Forward and upward

by Solntsepek

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Luna, Original Character, Comedy, Adventure, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6
Length: 36673

Valery Pavlovich Chkalov - Hero of the Soviet Union, test pilot and just a good person receives an offer to go on a business trip for a year and a half to the newly opened Equestria.

In 1938, a portal opened in the Soviet Union to a previously unexplored land by none of the people. After some time, an agreement on mutually beneficial cooperation was concluded between the USSR and Equestria. Now the Red Army troops are stationed on the territory of Equestria.
Chkalov, a test pilot, is going on this business trip.

Published 2022-12-03 22:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-07-17 18:38:49 UTC

Leningrad - Kanterlot

On a dark night under the light of a full moon, drowning out the noise and hubbub of people, the whistle of a jet-black locomotive with a red star sounded, its shrilly call garnering the passengers to their cars.

The station's platform was crowded. On the second track, where the train was now standing, groups of young commanders from Leningrad were crowding separately, finishing their second cigarette and arguing about something. Soldiers, commanders, doctors, and political workers were saying their goodbyes to their families, then hurrying to the train before the start of their long journey.

Chkalov pushed through the mourners, hurrying to the third car. It seemed that the suitcase would come off along with the hand — it was so cramped tonight. But miracles happen in everyday life, so the pilot still managed to catch his train "Leningrad — Canterlot", which was coming from the second, cultural capital.

Having arrived safely to his car, Chkalov provided the documents to the military conductor, without having sorted out the rank in the light of the dim lanterns of the platform. The conductor, having unfolded the documents and examined them thoroughly, returned them to the owner.

"Your place, Comrade Brigade Commander, is the thirty-first. Please come in,” the conductor's attention completely switched then to a middle-aged woman standing behind Chkalov with a hardened look. “and don't linger any longer, we're leaving now... Citizen, I'm sorry, you can't come here, only bypasses..."

Climbing the ladder inside, the pilot encountered the same senior commanders as himself. Almost everyone tried to get comfortable on their shelf, preparing it for bed, while others sat with calm expressions and weren’t drinking tea with eating gingerbread. It was easy to guess that these were the same commanders from the cool, windswept Leningrad. Soon they would serve hand in hand not only in another state but also in another world, in another universe.

Throwing the suitcase with personal belongings under the lower shelf, Chkalov climbed onto the upper one and, with his hands behind his head, with a heavy sigh, began to scroll through the latest events in his head. The day turned out to be chaotic; there was no time to think about everything that happened. And Chkalov didn't want to, to be honest. Now there was plenty of it on the way, and in order not to be bored in vain, he started thinking.

Equestria. A place, personally unfamiliar to Chkalov, was heard by almost every citizen of the USSR. Magic, miracles, and another world opened just a little over a month ago. ‘Nonsense!’, everyone who believed in science a little bit would say, but no one began to perceive the statement personally from the party and Comrade Stalin as a stupid and unsuccessful joke. The tension was growing by leaps and bounds, many people became afraid that the seizure of their native world would begin. The unknown was frightening. But at some point, everyone was allowed to breathe a sigh of relief when the diplomats returned with good news. A month later, the recruitment of specialist volunteers for a business trip to the other side of the portal began, and last week, a limited military contingent of the Red Army.

The telegram sent about the request to urgently arrive in Moscow from vacation explained practically nothing; only an appointed meeting with Stalin personally dispelled the confusion. There was a set of those who want to stand guard over the tranquility of another country for a year and a half. Let it sound proud and even belligerent, but because of the peacefulness of the locals, soldiers, and their commanders will hardly have to take up arms and shed their blood. Then it became clear why a couple of days ago the test pilot was unexpectedly offered a business trip and command of a brigade in the state under the unusual and strange name Equestria. The party needed to send its trusted people to Equestria, and such as Chkalov could show the color of the common people of the Soviet Union.

Chkalov did not refuse such a trip, allured by the possibility of new and interesting adventures. The spirit of everything new, unknown, and beautiful has not yet left him.

The next couple of days passed like a flash in the confusion and the day of the trip crept up unnoticed…

Glasses of hot tea rattled on iron cup holders, the wheels of the train rattled appeasingly and tankers chatted quietly from below. Two stocky and swarthy commanders, their tunics unbuttoned from the stuffiness, discussed the current situation in another world, about the monarchs standing there on duty, about their love and dislike for simple and hardworking people.

Yawning, Chkalov looked at his wristwatch and blinked in surprise: the time was well past midnight. Stretching, he turned over on his side, rightly believing that the morning of the evening would be more complicated.

***

The light of the bright Sun filtered through the large, uncurtained window, warming everything that stood on the table. The dream, pleasant, but so shaky, slipped away somewhere as someone persistently shook the pilot by the shoulder. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he saw the guide standing over him.

"Five minutes until we arrive at Canterlot Train Station. You should get ready, Comrade Brigade Commander."

"Okay, I got you."

Having heard the affirmative answer, the conductor went further along the car to wake up the others, leaving Chkalov to jump off his shelf and go to wash his face. It was not fitting for a commander to get acquainted with a dirty and sleepy new city.

As the conductor said, the train stopped exactly five minutes later. The aisle was already crowded with people with personal belongings. Taking his small brown suitcase, the pilot moved to the exit. Having descended onto the gray-yellow platform, Chkalov, like most of those present here, was surprised by the beauty of this place. A low-roof station building with a mounted clock stood opposite it, and behind, in the distance, towered the spires of a white stone castle. Even from the city center, it was visible at a glance.

"Comrades, enter the station building! I repeat, please enter the station building!" a white-haired man in the uniform of an NKVD major with crimson buttonholes broadcasted through a megaphone.

Most of the newcomers, talking quietly, went to the arch of the building. It was then that Chkalov saw an inhabitant of this world for the first time: a pony. It was a black mare in a train station employee uniform. She had a small stature and, relatively speaking, large, expressive green eyes. She looked at the approaching people without much surprise on her face while they openly and shamelessly stared at her.

Inside the station, there were many spacious benches. With some noise, the arrivals sat down and awaited further instructions. A few minutes later, a familiar NKVD major returned. He looked at everyone present with a heavy sigh and began to explain the situation without a mouthpiece.

"Commanders, military doctors, political workers, and fighters, you are now in the capital of Equestria, in the city of Canterlot. I think all of you have already been told about your new responsibilities and rights. I will only repeat the most important of them: do not use your service weapon against the local population, do not engage in fraud, and do not interfere in local showdowns. And, of course, be polite, kind-hearted, and, if possible, help. Remember, all other people will be judged by you. You will learn the rest directly at the place of your service. In the meantime, you will temporarily reside here in Canterlot. Any questions?"

"May I apply?" a young political officer in a dashing cap raised his hand.

The major nodded affirmatively and the political instructor continued:

"How long do we have to sit here?"

The gray-haired man stood for a while, thoughtfully stroking his chin, but answered:

"Unfortunately, I can't say. Most of you will go to your units today or the following day, but there will also be those who will have to wait up to a week. This is the deadline." he answered the political instructor's question with full confidence. "Is that all?" the major asked.

Silence answered him.

"Then I ask you, comrades, to follow me to the castle. There, you will receive the keys to your rooms."

Everyone stood up- Chkalov turned out to be almost at the very beginning of the column with more than a hundred people.

Three three-toners and two Black Emks were waiting for them on the street. Senior commanders were offered a place in the command vehicles, while the rest had to settle in open trucks. There was an incredible heat, from which there was nowhere to hide. But unbuttoning the tunics and taking them off was not supposed to be according to the regulations, and it was simply indecent. A little further away there were already curious ponies of all types and varieties. According to the issued brochure, Chkalov already knew about all four types of ponies: pegasus, unicorns, terrestrial, and alicorns. There were even a few reporters taking pictures of the people arriving by train. Someone waved with a smile, some just watched with their head tilted to one side, and some went about their business without noticing anyone.

Sitting in the back seat of the emochka, the pilot immediately opened the window — albeit not much, but it helped to cope with the hot air. The divisional commissar was sitting next to Chkalov. He kept wiping the sweat running down his face and neck with a blue handkerchief and adjusting his thin-rimmed glasses. Ahead was a young driver, tanned to a bronze hue, and a major of the NKVD already familiar to everyone present.

Reaching out and shaking hands with everyone present, he said:

"Let's get acquainted. Pyotr Mikhailovich."

"Valery Pavlovich." replied Chkalov.

"Alexey Valentinovich. The commissar nodded and also squeezed his calloused palm.

"So we met. If you have any questions, feel free to come to me, I will always be happy to clarify anything you’re confused about." smiled Pyotr Mikhailovich.

The first car started, followed by all the others, letting everyone give way to the column, driving slowly to avoid hitting an unwary foal or distracted resident. The road was originally for everyone, without sidewalks, and not made for modern cars.

Chkalov took off his cap and, putting it on his knees, began to look at the city around him. Canterlot was definitely ancient, full of unusual architecture; Chkalov thought it would be a good idea to walk through these streets in the coming evening until his work was loaded.

