The Birth of a Flash

"We're near enough. Ask already."

Soaring Cloud's words were the first any of the crew had uttered since they left the airfield. Nearly three thousand kilometres of flight, six hours of continued air time, and the first words any of them had used to break the grim silence were that.

Hard Target glanced at his instruments and allowed himself a small twitch of wings in annoyance. "We're still three minutes out. I'm not risking anything." His tone was hard, perhaps harder than his copilot deserved, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The young buck didn't fly in the war, but that didn't mean he'd let him off easy. Especially not now.

"We're well within their radar. They couldn't get a bird up here quickly enough if they-"

"Shut up, kid."

Flash Spark's voice ended the conversation just as quickly as it had begun. Hard Target was grateful to the old mare - his patience had been worn thin by long hours at full alert. The kid was right, of course, there was no changeling plane that could hope to make it to seven kliks faster than they could reach their target, and whatever AA they could scramble wasn't going to reach this high up. But that didn't mean he'd start being careless now.

He checked the instruments again, then looked out into the night sky. The descent rate had been at about a meter a second for quite a while now. Ever so slowly, the monstrous plane inched away from Luna's sky, down into the cloud cover. They would have to break below it for just a moment, then back up. It occurred to him that even this little part of their operation had probably been engineered - somewhere out there, a squadron of pegasi must've put the clouds into motion months in advance.

All of that effort just to give him a few extra minutes of undetected flight time.

The clouds outside the plane thickened, clinging to the machine as its eight jet engines roared into the night. They were too high up for anyone to hear, but Hard Target could not shake the feeling they were about to be discovered. A stray patrol, perhaps, or a lucky jager cadet out on night training. One hitch in the plan, one wrong move, and months of work would be forfeit along with their lives. All it would take was one mistake to invalidate a plan set in motion long before Chrysalis marched her cronies into the streets of Manehattan.

They could not afford that mistake.

"Lieutenant Cloud, give me our climb rate." Hard Target continued to stare out the window, trying to feel the plane's tiny vibrations through the flight stick. It was a bad habit from the early days of the war. Back in 1012, he could still feel the movements of flaps through the manual hydraulics, but now…

"Minus one point two. Should probably go to minus one point eight, now that we're close. Buy ourselves time to line up below the cloud cover."

Soaring Cloud sounded vaguely irritated. Hard Target barely noted it - it didn't matter. The kid was just antsy, nervous about their mission. He wanted to take risks, prove to everyone he was just as capable as the old veterans he worked with. All because he couldn't see past his own snout - all because he couldn't tell how those old soldiers became this capable, what they had to do and see to get there.

He reminded Hard Target of himself in his younger days.

He pushed the stick forward another small bit, forcing the plane to adjust its descent ever so slightly. A few moments later, the droplets on the windshield changed direction, travelling towards the edge just that little bit faster. Hard Target could swear he heard Cloud nod in his seat.

He checked his watch again. One minute.

Agonisingly slowly, the plane descended through the cloud. Seconds passed in silence, with nary a thought in any of the crew's minds but what they would do as soon as the cloud cover broke. Even the old Flash Spark was looking into the white outside, hiding whatever darkness clouded her thoughts behind a facade of pure stoicism.

The cloud cover broke, revealing the city below. Hard Target closed his eyes and breathed in.

"Call it."

A millisecond passed in silence. Then, a click of the radio sounded through the intercom, followed closely by an old mare's voice. Flash Spark sounded haggard, almost as if uttering the words was tearing her vocal cords apart. Neither of the pilots dared interrupt as they heard her speak, loud and clear despite the weariness.

"This is Liberator One transmitting to anyone on this frequency. In position, awaiting command."

A moment passed in silence, then another, before static filled the air, only to be quickly replaced by the voice of some faraway stallion. Hard Target pulled the stick to himself, levelling the plane out ever so carefully, watching as the lights of the city slipped out of view.

"Liberator One, this is Pirate Control. Confirm readiness."

Soaring Cloud audibly sighed in relief. Hard Target could not understand why as he listened to his WSO speak.

"Copy that, Pirate Control. We are green to go. Code Bravo-Lima-Alpha-Zulu-Echo. Orders?"

On his right, his copilot flipped the master arm switch on without uttering a word. The plane rumbled as the bomb bay doors opened, exposing their payload to the elements.

"Complete mission, Liberator One. Ashes. Read back."

A dozen flight crew to put the three of them in the air. Sixteen hundred warriors to secure the airfield for long enough to take off. Hundreds of factory workers to silently smuggle off the fuel and parts. Yet more to quietly move the resources necessary. All of them could be dead tomorrow because they dared to stand up to the changeling rule. Months of effort, coming to a head.

"Ashes. Celestia have mercy on us all.”

Hard Target could swear he heard the button click as the bomb released.