Far Away

CHAPTER XXVII

Iron Skies slouched wearily on his chair, sitting at a long table reporting the long course of events. Many things had happened last night, including the capture of outer Manehattan by the Drakes. According to Spitfire; there was still a battle raging in the city, where over one hundred thousand Equestrian troops were deployed. Providing the facts about the long night was easy part, but listening to Spitfire’s plans of a counterattack was pure boredom. She would talk in a monotone voice for hours on end, covering almost every possibility of how the Equestrian forces could defend and how the Drakes could attack.

Iron was comforted to see that he was not the only one that was bored in the room. He saw the brown stallion that he greeted in Canterlot Castle sitting opposite to him on the long table slouching, head on hooves not even looking at Spitfire. Rainbow Dash, the mare that Soarin was constantly talking about was sitting to the front of him while fidgeting with a Rubik’s cube that she somehow smuggled in.

“So do you have a better plan, Iron?” asked Spitfire from the front of the room, not noticing how bored everypony was (or she didn’t give a crap).

“Hmmm…,” hummed Iron, pretending to think, “Yep, its good!”

“Ok, that’s all folks, you are dismissed,” said Spitfire.

“Sweet holy Celestia, finally!” yelped Dash comically as she leapt off her seat and exited the room.

Spitfire walked slowly up to Iron. “Are you alright?” she asked with concern, “You were in such a terrible state when you disembarked.”

“Nah! Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” said Iron, waving off Spitfire’s concern, trying to fake that he had nothing on his mind. Of course, that was a terrible lie but lying is sometimes a sacrifice you must make.

“Well, if you say so,” she said suspiciously, giving him a stern smile and trotted away.

Iron turned around, planning to walk down the hallway to reception to get his room number. The grey pegasus walked slowly, fatigued. He didn’t even notice when somepony yelled his name, and gestured for him to follow them. Instead, he crashed right into the chest of a brown pony. Oh, wait… isn’t that the pony he met at Canterlot castle?

“You alright there?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine son,” Iron replied flatly, “Watch were you are walking.”

“You were the one who crashed into me!” exclaimed the pony, “Do you want me to get somepony from the medical wing?”

“No, I’m just tired. Aboard Equestria all night,” Iron replied, “Now if you excuse me, I need to get to reception.”

“Ok… Name’s Jackson by the way,” said the brown pony as he turned and trotted up the hall.

Iron kept on wandering his way down the hall, now making sure he kept to the left wall. He felt drowsy as he pushed through iron double doors into reception. The reception was the only decent looking room in this place. It was probably because of the fact that this was the main entrance into the facility in Portsmouth. The floors were of a dark jarrah wood which was polished until you could see your reflection clearly in it. The walls were painted in a pleasant beige that suited the room quite nicely. Nice thick carpets covered a portion of the large floor space.

“Hello Fire Streak, room number?” asked Iron wearily.

“Twenty-seven,” replied Fire Streak without looking up.

“Hey, why are you doing reception work? Aren’t you supposed to be training with the first squad?” queried Iron.

“Well; one, I am tired as crap, and two, I’m actually one of the only Wonderbolts here who could do maths and other things without ripping our manes out. Remember, I got a major in economics,” Fire Streak said with a chuckle.

“Alright. Well, I won’t bother you while you are doing your stuff. Hope you get a good sleep tonight,” said Iron with a small smirk.

“Don’t worry, I know,” replied Fire Streak with a yawn, “Trust me, I’m gonna murder Spitfire for that!”

“Who’s going to murder me?” asked a stern voice from behind Iron before he turned around.

“Spitfire… One of these days you really will give me a heart attack,” said Iron dramatically.

Iron hobbled out of the reception slowly, vision burred now.

“Are you sure you are alight?” asked Spitfire

“Yes I am!” shouted Iron, stunning everypony in a fifty-yard radius of him.

“You really are not,” said Spitfire sternly, “I’m going to help you, ok? No objections.”

“Why did you ask then?” whined Iron pitifully.

“Dammit Iron! You are stubborner than you look,” Spitfire thought aloud.

“Why thank you! What a charmer,” said Iron, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

Spitfire decided not to argue and lifted one his forelegs around her and carried him through the hallway.

“What’s your room number?” she asked.

“Twenty-seven,” replied a very angry Iron Skies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hi there, Daring!” Jack waved at her while sitting on a hill, reading a book on military tactics. The warm sun was comfortable on his fur, the soft cool ocean breeze swept gently though his mane. The thick tree he was leaning on moved ever so slightly.

