With nothing sticking out of the ground besides a few large hangers and some support buildings off to the side to slow the wind, it whipped across the flat, cement ground of Nimbus Royal Air Force Base, causing the temperature to feel ten degrees colder than it actually was.
The base had originally begun construction under the United States, but, due to a small legal loophole that said that Equestria owned whatever was placed on its soil, and since you can’t remove cement and buildings easily, a half-completed airbase fell into Equestrian hands (hooves?).
The base itself was moderately sized, certainly not as large as the ones back in the states, like, say, Andrews AFB, but it was large enough to sortie small and medium-sized aircraft from its three-quarter mile long runway. Of course, there was always room for more development later, as the base was located in the middle of the forest, though only a few miles out from Manehattan city limits.
Not once had an aircraft's wheels touched down on the runway, but that as about to change today, an occasion that had brought the over thirty ponies to assemble on one of the staging areas, during the cold November morning, eyes scanning the sky.
“There! I see them!” Somepony pointed, everyone's eyes following their hoof and squinting to find the dark shapes moving against the cloud backdrop.
Slowly they approached, the four figures steadily growing closer until suddenly there were right above them, the air shaking.
WHOP-WHOP-WHOP-WHOP-WHOP-WHOP-WHOP
She grimaced, the rumble of the rotors almost too much for her ears. She quickly cast a noise dampener spell on the ponies around her, who glanced at her in unspoken thanks.
The metal beasts slowly descended, the four of them spreading out some to avoid collisions. The downforce from the rotors began kicking up some dust, causing everypony to shield their eyes momentarily. One rotated so that its side was facing the assembled ponies, the ponies taking note of the bright red star painted on the helicopters flank, something they all wore. Soon that would change.
As the engines wound down to a soft whine and the rotors began to slow, a ramp lowered out the back, and three humans walked out.
All three wore military uniforms and looked very professional. Flanked by bodyguards, they cautiously approached the assembly of ponies.
Disabling the spell, she stuck out her hoof. “Ah, Vasiliev, so nice to see you again. Welcome to Equestria!”
“Princess Celestia.” The ambassador nodded to the ponies.
“I hope your flight out here was smooth. Did the Americans give you any trouble?”
The Russian shook his head. “None, despite their ships anchored around the portal clearly tracking us as we passed through. As for the flight, it was smooth. Perfect opportunity to marvel at you're nations beautiful countryside. It's nothing like I’ve ever seen before.”
The Princess smiled and nodded. “Yes, it truly is amazing isn’t it? Sadly, there are those who want to take that countryside away from us. That is why we are here, isn’t it ambassador?”
As he began to say something, Vasiliev was tapped on his shoulder by one of his posse, who whispered something to him. Nodding, he turned back to Celestia.
“Good news Princess. Just received word that our transport passed through the portal without incident. They should arrive within the next half hour.”
“Thank you. Now then, shall we get down to business? My ponies here have everything under control. Don’t you Captain?”
Yes Ma’am.” Former Wonderbolt Captain Spitfire said, standing tall and trying to look like someone you wouldn't mess with behind her gold-tinted Aviators and leather flight jacket, but that was hard when even the average human was a half-foot taller than the normal pony.
“Good.” Celestia nodded, gesturing for the humans to follow her towards one of the support buildings, her guards trailing behind the humans.
Watching them leave, Spitfire turned back towards the humans and helicopters. “Well then.” She began. “Let's get started, shall we?”
“This…” The Russian said, lifting the gun out of the box dramatically. “... Is the Kalashnikov, more commonly known as the AK-47, or simply the AK. In production for almost seventy years…” He reached down into the crate, lifting up a magazine and inserting it into the rifle. “... it is the single most produced firearm in the world. Chambered in 7.62×39mm, it's really very simple to use…” He pulled back the hammer with a click. “Put in the ‘mag, pull this back…” He turned to face a wooden crate he had placed downrange. “...and pull the trigger.”
The assembled group leaped at the sudden loud noise, the box splintering apart and the brass casings falling to the ground with a soft clink sound. “And that's all there is to it.”
“Oooohhh…” Rainbow Dash looking into another of the boxes, this one larger than the others. “What is this thing?” She picked it up, slinging it across her back. It was shaped like a long tube, very unlike the AK the Russian was holding.
“That’s an RPG.” He said. “It makes things explode..”