A strange sense played out before the pilot during his sightseeing. On the other side of the street was an open carriage with an earth pony harnessed to its front. He was carrying his passengers, two unicorns, at an easy trot.

“So, they’re unaware of the work of an ordinary horse. I wonder if this place has sledges here?” Chkalov thought, eyeing the passing cart with a surprised look.

The car then turned a corner, driving onto a humpback bridge over an artificial river about a meter and a half across, and started to go down a new street. A ghostly coolness wafted from it, which disappeared at the next moment.

There were bright and colorful signs of shops and cafes. But not only ponies were sitting in the open air at street-side tables of eateries — here and there, Chkalov noticed people in military uniforms. They drank tea with a pony across from them without experiencing a sign of discomfort from their unheard conversations. A light aroma of sweet pastries flew into the car's interior, arousing the appetite of all those sitting within.

The driver, looking into the rear mirror, apparently noticed Chkalov began to scour the houses with his eyes in search of the source of such a delicious smell, said:

"Comrade Brigade Commander, may I apply?"

"Of course."

"Here, on the corner of this street, is an excellent bakery, although it’s not very noticeable at first glance. The ponies cooking there are, relatively, inexpensively and make good food."

"Hmm, thanks. I'll take that into account." the pilot nodded gratefully to this advice.

Turning back to the window, Chkalov again began to look over the architecture of Canterlot, all the while thinking that the city would be a good place for his future service. Let it be a bit far from the center to the outskirts, where his brigade will most likely be, but the local beauty and diversity cover it all.

The road then went uphill. Ten minutes later, a line of cars drove under an arch with statues of two alicorns holding the Sun and the Moon. The territory of the princesses' castle has gone. The driver of the car turned sharply to the right and drove into a parking lot.

"That's it, comrades, we’ve arrived." said the major as he opened his door. "Come on."

When everyone left the car, they had already taken out a cigarette from their packs, intending to take a drag of bitter smoke, but the major pulled them back.

"Please do not linger. You will always have time to smoke."

Disappointed, the soldiers and commanders put them back in their pockets. Chkalov just grinned at this and looked around- a park was not too far away, full of tall and shady trees, and white stone statues of various exotic creatures everywhere. The road they turned off led directly to a small square in front of the castle, their tall spires, undoubtedly of the great architect, were pointed to the sky and the Sun.

As soon as everyone gathered, a group of people moved to the entrance of the castle. And when they approached, the group was met by guards standing on either side; gilded cuirasses and helmets sparkled in the light, like the noble knights in fairy tales. Each had a halberd on his shoulder, and their muzzles did not express little emotion.

“What wonderful training they must have.” Chkalov thought, examining the guards in medieval armor from head to hoof.

The major just walked by, also not paying any attention to them. Doing the same, Chkalov and the others entered the castle, following closely behind the major.

Once indoors, they found themselves walking down an expansive hall with a chandelier holding thousands of candles, marble staircases with red carpets, paintings, and nobles scurrying around. It was calm and quiet here, unlike the busy streets. Several aristocrats greeted the major and asked something. But he dodged their questions, saying he was in a hurry. They nodded understandingly and did not detain him with small talk.

The arriving people were taken to the second floor by the stairs and then to the left wing of the castle, its left and right walls adorned with guest rooms. The other side was decorated with mosaics of various battles and great events led by two alicorns.

“Either they are the greatest rulers or very narcissistic.” Chkalov mentally issued his verdict.

At the end of the corridor, the group encountered several employees of this part of the castle, receiving a key to a private room from them. The pilot looked at his key to see he got the seventy-eighth room. He found it almost immediately, unlocking it and entering with no hesitation.

The room turned out to be good, but meager compared to the rest of the castle outside. Double bed, bedside table, wardrobe, toilet, shower, and a small window at the end of the room that looked out onto the square in front of the porch. Nothing superfluous and only the most necessary.

Putting the suitcase on the bed, Chkalov began to sort things out. The three-piece suit immediately went to the closet, on hangers, thoughtfully left for guests. The pilot then carefully put his underwear, T-shirts, and shorts with pants in the nightstand’s drawers. But after thinking a little, he took out one set back and put it on the bed. He was going to sweat a lot today, and it definitely wouldn't hurt to shower beforehand.

Chkalov quickly closed his room door and locked it with his key to prevent random and uninvited guests from walking in as he undressed and got into the shower. There was no faucet, but instead, there were two large buttons colored red and blue. The shower tile was pleasantly cold on bare feet, but as soon as the water started, it ceased to remain that way. After washing off the dirt and sweat, Chkalov stood under cool water for another minute to cheer up and clear his mind. The day had just begun, and there was a lot to do.

After finishing the water procedures and getting dressed, the test pilot went outside. It wasn’t difficult to find the maid; she and several others were on duty in this wing, ready to help, explain or take her to another part of the castle. A lilac filly in a maid outfit happily agreed to escort the man to the dining room. On the way, she told him where the major's office was, saying it was not always possible to find him there, but his two deputies worked until ten in the evening and usually don’t leave the office.

The small pony took Chkalov to the first floor, walked through several corridors, and arrived at a dining room with people and ponies inside. Thanking the maid for her help, the pilot went inside.

The large room was almost empty, with only a few round tables for five people occupied. Taking a tray and cutlery, Chkalov stood behind the counter as a soldier in an apron and a chef's hat came out of a side door.

"What can I get you, Comrade Brigade Commander?" he asked and smiled.

"Let's go with the usual: soup and something on the side."

"Good."

The soldier turned around and took a plate, putting a steaming bowl of soup and pasta on it before filling a glass with tea and handing it to the pilot. Chkalov nodded and thanked the chef, leaving and sitting at a table in the far corner of the dining room. After taking a sip of hot tea, he started the first course. Cabbage soup with fresh cabbage and mutton satisfied his appetite, making him eat quickly with the provided spoon. Having finished with the perfectly cooked soup, Chkalov started on the pasta, eating much more slowly and getting the full taste of each piece of meat with the noodles. Now with an empty plate with a satisfied stomach, he drank the remaining tea and wiped his lips with a napkin. Chkalov looked around, seeing people gradually filling the empty tables more and more. Looking at his wristwatch, realizing he had arrived a little earlier than lunch had started.

After throwing the tray with dirty plates into a compost bin, the pilot left the dining room. It makes little sense to go and find out immediately about his appointment team. Most of them have a legitimate lunchtime, and no one wants to spend it on work- it's uncultured. Plus, the blazing outside deterred Chkalov from exploring the city despite his curiosity. So, in the meantime, he was confined to the castle.

"Let my legs carry me by themselves.” Chkalov said to himself, walking forward along one of the many corridors without turning anywhere.

The souls of his boots thumped loudly on the red-carpeted marble floor, the carpet having a simple, golden design. On one side of the corridor were windows taller than a man with low window sills. Through them, the backyard could be seen, possibly with the private garden of the princesses and their favorites. Stopping at one of the windows, Chkalov stared at the beauty and diversity of the local flora and fauna. Even if not everything was visible from here, it was difficult not to notice the beautiful fiery-red bird on the branch of an apple tree, as if the bonfire itself had come to life to see the world through the eyes of the living.

A heavy knock distracted Chkalov from contemplating the garden, and the unfamiliar bird, as three guards left one of the adjoining smaller corridors. Two were already wearing the familiar simple cuirasses and helmets with spears. The third wore a white crest on the helmet and light-plated armor connected by a fibula in the form of a sun with a short sword hanging at his side. They were arguing loudly about something, apparently not noticing the person ahead of them. When they did see him, they immediately fell silent with an awkward silence, which Chkalov decided to break first.

Approaching the guardsman, the pilot saluted and introduced himself. "Commander of the fighter aviation: brigade Chkalov. I arrived in Equestria this morning by train."

After a short silence, the guardsman with the comb replied,"Captain of the solar Guard White Theil.” he shallowly bowed, “I'm sorry, Sir Chkalov, but I'm in a hurry to meet Princess Celestia. If you are lost, I can escort you."

"No need. I decided to explore the castle in my free time. But I wouldn't mind seeing your supreme rulers in person."

"Sorry, but no. The reception of visitors today is strictly limited."

"It's okay. Goodbye, comrade Captain." Chkalov said, waving to the guards.

Captain White Theil nodded and, together with his soldiers, resumed walking briskly down the main corridor. The pilot, after seeing them off, walked to and turned down the direction where the three ponies came from.

Its corridor was distinguished by fresh flowers arranged in silver vases filled with dirt- roses, tulips, and hyacinths bloomed and filled the area with a pleasant but faint sweet smell. An arched door appeared ahead with a mare depicted wearing crossed spears with a white rose in the middle.

"If you don't open it, you won't know." With these words, Chkalov pulled the door open. It gave way with no issue, opening without the slightest creak. A small hall with drinking guards, full of hubbub and laughter, instantly quieted down once its inhabitants noticed the pilot entering. Dozens of pairs of eyes darted into the doorway, looking with interest at the uninvited guest.

