrowheads glimmering like the teeth of an angry wolf. “But I took the trouble last night to prepare something a little more helpful besides lunch. If you’ll walk a few hours east of here, you’ll come to a small clearing; Gorseberry Grove, it’s called.”

“Fruity’s Plaza?” Shadow perked up from behind Taylor. “I know where that is; we.... well, I had my commencement exercises there.”

“Just so.” Luna’s eyes gleamed a liquid teal as she looked at the group. “You’ll find a few friends there who also want to bid you farewell... and you may find something useful to you. A couple of somethings, actually. Although it’ll take a bit of work to make the gift usable, from what I understand.”

“More weapons?” Taylor looked at the dusky alicorn with a mistrustful expression. “I think we’re set in that department.”

Luna laughed abruptly, the sound clear in the still morning air. “I think you’ll find this riddle much easier to solve, Charles Taylor. And much more to your liking than my last one, I think.”

Taylor stamped a boot into the dirt and looked at Golden Sword. “Is she always like this?”

Sword was looking at the princess with something akin to adoration. “Not always. But when she is, it’s worth listening to her, Lieutenant.”

Luna’s wings flicked outward into full extension, and with a mighty sweep, they propelled her into the air. “Time for each of us to go. I’ve pushed my luck as it is, and you’re going to need all of yours in the days to come. I’ve managed to pull my little prank on fate, and now it’s up to you to make sure the trick works.” Her voice changed, sounding both young and ancient at once. “Go now, and may all our blessings follow you, children.”

“Lady, you’re nice and all, but I grew up a long time ago,” Thompson said.

The alicorn laughed again. “That’s what I told my sister a thousand years ago. It took me awhile to learn, too.” She rose up into the lightening sky, circling as she headed toward the needle-like tower that surmounted the castle’s central keep. “Farewell!”

Stivers found himself raising a hand reflexively, waving as he watched the dark shape rise higher and higher until it landed on a balcony high on the eastern side of the tower above. Peering upward, he could barely make out a white shape up there as well, one that stood still, as if waiting for something.

“Well, troops, I think that’s our cue.” He glanced over at Golden Sword. “Captain?”

“Well parted,” Golden Sword said in reply, suddenly smiling openly, the expression startling on his normally somber visage. “By all means, Captain. Let us gather our things and move out.” Shouldering the saddlepack marked for his own personal use, the gray pegasus took a moment to check that his sword was firmly seated in its scabbard. Nodding to himself, he took a step forward on the path leading out of the courtyard, pressing his hoof down hard to leave a clear mark in the soil.

After an hour of walking in a dual file column, the group’s encounter with the Princess had faded into the back of the minds of the company and small conversations had been struck up. Taylor and Midnight were arguing about the finer points of vegetarian cuisine, while Stivers and Golden Sword discussed the possible threats, tactics, and other mission-related details.

Gruebel and Gallivan had stricken up dialogue with Shadow and Crimson Hoof about the action that each side had seen. The ponies talked about fending off manticores and hydras and all sorts of creatures that seemed mystical to the humans. In turn, the pair of pilots talked about their tours through the Pacific Islands. Gallivan told a gruesome story of him watching a friendly soldier get pulled underwater by an alligator, never to be seen again. That made both the ponies and even Gruebel grow quiet for a moment; it wasn’t always the bad guys who got you. Sometimes, sheer perverse Fate would step in and knock you on your ass.

Gruebel mentioned several stories he had heard of the prisoner camps that the Japanese had operated during the recently ended war, drawing silence out of Gallivan and shocked anger out of the ponies at the injustices he described.

Just ahead of them, Thompson uttered a low curse as the group shuffled slowly past a particularly dense thicket of blackberry bushes, the thorns seeming to reach out eagerly to grab and catch at the clothing of the humans. “I thought the place we’re going was well known,” he said in a peevish tone.

“Oh, it is,” Shadow replied immediately. “Almost everypony in Canterlot knows about Fruity’s Plaza, or at least has heard of it.”

“Then why are we wandering through the outback, and me without a machete?” Thompson paused to grab a handful of the blackberries, which hung invitingly. If the bushes wanted to make him bleed, they were damn well going to pay for it.

“Well, only the graduates got to go, and as I said, you have to be really good to be one of those, so it doesn’t get too many visitors, I guess.”

“I was gonna ask you about that,” Gallivan broke in. “Why is your hand-to-hand... I mean, your unarmed combat training so strict? Where I come from, bad injuries in training only happen by accident, and they’re almost never fatal.” He frowned and shook his head. “It just seems pretty goddamn brutal to me, honestly.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t with us, either. I took the basic course like everypony else in the Guard,” Shadow said. “Sergeant Gorseberry’s course is an optional one, for the toughest, the elite.” The pony arched his neck proudly. “I wanted to be one of the best of the best.”

Gallivan opened his mouth to reply, and closed it again. That was the reason he’d joined the Marine Corps himself. “Okay… well, I guess I can understand that. You seem pretty competent.”

“Thanks.”

“How long have you been in the Royal Guard?”

Shadow’s ears flattened back for a moment as a bramble scraped over the armor on his side with a tinny screech. “Um, about four years now.”

Gallivan looked at the guardspony sharply. “Really? With all that training? How come you’re not an officer yet? You seem smart enough.”

Shadow blinked in surprise and stared back at the human. “Why? They don’t get to have as much fun as I do.”

Thompson found this deliciously funny and burst out laughing. The sound was infectious, sweeping Gallivan and Shadow up together in its grip, the pony’s laughter occasionally including an odd, whinnying snort that would set all three of them off again. The early morning sunlight, which had been streaming out at them from between a low line of trees ahead, dimmed a bit as one of the fleecy white clouds scattered low overhead drifted in front of the fiery orb before them.

Gallivan wiped his eyes, letting a chuckle trail off. “God, definitely smarter than I thought. You should at least try for sergeant, though. Get that one extra stripe, I think it’d wear ok on you.”

“That’s what Lieutenant Midnight keeps telling me,” Shadow said, nodding. “I don’t know, maybe when we get back from all this—”

“Shhhhh!” Gruebel’s hissing whisper cut across the entire column, humans and ponies all freezing motionless in place. “I think I heard something.”

“What?” Stivers looked around, seeing the private crouching down and glancing around them.

Gruebel slowly made his way up until he was even with the officers. “I don’t know, sir. It sounded like the wind almost....”

“Except there’s no wind.” Golden Sword replied in an equally hushed tone. It was true; the clouds above were moving about aimlessly in the upper airs, but down here at ground level it was almost still.

“Any idea where it came from?” Midnight asked.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Gruebel replied quietly, shaking his head. “Almost from every direction at once. And I only heard it the one time; when we stopped, it seemed to go away.”

“We’re only a league or so from the castle, and things ought to be safe out here.” Sword frowned. “Still, perhaps we ought to-”

“Why are you all whispering?” The loud voice broke in on them from above, sounding very much amused. “Ya look like a bunch of fillies tryin’ to swap secrets in class.” The timbre of the voice, along with the odd little break it made in mid-sentence gave away the identity of its owner, and the group all glanced upward to see a familiar pegasus with a rainbow-hued mane peering at them through a hole in the cloud overhead.

“We are not ‘swapping secrets in class,’. Miss Dash,” Golden Sword said. “That gets you detention, if I remember correctly.”

“Been there, done that,” Rainbow Dash said. “You oughta try it sometime, Sourpuss. Have a little fun.” She ducked down through the cloud and hovered before them, seeming rather pleased with herself. “I’ve been sittin’ up there watchin’ you guys for a half-hour. You’re pretty slow.”

“Yeah, well, we all ain’t got wings, hon,” Taylor said, straightening up. “What’re you doin’ way out here spying on us?”

“Hey! I’m not a spy.” The pegasus glared at Taylor for a moment, but the smug expression soon resumed its place on her face. “We’ve all been waitin’ for you to get here. Hey Fluttershy!” Rainbow’s head tilted up to look at the cloud overhead. “Go tell Twilight they’re here!”

Another small opening appeared in the wispy cloud as the yellow pegasus’ face appeared, her pink mane and forelock framing her wide aquamarine eyes. “Yay,” she exclaimed softly. “Oh, they’re going to like this sooo much! I just can’t wait to tell Angel about it.” Her whole form emerged, and she circled them once overhead before zooming off toward the line of trees that lie directly ahead of them, flitting delicately through a gap between two of them and calling in a low tone of voice that barely carried back to them. “Twiiiliiight!”

Midnight Arrow looked after her for a long moment, then turned to face Rainbow. “Twilight? The Element of Magic is here, too?”

“Yeah, we’re all here. Elements of Harmony present and accounted for!” Rainbow Dash sketched one of the sharpest salutes that Stivers had ever seen, her lopsided grin destroying the military precision of the pose. “C’mon, everypony’s waiting.”

Midnight’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “But what... I mean, we’re glad to see you, certainly, but why are you here?”

Rainbow shrugged as she landed among them and walked through the group, taking the lead. “Twilight got this funky letter from Princess Celestia last night, and then Princess Luna came by and we... well, it’s complicated stuff.” She glanced over one shoulder, her multi-hued tail flicking impatiently. “C’mon, you’ll see for yourself.”

As she led them toward the line of trees, Shadow spoke up. “Hey, this is it! We’re here. This is Fruity’s Plaza!”

The cyan colored pegasus in the lead gave him an odd look. “What, the clearing up here?”

“Yes.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Ohhh-kay... I don’t wanna know.” She led the group through one last thicket of tall bushes, the undergrowth fading away as they passed through the treeline. The sightline into the clearing was unblocked, now, and the humans all froze in place, gaping at the sight before them. Twin sights, actually.

Sights they had never expected to see again, much less encounter here, far from where they had left them, for the last time, they had assumed. Sights that seemed somewhat surreal now, after all they had seen since the humans had arrived, and yet ones so achingly familiar that all of them felt the tug of the world they had almost given up on.

Navy blue above, dove grey below, the two TBM Grumman Avenger bombers sat side by side before them, aircraft FT-28 on the left, and on the right, FT-117. The latter aircraft leaned drunkenly to one side, the main gear wheel and rudder assembly having been broken off when it had impacted the ground upon its initial arrival in Equestria. The missing items in question were now laid out neatly next to the damaged airframe, the bright edges of the torn aluminum rudder gleaming wickedly in the sun. Twilight Sparkle emerged from under FT-117, a glowing stack of papers hovering in mid-air before her as she grinned at them.

“Hey, everypony! We’ve got a little project here, and you’re lucky; I made a checklist of everything we need.” She clapped her forehooves together like a teacher summoning her students to their work. “Come on now, let’s get started!”

Midnight Arrow watched in mild amusement as the humans all made beelines to the two machines, clambering over them and calling out to each other like colts opening presents on Hearth’s Warming Day. Golden Sword had accompanied Captain Stivers and the two appeared to have a lively interchange going on while the human ducked under and climbed over the intact aircraft on the left. She stood for a moment, noting how the six Elements of Harmony were moving about, the Element of Magic having assumed immediate (and proper, to Midnight’s mind) command of the project, directing them as they began the task of assisting the humans in repairing the two flying contraptions.

“Fall out, everyone,” Midnight said finally. “Check in with the Element of Magic and see if you can help out in any way. Shadow, Hoof, let me know if she or the Captain need anything.”

“Yes ma’am.” The guard ponies all saluted smartly and headed over to where Twilight was dictating rapidly to her assistant, the baby dragon scribbling madly on the stack of sheets he held in one claw. Midnight took note of the length and thickness of the paperwork he held and shook her head. I hope you brought a quiver worth of quills for that batch.

Glancing once more over at Golden Sword, Midnight turned and walked idly over to the other aircraft, the one on the right with the pieces stacked next to it. She frowned as she circled the large, flat piece that lay on the short grass, examining it critically. The edges were mostly smooth, but one side had several noticeable dents in it, and the edge next to it looked ragged and torn. The pegasus glanced up at the aircraft itself and noticed a matching rent near the back end, above the flat, small wing. A couple of flaps hung down limply from it, and she grasped almost immediately that this must control the pitch, the up and down motion of the machine as it flew through the air. The large wing near the center of the machine must control the roll, then, just like a pegasus’ wings would, allowing it to bank and turn. But to turn, a pegasus also used her tail; otherwise you’d just roll around on your central axis and go nowhere until you made yourself airsick.

This broken piece must be part of the machine’s tail, then. If a pegasus had her tail clipped off or accidentally burned short in some freak accident, you just had to walk around on the ground and deal with the funny looks until it grew back enough to help you steer. Midnight knew very well that metal didn’t grow back, however, and until the tail piece was reattached somehow, this aircraft wasn’t going to get very far.

“Oh, you look so glum,” a voice spoke from beside her. “Don’t worry, Pinkie Pie says she can fix it up in a jiffy.”

Midnight’s head snapped up and around to see Fluttershy standing next to her. “I’m s-sure she can,” she managed to stammer out. “I mean, after all, you’re the Elements of Harmony. You always find a way to do what needs to be done.”

“Of course. Because I have the best friends a pony could ever have.” Fluttershy smiled radiantly, and Midnight Arrow felt a slow flush creeping up under the short fur of her cheeks. “Is it true that you’re going to go with those big, noisy people on a journey?” the yellow pegasus asked her.

“Yes, it’s true. Captain Sword, our best guards and I are all going to accompany them.”

Fluttershy’s voice dropped, her ears lowering a bit. “Is it... will it be dangerous?”

“Possibly.” Midnight glanced critically once more at the damaged tail section before her. “We’ll be traveling far from here into the gryphon lands... places I’ve not been before, to help them find something that can send them back to their own home. We’re not going to go looking for trouble, but... strangers in strange lands, trouble tends to find you.” She suddenly clapped her mouth shut, aware that she was rambling. The mission was supposed to be secret, although the Elements had obviously been made aware of some aspect of the plan, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. To just blurt out their objective was so unprofessional, however... Sweet Celestia, filly, what’s wrong with you?

“Oh... my.” The mention of the word ‘gryphon’ had made Fluttershy’s ears pin back against her head in obvious alarm. “Will you... are you, I mean... do you think you’ll be okay?” Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

Midnight glanced up at her, the odd change in tone breaking through her own musings. “Why, I should think so. Like I said, the Captain and our guards will be with me... and those... big, noisy people seem to be able to handle themselves well enough.” She offered the other pegasus a small smile. “I’ll be fine, I’m certain. But it’s nice of you to ask, Element of Kindness. Your title fits you well.”

A pink rosette appeared under the fur on Fluttershy’s cheeks, and she returned the smile, her ears perking back up. “That’s good to hear. But you know my name, Midnight.”

The Sub-Lieutenant looked away sharply. “I wouldn’t presume, ma’am.”

“Midnight... it’s me. Remember in the forest? You called me by name, then.”

Midnight Arrow’s jaws clenched visibly, her heart beating rapidly. “I was... weak, then. And I shouldn’t have presumed to—”

“I thought we went over this. You weren’t weak.” The yellow pegasus’ voice came on strong, now. “You were my friend, and you still are. You’re strong and brave and you helped out when it mattered. You’ve earned the right to call me by my real name.”

Midnight shook her head. “I only did my duty... what I should have done.”

Fluttershy lifted a forehoof and touched the dusky pegasus under the chin, lifting her head up so their eyes met. “I wasn’t talking about your duty. I was talking about you, Midnight, my friend.” Her eyes wavered a bit. “Please, call me by my name.”

Midnight’s cheek twitched, the touch under her chin tingling. “Fluttershy... I... that is, can I...”

“Midnight!” Golden Sword’s voice carried across the clearing. “Come over here for a moment, I think we need your help on this.”

The pegasus jerked her head aside, cheeks aflame, but the Captain’s back was turned to her, his head almost covered by a large metal flap he was peering under. “Yes sir, be right there!” She turned back to Fluttershy, her tail twitching rapidly back and forth as her voice returned to normal. “I... I’ll be right back, okay?”

Fluttershy nodded and offered her a small, sweet smile that touched the depths of her aquamarine eyes. “Go on. I’ll be here.”

Stivers sat on the edge of his plane’s wing, rubbing it as if it was a newborn baby. The aircraft now sat upright and level, a makeshift wooden support holding up the right side where Twilight and Rarity had levitated it into place. He glanced longingly back at the tail fin that read ‘117’ and sighed deeply. “You are definitely a sight for sore eyes, girl.”

A giggle sounded next to him, and he glanced over to see Pinkie Pie perched on the wing beside him. How she had made her way onto the metal surface without making a sound was beyond him, but the marine Captain was getting pretty good at starting to tune these events out. “Well, hello.”

“Howdy!” Pinkie grinned at him, her intense blue-eyed stare seeming to bore through him. “Do you always talk to your flying machine?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Stivers suddenly felt self-conscious.

“So,” the pink earth pony queried. “What’s it like to fly? I flew once, but my flying machine got broken by this mean old meanie gryphon. Well, actually, the ground broke it when I crashed into it, but she’s the one that made me crash, so I guess she still broke it even though she didn’t actually break it.”

The marine responded with a blank stare, still trying to figure out how she had got up there beside him. “Um. Flying is… good, I guess?”

“Oh come on!” She responded indignantly. “That’s what Dashie and Fluttershy always say. There has to be more than that!”

“Not really. If you want to know so bad, go ask Taylor.” Stivers said as he pointed a thumb at the man who was hugging the other aircraft so hard, it looked like it would snap the metal. “He’s the one who loves flying. Besides, I never—”

The pink pony was already gone.

“...completed flight school.” he finished in a hushed tone.

“Well then, sir. We’d best get started welding this...” Gallivan deadpanned pointing at the tail of FT-117. “Oh. The tail is already re-attached. When’d you do that, sir?”

Stivers raised an eyebrow at the crazy insinuation that in mere minutes, the tail had been put back in place.

“Seriously, Sir!” Gallivan said, eyes pleading. “Look!”

Looking behind himself, Stivers noticed that the tail was indeed re-attached to the plane, the seam where it had been resealed to the fuselage gleaming brightly. “How the fuck...” he mumbled. Looking under the plane, he saw Applejack holding the broken main gear wheel firmly in place next to the strut under the right wing. The pony turned her head away, protecting her face as silver-white sparks began arcing from behind the wheel hub where Greubel worked at welding it in place. “Hey, I didn’t know you were such a good welder, Greubel.”

“Sir, I just started.” Greubel dropped his hand from where he had been shielding his eyes and looked up at his commanding officer.

Stivers deadpanned. “Then who welded the tail on?? Where did we get a welding torch anyway?”

“Um, sir, There is no way the tail is welded on. I’ve had the torch, which was kindly provided by Pinkie Pie, for this entire time. There is no way I sleep welded it on either.” Looking to the rear of the plane, Greubel did a double take. “Or maybe there is?”

“Pinkie did it.” Applejack said nonchalantly, running a forehoof over the large rubber tire before her with interest. “Boy howdy, if mah apple carts had a couple o’ these babies hooked on...”

“What do you mean Pinkie did it?” Stivers asked. “She was talking to me not five minutes ago.”

“Aw, that’s just Pinkie Pie bein’ Pinkie Pie.” The orange mare said, waving her hoof absently. “Ya get used to it.”

“You know what?” The Captain asked rhetorically. “I don’t even care right now. I’m gonna go check the guns. Gallivan, you coming?”

“Sure thing, Cap,” the Sergeant stated. “Got nothing better to do.” Gallivan ducked under the wing and began inspecting the gun mounts on the leading edge. Stivers, still atop the wing, leaned to one side and opened up the loading port for the machine gun ammunition. He ran a hand lightly over the belted .50 caliber shells, feeling for any odd lumps or kinks in the ammo box. Everything seemed well enough, and if it wasn’t, well, there was no ordnance shop anywhere nearby that he knew of. If the weapons jammed, they jammed. Besides, he wasn’t expecting any Zeros or Messerschmidts to come swarming after them. Nevertheless, he was glad they hadn’t expended any of the gun ammo on their practice runs, just in case. There were some weird critters in this strange new land, and not all of them might be as helpful as the current company he was in.

“Starboard mounts look good, sir.” Gallivan’s head peeked over the edge of the wing. “A few scratches and dings, but nothing that’ll keep them from working when the time comes. I’ll go check the port side out.”

“No dings, huh?” Taylor came walking over, wiping his hands on a bit of loose cloth. “That reminds me...what’s brown and sounds like a bell?”

Stivers glanced helplessly at Gruebel and Applejack, but the two had returned to work on the landing gear, and he was on his own. “I give up,” he said, sliding down off the wing and landing on his feet next to the Lieutenant. “What?”

“Dung!” Taylor beamed.

Stivers reached up to his own face and rubbed his eyes. “You made that up yourself, didn’t you?”

“Just now,” Taylor agreed. “How you lookin’?”

“Starting to get shipshape. Pinkie did… something, to the tail. Anyway, it’s back where it’s supposed to be. Too bad we already dropped the bombs, but that was what we were supposed to be doing, at the time. Rest of the ordnance looks good, at least what’s left.”

Taylor’s eyebrows lifted at the mention of ordnance. “All of it?”

“Seems to be.” They both crouched and peered under the wing at the other bit of armament the Avenger bombers carried. Beneath each wing of both aircraft was mounted a 58 gallon drop tank of fuel. Nestled outboard of each of these was a rack of four HVAR five-inch rockets, designed to be used against ground targets that required a bit more punch than a machine gun could provide. Armor piercing high explosive warheads tipped each one, with enough muscle to knock out a tank if required. The things were notoriously inaccurate at range, however, not good much beyond four thousand yards, but the sight of them was comforting to Stivers. “How’s your bird?”

“Not bad, actually… pretty much as I left her,” Taylor said. He turned and walked over to the other aircraft, Stivers following along in his wake. “The instrument panel’s still shot to shit; I’ll just have to deal with it, though. Damned electrical fire.”

The two officers stopped in front of FT-28, and Stivers took a moment to pause and admire the clean lines of the aircraft. Good old aluminum, steel, wood and Plexiglas, all made in America and assembled by General Motors for this particular warplane, the Grumman production lines being overloaded with orders at the time. “That’s gonna make navigation fun for you.”

“Eh, that’s not a problem.” Taylor reached out and patted the side of the engine cowling. “I can fly this thing with my eyes closed.”

“Oh, is that how we got here, then?” Stivers said with a straight face. “It was you leading the navigation exercise, if I remember correctly.”

Taylor made a rude gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the compasses won’t work here anyway, not that they were very good before. And I can gauge my airspeed by the sound of the engine pitch.”

Rainbow Dash, who had been standing nearby and inspecting the wing’s leading edge with a professional eye, blinked and looked at him. “Really? With those little things?” She pointed with a forehoof at Taylor’s ear. “You can’t even move them.”

“Hon, I’ve been listening to aircraft engines sputter and roar since you were in diapers.”

Rainbow made her own rude gesture, the rich content of which Taylor totally missed. “Horseapples. I was flying when I was in diapers.”

This managed to bring the pilot to a standstill. “No shit?”

“No shit.” The look on the pegasus’ face was practically a study in smugness. “So… what were you doing when you were in diapers? Or are you still using them?” She somehow managed an innocent expression for ten whole consecutive seconds. “I’m not really sure about your age, ya know...”

Taylor was struggling to work up a retort to this when Stivers stepped in. “All right you two, enough fun. Let’s do a walkdown on both of these, just like you taught us, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The two started slowly down the right side of the aircraft, checking the cowl flaps, the engine exhaust ports, and numerous other fittings and receptacles. Stivers noticed sparks flying away from the other aircraft as another fit of welding took place, but he put it out of his head and kept his focus on what he was doing. If either of them missed some important detail, a loose flap, a torn hose, the aircraft and everyone in it could quickly be turned into scrap metal in an eyeblink. He eyed the machine guns in the starboard wing, debating whether or not to try to zero them in before they left, and decided not to. Golden Sword had said nothing regarding the aircraft other than the fact that they seemed to be a serviceable, if somewhat awkward, means of flying. If he was unaware of the teeth the birds carried, well, that was one little surprise Stivers meant to keep to himself for the moment. Now I have my own little ace in the hole.

He stopped suddenly, brow furrowing in consternation. “What the fiddledy-fuck is that thing?”

“What?” Taylor looked up from inspecting the portside landing gear. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah. I’ve been preflighting these birds all through school, and I never saw one of these before.” Stivers reached out and dinged a finger off a metal mount that was welded to the upper surface of the starboard wing. Looking it over, he saw three more, laid out in a rectangular pattern along with the first. The mounts were semi-circular, four to five inches wide and about three inches in height in front, tapering off in a half-moon crescent shape. “When did these get put on?”

“Those weren’t on there when I took off,” Taylor said firmly, all humor gone from his voice now. “They look like weapons mounts, almost... but I’ve got over three thousand hours in this type of aircraft, and I’ve never seen a bulletin from BuOrd about anything like this. Besides, who puts a weapon rack on top of the wing?” He ducked under the airplane for a moment. “Shit, there’s two sets of them on the port side. What the hell is this?” He reappeared, narrowly missing banging his head on the engine exhaust pipe as he straightened up. “Are they on yours, too?”

“I don’t think so... I didn’t see any when I was up on the wing earlier.” Frowning, Stivers turned and walked back toward his own aircraft, where Pinkie Pie was bounding down from the port side wing. “Whoa... wait. There’s some on mine, too.” He reached out to touch one, and jerked his hand back quickly; the mount he had tried to touch was still glowing with heat from a recent weld. “Pinkie! Did you do this?”

“Huh? Oh, sure, silly!” She laughed gaily, twirling the welding torch like an Old West gunslinger before setting it down carefully on a flat rock. “They’re wing-shoes!”

“Wing-what?”

“Wing-shoes,” Midnight Arrow said, trotting over to them. “It was Pinkie’s idea, really. We’ll ride along with you on those.”

Shining Star, who had been nibbling at the short grass absently, straightened with a jerk and stared at Midnight. “We will?”

“Yes. Captain Sword and I have been looking over your machines, Captain Stivers, and they’re not particularly roomy inside, if you know what I mean.” Midnight gestured at the bomb bays, long since empty of their load. “We looked at those hatches on the bottom, but after I talked with Lieutenant Taylor about them, we decided they wouldn’t make a very safe place to ride around in.”

“And standing on the wing in mid-air while we’re going two hundred knots is safer?”

She looked at him primly and extended her own wings. “These still work, sir. But machines don’t get tired. I, however, do, eventually. If we ride along, we won’t have to stop as often to rest.” She closed her wings and shrugged. “Besides, there’s a little side benefit you’ll have from it; I spoke to Lieutenant Taylor about it the other day.”

“Maybe I missed out on that… you wanna recap that for me?” Taylor stepped over.

“Wind resistance… or the lack thereof.” She laughed as Taylor’s eyes lit up in recognition. “We can’t get rid of all of it, your machines are too big and they wouldn’t work anyway if we did, from what I gathered. You won’t go any faster, either; I understand the fact that you have a top speed limit, just like we do. However—”

“We can throttle back, still hit cruising speed and save some fuel along the way,” Stivers said. “Holy shit. Pinkie Pie, you’re a genius.”

“Great!” The pink earth pony jumped into the air and turned a somersault before landing. “Does that mean we can have your farewell party now?”

“Uhhh... I don’t think we’re gonna have time for that.” Stivers crouched down and held out his hand. “Tell you what, though. If we make it back, you can have a welcome back party. And I’ll buy the drinks this time.”

Pinkie stilled suddenly. “Even with hot sauce?”

“Hell yes.”

She leaned close to him, peering at him with one bright blue eye. “You Pinkie Pie Promise?”

Stivers didn’t know where to go with that one, but just shrugged. “Sure, whatever that means. A promise is a promise in my book.”

“Welllll, then... okay!” Pinkie Pie clapped her forehoof against Stivers’ extended hand, then bounded into the air again and bounced off toward the other ponies. “Boy have I got a welcome back party to plan! I need streamers and balloons and party favors and cake and ice cream and...”

Thompson walked up to Stivers, eyeing the pink pony warily as she pogoed up and down, still rattling off a list of party supplies. “Sir, we’ve pretty much finished up with the repairs, and the aircraft look okay, as far as I can tell. If we’re gonna go, now’s as good a time as any to do it.”

“Good enough.” Stivers looked over at Taylor. “Well, Lieutenant? This is your specialty, not mine.” He came to attention. “How do you want to handle the crews?”

Taylor blinked in surprise, then collected himself. “Um. Okay. Three and two split on crews, both groups. You take Gruebel and Gallivan, they’re your normal crew anyway. Midnight!”

Midnight Arrow and the other ponies blinked at the odd change of tone in Taylor’s voice. “Yes?”

“Would you and Shining Star mind riding with Captain Stivers?”

Midnight nodded. “I’d be delighted.”

“Good.” Taylor turned to the others. “Thompson, you’re with me in the rear turret.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Captain Sword, Hoof, Shadow, you’re on my wing.” Taylor grinned. “Literally.”

“Very well, Lieutenant.” Sword turned to the other ponies. “Equipment check, and mount up. Let’s move, ladies, the day’s burning away while we stand here.” A chorus of acknowledgements floated through the air as the group scattered, gathering up their things.

As Stivers turned to head toward his aircraft, Golden Sword cut him off. “Captain, a moment please, before we go.”

“Sure.” The Marine looked at him curiously. “What’s up?”

Sword stood, seemingly irresolute for a moment, and then snorted. “I have something for you.” He ducked his head and opened one of the flaps of the saddlepack strapped across his shoulders and back. Rummaging inside for a moment, he pulled a loosely bound package free with his teeth and tossed it through the air to Stivers. “You may need these.”

Stivers caught the bundle awkwardly, feeling hard angles inside of it. “I’m guessing this isn’t a sandwich.” He pulled the drawstring that held the bundle together and unwrapped it, revealing another set of familiar metal shapes. “Our pistols?!”

“Yes. They’re not doing anyone any good in the armory at Canterlot, and no one can use the damned things anyway, except you.” Sword cocked his head oddly. “Besides, you never know when you might need them, yes?”

“You’d better believe it.” Stivers pulled one of the sidearms free and holstered it immediately. “I’ll give the other one to Taylor before we take off. Thanks, Captain. I’m surprised the Princesses let us have them back, honestly.”

Sword’s cheek twitched. “They don’t know about it.”

“What?”

“Princess Luna is not the only one willing to break a rule in service to her country, Captain.” The grey pegasus stood at attention. “Let’s get going, then, shall we?” He turned about smartly and trotted over toward Taylor’s aircraft, yelling at Shadow to hurry up and stow his pack before they left him behind. Behind him, Stivers stood watching for a moment, feeling an abrupt feeling of shame creeping over his face. He’d never bothered to tell the other Captain about the extra weapons on board the aircraft, and the deception suddenly seemed petty and small to him, part of a child’s game that he should have outgrown.

Still, you never know, he told himself as he strode over towards Taylor with the bundle still clutched in one hand. An ace in the hole is never a bad thing to have, especially if somebody else joins the game.

Midnight Arrow crouched on her place on the wing of Stivers’ aircraft as the engine caught with a whine, followed by a coughing roar. Her ears pinned back against her head in fear at the sound, a snarling growl that she imagined might come from the belly of a dragon. A very hungry, angry one that was far too close to her for comfort.

Thank Celestia we don’t have to go fight one of those, she thought. She lifted her head a bit, noting the violent blast of wind that pushed against the grass below the airplane’s nose. Hardly a feather moved on her wings, however, and her theory seemed sound, for the moment. She caught a bit of banter between Stivers and the other two humans in the airplane, the group obviously pleased at the prospect of being airborne once more. It was a feeling she shared. She’d not undertaken a journey of any real length in some time, and the promise of this one filled her with a feeling of excitement and hope. I’ll bet we’ll have some real stories to take back to Canterlot when we get home.

Getting back... that was always the trick, wasn’t it? She straightened suddenly, her eyes widening. “Captain! Captain Stivers! Wait a moment, please!”

The pilot craned his head to look at her out of the still open cockpit window. “Sure thing, I’m just letting her warm up. You forget something?”

“Actually, yes. It won’t take a moment, I promise.” Midnight pulled her hooves clear of the shoe-like mounts on the wing and stepped off to the rear carefully; the whirring vibration of the propeller made her nervous in a deep, instinctual way. She glanced about, then broke into a jog, running past the tail of the aircraft over toward where the Elements of Harmony stood lined up in a row, waving energetically. All of them but one, and that was the one she was focussed on now.

“Fluttershy,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, “I’m so sorry. Everything was so busy, and I wanted to ask you, but there was no time to talk, and now we have to go.”

The yellow pegasus smiled at her. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I...” Suddenly aware of the stares of the other ponies, Midnight flattened her ears. “It’s... it’s kind of... well.” She leaned her head down, her nose almost touching Fluttershy’s ear, quiet words muttered between them that were lost to the others in the rising noise of the taxiing aircraft. Finishing her short, crude speech, as she thought of it, Midnight stepped back, feeling her own heartbeat in her ears and cheeks, and waited for the explosion.

It never came. Instead, Fluttershy simply tilted her head, eyelids lowering a bit. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Very much, Midnight.”

The Sub-Lieutenant exhaled sharply, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. “Really?”

“Yes.” Fluttershy peered out at her now from under a sheaf of pink mane, her own cheeks reddening a bit. “Please, do.”

A yell, half caught by the noise from the bombers, carried across to them, and she saw Stivers waving an arm at her. Midnight backed away, half-turned, then stopped and looked back. “I’ll be back. No matter what, I’ll be back. Okay?”

“I know.” The yellow pegasus’ eyes glimmered. “I’ll be here.”

Midnight held the image in her gaze for a fleeting second that lasted forever, and then turned to run for the howling aircraft.

Chapter 10: Taking the High Road (End of Book I)

Chapter 10: Taking the High Road

Taylor gripped the stick in his hands, feeling its rough edges. He felt the ridges where his fingers were placed, noting that the bump between his pinky and his ring finger had been slightly worn down from the way he gripped the yoke. He knew that this was his plane, nothing had changed about it, save the colourful ponies attached to the wings. This was his heaven, he held his life in his own hands, they didn’t rest in some jarhead’s or in some eternal flying unicorn. It was his and his alone, he was free again.

He was so caught up in the flight that he almost forgot where he was and when he looked out the canopy window, the sight of the ponies attached to his wing almost scared him. The hard stare of Golden Sword snapped him out of his trance and forced his mind back on the mission at hand, albeit a bit carelessly.

Out of sheer reflex, he glanced at the instruments, a casual scan that he had done literally hundreds of times, but the one quick glance revealed the same charred panel in front of him. The airspeed indicator was completely obliterated, and his altimeter currently showed him cruising at seventy-two thousand feet; a quick glance out of the window definitely confirmed that measurement was way off. Not to mention the fact that he was still breathing comfortably without an oxygen mask. A quick visual estimate put them at about seven to eight thousand feet, right where he wanted to be. He returned his gaze to the forward windscreen and listened carefully to the steady thrum of the radial engine in front of him. The pitch of it sounded fairly normal, but his climb rate after takeoff had seemed to be a bit slower than was usual, and he made a mental note to mention that to Stivers.

Taylor glanced out his right wing, past the form of Shadow over to where the other Avenger lay just below and behind him in perfect step-down formation. He could see Stivers alternately glancing down at his instruments and then up again, out of the cockpit and all around. Even in this environment, the other pilot had his head on a swivel, Taylor noted with approval, keeping an eye out for anything that might appear.

Taylor reached up with one hand and activated the throat mike he wore. “Lead to 117. I’m a bit sluggish in my climb rate, how about you?”

Stivers’ voice crackled in his ears with a crisp tone. “Roger lead, same here. I’m guessing it has something to do with our wingmates.”

“Shit, I should have thought of that,” Taylor mumbled, still holding the throat microphone with a loose grip.

“What was that? I didn’t copy.”

“Disregard. Okay, noted, just keep an eye on it.” Taylor glanced once more at his instrument panel, then swallowed his pride like a professional. “Keep an eye on your temperature gauges and make sure they don’t creep up on us or something. I can’t get any readings from this panel and if it’s something slow I don’t want to find out after my engine blows.”

“Roger lead, will do. Out.”

Glancing once more at the other bomber, Taylor returned his gaze to the landscape that was passing by slowly under them.

He watched as the mountain where Canterlot lay slowly slipped into the distance behind him, the environment being replaced by the grassy fields much of this new land was covered by. The landscape around him was dotted here and there with forests, lush and green.

Glancing over to his left wing, the Lieutenant saw Captain Sword, hanging from his new mounts like a spider in a wind tunnel. “Hey Sword!” Taylor yelled from the open cockpit, trying to get the grey pony’s attention over the drumming of the engine. He was rewarded by the same pony looking his way with an inquisitive look in his eye. “How you like the speed?” he yelled again.

Sword opened his mouth and started speaking in an inaudible low tone, drowned out by the cataclysmic noise before him.

“Speak up! We can’t hear you!”

“It’s really loud!” he shouted, his ears pinned back to ward against the obnoxiously repetitive noise that was berating his senses. “Any way to make it quieter?” he pleaded.

“Not without shutting the engine off, sorry. It’s military grade: heavy, noisy and messy, but it gets the job done.”

Sword, who couldn’t hear him, had evidently learned to read his lips and replied with an evil glare, before going back to covering his ears. Taylor felt somewhat guilty about the pony’s discomfort, but there was really nothing he could do about the noise level. The pilot glanced past the Captain to the other occupant of the port wing. Crimson Hoof appeared to be humming to himself, if that was at all possible. The Corporal was crouched slightly, his wings outstretched and even bouncing a little in time to whatever tune was running through his head.

Taylor grinned to himself at this and glanced once more down at the passing landscape. Taking note of a particular stream they were crossing over, he looked down at the map Luna had provided them with, mentally gauging the distance they had crossed since leaving the clearing earlier this morning. He reached up and activated the microphone once more. “Lead to 117. Twenty degree right turn in two minutes... I think.”

Stivers amusement carried clearly over the radio waves. “You don’t sound very certain about that, Taylor.”

“Yeah, well, this map ain’t standard issue, either. Like the man said once, we’re navigating by guess and by God.” He tucked the map back into a leather pocket mounted to the sidewall of the cockpit and settled himself back into the seat.

Two minutes later both aircraft banked smoothly towards the southeast, the contours and color of the landscape below them slowly changing as they flew on. The deep, lush greens of the plains and grassland below them began to fade out, beginning to be replaced gradually by warmer tans and brown. The area appeared much less developed, and in the distance, the land below took on a more earthy tone in general, the green disappearing almost entirely.

As the sun overhead reached its zenith and began a long, slow descent towards the west, both the pilots and the ponies began to detect an increasing dryness in the air. The ground below them became gradually more desolate, with the greenery fading out almost entirely. Scrub brush was evident off towards their right, with ravines dotting the ground here and there where rain had washed out sections of the land. Off to their eastward on the left, the scrub gave up its fight and surrendered to the golden brown of sand dunes, their sinuous curves arching away into the distance as far as their sharp eyes could see.

Taylor made a quick comm to Stivers, and then raised his voice to shout over the engine. “Captain! Hey, Sword!”

The grey pegasus had been riding on the wing with his eyes closed for some time now. He opened them and regarded Taylor with a long-suffering gaze. “What?”

“I need you to start keeping an eye out ahead. Let me know if you see any place that looks white and shiny when the sun hits it.”

Sword tilted his head curiously. “Shiny? Are we prospecting for gems now, too?”

“No, salt.”

The pony blinked at that. “What in Celestia’s name for?”

“Because if we’re going to land these things and use them again, I need someplace flat and open to land them in.” Taylor pointed out the cockpit at the hilly crests of dunes that lay ahead. “If we try to touch down on that, we’ll crack up.”

Sword stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then awareness dawned on him. The pegasi could easily touch down on any terrain as light as a feather. The heavy aircraft they rode on, however, was not as nimble. Sword relayed the request to Hoof, and Taylor did likewise for Shadow on the opposite wing. Together, the occupants of both aircraft began scanning the ground ahead and to both sides intently as the minutes passed by.

After a half-hour of searching along their course, doubt began to slowly creep into Taylor’s mind, nibbling at the edges of his consciousness with sharp rat teeth. They’d been lucky up to this point, rolling sixes and sevens, but it really had been presumptuous of them to assume that just because they could get the aircraft fixed and useable again, that they would be able to find landing spots when they were needed. One of the cardinal rules of flight was that you needed to have as many landings as you did take-offs. A shortage in that particular ledger was going to have bad effects on your flight record, and possibly your life expectancy as well. All of the Flight 19 crew had parachutes strapped on; that was basic flight procedure. Bailing out of an aircraft was always a tricky proposition, however, as you were then gambling on the damned parachute actually opening without fouling, as well as hoping that you didn’t drift down onto something sharp and pointy.

The Avenger bombers were simply too handy to just throw away, however. They would shorten the journey considerably, and were able to carry supplies that the adventurers would otherwise have to carry on their backs. They had heavier armament than anything else the pilots had seen in this strange land thus far. Plus, Taylor admitted to himself, they were a familiar piece of home that he couldn’t just walk away from. That fact alone carried with it a strong connection to the machines that was more intense than he’d ever experienced before. Being a pilot, actually performing the act of flying, was Taylor’s natural element. Up to this point, he had simply been going through the motions and generally following Stivers’ lead. Right now he felt like he belonged, like he made a difference with every decision, every maneuver that he made, and that was something that the Navy pilot wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to give up. If they failed, if they were trapped here… No. I will not think about that, dammit. Get your head out of your ass. Taylor shook himself out of his reverie and began scanning the ground from left to right again.

A shout from Stivers over the headphones grabbed his attention. “Tallyho, three o’clock. Think there’s an old lake bed over there.”

Taylor’s head snapped to the right, and he leaned over, eyes straining against the distance and the heat waves rippling in the air. “Are you sure? I can’t eyeball it from here.”

Gruebel’s voice crackled in his ears. “Confirmed, sir, at our three thirty position off to the west. I’ve got my binocs on it now. Damn, you have sharp eyes, Cap.” There was a moment’s silence. “We goin’ for it?”

“Let’s take a look at it and see if it’ll work. Ninety degree starboard turn in three, two, one, mark.” Taylor shifted the bomber into a gentle bank to the right, easing back level as they flew towards the afternoon sun. “Okay, I see it. Let’s go to line ahead, drop down to two thousand and check it out.”

“Roger.” Stivers aircraft slid backwards out of Taylor’s sight, drifting over until it was directly behind him. The two Avengers slowly descended together, the detail on the ground becoming more clear. The dunes lay behind them now, the land before them an arid plain with creosote bushes and the occasional cactus making an appearance, the growths becoming more numerous the further west they flew. The object that Stivers had sighted was indeed an old lake bed, its contents long evaporated into the dry air. Leftover salt deposits glittered a vicious silver-white in the sunlight, the whole object stretching out for a good three to four hundred meters from east to west, and about half of that as wide. It looked reasonably level from altitude, but Taylor knew from experience that there would be random drops and bumps when you touched down. They would have to ride out the landing by feel, trying to keep the aircraft straight and level until their airspeed bled away enough to avoid getting bumped back into the air by an unexpected lump in the surface.

“So, we goin’ for it?” Gruebel’s voice asked again.

“It looks good enough to me, and I don’t see any reason to push our luck further today. We might as well stop and rest here for the night.”

“Roger.” Stivers’ reply was short and terse.

“Thank God.” Thompson, who had remained virtually silent since takeoff, breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I have to piss like a horse.”

Taylor laughed. “I’m guessing our passengers do too.” He glanced over at Sword on his port wing. For all Taylor knew, the ponies could simply let fly into the slipstream and you wouldn’t be the wiser. They had the option of simply dropping off, however, landing to take care of business, and then rejoining like a fighter coming back to land on a carrier at sea. It would require the bombers to slow down considerably, however, and Taylor was willing to bet that the proud guard captain would sooner burst than admit discomfort of any sort.

Taylor tilted the Avenger into a slight bank to port and let it settle back into level flight of its own accord. “Okay, looks like what wind there is up here is out of the west, so let’s treat this as our upwind leg. We’ll circle around, do our downwind leg and touch down.”

“Roger.” Stivers’ reply was again clipped and terse.

Taylor frowned at the windscreen before him. “Everything okay?”

“Affirmative. I’ve just never done a rough landing like this before, that’s all.”

Taylor banked the bomber to the left in a gentle turn, beginning the descent. “No sweat,” he said, his voice taking on what the other pilots had called “Professor Taylor” tone. “Slide up here on my wing and we’ll go in together, okay? You’ve done rough field landings before in basic flight with the Piper, this is practically the same thing.”

“Yeah, that was on a grass strip, Lieutenant.” As they finished the turn and headed back east, Stivers’ Avenger slid up until it was even on Taylors right wing. “Not exactly the same thing, ya know?”

“Still got the same problems to deal with on touchdown. Just keep your plane level and let the speed bleed off on its own. Stay off the brakes until your tailwheel touches down.” The two aircraft continued to descend, and Taylor began another bank to his left in preparation for the landing leg. As they straightened out and lined up again once more, he leaned over and shouted out of the window. “Captain Sword!”

The pony looked at him wearily once more. “Yes?”

“I want all of you to take off. I mean, jump away from the aircraft and land on your own, okay?”

“Certainly. Why?”

“Because landing is always dangerous for us, and we normally try to land on special strips of ground that are smoothed out for us.” Taylor kept his voice level. “If we fuck this up and blow up, I don’t want to take the five of you with us.”

Golden Sword’s eyes grew wide. “That’s... understandable. Thank you for the warning.”

Thompson’s voice sounded from behind Taylor in the cockpit. “Gee, thanks Lieutenant, I feel so much better back here after hearing that.”

A confident grin snuck its way onto Taylor’s face. “You know your comfort is my only desire, Thompson.” Even with the possibility of smashing his plane into tiny tiny bits on the hard ground below, Taylor was relaxed as ever, and he couldn’t let the chance to ruffle the feathers of his new crewmates escape, both literally and metaphorically.

Drawing his attention back onto the impromptu landing site, Taylor flicked the switch that extended the landing gear. There was a thump and a whine from the hydraulics underneath him, and he felt two satisfying bumps as the wheels locked into place. A quick glance over at Stivers’ aircraft showed him matching the maneuver as well. Taylor’s peripheral vision caught the ponies on his wings moving upward and back away from him as they spread their wings and dropped away from the aircraft. As they moved off, his engine noise changed pitch abruptly, and Taylor quickly added some throttle to the aircraft to maintain his airspeed.

“Next time we do this,” he said into his microphone, “the ponies come off before we’re on final.”

“No argument here,” Stivers’ reply came back immediately. “Mine took off right after yours did, and it was like I’d dropped flaps completely or something. I almost shit myself.”

“No problem, we’re not exactly following a manual with that procedure, there.” Taylor looked ahead. “And speaking of flaps, time for ours.” He flipped a switch on the blackened control panel in front of him, and the trailing edges of the bomber’s wings extended to the rear and down, slowing him even more and providing enough lift to keep him airborne at landing speed. Another quick glance at Stivers showed his flaps in position as well. “Okay, here we go. Just stay on my wing and ride her in easy. Main gear only; don’t try a three-point on this shit or you’ll bounce like a rubber ball.”

“Roger.”

The two aircraft flew in tandem, descending slowly down toward the hard, baked surface below them, their shadows trailing behind them but creeping closer as they neared the ground. The edge of the dry lake bed passed beneath them, and both planes seemed to hesitate for a moment, almost straining as if they wanted to climb back up into the clear, blue sky where they truly belonged. Finally, the main landing gear touched down, throwing up an immediate plume of dust and salt behind them that shot up and then curled away in odd patterns from the swirling vortices of the propellers.

Taylor felt the gentle bounce, and then a rapid shuddering as his speed bled away on the desert floor. The aircraft rattled and banged, loose items in the pockets on the sides of the cockpit bouncing around and threatening to fly up into his lap. Easing the throttle back, he concentrated on holding the airplane as centered as he could, pushing the rudder pedals with his feet in gentle taps to keep from drifting to one side or the other. As they decelerated, the aircraft began tilting slowly backward, the nose beginning to climb and point to the sky again, and there was another bump as their tailwheel touched down. “How you doin, Stivers?”

“We’re all good over here, boss, thanks.” The Marine’s voice was shaky but relieved, the tense note gone from his words. “Got three good wheels on the ground. That was a nice landing, Charlie.”

Taylor felt a warm glow inside, but he kept his voice normal. “They’re all good if you walk away from them.” He glanced around, easing the throttle back up just a bit as he finished his rollout and began taxiing. “Let’s park them over there on the right, next to that funky little tree.”

“Tree?” Gruebel’s voice sounded amused. “I didn’t know a plant shorter than I am could be called a tree.”

“Oh whatever, wiseass.” Taylor chuckled nonetheless. If they were joking, they were in fine shape. It had been a textbook landing, not really as bad as he’d feared, but it was the little things like this that gave a nugget pilot confidence and kept him willing to go back up in the air and cheat death again one more day. The two planes pulled in together, parking side by side, and came to a stop, their propellers windmilling for a moment and then coming to rest as the engine noise died away, the low whisper of the arid desert wind slipping in to fill its place.

“Okay kids, take five. Anyone need to use the little boys room?” The chorus of groans that answered him lit Taylor’s face with a boyish grin.

The group reformed together after a few moments in the welcome shadow of the aircraft and began work at setting up a temporary camp, with Gallivan unpacking their bags from the planes and handing them over to Crimson Hoof, who stood on the wing and handed off each pack to its rightful owner. The packs were larger versions of the ones the ponies had originally had on when the pilots had first met them; these were traveling packs, designed for bulk and not ease of movement. Star grunted as he took his from Hoof.

“Thank Celestia I don’t have to lug this through the air all day.” He glanced over at Taylor, who was inspecting the recently repaired wheel on Stivers’ aircraft. “Thank you for hauling these for us, Lieutenant.”

“No problem. No sense in you just standing out on the wing with all that crap on.” Taylor finished his inspection and walked over. “Besides, you never know when you might need to get off in a hurry, and those things are kinda big for fighting.”

Star blinked at that. “I never thought about that… do you think we’ll have to?”

“I hope not.” Taylor shrugged. “Still, it was Sword’s idea.”

Star glanced over at the Captain, who was talking to Midnight about something while they stood under the wing of Taylor’s airplane. “That’s just like him,” he said, pride showing in his voice. “He’s always got ideas like that, and they always seem to work out.”

“Yeah, he’s a real smart cookie,” Taylor agreed, fishing in one pocket of his trousers. “Ah, here we go. Okay, Flight 19, you did good today, now you get your treat. You’ll have to step away from the aircraft first, though.”

The pilots all followed Taylor as he walked a short distance away from the aircraft. “What’s up, Ell-Tee?” Gruebel asked.

“Just this.” Taylor turned around and grinned as he brandished a battered white package in his palm, then tossed it to Gruebel. “Share ‘em around.”

“Holy shit! Lucky Strike means fine tobacco.” The Marine fished a cigarette out of the pack and tossed it to Gallivan. “Where’d you find ‘em, sir?”

“Brought em with me, I was gonna hand em out after we landed from the training flight. I guess this counts.”

“Looks good in my book,” Stivers said with approval. He took a smoke from the pack and passed it on, then produced a lighter. The ponies all looked on in confusion as the humans all lit up the white tubes they held in their mouths, and then emitted a stream of white smoke that drifted away on the light wind.

“What in the world are you doing?” Shadow asked. “Is… is that magic?”

Thompson, caught in mid-inhale, coughed for a moment. “No, no. It’s... I guess it’s a kind of ritual thing with us. We do this to relax, or to celebrate sometimes. I always have one after a flight.”

Shadow cocked his head. “Can... um, can I try one?”

The pilots all shared a look. “Um, I don’t know,” Taylor said. “They’re... it’s kind of an acquired taste.” He glanced at Stivers, who simply shrugged. “Besides, you might not like it very much.”

Shadow arched his neck, sensing a hidden challenge in the statement. “I’m not afraid. Let me try.”

Star stepped forward from behind him. “Hey, Shadow, maybe it’s not a good idea. I mean, they do eat meat, and we don’t like that much either, right?”

“Ahh, that’s just food. This is for real pilots, right? Ponies who aren’t afraid to fly.” Shadow extended his wings to full length.

Gruebel shook his head and grinned. “Yeah, sure.” He emitted a startled whoofing sound as Gallivan elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow, dammit.”

“Come on, it’s like giving ‘em to kids. Don’t egg him on,” Gallivan said.

Shadow snorted. “I told you, I’m not afraid. Give it over.”

Thompson shrugged. “Okay, it’s your call, fella.” He crouched down, wincing as his knees made low popping noises with the motion. “Just hold it between your lips and inhale through your mouth,” he said, holding the cigarette in front of the pegasus with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t swallow it. Or eat it, either.”

“Gotcha.” Shadow gripped the cigarette between his lips and took a long pull, the lit end glowing a bright red. The experiment lasted somewhat less than three seconds, and the cigarette became airborne, the pony coughing and choking violently. “Oh Celestia, what... that’s...”

Taylor bent and patted the pony on his back firmly until the coughing fit subsided. “I tried to tell you. You okay?”

Shadow nodded and made a wheezing noise. “Yeah. Thanks... but you can keep that tradition to yourself.”

Thompson retrieved the half-smoked cigarette, brushed the sand off of it and stuck it back in a corner of his mouth. “More for me.”

“Okay, troops, let’s finish up here and get to work.” Stivers glanced around for a moment. “I guess this’ll do for a campsite as well as anything. Gallivan, you and Thompson see if you can scout around and try and find some dead wood or brush we can use for a fire.”

Gallivan looked around their soon to be encampment. “Just did sir. I found nothing.”

Stivers gave him an exasperated glance. “Then yank some branches off of Taylor’s tree or something. It’s gonna get cold as hell out here when the sun goes down.” He gave their surroundings another look. “I’m gonna grab some rocks and make a fire pit. Taylor, you wanna give Sword and the others a hand and set up camp?”

The Lieutenant snapped to attention and gave Stivers a three-fingered Boy Scout salute. “Sure thing. I’m still short my merit badge.” He turned and walked toward the ponies who still stood near the airplanes. “Okay, who’s got the marshmallows! Oooh! I get to tell the first ghost story, right?”

Shining Star gave Stivers a look. “Captain, is he always like that?”

“Ever since I’ve known him.” The Marine smiled to himself, then patted the pony on the back. “I’d send him back and ask for a replacement, but I don’t think anyone else would take him. C’mon, let’s get to work.”

“Captain,” Sword’s voice rang out in the clear air. “Before you get too busy with housekeeping, you might want to grab your weapons.”

Stivers looked over at Sword in surprise. “Why? What’s up?”

Golden Sword now stood next to Crimson Hoof on the wing of Taylor’s aircraft, both ponies staring off towards the south. “We’re about to have company,” Sword said tightly. “Unwelcome visitors, I guess you’d say.”

Stivers ran over to join them, vaulting up on the wing in one smooth motion. He held his right hand up, shading one side of his face as he stared off in the same direction. A low plume of dust was now visible, slowly but steadily moving their way. “I can’t see anything other than the damned sand. What is it?”

Golden Sword sighed heavily. “Zebras.”

“What?” Stivers asked blankly.

“You heard me, Captain. Zebras. They are black and white creatures that—” Sword began.

“I know what a damned zebra is. We have them where I come from. It’s just that I didn’t expect to find more talking horses. No offence,” Stivers said flatly.

“None taken,” Sword said, giving him an odd look. “You seem to find the idea of communication surprising when it happens outside your species, Captain. Is there no creature besides yourselves that speaks in your world?”

“No, not really.” Stivers flushed, feeling suddenly provincial, as if he was a gawking farm boy who had just stepped off a bus in New York City, pausing to marvel at the towers of steel and glass while others pointed and laughed. “I mean, I’m sure they talk to each other, I guess, but not to us, no.”

“How very strange.” Sword replied. He looked back at the advancing cloud of dust, which was beginning to resolve itself into individual shapes.

“Have the zebras here always lived in the desert?” Stivers carefully moved forward on the Avenger’s wing and leaned into the cockpit, rummaging for a moment. “I can think of a hell of a lot of nicer places to set up shop and raise the kids in, you know?”

“I suppose they live wherever they wish, just like everypony else,” Sword said. “I’ve heard there’s even one living near Ponyville, in the forest we passed through when we found you.” The guard Captain kept his gaze fixed on the approaching animals in question. “All of the ones I’ve encountered have been nomadic wanderers, however, like this bunch.”

Stivers frowned. “What are they, bums or something?”

Sword’s expression screwed itself up into a moue of distaste. “In a word, yes. Vagabonds who amble about aimlessly, spouting nonsense and trying to pawn off anything to anypony foolish enough to part with his bits.”

Stivers straightened up, holding the pair of binoculars that had been, surprisingly enough, stowed precisely where they were supposed to be. Holding them to his eyes, he focussed in on the dust cloud, and the images jumped sharply into view. “What the... it looks like they’re hauling a covered wagon or something.”

Golden Sword spat, the dry ground quickly swallowing up the moisture. “Free traders. One step removed from outright thieves, in only that they’ll give you something worthless in exchange for your valuables. Take my advice, Captain. Let’s send them packing and let them bilk somepony else.”

Stivers lowered the binoculars and gave the pegasus beside him a long, thoughtful look. “Let’s see what they have to say, first. The last time I shot before talking, I ended up a prisoner. Let’s try the other direction, first. Maybe we can make a friend or two, or at least pump them for information about the area.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Golden Sword sighed. “Very well, if you insist. Let’s meet them halfway, then, over on the other side of the flat. I’d prefer it if we don’t let them get any closer to your machines than we have to.”

Stivers glanced back at the bombers, a cold chill sweeping over him. “You think they’d try to steal them?”

“Steal them, take them apart, who knows? All I know is that I’ve never seen anything like your machines, Captain, and neither has anyone else in Equestria that I know of.” He turned a gimlet eye on Stivers. “How much do you think that’s worth to a trader?”

“Well shit-fire,” Stivers breathed. He slung the binocs around his neck and carefully jumped down from the wing of his airplane. “Okay folks,” he called out, “let’s go meet our visitors. Gallivan, stay here and keep an eye on the birds. Anybody gets too close to them, feed them some knuckles.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Star, you stay with him. Fly top cover and keep an eye out,” Sword ordered.

“Yes sir.” Unlimbering the spear from where it was strapped across his back, Shining Star crouched and leapt, wings flapping slowly as he rose up and began circling in a deceptively lazy pattern. He glided easily on the thermals wafting up from the hot desert floor as he watched the rest of his group move across the open salt flat toward the zebras, who were still working their way northwards towards them through the patches of brush. A half-mile to the east or west, and the caravan would have missed them entirely, lost in the ground clutter.

“I don’t like this,” Star muttered to the uncaring air.

Taylor stared at the zebra that stepped forth to greet them. The animal was decked out in an eye-watering array of odd colored decorations; beads, feathered earrings and necklaces swung from every possible place they could be affixed about the zebra’s head. On its back was a saddlepack similar to the ones his own ponies carried, with large cargo containers and even more pouches slung over the shoulders and chest in an arrangement that made it look like some sort of deranged bandito from the American southwest, one that sported leather pouches instead of ammunition, and dyed such a washed out olive-green that it almost looked like the field fatigues that were standard Marine issue.

“Greetings, beings, new and strange!” it said, the deep basso-profundo voice startling from its small frame, and clearly identifying it as a male. “What brings you out here on these plains?”

“Just traveling, and stopping to rest,” Stivers said carefully. “How about you?”

“Traveling too, from spot to spot, and taking breaks when it’s too hot,” the zebra replied, grinning hugely.

Taylor snorted. “Guy’s got a one-horse rhythm act,” he said. “Do you do nightclub gigs, too? Or birthday parties?” He jerked, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his ankle, and looked down to see Midnight giving him a glare.

“Behave yourself,” she whispered.

“Fine,” he sighed, and raised his voice again. “So, you headed anywhere special? You seem like you have a lot of stuff.”

“We travel over burning sands, heading towards the pony lands,” the zebra replied without missing a beat. “We sell our things from place to place, looking for a buyer’s face. If there’s something lacking, never fear,” he intoned, winking at Taylor, “I’m sure we’ve got it somewhere here. And if you’ve not got much to do, why not stop and buy a thing or two?”

Taylor rolled his eyes. If that wasn’t a rehearsed sales pitch, he’d eat the shorts off a twelve-legged tree sloth. Although considering how wacky as this world had been so far, a twelve-legged tree sloth showing up wearing shorts was not something you could just write off entirely.

“Zimmer, stop it!” A smaller zebra came trotting up from behind the first, wearing a similar saddlepack but dyed blue instead of green. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He got lost on a caravan trip one time, and when they finally found him, he wouldn’t stop talking like that.” She stomped a forehoof and shook her head in an odd motion that seemed to be a form of greeting. “I’m Zinnia. It’s always a pleasure to meet new folks out in the wilderness.”

“Likewise, ma’am.” Stivers raised an open palm in return. “My name’s Stivers.”

Taylor glanced around himself; the ponies remained in stone cold silence. “And I’m Taylor,” he said slowly. There was an undercurrent going on here he didn’t like. He’d been to a dinner party once with a girlfriend who had wanted him to meet her family. It had been a family reunion kind of thing, and he’d lost track of the various aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents he’d met, but the feeling was the same. Some of the people were openly friendly, and others reserved, depending on which side of the family you were talking to.

This feeling was plainly obvious to the zebras, but Zinnia made no mention of it, introducing herself to each of the humans in turn. “We’re all delighted to meet you. You’ve met Zimmer, of course.” She half turned and motioned to the other zebras in the group. “This is Zachary, my brother, and Zoe is over there behind the wagon, being all shy.” The zebra in question flattered her ears and gave Zinnia an irritated look. “And those three are Zip, Zarek, and Joe.”

Taylor blinked. “Um, Joe?”

Zinnia leaned toward him, her voice lowered. “He’s from up north,” she said.

“Oh,” Taylor said, nodding, as if that explained everything. “Gotcha.”

“So,” Zinnia said brightly, “since you’re here, and we’re here... would you care to look at some of our wares?” She shrugged nonchalantly. “You never know when that special something might turn up after all, and who knows when the next time we’ll meet is?”

“In about a thousand years would be nice,” Midnight muttered just loud enough for Taylor’s ears.

“Um... sure, I guess. Why not?” Taylor looked over at Stivers, who nodded in confirmation. The pilots followed the zebras toward the wagon, with the ponies pointedly hanging back and displaying their clear lack of interest. Only Midnight followed them, keeping close to Taylor’s side and turning her head from one zebra to the next, watching their movements.

Gruebel walked over to where Taylor stood and tapped the Lieutenant on the shoulder. “Hey, Ell-Tee?”

“Yeah?”

“Check out the zebra over at the end of the wagon, the one wearing the pow-wow rig on her head.”

Taylor glanced over at the animal, the shy one named Zoe. She sported a headdress with a riotous arrangement of feathers which stuck out at haphazard angles. “What about her?”

“I’d swear she’s got a set of dog-tags hanging around her neck.” Gruebel lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Check her out when she moves, you can see ‘em swinging around.”

Taylor gave the zebra a closer inspection. As she moved around, flipping open cases for the pilots to inspect, the object around her neck dangled and swung, flashing as it caught the afternoon sun now and again. She noticed him staring at her and shrank back, ducking behind the wagon out of sight.

“Yeah, I guess it does look like it, doesn’t it?” Taylor shrugged. “Probably some necklace she cadged off a customer, or maybe her boyfriend gave it to her as an engagement present or something. Girls like shiny things.”

“Yes sir, I guess so. Damndest thing, though.” Gruebel looked absently at the cart, then stopped dead. “Hey, what’s in those cans?”

The ears on all of the zebras perked up instantly at his tone. “You like?” Zinnia trotted over and made sure Gruebel could see the items clearly, shoving another box to one side. “I thought you might be interested in those. They’re canned preserved food we got from the gryphon lands to the north. We really don’t have much of a market for them in the pony lands, so I might be able to cut you a deal on these.”

“Food’s never a bad thing to have too much of,” Stivers said, ambling over. “What sort of food?”

Zinnia seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Well... it’s meat. Sort of.”

The expression on the pilots’ faces obviously took her by surprise. “Fucking-A,” Gruebel said. “Lady, I’ll take however much of that you have.”

“Well, I just have the one box,” Zinnia said, a bit flustered from the ease of the sale. “Twenty cans worth. You’re welcome to it... what did you have in mind to trade for it?”

The pilots all looked at one another, their momentary elation sinking. Regulations forbid them to go flying with any personal effects, and that included their wallets. American dollars were likely to be worthless as well in this land anyway; no one here had ever heard of the Federal Reserve Bank or seen a picture of George Washington on a one dollar bill.

“No.” Stivers’ voice was flat and brooked no argument. “Uncle Sam issued those to you. They come off when you get planted in the ground, not before.”

“Aw, come on, sir,” Gruebel pleaded. “You really think Graves Registration is gonna come all the way out here to get ‘em back?”

“I said no.” Stivers folded his arms. “If you can’t find something else, we’ll do without the stuff. We’re not starving, and we have food in our packs.”

“Yeah, dried fruit and granola bars, and a shitload of oats.” Thompson shook his head. “Trail food. Pony trail food. That’s gonna get old real fast, Cap.”

“Getting old will be something you won’t have to worry about if you keep arguing with me,” Stivers warned. “Look, we’ll just have to let it go.” He turned to Zinnia, palms spread. “I’m sorry miss, we didn’t exactly come prepared to do business.”

The glum looks on the zebras’ faces matched those of the pilots. “It happens,” Zinnia said, slowly flipping the lid of the box closed. The other zebras began to repack the display items with an equal lack of enthusiasm. “We appreciate your time, though.” She offered a small smile. “I guess it’s still good to meet new folks.”

Midnight stirred from beside Taylor and took a step forward. “I... I’ve got a little bit of money, if you’ll take that. Equestrian bits.”

The pilots all looked at her in surprise. “Whoa, wait a minute,” Gruebel said. “Lieutenant, you don’t have to do that. Cap’s right, we can do without it.”

“Equestrian money’s good; we’re heading that way anyway,” Zinnia said eagerly. The other zebras froze in place, awaiting developments.

“How much do you want for the box?” Midnight tucked her head to one side and opened one of the smaller pouches hanging near her shoulder.

The expression on Zinnia’s face altered suddenly, becoming the cold, calculating look of a salesperson on the hunt. She was clearly trying to weigh the money pouch Midnight was fiddling with in her mind. “Tell you what. Twenty bits and you can have the whole lot.”

“Twenty bits, a steal of a deal, tall folks have a tasty meal,” Zimmer added, holding the corner of a tarp on the other side of the wagon.

Midnight slumped, letting the flap of her money pouch fall back into place. “I’ve only got eight left,” she said weakly. “I only brought a little with me when we went to Ponyville and I didn’t pick up any more while we were in Canterlot.”

“Oh shit,” Taylor said, holding a hand to his forehead as the realization struck him. “I’m sorry, Midnight.” She had bought their lunch with the little cash that she’d had.

“Eight might buy a can or two, but that won’t feed your hungry crew,” Zimmer intoned.

“Zim, stop teasing the customers,” Zinnia said crossly. She looked back to Midnight. “Well, girlie? You want to buy part of the box?” She was a hunter on the scent now, and cold, hard cash was in the offing. “I’ll give you, say half of it for your eight bits. And I’m stretching it as it is.”

Stivers frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t have much demand for the stuff. You can afford to cut her a deal.”

“Yeeaah, I can, but then every customer from Fillydelphia to the Three Peaks down south would know old Zinnia’s a pushover. I have a reputation to keep up, not to mention a business to run.”

Stivers glanced behind him where Golden Sword and the other ponies stood waiting. The pegasus Captain said nothing, but the patient look on his face spoke volumes. I told you so.

Taylor cleared his throat and held up a hand. “Wait. I have a counter-offer for you.”

“Go on, I’m listening.” Zinnia leaned against the wagon, crossing one forehoof behind the other like a man leaning against a wall while waiting for the bus.

Midnight Arrow frowned. “Taylor, I can...”

“Lemme try this,” he said in a low tone. “Keep your money, we may need it later.” He reached into a shirt pocket and removed a small velvet pouch. Opening it up, he shook the contents out into his palm and held it out. The gold anchor and shield gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, the wings on either side stretching out proudly. He heard the gasp the zebras made and grinned inwardly; he had them right where he wanted them.

“Navy ‘Wings of Gold.’ Manufactured in the good old U.S. of A. You’ll never find another like them, ever.” Which was true. The aviators all bore a leather patch on their flight gear with the wings embossed on it; the metal pin was only worn on their duty or dress uniform. Taylor only carried his with him for personal reasons, and he had no mind to explain that to the greedy zebras in front of him. “These are the wings I earned when I graduated flight school. This for the whole box, all twenty cans. Take it or leave it.”

Zinnia’s jaw dropped. “You want the whole box for that?”

“Take it or leave it,” Taylor repeated, his voice firm. “Otherwise, no deal.”

“Take it, Zinnia!” one of the other zebras hissed. “I’ll trade you a case of cider for it!”

“Hey, you said I could have that!” another yelled.

“Quiet, all of you!” Zinnia snapped. She glanced back at Taylor, the crafty look resuming its place on her face. “You almost had me there, except for that last little bit. Nobody goes to flight school and then walks around on the ground. And you don’t have a pair of wings on you either, except the pair you’re holding in your hand. Care to explain that, flyboy?”

Taylor gritted his teeth. “I don’t fly, I drive a machine that does.”

“Oh this just gets better and better.” Zinnia snorted. “I’d take you in trade for the food; I could make a fortune with you as a storyteller. Sure you don’t want to come with us? I can cut you in for a percentage.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Come look, if you don’t believe me.” Taylor re-pocketed the gold wings, did an about-face and stalked back the way they had come. “They’re just up the rise, here. You’d have damn near run over us if we hadn’t come out to meet you.”

The other pilots stared as Zinnia began to follow Taylor. “Uh, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Stivers said.

“Shit on that. No half-pint stripey bitch is gonna stand there and call me a liar to my fucking face.” Taylor walked past Sword and the other ponies, trudged up the short hill that hid the salt flat from view and stopped, waiting. “Well? Come on up here and look.”

Zinnia trotted up behind him, a world-weary expression on her face. “If you insist. But that last little remark is going to cost you something extra.” She stopped beside him and stood, staring. On the other side of the flat, the two Avenger bombers were clearly visible, their blue paint startling against the tan and brown background. The pilots had parked the planes canted inward at an angle, almost facing each other, their insignia showing. The large roundel on the side just behind the wing stood out sharply, the white star on a blue circle with white bars on either side, and next to it in tall letters stood the word NAVY.

“Well?” Taylor snapped. “You want me to give you a ride or something, or is this good enough?”

Zinnia stared at the planes for a moment, and then looked at Taylor, her eyes widening to show a white ring completely around her pupils. Utter and abject horror stood out clearly on her angular face. “DOOMBRINGERS!”

Taylor jerked back, startled. “What?” This wasn’t exactly the effect he’d intended. “What the hell are you...”

Zinnia uttered a thin shriek and spun around, galloping back toward her wagon. “Doombringers! They’ll kill us all! Pack up everything and run!” She stumbled at the foot of the hill, rolling in a cloud of dust and then staggering back to her hooves again. She ran to the wagon and swept the box the pilots had been haggling over out, sending the cans tumbling every which way. “Take it! Just take it and leave us alone!”

Ponies and pilots alike stood in complete shock as the zebras ran back and forth, slamming all the boxes back into place on the wagon and tying the tarp down over them hurriedly. Shining Star, who had heard the screams and seen dust flying up, had dropped quickly from his circling pattern and come zooming towards them, spear at the ready. He flew low overhead, making a quick pass, and the zebras all ducked, emitting yelping cries of panic as he flew by and banked around. Sword took off in a cloud of sand and dust, rapidly overtaking his subordinate and aborting the guard’s attack run.

The zebras quickly hitched themselves up to the wagon and began running off toward the west with a great rattling and an occasional lurch as they ran over a hummock. Zimmer stopped for a moment, glancing fearfully up at where Star and Sword hovered, and then back at Taylor. He began chanting rapidly, a rhythmic verse that repeated itself over and over for a moment. Star emitted a loud yell, and the zebra turned and bolted after the others, his tail flagging back and forth.

As the dust settled slowly, Taylor looked at the others in bewilderment. “What did I do?”

“You called her a half-pint stripey bitch,” Midnight said calmly. “Really Taylor, you have horrible manners with strangers. You need to work on that.”

Stivers and Thompson burst out laughing as Gruebel headed back down the hill. “Hey guys, food’s down here. No sense looking a gift horse in the mouth.” He started picking up cans, and then glanced up at the ponies. “No pun intended.”

“I will be double-damned,” Gruebel said in disgust. The group sat around a crackling campfire, built up with dead limbs and not a few branches from the scrubby bushes that lay along the edges of the salt flat. The temperature had plummeted rapidly after the sun had gone down, and the crackling warmth of the flames was comforting to everyone, pilots and ponies together.

“What?” Shadow looked over at the Marine private. “Has it gone bad or something?”

“No, it might taste better if it had.” Gruebel held a stick with a chunk of the canned meat speared on the end over the fire, his face screwed up in disgust. He pulled it back, blew on the end, and took another bite. “Be double-damned,” he repeated. “I get yanked through God-knows what, end up on a planet full of talking Technicolor ponies, and I’m still eating fucking Spam.”

“Look at it this way.” Taylor sat on the other side of the fire, chewing busily. “At least it wasn’t issue meat hash.”

“Damn, Ell-Tee.” Thompson coughed and swallowed, laughing. “Thanks for reminding me of that shit.” He began humming, and the other pilots joined in one by one. “Spam Spam Spam Spam, wonderful Spaaaaam!”

Crimson Hoof looked at Thompson warily. “Do you always sing to your food?”

“Technically, this isn’t food, in my opinion, but nah. Only to Spam.”

“You come from a strange place,” the corporal declared. “You went through all that trouble to get meat,” he said, shuddering for a moment. “You finally get it, you burn it in the fire, even though you said you can just eat it out of the can, and then when you don’t like it, you sing to it?”

Thompson took another bite and chewed for a moment, considering. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bit weird. But you guys have fully functional hospitals, you fly around in chariots when you have your own wings, and you use spears and bows and arrows.” He emitted a resounding belch. “Now that’s strange.”

Gallivan leaned over and patted Hoof on the shoulder. “No offence, kid. We’re all kinda goofy in our own way, I guess.”

Gruebel finished off the last bite of his meal with grim determination, then stood up and stretched. “Goofy or not, I’m beat. I’m gonna hit the sack. Or sand. Whatever.”

Stivers nodded. “Sword and I have the first watch, so yeah, if you guys want to nod off, go ahead.”

Taylor stood up as well. “I’ll take second. Wake me at midnight, all right? Don’t get all noble and stay up all night.”

“When I have to fly in the morning? No chance.” He gave Taylor a light punch on the leg. “Take off. You got the dog watch.”

“Figures. Speak, Taylor! Speak, boy! Ruff, ruff!” The lieutenant curled up with his head perched on his pack and closed his eyes. “G’night, gramma.”

The quiet night slowly surrounded them as one by one, the members of the group dropped off to sleep, some more quickly than others. A chorus of light snores soon arose to greet the dark sky, and Sword stood up to survey their surroundings. “Well. It’s a good thing we’re on duty. I don’t think I could sleep through this noise.”

“Yeah, right.” Stivers stood up as well; it was a bad habit to sit down when you were trying to pull guard duty. Especially with the fire so close by. It would be frighteningly easy to stare into the flames, mesmerized, and drop off into sleep without even realizing it. “You seem like an old campaigner, Captain. You must have been through the grinder once or twice.”

The two began slowly walking together, pacing around the limits of the circle lit by the fire. “True enough,” Sword admitted after a moment. “I’ve not been in the service of the princesses as long as others... but I have seen my share.” A wry smile curled about his muzzle. “And yes, I’ve slept through noise like that before many times out in the field. You learn to do it, or else you don’t sleep.”

“Oh yeah.” Stivers bent and picked up a gnarled branch that Gallivan had dropped earlier, intending to throw it on the fire. “So... what’s your story, Captain?”

“Excuse me?”

“How’d you end up in the guard? And how’d you end up being such a hardass?” Stivers grinned to take the sting out of the words. “Speaking as one hardass to another.”

Golden Sword had slowed almost to a stop. The two captains stood next to a grassy hummock, looking out over the darkened desert to the east, where the moon was beginning to rise.

“There she is,” Sword said, smiling at the moon for a moment before turning to Stivers. “Well... nopony’s really asked me that before.” He frowned. “I don’t think anypony was really interested, to be honest.” Shrugging, he resumed their slow trek around the perimeter. “Really I guess it all started when I—”

A low hissing noise emerged from the darkness to their right, and the two stopped immediately, Stivers crouching down next to the pegasus. “What the hell is that?”

“I’m not sure,” the pony replied, his whole form tensing. “I heard stories back in Canterlot though, when I was asking about the desert. I think it may be...”

The sand erupted in front of both of them, flying up in a shower. A low, hunched shape stood there, red eyes glowing out of the twisted ruin that served as its face. About three feet high, it emitted a piercing screech as it jumped into the air, membranous wings flapping madly as it hovered before them. The desert air in all directions was suddenly filled with identical screeching, and numerous shapes darted in and out just beyond the illumination of the campfire.

“...Dust Devils,” Sword finished, his ears pinned back against his head. “You might want to draw your weapon, Captain. We aren’t getting much sleep tonight anyway.”

Stivers fell back, instinctively reaching down and opening the flap on the leather holster strapped to his belt. Before he had so much as gotten a grip on the .45 pistol that lay there, however, Golden Sword had drawn his namesake weapon and surged forward. With one quick swing, he bisected the noisome creature before them in one smooth motion. It uttered a garbled shriek, shivered for a second and then, quite literally, fell apart before their eyes, the two severed sections trembling and then exploding into a cloud of sand and dust.

The rest of the group that had been sleeping around the campfire started awake immediately when the horrific shrieking had begun; ponies and pilots alike fought to shake off the feeble beginnings of sleep they had just begun to indulge in. Shining Star, who had barely begun to nod off, was the quickest to regain his wits. The pegasus immediately shot into the air and impaled one of the creatures directly in the torso with a lunging stab of his spear. It writhed for a moment like a bug on a pin and then detonated in another spray of dust that surrounded the pony in a cloud, filling his eyes with a burning sensation as he was momentarily blinded. “Oh Celestia, that hurts!”

The creatures began flitting past from every direction, zooming in at them from out of the darkness surrounding the fire. Only two or three headed towards Sword and Stivers; the rest seemed drawn to the light like moths to a flame, and the beleaguered warriors began backing up until they could feel the heat of the flames singeing their fur and hair.

“Jesus Christ, how many of these damned things are there?” Taylor had nocked an arrow in his short bow and was searching for a target to aim at. “Shit, I can’t even see anything.”

Stivers ducked as another of the creatures swooped at him, snatching away a lock of hair. He resnapped his holster closed and drew the short, broad bladed dagger at his side. His automatic only held seven shots, and there seemed to be dozens of the damned things flitting just in and out of sight around the fire. As quick as they were in and out of sight, the chances of him hitting one were small. The chances of him missing and nailing one of his companions or one of the airplanes were a lot higher, however. Guess it’s time to put this thing to use and see how good I am.

Another of the beasts grabbed at his elbow from behind. He jerked away and spun around, taking a swipe at it with the dagger. The gleaming weapon scored a long, bloodless wound along one of the thing’s wings as it jumped back, and it hissed at him, uttering a string of nonsensical gibberish that Stivers supposed was its version of a curse.

There was a howl of pain from overhead and everyone involuntarily glanced up at it. Shining Star, who was still hovering in place and trying to clear his fouled vision, had been grabbed by three of the creatures at once. Two had attached themselves to his wings, one on each side, and they tugged at them as if playing an impromptu game of tug of war. A third had grabbed ahold of the buckles on the front of his armor with one claw and was scratching and clawing at the pegasus’ face, clearly going for his eyes. The pony had instinctively sensed this and was thrashing his head about rapidly, snapping his teeth and neighing in fear. His own wings immobilized, the monsters were holding him suspended between them as they headed toward the fire, apparently intending to dump the helpless pony into the open flame. Several of the other ponies had prepared themselves to go to his aid, but the imps were swooping down and snatching at their own wings as well, using their strength of numbers to keep the guards from becoming airborne.

“Stay on the ground!” Golden Sword bellowed. “Don’t let them separate you! Keep bunched up!”

The miniature sand demon attached to Star’s chest had tired of trying to claw at his eyes and was preparing to simply bite the pony on his throat near his jaw where the neck armor ended. It emitted an evil hiss and spread its jaws, clearly savoring the moment... and then uttered a strangled cough. An arrow appeared to be growing out of its open mouth, the barbed tip protruding through the back of its neck.

As it dropped away and burst, Midnight Arrow crouched down near Taylor’s knees, drawing and nocking another arrow in one fluid motion. As she took aim at the beast holding Star’s right wing, she spoke to Taylor without turning. “Get ready to catch him when he falls.”

“Got it.” Taylor slung his own weapon and watched in admiration as the little pegasus beside him calmly shot the other two imps off of Star as if she was plinking tin cans lined up on a fence. The freed pegasus uttered a shout as he dropped, upside down, frantically trying to right himself, legs flailing wildly. Taylor lunged forward and caught him in his outstretched arms, the pony’s weight knocking him to the ground. The pilot landed on one of the rocks that lined the firepit and rolled away, cursing as he felt the hair on one side of his head crackle as it was singed by the flames. Star lay in his grasp for a moment, still wriggling frantically, and then stopped as he realized he was safe, at least for the moment.

“Whoever it is, thank Celestia you have arms,” he breathed, panting heavily. “I could feel the heat... I thought I was done for.”

“No problem. That’s why I joined the Navy. Screw seeing the world, I wanted to fight baby devils by the romantic glow of a fire.” Taylor moved one of the pony’s forelegs aside and brushed gently at his eyes, wiping away a crust of sand. “You okay?”

Star blinked rapidly, his eyes watering. “Oh yeah, that’s better. Thanks, Ell-Tee.”

Taylor grinned reflexively at the nickname, leaning over to pick up the pony’s spear where he had dropped it. “Sure thing. Here you gooHHH GODDAMMIT!” One of the tiny devils had swooped down and snatched at Taylor’s ear with a claw, cutting it open and scoring the side of his cheek with a triple furrow of bloody marks. The pilot lashed out with one bare hand and seized the pocket demon in one clenched fist. He slammed it to the ground, drew the dagger from his side with the other hand, and stabbed the thing directly in the face, pinning it to the dirt. “Fuck you, you little asshole!”

Midnight crouched, drew and fired again, vaporizing another devil in mid-swoop, and sidled over to where the two lay, her gaze darting back and forth as she searched for another target. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Taylor swiped at his cheek and looked at his bloody palm. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Stivers and Sword had finally managed to work their way back to join the rest of the group, and they all formed a solid ring around the fire, watching as the creatures flitted about. “We have to figure something else out,” Sword said. “If we keep this up, they’re going to wear us down one by one. They keep going for the face and eyes.”

Shining Star stumbled to his feet and shook himself. “Yes sir, I noticed.”

Thompson, who had been swiping ineffectually at the creatures with his spear whenever they drew too near, straightened up suddenly. “Captain,” he said, “think we ought to try using something a little stronger?”

“I thought about it, but it’s hard enough to get a clear shot, and I don’t want to hit anyone else.” Stivers grimaced. “Besides, we only have a couple of magazines left for the pistols, and not enough ammo for all these bastards.”

“I mean something stronger than that.” Thompson looked over at the officers. “Throw some of the burning wood out there where they’re flying around us and light the place up.” He suddenly grinned, the flickering firelight giving him a fiendish look that made him look uncannily like one of the miniature demons. “Then we make a rush for old 117 right there.” He pointed at the nearest Avenger. “Everyone back up against the airplane; I’ll take care of the rest of it.”

Stivers glanced at the aircraft and the realization of the private’s plan hit him. “Good idea, let’s do it.” Sheathing his dagger, the Marine grabbed at the unlit end of one of the sticks in the fire and hurled the brand out into the darkness. “You heard him! Let’s light the place up!”

Each of the humans seized a piece of wood and lit it in the fire and then tossed the makeshift torch into the darkness in the direction they were facing. The burning branches landed in the darkness, widening the circle of visibility and providing a more clear outline of the flying pests that circled and swooped around them. They kept chucking the brands into the darkness until little of the original fire remained; the light was scattershot now, burning sticks lying randomly around them in a wide circle, with some of them lighting the dry brush on fire to provide even more light. With the source of the illumination diluted and dispersed, the miniature demons ceased their constant circling and began to swirl about aimlessly, screeching and howling at one another.

“Okay, everybody GO!” Stivers uttered a parade ground bellow and took off, ponies and pilots moving together in one group as they rushed for the nearby bomber. They surrounded it on all sides, pressing their backs against the fuselage, and began fending off the increasingly random attacks from the Dust Devils.

Thompson vaulted up onto the portside wing. Still holding his spear, he swung it like a baseball bat and struck another demon with a solid hit that sent the thing sprawling. The Marine dropped the spear and quickly vaulted into the aft turret on the spine of the aircraft, slamming the hatch closed behind him.

Taylor looked down at Midnight. “Better duck your ears, hon, it’s about to get noisy.”

She cursed as her shot missed its mark, winging the beast she had been aiming at. “What do you mean—”

The rest of her reply was lost as the .50 caliber turret Thompson was manning opened fire, the noise bellowing the night into tatters. Flame spat from the end of the barrel as Thompson rotated the mini ball turret, firing into the largest cloud of milling demons. The creatures did not even have time to emit their characteristic shriek as the heavy slugs ripped into them, sending them bursting into clouds of dust. Those unlucky few too close to the turret were shredded by the sound and flame blasting from the machine gun, and even a near miss seemed to have a traumatic effect; the stream of bullets caused many of the Dust Devils to cartwheel crazily through the air as if disoriented before bursting into nothingness.

The ponies all flattened their ears at the fearful din, the whites of their eyes showing clearly as the unknown sorcery of the aircraft spewed its deadly cargo into the dark. The muzzle blast lit up the area in a series of staccato flashes, illuminating the pegasi guards as they crouched down in terror. They were guards in the sworn service of the princess of Equestria, bound by duty to give their lives for her if need be, and were no cowards, but this was something beyond their ken. They had seen the small handguns and what their self-contained sorcery had done to the bear back in the Everfree Forest, but this was that sorcery increased beyond an order of magnitude, a continuous ripping roar of noise surpassing what they had endured from the aircraft engines on their way here. The fact that none of them bolted in fear was a mute testament to their bravery, and one the humans were never to fully appreciate.

Midnight Arrow lay crouched down, trembling, near the nose of the aircraft. She glanced up at Taylor, who stood beside her, his face illuminated in the stroboscopic flashing of the machine gun as he watched the carnage, a look of grim satisfaction on his bloody face. She shivered, and all at once wished that Fluttershy was here, and at the same time, was glad that she wasn’t. Swallowing heavily, she tore her gaze away from the sight and picked up her bow once more, preparing to pick off any of the Dust Devils that strayed too close to the front of the airplane.

None did. The scattering of the fire had removed the focus of the creatures attack; they were little more than semi-intelligent animals that tracked their prey by light, sound and motion. Their brains were rudimentary, but developed enough to realize that whatever particular prey they had seized upon, it was decimating their numbers in wholesale lots. Instinct took over, and the vile beasts began scattering in all directions, their shrieking cries becoming weaker and weaker as they fled into the dark night.

The bursts from Thompson’s turret slowed, becoming intermittent and then finally stopping entirely. The others could hear the whine from the turret as it moved back and forth, searching for targets, but finding nothing worth wasting any more ammunition on. Eventually it stopped, and Thompson’s head emerged from the hatch, his face covered in sweat. “I think we’re clear, Cap. If they’re still out there, I can’t make ‘em out, anyway.”

“I think we’re good, for now. You can stand down, Marine.” Stivers glanced at the remnants of their makeshift battlefield and then patted the wing of the aircraft. “Grumman and Browning, my two best friends. Nice work, girl.”

“Hey, I did the shooting.” Thompson clambered out and sat down on the wing, drooping tiredly. “You can thank me, too.”

“Yeah, you did okay.” Taylor looked up at the dim outline of the private. “Not too bad for a trainee. I’d say you passed your gunnery test with that one.” He reached up and touched his own wounded cheek, wincing; the wounds were starting to hurt like a sonofabitch. “Anybody else hurt?”

“My wings are still attached, even if they don’t feel like they really want to be, right now,” Star groaned. “Otherwise, I think I’m fine.”

“One of the little bastards dive-bombed me in the balls,” Gruebel said, his voice strained. “Feel like I got kicked by a mule down there.”

“Remind you of your first date?” Gallivan was practically untouched, except for his hands, which were bruised and scored from beating at the imps. “The Gorilla from Manila that you used to hang out with before the war?”

“She was from Olongapo, asshole.” Gruebel straightened upright, wincing. “And it was her sister that kicked me.”

“Oh yeah, now I remember. She was the one with the beard, right?”

“Knock it off, you two,” Stivers growled. “All right, let’s police up the area. Put out the damned brush before we burn the whole desert down around our ears.” He glanced down. “Thompson, grab your brass.” Most of the expended cartridges had fallen inside the aircraft, but a few had fallen out of the turret area and lay on the sand, gleaming.

“Are you kidding?” Thompson stared for a moment, then at the answering glare from Stivers, he jumped down off the wing and began picking up the spent brass. “What, are we on the firing line, now?”

“I just don’t want to leave any of that shit behind when we leave.” It was a gut feeling Stivers had that he couldn’t explain, and he didn’t want to try. “The same goes for any empty cans or the rest of our trash. Police it up and stow it. I don’t want to leave a trail of our used crap all the way from the castle to the mountains.”

Crimson Hoof, who had been sniffing at a pile of dust and sand that had recently tried to bite him, glanced up with a frown. “Are you afraid of being followed, sir?” He looked around uneasily. “Is that how those... things found us?”

“I don’t know, Hoof.” Stivers shrugged. “It just feels better this way... safer. Call it a hunch.” He glanced around. “What do you think, Captain?”

Golden Sword made no answer. His blonde tail drooping, the pegasus gave Stivers one long, measuring look and then turned away.

Stivers glanced around quickly, taking note of what the rest of their group was doing. Thompson was busily grubbing away in the sand under the Avenger and uttering a low string of particularly juicy curses; the few that managed to float across to Stivers indicated that the private was not exactly enthused about the task at hand. Most of the rest had spread out cautiously, beginning to retrieve the burning brands they had cast around their camp; Gallivan and Shadow were busily stamping out a small creosote bush that had caught afire and was burning merrily. None of them were paying any particular attention to either of the two Captains at the moment, and that suited the Marine just fine.

Breaking into a slow jog, he caught up with Sword near a knee-high outcropping of rock that lay near the edge of the salt pan. It might have lain undisturbed under the former lake bed for millennia, but the water was gone now, and the wind was brushing away the sand bit by bit, exposing the rock, which was in turn being slowly brushed away itself by the abrasive grains blowing across its surface. The pony was leaning against it, staring off to the eastward at the still rising moon, and Stivers walked over and sat down on the rock behind him, looking him over carefully. “Hey, Captain. You okay? One of those little bastards clip you?”

