Operation Firework

Somewhere in the North Luna Ocean, a fire rages. A frigate was blown asunder by, not one or two, but twelve barrels of explosive gunpowder. Almost every bit of debris is ablaze, the occasional sinking scraps hissing as they go under. Nothing - and no one - survived the fiery destruction, save for a single row-boat that managed to float out of range. All that can be heard is the raging fire, and the churning ocean.

From the dark below, Tempest Shadow's head breaks the water's surface with a long, desperate gasp. Coughing up the salt water from her lungs, she thinks of nothing else but sucking in more sweet, precious air. She made it.

She rearranges herself, trying to keep the other unconscious pony's head above water. She looks around for the row-boat, silently thanking the powers that be when she finds it close by, and unharmed by the blast. Once the feeling had returned to her legs, she kicks her way towards the boat in a semi-backstroke. Finally, she hurls her partner - no, her friend - onto the small craft, before pulling herself aboard and collapsing in fatigue.

Still gasping and wheezing from her close call, Tempest turns to get a good look at her friend for the first time. He isn't breathing.

She jabs him hard with a hoof. Nothing. She shakes him. Nothing.

"Wake up," she whispers, her voice shaking. "Wake up, please..."

She lays him across the wooden boards of the small vessel and places her ear against his chest. The true scope of her horror is realised when she doesn't hear a heartbeat.

"No," she holds back a cry of despair, "No, no, no! I joined you to save lives, not to ruin more! Not to ruin you!"

Immediately, she places two hooves across his chest and starts compressing. After thirty compressions, she tilts his unresponsive head, breathes in, seals her mouth around his, and exhales sharply. She does this one more time before going back to compressions. Then breathing. Then compressions.

Throughout the whole ordeal, she starts to lose control of her wits. She's shaking her head in denial, telling him to wake up as if he can hear. Her mutterings slowly devolve into whimpering. The salt water covering his unmoving body mixes with the water from her tears.

"Please don't do this to me," she sobs, "I can't go back alone. I can't! Not without you. Come on, wake up..."

She can't remember how long she's been compressing, breathing, compressing, breathing. It's not working. She finally relents, looking into his still, unmoving face, watching his life slip away between her hooves.

Amidst the tears, she slowly shakes her head in disbelief. Soon, that feeling becomes a gaping pit of sorrow in her chest. Sorrow so great, she can no longer stand. She breaks down over her lost friend, her sobs raising to a wail. Instead of compressions, she simply starts hopelessly pounding on his chest in frustration, cursing and howling. And nothing she tries brings him back.

She can't think anymore. She can't do anything. She's sick of feeling alone. She starts to feel nothing but pure anger towards herself. A spark starts to flicker from her broken horn. That spark starts to build, eventually becoming a whirling light of wretched rage. Finally, Tempest Shadow breathes in, and screams. Her pain, her misery, her fury sounds for miles, but on the empty ocean, there's no-one to hear it. Tempest releases her electrical charge that pulses through the small boat, through the waters, through her partner.

His foreleg twitches slightly.

The mare notices. Did her eyes deceive her!? She places a hoof on his chest; still no pulse. She charges up one more spell, letting the magic resonate in her horn for just the right amount of time, before aiming it straight for his dormant heart.

*******

A zap of burning electrical energy shocks you to your very core. The sudden sting of it causes you to clench at your heart and gasp, but your lungs disagree. Out of impulse, you turn over and vomit; pure seawater pours out of your stomach and lungs as you heave and cough. Despite the nearby stench of the burning frigate, the air tastes so very good.

Once you finally feel yourself breathing regularly again, you notice the mare wordlessly standing over you, lit up against the black, lightless night by the cackling inferno behind you. Tempest survived; better yet, she managed to pull you out as well!

Her mane is heavy and wet, her face like she's seen a ghost. Her eyes are bloodshot with sorrow, and wide open with disbelief. Her bottom lips starts quivering. You were half-expecting her, at any moment, to throw her forelegs around you and weep with joy at your survival.

You weren't expecting her to thump you right across the cheek. Okay, maybe you were. A little.

"You stupid son-of-a-mule!" she roars, readying another swing. Your Elite Operative senses kick in and you easily block the hoof with your foreleg. Now your foreleg really, really frickin' hurts, I mean geez she's strong. "Why did you jump in after me!?"

"Because there's no way I'd let you die on your first mission," you bite back. "Can you imagine what the princesses would think?" you add with a cheeky grin.

"Not! Funny!" she growls. "I thought I lost you!"

"Well if I hadn't followed you overboard, I certainly would've lost you."

She opens her mouth to argue, but doesn't think of anything to say in return. Instead, she just runs a hoof through her still-damp mane and sighs in exasperation.

You turn to look at the enormous fire still floating on the waves; there's zero chance for anypony to survive that much carnage, even less so if those ponies happened to be partially made of ice-magic. Or whatever the heck they were.

"At least it's over, right?" you finally say. "Mystery solved. Your first mission a great success."

"You think so?" Tempest looks at you quizzically.

You playfully wrap a foreleg around her shoulders. She doesn't protest to it. "Absolutely."

And there it is; the earnest smile of Tempest Shadow. At last, she finds a place among her kind. And it's a most exciting place, to boot.

"I, uh, know now's probably not the best time to say this," you blush, "but for what it's worth, I'm sorry about when we first met. You know, when I was a jerk to you in front of the princesses."