***

Vasily Ivanovich Chuikov, who had recently been appointed military attache in Equestria by the party, was in a hurry to attend an urgent meeting with Princess Celestia. He had a leather briefcase with documents in his hand, followed by Ivan Ivanovich Kopets, the commander of all Red Army aviation units in Equestria. They approached the doors of the conference room. Two guards standing by cleared the passage and let the commanders through without hesitation.

Inside, at a large oval table, most of the guests were already sitting. After taking their seats, the generals breathed a sigh of relief and began to wait for the last ones, among whom were Princess Celestia and the captain of the solar Guard.

The table was divided into two parts: five ponies were sitting on one side, and six people were sitting on the other.

The door swung open again, and a belated White Tail entered. After examining the hall with a close look and not noticing Celestia, he plopped down on a chair. Everyone sat in silence. Finally, the majestic Princess of the Sun appeared on the threshold, making everyone present to stand up. The ponies bowed to their highly respected leader, and the people only nodded in greeting.

"Good afternoon, my loyal subjects and guests of Equestria. Thank you all for being able to come to discuss the important events of the past week."

Her muzzle was decorated with a friendly half-smile, which could hide anything. But it was not easy to recognize true emotions through a thousand-year-old mask. Celestia went into the hall and sat at the head seat of the table.

"So… Heavy Hooves, what can you say about the negotiations with the griffins?"

A fat Earth pony named Heavy Hooves cleared his throat and spoke:

"In short, the griffins are very much concerned about our close relations with the Soviet Union and the growing limited contingent of the Red Army. They have dramatically increased spending on defense and weapons. There are beliefs that they are preparing for a possible repulse of our combined offensive, which isn’t planned. Relations have become tense but not yet hostile. Our embassy and the best diplomats continue to convince them otherwise. That is all from me, Princess."

"Thank you for the information provided. What about the food supply? Is it enough, dear Vasily Ivanovich?" Celestia said, turning to the pilot.

Chuikov got up from his seat.

"Food supplies have always been provided on time, but the problem lies elsewhere. We have a catastrophic shortage of transport for transportation. Almost all cities and settlements located near the parts themselves take the initiative and allocate the missing reserves. Parts of Canterlot, Manehatten, and Las Pegasus are fully secured. But the daily wagons with transport, fuel, and specialists should solve this problem within two months."

"Hmm... good. What do you think about the griffin situation?" Celestia tapped her hoof on the table thoughtfully.

"A temporary decrease in the activity of aviation, tanks, and infantry near the border. Perhaps sending a diplomatic mission from us to Gryphonstone." Chuikov suggested.

Celestia pondered Chuikov's words for a moment before saying: "Does anyone disagree with Vasily Ivanovich?" Celestia asked, carefully looking around at everyone present, looking for answers on their faces and muzzles. Everyone was silent. "Then so be it. Are there any other important reports that require my immediate response? You can leave written reports and statements to the Chief Secretary. I will review them all as soon as I can. Thank you all again for your time. You can all leave now."

Celestia got up from her chair and nodded goodbye, disappearing in a flash of golden magic. The others left their important documents for the secretary and began to slowly leave. A corps commissar approached Chuikov, who had remained silent until that moment.

"Vasily Ivanovich, do you think this is a good idea? Have you thought about the fact that they themselves are not averse to attacking Equestria?"

"I was thinking, Pyotr Ilyich. But we cannot show our strength on someone else's territory, otherwise, it will entail the severance of trade and diplomatic relations not only with griffons but also with other creatures. We can only defend ourselves. If the situation does not improve in a week, then take measures to create a defense and counteroffensive plan. The plan must be kept in the strictest secrecy and the Princesses and pony officials don't need to know about him."

"I Understand You, Vasily Ivanovich." commissar nodded.

A group of six commanders led by Chuikov left the hall and soon dispersed to their offices. There were still a lot of problems to solve and, some, on the same day.

***

Chkalov did not have time to apologize and hastily retreat as one of the sitting mare guards with a mug of foamy liquid waved a hoof. "Would you like a drink, sir?" She asked.

"Drink?" the pilot asked in surprise.

"Yeah. Have a cup of cider with us for the friendship of ponies and people!” someone else exclaimed.

Accepting the invitation, Chkalov sat down next to the same mare, an azure pegasus with a mane the color of straw, prudently moved. She smelled faintly of alcohol and blueberries.

She held her hoof out to the man and said: "I'm Blueberry, and what's your name, sir?"

"Valery Pavlovich." he didn't bother with his full title and shook the hoof of the pegasus.

Blueberries giggled at this gesture and added: "It is customary for us to knock hooves against each other, not squeeze. But I don't mind such a greeting either." A large wooden mug with carbonated cider was then placed in front of Chkalov. Laughter and noise reigned again in this room, taking the man for their own.

The unicorn sitting opposite with a reddened muzzle stammered, asking: "Well, how do you like Canterlot, man?"

"I haven't had time to process it all yet. So far, I like it… And I will ask you to address me by you or by your first name and patronymic."

"What?" the stallion rolled his eyes. "I'm a corporal, and who are you anyway?"

Chkalov was about to reply harshly sharply to the impudent pony but stopped when he felt a hoof resting on his shoulder. Turning to the mare with an unspoken question on her face, he saw her shake her head. But the unicorn sitting behind the pilot answered instead.

"Don't mind him, Valery Pavlovich. When the fool drinks, he can say or do something he will regret the next morning. Hey, guys! I think our corporal has had enough for today. Can you take him to bed?" She called out.

Three stallions from the next table approached the drunk pony across from Chkalov, grabbed him by the forearms, and tried to pull him off the chair. At some point, he suddenly started up and kicked.

"Let go! I command you! Let me talk to it!" He slurred angrily.

The pilot silently watched as three healthy Earth ponies easily twisted him out of the chair and dragged him to the door.

"I overdid it a little.” Blueberry shook her head and grinned sadly, but after a couple of moments, she returned to the man with furrowed eyebrows. "It's a little noisy here. Can we go for a walk?"Her little face with big yellow eyes expressed a mute request to go with her.

After a little reflection, Chkalov got up without touching the alcohol. "Sure." he answered shortly.

Happily waving her tail, the mare jumped to the door. The pilot followed her, leaving the rest of the ponies to continue drinking cider and having fun. Finally, leaving behind this noisy company, they were left alone in an empty corridor.

"Forgive me if I was too blunt, but I've only been in the Guard for a week. I lived in a quiet village and never heard a lot about people. I really, really want to know more about you."

Chkalov broke into a kind smile. "There's nothing to apologize for. Healthy curiosity has not hurt anyone yet. I wouldn't mind learning more about ponies myself."

Suddenly she giggled and noticed an inquiring look, hurried to explain, "Oh, I just thought up so many questions before the meeting, and when it came time to ask them, I sort of forgot. Can… Can you tell me where and how you became who you are now?"

"Well, I was born in the village of Vasilevo, graduated from seven grades there, then went to college, but I couldn't finish as the school was closed. I worked as a stoker for a while, but everything changed when I saw the plane with my own eyes for the first time..."

"The plane? Is this the thing that sometimes circles over the city?" Blueberry interrupted.

Chkalov nodded, "Yes, she is the one. That's how it all started. I caught fire with the idea of flying like a bird in the sky, to feel the freedom given only in a spacious blue sky. And now you see in front of you a test pilot, a brigade commander, a hero of the Soviet Union… Maybe you can tell me how fate threw you into the capital?"

She was a little embarrassed and shuffled her foot, answering:

"My story is not so interesting. I've spent my whole life in my village of Lonley Field. All my childhood, I helped my parents sow oats and rye. One day, I got damn tired of it and decided to enroll in the guard. I haven't reached any heights, I don't have an officer rank, and I'm not even considered a hero of my village." She peered at the floor, a frown developing on her muzzle.

Seeing the sadness on the pony's face, Chkalov decided to support her. "Everything is still ahead. If you want it, you have to give your all. Only then will you be able to reach your set heights. Your whole life is ahead, so cheer up."

Blueberry looked up at Chkalov with surprise, which turned into a thankful look. "Thank you. Sometimes this is not enough when friends and family are far away and cannot help." a slight smile flashed across Blueberries' face.

Together they reached the end of the corridor. Chkalov did not press with his questions, fearing to seem callous. Silence formed between them.

"And what is your world like?" Blueberry decided to be the first to break the silence.

"It's complicated. I can't explain it the first time.” Chkalov sighed heavily and leaned on the sill of a nearby window. “ We have no magic, no miracles, and magic, unlike you. Throughout our history, we have achieved everything with sweat and blood. Our mind is what becomes our main tool. We invented and studied, became stronger, and did everything so that the children and the children of our children could live better than us. We also had tsars, nobles, and the bourgeois. At one point, peasants and workers got tired of suffering hunger and constant wars of emperors and kings. We overthrew the elite and formed our current Union of Soviet Socialist Republics."

"And we love our princesses Celestia and Luna. And never before have ponies wanted them gone." Blueberry interjected, a look of subdued shock on her face.

"That’s your country, but in our’s: the power is to the Soviets! Peace to the people! Factories to workers! The land is for the peasants!" said the famous slogan of the pilot.

