Far Away

CHAPTER XXIX

“Hey Soarin, have you seen Iron Skies lately?” Jack asked, feeling concerned for him.

“No, he wasn’t at dinner and I can’t spot him around in here. Spitfire is missing as well… wait… no…” Soarin choked, “It can’t be! Or can it?”

“What?” asked Jack in confusion.

“I ordered Iron Skies to persuade Spitfire to get a rest. It is crucial for her to be functional at this point in time. Is he successful? Or being detained by Spitfire in her office,” thought Soarin aloud, the latter part swarming with sarcasm.

Jack snorted. “Well, at least we don’t need to anypony to report to us tonight, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, want to play pool?” Soarin asked.

Jack nodded as they neared the already set up pool table. Soarin was an unstoppable force of nature when it comes to pool. Jack’s plan is to break and hope to Celestia to sink a ball and sink a ball every turn after that. The moment Soarin got to get a shot, all was over. Jack rounded the mahogany table, the inside coated with a green felt, with his cue.

He aligned his cue with the white ball carefully, brows furrowed. He drew back the cue slowly, making sure the shot was still aligned, so far in fact that he stabbed somepony standing behind him with the end of the long cue. Jack turned around, ready to apologise to whoever he stabbed. Jack turned around, finding himself looking into the grey eyes of a very familiar pony.

“Hello,” he commented simply.

“Hey, Silver!” called Soarin from the opposite side of the table.

“Sorry,” mumbled Jack, whispering the last part, “He deserved it anyways.”

“I probably did…” he said with a smirk.

Jack had a look of utter horror on his face as he turned to face Silver. “Y-you heard that?” he stammered.

“Son, I hear everything,” he said unmoved, “so you better shut that trap of yours.”

Soarin was stifling his laughter from the other side of the pool table, resting his cue on the wooden frame. Jack turned back to the table, aligning his shot again carefully. This time, there was nopony to interfere and he got a clean shot off. The white ball made a satisfying clack as the cue hit it, sending it flying down the almost frictionless green felt, and slammed into the ball at the tip of the triangle formation of all the coloured, numbered balls. The balls exploded into action, splitting outwards quickly. Many balls bounced around chaotically.

“Yes!” shouted Jack triumphantly as one of the striped balls, number 14, sunk into the top right hole. Jack repositioned himself to take another shot.

“Nice shot,” commented Soarin.

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

Iron Skies waited in silence, in the dark bedroom of the sleeping mare in her bed; Spitfire. He had waited for hours, to make sure she was asleep before attempting to step out of her room. It was probably going to be a relatively easy feat, compared to the other things he had achieved and confronted in his life. Spitfire was snoring from her bed, the sound echoing slightly in the dark room. Iron slowly rose to his hooves from the couch and sneaked to the iron door to his left.

Spitfire’s breathing hitched as he stepped closer to the door. Iron froze right in front of the door, scared that she was going to wake up. Iron really did not want to face the consequences of not obeying orders, but Spitfire did not order him to stay with her. Well, Spitfire’s word is law around here so it may as well be an order. Her snoring returned to a regular, constant pace. Iron slowly turned the handle on the door, eliciting several squeaks from the poorly oiled hinges. The handle finally turned fully. Iron slowly tugged at the door, praying that the sound won’t wake Spitfire up. Well, in a perfect world, that would’ve happened; but life is unfair.

Spitfire’s snoring completely stopped. Iron felt a chill run though him. A bright yellow light shone from the bedside lamp. “Where are you going, Iron Skies?”

Iron looked around, seeing that she was still groggy in her bed. “Why do you ask me to do this?” he asked.

“Reasons…” she replied cryptically.

“Alright, goodbye then,” said Iron in a hurry as he pulled the door completely open and jumped out, then slammed the door as hard as he could back into a closed state. He spread his wings and tore down the hall with alarming speed.

Iron wracked his brain for a good place to go to; a good place to hide. Down the long halls he flew with no pursuit. The game room came to his mind and he immediately headed down the hall for it. It was an uneventful journey to the game room, not meeting anypony or seeing anything out of the norm.