The grey pegasus uttered an odd little laugh. “No, no, oh no. I’m fairly well untouched. I always am, you know, no matter how bad it gets.” He uttered a low snort and stomped the sand with a forehoof. “One of my troopers almost gets pulled apart in mid-air like some sort of treat at a birthday party, but I hardly had my mane mussed.”

Stivers blinked at that remark, the bitterness in it almost palpable. “Captain... he’s fine. Just a bit sore, is all.”

“Yes, I noticed Mr. Taylor asked after him, even before I thought to.” Sword paused. “I have to tell you, he’s risen a bit in my estimation today. I was wrong about him... quite wrong, actually. About all of you, really.”

Stivers shifted on the rock, leaning back and folding his arms. “That’s normal, I guess.” He looked over at the pegasus. “If you were one of my people, I’d tell you it’s only human.”

Sword shook his head slowly, then glanced around to fix the tall pilot in his gaze. “And even now you offer me support. Why, Captain?” His voice grew rough. “Why do you care how I feel? What I’ve done? You play the part of the compassionate leader very well, Stivers. Even my own hoof-picked troops now look to you for advice, more and more. I’ve seen it happen again and again since we left Canterlot.”

Stivers uncrossed his arms slowly, holding his palms open toward the pegasus. “Hold on, Captain. Take it easy. I’m not trying to sideline you or subvert your command. They’re still your troops.” He offered a wry, humorless smile. “If I did try to take over, I think I’d end up in ten different pieces before I could bat an eye, if your executive officer didn’t shoot it out first.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before, guns, arrows... I mean, Jesus.”

The compliment seemed to mollify Sword somewhat; the pegasus relaxed a bit, leaning back against the rock next to the pilot. “She’s a bit of work, I agree. Yes, it appears each of us has our own little deadly talent.” He frowned. “Which reminds me... your man Thompson. That... thing he used. It’s like the little ones I gave back to you before we took off, only larger, and more deadly.”

“It’s just a machine gun, but yeah, it’s a damn sight tougher than these.” Stivers patted the .45 holstered at his hip.

“I noticed.” The pegasus peered at him warily. “Were you planning on telling me about those at some point? Or did you overlook that particular detail in the rush to leave?”

Stivers had the good grace to blush heavily. “I... I just thought it might be a good idea to keep it to ourselves, just in case.” He shrugged, “With the way Celestia was acting before we left, I didn’t know how she would react to it, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to ask you to choose between her and us.”

Sword nodded. “And having something to fall back on just in case I and my guards didn’t turn out to be entirely trustworthy wasn’t a bad idea either, was it?”

Stivers looked down at the ground and said nothing, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Again, I misjudged you, Captain. You’re smart, intelligent, and cunning as well.” Sword sighed. “And I can’t fault you for that. In fact, I admire it. I had thought the lot of you as nothing more than a bunch of large, noisy, blundering buffoons. Dangerous, but something we could handle, like a wild Manticore.” He reached up and removed the plumed helmet he wore, setting it down on the rock and rubbing a forehoof through the sweat-matted mane that cascaded down his neck. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“I doubt that.” Stivers sat down on the sand, his back braced against the rock. “You were doing your job, Captain. Part of it is knowing when to keep your mouth shut, even if you don’t want to.”

“Again, you offer yourself up as the wise leader, imparting comfort where needed.” The pegasus smiled wanly. “I always wanted to be wise. I tried to be.”

“You’ve been doing pretty well so far.” Stivers shifted uncomfortably. “Captain, I... well, look. Both of the planes have several guns like that, top and bottom for defence, and on the wings, too, for attacks. And we’ve got some heavier stuff loaded, too. Rockets, under the wings.”

Sword looked at him curiously. “Rockets? Like New Year’s candles? Why do you carry those?”

“These aren’t fireworks, Captain. We could probably level your princess’s tower with them, if we tried.”

Golden Sword’s eyes widened. “Sweet Celestia. It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me about them before we left, then. I would have flown back to the castle and tried to call this whole thing off.”

“No shit?” Stivers stared at him.

“No shit.” The pegasus laughed again, the bitter sound in it reaching in and tugging at Stivers. “You’re an accurate judge of character, Captain, while I...” Sword glanced behind him and up, peering for a moment at the rising moon. “You could have waited until we were out of sight of the castle, shot us all off of your wings, and continued on your own. Made up any story you liked when you got back. If you got back.”

“I still can,” Stivers said levelly. “But I didn’t, and I won’t. We don’t operate like that where I come from. I took an oath when I became an officer, and being a liar to those I’m supposed to trust wasn’t in that oath.”

“Ahh, so now I’m trustworthy, am I?” Golden Sword looked at him, his blonde forelock falling over one eye. “Comrades to the end, through thick and thin?”

“We’ve shed blood together now, and fought off a common enemy. And I remember your words before we left. Like you said, we have to start somewhere, don’t we?” Stivers drew up one leg, clasping his hands around his knee and lacing the fingers together. “We’ve got a good start. I’d hate to ruin that.”

“Well spoken.” The pegasus fidgeted in place for a moment, and then breathed a long, slow sigh. “Well. Since we’re tucked in cozily together and sharing secrets, let me tell you one I’ve carried about for a while now. You asked me earlier how I ended up in my position, how I became a...” He frowned. “A ‘hardass,’ I believe you called it.”

“No insult intended.” Stivers smiled. “Like I said, I was asking as one hardass to another.”

“Well then. Let me tell you how the all knowing, all wise Golden Sword managed to stumble into being the leader of an elite group of royal guard ponies, when by all rights he should have been a charred corpse in a no-name village long ago.” The pegasus looked up at him. “And don’t interrupt me, Captain. I’ve never told this to anyone, and I don’t think I shall ever do so again, so be kind and pay attention, hmm?”

The Marine nodded silently, his eyes reflecting the gleaming light of the moon.

“Have you ever seen a dragon up close before, Captain?” Golden Sword paused. “No? I thought not. Well, neither have I. I almost did, but I missed my chance. Call it fate, call it blind luck, call it Discord’s Whim, whatever you like. I was a sergeant in the regular army, several years ago. Our unit had been ordered out to a small village near a lovely little stream that went all the way down to the Brighttail River, if you followed it far enough. From there, you could go to Fillydelphia, or all the way to the sea... but I digress.

“The village was named Sugarcube. It wasn’t on the map. It was one of those little places that happens to spring up because a pony or two just stopped one day and decided to build his house there, because it suited him. A few farms, a couple of houses, a store or two. No inn, it wasn’t large enough to have anypony visit. Nobody really cared about it, except the ponies that lived there. They cared a lot. I’m not sure why. It certainly wasn’t a place worth dying over. But that’s what happened.”

Sword flicked his forelock out of his eyes with a lithe twist of his head. “My unit was ordered there by the Princess Celestia to evacuate the town. The dragons... they migrate, you see? Every year. And the path they take varies. Well, this particular year, they decided to go along the route that the stream followed, heading back toward the mountains. And so, to protect her subjects, the princess had decreed that the ponies who lived in Sugarcube should evacuate their homes and move, temporarily, to a camp that was safely out of the way. It was a journey of a couple of days away, and not very difficult, and they could return when the dragons had passed... assuming, of course, that the dragons didn’t level the town while they were away.” He laughed harshly. “Dragons are possessed of a unique sort of whimsy in that regard. They might torch your house, or leave it alone and tear the roof off of mine instead, just because it was next door, and it suited them. Just because they could, you see?

“Well. We arrived in town, and made our pronouncement. I felt proud. Here we were, servants of the princess and of the ponies, here to lead them to safety. They would follow us, worship us as heroes, and we would have done our duty to protect them. A few days of roughing it, just a lark of a camping trip, really, and we’d lead them back, safe and sound. Life would return to normal, and we would have done our duty. No more, no less.

“Except they wouldn’t leave.” Golden Sword’s jaw clenched, and the pony stamped at the ground. “The fools refused to leave their damned thatched-roof cottages and grubby farms and take a short bucking hike to someplace safe. They’d built their homes with their own hooves, they said, and they’d stick by them. Dragons don’t care about farms, they said. They’d be fine on their own. Well, we hadn’t expected that. We’d been sent out there to get them and move them, and we really didn’t have time to argue about it, because the dragons were coming. So my captain set off upriver, and found a spot about three leagues away that was a perfect ambush site, at least for an aerial attack.” He fell silent for a moment, lost in memory.

Stivers sat silently, feeling a creeping dread as he waited for the pony to continue. Unable to hold his tongue any longer, he spoke up. “So what happened?”

“He ordered me back,” Sword said, his voice uneven. “The bastard ordered me to go back to the village and get the ponies out of there while the rest of my squad caused a... diversion. That’s what he called it. A bloody diversion. I was to leave my squadmates and captain, who I would have followed anywhere, and go back and round up those ungrateful snobs and get them to safety while my friends died.” He uttered an odd, ratcheting cough and scrubbed angrily at his face with a foreleg. “So what did brave, fearless, wise Golden Sword do?”

“Your duty,” Stivers replied quietly.

“Yes. My damned duty. I went back, as slow as I dared, trying to keep my friends in sight as long as possible. I went back to that hole in the ground of a village and told them at sword point to pack their things in five minutes and assemble in the town square.” He snorted. “Square. It was just the largest bald spot in the grass there. I forced them out of town, the oldsters, the cursing mothers, the crying fillies, and practically whipped them all the way to the camp. I reported in there and told the officer in charge of the camp what had happened. And that was the worst of it.” Sword looked up at Stivers, his eyes streaming. “They called me a hero for what I’d done. For saving innocent lives. I got a promotion and a bucking medal and a parade. And my friends were still gone.”

Stivers nodded and said nothing, waiting.

“I didn’t even get to go back to my own barracks. I got promoted to Sub-Lieutenant and got my own office. Somepony else cleaned out their lockers and sent the letters to their families. Some stranger.” Sword drew in a deep breath and blew it out shakily. “So, you can see, Captain, my own talent seems to be putting my men in danger and watching them die. Are you so certain you want to trust me by your side, now?”

Stivers waited until the pegasus was able to meet his gaze. “I’d say so. Part of being a leader... part of being an adult... is taking responsibility for your actions, and learning to live with the consequences.”

“Oh yes, that sounds so wonderful,” Sword spat. “Do you use that line on the ladies, too?”

“Sword... where I come from, there’s this island. A really pretty place, probably a lot like Sugarcube was. The people that lived there called it Okinawa.” Stivers swallowed. “It got caught between some soldiers we were fighting and our troops. A lot of people lived there, too, innocent people like in Sugarcube. Simple people. Farmers.” He picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the dark, listening to the clatter on the stones. “I used to be a sergeant, too. I decided one day that we were going to get the people the hell out of the sector I was in. They were in the way, and would have gotten blasted by our own troops if we didn’t do something.”

Sword nodded slowly. “You had to force them out, too?”

“No. They wanted to come. They were frightened to death, they were afraid they’d be punished if they left. The enemy soldiers told them so. I told them we wouldn’t let that happen, that we would protect them.” Stivers threw another rock into the dark. “The enemy troops shelled the village. They waited until the people were all in the street, ready to follow us, and then blew them up in front of my eyes. Just because they could.”

“That... that sounds hateful,” Sword managed. “Their own people?”

“Yep.” Stivers paused for a moment, peering at his fingernails in the moonlight. “I kind of came apart for awhile after that. The Marines had some pretty good people who talked to me, told me it wasn’t my fault, that I’d tried.” He glanced at Sword. “I could understand what they were saying up here,” he said, tapping his forehead with a forefinger. “But when I went to sleep at night, I’d wake up after an hour or so, seeing those villagers’ faces again, looking at me. Because I didn’t understand it here.” He patted his chest over his heart.

“So... so what did you do?” The pegasus looked at him with an odd expression, his head slightly tilted, ears perked upright.

“After awhile, I had to find something to do. Anything. Something to occupy myself. I discovered I liked airplanes, and liked flying. I went to officer school and passed the tests, and found out I was still pretty good at leading men. Eventually, they let me go to flight school.” He smiled slightly. “I was still working on that when I ended up in your backyard, so to speak.”

“How long ago was this?”

Stivers folded his hands around his knee again. “Maybe six months ago. The war’s over now, has been for a while. But things like you and I did... they don’t really go away, do they?”

“No, they don’t.” Sword looked down. “Captain, I think I owe you an apology. Again.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been doing what you were supposed to be doing all along, all you can do. The best you can. That’s all any of us can do. After all,” Stivers said with a small smile, “you’re only one pony. Even if you are a hardass.”

“Yes. Well.” Sword exhaled again, slowly, and then put his helmet back on, the golden armor gleaming with a cold light under the white orb that hung overhead. “Perhaps we should get back; it’s well past our watch. I wouldn’t want Mr. Taylor to get used to the idea of oversleeping.”

“Oh shit,” Stivers said, standing up quickly. “Hell yes. Let me go wake that lazy bastard up.”

“Get Sub-Lieutenant Arrow up as well, while you’re at it, if you wouldn’t mind.” Sword chuckled. “I don’t want her to go soft on me, after all.”

Midnight's First Letter

Illustrated Text

Day 1. Two hours before dusk.
The sights we saw were breathtaking Fluttershy. I don’t think I can actively put it into words. We were flying so fast the whole time. It must have been how Miss Dash felt at the Best Young Flyers competition. I envy her sometimes; What with being the fastest flyer in all of Equestria. We passed over so much of Equestria in such a short time. In but a scant few hours we were outside of the border, and over the desert.

The desert itself was breathtaking in its scale. You could see clearly for hundreds of leagues in every direction! The only downside was that the only thing to see was sand. It was quite annoying actually. The air was hot and really dry, and I could feel the ambient sand getting stuck in my wings and fur.

The humans themselves were actually quite amiable. They are really just like us after a fashion, once you get through their hard exterior and odd shape. They crack jokes, they play pranks, they have their own little groups... I honestly think Taylor seems a bit left out sometimes. All of the others are from the ‘Marines’ but Taylor was strictly a pilot, so he can’t take part in most of the camaraderie that the others share.

It’s sad really. Almost makes me want to give him a hug. But then I remember that he could probably kill me with a twitch of his finger...

They are also really ingenuitive. The reasoned that since they can’t land on the sand (the speeds they fly at would destroy the wheels), they would find a dried up lake bed, and use the hard salt as a makeshift landing pad.

Later in the day, some wandering Zebra merchants stumbled upon our encampment. It was really weird seeing how they operate. Within a span of minutes they had all of their wares in full view. Later on they were shown the human’s flying machines, with which they responded by calling them daemons, or something like that. Then they ran off.

I observed some of their wares while we were on speaking terms, and some of the stuff they crafted was quite beautiful. The humans managed to purchase some sort of canned meat which they later complained about, because it was ‘everywhere’. I personally don’t understand how any creature could eat meat, but somehow you do. Why is that?

Anyway, after roasting their meat on a stick, we all got to talking. About life, what we did, you know. Stuff new friends would talk about. I really want the humans to be my friends, but can I trust them?

~Midnight Arrow.
Keep safe.

Day one. One hour before midnight.
Celestia above! we were attacked while we were sleeping and Shining Star was almost killed. I really don’t want to be here Fluttershy. I really don’t want to think about how badly that could have went...

The creatures rose from the sand and just started swarming us near the fire. The humans eventually pulled our flanks out of there though with their cunning. They also revealed that they had bigger weapons on their machines. The roar was deafening and the light was blinding. There are no words to describe how it felt to stand next to such a monstrous design.

I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight... I’ll try, but my watch is in two hours.

Day two. One hour before dawn.
This is become less and less like a letter and more like a journal. I am okay with this though. I am currently sitting on a rock sketching the landscape, because watch is boring. Taylor isn’t much fun on watch. He actually adopted a rather serious side to him. Seeing a stallion man who is usually so cheery, suddenly adopt a stone cold expression... It’s unnerving to say the least.

He told me that I should take the post more seriously, especially after getting attacked. I think maybe he is just worried. I really hope that’s the case.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words right? Well, it may not be worthy of going in a museum, but it sure beats me trying to explain it to you. It’s much nicer out here at night. Really gives one time to collect their thoughts... and then start thinking about the humans again. They are all hairless, and they don’t have the resistances pegasi do to cold... they must be freezing their flanks off.

Have I ever told you that nighttime is my favourite time? It’s so peaceful, with Luna’s great moon staring down at us. It again makes me wonder why the Princesses were acting so weird. In all of my time serving them, which is admittedly not long, I have never seen them act so... outright hostile... to anything or anypony before. I just don’t understand.

I want to thank you again for letting me do this Fluttershy. I think it’s really helping. You truly are the element of kindness. I think I am getting to the point of tiredness where I can no longer control what I write. I think I will be taking a nice nap in the sun on the wing of the plane. Yes... that sounds just wonderful.

They are calling my name now, time to get to work.

~Midnight.
please stay safe.

Chapter 11: The Road Less Traveled

The campfire was being a pain in the ass, Taylor decided.

The lieutenant had been feeding the flames periodically through his watch, and it seemed to him that he’d spent less time guarding the camp itself and more time trying to find some extra wood to put on the fire. The group had pretty well scattered the original fire when they’d thwarted the Dust Devil attack, and Taylor kept finding himself wandering further and further toward the encircling dark in order to find sticks and branches large enough to keep the fire going.

Midnight Arrow, his partner for this shift, sat perched on the wing of FT-117, her ears flicking lazily at each sound that came out of the darkness. Most of the sounds were the snores of her companions as they slept, however, and very little drew her attention away from the small book she held balanced on her forehooves. Periodically, the pegasus would stop and glance around for a moment, and then bent back to her work, her mouth gripping a pencil that she scribbled busily with. She paused often, regarding her work with a frown, and on several occasions she struck out a word or two, uttering a soft curse that was muffled by the need to keep the writing stylus from tumbling away.

She raised her head, ears perking, as Taylor returned with another meagre load of branches and twigs. “Slim pickings?”

“I’m not goin’ any further out there to find out.” The pilot dumped the wood onto the fire, watching the flames lick up hungrily. “Those damn things might still be out there, and I already got a calling card.” He reached up and touched his cheek, wincing.

Midnight tucked the pencil into the spine of the booklet before her and closed it, putting the slim volume into a pocket of her backpack where it lay beside her on the wing. “Did you even clean that?”

Taylor touched the wound again gingerly. “No... I didn’t think about it, really.”

The pegasus sighed in exasperation and stood up. “You really do need a foalsitter, don’t you?” She trotted carefully across the wing to where it met the body of the aircraft and reared up, placing her forehooves on the rim and peering inside. “Don’t you have that medicine with you still? The stuff you let Fluttershy use on the bear?”

Taylor blinked and frowned. “That was Stivers’ kit. I think we left it behind at the time. There should be another one in my plane, though. Hold on, I’ll get it.”

“It’s the boxy-bag thingy with the red cross on it, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s secured to the side of the plane with a couple of latches.” Taylor walked over to the side of FT-28 and grabbed hold of the wing edge. “I can get it.”

“Oh, sit down.” The pegasus tucked her head inside the open crew compartment of the aircraft, her wings flicking out for balance as she leaned over, nearly halfway into the cockpit. Taylor heard a couple of muffled snapping sounds, and the mare drew back, the bag gripped between her teeth. “I faid ffit down. I got it.”

The lieutenant blinked in surprise, then hoisted himself up on the edge of the wing, his legs dangling down. “How the hell did you do that without any fingers?”

Midnight dropped the bag onto the wing and looked at him primly. “The same way I write, eat, and bite people who don’t listen to what they’re told. Now hold still.” She gripped the top of the bag and undid the clasps with two deft flicks of her head and stuck her nose inside, rummaging busily. “Ahh, here we go.” She reappeared, holding a small bottle of alcohol and tossed it toward him. “Wipe it down, flycolt.”

Taylor caught the bottle awkwardly, juggling it for a moment and almost dropping it before he had it secure. “You never cease to amaze me, you know that?”

“Oh, I bet you tell that to all the mares.” She dove into the bag again and emerged with a packed of gauze swabs. “Now clean it out. I don’t know what else those things were made of, but sand and dust in a wound is bad enough.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” Taylor took the gauze from her and soaked down one of the pads, the acrid smell of the alcohol rising up and promising a great deal of discomfort in short order. “I hate the smell of this shit. It reminds me of Doc Wilson when I was a kid.” Taylor lifted the pad to his cheek and patted it gingerly against the claw marks, emitting a hiss of pain.

“Easy, don’t scrub at it.” Midnight peered at him as the pilot slowly wiped down his cheek and ear, the wounds beginning to bleed slowly as they became clean. “I think you’re going to have a scar there.”

“I’ll take it. I thought I’d lost my goddamn ear when that thing grabbed me.” He held the gauze pad firmly to his face, blotting the wound and checking it now and again as the blood clotted more. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” The pegasus leaned over and dragged the medical pouch over to him. “Put some antibiotic on it, too. I can smell it in there, but I don’t know which tube it’s in.” She made a face. “I can’t read your writing.”

“Don’t feel bad.” Taylor rummaged in the pouch, locating the antibiotic cream by feel and pulling it out. “Most of the words on here I can’t even pronounce. Too many syllables.” He daubed some of the cream into the scratches on his cheek and ear, and then began taping a clean pad over the wounds. “Takes somebody smart to figure out that stuff.”

Midnight cocked her head at an angle and peered at him for a moment, the firelight flickering across her features. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Belittle yourself all the time.” She frowned severely. “You’re not an idiot. You can clearly fly better than almost anypony I’ve seen so far, except for Miss Rainbow Dash, perhaps. You’re an officer, which also isn’t something you get to be by being stupid.”

Taylor snorted. “You haven’t met some of the guys I went to OCS with, then.”

Midnight snorted back at him, stamping a forehoof on the wing. The sharp sound reverberated through the metal framework with a hollow ring. “There you go again. Why—”

A groan cut across the night air and both of them froze in place. Taylor glanced around quickly and saw Midnight’s ears flicking rapidly, almost like miniature radar dishes. “What the heck was that?” he asked in a whisper.

“It came from one of your men,” she whispered back. “I don’t know who it was.”

The sound came again, and both of them saw Gallivan move slightly, the sergeant rolling over and laying flat against the sand. One of his arms twitched, and the sleeping crewman almost appeared to be waving at someone.

“Don’ know,” he muttered. “Already asked me, don’ know.”

Taylor glanced at Midnight, and the two shared a look of relief. “Just dreams, I guess.” The lieutenant slid down off of the edge of the wing and moved toward the sleeping Marine. “I’ll take care of it.” He stepped around the others and made his way over to Gallivan, who was now moaning and clutching a fistful of sand. “Gallivan?”

The sleeping Marine uttered something unintelligible, then coughed and said clearly, “Don’t want your fucking smokes.”

Taylor frowned and knelt beside him. “Well, that’s not nice, after all I did to give ‘em to you.” He reached out and shook the sergeant’s shoulder gently. “C’mon buddy, wake up.”

Gallivan’s eyes snapped open immediately, jerking his head up and holding Taylor in a wide-eyed gaze. “No! No more!” he shrieked, and kicked out. His boots connected with Taylor’s shoulder, sending the startled pilot sprawling. “I told you I don’t know, why do you keep ASKING me?”

The entire group was immediately awake, heads turning rapidly as they tried to perceive the threat. Stivers flung the rough blanket that had covered him aside, blinking sleep out of his eyes as he focused on the scene. “Oh, shit,” he said in a low voice, and then, louder: “Taylor, just back away from him slow.”

Taylor complied, scuttling backward several feet until he sat next to Stivers. “He was dreaming, and I tried to wake him up—”

“Yeah, I know.” Stivers walked forward a pace, and then crouched, holding eye contact with Gallivan. “Bob, it’s me, Captain Stivers. You’re fine, okay?”

Gallivan had pushed himself away and was staring at him from where he knelt near the fire, his gaze flicking from one of them to the next. “What?”

“We’re in the desert, remember? Where we landed?” Stivers voice was low, almost as if talking to a child. “You’re with Flight 19. It’s me, Stivers. Gruebel’s here, and Lieutenant Taylor. It’s nighttime, and we were all sleeping.” He paused for a moment. “You were dreaming, weren’t you?”

“I...” Gallivan trailed off, his gaze fixing on Shining Star for a moment. The sergeant swallowed heavily. “Ponies. Right. We’re with the ponies...” The last part of his sentence trailing off as he sighed.

“Roger on that, sergeant.” Stivers’ voice firmed up now. “You were dreaming, is all. And whatever it was, it was just a dream, right?”

“A dream.” Gallivan’s voice was something closer to normal, now. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to wake you up, sir.”

“It’s fine, sergeant.” Stivers patted Taylor on the shoulder and stood up. “You want to stay up for a bit? Maybe spell Taylor on watch?”

“Sure thing, if you want, sergeant.” Taylor mimed yawning and stood up as well. “I could use a little extra shut-eye before we leave.”

Gallivan rubbed both hands over his own face and then nodded without looking at either of them. “Yeah, Lieutenant, That would probably be best. I think I’m done for the night, anyway.” He glanced backward at Midnight.

“I don’t mind either, not that anypony asked.” Midnight said, affecting an aggrieved expression. “Taylor was beginning to fall asleep on his feet anyway. I’d appreciate the company, sergeant.”

“Oh, sorry Ma’am.” Gallivan said, hand scratching his head. “Just...” he trailed off.

Golden Sword gave the pilot a long, thoughtful look, and then pointedly lay back down where he had been, clearly preparing to go back to sleep. The others took the hint and went back to their places without saying a word, although one or two of the ponies gave the Marine a cautious glance. Only Gruebel remained sitting up, the private rummaging through his pack as if looking for something while his eyes stayed fixed on his friend.

Stivers walked over to Gallivan and gripped the Marine’s shoulder gently. “Bob,” he said in a low voice, “if you need anything, wake me up. Okay?”

“Yes sir.” Gallivan said, not really putting any heart into it.

As the other officers moved off and settled down, Midnight Arrow jumped down from the wing of the aircraft where she had been sitting and walked over to stand next to Gallivan. With him sitting down and her standing, the two were at equal eye level, and she met his gaze evenly as she drew near. “That looked like quite the nightmare,” Midnight said quietly. “Want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps. To shake it off, I mean.”

The Marine looked at her for a moment and then shook his head. “Not really,” he replied. “Just a bad dream is all. I’ve got a hold on it now.”

“Okay,” Midnight said. The rejection gave her an odd twinge, and she reminded herself not to take it personally. She and the sergeant didn’t know each other that well, and it might just be something sensitive; some things you didn’t just open up about to anypony who came along. “There’s still a few hours until sunrise. If you change your mind, I’ll be here.” She crouched and propelled herself into the air with one quick movement of her wings, arcing gracefully over Star and Gruebel to land lightly onto the wing of the 117 aircraft once more.

“Thanks, ma’am,” Gallivan said after a moment, “but I got this. Just need...” He trailed off again, before letting out a sigh of frustration.

Midnight’s ears swiveled again as they picked up the sound of a sniffle from the sergeant’s direction. Pretending not to notice, she dug the slim volume she had been writing in earlier out of her pack and kept her gaze fixed on it, flipping through the mostly blank pages as if searching for something. She heard him fling his blanket off and walk away, and she looked up in time to see him walk past and around the rear of the airplane, his face in his hands. She watched his dim outline for a long time, noting the quivering in his shoulders that took a long time to still. Whatever he was, whatever he’d done, he was part of her group now, and that made him her responsibility, as far as Midnight was concerned. Whatever it was that was poisoning his soul, he seemed determined to deal with it the hard way. She hoped that sooner or later, he’d realize he didn’t have to do it alone.

“Take your time,” she whispered, and put the book away again. Her blue eyes gleamed in the firelight as she stood watch over the group, the stars circling and dancing the last dances of the night away as the moon rode down toward the western horizon.

Shining Star groaned as he stretched out, his stiff limbs complaining audibly as his joints popped one by one. “I’ve got sore places where I didn’t think I had places,” he grumbled.

“Ehh, suck it up, Marine.” Thompson rubbed sleep from his eyes, peering owlishly at the pegasus beside him. The sky in the east was slowly brightening, and in the grey light of dawn each of the companions could now see clearly the scrapes, bruises and cuts that most of them bore. “You’re an original leatherneck, and we don’t complain about chickenshit like that.”

“The hell we don’t.” Gruebel had stood up and twisted his torso to one side, wincing. “Oh Jaysus, Mary and Joseph,” he said in a faux Irish brogue. “Me back is in sorry shape, lads.” Sitting back down, he began to unbutton his shirt.

“What’s a leatherneck?” Star asked.

“It’s a nickname for a Marine,” Stivers said. “A good nickname, fine and proud, and full of tradition.” The captain was sitting up, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders to ward off the last of the night’s chill. “Any other nicknames you might hear about are nothing but scandalous lies.”

Taylor, who was busily stirring something in a pot he had hung over the fire, shot Stivers a dirty look. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. Besides, being the only Navy representative here, I’m not about to take on four to one odds.”

“Nine to one,” Stivers said agreeably. “The ponies are all ground-pounders like us, Lieutenant, even if they have wings. You’re surrounded.”

Taylor made a rude noise. “In that case, I refuse to get in a name-calling contest.” He assumed a dignified pose. “I have my personal honor and integrity to uphold.”

Midnight, who was now sprawled out on her side on the wing of the aircraft where she had spent most of the night, snickered. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

“Ouch. That explains that other wound that’s been bothering me all night.” Taylor peeked into the pot and stirred it again. “It was acting up off and on.”

Her ears perked up and she glanced at the lieutenant with some concern. “The cuts on your face?”

“No, the pain in my ass.”

Midnight’s jaw dropped as the others burst out laughing, and then she gave in with a chuckle, conceding the point to the pilot. “You’d better be as good a cook as you are a pilot, mister. Otherwise you’re going to pay for that one later.”

“Nothing like a little motivation to get the blood flowin—” Taylor cut himself off with a hiss as Gruebel removed his shirt. “Christ, private, what the hell hit you?”

“About three of those little demon bastards, I think, all in the same place.” Grubel had one arm thrown up in the air and was peering at his ribs. Starting from his midsection and wrapping around his right side to his back was a veritable sunset of bruises, ranging from deep purple to a vague yellow around some of the edges. “Does it look as bad as it feels?”

“No cuts or anything. I’d try sleeping on the other side for a bit though, if I were you,” Star said respectfully. Spying an odd mark on Gruebel’s bicep, he opened his eyes wide. “Hey, you guys have cutie marks, too!”

Gruebel froze in place, his arm still pointing to the sky. “We have what?”

Star pointed to the globe and anchor emblem on Gruebel’s upper arm. “A cutie mark. Like mine, see?” He turned and showed his flank. Without the armor covering it, the silvery multipointed star on his haunch was clearly visible. “It shows who you really are, what your talent is, or what kind of pony you are inside.”

Gruebel’s expression suggested the Marine had bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “This,” he said carefully, “is not a ‘cutie mark.’ This is a tattoo. Acquired at great expense from a very large mamasan in a very small tattoo parlor in Manila.”

“Well, what does it mean?”

“It means,” Gruebel said, still using the same patient tone, as if instructing a child, “that I am a United States Marine.”

“Well, aren’t you? That’s what cutie marks are all about.” Star frowned. “Why did you have to pay for it, though? They’re just supposed to appear when you discover who you are.”

“The tattoo did appear.” Gruebel lowered his arm, the mark in question rippling as the muscle underneath it flexed. “When I paid for it. At the tattoo parlor.”

Shining Star was blessed with an innate sense of impending danger. Something in the Marine’s tone was making that particular sense twitch alarmingly, and the pegasus decided to change the subject. He looked at the bruises on Gruebel’s torso, then stretched his wings gingerly and winced in commiseration. “Anyway, I’m glad I’m flying on your wing today and not on my own.”

“I told ya,” Thompson broke in again, “you gotta suck it up. No complaining in the ranks.”

“Howie, shut the fuck up.” Gallivan ambled around from the nose of the airplane nearest them, busily tucking his shirt in. “Bein’ that you got toasted like a marshmallow when we first got here and Star almost ended up the same way last night, you might wanna have a little sympathy for the kid.” The sergeant’s voice sounded completely normal, all traces of the hysteria he had shown the night before absent.

Thompson held up his hands. “Just jokin’, Bob.” He grinned again. “He’s still an original leatherneck, though.”

Star frowned, his brow furrowing. “How am I original?”

“Thompson’s making a very poor joke that definitely has no place at breakfast.” Stivers glanced over at Taylor. “Speaking of which, how’s that coming?”

“Almost done, dear. Don’t get impatient. It took me ten minutes to rig this kit up so I could hang the pot over the fire.” Taylor made a face. “The instructions didn’t come written in English.”

Shadow stood nearby, busily buffing the scratches out of his armour. “They teach us how to set it up in basic training. It doesn’t come with instructions.”

“That was the point.” Taylor looked at the pony’s blank expression and sighed. “Nevermind. Break out your mess gear, I’m about done here.” He stirred the contents of the pot once more, and then ladled a spoonful out onto the plate he held in his other hand. “Dig in, folks.”

Gruebel looked at the plate in dismay. “Oatmeal. Plain oatmeal. Oh, my sainted aunt.”

“Sorry, we were all out of bacon and eggs, and the hash browns are on backorder from the PX.” Taylor’s jaw was grimly set as he began spooning the food into his mouth. Chewing twice, he stopped with a grimace. “Oh, me.”

Golden Sword, who had been lying under his own blanket, watching the proceedings with only one eye open, grunted. Without a word, the pegasus captain shook off his blanket and got up. Dipping his head, he flipped open one of the pouches on his saddlepack and began digging through it. Nosing about within for a moment, he straightened up, holding a small box gripped in his teeth. The others watched as he walked slowly over to the pot and began shaking the box vigorously. A fine dark haze sifted out of the top of the box and settled into the pot.

Up on the wing of the Avenger, Midnight Arrow’s nostrils flared. “Oooh, is that the stuff Pinkie Pie gave you?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Sword peered at the oatmeal, still only with one eye open. Apparently satisfied with the results, he returned the box to his pack carefully and picked up his plate. “S’better.”

Taylor stared suspiciously at the captain as he stirred the pot several times before spooning out a helping for himself, and then looked up at Midnight. “What was that?”

Gallivan bent over the pot and sniffed, then grinned. “Brown sugar. I’ll be damned.”

Midnight’s eyes were twinkling with suppressed mirth as she leapt delicately off the wing of the aircraft and headed over to her own pack to get her plate. “If you’d waited another moment, Taylor, you’d be enjoying your breakfast a lot more, I think. Nopony eats plain oatmeal, not unless they want to.”

Taylor grimaced and glanced back over at Sword. The pony was eyeing him steadily, and had managed to get both eyes open by this point. “Help yourself, Lieutenant,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’ve got several boxes in my pack, courtesy of Miss Pinkie.”

“Thanks.” Taylor availed himself of the sweet seasoning, and then sat back down next to Midnight, who was clearly enjoying her breakfast. “You knew?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Gotcha.”

“Like I said before, you fight dirty, lady.” Taylor spooned in another mouthful of oatmeal and closed his eyes, the taste much improved as it exploded over his tongue. “One day though, I’m gonna win. You know that, right?”

She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and swallowed. “No, I don’t think so. But it’s fun to see you try.”

The takeoff itself was uneventful, both planes lumbering down the salt flat and filling the desert air with the roar of their radial engines as they took to the skies again. Taylor banked gently, glancing out the window at the open expanse below them as he turned to the south again, keeping the rising sun on his left wing and maintaining course as best he could without an operable compass. He had dutifully marked the area with an “x” on the rough map Luna had provided them, but without precise navigation markers, it was an estimate at best guess.

Thompson’s voice sounded abruptly from the rear of the cockpit. “Hey, Lieutenant, you sure this is a good idea?”

“What do you mean?” Taylor glanced reflexively out the left side at where Sword stood once again on his port wing. The pony’s ears were laid back in protest against the engine noise, but despite this the pegasus appeared to be trying to go back to sleep. Damn, wish I could do that.

“I mean, sir, we kinda got lucky, didn’t we? Finding a place to land and all, way the hell out here?”

“Yeah, I guess, but there’s usually spots like this here and there in most deserts.” Taylor continued to hold the aircraft on course as it climbed.

“But what about later?” A nervous tone was creeping into Thompson’s voice. “Sir, I...I don’t like to mention it in front of the other guys, but I... well, I really would rather not end up in another burning wreck. I feel like I used up most of my luck coming back from that.”

Taylor sighed quietly. “Howie, look. We’ve got to fly. Going back is no good. We have to go forward, and there’s no way in hell we can cross this desert on foot. If there’s anyplace we find that will handle this plane, I can land it. I’m not a flight instructor for nothing.”

“I know, sir. I mean, I trust you, that’s not the point.” A low groan floated up from where Thompson sat in the aft turret. “I just wanna go home, sir, you know? This place is nice and all, but it ain’t home.”

“That’s why we have to keep on going, Sergeant.” Taylor flexed his hand around the control yoke, feeling the ridged grip under his fingers. “I swear to you, wherever I go, I’m not leaving you behind, okay? Whatever happens, we’re both in it together, for keeps.” He leveled the aircraft out slowly. “You still got a date out there somewhere waiting for you. You might be a little late, but I promise I’ll explain everything to her when we get back.”

He received a snorting chuckle in response. “Okay, you got a deal, sir. That explanation I gotta be there to see.”

A companionable silence descended as Taylor settled into the familiar routine of a long, cross-country flight. He couldn’t help himself from glancing reflexively at his instruments over and over again every few seconds; the habit was one of a good pilot and long ingrained in him. With most of the instruments destroyed, however, and the few remaining ones providing little useful information, he found himself spending more and more time just looking out over the terrain passing several thousand feet below his aircraft.

The view was tremendous. The desert spread out below them in all its magnificent desolation; the particular path they were winging along through the air offered them the highlights of the desert at its most spectacular. Off to their left, the dunes still spread out, marching to the east and towards the horizon, with only a random rock outcropping here and there to mar its uniform appearance. The sinuous curves of the dunes themselves curled about here and there, formed by the action of the tireless wind as it swept across the landscape. Along their current path, however, the ground offered up a more interesting panorama. This area was more geologically active in the recent past; large groups of rock thrust themselves up from the desert floor, providing windbreaks that allowed plant life to spring up and not just survive, but thrive. The scene reminded Taylor of something from the American southwest, with scrub brush, cacti and the occasional gnarled tree sprouting up defiantly from the parched soil. The growth continued unchecked to his right, off to the west, and a careful eye could discern a faint glimmer there on the horizon, a thin arcing line of blue just slightly off-color from the sky where it met the horizon. The map Luna had given them held true there as well, then; it showed a great sea in that direction, one which apparently bordered the entire continent, at least as far as the map showed.

“I think we’re approaching the first of the mountains now.” Taylor called over his radio. “Just a few more hours now.”

“You think so?” Stivers replied. “Cause I can’t see shit.”

“Clearly you need to get glasses then Captain.” Taylor replied, mirth evident in his voice.

The further the group progressed, the more vivid the vegetation became. Soon enough, the desert was just an afterthought and the stiflingly hot air was reduced to a warm simmer. The mountains in the distance were slowly growing larger as the the planes puttered ever forward. From his vantage point, Taylor could make out where the snow caps were on the smaller of the mountains, while the remainder of the behemoth chunks of rock jutted through the massive blanket of clouds above the mountainous area. The sun was slowly reaching towards the horizon as Taylor took in the imposing atmosphere of the upcoming terrain.

Violent shaking from his aircraft brought Taylor out of his sight seeing as he again looked down to his useless gauges, noting that one of the few that did still work, the gas, was dropping rapidly. Glancing to his left and right, he saw the wing mounted ponies giving him worried glances.

“Taylor.” Stivers intoned over the radio. “I think you have a bit of a problem...”

“You don’t say Captain?” Taylor said sarcastically. “You can’t happen to see the problem from there do you?”

Just as suddenly as it started, the shaking stopped, and the aircraft started pulling the right as the right wing dipped. As Taylor cursed under his breath, Stivers’ voice came back over the radio, his panic evident over the static interference.

“One of your gas tanks just fell off!”

Chapter 12: Eviction Notice

“What?” Taylor asked, disbelief evident in his voice. His feet and hands moved in a rapid dance on the controls as he brought the bomber back to level flight. “Thompson, you see it?”

“Yes sir,” the gunner’s voice came back promptly. “Port side drop tank is bombs away, sir.” He leaned over in his turret, cheek pressed against the window. “Come left about fifteen degrees, Lieutenant.”

Taylor complied, putting the Avenger into a slow circle. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

“Tally-ho,” Thompson sang out. “Looks like...ouch, yeah, there it goes. Impacted on the side of a hill down there, just west of the little bunch of trees.”

“Yeah, I see it now,” Taylor said after a moment. “Well, shit.” He exhaled slowly, letting the air hiss through his clenched teeth in frustration. He circled the spot once more, then turned the aircraft back on course and activated his microphone. “Don’t worry about it for now, Stivers.” Taylor gave a thumbs up over the wing to show he wasn’t worried. “We’ll settle down before the mountains, then get the pegasi to go and grab the tank.”

“Roger that, Taylor.” Stivers replied over the comm.

Out on the wing, Sword apparently caught part of this; the pony turned and shouted something to his wingmates, and then glared with obvious disapproval at the pilot on the other side of the Plexiglas.

The next few minutes were filled with silence as Taylor scouted for land flat enough to land their aircraft, yet hard enough to not rip the wheels off. As the aircraft approached a favourable landing zone, the ponies dismounted from their wing grips, and flew circles around the landing area while waiting for the planes to land.

The landing itself was fairly routine, or as routine as it could get in the magic land of Equestria. Taylor and Stivers brought the planes down in a relatively open space of flat grassland, once again landing side by side as before. As soon as the planes had slowed to a walking pace, Sword ordered Midnight Arrow and Crimson Hoof to begin the flight back to the point where the tank had fallen off of Taylor’s aircraft.

Once his plane had come to a complete stop and shut down, Taylor immediately jumped out, running over and inspecting the conspicuously empty mount on the port wing where his fuel tank had been. After about a minute, Stivers joined him. “What do you think caused it?” the captain asked.

“I don’t know.” Taylor replied. “Looks like all of the bolts came loose...”

“That... makes no sense.” Stivers stammered. “How could all of the bolts have come loose? Aren’t they stuck on there with impact wrenches?”

“Yah. Maybe they got shaken up when we flew through that shitstorm that brought us here.”

“No.” Stivers stated, shaking his head. “We would have noticed something like that when we reassembled the planes. Besides, I saw jack shit when we did our preflight, and I know damn well you checked yours, too. Everything was good to go.”

“Maybe—” Taylor was cut of by Shining Star poking him in the arm with his hoof.

“Lieutenant,” he began, voice wavering. “I think I know what it was.” He looked scared.

Following a moment of expectant silence, Taylor finally spoke up, “Okay, what is it then?”

“Oh, um. I speak a bit of zebra, as part of a cultural excha—”

“Skip the fluff.” Stivers interrupted.

Star looked more annoyed than hurt at the interjection, but kept going regardless. “A cultural exchange program. Those Zebras cursed us.”

Another stretch of silence followed, until Stivers cleared his throat. “What?”

“You know...” Star said uncertainly. “When they saw your flying machines?”

“So... like voodoo?” Taylor asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“No not like voodoo!” Star exploded. “What do you think this is? A scary story for foals?”

“Then what they hell could it be?” Stivers retorted. “I didn’t see any of that fancy magic that those unicorns can do. Nor did I see a horn atop their striped heads.”

“It was an incantation, not a spell.” Star said patiently. “You humans know nothing.”

The aforementioned humans exchanged a glance, but the pony cut in, the irritation in his voice evident. “Fine, then.” Star snorted and stamped a forehoof. “You explain why your fuel tank fell off your wing when it wasn’t supposed to.”

“I...” Taylor broke off, then tried again. “Hell, I don’t know. Metal fatigue, maybe? It happens.”

“No way, Lieutenant.” Gruebel’s voice sounded from behind them where the Marine was crouched under the wing in question. “The surface looks fine. The mounting bolts for the drop tank have sheared clean off. I mean clean.” He looked over at Taylor, the perplexity in his expression evident. “Even bolt cutters don’t do it this clean, sir. It’s like somebody took a razor to the metal.”

“So it wasn’t a failure of the release mechanism, then.” Stivers joined Gruebel under the wing, peering closely at the mount.

“No sir, and no sign of abrasion from vibration either. One minute it was fine, and the next, it was gone.” Gruebel shrugged. “You got me, sir.”

Taylor rubbed one hand against his chin, then glanced over at Star, who was studiously avoiding making eye contact with the pilot. “Okay, I give up. Fine, it’s a curse. We have flying ponies, unicorns, gryphons, and sand demons, not to mention Spam in a can. I can make room for a curse.” He raised his arms wide in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, so what do we do about it?”

Star blinked at the pilot. “Um...nothing? It’s kind of already taken effect, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Now now, Private. Mind your tongue.” Sword’s own tongue made a clucking noise as he meandered over. “A little less insolence, if you please.”

Shining Star’s expression turned mortified, a visible flush creeping up his cheeks under the fur. “Sorry, sir. I just...well, I was right, after all.” The pony looked down, scuffing the turf with a forehoof. “Nobody ever listens to me.”

“Actually, everyone listens to you, lad. They just don’t believe most of what you say.” Sword gave the other pony a long look before turning his attention to the pilots. “Perhaps after today things may change a bit, hmm?”

“Okay, okay, I was wrong, all right?” Taylor gritted his teeth. “What, should I do a dance to apologize?”

“Not necessary. That rough ride down was enough to upset my stomach...no need to tempt fate further.” Golden Sword lifted his chin and stared hard at Taylor. “While we’re on the subject, however, you might want to consult me before deciding to send my troops off to fetch things at your whim, Lieutenant. That was a rather glib decision you made up there.” Sword held up a forehoof to forestall any response. “It was an innocent mistake, I’m sure, and it’s not important at the moment. I’d just like to avoid it happening again when it is important.”

An uncomfortable silence followed for a moment, and then Taylor straightened up. “Point taken, sir.” His cheek twitched. “I apologize.”

“No harm done, Mr. Taylor.” Sword turned his attention to the aircraft. “So, is your machine still usable?”

The lieutenant took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’d like to take another look at everything, but as far as I know, it looks like a clean drop of the port tank. No structural damage. She’ll still fly.” He glanced to his left where the ground rose steeply, a series of rolling hills leading off toward the south where the mountain peaks loomed in the distance. “Honestly, though, I don’t think we could go much farther this way, anyway. We’ve pushed our luck up to this point, but I don’t see coming across a better landing site in that mess.”

Thompson, who had stood off to the side while his pilot was examining their aircraft, exhaled audilbly. “Thank Christ.”

“Really? Well, then, maybe it was good luck instead of a curse, eh?” Sword glanced over and patted Star on the shoulder. “And now that we’re here, let’s go through our things and get them checked over, hmm? Star, would you and Shadow go through the supplies and do an inventory for me? Food specifically, and water; I’d like an idea of what we’ve got and how long we can stretch it. Trail rations, too.” The pony arched an eyebrow. “Don’t starve us out, but measure it out careful. I want to make it last.”

“Yes, sir.” Star straightened to attention, and then retreated, visibly glad to be moving out of range of so much brass. The pony trotted toward where the other bomber sat, making a beeline toward a familiar shape that was leaning against one of the main landing gear struts. “Hey, Shadow!”

“Mmyeahwhat?” Shadow opened his eyes and looked over at his smaller friend. “You done hanging out with the officers, decide to come back and slum with us low-lifes?”

“Oh please, don’t even.” Star rolled his eyes. “I told them about what that zebra did. Even now I don’t think they believe me, not entirely.”

“I’m not even sure I do, to be honest.” Shadow glanced at Star from the corner of one eye with mock suspicion. “I think you’ve been chewing locoweed or something, Star. Better let me inspect that pack of yours.”

“Come on!” Star snorted and spun around, deliberately bumping his flank into the heavier pony’s shoulder; the impact barely making an impression. “Now you’re just being mean, jerk.”

“And you’re being insubordinate. This is why I made corporal, and you didn’t.” Shadow laughed heartily and resumed busily leaning against the aircraft tire. “So, what’s up?”

“Captain Sword wants us to go over the food and get a count. We have to check it out and let him know how much we have, you know. Logistics stuff.”

The larger guard pony blinked and stood up straight, peering at his friend. “Don’t tell me. Trail rationing.”

“Bingo. You get a gold star.”

“I’d rather have double rations.” Shadow groaned, and then sighed heavily. “Okay, let’s get it over with.” He ambled slowly out from under the wing of Stivers’ aircraft. “Hey, did the lieutenant and Hoof take their packs with them?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Star frowned. “At least, I didn’t see them with them on when they left.”

“Okay, we can count theirs up too, then.” Shadow said as he moved towards his own pack. “Standard deal; Count it all and divvy it up?”

“Yup,” replied Star. You go grab the humans’ stuff, I’ll go and get everything else.”

After several minutes of rummaging through the various cargo compartments on the planes, the two ponies reconvened around the small pile of bags they had accrued. As they began unceremoniously dumping the saddlebags out, they separated the food into one big pile, keeping their personal belongings in a smaller pile near the bag they came from.

After their own bags, came the first of the humans’. Star took his time pulling out the belongings, careful not to damage someone else’s property, while Shadow just sat and watched.

Looking up, Star caught Shadow eyeing up the various small objects found inside of the bag with Taylor’s name printed on it. “What are you looking at, Shadow?”

“Just curious.” The stallion replied. “Ever wonder what other militaries pack away? Because, this is the perfect opportunity to find out.”

“Yah, and break the already tenuous trust between us?” Star rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, it’s only the two of us out here.” Shadow frowned. “What’s ‘tenuous?’”

“Fragile. As in, easily broken. Like your heart whenever you go on leave and find another girlfriend.”

“Oh, fuh-hun-ee.” Shadow made a rude gesture with a forehoof. “Anyway look, folded paper!. That always leads to insights.”

“Shadow... Don’t do it.” Star warned.

“”I’m doing it.” Shadow said as he grabbed the piece of paper, opening it. “It’s a photo.” He stated bluntly.

After a rather tense few seconds of Shadow observing the picture, Star finally piped up. “Well, what’s on it?”

“It’s a group of humans. I think they were his family...” Flipping over the piece of paper, Shadow started reading an inscription on the back. “Charles, Know we will always love you, even if we don’t want you in the navy. And, for the record, your mother would have been proud. Samuel. We’ll always miss you. Gladys. When you get back, I owe you a beer. Ralph.”

“So... That is definitely his family.” Star stated bluntly. “Great, now can we move on?”

“I wonder why he doesn’t keep it in a pocket? Like he does with those little wings of his?” Shadow said.

“Maybe because he wasn’t worried about anyone messing with it in his bag.” Star looked nervously over his shoulder. “Will you put it back, please?”

“Fine, fine.”

After separating the food from Taylors belongings, Star wrapped the photo in one of Taylor’s spare shirts so it didn’t get damaged by the ground. He also placed a tin of the canned meat the humans kept calling “spam” there as well. “Ugh. I think I’m leaving those out of the rations we’re counting up. At least for us.”

Shadow pause, considering. “You never know. If you get really hungry...” he trailed off, an ominous look on his face.

“If I get really hungry, I’m going to eat grass right off the ground like a bohemian.” Star pulled the next pack over. “Can we get on with this? Except let’s skip the ‘going through personal belongings’ part?”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always telling me I should learn new things.”

“Not about other ponies lives. Or people. Or whatever.” Star began rapidly sorting out the contents of the pack, pushing the personal items to one side and studiously trying to avoid even noting the content. He felt a burning sensation in the tips of his ears, and he glanced over his shoulder again at the tall lieutenant who stood some distance away, but the human was not even looking in their direction. “C’mon, Shadow, help me out so we can get this done.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Shadow tugged the nearest satchel over to himself and began sorting through it sulkily. “I was just curious, is all. Some of the other ones are pretty neat. Gruebel’s awesome. I bet he could totally kick somepony’s butt.”

“Duhh, he’s a soldier. That’s what they do, remember? Oh, gag.” Star hurriedly pushed aside another can of meat. “That Gallivan, though... he scares me.”

Shadow stopped in the middle of examining a shirt in particular need of washing and stared at him. “Hey, Bob’s cool. Leave him alone.”

“‘Bob?’” Shining Star peered at his friend oddly. “You call him Bob?”

“Well, not to his face, no. He’s a higher rank, that’s not polite.”

“Now you’re concerned about being polite? Shadow, you worry me, sometimes.” Star shook his head.

“Well, he is a sergeant.” Shadow grinned. “And he fights like I do, too. No weapons. He’s tough.” The pony stopped, his grin fading. “I think he has to be. It... helps him.”

Star pushed his pack away and looked up at the bigger pony. “Helps him with what?”

“It... oh, I don’t know.” Shadow tapped his forehead with a hoof, then shrugged. “You’re better with words for all that kind of stuff, Star. I’m just a guard pony, you know?”

Finally their gaze shifted to the last bag. The one both of them feared opening.

“So...” Shadow started slyly, “What do you think Midnight brought with her?”

“Really Shadow? Really?” Star asked incredulously. “We just talked about this, remember? Can’t you keep your head out of the clouds?”

“Not really. Besides, you talked about it, not me. Hey, what’s this?” Shadow said as he grabbed a book from top of her pack. “Mission log. She actually keeps one of these?” He placed it on the ground next to her pack as he pulled out another smaller book and peered at the written inscription on the cover. “‘Journal?’ This has juicy written all over it.”

“Shadow... I really don’t think you should be looking at that...” Star said in a warning tone. “You know how fillies are with their journals... If she ever found out about you looking at, let alone reading her private journal, she would geld you on the spot.”

When Shadow showed no signs of putting down the book, a rather familiar voice spoke up from behind them. “He’s right you know, and you’re standing in the perfect spot,” it said in an icy tone.

Something pointy tapped Shadow lightly on the flank. His red fur instantly turned brighter, much to the amazement of both Star and Midnight, and he jumped into the air with a high pitched shriek.

Stivers glanced over his shoulder, startled. “The hell was that?”

“Maybe Midnight came back, and saw a spider?” Taylor suggested with a smirk.

“I find that highly unlikely. Regardless,” stated Sword, “We need to go find out what it was.” He turned and began trotting toward the other aircraft. “Could have given our position away, and If that happened for a reason as silly as spiders, somepony is going to regret it.”

Stivers and Taylor shared a quick a glance, realizing that Sword probably wasn’t joking. As they jogged over to where the commotion was, they noticed a very irritated looking Midnight with her bow drawn, but empty. Beside her, Shining Star stood rigidly at attention, the expression on his face clearly showing the desire to be somewhere more welcome... say, the far side of the moon. Next to him, Shadow sat hunched low, quivering, his tail clamped tightly under him.

“What in blazes is going on?” Sword asked.

“Nothing, sir. Just a short discussion on protocol and discipline.” Midnight glanced over at Shadow, eyes narrowed. “I’m quite sure it won’t need to be repeated.”

“Well, that’s good, because half the countryside probably heard that yelp.” Sword cast a considering eye at Shadow, but decided to let it go. “Report.”

“Crimson Hoof and I located the tank that fell off Taylor’s airplane.” Midnight shook her head and looked past her commander at the tall human behind him. “I’m sorry, lieutenant, it was a total loss. It smashed up fairly badly when it hit the ground and all of the contents had leaked out.”

“Yeah, that was some nasty stuff, too.” Hoof stepped forward, snorting at the memory. “What the hoof do you guys use in those machines, sir? It stank to the stars and back.”

“It’s high-octane aviation gaso... nevermind, it doesn’t matter.” Taylor spat and uttered a particularly nasty curse. “Well, that’s going to mess things up big time.”

“How so?” Golden Sword glanced over at him. “You said yourself you couldn’t fly much further anyway, due to the terrain, yes?”

“Correct, Captain. The problem is, we also have to get back.” Taylor reached up with both hands and scratched his head in frustration. “I tried to come up with some computations while we were flying, and it was tough enough due to the screwy fuel consumption with you guys on the wings. With one whole wing tank gone though...shit, I don’t know.” He glanced over at Stivers. “We’ll have to figure out some way of sharing out what’s left between the two planes.”

“No sense in worrying about it right now, Charlie.” Stivers shrugged. “I see your point, but we still have to get where we’re going before we can worry about getting back.” He frowned for a moment. “Um...where are we going, exactly?”

“Still fairly due south, at the moment.” Sword motioned at the map Taylor had gripped in one hand, and the lieutenant obligingly unfolded it. “Look here. We still have to get through the foothills here before we even reach the mountainous area; I’m guessing a two to three day journey for that.” He reached out a hoof and tapped the map. “Right here, there’s a pretty rough patch of country, but there’s a pass that will let us through.” The pony narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “We’ve got no more than a fortnight of traveling time ahead of us, provided we don’t run into any snags.”

“A fortnight?” Taylor stared at the pegasus. “You mean two weeks, right?”

“Yes.” Sword frowned. “Why, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just keep finding resemblances between you guys and my own people in the damnedest places.”

“So we’ve got two weeks of rough living ahead of us, and we’re there, then.” Stivers shrugged. “We can handle that.”

“Mind you, I said providing we don’t run into any snags.” Sword turned and eyed the peaks that lay on the horizon to the south of them, his ears flicking back and forth. “And we probably will, to be honest,” he added with a sigh. “This is gryphon country, remember? We’ll be entering much of their territory, and I’m not entirely sure how they’ll react.”

“Based on the folks we’ve run into so far, I’m sure they’ll greet us with open arms.” Taylor grimaced. “While holding spears. And shooting arrows and God knows what else at us, while screaming for our blood.”

Sword did not reply for a moment, and then sighed again. “Yes... there is that possibility.”

Shining Star grunted and dropped the branch he’d been carrying on the ground with a sigh of relief. “There you go, lieutenant, that’s the last of them.”

“Thank you.” Midnight caught the branch up in her jaws and leapt into the air, weaving a bit as the weight tugged her to and fro. The pegasus came to a hover over the rear turret of one of the Avenger bombers, its deep blue form mostly obscured now by a hodgepodge collection of branches, vines, and other detritus the group had found scattered nearby. There was nowhere near enough material to cover the aircraft completely, and the group had pushed the two planes underneath the spreading branches of a grove of oak trees. “Here?”

“Yeah, just try and lean it up against the frame so the leaves cover the shiny part.” Taylor stood off to one side, tilting his upper body in demonstration as he held out an arm. “Right where the guns come out, you can still see the gleam on the bubble.”

Midnight set the branch down for a moment, rubbing her jaw with a forehoof. “Yes, thank you, Taylor, I do know how camouflage works, you know.”

The pilot waved his hands in apology. “Yeah, right, sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“No harm done.” Midnight studied the plane with a critical eye, then picked the branch back up and moved over to wedge it firmly in place near where the turret met the canopy. “There we go. That’ll keep any prying eyes from up here catching the sunlight off of it. How does it look down there?”

“Great. Nice job, thanks.” Taylor stood for a moment, staring at the plane as Midnight swooped back over to land next to him and Star.

“What’s the matter? Did some of it shift?” Midnight frowned, peering at the mostly covered aircraft. “It seems okay to me.”

“No, it’s great.” The pilot sighed slowly. “I just...I don’t like leaving her behind like this.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure she won’t mind too terribly.” Midnight gave him an amused look. “Besides, no one’s likely to come along and nip off with your flying machine, Taylor. Anyone with the means to around here already has wings built-in, anyway.” She flapped her own for emphasis.

“Yeah, well.” Taylor took a step forward, running one hand slowly over the leading edge of the bomber’s wing. The foliage covering it rustled quietly, small branches making a light scraping sound on the aluminum skin.

Midnight trotted over and bumped his leg with her shoulder. “Come on, you,” she said quietly. “Learning experience, remember? Stick close, I’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Sounds like a deal to me,” Taylor replied. He reached down and picked up his pack where Star had left it for him, shrugging his shoulders into the straps with a grimace. “Ouch, dammit, that pinches.”

“Strap’s twisted,” Star said carefully. He pointed with a forehoof and made a circular motion. “Turn it... no, the other way, sir. That’s right. Also, you might want to tighten them up more. If you leave them that loose while you’re walking all day, they’ll chafe the fur right off your... um.” He frowned, peering at the flight suit covering Taylor’s shoulders. “Well, it won’t be pleasant.”

“Right, I gotcha.” Taylor tugged on the straps and hunched the pack up higher on his back until it sat snug. “It’s not quite like putting a parachute on, but close enough.”

“Good job,” Midnight said approvingly. “Star, go tell Captain Sword we’re finished over here. And see if you can help them with their cover.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Star saluted and turned smartly, feeling somewhat relieved. You had to be careful about telling officers when they were doing something completely wrong, and Taylor had been heading in a bad direction. He and Midnight seemed to be getting along pretty well with each other, too, and Star had no desire to get his lieutenant any more annoyed with him than she might already be. He’d merely been joking with Shadow about the gelding bit, but Star had no wish to find out for certain. He shuddered as he thought of the uncanny speed Midnight Arrow had shown while wielding her bow in combat.

Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Midnight watching him, and Star decided to move a little faster himself. Just in case.

As the group moved through the foothills, Shadow came to a rather startling realization. He was bored. The scenery was nothing compared to his homeland: the mountains blocked the view to the frozen south, and behind them the hills sloped gently down toward the dry plain and desert. To either side was more of the same rolling ground, with no sign of paths, roads or habitation that he could tell.

He tried looking to the skies to cloud watch, but the southern air currents were blocked by the mountains; there was really not much more than a wisp or two here and there. Shadow often liked to sit back and imagine titanic battles in the sky between ferocious cloud warriors. His fellow guards and friends sometimes teased him about “having your head in the clouds,” but it was one of Shadow’s favorite ways to pass the time; the pony loved to sit and listen to action and adventure stories, and if no one had one handy, he would sit back and make up his own. Wild ponies from the Nether Northlands wouldn’t have dragged this secret out of him, however; anytime he thought about telling somepony about it - Star maybe, or Hoof - his ears burned and he felt foolish, like a little colt instead of a full grown stallion.

Shadow glanced idly over at the tall human who was walking beside him. Taylor seemed like a pretty nice fellow, even for an officer, although he acted oddly foolish now and then. It was as if the tall lieutenant had one of Shadow’s own little cloud adventures going on in his head all the time, and every now and again a little of it would escape out of his mouth in the form of some random nonsense. Mulling this bit over in his head, Shadow considered asking the pilot if he ever stared at the clouds as he flew and saw shapes in them, like maybe a dragon with a tiny little head, or a pony with five legs, or...

Up ahead, Shadow saw Stivers turn around and walk backwards for a moment, looking the group over as they marched. Seeming satisfied, he turned back around, murmuring something to Golden Sword, who simply nodded in reply. Seeing this, Shadow swallowed his words and remained quiet, as Sword had ordered when they had set out. He would have liked to just talked to Taylor for a bit, but then one of the two Captains (or maybe even both, dear sweet Celestia) would have smacked him silly, or worse yet, Midnight would get to him first. Sighing heavily, he turned back to face forward, with only the rather unappealing sight of Thompson’s rear end to occupy his vision. The only thing the pegasus had to entertain himself (that did not involve a very long and boring walk) were his thoughts.

Thankfully, he was rescued by the Lieutenant beside him. “So, why do we need to maintain silence again? I mean, I get why we would need it when we can’t see for forever and a mile, but seriously, we’ll be able to see anything long before we can hear it.”

Captain Sword glared at Taylor fiercely, and was about to say something that probably would have made a drill sergeant blush before Midnight cut him off. “Well, you are fairly tall, Taylor. An airborne scout would attract attention easily, so it’s just standard operating procedures when we can’t see over the hills, you know?”

“Makes sense.” Taylor replied. “But since we can see over the hills...” He waved an arm expansively at the rolling countryside around them. The ground was uneven but decently firm and covered with an intermittent shroud of grass, broken here and there by small outcroppings of rock, low hummocks of bushes and the occasional tree or two.

“You’re already talking, are you not?” replied Sword, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, I’m sorry, captain,” Taylor said in a humble tone. “My telepathy isn’t working at the moment. I would have tried sign language, but the fact that I don’t know any kinda killed that idea, and I left my signal flags with my other luggage, so...”

There were several snickers, from pilots and pegasi alike, and Sword rolled his eyes in defeat. “Fine, very well, I get your point quite clearly, thank you. Keep it down to a dull roar, then, would you? Sound carries very easily out here, and we’re well inside the borders of gryphon territory now.”

“What is it with you guys and the gryphons, sir? If you don’t mind my asking.” Thompson glanced around carefully for the moment, then looked back to the pony pacing along in front of him. “I mean, are you guys at war, or at peace, or what?”

“That probably depends on the pony you ask, and where he’s standing at the time,” Sword said in a dry tone. “Back in Canterlot, they’d tell you we’re at peace. On occasion, you’ll hear we’re allies. But that doesn’t mean that we’re bosom companions who delight in afternoon picnics and dance parties.”

Stivers, who had been munching on a handful of raisins, coughed and snorted for a moment. “Jesus, that sounds familiar. Remember that shitstorm with Patton in London, Charlie?”

“Yeah, I heard about that. He almost got fired over that, I think; some senator was screaming for his head because he’d ‘insulted our great Russian allies.’” Taylor shook his head. “What a balls-up. Glad they finally turned him loose in Normandy, though. We sure could have used him on our side of the war.”

“Not much room for a tank battle on most of the sandbars we invaded, sir.” Gruebel spoke up from behind them. “Different war.”

“You got that right.” Gallivan’s voice was low and even as it drifted over them from the rear of the column. “Europe, they were fighting Germans. That’s like getting into a pissin’ contest with your neighbor because his dog keeps shitting on your front lawn. The Pacific... it was like we was fightin’ aliens.”

Shadow looked around and stared at Gallivan with fascination. “You fought aliens?”

The Marine sergeant chuckled at the expression on Shadow’s face. “Naw, not really, but sometimes it seemed like it.” He strode on for a few moments in silence, then spoke up again. “I mean, what kind of person, when they’re losing a fight, and they know it, still acts like they’re your ultimate master and beats the crap out of you because they think you looked at them funny? And God help you if you react to the sound of friendly bombs going off. I saw a guy have his legs broken because he looked up when a five-hundred pounder went off nearby.” His voice became louder, edged with something undefinable. “Shit, if that ain’t alien, then it sure as hell ain’t human.”

Shadow’s ears laid back against the armor plate of his head guard at the rising tone in Gallivan’s voice. “Well, uh, Sarge,” he offered hesitantly, “we’re not humans. You don’t think we’re aliens, do you?”

Gallivan frowned severely at him. “Hell no. Shadow, I know you’re not a human being, but you’re... shit, I dunno.” He waved a hand aimlessly in the air. “You’re practically people, though, you know? You guys... ponies, whatever. You’re honest, most of the time. You’re pretty straight shooters. You have a sense of honor, you’re decent. Hell, you healed up Howie there, and you had no reason to.”

Thompson had the good grace to flush at that. “Yeah... I think I said that myself, once. I don’t think I ever actually got around to saying thanks for that, though.”

Shadow felt a touch on his shoulder and glanced around to see Midnight dropping slowly back along the column as they walked. “So what you’re saying is that these... people you fought, they were indecent.” Her voice was low and quiet as she drew even with Gallivan and matched his pace as they moved along. “That they had no honor.”

Gallivan uttered a short, ugly laugh, but his reply was closer to a normal tone of voice. “Oh, they thought they did. That was practically all that mattered to them. And heaven help you if they thought you’d made them lose face, or look silly. That’s why the beat that guy who flinched when the bomb went off. Because he’d heard it, see? That made it real. And if it was real, then they’d been attacked, and made to look weak. The Japs hated that. They’d rather die than admit to losing.”

Silence reigned for a moment, and then Midnight spoke, still in that low, thoughtful tone of voice, as if they were discussing some abstract idea, something that had nothing to do with any of them, not really. “It sounds as if they were a proud people, much like the gryphons in this country. And when a proud people get desperate, and if they feel like pride is all they have left, sometimes pride makes them do foolish, horrible things.”

Shadow watched the sergeant digest this for a moment. “Yes ma’am,” he finally replied. “I guess that’s the analytical way of lookin’ at it. I guess that’s part of the ‘why,’ but it ain’t all of it.” He shrugged, and Shadow felt a sudden empathy for the man, for those times when the words you needed just weren’t there to help you explain. “It ain’t all of it,” he repeated. “And it doesn’t make it right.”

“No, you’re right, it doesn’t,” Sword said abruptly, surprising them all. “It doesn’t make it right, and you can lose sleep over trying to figure out the rest of why, Sergeant. Better to try to let it go.” He shared a long look with Stivers, then brought the column to a halt. “And unfortunately, no one group has a monopoly on pride. Not your foes, nor the gryphons, either.” He stared at the mountain range ahead, his gaze focused on the nearest of the peaks. “Ponies learned that long ago, and the lesson carried a heavy price.”

Stivers gave the pony a long, speculative look. “Something you want to share with us, Captain?”

Sword shook his head. “Not here. When we get to the mountains, I’ll tell you about it. You’ll see then, and maybe you’ll even understand.” He glanced up at the sun where it lay in the western sky and nodded. “For now, let’s set up camp. You’ll want to grab some extra firewood while there’s still places to get it here; there’s precious little up in the rocks.”

“All right, you bozos, you heard him.” Stivers unshouldered his pack and dropped it to the ground. “Gather up everything you can that’ll burn, and don’t pansy out on me. Load up all you can carry.”

Shadow grimaced as he dropped his own pack, and jumped abruptly when a soft voice spoke in his ear. “And you can carry a little extra, can’t you, hmm?” Midnight’s voice was pleasant, almost conversational. “The extra weight will keep you focused and you won’t want to waste time looking at things you shouldn’t.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, wincing. “Eyes front, hooves down, that’s me.”

Day 2. Three hours till dusk.

Another day down, only... a lot to go. We got to the foothills of the mountains today. I just have a few moments of spare time while my colleagues gather fire starting supplies, so I decided now would be as a good a time as ever to write.

Remember the Zebras I mentioned earlier? Well, according to Shining Star, what they had said was a Zebra curse. According to him, it is also the reason why one of our machines was almost brought low.

There was this dreadful rumbling coming from the left wing, and then just as suddenly as it started, it was gone. That was when we were informed that the... ‘high octave avian ganasole’ tank was ripped off. (I am honestly unsure if that’s what it’s called, but that’s what I remember. It had a lot of words, that I don’t think we would understand without a good proper explanation.

This is a problem, Taylor said, because that’s what powers the machine’s flight. Without that, we don’t have much air time left. The humans don’t at least. If push comes to shove, we could... No. We won’t leave them behind. They’re just like us Fluttershy! In so many ways its scary.

We were told a story by Gallivan, about a race of people he fought called the ‘Japs’. They had, what he described as a twisted sense of honour, where if anything wasn’t going right, whoever pointed it out would be punished. I’ve heard stories of the griffons doing similar things, but I am unsure if that’s just propaganda, or if that’s how it actually is.

I really hope we can get through Griffon territory without needing to fight.

Shadow almost read my letters to you today. I was so angry, that I just... I could have done something harsh, but I thought about what you would have done, so I only gave him a mild scare, and a few... extra duties. These letters are meant for your eyes, and the eyes of those you show them to. I will not let anyone else get that close again.

And to think, it was right in the middle of him sorting rations too. Him and Star had been picked to distribute our rations evenly, so they had to fish them out of our bags, which is all well and good, but I mean, really. You don’t look through somepony’s personal belongings. I can only imagine what the Humans would have done if it had been their stuff they had been going through.

Anyway, they’re getting back with the tinder, so I’m going to go and help them. I might write another letter tonight. Maybe.

~Midnight Arrow

The next day brought a more definite change in their surroundings, and the pilots each made a point to commend Sword for his foresight. The hilly terrain they had been traveling through began a marked rise, and the ground about them bore visible change; the grass began to grow more and more sparsely, eventually becoming no more than a patchy scruff against the bare ground, while here and there bare rock began to show through the earth. The air itself became markedly cooler, and before mid-afternoon more than one member of the party was wearing the heavy cloak that had been packed into their luggage back at Canterlot. The basic design was well suited to a pony, even one wearing bulky armor, and it covered the five pegasi easily enough. The ones that had been packed in for the pilots had undergone some hasty, last-minute tailoring, which basically amounted to a patchwork arrangement that kept its human wearer warm, but was somewhat less than aesthetically pleasing.

Gallivan took advantage of a short stop to dig his own cloak out of his pack, and held it up in the air with a frown. “Hell’s bells, which end is up?”

“It’s on your right, the end with the woven fringe.” Gruebel watched him with amusement as the other Marine fought with the clasp and chain for a moment before finally getting it hooked on. “Look at you. You look like you’re wearin my grandma’s quilt.”

“If your grandma’s quilt is anywhere nearby, I’ll gladly take it.” Gallivan shivered for a moment. “Christ, that wind’s cold. We’re not that high up yet, what the hell’s goin’ on?”

Golden Sword ambled over to where they stood, his burnished armor now hidden underneath his own cloak. “Take a moment and study the wind, sergeant. Is it veering very much?”

Gallivan stood quite still for a moment, his shivering subsiding as his body heat began to warm up the inside of the thick winter garment. “Um. No, not really. Not enough to matter, as far as I can tell. It’s pretty steady from dead ahead.”

Sword nodded. “Very good. How about airspeed? Is it constant?”

Both Gruebel and Gallivan stood motionless, eyes slitted as they peered toward the south. “Yes, sir,” Gallivan said finally. “About eight to ten knots right now, and it’s been getting stronger for the past hour or so.”

“Very good,” Sword said approvingly. “You’re correct, and it will continue to get slowly stronger as we move ahead. The wind is coming through a gap in the mountains ahead. A pass which leads into a valley that serves as a road, of sorts. A very old, winding road which will take us most of the rest of the way to our destination.”

“Damn, and we have to eat this wind until we get to the pass?” Gruebel made a face. “Isn’t there another way into the valley?”

“Well, yes, of a sort, but I’m afraid it requires wings.” Sword glanced over his shoulder at the jagged ridge of peaks that loomed in the distance. “And I wouldn’t recommend it anyway, I’m afraid. The wind currents around here are tricky. That’s one of the attractions of the place, after all.”

“Naturally built fortifications,” Gallivan said.

“What?” Gruebel turned to look at the sergeant. “What are you talking about?”

“If this is the border to the gryphon lands... well, you want to have some way to protect your borders, right?” He gestured to the peaks ahead. “And if you want to have a place protected from, say, ponies that can fly, you pick out a nice spot that either negates their advantage by forcing them to the ground, or they take to the air and fly through crap that they’re unfamiliar with, but you are, since you live here. Either way, you’re stuck right where they want you to be.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Sword stated, giving the human an appraising glance. “You’re quite the siege engineer, Sergeant.”

“Just training, sir. It’s all about your terrain.” Gallivan frowned suddenly. “Um, this might sound a bit stupid to be asking now, but isn’t this pass going to be watched?”

“Oh, doubtless it will.” Sword shrugged. “Again, however, our options are somewhat limited...and besides, we’re not exactly at war with the fellows over there at the moment.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that very much, sir.” Gruebel rubbed his hands together and blew on his fingers. “You expecting trouble?”

“I always do.” Sword sighed. “However, Princess Celestia assured me our passage would not be hindered, at least this far.” The pegasus paced back and forth slowly, his gaze never leaving the mountains to the south. “It’s what comes after that troubles me. This place... it has a long memory, for ponies.”

A long silence fell, and Sword moved off, leading the group onward once more. The clear, cold air made the distance difficult to estimate, but as the day wore on the mountainous terrain before them grew steadily in size, with small details beginning to show here and there on individual peaks. Once or twice they passed small clutches of grass, looking brown and withered in the cold, but the ground before them now was mostly bare, and the rock began taking over more and more in their sight until very little real earth remained beneath their feet. The sound of the ponies’ hooves was a faint staccato beat, mostly buried beneath the moan of the wind.

As the sun sank slowly into the west, the cold began to rise sharply, and the wind followed suit, making their cloaks swirl about as the frigid tide nipped and clawed at their ears and eyes. The ponies’ ears were laid back as they marched along, and the humans hunched over, their eyes slitted, the cold forcing tears from nearly everyone.

“Hey, uh, Captain, shouldn’t we stop soon?” Thompson had to raise his voice to be heard. “It’s getting pretty nippy out here, ya know?”

“Just a bit further and we’ll stop, I promise,” Sword called back. “The Rock of the Horn is up ahead, and it’ll provide shelter from the wind. We’ll halt there for the night.” Behind him, Star’s ears pricked up, and the pony looked troubled.

Gruebel caught the expression and leaned close to the pegasus, trying to keep his voice low. “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah, just... I’m ready to get out of this wind.” Star forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

The Rock of the Horn turned out to be a stone outcropping that looked nothing like a horn, in Taylor’s opinion. It blocked the blast of icy wind well enough, though, that he was willing to forgive that little detail. The group set camp right up against the lee side of the rock face, where the eddies from the edges could not quite reach, and getting the campfire going was number one priority.

“Damn, that feels good.” Taylor held his hands out toward the crackling flames, opening and closing his fingers slowly. “That wind is something fierce. Is it always like this?”

“This time of year, yes, I’m afraid.” Sword sat as close to the fire as he dared, willing to risk a little singed fur. “Once we’re through the pass, it’ll slack off a great deal, but we’ll just have to endure it until then.”

Thompson uttered a muffled curse. “So you think we’ll reach it tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, certainly. By noontime, if we can keep the pace we have been.” Sword uttered a small sigh of contentment as the warmth of the fire soaked into him. “You’ve all done very well on route march, I do have to say. You’re to be commended. Even you, Shadow.”

“Thank you, sir.” The pony looked surprised. “I, uh, just kept my hooves down, eyes forward, you know.”

“Yes, you did quite well at that. The Captain’s right.” Midnight offered Shadow a crooked grin. “Think you can keep it up?”

“Oh, yes ma’am.” Shadow shivered, but the feeling had nothing to do with the cold. “As long as I need to.”

“Attaboy.” Gallivan gave Shadow a well-intended slap on the back, wincing at the impact of flesh on cold armor. “Ow, shit! That stings like a bastard!”

“Gotta warm your hands up first, sarge.” Taylor chuckled. “Ever try and play baseball in the winter time?” He shook his head in memory. “Fastball, right in the mitt, and you’re lucky if you can hold onto the thing.”

“You played, sir?” Gruebel’s eyes were bright with interest. “I got a cousin who’s with the Dodgers.”

“Not professional, just when I was in college.” Taylor settled down, leaning back and supporting himself on his hands as he looked up at the night sky. “Only played for one year, though. Catching is hell on the knees, and I wasn’t fast enough to play in the field.”

“Think of it like this. If you’d stuck with it, you could have avoided getting shot at over the South Pacific.” Stivers reached behind himself and dragged his pack onto his lap.

“Yah. And where would the fun in that be?” Taylor stated sarcastically, grabbing a tin of Spam from his bag. “Besides I would have missed out on all this fuuhhholy shit that’s cold!” He spasmed in place and jerked upright, whirling around as he clasped a hand to the back of his neck.

Midnight stood there holding her helmet in the crook of a foreleg and wearing an innocent expression. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I bump you with this?” Her tone was nonchalant, but her eyes gleamed wickedly amidst the dark swirl of her mane. “I was going to put it over there next to my pack. So sorry.”

Taylor shivered, the hair standing up on his arms. “I am so going to get you back for that one.” He rubbed his arms and sat back down, watching the mare warily. “You ever play any sports, Midnight?”

“Nope. Track and field for me.” She dropped her helmet next to her pack and sat down, leaning back against the rock where it arched up behind them. “I didn’t have much spare time from my studies, and besides, with track, it’s all about you and nopony else.” Midnight smiled absently. “I liked that about it. You have to find our own measure, and push yourself beyond it without anypony else’s help.”

“Alone, with no help...” Sword’s voice trailed off for a moment, and the stallion shook his head. “If there’s anyplace better suited than this place for that, I don’t know of it.”

Stivers glanced over at the pony. “Well that was fucking cheery as hell. What’s the deal with this place, Sword? You said you were going to tell us when we got here, and, well, we’re here.” He pulled a small pouch of dried fruit from his pack and began popping raisins into his mouth, one at a time.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Golden Sword rubbed a forehoof absently against his chin, a gesture he had unconsciously picked up from the humans. “Well, it was long, long ago. Ancient history, actually. There was a battle fought in this place, back in a time when ponies and the gryphons were at war with each other.”

“Ancient history?” Taylor frowned, pausing in the middle of opening his can of tinned meat. “Just how long ago are we talking about here?”

Sword stared into the flames of the campfire for a moment, considering. “About two thousand years or so, I think.”

Stivers made a strangled coughing sound, and the fruit he’d been chewing on whizzed past Midnight’s ear. “Wait. You guys have been beating the shit out of each other, off and on, for the past two thousand years? Jesus Christ, you need a fucking hobby, Sword. Take up needlepoint, or something.”

The pony looked at him moodily. “Yes, I know, it does seem absurd in this day and age. Still, when you’re defending your homeland, one’s priorities tend to get reassessed.”

Taylor thought of how he’d felt when he’d heard that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor and grimaced. “Thou speakest true, o wise one.”

Sword glanced at him for a moment, and then stared into the flames of the campfire. “At any rate, long ago, there was a battle fought here. Not very large, as battles go, but we lost a great pony then, one of our best generals and leaders. Prince Aurora was his name, and he was an amazing commander, by all accounts.”

“Prince?” Thompson stared across the fire at Sword from where he sat roasting a chunk of the canned meat on the end of a stick. “Ouch, that must have stung. Losing royalty in a battle...” His eyebrows lifted. “I bet morale took a beating on that one.”

“More than you know,” Sword said without looking up. He fell silent again, unmoving, and several of the others exchanged glances, wondering if perhaps that was all they were going to get out of the taciturn captain. Someone’s throat cleared, and then everyone held motionless as a low contralto voice began to sing.

Long ago and far away

Across the burning desert sands

An army saw the breaking day

Journeying through the gryphon lands

Their lord was swift, strong and wise

His forelock flowing in the breeze

He stared with fierce and stalwart eyes

At countless hordes of enemies

The Prince Aurora was his name

Favored by Celestia fair,

Of gold and scarlet was his mane,

Flowing in the mountain air

The gryphons waited, eyes agleam

Their forces gathered in the pass

Scattered loosely, trying to seem

Beaten, down and lost at last

Our prince rode up, laughing loud

Calling for the charging horn

Not waiting, heroic features proud,

Hoofbeats like a gathering storm

He galloped down into the fray

Heedless of the cries to wait,

His captains' fruitless warning neigh

Could not stop the Prince's fate

"Trapped at last!" the evil cry

Rang out from rocky peaks above

Where gryphons lurked, and from on high

They gave the rocks a mighty shove

His folly now revealed at last,

Aurora tried to turn and flee

Dust and thunder, flashing past

Denied his wanted victory

A final crash and doom was sealed

Beneath a mountain's endless weight

The shout of gryphons war cries pealed

Among the rocks, the shout of hate

Stopped ponies charging in their tracks,

Celestia's army leaderless

Her subjects slowly turning back

But marking well where all the best

That was had fallen there that day

The snow capped peaks glimmering red

And ages on, the sages say

Those peaks now known as "Horns of Death"

Still echo with the battle call

Of him who fought until the last

What gryphons call "The Horns," we call

Forevermore, "Aurora's Pass."

They all looked around in shocked surprise to stare at Shining Star, who colored visibly under the fur on his cheeks. “At least, I think that’s how it goes. I may have messed up a line or two.”

“If you did, I’d be surprised to find an error,” Sword said, staring at his subordinate in amazement. “That was impressive lad...you continue to surprise me.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Star said nervously. “It was just something I picked up awhile back, and I never quite forgot it. I never expected to ever be near the place itself.” He looked around at the forbidding landscape. “Imagine being here, all that time ago.”

“Sounds like our story about the three hundred at the battle of Thermopylae,” Stivers said. He was also giving Star an odd look, as if the pony had suddenly grown three heads. “But I don’t remember any epic songs about it. Besides...” He shifted uncomfortably where he sat. “It sounds like you ended up being the ones taking the beating. No offense,” he added hastily, “but usually songs like this doesn’t get made up for a loss.”

“The song wasn’t about the battle. It was made up because it’s one of the great tragedies in our history,” Star said. He looked up at the sky for a moment. “The legends have it that Aurora was betrothed to the Princess Celestia at the time. It’s said she went into mourning for a century afterwards.”

Taylor coughed. “A century? Jesus, she must have really had it for this guy.”

“Betrothal will do that to a pony, Taylor.” Midnight’s gaze was fixed on Star, and her voice was incredibly sad, enough to make the other pony look at her in surprise. “Love is one of the greatest feelings in the world.. .but it can also carry a burden and a price with it.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you’re right.” Taylor ran a hand through his hair slowly. “Sorry, I wasn’t making fun of it or anything. It does seem pretty raw and sad.”

“Well that there is ‘cause yoore listenen to th’ wrong version there, ey?” said a new voice from behind them. “I kinda like th’ one I learned a bit be’er d’ough, yah know, ey?”

Almost in unison, the group turned around to see a diminutive form crouched at the edge of the firelight. Dark brown feathers rustled in the breeze, and the scarlet eyes gleamed at them as the gryphon offered a sheepish smile.

“Oh, sorry there. I knew it’s rude to eavesdrop d’ere, ey, but I couldn’ ‘elp it. There aren’ many folks out ‘ere who ‘ave bonfire parties out in th’ open ‘ere, ey? I was a tad curious to say th’ least.” The eyes gleamed brighter as they spotted Thompson’s dinner roasting over the flames. “Oh, by the by, you gots any spare food d’ere, ey? I ‘avn’t eaten a while, you know -mountains and all that- and I could sure use a bite to eat, ey.”

Sword straightened up from the crouch he had reflexively dropped into and stared at the little gryphon in bewilderment. “What in Celestia’s name is this, now?”

Chapter 13: Pride and Prejudice

Author's note: Please read the gryffon’s speech exactly as it is written, as that is how it is meant to be pronounced.

Chapter 13: Pride and Prejudice

“Well dat ain’t a very nice t’ing to say at all d’ere, ey?” the gryphon said as he left the shadows. “I mean really now, ey, just cause I’m a lil smaller than the average, ain’t no reason to go makin’ fun, ey.”

Star stared at the creature with a dumbfounded expression. In the few dealings he had had with gryphons over his lifetime, he had never encountered one with such a strange accent. He could barely make out half the words that came from a gryphon’s beak as it was, but now it was just about indecipherable. He was startled from his introspection as the gryphon spoke up again.

“An’ now all ya do is go about and stare, ey? I t’ought you ponies was supposed to be nicer, d’ere, ey? And you don’t see me making a show of staring up yer compatriots o’er der, do you, ey?”

“That’s a gryphon?” asked Taylor, motioning to the small brown creature he had only heard of from myth. “He’s like, the same size as Midnight!” The gryphon adopted an even more hurt look.

“Who are you, and what do you want, gryphon?” Sword demanded, venom on his last word.

“Oh boy,” the gryphon sighed, adopting a scowl. “I guess me mum was right aboot you ponies after all. Oh, I shoulda listened to ‘er better!” His scowl was rapidly replaced by a frown as he emitted a shuddering exhale. “I shoulda listened, but I didn’, ey, An’ now look at me.”

Most of the assembled ponies and humans had noticed the crack in the gryphon’s voice at the end, but Midnight gave the creature a long, speculative glance. “Yes, look at you.”

Most of the humans had their weapons drawn and pointed towards the creature. Taylor was searching the sky warily, but the thin scud of cloud was not concealing any threat that he could tell. Enough starlight lit the area around them that no other creature was visible. For the moment, at least, it was just them and their unexpected visitor. “So, kiddo, what are you doing here?”

The gryphon’s eyes flared at that. “Oh, that’s not me name, eh? I’ll also ‘ave you know that I’m not no kid neither. I’m ten years old you know, ey?”

“No, we didn’t know that.” Midnight tilted her head, the odd expression still on her face. “You’re still a bit young to be out here alone. And you didn’t answer his question, either, Mister...” She trailed off, her tone obviously inquiring.

“Me name is William Skyborn Jr.” The gryphon straightened up proudly. “I’m named after me pop.”

“Really? Nice name, Willie Deuce.” Taylor looked back down at the diminutive bundle of feathers and fur. “So, let’s try again, this time, with feeling. What are you doing here?”

William’s beak snapped rapidly three times in frustration. “Me name is William, ey! And I live ‘ere, chuckle’ead! What even are you, anyway? Some kinda monkey, ey?”

“Yeah, he is.” Crimson Hoof walked over toward the gryphon, a fiendish grin on his muzzle. “They all are. Carnivorous monkeys from the Everfree Forest who eat gryphons for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” He dipped his head closer. “And sometimes,” he said ominously, “as a midnight snack, too.”

“Oh for Celestia’s sake, stop it,” Midnight snapped. “He’s just a child, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m not a kid, ey! William puffed up his feathers and glared back at Hoof. “An’ I’m ‘ungry enough I could try pony meself right now.”

Gruebel burst out laughing at this. “I wouldn’t try it, short stuff. He’s all tough and stringy.” He sat back down next to the campfire, leaning over and snaring the branch that Thompson’s dinner was roasting on. “Come on over here and have a seat, we’ve got some grub to spare.”

Thompson whirled around. “Hey, I was cooking that!”

“Yeah, looks pretty done to me. You did a great job.” Gruebel moved to take the meat off of the end of the branch, and flinched, waving his hand. “Dammit. Hot and fresh, too.” He licked grease off the ends of his fingers and rolled his eyes in exaggerated ecstasy. “Mmmmm, good.”

Star grimaced. “Oh, yucka-ducka. That’s gross, Gruebel.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, my ma always said.”

Gallivan sat down beside him. “You didn’t feel that way about balut when we were in Manila.” The others slowly relaxed and began to settle back down, though they continued to look about warily. “You didn’t like that at all.”

“Yeah, and I tried it. I can knock that all I want.” Gruebel made a face and looked back at William. “C’mon, kiddo, help yourself. It’s just Spam. Or whatever you guys call it.”

William spied an unopened can of the meat that the group had liberated from the zebras, and his eyes lit up. “Well d’at’s wonderful, eh? I love me some good ‘Spam’ from time to time.” All hesitation gone, he bolted over to Gruebel’s side and snatched the branch deftly from the Marine’s grasp. One quick jerk of his beak and the meat was gone in three bites. “Oh my, that’s hot, ey! And juicy t’ boot, ey?” Star’s lip quivered at this, and the pony looked away hurriedly.

“Well, I warned you.” Gruebel chuckled. “Damn, you really are hungry, kid. How long has it been since you ate last?”

“Oh, it’s just been a few days, ey?” William shrugged. “I tried me best to g’t some o’ th’ food the guards ration, eh? But they’ve got eyes like Yorrick, they do.”