"Why do simple ponies need power? Princesses know better how to live and work. Why take everything from some and give it to others?" There was an unkind note in Blueberry’s voice.

"Is it good when the bourgeois and aristocrats live at the expense of us commoners? When people are at the head, ponies, no matter who, born in the circle of aristocrats rule those whom they know nothing of the truth. Monarchs can be as naive as children. Seeing that in the capital, in the city of aristocrats, they live well and believe the reports about the same good life of these insatiable bourgeois- these are not rulers, but stupid and big children."

"You don't know them! Shut up! Shut up!" Blueberries shouted, her voice bouncing off of the walls of the corridor.

Chkalov fell silent. He himself did not notice how he insulted not only her princesses but also Pegasus herself; he should have predicted that his commitment to a different ideology would lead to such a clash. He's older and more experienced, but now he's behaving like a child.

The pilot lowered his head, shyly hiding his eyes from the angry pony. Judging his gesture in her own way, the mare turned around, angrily swinging her tail, and went in the opposite direction. A simple and good-natured conversation turned into a fierce argument. Angry at himself and his tongue, Chkalov spat on everything and took out a pack of Elite cigarettes, his favorite. A minute later, he was already inhaling bitter smoke.

He was so lost in his confused thoughts that he failed to notice how they approached him.

"Hello, Valery Pavlovich. Long time no see." someone said in a familiar voice.

Looking up, Chkalov saw a tall man with joyful blue eyes — in front of him stood Ivan Ivanovich Kopets, an old friend and an equally wonderful fighter pilot. "Good afternoon, Ivan Ivanovich." He greeted back.

"You shouldn't be smoking here."

Chkalov gave up on it, "I don't care. The mood is spoiled. it has become unbearable."

"Well, finish your cigarette and come with me to my office. I think you're wondering how everything works here."

After taking a couple more breaths, the pilot put out his cigarette and left the butt on the windowsill.

"Yes, we already know... Eh..."

"I see, I see. Faced with an ardent lover of the local princesses?"

"Yes. And how did you guess, Ivan Ivanovich?" Chkalov asked.

"Everyone has had such an experience. There is only one way to avoid such a thing — not to raise this topic, Valery Pavlovich."

Chkalov only nodded at this advice and followed the young general. After walking down the corridor, they came to the stairs, where they climbed to the third floor. Staff workers were running around with stacks of papers, Red Army soldiers were standing at their posts with rifles, and there was not a single pony.

"It's strange, but I don't see any ponies here; even ordinary guards are replaced by our fighters."

"It's very simple, my dear friend. This part of the floor was given to us by Princess Celestia herself. But the ponies still come here occasionally." Kopets immediately answered Chkalov's question.

The two commanders turned into an inconspicuous, at first glance, room. It had not yet been completely refitted, but there was already a massive table, several leather armchairs, a small sofa, and a telephone. The curtains were drawn, creating a pleasant twilight in the office.

Kopets sat in one of the chairs and offered the same to the brigade commander. While Chkalov was settling in, the general took out a clean ashtray and a silver cigarette case with an engraved coat of arms.

"Would you like to, Valery Pavlovich?" Kopets held out an open cigarette case.

"I won't refuse." said Chkalov and took a cigarette.

There was silence. Each of the commanders was busy with his own thoughts about life in Equestria, and each had plans for this world.

"Ivan Ivanovich, what did you like about this city?" Chkalov blew out a cloud of smoke while his fingers drummed on the table with his other hand.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to walk through all the streets and get acquainted with the sights of the famous capital, Canterlot. While recruitment is underway, and equipment is being supplied from our world, we can only dream of peace. But from what I've seen, I can say that the city is beautiful, and the people… Sorry, the ponies here are friendly, even if there are exceptions in the form of arrogant nobles. Valery Pavlovich, I think you have the opportunity to freely explore the capital."

"What about the rest of the cities, provinces? How are things with the other parts?" Chkalov asked the following question.

"I'm sorry, my dear friend, but I don't know that. According to the reports of other commanders, it is even easier in the provinces than here. Even if they are inferior to Canterlot in terms of the number of amenities. There is Manehatten: a city with factories, high-rise buildings, and a working population. Now there is the five hundred and thirteenth fighter regiment. But it is equipped with only one-tenth of the aircraft. The airfield is uncovered, and the pilots temporarily live in the city. Ponyville is a small town not far from Canterlot, about a hundred and fifty kilometers away. It is important not only as a strategic point but also as the residence of another princess — Twilight Sparkle. I haven't seen her personally, but I've heard a lot of positive and flattering words." Kopec stopped and poured himself some water from a decanter on the table. Wetting his throat, he continued. "There is also a fighter brigade and a tank battalion of Orlenko. Maybe you've heard of him?"

Chkalov shook his head negatively.

"This is the first time I've heard. A good person?"

"Yes, just fine, though a little grumpy.” The general smiled, remembering something about this tankman, and returned to the conversation a couple of seconds later, “ They say that there will be more infantry and a cavalry regiment next to Ponyville. As you can see, many have not arrived yet. The situation is the same in other cities, provinces, and villages: lack of equipment, personnel, and equipment."

"Yes, Ivan Ivanovich..." Chkalov drawled. "According to you, things are not going well."

"This is only so far. In a few months, all combat units will receive the equipment they will need. The trains are coming, Valery Pavlovich. They are going steadily and tirelessly."

Suddenly, Kopec abruptly stood up and looked at the wall clock. "I'm afraid, my dear friend, I could only spare such a short time for our meeting. When everything settles down, we'll have plenty of time to talk. But in the meantime, if you'll excuse me, there are urgent matters."

"Thank you, Ivan Ivanovich. I will visit you soon. Goodbye." Chkalov got up from his chair and shook hands with the general.

As he was leaving, Chkalov heard Kopets start looking for something in his desk, furiously moving the drawers. He didn't have a minute of free time, but even with such a schedule, he wanted to devote this short time to an old acquaintance and, like him, a pilot.

After closing the door behind him, the test pilot looked at his wristwatch; seeing it was already late afternoon, he went to the major to find out about his future brigade.

After circling around the floors a little, Chkalov- albeit not quickly -found Pyotr Mikhailovich's office. After knocking, Chkalov entered the major's office. He wasn't there, but a young political instructor sat hunched over at a nearby table covered in various papers. The political instructor didn't pay any attention to the pilot for a while, but after finishing the last words, he raised his tired, bloodshot brown eyes. Noticing the brigade commander at the threshold, he roused himself and stood up. The crumpled uniform, ink-stained hands, and a deep sigh, unnoticeable to the newcomer, spoke of his incessant work for several days.

Putting his hand on his cap, which tilted to the side, he prepared to say a greeting.

"Stand down, comrade political commissar. No need. I can see how tired you are."

Nodding gratefully, he sat back down on the chair and discreetly scratched the stubble that had grown over a week. "What do you want, Comrade Brigade Commander?" said the political instructor in a soft and quiet voice.

"I need to know my destination. Arrived by today's train." Chkalov said directly and clearly.

After rummaging through the stacks of papers, the political instructor shook his head slowly. "Please forgive me, Comrade Brigade Commander, but there are no documents with your appointment and the location of your unit, just like everyone else who arrived today."

"Thank you, Comrade political commissar. I won't distract you anymore." the pilot turned around a hundred and eighty degrees and left.

Not knowing what else to do with himself until the evening, the pilot returned to his room. Having taken off his shoes and thrown off his tunic and cap, Chkalov collapsed on the bed. It only creaked softly under his weight but good-naturedly accepted a person into her feather bed.

There was an unpleasant feeling that everyone was working tirelessly, and he was the only one doing nothing. Everyone Chkalov met was either too busy or turned out to be Pegasus monarchists. Knowledge about this world is very small, but even this is bread. Wherever he is sent, they will be hospitable, and there should be no difficulties. It pleased me, but I still wanted to stay in the capital. It has everything a military man needs and even more. And who would refuse a big city?

Rethinking everything that had happened during the first half of the day, he fell asleep unnoticed.

***

When the brigade commander left, the young political officer tried to get back to work. The usually cheerful Artem looked at this moment, to put it mildly, unimportant. His fingers trembled from the incessant writing, and an approaching headache threatened his head again.

Rubbing his temples and wincing, Artyom rose from the table and went to the window. The sun, the blue sky, and the happy residents walked about the castle grounds. That's what political instructor Artem Georgievich, sitting in a stuffy office without fresh air, saw, who went on a business trip to see the world but did not sit for a whole century at work that did not end. Two days without a break for sleep. Closing his eyes for a while, he smiled faintly, imagining how soon he would be walking through the park, along the city streets and alleys of Canterlot, enjoying life and giving smiles to passers-by.

"Artem Georgievich, you're not alive. Sorry, I'm late today." The political officer turned sharply at the familiar voice and saw the senior political officer with a worried look. "Listen, go get some sleep. You’ll collapse from impotence and fatigue right on the floor if this keeps this up."

Indeed, a little more and Artem would have fallen right here. Without a verbal response, the political instructor nodded briefly and trudged to his room to sleep. Without noticing anything or anyone, Artem Georgievich got to the bed and, after touching the pillow, passed out immediately without changing his clothes.