“Hello there, Jack!” she called back.

“Want to join me?”

“Sure!” agreed Daring as she flew up the hill, drifting slightly to the left, due to the stronger breeze at higher altitudes. She landed and nestled herself next to Jack, looking at the pictures of the military manoeuvres that littered the pages accompanied with ant sized writing that was barely large enough to read. She sighed contently and slowly drifted off to a light doze with the great view of the harbour in her mind.

The peninsula blocked all the views of the great ocean to the left of the slight hill that they were sitting on. The waves were just rough enough to form white caps on top occasionally on the larger wave. The sun was behind them, casting its rays at an angle to make the seawater shine and glitter with reds, yellows and oranges. It was picturesque except for the large warships that were harboured in the quay on the right side of the bay which Portsmouth had been built by.

Large, sleek machines of steel, reflecting the sunlight off its large superstructure and mast which towered into the air and held many multi-coloured flags. The large turrets encased many large calibre guns whose barrels were a number of meters long. They were a contrast to the small naval town built on the waterside, which included the architecture of old which incorporated liberal amounts of mortar and masonry. Old oaks lined the street sides with small benches scattered among the shade of the grand trees. The streets themselves were as old as the trees, cracks running through the pavement like how lightning bolts scattered in the air, but on the ground.

“Hey, Daring, wake up,” Jack nudged her in the back.

“Why?” she asked innocently.

“It’s getting cold, and I promised to see old Spits in her office at five in the evening,” answered Jack.

“Has it really been that long?” she asked.

“Yeah, and more,” Jack replied with a chuckle, “Let’s get going.”

The companions trotted side by side into the facility, through the long straight halls and large iron doors. It reminded Jack of a what a warship looked like on the inside. He had only been on one once just briefly, but it made an image that was burned into his mind. Something so majestic, capable of sailing in the roughest of seas, tumbling in the large waves which pounded the ship ruthlessly. Jack finally turned the last corner, entering through a closed door that was not locked which bore the Wonderbolts emblem.

Jack searched from door to door, each one having the name of a high ranking Wonderbolt’s name etched slightly on a brass plate and then drilled into the large iron door with silver pins. He walked down the hall slowly for a couple minutes, then finding the correct one, he knocked politely.

“Hello?” called a voice from inside.

“Yes! It’s me!” answered Jack.

“Hello Jack,” she said as the large iron door swung open to a bleak room with a desk, a few chairs lining the left side and many posters hanging on the walls.

Jack walked in and grabbed a spare chair and sat at the desk, waiting for Spitfire and Daring to do the same. The two finally settled at the desk and Spitfire pulled out a large map of the surrounding area of Portsmouth and Manehattan and laid it out on the large mahogany desk.

“Look…” Spitfire said, stress in her voice, “I really am out of ideas, we are going to lose Manehattan after a few more days of fighting, we are outnumbered two to one. Our artillery and other support forces are one week away currently marching around the Hollow Shades. We can do nothing to supress their forces without our main military power.”

“Hmmm… Well, why don’t you retreat your forces from Manehattan to the hill situated three kilometres north of Portsmouth? The support forces are only four days away from Portsmouth and you have time to dig trenches on that hill. Also, you can use your ships as artillery because they could fire from within the harbour,” thought Jack aloud, “You can retake Manehattan when you have the military power.”

“Lose Manehattan? Are you serious? We currently have out best physicists located in the heavily guarded Manehattan University, experimenting and developing megaspells! The Manehattan Project has rooms of papers that cannot fall into enemy hands,” said a Spitfire who currently looked like she was in great condition on the outside, but on the inside – mentally – she was broken. Utterly broken. One great commander to lead the forces, crippled. Tears welled up in her eyes, “What am I to do? What can we do?”

“Sorry…” apologised Jack, “I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out one way or the other,” she said, leaning close to the map and studying every feature, running a hoof through her mane.

Jack was stuck between two realms of doing; either walk out of the study like he was dismissed or stay back and help her figure something out. He hesitated for a second, turning to face the door and looked back at Spitfire. He shook his head. “Daring, wait for me in our room.” She didn’t argue and trotted away down the long hall.

Jack returned to the desk and sat down on his original chair. “So… what should we do?” he asked cautiously, sensing Spitfire’s outburst that had been kept in for hours now, colourful language and all.