“What guards are those, William?” Sword’s voice was quiet, his tone neutral, but the pony’s eyes were regarding the gryphon with preternatural intensity.

“‘Dose fea’erheads out by d’e Horns,” William said, without looking up. “That’s how I came to find out about you lot, don’t cha know, ey?”

“Really?” Sword assumed an expression of polite interest. “Are we that famous, then? Have all the gryphons heard about us?”

“I dunno aboot the tall fellas d’ere, ey, but they’re expecting you ponies sometime soon. They didn’ say when, just soon. You’re all they talk about, ey. ’Course, there ain’t much else to talk aboot way out ‘ere, ey, ‘less you like talkin’ aboot wind an’ rocks, yah know, ey?” William laughed, then stopped and eyed Sword suspiciously. “Why you askin’ for, anyhow, ey?”

Golden Sword began rummaging in his pack, for all the world as if the conversation was just idle talk and nothing to be concerned over. “Just wondering. We’re heading that way in the morning, and we haven’t seen much of anypony since we left home, for the most part. It’d be a nice change to meet somepony else.”

“Yah, and yood like to know if they’d be greetin yah with smiles er swords, ey?” William’s eyes narrowed and he stared at the armored pegasus with open disdain. “Bunch o’ you pony spies comin’ to steal our stuff, ey, then wantin’ William Skyborn to do your dirty spy werk for ya, ey? Not this gryphon, no sir’ee. I wasn’t ‘atched yesterday, you know, ey.”

“We’re not spies, William, and we’re not asking you to spy for us, either.” Midnight Arrow paced over to Gruebel, settling herself on the opposite side of the big Marine from where William sat. “We’re just traveling, honest. We’ve never been here before, and we’re very curious about your land.”

“Yah, an’ ‘ow am I suppos’ ta know yer tellin’ th’ truth, ey?”

Midnight’s expression fell, shock and hurt visible upon her features. “I... I’m not a liar, William. I promise you we’re not here to spy on you or anything. I always tell the truth, as much as I can.” She looked at the rocky ground, her forelock falling over her eyes and obscuring her face.

“Hey now, I didn’t mean none o’ d’at.” William shifted uncomfortably. Her reaction, coupled with the glare he was getting from Taylor, had clearly unnerved him. “Sorry, miss. A fella’s gotta be careful though, ya know? I’m all on me own out ‘ere, ey, you know?”

“Yeah, you keep not telling us why, too.” Taylor eyed the little brown-feathered form with obvious dislike. “How about solving that riddle for us, kiddo?”

“‘Ow about shovin’ it, ey?” William shot back. “I left home for me own reasons, and I don’t feel like talkin ‘boot it, ‘specially not with you, ya know?”

Taylor and Stivers traded a glance, and the Marine stepped in. “So, you left home?”

“Maybe. What’s it to ya, ey?”

Stivers raised his empty hands in a placating gesture. “Just asking, William. I’m curious. We’re visitors here, remember?”

“Yah, Miss Pony said that too, ey. And maybe I believe ‘er,” William said, “but ‘ow about you lot, ey? You sure ain’t ponies, I can tell you that. Tell me where you’re from, and maybe I’ll do the same.”

“Kid, if we did, you’d really think we were lying for sure.” Gruebel shrugged uncomfortably. “You’d never believe it. Shit, even I don’t, half the time.”

“You ran away, didn’t you? From home.” Midnight lifted her head and locked her gaze with William. “You left home and you’ve been wandering ever since.”

William jerked as if stung, his short tail curling tightly about his hindquarters where he sat. He opened his beak as if to reply, and then stopped. His expression crumpled, and his eyes glimmered brightly in the firelight and began to brim over with tears as he stared at the dusky pony, unable to look away. “Well, I uhh... yah... yah.” He broke off and began bawling, burying his face against the side of Gruebel’s leg.

“Well, shit and Burma Shave,” Taylor said unhappily. “Kid, I’m sorry...”

William twitched and began crying harder, his small wings flicking up and covering his head completely from sight. Gruebel looked around with a nonplussed expression, and then began patting the gryphon’s head awkwardly. “Hey buddy, easy there. You’re... um, you’re fine, okay?”

Golden Sword drew in a long breath and let it out in a slow sigh. “Well, I believe that wraps up the festivities for the evening.” He pulled his blanket from his pack and began methodically re-stowing the remaining contents to his liking. “Star, please take the first watch for this evening. Mr. Thompson, would you relieve him at midnight?”

“Yes sir.” Thompson glanced around at the desolate landscape that surrounded them. “You want I should keep the fire up, Captain?”

Sword shook his head. “Just enough to keep it going, but keep it small. It’s not too terribly frigid yet, and we’ll likely need the wood more later on.”

“Wrap up ladies, it’s gonna get nippy before dawn.” Gallivan retrieved his own blanket from his pack and shook it out. “Better get cozy, too.”

“A good old fashioned dogpile,” Stivers agreed. “Haven’t done this since boot camp.” He glanced over at Gruebel. “You mind taking care of our guest tonight, private?”

“No problem, sir.” Gruebel glanced down at William, whose weeping had begun to taper off to isolated sniffles. “You don’t bite, do you, kid?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” William said in a small voice. “I really hate that, ey?”

“Haven’t woken myself up yet,” Gruebel replied agreeably. “You can tuck into my cape. Just roll up in here... there you go. Snug as a sausage in a flapjack.”

“Sounds... oddly tasty.” William yawned hugely, and his beak suddenly looked incredibly sharp to Gruebel. The Marine took sudden notice of the gryphon’s form; birdlike forelegs which ended in sharp talons, and the lion-like hindquarters which sported claws on the end of the hindpaws. All of which were within inches of where the Marine now lay, only separated by a few thick layers of cloth.

“Christ,” Gruebel muttered. “Is there anything that lives in this world that isn’t pointy, sharp or dangerous?”

“Just you, Bob.” Gallivan snickered. “You’re all soft, warm and cushy. Ain’t he, William?”

“E,” the gryphon replied reflexively, already half asleep. The warmth and food were doing their work rapidly, and the young carnivore was soon snoring lightly next to Gruebel.

Taylor sat with his back propped up against the lee wall of the outcropping behind them, his blanket swaddled around him all the way up to his chin and insulating him from the chilly rock. Midnight had laid her own bedroll nearby, and the two sat quietly, both staring at the small form huddled underneath Gruebel’s cloak and watching it rise and fall imperceptibly with the motions of William’s breathing.

“He’s still pretty small, isn’t he?” Taylor asked in a low voice.

“I believe so,” Midnight replied in the same low tone. “If he is actually ten, and I have no reason to believe he isn’t, then he’s barely an adolescent. Gryphons are dissimilar to ponies in that respect; they’re not really mature until about twenty years of age.”

Taylor looked at her sharply. “How old are you, anyway?”

She turned her head and eyed him with amusement. “I refuse to believe you’ve gotten this far in life and not learned that you never, ever ask a lady her age.”

“Ahhhgh, you’re just as dodgy as he is.” Taylor thumped his head against the rock behind him. “Seriously though, I’m sorry if I sounded like a jerk to the kid. He just kind of showed up out of nowhere, and then didn’t want to answer any questions about what the hell he was doing here.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly, drawing the blanket up until it covered most of his face, with only his eyes and the top of his head peeking out. “I guess I just assumed the worst right off the bat. He practically called you a liar to your face.” Taylor glanced over at her. “Maybe I should take a page out of your book and be... I don’t know, more open and trusting.”

Midnight laughed softly. “Taylor, you’re a dear, and you’re a wonderful flier, but I’d lie to you with a smile if I thought you were a threat to my home.” She giggled at his shocked expression. “Oh, don’t take it personally. We have an old saying in the Royal Guard: ‘Trust, but verify.’ He seems nice enough, and if his story’s true, then he’s harmless... and I admit, I do feel sorry for him. But that won’t stop me from keeping an eye on him while he’s here.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Taylor said slowly.

“Of course I am.” The pegasus closed her eyes and drew her blanket up around her head until only her nose peeked out. “G’night.”

“‘Night,” Taylor replied automatically. But it was a long time before we was able to drop off, and his dreams were thin and troubled.

“Halt! Who goes there?” The voice echoed down from the rocks above, reverberating along the cliffs.

The group of travelers had finally reached the path known by the ponies as Aurora’s Pass. The mountainous terrain stretched for miles to the groups left and right, with only a few hundred meters between mountain ridges making the aforementioned pass.

“Just travelers.” came Sword’s reply. “We’re here to visit a monastery.“

“Ponies visiting a gryphon monastery? I’ll believe that when I’ve molted my last feather. You are armed, and entering sovereign gryphon territory.” He peered down at them, frowning for a moment. “And an odd looking crew at that. What are you, some kind of traveling circus?” The other guards snickered as he went on. “Looks like you brought some trained monkeys with you.”

“That’s starting to get real old, real fast,” Stivers growled under his breath.

“So what if we’re armed?” Midnight shouted back up at the guards. “We’re not exactly at home here, and you don’t wander around the wilderness using kind words on the wild animals.” She shot the guard who had spoken a withering glare. “What, do you think we’re spies too? If we were spies, do you really think we’d go through the front gate?”

A momentary lapse in conversation led Star to believe that the guards were conversing. After a tense few minutes, the burly voice piped up again. “We’ll need to see your documentation.”

“Documentation?” Taylor asked, “Like a passport? Cause, last I checked, I left mine in America...”

“I don’t know where ‘America’ is, but if you don’t have the required documents, you are not getting in.”

“Look, we’re on a mission from Princess Celestia herself!” exclaimed Sword. “We need to get these humans to one of the temples in the Shadow Whisper mountains.”

“Oh, a pilgrimage. How exciting,” the sentry said in a monotone that suggested it was anything but. “Again, once you present the required paperwork,” he yelled down, “We’ll let you in.”

“And where do we get these documents?” Stivers asked.

“Ain’t our problem.” the guard replied snobbily. “I mind my own business, why don’t you mind yours?”

The small gryphon, who had remained silent throughout the exchange while still resting in Gallivan’s hood, finally chirped his opinion. “Oy, why don’t you just let d’em t’rough, ey? d’ey said d’ey ain’t spies, so d’ey ain’t spies.” He stopped suddenly and glanced at Midnight. “Er... you ain’t spies, d’ough, right?”

“No,” she replied, without looking down. “Spies don’t wear armor. They wear cloaks and hide in the shadows.”

William blinked. “Ohhhhh... d’at makes sense d’en, ey?”

Again silence as the guards talked amongst each other. “You brought him along? Edna damn it. That tears it. Not no way, no how. Turn around and go home, or something.”

Sword ground his teeth and prepared to fire off another angry retort when a mild voice spoke up from behind. “Well, that would be difficult. You see, we’re a diplomatic party assigned to escort these tall fellows to the monastery where they’re going to take vows of celibacy.”

Stivers and Taylor turned around to stare at Star. “What the hell?” Stivers said. “What are you—”

“Shhh!” the pony hissed under his breath. He kept his gaze fixed on the guard up above. “We’d have to send a courier back to Princess Celestia to let her know about the problem, and in the meantime, we’d just have to camp here, as we can’t go back until these fellows are confirmed. And being a diplomatic party, you’d have to be responsible for us.”

“Ex-CUUUUSE me?” the guard nearly shouted. “How do you figure that?”

“It’s clearly outlined in the diplomatic accords your emperor signed with our princess back during the reign of Ironbeak the Terrible. Only, oh, three centuries ago or so, if I remember correctly.” Star shrugged. “Anyway, you’d be responsible for our safety, not to mention our upkeep, food, bedding, and other diplomatic accoutrements—”

“Oh, enough! Forget about it! Fine, go, just take that little thieving runt with you.” He brought his wings forward and made an odd flicking gesture with the wingtips just under his beak. “Now go away, or I’ll taunt you a second time.”

“I’ll be damned,” Shadow said aloud. “It worked!”

Star looked at him angrily. “Shh, I said, I’m trying to...” He broke off. “It did?”

Sword glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “I wasn’t aware of any... diplomatic accords. Where did you find out about those?”

“I, erm, I made it up.” Star flushed visibly.

“And the part about celibacy vows too, I hope,” Taylor added.

“That’s your business, not mine.” Star said hurriedly. “Don’t know, don’t want to know, can we go now?”

As the crew looked to each other with various degrees of shock on their faces, Sword recognized the opportunity, and grabbed it. “Well, you heard the gryphons. Let’s go. And then when we’re out of here, we can have another little chat about where our new pal comes from. Ey?” Swords sentence ended venomously. Turning about and ignoring the look of chagrin that passed over William’s features, Sword began to pace unhurriedly into the pass proper. The rest of the troop, trading glances, followed after, each of them glancing up uneasily at the peaks to either side.

The pass itself was fairly unremarkable, except for the twin peaks that soared up evenly on either side of it. The rock face was jagged and sheer, with visible striations of colour winding hither and yon upon its surface. The marks of civilization had been heavily scored into the sides of both outcroppings; archways and staircases had been laboriously carved into the rocks on either side, leading up to the guardposts themselves, which lay perhaps fifty meters or so above the valley floor. The peaks themselves continued on upward from there, soaring unevenly upward for an unknown distance where the bare top was just visible. Peering carefully at the summits, the ponies could see one or two guards perched up high at lonely sentry posts, their gaze directed outward to the northward, from which the band had just come.

Star looked back over his shoulder and realized the gryphon guards had very likely watched them make camp last night; the Rock of the Horn was visible some way off, and the light from their campfire would have illuminated a patch of ground that could have been easily seen. Clearly, their arrival was no real surprise, and it explained some of the carelessness of the greeting they had received. Still, there was something about this that set Star’s mane on edge.

“Captain,” he murmured, “I don’t like the smell of this. It’s too...easy.”

Stivers and Taylor glanced at Sword, and Midnight leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “The Princess did say that the gryphons would be warned about our coming, didn’t she, sir?”

“That is what the written orders she placed in my pack indicated, yes.” Sword kept an even pace, not sparing a single glance to the guard towers to either side. The sound of the gryphons hooting and shouting insults down at them echoed among the cliffs. “This lot’s obviously been told not to hinder our passage, else we’d have already had a hard time of it. They’re just yanking our tails and looking for an excuse to cause trouble. And there’ll be none, at least not on our part, is that clear?” He glanced directly at Midnight, and then at Stivers and Taylor. “Pass the word. Everyone is to keep in line. Eyes front, mouths shut. I don’t want to give these barbarians an excuse to start a row. The last thing we need to do is cause trouble here. Barring some sort of magical teleportation spell, we still have to come out this way again, unless you fellows suddenly decide to grow wings.” He glanced at Stivers and Taylor oddly. “Speaking of which... you don’t happen to have any other way of flying, do you? Besides your machines? Something you’ve kept secret to this point?”

“No, Captain,” Stivers said. “Trust me, if we did, we’d tell you about it.” He spread his arms wide, hands open. “Any little surprises I had left I already talked to you about back at the desert.” Taylor looked at him curiously, and Stivers nodded. “I told Sword about the wing guns and the rockets.”

Taylor blinked and colored slightly. “Oh, hell. I didn’t even think about it, honestly.” He looked at the pegasus in the lead position in dismay. “Sorry about that, Captain. It... the subject just never came up.”

“It’s quite all right, Lieutenant. Captain Stivers and I have discussed this at some length.” A light chuckle escaped him. “And I’ll take your word on it; I’ve developed a bit more trust in your lot than I had when we first met.”

“I’m glad somebody has,” Taylor muttered under his breath.

“I was just hoping... no, I’d forgotten, you’d mentioned you don’t really have magic in your world.” Sword sighed. “Unicorn magic would be fairly useful right about now.”

“I was wondering about that,” Stivers said. “Why didn’t the Princess send a couple of unicorns with you guys? Or even some of the regular types, what do you call them?”

“Earth ponies,” Midnight said with some amusement. “I wouldn’t call them ‘regular types’ to their faces, captain. They’re quite capable in their own regard, and certainly don’t lack bravery.”

“Yeah, I’d assume so. But why just pegasusses?”

“Pegasi,” Sword corrected.

“Fine, whatever.” Stivers frowned. “Why just pegasi, then? And how come just you guys? This is a pretty small group to be all alone out here, you gotta admit.”

“Oh, I know,” the pony replied. “But there are a couple of factors involved in that. First of all, this is not strictly a military assault of any type. We’re not here to start a war; Princess Celestia was very adamant on that point. And even if it was a ‘smash and grab’ mission, per se, you’d have better luck with a small team than you would with a battalion. Logistics, planning, everything is simpler, you know.”

“Plus the fact you’d never make it back out alive with a bigger force.” Taylor glanced to either side of them, where the rocky ramparts were beginning to widen out. The catcalls and hooting from the pass guards had died out, and the only sounds were the slow sighing of the wind, the crunch of their feet on the ground, and the sound of their own voices. “You’d have to hit this place with your entire army, or else not bother.”

“Not bad,” Midnight said approvingly. “See, you’re catching on.”

Taylor glanced briefly at her, then back at Sword. “So why no unicorns?”

“Apparently that has something to do with the magical nature of the artifact,” Sword said. “I don’t pretend to understand it, but the Princess said a unicorn getting near the object without proper training would...well, it would be unfortunate, from what I gather.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too encouraging,” Stivers said. “Still, a couple extra of the earth ponies might still come in handy.”

“That, I’m afraid, has nothing to do with the artifact, and everything to do with you,” Sword said, visibly uncomfortable. “Captain... whatever you are, wherever you’re from, you... oh, there’s no good way to say it. You’re a threat and a contamination. Until we get this thing back to the Princess and get you out of here, you’re a danger to our world. And your machines, your ideas, the way you think, all are potentially adverse effects on our society. By sending my team with you, the Princess limits the spread of the contamination. My troops and I... well, we’re already compromised,” Sword stated flatly. “And we were from the moment we took you into custody. In that sense, we’re expendable.”

“Gee, Captain, I really like you too.” Taylor rolled his eyes. “I’m so glad we could spend this quality time together and bond like this.”

“It has nothing to do with you personally, you selfish ass,” Sword snapped. “This is about duty. I’ve been tasked with this, and I will see it through as far as I can, even if it means you get to go back to your home and I spend the rest of my life in exile just for having met you. Or did you even consider that?”

Taylor and Stivers both stumbled and came to a halt as the armour-clad pegasus whirled to face them directly. “How I feel about it is irrelevant,” he said, almost shouting at them. “What I have to do is. I have to get you lot to the monastery. Fine. We’ll walk our way there. If I could strap you to my back and fly you there, I’d do that. If I have to drag you there by the hair, kicking and screaming, that is what I’ll do, because that is the mission I’ve been tasked with, and by Celestia that is what is going to happen. Am I clear??”

Midnight Arrow stood to one side, afraid to even meet her commander’s gaze as the two humans nodded. Behind them, the rest of the group stood together, staring at the officers as if they’d all gone insane. Even William was quiescent, the gryphon watching Sword with wide and wary eyes.

“You’re clear, Sword,” Stivers said.

“As crystal,” Taylor agreed in a low voice. “Sorry, Captain. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Sometimes my mouth goes off before my brain is armed.”

“Yes,” Sword said in a more normal tone of voice. “I’d noticed that some time ago.” He turned about and resumed trekking along the rough old roadway, his head moving from side to side as he scanned the walls of the valley. With a forlorn glance back at the two pilots, Midnight trotted ahead to join him, and after a moment the group resumed their marching order.

Star and Shadow, in the rear rank, trotted steadily behind the group, one or the other turning every few moments to scan behind them for anypony who might be following. “See, now that, there,” Shadow said in a quiet tone, “is why I don’t try out for officer. Too much thinking, and look how miserable they all are.”

“That’s not it,” Star declared, glancing behind them. “It’s that zebra curse, I’m telling you. It’s not over yet, and the worse is to come. Mark my words.”

“So, the zebras laid a curse on us that breaks flying machines and makes everypony grumpy.” Shadow snorted. “Wait, I’m trembling in my shoes. Oh, wait, no, I have to go to the bathroom, that’s what that is. Be right back.” The large pony broke out of the formation and headed off to one side of the path.

Behind him, Star waited, his expression plaintive. “Why doesn’t anypony ever listen to me?”

Sword forced himself to keep his pace at the slow and steady walk the group had gotten used to, the one which ate up the miles beneath your hooves while you weren’t looking. What the stallion really wanted to do was break into a jog, or better yet, a full-out gallop, and run away. Out of sight of everypony, his troops, the annoying little gryphon, and the humans which were the root cause of all his distress at the moment. It wasn’t really their fault, either, and that made it worse.

Blast it all, he thought irritably. Why was I the one lucky enough to get stuck with this lot?

Because you’re in charge, a cooler part of his mind answered back. You’re the captain of this guard unit, and you’re responsible. Even when you’re asleep. It’s your job, so just shut up and live with it.

“Oh, go to hell,” he said aloud.

“Sir?” Midnight’s startled voice spoke from behind and just to one side.

“Not you, lieutenant. I beg your pardon.” Sword sighed. “Just a bit of an internal discussion.”

“I’ve had a few of those now and again, more often of late,” she said, offering him a tentative smile. “Even odds on who wins the argument, too.”

Sword chuckled in spite of himself. “And isn’t that the lovely truth of it.” He glanced around to where she walked beside him, two paces behind in deference, exactly as regulation required. He would have been shocked had it been otherwise. “Nicely done, by the way.”

“Sir?”

“Have a little chat, drag the old colt out of his funk.” Sword raised an eyebrow. “Can’t have the commander wandering around grumpy and out of sorts.”

Midnight flushed visibly underneath the sable fur on her cheeks. “Well, true, sir, but it’s not just a job. I was a bit worried about you.”

“I appreciate it, Lieutenant. I’m fine, I assure you.” He looked ahead once more, his eyes scanning the rocky walls of the valley around them automatically. “It’s just that the nature of this mission is not one that encourages peace of mind.”

“It’s quite all right, sir.” Midnight took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before responding in a lower voice. “I like them, too.”

Sword almost stumbled on a rock that was half buried in the soil underneath their hooves. “Excuse me?” He glanced back at her sharply. “What did you say?”

Midnight swallowed visibly, but ventured on. “I like them too, sir. It’s incredibly disconcerting when somepony who threatens your home turns out to be the sort you wouldn’t mind serving with, or even having as a friend.”

“And yet they still threaten our homeland.” Sword’s gait was steady again, but his eyes were fixed on hers. “Keep that in mind. Enemies come in many guises.”

“But they’re not our enemies, sir, not really.” Midnight glanced back over her shoulder at the tall shapes that strode along several lengths behind them. “I mean, they’ve helped us out in a tight spot or two—“

“Common enemies make for odd houseguests,” Sword said, quoting an old pony proverb.

“Yes, but the regular troops, Gruebel and Gallivan and the others, they’re almost like family with each other,” she said, pushing on. “Laughing and cutting up like colts with one another, trading barbs, but it's plain to see they’d do anything for one another.”

“Camaraderie is common among troops of any nation,” Sword replied patiently. “The circumstances of combat demand it. You’re an officer, you know this better than anypony.”

“Well, what about Captain Stivers?” Midnight said desperately. “He’s as fine a leader as I’ve seen anywhere, and he looks out for all of us. No offense,” she added hastily.

“None taken,” Sword said easily. “And I’ll not dispute that fact, not at all. However, it’s not written anywhere that our foes cannot possess leaders with charisma, honor, or ability. That makes it all the more difficult when you have to face them, and all the more dangerous as well, because it’s difficult to destroy something you admire.”

“Destroy, sir?” Midnight’s wings fluttered a bit at that. “Do…do you really think it will come to that?”

“I certainly hope not. I spoke in a figurative sense, Lieutenant. Plus the fact that we’re on this mission outlines the fact that the princesses would rather pursue a peaceful resolution to this whole mess.”

“Yes, sir.” The mare glanced behind them again for a moment.

Sword cleared his throat quietly. “I note the fact that you omitted to mention another matter.”

“What’s that, sir?” Midnight looked back at him attentively.

“Lieutenant Taylor,” Sword said evenly. “You and he seem to be getting along rather well. And I’m not the only pony who’s noticed, either.”

Midnight’s jaw dropped, and she fell off of her pace for a heartbeat or two, looking for all the world as if he had just reached out and slapped her. “Sir…that is, I…”

“Relax, lieutenant.” The stallion chuckled quietly. “I was not suggesting any impropriety on the part of either of you. But it’s become obvious that you two are very good friends.”

The mare walked alongside of him for a moment, clearly searching for a response. “Well, sir, he is a very good pilot. You might call it ‘professional admiration,’ I suppose”

“Nonsense. You’re both executive officers of your respective camps, and you have a lot of common ground. There are worse reasons for starting a friendship, and I have no objection to it.” Sword looked away for a moment. “However, consider something very carefully.”

“Yes, sir?” Midnight kept her gaze glued on her commander, afraid to look away.

“Suppose, for a moment, that one of those rocks on the valley wall was to fall down suddenly, and smash me flat as a pancake.” Sword looked back at her, amused at the horrified expression the mental image had brought to her face. “You would now be in command of this expedition, charged with seeing its successful conclusion. Which would mean finding a way of exerting control over Captain Stivers and his band.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Suppose your friend Taylor suggested that we give up on this mad quest and that the humans should just take their machines, fly somewhere isolated, and live out the rest of their lives on their own?”

Midnight blinked, startled at the thought. “Why would they do that? I’ve heard them speak often enough of home. They want to leave, sir.”

“You’re in charge. You don’t plan for what’s probable, but what’s possible.” Sword’s voice was curt. “Taylor decides he’s had enough of this, says he’s in charge now, and they’re going to fly away. What do you do?”

“I… that’s insubordination, and mutiny, sir. It puts everything in jeopardy. I have to stop him.”

Sword leaned closer, his gaze relentless. “How?”

Some of the light left Midnight’s eyes, and for the first time, she looked away from her leader, past him at something only she could see. “However I can,” she said miserably. “By whatever means necessary.”

“Now you’re thinking like a commander,” Sword said. The stallion offered her a small, crooked smile. “And now you know why I’m always grumpy. Or as Captain Stivers puts it, why I’m such a ‘hard ass.’”

Midnight nodded imperceptibly, still unwilling to meet his gaze.

Nice going, you fool, Sword cursed at himself. “Come on, lieutenant, don’t pull such a face. I don’t actually expect a rock to fall on me. Even less do I suspect Lieutenant Taylor will try to overthrow the expedition. My point is that you have to mind your duty, and be careful. Very careful. Because you’re right.”

She looked back at him finally, the confused expression on her face so comical that he fought down a laugh. “Sir?”

“I do like them. All of them.” Sword looked back over his own shoulder at their charges. “They’re fine fellows, and I’d gladly fight alongside them any day. I honestly didn’t expect I’d ever say that.”

Midnight laughed hesitantly. “I didn’t expect you to, either.”

“Even so.” Sword looked around once more, and then halted. “Now, since we’re on the subject of unpleasant duty, do me a favor and go fetch young Master William up here. I promised to have a talk with him, and I will.”

“Yes sir.” Midnight turned smartly and trotted back along the column. Sword stood quietly, his ears flicking around now and again as he heard several muttered conversations and a muffled grunt or two as somepony sat down to take a rest. He occupied himself with surveying the valley around them, noting that the walls that rose on either side of them were somewhat lower here, and the ground less bare, with patchy bits of earth and grass showing hither and yon.

Presently, he heard the muffled sound of paws on the rock and Midnight reappeared with the little gryphon beside her. William was puffing as if from great exertion, and the youngster mimed wiping his brow.

“Well ‘ey d’ere, Mis’er. Cap’n,” he said in his high, uneven voice. “You sure set one heck of a pace, I gotta tell you, ey? Not used to all d’is d’er walkin’, ey.”

“Yes, I’d imagine so,” Sword replied neutrally. “Then again, it’s a fair piece from anywhere where anypony would live, so flying would tire one out too, I suppose.”

“Oh, you got d’at one right d’ere, ey?” William made a face. “Me wings were aching by the time I got here, ey? I’d give half me da’s money for som’n to carry me oot this far.”

“Yes, I was just coming to that.” Sword looked down coldly at the young gryphon. “Your presence here is just too convenient for me, lad. And I happen to abhor coincidences.”

With a sudden flash, William was yanked from his place on the ground and slammed to the earth on his back, Sword’s forehoof pinning the gryphon in place. The stallion drew his sword and held it poised, the point centered on the feathered throat beneath him. “So let’s talk, you and I, about exactly why you’re here. Or being tired will be something you’ll never worry about ever again, I promise you.”

Gruebel had been readjusting his pack to ride more easily on his shoulders, and the captain’s sudden move nearly made him drop it. Holy shit, he’s gonna waste the kid! Murmured comments broke out among the group, and both Taylor and Stivers moved forward, until Midnight’s voice cracked out across the party.

“Quiet, all of you!” The mare stood between Sword and the rest of the group, her eyes meeting each of their gazes in turn. Seeming satisfied, she said something inaudible to Sword, and then stood attentively, scanning the rim of the valley for any sign of intruders.

Gruebel could have cared less if the Lone Ranger and Tonto had come riding over the hillsides, buck naked and singing “Ave Maria.” He moved a couple of paces forward, which earned him a warning glance from Midnight, until he was just within earshot of Sword and William.

“What the hell is goin’ on…” Thompson began.

“Shhh, I’m listening!” Gruebel hissed. The Marine cocked his head to one side, and caught the tail end of Sword’s last rejoinder to the gryphon. “…enough, so out with it.”

“I alrea’y to’d ya!” William stammered, the youngster’s beak fairly clacking together in fear while his accent thickened. “I jus’ tuk off from ‘ome and ‘eaded out.”

“Oh yes, I see. ‘Hmm, I’m bored, guess I’ll just pack up and leave home and go wander about in the wilderness where I could get killed instead of staying home.’” Sword shook his head. “Sad. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

“You ‘ave it all wrong, buddy!” William yelled. “It ‘as dear ol' dad!” His beak snapped shut abruptly, and he looked away.

“Well now, that has the ring of truth.” Sword tilted his head and looked at the gryphon with interest. “Go on, I’m listening.”

William opened his beak as if to say something, then closed it again for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was almost inaudible, and Gruebel had to lean forward even farther to catch the words.

“Have you e’er had a day... Where you really wished you had a diff’r’nt job?” the gryphon asked.

“Now and again,” Sword said in a dry tone. “It happens.”

“Yah. Now imagine d’at, but e’ery day, ey? And you don’t even ‘ave d’e job yet. But it’s all yer da’ e’er talks about, ey?” William’s voice was stronger now. “Jus’ o’er and o’er e’ery second of e’ery day, ‘ow I’m gonna be some great bloo’y cap’n in d’e army and lea’ folks to glory and make e’eryone oh so proud o’ me and me family.” The gryphon turned and spat abruptly. “Hell, I don’t e’en like bein’ outside, let alone all the campin’ an’ marchin’ an’ following e’ery order to th’ ‘t’, ey? We get less’ns in all d’at protocol crap t’ree times a week, ey, and two weeks at a camp in th’ summer ta boot.” He glanced at one of his own foreclaws for a moment, looking at the sharp talons. “I don’t e’en like to get dirty, much less live in the mud f’er weeks on end, ey?”

Sword’s tone was slightly less harsh. “Well, you seem to have picked the wrong place to run to for lounging about in comfort.”

William’s eyes snapped back to the pegasus standing over him, meeting his gaze with a heated glare. “I am not lazy, you smarmy git.” The gryphon’s expression took on an almost comically pouting expression. “Is just... no’ dignified, is all.”

“Interesting.” The point of Sword’s weapon had lowered slightly, but was still easily within harm’s reach. “Keep going.”

“Oh, for the love o’... right, right, fine.” William’s expression twisted up abruptly and if the gryphon had had any teeth, he would have ground them in exasperation. “I came out ‘ere ‘cause it’s the only place I know where a fella can find somebody who wasn’t a bloody gryphon. There’s a little place not too far from here, it’s a little hole in the wall town kinda thing, you know? Small houses, a few shops, e’erybody wanderin’ t’rough the streets and saying hi to their neighbors, you know what I mean?”

Sword blinked at that. “There’s a town nearby?”

“Ya. And you aint seeing it from the air either, so you can’t go and kill me off just yet, ey? Anywho, ot’er folks go d’ere from time t’ time.” William waved a foreclaw aimlessly back towards the north where the pass lay hidden in the distance. “Is a tradin’ place, it is, and folks of all sorts show up d’ere. Gryphons, ponies, those almighty big birds that live up in the mountains and just sneer at’iah and don’ talk unless they need to buy something, you know?”

Star’s ears perked up at that. “Could be rocs, sir. I’ve heard of them, but never seen one.”

“From the sound of it, I could do without that particular blessing.” Sword’s expression had subsided from outright hostility to obvious curiosity. “So... again, why did this place attract you?”

William looked away and mumbled something inaudible.

“Louder, please.” Sword lifted a forehoof and made beckoning motions. “This time, with feeling.”

Taylor made a snorting noise at that, but otherwise, the humans kept quiet, listening. The gryphon’s expression reassumed the pouty “I’m being made to do something I don’t want to” look Gruebel had seen over and over from his own little brothers.

“I said, I like t’ hear th’ stories d’e ‘ave t’ tell.” William grated out.

Even Sword seemed taken aback at this. “What?” he said, the point of his weapon lowering completely. “Stories?”

“Ya, gluefoot, you know, songs, tales, an’ the like. D’at li’le ditty yer bud was singin’ when I found ya’s being among’em.” The youngster was obviously embarrassed, but kept on. “Legends too. You can always find ‘em in th’ afternoons and evenin’s sittin’ ‘round the pubs and tellin’ tall tales about stuff way back when, ey, like aboot the time ol’ Prince Aurora made off with th’ North Wind’s false teeth, and how ‘e made ‘im pay to give ‘em back, ey?”

Star laughed out loud at that. “I’ve heard that one! Sweet Celestia, that’s an old one. It’s just a story for little fillies, though, it’s not a real legend.”

“Ya, ey, I kinda figured d’at out, ey, but it’s still got a sweet tune to it, ey, don’it?”

Star nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. Especially the part where the wind gets stuck in that valley—”

“—an’ the Prince is standin’ there, callin’ ‘im names an’ makin’ fun of ‘im, ey!” William’s eyes lit up. “I love th’ chorus in d’at part.”

Golden Sword’s expression was dour. “So... you ran away from home so you could listen to songs?”

“No, I ran away to learn ‘em, ey, so I could sing ‘em and pass the lore on, you know?” William rolled over carefully, keeping a wary eye on the armored pegasus as he stood up. “tha’s wha’ I wanna do. Travel from place to place, singin’ aboot stuff I’ ne’er seen before, and learnin’ new songs, an’ goin’ somewhere else to sing d’ose. I’d fly from one place to the next, and ne’er go back to the same town twice, you know?”

“A gryphon troubadour?” Crimson Hoof glanced at the diminutive form. “Do they even make those?”

William offered him a wounded look. “I dunno. Maybe we forgot ‘ow, ey? But I’d like to try. Better d’an sittin’ on some mountaintop somewhere pullin’ guard duty an’ readin’ letters from me da’ aboot how ‘e’s waitin’ fer me to make ‘im proud, you know?”

“That’s....” Sword stopped, then stepped away, sheathing his weapon. “That’s understandable.”

The gryphon glared at him. “I’m so glad yer approve, Lieutenant Shinysides. Can I mo’e now, or are yah gonna stick me and roast me fer dinner, hmm?”

“Um, kid, I don’t know what they told you in school, but ponies don’t eat meat.” Shadow opened his mouth, then clicked his teeth together a few times in demonstration. “Standard factory design, fruit and veggies only.”

“Yah? ‘ow ‘bout them, ey?” William gestured towards Stivers and Taylor. “Wasn’t gran’ma’s salad they were munchin’ on the o’er night, you know.”

“Hey, don’t count us in there.” Gruebel offered an eerily shark-like grin. “Throw a ham sandwich my way, I won’t complain.”

“Stop stop stop,” Star said, his ears flattened in distress. “You like meat, I know you like meat, do we have to talk about it?”

“Cool it, troops.” Stivers’ voice was mild, but silence immediately descended. He looked over at Sword, who was still standing motionless next to William. “Captain, what do you say?”

Sword stood for a moment longer, eyeing the gryphon slowly. “I say,” he said at last, “that we might do well to stop in at this town that’s supposed to be nearby. If it is all that you say it is, William, then even ponies won’t attract a great deal of attention there. And, if nothing else, perhaps we can spend at least one night indoors out of the weather.”

“Three cheers for that,” Taylor said. “My ass is sensitive. It doesn’t like sleeping on hard rock all the time.”

“Then it’s in good company then,” Sword replied evenly. “Very well. Young master William here will lead us on to... what’s it called?”

“Clawttowa.” William replied sulkily.

“Clawttowa,” Sword repeated in the same mild tone. “And there, he and we will part our ways in good faith, if not good will. Agreed?”

“If it’ll mean you stop pointin’ that d’ere sword at me, I’m fine wit’ it,” William grumbled. “I’ll figure somet’in’ out on me own from d’ere.”

“I’m sure you will.” Sword glanced up at the sky overhead, measuring the sun’s height. “Since we’ve already stopped, we’ll stay a bit for a bite to eat, and then head on to Clawttowa. How much further is it from here?”

“Not too far, ey.” William said. “Aboot an ‘alf day’s travel fer a cart o’ supplies. Tha’s ‘ow I got to th’ pass. Jus’ tucked into th’ back o’ one an’ out o’ sight, jus’ so I could give me paws a rest, ey.” He frowned. “Was all me’alwork and clothes, though, ey, and not a bite to eat for an ‘ungry gryphon. Tha’s why I had to borrow a wee bit o’ food from the good gentlefolk at th’ guard post, you know, ey?”

“Borrow? Or steal?” Midnight said disapprovingly.

“Well, I was gonna pay ‘em back, you know, but they didn’ give me th’ chance, ya see?” William replied moodily. “d’ey got all uptight like Lieutenant Shinysides d’ere and started yellin’ and stickin sharp pointy things in me face. Not a pleasant thing, mind you.”

“If you try paying before you take the food, that can usually be avoided,” Midnight said dryly. “It also helps if you ask first.”

“Yah, I know, I know, I just didn’t think about it.” He stared moodily down at his foreclaws, wiggling his talons in the dust. “Tha’ is usually when I ge’ in trouble, is all.”

“Lesson learned,” Midnight said primly. “Now then, go see if Mr. Gruebel will share his lunch with you. Unless you’d like some dried apple slices?” She dug a pouch out of her pack and wiggled it invitingly in front of him.

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks.” William turned and scampered off to where Gruebel was just sitting down, looking like a hopeful puppy who knows someone at the table is going to slip him a tasty morsel sooner or later. Midnight stared after him for a moment, then turned back to Sword. “Well, sir? What do we do?”

“Do? I already told you. We’re going to have lunch.” Sword began unfastening the buckles on his own pack. “Hmm. Apple slices do sound good.”

The sun had sunk into the western sky and was just beginning to touch the tips of the peaks, turning the snow-capped ridges into a burnished golden color when William called a halt. “We’re here, boys and girls!” he sang out gaily. “And thank Edna for it, ey? Oh, me paws and claws are killing me, they are...”

The entire party stood still and took measure of their surroundings. The valley had narrowed again here, the rocky walls fairly regular from the timeless scourings of a long-vanished glacier that had passed through where they now stood. There were several tumble-down scatterings of boulders off to the eastern side of the pass, and a couple of low openings showed in the rock faces nearby, but of habitation, there was no sign.

“Your idea of a town is pretty unimpressive, Willie Deuce,” Taylor said. “Oh wait. I know! They heard we were coming and everyone packed up and left to flee Terrible Taylor and The Ponies of Doom.”

Stivers laughed. “I think Glenn Miller passed on that name when he was naming his band.”

Taylor shrugged. “His loss. I’m patenting it when we get back.”

Sword, in the meanwhile, was looking at William with something less than a pleasant expression. “Well? He’s got a point. Where is everypony?”

“You don’ know anyt’ing ‘bout us gryphons now, do ya?” William waved a wingtip toward one of the cave openings. “E’erybody’s down d’ere, along wit’ d’e town.”

Shining Star eyed the opening uneasily. “Wait, you live underground? I thought gryphons lived on the mountaintops. You know, in... nests, or something.”

William gave him an openly amused look. “Do I look like a swallow to you? We live underground. It’s the rocs live on d’ose d’ere mountaintops. Gryphons are smarter, ey, and live under ‘em. Hurts a lot less when you roll outta bed in yer sleep, too.”

“Damn.” Stivers glanced at Sword. “When Luna said the gryphons lived in the mountains, she wasn’t kidding, was she?”

“Yes, apparently the princess was being quite literal, for once.” Sword looked nonplussed. “I hadn’t picked up on this particular detail, but it doesn’t matter, really.”

“What do you mean?” Taylor looked back at Sword.

“I mean, that’s where the town is, so that’s where we go.”

“Whoa, Nellie, wait a minute.” Taylor pointed a finger at the cave opening, which stood barely five feet in height. “We’re supposed to just walk in there? On his word?” Nuh-uh. Not Mrs. Taylors’ little boy Charlie.” He backed up, waving his hands in front of him. “The next song little Willie will learn will be ‘Ten Dumbass Adventurers.’ Also known as ‘How I Lured Those Fools To Their Death.’”

Gallivan had wandered over and was examining the ground. “Actually, it does look pretty traveled, sir. The rock’s been worn down so much from foot traffic it’s almost smooth.” He ran a hand back and forth over the granite in demonstration.

“So where’s the guards, then?” Stivers glanced around, but saw no other living thing in sight but themselves.

“It’s a trading post, ey, not a fortress.” William sighed. “There are guards alright, but d’ey’re wardens, ey, to keep the folks out o’ trouble and the like. And they’re all inside ey, in the town, where d’e troublemakers are. Along wit’ everyone else, ey.” He pointed his wingtip at the other, larger cave nearby. “D’at’s the merchant gate, fer wagons an’ such. Might want to go d’at way instead, otherwise yer apt to knock yer ‘ead off d’e roof, ey? Yer a wee bit taller than the average gryphon, you know?” he cackled.

“Fine then, we’ll go in that way.” Sword gave Taylor a curious look, then glanced back to Stivers. “If there is any problem, we’ll have more room to maneuver, and you won’t have to crouch.”

“Sounds good. You want my boys in front?”

“Actually, I was thinking about that.” Sword glanced back at the party, an odd smile on his face. “Captain, if you don’t mind, would you have your lot hang back? My ponies and I will go in front, and you can bring up the rear. We’re used to you now, but your kind is somewhat of a novelty wherever you go, I’m afraid, and I’d like to avoid any unpleasant surprises with the local constabulary until I can explain things.”

Stivers imagined what he would think if a twelve foot high pony with armor, wings and a sword just walked into the local drugstore and ordered a Coke. “Um... yeah, I kind of see your point. Okay, Marines, brush your hair and smile nice for the locals. Taylor, bring up the rear, okay? You’re tail-end Charlie.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Taylor said sourly. He watched as William led the way inside, Sword and the other ponies following behind in a neat single-file line. A touch on his hand made him jump, and he jerked away to one side. “Jesus!”

“Oh my, I’m sorry.” Midnight’s ears were laid back in alarm. “You really are nervous, aren’t you? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just...” Taylor looked at the cave opening uneasily, the little sunlight that was left barely illuminating the interior. “I had to ditch a plane in the water once. The canopy jammed and I was stuck in the damn thing. I almost drowned.” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t like dark, tight confining spaces.”

“Oh good heavens.” Midnight’s eyes widened. “I had no idea... I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Would you like me to walk with you?”

“No,” Taylor said sharply. “I...I’m fine. I’ll deal with it.” He waved a hand toward the cave in a jerky motion. “Go on ahead, before Sword starts yelling at you. I’ll be fine.”

“All right,” the mare replied in small voice. She trotted away and paused at the entrance, looked back over her shoulder at him once more, and was gone into the darkness.

Taylor watched as Stivers followed her in, and one by one the other members of Flight 19 fell dutifully in line and were swallowed into the stone throat. Gallivan went in without a backward glance, and then it was only Taylor, standing alone in the empty valley. The last rays of the sun vanished behind the peaks behind him, and there was only him, the gathering dark, the emerging stars above and the stone tunnel before him, waiting patiently. He reached up and clasped a hand to his chest, feeling about and pulling out the small leather pouch that still hung around his neck. He gripped it for a moment, feeling the sharp metal edges of the wings that lay inside.

“Here goes nothin’,” he whispered, and plunged into the shadows.

Chapter 14: Bright Lights, Big City

The tunnel the group found themselves in was wide and dry, with no sheen of moisture on the walls. It widened out rapidly just beyond the entrance, and Taylor could place one hand on the wall to his right with outstretched arms and feel nothing on his left but empty air. “Whoa... guys, slow up. Did we just enter a cavern or something?”

William’s voice floated back to him. “I told you, eh, it’s fer th’ merchants. Wouldn’t be any good fer th’ tunnel to fit only one wagon at a time you know, ey”

“So this isn’t a one way street, then.” Stivers voice echoed back to him in the darkness for a moment, and then the pilot straightened abruptly. “Hey, I think I see something!” He reached out with one hand, groping awkwardly in the dark.

“Uhh, Captain, that would be me.” Midnight’s voice came back with an odd tone. “Would you mind letting go of my tail?”

“Oop. Sorry.” Stivers blinked owlishly. “Say, it’s getting brighter in here, too.”

“That’d be one o’ the Wardens, ey?” William looked back over his shoulder. “D’ey’re a bit late d’is evening; Usually d’ey light th lamps before it gets d’is dark, you know? In th daytime d’ere’s normally enough light ta get ya t’rue down to th’ main lobby, ey.”

“Lobby?” Sword glanced at the gryphon for a moment. “Just how big is this place.”

“That would be telling, now, and ‘dat would jus’ spoil th’ surprise, now wouldn’t it?” William snickered. “Ain't no one ‘ere gonna ‘urt you, Cap’n Shinysides. Relax, ey? Tis a tradin’ post, ey, not a military camp, you know?” Without waiting for a reply, he moved on ahead, leaving Sword no choice but to follow along, the others trailing out behind.

The light grew rapidly, and its source soon became apparent. A gryphon appeared from around a bend in the tunnel, pausing every ten feet or so to light a lantern set against the cavern walls with a small brand he gripped on one claw. He finished lighting the next lantern in line, and turned to move on, then stopped as he saw the group approaching. “Oh, hello there. Sorry about the dark, I got held up by Sheerness, that fella always was one who loved to clap his beak a mile a minute but never say anything worth... oh.” The creature paused, evidently taken aback at the larger forms of the humans that loomed just behind the ponies.

“Hello.” William’s voice was almost cheerful. “‘Ow’s it goin’, ol’-timer?”

The gryphon frowned for a moment. “My name,” he said with quiet dignity, “is Edward, thank you. You’re an odd looking bunch, I’ll tell you..” He reached up with one claw and adjusted a pair of spectacles that sat perched on the midpoint of his beak. “Come to do a bit of trading?” he asked hesitantly, noting the gleam of armor on the ponies forms.

“That’s right,” Sword said easily. “Just passing through, we thought we’d stop in and maybe grab a few things, some extra food and supplies.”

“Oh! Well, excellent, then.” The old warden’s expression eased a bit, and he ventured a small smile. “I think they’ve got a sale on Kjit at the moment... though you might not like that, though.”

“What’s Kjit?” Sword whispered to William.

“Kjit is that lovely canned delicacy yer friends were cooking there the other night.” William frowned. “You called it ‘spam,’ I think.”

“Oh.” Sword’s tone fell flat. “I see. Well, I’m sure there’s plenty of other things we can look over.” He offered the old gryphon another wide smile. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re quite ready to go grab a bite to eat.”

“Oh, I’ll bet.” Edward grinned and winked at him. “And maybe a mug or so of Split-Tail’s finest, eh?” With a laugh, the old gryphon turned and, bowing to the others, continued past them toward the next lamp in line on the wall.

“Split-Tail’s finest?” Shadow’s ears perked up at that. “My pony senses detect... alcohol.”

“No chance,” Star said flatly. “We’re on duty, remember?”

“Wait. Did somebody say booze?” Thompson’s voice was tinged with wistfulness. “I remember booze. Once upon a time, I had a drink....”

“Okay, and on that note, can we push forward, then?” Taylor’s voice was strained. “I’d really like to get to the town part and get the hell out of the narrow tunnel part of this place, what do you say?”

“I say that sounds like a fine idea.” Without another word, Sword turned and began heading down the tunnel again, with William trotting lightly along beside him. With the lighting, the group was clearly able to see the worn marks in the tunnel floor caused by countless foot, hoof and pawprints, as well as several oddly curved marks that they realized were left by the wheels of wagons, passing in and out of the tunnel. They followed the curve of the rocky path where it turned to the right, and as one, they stopped, staring in amazement.

“Ho-lee shit,” Stivers breathed.

The majesty of the mountains they had left behind was nothing compared to the vast cathedral of stone before them. Nature had nothing but time, and over the millennia the patient wear of water and minerals upon the rock had hollowed out the vast space that the gryphons had taken over and converted into their own. The roof was hidden in darkness high overhead, the outline just visible with the jagged edges of mineral encrustation that leaned hither and yon. The gryphons had modified this to suit them, removing parts of the rock here and there overhead, and openings made to let in fresh air, dimly glimpsed where the stars peered in curiously to observe the goings-on below.

Those goings-on drew Stivers’ gaze down to the settlement that lay before their eyes, and the Marine vowed to have a talk with William about what he had called a “small town.” The bustle before them was staggering, to a degree that it made what they had seen in Ponyville look like a small farming village out in the country. Ponies, Gryphons, and all manner of other creatures roamed to and fro, some hustling wares, others looking for work, and more yet just enjoying the comfortably warm atmosphere. The signs above stalls and shops alike were just pictograms to transcend the language barrier that most species encountered, but the group knew one thing: Money transcends all language.

The group stood at the main entrance to the cavern, a long, shallowly inclined stone ramp descending before them to the cavern floor proper. As one they began descending the ramp slowly, drawn towards the activity like a bee to honey, the various sounds and smells beginning to overwhelm them after spending so much time with only each other for company in the wilderness. “Where to first?” William asked.

Shadow and Thompson looked to each other, then to a sign that had a mug of ale portrayed on it. “Beer,” they both said in unison.

Both Sword and Stivers turned to give them equal looks of annoyance. “Business first, troops.” Stivers glanced at Sword. “I’d like to see if we can’t find some extra provisions, if you don’t mind. No offense, but oats and dried fruit get old after awhile.”

“Not at all. Too much food on hand is not something I’ve ever complained about when traveling cross-country.” Sword offered him a dim smile. “Have you considered, however, the manner of payment you’re going to employ?”

“Oh, shit.” Stivers turned red. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Yes, the same problem we had with the zebras, if you remember.” Sword sighed and looked out at the bustling throng. “I’d forgotten it myself. Well, at the very least, we’ll be able to fill our water bags.” He pointed with a forehoof at a communal well that appeared to be formed out of the rocky floor itself. “Unless there’s a convenience fee of some sort?” He looked at William.

“You’re kidding, ey?” William made an odd face. “Nobody charges for water. It’s th’ specialty of th’ house where d’ey make d’eir gold at.” He pointed with a wingtip at the nearby pub that Shadow and Thompson had already taken notice of.

“Well, that solves that little problem.” Sword looked at the others. “I’m afraid you’ll have to skip on the specialty beverages this time.”

“Ey, wait. If it’s money yer lackin, I’ve got a bit tucked away.” William lifted one wing, extending it fully and exposing his side. The gryphon had an odd sort of belt strapped around his midsection, almost hidden by the feathers. On either side was a small pouch, and the youngster rapped the exposed one with a foreclaw, causing it to emit a soft jingle. “Never know when yer gonna need a bit now and then, ey?”

“Just where did you get that?” Sword asked, dumbfounded. The pouch was small, but heavily laden from the look of it.

“It’s mine, Shinysides.” William shrugged. “I took me share before I left home... ‘aven’t ‘ad much of a chance ta spend it on anyt’ing yet though, so d’ere’s still a nice sized lump in d’ere, ey.” His expression took on a gloating air. “I could be persuaded tah share, if ya gave me the right motivation.”

Golden Sword lifted an eyebrow at that. “And just what is it that you want from us? I already told you, this is as far as we go together.”

“Yah, yah, I got all that.” William glanced around. “Think of it as... an exchange of favors, ey? What better place to do a little horse trading, in a manner of speakin’.”

Sword’s expression was bland, revealing nothing. “What do you want?”

William’s normally complacent expression turned into something odd, and it took Sword a second to recognize it for what it was: apprehension. “Spot me a mug, ey?”

“What?”

The gryphon sighed and clenched his beak. “Buy... me,” he said slowly, enunciating the words very carefully, “A. Mug. Of. Ale.”

The pony’s bewilderment only grew at this. “Why on earth would I do that? You have the money, buy it yourself.”

“I can’t, Shinysides, else I’d ‘ave been done wit’ you already.” William rolled his eyes. “I’m not old enough to buy me own yet.”

“So you’re underage and you want us to buy you booze.” Stivers’ tone was flat and plainly unsympathetic. “Breaking the law and corrupting a kid are two things on my ‘Don’t Do’ list, buddy.”

“Oh, Edna, do I ‘ave to explain everyt’ing to you lot?” William sighed and took a deep breath. “I said I can’t buy it. I’m old enough they’ll allow me a drink, if a grownup is doin’ the buyin’, see? I ‘ave to have a... what do you call it...” He trailed off, frowning, twirling a foreclaw in the air absently.

“Sponsor?” Stivers said.

“Chaperone?” Sword added a moment later.

“Babysitter?” Taylor chimed in, smiling innocently.

This last earned him a dirty look from the gryphon. “Ey, what Shinysides said. Anyhoo, the way it works is: You buy, I drink, you get to stand d’ere and make sure I don’t make a mess o’ t’ings.”

“Adult supervision?” Taylor’s eyes were wide in faux wonder. “Wow, imagine that. Must be inconvenient as hell. I can’t imagine why they’d want that.”

William made a rude gesture with a wingtip that was lost on the human. “Anyway, that’s th’ deal. You get me what I want, I’ll give you a bit o’ cash in return, and we can go away ‘appy.”

Sword’s expression displayed his obvious reluctance to this. “You’re sure this is legal?”

“Yes, on my pinfeathers I swear it, for Edna’s sake.” William waved a wing at the nearby tavern. “Go ask the barkeep if’n you don’t believe me, ey?”

Sword and Stivers looked at each other for a moment, and then Stivers turned around to look at where Thompson and the others stood, looking around and taking in the sights. “Marines, we have a little mission for you...”

Midnight Arrow watched the group of ponies, Marines and one very excited young gryphon walk away together towards the nearest establishment, one that had a very large and colorful mug displayed over its entrance. “Captain, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I agree it’s not the best solution, but it’s one that works.” Sword examined the small pile of coins that William had given him for a moment before tucking them into one of the pouches slung at his side. “The troops get a little time to relax, we get some money to procure some extra supplies with, and young Master William is happy and, what’s more important, out of our manes.”

“I told Gallivan to keep an eye on things, and Hoof as well, so hopefully between the two of them, they’ll keep things from getting out of hand.” Stivers glanced around idly for a moment. “So. Where to?”

Midnight turned away reluctantly and looked out over the crowded street ahead of them. “Well, based on past experience, I’d suggest we just wander around a bit. See what the market has to offer, and then we can pick and choose where we spend our hard earned...whatever they’re called.”

Sword peered closely at one of the pentagonal shaped coins. “Our little friend referred to them as ‘arçiliks.’”

Taylor frowned. “Ark-licks?”

“ARCH-liks,” Sword corrected. “I think it helps if you have a beak.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Midnight lifted a wing and began rummaging through the pouch slung on her right side. “I do still have a few bits from back home left.”

“Even money on if anyone around here will take them.” Taylor glanced around. “There’s a couple of other ponies here, though, so they have to have someplace to exchange cash at, if nothing else.”

“And they’re liable to rip you off while they’re at it,” Stivers agreed. “What the hell, hang onto them, Midnight. They could come in useful somewhere else.” He uttered a grunt and stumbled as something bumped him from behind. They all turned to see a gryphon staggering back from where it had collided with Stivers. The creature stumbled, then sat down hard, emitting a garbled squawk.

“Sorry, bud, didn’t see you.” Stivers frowned as he looked at the creature. The gryphon was peering up at him dazedly, and the force of the impact hadn’t been that hard. “Um, are you okay?”

“Shhooarr, you’re a big one, you are, arkadashim!” The gryphon’s voice was thick, slurred and decidedly female. “Ooh, want to come with miss Belinda, dear? I know a wunnerful place to ‘ave a drink and talk.”

Taylor winced and waved a hand in front of his face. “Lady, I think you’ve had enough already. Ten shots past enough.”

The gryphon giggled unsteadily and hiccuped. “Oh, I’m just gettin’ warm, dear. ‘course, I could get a bit warmer wit’ the right company, eh?” She flicked a wingtip out at Stivers playfully, and slapped the pilot on the shin full force with her wing.

Sword glanced up at his tall companion, fighting to keep a straight face. “I think you made a friend, Captain.”

“Ain’t that just my luck,” the Marine growled. “Look, sorry ma’am, but we’re kinda busy. Thanks for the invitation, though.”

“Och, don’t worry, I get it.” The drunken gryphon attempted a charming smile, which ended up looking more like a leering rictus of a grin to Stivers. “Don’ worry. I can see you’ve already got company, but lemme tell you, Belinda will treat you better than that fuzzy wag.” She swayed unsteadily, then waved a wingtip in Midnight’s direction. “Trus’ me, you’ll be over her before you know it.”

Midnight stared at the gryphon in mingled shock and disgust. “That is... so many kinds of wrong, I don’t even know where to start.”

The gryphon cackled and looked up at Stivers. “Oooh, she’s jealous already. I told ya!”

Stivers looked at Sword despairingly, then glanced back behind them where the rest of the group had disappeared into the tavern. “Christ. I hope the rest of them can stay out of trouble.”

“... I told you, don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” Thompson offered a wide, harmless grin. “Trust me.”

“You forget, Howie. I know you.” Gallivan folded his arms and looked at Thompson patiently. “That’s why I’m going to keep an eye on you.”

“Me? What about him?” Thompson pointed at Gruebel, who stood stock still, perusing the pictographic menu that hung from brass hooks behind the long table that served as a bar. “He’s the one you should look out for.”

“Oh, I know. I keep two eyes on him.”

Thompson frowned. “That’s three eyes, Sarge. You only got two.”

“When it comes to you jokers, I have a thousand eyes,” Gallivan said ominously. “So don’t forget it.” He glanced down to his side, where Shadow was standing and eyeing the same menu as Gruebel. “That goes for you too, Mongo.”

“Huh?” Shadow looked up at him. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing, yet. Keep it that way, and we’ll be fine.” Gallivan looked over to his other side, where William was standing, the young gryphon fairly bouncing from paw to claw in impatience. “Okay bud, this is your show. What did you want?”

William pointed with a wingtip at the third display from the left, one that showed a frothy mug filled with what looked like milk to Gallivan’s eye. “That one, Split-Tail’s Pale Ale.”

“Okay, your call. That sound okay to everybody else?” Gallivan looked around. Gruebel gave him a thumbs-up in affirmation, and Thompson nodded. “How about you guys?” Gallivan asked, glancing at the ponies.

Shadow nodded as well. “Sounds good to me. Full round to everypony!”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Star shook his head. “I’m, uh, just gonna find us a place to sit.”

“Well, I was gonna sit out, but since you’re playing Old Mary, count me in, then.” Crimson Hoof grinned widely. “I’ll take one, too.”

“You sure?” Star glanced over his shoulder worriedly. “The Captain said—”

“The Captain said one of us had to sit back and keep an eye on everypony else. Since you’re not drinking, no reason I can’t have just one.”

“But what if he finds out?” Star asked.

“If he does, it won’t be from me.” Hoof glanced over at Gallivan. “What do you say, Sarge?”

“Based on past experience, I’d say it’s your ass and not mine.” Gallivan shrugged. “Besides, he just said to stay out of trouble, he didn’t exactly say ‘Don’t drink anything.’” He looked at Star. “Did he?”

The pegasus frowned. “Well... no, not exactly, but he usually means—”

“See? That’s why orders are important. And if you follow your orders, you have no problems.” Gallivan grinned. “And if he didn’t give the right orders, well, that’s his problem, not ours.”

Shadow laughed. “Say, sounds like you’ve done this before, Sarge.”

“I’ve been on shore leave more than once,” Gallivan agreed. “Okay William, this is your treat. You got the cash, so pony up.”

As William began digging into his purse, Star walked away, mumbling to himself. “Why doesn’t anypony ever listen to me?”

Taylor glanced idly at a nearby booth that had several items of jewelry on display. Most of the pieces looked fairly gaudy, even to his untrained eye, but there were a couple of nice sets of necklaces on show and even earrings, to his surprise. “You know what the weirdest thing about this place is?”

Stivers glanced over at the lieutenant. “Us?”

Taylor pointed a finger at him and mimed pulling a trigger. “Bingo. But I haven’t had one of these guys yet wander over and ask me just what the hell I am.”

Midnight laughed out loud at that. “Welcome to a market town, Taylor. If they did ask you what you were, it might insult you so much that you might not spend your money with them.”

“Money talks in a voice both loud and insistent,” Sword agreed.

“Yeah, but....” Taylor broke off, staring. “Holy Jesus, what the fuck is that thing?”

“Taylor!” Midnight swatted his shin with a wing. “Language, remember?”

“Yeah, but...” Taylor stood rooted, staring up ahead at a hulking shape that only superficially resembled a bear. The thing had a beak like an eagle and two sets of long, sharp claws that resembled a mole’s forepaws. It finished paying the vendor at the stall ahead and walked off, munching contentedly on something impaled on the end of a stick. “What is it?”

Sword peered ahead interestedly. “I don’t actually know,” he admitted. “When we get back home, I’ll have to look that one up.”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t eating a salad.” Stivers elbowed Taylor. “Wanna go see what else that guy has for sale?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Taylor recovered himself quickly. “I mean, as long as it’s not rat-on-a-stick or something.”

“You never know.” Stivers began angling over in that direction, a thoughtful look on his face. “With the right dipping sauce...”

Sword snorted and burst out laughing at that. “Captain, you are incorrigible.”

“No,” Stivers replied carefully. “I’m a Capricorn.”

Taylor looked at them both oddly. “Since when did I become the stodgy sourpuss and you get to make the wiseass remarks?”

Stivers laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m finally getting used to this place.” He stopped in front of the booth that the mysterious creature had just vacated and looked over the display. Several small plates with sample-sized portions were laid on on the bench that faced the path, and what looked like bottles of hot sauces and other condiments were on a shelf behind the gryphon vendor, twinkling invitingly. “Hey, now, that’s an idea...”

The gryphon behind the counter, who had trying not to stare openly at the tall fellow who had just shown up at his stall, followed Stivers’ gaze to the sauces that were on display. “Ah, looking for something to spice up your life, Arkadashim?”

“I thought I’d found the one to do that, but she left me for an army flyboy about six months ago.” Taylor began looking over the other items on display. “What can you do for us?”

“I don’t stock anything in that department, I’m afraid,” the gryphon said good-humoredly. “However, if you’d like something to tease your tongue, or just something to tide you over, I’ve got what you need.”

“Is that jerky?” Taylor pointed at a grouping of several packages that were on a nearby shelf, the contents clearly visible through the transparent wrapping.

“Evet, that I’ve got plenty of. If you’re doing any travelling... and if you’ll forgive me, it’s obvious you don’t live nearby... you couldn’t do better.” The gryphon closes his eyes and began reciting. “I have beef jerky, pork jerky, chicken, venison, manticore—”

“On that note,” Sword broke in, “I think Midnight and I are going to look around on our own while you two pick up... well, whatever you want.” Midnight made eager nodding motions at this. “Let’s meet back up here in say, twenty minutes or so?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Stivers pointed at one of the sauces. “What have you got that’ll light me up but won’t burn me down?”

“Ohh, just wait til you try this one!” The shopkeeper, clearly in his element now, was uncorking several of the sauce bottles and dabbing a bit on some of the samples that were on display. “It’ll wake you up for sure.”

Thompson broke out in laughter at the expression on William’s face. “So, I’m guessin’ you haven’t had much of this stuff before.”

They sat around the table that Star had picked out in one corner of the tavern, the humans perched precariously on stools that were designed for somepony smaller and a lot lighter. William had just taken a huge swallow of the ale that filled the mug in front of him, and he was now eyeing it suspiciously, as if it was a robber that had just broken into his house. “No, everyone talks about Split-Tail ale like it was the twelfth wonder of the world. This... ain’t what I expected.”

Gruebel had just taken a swallow of his own and was swishing it about in his mouth experimentally. “Not bad, actually. I’ve had worse.”

“And it didn’t stop you from drinking it, did it?” Thompson said.

“I pay good money for a glass of suds, it’s goin’ down my gullet one way or the other.” Gruebel took another honk off of his glass. “I complain after it’s done.” He glanced over at William, who was still staring at his glass. “Try again, bud. You get used to it after awhile.”

Shadow had picked up his mug and held it up for a moment, letting the light shine through the amber liquid inside. He looked over at Thompson and bumped the pilot with an elbow. “Ready?”

Thompson looked at the pony. “Ready for what?”

Shadow grinned fiendishly and raised his glass higher without saying a word.

“Oh shit, no you did not just challenge me.” Thompson picked up his mug and held it even with the pony’s. “Ready when you are, short stuff.”

“I’ll remember that when I have to drag you out of here,” Shadow replied agreeably.

Thompson uttered a barking laugh and then crouched down, bringing his eye level even with Shadow. “Go!”

The two both whipped their mugs up and began drinking steadily, the level of ale in their glasses falling with startling rapidity.

“Yeah!” Gruebel hooted and clapped his hands. “Go, Howie! Show him how it’s done in the Corps!”

William stared, his beak open, watching Thompson’s Adam’s apple bounce up and down as the pilot swallowed. “Um... is his throat s’posed to do that?”

“Hell yes.” Gruebel grinned. “That is a finely tuned machine in action, son.”

Gasping simultaneously, Thompson and Shadow both drained their mugs and slapped them back on the table almost in concert with each other. The Marine uttered a tooth-rattling belch that earned him some applause from a nearby table. “Damn, that was good!” He looked over at Gallivan. “Call it, Sarge.”

Gallivan was kicked back on the stool he sat on, his shoulders resting against the wall behind him. “Too close,” he declared. “No winner, got to move on to the next round.”

“Aww, crap.” Gruebel looked at Hoof. “We already drank half of ours.”

“Then refill, dumbass,” Gallivan said equably. “Your honour is at stake, not to mention that of the Marine Corps.”

As Gruebel signaled at one of the harried waitresses who were moving throughout the room on a non-stop sweep for empty mugs, Thompson turned to give Shadow a dirty look. “When they’re done, it’s you and me again, buddy. And this time I’m not gonna hold back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Shadow said calmly. “By the way, since we’re at it, care to lay a little bet on our next one?”

“Okay, but with what?” Thompson patted his pockets. “No moolah, kemosabe.”

Shadow grinned unpleasantly. “Guard duty. One week. You lose, I sleep while you wander around keeping me safe from anything nasty and unpleasant. In addition to your own shift. I lose, same deal for you.”

“Oooh, that’s harsh.” Gallivan’s eyes gleamed. “I like it. Fair bet.”

Stivers picked up the large satchel that the vendor had given them and tugged it close, knotting the drawstring together in a neat loop. “Thanks for the bag, bud.”

“No problem.” The gryphon didn’t even look up from counting the stack of shiny coins the human had given him. “Hope you enjoy it. And don’t get the sauce bottles mixed up! It ruins the taste.”

“Gotcha.” Stivers started to walk away, then stopped, waiting, as Taylor flicked a last coin at the gryphon and came trotting over, one of the plastic bags in hand. “More jerky?”

“Yah, but this one’s allll for me.” Taylor fumbled awkwardly at the top of the bag for a moment before finally managing to open it. “I’ve never seen food wrapped in this stuff before, but it seems to work.”

“Yeah, you usually only find a rifle wrapped in that crap when you’re landing on a beach. I guess I could see how it would work for food though.” Stivers frowned, peering at the front of the bag. “Um, which animal is that you’re eating?”

“I don’t know,” Taylor said around a mouthful of the stuff. “And I don’t want to. All I know is that it’s not fruit. Or oats. Or a hay bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.”

“Ohhh-kayyy.” Stivers shook his head. “I hope you have a strong stomach, then.”

Taylor stopped in mid-chew. “Asshole. I told you I didn’t want to know.”

Stivers slung the satchel of food over his right shoulder, holding up his left hand. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Sighing, Taylor took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Opening them, he lifted the bag up and looked at the front of it. The gryphonnic writing was indecipherable, but the picture of the cow on the front was crystal clear. It was almost cartoonish, smiling back at the viewer as if pleased at how tasty it was.

“It’s beef.” Taylor looked over at Stivers and punched him on the shoulder. “You’re a jerk, you know that?”

“I only took lessons from the best.” Stivers grinned back at him for a moment, then his expression grew serious. “Charlie, are you okay? You’ve been pretty uptight lately.”

Taylor coughed on the piece of jerky he had been chewing. “Huh?”

“Ever since we got into the mountains, you’ve been a little bit edgy.” Stivers shrugged. “If it’s none of my business, say so, but I was just wondering, you know?”

Taylor swallowed the mouthful of jerky and coughed again. “I... yeah, I guess I’m just a little bit off kilter. I’ll get over it, I promise. I don’t have a screw loose or anything.” He twirled a finger alongside one temple in demonstration.

“I never thought you did, I was just concerned.” Stivers lifted his left arm and waved at Golden Sword, who was wandering back towards them with a bag similar to Stivers’ own but smaller in size slung alongside him. “No offense, but whenever you get quiet and serious, I get nervous.”

“None taken.” Taylor spotted the approaching pony and lowered his voice. “I’m fine, I swear. I’m just in a funk right now. I’ll deal with it.” Raising his voice again, he called out to Sword. “What’d you get, Captain?”

“Just a little treat all of us can enjoy.” Sword trotted up to them and smiled, a little guiltily. “Besides, I have to admit I have a weakness for these.” He reached up with a forehoof and pulled the bag open.

Stivers leaned over. “Apples?”

“Yes. Not dried apple slices out of a packet that was filled in Canterlot by some oat-brain who can’t tell a granny smith from a golden delicious.” Sword fished one out and held it up proudly. “Look at that. Not a bruise on it. I hoof-picked them out myself from the bin.”

“I’ll take your word for it. It’ll make a nice dessert after dinner.” Stivers showed him his own pack. “Picked up some jerky and some more canned meat for the boys. No offense, Sword, but we have a little bit more variance in our diet than you do.”

“You haven’t tried to gnaw my leg off yet, so I’ve got no problem there.” The pegasus peered into Stivers’ satchel. “Oooh, hot sauce. Captain, I didn’t know you partook.”

“Huh?” Stivers suddenly remembered the impromptu party that Pinkie Pie had thrown them when they had first arrived in Ponyville. “Oh, no, this is for putting on my food, not in my drinks.”

“How odd.” Sword shrugged. “To each his own, I suppose.” He glanced around idly. “Did you see where Midnight got off to?”

“She headed back down that way.” Taylor pointed. “Oh wait, I think I see her...” He frowned. “No, that’s not her. Different tail.”

“Yes, good eye, Lieutenant,” Sword said. “That pony’s got armor on, though... how odd.” He frowned.

“What about it?” Stivers looked in the direction Taylor had pointed out. There were several ponies grouped around the jewelry stand they had passed earlier. They all had coats of varying colors, but most of them were hidden under the plated armor Stivers had seen on all of the guards in Canterlot. “What’s odd?”

“That’s not standard issue armor. It’s royal guard plate, like our own.” Sword began trotting in that direction, and the two humans followed in his wake. “I wonder what they’re doing here?” Drawing near, he saw that the ponies were chatting animatedly amongst themselves, and a burst of laughter erupted from the whole group.

Having a fine time of it, whomever you are, Sword thought. He drew up behind one of the ponies and cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

“Hmm?” The pony glanced over her shoulder at him absently. Spying the plume on Sword’s helmet, she whirled about and drew up to attention. “Oh, Captain! I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know any more of our troops were here!”

“That’s quite all right, Sergeant. I was just wondering what you were doing here, in fact—”

“Goldie!” The shout cut Sword off in mid-sentence as a larger pony emerged from the huddle, smiling at him in obvious delight. “Oh this is amazing! It’s so good to see you!” Armourless, the pink coloration of her coat stood out prominently, as well as the multicolored swirl of her mane and tail. Her wings flicked out to full extension in excitement, and the horn on her brow blazed forth with a silvery glow. “What in the world are you doing all the way out here?”

Sword stood rooted to the ground, his jaw dropping in surprise. “Princess Cadance?”

Shadow’s mug banged down on the table a full second ahead of Thompson’s. “HA! I win, you lose, you guard, I snooooooze.”

Thompson looked at him in obvious disgust. “I don’t know what’s more confusing. You holding that mug with no hands, or how the hell I lost.” He glared at the mug as if it had intentionally betrayed him. “They must have given me more ale or something.”

“Actually, I know what it was,” Shadow said.

“What?” Thompson asked.

Shadow leaned closer, lowering his voice. “It’s a secret.”

Thompson leaned over as well, eyebrows lifted. “Yeah?”

Shadow grinned. “You ssuuuuuuuck.”

“Oh, you little....” the Marine growled.

“All right, knock it off you two. Bet was won fair and square.” Gallivan pointed a finger at Hoof. “And put your leg down. Two’s the limit tonight.”

“Aww, c’mon, Sarge.” Crimson Hoof adopted a pouting expression. “I’m just getting a good buzz on, here.”

“Yeah, and that’s all you’re getting. A couple of beers is fine. A couple more, and I’m gonna have a handful of drunken troops that won’t be worth a rat’s ass.” Gallivan shook his head. “And if Captain Stivers and Sword come back and find that, they’ll be wearing my ass for a saddlepack.”

Gruebel snickered at the mental image of that, then frowned. “Hey, where’s Willie at?” The gryphon’s seat lay empty at the table, his mug still half-full of ale.

“I think I saw him heading off to the restroom a couple of minutes ago,” Star said. “Haven’t seen him come back yet, though.”

“Go check on him, would you?” Gallivan looked at the gryphon’s mug and grimaced. “Even odds he might be in there barfing his head off.”

“Over half a mug of beer?” Shadow grimaced. “Wow, what a lightweight.”

“Well, he is just a kid, y’know.” Gruebel glanced over and saw Hoof eyeing the mug in question. “Watch it. Don’t be poachin’ the kid’s suds. He paid for all of us, after all.” The undersized stool he was perched on creaked alarmingly as he leaned back. “Hey, there he is.”

William threaded his way through the crowded room back to their table and sat back down. His features weren’t as easily readable as those of the ponies, but based on the look on his face, Gallivan would have sworn the kid was ashamed of something. “You have to barf?” the Marine asked bluntly.

William twitched and looked at him with a sickly grin. “Ah... just a li’l bit.” He eyed the half-depleted mug in front of him with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “No’ tha’ I’m not appreciative or anyt’ing, but I’m not really feelin’ like finishin’ d’at right now.”

Crimson Hoof leaned over and put a comradely foreleg around the gryphon’s shoulders. “I’ll be happy to take that problem off your hooves. Or claws.” He drew the mug away from William and lifted it up, admiring the way the lamplight shone through the amber liquid within. “Bottoms up!” He started to take a drink and then nearly dropped the mug at a shout from behind him.

“Thief! tjúgari! I’ve been robbed!” Two tables away from them, a gryphon had kicked over his own stool and was standing, patting his belt pouches frantically. “Someone’s made off with my till!”

“Hoy, I saw that little alchak prancin’ about near ye a moment ago,” one of the other gryphons growled, pointing at William. “Like as not he made off with your purse.”

“I did not!” William shouted. “What in Edna’s name would makes you say somethin’ like d’at?”

“Mayhap because yer almost knocked me over a moment ago, and now I’m missing thirty good pieces o’ gold I earned with me own claws.” The gryphon, wider than most and apparently not used to missing any meals, stood up from searching about on the floor and glared at William. “What were ya doin bangin’ around behind me like that, eh?”

“Looked like he was trying to get past your fat ass to get back here from the bathroom,” Thompson snarled. “Maybe if you suck that gut in a little people won’t run into you so much.” He felt a warning hand from Gallivan laid on his forearm, but shook it off. “Why you wanna pick on a friggin’ kid anyway, tubby?”

“Tu ert oun menningar!” the gryphon replied in a thick accent. There were several murmurs from other tables nearby, and several of the patrons began backing away from the two parties. “Maybe you should like I pick on you instead, monkeyboy?”

His companion stood up and eyed the odd assortment of humans, ponies and one very small gryphon at their table. “Why do you stick up for him, nák?” His voice was slow and halting, as if the common language the ponies used was unfamiliar to him. “He your cousin or something? Or you buy him at auction?” This last caused a round of laughter to burst out from several other tables, and William hunched down reflexively at the sound.

“Ey, look, don’ worry aboot it. Maybe we should just scram, ey?” William looked at Gallivan hopefully. “Pay the res’ of our bill and le’s haul it, they can keep th’ change.”

Gallivan eased the front legs of his stool down until it rested fully on the floor once more, never removing his eyes from the gryphons, who had begun approaching them slowly. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy, short stuff...”

Cadance cocked her head to one side and peered at Sword good-humoredly. “You sure find some odd company to hang out with. You going to introduce me?”

Sword started as if somepony had pinched him from behind. “Oh! Oh yes, of course. Um, Princess Cadance, these two fellows are Captain Stivers and Lieutenant Taylor.” He nodded at each of the humans in turn. “They’re companions of ours at the moment.”

“‘Captain?’ ‘Lieutenant?’” Cadance craned her head up slightly to take in Stivers’ tall form. “Are you getting desperate to meet a recruiting quota in Canterlot or something?”

“Hardly, ma’am.” Stivers chuckled. “It’s kind of tough to explain on short notice. I guess you could say we’re part of an...involuntary exchange program.”

“You can say that again.” Taylor glanced at the tall, lithe form of the princess. “So, um, are you related to Celestia or something?”

“Short answer? Yes. But, like you said, it’s kind of tough to explain on short notice.” Cadance glanced back at Sword. “What are you doing here? I tried to get Miss Arrow to explain it to me, but she told me I’d have to ask you about it.”

Midnight stepped forward, pushing her way past two of the other guard ponies belonging to Cadance’s detail. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry, Princess, but it really wasn’t my place to say.”

“She’s quite right,” Sword said hurriedly. “And, if you’ll forgive me, Princess, it’s not a subject we should go into in public.”

“Sure, I know how that works.” Cadance shrugged, the movement making her multicolored mane billow out before settling once more. “I get that from Shining Armor a lot more, lately.” Her voice dropped a bit. “He’s so much more serious now that he’s been promoted... half the time, I hardly get to see him for more than five minutes.”

“The general’s duties are demanding,” Midnight offered diplomatically. “I’m sure he tries to spend as much time with you as he can.”

“Oh he does, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, not really.” Cadance brightened again. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I was looking around for a present or two to pick up for him before I head back home in the morning.”

“You’re heading back home?” Sword’s voice was slightly wistful. “When do you leave?”

“In the morning at first light, with a trade caravan from Canterlot. It’s why I was sent here.” Cadance turned and began heading back toward the nearby vendor’s stall. “Princess Celestia asked me to come and help out with some trade negotiations a few weeks ago, and I’ve been here trying to help both sides talk instead of argue.” She turned and offered them a wry grin. “The boring, undramatic side of being a member of the royal court, unfortunately.”

“We all serve in our own way,” Sword agreed.

“Speaking of negotiations,” Cadance said, stopping in front of the jewelry stand once more. “I was looking at that diamond brooch set, but the price is simply ridiculous.”

“It is not!” the gryphon vendor replied, his beak clacking in indignation. “I gathered some of these pieces with my own two claws. I stake my reputation on my wares, and I assure you, ma’am, my prices are fair. Indeed, I’m starving my nestlings to give this away for the price I quoted you!”

“I’m sure,” Cadance replied in a dry tone. “Hmm. I don’t think it would really go with anything I have, however—”

“Oh, ma’am, your own radiance is raiment enough. No garment would do you... or that brooch... enough justice. But the two of you go together perfectly!”

“This guy’s layin’ it on so thick, he’ll need a knife to spread it,” Taylor muttered.

Midnight snickered at that, and the sound caught the vendor’s attention. “And how about you, miss? Perhaps this particular adornment catches your eye instead?”

“Oh, no no no,” Midnight stammered, beginning to back away. “I, I couldn’t. I don’t have any money with me, and besides, it would clash with the armor, you know.”

“Oh don’t be silly,” Cadance laughed. “That stuff’s coloured golden and that’s about all it’s got going for it.” She peered at the pegasus, clearly enjoying herself. “See anything you like? Go on, at least try something on while you’re here.”

“No, really, it’s okay, I—”

“Lieutenant, I am telling you as a royal princess of Canterlot, I am not budging from this spot until you do a little browsing.” Cadance tried her best to perform a glower, but failed. “C’mon, it won’t hurt you.”

“Well...okay, I suppose. Maybe one thing.” A light rosette blush appeared on Midnight’s cheeks as she looked at the glittering display before her. “I really have no idea what to even try though; I usually don’t go in for jewelry.” She waved a forehoof in the air absently. “It clatters on your armor and catches on things and gets in the way.”

“Girl, you need to get out more.” Cadance patted her on the shoulder and watched as Midnight looked at one necklace for a moment, and then stopped at a pair of small sapphire earrings. “Uh-oh, I think we have a winner!”

“Maybe those?” Midnight indicated the earrings with a jerk of her chin. “I’d like to try them on for just a second—”

“Allow me, madam.” The gryphon behind the display case opened it up and whisked the earrings out in one smooth motion. “They’re small, true, but quite startling, and would suit you well, I think.”

Midnight stood quietly, letting him fasten the earrings to the outer edge of each of her ears, each touch of his claws setting them flicking rapidly. Her ears were unpierced; the earrings were cunningly designed to clip and hold onto the edge of an ear without pinching.

“Ticklish, much?” Cadance said, giggling. “Say, those don’t look half bad on you, dear.”

“You think so?” The gryphon held up a hand mirror, and Midnight peered into it, frowning. “Well... I guess so. I don’t know. I was just curious, anyway.”

“You’re doing it wrong.” Taylor stepped forward and lifted Midnight’s helmet away in one smooth motion, tucking it under an arm. “Now try it.”

“What? I don’t....” The pegasus flicked her head reflexively at the missing weight of the golden helm, the ebony sheaf of her forelock and mane falling free and curling to one side of her face. She peered into the mirror again and gasped, as if trying to reconcile the fact that the image she saw didn’t belong to some other pony. “Wow... that’s... really nice.”

“Nice? Lieutenant, you look gorgeous.” Cadance stood to one side, eyeing Midnight anew. “Girl, if you don’t get those, I’m going to have your captain lock you up or something. Half the colts in Canterlot should be chasing you by now.”

Midnight’s cheeks were a brilliant crimson at this point. “Th-Thank you, Princess, but I really can’t afford them. We only have a little money and we have to be careful about what we get, and I can’t spend it on selfish things like this.”

“I said you need to get those. I didn’t say you had to buy them.” Cadance nodded at one of her guards, and he stepped forward, unslinging a heavy pouch. “My treat.”

“What? I can’t.... I...” Midnight trailed off, her jaw agape.

“I just said you can, and technically, I’m in charge here, I think.” Cadance’s eyes twinkled merrily as the guard paid off the eager gryphon. “Consider it a gift from one friend to another.”

“I... thank you, Princess.” Midnight unclipped the earrings and looked at them for a moment, two sapphire teardrops, each one clasped in a delicate filigree of silver. They seemed to burn and glimmer with their own inner light as she held them up with a forehoof, turning them this way and that. “They’re lovely.”

“Those look good on you,” Taylor chuckled. “You make ‘em walk and talk, Midnight.”

The pegasus looked at him with a meek expression. “Can I have my helmet back?” she asked in a small voice.

“Huh? Oh, sure, sorry.” Taylor buffed the golden armor with his sleeve before handing it back to her. “That thing’s pretty heavy. It’d drive me nuts having to wear that all the time.”

“I guess I’m just used to it.” Midnight pocketed the earrings, placing them carefully in the small pouch alongside the remaining coins from her homeland. She swept her forelock back with a forehoof and settled her helmet back in place with one deft motion.

Stivers laughed. “Feel better?”

“Oh yes.” Midnight smiled at them all, her expression relieved. “I feel like me again. Thank you, Princess Cadance.” She bowed gracefully, one foreleg tucked underneath her. “I’ll treasure your gift always.”

“Midnight, it’s just a pair of earrings. You’re really what makes them shine.” Cadance smiled and glanced at the others. “Isn’t that right?”

“You said it.” Taylor flapped his hands aimlessly. “See, if I put those on, I’d get nothing. You put them on, bammo, you got all the action.”

Stivers snorted at that. “Taylor, if you put a pair of those on, I’d almost pay to see the reaction from the other guys.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the lieutenant said smoothly. “You’re the one that gets all the drunken gryphon ladies in the streets chasing you. Or falling over you. Did you get her phone number while you were at it?”

“Aaannnnd we’re back to normal,” Sword said. “It’s quite all right, Princess,” he added, seeing her expression at this interplay. “This is pretty much what passes for normality for us these days.”

“I see. I almost wish I didn’t have to go back home...it’d be worth spending a few days out in the wild just to see you guys being...normal.” Cadance smiled, but her eyes were troubled, her gaze fixed on the two humans before her. The horn on her brow glimmered with a faint radiance for a moment as she looked at Midnight, then it faded slowly. “Still, it’s been good seeing you again, Goldie.”

“Goldie?” Taylor repeated. “Am I missing something, here?”

“The princess and I are of an age. We used to go to school together when we were little,” Sword said in a resigned tone. “It’s just a friendly nickname. And before you even get started on that, I suggest we head back and collect the rest of our group. I think we’ve left them unattended long enough.”

“Would you mind if I came with you?” Cadance signaled to her guard detail and waited as they gathered up their things. “I’d like to see the others in your group if you don’t mind.” She offered a smile to Stivers and Taylor. “You’re all just so... different.”

“Thanks... I think?” Taylor glanced down at himself reflexively.

“You’re not worried about them, are you, sir?” Midnight fell into step as they began heading back toward the drinks pavilion near the entrance to the cavern.

“No, not really,” Sword said. “You know me though, Lieutenant. I like to keep an eye on things, is all. I’m sure they’re just fine.”

“Yeah, the kid is with us, and he’s no thief,” Gruebel snarled. “He’s... an exchange student. Studying other cultures. You know, trying to get smarter.” He studiously ignored the look Star shot at him. “You might wanna try doing the same thing, if you have any brains in that sack of shit slung on top of your shoulders.”

One of the burlier of the griffons stepped forward, apparently the leader of the small assembled group. “Listen Arkadashim, You don’t want to hang around this alchak. He is bad business.”

Gruebel blinked at that. “What did you call me??”

“Buddy. Pal. Friend.” The senior bartender had walked over and was eyeing the situation warily from behind the security of his bar. “I think he’s trying to do you a favor. Do me one and take this mess outside, eh? I’m still not done making the payments on this place.”

“Nák, I got no quarrel with big pale fellow, hee? Just want to get my brother’s money back, maybe teach little gryphon lesson or two about stealing, we all fine.”

Thompson stood up and wavered unsteadily for a moment before fixing the leader of the other group in his gaze. “Why don’t you go pound some sand up your ass and build a sandcastle? You wanna teach somebody a lesson, you can start with me.” Gruebel stood up as well, and the two Marines moved to block William behind them.

Gallivan put a palm out and seized Thompson’s arm with a firm grip. “Hold up, Howie. Don’t—”

The gryphon seemed to shrug. “Ask nice first, me. Not ask again.” His group of companions all stood as well, and there was a sudden gleam of steel in the lamplight. “Take money back now, talk later.”

“Oh, horseapples,” Star muttered. The pegasus grabbed for his spear and quickly backed away towards the others, raising his voice to a shout. “Knife!”

Someone screeched, and then every table around the humans emptied with startling rapidity. The bartender ducked down, eyes wide, and peered over the rim of the wooden counter. “No blades! No blades!”

Crimson Hoof and Gruebel drew the short stabbing sword each carried at his side and spread out, giving themselves room to swing. Gallivan moved up to Shadow and the two created a living wall in front of William.

“Flat of the blade,” Hoof said. “Try not to kill them if you can. They’re drunk.”

Gallivan snorted. “And you’re not?”

“Not even close.” Hoof grinned unpleasantly at the gryphons across from them. “C’mon sunshine, come dance with me.”

The burly gryphon and his companions hesitated, clearly reassessing the situation. Their attempt to intimidate the strangers had backfired, and the gryphons only carried small knives suitable for self-defense. The ponies and the tall creatures were clearly well armed and probably capable of hurting him and his companions badly, but there was money involved, and few things spark a gryphon’s desire more than gold. Especially if it’s actually his gold.

“Tu alchak tjúgari,” he snarled at William. “Take my payment out of your hide, me.”

Shining Star crouched low, ready to aim a thrust at the gryphon as he prepared to charge, when a bright silver light flashed throughout the entire room. The pegasus staggered, blinking his watering eyes rapidly as he looked up. Both groups had stumbled back from each other and were looking at each other as if they’d just walked into a room of strangers.

“I’d really appreciate it if you all didn’t start hacking away at each other. That might make things a little difficult to explain when I get back home.” As her escort fanned out to cover the gryphons, Cadance trotted up to Gallivan’s table, stopping and glancing at Sword with a wry grin. “These belong to you, I presume?”

“Unfortunately, I have to say yes,” Sword said tightly. “Sergeant, would you mind explaining just what in the hoof is going on here?”

“Um... just a little difference of opinion, sir.” Gallivan straightened up and tweezed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “Damn, what the hell was that flash of light? I feel like someone dumped a bucket of icewater over my head.”

“And it might have done you a lot of good,” growled Stivers. He walked up and surveyed the room. “Difference of opinion? Over what, for Christ’s sake?”

Taylor made a clucking noise with his tongue. “Sarge, I told you never to argue baseball scores with gryphons. Besides, you know they don’t like Hank Aaron.”

Gallivan shook himself and eyed the group of gryphons warily before turning to face the officers. “One of the featherheads over there lost his cash, and decided Willie was to blame. The kid had to go past them to get to the bathroom, and they thought he pinched their loot or something.” He shook his head. “Hell, Captain, you saw the kid’s haul when we got here. He don’t need to swipe any cash.”

Cadance made a slight hissing sound. “That’s not good. Gryphons are very... partial... to their money.” She stepped forward once more, the horn on her brow ablaze with light. “Did any one of you see him take it?” she asked the gryphons.