“Where have I seen this brigade commander before? Not in person, but I saw it. Who is he?” That was his last thought before he fell into a deep sleep. For him, a rough and endless day is over now.

Author's Note

This is what Valery Pavlovich Chkalov looks like.

New Commander

The sun, which mercilessly scorched everything below it with its fire kiss a couple of minutes ago, dimmed considerably in the passing time. Not having finished smoking his cigarette, Chkalov raised his head and opened his mouth in surprise at what he saw. Just a few hundred meters from the ground, pegasi pulled small clouds into one large mass over the fields. They did it so quickly and skillfully that the fluffy mass, under the bucking onslaught of the pegasus, began to change its color from snow white to a depressing gray, transforming into a massive storm cloud.

“It’s most likely going to rain buckets any moment now.” Chkalov grimaced, taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette to the dirt and stopping it.

And with an impeccable sense of comedic timing, the pilot’s intuition turned out to be correct. The pegasi finished connecting the clouds and compressing them, flying away as the strange irrigation system started working. The first large drops fell, followed closely by a heavy downpour, limiting the visible view of the road ahead.

Chkalov cursed under his breath, raising an arm over his head as he ran up to the driver lying under the car. "Well, are you done yet?" Chkalov asked, trying to shout over the noise of the rain.

"Everything will be fine soon, Comrade Brigade Commander- I'm almost finished. Wait a couple more minutes." the driver under the car answered him in an irritated tone.

The pilot had been soaked to the bone but didn't care about his damped clothing. He was not afraid of the idea of looking unpresentable in front of the Red Army and the commanders of Ponyville. But what bothered the pilot was the car stranded on the roadside itself, which could sink and get trapped in the slowly forming mud.

Standing at the edge of the road, Chkalov peered into the distance, trying to see cars or, at least, carts, but, as luck would have it, it was impossible to see something behind the white, foggy veil of rain. If a group of tanks was coming from Canterlot now, the tankers simply wouldn’t have time to notice the obstacle in the form of a black emka. And after that, the tank will easily overturn it into a ditch, having crushed the car’s body like nothing.

Suddenly the rain began to weaken rapidly. After a few minutes, only a few drops remained — the cloud had exhausted its supply. The Pegasus turned out to be very prudent, and more than the required rain for irrigation of the fields did not pour out on the heads of two people. Soon, the remnants of the clouds disappeared, and the Sun appeared with a clear sky once again. It gently warmed the soaked pilot, and the road also became visible: the carts the Emka had overtaken had climbed the hill, large umbrellas attached to the shafts.

Seeing the incident ahead, the ponies wasted no time bringing their carts to the side of the road and, removing their harness, hurried to the people.

"What's wrong, mister?" The first earth pony ran up a little out of breath. He had a blue coat with an ash-colored mane and tail; green eyes looked up at him with concern.

"Do you need help?" said the second, a white mare with a lime-green mane and tail; and sky-blue eyes.

Chkalov examined the two Earth ponies until he gave a confident smile with a thumbs up, "Don't worry, it's all right, just a little breakdown. You see, we jumped up on the pit here. The car turned around. Some parts flew off; that's the main problem here." He sighed, pointing to the car behind him with his thumb. To which they nodded understandingly.

"This hole has not been repaired for a month.” The blue stallion grumbled. “Can’t say I misunderstand your situation. Everyone here’s miffed about the lack of work in this town." He explained.

Just before Chkalov responded, the driver crawled out from under the car, "Comrade Brigade Commander. Done. We can leave right now." He said, whipping off the oil and grime from his hands with a rag.

The pilot and the pony turned to the car. "Good. Drive the car to the side of the road and put yourself in proper shape." Chkalov ordered.

"Hear you loud and clear, Comrade Brigade Commander!" the driver cheerfully replied, turning to the car.

Looking away from the retreating driver, Chkalov looked down at the blue stallion with a friendly grin. "Thank you for deciding to help." the pilot thanked.

"What are you... we didn't do anything. The blue stallion replied, confused.

"Even so. You offered help, and that's the most important thing. Therefore, thank you, comrades." Chkalov said insistently with a half-smile on his face. He did not even notice how out of the norm an unfamiliar word- in this land -escaped from him. The ponies returned with their own smiles, said goodbye, and went back to their carts.

The driver started the truck shortly after and finally put it at the curb without interfering with traffic. With a bit of thought, the pilot stayed in the fresh air to dry out while the driver brought himself to a relatively clean appearance.

***

Having overcome the rest of the way, the black emka drove into the city. Ponyville lived a measured and quiet life. The ponies watched curiously as the car drove past them. It can be seen that this is not just a replenishment and soon something will happen to people living in Ponyville.

On the outskirts of the town, the road was unpaved upon approaching the quaint area, but it changed as soon as the density of houses and buildings increased. Here it turned into a pavement paved with well-treated gray cobblestones.

The town itself was very different from the city of Canterlot Chkalov had left: the two-story houses were, while simple, expertly constructed out of wood and painted in two colors- one of which was necessarily white, the pilot saw in passing. There were also cafes with small terraces. They came across less often but always had visitors. Shops like grocery stores, household goods, and furniture, even if they did not have frills similar to Canterlot, were determined only by inconspicuous signs. But the confidence that prices for working people here were much lower was great. Otherwise, why save on appearance?

Emka drove another kilometer along the main streets and stopped in front of a three-story building. Chkalov took the suitcase next to him and opened the door, only stopping with one foot out the door as he turned to the driver.

"Be here. You may also have to go to the airfield." He cautioned, pushing the door fully outward.

"I understand you, Comrade Brigade Commander." The driver nodded.

Hearing the driver's affirmative answer, Chkalov nodded and, ducking his head, got out of the car. A white town hall with a tall and blunt spire appeared before him, dressed in elegant tiles and plastered with small flags. Not far from the eye-catching building, onlookers sat on benches and, not without interest, looked at the visiting guest. But the tension at the same time was not felt by the pilot's surroundings at all. This meant only one thing: the ponies welcomed the Soviet soldier with cordiality, without feeling any fear, hatred, or irritation in front of him. And unlike an unnamed part of the Canterlot nobility, they did not have the arrogance characteristic of other aristocrats.

Having adjusted his cap and straightened his tunic, slightly darkened and heavy from the rain, Chkalov climbed three steps of the building before him and opened the door.

The spacious room was illuminated by natural light from small windows on the right side of the building, opposite the entrance. In a line, standing just in front of one of three doors, ponies waited with a variety of patience- some more than others. Passing along the corridor further, the pilot noticed that each door had a sign. The first was the office of the mayor of Ponyville, the second turned out to be the deputy mayor, and only the third, the most recent, was the senior battalion commissar Belov.

After knocking, the pilot entered a small room that had clearly been hastily converted into an office, as indicated by the lack of proper office wares. In the far back of Belov's room, a plump, middle-aged man was sitting alone at a wide table, Belov himself. A newspaper and a glass of cold tea were on the table in front of him- one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. Several books with green, gray, and red spines lay flat on the edge of the table.

"Hello, Comrade Brigade Commander. With what did you come to our modest town?" asked Belov in a hoarse voice, smiling slightly.

His head was cursed with a glaring bald patch with sparse black hair failing to cover the spot with its strands. Through the thick glasses of the commissar, gray eyes with a sly sparkle looked at Chkalov. His face was decorated with a long, narrow scar on his right cheek.

"Hello." Chkalov responded simply with a nod, taking a document out of his inner pocket. "I have been appointed commander of the two hundred and forty-third fighter brigade."

The pilot placed the assignment document on the cluttered table and retreated a few steps to not overshadow the staff worker. Belov unfolded the sheet, closely studying it with an eagle's eyes, followed by him looking back at the standing Chkalov with an unreadable expression.

But the pilot's worries were quelled when a slight smile lit up Belov’s face, pointing to a sofa against the wall with his left hand. "You must be tired from the road, Valery Pavlovich. Sit down, rest." He offered.

"No, but thank you. I already sat in the car on the way here." Chkalov refused.

Belov shrugged off the refusal, “As you know. My business is to offer. Then..." he paused and took out a pen with a piece of paper, "Then I can offer you to live in a local hotel that stands at twenty Apple Street. Everything is already paid for, and the airfield is located outside the city, in the eastern district. And you will find a local princess in a large castle; she is the only one here, you can't go wrong. Some issues are solved only through it. I'll give you an advance of three hundred bits right now. Questions? Wishes?"

"Wishes?" the pilot asked again, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

The commissar, confused and hesitant, averted his gaze. After seconds of tense silence, he put his thoughts in order and answered the pilot’s sensitive question. "Yes, Valery Pavlovich, wishes. After all, you are a hero of the Soviet Union, a test pilot..."

“And Comrade Stalin's favorite.” Chkalov added with a hint of annoyance. He is primarily a military pilot, not… Someone to curry favor with. "No, I don't need anything, Comrade senior battalion Commissar." the pilot answered formally.

