“Engine One…”
To my left, the farthest engine coughed, smoke spewing out the back, before it sputtered and caught, flames shooting out the exhaust, the propeller chopping at the air.
“Engine Two…”
I flipped the switch, the inside engine springing to life, adding to the rumble and noise of the first.
“Engine Three, Engine Four…”
To my right, both engines hummed softly. The rumble of all four engines running together was amplified by the thick concrete walls that surrounded them, the sound bouncing off the arched ceiling.
Confirming that they were running smoothly, I sat back in my seat and sighed. “Status?”
“We’re running good. Everything’s nominal, though I would advise waiting for the RPM to rise to see if anything goes wrong.” My copilot replied, watching the needles tick upwards. Eventually they stabilized, hovering at the correct range.
“Alright. We’re good.”
I slowly pushed the throttle to full, the roar of the engines and shaking of the aircraft growing in intensity and reaching a crescendo of noise, almost deafening. The power of the engines seemed like it should shake the aircraft apart, and yet the bomber did not even inch from its position.
I counted down. “Three… two… one…” And then I pulled the lever.
The aircraft lurched forward, the clamps and brakes that had held the aircraft in place now disabled. I constantly made small adjustments using the control column and pedals. There was, at max, three feet between each wingtip and the concrete wall. They couldn’t afford an impact. There was no room to maneuver.
“And… Light!”
We were pushed into our seats as my copilot flipped the switch that activated the RATO boosters, the rockets sending us screaming down the tunnel. The rattling and bouncing increased, and I increased my grip on the control stick. It took all my strength to keep us straight.
And, suddenly, we were surrounded by stars.
The aircraft immediately began to fall, the water coming up to us. I pulled back as hard as I could on the stick, the engines straining to pull the weight of the aircraft. Never once had I operated off an aircraft carrier, but this is what I imagined it felt like to take off from one.
The rocket engines sputtered and died. A flip of another switch and the pods fell away, the gear folding and locking into the aircraft with a clunk. Slowly, the bomber rose over the Olenian fjords, moonlight glinting off the water.
I allowed myself to relax, if only slightly. We had made it past the first challenge.
“Status check everyone,” I said over the intercom.
“Check,” Tedrick reported, our radio and radar operator, sitting in a compartment behind the cockpit. “All systems nominal, getting radar online.”
“Check.” Our navigator, and, when the time came, bombarder Egon called in. He sat below the pilots, surrounded by glass, the most dangerous position to be in if they were taking fire.
“Check. Everything’s a go.” Ahren, the Changeling sitting next to me, tested his headset. I turned to him. During the takeoff, I had seen his face. He had been scared out of his mind, but now that had faded to an uncertain apprehension. Noticing me looking at him, he gave me a small nervous smile. I turned back to my instruments, and his smile faded.
“Did anyone see Silverplate Two and Three take off?” I asked, scanning the sky for the two other Me 264s that were part of our squadron. “Tedrick, check the radar.”
“I got Silverplate Two, they’re about a mile behind us, off our right wing.” He paused for a moment. “Silverplate Three just appeared. They’re only a little farther behind than Silverplate Two, and…” In the distance, a deep rumble of an explosion. The sky flashed momentarily. “...Silverplate Three just dropped off radar.”
I cursed under my breath. “Alright. We keep going. Can’t turn back anyway.” I began a slow bank left, lining up the full moon with a window panel.
Navigation would be done entirely by stars and instruments, Radio navigation would leave the chance that their signal could be intercepted.
Skirting the mountains and rivers, and staying close to the water, I piloted our way out to sea.
This was the most dangerous part of the mission. There were constant fighter patrols along the Olenian coast, usually lone radar-equipped Mosquito fighters. But the coast of the Deer homeland was long and winding, impossible to keep watch of, even for the powerful Equestrian Royal Air Force. At least, that was what we hoped.
Our two aircraft flew low over the water, only a few feet from the tops of the waves. The other 264 was somewhere behind and above us, ordered to keep as close as possible to our craft in order for us not to get separated. There was to be total radio silence between our two crafts, no communication before we had crossed the designated waypoint, in fear of the signal being picked up by the Equestrians, so it was key to keep close together.
“I got something.” Came a cry from Michel in the back. “Single aircraft, ten o'clock, higher altitude. It's moving right towards us.”
Everyone else held their breath. If they spotted us, there was nothing we could do, our defensive armaments had been stripped to lighten the load of the aircraft and allow for more fuel and longer range. Instead, we only had the radar set, which wouldn’t help if there were bullets being shot at us.
The next few moments were tense, the only sound the beeping of the radar and hum of the engines.
Finally; “He’s moving past. No course change.”