There was some muttering and shuffling of feathers for a moment. “No,” the burly leader finally admitted. “Not see him take it, me. Is my brother’s money. He say little hatchling take his coin, I no ask questions, hee?”

“Well, I felt him bump my chair when he went by,” the portly gryphon said. “When I went to get my purse, it was gone. I know I had it when I came in here.”

“Are you sure you didn’t drop it or something?” Stivers glanced around on the floor, then noted with amusement that everyone almost immediately followed suit, even the princess. They all scanned the room for several moments, ducking their heads and looking under the tables.

“Tallyho, I spy with my little eye.” Taylor stood up, walked several steps over to where the gryphons stood and bent down. He stood up with a small leather pouch in one hand, its sadly flabby state declaring its emptiness at once.

“Oy, that was me whole day’s earnin’s!” The rotund gryphon moaned and clapped a wing across his brow dramatically. “Someone made off with my arçiliks!”

“Lost money....” Taylor shrugged. “If you dropped it, chances are it’s long gone. Whoever found it probably drank it up already.”

“Yar, I know it was that little alchak, he was in here a few days back tryin’ to cadge drinks from every beak in the place.” The gryphon scowled and made as if to step toward William, and the room was suddenly filled again with the bright silver flash.

Taylor leaned back against the low bar woozily, shaking his head. “What in the hell is that?”

“I don’t know,” said the bartender in a dreamy voice from behind him. “It’s nice, though. You want a drink on the house?”

Taylor glanced over his shoulder to see the gryphon behind the bar leaning across it almost drunkenly, a goofy smile spread over his face. “Uh, no thanks. Why don’t you have it for me instead?”

“That’s a great idea.” The bartender stood up and wobbled off, heading toward the ale casks at the other end of the bar. Taylor watched him for a moment before turning back around. “What the heck’s goin’ on?”

“Princess Cadance has her own special talent, just like every other pony.” Midnight walked up beside Taylor and regarded the alicorn with something akin to religious awe. “She spreads love wherever she can. Or at least in this case, she can keep ponies from being angry at one another, at least for a little while.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me... nevermind. I keep forgetting I’m not in Kansas anymore.” Taylor shook his head and then raised his voice. “Hey, since we’ve solved the great missing money mystery, what do you say we get the hell out of here, Sword?”

“Fine by me.” The armour-clad stallion favored Crimson Hoof with a withering glance. “Have the troops fall in outside. And try not to mess this little task up, hmm?”

“Yes sir.” Hoof glanced nervously back at the gryphons and then began leading the group outside. They fell in single-file, the combination of ale and Cadance’s magic making the line something less than perfectly straight as they wended their way out into the main thoroughfare once more. Once there, they lined up as if on a parade ground and waited as the officers came back out to them.

“Well, quite a fine mess,” Sword growled. “For your information, the princess is inside, paying the gryphon enough to get him to quit squalling about thieves in our midst, as well as settling the rest of your bill.”

“Whoa, captain,” Gallivan spoke up. “We didn’t run a tab; William paid for all of our drinks.”

“Did he, now?” Sword threw the little gryphon a particularly venomous look. “Next time you decide to purchase something for my men, might I suggest candy, or something a little less intoxicating? That could have turned ugly in short order had we not gotten back in time.” He looked back at Gallivan. “And getting yourselves soused and indulging in a bar fight is not what I had in mind for relaxation!”

“Captain, it was my responsibility.” Gallivan shrugged. “The boys just needed to blow off some steam. They didn’t get drunk, and we didn’t start anything, that tubby gryphon in there is the one that started the whole mess.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Sword saw Cadance emerging from the tavern and lowered his voice. “Right. Well, I suggest you thank the princess and bid her farewell. We need to find someplace to bed down for the night and get an early start in the morning.”

Cadance walked up to Sword and regarded him with a humorous look. “Do I need to use my magic again, or are you done shouting at them?”

“I did not shout.” Sword clenched his jaw. “I stated facts. Emphatically.”

“Right.” Cadance glanced over at the others as they stood lined up in clear postures of attention. “That’s why they’re standing there like a cockatrice just gave them the evil eye.” The princess paused for a moment, glancing over at the officers one more time, her eyes resting on Taylor for one long moment. “Well then. I guess this is goodbye. I have to be heading out in the morning...I wish we had time to stay up and chat a bit.”

“We’ve got to be leaving early too,” Stivers said. “Look, it’s been nice meeting you, princess. Thanks for the help with the mess in there.”

“Of course, it’s what I do.” She laughed. “You made a boring evening very interesting. Take care of yourselves. When you get back home, I want to hear about everything else you run into.”

“You got a deal, Your Highness.” Taylor made an awkward bow. “Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

“I suppose I ought to ask you to do the same. And take care of yourselves. I want to see all of you when you get back, okay?” Cadance shook her head, her smile fading. “I had a large escort for a reason. The mountains aren’t safe, and it’s not always gryphons you need to look out for.” She drew Sword into an awkward hug, and then turned and headed off down the street.

The group stood for a moment, watching her head off with her escort in tow, and then turned and headed in the opposite direction towards a grouping of several large wooden houses that had unrealistically comfortable looking beds carved into their advertising signboards.

On the other side of the street, another group stood silently, watching from the shadows.

Interlude: Midnight's letters

Illustrated version: Google Docs

Interlude: Midnight’s letters

Fluttershy,

Our trip into the mountains thus far has been an... interesting one, to say the least. Since my last correspondence We’ve come across a diminutive gryphon who is apparently the son of a wealthy militant commander or some such, and were stopped by a border gate asking us for our papers.

I also now realise I’ve been writing this letter as if it were a report... My apologies, The last night has been... stressful. After what almost started a war (or at least felt like it would) at the gates, we were shown the entrance to a trading village of the gryphons. Now, when I say Trading village, I say it only because that’s how William, the young gryphon, described it.

When I imagine a village, I think maybe ten families, and a few local businesses. What we found there was nothing short of a full interracial city. There were hundreds of gryphons, dozens of ponies, and countless other species that I have no name for. There were many stalls just out in the open, that traded for anything from finely crafted jewelry, to various magical reagents, to common food stuffs.

Not to mention the location of this marvelous ‘village’. It was underground. There was a tunnel wide enough to fit two carriages side by side for caravans, and then once we cleared that, we entered what we at first thought was the village. That turned out to just be the antechamber. From there, we entered the ‘village’ proper. Clawttowa, which was the name of the village (I wish you could hear the way they say it, their accents are so very odd), was a cavern that went on for as far as the eye could see in every direction but down.

The sights, the smells, and the atmosphere were overwhelming. Eventually, it turned out that young master William had a rather large purse after he ran away from his family, the poor dear; they had been pressuring him to enlist in the Gryphon National Army. We, on the other hoof, didn’t bother to bring any real amount of gold... I mean, it seems silly now, but we just never thought we’d need any bits out in the wilderness. I have seven to my name, and the funny thing is, everytime I try to spend them on something, nopony will let me.

So, on the condition that some of the men buy William alcohol (which none of us were pleased with, but the laws in this land are far different than our own, and it was the only way we were legally getting funding for our voyage.), we all split up to go about getting what we needed.

The human officers, Stivers and Taylor, went to go and purchase some dried meat for the rest of the humans. As disgusting as the prospect of eating meat is, I feel that we are slowly getting used to the humans omnivorous ways. All of our NCMs went to a local pub to relieve some tension, and give the gryphon his requested beverage, while myself and Golden went to purchase supplies for the rest of our trip. Admittedly, I got sidetracked by the aforementioned jewelry stand, much to my embarrassment, while Golden was picking up some apples (which were delicious, by the way).

NCMs are non-commissioned officers, sergeants and corporals. I keep forgetting this isn’t an after-action report. I bet you’re laughing while you read this bit, too...

While perusing the jewels (window shopping is free), I ran into one of the last ponies I expected to see. Princess Cadence. Turns out that her and Golden Sword went to school together. It also turns out that she is dating General Armour, and has been for some time now. How I never noticed this, I will never know. Don’t you dare tell anyone, either! That I didn’t know, I mean.

Anyway, after grabbing something for herself, Golden, Charlie, and George found their way back to the table, and The Princess called Golden out by some pet name she gave him in school (Goldie, can you believe it? When I heard that I could have just died laughing, but he was right there), and hugged him in public. She is most definitely not Princess Luna nor Celestia.
~~Not that there’s anything wrong with hugging in public or anything like that~~

Anyway, when we tried to get away from The Princess to go and check on what trouble the others had got into (yes, they’d gotten into trouble, I’ll get to that in a minute), she stopped us, and said that were weren’t leaving without me getting something from the jewelry stand. She also said that she would pay for it, since we wouldn’t be able to afford anything luxury wise due to a very strict budget of whatever we could scrounge up.

I ended up with a rather nice set of sapphire earrings, which Taylor thought were quite fetching, but I don’t get what everyone was going on about. ~~I think Princess Cadence was hitting on me at one point too. Wait... I probably shouldn’t wr~~ Anyway, When we reached the tavern, low and behold, there is a bar fight in the making and our boys are in the middle of it. Turns out that one gryphon thought little William was a thief, and his brother was there, and his friends were there, so they all decide to gang up on the poor little gryphon. Good thing all of our NCMs were there to stand in the way, drink alcohol on duty, and probably escalate the fight.

When we arrived, the scene was a mess, the bartender was hiding behind the counter, saying ‘No blades’, while the large group of gryphons drew knives, and ours drew swords. Luckily The Princess was there, or else someone probably would have died been seriously wounded.

After the fight was resolved, The Princess left to head back to Canterlot, and we decided it was time for rest, and I just looked at the clock in the room I’m boarded in for the evening, sweet Celestia, it’s almost two in the morning...it’s eerie how you lose track of time when you’re underground like this. And by ‘We’ I of course mean ‘Me’. Some of the boys are still down in the bar, drinking. I just decided that now would be a good time to write this stuff, while it’s fresh on the mind. Also, I think I’m going to tell Charlie soon. See what he thinks about all of this.

Have a pleasant night, and remember, the south is bucking cold.
~Midnight.

Chapter 15: The Widening Gyre

Translation Dictionary (only used once at the end)

Chapter 15: The Widening Gyre

The chill wind of early morning bit into Stivers’ cheeks as they emerged from the cavern entrance. The combination of cold and early morning sunlight was enough to wake you up in one hell of a hurry, and he scrambled to pull the hood of the patchwork cloak up over his head. “Damn, that’s cold!”

“Dawn in the mountains.” Sword agreed. The pony shivered slightly beside him as he adjusted his own cloak. “Personally, I’d rather be snoozing on a hillside outside Canterlot.” Exhaling a puff of white vapor in the chilly air, he moved to one side to clear the entranceway for the others. “Even the desert would be something of an improvement. I hate the cold.” he groused.

Stivers moved over to stand beside him and the two watched as the rest of their troop filed out, blinking owlishly in the morning sun. Stivers knew every one of them by sight now, but still, out of habit, he counted off to himself as each one emerged and moved together in a loose group, grumbling about the early morning reveille in time-honored military tradition. One particular shape caught his eye, and he glanced over at Sword, leaning close and lowering his voice. “Are you sure about this?”

“No, but I really don’t see how we have much of an option.” Sword sighed as he watched William’s diminutive form join the others. “It’s fairly obvious he’s been here before, and we know of at least one group of locals who don’t exactly look on him with a kindly eye. We leave him here, he’s liable to be beaten at the very least, or sold at auction at one of the markets.”

“Sold?” The distaste was obvious in Stivers’ voice. “I didn’t know the people in this land went in for slavery.”

“We’re not in Equestria anymore, Captain.” Sword looked away and spat. “I’ve no more relish for the idea than you do, but it’s the way of the land, here. Again, that’s why he’s still with us.” The pony shrugged. “He presents more problems than I’d like, but I can’t just leave the lad here. From what the sergeant said, he probably would have ended up getting caught and killed had we left him behind.”

“In that case, you got no argument from me. I’ll tell Gruebel to watch out for him. Don’t want him wandering off and getting eaten or something while we’re on the trail,” Stivers said, laughing.

“I don’t want any one of us getting chewed on, either. Make sure they keep close order march today.” Sword moved off toward Taylor, who was fussing with one of his packstrapts. “And no, I’m not joking.”

Stivers watched him go, the grin fading from his face. “Camping next to Lake Waccamaw this sure as hell ain’t,” he grumbled. “Gallivan! Gruebel! Get over here for a minute.”

Sword set a deceptively easy pace, the same one he had held to after they had been forced to abandon the aircraft and head out cross-country. The well-traveled road through the mountains was much easier terrain to walk on, despite the steady upward slope. It took William no little amount of trouble to match their pace; the gryphon had no shortage of willpower, but the poor fellow had legs half again as short as anypony else’s in the party. It was all Taylor could do to keep from laughing at him as he struggled to keep up for the first few hours. Several times he had started to offer words of encouragement to the little featherbrain, but Gallivan had advised him against it. “Notice how he ain’t complainin’ a bit, sir? He’ll tough it out. If you say anything to him, it’ll just piss him off.”

The sergeant was marching at the same pace, with a fully loaded pack on his back, and hadn’t so much as wheezed all morning, much to Taylor’s annoyance. When they had started, the lieutenant had been looking around idly, admiring the way the mountainsides gleamed in the sunlight above where the treeline ended. Two hours later into the march and Taylor was more intent on watching his boots move one ahead of the other, and sneaking a glance up ahead occasionally to see if Sword or Stivers looked like they were going to call a halt.

I’m a pilot. I get paid to sit on my ass and drive a bomber around the sky, not this ground-pounding shit. “Well, I don’t want him to fall over on us or something,” Taylor puffed.

“Yes sir, I hear you.” Gallivan glanced idly at Taylor’s red face for a moment. “How you holdin’ up, sir?”

“I’m doin’ fine,” Taylor said, more rapidly than he wanted to. “Legs were sore right when we started, but I’m fine now, I can go all day if we need to.”

Gallivan grinned. “That’s what he’s sayin’ too, sir, just not out loud, if you get me. He’ll be fine.”

And he was fine, surprisingly enough. By the time they stopped for a breather to eat lunch (and that was Golden Sword in a nutshell, Taylor thought; waiting until lunchtime to work in a rest break was just the kind of efficiency that pony loved), the little gryphon seemed to have little trouble keeping abreast of them, although he did ask Sword once why they didn’t just fly instead.

“Because only half of us have wings,” the pegasus had replied. “And we still have a long way to go yet.”

“Oh really, ey? An’ where are we goin’, if ye don’ mind me askin’?”

“The monastery in the Shadow Whisper Mountains,” Sword said patiently.

“Yah, I remember ya sayin’ d’at much to that moke back a’ th’ pass.” William picked up a small rock in one claw and flung it ahead of them, watching it bounce and clatter across the rocks off to one side. “Wha’ I mean is, which one, yah know?”

Sword was about to give the little nuisance a lecture on noise discipline when the full import of the question struck him. “What do you mean, ‘which one?’”

“Which monastery? D’ere’s f’er er five up in those peaks, I wagger.” the gryphon said absently. “They always go up d’ere to do d’eir prayin’ and what not. Which one they go to depends on what d’ey’re prayin’ for. Which one you headed to?”

“I have no idea,” the stallion admitted after a long moment of silence. “I wasn’t aware there were multiple sites.”

“Hah! Figured as much, ey. Yer only ponies after all.” William shrugged. “Doesn’t ma’er to me, one’s as good as th’ other. I figure I can get a bagful o’ stories regardless which you go to. An’ since you ‘ave no idea which one ya need, we can hit ‘em all up, an’ I can get bucket loads o’ good tales.”

“We did not travel this far from home to indulge you in a story gathering spree,” Sword snapped testily. “Once we find the place we’re looking for, you can go hound the monks to your heart’s content. And if you don’t like the pace I set, feel free to fly wherever you want. I just brought you with us so those cretins back in Clawttowa didn’t dissect you out of spite.”

William looked up in surprise and grinned. “Huh. An’ here I thought yah didn’ like me!”

“I don’t.” Sword said, and stalked away.

The size and scale of the mountain terrain was breathtakingly beautiful to both the ponies and the humans, most of whom had never even seen a landscape like the one they now traveled through except in pictures. Taylor was the lone exception, and likened it to the terrain in Alaska. William the gryphon, who had grown up here, barely even gave the high peaks a second glance; the youngster spent most of his time avoiding the officers and mingling with the troops themselves. His oddly warbling voice could be heard from time to time regaling them with one song or another, or one of the strange tales of gryphonic lore he had picked up. Both Shining Star and Gallivan found these fascinating and would while away the time listening to the young gryphon and then asking him a flurry of questions about each tale or song. Star was naturally curious about almost anything, and soaked up the information eagerly, always asking penetrating questions about who did what and why regarding half-mythical events that had happened centuries ago. Gallivan, on the other hand, seemed to find some surcease in the lore itself; the big Marine would often repeat parts of the tales back to William to make sure he had it memorized correctly, and he and the gryphon would enter into impromptu quizzing sessions about some obscure element from the distant past. The others found it somewhat odd that the big man took so much interest in the subject, but nopony could deny that it seemed to ease the sergeant’s mind somewhat. His sleep was unbroken and solid, and whatever demons from his past that laid there waiting had been defanged, at least for now.

The impressive vistas before them soon began to become somewhat monotonous as they continued to journey further south. As William mentioned during one break, one mountain pretty much looks like another, and the others found it hard to disagree. There was very little foot traffic on the road they were on, mostly traders traveling to and from Clawttowa with wagons loaded with goods of one type or another. These took only minor interest in the odd group of ponies and humans, and that quickly melted away when the group showed no signs of purchasing anything.

Five days after they had left the trading center of Clawttowa, they finally struck the branch path that was indicated on the map. Leaving the main road, they began following the new trail, which headed off toward the southeast. The path was not as well tended here, and the ground about them rose and fell sharply. The main road was quickly lost to sight as the timber growth on the lower slopes of the mountains made an appearance, and they soon seemed to be traveling along a path lined with wooden sentinels, evergreen trees that seemed to be mostly fir and some other odd kind of growth that the humans were unable to identify.

Thompson picked up a fallen bough of the strange wood as they walked and flexed it for a moment. “What the heck is this stuff? It’s almost like pine, but the bark is just...weird.”

“Oh, tha’s spiritwood. It grows on all d’e mountains ‘round ‘ere.” William looked at the trees beside them with a blatant lack of interest. “Smells funny in springtime too.”

“Spiritwood? What the hell is that?” Gruebel looked at the trees with sudden suspicion. “These things aren’t gonna jump up out of the ground and eat me for usin’ em for firewood or something, are they?”

William stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “Uh... no. They are... just trees. You know, wood, nee’les, cones. Chop em down, build houses an’ wagons with ‘em.” He shrugged. “I’s just a name, ey. Dunno why d’ey’re called that.”

“Well, since the local flora is decidedly not dangerous, let’s gather up some of it before we lose all the light.” Sword glanced up at the lowering sun. “This is as good a place as any to make camp for the evening.”

The routine was well established enough at this point that the pegasus didn’t have to say another word. Moving off to one side of the path, the enlisted troops began clearing away the ground in a reasonably open spot, sweeping aside large patches of dead needles and gathering up the scattered branches and other detritus. Sword and the other officers fanned out, gathering up larger branches and chunks of wood as they found them to keep the fire going throughout the night; they had resolved to try and use any dead wood they found along the way and save the fuel they had gathered prior to entering the mountains for an emergency.

Midnight followed Taylor upslope away from the camping site, picking up the smaller branches that she was able to manage and poking them through one of the loosened straps of her pack. The pilot ranged on ahead and gathered up the larger or unwieldy pieces, stacking them loosely in the crook of one arm. They foraged ahead for several minutes, the stillness of the forest around them broken only by the sighing of the wind through the treetops and the occasional snatch of conversation from the others from below and behind them.

“Whoop, look out, you’ve got one running away from you.” Midnight called out to the pilot. One of the branches under Taylor’s arm had twisted and slipped down, threatening to snag on his trousers and trip him up.

“Oh, thanks.” Taylor stopped and readjusted the armload of wood he was carrying and then resumed walking uphill.

Midnight looked after him for a moment, frowning. Ever since the group had entered the mountains, the pilot had seemed out of sorts and pensive, his normally constant running commentary of chatter absent. Admittedly, she found some of his jokes a bit childish at times, and annoying on occasion, but the human was invariably a fount of good cheer, albeit inane on occasion. It obviously grated on Golden Sword when Taylor refused to take something seriously, but Midnight had gotten used to it at this point and found it provided a welcome break from the normal stress of duty. It was, in its own way, somewhat endearing to her, and she found its absence to be more than a little unsettling.

“How are you feeling? I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely ready to sit down for the day. My hooves are killing me.” Midnight stopped and shook one foreleg in the air for emphasis.

“Hmm?” Taylor turned and glanced at her for a moment. “Sorry, I was woolgathering there.”

“I was just asking how you were feeling.” Midnight braced her hind legs and stretched out, feeling her spine pop. “Oooh, that’s better. I think this whole walking all day thing is better left to the earth ponies. Me, I’d rather be flying.”

“Mmhmm.” The human made a noncommittal sound and kept walking up the hill, picking up another branch and tucking it under his arm. To Midnight’s eye, it looked like he had quite enough already, but he kept on going, peering about. “I guess so.”

Midnight suppressed a growl of exasperation and trotted up the slope until she stood next to him. “Hey, are you okay? Really?”

To her surprise, he jerked as if he’d been prodded with a red-hot poker. “Everybody keeps asking me that, and I keep telling everybody I’m fine. Christ.” He kicked a fir cone viciously with one boot, sending it flying off into the gloaming.

The pegasus flinched involuntarily at that. “Taylor... I know it’s tough, being grounded and everything.”

“What?” Taylor stopped hunting for another cone to kick and glanced down at her. “What are you talking about?”

She drew in a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Not being able to fly, having to adapt to all this ground work... I’m aware it’s not exactly what you trained for or are especially fond of.” She craned her head back and loosened one of the straps of her pack, shrugging out of it and dropping it to the ground. “I’m not just a pony, I’m a pegasus. I love the sky, and flying. There’s a degree of control to it... you don’t think about it, you just tuck a wing and you go where you want. Even if you’re flying formation, you’re the one in charge of staying where you’re at, so you slow down or speed up, twitch your tail a bit to stay in line...well, I know you don’t, but you know what I mean.” She looked up and regarded the human with a kind eye. “You’re in control of it all when you’re up there in the sky. Except we’re not in the sky now, are we?”

Taylor just stood there for a moment, looking at her with a curious expression on his features. “Yeah, you’re right about that, I guess.” He glanced around for a moment, then crouched down and set the bundle of brush and branches on the soft loamy carpet of needles underfoot. “I hadn’t actually thought about it, to be honest.” He rubbed his left arm where the wood had been pinching him and looked at her with a wry smile. “Are you psychoanalyzing me, now?”

“No, you big sod, I was checking to see how you were because I was worried,” she replied, a bit testily. “If it’s an imposition I’ll just be quiet and leave you alone if you want.”

He simply stood there for a moment, studying her features. “Point taken,” he said at last. “Yeah, you’re right... and to be honest, I hadn’t thought about it, but it does bother me, a bit.” He glanced upward at the darkening sky visible through the treetops, watching a few faint stars begin to appear. “Not much I can do about it though, I’ll get over it. Hell, I think I’m actually getting used to walking all day. Not that it’s become my favorite choice for relaxing in those dull moments when we’re not being attacked by man-eating monsters.”

Midnight smiled a bit; that, at least, sounded more like Taylor’s normal self. “I can think of better things to do in my off moments.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, actually.” Taylor knelt down, wincing as his knees popped, and began picking up the wood again, stacking it more carefully in the crook of his left arm. “I keep seeing you writing off and on while we’re in camp. Is Sword making you keep track of how many ounces of oats we eat every day or something?”

“No, he’s not really that bad about supplies.” Midnight made a mental note to not mention the idea to Golden Sword; he might actually find it attractive. “No, that’s just my own thing. I write in it now and again when we have a spare moment to rest.”

Taylor chuckled softly as he continued to pick up the branches. “Methinks I hear a diarist in our midst. Been writing down your thoughts about this insane trip of ours?”

“Well... sort of. I mean, not exactly.” She began blushing madly. “It’s... well, it’s sort of a journal, yes, but it’s not exactly just for me.”

The human nearly dropped one of the branches and cursed loudly, shaking his hand. “Goddam it, I need that knuckle.” He picked the wood back up and smacked it into place on top of the pile, wincing. “So, who are you writing for, posterity? Or are you going to turn it into a story you can tell back home?” Taylor laughed. “Maybe you can squeeze William for some of that cash of his and let him buy the rights to tell it around here.”

“Uh, not exactly.” Letting the little gryphon set his eyes on her journal was the last thing Midnight would do. “It’s... well, I’m kind of keeping track of things. So that when we get back home, somepony can read about it. About what happened, and how I felt about everything.” She glanced up timidly at Taylor as he stood back up. “I was actually kind of hoping to find out what you thought about it... you know, if you’d like to read a little bit? Maybe?”

Taylor glanced at her and stopped fussing with the wood; it was the same odd tone of voice he’d heard from her before when the gryphon had been hawking his jewelry at the ponies. “Um. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing this particular pony is not exactly just somebody who lives next door or anything.”

Midnight was thankful for the descending dusk, for it mostly hid the bright flush under the fur of her cheeks. “That’s right. It’s for somepony I really care about. My very special somepony.” Oh sweet Celestia, I can’t believe I came out and said it!

He smiled suddenly, the gloomy expression on his face vanishing with startling rapidity. “Holy crap, I had no idea you were seeing someone. Why didn’t you say anything about it before?”

“Well, it was kind of sudden... it all really came together right before we left home.” She smiled hesitantly at him. “We really didn’t have a lot of time together, so I thought of this as a kind of way to keep in touch, you know? Even if I can’t send the letters anywhere, it’s a way of reaching out—”

“—and talking to them all the same.” Taylor nodded. “Midnight, I’ve written more than a few of those while I was at sea during the war. The censors mark out all the vital stuff, but still you can try and let them know what you feel like.” He leaned back against a nearby tree, the bundle of firewood all but forgotten under his arm. “So who is he? Do I know him?”

She laughed reflexively. “Know, yes, but it’s not a he, silly. It’s a she. Miss Fluttershy.” The relief swept through her, draining through her body and seeming to flow down her legs and out of her, leaving her feeling light as air. She suddenly felt as if she could jump and soar over the treetops without using her wings. There, I said it out loud, he knows, the world knows, everyone knows now.

Taylor simply stood there, looking at her with a quizzical expression on his face, a small line furrowed between his eyebrows. “She? What about her?”

“She’s my very special somepony. I just... oh gods, Taylor, you know, there’s no words for how I feel around her.” That small, panicked voice that normally spoke up in Midnight’s brain at times like this just sat back, stunned at the words that had finally found the place to pour forth. “She’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. If... when we make it back, I’m going to ask her for sure.”

The human was still standing there motionless, that odd look still on his face. “Wait, she’s the yellow one that yelled at me when we first met, right?”

“Well, yes, but you did shoot her friend the bear,” Midnight said. The laughter in her voice trailed away as she looked at him. “Taylor, I’m sure she’s not still mad at you about it. You were trying to defend yourself after all.”

Taylor began waving his hand at her as if trying to flag down a taxi on a busy street. “Whoa whoa there, Nellie. You can’t hook up with her.”

“Why not?” Was there something that Fluttershy hadn’t told her? If so, how had Taylor found out? Midnight’s ears drooped backward as she looked at him. “I mean, I talked to her about it, and everything, before we left. Right before we left, I know, and I was in a hurry and we didn’t talk long, but—”

“Midnight, what the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t marry her. She’s... well, she’s female.” Taylor was looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. “It’s kind of hard to have kids and have a family when you’re both lugging around the same set of equipment.”

The pegasus stared at him, her jaw agape. The lightweight, floating feeling she had been feeling moments before had been replaced by a tingling numbness in all of her limbs. “What... how can you say that? What has that got to do with anything?”

“Last time I checked, that was the whole point of falling in love and getting married. Unless I didn’t get the latest fleet bulletin on romance and—”

“Don’t you dare make a joke out of this!” Midnight yelled at him, the sound echoing around them and flying back from the rocks and trees hidden in the darkness. “If you don’t understand, fine. If you don’t like it, fine. But I only told you about it because I trusted you, Taylor, so don’t you dare laugh at me!”

Taylor looked at her for a moment, and then threw the armload of wood to one side. Midnight jerked backward reflexively at the movement, the branches clattering against each other as they tumbled away “Oh, talk about humor, now that statement is as funny as shit.” He folded his arms and glared at her. “Since when am I suddenly your bosom confidante?”

Midnight shook her head, her eyes wide as she took a step backward. “What? I don’t—”

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘I don’t understand you, I’m just a pony’ shit. Not after that big lecture from Golden Sword about what a cancer we are from just being here. I got dragged here against my will and suddenly I’m as welcome as the fucking bubonic plague just because I’m drawing breath.” Taylor gritted his teeth. “I’m sick to death of being told how much I’m not wanted around here when all I want to do is get back home before some critter with six tails and four mouths eats my ass. And don’t tell me how much you trust me when I damn well know better. Hell, you told me yourself. ‘Taylor, I’d lie to you with a smile if I thought you were a threat to my home,’” he mimicked savagely, his voice rising to a wavering falsetto.

She stood still for a moment, until the words clicked into place in her memory. “Wait, that?” Midnight stared at him, astounded. “I didn’t mean you! I was talking about William! I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t trust him! I wasn’t talking about you. I never meant I didn’t trust you.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe that?” Taylor snorted and uncrossed his arms, flapping them at her dismissively as he bent and began to pick up the wood once more. “Piss on it. I don’t care anymore. Maybe Thompson was right back in Canterlot. Maybe this is all just some damned setup. All I know is I’m gonna watch out for myself and to hell with the rest of the world.”

Midnight watched him in silence as he picked up the scattered brush piece by piece from where he had thrown it in anger. His words tumbled and spun inside her head, and she tried desperately to think of something, anything, to refute the horrible statement he had made. Everything she could think of came up empty, however... just words, more words, meaningless ones like the ones she had tossed off carelessly that had started this whole mess. Harmless in of themselves, they had turned on the man before her and somehow been twisted into poison. His image doubled, then tripled in her vision as her eyes filled with tears.

“Of course I trust you,” she said in a low voice. “You’re the only friend I have.” Choking back a sob, she lunged forward and seized her pack, slinging around one shoulder and turning to plunge blindly back down the hill toward the camp.

Taylor stopped and watched her flee, the golden sheen of her armor winking in and out of sight in the dim light before vanishing from view. He crouched where he was for a moment, then stood up and looked at the handful of wood he carried in one arm. One of the smaller branches had a fir cone still attached to it, and he reached up and plucked it off carefully, holding the fragile construction in one palm.

“Well, that’s just great,” he muttered, and flung it into the night.

Gruebel had just gotten the fire pit cleaned out to his satisfaction, an uneven row of rocks surrounding it to keep the damned thing from spreading out and setting the whole forest on fire. He was busy arranging the small bundle of kindling when the shouting from further up the slope had begun.

“What the hell is that?” He stood up, peering through the trees in the fading light, but was unable to see anything.

“Sounds like Th’ Lady is rather pissed aboot somet’in’.” William said. The gryphon had not bothered to join the others in going to gather wood or setting up the camp, and merely stood to one side, preening his wing feathers and looking incredibly bored.

“Yeah, I know.” Gruebel couldn’t make out the words themselves, but the breeze brought him enough of the noise to know that it was not a cry of distress or pain; someone was catching some serious heat. “Who the hell is she—”

Another, lower, heavier shout drifted back down to them, and Grubel immediately bent back to his work again, stripping the small branches and twigs and piling them up neatly in the center of the pit. “Okay, never mind.”

“Ey, d’at sounds like ‘er buddy, th’ tall fella,” William opined. “Wha’s goin’ on, ey?”

“Don’t know, don’t wanna know.” Gruebel tossed a branch to one side for later use. “Never get into the middle of somebody else’s argument. Especially when they’re both brass-hats.” He stood up and brushed the dirt off of the knees of his coveralls and grimaced. “Christ, they’re really goin’ at it. Everything within five miles of here is gonna hear that shit.”

Gallivan and Thompson appeared, the latter carrying several of the small, oddly shaped canteens that the ponies used for storing water. “What the heck is that ruckus about?” asked the sergeant. “We can hear it clear down to the stream down there.”

“I dunno, but the skipper’s gonna shit nickels if they don’t pipe down soon,” Gruebel growled. “I—” He broke off as Midnight trotted into the small clearing, her pack askew over one shoulder. Several small branches were secured in the other loop of the sturdy bag, dragging behind her as she stalked toward them. The Marines immediately busied themselves with unpacking the gear and finishing the setup of camp, setting out the satchels of food to one side and unfolding their bedrolls. Only William watched, intrigued, as Midnight walked over to where Gruebel still stood by the fire pit.

“Here’s a bit of wood to get you started,” she said in an unsteady voice. She paused and cleared her throat, then continued in a stronger tone. “Taylor should be along shortly with a larger load. If he doesn’t drop it on the way down the hill.”

“Thanks, Ell-Tee,” Gruebel replied neutrally. “This is fine to start with.” He untangled her pack strap from the wood and pushed the tinder to one side, handing her pack back. “I’ll get the fire goin’ in no time.”

“Certainly. Thank you, corporal.” She picked up the loose strap in her teeth and dragged her bag over to the far side of the clearing, tossing it onto her bedroll with a flick of her head. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No ma’am,” Gruebel said carefully. The sub-lieutenant was plainly in a state of high pissoff at the moment, and he didn’t want a dose of that. “Everything’s under control, here.”

“Well, that’s a pleasant change.” Midnight sighed heavily and then looked at William, who was still staring at her in fascination. “Can I help you with something?” she asked frostily.

“Oy, you’re all up aboot it, aren't cha?” William glanced back upslope, but there was no sign of Taylor at the moment. “What’d the big fella do, drop a piece o’ wood and scratch yer armour or somet’in’?”

Gruebel covered his face with one hand. Ohhhh shit, kid.

Midnight’s eyes narrowed until they became glittering indigo slits. “No. And I don’t want to hear another word out of you about it, unless you’d like to roost in a tree tonight.”

Sword and Stivers stepped into the clearing and made their way over to where Gruebel was doing his best to ignore everything but the small bit of flame he had just created. “I see you’re at your usual charming best,” Sword said as he passed the gryphon. “Keep up at this rate, and you’ll be able to alienate all of us by moonrise.”

William looked wounded. “Wha’ did I do?”

Sword ignored him and glanced over at Midnight. “All well, Lieutenant?”

“Yes sir,” she replied crisply. “Just... a minor difference of opinion.”

“Very well, then.” Without another word he handed off his bundle of wood to Gruebel and ambled over to sit down next to the growing fire. “Nice work,” he said approvingly, looking at the careful arrangement of stones. Gruebel had swept the ground mostly clean, down to the bare earth, and had cleared the carpet of fir needles away for another foot outside of that for good measure.

“Yessir, thank you,” Gruebel said. “I kinda wasn’t wanting to burn to death in my sleep, you know?”

“Don’t even joke about that shit.” Thompson shivered and sat down. “I still remember being stuck burning in that friggin bomber on the way down. When I finally punch my ticket, I hope to hell it never happens like that again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gallivan said agreeably. “I’m sure you’ll go out nobly. You’ll probably walk off a cliff or something.”

Thompson was just gathering himself for a suitably salty retort when he saw Taylor appear at the edge of the firelight, his arms freighted with another load of wood. “Heya, Lieutenant,” he called. “What do you think about this?”

Taylor blinked, coming to a standstill and holding the wood to his chest carefully. “About what?”

“Ol’ grumpy Gus here thinks I’m gonna end my days by falling off a mountain or something.” Thompson snorted. “Me, I plan on goin’ out like a hero. I’m gonna sacrifice myself for the ultimate cause.”

“What’s that?” Gruebel asked. He sat down, gingerly massaging his ankle. “Running like a little girl after you get your ass kicked playing acey-ducey?”

“Nah. When we get back home I’m gonna kill off a bottle of bourbon and then fling myself in front of all the dames waitin to welcome us back. I won’t let you guys down, I promise.”

“Thompson, the only woman waiting for you when we get back home is the meter maid waiting to collect on the fine because you double-parked out in front of the base,” Gallivan said. The sergeant stood up and walked over to Taylor. “I’ll take that, sir.”

“Huh? Oh. Thanks,” Taylor said, shifting the bundle of wood over to the Marine’s waiting arms. He looked around for a moment, then located his pack and walked over to pick it up. “I don’t think that’s the best end to my existence I could think of, Thompson.” He began rummaging through the backpack and moved over to sit down on the other side of the clearing from where Midnight lay.

Stivers took note of the placement, the two lieutenants seated across from each other with the campfire in between like the opposite points of a compass. He glanced at Sword, and the pony merely shrugged and said nothing.

“I always thought I’d get it charging a machine gun on some crappy beach somewhere,” Gruebel said. “War’s over now though. Besides, I get to fly my way into battle. Beats the hell out of sitting in a hole waiting to have an artillery shell fall on my head.”

“Yeah, and that’s thicker than the armor plating on a battleship,” Thompson said with a grin. “Shell’d just ricochet off and hit the guy next to you.”

“As long as you’re beside me then, I’ll never be afraid,” Gruebel shot back. “Hey, how about you, Lieutenant? You never did say how you’d like to go.” He looked expectantly at Taylor. “C’mon sir, give.”

Taylor didn’t respond for a moment, staring at the crackling flames as Gruebel fed the growing fire. “In the air,” he said at last. “I want to go out flying my plane. And I want to stay up there long enough to see the bastard that shot me down burn before I hit the ground.”

Silence filled the camp, broken only by the snapping sound as the hungry flames devoured the wood.

“Well, that beats walking off a cliff, I suppose,” Sword said at last. “Apple, anyone?”

Midnight shivered under the cloak that draped over her armor, warding off the chilly air as she paced slowly around the perimeter of the camp. The fire had died down to a low flicker, and she paused now and again to throw a piece of wood on it to keep it going before resuming her walk. She had asked for the low watch, the dull time of the night between midnight and the dawn when the body’s ebb was at its lowest, and she welcomed the bite of the cold air on her ears as she paced steadily. The cold kept her alert and awake, and better still, it kept her from thinking too much.

Well, mostly. The oddly morbid conversation amongst the humans had stuck in her head like a buzzing fly that just won’t leave you alone, no matter how much you switch your tail at the darn thing. What was it, she wondered, that had made them so callous regarding death, that they could just... chat about it? Even joke about it? They would talk, now and again, in bits and snatches, about the war they had just recently been involved in. It was always something horrible, and there was never any doubt that they were relieved it was all over. But the strange undercurrent in their voices hinted at something else... the memories were so incredibly sharp and brilliant for them it seemed, even about things that had happened years ago. It was as if the flames of their lives had been banked low, waiting for that brief moment for conflict to fan them to brilliance. If that was how humans really were, she could begin to understand Princess Celestia’s concern about having them in Equestria for any length of time.

She glanced over and saw Gallivan, curled up under his blanket, and suddenly felt ashamed. The sergeant had been relatively quiet of late, his sleep at least outwardly untouched by the dark shadows that had stalked him that night in the desert. There, at least, was one human who was not like the others. He certainly didn’t revel in “the good old times.”

That thought was totally unworthy of you, and them, she told herself abruptly. They’re professionals, and are just quite good at what they do. Which was certainly true enough. They were, if nothing else, far more experienced in combat than she was. The minor confrontation when she had first met the pilots notwithstanding, her first real encounter in combat had been the battle with the dust devils in the desert. Her training had taken over and she had reacted automatically at Sword’s first shout of trouble, ordering Taylor to cover her without a thought as she shot the creatures off of Shining Star. The human hadn’t even questioned her, had simply dropped back to support her without a word with the simple trust of one soldier for another. And he had stood by her while they crouched in the shadow of the bomber while the otherworldly scream of the machine gun had blown the demons into shreds.

Midnight stopped and slumped against a tree, finally allowing her to glance over at the other lieutenant’s sleeping form. Hearing him talk earlier had torn at her, the pain and longing in his voice evident as he spoke of flying once more, and perishing in battle in the sky. Having to stay mostly ground bound to accompany the humans was bad enough, and she could well understand how restricted he felt. Cramped, tied down and bound to the earth, and the poor man didn’t even have his own set of wings he could use to escape, even for a little while. When she’d tried to comfort him earlier in the day, she hadn’t been completely wrong about what had been bothering him. At least, not entirely. The root of it all seemed to come down to that little joke she had made, however. A harmless, simple little jest that wasn’t even directed at him, but had been taken entirely wrong.

Get a grip on yourself, filly. That voice that spoke up in her head occasionally began prodding her insistently. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was a silly little joke. If he wants to act like a little colt and be pouty about something that doesn’t even matter, then there’s nothing you can do to change his mind.

“But it does matter,” she whispered. “What can I do? He’s my friend.”

Is he? Is he really? After getting all worked up over nothing? After listening to you share your life’s biggest secret and then throwing it back in your face? That’s selfish of him, and inconsiderate. You can do better than that. That’s not a friend. You don’t need to put up with that. And you don’t have to.

Midnight rubbed her cheek with a forehoof and groaned. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with myself about this.” She drew in a deep breath and resumed her course around the outer ring of the camp area. It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that the little voice was rarely wrong...

A muffled rustle and snap of a twig off to her left made her freeze in place, the argument in her mind forgotten in an instant. She turned her head and gazed off into the darkness, her ears flicking slowly against the chill metal of her helmet. She cursed herself for having looked so long at the camp area; her night vision was mostly gone from the flickering light of the campfire and she waited impatiently for her eyes to adjust.

Another muffled snap, and then a rustling sound greeted her. Something was moving toward her slowly, something roughly her own size, or nearly so. Her nostrils flared as she tried to pick up a scent of some kind, but the wind was from behind her, so whatever was out there already knew she was there and what she was. She crouched down, her weight shifting to her haunches as she drew her bow out and nocked an arrow in place with one smooth motion.

“Go ahead, come on,” she hissed. The events of the day washed over her in a red wave and she was suddenly eager and willing, ready to transfix the creature drawing closer and watch it bleed. “Come on in and have a taste, why not?”

The ground before her was becoming clearer, standing out in sharp relief as the moon suddenly sailed out from behind a cloud and lit up the earth in silent, silver glory. A low line of undergrowth ten meters ahead of her shook as the creature’s weight pressed against it, and then it gave way.

William emerged from the bushes and stopped cold, staring at her, his beak open in shock. “Don’t shoot! It’s me, Lady!”

Midnight stood poised a moment longer, the arrow aimed squarely at the gryphon’s chest, and then she slowly released the tension on the bow and let it drop down. “What are you doing, you damned idiot? I almost shot you!”

“Sweet lovin’ Edna, I hadda go pee. Don’ you ever use th’ bathroom?”

“Oh for...” Midnight let her head roll back and she stared up at the cloud scudded sky for a moment. “Next time tell someone before you go like that.” She began shaking. “Don’t you ever leave camp without telling someone, do you hear me?”

“Sheesh. One minute you ponies is tellin’ me ta get lost, the next yer yellin’ at me because I stayed out past me bedtime.” The gryphon walked past her, eyeing her distrustfully as he headed over to where Gruebel lay. “Make up yer friggin’ minds, why don’t cha?”

“Stow it before you wake the others,” she snapped. “Now get back to bed.”

“Yes Mummy,” William said in a high falsetto and then scooted over and began worming his way under Gruebel’s blanket. “Oy, now that’s the wrong end, there...”

Midnight stood for a moment longer, watching him until the blankets had stopped moving. Her fore legs felt numb from more than the cold, and she trembled to think how close she had come to actually shooting the little fledgeling gryphon. The dull heat of anger had fled as abruptly as it had come and she slid the arrow back into the quiver on her side, reslinging her bow across one shoulder and pausing to take a deep breath of the frigid night air.

The stark brilliance of the forest around her faded back into murky night and she looked back up to see the milky orb of the moon almost obscured by clouds. There was a faint, misty halo around the circumference of the glowing sphere of light and she knew well enough from her basic flight training that bad weather was likely in the offing soon. She would have to let Sword know when he awoke. She resumed her patrol around the camp, ears flicking busily at each sound that came from the darkness that surrounded them, but these were only the normal sounds of the night, a faint rustle of wind through leaves and nothing more. Pausing to shift her quiver to a more comfortable position, she glanced down and saw Taylor’s sleeping form nearby. The pilot had rolled over in his sleep and his blanket had shifted to one side, and he reflexively curled up against the cold air, shivering.

Midnight looked at him for a moment, and then stepped over, catching one corner of the blanket in her teeth and tugging it gently until it covered his legs once more. She waited until he stopped shaking and was quiet again, and then moved on, continuing her watch as the night drained away.

Gruebel held out his right hand and let the snowflake settle into it, watching it melt into a tiny droplet of cold water. “Well if that ain’t the cat’s piss,” he grumbled.

“Well, we knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. I agree with you, though; I wish it had been later.” Golden Sword glanced up uneasily at the sky. The clouds had been thickening since daybreak, with a few last patches of blue fighting to be seen before being swallowed entirely by the undulating blanket that hung overhead. By the time they had finished breakfast and packed their things, the overcast was total. The combination of their height and the lowering clouds was unsettling; it was almost tempting to put up a hand or a hoof and see if you could tear a rent in the billowing mass above.

“You want to see if we can pick it up a notch, then?” Stivers glanced at Sword. “If this crap keeps falling steady, we’re gonna lose the trail in short order, and I don’t think there’s a whole lot of hotels open around here.”

“Agreed. You heard him, troops. Let’s move it. I don’t expect doubletime out of you, not on this slope, but let’s try for time and a half, shall we?” Without waiting, Sword moved off in the lead, his hooves moving in an odd stutterstep that was the bastard child of a normal pony’s walk and a full-out trot. The others followed, settling themselves into a long, single file line that stretched out for a full twenty meters, with Sword in the lead and Gallivan bringing up the rear.

“Why am I reminded of boot camp?” Thompson said to no one in particular. “Oh yeah, now I remember. Jogging uphill with a full pack. Oh, except now it’s up a mountain in the snow, instead of through the sand and hills in South Carolina. It’s great to see how much I’ve done with my life since then.”

“Save your wind, Marine.” Gallivan’s voice came floating back up the line to him. “You’re gonna want it back before too long.”

He was proven wrong, however. Twenty minutes into the jog, the path rose sharply in grade and began curving to the south. The ground was falling away on their left, the tree dotted slope getting lower and lower until the treetops on it were nearly at shoulder height on the humans. The ground to the right of them rose up as well until it became nearly a vertical slope blocking their view. Small stones and the occasional larger boulder lay in the narrowing path, a sure sign that rockslides were at least common in this area, and they all began casting nervous glances upslope to their right as they moved on.

The wind began freshening, its icy fingers tickling and prodding at the edges of their cloaks as they worked their way higher. The snowfall was thicker now, with occasional eddies in the wind making odd swirling and dancing patterns before their eyes for a few seconds, and then being torn away again as the wind tired of its play. Sword slowed their pace back to a walk, and the group instinctively drew closer together, bunching up until you could read out with a forehoof and touch your companion in front of you. Up ahead, the path narrowed to a ledge about a foot wide and wound around an outthrust spur of rock, twisting out of sight on the other side and appearing to bend back toward the southwest. The wind, still rising, gusted for a brief moment, the eddy around the outstretched rock making an unearthly wail as it fought free and flung icy spray in their faces.

“Oh, shit,” Stivers said unhappily. “There’s a damned crosswind on the other side of that thing. The wind’s almost full on out of the southwest... we go around that, we’re gonna be pinned up against the rock with no cover.”

“Should we hold up here, then?” Taylor asked. “Huddle up against the wall here and see if it slacks off some?”

“I don’t think that’s an option.” Midnight was peering up at the sky, watching the roiling motion of the clouds. “This is a fairly large front moving in, and it doesn’t look like it wants to go anywhere any time soon.” She flinched and snorted as a spat of snow struck her in the muzzle. “It could hang around anywhere from a couple of days to a week, from the look of it.”

“How do you know?” Taylor glanced up. “It could blow itself out overnight—”

“I took meteorology in my basic flight training,” she said curtly. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Taylor replied, biting back a retort. “I did indeed.”

“Well, I stayed awake for mine.” Midnight shivered, her wings clamped tightly against her sides. “We need to keep moving and find better shelter somewhere else, or else we’re going to freeze to death before morning. All these eddies will blow any fire out long before we can get it going, and if the wind shifts, we’ll have no protection at all.”

“Agreed.” Sword glanced back at the group and then looked up at Stivers. “I’ll go first. I’ll let you know how bad the crosswind is so the rest of you can prepare yourselves for it.”

Stivers returned his gaze evenly. “And what makes you a better choice than me for that?”

“Well, if I get blown off...” Sword’s wings flicked out to full extension and he grinned. “I can always come back for a second try.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. Goddam smart ass ponies.” Stivers chuckled and knocked his knuckles against the armor on Sword’s back. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He stood and watched the pegasus pace slowly forward and edge his face around the edge of the rock outcropping ahead, then draw back for a moment, shivering.

“Sweet Celestia, that wind’s cold!” he called back to them. “It’s got a bite to it, Captain, watch out for it!”

They huddled together and watched as Sword stepped fully out from behind the rock’s shelter and exposed himself to the full brunt of the wind. His cloak billowed out over his left shoulder, snapping testily in the wind as he moved carefully along the narrow ledge, placing each hoof firmly and pausing to test his footing before moving again. Slowly, step by step, he worked his way around the overhang until he was completely out of sight on the other side.

A long moment passed, and then they heard a faint call over the wind’s howl. “...up next!”

Stivers started to step forward, and felt a hand on his shoulder. “Pardon me, sir, do you mind if I cut in?” Taylor stepped around him and walked toward the outcropping.

“Charlie, wait.” Stivers moved forward to stop him. “Let me go. If the wind catches you—”

“No great loss. You still have a lot of ground-pounding to do, and that’s your forte. Besides, Mama Taylor’s lil’ boy was born to fly.” He gripped the outthrust rock in both hands and began to edge around it.

“Taylor, wait!” Midnight shuffled uneasily where she stood, her eyes on the lieutenant’s feet. “Watch where you—”

“Stow it,” Stivers said, holding up a hand in front of her. “Don’t distract him. Come on Charlie, don’t screw up now.”

“I can still hear you,” Taylor shot back. His fingers were almost immediately numb where they touched the rock, and he shuffled along carefully, the rough edges of the granite biting into his chest. He felt one of his feet shift position without warning, and he uttered a curse, his knuckles turning white as he increased his grip. “Watch your footing, there’s ice here!” He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Stivers and Midnight watching him, their eyes wide.

Stivers’ waved an arm, his mouth dropping open in a soundless shout as the wind stole his words away, but the meaning was clear. Go!

“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on straight,” Taylor growled. The wind tugged at him again and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to subside. A few seconds later it obliged and he opened his eyes and began shuffling around the rock again, keeping his gaze fixed on his own hands. Shuffle, shuffle, shift your grip. Wash, rinse, repeat. Finally, he risked a glance down and saw that the narrow ledge was once more a wide enough path that he could place his feet without feeling the dropoff beneath his boot heels. He felt his whole body relax, as if he were a gigantic clenched fist. “Holy shit, that was intense.”

“Wasn’t it, though?” Sword stood next to him, the pony’s cloak billowing in the wind. “You did fine, considering you’re twice my height and have half as many legs. I can see where the hands come in handy, though.”

“‘Hands come in handy?’” Taylor groaned. “You just made that one up, didn’t you?”

“I knew you’d like that,” the pony chuckled. He raised his voice and shouted over the howling gusts. “All clear! Next up!”

One by one each of them worked their way around the spur of rock. Midnight and Star came next, the mare stepping carefully past it without a word, while the stallion took a bit more time, eyeing his hooves mistrustfully and cursing every third or fourth step. Gruebel, Crimson Hoof and Shadow followed, and Sword flinched as he saw their cloaks swirling as the wind caught and tossed them about.

“We should have taken the damned things off before we started,” he growled to Stivers. “No help for it now, though.”

“They’ll be all right,” the Marine replied. He watched as Thompson began working his way around the rock. “They seem to have caught the hang of it—”

The wind seemed to draw itself back and then come raging at them suddenly, shifting almost sixty degrees in less than ten seconds. The flap on one side of Thompson’s pack flapped in the disturbance and then flew open, creating an opening which the gust sought eagerly. It filled the open gap and yanked at the hapless Marine, throwing him off balance and making him miss his grip. One foot slipped, and he wavered for a moment, tottering on the brink.

“HANG ON!!!” Stivers bellowed. He leapt forward, reaching out and slamming down on his chest on the rocky ledge, his outstretched arms seizing one of Thompson’s hands as the other Marine went completely over the side. Stivers heard the sergeant’s gasp as his body slammed into the rock of the mountainside, the impact shaking them both and nearly unseating his grip on Thompson’s arm. The jolt pulled him forward and Stivers flailed for purchase with his free hand as he felt himself slipping along the icy rock toward the edge.

Hands seized his left leg in a firm grip, and he felt a tug on his right, and his sliding motion stopped. He could sense the looming shape of Gallivan to one side as the Marine wormed his way around the rock. “Sir, hold on, I’ll—”

“Get your ass off that ledge,” Stivers hissed through clenched teeth. “You try and help now and you’ll go over the side with him. Who’s got my legs?”

“Taylor, Midnight and Star. Give me a second and I’ll help.”

“Hold my legs. You can’t do jack shit on this end.” Stivers looked down at Thompson’s pale, frightened face. “Hang on Howie, we’ll get you up in a jiffy.” The Marine nodded back at him with a jerk of his head.

He heard an outcry from Sword and saw a blur of motion in one corner of his eye. Shadow had thrown his pack and cloak aside and launched himself into the air, the wildly swirling currents tossing the pegasus about like a paper airplane. The pony did a complete barrel roll and fought his way back to the cliff edge, disappearing out of Stivers’ sight. Thompson’s weight eased suddenly, and Stivers grabbed hold of his arm with both hands.

“Now!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Pull us up!”

Behind him, Taylor and Gallivan began hauling back, slipping and sliding as their boots sought purchase on the icy rock. Midnight and Star did the same on the other side, their teeth clenched in the fabric of the leg of Stivers’ pants. Heaving and yanking, they pulled back until Thompson’s form was visible. The shaken Marine grabbed at the rock with his other hand and helped pull himself back up onto the ledge. Behind him, Shadow flailed at the air and managed to find purchase on the rock for his hooves and he alighted, folding his wings back to his sides and shivering uncontrollably.

Thompson rolled onto his back, panting, and stared at the pegasus. “Thanks buddy. You just saved my ass. You too, skipper.”

“No problem,” Stivers wheezed, slapping the Marine on the chest. “Just don’t do that again, huh? They warned you about walking off a cliff, remember?”

“I didn’t walk off, I slipped.” Thompson let his head roll back to rest against the frozen rock, looking up at the grey sky that still spat snow at them. “You grabbed me, and then Shadow damn near carried me back up on his back.”

“I just flew under you, put my head up against your flank and pushed,” the pony replied. “It was tough trying to stay airborne in that wind, though.”

“I bet.” Thompson suddenly burst out laughing, the adrenaline slowly draining away. “Good thing I didn’t shit myself when I went over, huh?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think of that.” Shadow chuckled and brushed reflexively at the crumpled crest atop his helmet. “I appreciate that, though.” He shivered again, his teeth chattering. “Um, anypony catch my cloak? I think I tossed it over—” He broke off, pointing with a forehoof past them, his eyes wide.

They all turned and saw a huddled shape on the path beyond them, the cowl of its own cloak thrown back to display the feathered head, the beadwork and other accents flying back as its feathers swirled in the wind. The gryphon’s yellow eyes regarded them for a moment, and then the beak opened and made a clucking noise.

“You know,” it said, “if you’d quit trying to save money and sign up for a tour group, this sort of thing would happen less often.”

Chapter 16: Contrapasso

The group simply stared at the newcomer for a moment, unsure of what to make of this apparition that had seemingly sprung from the rock itself. Sword opened his mouth to reply, but a scuffling and cursing came from behind them and he turned around to see William working his way around the rock in the path, his foreclaws clutching at the icy stone. The little gryphon looked up at them, opening his beak to say something to the prone Thompson, and then came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the stranger.

“Oh, look a’ tha’, will you? Y’er one of d’ose monks, ey?”

“Yes, and I presume all of you aren’t,” the larger gryphon replied in good humor. “Allow me to welcome you to the Shadow Whisper Mountains. Although it seems you’ve already encountered the rougher side of things.” He frowned, looking at the narrow path that wound around the overhang. “I’ll have to tell the abbott about that. There must have been a rock fall from higher up... that path was easily twice as wide last week.”

Sword stepped forward and ducked his head in a short bow of greeting. “That’s very nice, Mr... what was your name again?”

“Did I forget that again? My apologies.” The gryphon spread his wings out from underneath his cloak and bowed in return. “You may call me Terrence.”

“Terrence. My name is Golden Sword, and these are my companions.” The pegasus shivered. “And we’re very cold and tired. Is there someplace nearby we can rest out of the wind?”

“Oh yes, yes of course. Though it’s not out of the wind.”

“I beg your pardon?” Sword cocked his head quizzically.

“Resting place. It’s not out of the wind at all, no place is, not up here. But you will be when you’re inside, oh yes.” The gryphon tittered to himself and straightened up. “Follow along, and try not to fall off the mountain again. It’s a long climb back up, and there’s nothing new to see.”

They stared at in silence for a moment. Crimson Hoof glanced at Shadow, tapped a forehoof against his own helmet and crossed his eyes. “Somepony’s walkin’ around with only one saddlebag on,” he muttered.

The larger pegasus nodded, shivering as he slipped his cloak back over his armour. Slinging his pack, he began following the others as the gryphon led them on up the path. He caught Hoof’s eye again and shrugged, the motion speaking for him. What choice have we got?

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The path wound along the exposed southern face of the mountain, and they all hunched down against the blast of the wind which now openly hammered at them. The rock face behind them took the full brunt force of it, and several times they were nearly plastered flat against it as the gusts rose and fell. The path was much wider here now, however, wide enough that they could walk two abreast with plenty of space on either side of them, but they still instinctively clustered together near the rock face itself and stayed clear of the drop to their left. Thompson’s accident had shaken them... that had simply been too close for comfort.

Squinting through the swirling haze of snow around his face, Stivers could see a dim grey shape looming ahead. As they drew nearer, it resolved itself into a rocky defile, and the path led straight into it, the walls rising on either side of them and cutting off the brunt of the wind’s fury. They followed the gryphon thankfully into it, the rough contours of stone reducing the wind’s presence to a howling moan over their heads.

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely better.” Taylor jerked at the sound of his own voice, suddenly audible now in the narrow confines of the stone throat. He leaned forward, looking ahead at the shrouded gryphon in the lead. “Thanks, buddy, you’re a life-saver.”

“Hmmm? Oh, this is not our destination, oh no, merely the path to it.” Terrence paused and shook ice from his talons. “Much like life, our path winds up and around...and ends up at a high flat place with an amazing view.”

Taylor looked askance at the gryphon and then over at Sword. The pegasus ignored his glance and spoke up. “So I take it you live at a monastery up higher on the mountain, then?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Terrence looked at him with a dubious expression. “Why would you take it? I like living there.”

“What? I don’t quite follow.”

“Nonsense, you already are.” Terrence chuckled. “My, you are a confused bunch. I see why you’ve come to seek out enlightenment with us.”

“Uh, we didn’t exactly come here for enlightenment.” Stivers stepped in smoothly, seeing Golden Sword’s expression. “We actually came to—”

“Oh no, I was afraid of that. And I was so hopeful.” The gryphon sighed, pulling the cowl of his hood back and looking at them, disappointment evident on his features. “I was right the first time. You are tourists, aren’t you? That’s why I didn’t recognize the tall fellows.”

“We are not tourists,” Stivers said, his own annoyance beginning to rise. “We were sent here on a quest.”

“With ponies?” Terrence stared at him, scowling. “Oh please tell me they’re not trying to make the next Daring Do movie here. We already told the film company we don’t allow them to shoot this high up in the mountains.”

“Wait, they’re making another movie already? Sweet!” Star laughed, and then clammed up as the other ponies turned to stare at him. “What? The first one was cool.”

“That’s not why we’re here.” Midnight looked back at the gryphon. “We came here seeking the Pentachoron. Do you know of it?”

The twinkling light in the gryphon’s eyes died back a bit and he looked at her with renewed interest. “Ohhhhhh,” he sighed. “That actually makes sense. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“You didn’t actually ask us,” she replied levelly. “Did you?”

The gryphon’s face distorted oddly, and she realized he was doing his best to grin. “Oh, you’re good,” he said. “The abbott is going to love talking to you.” He brushed snow from his cloak and drew the hood back over his head. “Come on then, no time to dawdle. It’s almost noon, and lunch will be ready soon.”

Taylor looked up at the overcast sky overhead, slate grey scudded with faster moving white wisps that seemed to move in odd directions. “How the hell can you tell what time it is? I haven’t seen the sun for hours.”

Terrence stopped and lifted his left foreclaw, displaying a bright gleam of chrome and silver. “Picked this up last time I was in Clawttowa,” he said proudly. “NiCad battery, never needs winding. Keeps perfect time.”

“A what battery?” Taylor felt lost, as if he was back in the clearing on their first day in Equestria, their shattered aircraft still smoldering behind him. “Buddy, I have no idea—”

“You should pick one up on your way home. Don’t forget. And don’t let on I got a deal. The vendor’s my cousin. He’d hate it if I told everyone.” Without another word, the gryphon headed on up the slope, forcing them to fall in behind him or be left behind.

The defile angled sharply to the right and headed upward at a steep angle, cutting deeper into the rocky surface of the mountain. The slope they were on increased in its upward progress, and began showing signs of physical manipulation; there were rough steps carved into the granite surface that showed long usage, a deep dip in the center of each of them plainly visible. The walls on either side closed in, becoming narrower, but Taylor did not find this particularly bothersome like the tunnel at Clawttowa had been. There was still open sky overhead and plenty of light, and that feeling of being trapped in a cocoon never manifested itself. Craning his head up, he could see the lip of the top of the ledge above coming closer, and soon enough the emerged onto a level area. As soon as his head was clear, he looked around and came to a complete stop. “Holy cow...”

An impact in the back of his knees announced that his stop was a bit sudden for the pony following him. “Mind giving a warning before you just freeze up like that?” Midnight said testily. “I think I just dented my helmet.”

“To hell with that,” he said. “Midnight, come up here and look at this.”

“I would, if you weren’t standing in front of me. Not moving.”

Taylor resumed climbing the last of the steps, and Midnight followed him up, still trying to straighten her helmet on her head. A lock of her mane stuck out from under the edge, and she stopped for a moment, gripping the helm with both her forehooves and reseating it properly. “There. Now, what was it you so badly wanted me to... oh, my.” Her hooves dropped down, crunching on the snow as she stared about them.

The mountaintop here was almost completely flattened out in a wide, oval area, almost three hundred meters across and half that again long, forming a wide natural amphitheatre. Outthrust spikes of rock dotted the edge here and there, and she surmised they were in the remnants of an ancient volcano caldera, long since dormant. The flat surface was covered in a thin layer of snow that was steadily thickening due to the storm, but that was not what had caught her glance.

The monastery was immense. Seemingly built out of wood and stone, the structure towered up into the air before her, with thick wooden beams crossing together and forming an apex over the entrance. It was roughly rectangular, with semicircular ends forming a smooth curve on either side of it in contrast to the rest of the angular structure. It was at least four stories high, with steeply slanting roofs on each level, and what almost looked like a kind of minaret or cupola on the ends of the second level. Large wooden supports soared from each stage of it, and on their tips were hoof-carved (claw carved, who knew?) symbols and signs, looking cabalistic and somewhat ominous against the sky.

“Oh Celestia,” she breathed, her words carried away in white puffs in the wind. “Terrence, that’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” he replied proudly. “It’s outside too, but it’s the inside, I really like.”

“It must be marvelous if it looks anything like that,” she said, still staring at the building.

“Looks? Looks like home to me. Inside’s warm though, outside’s not. Want to try it?” Terrence clapped his wings together and shivered. “I’m cold.”

The interior of the building was just as impressive, Stivers found, and one hell of a lot warmer. The group had filed inside and stood in the large foyer area, struck to silence by the intricate cross-work of the beams and supports that held up the walls. Arching high overhead to the wooden ceiling and back down again in a series of inverted ‘v’ shapes, they formed a large part of the area they stood in. The foyer opened out into what Stivers supposed was a common area or meeting hall, and a stonework fireplace stood at the far end, well stoked and roaring merrily. He stood in place for a moment, closing his eyes and letting the warmth soak into him, hearing the snow melting and dripping off of his cloak onto the floorboards and not caring about the mess he was making. “Damn, that feels good.”

“Told you.” Terrence signaled with a foreclaw, and several other gryphons appeared and began helping the monk out of his cloak. “Don’t be shy, you can take off your garments here. Well, not all of them,” he laughed. “We just met after all.”

One of the other gryphons gathered their cloaks for them, eyeing them curiously but not saying anything as they handed over the heavy winter garments. He stopped at Gallivan and peered up at the tall human. The Marine found the unblinking yellow gaze unsettling, and he handed over his cloak with alacrity. “I want that cleaned, and go easy on the starch, huh?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Terrence said. The gryphon had walked over into the common area and settled himself on a wooden bench. “They don’t speak to anyone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them do it, anyway.”

The servant gryphon said nothing and hurried off with the stack of wet clothes. “What, they take a vow of silence or something?”

“No, they’re just horrible conversationalists. That’s why I talk to myself, mostly. You should try it sometime. I never have to worry about saying anything inappropriate, and I always know how to reply.” Terrence cackled with good humor and smoothed the feathers around his eyes with a foreclaw. “So, you’re here about the Pentachoron, are you?”

“Yes, that’s why we came.” Golden Sword walked idly about the room, peering up at the dim shadows where the firelight did not illuminate.

“Yes, I know, you told me that,” Terrence replied, sounding slightly annoyed. “Why state the obvious?”

“Because you asked,” Midnight said. She glanced at her commander, watching him pace around the end of the bench where the gryphon sat.

“Oh yes, I did, didn’t I? I forgot to, last time. Just making sure.” Terrence sighed and looked at the crackling flames in the hearth for a moment. “It’s been a terribly long time since anyone’s come about that little thing. It’s a shame, really.”

“How so?” Stivers moved forward and sat down on a nearby stool, wincing as it creaked under his weight. “I thought this thing was supposed to be some mysterious artifact.”

“Oh it is, it is. I was just hoping someone would come by and clean it once in awhile. It gets terribly dusty from disuse, you know.” Terrence shrugged and then brightened as one of the other monks appeared. “Oh, wonderful! Lunch is here! Would you... care to join me?” His voice sounded somewhat apprehensive.

“That sounds like a fine idea to me,” Stivers replied. “Um... do you have anything we could eat? We’re not exactly from around here, and we all have different ideas of taste.”

Terrence’s eyes widened. “You mean you’d all like to have your own separate meals?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother.” Sword rose. “Some of us eat meat, some don’t.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I don’t have to share my sandwich, then.” Terrence smiled. “Usually when I ask someone to join me for lunch they eat more than their share, and then I end up with the crust or something equally hideous.”

Taylor blinked, nonplussed. “Yeah, most of us usually have our own separate meals. It’s just the way we were raised.”

“Do you know how frightfully considerate that is? I’ll have to write that down sometime.” The gryphon immediately bent over the end table next to his bench and began digging at the wooden surface with a foreclaw, scratching out several alien looking letters before sitting back with a sigh. “There, all done.”

William had squeezed through the forest of legs and sidled up next to the older gryphon. He peered at the surface of the table and frowned. “Ey, you just wrote ‘that’ on yer table.”

“I said I would, didn’t I? I try to keep my word, you know.” Terrence eyed the smaller gryphon for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Or do you? I’d swear I’ve seen you before.”

William glanced around, shrinking down suddenly as everyone looked at him. “Uh, not that I know of. I’m from Three Peaks. Maybe in Clawttowa?”

“No, no no... oh, I know!” Terrence brightened. “I remember where it was!”

“Where?” Sword asked, his voice lilting innocently.

“It was outside!” Terrence clapped his wings together in delight. “I love it when those mnemonics classes pay off. Now then. About the Pentachoron.” The monk’s yellow eyes blinked at them as he regarded them steadily. “I’ll have to get the abbott’s permission for you to see it. I think I can get you a discount off the tour group rate, since there’s more than five of you and you do have a minor, we don’t charge full price for those—”

“Um, Terrence? We’re not here to take pictures of it. We’re not tourists, remember?” Stivers crossed his arms to put his hands in a safe place; he wanted to reach out and smack the monk so badly he could almost taste it. “We were sent here to... to retrieve it.”

Terrence frowned as the smaller servants appeared again, bearing in two large platters of sandwiches. “Retrieve it? Why? Did someone move it again? It was there last night when I checked.”

“No. I’m sure it’s still here. We were sent to retrieve it from here by Princess Celestia.” Stivers gestured to the other humans standing nearby. “We’re not from here. And we’re not from Clawttowa, either, or Canterlot. We’re not from this world. We need it to get home.”

The gryphon looked at him askance, his eyes narrowing. “You want to use it to get home? Forgive me for saying so, but it’s kind of small, and doesn’t roll very well. You wouldn’t fit on it anyway, not all of you.” He reached down and snagged one of the sandwiches off of a platter, biting into it with a muffled crunching sound.

Gruebel stepped forward and eyed the sandwich carefully. “What the hell is in that? Is that bacon?”

Terrence stopped chewing and moved his beak experimentally. “Yes...?”

“Real bacon? Not hay bacon? Honest to God Bacon?” Gruebel pressed.

“Actually, it’s pork bacon, I think.” Terrence looked at him oddly. “What’s an Honestogod? Some kind of shrew?”

“Nevermind.” Gruebel picked a sandwich off one plate and stacked it on top of another, helping himself to both. “Hello, lovely. It’s been a while.” He bit down on the sandwich and closed his eyes in utter bliss. “Oh, that’s... perfect.”

Midnight picked a sandwich off of the other platter, peering under the bread warily to confirm there was nothing but vegetable matter hidden inside. “Its magic, Terrence.” she said quietly. “We need the Pentachoron so that Princess Celestia can use its magic to send them home.”

The gryphon stopped in mid-chew and looked at her keenly, his eyes narrowing abruptly. He chewed twice and swallowed heavily. “Ahh, so that’s it. You should have said so.”

“You didn’t ask. Again.” She smiled crookedly at him.

Terrence groaned and clapped a wing to his head. “Oh, drat, I did it again, didn’t I? Well. You can’t see it anyway, not now.” He uncurled his wing and waved toward the roof aimlessly. “If it’s to be used properly, you have to have a clear, sunny day, and that’s out of the question at the moment. Besides, only the abbott can admit you to the archive chamber where it’s stored. And I can’t bother him at the moment anyway; he’s having lunch too, you know.”

Taylor stared at the gryphon, his jaw agape. “You mean we can’t even see it until the sun comes out again?” He waved his arms angrily. “Hell, that could take weeks—”

“Days,” Midnight interrupted. “I told you, a few days to a week.”

“Days, then,” Taylor continued, shooting her a glare. “What the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

Terrence sat silently for a moment, one talon tapping against his lower beak in thought. Brightening, he looked up at Taylor and motioned with a foreclaw. “Have a sandwich while you wait?”

Fluttershy,

We finally made it to the monastery. Our trip up the mountains was long, arduous, and cold, but finally, we are here. I can’t even begin to describe the building we are now residing inside, as that would most likely do it a great injustice.

Oh well, can’t learn without failing, right? The outer courtyard is massive, sculpted statues of what I can only assume are griffon heroes dot the perimeter. the building itself is like a giant piece of art; Sculpted pillars, giant sculpted oak doors, various images sculpted into the sides of the building. I think the monks really like to sculpt...

The inside is even greater, by leaps and bounds... Imagine the inside of Canterlot palace, but amplify that by a magnitude of at least 10. Symbols line the walls, with meanings I can’t even begin to understand, and from what I can tell, neither do the monks.

The monks themselves are a fun lot, or at least one of them is. Terrance. His name is Terrance. And he is the only monk who seems to have working vocal cords... He won’t say why the others don’t talk, but they seem to hold Terrance in high regard regardless.

Our goal, the object we went on this quest for, is locked away in this temple. Somewhere, so close, and yet still so far. Terrance informed us that only the abbot could give permission for travelers to see it. And he also said ‘The the abbot was going to be entertaining guests for a bit, and that we were not to disturb him.’

I was sneaking around a little earlier looking for the abbot and his guests, but when I got to the abbot’s chambers, they were empty. Everytime I check somewhere where the abbot would be, or even should be, he is never there. I have found no clue of his guests either. There may very well be parts of this monastery that are secret, because not even Terrance seems to be able to keep track of all the guests.

I forgot to mention the weather. It’s dreadful right now. We were assigned beds in the various gender specific wings. I get to share the female wing with 30 some griffons, who are just as mute as the rest. I’ve been observing them in their nightly ritual, and seems that before bed (which is at sundown for most of the monks) they all press their heads to the floor in some kind of ritual. Their mouths move as if they’re talking, but all I can think of is silent prayer... I’m not entirely sure what these gryphon monks are praying about... or for... or to...

Regardless, they may know how to put up a grand building, but their beds leave something to be desired. It’s not much more than a padded mat, but sleeping outdoors for a couple of weeks has made me very appreciative of even that much. Sleeping on rocks sucks.

Back on the topic of weather; It’s snowing outside like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve never seen a winter storm like this before, even in the mountains around Canterlot. I guess it’s because we’re so far south or something, but it’s something that’s got to be seen to be believed. The wind is really howling... and I don’t mean that it sounds like howling, I mean it’s literally howling. It’s nice and warm in here though. I have my own little fireplace (because the griffons are all asleep) and everything, so it’s not really too bad, but the windows are a bit drafty. I can see the corner of the page of my journal flipping up and down in a little breeze that’s coming through one pane of glass. I guess it’s not sealed very well, or it’s just old. This whole place looks so ancient. I wonder how long it’s been here?

I really wish you were here right now. That wind’s making me shiver a bit...I wish you were next to me and we could sit here and talk together. It would be warmer... I’d be warmer.

There is... another topic I’ve been avoiding. It is really plaguing me, and I don’t know how to go about dealing with it. The weather is making us all irritable, and I guess something like it was bound to happen... but it was such a stupid reason!

Let me just get to it. I’m dodging around it like some filly who tripped over a hornet’s nest. I had a fight with Taylor the other day. Not a kicking or biting fight... I don’t think he’d ever do something like that to anypony. But we had an argument, you know? Back when we met the little gryphon (he’s still with us, can you believe it?), I made a sillyfilly joke about being able to lie to anypony’s face if they were a danger to us, or to Equestria. I was talking about the little gryphon, I mean, we’d just met him and all, and it was kind of odd the way he just... showed up that night. I wasn’t the only one, and we’ve all tried to be careful around him, although he really is kind of pathetic sometimes. I think he had to grow up too soon... I know how that feels.

The fight, though... Taylor thought that what I’d said was about him. Because of what the Princess Celestia had told him and the other humans back in the library that day we brought them in. That they could destroy us. I believed her then... I’m not so sure now. I don’t think she was lying to all of us, but I think she might have been wrong, at least a bit.

Taylor got mad... and I think he’s been mad, for awhile now, because of what I said. He’s wrong about it... it was never about him. But he got really angry and said nothing I said mattered because I didn’t trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me anymore because of it. And it blew up because I told him about you! He... I really thought he was my best friend, the only one I’ve really had since I was little. He asked about what I kept writing and I said it was to you, that you were my very special somepony... yes, you are, and yes, I said it. I said it out loud, and I felt so glad, because I thought he’d be happy for us, you know?

Well, he wasn’t. He got this stupid confused look on his face, and I HATE it when he looks like that, because I know he’s NOT dumb! He acts like a total ass sometimes and it’s really annoying because I know he does it to hide how he really feels about things! Then he said you and I couldn’t be together because we’re both mares, because you and I couldn’t have children so we shouldn’t be together and what the HELL does that have to do with loving anypony? Maybe it’s because he’s human, maybe it’s a stupid human thing, and if so, then it’s no wonder they’re always fighting each other all the time and trying to kill each other with those machines they like to make for every single stupid thing they do.

I know this probably upsets you to read, but I have nowhere else to go now. I got mad at him for just.... I mean, I could have dealt with it if he’d just said he didn’t approve or didn’t like it and just left it alone. It would have hurt, but I could have lived with that. No, he had to do his stupid STUPID Taylor crap again and make a joke out of it. And that was when things turned really bad. I yelled at him and told him to stop laughing about it, because it wasn’t funny. Then he yelled at me and then I found out what he really thought. That I didn’t trust him and that I was just following along and watching them, like Captain Sword keeps telling me to do, and that’s not the way it is! Or was. Oh, WHATEVER! He made me feel guilty because of something I said which I didn’t even mean about him, and that’s what really fries my flanks. I didn’t DO anything wrong! I couldn’t say anything else after that. I was just upset and ran away from him. I ran away again, like a coward.

I really don’t know what to say to him anymore. So I just try to keep out of the way and avoid him now. How sad is that? I know he’s upset, too, and sometimes I actually think about trying to talk to him again... but I won’t be laughed at again, Fluttershy. I will NOT. This whole mission has been full of secrets and half-told truths since the start and I am so tired of it all. I’m tired of being a guardspony and having to look out for everything at once. I’m so far away from you now, and all I want to do is go home, sit down with you and just be there. Everything feels wrong now, and I’m afraid, really afraid, and I don’t know why.

I miss you so much. I hope you think of me today... or tonight. Maybe it’ll clear up, and we can both look at the sky together. Maybe at the same star, at the same time...

Oh Celestia, I wish you could really read this, Fluttershy. I love you.

~Midnight

The old door was slightly ajar, and Taylor knocked once and pushed it open enough to poke his head through the gap. It creaked slightly and he saw Midnight Arrow jump at the noise. The mare sat at an old desk in one corner, and she slammed the book in front of her shut and whirled to stare at him, wide-eyed.

“Sorry, I, uh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He glanced at the door. “It was open a bit, and I just thought, uh...”

Midnight’s frightened expression eased off a bit, and she nodded. “It’s fine,” she said neutrally. “I normally leave it open a bit unless I’m asleep.”

He looked at the book and recognized the scuffed grey cover immediately. “Writing again, huh?”

“Yes.” The pegasus twisted slightly, reaching down to pick up her pencil where it had fallen from the desk, gripping it in her teeth and rising up to drop it neatly next to her journal. “What did you want?”

All of last week. To do over again. Taylor took a deep breath and began again. “A couple of us are down in the common room with Terrence.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Thompson is trying to show him how to play pinochle with a deck of gryphon Tarot cards.” The pilot chuckled. “It’s so many kinds of wrong, I’m not sure who’s winning or losing.”

“I don’t know what that game is,” she replied tonelessly, and shrugged. “I don’t think I’d get much out of it, but thank you for asking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, right, sorry.” Taylor leaned against the doorjamb, looking away from her at the fireplace on the other side of the room, the flames slowly turning the wood to glowing ash. Midnight’s armor was stacked neatly beside the mat she used as a bed, the burnished golden surface reflecting the gleam of the fire and flickering hypnotically. He focused on that and tried again. “Um, anyway, you’re welcome to come hang out anyway, if you want.”

“No, I have a few things here I need to work on. I’ll see you at dinner time, though.” She turned away, the thick ebon sheaf of her mane falling over her near side and obscuring her face from him. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Dismissed. The word hung unspoken in the air between them, but he’d heard that tone enough from senior officers before to recognize it, and it burned. Technically speaking, he outranked her by at least one or two grades, at least as far as he’d been able to determine, but now wasn’t the time to discuss the niceties of rank and protocol.

“Right,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Sorry to disturb you.” He yanked his head back and pulled the door to once more, leaving it just barely ajar as he’d found it. To hell with it. If she wanted to close it, she could damn well get up and do it herself. He did a neat right-face on his boot heel and stalked back down the hallway toward his own room, in what he thought of as the “men’s barracks.” He’d grab his cloak and his pack of Luckies and go outside to have a smoke so he wouldn’t burn this wooden mausoleum down, and then come back inside and play some cards with Howie, Crimson Hoof and that nutball gryphon and forget about everything else for a bit.

Sure, go ahead, ignore it. That’ll make everything better.

“Oh, go to hell,” he snarled at the door of his room. Kicking it open, he walked across the small space to where his own bedroll lay and crouched down, rummaging through his pack. “I asked her if she wanted to come out, she said no. Fine. Dunno why I bothered in the first place. God damn it where the hell are... ah.” His fingers seized upon the paper wrapper tucked into the corner of his bag and pulled it out carefully. “Damn moody pony with a case of the monthlies wants to stare at the wall, fine.” His voice dropped into a passable imitation of Humphrey Bogart. “It’s just you and me, kid,” he said to the pack of cigarettes. “In all the monasteries, in all the towns, in all this frigged up world, you hadda walk into mine.” He shook one cigarette halfway out of the pack, tucked it into a corner of his mouth, and grabbed for his cloak. Shrugging it on, he spun and walked out into the hallway, and stopped, listening.

The corridor formed a “T” here where the hallway that connected the male and female quarters intersected. There was a series of low noises coming from one of the quarters in the women’s section, from the one he had just fled a moment ago. He couldn’t place the sound for a moment, and then it clicked home. He’d only heard it once before, and that had been only recently. He walked forward slowly, reaching up and removing the cigarette without thinking and tucked it into a pocket. Stopping beside the still partially open door, he tilted his head and looked through the open gap.

Midnight sat before the desk as before, her head down on top of her crossed forelegs, crying. Her shoulders shook with the effort it took to try and keep the sound in, but the muffled sniffling still carried clearly and smote Taylor on the ears. He felt his face burn and he looked away, quickly.

Jesus Christ, either say something now or just leave her alone. Turn around and walk away before she hears you. Or sees you. She already made her point, and so did you, so better if you leave her alone before you fuck up again, you idiot.

He started to back away, and then froze as he saw her move. Her head had lifted and she was looking away from him, at the rickety window beside her desk. He could see the frost gathered at one corner of the lower pane and the dim shape of her reflection in the glass as she looked outside.

Did she see my reflection? he thought, panicked. No, she’s just looking at the snow. Leave for God’s sake!

He took two quiet steps backward away from the door, and stopped as he heard her voice fill the air in the tiny room, shaky at first and then stronger as she began singing quietly.

The southern wind is speaking loud

Its voice as cold as stone

It speaks of memories, sad and proud

And thoughts of you at home

I hear it whisper, quiet now

Of all that’s come to pass

It tells me not to worry, how

That nothing really lasts

But I know that you’re still out there

Across the miles I see

That shining place, your smiling face

You’re waiting there for me

Though angry eyes and cloudy skies

Will try to hem me in

I’ll pass them by and fly away

No matter what any of them say

I’ll find a way to come back home

To you.

The northern wind is speaking now

Its voice is warm and kind

It whispers to me, it tells me how

To leave this pain behind

I hear it whisper, gently of

How safe that you must be

It tells me not to worry, love

That you still pray for me

And I know that you’re still out there

Across the miles between

This barren land, the burning sand

Among the hills of green

Though angry eyes and cloudy skies

Will try to hem me in

I’ll pass them by and fly away

No matter what any of them say

I’ll find a way to come back home

To you.

Midnight’s voice broke on the last word and Taylor heard her crying again. He reached out and touched the door for a moment, feeling the rough grain of the wood against his palm.

Leave it alone. Remember why you’re here. Sword had been right. The pilots had brought enough strife and misery into the lives of the ponies. The sooner this was over with, the better, before something else happened. They would be gone quick enough anyway, once the weather cleared and they could finally get to use the damned artifact hidden in this place to go home.

Turn around and leave it alone. Leave her alone. You owe her that much, at least.

He stared at the door for a moment longer, then lowered his hand and slowly walked away.

Crimson Hoof sighed and pushed the coverlet away from himself, shivering a bit as the cold air hit his fur. It was delightfully warm and comfy just lying in the bedroll, with all the cold air on the other side of the covers, but the pony had gone to bed early last night and had woken up in the small hours of the morning. Out of consideration for anypony else who might be sleeping, he had laid in the dark for three quarters of an hour now, staring at the ceiling and thinking absent thoughts and trying to go back to sleep. They had been at the monastery for two days now and there were only so many times you could play a game with someone, or try to have a conversation with a non-responsive gryphon monk, before things got a bit boring. The pony rolled upright and sat still for a moment, debating on whether or not to go into the common room and just sit in front of the fire and hope the warmth of the blaze would put him back to sleep until somepony else woke up.

He eased his hooves onto the floor and winced, flattening his ears at the loud creaking noise from the wooden boards underneath him. Each of the ponies and humans had been given their own room to stay in, and Hoof had found the vacant accommodations somewhat suspicious until the gryphon Terrence had told them that the monastery was rarely ever more than half full of residents. It had originally been built centuries ago when there had been a larger number of occupants, but as the older residents had died off or moved away, there had been fewer and fewer replacements. Apparently being a member of this particular order was not the going thing among gryphon society.

I can understand why, the pony thought absently, stretching and listening to his joints pop. If I had to move up here and spend all day staring at the end of my nose and thinking deep thoughts, I’d look into a change of occupation myself.

He glanced at his armor and decided against trying to put it on. He wasn’t on duty, he had no intention of going anywhere worth mentioning, and the thing was just too noisy to put on. It only had a couple of simple straps and buckles, but the brass and gold fittings invariably knocked against the armor plate when you were trying to put it on, and he didn’t feel like arousing Golden Sword’s wrath. The captain was notoriously fond of his sleep, and waking him up by accident would be something Hoof categorized under “unacceptable mission risk.” The pegasus stepped carefully across the room, wincing at each creak of the floor, and then stopped, his ears perking up fully, suddenly aware of how quiet the place actually was. It took him a moment to identify it, and he felt a bit foolish at how long it had taken him to notice.

The wind outside had stopped. At least it had given over from the moaning howl that had been droning on monotonously in the background of Hoof’s hearing for the past two days. Gingerly working his way over to the window, he peered outside and could dimly make out the outline of the edge of the rocky escarpment that formed the edge of the plateau they were on. Snowflakes still ticked off the window at irregular windows, but it was a quiet, gentle sound now instead of the steady hiss that the storm had thrown upon them since their arrival here. The weather system was slowly passing, just as Midnight had said it would. Another day or two and maybe the sun would show up and they could get the hoof out of here.

He sighed again, seeing the condensation from his breath form on the inside surface of the glass. Nopony else was likely to be up, but sitting here was just as boring as lying in bed, he decided. Might as well go look at the fire and see if it’s still orange, or something. He walked carefully across the room and took the old-fashioned ringbolt handle of the door in his teeth, turning it carefully with a twist of his head until he heard it click.

The door squeaked as he pushed it open and peered out into the corridor. Similar doors lined both sides of the hallway, all closed, with presumably sleeping pilots, ponies and gryphons behind them. Golden Sword’s room was right across from his and he closed his own door carefully, wincing again as it squeaked shut.

Somepony around here needs to oil the hinges. And the floor. And every other hoofin’ thing around here.

He trod carefully past Sword’s door on the left, then past Taylor’s, and Shadow’s across from it on the right. Turning left at the intersection where the male and female quarters met, he trotted down a short passage and descended a small flight of four steps that led into the central common area, the ever present firelight making him stop and squint while his eyes adjusted from the darkness. Blinking rapidly, he saw Terrence slouched along one of the many benches in the central area, apparently reading a book and eating popcorn out of a bowl. The gryphon looked up at him, chewing, and waved. “Up early.”

“Yeah. Got tired of lyin’ around in bed.” Hoof stretched out a hind leg and yawned. “What time is it, anyway?”

Terrence looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “About five o’clock or so, Equestria time.”

Hoof blinked and looked at him oddly. “Uh. What time is it in gryphon time, then?”

“About five o’clock or so.”

Crimson Hoof shook his head and shot the gryphon an annoyed look. “Then why’d you tell me what time it was in Equestrian time if it’s the same buckin’ time?”

Terrence clacked his beak and grinned. “If I’d said five o’clock our time, you’d have asked me what the pony time was, wouldn’t you?”

The pegasus gritted his teeth and nodded. “Okay, you win. What time’s breakfast?”

“Pony time or gryphon time?”

“From now,” Hoof grated. It really was too early for this pile of horseapples.

“Well, in that case, I guess it’d be at breakfast time. Which would be in a couple of hours.”

“Okay, thanks.” Hoof looked around for a moment, nonplussed. He really had meant to just come in here and curl up in a chair or on a bench and try to snooze the remainder of the night away, but any further desire to sleep was mostly gone now, and he really didn’t want to sit in the same room with this kooky gryphon. He bit his lower lip, debating a moment, and then trotted into the foyer. Spotting his cloak, he gripped it in his teeth and pulled it from the rack that hung next to the door with a lithe twist of his head. “I’m gonna go outside for a few and get some air.”

“Why?” Terrence stopped and sniffed carefully. “There’s plenty of it in here. Isn’t there?” An alarmed look appeared on his face. “At least I thought so.”

“Never mind. I’ll be back in a bit.” Crimson Hoof shrugged his cloak on, wrapping it around himself carefully and hooking the clasp at his neck. It was a looser fit than normal, having been designed to be worn over armour, and it rasped slightly against the floor as he pulled the front door open and walked outside. The light dusting of snow in the entranceway crunched under his hooves as he pulled the door shut, and then he walked slowly out into the monastery’s courtyard, lifting his hooves carefully and feeling for purchase as the icy cover got deeper. The cold bit into him at once and he stopped for a moment, shivering and looking about.

The ancient caldera that formed the plateau where the monastery stood was covered in a deep, even field of white, glimmering softly in the dim light. The sky was still overcast, the snow still coming down in a silent, steady curtain, but it was a fairly tame looking coverlet of rippling clouds overhead, and not the roiling mass of confusion that had been in place during the storm that had greeted their arrival. It seemed odd that the gryphons allowed such chaotic weather and he wondered if their weather squads were just bad at their job or if the place was like the Everfree forest, and the winds and rain just showed up when they liked.

Mentally shrugging, Hoof resumed walking, pacing aimlessly through the dense pack of snow, pausing every third or fourth step to flick the icy crust from his forehooves like a cat. It was deeper out here, the thick snowfall coming up to his belly as he pushed through it, a lone ship in a white sea. He saw a shapeless lump of snow up ahead and angled towards it, drawing even with it and stopping to rest, his breath pluming out before him in small white jets.