It seemed to Chkalov that the commissar breathed a sigh of relief, rejoicing at the closure of this topic. Belov nodded in agreement and opened a drawer. Shortly after rummaging through the contents, he took a small bag and put it closer to the table’s edge, where its contents tinkled softly. The pilot took the money, his appointment sheet, and a receipt for hotel accommodation.

After saying goodbye, Chkalov went out into the corridor. The ponies standing in line had already disappeared, and the room became deserted and quiet. There was no rustling of papers, sighs, or hoofbeats, just the good old silence.

“Well, now that’s been dealt with. I need to go to the airfield and inspect everything. Then I can settle down.” Chkalov mentally planned.

Surprisingly, the fresh air evaporated the entirety of the pilot’s foul mood, leaving behind a light, contemptuous feeling. Getting back into the car, the pilot noticed two Red Army soldiers with rifles on their shoulders on the other side of the street.

They were surrounded by five ponies, actively gesticulating and explaining something fervently to the locals. Unfortunately, from such a distance- and because of the street noise -it was difficult to hear what the soldiers and ponies were talking about, but the topic was obviously interesting. Having given up this stupid occupation, Chkalov slammed the door of the EMKI and waved his hand, ordering to go to the airfield. Eavesdropping on other people's conversations is not the business of a Soviet commander.

The car started and turned onto the main street called the Main One.

Chkalov and the driver didn't drive along the Main Road for long- the houses began to thin out, and the emka drove out onto a track road. The bumps embedded into the surface were clearly left by heavy trucks, most likely the same ones that were moving in a continuous stream to the future airfield and air station. The road descended into a wide ravine, and on both sides were fields dotted with wildflowers- the beauty of these places was awe-inspiring.

“If I forgot about this place being in another world, then I might think that I’ve not gone anywhere. It reminds me of the native fields blooming somewhere near Moscow. It won't take long to get used to this place.” Chkalov smiled to himself, continuing to look at the landscapes near Ponyville.

The hollow turned out to be short, and after five hundred meters, a tent city appeared on a field as flat as a table. Nearby was a dug-up runway- on which about thirty people tore and dug away at the ground with shovels. Fighters with red stars were crowded and stood in a row with about twenty brand-new Gulls and Donkeys.

The car stopped at the edge of the sudo-town as several people watched the vehicles approach before they hurried towards it with a brisk pace. Chkalov immediately opened the emka’s passenger door and stepped out, standing halfway out. A few seconds later, the pilot got confronted by a short combatant commander, a foreman with a machine gun resting over their shoulder by a worn strap, and a short construction worker.

When they saw the man with the brigade commander's buttonholes, they abruptly stood at attention and put each right hand to the cap and cap. The first to speak was a construction worker with a high, soft voice.

"I wish you good health, Comrade Brigade commander." They said, Clearly, loudly, with an arrangement, as it should be according to the charter.

"At ease." Chkalov answered the greeting and held out his hand.

The construction worker smiled and happily shook it. "Drill commander Captain Rybochkin."

"Brigade Commander Valery Pavlovich Chkalov. Appointed commander of your brigade." The pilot responded.

"Then why are we standing here? Let's go to our headquarters tent. All the squadron commanders are there right now." Rybochkin turned around and led the guests to the tents.

With a cursory glance, Chkalov examined the location of the brigade and nodded to himself with satisfaction — everyone was busy, and no one was hanging around and lying on the grass.

In the center of the "town" was a headquarters tent, several times larger than the others. Chkalov was the first to enter, followed by the captain. Five commanders were sitting at a large, rough-hewn wooden table. In front of them were all kinds of papers and maps. An unexpected guest interrupted their discussion and they looked curiously in the direction of Chkalov. Seeing him as a senior in rank, they stood up.

"Brigade Commander Chkalov."

Coming close to them, he shook hands with everyone, getting acquainted along the way.

The first was a dark-haired, lean man who looked at least fifty years old started. "Major Kuznetsov. Commander of the two hundred and forty-third Fighter Aviation Brigade of the Ponyville Military District." Kuznetsov said.

"Captain Zubtsov. The commander of the third squadron." a young male with curious blue eyes and a pale face carefully examined Chkalov's face.

"Captain Bogoslovsky. Commander of the first squadron." A tall and thin man, in his late twenties, with a luxurious mustache and curly hair.

"Lieutenant Malov. Adjutant of the brigade." The second young man of the bunch with broad shoulders wearing thin, slightly crooked glasses.

"Captain Kharchenko. The commander of the second squadron." loudly said a man of muscular build with sparse, straight dark blond hair and a broad face.

Chkalov once again examined all those present and nodded. "Good. Sit down." he said after a short pause.

Everyone sat back down. Chkalov removed his cap and left it to hang on a nail sticking out of one of the tent’s inner posts as a make-shift hanger. So, in complete silence, under the gaze of six pairs of eyes, he sat down on a stool kindly provided by one of the junior commanders and, crossing his arms in the lock, fixed his gaze on Major Kuznetsov.

"I think we’ve wasted enough time, no? From now on, I am your brigade commander. And I'll be glad if we get along."

***

"Well, Alexey Valentinovich?"

Commissar Sokolov tired, bloodshot eyes looked up from the archive document for a moment and looked at Chuikov with a flat expression. But instead of responding, he lowered his gaze again, searching for the word on which he had stopped.

"The principle is clear, Vasily Ivanovich. Their policy is similar to the late Middle Ages of our history, albeit with its own subtleties.”

Sokolov sighed heavily and adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down on the tip of his nose.

"We need to know all these subtleties. If we fail, the case may go to the tribunal. But the fact that you have very well understood the principle of their future actions is great news. Unfortunately, I cannot fully delve into this matter like you, Alexey Valentinovich. There are cases which they cannot do without my decision."

"Are you leaving?" Sokolov asked with chagrin without looking up.

"Yes. And maybe for a long time."

"Vasily Ivanovich. If it won't be difficult for you, please contact... the Princesses?" the commissioner thought for a moment, but after a second he continued the thought. "The fact is, my dear Vasily Ivanovich, that the copies of files given to us by archivists are not very secret. Those documents were signed a long time- and when I mean long ago: they are at least two centuries old. But later cases, pacts, and agreements of these States are still classified secrets. I am tormented by vague doubts, Vasily Ivanovich. Over these two centuries, everything could have radically changed for the griffins.” Sokolov finished by beating a drum roll with his fingers on the table with documents.

"I understand you, Alexey Valentinovich. But I can't promise we will be allowed to enter the secret vault. Our trust is not strong yet with Equestria- especially with princesses."

Sokolov did not want to say anything after the Commander’s speech. And on a sad note, Chuikov left the center archive of Canterlot and Sokolov behind, heading straight to the dining room of the princesses — where Princess Celestia should be eating at this time.

It may be indecent, but he doesn't have time for a special reception. Another person in Chuikov's place would have gone first to the ministers and then to Her Highness, but the military attache did not have good relations with the ministers. Yes, there's nothing to hide: he was strongly disliked by most of the main officials and several families of hereditary aristocrats. There were- of course -good and noble, with whom it was a pleasure to have a conversation, but not everyone liked the Soviet general and the son of a simple peasant.

Greeting all acquaintances and strangers on his way, he finally reached the cherished door. But just as he was about to push the dual doors away, a pair of solar guards blocked his path with their sharp spears.

"Princess Celestia is not receiving visitors right now.” one of them said impassively

"Inform the princess of General Chuikov’s presence." The second one ordered his partner.

Following a quick exchange of glances, the guard standing to the right of the door knocked on his side and entered the hall. There was no conversation from the other side for a handful of minutes, and it was only possible to guess what conversation was being held on the other side of the wooden barrier. Half a minute later, the guardsman emerged from the room and nodded his head towards the man, silently allowing him to enter, which Chuikov gladly accepted.

The hall was a large dining room flooded with schemes of white and golden tones on every corner. Intricate stained-glass windows nearly covered the left wall of the room, flooding it with the warm afternoon sun. The rounded table, covered with a stainless, snow-white tablecloth, was fully covered by various kinds of expensive, beautiful food and drink. Behind the mountain of culinary delights, Celestia’s towering figure sat comfortably, a golden salad fork levitating in her warm yellow-colored magic. At the sight of Chuikov, she smiled affably.

"Good afternoon, Vasily Ivanovich. What brings you to me at such a time? Has something happened?" Celestia asked, lowering the utensil in her magical grasp.

Chuikov lowered his head as a sign of respect for the princess, but nothing more.

"Hello, Princess Celestia. I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I couldn't help but turn to you for assistance in preparing a diplomatic mission to Griffonstone." He looked into the large lilac eyes of the princess but did not find a shadow of reproach, only the interest of his request. So you can continue. "The fact is that to fully understand the situation, we need documents classified as secret. I understand that this is arrogant of me, but without your help, we will not be able to conclude agreements and a non-aggression pact with favorable conditions for each side, including yours, and you know this better than me.” Chuikov spoke out with open pressure, but immediately noticing his blunder in this, he added, bowing his head in apology, "I apologize for my assertiveness, Princess Celestia."