"It's alright. I'm sorry for being a jerk on the train on the way here. I thought you were insulting my horn, when you weren't. Guess I took it the wrong way."

Oh no, you're not losing this apology-off. "And I'm sorry for being inconsiderate about your horn in the first place, I wasn't thinking right when I said that."

"And I'm sorry for making you teleport all the way out here," she replies. Wow, she's good at this. "Messed up using your teleporting powers for the rest of the night."

"And I'm sorry for, uh..." C'mon, think! "...teleporting your armour while we were underwater. I know it was a one-of-a-kind custom piece that you liked."

"That's okay," she smirks. "You can dive back down there and get it."

"Pfft. Heck no."

That last one turns Tempest's smile into a laugh. "Guess I'll just have to get used to the fancy Canterlot armour then."

You look at the shoreline, almost invisible in the blackness. "So, uh, this row-boat doesn't have any paddles to row with," you say.

"I know," she replies. "I've already thought about that. You might wanna cover your eyes."

With that, Tempest closes her own eyes. You take her advice. You hear the telltale signs of energy gathering within the crevice of her horn. A second later, an almighty fwoosh sounds off, and travels upward. You open your eyes and notice the bright flare that flies higher and higher, flashing and shimmering like a firework, lighting up the whole sky. If the Vanhoover coastguards hadn't seen the twelve-keg explosion from land, they'd certainly see the bright guiding light that hangs above you now.

Tempest sighs in exhaustion and collapses on the boat's floor.

"Oh my gosh!" you exclaim. "Did the spell hurt!?"

"Nah," she mumbles. "Just tired now."

She's right; now that the adrenaline had worn off, nearly every part of your body feels heavy. Especially your eyelids.

"Well then," you say, lying down next to her. "Don't mind if I join you."

"Hey, I know we screwed earlier," she says, "but if you wanna sleep with me, you could at least take me on a date first."

"Good to know," you quip. "There's a cafe in Vanhoover that does great coffee."

The banter goes on for a short while longer, but eventually the gentle rolls of the ocean and sweet presence of one another lulls you both into a gentle slumber. Soon, the coast guard will be here, and once you're back to shore safely, you can pick up the belongings you left at the hotel and hop on the train straight back to Canterlot. In the meantime, enjoy the swaying silence, the salty breeze, and Luna's moon in the sky.

*******

Celestia's afternoon sun shines through the window of the briefing room, illuminating the parchment as she reads through your report for the third time. Two Elite Operatives sit patiently waiting for their boss to finish. Guess who they are?

"So," Princess Celestia finally says, looking up from the desk. "Windigos."

Roughly a day had passed since you and Tempest blew an evil ship of ice and madness clean out of the water. The report was written with plenty of time to spare on the train ride back, which was otherwise uneventful. You did notice, however, that Tempest spent a lot less time staring out of the train window, and more time starting into your eyes. You didn't mind.

"Not exactly, your highness," you explain. "Windigo-worshipping cultists. They seemed bent on using the stolen gunpowder to free the Windigos themselves from the iceberg they were trapped in, and using them to wage war on neighbouring kingdoms that hadn't yet discovered the Fire of Friendship. The dragons, the griffons, the changelings, even the hippogriffs."

"Are you certain of this?"

"Their leader did an evil gloating monologue and everything," Tempest says. Celestia gives her a disapproving look... until the notices that, yes, you'd covered that in the report as well.

"I see. The results of the Windigos being released could have been catastrophic for everyone, and everypony." Celestia gets up from her seat. You and Tempest follow suit. "We've been working so long to make peace with most of these other lands. If they got attacked by monsters of pony origin - while said monsters were leaving Equestria alone, no less - they would've started pointing hooves, claws and fingers alike our way. We'd have been looking at anything between destabilisation of alliances and peace-treaties to all-out war, and even that's before accounting for the massacre the Windigos themselves would inflict on them."

"Those cultists must have been mad to think such a plan would ever help Equestria," Tempest shakes her head.

"Indeed. We'll have the matter looked into with one of our other branches, perhaps we can prevent other unfortunate ponies from stumbling upon the Windigos and their iceberg in the future. We'll also contact our armour-smiths, see if they can replace the armour sets that were lost in the ocean. In the meantime, I'd say you two have more than earned some rest and relaxation." the princess dips her head in respect to the two Elites. Just as you turn to go, however, she asks stops you again.

"Oh, but just one more thing, my Elite; since it's been one trial mission, would you say Tempest is suitable for a permanent role as your partner?"

Of course! You'd forgotten about that. You clear your throat. "I would say she's suitable for a permanent role as my partner, and then some. It's truly astonishing how much she's changed my life in such a short time. And I happily embrace that change."

Tempest gives you the eyes; you know, the wait-until-we-get-back-to-your-place eyes. Blushing, you return her gaze in kind. To say Celestia picks up on that would be an understatement.

"Glad to hear that, my Subject. As for you, Tempest Shadow, I officially welcome you to the Elite Operative's branch of the Equestrian Royal Guard."

Wordless, you and Tempest both bow to your princess, turn around, and trot out of the room side by side. Celestia also notices your tails intertwined as you walk out. The door closes behind you, leaving the princess alone in the briefing room. She tucks away the report, and all other documents related to the incident, and stashes them in the right spot on the shelves, muttering to herself.

"Tch, I suppose I owe Cadance five hundred bits now; they really do make a cute couple. Why, oh why, do I always make romance-related wagers against the Princess of Love?"