“What have we got under here, huh?” he muttered under his breath. The sound of his voice fell flat, swallowed up by the steadily falling snow. He felt his mane prick up in alarm and he looked around quickly, relaxing a bit when he saw the warm yellow glow from a few windows visible about thirty meters behind him. Walking around out here because he was bored and then getting lost would have been a sorry way to start the day, and would have taken some explaining when he got back, for certain. He turned back to the lump in the snow and lifted a forehoof, tapping at it gingerly. They hadn’t taken a particularly detailed look around the place when they’d arrived, and he didn’t want to crack his hoof against a piece of stone sculpture or a birdbath. The snow flaked away and dropped, and he saw a hint of deep green, the smell of wood and sap wafting toward him.

Crimson Hoof began brushing carefully at the greenery, uncovering a small fir sapling less than a meter in height. Digging down a bit more, he reached the base, and saw that the young tree had somehow managed to take root in a small crack in the rocky ground that formed the floor of the basin. He began pushing the snow further away from it, clearing a small open space until the sapling was completely free of the covering, and stood back to admire his hoofwork.

“Fly away, young one, fly away and join your siblings! You’re free!” Hoof chuckled and snorted, feeling a little foolish but not really caring. He didn’t exactly know why he’d bothered, but the scene looked... right, somehow. The mound of snow he’d piled up around the periphery spoiled the effect somewhat though, and he mulled it over for a moment, then grinned to himself, his ears pricking up straight in delight. Reaching out with his forehooves, he crouched down and dug into the white coverlet of snow in front of him, dragging it towards himself and hugging it against his chest until he had a large shapeless mass of snow clumped together about half of his size. He sat back and put his forehooves on it, pushing carefully near the base, and grunted in satisfaction as the mass lifted up and rolled forward, gathering more snow with it as it moved. It tipped over and flopped down, and he repeated the motion, rolling it carefully around the edge of where he’d been clearing the tree, the mass of snow and ice slowly growing in size. The pegasus made two circuits of the sapling, lifting, pushing and guiding the snow with his forelegs and hooves until he was satisfied he’d reached critical mass.

Time to build a snowpony.

He pushed the mass down carefully, seating it against the hardened crust underneath until it refused to move when he tapped it with a hoof. He began smoothing out the top of it, brushing aside little hardened clumps of ice and making a low, curved surface that vaguely resembled a pony’s back. The sides were next, and then the hard part, the belly; you had to dig the snow away carefully to try to make the legs come out, but if you dug too hard, you were liable to pull the pony’s leg off, or worse, take a chunk of snow out from the belly and then you’d have all hell to pay to try and get the shape right again. He cleared the central portion out until the legs finally began to take a rough semblance of the proper form and then paused for a few moments, blowing on his tingling hooves and letting them warm back up as he regarded the snowpony with a critical eye.

A crunching sound drifted up from behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see a tall, huddled mass walking toward him, heavily bundled in one of the patchwork cloaks that the humans had been given. It was still fairly dark, and Hoof sniffed for a moment before waving a hoof in greeting. “Hey, what’s up? What’re you doin’ out here?”

“Was wonderin’ the same thing about you. Terrance said you’d gone out, figured I’d come say howdy.” Gruebel sniffed hard and exhaled a long plume of white into the frosty air. “Colder than a witch’s tit up here.”

Hoof had prided himself on being able to interpret the euphemisms the humans tossed out for the other ponies, but it took him a minute to puzzle that particular one out. He finally got it and snorted in laughter. “I guess so. Woke up, wasn’t tired, didn’t feel like sitting next to the featherhead in there. Every time he opens his mouth I get a headache.”

“Don’t I know it.” The Marine eyed the construction of snow and ice before them for a moment and then chuckled. “Well I’ll be damned. You makin’ a snowman?”

“Snowpony.” Hoof’s cheeks colored slightly and he snorted at a snowflake that had drifted into one nostril, wiping at his face with a forehoof. “Almost got the body done, but I have to get the head made now. That’s the toughest part.” It was also the part he’d never really been good at. You either left a little snow to make the head and it looked too small, or you made a nice head that always ended up falling off the end of the neck, and then the other colts laughed at The Headless Snowhorse.

Gruebel took out a cigarette he had bummed from Taylor the previous evening and stuck it in a corner of his mouth. “Huh. Mind if I help?”

The pegasus blinked, then shrugged, mildly surprised at the offer. “Sure, if you want. Think you can make him a head?”

There was a muted clink as Gruebel flicked open his lighter and the flame glowed bright orange in the dimness as he cupped it carefully around the end of the cigarette for a moment, then snapped it shut. He dragged deep and exhaled, a cloud of smoke and steam obscuring his face momentarily. “Sure thing. It’s a he, huh?”

“Well, duh.” Hoof gestured toward the carefully arched neck he had painstakingly smoothed out with his hooves. “Can’t you tell?”

“You’re the boss, whatever you say.” Gruebel looked around and then crouched down, scooping up a double handful of snow and beginning to press it together. “See if you can find a long stick or something. Doesn’t have to be thick, just long.”

“Okay.” Hoof glanced around, then trotted over to the sapling he had uncovered and began nosing through the snow around it. A brief search yielded nothing, and the pony was just about to give up when he spotted a small dark shape poking up out of the white coverlet near the sprig of green. Pawing at it carefully with a forehoof, he uncovered a small wooden shaft just over a foot long, rounded at one end and broken off at the other. “Check this out. Will this work?”

Gruebel stood up with a grunt and walked carefully over to where Hoof was pointing. The Marine bent over and fished the wooden remnant out, brushing away the ice and dirt that caked its surface. “Yeah, this’ll work. Looks like the handle off of a hoe or a shovel or something.” He reached up and tweezed a splinter from the ragged end and tossed it over his shoulder. “Now we’re cookin.”

Crimson Hoof trotted along behind him as Gruebel walked back to the body of the unfinished snowpony and watched as the man carefully began working the wooden handle into the neck area. “Uh... what are you doing?”

“Gonna give his head somethin’ to stick to.” Gruebel slowly pushed the handle down until half of it was invisible, buried in the curved neck area. “It’s all about the balance.”

“Oh, I get it!” Hoof saw immediately what Gruebel was referring to and felt somewhat foolish, although to be fair, the last time he’d tried to build something like this, he’d just been a little colt. “Nice, we can put whatever we want to on there, now.”

“Knock yourself out.” Gruebel motioned to the lump of snow next to his left boot. “I got the head kinda formed up, but you’re probably better at this than I am.”

The pegasus stared at the featureless snow head for a moment, then grinned fiendishly. “I got an idea.” He crouched down and began chipping at the mass of snow and ice delicately with one hoof, cursing under his breath as a too-large chunk flew away and had to be packed down again. “Oh, this is gonna be wicked.”

Gruebel looked over his shoulder from where he had been clearing away the snowpony’s hooves. “Do I even wanna know?”

“I’m totally putting the captain’s face on here.” Hoof snickered, the sound somewhere between a low laugh and a whinny. “The Ice King of Pegasi himself.”

Gruebel snorted. “Does this attitude have anything to do with the fact that you’re still a corporal? Not that I have a problem with it, I’m just curious.”

The pony looked at him, surprised and a little embarrassed. “Um... yeah, a little. Okay, maybe a lot, I guess.” He looked down and resumed working on the face, and Gruebel could see dim outlines of features emerging rapidly from the ice. “You know how Mr. Taylor always says this stuff, then has this look on his face because he didn’t mean for anypony else to hear it?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that a couple of times.”

Hoof continued to work busily, scraping a forehoof carefully down one side of the head, and a jawline emerged from the snow sculpture. “Well, I kinda say stuff, but I really could care less if anypony hears it.” He paused and looked at the head critically, then nodded to himself and began working on the opposite side. “I made corporal because I’m really good at what I do. I’m still a corporal because I could care less about why I’m doing it.”

Gruebel took another drag on his cigarette, the ember glowing a cherry red in the dimness. “Not really liking army life, I guess?”

“Hate it.” Hoof laughed again, the sound a little forced this time. “I joined up because if I hadn’t, I probably would have ended up getting kicked out at home.” He paused for a breather, sitting back and closing his eyes. “Let’s see. I ‘exhibited signs of restlessness and misguided energy, and would benefit from a more structured lifestyle,’ if I remember right.”

“Why do I get the feeling you were in a courtroom when this happened?” Gruebel eyed the pony curiously. “The last time I heard crap like that I was in front of a judge advocate.”

“That didn’t take you long,” Hoof acknowledged. “Yeah.” The pony tucked his head and gripped one corner of his cloak and pulled it back, exposing his front right shoulder. “See the mark?”

Gruebel bent closer, squinting, and could dimly make out a ragged looking shape on the pony’s shoulder muscle, a black squiggle that looked like it had been scorched into the fur. “Jesus Christ, they did that to you?”

“What? No, no.” Hoof let the cloak drop back into place, shivering at the momentary cold air that had crept in under his covering. “That’s the mark from the gang I was in at the time.” His muzzle twisted in a wry grin. “It was supposed to be a lightning bolt. We were the Thunderheads.”

Gruebel cocked an eyebrow. “You were a street punk, huh?”

“Yep.” The pegasus rubbed his shoulder absently, as if the mark still pained him. “That was my initiation mark. Showed I was one of the group, that I belonged. They heated up a piece of wire and branded me in this stupid little ceremony we held in an abandoned house. I still remember how proud I felt that I didn’t cry when they fried me with that. Celestia’s wings, that hurt.”

Gruebel began clearing the snow away from the sculpture’s hooves again. “So what’d you do that got you pinched?”

Hoof laughed again. “You won’t believe it. Even I didn’t, at the time.”

“Try me.”

The pony shrugged and began working on the snow head in front of him once more. “I stole an apple off of somepony’s cart. Thought they weren’t looking. They weren’t. The constable who was behind me was, though.”

Gruebel coughed abruptly, the cigarette flying away and landing in the snow between his feet as he guffawed. “Holy shit, you shoplifted right in front of a cop? You dumbass.”

“I know, right?” Hoof’s grin was genuine; the human’s amusement at his predicament matched his own attitude toward the whole situation. “Of course nopony in the gang was gonna stick up for me. None of them even showed up for the trial. Cowards.” He reached out with a foreleg and smoothed out the snowpony’s nose, then tapped it delicately with a forehoof to give it nostrils, flaring heroically, of course. “I had a choice. Go to detention for six months and counseling for a year on probation, or else join a cadet corps in town.” He stopped and peered at Gruebel, a faint tone of indignation appearing in his voice. “They didn’t tell me about the fine print when I stamped my hoof on the paper. The print that says they can conscript me for up to six years when I completed the course.”

“Damn. You got screwed, blued, and tattooed, fella.”

“It worked out, I guess.” Hoof began tapping at the top of the snow head, forming a pair of huge ears; he’d worry about the detail in a minute. “It was my first real job, and it paid pretty well. I earned my corporal’s stripes, and was honestly surprised when my application to the guard was accepted.” He snorted. “They must have been hard up for members at the time.”

“I doubt that.” Gruebel looked at the head that the pegasus was absentmindedly detailing. The features bore more than a passing resemblance to Golden Sword; the detail that Hoof had been picking out was striking in its meticulousness. “I kinda got the feeling that the guard for your princesses doesn’t just pick members on a whim.” The Marine pointed at the snow head and looked at Hoof. “And I’m pretty sure they don’t teach that kind of stuff in basic training.”

The pony looked at him uncertainly. “Does it look okay? Sometimes I have trouble with eyes. They’re hard to get the detail right on....”

Gruebel leaned down until he had Hoof’s own eyes fixed in his gaze. “I swear to God, when your term is up, if you don’t get a job creating and selling stuff like this, I’m gonna come back to this world from wherever I am and kick your silly ass.” He pointed a finger at the sweeping curve of the snowpony’s jawline, where Hoof had scored a mark to make the muscle stand out and catch the lightl. “I’m lucky if my snow man has eyes. Do you know how much people would pay for stuff like this?”

“Snowponies?” Hoof chuckled. “There’s not much business for them back home—”

“It’s art, you moron!” Gruebel ran a hand through his own hair in frustration. “Have you ever tried doing this with clay? Or painting? Drawing? Anything like that?”

Crimson Hoof shuffled uncertainly, a light rosette of color appearing on his cheeks. “Well.... I draw sometimes. I have a little book in my barracks...”

“It’s hidden under your mattress, isn’t it? Like a damned Vargas centerfold.” Gruebel shook his head and picked up the final piece of the snowpony, setting it carefully in place on the projecting piece of wood and seating it firmly. He released it slowly and stood up, taking several steps back. “All done.”

The snowpony stared back at them, the eyes seeming to look past them at something on the horizon, some approaching destiny it was ready to meet. The head blended smoothly into the flowing lines of the arched neck, grooved lines picking out the detail of the forelock and mane. The body was broad, finely muscled, the tapered legs seeming to hold the frozen animal in poise as it prepared to launch itself forward.

Hoof suddenly clapped a foreleg over his eyes and groaned. “Oh horseapples, I knew I was forgetting something.” He pointed. “Tell me what’s wrong. Just look at it.”

Gruebel cocked his head and studied the sculpture carefully for a moment, then shrugged. “Must be a pony thing, then. I’m missing it.”

“It’s a pegasus, dammit!” Hoof stomped a hindleg and spat. “I forgot the bucking wings.”

The human opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Hoof was right. The snowpony looked poised for flight, but there was no way it was going to get off the ground in its current configuration. “Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’s got the boss’s face on it, too. No wings... that’s about the worst insult you can throw at a pegasus, except for calling him a gelding. And that works for anypony. At least the guys.”

Gruebel bent and retrieved his half-smoked cigarette from where it had landed in the snow, eyeing it critically for a moment before tucking it back in his mouth and relighting it. “So tell me,” he said, his voice muffled as he cupped his hands around the flame of the lighter. “Does pissing your captain off really bother you that much? I only ask because you didn’t seem to give a shit a while ago.”

Hoof paused, considering, then shook his head. “No... I guess not. It’s just a joke, it’s not like I’m disobeying orders or anything.”

“Well, that’s good.” A cloud of smoke drifted away as Gruebel snapped the lighter closed and tucked it away in his pocket. “Cause yon snowpony ain’t got no bits under his nethers, either.”

“Huh? Well of course he doesn’t, you don’t put that on a snowpo—” Hoof broke off, awareness dawning on him as he thought on what he had just told Gruebel about pony etiquette. He stood back and took in the form of his creation. It was unmistakably proud, majestic, and a work of art. It was an exact caricature of his commanding officer. And it embodied the two most infuriating insults you could hurl at a male pegasus.

“It’s perfect,” Hoof sighed.

“I’m glad we agree.” Gruebel took one last drag on the butt and pitched it to the side where it hissed out in the snow. “Can we go in now? Before I freeze my bits off?”

“Okay, hold on, lemme get this straight.” Crimson Hoof shifted position in the chair he had commandeered and looked across the room at Gallivan. “So when you told William to ‘pony up’ you meant he should cough up some cash? I thought you were tellin’ him he should grow up or something.”

Gallivan shook his head. “Nah. That wouldn’t make any sense. He had the money, so he had to pay up for the drinks. Pay up. Pony up. Get it?”

“No.” Hoof rubbed his own chin idly for a moment, then shrugged and took a long pull from the mug he had perched beside him on the arm of the chair. “Your equestrian slang doesn’t make much sense to me, Sarge, sorry.”

“It’s funny how you do seem to have a lot of it, though.” Midnight Arrow sipped delicately from her own mug for a moment. “And you use it in all kinds of odd ways. Like your machines, you said a while back you measure their output in horsepower.”

“That’s actually easy to explain.” Stivers waved a hand in the air idly. “A century ago we didn’t even have very much mechanization. Much of the heavy labor and transportation needs we had we used horses for. So when engines began to be built, they measured their capacity in the equivalent of ‘horse power.’ So a tractor would be as strong, say, as eight or ten horses. It was an easy way to tell just how useful all those new inventions were at the time, and it’s just never gone away.”

“That’s one useful thing your tech has done, at least.” Golden Sword spoke from his comfortable sprawl at the end of a long couch; the pegasus had staked out the seat and had hardly moved since they had all gathered in the common room after dinner. “It got you out of the habit of using slave labor.”

“Sword, they weren’t slaves. They were just... animals.” Stivers frowned. “Our world isn’t the same, you know that.” The Marine paused and took a drink from the ceramic mug at his elbow; each of the pilots and ponies had helped themselves to one at their hosts’ behest, and the spiced cider went down damned fine on a chilly night like this. He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the slight burn as it settled in his belly. “They’re nothing like you. They’re not really intelligent. And none of our animals talk.”

“So now we’re animals, are we?” Sword’s eyes gleamed with good humour as he needled Stivers mercilessly. “To think of all the progress I thought we’d made, Captain.”

“Technically, by definition, we’re all animals,” Taylor added, coming to Stivers’ support. “I think the communication thing is what draws the line for intelligence.”

“Let me know when you say something intelligent, Charlie,” Stivers said in a deadpan tone. “I’ll file a report and upgrade your status.”

There were several chuckles as Taylor’s face reddened slightly, and the lieutenant restrained the retort that sprang to his lips with an effort. “I believe we were talking about metaphors.”

Stivers gave him a thumbs up. “Okay, your turn. What’s another horse or pony related expression of ours?”

Taylor stretched out in the chair he sat in, hunched down with his legs sprawled out before him, the heel of one boot perched on the toe of the other. He waggled his feet for a moment as he thought. “Oh, I know. We have one for when we’re talking about moving fast or running from one place to another. ‘Hoofing it.’”

There was dead silence for a moment, and then Crimson Hoof uttered a choked laugh. “You have to be kidding me.”

Taylor glanced over at him, and then looked around as several snickers were heard from the other ponies. “What’s so funny?”

Golden Sword had a forehoof clapped over one eye and was shaking helplessly with repressed laughter. “Lieutenant? You want to take this one?” he said to Midnight.

Midnight Arrow shot her commander a look that suggested she could cheerfully strangle him, but cleared her throat and obliged. “That’s... probably not an expression you’d want to use in polite company here.” Her cheeks showed a faint blush under the dark blue fur that deepened as she continued. “It involves a bit of self... absorption, and some alone time with... oneself.”

Crimson Hoof had been in the middle of taking another drink and coughed, spraying cinnamon and apple-flavored laughter onto the floor. “Ma’am, that’s the most delicate description I’ve ever heard for it.” He dug the elbow of his left foreleg into Shadow’s side. “Bet you got caught hoofing it once or twice, eh buddy?”

Shadow looked up from the book he had been peering at intently, his expression slightly lost. “Huh? What?”

“I said, I bet you got caught—” Hoof blinked, frowning down at the larger pegasus. “What the hay are you reading?”

“Uh, nothing. Just something I found.” Shadow’s red fur almost managed to hide his own blush, but not entirely.

“Found where?” Shining Star perked up his ears and stood from where he had been laying in front of the fire.

“I-In the bookcase.” Shadow pointed across the room at the large cabinet stuffed with books and scrolls in various states of disrepair. “I asked Terrance if it was ok to read something and he said he didn’t mind.”

“Okay, but what is it, that has you so engrossed that you’re missing out on this conversation?” Star asked incredulously. “I thought you’d be all for a talk involving masturbation.”

Upon the mention of the actual meaning of the phrase, Midnight coughed lightly, and all of the humans burst out laughing. “You guys were...” Shadow said, tailing off, trying to figure out just how a conversation like that would start with officers present. “Whatever,” he said, sighing. “It’s a book on ancient gryphon myths.”

“Gryphonnic myths?” Star asked, grabbing the tome from Shadow’s grasp and peering at the opened section, much to the disdain of the red pegasus. “Cane and Able? Haven’t heard this one in a long time.” Star said wistfully.

Shadow looked at the other pegasus leeringly, before blushing slightly. “It’s written in some stupid poetic verse, and I can’t make heads or tails of it.” he said, dejected.

“That’s because the writer probably wrote this a millennia ago.” Star peered at the odd poem. “The language was different then, and it’s written in didactic hexameter, which doesn’t make it any easier for a modern palate.”

“Jesus, Star, you just made my brain ache.” Taylor shifted slightly; the odd way he had been sitting was making his left leg go to sleep. “Wanna translate that for us cavemen?”

“Sure. I actually know this one pretty well. So...who wants to hear a story full of two gryphons trying to please one of their gods?” Star asked, the gleam of a storyteller in his eye. Upon receiving the consent of the various creatures in the room, and the rapid nodding of a small gryphon, Star handed the book back to Shadow and began the tale of two brothers.

The two brothers of Cane and Able grew up together, without a family, but being blessed by the gods with intelligence, they didn’t need one. Cane, grew up to be a metal worker, and Able, a farmer of the lesser races.

Cane built all sorts of things for the betterment of the farm, and being the eldest of the brothers, was often tasked with the responsibility of managing all of the aspects of farm life, but would sometimes delegate some of it too his eager younger brother. Able would use his large herds of oxen and ponies to till fields, milk the cattle, kill the chicken, and generally do anything that would help the two brothers survive.

They lived in harmony for a while, neither being superior to the other, as both needed the other to survive. Cane could not get the animals to listen, nor Able, work the forge. When they went to the market, Able would sell excess milk, or meat, and Cane would buy tools and other such things for his craft with the money they gained. Able did not mind, as that meant Cane could increase the productivity of his herds with machines.

For years the two brothers lived like this, until one day, a traveler stopped by their farm. This was not unusual, as their farm was famous for it’s amazing output. The traveler said he was a messenger of the gods, and he had come to collect the tax for their special abilities to excel at what they did. Cane, who was a skeptic, refused.

Able, however, gave the man three of his oxen. The man thanked able, and gave him a magical boon, that could turn milk into liquid chocolate, and then left. Cane could not believe this, and quickly outraged by the sudden popularity of his brothers new chocolate producing cows. The days at the market brought far more revenue now, but every day Cane could feel his love for his brother slipping.

It was from then on, every year, the tax collector would come, and ask for payment. The next year, Able gave some his chocolate producing cows, and was again given a boon. Cane gave some of his finest crafted tools. The tax collector, however, did not like the tools, as who needs tools, when you are a god? Cane was outraged, and demanded to know why the tax collector accepted offerings of food, but not tools. The tax collector calmly replied that even gods enjoy eating.

The cycle repeated for several years, Cane would give his best effort, and would receive nothing, yet his brother would put little effort into his flock, and use the latest boon to give the gods something new, thus gaining another boon.

Eventually, Cane had had it with his brother, and in secret, forged a mighty Iron blade. The next time the tax collector came, Able gave his crop as always, and again, received a boon. When Cane’s turn came, however, he did not present the tax collector with anything. He said to wait ten minutes. So the tax collector waited, as Cane went off.

Ten minutes later, Cane returned with the head of his brother, and gave it to the collector, saying “You favour him, now take him. This is my offering.”. The tax collector scowled at the arrogant display, and marked Cane as a traitor to the gryphons. He took Cane’s forging powers, and the farm, and left him with nothing, before saying “This is the mark of the Traitor. You shall never again be safe, but neither shall you be hunted. Everywhere you go, you will be recognized as one who betrayed a God.”

Cane simply looked at the tax collector, and at his ruined farm, before nodding, and saying “Good.”

Everyone except William was staring at Shining Star in open-mouthed shock, while the gryphon was simply nodding. Star took that as a sign to elaborate on what happened at the end. “It’s said that Cane then went on to found the entire Gryphon Empire, and the God he betrayed, was never mentioned again, anywhere. In fact, I think ‘Cane’ removed him from history...”

The humans shared a few glances with each other, before Stivers decided to end the abrupt silence with a “Damn”. “That is so similar to one of the stories in the Bible, it’s scary.”

“What’s the bible?” Star asked.

“The Bible,” Taylor began, “is probably the most influential book in human history. It depicts...” He paused, frowning for a moment, trying to frame his thoughts. “Literally, at its core, it’s a history book. It tells about the creation of the world, and the beginnings of the human race. It talks about God, and lays down laws for humanity to follow. We use it for moral inspiration, and for guidance.”

“That’s a pretty tall order for one book,” Star said after a moment. “What’s your god’s name?”

Taylor blinked. “Um... I not sure He really has a name. We usually just call Him God.”

“That’s... kind of boring,” the pegasus said. “No offense,” he added rapidly. “I’m just... it’s kind of weird.”

“Well, that’s what we call Him,” Stivers broke in. “I think there’s a couple of names mentioned in the Old Testament, but there’s no real handle like you guys have for the Princesses.”

“What does he look like?” Midnight asked, her ears perking.

“Um...” Stivers looked at the other humans. “We don’t really know, honestly. We really don’t get to see him until after we die.”

“Well that sucks,” Hoof responded. “We can just go see Princess Celestia or Princess Luna any time we want. At least when we’re not on duty.”

“Although, to be fair, they’re not really ‘goddesses’ in the truest sense of the word,” Midnight said. “They are immortal, as far as we know, though, so they’re essentially the closest thing Equestria really has. We understand the concept of worshiping deities though, although we don’t really do it ourselves.”

“Well,” Stivers continued, “We’re supposed to be made in our god’s image, so we assume He looks like us, in some way.”

“Most folks do,” William broke in. “Every tale I’ve heard from some other race that talked about their gods has ‘em looking just like them. Makes sense yours does, too.”

“That’s... pretty accurate, actually.” Star looked at the gryphon in surprise and with a slight nod of approval. “Nice catch on that detail.”

William ruffled his feathers and preened for a moment at the compliment. “So, what happened in your version of the story, eh?” he asked Taylor. “Ya said it was similar.”

“Pretty much the same thing.” Taylor shrugged. “The two brothers offered up a sacrifice, Abel’s was accepted, Cain’s wasn’t. Cain got jealous and killed Abel and then was cast out for his crimes. I don’t think he went on to found anything though; he just vanishes after that.”

“Weird.” Star frowned and took a sip of the mulled cider. “Ponies don’t really have anything close to that in our history or legends, but both gryphons and you have a story that’s almost identical. Maybe it’s because you’re both carnivorous or something.”

“Wait... you’re saying we have the same legends because we eat meat?” Gruebel snorted. “That’s pretty far fetched, Star.”

“Well, it’s just a theory.” The pony huffed. “I’m trying to find the similarities and make a connection.”

“For one, I’m glad we don’t have anything like that in our history.” Midnight shivered and looked at the fireplace, the orange glow reflecting in her eyes. “I can’t imagine killing my sibling over something like that.”

“You haven’t met my sister,” Hoof said. “She kicked my flank for taking the last cookie once. That mare was just mean.”

“There’s a lot of stories like that in the Bible,” Stivers said. “They usually make some point or teach a lesson. They’re called parables.”

Star brightened. “Hey, what about that other one you mentioned? The one you said that sounded like the song of Prince Aurora?”

“Who, me?” Stivers looked blank. “I don’t remember.”

“It was about some battle, you said. The battle of three hundred something.”

“Oh! That was Thermopylae.” Stivers nodded. “That was actual history though, not a fable or a myth.”

“When history lives long enough, it becomes legend.” Shadow intoned, then blushed as everyone looked at him. “I didn’t make that up, I just read it somewhere.”

“Dude, there’s hope for you yet.” Star grinned and punched the larger pony lightly on the shoulder. “Keep it up, I didn’t know you read Hooficurus.”

“Who?”

Star sighed. “Anyway, what about the three hundred battle?”

“Well, it happened a long time ago, over two thousand years before our time, at least.” Stivers took a long pull out of his mug and settled back into his chair. “You guys seem to keep an impressive amount of things in recent memory, but to us, that’s ancient history.”

“480 BC, if I remember right,” Gallivan added.

“Damn, the monolith speaketh.” Taylor grinned. “I didn’t know you were a history buff.”

“I’m not, sir, but I do know my battles.” Gallivan shrugged.

“Anyway, there was an invasion in Greece... it’s a country in our world that lies on the edge of a big sea. Greece was invaded by Persia across the narrow strait that lies between the countries... I think they had several hundred thousand soldiers, at least.” Stivers grinned as he saw William listening to him intently, no doubt filing the details away in his memory. The Marine held his mug up, swirling it around slowly. “They took the Greeks pretty much by surprise or something, and they didn’t have much time to get an army together that could stop the Persians in time. So eventually there ended up a small group that got together and set up at the pass of Thermopylae that the Persians had to pass through to get to the interior of Greece where all the cities were. Problem was, there were only a few thousand of them, and most of them were just citizens, really. The only professional soldiers were a group of three hundred Spartans.”

Sword winced. “That’s not good. Citizen soldiers are usually not much better than farmers with pitchforks.”

Taylor laughed. “Actually, most of our own army at the moment is made of citizen soldiers. They volunteered when the war started, and they did pretty good. We gave ‘em more than a pitchfork, though.”

“Still, all of that considered, the Greeks didn’t have enough troops to really stop the Persians.” Stivers glanced over at Sword. “Outnumbered by roughly 1000 to 1.”

The pony’s eyes widened, and there were several low whistles from the others. “That’s... a bit steep,” Sword admitted.

“Well, the long and the short of it was, they had to buy time for Greece to get its shit together and get their army moving. So they set up at the pass the Persians had to go through and made them fight their way through.” Stivers shook his head. “They eventually lost the battle of course, but they ended up winning the war, because they bought enough time that Greece kicked Persia’s ass back across the strait and out of their homeland.”

“They sacrificed themselves for their homeland.” Sword nodded. “I can see why your people would remember this battle. It’s a noble cause.”

“Why did the Persians attack in the first place?” Midnight asked. “Were they angry at the Greeks?”

“Honestly, probably not.” Stivers held up a hand in supplication. “We still don’t know a great deal about that period in history; nobody wrote much down unless it was about a great battle. It’s pretty much what our people did back then. We were still pretty primitive. No machines, no electricity or running water, no engines of any kind. Back then, countries invaded each other to take what the other people had, and to gain power. Hell, maybe they were bored.”

The mare continued to stare at him intently. “And now that you have invented all those things? Are your people any different? Have they changed?”

Stivers hesitated, then glanced at Taylor. The war that had nearly consumed his entire world for the past six years flashed through his mind, along with the newly created weapons that had helped bring it to a final close. “I don’t know if I have a good answer for that.”

Silence hung for a moment, and then it was Gallivan that spoke. “No ma’am. Not really. We’ve just gotten better at it, is all.” The sergeant tilted his head back and swallowed the last of his cider.

“Come on you guys, I’m telling you we can do it!” Shadow grinned. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Hmm, let me think about that one.” Shining Star rubbed his chin with a forehoof. “Oh, I know. How about the other week when you decided looking through Lieutenant Arrow’s journal was a good idea?”

“No way!” Crimson Hoof glanced at Shadow incredulously from where he lay on his bedroll. The three ponies were in his room where they had gathered to sit and shoot the breeze for a bit; the others had gone to bed after chatting around the fire in the common room, but Shadow and Star had not been particularly tired and had gone to Hoof’s room to hang out for a while. Crimson Hoof was one of the more fun guard ponies to socialize with; as long as you weren’t actually on duty, he really didn’t worry about protocol and was willing to listen to pretty much anything you had to say.

Luckily, he wasn’t a blabbermouth, either, Shadow thought to himself. “Yeah, thanks for just blurting that out.”

“Hoof doesn’t care. Do you?” Star glanced at the other pony that lay sprawled lazily on the bed.

“Did you read anything juicy?” Hoof inquired.

“Actually, no...”

“Boooorring.” Hoof stretched his wings and began fussing over a feather that was loose. “Friggin’ molts. I hate it when they just hang there and don’t wanna drop off.”

“We, uh, kinda got caught before we could read anything,” Shadow muttered.

Hoof quit poking at the loosened feather with his forehoof and stared at the other two, a wicked grin beginning to spread over his muzzle. “Wait. You two got busted by the Ice Queen?”

“Yeah.” Star grimaced.

Crimson Hoof burst out into laughter, letting his head drop back onto the pillows behind him. “Holy horseapples. No wonder she was busting your flanks all the way to the pass.” He snickered, holding his sides and trying to keep the noise down in consideration of the sleeping ponies in the rooms around him. “Oh, that’s priceless. And you didn’t even get a peek at her diary to make up for it, either.”

“Glad you think it was funny, flankmane,” Shadow groused. “I thought she was gonna geld me when she poked me in the rear with her bow.”

Crimson Hoof coughed and snorted, his eyes leaking tears as the pegasus fought to keep from bellowing a gale of laughter into his friend’s face. “Wait! Was that the squeal we all heard?”

“Um... yeah.”

Hoof curled into a fetal ball, his forelegs wrapped around his ribs, the laughter reduced to a wheezing gurgle as the pony fought for breath. “Oh... my... Celestia, that is...” He turned his head to one side, burying his face in a pillow, and the other two heard the muffled growling sound of his mirth seeping through.

“Anyway,” Shadow sighed, “I thought of this earlier. We can do it, I know we can. Nobody’ll know but us.”

Hoof managed to get control finally, hiccupping and sniffing. “In other circumstances it might be fun, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to pull off a panty raid on a group of lady gryphons. First of all, do they even wear panties? All I see them in is those robes.”

“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” Shadow’s chin stuck out stubbornly.

Hoof stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He glanced at Star. “I think he took your little jibe to heart, bud.”

“What?” Star jumped and blinked. “Shadow, that whole thing about hoofing it was a joke, for Luna’s sake. It means something else entirely to the humans, and we found out by accident. We weren’t even really talking about it at all.”

“Don’t care.” Shadow’s expression was set firmly. “I’m gonna do it. I’ll bring you back a prize if you’re too chicken to go with me.”

“Buck buck buck,” Hoof said, and leaned back again. “Not me. Besides, they’re monks. Or monkettes. Whatever. You go to gryphon hell for stealing monkette panties.”

“Really?” Shadow looked mortified for a moment, then frowned. “Wait, you said you didn’t even know if they wore them. How do you know if you go to hell for stealing them then?”

“It was a trick question on the corporal’s test we had to take, don’t you remember? Most of the ponies guessed, and we found out after what the answer was.” Hoof grinned wickedly and winked. “I got it right, actually.”

“Dude you are such a flankmane,” Star grumbled. “He’s just yanking your tail, Shadow. Look, I’ll go with you, okay? But just for a moment. We go, we look around in their room, and then we come back. You can say you’ve seen a sight no other pony has before.” And that would be the truth, Star knew.

“You called me dude.” Hoof beamed at Star. “You’re so cute when you try to be hip, Braniac. I can’t wait to see what you do when you grow up.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Star snapped crossly. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.” The pegasus trotted over to the door and opened it, peering out into the hall. “Coast is clear. Let’s go.”

Shadow moved out to join him and the two ponies slowly eased their way down the hall toward the intersection where the living quarters for the males met the ladies’ section. Without their armor on, they were surprisingly quiet, but Star flinched at every creak the floorboards made. His ears flicked from side to side constantly, and the little settling sounds the structure naturally produced made him jump a little every time. He grumbled inwardly to himself, wondering again how he kept getting into situations like this.

Why doesn’t anypony ever listen to me?

Star heard a low, uneven humming sound and froze in place. Turning his head, he watched as Shadow stepped forward a few paces and then stopped, looking in all directions and humming to himself. “What in the hay are you doing?”

“What?” Shadow stopped and stared at him.

“That noise? It’s... noisy.” Star hissed. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“Are you kidding? That’s my theme music.” Shadow hummed a few bars in demonstration. “Every action hero has to have theme music.”

“Okay, Action Hero, your adventure is about to end if you don’t shut up,” Star growled. “You’re about to hum your haunches right past Lieutenant Taylor’s door.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Shadow brightened. “He’s a pretty fun guy. Wanna see if he wants to come along?”

“No!” Star exclaimed, then clapped a forehoof to his own mouth. “No,” he repeated in a lower voice. “Bad idea number eight hundred and twelve of yours. Just keep going, for Celestia’s sake. And stop with the music.”

The two edged forward another few lengths, and then paused at the intersection itself. To their left, it opened out into the short hallway that led to the common room. Behind them were their own rooms. Ahead... lay destiny. Or purgatory. Star wasn’t sure which just yet. “Shadow... I really think we should go back. We’re still okay, but if we head over there...”

“What, are you gonna wimp out on me now?” The burly pegasus looked over his shoulder and gave Star a withering glance. “Fine, wuss out and leave me to do it myself. I’ll bring you back a present.”

“No way.” Star sighed. There was no way he could just let Shadow blunder on alone into whatever was coming; Star was just not built that way. The two ponies had been friends ever since they had met when joining the Royal Guard, and their relationship had never really changed, even after Shadow’s promotion. The running joke around the barracks was that if Shadow was ever sent out on a lone pony mission, he would have Star tucked away in his saddlebags as part of his survival kit. “Just... nevermind. Just be quiet and go.”

Shadow turned back and crouched down, moving one careful step at a time.

“After we cross the intersection. Anypony in the common room can see you right now, you lug,” Star said.

“Oh.” Shadow grinned sheepishly and walked past the open doorway, into the opposite hall. The two paused for a moment, taking in the wide walkway and the line of doors on either side.

“We’re in hostile territory now,” Shadow said, his voice dropped down low. “If I don’t make it back, kid, tell my folks... well, just tell ‘em, all right?”

“Will you stop that?” Star swatted the other pony in the haunch and moved around him to take the lead. “Just follow me and do what I do.” He held his head up high and sniffed, his ears flicking rapidly. “The one off to the left there... we have to get past it.”

“Okay, so go,” Shadow replied. “What’s the problem?”

“That’s Lieutenant Arrow’s room,” Star said, deadpan.

“Oh.” Shadow’s whole form seemed to shrink suddenly.

“Still sure you wanna do this?” Star asked him sweetly. “I mean, if she hears us, I’m sure nothing bad will happen.” The tone of voice he used indicated he was sure of anything but that.

“No, we gotta.” Shadow’s expression grew suddenly determined. “Our honour depends on it.”

“Our honour? I don’t have anything to prove.”

“Sure you do. You’re proving you’re not a chicken like Hoof was.” The calculating look appeared in Shadow’s eyes again. “Aren’t you?”

“I don’t even...” Star sighed. “Nevermind. Just... quiet, remember?” Without waiting for a reply, he eased a forehoof forward gingerly and began moving slowly one step at a time, past Midnight Arrow’s quarters. The closed door loomed off to his left side, and Star had to fight to keep from staring at it as they walked past—

Wait. Had it just moved?

The pegasus froze, staring intently at it, checking to see if there was any motion. The latch on the left side cast a dim shadow in the low light, and he couldn’t see any change in the outline of it.

No, it was his imagination again. He turned away deliberately and kept on moving forward, one careful step after another, until both of them were safely past.

“Good work,” Shadow whispered, and Star nearly jumped out of his own hide. “Let’s try the next one down.”

Star bit back the retort that rose up reflexively and swallowed it. “Too close. One more door down. And the opposite side of the hall. I’m not going in a room that’s right next door to Midnight’s room. If you wanna die that way, go right ahead.”

“Oh... oh yeah.” Shadow beamed. “I’m glad you came along, you always think of the smart things.”

Yeah, and this whole expedition wasn’t my idea, either, was it? Star sighed and kept going, moving forward carefully once more. If it had been possible for him to tiptoe on the edges of his hooves, he would have tried it. “Okay, this one on the right here.” He stopped and pressed his ear to the door carefully, listening with his eyes closed.

“What do you hear?” Shadow asked.

“You,” Star groused. “Also a dragon, rumbling about how he’s going to eat two dumbflank ponies in about two minutes.”

“Really?” Shadow blinked. “I didn’t think the rooms were that big.”

“Joking, Shadow,” Star said wearily. He closed his eyes again and listened. He could hear a few murmuring voices, and the high pitch indicated that the prospective targets were very likely females. “There’s at least a couple of girls on the other side.”

“In that case, stand back and watch the master at work.” Shadow pushed past him, flicked the handle on the door and pushed it open, striding through the opening without even a pause. He paced into the sudden silence that fell and stopped, his head thrown back proudly. “Hellooo, ladies.”

Star peered around the larger pegasus and saw one... two... three... four gryphons, all very much female. All were also very much not in their usual cowls or cloaks. “Um... evening, ladies. How... um, how are you?” He jabbed Shadow in the haunch. “You’re blocking the door.”

Shadow moved aside, and Star moved quickly into the room and pushed the door closed behind them. Turning back, he saw that none of the gryphons had moved, and were still lying where they had been; the four were sprawled out on their bed mats, peering at him and Shadow in utter fascination. “Um... hello?”

“Good even, sirs,” said the one farthest to their right. She was the smallest of the four, and had an odd spotted pattern on the feathers on her wings. “What can we do for our fine guests this night?” She stood up and stretched lithely, then stilled herself, patiently waiting for a response.

Shadow snorted and arched his neck. “The question is,” he returned in a deep basso voice, “what can we do for you?”

Star leaned in close to Shadow’s left side. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “Ask them for their panties.”

Shadow gave him an irritated look. “What part of raid did you not get? You don’t ask for panties.”

“Maybe not, but you’d better ask if they even have them. Cause they aren’t showing any signs of ‘em right now,” Star hissed. “Look, let’s just leave, okay?”

The spotted gryphon walked closer and moved around to their right, stopping between them and the door and shredding Star’s escape plan. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “But since you are our guests here, it would be unbecoming of us to have you do us any favors.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard any of you other than Terrence say anything,” Star blurted, unable to help himself. “How come you never speak?”

“Oh, we talk to each other all the time. Our vows do require us to restrain ourselves from inane conversation with others during the performance of our daily duties, however.” The gryphon eyed him unselfconsciously, obviously sizing him up. “Within our own chambers, however, we are free to do as we like.”

“Well then,” Shadow grinned, “today’s your lucky day.”

Shining Star groaned and jabbed his friend with a forehoof. “Will you stop that? Look, we came, we saw, can we go now?”

“Not without panties,” Shadow intoned at full volume. “Hoof would never believe us.”

There were several giggles from the gryphons, and the spotted one behind them offered a wry smile. “Our discipline forbids the use of concealing undergarments. They have been found to promote... unclean thoughts.” Her eyes were fixed on Star, and the pegasus could have sworn that she licked her beak hungrily. “We work to purge ourselves of such thoughts daily.”

“T-That’s good,” Star stammered. “We don’t want to corrupt you or cause any interference with your devoutness.”

“Sure we do,” Shadow said. He looked at Star warily. “You do know why we came here, right?”

“Temptation is good for the soul,” the one that Star had begun to think of as Spots said. Her yellow eyes glittered and the catlike tail lashed as she spoke. “It reminds us of all that we have yet to accomplish, and gives us goals to achieve. Have you come to help... remind us?” Her tail lashed again and smacked against the door handle, knocking it askew and unlatching the exit.

“No,” Star blurted rapidly. The door’s open...maybe we can just run out when they’re not looking.

“Yes,” Shadow countered.

“No,” Star repeated more strongly. The unwavering stare from Spots was making his nerve endings jump beyond belief. “We just wanted to say hello. Really, we should be going, now. It’s... oh, look how late it is!”

Spots ambled slowly up and stopped even with Star, peering closely at him. “It’s ten o’clock. What are you, in grade school?” The other gryphons had risen from their places and begun pacing in a circle around the two ponies.

Star kept trying to back toward the door, but the circling gryphons kept brushing against him and pushing him forward again. The pegasus jumped every time their oddly textured fur and feathers rustled against his own. “No. But... I have a report! Yes, a report to write. My commander will be angry if I don’t get it done before morning.” He offered Spots a commiserating smile. “You don’t want him to be angry at me, do you?”

“Don’t worry,” she cooed. “I’ll explain everything to him.”

Oh, this is SO not good, Star thought. “I don’t think he’d accept that.”

“What report did you have to write?” Shadow asked curiously. “I mean, we haven’t done anything in almost a week to write a report about.” He offered Spots a winning grin. “It’s okay, ma’am, he’s just shy.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Spots chuckled and leaned in close to Star. “Tell you what, ponyboy. I’ll give you something to write home about, hmm?”

“Oh, I do hope you do,” a familiar contralto voice said from behind them. “These two seem rather fond of reading diaries and journals. I’d love to see what they can come up with on their own.”

Star blinked, then turned slowly to look at his friend. Shadow stared back at him, the larger pegasus’ eyes widened in fear. “Is that...?”

“Yes. Yes it is.” The voice drew level with his head, and Star could see Shadow staring over his own shoulder, beginning to tremble. “I just came to remind you that it is past your bedtime.” Midnight’s voice dropped down to a whisper, and Star could feel her breath on his ear. “Far past your bedtime. I’d move along now, if I were you. I’d have to file a disciplinary report if you stay much longer... and you know how I loathe paperwork.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” he stammered. “Bedtime, ma’am.” Shadow simply nodded rapidly in agreement.

“On the double-quick this time,” Midnight said. “Oh, and I think you can dispense with the music on the way back.” She shook her head, the dark curls of her forelock dropping over one eye and giving her a fey expression. “Action heroes don’t have ‘retreating back to my room’ music.”

“You heard that?” Shadow managed.

“The theme music to the Daring-Do movie? I was pretty sure gryphons wouldn’t go in for much of that.” Midnight smirked. “Next time, try a covert approach. And check to make sure I’m actually in my room instead of coming out of Sword’s room, seeing you two lunatics and following you all the way down the hall.”

Star simply stared at her, dumbstruck.

“Beddy-bye, now,” she said. “Shoo.” Midnight followed the two males out into the hallway and watched them as they slunk back to their rooms. She chuckled and looked back at the gryphons, who were still giggling, but with a different sound now. “Thank you, ladies.”

Spots tucked her head and swept a foreclaw across her front in a bow. “Any time, Miss Arrow.” She snickered. “I was just going to run them off originally, but then I smelled you out in the hall and figured we’d have a little fun with them first. The short one was kind of cute.” She shook her head, grinning. “I haven’t had that much fun in years.”

“I’m sure.” Midnight paused in the doorway. “That was a pretty convincing act, I admit. Dare I ask what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up?”

“Edna knows,” Spots said, and winked. “I sure don’t.” The other gryphons burst out laughing as she ushered the pegasus out and closed the door.

Midnight’s ear flicked at the knocking sound, and she forced one eye open, peering blearily at the door, as if the portal itself had decided to offend her by spontaneously making noise. She lifted her head from the pillow and forced her muzzle, tongue and teeth to go through the complicated procedure required to form an intelligible response. “Yes?”

The door cracked open enough to emit a human head to peer in. “Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” Gallivan said.

“That’s fine, sergeant.” Midnight had grown to rather like the introverted Marine. He had fallen into the unofficial role of company first sergeant, and as such had appointed himself the duty to see to the officers’ needs, as if they were a group of foals who needed tending to. Considering the sizes of the egos of some officers she had known, the concept wasn’t as far fetched as one might think, she reflected. “Did I oversleep?” She frowned and lifted her head further, peering blearily across the room at the old clock that hung on the opposite wall.

“No ma’am, actually, it’s just after six. Captain Stivers is the duty officer this morning, and breakfast isn’t for another hour.”

“Then what’s wrong?” She frowned, brushing her sleep-tousled forelock out of her eyes absently, still staring at the carved wooden clock that hung on the wall. It ticked softly, the pendulum suspended beneath it moving slowly back and forth in steady sweeps. 6:08. Right, that seemed correct enough, but something was off about the whole thing.

“Nothing’s wrong, actually.” Gallivan grinned, giving the mare a moment to figure it out. She had just woken up, after all, and it had taken him several moments on his own to realize the change.

“Then what is it?” Midnight asked, a tone of annoyance beginning to creep into her voice. First sergeants were allowed a lot of leeway, but needling your officer when she was barely conscious (and really wanting another hour of sleep) was pushing it. “I’m not in the mood for games at this—” She stopped, still staring at the clock. The time was right, but the light... the light was wrong. There was a dim shadow cast by the clock’s frame on the otherwise featureless wall. She sat fully upright on the bedroll, her coverlet falling away as she jerked her gaze to the left, looking out the window.

Her window faced to the east, and the horizon was sharply delineated by the mountain ranges visible in the distance. The sun peeked over the edge of the escarpments, filling the eastern sky with a strong reddish-orange glow that she hadn’t seen for a week now. The sky still held a few scuds of cloud, but they were mere scraplings of the smothering blanket that had hung over their heads for days. She looked back at Gallivan, all semblance of sleep wiped instantly from her face. “It’s out!”

“I know.” He grinned. She was quicker than he was; it had taken him several moments to figure it out. “Still want to sleep in?”

“Hell no.” Midnight tossed the coverlet aside and stood up. “Let’s go get breakfast and then corner that gryphon.”

“Right now?”

“Sergeant,” she sighed, “do you really need me to remind you we don’t wear clothes most of the time? I don’t have to dress.”

“No ma’am,” Gallivan replied. “You might wanna, um, brush your mane first, though,” he said as tactfully as he could manage. “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think it’s regulation right now.”

Midnight blinked, then lifted a forehoof and patted herself on the back of the neck. Her mane was sleep-teased into a cloud of ebon strands that seemed to be trying to flee in every direction. “Oh. Um... yes. Thank you, sergeant. Give me ten minutes, and then I’ll be down for breakfast.”

“Better make it fifteen,” Gallivan advised.

The mare shot him a dirty look, noting the innocent expression he held on his face. “Thank you, sergeant, that will be all.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” The Marine chuckled and retreated, closing the door behind him.

“So the sun is up?” Terrence blinked at the assembled group. “Well, I should hope so. It usually does that every morning, you know.”

“We can see it,” Stivers clarified. “The sun’s out. You said when the sun came out, we could go see the abbott and the Pentachoron.”

“Oh, it’s out! Well, that’s splendid, I had no idea.” Terrence took a sip of coffee from the cup before him as he sat at the large dining table. The gryphon’s chair was located directly in front of a large bay window, the sunlight bathing him in a golden glow that made him look almost ethereal. “It’s about time, I was getting tired of all those clouds.”

“About the abbot,” Stivers said again. Keeping Terrence on topic was like trying to herd cats through a rainstorm. “Can we go see him now?”

“I’m afraid not, but please be patient. I’ll go make the arrangements as soon as we’re done with breakfast.” Terrence frowned severely at his coffee cup, then picked several lumps of sugar out of a bowl nearby and dunked them into the offensive liquid, stirring it for a moment. “They never make it sweet enough,” he grumbled.

“How long will that take, do you think?” Midnight was seated to one side of the gryphon, where she had been nibbling absently at a piece of buttered toast. “We really are in a hurry, Terrence.”

“I know, my dear. I promise you I’ll expedite matters as much as possible. It may be a couple of hours, though. The abbot is very set in his ways, and preparations for things like this take a bit of time as well.” Terrence patted her shoulder with a foreclaw. “I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, why don’t you all get a bit of air when you’re done eating? Go enjoy the sunshine. I’m sure you’re tired of being stuck in here with us stodgy old fellows.”

“This place isn’t that bad,” Star offered. “I really like your library, sir.”

“But we are stodgy, then?” Terrence’s face fell. “I was afraid of that.”

“What?” Star blinked. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“But I did, and you didn’t refute it. I was right.” Terrence wrapped his wings around himself and hid his face.

“No, you’re not! You’re very learned,” Star said rapidly.

“Now you’re just being diplomatic.”

“And you are having entirely too much fun teasing him,” Midnight shot back. “Terrence, please. This is very important to us. To all of us.”

“Foiled again, and by such beauty, too.” Terrence chuckled and nodded. “I’ll get to work at once. In the meantime, please do go out and enjoy the sun.” His smile subsided. “When you see the Pentachoron, you may cherish memories of light and joy.”

The sun was well into the sky now, the vault overhead a brilliant azure deepening to midnight blue directly overhead. Crimson Hoof stood in the snow that lay in front of the monastery. Next to him were Gruebel and Gallivan, their heads thrown back as the three peered up into the miles of clear air. “That is awesome flying weather. I wish you guys had wings, we could go up for a spin.”

“If we had wings, we wouldn’t have half the problems we do, I think.” Gruebel kicked at the snow, sending a white spray of brilliance sparkling into the air.

“You don’t mind if I go up for a minute, do you?” Hoof asked.

“Hell no,” Gallivan said. “Why would we?”

“Well, because you can’t,” Hoof replied. “It kinda sucks that you can’t fly, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

“Hoof, you do whatever the hell you feel like, okay? You won’t hurt our feelings.” Gallivan mock punched the pony on the shoulder. “Go burn off some energy.”

“Sweet!” Crimson Hoof gathered himself and launched into the air, calling out to the other pegasi. Soon the entire group of ponies was airborne, darting and swooping amongst one another, with various catcalls and laughter mixed in as they flitted about, clearly enjoying themselves. As Hoof had mentioned, the ponies had mostly refrained from flying while travelling with their human companions, mainly out of consideration for the ground-bound abilities of the pilots. The air was clearly their natural element however, and from the display it was plain that they had missed it enormously.

Stivers walked over to the two Marines who stood under the swirling cloud of pegasi and laughed. “You know what’s really goofy? We’re sitting here under five flying ponies and all I can think about is how nice the sky looks today.”

Gallivan snorted. “Yeah, I think we’ve been here a little too long, sir. A fella could get used to this.”

“Not me.” Gruebel crossed his arms. “You go native if you want, Sarge. Me, I miss my bacon sandwiches. And my ham sandwiches. And steak. With baked potatoes. Pork chops.”

“Roas’ beef.” William’s voice came from behind them, and the Marines looked over their shoulders to see the little gryphon standing near Stivers, looking off into the distance absently. “Bake’ turkey. Chicken an’ almost anyt’ing else, ey?” His beak clacked and he fairly drooled. “Hamburgers. Grilled, na’ fried in th’ friggin’ pan.”

“Kid, I like how you think,” Gruebel said.

“Hard to argue with that kind of logic,” Stivers agreed. He saw Taylor walking towards them, a long stick in one hand. “What you got, Charlie?”

“Something to keep us occupied while we’re waiting for those gryphons to find the damn keys to the vault, or whatever the hell they’re doing.” Taylor held up the stick, which upon closer inspection was actually the handle from either a rake or a shovel with the metal implement removed.

“I hope you weren’t planning on beating us with that while we run laps, sir,” Gruebel said warily.

“You? No.” Taylor grinned. “I had something else in mind for that.” He dug into one of his pockets. “Borrowed this from one of the other monks; they were playing catch with one of them the other day.” He removed his hand from his pocket and displayed a small ball, obviously handcrafted, the rough leather stitching on the cover circling around it. “Feel like taking a few swings?”

“You’re on, sir.” Gallivan grinned back fiendishly. “I used to catch back when I was in high school, be warned.”

“Duly noted.” He tossed the ball to Gallivan and handed the stick to Stivers. “First up?”

“Fine by me.” The four of them moved away from the looming presence of the monastery, kicking some of the snow aside as they went. “Hard to have a decent game out here with all this crap on the ground.”

“It’ll just give you a cushion when you have to dive for the ball,” Taylor said. “Or are you one of those wimps who just flails at it and lets it sail on by for extra bases?”

“A bumped elbow or knee isn’t gonna make me go run to mama,” Stivers growled. “If you can even hit the damned thing.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Taylor laughed and ran over to where Thompson stood gazing across the valley below them. “C’mon, Frankenpuss. We’re doin a ballgame.”

“Huh?” Thompson looked around and saw his commander taking a few warmup swings with the shovel handle. “Are you kidding me?”

Taylor flipped the ball up into the air and snagged it one-handed as it came back down. “Never in life, dear. Now shag your ass over to shortstop. Ole Smiley McGee up there probably can’t hit it out of the infield.”

Stivers simply crouched in place, swinging the makeshift bat slowly. “Try me and find out, squidhead.”

“Oh, now it starts. Gang up on the Navy boy.” Taylor waited until Gallivan was in place, hunched down slightly behind Stivers. “Let’s see if you can even hit the thing first.”

“Ell-Tee, I don’t have a glove on,” Gallivan said evenly. “And it’s damn near freezing. So you might wanna hold back on the fastballs, if you don’t mind.”

Taylor grunted in response, but then nodded; the sergeant did have a point. He drew himself up straight, waited a moment, then made an exaggerated windup motion and tossed the ball at Stivers. It arced up and then dropped down, making a low chunk sound as it fell into the snow in front of the captain. “Shit.”

Stivers snorted. “I know you’re Navy, Taylor, but Jesus, you can’t throw harder than that?”

“I don’t wanna break his fingers off,” Taylor snapped. He hadn’t thought of a glove earlier; seeing the gryphons playing with the ball had just set off a spark in his brain, and the sight of Stivers standing there holding the ‘bat’ had touched off a wave of homesickness in him that was almost palpable. “Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Hold on, sir.” Gallivan fumbled around for a moment, twisting the cloak that was bundled over his shoulders and pulling the long hem up. He folded it over carefully, then again, forming a double layer. Gripping the folds with his hands, he held it up. “Think you can hit that target?”

“Let’s find out.” Taylor set himself again, then wound up and threw more normally, but still taking a lot of speed off the ball. It sailed neatly through the air and into the makeshift glove with a soft thumping sound. “How’s that?”

“Felt like strike one to me,” Gallivan said evenly.

“What?” Stivers looked down at the sergeant. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Okay, just a practice pitch, then.” Gallivan calmly threw the ball back to Taylor. “Don’t argue with the ump again, sir, or you’re out of the game.”

“Wait, you’re catching, and calling the pitches? How can you do that?”

“Because I can.” Gallivan grinned widely. “Next one counts, sir. Better pay attention.”

Stivers did try gamely, but several pitches later the one hit he managed to get flew about thirty feet into the air and came straight back down into Thompson’s hands. “Fly out,” Gallivan called. “Who’s next?”

“Hey, what’re you guys doin’?” Shadow’s voice called from behind them. The pegasus glided over to land neatly beside Stivers. “Is that a game?”

“It’s the game,” Taylor said. “Baseball. Our national pastime, and one our commanding officer is sadly negligent in. Wanna try?”

Gallivan chuckled. Asking Shadow if he wanted to ‘try’ something was tantamount to a direct dare. “Here’s the rules. Taylor’s the pitcher. He throws the ball to me. I’m the catcher. You have to try and hit the ball. If you do hit it, you have to touch three ‘bases’ and then come back here to home to score a run. And you can’t let them touch you with the ball if you’re not touching a base.”

“Ooh, we have something like this, but you don’t have any bases to touch.” Shadow frowned at the snowy cover. “Um...where are the bases?”

“Yeah, we might need those.” Stivers’ voice rose to a bellow. “Marines! We need bases, on the double. Set em up.”

The other ponies drifted over and began listening in on Gallivan’s instructions while Thompson, Gruebel and Taylor created makeshift ‘bases’ out of small rocks, doing their best to estimate the distances. “C’mon, guys, you’ve seen this game before. Thirty meters in between bases. Ninety feet.”

“Thirty meters?” Hoof looked dubiously towards where first base had been set up and looked back at Gallivan. “That’s it? I have to hit the ball and just run and touch that without anypony touching me with the ball first?”

“It’s not as easy as it looks.” Gallivan pointed at Taylor, who had finished setting up third base and was flipping the ball absently up in the air and catching it again. “He’ll try to throw it to me, but you won’t know how fast he’s throwing it, or whether it will be straight or a curve. And if you hit it and someone catches it before it touches the ground, you’re automatically out.”

“Wait, a curve? How do you throw something straight and make it curve?” Shadow’s expression showed that the pony thought his tail was being yanked.

“Hey, Lieutenant!” Gallivan crouched down. “You got a deuce ball you can show us?”

“Haven’t tried that one in awhile, but I’ll give it a shot.” He held the ball for a moment, and adjusted his grip on it. Straightening, he wound up and threw. The ball arced toward them, then dropped down and hooked to one side. Gallivan grunted as he leaned over and grabbed it before it could hop away.

Star whistled. “Holy horseapples.”

“Damn, that was nasty, sir.” The sergeant tossed the ball back. “How come you don’t do this for a living?”

“Knees. Besides, I’m okay at pitching, but I never really got into it too much. Plays hell with your shoulder and arm, and that makes it hard to fly an airplane.” Taylor shrugged. “I played through college, and pretty much dropped it when I graduated.”

“That’s what you got pitching to you,” Gallivan stated. “An old washed out college boy who ain’t pitched in years. Now go kick his ass.” He clapped Shadow on the shoulder. “The rest of you. One person or pony near each base to guard , with a fourth person in between second base and third.” He pointed. “The rest of you, in the outfield. We can all take turns at bat, and once you’re on base or out, someone else can take a turn.”

“Even me?” William asked.

“Sure, if you want to.” Gallivan shrugged. “It’s up to you. Just wait your turn.”

“So we can hit it pretty much anywhere as long as it’s not caught before it touches the ground?” Golden Sword was eyeing the makeshift bases, mentally gauging how long it would take to move from one to the next. The game seemed too simple to him, honestly.

“If hit it to the right of first base,” Gallivan said, pointing, “or to the left of third, it’s foul. That counts as a strike, unless you already have two. Swing and miss the ball, or if the ball goes over home plate without being hit, that’s a strike. Three strikes and you’re out.”

“Ohh.” Sword nodded. That was better. Aim was important now, and so was speed and coordination. The person throwing the ball also made a difference, and that turned it into a one-on-one duel between the hitter and the thrower. And dueling was something he particularly enjoyed. “Fair enough, then. Shall we alternate? Shadow can go, and then one of you, and then a pegasus. Back and forth.”

“Wha’ aboot me, ey? I ain’t a pegasus, and I sure ain’t one o’ you humans.” William pouted.

“You can go in my place, kid.” Gallivan ruffled the gryphon’s head feathers. “Sound good to you?”

“Thanks, tha’s great!” William grinned suddenly, a real smile that was startling from the normally taciturn and grouchy adolescent. The gryphon had spent most of his time alone, either listening to the monks talk, which was rare, or nosing through the books in the library. It was nice to see him remembering to be a kid again, even for a little while.

“Oh yeah. By the way. No flying. You can jump to catch the ball, but no flapping wings allowed. Okay, let’s do this.” Taylor flipped the ball up in the air again, catching it with a dexterous snap of his wrist and watched as the group spread out, the pilots taking a few moments to show the ponies where to stand and what to do if the ball came their way. “Everybody ready?”

A chorus of shouts announced the affirmative answer. “Let’s play ball, then!” He straightened up, gripped the ball tightly and grinned fiendishly at Shadow. “I’ll make it painless, rookie.”

Shadow snorted and picked up the makeshift bat in his jaws, swinging it once experimentally. “Bring it, Ell-Tee.” He stood still just in front and to one side of where Gallivan crouched, like the sergeant had told him to. “I’ll try not to hurt you too bad.”

“Oh, dear me, I feel so faint.” Taylor wound up, kicking high with his left leg and threw. The ball arced toward Shadow, and the pony whipped the stick up and around. It nicked the ball and sent it spinning into the dirt behind him.

“Horsefeathers!”

“Foul ball. Strike one.” Gallivan returned the ball to Taylor. The Marine frowned for a moment, trying to remember the signals he had used back in school, then dropped his right hand down where it was masked by his legs and flicked his forefinger out and toward the pony.

Taylor nodded in return and grinned wider.

Oh, shit, Gallivan thought. The Marine braced himself and waited as Taylor rocked back this time and then his windup uncoiled, the lieutenant not merely throwing this time but pitching the ball like it was meant to be pitched. The rough leather sphere made a hissing sound as it blurred toward Gallivan and he threw his padded hands up out sheer reflex. There was a dull thwack sound as the ball buried itself in the layers of cloth.

“Strike two,” Gallivan managed, trying to make his voice sound normal. He returned the ball to Taylor once more and began rearranging the wrapped end of his cloak into a tighter bundle, his hands now numb and stinging.

Shadow stood where he had been, still poised as if waiting for the ball. “Sweet Celestia,” he breathed. The delivery had been so fast, the pony had not even swung. “How can you hit that?”

“It’s all about timing,” Taylor said. He felt a bit guilty for damn near vaporizing Gallivan’s hands, but the smug look was now gone from Shadow’s face. “You have to keep your eye on the ball and try to figure out what I’m doing.” He decided to show a little mercy and offered up a mid-range pitch, and the pony flicked his head and made contact with the ball. It sailed up and over Taylor’s head, then down into the outstretched palms of a waiting Gruebel. “Fly out!”

“My bat?” Gruebel tossed the ball back to Taylor.

“Sure, why not? Hey Shadow, switch places with Gruebel?”

“Gotcha!” Shadow grinned and headed out to where Gruebel had been standing near second base. He was out, but he had hit the ball, after all.

They continued switching out batters as each one took a turn at the plate. Gruebel struck out on four pitches and headed back out into the field, cursing under his breath at a grinning Taylor. Sword followed, and the pegasus obliged by smacking the first pitch he got right back at Taylor in a line drive, making the other officer duck. “Shiiiit!”

“Ball’s in play!” Gallivan bellowed. Sword had already taken off for first base at full gallop, and the pony slowed, tapping the flat pile of stones with a forehoof as he rounded it and took off again, the snow flying up from his hooves.

“Holy shit, he’s goin’ two!” Thompson was over on third base, watching with wide eyes. “Throw him out!”

Shining Star was out in center field where the ball had landed, making a dull chuffing sound as it cratered into the crust of snow. He nosed about for a moment, then located the brown leather ball and fished it out, snorting ice from his nostrils. Thompson’s shout made him look up in alarm, and the pony realized that there was no way in hell he could throw the ball the required distance before Sword made it to his goal. The ponies were perfectly capable of tossing objects across short gaps, but this game had been designed with a throwing limb with a wider range of motion than his foreleg had, not to mention a few extra joints.

Unless...

Star tossed the ball straight up into the air and flicked out his right wing, catching it in the arc of primary feathers. Cupping it, he spun and flicked his wing out straight, praying. Please don’t drop it, pleasepleaseplease...

The ball shot from his wingtip and arrowed toward second base. Gruebel was guarding the position, and the Marine’s eyes widened as he saw the ball zip toward him. This was gonna be close.

Stivers, who was standing back behind Gallivan, saw the same thing. “Slide, Sword! Slide!” he bellowed. “Don’t let him tag you with the ball!”

The pegasus obliged, throwing himself into a headlong slide, the snow flying up in a plume as he collided with Gruebel’s leg, his golden-yellow tail sticking up like a flag. The Marine cursed as he caught the ball, nearly dropping it for a moment and then making a half-hearted swipe at the pony before giving up.

“Safe with a double!” Taylor laughed. “Holy shit, Sword, that was amazing. You’re a friggin’ natural.”

Sword stood up and bowed, then shook himself, sending ice crystals flying in every direction. “Thank you,” he panted. He started to move off, intending to give somepony else a turn, when Taylor motioned for him to halt.

“Hold on. We got eleven people. Let’s see if we can get you home.” Taylor looked back at Stivers. “Your turn, jarhead.”

Stivers stepped up without a word and promptly smacked Taylor’s next pitch high into the air. It arced up and over towards where William was standing in the right side of the ‘outfield.’

Golden Sword had tensed himself up to run, but stopped at a word from Gruebel. “Wait. If he catches it, the skipper’s out. But you can touch the base and then haul ass. It’s called a sacrifice fly. But if you don’t tag up, they’ll throw it to me and then you’re out, too.”

“Thank you,” Sword panted, still slightly out of breath. The game had seemed simple enough on the surface, but it seemed to have several underlying layers of complexity. It was definitely good exercise, although it had obviously been designed to be played in a more temperate climate. And it was fun, pure and simple. If he had the chance, he intended to get Stivers to explain it more fully to him later; Sword had to take this back to Canterlot and share it with the other guards.

“No problem.” Gruebel watched the ball arc down carefully. “It’s no fun if you don’t play fair.” He watched William shifting uncertainly. “Oh shit, I think he lost sight of it...”

William had a perfect line of sight to the ball; its dark form was easily picked out against the bright blue sky. He simply didn’t believe that he didn’t have to move to catch it; it was coming straight to him. He flicked out a wing in imitation of Star and caught it neatly, drawing a cheer from several of the ponies.

“Tag up and go, now!” Gruebel hissed to Sword, and then he raised his voice. “Relay to me! Throw it in, Willie!”

Golden Sword didn’t wait to watch the gryphon try to figure out how to wing the ball in as Star had. The pegasus touched the rocky base and was moving in an instant, his breath pluming out from his muzzle in quick puffs as he broke into a gallop again, sprinting toward Thompson. The human moved out of his way and bellowed behind him as Sword turned once more, heading back toward Gallivan. “Throw home!”

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” Gallivan groaned, moving to block the plate. He saw Sword bulling in toward him at full speed, then glanced to his right to see Gruebel field the throw from William and turn to relay it to Gallivan, trying to stop the run from scoring. Gruebel’s throw was off balance, and his aim less than perfect, to Gallivan’s relief. He had to move to one side to catch it, and the pegasus shot past his left side, neighing with glee as he touched home.

“Score one for the Royal Guard!” Sword shouted, then pranced in place, unable to help himself. The other ponies cheered again, and the pilots clapped to show their approval as well. It had been one hell of a play.

Stivers switched places with Taylor to give the lieutenant a break, and the pilot ambled over to where Sword stood, his grey-furred sides moving rapidly as the pony regained his wind. “I wish I could show you my home,” Taylor said. “I’d take you to Yankee Stadium, Sword, and let you get a look at the Bronx Bombers. You’d go apeshit.”

Sword chuckled; he’d spent enough time with this particular officer that the epithet was no longer a challenge to translate. “I’d like that, I think.”

“It’d be swell.” Taylor laughed. “We’d have to skip the hot dogs, but you could put the hurt on the peanuts and Crackerjacks. A couple of beers...” He trailed off, lost in the vision for a moment. Out in the makeshift field before them, William had declined his turn at bat and one of the ponies took his place, quickly scoring another hit and running to base. They’d picked up the game’s basics rapidly, and their depth perception was uncanny.

“I think I’d like that,” Sword repeated, and was surprised to realize he actually meant it. “If the Princess could find a way...” He cut himself off, suddenly aware of the absurdity of it. His whole mission was intended to get these humans out of his world, forever, not establish contact with their world. The concept was so frighteningly appealing that he pushed it away immediately. “Well. I’d better get back out there. Don’t forget to take your turn.”

“Oh, I will.” Taylor snickered, watching as Thompson took another ungainly swing at Stivers pitching. “I like lasties, I’m gonna wait til everyone else has a shot.” Thompson swung again and went down with three strikes. “Won’t take long at this rate.”

“Well enough.” Sword started to trot away, then paused. “Thank you for sharing this with us, Lieutenant.”

Taylor blinked at the odd tone in the captain’s voice. “Sure thing, fella.” He watched Sword canter out into right field where the pony out there had come in to switch places. Which was odd, because she’d just been up to bat a few moments ago, he realized. What the hell...

Stivers exchanged a few words with Midnight and then handed the ball over before walking towards Taylor. “Your turn, hotshot. Everyone else has gone, and my shoulder’s bitching.” He rubbed the offending joint gingerly.

“But—”

“I told her the basics of it. Now shag your ass up to the plate. Unless you’re afraid of being pitched to by a lady.” Stivers’ eyes twinkled with repressed mirth.

Taylor glared at him. “I’m authorizing a field promotion. You’re an asshole. Major asshole.”

“Noted and logged. Now go take your hacks.”

Midnight stood quietly, relieved when Taylor finally got up and walked over to pick up the old wooden handle. She hadn’t exactly planned this particular combination of opponents, but the pegasus had watched avidly as both Taylor and Stivers had stood here, throwing the ball in over and over, trying to make it do their bidding. The sheer physics of it fascinated her; making a round object fly through the air, now straight, now looping, curving, slowing down or speeding up almost on command, it seemed. Stivers had explained to her in simple terms how it worked, and the realization that it was a combination of aerodynamics and firing the ball like an arrow at a target had her hooked. She had to try this, at least once.

She just wished it had been somepony else’s turn at bat when the time came.

Sighing, she shrugged the feeling of dread that was trying to creep over her off and picked up the ball in her teeth before dropping it into her outstretched left wing. She’d taken a moment to ask Star how he’d thrown the ball in earlier; several of the ponies as well as William had tried to copy the move, but none had been as successful at it. This was a bit different though. Stivers had told her that holding the ball a particular way and then twisting his hand another way made it do things, and she wanted to see if it was possible for her as well. Her hoof and foreleg weren’t up to the task, but the wing might work, if she did it right. Facing this particular opponent added another level of urgency to something that had originally been simply a fun idea. Midnight desperately did not want to screw this up and accidentally hit him.

Even more, she didn’t want him to hit the ball. Here goes nothing. She flexed her wing and stood sideways, as she had seen Taylor do, and heard a low chuckle from Gallivan as the Marine uttered something to Taylor that sounded like southpaw. That was nonsense, she had wings and hooves, not paws. And the direction she was facing was anything but south. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then rocked back and spun, flipping her wing out as Star had told her.

The ball tumbled clumsily, and she watched it bounce in the dirt before hopping up and being caught by Gallivan. “Shit!” The word jumped from her lips unbidden.

There were several laughs, and she felt her cheeks burn. Gallivan tossed the ball back to her. “You been hangin’ around with us too long, Ell-Tee. Take your time, relax.”

“Right. Sorry about that.” Midnight settled herself again and flipped the ball around in her wing, trying to get it settled the way she wanted, tucked slightly in between two of the long primary feathers...there. It would have been easier if Taylor wasn’t glaring at her like that, his eyes flicking every time she—

The realization hit her. He wasn’t looking at her. He was watching the ball. She shifted her left wing a bit and bit back a grin as he jumped slightly, his eyes following every movement. So that was it. She flexed her wing and watched him twitch again, the pilot crouched slightly, the stick in his hands making slow, lazy circles as he waved it back and forth.

The mare’s eyes narrowed as she met his gaze. I own you.

Midnight rocked back and then twisted, uncurling her wing and flicking it out just so, and the ball made a familiar hissing sound as it whipped through the space between them. Taylor grunted as he swung hard, and there was a loud thwack sound as the ball zipped past him to sink into the layers of cloth wrapped around Gallivan’s hands.

“Strike one. Count’s one and one,” Gallivan said neutrally, returning the ball to the mare.

“You think so? Stay tuned.” Taylor dug his left foot into the ground ahead of him and crouched like a hunting cat, his weight shifted to his right foot behind him.

Midnight pursed her lips and blew a stray lock of ebon mane out of her eyes. Okay, so that worked. Won’t work twice, though. I surprised him with that one. She reset herself and then wound up and delivered again, her forelegs crossing for a moment and then uncrossing in unconscious imitation of the human’s pitching motion as she strode a step forward, flinging the ball toward him.

She immediately wished she could call it back. It was an off-speed pitch, one that looked just like the fastball that she had just thrown but much slower, meant to deceive the hitter and throw off his timing. But she had thrown it too high, and she could see the smile on his face as he prepared to kill the leather sphere. He strode forward, swinging hard, and the old tool handle emitted a resounding crack that only the humans were familiar with.

“Oh shit, there it goes!” yelled Thompson. “Wave bye-bye to mama!”

The ball zipped through the air, ascending in an arc that topped out high overhead. Midnight could see Shining Star racing after it, but there was no way the pegasus would be able to catch it short of becoming airborne. There was simply not enough room left. She stood dejectedly, watching the ball as it descended, ricocheting off a rocky outcropping at the edge of the escarpment around them and dropping back to the ground.

Taylor had paused at the plate to watch his handiwork and was just starting to jog to first, preparing to round the bases in a home run trot, when Gallivan’s voice froze him in his tracks.

“Foul ball.”

“What?” Taylor stopped short and looked around disbelievingly. Gallivan stood directly behind the roughshod pile of rocks they had been using as home plate, his gaze fixed on a line that ran directly between it and where Thompson stood at third base. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Ball was fair until it hit the outfield, then the wind shifted it. I tracked it all the way, Lieutenant.” He waved an arm at Star and nodded to the pony, who had trotted out to retrieve the ball. “Count’s one and two. One ball, two strikes.”

“Oh my sainted aunt.” Taylor sighed and trudged back to pick up the wooden handle again. Midnight stood frozen, looking at Gallivan with the same amount of disbelief that Taylor had just displayed.

Gallivan nodded back at her and grinned. “Still alive. Keep goin’, ma’am. You’re doin’ pretty good.”

Midnight offered a weak smile in return and nodded, feeling her legs tremble. I’m running out of ideas, here. She turned away for a moment to collect herself, watching as Star trotted up to her.

“Here you go, ma’am.” He handed her the ball. The leather cover was badly scuffed, and looked like it was ready to surrender to destiny and come apart if it was struck hard again.

“Thank you.” Midnight took it and started to turn away, then stopped as Star caught her eye.

“Don’t worry, you can get him, ma’am.” He winked. “Kick his ass, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative.” She watched as Star turned back and cantered out to left field again, the pony shooting insults merrily to Thompson as he passed. Aware of the others’ eyes on her, she took another deep breath and turned around to face Taylor again. Okay. Speed worked. Can’t do it again. Slow... didn’t work as well. Definitely NOT doing that again. She paused, considering, thinking of all the movements she’d seen Taylor employing when he’d been up here earlier, throwing.

Okay, that might work.

Midnight fluffed her left wing, letting the ball shift around in the pocket of feathers as she set herself again, planting her hooves firmly. She stared at Taylor, past him, not registering his little motions, but concentrating on her wing. The feathers spread apart again, then closed once more, and it felt right. Time to see if it would work.

She spun about and pitched the ball to him, her wing flicking out and making an odd little motion as the ball spun loose. It was high again, and slow, though not as slow as her last throw. Still, it was a fat, easy target, and she saw him smile again as he began to swing at it.

The ball dropped and hooked sharply, curving under Taylor’s whipping bat to sock itself snugly into Gallivan’s grasp.

“Strike three. You’re out, Lieutenant.”

Taylor staggered, off-balance from the force of his swing. He glanced dumbly at Gallivan, then out to look at Midnight, who merely stood there, looking at him with an odd expression on her face. No, not at him, but past him. Taylor turned around and saw Terrence striding toward them, a gryphon on either side of him as he walked delicately through the snow and stopped, facing them.

“Had fun? That’s good. It’s time to see what you came for.” He executed an odd bow. “The Pentachoron awaits.”

Author's Note

I would like to thank Steampunk Brony for creating an actual musical version of the song we wrote. It wasn't what we had in mind, but we love it all the same. Have a listen here!

Chapter 17: Culmination (End of Book II)

Chapter 17: Culmination

The gryphon had led them back inside the monastery, pausing to let them shed their cloaks and stomp the snow from their boots and hooves. “I don’t want you tracking all that into the Pentachoron chamber,” he declared. “It’s already such a bother to keep clean as it is.”

“Why’s that?” Star was busily rubbing his legs and hooves dry with a towel one of the gryphons had provided. “I thought you said you didn’t get many visitors to see it.”

“We don’t.” Terrence waited patiently to one side of the common room, leaning against one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that seemed to form the majority of the room’s decoration. “The room does still need to be cleaned daily though; it gets terribly dusty.”

Star rubbed the towel over his mane, brushing away encrusted ice and snow. “Why do you have to dust it daily?”

“I don’t.” Terrence looked offended. “What do I look like, a maid?”

Stivers bit back his initial response and tried a different tack. “Why does the room get so dusty?”

“Something to do with the Pentachoron itself; it’s always been like that.” Terrence shrugged. “We also have to go get rid of the rats every morning as well. That will all have been done by this time for you.”

“Rats?” Crimson Hoof stopped dead. “Wait, what about rats? Nopony said anything about a room full of rats.”

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re all dead when we come in. That’s why we have to clean up,” Terrence advised. “It seems to attract them every night along with the dust. But they’re all dead by morning.” He offered the pegasus a wink. “Hopefully you lot will fare better, but we’ll see, I suppose.”

Hoof’s expression looked as though the pony had bitten into a particularly underripe lemon. “What the hoof is that supposed to mean?”

Taylor leaned over, smiling benignly. “If anyone offers you cheese,” he advised, “don’t eat it.”

“Thanks, sir,” Hoof replied sourly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Are you done?” Golden Sword’s voice cut sharply through the room. “I’d like to get this underway, if you don’t mind.” He waited for a moment, then nodded at Terrence. “Lead on.”

Terrence fluffed his wings and ambled over to one of the larger bookcases near the fireplace. The gryphon reached out with a foreclaw, grasping the edge of the wooden supports and tugged. There was a small clicking sound and the entire section, some seven feet high and three across, swung outward silently, revealing a short corridor beyond that ended in a circular staircase.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Stivers said. “A secret passage.”

“Nonsense.” Terrence looked at him askance. “It’s not secret at all. If I knew about it, how could it be secret?”

“Well I didn’t know about it,” Stivers shot back.

“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Taylor folded his arms. “We didn’t ask, right?”

“Now you’re catching on,” Terrence said approvingly. “Come along then, let’s go.” He ambled into the opening and started up the staircase with a nimble step, and the others followed behind him, queueing up single-file. The staircase was fairly broad, with what looked like wrought-iron railings on either side, and easily wide enough to accommodate two of the ponies abreast.

“I should have wondered when I never saw a flight of stairs anywhere in the living areas,” Sword ventured. “The multiple levels are easily visible from the outside, after all.”

“True enough,” Terrence replied casually. “Most visitors never think on such things; they only go on what they see at the moment, and not what their brains know is different.” He shrugged and continued climbing. “Well, it’s rare enough we get visitors with brains, much less those who use them.”

“Ouch,” Hoof said from below them. “I think we just got burned.”

“Really?” Terrence leaned over the banister to peer downward. “I can’t imagine how. The torches aren’t even lit unless someone is in here at night, and it’s broad daylight.” He swept a wing toward one of the windows on the outer wall where the light streamed brilliantly into the interior. “Was one still smoldering or something?”

“Figure of speech,” Star said resignedly. “Just a word, Terrence.”

“As you will. You lot are so odd,” the gryphon said. He kept climbing up until they reached the second floor landing. Another shape stood there by an old wooden door, cowled and cloaked. Terrence stopped before it and nodded respectfully. “Good morning, old one. Is all well?”

The shape moved, pulling back the cowl to reveal an ancient visage, the elder gryphon’s feathers worn and tattered with age. “Aye,” it croaked. “All’s ready here, if you are.”

Golden Sword bowed his head respectfully. “Are you the abbott?”

Terrence and the older gryphon both burst out laughing, the oldster with a particularly piercing snort. “Skies no,” he cackled. “I’m just the groundskeeper.” He bowed to Terrence. “It’s all cleaned up and ready to go.” He held out a foreclaw, grasping a small sack which bulged ominously. “I cleaned out the critters for yer.”

Taylor glanced at the sack and leaned back toward Hoof. “Remember, say no to cheese.”

Hoof grunted and they moved aside to let the old gryphon pass as he pushed past them, humming an odd tune under his breath. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem, sir.”

“Ey, if you don’t want those...” William offered, pointing to the sack.

“Pah, you don’t want these, laddie.” The old caretaker shook the bag, and it made a noisome thumping sound against the railing. “They ain’t fresh, and besides, yer don’t want to be gnawin’ on anythin’ yon beastie in there has dispatched.” He made an odd noise and spat. “T’ain’t natural, I tell ye.”

“That’s enough, Cedric, thank you,” Terrence said sharply. “Please excuse us now.”

“Aye,” the caretaker replied simply, and tottered off. There was a brief moment when he stumbled at the foot of the stairs, cursing, and then he passed out of view, still humming the tune and punctuating it with an occasional “Ya hey!”

Star watched him for a moment, and then looked back around at William. “Would you really have eaten those?” he asked, his tone betraying his distaste. “I mean, seriously?”

“Why not? If it’s ‘asn’t been layin’ around fer more ‘an an evenin’, it won’ ha’ gone sour. You do ‘ave to watch out for magicked food though. D’ere was d’is one time, back ‘ome, when my da’ was visitin’ a friend of his, and he had these talking sandwiches he’d had made just for fun, and—” William broke off, seeing five ponies, five humans and one particularly irritated gryphon glaring at him. “Uh, maybe some other time, then?”

Terrence eyed him for a moment longer and then returned to fumbling with the latch. “Ah!” His beak clacked with satisfaction as the lock clicked open. “Here we are. A bit annoying that Cedric locked it back, but one can’t be too careful. Don’t want the wrong sort getting in here, or getting out, for that matter.”

“Who would get out?” Shadow asked. “I thought you said nopony ever comes in here.”

“Come along, then,” Terrence said, ignoring the question. He pushed the door open wide and strode through it, leaving the rest of them standing along the stairway. Sword stood still for a moment, uncertain, one hoof on the landing.

“Right,” he muttered. “Let’s get this done.” He stepped forward and walked through the doorway, the others following along slowly as they shuffled into the room beyond.

The chamber was circular in shape, roughly twenty feet across from side to side, pierced regularly along its circumference by narrow windows with intricate frameworks that let the sunlight fill the room. The roof arched high overhead, and was also marked by eight regular openings; Sword’s careful eye noted that each of them corresponded to a major compass direction. The object in the center of the room immediately caught his attention, as it did all the others. The sunlight shone in evenly, dust motes visibly dancing in the beams in random patterns. The windows shape now apparent as the rays were directed to the gleaming jewel that hung suspended in mid-air over three stonework statures of archaic design. The statue closed to them appeared to be of a gryphon whose countenance was grim and dour, the stonework giving the impression that the creature was glaring at the beholder as they entered the room.

“If tha’s na’ Lord Cane,” William said in a shaky tone, “D’en I’m a bloody pegasus.”

Terrence eyed William suspiciously, then looked back at the statue. “Well, I’m fairly sure you’re not a pegasus,” he stated, “but considering the company you keep, I’ll keep my opinion in reserve, if you don’t mind. As to the statue, it’s entirely possible, but I’ve no real idea. I never met the fellow.”

Another statue was more familiar to the rest of the group. Golden Sword drew in a sharp breath, as did several of the other ponies. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were depicted in astonishing detail, their wings outstretched and touching as they appeared to be leaping into flight. The last stature, however, made him grit his teeth together, for it too was familiar.

“Discord,” he growled. “What the hoof is that doing there?”

“Oh, you recognize that one?” Terrence wandered over and patted the stonework draconequus as if it were a family pet. “Surprising. Most folks of your type don’t go in for lore.”

“We’ve had... dealings with him before,” Midnight offered. “You might say a bit of living history lesson with that one.”

“Amazing.” Terrence sighed. “I always get left off of all the exciting invitation lists. I would have loved to have been there for that.” He shrugged. “No matter, it’s all just decoration, anyway. It’s something that seems to have been left over, and I didn’t have the heart to throw them out; it’s such wondrous craftsmanship, after all.” The gryphon glanced at them knowingly. “Besides, I don’t think its the statuary you ought to be paying attention to, now, is it?”

Stivers shifted uncomfortably. He kept trying to peer at the jewel that hung over the three statues, but his eyes kept wanting to slide away and look at something else. Anything else. “Is that it?”

“Yes.” Terrence’s tone shifted subtly, the playfulness that had been in it ever since their arrival suddenly gone. “Look on it and tell me what you see.”

Silence spun out for a moment. “Um, it’s a jewel?” Hoof ventured.

“Really? What kind?”

“I don’t bucking know,” the pony snapped. “I’m not a jeweller It’s a floating... um, diamond. Or something.”

“No, too dark for diamond.” Sword’s voice was thoughtful. “Garnet, maybe, but too many points.”

“What are you babbling about?” Stivers gestured toward it. “The thing’s shaped like a goose egg. I’ve seen stones like that in a creek near my home.”

“There is no shape,” Midnight said abruptly. “It’s changing. And whenever it looks like something familiar, it changes again. Doesn’t it?” She looked back at the gryphon where he stood casually against the wooden beams of the wall.

“Good, very good.” Terrence’s voice had dropped down slightly. “You’re close.” The gryphon flowed into motion, walking around behind them to the doorway and pushing it closed. The room seemed to darken abruptly, belying the sunlight that still streamed in. “You’re to be congratulated.”

“Why?” Midnight asked. “Because I figured out what it’s doing?” The fact that the gryphon was between them and the exit was setting alarm bells off in her head.

“No, for staying here this long.” Terrence sat down, his bulk blocking the doorway. “The last time someone wanted to take a look, they’d gone screaming out of here by this point.”

“So that means we’re doing great, right?” Taylor turned his head slightly, speaking to the gryphon, but his eyes stayed fixed on the shimmering orb before them. “We can just take it and go?”

“You’ll take it and go, or die trying.” Terrence’s voice had dropped again, and his words took on the tone of an incantation. “What you seek will be found, twixt the sky and the ground. On a pedestal of three, thou shalt find me. The key to my secret will come from a friend. All you desire will be found within.” His wings spread suddenly, the span immense. “I am Terrentio Candentus, Abbott of this refuge and guardian of the Pentachoron. Unlock its secret, or unlock eternity. Make your choice, now.”

Silence hung thickly in the air, finally broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Well aren’t you the fucking Good Humor Man,” Taylor intoned. “And now you’re suddenly the abbott, too?”

“He never said he wasn’t,” Midnight stated wearily. “We just assumed he was talking about somepony else from the start. More wordplay.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but as opposed to eternity, I’m personally inclined toward the secret unlocking thing,” Taylor said. “It’s the whole actually doing it that has me a bit confused.”

Terrence stood still, his eyes gleaming a brilliant yellow, and said nothing. The gryphon’s gaze seemed to reach out and touch each of them in turn.

“Okay, no help from that quarter.” Taylor looked at Stivers. “Ideas?”

“The Princess said we need to bring it back with us, right?” Stivers shrugged. “So, just walk over and pick the thing up.”

“Right. I never thought of that. Brilliant plan.” Taylor clapped his hands. “Go get it, tiger.”

The Marine looked over at the scintillating jewel that hung before them. Common sense told him that it was just a hunk of shiny rock, and that picking it up was simple. All he had to do was reach out and just... grab it. He stood still, sweat slowly beading up on his brow. “I can’t,” he managed. “What the fuck? I can’t walk toward it.”

“Are you alright, Captain?” Sword’s voice was tinged with a hidden menace as he glared over at Terrence. “What’s wrong?”

Stivers shuddered, then took a step backward. “I can move, there’s nothing wrong with my legs or anything. I get to a certain point, and it’s like nothing works.”

“I’ll do it.” Hoof stepped forward a couple of paces and came to an abrupt halt. “Luna’s sake. I can’t move. Not forward.”

“How the hoof are we supposed to take it and unlock it if we can’t even get to the bucking thing?” Sword spat. He glared at Terrence. “Or is this another one of your little secrets, abbott?”

The gryphon’s eyes flared a bright orange, and Sword felt an unseen grip settle about him. The others began twisting uncomfortably as well, and it was plain the sensation was not limited to himself. “What are you doing to us??”

“If you cannot unlock the Pentachoron, then you have failed,” Terrence growled. “Do you cry off, then?”

“No!” Midnight lunged forward, and there was the faintest sensation of something parting before her, like a wisp of a curtain parting. She reached out with a forehoof to touch it, and a blinding flash wiped the room from her vision. She stumbled backward, shaking her head, and tripped, her legs flailing in a tangle as she tumbled to the ground.

The room had gone completely dark, and Midnight looked around, her wings flapping in panic as she found nothing but unrelenting blackness on every side.

“Hello?” she called out. The sound seemed to die shortly after leaving her lips, and there was no return echo. She could hear the sounds of her fur and feathers rustling as she gathered herself and stood up, but the sound was muted and weak. Her ears tilted back, flattening against her head as Midnight turned slowly in place, her nose twitching as she reached out with every sense she had. No smell, no sound, and there was nothing to touch, either, at least within range of her hooves.