I dared to take a sigh of relief, most likely the same thing happening in our sister aircraft. Of course, there was no way to know if the aircraft had actually seen us or not, possibly radioing our position to the prowling packs of Spitfires. There was no way to be sure, so we silently celebrated.
And then we fell back into silent routine, the rumble and rattle of the aircraft our only company.
“Silverplate Two this is Silverplate One, please respond…”
A moment's pause.
“Roger that Silverplate One, we read you loud and clear. I assume we’re near the waypoint?”
“Affirmative. We’ll be beginning the turn momentarily…”
“Roger, we’ll follow you.”
I twisted the wheel to the left, the left wing dipping down towards the water, and pulled, the nose rising and ground falling away. I watched the altimeter needle slowly spin upwards, clicking and it went.
“I’m turning the controls over to you,” I said to Ahren, removing my hooves from the stick. “Keep it up at five degrees till we reach twenty thousand.”
I wobbled slightly on the uneven floor as I stepped away from my seat, before catching myself and slowly making my way to the door that led out of the cockpit. Down a few steps, and I was in the main passage that ran down the length of the aircraft. I turned and went towards the nose, soon finding myself surrounded by wires and windows.
Normally, the nose would be cluttered with equipment. Ammunition belts, fire extinguishers, parachutes, survival equipment, and the navigator's position. But now, all of that had been removed.
“Hey.”
Laying on the floor, using a packed parachute as a pillow, lay Egon, reading a book by the instrument lights. He looked up when I came in, putting down the book. “Hey.” He responded. “What’s happening?”
“We just started our climb. Other than that, nothing, just checking in.” I looked around the room. “How're things down here?”
“Boring, honestly. Although, I must say, it's nice to have some room for once.” He yawned.
I nodded, then noticed what he was reading. “Is that the latest issue of Signal?”
“It's from four months ago.” He held it up. Printed on the cover was a photograph of a proud looking officer, standing on the wing of a Bf 109 as three more fly in formation overhead. A clearly staged photo, one taken at the beginning of the war, judging by the E model of 109s they were using. “It's the most recent they’ve printed.”
I was honestly surprised that Signal had still been printed up to four months ago…
“Hey, Egon?” I was standing at the very front of the aircraft, looking out over the ocean below us. In the far distance, lights. “You remember that time over the Crystal Empire? With the 435th?”
He chuckled, knowing exactly what I was talking about. “Those fighter jocks were so confident in their victories that they couldn’t stand defeat! Remember that one guy who attempted to ram the palace because he was so desperate for a victory?”
We both shared a laugh at that. “What ever happened to him anyway?”
“Heard he was awarded the Iron Cross because he provided a distraction for everyone to escape. Posthumously of course.” Egon smiled.
I stared up at the metal ceiling inches from my head, listening to the engines. I could hear Tedrick talking on the radio in the next room, what he was saying incomprehensible.
I attempted to close my eyes for the third time, attempting to force my body to sleep. But it was no use. I groaned and open them, once again staring up at the metal above my head. How long had it been since I had slept? I didn’t know. In these final days of war, things were moving at such a fast pace, I couldn't keep track.
I gave up attempting to sleep. I was never able to sleep on any surface that wasn’t flat, level, and unmoving. In the military, that was a curse.
Yawning softly, I rolled myself out of the cot, my hooves hitting the cold metal floor serving to wake me up slightly. In total, there were three cots, stacked one on top of the other, just like they would have on warships. I shuddered thinking about it. I hated ships, crammed into tight metal spaces with no way to get out should your ship sink… At least in the air force, you had a chance of getting out.
I shuffled my way towards the cockpit, Ahren turning when I walked in. “Hey.”
I nodded. “Anything to report?” I asked, taking my seat. He shook his head, keeping his gaze forward. I looked out of the window. It was a clear night, one able to see for kilometers up at this altitude. In the far distance, flashes of light broke the darkness. Artillery, visible even from this distance.
Tracers lit up the sky below us, a convoy of ships coming under attack by unseen aircraft. One ship burst into flame, it's location now given away. Like moths to a light, the attackers were drawn to the damaged vessel. Two more explosions rocked the ship, and it began to founder, slowly listing. A dot shot through the flames and slammed into another ship, two ships now burning.
“Shame. Waste of a perfectly good plane, bomb, and pilot.”
I shrugged. “One plane, bomb, and pilot that just killed three thousand and sunk and expensive warship.”
Ahren shook his head in disgust. “It's not right.”
“It's more accurate and efficient than conventional bombing. A depressing tactic, but an effective one.”
“Hey guys?” Tendrick interrupted what Ahren was about to say. “You need to hear this.”