Celestia smiled knowingly, "Don't worry, dear Vasily Ivanovich, I don't hold a grudge against you for this." she reassured the man. "And I'll think about your request. And I hope you understand that access to secret documents is a big responsibility." She said.

"I understand, Princess Celestia," Chuikov agreed with a drooping head, straightening up again, and standing at attention. "Permission to go?"

"Go, dear Vasily Ivanovich, have a rest."

"There is no time to rest. It is necessary to work.” Chuikov answered her with a grin and turned around, walking out the door.

Celestia looked at the place where Chuikov had recently stood, sadly shook her head, and whispered, "So, don't take care of yourself?" She mumbled with a sigh.

Meanwhile, Chuikov hurried to his office full of papers with unsigned orders and unresolved cases.

***

After Chkalov's words, a heavy silence hung, broken only by muffled sounds behind the staff tent. "Let's get along, Valery Pavlovich." Major Kuznetsov, now a former commander of the fighter aviation brigade, expressed his thoughts.

"That's good." Chkalov smiled sincerely.

The major's words defused the situation, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Many people knew Chkalov as an excellent pilot but not as a person. He accepted the first meeting with dignity with the Soviet commander. And now, only time will show him in this position.

"Comrade Commander, we were invited to a small "tea party" at the Princess Twilight Sparkle. Before you, we decided not to reject the offer and go. But since you are our commander now, the word remains with you." Major Kuznetsov spoke out.

Chkalov thought on the matter, only speaking up following a brief period of silence. “Since this ‘tea party’ would likely establish a mutual relationship for us, I’ll decide not to decline Princess Twilight’s offer.” He said.

Getting unspoken approval from the staff. Chkalov then left the tent and returned to the car, where the driver waited. After opening the door, he reached in and re-obtained his suitcase, to which he pulled out of the emka and shut the car’s door. "You're free. You can go back to Canterlot." Chkalov answered the driver's questioning look.

"That's right, Comrade Brigade Commander." the driver replied nodding.

The engine started, and the black emka turned around and started its long journey back to Canterlot. Chkalov took out the paper with the check-in at the hotel and tore it into small pieces with an indifferent face, letting them fall to the moist grass. What kind of commander lives three miles away from his brigade?

The wind picked up the pieces of paper with letters, numbers, and some seals, carrying them in an unknown direction.

Author's Note

This is how the same "Emka" (GAZ m1) looks like

Acquaintance

Chkalov quickly settled in a new place. His tent was only a hundred paces from the headquarters and, if anything, he could quickly get to the command post. Chkalov also studied the camp and having built the whole brigade, greeted the pilots and mechanics of the three squadrons. According to the major, the number of the brigade's aircraft is only twelve, and there are no spare parts and fuel for them at all. According to him, the construction of the runway is in full swing and will be ready in two days. And from the first of July this year, the planned construction of everything else will begin. Before the first autumn coolness, we need to do everything in time.

Now Chkalov was combing his hair back, already dressed in a ceremonial uniform with all the orders and medals — you need to make an impression of a well-groomed person who takes care of his appearance. Moreover, he will get acquainted with a special blue blood, and they know a lot about it.… Every now and then preening for the next ball and with such regular affairs.

Ugh. Chkalov mentally spat. His task is not to show his attitude to the nobility, but to make friends with them. Get over yourself and your dislike for the sake of everyone else.

What's gotten into me? Maybe she's not as bad as she thinks: they speak well of her, without guile. Soon we will find out how true the rumors about her are.

The pilot put on his cap and left the tent. Kuznetsov and Bogoslovsky were already standing at the headquarters. The major was as well dressed as Chkalov. The captain, on the contrary, in a field tunic and with the top buttons unbuttoned, was slowly smoking a cigarette. Seeing Chkalov, the commanders perked up and at first wanted to stand at attention, but an absent-minded wave of his hand and a kind smile from Chkalov stopped this action.

"Are you ready, Valery Pavlovich?" having clarified, Kuznetsov asked.

"Ready, ready, Dmitry Alekseevich. When will we go?"

"Right now." and turned his head to Bogoslovsky with a cigarette in his teeth, "And quit smoking already! It's better to go and check on your yellowheads, otherwise they might be sitting around." morally instructed the major.

Bogoslovsky shrugged his shoulders and threw the cigarette on the ground, immediately extinguishing it with the toe of his boot.

"Permission to go, Comrade Commander?"

"Go ahead." Chkalov answered, who had been watching and had not intervened in the conversation until that moment.

Bogoslovsky turned around and soon disappeared behind the tents. After seeing him off with a frown, Kuznetsov, followed by Chkalov, went to the half-truck that stood at the outskirts of the tents. Only half an hour ago there was a whole column of them here. The drivers worked hard every day and every night, carrying provisions, uniforms and weapons with equipment. So this truck and a half with canned food was unloaded by the fighters not so long ago. Kuznetsov saw this as an opportunity and asked for a lift to Ponyville. The driver not only agreed to give a lift, but also waited until Chkalov came up. Even if it took only three minutes.

Two people quickly jumped into the back of the car. After a couple of seconds, the engine purred and the car moved along the rutted road to the town. The truck ride was wildly uncomfortable, but there was no other option. On the offer of Major Chkalov to get into the cockpit, he resolutely refused.

"We're not going that far, Dmitry Alekseevich." he answered him with a smile and almost rolled when the car turned into a hollow at the turn. But it was not so much the distance as the thought of the inequality of the position of the two commanders in the car that influenced this decision.

Despite the fact that the distance was small — it seemed to the two pilots that instead of three kilometers there were all ten to the pony town line. On the street, the Star car slowed down — everything is further on foot. Chkalov and Kuznetsov jumped onto the road and thanked the driver for acting like a human being. After a short time, the lorry disappeared in the direction of the road to Canterlot.

Chkalov glanced at his watch and, having assured himself that there was no need to hurry, with a straight posture and military bearing, walked with Kuznetsov. Zvezdnaya Street is quiet, without cars and people, except for two guards with rifles at a house converted into a warehouse. This was clearly indicated by the sign "Food Warehouse" in large letters above the door with a padlock. The main part of the architecture in this neighborhood were residential buildings, several shops and a small alley with wooden benches in the shape of flowers.

But only two pilots crossed some invisible line, as they immediately fell into the midst of people and a pony market. Ponies went to get groceries after work, and the Red Army soldiers enjoyed being dismissed to the city, sneaking around wherever at least something was out of the world order of a Soviet citizen. Half-empty shops with various sweets and goodies here and there were occupied by half-starved soldiers. Drooling over previously unseen sweets, they frantically counted the remaining bits from the advance. You can't blame them for this, sometimes even more serious commanders wanted something else that was not included in their daily diet.

Chkalov and Kuznetsov were no exception, but this time, apart from a curious glance and a short stop of the most unusual, they were moving towards the exit at the other end of the Ponyville market.

Eventually, the market ended and the number of ponies and people decreased. Among the usual two-story houses and cafes, a large three-story white building stood out. On closer inspection, a hospital with a recognizable red cross could be seen in it. There were two trucks parked outside the hospital with the same red crosses on a white circle and a dark green emka. Half a dozen military doctors and hospital staff gathered on the wide porch. It could be assumed that today they had an exchange of experience, reports and lectures by military doctors about Soviet medicines, treatment methods and vaccines. From their appearance, it could be said that the communication was long and tiring, but at the same time quite interesting and productive.

The commanders turned off the wide Vinogradnaya Street and went out onto the path to the castle. Tall, unlike Canterlot, none of the medieval ones known from books. Overgrown with uneven edges, with protrusions, the castle was a huge purple crystal.

Precious or not, Chkalov did not know, being from a peasant family. Kuznetsov did not go very far from his comrade brigade commander, also having an origin from the proletariat.

At the second floor level, two banners with a pale pink six-pointed and smaller white stars on a purple background hung on either side of the gate.

Another oddity was that the castle did not have the usual royal Guard commanders. It's like they came to visit friends.

The pilots stood at the gate and knocked together. There was no need to wait for the owner — the gate opened itself as if by magic, revealing an empty crystal corridor. Kuznetsov and Chkalov exchanged glances, but entered. And again the gate closed by itself.

Comfortable. Chkalov thought about such a system. And you don't have to keep servants on the doors.

The corridor wasn't straight: it wobbled and branched like a boa constrictor after dinner. It was unclear which way to go next. Suddenly, a small purple dragon came to the rescue. A black formal suit with a bow tie, even if it fit him perfectly, but clearly did not fit his frivolous childish look.

"Hello. You are Sir Chkalov and Sir Kuznetsov, right?" he asked in a childish voice, holding a tablet and a pencil in his small paws.

"That's right, kid." Chkalov answered affirmatively, softening his voice a little.

The reaction of the little dragon was immediate: frowning, he replied with displeasure:

"I'm not a baby. I'm already thirteen years old!"

There were signs of confusion on the faces of Chkalov and Kuznetsov, but they did not ask why at this age he looks like all seven. After a quick glance at Chkalov , Kuznetsov replied with a smile:

"We believe you, we believe you."

After these words, the dragon's muzzle took on a more good-natured look, albeit with a touch of seriousness.