Fright began to nibble in at the corners of her mind, and she fought it away. Now is not the time. “Hello?” she repeated. “Is anypony there?” Her nostrils flared as she sniffed again, and without thinking about it, she spoke again. “Anypony besides me?”

“Not bad,” a low voice chuckled off in the distance.

Midnight jerked reflexively, her ears flicking upright. “Who is that? Terrence, is that you? Are you teasing us again?”

“No, I’m not Terrence.” The voice seemed closer. “He’s quite useful now and again, but he’s nought but a tool. That’s all most of you are, usually. Sometimes simple, sometimes complex, but tools, one way or another.” It chuckled again, the sound making Midnight’s mane jump and nearly stand on end. “The few that aren’t are so interesting, though. So, which are you, my dear?”

Midnight crouched down, trembling as a dim shape began to form before her, its features coalescing slowly from motes of light that gathered themselves from the nothingness around her. The face was all too recognizable. “Discord,” she whispered.

The shape laughed. “Oh no, I’m sorry, but you’re quite mistaken.” Yellow eyes with glowing red pupils fixed her in their mocking gaze. “This is a simulacrum, my dear. A shape. You all seem to be so hung up on shapes,” it said in a plaintive tone. “You’re nearly impossible to communicate with without some kind of form involved. And if its something you find unpleasant, then it just makes it harder.” It shrank down suddenly, morphing into a smaller form equal to Midnight’s size. Yellow fur emerged, and a pink mane unfolded, draping over the smiling face. “Is this better?” it asked in a low, quiet tone.

“Fluttershy?” Midnight gaped momentarily. “No, you’re back in Ponyville.”

“That’s right,” Fluttershy said, and giggled. “You seem to not mind this shape that much. I think I’ll keep it for a bit.” Twin pools of aquamarine gazed at her. “If I really like it, I might just keep it for myself. The original owner won’t miss it, after all.”

“Don’t you dare!” Midnight spat. She lunged forward and shoved at Fluttershy with her forehooves, sending the other pony sprawling. “Stop that!”

“Oh my,” Fluttershy stammered. “You see what I mean? All hung up on shapes.” The other pegasus picked herself up and made a show of brushing herself off. “Well then. I think that’ll do for what we have to do, here.”

“What do you mean?” Midnight shivered as the Fluttershy clone before her offered her a beaming smile. She looked so real. “What are you?”

“I’m everything you, or anyone else, ever wanted, or could ever possibly want.” Fluttershy made a show of inspecting her hooves. “Although I have to admit, this is really a bit small and inconsequential, but you have your limits, I’m aware. So, I’m offering you a choice.” Fluttershy spread her wings and hovered in the air, beginning to glow slightly. “You want me, and my knowledge. Fine. It’ll be interesting to see what you make of it, but I’m not giving you the whole package.”

Midnight backed away a step as Fluttershy’s form flared brightly and split into three identical shapes. The central form lowered itself and folded its wings, but the ones on either side moved away and began to enlarge. The form on the left spread out, growing larger and settling itself down, the colors rippling and cascading through it as it altered shape again. A horn sprouted from the brow, and gentle pastel colors flowed through the mane and tail as the form of Princess Celestia solidified. The rightmost one grew taller and thinner, the legs merging in spots and then re-emerging as it took on another familiar form. It finally settled down, and the brilliant blue eyes looked at her. “Well, ain’t this something?” it asked.

“Taylor?” Midnight shook her head. “What...” She looked at all three of them. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You stand at a rare point,” Celestia said. “You’re at a crossroads of your own destiny, and you get to choose the direction you’ll go in and be aware of your choice.” The alicorn looked over at the other two beside it.

“So choose,” Fluttershy said. Her voice dropped, becoming almost inaudible. “But you only get to pick one of us.”

“Don’t worry about which one,” Taylor said soothingly. “Remember, we’re not really here, and nopony... and no one... will know your choice but you. So don’t get all hung up on shapes again, like you did last time.”

“But once you choose, you can never go back,” Fluttershy advised. “I mean, that is, even if you really wanted to.” The voice grew timid. “If that’s okay with you.”

Celestia glared at the pony simulacrum beside her. “Even if it isn’t,” she added, “you must abide by your choice and live... or die... with the consequences.” She shifted restlessly. “So make your choice. Now.”

Midnight glanced from one of them to the next for a moment. Each looked back at her invitingly, but held their peace. The Taylor one even folded its hands, the thumbs twiddling idly as it looked at her. The mare stepped forward and slowly circled them, walking around behind them and then stopping to stand before them once again. “Very well,” she said thickly. “I will make my choice now.”

“Excellent!” Celestia’s form said. “Which shall it be?”

“None of you.”

The silence was almost palpable before the Fluttershy clone spoke. “W-What?”

“I said none of you.” Midnight Arrow’s eyes glittered viciously as she glared at the three forms before her. “I have had it with having my life laid out before me by someone else and being told what I have to do. And I will not be forced to make some vague, arbitrary choice about my future by some... some chameleon with an ill disposition and a bad sense of humour.” She lifted her head and stared at each of them in turn. “I came here for the Pentachoron, not soul searching. Either give me what I came for or be done with it. I’m sick of your games.”

Celestia gawped at her. “Are you certain of this?”

Midnight ground her teeth together and bit back a reply. She turned about, facing away from all three of them and remained silent. She heard a faint shuffling sound from behind her, and Fluttershy’s voice spoke up.

“Oh my,” it said, and fell silent. The light dimmed but did not fade entirely; Midnight glanced down and realized she could still see the outline of her body. A faint shadow from her forelegs stretched outward before her into the surrounding darkness.

“Midnight? What the hell is going on here?”

She stamped a hindhoof. “I told you I made my decision—” She spun around and stopped awkwardly. Celestia and Fluttershy were gone, but Taylor still stood there, blinking and looking around as if dazed. Beside them both, almost within touching distance, was the glimmering jewel, floating in mid-air and emitting the faint light that enabled her to see. “Taylor?”

“Present and unaccounted for,” he shot back. “What the holy hell is this?”

A flood of relief surged through Midnight, and she could have shouted for joy. “You’re really here?”

“What, do you want a friggin signed affidavit from my squadron commander? It might take awhile, the mail service here is really slow.”

Midnight started to ask him how he had gotten there, then paused, her eyes narrowing in suspicion again. That was the kind of response she’d expected from him. And if the intelligence inhabiting the Pentachoron had any penchant for reading her mind... “Prove it.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Prove you’re Taylor. Say something you might normally say, but not something I’d expect.” She waved a forehoof in the air. “Surprise me.”

“I don’t...” He paused, considering. “Okay, how about a poem?”

“Go on.” This ought to be good, she thought.

Taylor struck a pose, one finger pontifically uplifted. “There once was a young man named Enos. Who had an incredible—”

“Okay okay, stop stop stop,” Midnight yelled, sitting back and clapping her forehooves over her ears.

“—skin rash,” he finished, grinning.

“If there was any doubt, you’ve removed it. I’m convinced.” Midnight felt relief wash over her again. “You’re just as annoying as ever.”

“It’s those tender comments of yours that fill my heart with joy.” Taylor crouched down on one knee and spread a hand on the ground. “What is this place? We were all standing around that damned room watching each other fiddle-fart and go nowhere, and you hauled ass up to the Pentachoron and froze.” He let his fingertips trail over the smooth surface underfoot. “You just sat there for a moment, and then bammo! I’m here in Nowhere, South Dakota with you and the big shiny thing.” He eyed it uncertainly, then looked at her. “What were you talking about? What decision did you make?”

Midnight opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it suddenly with a snap as some unspoken warning in the back of her mind kicked in. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing important. Come on, let’s get this thing and find a way out of here.”

That wasn’t one of the choices, little mare, the voice of the Pentachoron spoke up in her mind. Now I get to pick. A low, rolling growl emerged from the darkness, and on the far side of the gem, a pair of gleaming red eyes opened up and stared at them both.

“Okay, I seriously did not sign up for this shit when I had a talk with Uncle Sam,” Taylor said. “What the fuck is that?”

“Our host.” Midnight shifted to the left and froze as the gaze followed her movement. “I think I displeased it.”

“It?” Taylor backed up a step, and then stopped when the eyes turned his way. He shivered as the baleful gleam stayed fixated on him. “Okay, what’s the plan, here?”

Midnight glanced around. “I think if we can get the jewel, we’ll be able to get out of here. That’s the key to everything.” She missed the odd look Taylor threw her way. “All of the rest of this...it’s just shadows. Distractions. If we just take the gem, we can go.”

“I don’t think Fido over there wants us to take his bone,” Taylor opined. He reached a hand out tentatively toward the Pentachoron and snatched it back when a snarl ripped out of the darkness. “Christ, it’s huge.”

“Taylor, we’re still at the monastery, remember? You said so yourself, you saw me rush up and touch the jewel, and then I stopped.” She felt a wave of anger rush over her as she glared back at the red eyes. Still playing games. We don’t have time for this!

The pilot stopped and looked at her for a moment. “So this is all just in our heads? Nothing here really matters?”

“Nothing but the Pentachoron.” Midnight nodded at the slowly twirling gem. “If we don’t get it... we’re all done. It’s the key. Nothing else matters.”

“Right.” Taylor took a deep breath, and then offered her a shaky grin. “You got the wings on you, hon. Grab it and haul ass.” He leapt forward abruptly and past her into the darkness, toward the waiting eyes.

“Taylor! NO!” Midnight screamed. “STOP!”

“GO!” he bellowed, and then his voice was cut off by a feral cry of rage. The eyes dimmed and turned away, and the sounds of struggle began floating out of the darkness. There were several muted thumps of flesh striking something firm, and then a horrible tearing sound and the pilot screamed.

Midnight wavered for a moment, her muscles thrumming as she fought the urge to rush into the tumult. She reached out and grabbed the Pentachoron in her forehooves, feeling the odd warmth of the gem as it settled into her grasp. Her eyes streaming, she spread her wings and shot upward into the dark, flying blindly into the nothingness and trying to block out the sounds as they slowly faded away behind her. Seconds passed, then minutes, the only sound the muted flap of her wings and her own harsh breathing. Come on, come ON, she thought. I’ve got you, you’re mine now, let me go!

Interesting. The voice of the jewel spoke up from the black air directly before her. That wasn’t what I had in mind at all. She heard a low sigh, and then a clicking sound that made her vision flicker abruptly. Very well. It’s been millenia, but I suppose I can go back to being a tool instead of serving one. I am yours, Midnight Arrow. A glow of white began to appear in the air before her, and she swooped toward it, feeling wind against the dampness of tears on her cheeks.

I am yours, the voice repeated. I do wonder how you’ll use me, though. It tittered softly as she flew into the blinding glow. I think it will be... interesting.

Midnight stood frozen in place, then gasped, her chest heaving for breath. She blinked and saw the glittering jewel settled snugly in place beneath her outstretched forehooves. The warm glow of sunlight blasted into her senses, and she looked around to see the rest of her group staring at her in utter shock.

“Holy shit, Ell-Tee, how’d you do that? I couldn’t even move.” Gruebel reached out a boot gingerly and then stepped forward. “Hey, it’s gone now.”

The rest of them began inching toward her slowly, like newborn colts trying out their first steps. Midnight stumbled and settled back on her haunches, sitting awkwardly with the Pentachoron still clutched in her grasp. She jerked her head around and saw Taylor, still standing with the others, but staring at her instead of the gem or his feet. His eyes met hers, and she shuddered at the haunted look in his face. “Taylor? Are you—”

“All is well then,” Terrence intoned, his voice returned to its normal level. The gryphon looked at Midnight and smiled slightly, but his voice was sad. “The Pentachoron is returned to us once again, to work its will, and yours.” The smile faded from his beak. “And may all our ancestors have pity on you, my dear. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 16: Contrapasso ←ToC → Book 3, coming when I get back from Basic training.

(~august/september)

Author's Note

For those of you who are not paying attention to the bajillions of blog posts I put out, I am leaving for basic training. This means I will not be able to post a chapter for upwards of 8 months. Hang in there, because you guys are what is going to get me though this.

Book III, coming when I get back.

Chapter 18: Departures

The wind made a low moaning sound as it rose, buffeting the eastern side of the monastery and making the windowpanes shiver and rattle in their framework. Midnight glanced over at the window and shivered despite the closeness of the fire beside her.

If ever there was a sound for how I feel right now, she thought, that’s it. She pushed the feeling away with an effort and returned to drying her mane and forelock, scrubbing herself vigorously with the rough, homespun towel the gryphons had provided. The bathing facilities here were primitive, but at least they had them. Growing up in Equestria had definitely left her with an appreciation for the niceties, however, and she missed the modern bathhouse from the barracks back in Canterlot. There was something to be said for being able to control the water temperature to your own liking instead of having to have it heated up, poured into an overhead basin and trying to get clean before it went from hot to tepid to icy cold. A chilly draft curled about her legs and she shivered again, glancing over her shoulder.

The door to her room was ajar, and Terrence’s feathered face peeked around the jamb, peering at her in amusement. “Catch you at a bad time?”

Midnight jerked, emitting a startled squeak and nearly dropping the towel. “Do you mind?”

“No, of course not.” The gryphon shouldered his way into the room and shut the door behind him. “Go ahead and finish, I’ll wait.”

“You’re too kind,” she said, deadpan, and turned away again. “What’s so all blasted important you had to barge in here?”

“The Pentachoron.” Terrence shifted his weight restlessly from one claw to the other as he stood near the door. “I wanted to discuss a few things with you about it.”

Midnight let the towel slip down her mane to rest on her shoulders as she rounded on the gryphon. “I think I’ve heard about all I want to hear from you on that subject,” she said in a clipped tone. “You’ve done wonders so far telling us practically nothing about it, I’m fairly sure a bit more nothing won’t be necessary.”

“I was named its Guardian for a reason,” he replied testily. “You proved yourself worthy to retrieve it. That allows me to explain a bit more now, or as much as I can, anyway. Alternatively, you can go wandering off into the wilderness on your own with it and be damned to you. It’s all the same to me at this point.”

Midnight drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. Explain away, then.”

“And be damned to me? Fair enough.” One side of his beak quirked up in a crooked smile, but Terrence’s eyes remained fixed directly on hers. “There are... not rules, shall we say, but a couple of guidelines I want to share with you.” He indicated the small brush sitting on her desk. “Want some help?”

“No.” Midnight slipped her forehoof into the loop on the brush and began smoothing out the damp tangles of her forelock. “What guidelines?”

“First and foremost: you recovered the Pentachoron.” His eyes strayed to the gem where it lay on the desk, seeming at home in the new golden clasp the gryphons had fashioned for it. A fine, glittering chain was coiled up beside it, attached to the clasp with an intricately formed hook and eye. “It’s yours now. You don’t exactly own it... think of it more as an unwilling guest of yours.”

“I’ve done prisoner escorts before,” the mare replied, pausing a moment to sort out a knotted tangle in her mane. “I think I can handle this.”

“That’s actually not a bad analogy. Except this time your prisoner is not exactly restrained.” Terrence looked at her, then back at the gem again uneasily. “A bit of tact might come in handy now and again.”

“We... seemed to understand each other better using a more direct approach.” Midnight thought back to the ultimatum she had laid down on the simulacrum of Fluttershy. A bit late for tact, I’m afraid.

“As you will.” Terrence seemed to become even more restless. “As I’m sure you know, the Pentachoron likes to... communicate.”

“You got that right, buster.” She blinked at her own retort; the ponies had picked up more and more of the humans’ expressions as time had gone on. She was going to have to watch that. “I mean... yes, I’ve noticed that.”

“Not everything it says is worth listening to.” Terrence frowned. “No, that’s not quite right. Not everything it says... is useful to you, I should say.” He sighed unhappily. “All I know is that you might not always want to pay attention to what it tells you. On occasion, it’s not very helpful.”

Ooooh, someone’s moody today. The voice of the stone spoke up in the distant space within Midnight’s consciousness. Maybe you’ll pay attention to what I tell you and learn something, since he obviously didn’t.

Midnight stopped brushing out her mane and glanced over at the gem where it sat quietly, the multifaceted surface gleaming wickedly as it reflected the firelight. “Thank you, Terrence,” she said carefully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The backpack sagged to one side, then slipped out of Taylor’s hands and fell to the floor, spilling its contents across the room. “Son of a bitch!”

Stivers’ face appeared in the doorway. “Having problems, Charlie?”

“I know damn well I’ve packed this little bastard before. This is the same stuff I came here with. I swear it seems like its smaller somehow, now.” Taylor straightened up, sighing, and scratched absently at his chin, hearing the rasp of his fingers against the stubble on his cheeks. “I sure as hell didn’t buy up all the souvenirs at the monastery gift shop.”

Stivers leaned against the doorway, eyeing the other officer critically. “You ought to shave that crap. I’ll borrow Sword’s kit if you don’t want to ask him yourself.”

“Nah.” Taylor had thought the idea of ponies needing to shave laughable until Crimson Hoof had shown him a picture of an uncle with a handlebar mustache. It was just one more surreal thing that now seemed commonplace. “Figured I’d let it grow out a bit. It’s not like we’re having inspection or anything.” Taylor stroked his chin theatrically. “Don’t I look all debonaire and intriguing?”

“You look like a bum,” Stivers said laconically. “Shave that shit.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom.” Taylor flapped a hand at the other pilot in dismissal and began gathering his things up off of the floor. “What time are we bugging out of here?”

“After lunch.” Stivers shrugged. “Terrence suggested it, and it seemed reasonable enough. Start off with a good meal in our bellies, and we’ll make a nice distance down the mountainside before it gets dark. I don’t wanna push it, we’ve been pretty slack while we’ve been here. We can take our time and get back into shape.”

“The sooner, the better.” Taylor grunted as he bent double, trying to fold his bedroll into a shape smaller than the fabric was willing to go. “I’m ready to get the hell out of here.”

“What, don’t like all this clear mountain air?”

The lieutenant shoved the bedroll forcibly into the pack. “I’m ready to get back to America. Hamburgers, cars, and airplanes that do what I tell them and don’t spout nonsensical bullshit about magical portals and amulets that want to eat my soul.” He glanced over his shoulder at Stivers. “I’d walk through a ring of fire if I saw Miami on the other side of it right now, and to hell with all of this.”

Stivers held his hands out placatingly. “Reading you loud and clear, Charlie. It’s me, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Taylor bent and retrieved the battered pack of cigarettes from where it had fallen on the floor. He regarded it critically for a moment, then tucked it into a shirt pocket. “I’m just over all of this. I want to go home.”

“We’re almost there.” Stivers knelt and began picking up the clothing and other items that had fallen out the pack, handing them to Taylor while the lieutenant repacked his gear. “I was thinking...”

“Mistake number one.”

“Ha-ha,” Stivers growled. “Look... I know this is all real and everything. We pretty much decided that a long time ago. But... you think we’ll remember any of it? After we get back home, I mean?”

Taylor paused, his pack clutched loosely in one hand. In the other he held a plastic packet full of dried strips of beef. He looked at it for a moment, turning it this way and that, and watching the light from the window skate across the reflective surface. The drawing of the cartoon cow on the front of it grinned at him maniacally, the gryphonnic script written above it indecipherable. “I really don’t know.”

The Marine glanced at him. “Do you want to remember it?”

Taylor blinked and shoved the packet into his pack. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “Hand me that blanket, would you?”

Lunch turned out to be light and simple: fresh baked bread, butter and juice. The gryphons had left them in privacy for their last meal at the monastery, and the group found themselves lingering somewhat over their food; several times, one of the ponies or pilots would look up and catch the eyes of one of their companions. One would open their mouth as if to say something, and then close it again, and the other would nod as if some unspoken communication had passed between them. Despite the surreal experience they had undergone with the Pentachoron, the monastery had been relatively peaceful and quiet. There seemed to be something in the air here (maybe the lack of oxygen, Hoof had quipped) that helped ease the mind. It didn’t make your worries go away, but it did at least seem to make them bearable, to a degree.

William stunned them all by announcing that he intended to stay with the monks, at least for awhile. “Dere’s a bunch o’ stuff 'ere I’ve na’ had a pleasure ta' read yet.” His eyes fairly glowed with enthusiasm. “This place’s a freakin’ gold mine, ey? There won’t be a gryphon within twenty days flight o’ 'ere yule 'ave better stories an' tales than I will. An’ I’m jus’ gettin’ started.”

“Well, of course, that’s your decision.” Sword struggled valiantly to keep the look of pure enjoyment from his face. “We’ll miss your sterling company, of course.”

“Really?”

The pony gave up and smirked. “No. But I’m glad you’ve found a focus for yourself, at least.”

“Yah, and I’m gonna dedicate my first song to you lot.” William looked off in the distance, his eyes slightly unfocussed. “The tale o’ ten... um.” He blinked and frowned. “Titles are hard. I’ll think o’ somethin’.”

The expression of alarm on Sword’s face grew rapidly. “You know, maybe you should save that tale for some other time. Long after we’re gone, perhaps.”

“Yah, it’ll take me a bit to get it all down, anyhow.” William shifted back and forth for a moment, an odd expression forming on his features. “Ey, um... I never did thank you, Shinysides, for savin’ my arse back in Clawttowa. So, um... thanks, ey?”

Sword cleared his throat and fidgeted uncomfortably. “Well, of course. No reason not to... duty and all, you know—”

Midnight stepped forward and winked. “What the captain means is, ‘You’re welcome,’ William.” She bent forward and placed a kiss on the gryphon’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, and try not to get into too much trouble when we’re gone, hmm?”

William flushed alarmingly and glanced away. “Yah, sure, Lady.” He glanced up at her, his expression almost miserable. “Thanks for bein’ nice to me and all. Even when nobody else was.”

“Of course, William. Don’t frown so, your beak will get stuck like that and you’ll go through life looking horribly grim all the time.” She tapped him under the chin gently with a forehoof. “Come on, now. Perhaps some day you’ll come regale us with your tales at Canterlot, hmm?”

Stivers chuckled out loud at that. “I’d like to see the look on Celestia’s face when that happens.” He glanced idly at the small gryphon who sat across the table from him. “You really going to make up a song about all this, William? With us in it?” He indicated the other humans with a wave of his hand.

“It’d almost be worth staying to hear that one,” Taylor observed. “Right now I’d like to find out how the end goes. ‘And they lived happily ever after’ works for me.”

“Yah,” William managed. He looked up and down the table at the assembled group, and the ghost of a smile touched at the corners of his beak. “I kinda like that me-self.”

Noon had passed and the afternoon was well underway when the group thanked their hosts and finally emerged from the front entrance of the monastery. Feet and hooves crunched in the crust of snow that still lay on the ground, but the breeze was fresh and clear, and they all paused a moment and regarded the view of the valleys spread out below them.

“I’m definitely going to miss it here.” Shadow said with a sigh. “Theres a lot we could learn about just... scattered in the books.”

“Seriously,” Taylor replied, “I still can’t believe you can read, Shadow.”

“Buck you, Taylor.” Shadow responded curtly, a slight smirk on his face. The sound of a throat clearing itself harshly cut across the group and they looked over to see Sword glaring at them fiercely.

“Sorry,” Shadow said in a contrite tone. “Buck you, sir.”

The human laughed, but Sword remained unimpressed. “I see we have a lot of work ahead of us. Some... rehabilitation will be in order when we return.”

“Not me.” Hoof’s expression was pure innocence. “I already wrote ‘I will not be insubordinate’ a thousand times on the back of my pack.”

“That’s good.” Sword turned away and began fiddling with the straps on his own harness. “I’ll be sure to fill that one up with rocks when I make you run ten miles with it.”

Grubel leaned over towards Hoof and lowered his voice. “Somebody didn’t like your snowpony, I think.”

Terrence and several of the other gryphons had gathered in the courtyard to bid them a final goodbye. The abbott stepped forward and nodded at all of them, then placed a foreclaw on Midnight’s shoulder. “Farewell, then. Mind what I told you, miss. I hope you fare better than others have with your burden.”

She glanced down briefly where the Pentachoron swung on its chain round her neck. “I hope so too. I’ll do the best I can, Terrence.”

“Then that’ll have to do, won’t it?” His voice wavered and he looked away, and then back once more. “Clear skies to all of you, for all your days to come.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Taylor said. “Come on, let’s do this.” He strode forward, leading the group across the open area toward the small cut where the stone stairway led downward from the top of the plateau. The others followed in trail, hooves and boots crunching the snow down as they cut a swathe through the white blanket that lay upon the ground. They slowed momentarily and began descending single-file down the stairway, and Midnight made herself face forward as she waited her turn to go. I won’t look back. I won’t.

She did anyway. The rest of the gryphons had gone back inside the building, but Terrence still stood out in front of the monolithic building, alone, his cloak flapping in the wind as he watched them. His eyes met hers for a moment, and he nodded one last time.

Midnight lifted a forehoof and waved at him, then turned and descended the rocky stairs, the sound of her hooves clicking on the rock loud in her ears. Here we go...

The trip back down the winding path along the mountainside was much easier than their arrival had been; not only was the weather much more accommodating this time, but the path had been swept clear of ice. When they came to the jutting overhang that had nearly brought Thompson to ruin, they were surprised to see a group of gryphons busily working around the rock face. A sturdy wooden platform was anchored into the mountainside, and the work party appeared to be installing a railing along the outer edge.

“Better late than never,” Gallivan observed. “No complaints here, though. I wasn’t lookin’ forward to having to squeeze around that bastard again. And a railing, to boot.” He frowned for a moment. “How come it’s so friggin’ big, though? We could damn near walk four abreast over that thing.”

“Supply wagons, I should expect.” Sword looked over the construction with a critical eye. “It’s certainly wide enough, and the monks would have to purchase things from other areas that they can’t grow or make on their own.”

“Wagons? Jesus.” Taylor blanched at the thought of driving something like a fully loaded wagon that close to the sheer drop to one side. “Not Mama Taylor’s little boy, I’m skipping that duty, thanks.”

“I’m with you there, Sir.” Thompson tested the edge of the new woodwork gingerly with the toe of a boot. “One fall was enough for me.”

Gruebel clapped him on the back, making the other Marine jump reflexively. “Nah, that wasn’t a fall. That was vertical flight training.”

“Ha. Ha.” Thompson eyed him sourly. “I’ll remember that when your session comes up, smartass. Just for that, you can lead us across. Just to make sure the construction is sound, and all.”

“Fine, I’ll take point.” Grubel stepped forward, and the gryphons working near him moved back, eyeing the big human nervously. “Buncha cowards.” His light tone belied his evident wariness as the Marine moved slowly across the new span, the boards creaking under his weight. He paused three quarters of the way across and glanced over his shoulder to see the others waiting patiently, all staring at him. “What?”

“Just enjoying your tightrope act,” Taylor grinned. “It’s meant to support wagons, you goof. I don’t think you’re gonna fall through the damn thing.” The lieutenant shrugged his pack higher onto his shoulders and strode out onto the makeshift bridge. “C’mon, Cinderella, let’s get back home before the coach turns back into a pumpkin.” The wood resounded with the thumping of his boots, and then with the reverberation of hooves as well as the group followed after him. The platform extended well past the overhang of rock that had caused them so much consternation before, and gradually merged back into the rocky path once it had widened enough. Soon enough rock and snow crunched underfoot once more as they spread out into their marching formation without a word, moving single-file back down the path that spiraled around the outer edge of the mountainside. The air was still, the silence broken only by their footsteps, the sound of snow crunching underfoot and the occasional muttered curse from pilot or pony as someone tripped over a hidden rock.

The top of a fir tree hove into view on their right side, springing up from further down the slope to soar up to their level, and Gallivan resisted an urge to reach out to try and touch it. “Too damn quiet for me.”

“You wanna call cadence, Sarge?” Gruebel glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Haven’t done one of those in awhile.”

“And you won’t now, either.” Gallivan’s tone was firm. “I’ve heard you sing, and I had to go to sickbay to get my ears to stop bleeding.”

“Ooooh, burn,” Hoof hissed. “Ten points to the Sarge.”

“You kiss his ass any more, you’re gonna have skidmarks on your nose,” Gruebel growled. “You got a better idea?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Hoof glanced over his shoulder. “You mind a little singing, Sir? Just to pass the time?”

Sword shrugged. “Noise discipline isn’t a problem right now. Besides, did it ever stop you before when I told you to be quiet?”

“Just checking, Sir.” Hoof grinned and turned back to face down the path. He walked along for a few paces more, then began to step in an odd, rhythmic pattern, stamping his hooves down firmly on every other step. Between his stamps, his left wing rose a bit and flapped back down firmly on the hilt of his weapon, making it clack against his armor with a sharp sound that echoed off the rocks.

A few paces further and all of the ponies fell into the same pattern, marching perfectly in step and stomping heavily on every other pace. Stivers felt a chill sweep over him as Hoof began humming an odd tune, and then the pony burst out into a loud chant. His voice was clear and fair, the verse in an odd accent totally unlike his normal speaking voice.

CRIMSON HOOF:
Up, my lads! The sun's arise
Night is at an end
Greet the scarlet eastern skies
Our duties now begin.

Mind your sword! Be sure he's keen
And keep him close indeed
For when your foe at last is seen
His service you will need.

(ALL, CHORUS)
For we are the Guards of Equestria!
All hail yon fair Celestia!
Beg her blessing on us all
And bow in service to her halls!
Mind your step now, high and fine,
Stand ye fast and hold our line,
Step now, step now, 'ware, make way!
The Guard is on the march this day.

SHINING STAR:
March, my lads! The sun's on high
Yon sky is blue and fair
Take wing and keep a wary eye
Let our enemies beware.

Mind your spear! Hold him proud
And keep him by your side
For when the charge is sounded loud
He'll sweep your foes aside.

SHADOW:
March, my lads! The sun goes west
And brings the end of day
Duty calls, we'll take no rest
'Til evil's brought to bay.

Mind your hooves! Hear their sound!
When steel has turned to rust
Pound thy foe and leave him down
And bloody in the dust.

MIDNIGHT ARROW:
March, my lads! The moon's arise
Fear not the nighted land
Greet the silver eastern skies
And Luna's silver band.

Mind your bow! Strong and light,
Bend it true and well.
Set your foes within its sight
And send them all to hell.

(ALL, SHOUTING:) HAR-AIII!!!

(ALL, CHORUS)
For we are the Guards of Equestria!
Hail the rise of fair Luna!
Beg her blessing on us all
And bow in service to her halls!
Mind your step now, high and fine,
Stand ye fast and hold our line,
Step now, step now, make your fight!
The Guard is on the march this night.

GOLDEN SWORD:
Slow my lads, the moon's on high
The day is at a close
We've one more duty, you and I
Before we'll take repose.

Mind your fallen! Duty calls,
Lay them to their rest
Sing their names out, heroes, all
Who've given of their best.

(ALL, CHORUS)
For we are the Guards of Equestria!
Hail Luna and Celestia!
Beg their blessing on us all
And bow in service to their halls!
Mind your step now, high and fine,
Stand ye fast and hold our line,
For thy family, hearth and land,
The Royal Guard shall always stand.

The last echoes died away slowly, and the ponies slowly resumed their normal pace, but still unconsciously marching in tandem, their hooves making a regular crunching sound on the snow and gravel underneath. Shadow laughed merrily, reaching out to clap Star on the shoulder and nearly knocking the other pony over. “That was awesome! I love that song.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Star rubbed his shoulder and winced, then grinned at his friend. “That was fun, though. I don’t think I’ve sung that once since the dress review last year.”

Stivers whistled slowly, his eyebrows lifted. “I’ll be double-damned. That was pretty impressive. If I heard that one going by, I’d be half-tempted to sign up and join you guys.”

Golden Sword chuckled and shook his head. “You’d be surprised how many recruits we do get after one of those reviews. How do you think I joined up?” He nodded at the human’s surprised expression. “I was just barely old enough to do it, too. Went home and told my family about it. You should have seen the look on my father’s face.” He shook his head at the memory. “I thought for sure he was going to toss me out the window. Which was funny to me at the time, considering he’d done a stretch of service himself.”

“Really? What’d your old man say about it?”

“Nothing, actually.” Sword flipped a rock out of his path absently with a forehoof without breaking stride. “He took a deep breath, nodded and then went into his office and closed the door. I didn’t really understand it at the time.” His mouth twitched. “I have a much better idea now, of course.”

Stivers looked at him for a moment, then nodded wordlessly and gripped the stallion’s shoulder for a moment. Letting his hand drop away, he glanced around, surveying the thickening wood to their right, and cleared his throat. “Alright, folks. Heads up and eyes open. We’re back in the wild now, so keep an eye out.”

A chorus of acknowledgements drifted back to him, and Stivers settled into an even stride. He hitched his pack up slightly so that it rode more comfortably on his shoulders and let his eyes work their accustomed scan, ahead, to the sides, and turning around every now and again to check behind him where Taylor had settled in as rearguard. They’d come this far, won their prize, and were heading back, and Stivers was damned if he’d get sloppy now.

A shout went up from her left, and Midnight glanced over to where Taylor and Star were huddled around the ring of stones where they’d laid the tinder for their fire. A small flame was winking and burning merrily, and it danced about as the pilot leaned in to blow on it and fan the embers into a full blaze.

“Nice work,” Star said approvingly. “You’re getting better at this, sir.”

“Thanks. Last time I did that, I was on a Scouting trip in the Appalachians,” Taylor said. He leaned back and stretched, his spine emitting a dull pop. “Ooch. Wasn’t quite as tough back then.” He handed the small bow-like tool back to Star and watched idly as the pony put it back in his pack. “That’s why God invented lighters. Spinning a stick to set something on fire is a pain in the back. And the ass.”

Midnight chuckled quietly to herself at the thought of a donkey suddenly braying out in pain; the metaphors the humans used sometimes had an odd double effect. She stretched out on her bedroll for a moment, glancing up through the canopy of the trees overhead and watched as the last dregs of light faded from the sky. Stars winked out clearly in between the branches, and the thought felt comforting to her, as if the glimmering embers in the heavens were a sign for her and her alone.

The dell they lay in was itself familiar; it was the same site where they’d encamped when they’d been ascending the mountain trail, and with darkness coming on fast, it seemed sensible to take shelter in the same spot. She noted with some amusement that everypony had even placed their bedrolls and packs in the same places, as if the small clearing was a barracks and all of them had assigned areas to place their supplies. The humans had done so as well; it was odd how much the two species were alike. Although with this particular group being military soldiers, they had more in common with the humans than a typical pony would.

Or maybe not, she mused idly. She had no real idea what ‘normal’ humans would act like; she had a very limited group of examples to work off of. Shrugging to herself, she rolled to one side and rummaged through her pack for a moment before pulling out the slim volume she used as her journal. She deliberately flipped past her last entry to the next set of unused pages, so as to prevent what she had written before to influence her thoughts. Picking up her pencil, she rolled it idly in her teeth for a moment before flicking it out straight and beginning to write.

Dear Fluttershy;

I’ve lost track of the days I’ve been gone on this treck. The mountains were cold, and the monastery was beautiful, and the Pentachoron is something else entirely. It’s… Extremely hard to describe in words. It talked to me, in a sense. Pulled me into itself and then spoke of my past, and my future. Even now, I can feel it pulling lightly on my conciousness. It is definitely powerful magic, but I have no idea what the Princess could use it for.

Charlie still isn’t talking to me outside a professional standpoint. We still work together, and eat together and that other military nonsense, but that fight… I think it broke something inside of him… And inside of me. If I don’t talk to him about it soon, I think it’ll rend the group as well. They know something happened. Every soldier knows when his buddy is feeling down… And they see us avoiding each other. They’re smart enough to put two and two together. If one of us doesn’t make the move…

A log in the fire popped, making her jump, and she stared at the flames for a moment before returning to her journal.

Regardless, We’re on the road again! We’re finally coming home. I’m finally coming home. I’ll be able to finally give you these letters, by hoof, and I’ll finally be able to tell you how I feel. I love you Fluttershy. Now more than ever. These past few weeks… It just makes me think of how much I don’t want to lose you.

On that topic, Even as myself and Charlie grow apart, the bonds between our two groups grow stronger. I’ve even caught Gallivan and Gruebel thinking about staying. As much as it pains me to say this, I don’t want them to leave. I don’t want them to go home. Does that make me a bad pony? I want them to be happy, but I want to be happy along side them… What would you do, Fluttershy? My emotions are still reeling from the various feelings I’ve had while descending the mountain; Fear, concern, anger, love… All of those and more, intermixing and making deadly cocktails that can both create and resolve horrible situations…

Even now, sadness, fear, and even hints of lingering betrayal still swarm my mind. It’s hard to put quill to paper tonight. It’s hard to organize my thoughts. It’s hard to just… keep going… The pentachoron chose me… It won’t go to anyone else. This is a burden I, and I alone must carry. These last few days have made me realise something else about this quest: I just want to toss this stupid rock and come home to you, Fluttershy. I think I’m going to ask you to marry me when I get back. Yes, that sounds nice.

Midnight sat back for a moment, re-reading what she had just written, suppressing a sudden urge to scratch it out. She closed the journal with a snap and tucked it and her pencil away in her bag again. She’d said as much to Taylor just before they’d had their fight, and her feelings on the matter hadn’t changed. If she couldn’t write it in her own journal, how could she expect to face the pegasus when she got back and ask the question to her face?

You think too much, she told herself firmly. Just let it go. Rummaging through her pack once more, she pulled out one of the apples that Sword had given her and bit into it firmly, closing her eyes and letting the taste fill her senses.

“How’s it goin’, Ell-Tee?” Gallivan had wandered over and was eyeing her with some amusement. “Enjoying dinner?”

She swallowed and nodded at the sergeant. “Oh yes. I wish we could have gotten more of these from the gryphons, but they’re not too much into fruit, unfortunately.”

Gallivan chuckled quietly. “Well, we could pick some more up on the way back. We have to pass by there again to get out of here, after all.” He waved an arm absently off towards the south towards where Clawttowa lay hidden in the distant mountain range. “Who do you want on tap for guard tonight?”

“Gruebel can start us off. I’ll take the mid-watch at midnight.” She frowned for a moment. “Any suggestions for the four to eight shift?”

Gallivan eyed the group absently. “We’re all fair game, honestly. Everybody’s pretty rested up. I’ll take it if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no problem.” He lowered his voice. “The dreams are fine right now. I’m just not really a heavy sleeper at the moment though. Getting up at that hour is pretty normal for me at this point, really.”

Midnight eyed him curiously. The sergeant had not spoken of his dreams since the rough patch he’d had weeks ago, when they’d still been in the desert. The fact that he’d brought it up on his own, without any prompting from her, set a small alarm bell ringing in her head. “You sure?” she asked again.

“Yes ma’am. Things aren’t… pleasant exactly, but it’s not as bad as before.” He held up one hand in an odd gesture. “Scout’s honor.”

“Very well, then, I’ll take your word for it.” She settled back with a sigh and looked up at the tall human. “I take it you’ll give Gruebel the good news, then?”

Gallivan grinned, his teeth gleaming in the firelight. “What, pass up a chance to piss off ol’ grumpy pants? I wouldn’t turn that down for a million bucks.” He tossed off a salute. “G’night, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, Sergeant.” The mare watched him stroll away over towards where Gruebel was sitting, then she grabbed her blankets and settled back onto the bedroll. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she lay still for a moment, watching the tree limbs sway slowly over her head, first concealing, then revealing the glimmering silver of the stars above. Uttering a short, quiet prayer to Luna, she closed her eyes and let sleep come, the quiet sounds of the breeze and muttered conversations from her companions following her down into her dreams.

Another set of eyes watched her from the far edge of the firelight for a moment, then turned away and vanished into the undergrowth without a sound.

Author's Note

No, I'm not back in full swing yet. I'm on leave though, so me and Dave got together and made this for your guys' patience. I really hope it's error proof, but like all good things, it probably isn't.
So, an update on my situation. In October, I go to Aldershot NS for a month to do my Soldier Qualification. Sometime between then and March, I'll be getting my Driver Wheeled Qualification (hopefully in Edmonton). I have a period of leave during Christmas holidays, which I will be using to go home. Hopefully me and Dave will be able to push out another chapter by then.

Until then, I'm still not scheduled for DP1 till March. It's an 18 week course, meaning I'll be there till June/July. Then I'll be getting posted to my unit. From there, I should have a modicum of control of my life again. Just a little under a year left, guys.

Anyway, if any of you ever feel so inclined to talk to me to try and ease the pain of PAT Pl, just message me. Or Email, etc...
I'm really sorry about the lack of updates... and each time I say that I feel like it means less and less, but really... If the world didn't suck we would all fall off.

And because no one ever reads A/Ns: The internet is for porn!

Chapter 19: The Reckoning

“Sir? Captain?”

Golden Sword groaned and opened one eye to peer blearily up at the human crouched next to him. “Yes, what is it?”

“Sorry to wake you Sir, but it looks like we’ve got a storm blowing up.” Gruebel gestured upwards at the sky. “Captain Stivers suggested we go ahead and pack up before all our sh—uh, stuff gets soaked, sir.”

“Very well.” Sword drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily. “What time is it?”

“Darker than a gryphon’s asshole. Maybe an hour before dawn, Sir.”

The pony groaned aloud. “Thank you. I’m awake, go ahead and get the others roused.” The human moved away as Sword tucked a foreleg under himself and pushed, lifting his upper body up until he sat in a half crouch, his hind legs still splayed out under the comfortable warmth of his blanket. He tilted his head back and glared blearily up at the dark sky above him, where the storm clouds swirled uncomfortably close. They were still a fair distance up the mountainside, and the height brought the low-lying rain clouds up close and personal. A single cold droplet of water splashed on his cheek and Sword flicked his ears in irritation, muttering a particularly vile epithet at the heavens. He slid out from underneath his blankets and stretched before beginning to bundle up the bedding, packing it roughly away in his saddlebags. The blanket fought back stubbornly as he laid it out and tried to fold it neatly away, catching the edges in his teeth and folding it in neat halves that grew smaller and smaller until he was satisfied.

Another cold drop touched him on the shoulder, and a third quickly followed, setting into his golden-blonde forelock with an icy touch. Shivering, he abandoned the attempt to be neat and began cramming his belongings rapidly into his pack, the sides of the fabric bulging alarmingly. It wouldn’t even come close to passing any sort of inspection, but that was the last thing he was worried about right now.

Heavy footsteps crunched in the undergrowth as Stivers walked over toward him, his own pack looking similarly distressed as it bobbed on the human's shoulders. “Need any help?”

“No, I think I’ve got the lot of it, here.” Sword rapped the pack with the back of a forehoof irritably. “Probably buried something important on the bottom that I’ll need in a hurry later though. That’s how it usually goes.” The pony sighed and pulled at the straps on his armour, tightening the suit up around his frame.

“Well, you have your sword, right?”

“Of course.” Golden Sword patted his namesake weapon where it was slung at his side.

Stivers grinned. “You got four hooves?”

“Yes.” Sword eyed the Marine oddly. “Why?”

“You got your weapon and your feet. You can walk into combat. Equipment check, done.” Stivers stuck a thumb up in a gesture of approval and moved off to round up the others.

Sword stared after him for a moment, a wry smile twitching at the corner of the pony’s mouth. I think I’m going to steal that little gem on our next deployment exercise. He hoisted his pack onto his shoulders and then picked up his helmet and settled it firmly on his head. “All right, ladies! Saddle up and fall in. Let’s see how well you march in the rain.” A chorus of groans promptly responded, and he suppressed a laugh. “Keep an eye on each other. It looks to be nasty, and I don’t want anypony wandering off the trail.”

“Or off the mountainside, either,” Gruebel said, elbowing Thompson.

“Oh, ha-ha,” the other Marine said sourly. “You’re so funny, you and Joe E. Brown should go on tour together.”

Sword stopped beside them and looked at them appraisingly. “Good to see you in high spirits. You won’t mind taking the point then, would you?”

The two winced gratifyingly. “No, sir, no problem at all,” Gruebel managed.

“That’s good.” The pony motioned invitingly with a forehoof. “Lead on then.” He raised his voice. “Oh, and whoever slips first gets first watch tonight. So do watch your step, hmm?”

There were several laughs, and Stivers rapped the pony’s armour with his knuckles as he passed by. “Hardass.”

“Am I? I had no idea,” Sword offered innocently. “Let’s move out!”

The clouds belied their visible threat, mumbling and grumbling overhead, but the random dripping of rain changed into a light mist that seemed to settle in to stay, soaking slowly into the groups cloaks and making them drag heavily as they walked. Dim light slowly grew around them as the sun rose behind the thick overcast, revealing the rocky slope and forested area to their right in gloomy details of grey and dull green. The path became slick with moisture as the light rain continued to mist downward around them, and Sword’s warning passed beyond idle jest as several of the group came close to slipping more than once as they made their way back down the mountainside path. Gruebel slid hard at one particularly steep area, the Marine crouching down with his arms held out for balance as he slipped forward for nearly ten feet before catching his balance. Puffing hard, he glanced over his shoulder at Sword, who was eyeing him with concern. “I didn’t actually fall over, so that doesn’t count, right?”

“Forget about that,” Sword replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yessir. Just wounded my pride a bit.”

“No harm done, then.” Sword moved forward gingerly, stepping on the slick patch himself and crouching down, his wings twitching involuntarily as he slid slowly down as well. Nearing Gruebel, the stallion hit a small rock with the edge of a forehoof and did a quick stutterstep before regaining his balance. “Well, that was almost interesting.” He eyed the Marine a bit sheepishly. “Although going face first into the mud might improve morale somewhat.” He turned to watch as the others began negotiating the slick area one by one. “I’ve done worse.”

“Mud washes off, sir,” Gruebel offered diplomatically. He tilted his head back to glare up at the cloud deck overhead. “You guys control weather, right? Can’t you just make this crap go away or something?”

“We could fly up and shove the cloud around, yes, but it might do more harm than good.” Sword paused to watch as Taylor took the slick patch like a downhill skier, the pilot crouching down and staring intently forward as if preparing for a competition jump. “Careful, Lieutenant.”

Taylor winked at him as he slid past and hit solid ground once more. “He reaches the finish line, and the crowd goes wild!” He raised his hands overhead, waving to invisible applause. “Thank you, thank you, you’re too kind. Where’s my gold medal?”

“More likely a Purple Heart for that one, sir,” Gruebel noted. “You take a header on the rocks, you’re gonna need stitches and then some.”

“That’s what I like about you, Gruebel, you’re so cheerful and positive all the time.” Taylor pinched the Marine’s cheek and moved aside to make room for Shadow, who was just beginning his slide. “C’mon, let’s see how many points he gets for style!”

“Don’t you dare,” Sword warned the other pony. Shadow, who needed no such warning, slid down carefully, his legs locked and his mouth set in a firm line. Sword watched him move off, then glanced up at Gruebel again. “Pegasi can naturally manipulate clouds and the like, but it takes special training to be a weather pony and actually control the weather. Our training is more of the martial sort, I’m afraid, so to be quite honest, we have no idea how to go about it.”

“Oh. Well...actually, that makes sense, I guess.” Gruebel reached up with one hand and wiped away a film of water and sweat from his own forehead. “How about the unicorns? Not all of them do magic, then?”

“Magic’s an inherent trait in unicorns, but they all utilize it differently according to their natural gift and inclination.” Sword shrugged. “I know several in the guard who only use it for simple levitation of objects around the barracks, sort of like an extra set of hooves. Or hands, as it were. Some of the ones who are better at it might use it to trip up an enemy, but they still use their hooves to use their weapons. Only trained sorcerers go in for magical combat. And the princesses, of course.”

“How about the purple one with the attitude back where we met? Sparkle-something or other?”

“Miss Twilight Sparkle.” Sword enunciated the pony’s name with careful precision. “That would be a trained sorcerer. Not all of them are in the military, but all of them are trained, to a greater or lesser degree, by the princesses.” The pony watched absently as Midnight, who had been bringing up the rear of the group, began sliding slowly downslope, her wings outstretched to full extension to control her speed. “Hrmph. Wish I’d thought of that…”

“Really? I didn’t see her do much while we were in town at the time.”

“Magic, powerful magic in particular, is not something you wander around showing off. At least, most unicorns don’t, unless they’re entertainers or the like.” Sword looked on as Midnight glided to a stop near them and folded her wings to her sides once more. “Twilight Sparkle is also one of the Elements of Harmony. And as much as her habit of getting distracted annoys me, her power has been demonstrated more than once.” He glanced up at Gruebel. “I wouldn’t want to take her on with a whole battalion of troops.”

The Marine blinked. “She’s that strong?”

“She’s quite capable of flattening Ponyville and everyone in it, were she so inclined. Since she’s not, she makes an ideal guardian for it.” Sword stretched and looked the group over. “All right then, everypony shipshape? Equipment check. Make sure you didn’t lose anything coming downhill.”

As the humans in the group started patting their pockets, the ponies likewise looked themselves over. Gallivan wandered through the group, glancing here and there at the others before nodding. “Looks like we’re good to go, sir.”

The clouds overhead rumbled again, a deep bass sound that shook the earth made the very air tremble. “None too soon,” Sword allowed. “Anypony need a short breather?”

“If it’s all the same to you sir, I’d like to push on.” Star glanced about them uneasily. “I don’t know if it’s the storm or what, but this place is giving me the jitters right now.” His wings flicked out, and the pegasus lifted into the air a short distance, gazing downhill in the direction they’d been heading. “We’re not really that far from the main road now. We could take a break when we reach it, maybe; it’s more open and easier to keep an eye out.”

Stivers frowned as he looked up at where Star hovered in place. “Something got your nose out of joint here?”

“Nothing I can lay a hoof on, sir… just a feeling.” Star shrugged, his voice reluctant. “I just… don’t like it here for some reason.”

“That’s fine, then. We’ll take your advice and push on until we hit the main road before we stop for a break.” Sword stepped forward as Star alighted once more on the ground. “Come on, you and I will take the point for a bit and keep an eye out, hmm?”

The relief on Star’s face was evident. “That’d be great, thank you sir.” The two moved off together, the rest of the group falling back into their single-file marching formation with Midnight bringing up the rear of the column once again.

Golden Sword cast a wary eye around himself, peering at the scrub brush and the trees which were beginning to appear on both sides of the path once again, the rock face to their left falling back and becoming less steep as they descended the mountain side. “Did you see anything while you were up there?” he asked in a low voice.

“No, sir.” Star’s ears flicked rapidly, the pony glancing from one side to another. The trees lined both sides of the path now, and their overarching branches reached out and almost touched overhead, as if seeing to embrace each other to glory in their greenery. “Everything seemed okay. I’m sorry sir, I don’t want to sound like I’m crying ‘timberwolf’ or anything, but I just have this odd feeling.”

“It’s quite all right, lad. I trust your instincts.” Another rolling peal of thunder shook the air around them, and Sword glanced up reflexively. “It could be just the weather, though. Having this mess hanging about overhead would set anypony’s teeth on edge.”

“I guess so.” Star looked unconvinced. “I dunno, sir, it’s more like—”

“ENEMY ON THE RIGHT!”

Both pegasi jerked to a stop and whirled almost in unison at the shout from Gruebel. Peering into the underbrush, Sword saw a series of quick jerking movements, and then a telltale gleam. “DOWN!” he screamed, curling a foreleg around Star’s neck and yanking the other pony with him as he flattened himself to the ground. Several arrows cut through the air just above them, passing overhead with a deadly whispering sound before shattering against the rocks behind them. Sword released his hold on Star and grabbed for his weapon, glancing to one side and seeing the rest of the group prone on the trail, lying in a haphazard pattern where they’d all fallen at his shouted command. “AMBUSH! FORM UP!”

A harsh screeching sound emerged from the brush and the winged form of an armoured gryphon burst out of the undergrowth, diving towards them. Sword swung his weapon without thinking, and there was a ring of metal contacting metal as it was almost yanked from his grasp. The gryphon passed overhead, squalling in rage, gripping its own sword in one claw and swinging it wildly. “Tu alchak geldingu!”

“Taylor! Midnight! Covering fire!” Sword yelled, rising to a low crouch. “Don’t let them get airborne—”

The heavens finally opened up overhead, the pent up fury of the storm unleashing itself on friend and foe alike as the rain hammered down upon them all. The air around them turned into a silvery, shimmering curtain of water, the cold drops thrumming upon the armour of the pegasi and cutting their visibility to practically nil as it splashed and roared on the bare rocks and brush nearby. Sword looked over at Star and saw the pony crouched, his spear held ready, peering back behind them where the gryphon had vanished. “Visual?”

“None! He’s gone, sir. I can’t see two lengths in this!”

“Steady, lad. That means he can’t see us, either.” The combination of the downpour and the branches overhead had lowered the light level dramatically; the spot was ideal for an ambush, and the guard captain cursed himself for not paying closer attention to it earlier. Sword lowered his voice, leaning over to speak directly into Star’s ear. “Sight’s gone. We all stink like gryphon from that damned monastery, so forget your nose. Keep your ears tuned as best you can.”

“Yes, sir,” Star muttered back.

“Watch my back. We need to group up or they’re going to cut us to pieces one by one in this mess.” Without another word, the guard captain began slowly making his way back up the path toward where the others had been, praying to Celestia that they’d not moved too far.

Gruebel crouched, shivering in the rain, his eyes flicking from one point to another. “Christ, what a total fuckup.” He glanced to his right, where Shadow stood, the crest on the pony’s helmet soaked and drooping. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Shadow replied curtly. The arrow that had begun the ambush had struck his armour and still lay buried in the metal plate; the fine alloy had held though and kept it from penetrating to the flesh beneath. The human had heard the thunk sound when it had struck and had called out instinctively. “Good job. Another second or two and we’ve have been food for the vultures.”

“Don’t celebrate yet, we ain’t out of the shit.” Gruebel was down on one knee, his short sword held close to his chest. “Wish I had my Garand right now. You see anyone else? Any movement?”

“Bucking everything’s moving,” Shadow hissed. The heavy rain and the low light made everything dance in his vision, shadows slipping this way and that, wavering and then disappearing again. Another rose up off to his left, and he squinted at it uncertainly. “I think—”

“Look out!”

Shadow grunted in surprise as something that felt like a brick wall slammed into his right side. The pony fell over and slid, his armour screeching grittily on the rock and mud underneath him, hooves scrabbling for purchase. A gryphon appeared out of the pounding rain, beak clacking as it uttered a string of unintelligible invective at Shadow. The pegasus started to push himself upright, then ducked reflexively as another form appeared on his other side. The gryphon backpedaled as Gruebel’s huge form hurdled the pony’s prostrate body, the Marine’s sword whickering through the air as he brought it down in a gleaming arc. The sword glanced off of the gryphon’s armour and then spun away as the human tackled the creature bodily, both of them rolling away.

Shadow lurched upright, preparing to follow, then heard a noise behind him. Without thinking the pegasus lashed out with his hind legs and felt them strike home solidly, along with a welcome screech of pain. He felt a line of pain scorch across the inside of one thigh as he drew back, and he cried out, spinning around to face his attacker. Another armoured gryphon lay on the ground, peering at him blearily, a bloody dagger clutched in one foreclaw. It locked gazes with him and hissed.

The pegasus crouched, ignoring the flash of pain in his hind leg, and leapt up, his wings flaring out for a moment. He brought them down with a grunt, shifting his weight and propelling himself downward sharply, his forehooves outstretched. The gryphon uttered a squawk as the guardpony slammed into it with his full weight, hooves landing squarely on the glaring face. There was a low crunching sound and the feathered form twitched violently underneath him before going limp.

“That’s one,” Shadow growled. He heard Gruebel curse loudly behind him and grinned, feeling his heart pounding deep within his chest. Spinning about, he lurched into a gallop, wings outstretched, charging toward the sound of battle. “HAR-AIIIIIII!”

Thompson froze, clutching his spear tightly with both hands. “Jesus, somebody is seriously pissed.”

“That’s Shadow. Sounds like he’s having fun,” Hoof observed sourly. “You wanna get rid of that thing, or were you planning on keeping it as a Hearts and Hooves gift for somepony?”

“Oh, yeah.” Thompson glanced at the gryphon who had swooped out of the rain and spitted itself on his spear, the beast gaping at him haplessly for a moment before collapsing. With a grunt and a twist, he pulled his weapon free and held it across his body, knuckles white on the rough wooden shaft. “These fuckers are goddam crazy. Why the hell are they attacking us? I thought you guys were allies.”

“Damned if I know,” Crimson Hoof growled. “If they declared war, I didn’t get the bucking memo way out here.”

“Jesus Christ, will you two shut up??” a voice hissed.

Hoof and Thompson both whirled around to see Gallivan moving toward them slowly at a crouch. The Marine sergeant held a finger to his lips, pointed at his own eyes, then pointed off to their right, toward where the rear of the column had been. Thompson glanced at the pony, and Hoof met his gaze, their expressions identical. Ohhhh shit. They stood motionless, peering back up the trail as Gallivan moved slowly up until he was between them.

“I can hear you two bozos a mile away,” he muttered, just barely audible above the rain. “Seen any of our people?”

“Nope.” Hoof glanced nervously over one shoulder. “Most were up front. Lieutenant Midnight and Captain Stivers were the only ones behind us.”

“Alright, we gotta police up this cluster fuck. Both of you move to opposite sides of the trail. I’m goin up the middle, and we’ll head back and find them. Slow.” Gallivan glared at them intently. “You two are the flanks. Anybody goes after one of us, the other two can cover. We’ll get the skipper and the Ell-Tee and then head back up front. Got it?”

Thompson and Hoof nodded.

“Let’s move.” Gallivan touched them both briefly on the shoulder and then they began moving forward at a slow walking pace, spreading out into a shallow “V” shape with Gallivan at the apex.

Hoof glanced back once at the sergeant’s grim expression, then fixed his attention on the path before him. He’d wanted to mention the fact that Gallivan was unarmed, and in the spot most likely to get attention, but from the look on the Marine’s face, he could have cared less.

Midnight froze at the first call of alarm, but Sword’s cry of Ambush! sent her immediately into motion. The mare shot into the air and jigged sideways to her left, unslinging her bow and aiming toward the heavily overgrown area on the right of the path. Glimpsing a sign of movement, she had taken aim, but then the downpour had destroyed her sightline and reduced the world to a gleaming silvery dance of random reflection on every side. Cursing mentally, she descended carefully and settled into a dense group of bushes that lay just off the trail below.

Small squealing noises against her armour and a few pinpricks of pain informed her that the bush had thorns, but she could have cared less at the moment. Ears perked fully upright, she looked slowly along the path as far as she could see, but the combination of rain and splashback made it almost impossible to see anything other than the path itself; the woods beyond were lost in a haze. She momentarily wished for the height of the humans; they could at least see above the dance of rain along the ground.

Which also made them better targets. A cold feeling wrapped around her chest and she hoped that nopony… or no one… had been caught in the initial onslaught. A burst of shouting and cursing from further down the path made her ears flick in that direction and she raised her head slightly, trying to will the rain aside to see what was going on. It died down abruptly, and she was about to drop back down when a pegasus war cry came rolling through the air. Shadow!

Ducking her head, Midnight shoved her way out of the bush, ignoring the screech of thorns along her sides. She turned to head down the path, but jerked to a stop as something grabbed hold of her tail. Without thinking, she dropped her bow and jerked her small dagger free from its side sheath, whirling and jerking her forehoof upward and out. The tug vanished, and she staggered back to see a swatch of her own tail caught in the bush where it had snagged on the thorns. Her dagger strike had cut it free, and a ragged clump of ebon hair hung flapping in the breeze from the branch that had seized it.

“Oh for Luna’s sake,” she muttered.

“Prayer won’t help you,” a voice said from behind her.

Midnight spun to her left, pivoting on her rear hooves, and saw a gryphon emerging from the brush on the far side of the trail. It grinned at her and raised a bow, the arrow already nocked and aimed directly at her. Her own bow lay on the ground a few feet away where it had landed after she had dropped it, but there was no possible way she could get to it before the foe before her could fire.

“Should have stayed home, little pony,” the gryhon hissed, and drew back on the bow. There was a low thwupp! sound and Midnight jerked instinctively, flinching away and closing her eyes.

Stivers stood still, watching as the gryphon fell, slack-jawed, his arrow protruding from the side of its head. It slumped over onto the path and the Marine stepped forward, walking over to where Midnight sat crouched. The mare opened her eyes and looked up at him, then over at the gryphon where it lay on the trail, twitching.

“Lesson learned?” Stivers said.

“Shoot first, talk big when you’ve won,” she replied unsteadily. Midnight picked up her bow, then touched Stivers leg with a forehoof. “Thank you.”

The Marine winked. “C’mon, let’s go find the others.”

Gruebel twisted and rolled again, forcing the gryphon in his clutches beneath him. He drew back a fist and swung, his knuckles ringing against the creature’s helmet. “Oww, shit!” He drew his hand back involuntarily, a bolt of pain shooting up his right arm from his hand. “Motherfu—”

The rest of his statement was driven out of him as the gryphon drove its hind legs up into his belly, kicking the wind out of him with a whoof! sound and sending him flying backward. It flipped over and stood upright, growling at his prone form as it rose. “Savage,” it hissed. “I’ll enjoy taking your head back to Three Peaks as a trophy.”

“Fella, you got shit for taste,” Gruebel wheezed. “I would have asked for a fifth of rye.”

Whatever the gryphon intended in reply was lost as a blur of scarlet fur shot out of the rain and slammed into the creature, the tangle of claws and hooves rolling along the ground. Shadow’s bulky form rose up, emitting a deep bellow as he slammed his forehooves down, but the gryphon managed to jerk sideways, the guardpony’s hooves striking the rocky path and sending up sparks. Snarling, the stallion’s head dipped down, his jaws closing on the feathered scruff of the gryphon’s neck. Backing up, he spun, jerking his head, and the creature went flying, squawking in anger as it flew over Gruebel’s head and crashed into the underbrush on the far side of the path.

“Holy Christ,” the Marine muttered. He rolled upright, glancing around, but his weapon was lost somewhere in the mud and water along the trail. A rustling noise to his left drew his attention and he saw the bedraggled gryphon rising up out of the bushes, shaking mud and water from its face. Gruebel backed away, looking around frantically, but there was nothing within reach.

“Alchak, I will eat your liver while you watch!” it hissed, and stood up. It took one step forward and then jerked, its head exploding into a mist of discolored material. A sharp report rang from the rocks around them, and both Gruebel and Shadow froze in place.

Taylor stood up from the underbrush where he had been crouching and brushed himself off, the .45 automatic still gripped in one hand. “Eat my nuts, shit for brains,” he stated. “God hates a smartass.”

Golden Sword froze in place as the rolling echoes of the shot rang out around him. Looks like that little gift came in handy after all. He turned to Star and spoke loudly. “So much for stealth. Let’s move up, they’re not that far away from the sound of it. Be careful, though. If you see one of the humans, stop and call out. I’d rather not write any letters home to your family.”

“Yessir.” Star moved forward, relieved that at last they could get on with this. He’d heard Shadow’s shout earlier, and only his training and his loyalty to his commander had kept him from bolting forward to join his friend. “I’ll take the point, sir.”

Sword opened his mouth to reply, his words turning into a shout of alarm as a blur coalesced from the rain on the right. A brown feathered form slammed into Star, sending the pony rolling, his spear clattering to the ground. Another shape appeared, and then another, and Sword saw three of the armoured gryphons arrayed before him, their eyes burning with hatred. Star tried tried to rise, but one of the creatures slapped a claw down and pinned the pony to the ground by his head. The pegasus thrashed about, his wings flapping madly, the water streaming down the trail flowing up and over his muzzle.

“Tell yon lackey to stop struggling, afore I drown him in puddle, hee?” The gryphon in the center of the group leered at Sword and held out a jagged looking dagger, the point dropping down to rest on the unprotected joint between Star’s helmet and his body armour. “Tell him.”

“Star, hold fast.” Sword gritted his teeth. “Don’t move.”

“Thass a good lad,” the gryphon chuckled. The guard holding Star down lessened his grip, and the pony reared his head up, gasping and coughing for air. The rain sheeted down, spraying off the dull brass armor the gryphon wore over its chest and sides and running down in little rills to pool beneath it. “Now then. You’ve got something we want, aye? Hand it over and y’might walk away from all this.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sword rasped. “If you’ve come for gold, you’ve picked the wrong group to rob. We haven’t enough to make it worth your while.”

“Tha’s no’ what dey’re after, Shinysides.” The familiar voice from behind him made Sword’s ears flatten back against his head. “Dey want de l'ile trinket ya picked up from de monast’ry. If’n yer smart, yu’ll give it up and go ‘ome, ey?”

Sword turned around slowly, his expression distorted into a snarl. “You little bucking bastard!”

“Oh, don’t blame the poor lad so.” The gryphon that stepped forward was larger than all of the others, and bore a large set of silver wings emblazoned across the front of his armor. Beside him, the small form of William stumbled along, the youngster uttering a low curse as he tripped over a protruding rock. “After all, he’s only doing what he was told. And you performed brilliantly, boy.” It reached out with a foreclaw and patted William on the head.

William shied away from the gryphon’s touch and glared at Sword. “Give it up, Shinysides. Fer Edna’s sake, I’m sick o’ floppin around in de blüdy rain.”

“I could give a damn about what you’re sick of,” Sword said thickly. “You cowardly little traitor.”

“Tsk, not so harsh. The boy’s a patriot.” A signal from a foreclaw sent the two unoccupied gryphons moving to stand on either side of Sword, with the third keeping Star occupied. “He did exactly what he was told, and what was expected of him.” The gryphon commander leered at Sword. “What, did you expect him to be loyal to you? A bunch of unwelcome vagabonds mucking about where they’ve no right to, and absconding with a national treasure in the bargain?”

“We stole nothing. The Pentachoron was given to us freely by the monks on the mountain.” Sword’s wings flared. “You have no right to—”

“I have every right,” the gryphon commander snarled, cutting him off. “You ponies think you own everything with your precious princesses in your far off land and think you can just waltz in here and make off with a magical artifact that is rightfully ours?” It spat, beak clacking with anger. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You’re in our land now, and our laws apply. So. Give it up, or I’ll cut all of your throats and send your heads back as a gift.” The commander drew a short, wicked looking blade. “No more talk. Surrender now or die.”

Sword lowered his head and stared at the ground for a moment, seeing the raindrops that rolled off the edge of his helmet drop down and travel the length of his muzzle before splashing down onto the ground. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath for a moment, then let it out slowly, nodding. “Very well.”

“Excellent.” The gryphon commanded took a step forward. “Now tell—”

Sword’s head jerked up, his helmet flying free and rolling along the ground. His soaked mane whipped and curled as the stallion spun on one rear hoof, pivoting and extending his forehoof with the motion as he whirled. His blade left his grip and flipped twice through the air before burying itself in the middle of the face of the gryphon holding Star down.

One.

Pushing off with his hind hoof, Sword leaped forward and tugged the weapon free, the edge catching on the gryphon guard’s helmet for a moment. Crouching down, he sprang to his right, swinging his weapon across his body and slicing into the guard there who had been staring, transfixed, as his comrade had gone down. Sword let the motion of his swing trail off, then stabbed his weapon down and into the vitals of the gryphon in one quick move before pulling back again. The guard fell away, screeching in a high-pitched tone and flailing helplessly, clutching at its torn flesh.

Two.

The guard on his left was rushing in, and Sword gripped his weapon in both forehooves and flicked the blade up and back. Steel rang on steel as his enemy’s strike was blocked, and the stallion swung down low, a sweeping strike across his opponent’s body, high to low, right to left. The guard dropped its weapon and fell back, one eye a ruin, clutching at itself with its foreclaws and babbling incoherently.

Three.

Golden Sword reached down with his left forehoof and picked up the guard’s fallen weapon. Rocking back on his haunches, he flared his wings for balance as he glared at the open-mouthed gryphon commander, the enemy sword clutched in his left forehoof and his own weapon in his right.

“No!” The gryphon’s wings spread wide and it pushed off, flapping madly as it backed away from the Equestrian Guard commander. “You can’t—”

The stallion launched himself into the air, arrowing directly towards the retreating gryphon. It swung blindly at him, and he slapped the stroke aside with one weapon, then used the other to clip the gryphon’s foreclaw off at the wrist, sending it and the blade it clutched spinning uselessly down out of sight. Drawing his forelegs inward, Sword slammed into the gryphon and swung.

The blades gripped in the stallion’s forehooves met at the gryphon commander’s neck, paused briefly, then kept going, sending the severed head flying backward.

“FOUR!” Sword screamed. The pony paused in mid-air, hovering, and watched the remains of his foe plummet to the ground below. There was an ungodly screech, and the stallion’s head snapped down and to the right, his gaze zeroing in on the form of William, who was flailing backwards away from the body that had nearly landed on top of him.

“Oh no you don’t, Sword snarled. His wings folded and the pegasus dropped like a stone, darting straight in toward the youngster below.

“Thanks, Ell-Tee, that was close,” Gruebel breathed. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Taylor said. He lifted his left hand and pushed his soaked hair off of his brow, peering about nervously. “You seen any of the others?”

“Just us so far, sir,” Gruebel glanced off to his right. “I heard some yelling from up front, I think Star and Captain Sword are up there. Haven’t seen the others.”

“You’re not supposed to,” a voice said from behind them. The two men whirled to see Gallivan, Hoof and Thompson slowly advancing toward them. “That’s why they call it concealment,” the sergeant said pointedly. More movement from behind him revealed Stivers and Midnight bringing up the rear of the group, the mare with her bow loaded and ready, and Stivers with his service pistol drawn.

“Holy Christ,” Gruebel sighed. “You guys are a sight for sore eyes, I’m telling you.”

Gallivan glanced over at where Shadow stood, the pony shivering in the cold rain as he eyed the woodline where their attackers had emerged from. “How you doin, Shadow?”

“Caught a scratch. I’m okay, Sarge,” Shadow took a step forward and grimaced. “Hind leg hurts.”

“Stick with it for a bit if you can,” Gallivan said. He turned and looked at Stivers. “Orders, sir?”

“Well, since the enemy wasn’t kind enough to give us a roll call and muster before the ambush, we assume there are still some out there.” Stivers looked around slowly. “We need to find the others before we end up in a friendly fire situation.” Pausing, he regarded the lieutenant for a moment. “You okay to handle the piece, Charlie?”

Taylor looked at the pistol in his hand, then nodded. “I’m on real good terms with it right now.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” The Marine looked pointedly down at the ruined remains of the gryphon on the ground. The rain had finally begun to slack off a bit, but the creature had voided a tremendous amount of blood; the trail was soaked in crimson and little rivulets ran slowly downhill as he watched. “Okay, I think—”

There was an unearthly howling sound from further down the trail, and Star’s voice carried up to them clearly. “Captain!”

“Well, fuck plan A, B and C,” Stivers groaned. “Okay, let’s go, people. Keep an eye out, but move fast. That’s trouble or I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

They began moving forward, Taylor and Stivers taking the lead with guns drawn and leveled before them. The others gathered round on either side, and Shadow moved to follow in tail position behind them.

Shadow stopped, gritting his teeth for a moment, his head down. The pain in his right rear leg had become intense and the limb itself was beginning to stiffen up and grow numb, the wound going from hot to cold alternately. Throwing his head back, the pony took a deep breath and began limping after the others, ignoring the steady stream of blood that coursed down his leg to mingle in the dirt with that of the dead gryphon behind him.

The motion in his peripheral vision sent Shining Star whirling around, his spear poised. The rain had slowed enough for him to see several meters down the path, and the sight that met his eyes almost sent him swooning with relief. “Sir, they’re here!”

“Who?” Golden Sword sat up from where he was crouched in a tangle of vines and leaves and looked over his shoulder to see the rest of his companions. “Report!”

“All present and completely soaked, sir,” Taylor said, saluting half-heartedly. “Shadow got a nick but he says he’s fine.”

“Oh, that’s just great.” Star shook his head and began walking over to where Shadow stood, the hulking form of the large guardpony swaying unsteadily back and forth. “See? This is why smart ponies have weapons so bad guys can’t get near you, you lunk!”

“No further enemy contact, Captain.” Midnight trotted forward, lowering her bow. “If there are any others, I think they’ve made off. What lot that attacked us is down for good up there.” She jerked her head, indicating the trail behind them. “No survivors.”

“Oh, there are survivors,” Sword growled. “Take a look at this little present our friends left behind.” He dipped his head, his jaws working, and another horrible squalling sound emerged. The stallion pulled and lifted, stepping back, and flipped his head sideways, sending William’s bedraggled form spinning through the air to land on the muddy trail with a wet slapping sound.

Almost as one, the others stared, their jaws dropping in astonishment. “William?” Midnight’s eyes were wide and round. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“The little bastard’s been doing a bit of cloak and dagger,” Sword said, stepping out of the brush. “Apparently we’ve been followed ever since we left Clawttowa. And this piece of dung has been feeding them information about our mission.”

Gruebel’s expression twisted abruptly as he stared at the young gryhon’s form. “You little piece of shit,” he hissed. “All this time?”

William finally raised his head, his feathers streaked with rain and mud, looking up at the Marine with a mixed expression. “I—”

There was a clattering sound as something dropped behind them. “MEDIC!”

Star’s scream cut through the group like a knife and they all turned to see the pony standing next to Shadow. The larger pegasus was leaning drunkenly to one side, and Star was desperately trying to support his friend’s weight. “Help! He’s hurt bad!” He grunted, heaving, and barely managed to catch Shadow’s form as he slumped to the ground, one hoof flailing against Star’s spear and sending it rolling away.

Stivers lunged forward, slapping his sidearm back into its holster and unslinging his pack. He dropped to his knees beside Star, ignoring the scrape and tear of rock against his legs. “Where’s he hit?”

“Right hind leg. He’s bleeding bad….oh Celestia’s sake, he’s soaked,” Star moaned. Shadow lay on his right side, and his leg, pinned underneath him, was gleaming a bright crimson from thigh to hock. “Shadow, why didn’t you say something??”

“Too busy… busting heads,” Shadow said weakly, then laughed. “Oh boy, that was fun, Star. Should have… been there.”

“Shut up, Shadow.” Stivers lifted the pony’s head out of the mud and slid his own knee forward, laying Shadow’s muzzle onto his own leg. “Charlie, Gruebel, get on the other side and help me. Lift his left hind leg up. Slow. I can’t see shit.”

“Gotcha, skipper.” Taylor moved to brace the pony’s back and keep him from sliding while Gruebel reached out and lifted Shadow’s leg away gently. The pegasus rolled slightly in place, exposing the long wound on his inner right thigh. A bright crimson jet of blood shot up and splashed Star on the muzzle, and the pony scrabbled at his mouth frantically with his forehooves, backing away slowly and uttering a thick sound.

“Don’t you fucking move,” Stivers shouted. He yanked a large swatch of cotton bandage from the pack and slapped it in place on Shadow’s thigh. “Put your hooves there and press hard.”

Star swallowed and nodded, blood and rain dripping off of the end of his muzzle. He moved back up and placed his hooves against the bandage, watching as red flowers bloomed on its white surface. “Oh wow….”

“I said press HARD, dammit!” Stivers reached up with his right hand and shoved down on the armor covering Star’s shoulders, pressing until the pony’s full weight was bearing down on Shadow’s leg. With his left hand, the Marine dug into the pouch by his side, pulling out a paper packet. Lifting it, he tore one edge with his teeth and spat the paper away. “When I tell you, lift up. When I tell you again, press down again hard, just like you’re doing, okay?”

“Yessir.”

“Okay… go!” Star pulled back, and Stivers lifted the edge of the bandage and shook the contents of the packet onto the long cut in Shadow’s leg. Blood spurted up weakly again, and Stivers cursed, slapping the bandage down once more. “Pressure!”

Golden Sword moved up behind him, peering over the Marine’s shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know, I’m not a fucking vet,” Stivers snapped. He glanced around, grimacing. “Sorry. I really don’t know, though, but it looks rough.” He glanced down at Shadow’s face, frowning. “Where do you guys take a pulse?”

“Upper neck, just under the jawline,” Sword said immediately. “Or inside thigh, but that’s not an option right now.”

“I think that’s the problem.” Stivers placed two fingers just below Shadow’s jaw and sat still for a moment. “Christ, I don’t know. I can barely feel anything.”

Sword peered at the bandage for a moment, his own jaw tensing as he saw the white fabric rapidly soaking with red. The leg below it was swathed in a sheet of bright crimson liquid, startling against the darker maroon fur around it. The blood had pooled beneath him and trickled slowly through the mud, and Sword’s expression darkened as he looked up and saw a similar trail leading back up the path out of sight. “Oh…”

“Sir, what are we gonna do? Can you help him?” Star looked up at his commander, his eyes pleading.

“I…” Sword glanced at Stivers. “I’m a field medic, barely, and I have a first aid kid, Sword. The kid needs a hospital and a doctor and a fucking transfusion.” The Marine’s jaw tensed and relaxed. “Right now.”

“I… I’m okay, Captain.” Shadow’s voice was low, barely audible. He shifted slightly, opening his eyes and peering up at the two officers hovering over him. “Just… gimme a few minutes to rest… I’ll be fine.” He coughed, shivering, and relaxed again. “Can carry my own pack.”

“That’ll do, then,” Sword replied quietly. “Just… just a bit further up the trail and then we’ll make camp, eh? Then you can get a proper rest.”

“C’n take third watch,” Shadow mumbled. His eyes closed and his head sank down, muzzle pressed into the fabric of Stivers trousers. “Jus’ need a breather.”

Stivers pressed his fingers against the line of the pony’s jaw again. The pulse underneath the fur was thready and weak, barely detectable against his fingertips. “Sword…”

Golden Sword crouched, his fur squelching in the mud as he lay down next to Shadow and placed his muzzle against the other pony’s ear. “Mind your hooves,” he said quietly. “Hear their sound… when steel has turned to rust.”

Shadow’s muzzle twitched, and the pegasus drew in a slow breath. “Pound… thy foe,” he whispered. “Leave him… down…” He shuddered, drew in a half breath, and then lay still.

“And bloody in the dust,” Sword intoned. He sat for a moment, half-hearing the rain drumming against his armour, and stared past Shadow’s prone form at the far side of the path. The rain was slowly but steadily lessening, and the light from above trickled down, casting wavering reflections along the buckled and scratched armour of the pony before him. Glancing up, he looked around at the others for a moment, his sight passing over them one by one without stopping, not really seeing them. Finally, his gaze settled on Star, who still stood crouched at his friend’s side, his head down, forehooves pressing grimly against the soaked bandage. “Star?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You can let go now, lad.” Sword passed a forehoof gently over Shadow’s cheek, smoothing the fur and closing the pony’s eye with a light touch. “He’s gone.”

Shining Star shook his muzzle and blinked away the rain, staring up at his commander. “Sir?”

“He’s gone, Star. You can get up.”

Star looked uncomprehendingly at the pony before him for a moment, then back down to where his forehooves were half obscured by the bloody, wadded up gauze. “But… I pushed down as hard as I could,” he said, his voice hitching.

“What did I do wrong?”

Author's Note

Right. I'm leaving for BMQ-L on sunday, so there won't be another update for a month, minimum. Also, the more hate this chapter garners the better. I feed off of it. Wish me luck, hope I don't explode myself with grenades and rockets, etc. Next chapter is gonna be filled with so many [REDACTED].

Anyway, comments are always appreciated, so please, say what you like, what you didn't like, what you think you would improve upon, and just how much you enjoy the story (Reviews are always welcome as well).

Also, be honest here, how many of you cried at the end? I know I did.

From Dave:
Sorry I took so long getting this chapter out, folks. Going to try to be more productive from here on out! -D.M.

Chapter 20: Dawn

“You did fine, Star.” Stivers sighed, placing a hand gingerly on the pegasus’ shoulder. “You did fine. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I did what you told me to!” Star shrilled. He backed up slowly, scraping his forehooves against the rocks and stone, leaving long, bloody smears behind as he tried to wipe them clean. “He just needs rest, he said so himself!”

“Star—”

The pegasus jerked backward, then bolted forward, leaping over the body of his friend to where his spear lay in the dirt. “I got this, Shadow, don’t worry.”

“Star!”

Shining Star seized his weapon and turned around, his teeth bared, to glare at the hunched form of William where he had lain, almost forgotten. “I got this, no problem.” His wings flared, and he shoved himself skyward, launching himself toward the gryphon.

William had been lying almost sideways, propped up on one foreclaw, staring at Shadow’s motionless form. The fledgeling gryphon recoiled reflexively from Star and flopped backwards over into the mud, his hindpaws flailing and sending up ropes of dirty earth and water. “No! I didn’t—”

He slipped while trying to stand, and Star’s weapon slid through the air centimeters from his shoulder, slamming into the ground and ricocheting as it connected with the rock just below the thin veneer of earth. It flew back into the air, quivering, and landed crosswise on William’s lap. The gryphon made no move to touch it, but continued to slide backwards, blubbering, his wings and fur now coated in mud.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Taylor moaned. He lunged forward and grabbed at Star’s hindhoof, the only part of the hovering pony within reach. “Star! Lay off! It won’t help!”

“The hell it won’t,” Gruebel snarled. “Hold on, Star, I’ll give you a hand.” The Marine started walking toward the downed gryphon, his fists clenched at his sides. “Hold him down. I’ll pull the little fucker’s wings off and stuff them down his throat.”

“Do it!” Thompson yelled.

Shining Star ignored them all as he retrieved his weapon, lining it up carefully as if he were a carpenter about to drive in a particularly troublesome nail. Taylor reached forward and grabbed hold of the forepart of the pony’s spear just under the metal tip, holding it fast. “Star! Back off! That’s an order!”

Midnight Arrow looked at the humans, then glanced over at Sword, a look of dread creeping over her face. “Captain?”

Sword stood motionless, his gaze slightly unfocused, as if the stallion was thinking over a particularly troublesome quiz question that had been put before him. He made no response, standing still next to Shadow’s body, the rain drizzling down the length of his drooping forelock and cascading in a chain of droplets from his chin.

“Piss on that, Lieutenant!” Gruebel yelled. “Let him do it!”

Stivers moved to stand up, slipping and catching himself with one hand. “Gruebel! You secure that shit, right now!”

Gruebel turned his head, opening his mouth to reply, and jerked to a stop as a hand descended upon his right shoulder in a firm grip. He glanced angrily around, his gaze travelling up the arm that had seemingly anchored him in place. “You gotta be kidding me. You gonna take up for that little bastard?”

Gallivan stared back at him calmly. “Captain gave you an order, Marine.” His grip did not lessen in the slightest. “Besides, you don’t wanna do this.” His voice rose. “Star! Stand down. Give us a hand and help secure the perimeter. Let’s make sure there’s no more bad guys waitin around to stick us in the ass when we move out.”

Star’s ear twitched, but the pegasus remained hovering in place, glaring down at William. The gryphon crouched motionless in the mud, face tucked under one wing, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The pony motioned with his spear again, but Taylor’s grip held it fast.

“Star. Listen to me.” Taylor’s voice was low. “Don’t do this. You do, you’ll be waking up with the kid’s face staring at you from your dreams for the rest of your life.” He leaned in close, until his face blocked the guard’s view, staring the pony down. “Please, Star. I’m asking you, as a friend. Back off.”

“A friend?” Star’s jaw clenched. “My best friend is lying in the mud back there. And this dungheap helped make it happen.” He quivered, his tail lashing angrily at the empty air. “What if it was Lieutenant Midnight lying back there? What would you do to him?”

“I’d eat the little fucker’s liver.”

Star blinked at that, actually looking at the pilot for the first time.

“I understand, Star, I swear to God, I do. But it won’t make it better.” Taylor glanced over Star’s shoulder, and then back to the pegasus. “We still need your help, Star. Let’s go take care of Shadow and get the fuck out of here. Okay?” He locked eyes with the pony and deliberately let go of the spear hovering between them. “Let’s go home.”

Shining Star’s jaw clenched, the muscle rippling under his cheek for a moment. “All of you can just go straight to hell.” His voice broke on the last word and the pony backed air for a moment, moving away, then spun and descended back to the ground, his hooves making a squelching sound in the mud as he trotted back to where Shadow lay. Crimson Hoof stood aside to make room for him and moved over next to Gruebel and Gallivan.

Taylor watched Star carefully until the pony was well out of reach, then glanced down at William. The gryphon had opened one eye and was peering up at him, blinking rapidly as the rain pelted down on both of them. “Th-thanks, I thought ‘e was—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Taylor snarled, ignoring the stares from behind him. “Just hearing your beak clacking makes me want to finish the job myself. You want to tell me just why in the hell you decided to sell us down the goddamned river? Because that’s the only thing left I really want from you, you little shit. Why? Did they promise to buy you a fucking pint of beer?”

William flinched away, curling up into himself. “I ‘ad to!” he shouted back, his voice rising and falling in quavering tones. “‘Dey… my da’, ‘dey—”

“If you blame this on your dad again, I’m going to kick you like a fucking football,” Taylor hissed. “We heard that story before and it doesn’t wash.”

“No!” William howled. “I di’n’t lie t’ you, I swear it! I… they caught me, back at the pass, before you came. I thought they were gonna send me back home, but then Major Edric and that lot showed up.” He gestured at the ruined form of the gryphon guard commander. “Tol’ me I was to go find you, and follow along, be a guide, anyt’ing ta stay wit’ you and find out what you were actually doing ‘ere. If I di’n’t do the job right, ‘dey would’a killed me da… and me mum…”

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Gruebel ran both hands through his dripping hair. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something? We coulda helped somehow! We could have given you some bullshit line, thrown them off!”

“‘Dey followed us from the moment we left Clawttowa,” William replied. “It wouldn’t’a worked. ‘Dey would have killed me and me family for that.”

“Well, one of our boys paid the price instead,” Thompson grated. He picked up a rock and flung it down the trail, his face contorted in a snarl. “Guess things worked out for ya after all, huh?”

William shrank back, his adolescence making his words break as he spoke. “I swear to you, I did na’ know ‘dey’d kill any of you, they just told me to find out why you’s was ‘ere an’ tell ‘em. I mean, yeah, I was hopin’ they’d scare you a bit before, cause I was mad at you before but I... ” He looked from one of them to the next, searching the eyes that stared back at him. Only Sword did not meet his gaze, the pegasus still sitting beside Shadow and staring out at the rain drenched forest beyond them. The gryphon’s voice dropped away to almost nothing. “I thought they’d just take the thing and lea’ me alone.”

Just a kid. Just a dumbass kid caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jesus please us, what a balls-up. Taylor sighed slowly, glancing briefly heavenward before looking back at the others. Crimson Hoof had moved forward and was eyeing William speculatively, while the rest of the group had formed a circle around Shadow’s body. “Well, you thought wrong, buddy. That ain’t the way the damned world works.”

William’s chest hitched, his tears lost in the rain. “I’m sorr—”

“To hell with you and your being sorry, because it doesn’t mean a damned thing, now.” Hoof’s voice was almost conversational in tone as he moved up to stand beside Taylor. “My friend is dead, and sorry doesn’t help.”

Midnight’s ears arched in alarm as she saw the other pony’s body tense. “Hoof! Don’t—”

Hoof’s sword flashed out in a liquid gleam as he stepped forward, knocking into Taylor and sending the human stumbling backward in an attempt to regain his balance. The pony shoved William roughly over onto his belly and slapped a forehoof down, pinning the youngster’s left wing in place. “I have a better idea.”

Taylor reached out with one hand, grabbing at Crimson Hoof, and came away with a handful of hair from the pony’s tail. “Hoof! Wait!”

Ignoring them all, Hoof swung his weapon down at the exposed wing trapped beneath him. William screeched and jerked as feathers flew up from the strike, but the pegasus ignored him as he switched sides and repeated the motion on the gryphon’s other wing. The whole operation took perhaps six seconds, and the pony stepped away, a satisfied look on his face. “There.”

Taylor gripped Hoof’s shoulder, pulling him backward and away from the gryphon floundering in the mud. “What the hell was that?”

“He’s fine. I just gave him a little taste of something he’ll remember for a while.” Crimson Hoof regarded William evenly from where he stood. “I clipped your wings, Willie. Nice and even on both sides, because I really hate sloppy work. And you’d better remember that, because you have something to do now, and if you screw it up, so help me I’ll hunt you down and make a cape out of you.” He took a step forward his voice ramping up to a shout. “LOOK AT ME!”

William had stopped flailing about and was sprawled ungainly several feet from the pony and human, his breath coming in rapid gasps as he stared at the rent in his wings. He jerked at the shout, his gaze snapping up to lock onto the pony’s face.

“That’s right. Now you walk away from here and get out of my sight. Shag your little ass back to the monastery and you remember what you did here with every damned step you take. You remember how it feels to have something important taken away from you.” Hoof leaned closer. “Feathers grow back. You’ll fly again.” He jabbed a forehoof back at where Shadow lay. “He won’t. You remember that when you take your next flight, and every bucking flight you ever make again, you remember what you stole from us.” His lip curled. “You wanna sing songs about history? You can start right there. Now get the hell out of here.”

The gryphon stayed frozen in place, trembling, staring at Hoof like a bird trapped in the gaze of a viper.

“I said get OUT!”

Hoof lunged forward, and William recoiled, scrambling backward and tripping over a protruding rock. He fell flat and lurched upright again, gathering his legs under him and sprinting away, shying away from the others as he shot back up the trail and vanished from sight.

“Gruebel, Hoof, Star, Midnight.” Stivers stood slowly, waiting until he had their attention. I want a full sweep of the immediate area. Make sure there are no leftovers out there. Move.” He watched as they moved sluggishly, as if they’d just awakened from some deep sleep. This is bad. The Marine took a deep breath and then crouched back down, placing a hand on Golden Sword’s foreleg, needing the physical contact. “Sword?”

The stallion blinked and looked over at him. “Hm?”

“Sword, we need to get moving. Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, I’m quite fine, thank you.” The pony glanced down at himself reflexively. “A bit wet, but that’ll sort itself out.”

Fine, my ass. “Sword, we have to get moving. There could be another ambush out there, or God knows what. But we can’t stay here right now.” Stivers kept his voice even. “Do you want me to take care of it?”

“What?” Golden Sword blinked, then turned to look directly at Stivers. “No, no… no. I’ll… I’m fine.” He stood up slowly, peering around them and watching as Gruebel and the others swept the ground around them. “Thank you, Captain. Once they’re done, we’ll need to… take care of him.” He swallowed. “I’ll get Star and—“

“No. Not here. I’ll carry him, sir.” Gallivan stepped up and knelt down, pulling his pack free and pulling his bedroll from the mass of material inside. “Star can march with me, if you want. We’ll get Shadow out of here and someplace… better.”

The two officers watched in silence as Gallivan spread his bedroll out flat, the water soaking immediately into the thick material. The Marine stood and walked around them, then knelt down and picked up Shadow’s body carefully, rising with a grunt of effort. He moved over and lay the pony down on the material, folding it over him gently. He stopped to brush Shadow’s forelock back, smoothing it down, then covered the pony’s face with a flap of the bedroll.

“Hang tight, fella,” Gallivan murmured. “Just a little bit farther, and then you can rest, just like we promised.” He slid his hands under the bedroll and lifted the mass carefully, settling it on his shoulder, the pony’s form bending it into a sad “U” shape.