I froze for a split second. “What is it?” I asked, though I already knew what it was from the way he had said it.
There was a moment of silence on the line before and unknown voice filled the speakers.
“-essage from Hive High Command. All currently active Changeling forces are ordered to stand down and cease combat operations. All divisions are to turn themselves in at the nearest Equestrian checkpoint. Any who do not comply within the next 48 hours at to be labeled as traitors and will be executed. The war is over. This is a-”
Tendrick shut it off. We were all silent, processing this information.
“...What do we do now?” Egon asked. Everyone waited for my response.
“Is there any way to confirm is this message is legit?”
“It's being broadcast on all frequencies. Including those reserved for secure communications. Of course, those could have been compromised.” Tendrick answered.
“Contact Silverplate Two, ask them what they make of this.”
“Impossible, all communications are being jammed.”
I sighed. Looking out the window to where I knew our sister aircraft was, off our left wing. The bomber was only visible by the yellow flames shooting out of the exhaust and the occasional glint of moonlight of the metal surface.
“We continue with the mission. No point in turning back now, we’ve come too far to stop.”
We emerged from a cloud bank. In the distance and growing closer, lights. Not those of war, but of civilization. A city, hugging the coast. The city Los Pegasus, our target.
Silverplate Two had pulled out in front of us, and, as I watched, dipped its wings at first to the left, and then to the right, rocking the aircraft from side to side. I copied the maneuver, rocking from side to side.
A final salute to a squadronmate, one who we would most likely never see again.
The distance between our two bombers began to increase, before Silverplate Two began a small bank to the right. I watched them as they departed, until they were too small to be seen in the night. They were off to bomb Rockville, a city farther inland.
“Alright boys, we’re on our own. Bombardier, set us up for our bombing run.”
“Roger.”
The city filled the canopy now, the shapes of skyscrapers clearly visible. On the horizon, the smallest sliver of orange sunrise peaked.
“Egon, I’m handing over controls to you.” I removed my hooves from the stick, Ahren doing the same.
“Affirmative. Here we go…”
We were over the city now. I could look down and see cars moving in the streets, and the flack guns situated atop the buildings. A burst of anti-aircraft fire rattled the plane.
“We’ve got a squadron of fighters inbound!” Tedrick frantically shouted from the radio room. “If you going to drop the bomb, do it now!”
I felt the bomb bay doors open.
“Bombs away.”
The aircraft leapt higher into the air now several thousand pounds lighter. I slammed the throttle up as far as it would go, activating emergency power, the engines groaning and straining.
I heard Egon give a sigh of relief. “‘Lings, I just want to say, it's been an honor and a blast flying with you.”
Bullets ripped through the fuselage, sending shrapnel and glass shards flying through the cabin. The aircraft lurched as an engine caught fire, ripping more holes into the wings. I managed to catch a glimpse of the sun-moon emblem of the Equestrian Air Force roundel as a Spitfire shot past the cockpit.
“Godspeed, my comrades, and may we all meet in Tartarus!”
I never knew if anyone heard me, because the bomb detonated moments later.
“Luna. Report.” Princess Celestia yawned. It was very early in the morning, and she had just been woken up by a Guard informing her that there was an urgent message. “What's going on out there?”
“About two hours ago a message began broadcasting on all Changeling communication airwaves calling for the surrender of all active forces and for them to report to the nearest Equestrian checkpoint. It's not coded, and all the broadcasters so far have been speaking in perfect Changeling. It's been on repeat since, except for a few times where the person broadcasting was replaced, but the message has always been the same.” The slightly muffled voice said over the phone. There was some ineligible talking in the background, before Luna returned to the phone. “I’ve ordered all divisions to stop advancing and for artillery bombardments to stop as of now.”
Celestia was silent for a moment, processing this information. “...So Operation Crossover was a success then?”
“Uncertain. There have been no communications on the assigned frequency or on the spy networks. We’ll keep watch though.”
Celestia sighed. “Keep the soldiers on high alert. Faust knows the SS won’t surrender unless you make them.”
“...Alright. I’ll infor-”
And the line went dead.
Blinking in surprise at the sudden cutoff, the Princess stood there a moment, listing to the dead line.
“...Luna? Hello?”
There was a soft glow on the horizon. Celestia yawned. Her horn sparked to life, slowly feeling her Ethereal magic lift the sun.
She paused.
Sunrise from the west?
She dashed out the door, emerging into the castle gardens, maids and staffers scattering as she ran past, looking at her with a confused expression. At the edge of the balcony, all of Equestria spread out before her.
And in the distance, a glowing, fire red mushroom cloud rose silently into the sky.
Author's Note