Iron opened the doors to the game room to see Fleetfoot wailing at the ice hockey table because she lost to Fire Streak, and… was that Jack dominating Soarin at pool? The latter was something out of the norm.

“Hello guys,” he said casually as he walked up to the pool table, “I see that you are getting smashed by young Jackson over here.”

“I haven’t even got a turn yet,” replied Soarin with a pout.

“Yep… he’s totally wrecking you right now,” said Iron.

“I’ll take next game with Jack,” said Silver from the shadows, “and where the hell have you been Iron Skies?”

“I think that question will be explained very soon by a very angry mare walking through the doors,” said Iron with a chuckle.

“Ok… we’ll see,” said Silver with a smile.

A few minutes later, Spitfire came walking through the game room. Iron was currently having a ‘friendly’ table tennis match at the back of the game room which involved literally smashing the ball with as hard as you can with the paddles and aim for the face. Jack and Soarin was also there, but also joined with Daring now, as she entered a few minutes earlier. Jack was chatting with Soarin over a bottle of beer with Daring curled up next to Jack.

Spitfire walked over to Iron Skies watching him sweat in anticipation of what her next move was. Iron tried to fake that he didn’t notice Spitfire watching him. Silver seemed to notice and dropped this paddle and held the ball. “Hey Spitfire,” he said.

Iron glared at Silver, eyes twitching. He smiled back at Iron and mouthed; You’re doomed. Iron turned to face Spitfire who still had her bed mane, hair sticking out at all crazy angles. “Uhh… hello Spitfire,” asked Iron hesitantly.

“Hello Iron Skies,” she stated simply.

“What do you want?” asked Iron as steadily as he could, obviously troubled by her presence.

“Nothing,” she muttered and walked away.

Iron sighed as she walked away, muscles relaxing as he turned back to his game of table tennis.

“Well, you got away this time,” chuckled Silver, “Say… what was that about anyways?”

“It’s a long story,” answered Iron, “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Maybe not, but go on,” urged Silver Lining.

“Well… Soarin,” Iron glared at Soarin, “told me to tell Spitfire to get some rest. As you know, commanders can’t function when they have caffeine pumped around their system twenty-four-seven. I did what I was told, but she held me hostage in her room basically.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault! A mixed variety of reactions could’ve become a reality,” Soarin churned into the conversation, “Well, I couldn’t do it to her anyways.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve shoved her a bit and…” Iron was cut off.

“Wait… You physically shoved her into her room? Never heard anything more impressive. Well, maybe making Fleetfoot not make a pun for an entire hour is an exception…” interjected Soarin.

Suddenly, a voice over the PA system sounded. “All Wonderbolt and Griffin personnel, head immediately to your respective squad areas and ready up. We are going to head out to counterattack at exactly 1700 Great Eastern Time.”

“So, maybe it was because of this Spitfire did not annihilate you…” pondered Silver. ‘It was probably because of this Spitfire did rage at Iron. Nothing but her duty would’ve stopped her,’ thought Silver Lining, this time not letting his thoughts slip into a verbal form.

“Well, I better get going,” said Iron, “I’ve got the whole squad two to command.”

“You do that; I’ve got the whole of three to command,” said Silver as he turned towards the door.

Iron Skies turned towards the door also and walked slowly through the halls to large entrance to the open skies that was currently shielded by a massive dome of the strongest alloys known to Equestria. The disc that was stationed under the dome was called the launch platform. Many doors dotted the sides of the large circular room, where specific squads of Wonderbolts could prepare for combat.

Iron trotted briskly into a room which bore a door labelled ‘Squadron II.’ The pegasi in his squad had not arrived yet, battling through the dense traffic in the narrow hallways. Iron walked over to the corner of the room, and looked through his personal drawer that was built into the metal wall.