“Are you going to be okay carrying him?” Stivers asked. “I’d like to get to the main road before we stop.”

“I’m fine, sir.” Gallivan looked at them calmly. “I’ll carry him as far as I need to.”

“Very well.” Stivers looked behind him up the path and saw Midnight Arrow moving towards them. “Report.”

“Nothing, sir. If there’s any more of them, they’re long gone.”

“All right.” Stivers raised his voice. “Fall in! Let’s get moving, people. I want to be back to the road down there by sundown. Star.” He lowered his voice. “Drop back with Gallivan, help him if he needs it.”

Star glanced at the tall Marine with the bulky bundle over his shoulder, then looked back to Stivers, his cheek twitching. “Yes, sir.” The pony moved to take up station beside Gallivan and stood, waiting silently, for the others to begin moving.

Gallivan glanced down. “Don’t worry, Star. I’ll take care of him.”

“I know, Sarge.” Star kept his gaze locked forward as they began to move. “Just be careful, okay? He’s a big pony, and tough to handle if you don’t do it right.”

Golden Sword stood still for a moment, letting his gaze roam over the rocky peaks on the eastern side of the road. The lower faces of the mountains were cast in shadow, with the upper reaches of the precipices still bathed in the golden-scarlet light of late afternoon. The rain had cleared off, and the sun was finally peeking through rents in the clouds overhead. Far overhead, where they belonged.

They had at last descended back to the trading highway that the gryphons used, and the group had stopped there, as the wide open spaces and clear sightlines offered much better protection than the closeness of the mountain trail. They had actually made reasonable time getting back down here, which was well enough, for they had work that lay ahead of them before they could think about stopping to rest. For one of them would stop to rest here forever.

Sword drew in a deep breath and turned around to look at the others. They had begun to gather slowly, in the area they had chosen, a small group of trees that had all grown up around a large boulder. A deep gouge had been driven in the earth here, the freshly turned dirt piled neatly to one side. Shadow’s body lay at the foot of it, still wrapped neatly in Gallivan’s bedroll, and Sword’s group stood to one side of the open grave, in formation.

He heard a low voice utter a command, and watched as the humans approached, marching in a neat line. There was something slightly different about their appearance as they formed up on the opposite side of the grave, and it took him a moment to spot it. Each one of them had on a sort of odd cap or hat, flat on the sides and pointed at either end. The rays of the setting sun flashed off of metal on the ends of their caps; peering closer, Sword could see a small round ball with an anchor and an eagle on it, made out of a dull bronze metal. Only Taylor’s was different; his was made of gold and silver, and sported a shield and anchors with an eagle atop it as well. Stivers and Taylor also had a set of silver bars on the opposite side, which matched with the ones on their collars.

“Honor guard,” Stivers intoned quietly. “Parade rest.” The humans all placed their hands behind their backs and stood, waiting.

Golden Sword stepped forward, coming to a halt next to Shadow’s body. He looked at each of the humans in turn, then over at his own troops. “Soldiers. We are come at the end of day to lay our comrade to rest. Here in the eyes of Celestia and Luna we do this, so that they may know of his deeds.” The stallion paused. “What was his name?”

“Shadow.” The two groups responded in unison.

“How do you know this?” Sword intoned. “Speak, so that Celestia and Luna may know.”

“I know Shadow,” Midnight responded from her place nearest Sword. “He was one of my troopers. He never disobeyed an order and did his best.”

“I know Shadow,” Crimson Hoof spoke. “He was always willing to share and never argued. He was a good comrade.”

“I know Shadow,” Shining Star said. The words hung thick in the air for a moment. “He was my best friend, and trusted me. I would have died for him.”

Sword opened his mouth to respond, then stopped momentarily, the words he was supposed to speak in his mind, but not wanting to emerge. He tried again, and stopped in surprise as Stivers’ voice floated out over the group.

“I know Shadow,” Stivers said. “He always did his best, and was brave.”

Sword swallowed thickly and waited, looking at the next human in line.

“I know Shadow,” Taylor spoke. “He tried hard at everything I saw him do. I wish I’d known him better.”

“I know Shadow.” Gallivan glanced at the still form in front of them and nodded. “He was one of us.”

Thompson cleared his throat and stood still. “I knew Shadow. Semper Fi, fella.”

“I knew Shadow.” Gruebel stared across the open grave past Star and looked at the empty road beyond them as it wound northward out of sight. “He saved my life. I wish I could’ve done more…” He stopped, the muscle in his jaw rippling as he clenched his teeth.

Sword nodded at the Marine, then stood at attention. “I knew Shadow,” he said clearly. “He was one of my own, and I failed him. I swear to him now, I won’t let that happen to anypony again.” His breath moved in and out of him in slow tides as he fixed his gaze on the motionless form before him. “I swear in Luna’s name.” He tilted his head back and took a deep breath, then glanced at the lowering sun. It was time. “Detail.”

It was the only order he would give, and there was no further instruction needed. The two files stood at attention without a word and turned, moving toward him until they flanked Shadow’s body. Each side lifted carefully and soon the guard pony’s remains lay in the space they had prepared for him in the ground.

Sword waited until the first rasp of earth being cast upon the bedroll struck his ears and then he turned about, marching slowly away and heading back towards the area they had set up as their campsite. His trooper was being laid to rest, but Sword’s duty was not quite done just yet.

He had another letter to a family to write.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dusklight:

By the time you get my missive, I’m sure that you will have been informed of your son’s passing. I sincerely regret having to stir up the ashes of your grief with my own letter, but I would like to take a moment to speak with you of things that often get forgotten by others not connected with such events.

Shadow was, without a doubt, one of the finest troopers I ever had under my command. His specialities notwithstanding, he contributed greatly not only to the success of everything that was asked of him, but was an inspiration to others around him.

Service in the military is one thing. Service in the royal guard is another. Your son went above and beyond what was asked of him, and gave more than was ever expected. I cannot give you any details of the incident in which he lost his life, but I can assure you that his passing was with dignity, honor, and with the comfort of being with his friends and comrades.

Please remember this, and keep it close to you when the pain of your loss runs deep. You raised your child well. You should be proud to have had Shadow as a son.

I know I would have.

With deepest regards and respect

Golden Sword, Captain, Royal Equestrian Guard.

Golden Sword sat back for a moment, eyeing the parchment before him, then nodded and rolled it up neatly. Tying it off, he tucked it into his pack and withdrew a small volume. Picking up his quill in his teeth, he dipped it carefully into the small bottle of ink beside him and flipped the booklet open to the next blank page.

1930 hours

I have just laid to rest one of my troopers on this forsaken mission. I pray to Celestia and Luna that his sacrifice was worth all of this.

Have noted that Sub-Lieutenant Midnight is keeping her own journal against regulations. Upon further consideration, have decided that this is an excellent idea and have begun my own series of personal missives to myself and none other. That is, unless I’m struck down on this forsaken quest and somepony has to deliver this to my next of kin.

I don’t know how much longer I can go on with this. I swore to defend Equestria, not go treasure hunting in the hinterlands of civilisation. One of my own troopers was lost and I had no idea what to do next. The humans helped out... if they hadn’t been soldiers, I’m not sure what would have happened back there. I really wish I knew what Celestia and Luna meant with all their predictions and such back at Canterlot. All I really want to do now is go home.

G.S.

Sword wiped his quill carefully and placed it back in the holder clipped to his journal. He looked over his entry for a moment, then snapped the ledger shut and tucked it away. The pegasus closed his eyes, and in his mind he saw his comrades from long ago, waving as they headed off downriver to confront dragons. They had been singing an old battle march together, and he had stood there in front of the village of Sugarcube, watching them until they were out of sight, and then listening to the song until it had been lost to the wind.

Sword’s jaw clenched, and he slammed a forehoof down hard, glaring at the impression he had made in the dirt underfoot. “Never again,” he growled. “As Luna is my witness, never again, I swear to you.”

Midnight shifted and rolled over on her back, her eyelids flickering blearily as she took in the sprawl of stars across the night sky overhead. The moon rode serenely through the black ocean around it, almost touching the scattered peaks off to the west and riming their edges with a bitter silver glow; the night was old, and dawn was only a few hours away.

Hind watch, her brain supplied automatically. Better go check the guard. She was certain somepony else had seen to it, but one didn’t assume anything in this business. She pushed herself upright, rolling over and balancing on one forehoof, her ears flickering as muttered conversation reached her from across the campfire.

“Oh, sorry, Lieutenant.” Gallivan cleared his throat. “Was tryin’ to be quiet.”

“No, it’s all right. I need to make rounds anyway.” She flicked her forelock out of her eyes and blinked rapidly. “Star? I thought this was your watch.”

“It was, ma’am. Lieutenant Taylor said he’d relieve me tonight.” Star shrugged, staring laconically into the flickering light of the fire. “I was up anyway, and couldn’t sleep, so…” He trailed off.

“I was talkin’ to Star about Manila back when I was there.” Gallivan chuckled quietly. “He must be interested, otherwise I’d have bored him to sleep hours ago.”

“No! No, it’s really interesting!” Star glanced quickly at the Marine. “Please, keep going. You should hear this, Lieutenant. Especially about this ‘Po City’ place. It’s wild!”

Midnight glanced questioningly at Gallivan, who went into an abrupt fit of coughing. His eye caught hers, and she spotted the subtle shake of his head. “Um, maybe another time,” she offered diplomatically. “I’ll just go check on Taylor and make sure he hasn’t nodded off on us.”

“Oh, okay.” Star glanced away from them both and toward the west, where the ground rose sharply. “He’s up on that little crest a ways, where those two rocks almost touch. Seemed fine to me… I don’t think he felt much like sleeping either, I guess.”

The tone in his voice struck Midnight to the core; Star apparently shared the sentiment. “Very well. I’ll be back in a bit, then. You two keep an eye on things, hm?”

Gallivan simply nodded, but Star sighed. “Ma’am… I’m fine. I’m not going to go kill myself or anything, okay?” He glanced at her for a moment, then over at the Marine. “I… I really appreciate it, Sarge. It… helps. The talking doesn’t make it better, but it helps.” He scrubbed at his face with a forehoof. “I’m sorry to be such a pain in the haunches about all this—”

“Bud, you got nothin’ to apologize for. Nothin’.” Gallivan’s voice roughened slightly as he placed a hand on Star’s shoulder. “I’m here cause I wanna be, not because I’m afraid you’re gonna go march off a cliff like Dingus McGee over there.” He jerked his head toward where Thompson lay, snoring obliviously. “We all look out for each other, huh?”

Star’s jaw trembled and he nodded with an abrupt motion, obviously not trusting himself to speak. His gaze was locked on the flickering motion of the campfire, the flames reflecting themselves in the liquid tracks that trailed slowly down from his eyes and along his cheeks. Wiping his face with a forehoof once again, he nodded again once more, then closed his eyes.

“As you were, then.” Midnight kept her voice level and turned away quickly, almost tripping over her helmet where it lay next to her bedroll. She walked away purposefully in the direction that Star had indicated, only slowing down once she was well away from the fire and out of sight. She paused for a moment, taking a series of slow, deep breaths and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness; the moon was just beginning to wane, and still cast a fine, silver glow over the ground around her. She could see the impressions where Taylor’s booted feet had dug into the hillside in front of her and she followed the trail carefully, idly noting the small signs where he had pushed through the bushes and scrub pine that dotted the hill. As she ascended to the top of the rise, a branch on one of the bushes scraped softly against her armor, and her ears flickered in irritation. Where was he?

“Gettin’ sloppy, there.” The voice was low and quiet, floating out at her from the darkness to her right.

Flinching reflexively, Midnight glanced over and saw the human sprawled out on his belly one one of the large rocks that topped the crest of the hill. “Well, I’d rather you heard me coming instead of being startled into shooting me.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’d never do that.”

The pain in his voice was surprising, and she peered at him curiously as she paced over to where he lay. “I know. I was just joking. Still, it’s common sense; I wouldn’t want to take you by surprise.”

“Yeah... yeah, I know.” Taylor drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry. I’m still trying to get the hang of this ground pounder stuff. It ain’t exactly my forte, ya know?”

“I know.” Midnight glanced around for a moment, then looked back at him. “Still, you’re getting much better at it. This is a very good position, and you weren’t easy to spot.”

“Thanks.” He shifted position slightly, rolling to one side and propping his chin on one hand as he looked over at her. “So what brings you up here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Midnight sat down, peering idly out over the landscape below them. The road was in clear view below them, and the position offered a perfect view of anything that might try to approach their camp. “This really is a good position, Taylor. You did well.”

“Eh, it was Sword’s suggestion, actually.” The pilot looked around them for a moment. “He knows his stuff, that guy.” His voice dropped down to something close to a mutter. “How’s he doin’?”

“He’s fine.” Midnight replied automatically, then glanced back down the hill at the camp below. “He’ll be fine,” she added slowly. “He… we’ve been together for awhile, now. I don’t think he’s lost anyone under his command in some time. He won’t say anything about it; you know how he is. But it bothers him.”

“He wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.” Taylor frowned. “Well, I mean... he wouldn’t be mortal if it didn’t.” He glanced at the road below them for a moment, but it remained clear; the only thing moving were the bushes in the slow night breezes. “You never get used to it,” he said slowly. “You learn to live with it, but you never get used to it.”

The tone in his voice was melancholy, tinged with regret, and Midnight gave him a long, curious look. “You sound like you’ve had this happen before.”

“Yeah.” His face twisted in a wry expression. “C’mere for a second. I wanna show you something.”

Midnight stood and leapt lightly up onto the rock where the human sat, her wings flicking out for balance for a moment before tucking themselves to her sides once more. “What is it?”

He gathered himself and sat up, his legs crossing in an odd fashion that made Midnight’s fetlocks ache to see. Unbuttoning the top button of his shirt, he fiddled around with one hand for a moment before pulling free the small pouch that hung around his neck. “Old memories.” He opened it carefully and pulled free what looked like a small piece of paper, worn and folded with heavy creases. It crackled as he tweezed it apart with his fingers, unfolding it until it was almost as large as both of his hands held together. “Take a look.”

Midnight moved up beside him and peered closer, drawing in a sudden breath. “Oh my.” It was a photograph, an old one in black and white, and it showed what appeared to be a group of about two dozen humans, all in some sort of formal uniform. “Who are they?”

“That’s my flight school class graduation photo.” He grinned suddenly, poking a finger down toward one corner. “See him? That’s me.”

He tilted the photo so that the moonlight fell clearly across it, and Midnight craned forward, her nose almost touching the paper. “Oh! It is you!” She glanced up at his face involuntarily and then back down at the photo. “How long ago was this? You look so young!”

“Actually, it was only about four years or so… okay, almost five, actually.” His smile took a wry twist. “It was a few months before the war started… that kinda thing makes you old fast, I guess.”

Her ears flattened and she looked at him apologetically. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, I—”

“No, it’s okay, I know.” He laughed softly. “No worries, I’ve put a few miles on since then.”

Midnight glanced at the photo again. All of the humans were dressed in heavy, dark and formal looking clothing, with ties and white hats on their heads. A couple of older looking men stood near the back of the group, and they had three stripes on their sleeves. The Taylor in the photo, along with most of the others, had only one. All of them, however, had a set of wings pinned over their upper left chest, and she assumed they were all aviators like him, “So you went to school with those people?”

“Yep. Flight school in Pensacola, Florida. Did bomber training out in San Diego, and most of the guys here went with me; a couple went to fighter jock training though.” He tapped the photo with a forefinger and sighed. “Most of us shipped out together, too.” He pointed. “That’s Jake Eichert. Ed McEldowney… Chris Michaels. That is Willis Lee.” He snickered. “Lee couldn’t fly formation if you tied his ass to your plane with a steel chain, but by God, he could strafe better than any of us…” He trailed off, staring at the photo.

Midnight glanced at it, at the faces that seemed to mean something to the pilot beside her. “What happened?” she asked quietly.

“They’re all gone. All except me.” He stared at the photo as if his glare could make the facts undo themselves. “Most went at Midway. Fucking piece of shit Devastator bombers. Old airplanes we had. They had no fighter cover and got shot to pieces.” He swallowed, his throat making an audible clicking sound. “Jake got shot down over Truk while we were making bombing runs on a freighter. Lee… he and I were on a strike mission near Saipan and we had to make a long range attack. I barely made it back before running out of gas and had to ditch in the water next to the carrier. I never saw Lee again.”

Midnight glanced at the photo, appalled. All of them died? All of them? Sweet Celestia… “Taylor, I’m so sorry…”

“It was the way it was, then.” He flicked the photo lightly with a thumb, as if preparing to fold it back up, but continued to stare at it. “You all went out. Sometimes, most of you came back. Some didn’t. You ignored it and somebody new showed up and you just went on. It was as if the guy never existed. You never talked about it, but you thought about it, you know? Most of the time you never knew what happened, but sometimes, you saw it happen right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t do a Goddamned thing about it.” He rubbed his thumb against the photo once more, then folded it again carefully and put it away, tucking it back into the pouch around his neck. “They were my friends.”

Midnight nodded carefully, unsure of what to say. She belonged to a group of soldiers herself, and the Marines had fit easily enough into the group, but Taylor had always been aloof, and apart, possessing a set of skills that seemed relatively useless in the situation they’d found themselves in. But the pilot had seen his own share of things that he’d kept to himself, and she found a small core of shame forming as she’d realized they’d all treated Taylor as someone different, someone who didn’t understand the things they did, when he actually knew all too well. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It must have been rough for you.”

Taylor laughed shakily and sniffed hard, reaching up with one hand and rubbing at his nose. “You get used to shutting things like that away, y’know? It was the only way to stay sane. I ran out of friends in 1944 and decided I didn’t need to make anymore, they kept getting killed off too fast. So why bother? I had myself, and my airplane. When I got transferred stateside early in 1945, I had students. You teach students, they graduate and then they go away and you never see them again. Just like my friends. So things didn’t really change. I was used to it. And then I ended up here.”

Midnight stood still, afraid to say anything as she met his gaze. His eyes glimmered with tears in the moonlight, a silver trail sliding down one cheek.

“I’m sorry, Midnight. I know what you said back at the pass wasn’t meant for me, but I took it all wrong, because out of everyone I’ve met here, you’re the only real friend I have. I took it all wrong, and I took it out on you because I… I don’t—”

“I know.” Midnight reached up and wrapped a foreleg around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “I know,” she whispered. Her own eyes burned and she shut them tightly. “I missed you, too.”

They stood there still for a moment, and the night wind was the only sound around them. She felt him shudder briefly against her, and then he pulled back, sniffing hard and wiping at his face with one hand, laughing softly. “Look at me. Christ, I’m a fucking mess.”

“I know. I think I’ll keep you around anyway though.” Midnight waited as he regained his composure, feeling as if her armor had dropped away and she could fly anywhere within a second’s notice. “Thank you, though, for sharing that with me.”

“Yeah. I just… after Shadow, I… it makes you think, you know?” He finally looked up and directly at her. “I just didn’t want to take a chance on leaving stuff lying around unsaid.”

“I understand.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’d like to ask you a favor, though, if it’s okay.”

“Hell yes. What is it?”

“It’s very important, and you’re the only one I can trust with this.” Midnight glanced down briefly at the golden chain that hung around her neck. “Ever since we picked up this… thing from the monastery, it’s… something about it bothers me.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.” The smile was still on his face, but his eyes were serious again. “I was there when you got it, remember?”

“I remember very well. And that’s why I think you’ll understand why I’m asking this of you.” Midnight reached up with a forehoof and touched the jewel of the Pentachoron. “If this... thing... ends up causing something bad to happen, I want you to take my journal back and give it to Fluttershy yourself.”

Taylor blinked and frowned immediately. “Bad? What do you think it’s gonna do?”

“I really have no idea. But I don’t trust it. Ever since I put this thing around my neck it’s felt like a lead weight pulling at my insides.” Her cheek twitched. “It's like a knife or a sword, and if you aren’t careful, it can turn in your hoof and cut you. It doesn’t like the fact that I have it now; I’ve felt that ever since I got the thing. To be honest, I don’t think I’m going to make it home.”

“What?” Taylor eyed the jewel carefully, his expression darkening. “What’s it doing? Did it... did it talk to you again?”

“Not since you and I were there. I just know this.” She looked up at him. “Please promise me you’ll do what I ask?”

“You got it,” he said immediately. “But Midnight... really. Don’t let it mess with your head. We were both there. The thing likes to play mind games, but it’s all just games, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” she shot back. “I don’t know what it will do except that it hates me. Don’t you understand?”

Taylor rubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “I guess so. Yeah, I promise. I’ll take your book back and give it to Fluttershy myself. Except I won’t have to.” His eyes gleamed as he looked at her, the lopsided grin appearing on his face again. “Because you’re gonna do it yourself.”

“Please don’t joke about—”

“This is no joke. This thing wants to play with you and all with its magic, right? Tough shit, cause Taylor’s got his own juju right here.” He reached out and tapped her nose gently with a forefinger. “Close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I—”

“No, not that.” Taylor leaned closer and held her gaze with his own. “Do you trust me?” he asked again, softly.

Midnight looked at him, the blue eyes staring intently at her, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then close your eyes and let me fix this.”

Midnight took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly, dipping her chin down so that her nose pointed to the ground. “Okay.”

“Nope. Head up.” She felt his finger touch under her chin, lifting her muzzle until she faced straight ahead. “Now hold that thought.”

There was a rustling of cloth, and a small ting! sound of metal, and then she could feel him leaning close in front of her, the heat from his body welcome against the cool night air. His hands touched at the base of her throat, and she felt his fingers moving and fiddling about with the leather strap that crossed just below where her armor buckled together in front. “What are you doing?”

“Swiping your armor. I’m gonna make you run around naked until you say ‘Taylor’s the best!’”

“Oh don’t you dare!” Midnight laughed in spite of herself, fighting to keep her eyes closed. “Besides, I have fur, I’m never naked, you big sod.”

“Hm. Might have to think of something else even more degrading, then. In the meantime... damn, that strap’s tough... ah! There we go.” His hands released her, and she felt him draw away once more. “Okay, princess, open your eyes and see what Santa Taylor brought ya.”

“What in Equestria are you babbling abou—” Midnight opened her eyes and glanced down in reflex at her chest where he’d touched her, and stopped short, uttering a small gasp. Her armor buckled in front, and a leather strap passed just beneath the chestplate, passing under the hollow of her throat. Taylor had pulled the strap clear so that it was exposed.

Pinned to the strap was the small set of golden wings he had kept in the pouch around his neck. They gleamed brilliantly in the moonlight, the silver light ticking off of the wings and showing them in exquisite detail. In the center was a shield, superimposed upon an anchor.

She gaped at it for a moment, and then looked up to him, her eyes wide. “Is this—?”

“Yeah. Those are the wings you saw me wearing in that photo. I fed that zebra back in the desert a line of bullshit, because I had another set I keep and wear for everyday stuff. I was gonna give her those. But that set’s the real deal.” Taylor sat back, resting his legs. “I’ve carried that pair of wings with me everywhere. The only time I didn’t was that mission I splashed into the sea on, and almost drowned.” He looked at her directly. “Midnight, if there’s any magic in my world, there’s some in those wings. I had ‘em, and they always brought me home. And now they’re gonna bring you home too. I swear to God.”

“I... I can’t take these!”

“Bullshit. You can and you will. And you’re not taking them, I’m giving them to you as a gift.” He smiled gently, and touched the tip of her nose again with his finger. “Do this for me.”

Midnight brushed her forehoof across the golden wings and felt the tiny ridges in the metal feathers, the pin strangely warm to her touch. “I... of course I will. They’re beautiful.” She looked back up at him and felt a tear roll down her cheek. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“Sure thing.” He stretched his arms out, his shoulder joints popping dully with the motion. “Tell you what. You can pay me back by keeping me company up here til sunrise.” He waved a hand out toward the motionless ground below them. “It’s boring as shit up here, and I could really use the company. What do you say?”

“I say I’d like that very much.” Midnight moved over to sit down beside him and they looked down across the valley, talking quietly and keeping watch as the last bits of night slipped away. The moon slid down behind the mountains off to their left, and they watched together as the tips of the peaks began to glow rose colored with the approaching dawn.

Author's Note

Once again, leave a comment. Seriously. If you read stories you like, you should leave comments. Thoughts on the future, why you liked something, why you didn't like something... It not only increases the morale of the authors to have comments, but usually their skill as well.

Anyway, Sarge1995 left me with some amazing fanart, which can be viewed here.
Everyone else, check this guy out, give him a high five, etc. It takes balls to make art and then present it to the person you made it for.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Sorry for the delay (It was finished something like 2 weeks ago), but I was on my BMQ-L course, and freezing my dick off in a trench. In two weeks, I leave to do my Driver-Wheeled course, but it should be filled with far more free time. No promises though.

Unrelated: Rocket launchers are literally the greatest thing ever. I have now fired two live SRAAW-L (M72 66mm rocket launchers), and it was the pinnacle of my currant military career. If you ever get a chance to fire rockets, do it. Seriously.
But be sure to use the proper range protection (such as a fully qualified RSO), and get safety classes before hand.

Intermission: Lest We Forget.

I honestly don’t care what your thoughts or opinions are of the topic of November 11th. I ask you, no, beg you, to please read this. I am a soldier now. One day, this will be me. This will be your friends, your family, your fellow country men.
We are giving our lives for you, and all we ask in return, is your respect.

~~~

November 11th. A day of remorse. A day of regret. A day of Remembrance.

This is not only a day that marks the end of World War 1. This is The day where we, as a nation, take just two minutes of our lives to remember. World War 1, World War 2, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Kosovo, Afghanistan, and every conflict that Canada has been involved in.

On this day, we remember the lost. We remember what we gave, so that we could either continue our peaceful existence, or to try and give what we have to other countries.

Many people don't realise how much this day effects veterans. Many of the soldiers I know, have lost close friends in combat. Many of us, have relatives who have given their life to the uniform.

This is the one day that it is socially acceptable for a soldier to cry, and I beg you to cry with them. Because more often than not, they were there.
No one returns from conflict uninjured.

Remember the past, those who died.
Think about the present, those who have to live with injuries, mental and physical.
Look to the future, and ways we can help them.

Please, tomorrow, go thank a veteran. Don't ask them what they did, just go up to them, and thank them.

In Flanders fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
(In Flanders Fields, by LtCol John McCrae)

I've finally picked up the torch, and I will not let it fall.
~GoldenArbiter

~~~

I’ve never served in the military, nor fired a gun in anger. My only experience in firearms is shooting at paper targets at the local range.

I’ve had two family members who did instill an appreciation for their devotion to duty and their service, however. One was an uncle who served in the US Navy aboard several aircraft carriers during his enlistment. He was involved in action during the Lebanon conflict in the 1980s and finished his career aboard the USS Theodore Roosevelt, which I was fortunate enough to visit and actually sail on three times.

The other was my grandfather. He joined the US Merchant Marine at the age of 16 and served in the Pacific during World War 2. When he was discharged at the age of 18 at the end of the war, he joined the brand new US Air Force and served for the next 27 years until his retirement as a chief master sergeant. I grew up in my grandfather’s house. From him, I learned a love of country, a devotion to duty, and an appreciation of his dignity, honor and personal integrity that has only grown over the years, especially since he passed away three years ago.

From both of these men, I have learned that the people who fight for us are just like us: they have their own likes and dislikes. They have their own faults and foibles. They all, however, stepped forward at some time in their lives and sacrificed comfort, safety and the closeness of their loved ones and stood between us and the darkness. This is something that has been too often marginalized or taken for granted.

For them, for all that came before, and for all of those now standing guard, I offer my sincere and heartfelt appreciation and thanks.

-D.M.

Author's Note

November 11th is dedicated to everyone in active service, or past service, from every country. Everyone who died for an ideal that was not necessarily their own. Even the Taliban, and other groups of extremists.

Chapter 21: On the Road Again

Stivers sat up slowly, shivering as the blanket that had been keeping his body heat in slipped down, the chill mountain air biting hard through the thin khaki of his uniform shirt. “Holy shit, it’s cold!” The morning air was slowly lightening with the sunrise, the fiery orb still hidden behind the mountain range to the east but still managing to make its presence felt.

“Air tends to do that when you’re high up,” Taylor’s voice agreed from behind him. “You want me to fetch your slippers and bathrobe?”

The Marine groaned, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks absently. “Taylor, it’s too early for you to be this much of a cheery asshole. At least wait until after breakfast, okay?”

“What, and miss all the fun? Never in life.”

There was a dull clinking sound, and Stivers turned his head to see Taylor hunched near the fire. The portable kettle was perched over the flame, and the pilot was busily stirring something and muttering to himself. Midnight Arrow lay nearby, eyeing his efforts with obvious amusement. Stivers peered blearily at them, rubbing one eye and waiting for the rest of his body to wake up. “Hey, if you’re cooking breakfast for us, I want my eggs over easy.”

“Keep wanting them. Maybe they’ll show up someday,” Taylor retorted. “In the meantime, you can have this delicious oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal soup if you keep stirring it that fast,” Midnight offered. “Slow down a bit.”

“What, did you take cooking classes while I was on guard last night?”

“Just the ones that teach you how to make edible food,” she shot back, but without the usual venom in her voice Stivers had noted of late. “Did you sleep through those?”

“Only the parts when you were lecturing,” Taylor returned. He did slow his movements a bit, stirring the wooden spoon smoothly through the thickening mixture.

“I can’t say I blame you,” Midnight stated. “You need all the beauty sleep you can get, fur-face.” She stood up and stretched. “Looks about done. I’ll go wake up Sword so he doesn’t think we’ve purloined his sugar stash. Good morning, Captain.” She nodded at Stivers and walked past him toward the low rumbling snore that indicated where Golden Sword was.

“Morning.” Stivers yawned heavily, blinking owlishly at her as she stepped past him. He turned back to look at Taylor and shook his head. “Told you to shave that shit.”

“We’re up in the mountains. I am,” Taylor stated carefully, “cultivating the image of a true mountain man, beard and all.”

“And I still say you look like a bum.”

Taylor paused for a moment, glancing over at where Midnight was nudging Sword awake. “Fur-face? The dame who’s got a natural fur coat from nose to tail is calling me fur-face?”

“Weak comeback, Lieutenant.” Midnight glanced over her shoulder at him, a smirk curling up one end of her mouth. “And late. Keep working on it, though.” She glanced down at Sword again. “Breakfast is ready, sir. Mind if we liven it up a bit? The sugar is in your pack.”

“Huzz,” Sword managed, motioning to one side at where his equipment lay.

“Excellent idea, sir.”

Stivers chuckled as Midnight moved on to wake the others. “How you feeling this morning, Sword?”

The pegasus blinked at him owlishly. “I have the most ridiculous headache.” He frowned, rubbing one eye with a forehoof absently. “I never have headaches.”

“Sometimes the high altitude will do it to you. I know we’ve been up here for awhile, but it can catch you off guard sometimes.” Stivers dug into the pack by his side with one hand, searching by feel. “Want some aspirin?”

“Oh yes, definitely.”

Stivers pulled out the medical pouch, pausing a moment to unhook the shoulder strap from where it caught on his pack, and flipped it open. “Gimme just a sec...here it is.” He pulled a small metal tin from the pack, squeezing it with his fingers until the lid popped open. “Okay...I haven’t got a damned clue as to the dosage, but based on your body weight, two oughta do the job.” The pilot shook two small white tablets from the tin and held them out.

Sword sat still for a moment, eyeing Stivers wearily. “Would you mind bringing them over?”

The Marine grinned sharkishly. “Really? I dunno, I’m kinda nice and warm where I’m at.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have the headache.”

The stallion frowned severely. “I have the sugar.”

“Actually, Midnight has it.” Stivers pointed, and the mare in question froze in mid walk, the tin of brown sugar held in her teeth, eyeing both the senior officers warily.

Taylor hissed from behind him. “Oooh, that’s low. Caught between fires. You’re in an evil mood this morning.”

Stivers chuckled again and stood up. “Just kidding. Relax, Midnight.” He walked over and handed the tablets to Sword with a flourish. “Modern chemical science to the rescue. Hope it helps.”

Sword flicked the two tablets into his mouth with one motion of his forehoof and dry swallowed them without flinching. “Thank you. I think.”

“You’re welcome.” Stivers crouched down, shivering, the small smile fading from his face as he looked at Sword directly. “You okay?” he asked in a low tone. “I really want to know, fella. You scared the shit out of me yesterday.”

Sword’s ears dropped, one corner of his mouth twitching, and he looked away, staring off to the south in the direction of the trail toward his home. “I...honestly have no idea what happened to me. I’ve never frozen up like that before, ever. It was shameful.” The words seemed more bitter to him than the medicine he’d just taken. “I apologize for that display, Captain.”

“To hell with that. Nobody prepares you for that kind of situation, Sword. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” Stivers glanced back over his shoulder at the others, watching them for a moment as they drifted over towards the cooking fire. “Your troops might listen to me, but they need you. Now more than ever. So do we.”

The pony looked back at him, and the look of sudden and open anguish on his face shocked the Marine. He reached out and placed a hand on Sword’s shoulder, gripping it firmly. “I’m here if you need my help, fella. Anytime, okay?” He held the contact a moment longer and then withdrew his hand before any of the others might spot him.

Golden Sword opened his mouth, closed it again, then tried once more. “Thank you, Captain. I truly...truly...appreciate it. And I’ll remember it.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then glanced up at the human before him. “Now go put your cloak on, you fool, before you catch cold. You’re shivering like a foal at his first day of basic training.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Stivers chuckled and stood up. “Let’s get some grub, huh?”

Gallivan shrugged his shoulders, settling his pack onto his back, then stopped, blinking uncertainly at the amused look Midnight was sending his way. “What?”

“I think we discovered another one of those Equestrian turns of phrase we were talking about at the monastery.” She chuckled softly. “Do you always order your soldiers to ‘saddle up’ before moving out?”

“Oh!” The sergeant laughed out loud, the sound pleasant for its rarity alone. “Actually, yeah, we kinda do. I guess it’s a leftover from back in the old days when we had mounted cavalry and we actually did have to saddle up the horses before riding off.”

“Ah, well. I suppose it does make sense in that context.” She frowned a bit. “It still feels kind of strange that you used horses, ponies and mules as beasts of burden.”

“Different world ma’am, just like Captain Stivers said. Our animals are just….animals, y’know? They don’t talk or really think, as far as I know.” He spread his hands out at his sides. “Don’t take it personal, huh?”

Midnight’s cheeks colored slightly under her fur. “Oh, no, I apologize, Sergeant. That wasn’t what I meant.” She glanced over one shoulder at the others, who were finishing the packing up of their camp, and lowered her voice. “For what it’s worth, I honestly thought you were all some odd sort of enchanted monkeys or somesuch when I first met you.” The flush on her face deepened. “I know better now, of course. All your knowledge and your experiences...you’re all so like us, and yet so unique.”

“I guess I learned my lesson about you folks myself.” Gallivan nodded, then reverted back to his role as first sergeant. “I did want to speak to you about the march order, ma’am. We used to have Shadow anchor as our Tail-End Charlie most of the time, but we kinda need to reshuffle.”

“Yes, of course.” She peered at him curiously. “Did you have a suggestion?”

“Sure. Let’s put Hoof at the back. He’s sturdy enough, and knows his shi—uhh, his stuff.” Gallivan rubbed his ear idly, a reflexive habit he indulged when telling officers their business. “Let’s move Star up near the front with me. I’d like to keep an eye on him, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly,” Midnight said immediately. “Anything else?”

“Would you mind marching just ahead of Hoof? Maybe get Lieutenant Taylor to come with you?” Gallivan motioned with his hands, as if pointing at an imaginary line of troops in the air between them. “The good captains like to lead from the front. I don’t mind that...it’s actually good to see, for a change, but I don’t like having all the brass in one nice neat package for somebody to whack if we walk into another ambush.” His features colored darkly. “We got lucky once. I don’t like depending on luck in combat.”

“Good point. I’ll notify Sword.” She hesitated. “Did you want to tell Star?”

“I’ll be happy to,” Gallivan said, relieved that she’d gotten the message. “I’ll go get him.”

Star said nothing about either the new march order or his own particular place in line, and that in itself brought another warning flag to Gallivan’s mind as the group began their trek back north along the cold, open highway of the gryphons. Most of the sergeant’s own formal education had ended around ninth grade, and his own diploma was issued jointly by the school of hard knocks and the United States Marine Corps. Within the depth of his own wisdom, he thought Star perhaps the brightest one among the group, even taking into account the officers’ extensive educations. The pony’s retreat into silence bothered him on a gut level that he didn’t quite know how to express, only recognize the feeling. He’d spent many long nights there himself.

The group kept to a loose, two-by-two formation as they walked, almost without thinking, the odd number of their group providing the only jarring element to an otherwise neat pattern. Once again they saw the occasional gryphon traveler along the road, usually pulling either a cart or with a heavy set of baggage slung under their wings. More often than not the gryphon would give them a genial nod or a wave, and Stivers or Sword would return it, but other than that, the group did not go out of their way to make conversation. They had lost too much at this point to be sociable to anything with beak and claw.

The winter sun did little to warm them, as if aware of their mood and keeping its own distance. Occasional skirls of icy wind would float down and caress them as they moved, sometimes bringing a touch of snow hither and yon, but the road was mostly clear, due to its sheer openness and the occasional sweeping crew that passed by them from either direction.

“This outfit is pretty damned organized,” Stivers muttered, watching another group of gryphons move by, clearing fallen rocks out of the roadway and shoveling a snowdrift off to one side. “It must have been a hell of a fight between you guys back in the day.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sword agreed. “After Aurora’s fall, both sides drew back and seem to have thought things over a bit. A peace treaty followed not long after, I think, although when you’re talking about something that happened centuries ago, ‘long’ is relative.” He turned his head to watch the gryphon work crew idly as they passed by. “We’ve butted heads several times, but nothing to that degree of severity since then, I think, unless it was ‘off the books.’”

“Which is kind of what this falls into, right?” Stivers asked.

“After we’ve had physical, mortal combat with a group of armed soldiers? Whom we have a peace treaty with? You could say that.” Sword’s expression twisted wryly. “Although I doubt it would get classed as anything more than an ‘isolated skirmish’ by the powers that be.”

“Skirmish or war, dead is dead,” the Marine replied, somewhat testily. “Christ, this is why I hate special operations. That’s why I stayed the hell out of the Raider battalions.”

“What were those?” The sudden tone of curiosity in Sword’s voice was plainly evident, almost hungry, like a small child asking for dessert.

“Specially picked groups of Marines who did some insane shit on our early landings. Usually way out in front, out of touch with the main body, and on their own if things hit the fan.” Stivers chuckled quietly. “Sound familiar at all?”

“Well, our situation is a bit different, I suppose.” Sword shrugged. “The mission chose us, unfortunately. And the location was definitely not something we had any options—” His step faltered, the stallion almost coming to a complete stop. He stared ahead of them, his jaw open slightly, frozen in the action of forming the next word that had died in his throat.

There was a slight gritting sound from behind them as the others checked their motion, and Thompson’s voice floated through the cold air. “Uh, sir? You okay?”

“Tell Star to come up here,” Sword ordered, ignoring the question. “Captain, I apologize. I should have thought of this before we even set out this morning.”

Stiver’s expression was nonplussed. “Sword, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about. Mind sharing?”

“In a moment.” Golden Sword turned aside and looked back along their now halted column as Star trotted up to him, a hesitant expression on his face. “Relax, Star, this isn’t a surprise inspection. I just need to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Yes sir.” The other pegasus glanced over his shoulder at the others, then back at his commander, the worry lines still evident on his brow just under the rim of his helmet. “What is it?”

“I know you spent a great deal of time in the monastery library. Did you happen to look at any maps while you were there? Maps of this area in particular?”

Star blinked, his demeanour changing to that of confusion; this hadn’t been the sort of question he’d been expecting to face. “Um...yes sir, a couple, I think. I didn’t spend a lot of time on them though, honestly, I was looking through the history texts more than anything else.”

Golden Sword reached up and removed his own helmet, setting it down on the ground carefully before running a forehood through the matted fur of his forelock. “I wouldn’t expect anything else, lad. Relax. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Nodding, Star exhaled slowly, deliberately trying to untense himself. He glanced again over his shoulder at the others in the group. While obviously curious as to what was going on, they managed to keep their wonder in check and did as they were told. At a muttered command from Midnight, they had separated, keeping spaced well apart as they spread out to either side and watched the tall hills and peaks on either edge of the wide road with wary eyes; the lesson of the ambush on the mountain path had not been lost on them. “What was it you needed to know, sir?”

“Did you study any maps of this route in particular as it heads back toward home? I’m mainly interested in the area of the pass.” Sword kept his voice neutral. “Is it the only exit north of here, or were there other, alternate routes?”

Stivers emitted a sudden hiss of indrawn breath, and Star’s eyes flicked up to regard the tall human nervously. “I, uh, think only one map showed anything in detail, and from what I remember...no.” The pony’s voice took on a more confident tone. “I remember now because the cartography lines were totally whacko. Looked like somepony dropped a bunch of hay on the paper and just drew lines around it. Aurora’s Pass is the only entrance to this area; you’d have to go back south, farther than we did, and west a ways before you even hit another road back in this direction.” He waggled a hoof idly to one side. “It exits the mountain range over a hundred leagues from here, near a lake, if I remember right.”

“A hundred leagues air distance, correct?”

“Yessir. On hoof, it’s probably at least twice that, maybe more; the road kinda gets all twisty up in a higher range of mountains.” Star shrugged. “That’s the best I can remember, anyway, sir. I honestly didn’t look too closely. Like I said, I was looking for history books.”

“That’ll do well enough, lad.” Sword glanced up at the look of dawning recognition on Stivers’ face and nodded. “Getting in was easy enough; we were expected, after all. I don’t know how fast word travels here, but I’m pretty sure the sentries on duty will have a problem with us leaving, especially after our fracas with the ambush squad on the mountain.”

Stivers nodded grimly. “I doubt the guards at the pass knew about the ambush itself, or even the mission, but I’m pretty sure that asshole whose head you took off is gonna be missed pretty quick. And word travels on wings, here,” he added, glancing up at the sky with a mistrustful look. “They’re gonna be up our ass before we know it.” He glanced over at Star, who was sharing an Oh shit! look with Thompson, who had been close enough to hear the conversation. “We have a problem, Sword.”

“Quite,” the stallion said, biting off the remark bitterly. “Well, I suppose we can try to sneak by under cover of darkness. It’ll buy us a few moments at least. We have to count on being spotted.”

“That goddamn plain in front of the pass is as bare as a baby’s ass,” Stivers said. “And those fuckers know that ground like it was their own front yard. Hell, it is their front yard. We’re gonna need a diversion.”

“I’ll not spill any more of our blood if I can help it,” Sword said immediately. “Whatever we do, we need to do it fast and clever. We’ll have to split up, and I think that—”

“Uh, sir?” Thompson cleared his throat nervously. “Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but I have an idea, if it’s okay.”

Sword cut himself off in mid-sentence, and both he and Stivers stared at Thompson, who fidgeted under their gaze. “Well? Let’s hear it.”

“Sorry to butt in, skipper, but any kind of fire and maneuver’s a shitty plan, “ the Marine said bluntly. “We ain’t got much fire, and they have wings, so they can maneuver faster than we can. At least us humans, that is.” He gestured at himself. “Any kind of engagement, we’re gonna lose people, whether they got wings or not.”

“So we’re ‘people,’ now?” Sword’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I remember a time when you would have cheerfully strangled all of us, Sergeant. I’m touched.”

“I was wrong, then,” Thompson stated simply.

“And you’re right now,” the stallion replied. “It’s going to be bloody work. If you’ve an idea that will spare us that, I’m all for it. I happen to also remember a time when another of your ideas saved our collective hides back in the desert, so I’m quite inclined to listen.”

“Oh, hell, sir, that was nothin’.” The Marine reddened slightly. “Apply enough firepower and you can solve almost any problem, but we ain’t got a fifty-cal around right now, so we gotta think sneaky, like the Navy. Except we can do it better.”

Stivers snorted. “Don’t let Taylor hear you say that.”

“Aw he ain’t Navy, he’s one of us,” Thompson said dismissively. “Anyway, skipper, you remember hearing about when the squids finally showed back up at the Canal with supplies back in ‘43? Piles of crap on the beach. Peaches, sardines, fuckin’ cigars. We made off with half of that shit before they knew it. One guy even made off with some officer’s slippers. Uh, no offense, sir.”

“None taken. I used to own stripes too, you know.” Stivers cocked an eyebrow. “If I remember right, they had an air raid to help them out at the time. I can’t call in an airstrike while we skedaddle.”

“You won’t have to, sir.” Thompson scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Well, those assholes at the pass saw ten of us come in, right? Five ponies wearing armour and five wacky looking things on two legs that they’ll sure as shit remember if they see them again. So we don’t give them what they expect to see when we come out, is all.”

“I’m not tracking you, Sergeant.” Sword frowned.

“Five pony guards and five humans go in, sir. Coming out, there’s four pony traders with no armour on, and that stuff hides enough of you that they won’t recognize the manes and tails and all.”

Sword frowned. “Well...yes, I suppose so. But you’re a bit much to stuff in my saddlebags, Sergeant. How exactly did you plan on accompanying us?”

“As cargo, sir.” Thompson pointed past them, and the two officers turned, following his gaze. Off in the distance, one of the gryphons was approaching slowly, apparently returning from the town of Clawttowa to wherever his home was. Behind him, creaking and squealing as it bumped over rocks and ruts in the stony road, was a large, old wooden cart that had seen better days.

“Thompson, you are fucking insane,” Stivers murmured.

“Thank you, sir.” The Marine smiled pleasantly at the two captains. “Wanna see if the old geezer is looking to sell that piece of shit to some dumb ‘city folks?’”

“Jesus, Buddha and Celestia’s aunt, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Taylor muttered.

“Shush! Celestia doesn’t have an aunt,” Midnight shot back under her breath. “Now sit still, you big sod, we’re almost there. If somepony hears you, it’s all up.”

“How do you know she doesn’t have an aunt? Did you ask?”

The pegasus mare groaned and glared at the cart that rolled along beside her, where a familiar set of blue eyes was peeping out at her with amusement from under a tarp. “No. I swear, if we get through this, I’m going to smack you silly.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty.”

Midnight reached up with a forehoof and flicked it to one side, rapping lightly against the pilot’s fingers where they held the tarp up. Both fingers and eyes vanished smartly, and there was a muffled sound from underneath the thick canvas covering. “Now who’s talking dirty?”

Golden Sword glanced around from his place in the harness where he and Star were pulling the wagon, one eyebrow arched in obvious warning. “Problem?”

“No, just shifting cargo,” she replied. They had agreed beforehand to drop any rank or title reference until they were well away from the pass. “Just making sure it doesn’t fall out.”

“Hmm.” Sword leaned to the left slightly as they walked, and the wagon hit a low rut in the road, the whole contraption jouncing heavily enough to make a pony’s teeth rattle. “That ought to settle it down.”

Crimson Hoof laughed quietly, marching on the far side of the cart from Midnight. If everything else on this trip hadn’t been crazy enough, their stone-cold commander was actually displaying a sense of humor he’d managed to keep well hidden until now. “Another patrol ahead.”

“Normal routine, then.” The group had already passed three patrols since they’d managed to buy the cart and the remnants of its contents from the gryphon four days beforehand, and none of them had even given them a second glance. Traveling only in the daytime, with the humans stowed away uncomfortably in the cargo area, they were careful to pull completely off the road at night before letting the bipedal beings out to stretch their cramped limbs. In their turn, the ponies grouped together into the wagon and slept, sharing their body heat while the humans kept guard; neither Stivers nor Sword was willing to risk the light of a campfire drawing unwanted attention, from either the ground or the air. It was the latter that worried them both the most, and they made much use of the thin scrub that grew along the edges of the main road, piling branches randomly around the cart to break up its square outline and turn it into just another irregular blob in the darkness.

So far, their efforts seemed to have paid off; the haggling over buying the cart had actually been more exciting up to this point. They had stopped to chat with the gryphon who owned it, a merchant from a small shop in an even smaller town farther to the south, one of those dots on the map that only had a name because a road from somewhere important crossed another road to somewhere else important at that place. He’d had difficulty selling his stock in Clawttowa, mainly old fabric and second-hand tools, and had been more than agreeable to offloading the remainder of it, including the obviously worn out cart.

“Yah, I c’n make ye a deal on it, hee,” he had said, a clear glint of greed in his eyes. “I’m about ready for a new one m’self. Thing is, I’ve owned that cart a while now and I’m fond of it. She’s well broke in, y’c’n see that for yerself.”

“Broke in, or broke down?” Taylor had shot back.

“She’s well seasoned,” the gryphon had said with a glower. “Do ye want to do business or not?”

“Business” had pretty much consisted of the wily shopkeeper squeezing them for every last bit of the gryphon coinage they had left over from William’s gift, but the old codger hadn’t wanted to let go of the tarp that covered the wagon, and the one element that they absolutely needed. “It’s brand new, and waterproofed, too. I got a good deal on it.”

“So, you can give us one, too? Seriously, this is all the shine we’ve got left,” Stivers had said.

“Sorry, big fella, I can’t do it. Pity. I could part with it for an incentive.”

You greedy little shit, the Marine had thought viciously. Fists balled, he had just about been ready to do a little heavier dealing when Midnight had broken in.

“We’ve not got any more of your fair coinage, it’s true. However, if you’re not averse to other kinds of gold, perhaps we could come to an arrangement?” She cocked her head and offered a wide-eyed pleading look to the gryphon that would have had any pony in Canterlot scrambling to make a deal.

“Well. You’re polite, and fine spoken, miss, so I suppose there’s no harm in that. What sort of arrangement did y’have in mind?”

Midnight had reached under her left saddlebag and plucked out a small pouch, much worn and travel stained by this point, but the soft jingling sound inside was clear. “Equestrian bits? You seem to be well off, and I’m sure you’ll be back this way again, so they’ll come in handy when dealing with our folks next time you’re here, won’t they?”

“Gold’s gold,” the gryphon had stated flatly. “How much you offering?”

“Would five bits see you?”

“Twelve,” the gryphon shot back immediately. “That tarp’s dear, and I’ll not be had cheaply by some foreigner.”

“I do beg your pardon,” Midnight said quickly. “I’m not really sure of the exchange rate, you understand.”

“Quite all right, m’dear,” the gryphon had replied with a laugh. “I can’t keep up with it meself half the time.”

Which just proves you’re a greedy old git, who likes to squeeze, she thought. Well, two can play that game. “Allow me to start over.” Her expression firmed. “Seven bits.”

“Wha—” The old gryphon’s wings had fluttered in surprise before he settled down. The mare before him wasn’t some oddball traveler, apparently, and she knew how to play the game. “Ridiculous. Ten.”

Midnight tilted her head back and eyed the rim of the mountains on the opposite edge of the road idly, as if watching a passing cloud. “Eight. And that’s only if there’s no rips in the thing. Otherwise, you can take five, or be damned to you.”

The trader had clacked his beak alarmingly. “I’d not sell a shoddy piece of fabric like that! I just got the thing, as I already said.” He stood fidgeting for a moment, then finally nodded. “Eight it’ll be, then.”

“Excellent.” Midnight smiled sweetly at him, then tossed the pouch over her shoulder to Taylor, who juggled it for a moment before catching hold. “Would you count that out for the good fellow? I want to examine this piece of lovely fabric.” Turning, she brushed past the pilot, lowering her voice. “Take your time about it. I don’t want him to know that’s all that’s left, there.”

“Uh, sure, you got it.” Taylor shot the gryphon a sour look and carefully counted out the pieces one by one, handing them over and carefully holding the now empty pouch as if his life’s fortune was inside. “That’s all, fella. The rest is for back home.”

“Pity. I like doing business with you folks, hee? Think you should come back to Clawttowa again in another moon or so, I’ll have a nice display set up in the main bazaar.”

“Not bloody likely,” Sword had murmured. They had made their goodbyes as pleasantly as possible for a group that had been practically fleeced, with Midnight fussing loudly over the layout of the cart’s contents until the gryphon was beyond earshot. Once they were sure he was well on his way, Sword had walked over to where the other officers stood grouped together. “Lieutenant, was that the last of your bits?”

“All I had left over, sir.” She exhaled with obvious relief. “Any more haggling, and we’d have had to try sterner measures.”

Gruebel had elbowed Gallivan in the ribs at that. “Might have had to sell a piece of your ass, Sarge. Not that its worth that much; most of it’s shot away.”

The sergeant had given Gruebel a withering look. “My ass and your face, private. You’d get about the same price for either one, even odds.”

The sun had set long before, and the sky was open and clear above them, the stars a scattering of diamond points that swept brilliantly over the vault overhead. The moon was not yet up, but the narrows of Aurora’s Pass before them were easily visible in the light of several watch fires, and shadows passed before them at regular intervals.

Midnight took in a deep breath and swallowed, edging closer to the cart. She wished desperately for a moment that she was wearing her armour plate, but that was the whole point of the thing. The armour rode hidden in the cart now, along with the more vital cargo. “We’re nearly there,” she murmured. “Keep quiet now, for all our sakes, and no matter what happens, stay still.”

There was a muffled double-tap against the inside of the wooden cart as acknowledgement, and the mare moved back up to walk next to where Sword and Star stood in the traces, pulling steadily. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

“Let’s do this, then. Har-aii,” the stallion responded. Sword glanced over at Hoof. “You’re on. Make it good.”

“I always do.” Hoof sped up a bit until he was leading the group by about a full body length, then put on an impatient air, glancing behind him. “Step lively, for Celestia’s sake!” he shouted. “We’ve got good money sunk into that stuff. Bad enough we had to sink more of it into your sorry hides. We’ve got a time bonus waiting if we get in early, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Star panted and glared at the other pony, fighting hard to keep from looking at the three gryphon guards who had stopped their pacing and were angling in their direction. “You’ve only told us, like, ten times, already.”

“Twelve,” Sword added in a low, unfeigned grunt of effort. The combined weight of the humans, armour and other belongings in the cart was pushing the limits of the ponies’ endurance, forcing their speed to a low crawl.

“Surprised he can even count,” one of the gryphons snorted as they closed in and stopped in front of the group, forcing them to a halt. “Names, destination, cargo,” he said in a bored voice.

“Name’s Scarlet Stomp,” Crimson Hoof said. They’d had no idea if the gryphons knew of the pony predilection for having names related to their cutie marks or talents, but they’d decided to take no chances. “Heading back home on another cargo run to Canterlot, Ponyville, and anywhere else where gold’s good.” He brightened. “Speakin’ of which...you fellas interested in a sale or two? You could save me some time by taking some of this load off my hooves.”

“Mine, too,” Sword groused. “Stuff’s heavy, boss.”

“So’s your head, which is why I pay you for your legs,” Hoof shot back. “Now shut up and let grownups talk.” He turned back and offered the gryphons a wan smile. “Sorry about that. They agree to contract rates and then complain about it the whole way.”

“Sounds like army pay,” the lead gryphon said agreeably, but his eyes were unsmiling. “What’s the cargo?”

“Dry goods, a few perishables, which is why I’m in a bit of a hurry, and some fabric or something.” Hoof waved a foreleg absently. “Buying’s not my specialty, I’m afraid.”

“What moron hired you to head up this team, then?” the gryphon commander shot back.

“That would be me.” Midnight strode forward, flicking her mane out of her eyes. She had clipped on the earrings that Cadance had purchased for her in Clawttowa, and the gems shone viciously in the reflected firelight. The gem of the Pentachoron was safely stowed away in a small pouch at her side; she had no intention of letting anyone other than her own group get a sight of that. “My name is Sure Shot, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. I quite forgive your remark, Captain, as you’re correct. I should have chosen a better crew, but I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’m afraid.” Unlike Sword, who had kept his words short and clipped, she allowed the full richness of her Canterlot accent to hold sway. “Would you mind passing us through chop-chop? I’d so much like to get back home as quick as possible.”

“Tough night for you, then. Besides, I’m a sergeant.” The gryphon waved a foreclaw at the cart. “Open ‘er up so we can inspect the lot.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right, we’ve a manifest from the Clawttowa Trade Overseer.” Midnight smiled widely. “Such a charming fellow, and quite obliging. Give the good Captain the list, Stomp.”

“I’m a sergeant,” the gryphon repeated in a resigned tone. Civilians. Pony civilians. Just great. He was supposed to get off duty in ten minutes and inside out of this cold wind. The vague sense of excitement he had gotten at initially sighting them was fading rapidly; this group didn’t match the description of the one he’d been briefed on by his commander earlier in the evening. That fact eliminated them as a threat and turned them into something worse: boring routine. “Fine. Give it over, then.”

Hoof fiddled about with his saddlepack for a moment, frowning. “Sure, I, uh...just a moment.” Luna’s sake, Lieutenant, what are you doing? Manifest? The plan had involved a quick bluff and a goodly dose of random bullshit, which was something Hoof was fairly good at at short notice, but things were going off the rails rapidly.

Across from him, Midnight glanced at the gryphons. Their attention was mostly fixed on Hoof at the moment, and she’d blurted out the line about the manifest as a desperate bluff. A little more forethought and they might have actually managed to come up with something beforehand, but she hadn’t expected it to actually work. Midnight Arrow had never even heard of a Trade Overseer, much less met one.

You’re wasting time, the cold voice of the Pentachoron spoke up suddenly from that dank room at the back of her mind. He’s cold and bored and he’s going to rip the tarp off your pathetic meatwagon in a moment. You’re disappointing me, Midnight Arrow. I thought you were more exciting than this.

The mare shivered, a spark suddenly shooting up from within her and filling her with a dull heat of anger. She glared hotly at Crimson Hoof, the rage boiling over, curling her voice into a barbed weapon as she spoke. “Oh for Celestia’s sake! Go ahead. Tell me you’ve lost it. You don’t have it any more, do you? Do you??” The words ripped out of her and through the cold air, and gryphons and ponies alike were staring at her in shock. “I don’t believe this! The first real profitable trip I’ve made in six moons, with a chance for a real bonus. I could upgrade this cart. I could upgrade ALL of you!” Midnight seethed and began pacing back and forth. “What happens? My majordomo decides to lose the manifest I gained at quite the effort, and when all we need is a simple inspection pass, what do I get? Delays.” Her voice dropped to a growl. “Delays. My cargo contains several items of some interest to Commander Shining Armour in Canterlot. Items which would be horribly damaged by the cold if exposed, and would be quite worthless to him, which, in turn, would make him not as grateful as he could be.” She jerked her gaze to the gryphon sergeant. “I’m sure you are aware of how grateful a soldier can be, hmmm?”

The gryphon blinked, wondering just who this hellion was and why she had shown up on his watch. Ten more lousy minutes. “Uhh, yes, ma’am, we can be.”

“You see?” Midnight lifted her head, glaring triumphantly over at Hoof, who was staring at her, slackjawed. “It’s all about timing, you know. Your poor planning caused delays. Delays. I should have been halfway home by now, but nooooo, and now it’s started, and I have to travel with you idiots when I could be looking forward to some royal gratitude and...comfort.” Her eyes narrowed, and she flicked her tail from side to side in a slashing manner as she looked back at the gryphons. “I was born into a traditional family, Captain. I happen to like soldiers.” She sauntered forward, closing the gap between them. “You look like a brave one. Serving your duty out here in the cold. You’re a tough one, yes?”

The gryphon sergeant felt his wings clamp tight against his sides in reflex, and he glanced over at Hoof, who was shaking his head emphatically, eyes wide. The two ponies who stood still, harnessed to the wagon, had a look of obvious horror on their faces while simultaneously trying to look like they were hearing nothing at all. “Uh, no, ma’am. Just need to do a quick inspection, and we’re through here, that’s all.”

“Quick? Oh, how quick can you be?” Midnight’s eyelashes fluttered as she stepped closer to the gryphons again. The other two guards fell back several steps, and the sergeant found himself suddenly alone with an obviously addled mare less than his own body length away. “Not too quick, I hope. I can see you’re shivering in that horrid armour.” Her voice dropped, becoming guttural. “I can help with that.”

“No! Just...a quick safety inspection, and we’ll be done.” The gryphon sergeant took a cursory look at the wagon, and if a safety inspection had been warranted, he would have failed the rickety contraption immediately; it was obviously overloaded and looked like it would collapse any minute. The thought that it might do it right here, in front of him, sent a cold chill through him that had nothing to do with the freezing night wind. Out of courtesy, they would have to put the civilians up in the guardpost until morning, and this mare would be there, waiting. “Uh, looks like you’re, uh, good to go!” He offered a wide, insincere grin. “Looking good there!”

“You think so?” Midnight cooed, stepping up to within touching distance.

“Absolutely!” The sergeant cringed backwards, creeping back a step. You didn’t run from hunting animals, or else they would pounce, and… “You’re good to go, ma’am! Have a safe trip home, and we hope you enjoyed your stay with us!” He backed up out of the way, tossing off a salute and shouted to the other gryphons nearby to clear the road.

Hoof took that as his cue, and cleared his throat. “You heard him! Move it out, slugheads! The mistress is in a hurry, and she doesn’t like waiting!”

“I’ll say,” Star murmured from his place in the traces, but he pulled forward with Sword and the cart began rolling and bouncing again, the two stallions trying not to move too quickly as they passed between the towering crags on either side. The other gryphons on guard watched curiously as they passed through, the mare following them at the rear of the cart and administering such a tongue-lashing of invective that if the stallions appeared to be in a hurry, none of the gryphons could blame them.

The cart creaked as it came to a halt, and Golden Sword exhaled heavily. “I think...this will do, for the moment.” He glanced over his shoulder, the wind whipping his forelock out of his eyes as he glanced behind them at the mass of Aurora’s Pass off in the distance. “We’re well over a league away now, and it’s dark enough that we should be safe.”

“Thank Celestia,” Star groaned, sighing as the straps of the cart’s harness slackened on his frame. “It feels like we’ve been hauling stone for the past ten minutes.”

Midnight glanced behind them, then trotted up to the edge of the cart and tapped on it with a forehoof. Her cloak whipped and billowed around her, and she had to raise her voice to be heard. “It’s all clear. You can come out, now.”

The edge of the tarp rustled underneath the ropes that held it down, and Gallivan’s face peered out from under the flap of fabric, his hair tousled around his features. “You sure, Ell-Tee? It’s mighty warm under here.”

“Then you can get out and pull for a bit while we jump in and take a breather,” she replied edgily. The moon rode higher in the eastern sky, but was mostly obscured by clouds, leaving them buried in a pool of night. Still, she felt incredibly exposed on the open plain before the pass, as if a set of unseen eyes were watching them all and waiting for something. “Come on.”

“You heard her,” Stivers’ voice spoke up. “Un-ass the vehicle, troops.”

A pair of booted feet appeared, and Gruebel’s form emerged from the end of the cart. He swayed unsteadily, shivering, his eyes blinking owlishly as he looked around them. “Holy shit, I forgot how cold this place was!”

“You can warm up while we march, then.” Gallivan rolled out behind him and tossed out one of their cloaks. “Put that back on.” He grabbed another, donning it quickly, then leaned in and pulled on something, then stopped at a muffled squawk of protest. “Sorry, sir. Move your foot.”

“Yeah, no shit.” A few seconds later Taylor emerged with his cloak under one arm, moving to one side and slipping it on as Stivers began to worm his way out of the confines of the wagon. “Holy Christ, I can’t believe we did it. I thought we were screwed when that guy ordered you to open up the cart.”

“Yeah, so did I.” Hoof chuckled quietly and shook his head. “I thought I was good at misdirection, but the Lieutenant put me to shame. How the hell did you come up with that? It worked better than my idea.”

“I...honestly, I don’t know. I just got mad and it...happened.” Midnight shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Gruebel grinned at her, his teeth flashing in the darkness. “‘I happen to like soldiers,’” he said in a falsetto voice that made Hoof snort in laughter. “Ell-Tee, you are friggin’ amazing.”

“Yes, that was a bit...unexpected.” Sword finished unhooking himself from the traces and gave his second in command a curious expression. “We all seem to be finding odd talents on this jaunt.”

“Yeah, and mine is finding new ways to say ouch,” Stivers added, rubbing one hip. He paused to hook his cloak about him, then glanced over at the two stallions who had been pulling the heavily laden cart. “How are you feeling?”

“Worn out,” Sword said bluntly. “We can’t stop yet, though. I want to at least get back to the Rock of the Horn before we call a break. It’s too open out here and there’s bound to be at least one sweep of this area by a roving patrol, if that lot back there are any good at their job.”

“Speaking of which,” Thompson broke in. “You guys ready for a change of clothes?” He pulled out an armoured helmet, the crest of which marked it as Hoof’s. “You never know when you might want this.”

“Oh hell yes,” Hoof said immediately. He trotted over and retrieved the helm from the Marine and settled it firmly on his head. “I think I’ve had enough of playing team boss.” Leaping up into the cart, he began pulling armor plate out indiscriminately and relaying it to Thompson, who set it down on the ground for the ponies to sort out.

“That tears it. You’re all fired.” Midnight felt suddenly giddy, the relief making her limbs tremble as the fact of their escape finally sunk in. “I’ll get somepony else who doesn’t complain as much to do my work for me.” She smoothed her forelock back and pulled her own helmet on, sighing as the familiar weight settled against her face and neck. There was a clink! from overhead as she eased her ears through the slots in the armour, and she saw a dim gleam rolling around on the ground for a second before it vanished. “Oh blast it!”

Taylor glanced up from where he was untangling the straps of his pack. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I had those earrings clipped on, one of them just popped off. Damn it!” She looked back and forth, her eyes flicking over the dim stone around them but not seeing anything. “To hell with it. We don’t have time for—”

Taylor held up a hand and crouched, heels against the backs of his thighs. The pilot’s eyes glittered in the dim moonlight for a moment as he searched around them, then stopped, pointing. “There.”

Midnight looked where he indicated and saw a faint gleam about twenty feet away. The earring had gone farther than she would have expected it to, and she trotted over and picked it up with a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” Removing the other from where it was clipped to her ear, she tucked both carefully away in the small pouch that had held her coins. “It was a gift from Princess Cadance, and I would have hated to lose it.”

Taylor’s booted feet rasped against the stony ground as he walked over to join her, stooping beside her and dropping his voice down to a low tone that barely carried between them. “Midnight, relax. You did it. We’re out of there.”

“I know.” She kept her voice even but did not turn, reaching up with a forehoof to tuck her mane back up beneath her helmet so it wouldn’t pull when she moved; her ebon locks were grown far past regulation and she really needed to see about that. It wouldn’t do if they got caught on—

“Are you okay?” Taylor reached out hesitantly, but refrained from touching her shoulder. “What is it? Please talk to me. I swear I won’t say anything to anyone else.”

Mmmm, isn’t he considerate? The voice of the Pentachoron was cold in her mind, colder than the wind that cut steadily around and through them. Maybe I should leave you two alone for a bit while you warm up, it tittered. Oh! You can even tell Fluttershy about that the next time you start scribbling to her. It might liven up that boring sheaf of paper you call a journal.

“Oh for Luna’s sake, shut up and leave me alone,” Midnight growled. “I’ve heard enough of your voice tonight.”

Taylor jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned. “Sorry,” he muttered. His knees popped as he straightened up and stood. “I’ll go, uh, get your armour, okay?”

“No! Not you!” The mare whirled around and looked up at the Lieutenant; the human looked like he’d just been punched in the stomach. “Taylor, I’m sorry. That wasn’t directed at you at all.” She could hear the cold, empty laughing of the voice in her head and shoved it away with an effort. “I apologize, really.”

“Okay, okay.” He opened his mouth to say something else, then paused as Stivers walked over toward them. “What’s up?”

“Thought Midnight might want the rest of her gear.” Stivers set the metal plates down carefully, along with the packs that bore the pegasus’ name stenciled on the inside of the straps. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just dropped some stuff, we were getting everything picked up.” Taylor glanced over the other pilot’s shoulder. “We almost ready to move?”

“Yeah, I just wanna check over Sword and Star before we go any farther. That was one helluva pulling job they did.” Stivers touched a forefinger to his brow and nodded at Midnight. “And one hell of a job pulling our asses out of the fire back there, Lieutenant. Damn good. Thank you.”

“You’re perfectly welcome, Captain,” Midnight returned in a normal tone of voice. “Just doing my job.”

“You keep on doing it like that, I’ll be saluting you before we get back at this rate.” Stivers smiled, then turned around and frowned immediately. “Star! Hold up a minute. I want to check something.” He headed off toward the rest of the group at a fast walk, leaving the two of them alone again.

Taylor watched him until he was out of earshot, then turned back to where Midnight still stood. The mare had unslung the pouch she’d been carrying against her side. Setting it down between them, she flipped it open, then paused, peering down into it unhappily, like a small child who has been told she has to clean her plate before she’s allowed to leave the dinner table. He leaned over and peeked in, and saw the jewel of the Pentacharon within, glimmering at the end of its chain. “Oh.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I wish I could drop this instead and not find it again.”

“It’s talking to you again, isn’t it?” Taylor asked, his gaze still fixed on the gem at the bottom of the pouch. It lay there as if peering up at him, daring him to pick it up and see what might happen. “That’s what shook you up back at the pass.”

She blinked and stared at him. “How did you know?”

“Midnight, I’ve heard you in damn near every mood I can think of, including being pissed off, and that was at me. I sure as hell won’t forget that soon.” Taylor looked up and met her gaze. “I’ve never heard you that furious before, ever.”

The pegasus laughed uneasily. “Well, I was pretending to be a particularly deprived mare in a bit of a mood. I’m pretty sure you’ve not heard that one from me or anypony else, yet.”

“Relax. I know that wasn’t like you, and it’s okay.” He smiled at her gently, not the crooked grin he usually used when he was yanking her tail with some joke, but one that touched a depth in his eyes. “You saved our lives back there. Regardless of how you did it, you did it, not some fucking goblin locked away in that damn jewel.” He reached over and picked up her armour plate, lifting it up and settling it over her back carefully, the clamshell shape folding down to match her form along her sides. “Don’t forget that.”

Midnight stood motionless, feeling the armour tighten comfortably about her as he began buckling the straps and marveling at the fact that he’d evidently been paying attention to how the complicated setup was done. “But...what if it….what if I—”

“What if I slip and crack my clumsy head on a rock? Hell, Midnight, you can’t control everything. Just worry about the stuff you can control and let the rest of the world deal with itself.” He finished buckling the straps and reached down into the pouch, lifting up the Pentachoron carefully by the chain it was attached to. “As for this thing?” He reached out and fastened it around her neck, the gem clinking lightly against the metal armour plating. “Next time it says something, go tell it two things. First, it can go play hide and go fuck itself.”

She giggled in spite of herself. “That ought to make for an interesting conversation. What else should I say?”

Taylor fished the golden wings out of the pouch and held them up before her eyes before pinning them carefully back in place on the front strap of the armour. “Go Navy.”

Midnight felt a warm flush pass through her, and she looked up at the tall human who stood before her. “Thank you. For everything.”

“No problem.” He reached down and straightened the pin slightly, then winked at her, the familiar grin returning. “Come on. I think I hear Stivers bitching somebody out that ain’t us. Let’s go watch.”

“I’m telling you sir, I’m fine.” Star’s voice was a low growl. “I don’t mind pulling the cart more.”

“And I’m telling you to get the fuck out of that harness and take a break.” Stivers’ voice was uncompromising. “The strap’s cutting into your shoulder. How long have you been bleeding?”

“A little while,” the pony replied sulkily. “It’s just a chafe, I’ve got worse from my armour before, sir.”

“And did you act like a total asshole then, too?” Stivers looked over at Sword. “Jesus Christ, you two are like an old married couple who won’t admit you’re wrong.”

Golden Sword sighed. “Lad, I’m afraid I see his point. You do need a rest. You’re not doing any of us any good by sitting there and leaking.”

“What about you, sir?” Star looked over at his commander, who was acting much more chipper now that he had his own armour on again. “You said earlier you were tired.”

“We’ve been here a good half-hour already,” Sword shot back. “I just needed a breather.”

“Yeah, and you can both get a nice, good breather by sitting in the back of the cart while somebody else pulls it.” Stivers crossed his arms and glared at both of the ponies before him. “Don’t make me give you an order.”

Sword eyed the human balefully. “You don’t outrank me, Captain.”

“No, but I’m big enough to pick you up and put you back there,” Stivers replied, giving the pegasus a shark-like grin. “Plus I’ll have Gallivan lay on both of you to keep you still if you don’t behave.”

“Works for me, skipper.” Gallivan shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind sittin’ on the two of ‘em for a few hours. Beats walking.”

“Besides, we can make better time this way. We can all take shifts, rest, and keep moving without having to stop for anything.” Stivers held up his hands. “We can’t leave the cart here anyway; the gryphons would find it by morning.”

Golden Sword looked at him, then exhaled slowly. “You’re...incredibly correct, Captain. And I do admit I could use a break off my hooves for just a bit.” This was more than an understatement. The stallion could feel his legs quivering under him as he stood, burning with fatigue, but he would be damned if he would admit that out loud. “Let’s let the others do their part, Star. You and I will stand watch and be a rearguard, what do you say?”

Star stood head down for a moment, then finally nodded, clearly unhappy but unable to come up with any reasonable argument. “Yes, sir.”

“Finally.” Stivers eyed the pony for a moment. “Gallivan, help him out of that truss. I want to get some ointment on those cuts before the muscles stiffen up on him.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Gallivan moved over and began helping Star unhook himself from the harness while Stivers moved away and began digging around in the back of the cart, looking for his medical bag. The sergeant glanced around, then leaned in close. “You did okay, buddy. Take it easy for a bit. Even Shadow would have had to take five every now and again, and ain’t none of us him.”

Star shot the Marine a wide-eyed glance, but Gallivan was busy undoing a knot in one of the straps that had cinched tight near the buckle and cut into the pony’s shoulder while he’d been pulling. “I...I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t bullshit a master at the craft. I know what you were tryin’ to do.” The sergeant hummed happily as the knot came undone and he unhooked the strap and freed it from Star’s shoulder carefully. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Shining Star bit his lip and then nodded, unable to suppress a sigh of relief as the last bit of the harness dropped away. He stepped carefully around the mess of leatherwork and limped alongside the wagon toward where Stivers stood with the bag, the large red cross on the front of it announcing its purpose. The captain would have something that would take the sting out of his shoulder, and that was good. He’d go take a rest along with Sword, and that would be good, too, because then he could keep on doing his part, and a little bit more, besides. He owed Shadow that much, at least.

His eyes lit up as he saw his armour stacked neatly near the rear corner of the wagon, but Stivers’ voice stopped him immediately. “Uh-uh. Not yet.” The pilot sat down on the rear decking, his legs dangling down, boot heels nearly scraping the rock. “C’mon. Get up here and lay down so I can work while you rest.”

“But I—”

“Once I get that cleaned and a pad put on it, you can armour up again and go play war. After you rest. The last thing we need is you getting an infection or passing out on us.” Stivers glanced over at Sword, who pointedly leaped up into the back of the cart and settled down with an audible sigh of relief. “See? Even Sword agrees.”

“Oh, yes,” Sword replied wearily. “Sword most definitely agrees. Come on up lad. You’ve earned a break.”

Star shifted from one hoof to the other unhappily, then spread his wings and kicked off, flapping twice before landing next to Stivers. He laid down carefully, offering his wounded shoulder for inspection, then pointedly looked the other way. “It’s not that bad. Um. Is it?”

Stivers laid a hand carefully on the pony’s shoulder muscle, feeling it jump under the touch before relaxing slowly. “Well, lemme take a look, here.” He leaned closer and then caught himself with one hand as the wagon jolted underneath them and slowly began to move, the wood creaking and complaining in a fashion the Marine had heartily gotten sick of hearing over the past several days. “Whoops, sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Star looked over the edge of the folded back tarp and stared, open mouthed. Both Gruebel and Thompson had taken the leather traces of the harness, hooking it around their shoulders and waists in haphazard fashion, and begun to pull the cart, both men leaning forward intently as if walking into a strong wind. “Okay, that looks just weir-OW!”

“Sorry,” Stivers repeated, continuing to probe the pegasus’ injured shoulder. “I told you, we were going to take shifts on the cart, and I wasn’t kidding. Star, you got yourself one hell of an abrasion here, and it looks like the buckle cut into your muscle a bit.”

“For Luna’s sake, lad,” Sword said, peering over the Marine’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something? We could have stopped and fixed the strap, or switched you out with Hoof before we got to the pass.”

Shadow, why didn’t you say something??

Why didn’t you SAY something?

“I….” Star managed a croak, opening and closing his mouth for a moment before shaking his head.

Sword narrowed his eyes, looking the other pony over carefully. “You’re exhausted. You’re relieved of duty until you get some sleep, and that is not negotiable, Private.”

“NO! Sir, please!” Star’s eyes were wide and pleading as he looked at his commander. “I can do my part, I swear!”

“I’ve never questioned that, lad. Not once.” Golden Sword started to say something else, then glanced down. Stivers was half-turned toward the other pony, and his right arm was stretched back behind him, out of Star’s sight. The Marine’s hand was open, his fingers splayed outward, and he was waving it back and forth in a motion Sword had grown familiar with. Back off. The stallion clicked his teeth together and nodded. “Light duty, then, at least until Captain Stivers says your shoulder is better. Would you mind keeping overwatch and lookout duty?”

Star fixed his attention on Stivers, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then made a grunting noise of assent. “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Thank you, sirs, I won’t let you down, I swear!”

“As long as you let me lay down, I’ve no worries, lad.” Sword gave the Marine a careful look as he bent back to the task of cleaning and bandaging the gash in Star’s shoulder. Settling his chin down on his forelegs, he let the slow rocking motion of the wagon lull him down into a welcome embrace of sleep. His eyes drawn down to slits, he watched as Stivers wrapped a clean piece of fabric around the wound, his hands and fingers moving nimbly as they tied it into place. Handy things, those. Handy. The joke was no less funny for having been made before, at least to him.

For the first time in his life, Golden Sword laughed himself to sleep.

“You know,” Stivers said ruefully as he looked at the mostly empty wagon, “I wish we’d had something like this coming the other way. We made damned good time getting back here.”

“True enough. I doubt it’s very aerodynamic, though, and you’d have had Discord’s own time of it trying to strap it onto your flying machines.” Golden Sword chuckled at the mental image, then flattened his ears as a loud shout and a laugh sounded off to his left. “What in Equestria is going on over there?”

“Sounds like Taylor’s indulging himself.” Stivers stretched, feeling his back pop, then glanced over to his right, squinting as the warm yellow glow of the morning sun shone through the leaves of the trees. They had finally left the rocky hills behind them, and the uneven terrain here and softer ground had forced them to abandon the cart which had allowed them, pulling in relays, ponies and humans alike, to travel nearly non-stop back to where they had left the aircraft behind. The wagon sat before them now, looking forlorn, a surreal objet d’art amidst all the greenness, looking as if it belonged in a painting or a drawing on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post.

“Good morning, sirs.” Midnight ambled slowly toward them, pausing to emit a jaw-cracking yawn before drawing up beside the two. “Saying goodbye to our companion?”

“Goodbye to it and all the crap that sourpuss gryphon couldn’t sell to anyone but us.” Stivers grimaced. “Seriously. Why the hell does a carnivorous critter try to make a living selling vegetables?”

“Well, he had a general store thing going, if I remember correctly. And Clawttowa is one of those odd places where you never know who might turn up to buy your wares.” Midnight made a face. “Turnips are an acquired taste though, even if you intend on selling them to ponies.” Her face brightened. “Oh! There was something I was meaning to ask.”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m afraid Mr. Taylor has some odd delusions concerning our menu.” She frowned. “We typically have oatmeal for breakfast. Not that our diet has a lot of variation at the moment, but still. Every time I took my turn helping to pull the wagon when he was resting, he kept sitting up and saying ‘Mush! Mush!’” Midnight shook her head. “We don’t have any corn meal at all, and why he would want that of all things to eat in the mornings, I’ve no idea.”

Stivers tweezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, something Midnight had seen him do periodically when stressed about something. “Uh...maybe you should ask him about it, Midnight. I really don’t think I can explain it properly.”

“Ohhh.” The mare’s ears flattened. She’d spent enough time with these people to catch hidden undertones in their voices, and there was definitely one here, now. “Well then! Are we ready to move out?”

“By all means.” Sword walked forward and gave the cart a rap on one side with his forehoof. “And bid a fond farewell to our—”

There was a loud cracking sound, and the stallion jumped back in alarm as the side of the cart quivered, then flipped upward. A horrendous squealing and snapping sounded as the main axle gave way, and the cart settled into an ungainly pile of lumber and metal fittings, the wheels collapsing inwards drunkenly to rest on the shattered hulk. Coughing, Sword backed away, then glanced around with wide eyes to the others.

“Well. That won’t be covered under warranty, I think,” Midnight managed after a moment.

Stivers burst out into laughter, the sound rolling and clear in the greensward around them. “Oh my God, Midnight, you’ve spent way too much time listening to Charlie’s bullshit.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Captain. I believe I’ll go have a chat with Sergeant Gallivan about this ‘mush’ thing.” Turning, she strolled away, heading toward where the rest of their group was assembling their gear.

Golden Sword looked after her for a moment, then glanced at Stivers. “Do I even want to know?”

“Sword, our good Lieutenant Taylor is liable to end up looking like that wagon if she finds out before we get moving.” Stivers hitched his pack up higher on his shoulders, tightening the straps. “I’d recommend we double-time it out of here.”

Midnight worked her way up the moving column slowly, carefully peering about her and casting an occasional glance skyward out of habit, but there was nothing to be seen or heard at the moment but the clear chatter of birdsong. After what seemed like years of walking on stony turf in the mountains, the soft earth and clean grass felt delightful against her hooves, and she almost wished she could remove the standard issue metal shoes they all wore and just go running over the turf, kicking up her heels like a filly just to watch the dirt fly.

Just now, however, she was on a mission of intent. The target she sought was near the head of the column instead of walking near the rear, as he’d been told to, but his haste was understandable. The glade where they’d left the humans’ flying machines was less than an hour from here. Soon he would be swallowed up in the business of flight and navigation, and she didn’t begrudge him that in the least: Taylor belonged in the air. This was a concept she had no trouble empathizing with at all, and she longed to stretch her own wings in the sky once more. Right now, however, she intended to give him a piece of her mind. He’d been avoiding her all morning, had risen before she had and had been off in the woods, still wrapped up against the cold so that only his nose peeked out from under the hooded cloak.

Less than five minutes talking with Gallivan had unraveled the ‘mush’ mystery. It was a harmless enough joke, but she quite intended to get him back for that one, and in spades. She’d put her knowledge of human idioms to work and had come up with a particularly nice one involving several anatomical references that would have probably started a fight back home, except that they didn’t translate well to someone from Equestria. To a human, however, it would work quite nicely.

“Lieutenant!” she called out, trotting past Gruebel and Thompson. Taylor strode just ahead of them, his hood down now, head cocking this way and that as he peered ahead. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?” He didn’t break stride, but kept on moving, not even turning his head.

“Well, I’m quite acquainted with your custom of dog sledding, for one.” She was slightly out of breath and getting a bit irritated. Was he ignoring her? “I would appreciate it if you did not apply the term ‘mush’ to me any more.”

Taylor slowed up, and there were several snickers from some of the nearby Marines. “Oh. Yeah, um….sorry about that.” He finally came to a stop. “Tell you what,” he said, still facing away from her. “I apologize for that one. That was stupid.” He crouched and turned, giving her a smile. “Friends?”

Midnight halted, peering at him, feeling suddenly disarmed and foolish for having made a fuss over something so meaningless. “Of course. I wasn’t really mad, I just don’t like not being in on the jok—” She stopped, looking at him oddly.

“What, a guy can’t clean up before a flight?” Taylor rubbed a hand over his beardless chin. He’d borrowed a kit from Hoof and had shed the whiskers he’d grown since before leaving the monastery, although the lack of warm water to shave with had given rise to some interesting curses during the operation.

Recognition flooded into Midnight’s face, and she laughed. “Sweet Celestia, that looks so much better! I’d quite forgotten what you looked like without that mess.”

“Whaaat? I thought you’d be used to folks running around covered in fur. Or hair. Or feathers. Whatever.” The light breeze tingled against his chin, and Taylor rubbed it again absently. Shaving after keeping a beard for any length of time was a pain in the ass; your skin acted like a lady up on a chair with a mouse under it, screaming bloody murder at the slightest touch until it toughened up again.

“For us? Yes. For you, not so much.” The mare snorted. “Although I’d almost pay to see what you look like with a faceful of feathers.”

“Catch me on New Year’s Eve sometime, you’ll probably find out for free. I’ve been known to dance the tango with a pillow while wearing a lampshade on my head.” He grinned evilly. “Best time that pillow ever had.”

They began walking again, Midnight rubbing one side of her head with a forehoof. “The frightening thing is, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” She glanced around. “I think we’re almost there, aren’t we? I remember that birch tree, the one with the split fork off to the side, there.”

“Oh, yes.” Taylor’s face brightened immediately, and he broke into a fast trot. “I can see the edge of the clearing up there. Hold on baby, daddy’s comin’ for ya!” He let out a yodeling shout and shook both fists in the air.

“Charlie, hold up!” Stivers called out, looking around worriedly. “Jesus Christ, the last thing we need to do is walk into a goddamned ambush right here. Charlie!”

“I don’t think that will be the problem, Captain,” Sword spoke, his voice doleful. The pegasus’ sharp eyes had already picked out the clearing, as well as the piles of brush and tree limbs that had been laid over the aircraft as camouflage. He walked forward and stopped at the treeline, the others gathering to either side of him and standing still, all of them facing forward and looking at Taylor.

Taylor stood motionless, breathing heavily after his sprint, the tall grass whispering against the faded khaki of his trousers as he walked about in a small aimless circle, staring at the flattened mass of limbs and brush that now lay against the ground. Coming to a stop, he reached down and picked up a clod of dirt that had been thrown up near the brush. Raw earth showed in several places, displaying clearly where several heavy objects had been dragged across the meadow and into a low cut between two groups of trees. What the heavy objects were was painfully clear; there was no glint of metal visible anywhere in sight. Whatever had taken the bombers had taken them completely, as if swallowed whole.

Taylor turned back around, squeezing the clotted earth into powder in his clenched fist, and screamed up at the blue sky overhead.

Author's Note

So sorry about being 31 days late for my 'before december ends' deadline. I had to ~~excuses excuses excuses~~.

Honestly, the only real excuses I have, are the last few weeks have been hell for logistics. In the mean time, Chapter 22 is coming along presently, and Chapter 23 is already written. So, good times ahead with that.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed reading, hope you tell your friends, and I really hope you all comment. Really, there's 600 people tracking this story... I should be able to get 300 comments off of that!

So, Thanks to Dave for being made out of 100% concentrated Awesome Sauce (not to be confused with baby badder).
And if I said that I would thank you here, but I didn't thank you I'm really sorry, but I totally forgot about you :) Leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Something about this feels incomplete... and I have no idea what it is.

And for those of you who made it this far into the A/N, here's a bit of exposition. Chapter 23 will be the last chapter in ACT II of Flight 19. Then we start with a fresh act, full of happiness and all of those things that make happiness bitter. Cheers.

----------> Leave a comment <----------

Chapter 22: Lost and Found

Thick silence descended upon the clearing for a moment before Gallivan’s voice spoke up from behind them.

“Spread out, boots. Keep your eyes open. Whoever took the planes may still be here.” He snapped his fingers and pointed. “Thompson, Hoof. Check the treeline where the bombers were. Star, you and I will take the south side. Captain Sword, you and Midnight take the east. Grubel, you and the skipper sit tight with the Ell-Tee til he gets his shit together.”

Taylor’s voice came back immediately, almost a guttural snarl. “I’m fine, Sergeant York. Some asshole just walked off with my fucking bombers, otherwise everything’s Goddamn peachy keen.”

“Then see if you can figure out who, sir. All due respect, we ain’t got time for a hissy fit.” Gallivan turned without a word and headed off slowly, Star pacing slowly beside him and eyeing the trees with evident suspicion.

Stivers stepped up and touched the other officer gently on the arm. “Come on, Charlie. He’s right. Let’s try to find out what happened at least, and go from there.” The Marine squeezed Taylor’s bicep firmly. “We need your brains, Navy.”

Taylor took a deep breath and blew it out hard, his lips making a puttering sound. “You know,” he said in a normal tone of voice, “you just complimented a Navy officer. I’m never letting you live that down.”

“I’m counting on it.” Stivers chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Come on, let’s take a look at this mess.”

The two officers paced slowly over to where the bombers had been, Gruebel following a short distance behind and turning slightly to keep an eye on the treeline behind them. Coming to a halt, Taylor knelt down, his knees making dull popping sounds as he crouched in the tall grass. “Okay, here’s where we were.” He brushed a hand over the ground, flicking his fingers through the greenery. “See where it’s pressed down here? That’s the wheelmarks.”

Stivers knelt beside him, his eyes picking out the pattern immediately. “Right. Okay…” He turned his head slowly to the left. “Leads back toward the center of the meadow.”

“That’s the way we came in. We landed over that way and then rolled the birds over here and parked them.” Taylor stood up and moved forward carefully. “Now then…” He knelt down again, then winced, picking up a small stone from under his knee and chucking the offending rock to one side. “See this? It’s not as bad as the other marks. Is there anything over in that direction?”

Stivers, who had crouched beside him, began crab-walking to one side. “Tally-ho. Looks like our main gear was here and the plane was turned; the grass is all torn up here and yellow.”

“Dammit. I wish we’d locked the brakes on the bastards. I didn’t think it was gonna be a problem.” Taylor pounded one knee with a closed fist, then let out a deep breath. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Whoever took them didn’t fly off with them, for whatever reason.” Stivers and the other pilot looked at each other, then at the ground, their eyes following the faint trail that led through the grass, their gaze lifting as it led away into the treeline to the west. “Son of a bitch. The trees are wide apart enough over there…”

Taylor stood up and began walking in that direction. “Yeah, they are. Wanna go see if they got stuck in the damn forest?”

“On it.” Stivers raised his voice slightly, just enough to carry. “Heads up, boots. We got a trail to follow.”

Crimson Hoof came gliding over as the group reassembled around the two senior pilots. “Sir, Thompson and I found something that looks like wheel marks over just inside the treeline. The spacing is right for your machines. It looks like it goes deeper into the forest, but we didn’t want to get out of sight to find out.”

“Good job.” Stivers patted the pony’s armor plated side with a dull thunk. “Form up with us. I think Taylor’s got the point, so let’s get moving and try to keep up.”

Golden Sword frowned heavily. “I’d rather he not be up there. That’s not a place for an amateur, danger or no.”

“Charlie wants his airplane back, and to be honest, so do I.” Stivers tightened one of the straps on his pack as they began to move, the group spreading out into their marching formation once more. “Right now it’d take wild horses to slow him down.”