Rainbow laughed maniacally. “Sweet.”
“Crash, put the weapon down.” Spitfire turned to the Russian. “What else you got?”
Before he could answer, however, the sound of incoming aircraft turned their attention to the sky.
Wheels down, flaps extended, the four-engined metal beast gracefully touched down onto the runway, the tires screeching on the pavement. Coming to a stop 3/4ths down the runway, the blue and white Il-76 swung right, clearing the runway. Drawing everyone’s eyes as it coasted down the taxiway, it came to a stop a ways away from the formation of landed helicopters, the engines stopping.
But eyes were quickly drawn away as the main attraction appeared above the base to the sound of thirty jet engines, flying in three V formations of five aircraft each. They shot across the field, going into a long left turn, each formation slotting into their own holding pattern. As they orbited the base, individual aircraft split away from their formations and lowered gear, each making a smooth touchdown on the strip, until finally, only one squad of five remained.
With the taxiways and staging area full of moving aircraft, they dived down, roaring over the ground, showering everyone in dust and jetwash. “Woo!” Rainbow pumped her hoof in the air as they made another low pass, a few ducking their heads from the low flying jets.
Circling the airfield once more, the five aircraft, all as one, touched down in sync on the runway as Spitfire shook her head, smirking.
"That's us soon, right?" Rainbow asked.
The Flanker-Ds had arrived.
Author's Note
How do Ponies hold guns?
Magic.
Duh.
“Start Electrics.”
“On.”
The lights in the cockpit began blinking as the battery powered up all major systems, one by one.The Heads-Up-Display flashed onto the cockpit glass with a beep. She frowned. The symbols were still in Russian.
“Throttle check?”
“Pulled all the way back.” She tugged at it again, just in case.
“Alright,” Her instructor checked a box. “Start engine one.”
For a moment she sat there, struggling to remember the correct process, what buttons to press and in what order to press them, to start up the engines. Finally remembering, a low whine filled the air as the engine spun up.
“Engine Two?”
Replicating the process, the whine doubled in intensity, the air behind the Sukhoi beginning to rumble.
She anxiously watched the dials as the engines spooled up, pulling the pony-adapted flight helmet over her head, attaching the wires to the aircraft's electrical system, the oxygen mask dangling in front of her face. Should there be a problem with the engine, the flight would be delayed, and she didn’t think she could quell her urge to get this bird into the air for another day.
A tense moment passed as her and the human flight mechanic watched as the gages leveled out, signaling that all systems were nominal and running smoothly. The human gave her a small nod, stepping back. “You’re good to go.”
She returned the nod, and he stepped down the ladder, waving to the ground crew alongside the aircraft. As the chocks were removed, the cockpit lowered around her, she took one last look at the area around the aircraft, finding everyone had backed away, watching. She caught Spitfire leaning on the side of a jeep a few feet away, raising a hoof in salute.
Turning back to the instrument panel, she strapped the mask over her muzzle, taking in a breath of pure oxygen. “Nimbus Tower this is Foxtrot Leader, I’m taxiing to the runway.”
There was no response as she nudged the throttle forward, the aircraft slowing inching its way down the yellow line that marked the center of the path, turning left and right by twisting the stick.
Making on final swing right, the surface changed from concrete to blacktop, and Rainbow found herself staring down the strip of black. Here she halted.
“Nimbus Tower, this is Foxtrot Leader, requesting permission for takeoff.”
“Foxtrot Leader, permission granted.”
She slammed the throttle open all the way, the Flanker rattling and shaking as it accelerated down the runway. With only a twitch of her hoof, the aircraft leapt off the ground, the gear folding into the fuselage as she pulled it straight into vertical, accelerating into the clouds under full afterburner. Leveling out the aircraft and pulling back the throttle to cruising speed as she breached to tops of the thick, fluffy clouds.
Going into a small left bank, she looked down at the world below, amazed at the fact that she had just gone from zero to over seven thousand feet in height in under thirty seconds, something that would take even the most professional of fliers over an hour to achieve.
“Nimbus Tower to Foxtrot Leader, come in Foxtrot Leader.”
“This is Foxtrot Lead, I read you.”
“Well, Crash I hope you're happy to know that you’ve just broken every time-to-height and speed record we had in the books, though due to the fact you didn’t achieve them under your own wingpower makes them void.” The voice of Spitfire came over the line.