He took out a small black case gingerly and set it on one of the benches that ran across opposite sides of the room. Iron detached the small locks on either end of the black case with small pops and opened the case to reveal red velvet lining two wing sized objects, bound in brown leather that smelt of newness, an artificial smell that was injected unintendedly to all leathers during the tanning process. Iron slipped off the leather covers carefully, revealing sharp steel blades that twinkled in the unnatural light. He held the blade meant to be fit to his left wing up and inspected it thoroughly. Four straps dangled under the lightweight cotton padding on the side of the blade that was meant to be attached to the wing.

Iron used his spare forehoof and mouth to tie the wing blade to his left wing, struggling a little but eventually getting it. Iron then covered the blade with the leather covers which now acted like sheaths, which could be slipped off easily at any time. Iron did the same to his other wing, fidgeting a little more as he was using his left hoof to tie the knot; he was not ambidextrous.

Iron finally managed to get everything done to an acceptable level and walked back out to the launch platform. He saw his squad members slowly walking towards him, while chatting in hushed voices.

“Good evening Iron,” greeted the tall white pegasus mare who was adorned with blue streaks in her white mane and tail.

“Good evening Artemis,” Iron replied.

“Good evening sir!” declared the other three pegasi in rough synchronisation.

“Could work on some sync training,” chuckled Iron. “Well get ready, were launching in… oh goddess we are late; we are launching in three minutes. Get your flight suits on!” he commanded.

The squad professionally slipped their flight suits on and equipped themselves with a variety of weapons of their choosing, from sniper rifles to small bombs.

“Are you sure you can carry such a high calibre sniper rifle and stay stable in the air, Fire Streak?” asked Iron.

“Yeah, I can,” replied Fire Streak.

“You know that we are supposed to be fighting in close range?” questioned Iron.

Fire Streak shrugged, “A rifle is a rifle, the more powerful the better and can refit the scope with iron sights if you want.”

“Your choice, just make sure you are effective in the field,” said Iron, still not convinced.

Fire Streak made his way to the weapon rack and picked out an iron sight that suited the rifle, then fumbled with it and somehow attached it. It was probably a tedious process, judging by how much Fire Streak fumbled but he did make haste.

“All right guys, we are set to launch?” asked Iron.

“Aye, captain,” they said.

“Let’s get to the launch platform my fellow Wonderbolts,” commanded Iron, “We are going to fly in… delta formation? I think that is best.”

The squadron of five walked out of their little prep space and into the launch platform, where many other Wonderbolts and griffins were already stationed, ready to launch in various formations ranging from deltas to crosses. Iron led his squad to the front of the launch platform, indicated by a small elevated platform that a microphone was placed on a black stand. They settled into formation between squads one and three, with one on their left and three on their right.

“Hello cap. What’s the plan?” asked Iron as he walked across to the first squad.

“Well, we are just flying in formation to reach our frontline post, where we can monitor the situation from there. It is likely that we will be fighting and Spitfire will explain the plan when we are there. Expect some heavy flak,” replied Soarin completely seriously.

“That type of flak?” asked Iron.

“Yes, now you better tend to your squad,” answered Soarin as he turned back to his squad.

Spitfire suddenly burst into the chamber, flying for the platform at the front and pulled a large lever that Iron did not notice when he entered the launch platform. A rumble shook the platform as the large dome on the roof split in two, revealing the dusk sky. “Alright Wonderbolts, head out!” she commanded, “And griffins, stay put. Commander Thunderclaws will arrive promptly,” she added.

The air was filled with the sound of flapping wings as each squad lifted off in unison, dotting the sky densely. Each squad flew in a perfect formation, staying far from other squadrons as a collision was highly plausible if evasive manoeuvres were necessary. They saw the grassy knolls and rolling hills splay before them as they flew higher and higher, up the golden coastline to the city Manehattan, whose tallest buildings were visible, creating a beautiful skyline.

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

Jack ran to his room, quickly picking up his rifle and strapping it to his body. He also checked that his trusty revolver was in its holster in his trench coat where it always was. It comforted him to have a relic he that had travelled beside him from when he graduated from university.