“Nonsense. We’re in much better shape.” Sword frowned. “What would wild horses want to slow him down for, anyway?”

Stivers looked at the pony in confusion for a moment, then shook his head. “Another one of those metaphors of ours,” Stivers explained, then raised his voice slightly. “Charlie! Hold up!”

The other pilot’s words drifted back to him. “You know, I really hate sitting in a traffic pattern. C’mon, let’s go find our birds.” He paused, though, and waited until Stivers and Sword had drawn level with him, then pointed at the ground. “Check this happy shit out.”

Stivers frowned and knelt down. Where the wheel trails had entered the treeline, the growth to either side was drawn back a bit. Up ahead, he could see dimly through the sunlight that filtered through the greenery, and realized the open space continued on into the forest. The ground was likewise fairly clear, with only an occasional weed poking up here and there. “I’ll be damned. There’s a path through here.” He turned to look at Sword. “This wasn’t on Luna’s map. Any idea who’s using this trail?”

“I believe that’s what the good lieutenant was bringing to our attention.” Sword’s voice had a slight edge to it. “And before you get any wild ideas in your heads, my people don’t come here for any reason I know of, Captain. Whomever purloined your machines, it wasn’t a pony.”

“Huh?” Stivers looked down and inspected the ground before him. “What’re—” He broke off as Sword moved a forehoof and brushed aside a clump of grass, revealing a set of hoofprints that pressed cleanly into the earth. “What the hell?”

“Your guess is as good as mine right now. Or possibly not.” The stallion’s mouth was set in a thin line. “I’ve a fair notion, but speculating about it isn’t going to get us anywhere. Let’s follow the trail and see what we find, first.”

“About damned time.” Taylor straightened and tightened his pack straps. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

Several hours of following the path revealed that whomever had made off with the machines had a decent head start. All signs of their passing were at least a day or two old, but the cover overhead made it hard to tell; there were signs of a recent rain, but hardly any had reached the forest floor; even Hoof was unable to piece out whether the wear was due to the erosion or plain age.

The trail wound back and forth, but generally led in a southwest direction. Trees crowded close together on either side, and grew so close together that there was no place wide enough for an Avenger to slip through, even with it's wings folded. After a while, the stopped examining the edges of the trail and simply followed the signs made by the passage of aircraft.

Security was still a prime issue, though, and they left nothing to chance. Ponies and humans alike peered warily through the trees, watching for motion or the telltale glint of metal that might betray an attacker.

The day passed slowly, and the sounds of the forest around them made the ponies' ears flicker and twitch. The constant murmur of birds calls, unseen animals and the shifting of tree limbs kept them on edge.

At one point, something deep in the forest had uttered a low, growling yowl, and all of them had fallen into a defensive formation, weapons out and eyes straining to catch a glimpse of whatever had seen fit to complain. Nothing more was heard from it, however, and eventually they reformed their column and moved on, albeit at a slightly faster pace than any of them would care to admit.

After a short break for lunch, which all of them wanted, and a rest which they all needed but none wanted to spend time on, they kept moving. The ground itself began to slope generally downward, descending from the highlands behind them, and the trees began to become thinner and more spaced apart, and even the undergrowth became more sparse as they traveled.

“Sir, I’d bet a month’s pay this trail wasn’t on the maps I looked at while we were at the monastery.” Star glanced over his left shoulder at the descending afternoon sun. “We’ve turned east a bit, too. The main trading road is in this direction, but this sure isn’t it. I don’t know where we are.”

“As long as it points toward our planes, it’s working just fine for me.” Taylor paused, wiggling his shoulders for a moment. “Is it me, or is it getting warmer?”

“Not being high up in the mountains does that to you.” Stivers glanced off to his left, frowning, but the flash of movement he’d seen turned into a squirrel that busily began scolding him for having the temerity to look at it. “I’m not complaining. I’m tired of freezing my ass off at night.”

Behind him, Crimson Hoof snickered. “I’m never gonna get used to you guys saying that. What in Equestria possessed you to call your haunches your ass? I keep expecting it to hee-haw at me or something.”

“Son, you’ve never had navy beans for dinner.” Gallivan closed up until he was walking even with the officers. “What’s the word, skipper? Any idea on how close we’re getting?”

“These tracks are more than a day old, but less than a week.” Sword frowned. “More than that, I can’t tell. Whomever is hauling your machines is either lucky or clever; they’re walking directly ahead of the wheel marks. It’s destroying what little sign I can pick up.”

“That’s more than I can pick up; I never was good at trailcraft, and I was a Scout.” Taylor eyed the stallion pacing alongside him. “You’re damned good at what you do, you know that?”

“If I wasn’t, I’d be a poor excuse for a commander then, wouldn’t I?”

“You’re also shitty at being humble.” Taylor grinned as Sword’s momentary expression of satisfaction immediately collapsed into his more usual scowl. “C’mon, Sword, work with me.”

The guardspony stopped in mid-stride and offered the human a scathing glance. “You’re irreverent, irresponsible, annoying, refuse to take anything seriously, ignore orders, noise discipline, and every other regulation in the book. How in Luna’s name did you become an officer?”

Taylor’s smirk stayed glued in place, but the light in his eyes faded a bit. “All the good ones got killed, so they picked me next.” He flapped a hand irritably at the hood of his cloak, pushing it back away from his neck. “Come on, daylight’s wasting.”

Sword stood for a moment as the others passed by him in column, giving the tall human a long, thoughtful look.

Hours later, they had finally called a halt as evening drew down on the land and it became harder and harder to see anything on the trail before them. The large prints of the Avengers’ tires could still be seen clearly, even in the dim moonlight that filtered through the trees, but both Stivers and Taylor shared a common fear that small details might be easily missed in the gloaming. They had all been moving since daybreak, anyway, and even Sword was willing to stop and make camp for the night.

Gruebel and Thompson had cleared a spot directly on the trail and set up their campfire, mindful of the nearby woods. This made gathering firewood an easy prospect however, and they soon had a blaze burning merrily in the center of the path.

“Tollbooth,” Gruebel had announced. “Anyone else comes through here, they pay up or get their asses scorched.”

Hoof snickered again at the misnomer, then looked at the Marine. “So what’re you charging to pass through?”

Gruebel leaned back against his pack, legs stretched out in front of him with ankles crossed. “An eighteen inch pizza, Chicago style. Loaded.”

Taylor made a gagging sound. “New York. That Chicago crap will give you the runs.”

“That’s because you have delicate insides, sir. You stick with us, march out in the rough for a few more weeks. Eat some bugs and snakes. We’ll have you toughened up in no time.”

The lieutenant offered him a hand gesture which most of the ponies had become familiar with at this point. “You must have missed the memo, Og. We don’t live in caves anymore. Have you heard about that great invention, the wheel? Really moved things forward for us.”

A burst of laughter swept through the group as they settled in, muted crunching sounds indicating that at least someone (or somepony) wasn’t going to stand on ceremony where dinner was concerned. Golden Sword looked them over for a moment, then picked up one of his side pouches and strode up the path to where Midnight was standing guard.

“No sense in you waiting until later to eat.” He set the pouch down before her. “Go on and tuck in, I’ll keep an eye out for you while you’re at it.”

“Thank you sir, that’s kind of you.”

Sword cast his gaze along the edges of the woods, frowning as the firelight danced and played amongst the shadows there. “You know,” he said after a moment, “I just don’t get it.”

Midnight was caught in mid-chew, but she was used to this particular habit of her commander by this point. She swallowed heavily and cleared her throat. “Don’t get what?”

“That lot,” he stated simply.

“The humans?”

“Yes.” Sword scraped at the turf with a forehoof absently. “I’m well aware that under pressure, certain liberties are taken, but those...people, I don’t understand them half the time. They’re more like civilians than professional soldiers, but they function absurdly well when the time comes.”

Midnight paused to take a drink of water and cleared her throat again. “Actually, I don’t think that’s far off the mark.”

“Come again?”

“Well…” The mare paused, forming her words carefully before she spoke. “From what I’ve gathered, most of them weren’t even soldiers until a few years ago. I think Gruebel and Gallivan were, but other than that, they were just...normal.”

Sword chuckled. “You make it sound like strapping on armor is an act of a deluded mind.”

“I didn’t mean it in a derogatory fashion, sir. I volunteered just like you did, remember?” Midnight clicked her teeth together softly, watching as Thompson, who had been telling some sort of story or other, stood up and began waving his hands around in an odd fashion, as if they were chasing each other. “From what I’ve learned, they’re fairly docile folk. Almost indolent, even, but they were attacked by another nation and that roused them to the fight.”

“Well.” Sword reached up and rubbed a forehoof against the chestplate of his armor. “There is that, at least.”

“Captain.” Midnight’s voice firmed slightly. “You’ve told me more than once that you admire them. When you think about this, it bothers you. I’ve grown to like them, and I think you have, too.” She leaned closer, one corner of her muzzle quirked up in a smile. “You do know that it’s okay to like them, right?”

The stallion offered her a quizzical look. “Are you the same sub-lieutenant I began this mission with? Because you certainly don’t sound like her.”

“Who do I sound like, then?”

“A diplomat.” He sighed. “Which is probably not what Their Highnesses had in mind, if they thought of it at all.”

“Being immortal doesn’t make you all-knowing.”

“And that is what frightens me the most.” Sword shook his head. “Never mind. You’ve got the watch, Midnight. I’ll have Hoof relieve you.” He turned and started away.

“Captain?”

Sword paused and glanced back at her. “Yes?”

The light of the fire behind him ticked and glimmered off of the jewel that hung around her neck. “Do you trust us? I mean, all of us? Not just the ponies.”

He frowned. “Why...well, yes, I suppose so. I did make a big deal about that when we first started this whole mess, after all.”

“Don’t forget to trust yourself, then, when the time comes.” Her voice seemed suddenly old and forlorn. “Much may depend on it.”

Sword blinked, one eyebrow lifting in confusion, but the mare had already turned away and resumed her watch, her bow within easy reach as she scanned the darkening horizon.

Midnight shifted restlessly, squirming a bit under the cloak she had spread over herself as a blanket. Though Crimson Hoof had relieved her of her post over an hour ago, the mare was still lying where she'd been when she first sat down-- tired, restless, and unable to get to sleep. It did not help that she was surrounded by quiet snores, reminding her that nopony else seemed to be having a problem dropping off.

She winced and shifted a hind leg, relieving the pressure so that her armor would quit pinching her hip. She’d gotten used to sleeping in the stuff, but it would never earn a place on her list of favorite things to do. She sorely missed her own comfortable bunk in the main barracks back in Canterlot. In her mind’s eye, she could actually see it sitting there, the sheets and blankets neatly made with a pool of moonlight spilling down upon them from the window that sat beside her bed. The pillow straight and plump, waiting for her to settle her head upon it and close her eyes, to slip blissfully into sleep—

Stop it, she chided herself. You’re just making it worse.

My, you’re a tough one. The cold voice of the Pentachoron folded itself around her consciousness, mimicking her own manner of speaking. I have to admit, though, that I am curious. Do you always argue with yourself this much? It’s really tiresome, you know.

So are you, Midnight shot back. She was getting oddly used to having a conversation entirely in her head with the thing inside the jewel. Is that your secret, mysterious power that everyone seeks? The power to irritate others until they want to scream?

She felt the thing’s laughter in her mind, a sensation akin to bat wings brushing against the inside of her skull. Oh, that’s rich. I’m quite capable of making others scream, my dear, but I usually use more direct methods than irritation.

The mare’s eyes narrowed, reflecting the nearby campfire in glittering slits. Is that a threat?

Don’t be silly. That approach didn’t really work well with you, did it? I already told you, Midnight Arrow, you interest me very much. You won me, fair and square. I’m still waiting to see what use you’ll make of me. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to teleport you all straight back to Canterlot and save you the time.

Midnight’s eyes flew open wide. “You can do that?” she asked aloud, then glanced around furtively. Taylor stood several yards away, his back to the camp; the tall human did not appear to have heard. You can do that? Why didn’t you say so??

You didn’t ask. The voice tittered inside her head again, the sensation making her shiver.

True enough. Teleport us back, then.

Why should I? The voice of the jewel took on a chiding tone. You didn’t even ask nicely.

Midnight gritted her teeth, then exhaled slowly. Fine, then. I apologize. Would you please take us back to Canterlot? I would very much appreciate it.

No. The amusement in the Pentachoron voice was clear. Since you didn’t ask nicely the first time, I believe I’ll make you walk back. That should teach you the value of courtesy to your elders. After all, I am millennia older than you, cutie pie.

Midnight felt the muscles in her jaws cramp and forced herself to unclench her teeth. And you’re a bloody fraud, then. You’ve not even got the power to teleport us back to begin with. I’ve not seen one single thing since we found you that proves you’ve got any power at all, other than to annoy, frighten and make others miserable. Stars above, what if she was right? What if Celestia had made a mistake in deciding that this despicable...thing...was capable of helping to send the humans home?

So solly, cholly, I’m not falling for that trick. You silly fool. The abrupt coldness in the jewel’s tone blew the thoughts out of her head like autumn leaves before winter’s wind. I could teleport you three thousand leagues from here into an active volcano on a continent you’ve never even seen, in a land where ponies like you are nothing but a myth. Or I could send you straight up, instead, and watch you gasp for air in outer space while you gaze upon your precious Luna’s moon. Would you like a really close up look at where she spent all that time? I can give you that, most certainly.

Midnight’s mouth opened, but only a small croak came out. She stared into the firelight, her eyes unfocused, feeling the chilling anger of the jewel slowly ebb away as it paused a moment, considering. I... no, I didn’t mean—

Actually, I have a better idea. The Pentachoron’s voice was brighter now. Yes, I have a most excellent idea. I’ll give you a demonstration, my dear. A demonstration of what I’m capable of doing. Very soon, I think, perhaps tomorrow. The chill tone returned. And the next time you and I speak, I’m sure we’ll have more to discuss about our future together.

There was a sensation almost like a hollow wind between her temples, and suddenly, the voice… the presence… was gone. Midnight glanced down involuntarily, but the Pentachoron merely hung at the end of its chain around her neck, glimmering in the firelight like any other bauble. She sent out a tentative thought toward it, but there was no response. If it was still there, it had gone to sleep like the others.

The moon was well into the western sky and descending before Midnight herself finally found sleep.

Taylor jumped at the sharp popping sound the fire made, the pilot’s hand jerking down to grasp at the hilt of the short dagger he wore at his waist. He relaxed his grip forcibly, drawing in a slow breath and letting it out quietly. Jumpy tonight, aren’t you?

Well, yes, maybe he was, and fuck you very much, because that was part of guard duty. He’d relieved Crimson Hoof hours ago, in what the ponies called the Low Watch, that time in the wee hours of the morning when blood ran slow and attention wandered, because the night grew old and dawn was coming soon. It was the perfect time to attack, and Taylor knew it well. Hadn’t he flown missions at this very hour of the morning, just to catch the enemy unawares? All the better to kill you in your sleep, my dear.

Taylor shook his head, casting the thought away. There were no Japanese to go bomb, now. For all he knew, there was no real enemy left. Whomever had made off with their aircraft couldn’t have known what the planes were, or who they belonged to. Just a couple of really big, bright shiny things that might be fun to take apart and—

“Stop it,” he growled under his breath. “Just frigging stop it, okay?” He was giving himself a case of the heebie-jeebies, and he knew it. Sighing, he knelt down, flexing his knees and feeling the joints pop dully. He stood up straight once more and resumed pacing the rough course he’d been walking around the campsite during his watch. He kept moving slowly, pausing every now and again to listen carefully, taking in the sounds of the night and sampling them for anything that seemed out of place. The pilot was more worried about natural predators more than anything else; the pilot had no desire to blunder into a bear in the darkness, not when Fluttershy was God knew how many hundreds of miles away.

She’d probably still yell at me if I shot the damned thing, though. As much as she’s capable of yelling, anyway. The thought amused him, but his right hand crept down and rubbed restlessly over the flap of the leather holster that covered his .45 automatic. If push came to shove, getting yelled at by Midnight’s girlfriend wasn’t going to stop him from putting seven rounds into anything with claws and teeth that tried to take a bite out him.

Putting an arrow into it might impress Midnight more, however. One of those babies to the eye would make anybody stop and think. The short bow he had chosen back at Canterlot was slung over his left shoulder, and his left hand traced the lacing of the grip as he walked. On a whim, he flicked his wrist and the bow was off his shoulder, his right hand already pulling an arrow from the quiver that hung just behind the holster on his right hip. It was an odd arrangement, but he was able to draw and nock an arrow quicker this way than using the more traditional over-the-shoulder method he’d seen in countless Robin Hood comics.

Midnight had watched him do it once and had immediately approved the setup, wryly noting that he dropped the arrow two times out of three the other way. The observation had stung, but it was true; this way, he usually only dropped it once out of every four tries or so. His efforts had improved with practice, but still paled in comparison with the fluidity of the mare’s draw, the way she would nock, draw and fire in what seemed to be one blurred motion. She could bury two arrows dead center by the time he was able to send one flying in the general direction of the target, and he’d accepted the fact that he was never, ever going to be as good as she was. Still, he tried, even when he felt more comfortable switching to the dagger and just wading in.

Just why in the hell are you so worried about impressing her anyway?

That thought brought him to a halt, bow and arrow in hand, and he glanced nervously over toward the campsite where the others lay sleeping. One look showed him that his dignity was intact for the moment; Midnight lay with her back to him, her head pillowed on her pack. Her cloak lay draped over her, rising and falling in a slow, regular rhythm. Taylor let his own breath let out slowly and shook his head in mild irritation at himself. Impressing her was the wrong word for it; Midnight would be the last one to be impressed by some showy-ass trick with a weapon. But if he’d been caught…

He’d committed a grievous blunder that night when he’d thrown the firewood down at her hooves and her words back in her face, and he knew it. He’d also admitted his error to her later on and bared his soul to her in a way he’d never done with anyone else. Why? She was his friend; he’d never been more sincere about anything else in his life when he’d told her that. He’d wounded her, and had wanted to repair that damage as best he could. But her regard for him… the only other person he’d ever felt like this was his father, the look in the older man’s eyes the day Taylor had won his golden wings. The pride and respect in who he was and what he had done with his life. Things which Taylor had thought had been burned out of him years ago, and hadn’t given a damn about ever since he’d splashed into the sea on that long night flight back from a strike in the western Pacific. I ran out of gas and don’t give a shit, he’d thought at the time. I’m dead anyway.

He hadn’t died, though. He’d been picked up hours later by a destroyer and kept on living, and that life had somehow brought him here, to this strange world with its talking animals and multi-colored ponies, some of which had wings and armor and would give you an odd look which made you self-conscious and give a damn about your self-respect once again.

Taylor heard a low muttering sound from behind him and turned about, walking back towards where the fire flickered and shifted, beginning to burn low as the night grew older. Midnight had shifted in place and lay sprawled oddly, almost on her belly, one side of her cloak askew where she had kicked it away in her sleep. She muttered thickly again, her muzzle pressed against the tough material of her issue pack, and her hooves twitched. The pilot knelt down, reaching over carefully and snagging the loose end of the cloak, and pulled it back until it covered her once more.

“Just dreams,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “Ride ‘em out, there’s clear air ahead.” He saw her ears flicker at the sound of his voice, and he repeated his words slowly. “Clear air ahead, ride it out.” One ear ticked again, and then she stilled, her breathing resuming its slow, steady tide. He stood by her for a while longer, wary, but whatever had troubled her dreams had passed now and was gone back into whatever shadows had spawned it.

Rising carefully, Taylor moved over to replenish the dying fire and then resumed his watch once more, pacing off the limits of his watch and moving to nock an arrow now and again, testing himself and trying to beat the previous effort’s time. Only the moon, riding low in the western sky, took notice of his routine, and if it found any fault, it gave no sign.

After a meagre breakfast, they were all up and on their way again shortly after dawn. The steadily increasing light gave the trees around them the lightest brush of color, the hues deepening and becoming richer as the sun lifted begrudgingly over the eastern horizon. The forest itself was scarcely worth the title now, the trees themselves smaller and less abundant. Here and there they spotted what looked like burned out hulks of tree trunks, and the flora consisted of what would more properly be called second- or even third-growth vegetation; low scrub brush and spindly saplings.

“This looks like somebody came through here and burned it off, Skipper.” Thompson squinted at a charred stump that barely rose higher than his own head. “Seriously. My uncle worked for the forestry service during the Depression and they did this kinda thing.”

“Better trees for victory,” Taylor stated in a cheesy radio announcer’s voice. “Light up your local forest and buy war bonds, because each burned tree is a burned Nazi.”

“I don’t think it works exactly like that, sir.” Thompson smirked. “Anyway, they did it every few years or so to get rid of the dead tre—”

“Hold!”

The entire column froze in place at Sword’s hissed command, each of them spreading out to either side of the path in a herringbone formation and looking outward for any sign of a threat. Taylor felt a pebble bounce off of his shoulder and looked around to see Stivers motioning at him to come forward. Keeping crouched, the pilot duck-walked over next to where the the two captains were hunched down near a snarl of ancient vines that looked like it had tried to strangle itself. “What’s the word?”

“See for yourself.” Stivers pointed, and Taylor looked, following the direction of the Marine’s hand. The land still sloped downward steadily here, and opened out before them into what looked like an odd hodgepodge of hedges and several open pieces of ground that were clearly cultivated fields. The sun was still working its way skyward behind them, but in the early morning light the curling trails of white smoke could be clearly seen issuing from what looked like a series of large tents or pavilions of some sort. The entire area was dominated by a massive stone outcropping at the southern end of the camp, with a large, irregular opening in the near face. The path that they had followed through the woods snaked unevenly down the incline and led directly into the center of the area below, forming a kind of circular hub there which snaked out with multiple arms amongst the tents.

“Looks like a goddamn spiderweb,” Taylor muttered. “Did I mention I really hate spiders?”

“To hell with spiders,” Sword growled. “Take a look near yonder tent on the left. Isn’t that one of your machines poking out from underneath it?”

Taylor leaned forward, going to one knee and peering through the dim light until his eyes ached. “I’ll be damned,” he breathed. “It is. That’s the tail sticking out. But it looks all…” He trailed off, squinting, his eyes watering. “Fuckall,” he snarled. “The wings are folded up. How in Christ did they know how to do that?”

“And who are ‘they’ in the first place?” Stivers asked. “I’m still wondering about that one.”

Golden Sword held up a forehoof, motioning for quiet, then leaned pointedly in the direction of the village below, his ears perked fully upright. Taylor and Stivers both mimicked his pose, the humans having to make do with cupping one hand against an ear. They all sat quietly, and Taylor could hear his own pulse thumping faintly in his ears, felt a droplet of sweat sliding maddeningly slow down the center of his spine. The wind was light, and they could hear murmurs of conversation in the distance as the early risers greeting the morning and one another, although the words were unintelligible at this distance. Then the sound came, the duo-toned sound that was recognizable at once, rolling clearly through the morning air to them all, making Sword’s ears twitch and Taylor’s hands clench hard, hard, until his fingernails dug into his palms.

“God-damned zebras,” he growled. “Son of a bitch.”

“Indeed,” Sword observed drily. He glanced down upon the settlement again. The light was still growing stronger, and details could be picked out cleanly now. The largest tents all faced the central hub, which had a low, irregular stone platform in the center of it. Poking out from each of these tents were a bewildering array of shapes, some familiar and some not. Several carts were clearly evident, and another tent appeared to be filled with various kinds of statuary and sculpture. The pony’s ears perked up and he tapped Taylor on the arm with a forehoof, then pointed. “There’s your other machine, but it looks...different, somehow. Is it broken, do you think?”

Both pilots frowned and leaned forward again, their expressions almost identical, the scene so comical that Sword would have laughed under different circumstances. “Thats...that doesn’t look right.” Stivers shook his head. “That’s another tail boom sticking out, but it’s...it’s not broken, but it looks all wrong.”

Taylor’s eyes were the sharpest, and his voice was chillingly flat. “It is wrong. That’s a twin rudder.” His hands came up and made a canted ‘v’ shape. “It’s a fucking seaplane, and one of ours, by the color. What in God’s name is it doing here?” He looked back over at Sword, and all at once both humans were eyeing the pony with an unfriendly look that the Royal Guard had not seen in weeks. “We didn’t come in seaplanes. And that fucker is from our world. What in Christ’s name is going on here, Sword?”

Silence descended upon the group, and Sword realized that the others had been listening carefully and little of their conversation had gone unheard. He glanced around, and saw that all of them were looking at him, waiting for an answer, and the stallion was aware of two things: one was that his answer would likely be the most important one of his life.

The other was that he had no answer to give. No answer at all.

Author's Note

Yah...
Sooo.... Remember that time I said this would be coming out? Yah... Neither do I.
Sorry? Anyway, for those who don't know, I graduated DP1, and am now a real soldier. This means I will have more time to write, and will also be gone for really awkward periods of time with absolutely no explanation.
Dave has overcome whatever was wrong with his heart (I think), and will be writing more often as well.
I would also like to welcome a new guy into our fold as an editor!
Featherprop

So... Yah. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment, etc etc, you know the drill.
Next chapter will be out between now and Christmas.

Chapter 24: Blood Price

Chapter 24: Blood Price

Stivers stared at the pegasus for a few seconds, his jaw hanging in disbelief. “A what?”

“It’s a dragon.” Golden Sword repeated, keeping his eyes locked on the shape as it slowly grew larger, closing the distance with each sweep of its vast wings. “A big one. If you’ve got any speed in these machines, Captain, now’s the time to use it, I think.”

“Oh, Christ.” Stivers grabbed at his throat microphone and activated it. “Charlie, we have a problem. Check your six.”

“Roger.” There was a heartbeat of silence, then another. “What the hell is that thing?”

Stivers looked at the pony next to him on the wing, then back at the windscreen. “Sword says it’s a dragon. A big one. And he doesn’t recommend hanging around to say hello.”

“A what?” The radio crackled in Stivers’ ears, and the Marine winced. “Say your fuel state.”

Stivers looked down at the ruined instrument panel and tapped the partially obscured fuel gauge. “I’m in the red already.” He kept his voice steady. “How much is that?”

“Not enough.” Taylor’s voice was flat, the emotionless voice of an executioner. “At full throttle that’s only gonna give us a few minutes. Target’s closing too fast.” The lieutenant’s plane drew in closer, and Stivers could see him talking to one of the ponies on the wing. They all glanced around, the startled looks on their faces evident as Taylor’s voice came over the radio again. “Same over here. We’ll have to engage and then give you a chance to get clear, ditch someplace open and then hide.”

“The hell you say,” Stivers snarled. “You can’t take that damned thing on by yourself. You ain’t in a Hellcat, Charlie. These damned busses aren’t meant for dogfights.” Stivers noticed Sword staring at him intently and leaned over to shout over the wind. “Taylor says he wants to try and draw it off, distract it. Give us a chance to get a little farther and find a safe place to land and hide, maybe.”

Sword shook his head. “That won’t work. With only one opponent, it’ll finish him off quickly and chase us down. It won’t quit as long as it has a foe in sight. And if it spots us on the ground it’ll just hunt us down one by one.” He glanced behind them again. The dragon was less than a mile behind and still closing. Sword could see the features of the beast’s face clearly now, even at this distance. The eyes seemed to focus on him, and he shivered.

“Well, if you have any ideas, you better say something fast,” Stivers said tightly. “My gas tanks aren’t getting any fuller, and we’re running out of time.”

The pony abruptly reached a decision. He waved a foreleg carefully at the other plane until he had the attention of his squadmates, then pointed back at the approaching dragon. Moving his foreleg in a circular sweep, he then brought it back to point straight forward, then pointed skyward five times. He waited until he saw Midnight acknowledge him, then leaned back towards Stivers. “Get ready to run, Captain. Go as fast as you can, as far as you can, then land and hide. Hide quickly. I don’t know how long this is going to work.”

“What?” Stivers looked at him, wide-eyed, then looked behind them again. “Wait, what are you going to do?”

“My job. You have your orders, Captain.” Sword crouched down low on the wing of the bomber, preparing himself.

Midnight acknowledged Sword’s signal, her insides turning cold. She glanced across the aircraft at Star. The other pegasus looked behind them, then looked back and met her gaze, nodding at her, his face expressionless.

She took a deep breath, then leaned close, raising her voice to be heard over the slipstream. “Taylor, look at me.”

Taylor glanced over at her, his head cocked to one side as he listened to Stivers’ voice spouting what seemed to be a string of insanity into his ears as the other pilot relayed Sword’s instructions. The lieutenant pushed one of his earphones aside, his eyes flicking to the rear where their pursuer had closed the gap to a half-mile. “What?”

Midnight reached up and removed the Pentachoron talisman from around her neck, the golden chain that Terrence had given her to wear it on whipping wildly in the wind. It threatened to slip off her hoof and she grabbed at it with her teeth, her expression almost feral as she leaned farther and stuck her head in the cockpit, dropping the priceless gem in Taylor’s lap. “Take this.”

Taylor jumped, clawing at the necklace and seizing it before it could slip down to the floor of the plane. “Midnight, what are you—”

“No time. Take it and get back to Equestria.” She looked at him, and their eyes locked. “Get back home.” She straightened back up, a lock of her mane working free from under her helmet and whipping in the wind. “Now go, and don’t look back.”

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t look back.” The pegasus stood upright, looked across the bomber at her commander, and waited. Two more seconds. One.

“Midnight! Wait!”

She and Star leapt up simultaneously and were gone.

The four pegasi jumped free of the bombers, arcing upward into the clear blue sky and coming together neatly in a vertical climb that took them well clear of the aircraft as they roared away. They fell backwards slowly, coming up and over into a loop that carried them back towards the oncoming beast, each of them rolling to fly upright again and facing their attacker.

Sword glanced across at his squadmates. Each of them was in perfect formation now, flying in a modified Celestial Star pattern less than half a wingspan from each other, with Star on the outside right where Shadow had been accustomed to fly, and Hoof on the left. Midnight was next to him, her gaze fixed forward, the mare remaining silent as they bored in on the dragon.

“Time to go to work, then.” Golden Sword unhooked the clasp on his scabbard and pulled his weapon free, and the other pegasi did likewise. “Midnight, up and over. Hoof, you and I go in close on the left. Star, stay on the right. Get a shot at his eyes if you can.”

Shining Star nodded, his spear out and aimed, the point moving slowly through the air as he fought to keep it on target in the slipstream. “I’ll bury it in his brain, sir. Just say the word.”

“The word is distraction. The longer we keep him busy, the longer the humans have to get clear.” Sword looked at the grim pony on the right wing of the formation and raised his voice to a shout. “Make it count!”

“HAR-AIIIIII!” They all lifted their voices as one and dove at the onrushing behemoth, the neat formation splitting apart at the last second like a gleaming flower. Midnight pulled up sharply, climbing nearly vertically with her bow arched and singing as she began unleashing a rain of darts at the creature’s face. Sword and Hoof tucked their wings and rolled, feeling the heat of the dragon’s breath on their fur and feathers as the scaly face blurred by them. Sword slashed at it, his weapon ringing off the creature’s armored hide and nearly shaking itself from his grip.

Crimson Hoof had flipped almost completely around and swiped hard at the beast’s side with his sword, jabbing at it rapidly and hoping to score a lucky hit on an eye or ear, but it was past him before he could get into position and his blows thumped harmlessly against its shoulder. He rolled clear and saw Star just below him, the pony cursing as he tried to land a blow against the monster’s chest.

It was past them then, its tail whipping in a flurry of rage, and they swooped back up and rejoined formation as they watched it arc around slowly, its huge wings tilting as it banked.

“Well, I think we got his attention,” Hoof panted. “What now, sir?”

“Let’s give him something to chase.” Sword grinned humorlessly, his jaw muscles clenching visibly. “Come on!”

They shot away back toward the mountains from which they’d recently escaped, and the dragon straightened out and arrowed after them, closing the distance with frightening speed. Midnight rolled over in mid-air and got off a shot, the arrow whipping past the monster’s face to carom off one of the massive forelegs. “Sir, he’s on us!”

“BREAK!” The four pegasi split again, banking away in separate directions. Hoof and Star tucked their wings and headed toward the ground while Sword and Midnight curved up and over, straightening out to head on opposite courses. The dragon checked its flight momentarily, then swept its wings down hard and arced to the left, toward Sword.

Sword glanced quickly over his shoulder at it and laughed breathlessly, then stretched out and flew, his wings pumping rapidly for all the speed he was worth. His tail streamed out behind him, flicking this way and that in small movements as he steered, and the pegasus began twitching his wings randomly, his tiny form jinking up and down, left and right in odd patterns. He had just flicked his right wing and shot down a few feet when he felt the fur on his back legs tingle, and the pony tucked and dove as the dragonfire blast blew past him, superheating the air where he had just been.

“Too slow, you old wyrm! Try again!” Sword rolled and dove again, feeling his armor pinch against one flank where the heat had warped the metal. “Come on! One more shot, just for old times’ sake!” He looked back over his shoulder and saw the creature’s eyes dilate as it breathed in—

—and then it jerked backward, roaring in mixed pain and fury as an arrow embedded itself in one of the red-rimmed nostrils. Midnight blurred past, diving down from on high and passing them both from left to right.

“My turn!” The pegasus twisted lithely, rolling over on her back, her wings still pumping madly as she tried to aim, but the dragon twisted itself around, matching her movement and dove, its wings tucking down to its sides. “What the hay... ?”

She heard Sword’s warning yell and tucked her bow away, spinning and twisting as she moved to head in his direction. The dragon reversed its turn, matching her movements and was closing in on them both rapidly, and the mare realized they would both be easy targets if she didn't act quickly. Midnight’s wings tucked in hard and she looped away from Sword, straightening out to head away from him again. She glanced over her shoulder and almost came to a stop in mid-air as she saw the dragon change direction again, arrowing in toward her commander. “Captain!”

“That’s right you flying pusbag, come on in.” Golden Sword bared his teeth at the enormous beast as it approached, the faces of long dead comrades from his former company rising in his mind. He could almost feel their eyes on him as he twirled his sword and floated in place, poised to strike. “By Celestia, you’ll remember the names of Captain Wind’s company before I’m done with you today. I’m going to carve them into your stinking HIDE!”

The pegasus slapped his wings violently forward, kicking out to propel himself sideways as he jinked out of the dragon’s path and prepared to swing, intending to go for its eye as it flew past. The wyrm caught the movement and rolled in response, however, jerking away and emitting a gout of flame that boiled out at Sword in a rolling cloud. The pony folded his wings reflexively, trying to drop away, and he screamed out in pain as the edges of the blast rolled past him. He could smell burnt fur and feathers as he plummeted downward, his nerve endings thrumming in pain, his wings refusing to extend and bear him aloft again.

Sword watched the ground approaching through a dim haze of agony. Failed again. I’m so sorry... He still held his weapon clenched in one forehoof and he sheathed the blackened sword absently out of rote habit. So sorry...

Pressure seized him around the middle and he cried out again in pain and surprise, his wings finally flicking out in reflexive reaction and beating at the air weakly. His descent turned into a slow arc as he felt himself rising again. A low, calm voice spoke from just behind his left ear. “Just hold still, sir. I’ve got you.”

“M-Midnight?” Sword turned his head to look at her, but stopped, his eyes widening. “It’s coming again. Drop me and go!”

“No. I’m not leaving you.” Midnight’s wings beat at the air as she fought for altitude, and she risked a glance behind her. Her heart sank as she saw the dragon boring in on them, ignoring the diving swoops of Crimson Hoof and Shining Star as they nipped at its flanks with repeated attacks. The soulless eyes met her own and held her fixed, unable to look away. She slowed, hovering in place, staring at it.

It blinked.

Midnight opened her mouth, wanting to scream something at it, something defiant, but the world was suddenly filled with a roaring thunder, and she could feel a low vibration inside her lungs as she drew in breath. The sensation peaked as a blue and silver blur soared overhead from behind her, a loud chattering coming from winking flares of fire along the wings of the Avenger. Brass casings twinkled viciously in the sunlight as they poured from the wings, machine gun fire pelting the wyrm from shoulder to tail. The bomber shot past the dragon and the creature curled up reflexively, emitting a defensive snort of flame that barely missed the tail of the aircraft as it banked away.

“That’s right asshole, come play with me, now.” Stivers turned his head, looking over his shoulder and watching Taylor’s strafing run pull up short, the other pilot yanking his aircraft up hard to keep from plowing into the writhing monstrosity. “Watch it Charlie, I think you got his attention.”

“No shit, Dick Tracy.” Taylor’s bomber did a complete barrel roll and settled back again, sliding into formation as the two Avengers moved off, regaining speed. “Okay, here he comes. Get ready to do a Thatch weave. Howie, Gallivan, see if you can sting him a bit.”

The radio crackled with affirmatives, and Stivers glanced quickly at his fuel gauge. Shit. “Needle’s bumping on empty, Charlie.”

“No time to worry now. Stick with it as long as you can.” Taylor’s bomber waggled its wings. “If I get a clean shot, I’m gonna see if I can give him a poke with a couple of five-inchers. The goddam bullets are just bouncing off him and pissing him off.”

The aircraft’s frame shook as Gallivan squeezed off a ranging burst from the aft turret. “Shit. Not yet.”

Stivers fought with the urge to firewall the throttle and run like hell. It wouldn’t do him any good, and he didn’t have the gas for it anyway. All they could do was try to distract the dragon and keep it from focusing in on either of them while trying to get a lucky shot in, somehow. “Taylor, I gotta admit, this ain’t what I signed up for when I walked in your class.”

The radio crackled with the other pilot’s laughter. “Wasn’t it a Marine who asked ‘who wants to live forever?’”

“Yeah, that was Dan Daly. And they were charging a machine gun nest,” Stivers growled. “I was kinda trying to avoid that heroic shit today.”

“Tough titty, said the kitty, when the milk ran dry.” Taylor’s voice became flat and businesslike again. “Thatch weave, now. Do-si-do time.”

The two aircraft began weaving back and forth across each other’s flight path, one banking right while the other banked left. The swooping maneuver became wider and wider, their courses increasingly diverging, then coming together and separating once more. Where before they had made a single enticing target, they were now two separate entities. The dragon behind them would have to pick one of them to chase, as even dragons couldn’t be in two places at once. It would have to pick, choose, and pursue, and this would give the other aircraft at least one chance, maybe two, to take a shot and make it count.

Making it count was going to be one bitch of a job, though. Stivers kept sneaking peeks over his shoulder as the dragon flashed into sight and then out again with his maneuvering. The frigging thing wasn’t like a Japanese Zero, whose maneuverability was what the maneuver he and Taylor were executing had been designed to defeat. Zeros weren’t sixty feet long, however, and they also didn’t squirm in mid-air, which made getting a solid hit on the animal a tough prospect. Stivers heard the ball turret behind him chatter rapidly, stop, and then bark again as Gallivan tried to reach out and touch the scaly hide with a leaden caress.

“Cap, I can’t tell if I’m hurtin’ him or not.” Gallivan squeezed off another burst and cursed again. “I’m gettin’ a good line of tracers, but the friggin things are bouncing off. This sucker’s actually got armor plating or something goin’ for him.”

“Just do the best you can.” Stivers ducked, cursing as Taylor’s plane whipped by overhead as their courses converged and split again. “Jesus, you do that again Charlie, I’m gonna be wearing your ass for a hat.”

“Gimme another pass.” Taylor’s voice was clipped and short. “I almost had a bead last time. One or two more should do it. I think he likes you.”

A blast of fire shook the aircraft, and he jinked away, feeling sweat roll down his cheeks.“The feeling isn’t mutual,” Stivers snarled. The temperature inside the cockpit had risen appreciably, even with the cold air streaming in the open canopy. “You mind getting him off me before he crawls in here and starts having tea with us?”

“Bring it around one more time.” Taylor’s tone abruptly became cold and toneless. “Twenty seconds and Señor Lizard will be breathing fire out of his ass.”

Stivers felt the airframe shake around him and heard his engine sputter. “I don’t think I have that much time.” He reached up and tapped the damaged fuel gauge, and the needle jumped and fell against the peg on the left side of the indicator, far past the large red E. “Fuel’s gone.” The engine coughed again and quit, the propeller windmilling rapidly, and Stivers reflexively tugged the controls, feathering it to reduce drag.

“Hang in there. Ten seconds. Bring it right.”

“Trying.” The only sounds were his own breathing, the creaking of the aircraft and the wind rushing past as he banked sluggishly, the nose dipping.

“Pull UP!” A swirl of static clouded the radio momentarily, then cleared. “... aid pull UP! He’s diving on you! You’re in my line of fire!”

“Sorry, Charlie. I’m deadstick and goin’ down one way or the other.” Stivers moved the stick carefully, beginning a gentle arc down toward the dunes below. “Take your shot.” He clenched his teeth, waiting, as Gallivan’s machine gun opened up behind him, a long, chattering burst that seemed to drag on forever.

“Take your shot.”

Taylor screamed in frustration and squeezed the front trigger on the joystick gripped in his right hand, the Avenger shuddering as the .50 caliber slugs poured out of the twin guns mounted in the wings. They converged neatly on the small of the dragon’s back, but the beast merely flicked its tail in annoyance and continued following Stivers’ plane down. “Get off of him you bastard!”

There was an abrupt surging in its movements, and the dragon twisted, coming to a near stop in mid-air, its wings beating rapidly. Without thinking, Taylor jammed his thumb down on the other button on his joystick. There was a hollow whoosh from both sides of his airplane as a pair of the rockets mounted underneath the wings ignited and shot away. He watched the smoke trails as they passed under the behemoth’s legs and impacted on the desert floor in a brilliant fireball. “DAMN IT!”

Jerking the stick to the left, he banked and narrowly missed ramming the massive wing as it flailed at the air feet from his cockpit. Thompson’s turret gun opened up as they sped away, and Taylor righted the aircraft quickly, craning his head to look around. “Where is it?”

“Come around, Ell-Tee! It’s headed off the other way!” Thompson’s voice was high and excited. “It just passed over the other plane and left it alone. I think it’s chasing another one of the ponies again!”

Taylor banked hard, grunting as the G-forces pressed him back into his seat. He caught a flash of blue from one corner of his eye as they banked over the desert floor. Easing out of the turn, he kept the aircraft rolled to one side and watched as Stivers’ Avenger skipped off the top of a dune, raising a cloud of dust as it bellied into the sand. It slewed sharply and passed out of sight behind him, and Taylor returned his attention to the windscreen ahead. “Check the port side. See if Stivers is okay.”

There was a momentary pause, and then Thompson let out a yell through the headphones that nearly deafened his pilot. “They did it! Plane’s down in one piece. Well, mostly. I think the tail’s broke. But it’s down, sir! I can see ‘em movin!”

“Thank Christ.” Taylor angled the aircraft to starboard; he could see the dragon twisting and turning as it moved in pursuit of a small speck just ahead of it. The speck bounced and jigged, and he saw several near misses as the beast angrily spat gouts of flame. “Whoever the hell that is, they have to be out of their friggin’ mind.” Movement tugged at his vision, and he glanced quickly to the left and saw three pegasi just off the port wing, angling toward them. The outside two were supporting the middle one, his armor blackened and scorched. A few seconds later, they drew close enough for Taylor to visually identify them. The middle one was Golden Sword, the pegasus pointing at the dragon with a forehoof and screaming something at Taylor.

Taylor glanced back at the fleeing speck ahead, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Oh my God.” He jammed the throttle forward with a hard jerk, and the engine howled in response.

Midnight risked a quick look behind her and immediately wished she hadn’t. The dragon’s face was twisted in fury, one eye shut and streaming a thread of ichor back into the wind as it pursued her.

This was NOT what I had planned at all.

She’d dropped in neatly on it as the dragon had been gliding along behind Stivers’ aircraft and slammed an arrow home before the thing even realized she was there. She had just nocked her bow and was preparing to take out the other eye when Taylor’s rockets zipped past and exploded, the resulting shockwave jarring her grip loose and sending both bow and arrow spinning down to the sand below them.

She tilted one wing slightly and curled herself up, tail flicking out for balance as another blast of flame screamed past her left side, singeing Midnight’s fur and making her cry out in terror. Her muscles ached, and she was gasping for every breath now, the air burning in her throat. Dipping down, she sought to try to regain some speed and could feel the immense weight of the wyrm behind her, following her every move.

I am really running out of ideas here, she thought. There was a glint off to her left and she looked over, seeing the distant form of Taylor’s aircraft as it turned in their direction. Glancing behind her again, she nearly froze as the dragon met her gaze, its remaining eye glittering with mingled hate and triumph.

It was well within fire range now, but this time the monster didn’t breathe, didn’t cover her in a rolling swarm of flame to consume her, changing feather and fur to ash. It just lingered, slowing down and moving to cut her off each time she tried to turn. She had wounded it, she had hurt it badly, and now it meant to make her pay for her insolence. She shivered as she saw the scaly, purple tongue flick out and lick over the immense jaw.

Okay. That might work, then.

Lithely twisting around in mid-air, she slowed and flew backward, facing the beast. “Come on, then,” she yelled at it, her voice cracking on the last word. She crossed her forelegs in front of her and waggled them in a gesture that would have started a fight instantly back in Canterlot. “You raggedy-assed split-tailed piece of filth. Are you too old to chew? Do you have to gum your food to death?” She drifted slowly to her left, trying to keep the dragon’s gaze on her.

It hissed and opened it’s mouth, the maw parting to reveal multiple rows of gleaming teeth. Its breath bellowed over her, warm and nauseating with the stench of carrion, of fallen heroes and long dead dreams. She could see the dark gullet, and the dim licking of fire behind, but the fire was banked. She realised it didn’t intend to burn her, or even chew. The thing was going to swallow her whole.

“Come on, then,” Midnight repeated. Her own wings, trembling with fatigue, flicked once more, and the dragon’s head twitched as it followed her movements. Perfect. She stopped, hovering, and gave a kick to slowly turn herself until the beast was at her back.

“Any time now,” she muttered. “Any time.”

Taylor leveled out from his bank and bored in on the rapidly growing form of the dragon. It had stopped, for some reason, and was just... sitting there. He let his thumb run restlessly over the hot button on top of the control stick and frowned, leaning forward. It was a perfect target, and if it just stayed still a few more seconds, he would be in range. He still had six of the high-explosive rockets under his wings, and if six of those babies didn’t knock that bastard out of the air, he didn’t know what else would. But why had it just... stopped like that? It went against all the laws of combat. When you were engaged, you never, ever slowed down, because if you did, then you were toast. He’d seen it happen to a few of his friends, they would get a fat target lined up, then slow down, fixated by the sight of the enemy in their crosshairs.

Then he knew. Taylor lurched in the cockpit, screaming at his windscreen. “Midnight, no!”

The pegasus held herself in place, hovering, even that effort seeming a relief after all of the twists and turns she’d put herself through. The sun felt warm on her fur, the sky bluer than she had ever remembered it, a sky meant for flying in, but flying was done now. Midnight remained still, living bait to hold the dragon’s attention and keep it still long enough for Taylor to get a clean shot at it with the weapons he carried with him. She watched as the Avenger bomber bored in on them, the wings twitching a bit as it lined up on its attack run.

Yes, I see you too, she thought. I’m sorry about this. She felt the dragon’s breath on her wings again, and screamed up at the blue and silver glint. “SHOOT IT, FOR CELESTIA’S SAKE! SHOOT IT NOW!”

She heard the whickering hum of the propeller and closed her eyes.

Taylor could see her now, actually see her, hovering there. His thumb twitched over the button again, and he saw her yelling at him, her mouth open. He started to press the button, then waited an extra half-second before punching down on it hard with his thumb, again and again.

Both wings of his aircraft disappeared momentarily in a cloud of white smoke as the remaining six rockets burst from their rails in a rippling sheet of fire. Two arced down, one narrowly missing the pegasus as they curved away and fell out of sight. The other four flew true, passing on either side of Midnight Arrow and slamming into the body of the dragon behind her. There was a series of staccato crunching sounds and then the warheads exploded, sending a sheet of flame, torn flesh and black ichor in all directions. The dragon was shoved bodily backward in the air, its chest a twisted and blackened ruin as it tumbled away.

Midnight felt a large, warm envelope of air wrap itself around her body and push, shoving her roughly and sending the pegasus tumbling through the air. She struggled to right herself, kicking out with a hind-hoof as her wings flicked out to full extension, stabilizing her and stopping the spin. She looked back and saw the dragon’s shredded body dropping, the limbs limp and lifeless. The wings flapped aimlessly, twisting up and around as the wyrm’s corpse fell toward the desert below. One wing flipped up and she saw it clearly, the sunlight shining dimly through the membranous skin between the wing joints.

It caught the port wing of Taylor’s Avenger as the bomber roared past, shearing it off at the root. The aircraft shook and began spinning, twisting and turning as it flipped completely over, pieces of aluminum and steel trailing out behind it. The bomber flew backwards awkwardly for a moment, and then began shredding itself, the tail ripping free and coming completely apart. The remainder of the fuselage spun down slowly, flipping once more before bouncing against the rim of a dune and digging a trench into the desert surface.

Midnight Arrow hung motionless in the air, her jaw agape as she watched the smoking remains of Taylor’s aircraft slide to a halt. Kicking out with a hindhoof, she shifted in mid-air and dove, her ears flicking as she heard a low keening sound coming from somewhere underneath her, the death-rattle of the dragon’s last breath as its ruined form crashed to the ground behind her.

She landed awkwardly, touching down too fast and losing her footing on the sliding sand, and the pegasus tumbled down the slope of the dune, her helmet bouncing free and rolling away. She ignored it, rolled upright and began sprinting toward the shattered hulk of the airplane. “Taylor? Thompson?” The treacherous surface under her hooves slid again, and she dug in, slowing herself, barely managing to stop a moment before she would have careened into the smoking fuselage. The rear portion of the aircraft was totally gone, ragged fingers of aluminum and steel pointing in random directions from just behind where the rear turret sat. The neat dome of the turret was shattered, the normally clear surface turned milky and obscure with odd shaped star patterns where it had fractured on impact. Midnight picked her way through the wreckage, peering into the opening torn into the aft section. “Thompson? Can you hear—”

Midnight cut herself off in mid-sentence, her gorge rising.as she turned to look away. The gunner’s bloody remains had been visible for a moment, clasped in a deadly embrace of torn metal where he had been crushed when the plane had impacted with the ground. The one glance had been enough to tell that the Marine was far beyond help. Her chest hitched and she made a thicksound in the back of her throat, backing away and coughing raggedly. She took a couple of deep breaths, then moved toward the front of the plane. The torn stub of the port wing rung hollowly under her hooves as she stepped up onto it, trying to peer through the mass of twisted metal and broken glass into the cockpit.

“Taylor? Can you hear me?” She took a few more steps along the edge of the wing, then steeled herself and drew even with the cockpit. “Taylor?” She looked over the edge of the compartment, and froze, staring uncomprehendingly. The seat was vacant, the restraining straps torn and tattered as they flapped in the breeze. The control stick had been snapped off clean, and the front windscreen was shattered and coated in a thin sheen of blood. Of the pilot, there was no sign.

Midnight backed away in confusion and nearly tumbled off the broken fuselage, her wings flicking out reflexively and lifting her into the air. She glanced around rapidly, seeing only the wreck of the plane and bits of metal and other debris scattered in the sand around her. “Taylor?” she called out again, her voice rising in fear and frustration. “Taylor, where are—” Her eyes locked on a crumpled pile of debris that lay in the sand, almost halfway buried where it had been thrown, sliding into the in the next dune ahead and leaving a bloody trail behind it.

“Charlie?”

A single sweep of her wings propelled her over the ruined Avenger and toward him, what had looked like a crumpled mass of wreckage suddenly recognizable as a human being, but the shape was all wrong, hunched oddly with angles where none had been before, the legs twisted into unnatural directions and looking nothing more than like a filly’s toy doll that had been tossed away carelessly into a corner. She landed next to him, her ears twitching as she heard a low voice saying no, no, no over and over again, and realized it was her own. “Charlie?”

His right eye opened slowly, the brilliant blue gleam of his gaze moving aimlessly for a moment before looking in her direction. The left eye simply stared in another direction, the pupil so dilated that there was only a thin blue ring between it and the bloodshot sclera. The entire left side of his face was a mass of blood where the frame of the windscreen had torn his scalp open, and it looked almost as if he’d been kicked in the face on that side, his features twisted and swollen. His throat worked for a moment, and then he spoke, his voice raspy and torn. “You okay?”

She nodded at him jerkily. “I’m fine. Don’t talk Just hold still.”

Taylor’s chest heaved, and she ran to his side, then realized he was trying to laugh. “... ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He coughed, a bright spray of crimson flying from his lips. “C’mere. Got something. For you.”

“Charlie, stop talking. You’re making it worse.” Midnight had only a rudimentary knowledge of first aid, drummed into her from her training, but she knew she had to make him be still. “Just sit tight, I’ll get help.”

“Shut up and listen,” he grated, and then coughed again. His right arm moved feebly, sliding over the sand, his hand twitching weakly at his chest. “... still got it.”

“What? I don’t—” She stopped, staring as he fumbled the pocket of his shirt open and drew out a long golden chain, the gem on the end of it winking viciously in the bright sunlight. “To hell with that! We have to—”

“Midnight, I’m all done. Get home.” His arm was trembling with the effort as he held out the Pentachoron to her. “Get them home.” He swallowed heavily, fighting to speak clearly. “Go home. See Fluttershy. Be happy. Live.”

His face swam in her vision, doubling, then trebling as tears welled up and trailed down her cheeks. She nodded and took the gem from him carefully.

“Atta girl.” He grinned crookedly, the swollen left side of his face spoiling the expression and turning it into a grotesque mask. His hand was still shaking badly, but he moved it carefully over and cupped her cheek, wiping away one of her tears with a thumb. “Don’ cry. Did good. Got that sucker.”

“Yes. Yes we did.” She kept her eyes locked on his single one, and forced a smile. “You got him.” She saw him look up a bit, as if peering over her shoulder, and she felt him flick at her forelock with one of his fingers.

“Nice hair. Always... looked better with... helmet off.”

Midnight heard his voice drop on the last word and she felt his hand twitch, the fingers that had been toying with her mane loosening and going limp. His chest rose once more, then fell, and did not move again, the bright blue eye looking past her now, at everything, and nothing. “Charlie?”

She leaned forward, tilting her head to look closer at him, and felt his hand drop to thump against the armor on her shoulder. “Charlie?” Her voice rose tremulously. “Please look at me.”

Midnight heard the rustling flap and clank of an armored pegasus landing behind her, and heard Golden Sword call her name. Maybe that was what had gotten Charlie’s attention. That was fine. She would wait. In a moment, he would look back at her and she would talk to him while the others helped, she would keep his mind off of the pain while the others tended to his dreadful wounds, and then they would make camp so he could rest. The others would come and they would build a fire to keep him warm and ward off the chill of the night, and in the morning they would find a way to carry him, and they would all go home together.

She saw Sword’s shadow fall over them, heard the muffled crunch of his familiar tread on the sand beside her. “Midnight? Oh... oh no.”

Midnight tilted her head, settling her cheek into the limp palm that lay against her shoulder and waited, fresh tears coursing down her face and cutting clean tracks into the dusty fur before they dropped to the ground and were swallowed by the sand.

Author's Note

So, here it is. And if you're reading this far, well you should know why I didn't want to give this to you guys as a Christmas present. So here it is on Boxing Day!
Cheers all, sorry for all the delays in production, but when life hits, you just can't help it, eh?

I would like to welcome my most currant editor: Props.
Everyone give him a round of applause for pointing out numerous times when I've fucked my grammar right in the ass.

Anyway, like, comment, have a good time, etc.
And if you see any errant google placed comments, let me know...

Me and Dave both cried when this was written... Tis a sad day indeed, but you must remember: not everyone makes it out of war in one piece.

Preface

First off, I would like to point out that yes, you have seen this story before, under someone else's account.
Flight 19
That is the original version written by Myself, Ty, and Dave. This version will not only contain error fixes, as well as the rest of the story, but it will allow Ty to have a bit of privacy.

Before all of this went down, Ty was having some personal things going on in his life,which resulted in him temporarily going out of service. He basically gave me complete control of his Fimfic account and since then (about Chapter 2-3) I have been updating the story using his account and password.

Part of this transition is because I respect peoples need for privacy, and having to jump on Ty's account every week was kind of a violation of that. The other part is because Ty is no longer the main writer. Life has gotten in his way and he can't contribute nearly as much as he did before.

I have already tried asking the mods about moving the story, but since none of them have responded in the several months of this going on, I am going on the rule of 'silence implies consent'.

I am sorry for the inconvenience to those of you who have been reading since before this transition, as you will need to re-favourite the story, etc, but it needed to be done. It really needed to be done.

Another benefit of doing this, is that we are now going to be offering Gdocs versions of the chapters, to be posted along with the chapters. This also lets us submit the story to EQD, where we will hopefully get more people to enjoy this (at the risk of sounding smarmy) good fan fiction.

As I said before in limited clarity, The first 10 chapters (plus prologue) will be included in a re-written format. Those of you who have read the story before, should not need to re-read them, as it will mostly be grammar and consistency changes. If anything major happens, I will say so at the beginning of the chapter.

So without further adu;

On with the show!

I was gonna say that... oh well.

~GoldenArbiter

Chapter 23: Alpha Strike

Taylor shifted slightly where he knelt in the long grass, feeling the dampness of the earth beneath his right knee seeping through the material of his khaki uniform trousers. He kept his eyes locked on those of the pegasus stallion across from him, watching as Golden Sword opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly at a loss. The pony’s gaze stayed locked with his own, however, and Taylor had grilled enough pilots on things that they rather would not have others known about to realize that the pegasus had nothing hidden. He felt vaguely disappointed, and then laughed inwardly at himself. What, I’m upset I didn’t discover a super secret conspiracy? Oh, darn.

“Lieutenant…” Sword’s voice came at last. “Lieutenant Taylor, I swear to you, by all we’ve been through together, I have absolutely no idea why that new machine of yours is down there, other than the fact that the zebras have poached it in order to sell it off, somehow.” He cleared his throat, his voice firming. “You’ll recall I did warn you about something like this before, though.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Taylor replied.

“I know, Lieutenant.” Sword’s cheek twitched, the pony aware that the others were still watching him. “On that, I have nothing to offer you, I swear. If I did, I would have told you long before now, tru—” He cut himself off. “Well. I would have told you.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Taylor reached down and tore a leaf off one of the vines in front of them and began to shred it absently with his fingers.

Sword nodded, then cleared his throat. “What would you like to do next?”

“What?” Taylor’s gaze, which had begun wandering, snapped back to the pony before him. “What are you talking about?”

“Those are your machines down there, and you know more about them and their potential condition than anypony else here; your other troops are all trainees, if I recall correctly.”

“Right…” Taylor shook his head. “I’m not reading you, though.”

“You’ve got the rank, and you’ve got the experience we need. In this particular situation, that makes you the senior officer now.” Sword nodded toward the village below, which was beginning to show more signs of life now as the sun rose higher in the sky. “What are your orders?”

Taylor blinked, aware that Stivers was looking at him with something akin to wry amusement, aware that the eyes of all the others had shifted from the pony guard commander to himself. The tension that had been in the air a moment ago had changed, and the naval officer felt a sudden weight settling on his shoulders. Well played, Sword. Dammit. He opened his mouth to reply, but motion in his peripheral vision made him turn his head to glance off to his left, back up the path in the direction that they had come.

A zebra’s face was peering out from behind a small tree, the striped coat blending in well with the dappling of light and shadow amidst the branches where it sat, watching them, open mouthed in shock. It locked gazes with him, and the pilot had a moment to form a frantic thought that he actually willed at the creature, as if his wishes could flit across the open space between them and take form.

...don’t!…

Taylor heard Crimson Hoof utter a sudden curse and the zebra jerked into motion, bursting out from under cover and moving through the underbrush toward the village below, it’s rhythmic cries of alarm piercing the early morning air. HUOP-HUOP! HUOP-HUOP!

“Awww shit,” Gallivan blurted. “That’s lit the cat’s ass. We gotta move, skipper, now.”

“Fuckaduck.” Taylor glanced downhill at the trail that wound its sinuous way toward the village, eyes flicking back and forth rapidly. “Midnight, Thompson, Star, you’re with me. We’ll take the left side of the path. The rest of you take the right. Stay low and stay in the grass. Work your way towards the bombers; piss on the flying boat.” He flicked a hand out, holding it straight as if it were a knife, pointing at the bomber on the far side of the circular platform in the midst of the tents. “Work your way around to that one. I’ll take the near one and distract them so you can get to yours.”

“Once we get there?” Stivers was peering intently ahead of them at the village, watching as the forms below began to move frantically, like ants when their nest has been kicked.

“Light her up, lock the wings down and take the fuck off. Fly north; we’ll form up when we can.”

“What about the fuel, Charlie? We were starting to push it when we landed, and you lost one of your drop tanks.” Stivers shook his head. “Maybe we should just—”

“I don’t know what those bastards want with those planes, and I don’t care. I am not leaving our ships here to get parted out like a goddam DeSoto in a junkyard.” Taylor’s voice was brittle, the tone unlike anything any of them had heard before. “Am I clear, Captain?”

“Aye-aye, Lieutenant.”

Stivers moved off quickly, and Midnight trotted up to stand beside Taylor. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

“No.”

“Good. Because this is a bloody lousy plan and I’d hate to think you’re an expert.”

The pilot glanced at her. “You got a better idea?”

“No. It’s still lousy, though.” The mare unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. “Come on, let’s get to it, then.”

Sword’s ears perked, swiveling as the calls of alarm from the zebra camp took on a new note. “Sounds like our little scout’s reached his friends.” His voice was calm, but his expression was tense as he moved, the wheat parting around him like a golden sea around a miniature ship.

“At least they don’t know where we are yet,” Stivers panted, crouched as he ran. “If we stay low, we might be able to catch them unawares.”

“Yeah, that’d be great, except for the fact they’re already looking for us,” Hoof said dryly. “You have a plan for making them give up and go back to cooking breakfast, sir? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Stow it,” Gallivan growled. “Keep your mouth shut and eyes open.” He moved in an odd, loping motion, bobbing up and down but keeping his form from popping up above the level of the tall grass. “Little bit to the right, Skipper. We’re getting close to the path.”

“Roger.” Stivers shifted direction without breaking stride. “Any idea on how close they might be?”

“It’ll take a few moments for them to get organized,” Sword stated. “They’re traders, not organized military. Still, any group like this is going to have a guard of some sort.” He twitched his head sideways as a waving stalk slapped him in the face. “I’m guessing we’ve got six minutes or so before they start heading this way.” He glanced to one side doubtfully. “I don’t suppose you can run faster on all fours?”

“Nope.” Stivers looked behind him with a grim expression. “And if we go much faster than this, we’re gonna tear a hole through the field they’ll be able to see with their eyes closed.” He reached out and patted the stallion beside him. “Remember what the tortoise said to the hare.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nevermind. Keep going, Sword.” Stivers grinned. “If we get out of this, I’ll explain it to you.”

“If, he says.” Hoof snorted from behind them. “I love it when you’re optimistic like that, Captain. It makes me all warm and cheerful inside.” The pegasus moved at a quick trot, his wings slightly spread out to open a path through the wheat for the larger humans trailing behind him.

Gruebel followed immediately on his tail, appreciative enough of the pony’s efforts to refrain from complaining about the close up view of the guard’s rump he was getting. “First rule,” he panted. “Don’t jinx the deal.”

They covered perhaps another fifty yards in this manner before the uproar from the camp ahead of them died away, and there was no other sound but their own ragged breathing and the whispering slide of the stalks of wheat as they moved. “Uh-oh.” Gallivan’s rumbling tone was muted, but carried clearly to the group. “Looks like they got their shit together faster than you thought, sir.”

Sword sighed, slowing his pace. “I hate being wrong. Quietly now, lads. If they’re going to find us, make them work for it.”

Taylor fought against the urge to poke his head up, to look around, to see something besides the golden sheaves that surrounded him on every side. Instead he kept his gaze fixed ahead of him, where Midnight and Star led their group through the waving wheat. The ground was lower on this side of the path, and sloped off to the north on his left. It wasn’t enough to affect their footing, but it did make them a hell of a lot easier to spot from the ground of the zebra camp, and so they’d stopped running a while ago and concentrated on not tearing the field down around their ears.

Which might be a chore, he thought to himself. Jesus, this shit makes Kansas wheat look like a fucking houseplant.

Whether it was something in the earth, something special about this world, or perhaps zebras were just top-notch farmers, the wheat around them stood easily almost five feet tall. It hid Star and Midnight well enough, but the humans were forced to walk at a hunched over crouch, and Taylor’s back had begun complaining some minutes earlier at the unnatural position. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Thompson moving carefully as if the Marine were walking through a minefield, his steps in perfect line with Taylor’s.

The lieutenant grinned for a moment, then looked ahead once more, where Star was pacing easily through the golden forest around them, his ears flick-flicking from side to side, and his grin soured. Fucking ponies. Fucking short-ass don’t need to bend over to hide goddam po—

Star jerked to a stop, lifting his head, his wings splaying out in alarm. “Lieutenant!” he hissed.

“I know; I heard it too.” Midnight’s tone was clipped, as bitter as an underripe lemon. “The zebras are already heading this way. Very odd.”

“What’s odd about it?” Thompson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Didn’t we expect ‘em to come this way?”

“Not this fast. Their guard commander’s got all his oats in one bucket.” She glanced back at Taylor. “What do you want to do?”

“Keep moving. What choice have we got? Once we get in the planes and take off, none of this shit matters.” He made shooing motions with his hands. “Let’s go. And keep us parallel to the path if you can; I don’t wanna get too far away from it.”

Star blinked at him. “Yessir. Mind if I ask why?”

“Just a feeling.” Taylor leaned over and slapped the armor on the stallion’s side. “C’mon. Get-em-up, Scout.”

Stivers froze in mid-step and jerked an arm up, his fist clenched tightly. Sword saw the motion and stopped instantly, his wings flaring out in a similar gesture, causing the others behind him to come to a halt. “What is it?”

“I think they’re close,” the Marine whispered tightly. “D’you hear ‘em?”

Golden Sword’s ears perked up and twitched. “Damn it,” he growled. “Right oblique on your march and keep moving. It’s all we can do at this point. If we stop, we’re done. If nothing else, we’ll fight our way through.”

“Aye-aye.” Right oblique?Stivers hadn’t heard that order since boot camp at Parris Island. He turned roughly forty-five degrees to his right and began walking carefully, trying not to make too much noise. There was a light breeze blowing, and the wheat around them sighed and rippled with the currents of the air. It made hearing anything damned difficult, but it also gave them cover. Several minutes passed, and the sounds of the approaching zebras grew more distinct. Stivers could feel the sweat rolling down his face as he glanced back to the left, thankful for the covering plants but wishing desperately to see something. Crap.

“Mind your way,” Sword whispered, tapping him on the left leg. “You’re drifting.”

“Sorry,” the Marine muttered. He corrected himself and forcibly kept his gaze to his front. Every time he looked to his left, he drifted in that direction as if under some mysterious gravity field. Another minute passed, then two. The sounds to his left seemed to change slightly. Were they drifting back behind them now? Involuntarily he glanced over his shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t see anything, but this Christing field just kept on going and going—

His right boot trod on something that felt distinctly not like dirt, and he glanced down just in time to see a coiled shape writhing up and striking out at him. Years of training fought against a million years of instinct and lost in spectacular fashion: the Marine jumped upright and screamed reflexively, shoving himself backward. He felt something thunk against the sole of his right boot as his arms pinwheeled for balance, and then he fell over on his back, arms and legs scrabbling to shove himself away. Beside him, Golden Sword moved forward, his weapon out and blurring down. There was a muted chuck! sound and the pony drew back, leaving the twitching body of the headless snake where it lay. Off to their left, the HUOP-HUOP! HUOP-HUOP! cry of the zebras rose once again, and Stivers glanced at the guard captain with dismay.

“Well, that’s torn it,” Sword said evenly. “I’d get up if I were you, Captain; I think we’re going to be very busy shortly.”

Stiver’s scream made the hair stand up on the back of Taylor’s neck. “God damn it.” Without looking at the others he immediately turned to his right and began trotting toward the sound of the zebras as their alarm call rose into the air.

“Lieutenant!” Thompson hissed at him through clenched teeth. “What are you doing??”

“One of the two thing’s I’m good at. Being a pain in the ass.” He stopped moving and straightened up, rising up out of the wheat like a submarine broaching the surface of the ocean. The rough trail they’d been moving beside was less than fifty feet away, and there was a crowd of about ten zebras standing on it, all with their heads pointed away from him and focussed on the fields on the far side.

Time to change that. The pilot cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. “Hey, assholes! You missed the buffet but the band’s about to REALLY get goin’!”

At least half of the zebras visibly went airborne, squalling in mingled fear and surprise. The others whirled with alacrity, several of them holding what appeared to be some misbegotten form of boomerang in their mouths. They all froze in place at the sight before them, and they could hardly be blamed.

The being before them appeared to be completely insane.

Taylor jumped up and down, hammering the wheat around him down in large swathes of broken stalks. The pilot had stuck his thumbs in his ears and was waggling his fingers at the group of zebras and chanting at the top of his lungs:

Feelin low

Rockin slow

I want to go

Right back where I belonnnnnnnng

Gruebel’s expression was thunderstruck. “Is he singing Glenn Miller to them?”

“I don’t give a fuck if he’s singin’ ‘Ave Maria’ in a tutu. Let’s get the hell out of Dodge.” Stivers pushed himself upright and caught a glimpse of the zebras staring at the capering form of Taylor across the field. “God almighty. Let’s move!”

He stood and began sprinting towards the gleaming metal that stood under the coverings the zebras had put up, less than a hundred yards away. He heard the distinct sound of wings as Sword and Hoof took to the air behind him, the clump of boots from Gruebel and Gallivan, and then there was only the blood pounding in his ears and his own breath.

Ninety yards.

Eighty.

Midnight rose, hovering, her bow nocked and aimed at the nearest of the zebra guards, but held her fire, hoping that they might get out of this with a minimum of bloodshed. These were, after all, only civilian traders, thieves though they might be. “Taylor, come on—” Her heart rose into her throat as she saw Stivers and the others burst from cover abruptly and begin sprinting towards the aircraft they’d been assigned.

Three of the zebra guards glanced around at the sound of boot heels on earth and yelped again as they spotted Stivers’ party. Two of them gripped the odd looking boomerangs in their jaws and cocked their heads back at what looked to be an excruciating angle.

“Party’s over HERE, numbnuts!” Taylor bellowed. He drew the pistol from its holster at his side and squeezed off a shot just above the guards’ heads. Midnight flinched reflexively from the sharp crack of the firearm, her ears flattening against her skull, but she didn’t fail to notice that the pilot had chosen to shoot over the zebras rather than at them.

The sentries’ reaction to the shot was more than she could have hoped for. Nearly all of them flattened at the sound, their eyes going wide, and several dropped their weapons in the dirt out of sheer shock. Only one stood upright, his eyes glaring, one of the boomerang things crooked in a corner of his mouth as he glared at Taylor.

Probably the head honcho, the pilot thought. He grinned and lifted his left hand, his middle finger popping out of a clenched fist. “Fuck you, you thieving shit,” he growled. “I hope your boys pissed their pants. Although, y’know, since they don’t have any pants, I guess you just let it run down your legs—”

The zebra’s head tilted back and then snapped forward as he released the object in his mouth. It blurred toward Taylor, an unearthly ululating howling noise coming from it as it whirled toward him.

Oh SHHIIII—

Pain burst out on his right side as something heavy slammed into him, knocking him over and back into the tall wheat, the air chuffing out of his lungs and leaving him wheezing. The zebra’s weapon passed over him in a warbling blur, and then there was a louder scream of pain from the direction of the trail. Taylor blinked and looked up to see Star sprawled across him, the pony looking at him with a mixture of admiration and reproach.

“That was pretty...innovative, sir, but next time, you might want to bucking duck.” The pegasus straightened, standing up and stepping off of Taylor’s prostrate form. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, momma Taylor’s boy is peachy,” the pilot gasped. “Thanks, buddy. We’re even now, huh?”

“Even-Steven. I could get used to you catching me, though. You’re nice and cushy, sir.” Star gripped his spear and rose to a hover next to Midnight Arrow, peering at the trail. Taylor could see his expression change from readiness to sudden shock. “Oh, roadapples. I think you pissed them off, Ell-Tee.”

Taylor harrumphed as he sat up, but it was Midnight who answered.

“Tough,” she said flatly, nocking another arrow. “They shot first.”

“Actually, the lieutenant did,” Thompson noted, peering over the waving stalks of wheat carefully.

“He shot over them, not at them.” Midnight zigged sideways in the air as another of the howling boomerangs shot past, then released the arrow she was holding, and there was a second shout of pain from the trail.

“You mind getting up, flycolt?” The mare glanced down at him quickly, then back up, scanning the trail. “I’d really like to get out of here before they get reinforced.”

Taylor stood upright carefully, then froze at the sight of two zebras lying prone on the trail. The big one who’d flung his weapon at the pilot lay motionless in the dirt, a snarl frozen on his muzzle, one eye glaring fixedly at nothing. The other was gone, one of Midnight’s arrows embedded in its socket, the deep blue feathering on the end of the shaft scintillating in the morning light. The other zebras had apparently fled into the wheat on the other side of the trail, leaving only a few steaming piles lying in the dirt.

“Damn,” the human breathed. “Roadapples is right.” A shot rang out from his left, and they all turned to stare at the camp. A cacophony of yelping erupted, and zebras ran hither and yon like ants whose hill has been rudely stepped upon. “Uh oh. C’mon, Stivers has started his own party.”

The wheatfield ended abruptly fifteen yards short of the camp boundary. Stivers felt his spirits soar as they burst into the open and he could finally see their salvation before him. The Avenger bomber lay under the awning covering it just to his left, and he sprinted in that direction, feeling the blood pounding in his temples. Several zebras peered around the corner of the fabric covering, their eyes widening at the sight of the group charging toward them.

“AAAAAAAAARRRRRRAAHHHHHH!” Stivers screamed, squeezing the trigger of the automatic he held in his right hand and sending a shot flying over the top of the covered aircraft. Zebras scattered before him as he vaulted over a stack of boxes and slid to a halt, flattening himself against the side of the bomber. The cool aluminum skin felt like a balm to him, and he patted the airplane amiably. “Helloooo, beautiful.”

Crimson Hoof came to a hover beside him, peering at the dark blue mass of metal and glass. “Isn’t this Lieutenant Taylor’s machine?”

“Tough titty, he can fly mine for a bit.” Stivers surveyed the area around them, but the zebras in the vicinity appeared to have decided on a long vacation somewhere very far away. “Gruebel, Gallivan. Get strapped in. Hoof, cut this canvas shit off my plane. Sword, you cover us. I gotta get this bird started at the double-quick.”

Gruebel flipped open the side hatch on the right side of the bomber’s fuselage and began squeezing himself in. “Goddamit, why’d Grumman design this fuckin’ thing for a four foot high asshole?”

“Because I sent ‘em your picture. Get in there,” Gallivan growled. He glanced to their right, and stopped. “Skipper, what about the boat? You think anybody’s in there?”

Stivers had been clambering up on the wing and froze in place. “Oh my God. I didn’t even think of that.” He turned around and saw the other Marines watching him intently. “Come on. Sword, watch our asses. We’ll be right back, I hope.”

“This is not a good idea,” the stallion shot back tightly. “For Celestia’s sake, hurry up. I can guarantee we’re not going to be alone much longer.” He glanced to one side as the fabric covering the bomber collapsed on one side as Crimson Hoof tore it away. “Have your look and get back as quick as you can.”

Stivers nodded and waved at the other Marines. The three set off at a quick trot, weaving their way through the myriad bits and pieces of items that the zebras had gathered together and stacked in a haphazard fashion; the whole area looked like a weird cross between a junkyard and a rummage sale. The other plane was close, and it only took them a matter of minutes to draw near enough for a good look.

“Good Christ,” Gallivan muttered, and Stivers had to agree with him on that. One look was enough. Taylor had called it correctly; the third aircraft was indeed a seaplane, a PBM Mariner, or at least what was left of it. The tail stuck up at an odd angle, and the reason why became readily apparent. From the midpoint of the fuselage forward, there was only a mangled mare’s nest of twisted metal and shattered glass. One wing canted drunkenly upward at a sharp angle, and Stivers could see burn marks along the forward edge of both the wing and the ragged edge where the fuselage ended.

“Well.” Stivers shook his head and sighed. “I’m guessing the poor bastards didn’t survive the landing.”

“You wanna take a look inside, sir?” Gruebel glanced around quickly. “Looks like we got it to ourselves.”

“We don’t have time.” Needles of ice settled into Stivers’ stomach. “We don’t even know where this thing landed at, and from the look of it, ‘land’ is a generous word.” Christ, I hope it was quick for you guys, whoever you were. “Come on, let’s get our own bird in the air before we get pasted by some slap-happy zebra.”

Taylor sprinted forward and dove over the low border of wood that marked the outer perimeter of the zebra camp. He hit hard, the air exiting his lungs with a loud whuff! sound, but the pilot got up quickly and stared ahead, a large grin spreading over his face. “Oh, hello, beautiful! Come to papa.”

Midnight flew up beside him and came to a hover, her wings flapping hard as she held position beside him. “Much as I’m sure you’d like to have a private moment with your machine there, would you mind getting a move on?” She floated sideways, then settled on the port wing of the aircraft, peering around anxiously. “You can talk dirty to it later.”

“Ooh, you sound jealous.” Taylor snickered at the look the mare shot him as he moved to one side. “C’mon, Thompson. Let’s get this shit off the bird and get the hell out of here.” Crossing to one side, he reached up to the wooden support that held the canopy over the aircraft and began yanking at the knotted rope that held it in place. “Anybody seen Stivers?”

“They’re at their machine, sir.” Star hovered high overhead, circling in a slow, lazy manuver. “Crap. We have company coming, eleven o’clock.” The pony stopped in place, his eyes narrowing. “Looks like everypony and their brother grabbed the nearest sharp stick, sir. You need to haul it or we’re not going anywhere.”

Thompson was on the other side of the bomber from Taylor and working on the awning support. Disregarding the knots, the Marine had drawn the knife from his belt and was cutting away the thick canvas. “Sir, get started on the preflight. I’ll handle this shit.”

“On it.” Taylor dropped the rope he was holding and ran over to the side of the Avenger, scrambling up on the wing as quickly as he could grab hold. His left knee banged onto the wing’s upper surface, and he uttered a sharp curse, dragging himself up and limping toward the cockpit. “God damn it. You’d think Grumman would make an airplane someone could actually get into for once—”

He caught sudden movement from the corner of his eye and lurched backward, whipping the pistol up from where he’d held it at his side. There was a muffled screech, and a mottled shape within the cockpit of the airplane rose up, waving its forelegs.

“Please, ailyawmn, don’t hurt me!”

Midnight whirled in midair, her bow drawn, forehoof touching her cheek at full draw as she watched the form inside the airplane rise up slowly. “What in Celestia’s name are you doing in there?” she growled. “Get out. Now.”

“Yes, yes, I-I will, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.” A zebra unfurled herself from the front seat of the plane, clambering with difficulty out onto the wing beside Taylor. “I was j-just looking the machine over, they told me to, I d-didn’t t-t-touch anything, I swear.” Something swung and twirled about the zebra’s neck, the morning light heliographing off of it in harsh glints. “Please dont—”

Taylor reached out and snared the zebra mare’s coarse mane in his left hand, fingers entangling themselves in the rough fur and tightening hard enough to make the creature scream in mingled fear and pain. “You.”

Midnight stared at the pair, her eyes widening. “Taylor, what are you doing—”

The pilot holstered his sidearm and then reached out, gripping the swinging bauble that hung from a rough chain around the zebra’s neck. He jerked his hand, the thin chain parting with a dull pop, and she cried out again. The pilot drew back, lifting the chain and examining it carefully. “I’ll be damned. Gruebel was right. Where the hell did you get this??”

“What?? I don’t—”

“Taylor the big badass doombringer is tired of your bullshit, Zoe.” The pilot ignored the startled reactions of the others around him as he fixed his gaze on the zebra’s terrified face. “Tell me where you got this or I swear to God I’ll tear your throat out with my fucking teeth.”

The zebra recoiled from the sound of her name, her eyes wide and showing the whites as she stared at the apparition before her. “My c-c-coltfriend gave it to me! He f-found it in the other machine like y-yours, the broken one! I’m sorry my lord, please t-take it if it pleases you, just dont k-k-k—” Her voice broke and she collapsed entirely, legs splaying out on the wing with a dull scraping sound as her hooves ticked off the aluminum surface.

Taylor held up the chain, the metal oval at the end of it swinging freely. He flicked his wrist and caught it, peering closely at the engraved inscription:

EDWARD

JAMES

HENDRICKS

882-91-4413

USNR-A

T-7-45-P

“This is the writing of my people,” Taylor said slowly. “The warriors of my race wear these so that, when we fall in battle, our comrades can honor us for who we were and what we did.” The chain in his hand began to visibly tremble in his grasp. “Somewhere, the mother of the man who wore this waits, wondering where her son is. His wife. His children.” The pilot’s voice began rising. “This is all that’s left to say ‘I was here. This is who I was.’ It’s not a goddamned love token!”

Midnight descended slowly, landing carefully on the port wingtip of the bomber. “Taylor,” she said carefully. “She didn’t know. She can’t read your language, and neither can I.” She moved forward a pace, then stopped when his head jerked up to stare at her. “Let her go.”

Taylor stared at the mare for a moment, not really seeing her, only feeling the weight of the dogtag that swung in his grip and the light press of metal against his own chest where a similar oval of stamped metal rested. There was a coughing roar from nearby, and he glanced to his right, seeing a cloud of exhaust smoke slowly rising into the air.

“Cap’s got his bird goin, sir.” Thompson yanked the canvas free from the corner he’d been working on and pulled it to one side; the fourth corner could go fuck itself. “We need to get moving. Now.”

Midnight walked carefully across the wing, her hooves clicking lightly on the metal as she moved over to stand next to Taylor, waiting until he looked at her and met her gaze. “Come on,” she said quietly. “I’m asking you as a friend. Back off.” She waited a moment, then nodded. “Let’s go home.”

Taylor knelt there motionless, his eyes widening as he held her gaze with his own. He opened his mouth and drew in a gasping breath, then looked down at the zebra before him. His left hand clenched once more, then opened slowly, releasing his grip on Zoe’s mane. Leaning backward, he held both hands up in the air as if surrendering, shaking his head in small, jerky movements. “I… Go. Go on.”

Zoe lay motionless, unable to look away from the human crouched over her, seemingly pinned in place. There was a low flapping sound, and then Star was behind her, pulling her backwards and off the edge of the wing. “Get out of here,” he said. “Otherwise you’re gonna get run over.” The zebra stood for a moment, then bolted, heading away from the two aircraft and off towards the rough outcropping that stood in the distance.

Midnight Arrow reached out and shook Taylor gently with one hoof. “Come on, you big sod. You’re too heavy to carry and I don’t know how to fly this abomination of aerodynamics.”

The pilot blinked, glancing at the two pegasi, then over at Thompson, who was already busying himself climbing into the dorsal turret of the bomber. “Are you making fun of my airplane?”

“Never in life.” Midnight smirked. “However, although I can’t read your writing, the markings on this one are different. This was Captain Stivers aircraft, I believe.”

“No shit?” Taylor grinned. “You mean I have functioning instruments this time? I’ll be damned.”

“I thought you didn’t need instruments, sir.” Shining Star leapt nimbly over the fuselage and took his spot on the starboard wing, setting his hooves carefully in the ‘stirrups’ welded there. “At least, that’s what I heard.”

“Nobody likes a smartass, fuzzbutt.” Taylor nearly fell into the cockpit, grabbing the leather flight helmet off of the seat and slapping it on his head in one rough motion. “Oh great. It smells like sweaty zebra in here.”

“Is that better than sweaty human?” Midnight offered him an innocent expression. “I’m not quite sure at this point.”

The pilot laughed and shook his head, fastening his restraints with one hand as he flicked the starter switch with the other, his soul rising with the welcoming whine as the engine turned over with obvious reluctance. “Dammit. One day I’m going to beat you. I swear.”

“One day, I may let you,” the mare retorted. Her ears flattened as the Wright Cyclone engine finally caught, emitting a sputtering roar. Despite the noise, she laughed at him, her eyes sparkling. “But only if you get us in the air!”

“Darlin’, that I can do.” Taylor flipped the switch on his side panel and watched carefully as the wings dropped into place and locked. Releasing the brakes, he edged the throttle forward and maneuvered carefully free of where the awning had covered his airplane. Kicking the rudder pedal, he turned to one side and laughed out loud at the sight of the other bomber less than a hundred yards away, its propeller spinning lazily. Reaching up, he tweezed the throat microphone and spoke. “Good morning Flight 19. Ready to get off your lazy Marine asses and go do some flying?”

The radio crackled in his headphones. “Fuck you, Navy. I already kicked my quota of ass today. If you don’t get out of my way, I’m gonna run you over.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Stivers.” Taylor chuckled and swerved the aircraft to one side, pointing it roughly down the trail they’d fought their way down. “Flight 19 taking off on runway 27, North departure.”

“Roger. I’ll let you know if anything falls off.”

Taking a deep breath, Taylor gunned the throttle and watched the fields begin to slide past him, their quickening pace matching the beat of his heart.

The thrumming noise of the departing aircraft had barely faded when the yelping cries of the zebrafolk rose once more above their violated camp. Amongst the din were the wails of several whose kin had been slain by the doombringers, but there was little time for comfort. Assuaging the grief would have to come later; it always did, with the zebras. Scorned and excoriated for the most part by the other denizens of Equestria, they had always been forced to live on the edges of society, and as a result had been taken advantage of, used, and robbed for time out of mind.

That didn’t mean they had to accept that, however.

This particular settlement had been in place at the time of the battle of Aurora’s Pass, centuries ago, and it still survived today. From time to time nomads and raiders, Equestrian and Gryphon alike, had attempted to take advantage of them, and time and again the invaders had paid dearly for their transgressions. This time would be no different, the village elders agreed.

As the dust from the aircraft settled into the fields, the sound of drums rose to fill the silence they'd left behind. The pounding seemed to fill the earth, and it grew steadily louder and more insistent as the minutes drew on. Several flocks of birds took wing in protest, cawing angrily and wheeling about over the camp. At the southern end of the encampment, the zebras stood en masse, their backs to the vile thieves that had broken their sanctum and facing the outcropping that stood as one barrier wall to their village.

It was, indeed, the only one that really mattered.

A whitish-grey haze began to issue from the shadowed mouth of the rocky overhang, wafting its way up into the clear morning sky. The zebra drummers looked at each other and nodded, pounding harder and faster as the elders had taught them. They had never had need to call upon the guardian in their lifetimes, but they’d been told what to expect, although most of them were somewhat dubious and skeptical.

A low rumbling sound shook the earth, and the drummers faltered for a moment. One of the village elders yelped angrily at them and they picked up the beat again. The earth trembled below their hooves, and they were aware that the sound of their drums was no longer the chief cause of the vibration.

Immediately behind the rear rank of drummers, Zoe stood, the fur along her cheeks matted and stained with her tears. Anger burned deep down inside her, mixed with shame at the words the doombringer had flayed her hearing with. She leaned against the stallion beside her, the one who had given her the wonderful gift which the two-legged monstrosity had so callously taken, and looked down at her forehooves.

The emerald brightness of the grass dimmed suddenly as a shadow swept across it, blotting the light from the sky and turning morning into dusk. Zoe kept her head down and began muttering the prayers her mother had taught her as a foal, prayers she had never thought in her life that she would have to speak.

The shadow swept past and was gone.

The deep, rhythmic thrumming of the Avenger’s engine filled Golden Sword with a satisfaction unlike anything he had ever known. The stallion stood on the port wing, his eyes closed, actually leaning forward into the slipstream with a look of utter bliss upon his features. He heard his name called, and it took several tries before the pony opened his eyes and looked over. “What?”

“I said, how do you feel?” Stivers looked amused. “You look like you’re having a good time out there.”

Sword paused a moment, a thoughtful look on his face, then arched an eyebrow at the pilot. “It’s really loud.”

The human rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the workings of the flying machine, and Sword glanced about idly. The pony noted that they were not quite as high as they’d been when flying into this area, and the sounds of the engines themselves were not quite as strident as they’d been; the whirling blades were producing an odd warbling drone instead of the smoother, higher-pitched hum they’d had on the inbound trip. “Captain?” he shouted. “Is there something off with your machine? It sounds different.”

“Economy speed.” The stallion shook his head at this, and the Marine elaborated. “The planes run on fuel, Sword, and we don’t have much of it left, so we’re trying to make the most of what we have.” Stivers’ expression darkened. “Taylor hasn’t said so, but I don’t think we can get back to Equestria with what we have. One way or another, I think we’re gonna be walking, soon.”

A thrill of alarm crept up Sword’s spine. “Perhaps you’d better look towards finding a spot to land in soon, then.” The pegasus eyed the horizon warily. “You go much farther, we’re going to be back over the desert, and there’s precious little between it and Canterlot, as you well know.” He glanced over at the other aircraft that hung suspended on their left side. “Ask Mr. Taylor to check with Star; he got a look at the maps back at the monastery. Didn’t he say something about the trading lanes?”

Stivers’ eyes widened. “Sword, you’re a damned genius.”

“No, I just don’t wish to go play in the sand for three weeks. Get on it,” he ordered curtly, glancing at the other airplane again. A flicker of movement at the left corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced back over his shoulder at the way they had come.

What in Celestia’s name is that? A bat? What’s a bat doing out at this time of day, and that high up—

His breath caught in his throat, and Golden Sword felt a chill throughout his entire body that had nothing to do with the altitude they were flying at. He squinted, peering harder, his eyes watering with strain and the wind blast with which the Avenger’s propeller was hammering him. No. That couldn’t be. It couldn’t…

The shape grew larger as he watched, and his heart sank into his hooves as the vague outlines coalesced into a form he recognized immediately.

It is.

He opened his mouth to speak, and all that emerged was a low croak. Dipping his head, Sword clenched his teeth, swallowed heavily, and then looked up again, over toward Stivers. “Captain. Captain!”

“What is it?” Stivers opened his mouth, then stopped, holding one hand to the side of his head. “Sword, Gallivan says there’s something behind us. Can you make it out?”

“Yes. Forget about your bloody fuel.” Sword’s expression was drawn and haggard. “It’s a dragon.”

End of Act 2

With the end of the last chapter, comes the end of Act 2. I didn't plan on ending it this way, but it has to be done.
I cannot continue with this story hanging over me (Reasons here) (spoilers, this also contains a link to my notes file with all the ending stuff I had planned out).
I have been assured by the Co-author that he will eventually continue on into Act 3 on his own profile. When such a time comes, I will be sure to link it here.
In the meantime, I've enjoyed the ride, and I hope you all have too.

No longer on Hiatus. Now Complete.
Cheers all.