She chuckled. “Any other good news you want to give Captain?”
“None for now. Hope you like sitting on your flank for hours, because that what you're doing for the rest of today, this is an endurance mission after all. Now, a few notes, the first from the mechanics: Keep note of any inconveniences or discomforts you experience, so we can make the correct changes to the cockpit on your return.”
“Roger that, already got a few in mind. Anything else?”
“Yeah, stay within our radar range, so we can keep an eye on you and test the systems. Other than that, you're free to put the aircraft through its paces. Get a feel for it, just as long as you don’t crash the thing. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Roger that. Over and out.”
Cruising silently for a moment, she stared out at the clouds. She had a flying machine, and a few hours to burn. The whole of Equestria was at her hooves. So, where to?
Seeing the shape of Canterlot mountain in the distant haze, she aimed for that as her first landmark. Reaching forward to fiddle with a few dials on the ‘dash.
Eventually, she finally found what she was looking for; a broadcasting radio station.
“Hellllllllo listeners, and welcome back to radio Canterlot! It's a wonderful, clear day in our golden capital, not a cloud in the sky! Anyway, here some more from all of our favorite artists…”
Matteo stepped down the metal ramp, the Griffon gazing in awe at the concrete sea that stretched out all around him, before turning back and looking at the machine that had brought him here.
“So… where am I?” He asked the blond cross-eyed Pegasus who seemed to be in control of the machine. She was wearing what seemed to be a modified Wonderbolt uniform, which only furthered his questions.
“Officially, the location is classified. But it's called Nimbus Royal Air Force Base.” She smiled.
“Okay…?” He was now even more confused. “What is this thing, then?”
“This thing is a Mi-24, but everyone calls it a Hind. It's a helicopter.”
“...A what?”
“How about you just get off and Spitfire will explain the situation to you?” She suggested. “I also have a mission to run, and you're kinda holding it up.”
He sighed, grabbing his small bag of personal items and stepping the final few feet off the ramp, into the mid-morning sun, his eyes quickly adjusting to the difference in light between the outside and dark interior of the craft.
“Hey, Matteo!” Soarin called out to him as he walked past, leading a group of about ten ponies into the ‘helicopter’ he had just left. He was about to speak up and ask him some questions when he walked straight past him, leading his squad into the helicopter, a few circling around back to get in from the other side. The side doors slid closed, Matteo backing away as the rotors began to pick up speed again, the vehicle rising up and taking to the sky again moments later.
He watched it leave until it was a dot on the horizon. He placed a claw on his head, sighing. He had a headache, and he had barely been on the ground five minutes. All this new stuff was a little too much for him.
“Matt!” A jeep pulled up beside him, Spitfire leaping out.
“Commander.” He threw up a salute as she approached him.
“At ease.” She commanded, and he dropped the salute. She motioned towards the jeep with her head. “Hop in back, I’ll fill you in on the way.”
Lifting himself over the side, with a little help from his wings, he placed his stuff on the seat next to him and turned to Spitfire. “Okay, so mind telling me what the Faust I’m doing here, what this place is, and what happened to the Wonderbolts? Oh, hey Wave.” He said, noticing who was driving.
Wave only gave a small nod in his direction, keeping his eyes in front.
“Four months ago you closed the facility and told all of us to “go home”, and nopony has heard anything from you or the Wonderbolts since. Then, this morning in Griffonstone I wake up to a flying thing hovering over my house, the pilot claiming to be with the Wonderbolts.”
“I know it's a lot to take in, and I’m going to answer most of them when we arrive. But I guess you should know that, as of two months ago, the Wonderbolts have been officially disbanded. All that remains of the organization is the name and members.”
The Griffon blinked, doing a double-take. “What? Disbanded? Why?”
“We were absorbed by the new Equestrian Military. They needed structure and trained personnel, and the Wonderbolts were already paramilitary, with most of our funding coming through the military anyway, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to simply reorganize the paperwork.” She smiled, pointing to a patch on her sleeve. It was the old Wonderbolt logo, but instead of three ponies flying side by side, the pegasus’s had been replaced with fighter jets. The stitched text underneath read 122 Squadron. “You’re in the Air Force now. Welcome to the 122nd Combat and Demonstration Squadron.”
Author's Note
Some characters created by Calm Wind, because I suck at creating OCs. Used with permission, OFC. Love you man! o7