She sighed in defeat and with great force, she threw the map to Jack. “What can I do?” she raged, “Why ask a question that I have asked you because I have no fucking idea!”

Jack took a good look at her, not a glance this time. There were dark shadows under her eyes and her mane was dishevelled; unkempt. “You need a good rest,” he decided at last.

“You really one of those fucking morons aren’t you?” she whimpered. Many other ponies, and close friends had told her for years that she needed a good rest. She ignored all of them, even Soarin, her co-captain.

“Well, I cannot help you right now. I can get Soarin, or somepony else if you want,” Jack said.

“Nope,” she grunted.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Jack cheekily and walked out of the door.

“Damn you to the fiery pits of hell Jackson! May Tartarus consume you!” she yelled as Jack exited her study.

Jack walked down the many hallways which were intricately interconnected like an ant’s nest. The architects who deigned this thing were either geniuses or madmen. Out through the reception he went, feeling the blast of cool sea wind against his fur. The sun shone blood orange as he walked up a small rocky train to the outdoor training facilities. It wasn’t really a facility, it was an open piece of ground with a few dug out trenches and a large landing strip of cleared out earth.

“Hey Soarin!” shouted Jack over the harsh winds at the slightly elevated piece of ground.

“Who is it?” he yelled back.

“It’s me, Jack!” Jack said as he neared the Wonderbolt who was hovering up in the high winds, swaying a little.

“Oh, hello Jack,” said Soarin as he landed and walked towards him, “What’s the news?”

“I was wondering, since you are co-captain and all, to see Spitfire and tell her to get god damned rest. Even the damned Princess Celestia couldn’t last how long she had. Just make sure it happens because she’s broken,” said Jack, with a hint of annoyance in his voice, “She really is a stubborn…” he trailed off.

“Yeah, I know,” said Soarin, “When I finish training this squad I’ll see to her.”

Jack walked over the slight hill again, down the rocky trail and meandered his way onto the small hill he was sitting on earlier. He sat down to watch the sunset. It was a beautiful sight, especially when the sun was setting on water. The blue water turned ever so slightly orange, reflecting the sun’s light as it set. The waves were calm and lapped softly on the rocky grey shores. The grey steel of the battleships shone a tinge of the setting sun. The small town reflected the spectacular horizons in its windows and the bleak stones of the buildings turned a slight hue of dusk. It is little moments like these that cut the hustle and bustle out of life, that make life worth living. These little things.

“Hey Jack, do you want to go get some dinner?” asked Soarin as he flew over the little hill, not using the little rocky track like he had to. Wings provided freedom that Jack could never obtain.

“Yeah, sure!” Jack replied.

Jack stood up and walked down the hill, easing the stiffness out of his legs. It was very cold now but he hadn’t noticed on the hill where he was engrossed by the sight of the harbour. He was shivering, all the warmth leeched out of his body by the sharp winds that blew against him. He trotted into the reception and entered the main hallway from a small iron door to the right side of the receptionist’s desk. He turned to the right, which was where the mess hall was and followed Soarin inside.

It was scattered with many tables and chairs stacked against the walls. It was actually quite large, and the only room in the entire Portsmouth Barracks to sport windows, except for reception. The windows were actually quite large, standing from the ground and stretches up for around two metres. It looked over the harbour into the sunset, allowing the orange luminescence of the sun to penetrate into the room, causing everything to look like it glowed with an orange hue.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” said Soarin who already went up to the counter and brought back a tray of spaghetti.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack walked wearily back to his room through long halls. It was at least eleven o’clock at night. He knew he should probably have chatted with Soarin so much, but who could blame him? Jack was an earth pony, stuck on the ground all the time, never getting a glimpse at the happenings in the clouds; like in towns that were literally made of clouds that pegasi considered ‘normal’ such as Cloudsdale. What happened up in the sky fascinated him.

Jack opened the door and trotted into his room, not anticipating what was about to happen to him. (Spoiler: He is utterly doomed. Remember what he said to Daring earlier? Yeah… that…)

“For Celestia’s sake! If you say something, you better mean it!” shouted Daring, causing Jack to wince uncomfortably.

“What?” Jack asked dumbly.

“You said, and I quote; “Daring, wait for me in our room,” end quote,” she said, “I was waiting for two hours before I decided to get dinner, and you were still not back!” she exclaimed.

“Oh… That… Sorry about that,” Jack mumbled.

“Just make sure you don’t do it next time,” she said, “Promise?”

“Ok, I promise.”