"Let me take you to Twilight." the dragon waved his paw and led the guests forward.

Chkalov already thought that the hall was at the very end, but no — before reaching the end of the corridor they were led to the other side, where there was a spiral staircase. Passing by the second floor with the same scanty (for persons with royal blood) atmosphere, they came out on the third floor. Let the floor itself be inferior in size to the first, but because of the hall alone, which was also a library, it seemed quite large. Smooth shelves of books stood only against the walls, not interfering, while in the very center of the hall it was possible to sit at round tables for reading. But at this moment they were crowded together in the form of one large table, at which six ponies and two people were already sitting. Hearing the footsteps, everyone turned towards the newcomers.

Chkalov also did not waste time in vain: examining the two commanders of short stature, while not avoiding a direct look.

"Good evening, comrades and ladies." Kuznetsov said with a good-natured smile, putting his right hand to his cap. Chkalov did the same after him.

"Hello. We've been waiting for you. Have a seat. The purple alicorn pony sitting at the head of the "table" said a little shyly. Apparently Princess Twilight.

The sitting commanders got up and went to meet the pilots. The tankers, also dressed in full-dress uniforms, stretched out their hands. Opposite Chkalov stood a mature major, about his age, with a deep look of once faded blue eyes. Dark-haired, but already with strands of gray hair breaking through here and there, he was seen as a man who lived only by service. Such a person hardly has a family. The Orders of the Red Banner, Lenin and the Spanish Medal of Valor, clearly obtained by hard work, glittered dully on his chest.

"Major Orlenko."

"Brigade Commander Chkalov."

Kuznetsov also got a tankman of about twenty-five, no more. In his brown eyes burned the youthful fire of adventures and feats. Young and hot, you can expect anything from such for the sake of your ideas.

"Captain Grishin."

"Major Kuznetsov."

After shaking hands, the commanders took their seats. Ponies watched their acquaintance with interest and in complete silence. It's time to get acquainted with representatives of the opposite sex and another race.

The first word was taken by the mare-alicorn:

"I think you are already familiar with my name, but according to etiquette, I still repeat: my name is Twilight Sparkle. Don't call me Princess or Your Highness. Twilight smiled sheepishly and continued. "I will be glad if you will just call me Tway and call me you. To see me not as a princess of Equestria, but as your friend with whom you can chat. Also sitting here are my close friends: Rainbow, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity and Pinkie."

Twilight pointed to her words with her hoof at all the mares sitting in the hall.

Chkalov met Rarity's gaze. She smiled sweetly and waved her white hoof weakly. The pilot's gaze shifted to the other mares. Sitting opposite, a rainbow-maned pegasus with a bold look purposefully examined Kuznetsov and Chkalov. In her dark pink eyes there was clearly some question to the pilots, but she did not try to voice it yet. On the right side of her sat a yellow pegasus, hiding its muzzle behind a long pink mane and furtively looking at the commanders with timid turquoise eyes.

"I'm glad to meet you all! You are so interesting and unusual. How about throwing a welcome party for all the people in Ponyville? You will come to it, won't you?" a pink earth pony with curls responded in a high and loud voice. There was a huge smile on her face all this time, and a fervent light was burning in her big blue eyes.

"Pinky… Ahem, it will be correct in the plural not people, but people. Twilight corrected her hyperactive friend a little shyly.

"Yes, Pinkie. I think they don't have time to go to parties right now." the last pony with orange fur gave voice. On her head was a worn leather hat in the Western manner. There was a peasant simplicity and straightforwardness in her voice.

Pinkie's smile faded a little and she looked hopefully at the four commanders.

"Maybe… Can we all become friends?" she asked no one in particular.

"Absolutely." Orlenko answered her encouragingly. There was a kind and reassuring smile on his face.

This immediately cheered up the pink pony. All her other friends grinned at this change of mood, but said nothing.

"Well? Let's drink tea." said Twilight and began to pour it out of a teapot with flowers. At her behest, magic lifted spoons and saucers into the air. Pieces of cake flew after them.

"Listen, can you tell us about your life? About your exploits on the battlefields?" Suddenly Rarity asked.

All the commanders exchanged glances with the question of what to tell them. All except Orlenko. The good-natured smile disappeared from his face and his gaze became sad. He didn't want to think about his recent past in Spain.

The ponies noticed it too. Kuznetsov and Chkalov came to the aid of the tanker.

"Of course, we didn't fight, but we have enough interesting stories. For example, our Valery Pavlovich made a non-stop flight across the North Pole. He and his crew spent sixty-three hours in the air." Kuznetsov began to tell everyone a well-known story in the Soviet Union.

Pony's eyes lit up with curiosity and attention from Orlenko switched completely to Chkalov. He confusedly confirmed this with a short nod and continued:

"In this flight we did not break the record for the flight distance, but its importance was in another — the chosen route. I, Comrade Baidukov and Comrade Belyakovs received a special task from the party. This was not the first attempt and they tried before us, too, but for technical reasons it could not be done," Chkalov took a deep breath, furtively watching the listeners and their ears sticking up. "We didn't need awards, fame and all-Union love, we challenged nature itself and difficulties. Five hours after departure, we discovered a fuel leak, but to return back meant to let everyone down and we..."

***

While the Ponyville commanders were drinking tea and Chkalov was telling his story of the flight, at that time Chuikov was signing another order in Canterlot. Just a few minutes ago, a fighter jet took off from an airfield near the capital to Baltimore with a package for the garrison border troops stationed there. The essence of the order was simple — in the absence of communication with Chuikov himself in Gryphonstone, two regiments of fighters would fly to their aid. Directly, across the sea, they will quickly reach the griffin country. This should have an intimidating effect on the impudent griffins. And in the best case, to force them to come to negotiations on favorable terms for Chuikov.

There were several knocks on the door. Without raising his head Chuikov shouted:

"Come in."

A second later, the door opened and a unicorn guardsman stepped over the threshold of the office.

"Mr. Chuikov, you are requested to be present in Princess Luna's room in ten minutes." he reported loudly and clearly.

Frowning, Chuikov was lost in thought for a few moments, but remembering the guardsman immediately switched to him.

"Thank you. You can go now."

"Yes, sir." said the unicorn. The words "Sir" and "Mister" hammered into his head will sound like that to the commanders of the Red Army no matter how much you try to retrain them.

The pony raised a hoof and turned around. He marched out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Chuikov exhaled and looked at his wristwatch.

"Twenty minutes to seven." he spoke in a low voice, sighing heavily. "Not a moment of peace."

Having folded the documents into two piles, Chuikov put them in a drawer. He locked it with a small key and put it in his breast pocket. After quickly inspecting the office for the presence of something undesirable for prying eyes, he left the office and headed to the right wing of the castle, where Princess Luna lived.

A few minutes later Chuikov found himself in front of a door with a symbol of the month on a dark cloth, strewn with stars of the sky. It was guarded by elite guards — thestrals. Feline pupils and leathery wings became the main external differences between them and Pegasus. According to rumors, they were bred a thousand years ago for one purpose only — to kill. Sadism and bloodlust are no strangers to them. They feel no fear and are ready to die for Princess Luna at any moment. The perfect living weapon. But again, these are just rumors and greatly exaggerated, as Chuikov believed. A Soviet person should not be frightened by another kind of pony, but their appearance and notorious gossip become the only obstacles to friendship outside the service. Maybe someday Chuikov or someone else will change this opinion… In the meantime, an exhausted man was knocking on the door leading to the second Princess' chambers.

The door opened and Chuikov entered a spacious room in dark colors, but upholstered in silver. Match the night ruler. And this ruler is now sitting on a large bed with his muzzle to the guest, tucking his front legs under him.

"Come on in. There's no need to stand in the doorway, I don't bite." Luna playfully told Chuikov

.

When he woke up and stopped looking at the princess's chambers, he lowered his head for a while as a sign of respect for the princess, but not allowing his back to bend. The door closed softly behind him.

"You've probably already heard about me, and I've heard a lot about you, but let's start with dating. My name is Princess Luna-the second diarch of Equestria and the lady of the night." she began and looked expectantly into Chuikov's eyes.

Chuikov did not look away.

"Nice to meet you, Princess Luna. I am Vasily Ivanovich Chuikov, a citizen of the Soviet Union and currently a military attache in Equestria."

"And you are not a blunder, Vasily Ivanovich." the Moon said with a grin.

"In what way exactly?" Chuikov raised an eyebrow, but did not take his eyes off the lunar diarch.

"Your art of hiding true feelings. You don't shake like an aspen leaf in front of me, you don't try to appease me by stuttering along the way."the moon expressed her thoughts.

Chuikov was still standing with an eyebrow raised, but now confusion was added to the misunderstanding.

What? Did she call me to chat about some nonsense? And in what sense do I hide my true feelings? Does she think I'm afraid of her? Chuikov was perplexed, but he did not voice his thoughts, wisely believing that this was unnecessary.

Now it's the turn of the princess to curl her grin from her blue face and be genuinely surprised by Chuikov.

"You're afraid of me too, aren't you?" pony-alicorn asked with some hope.

"No way. You are not a rifle or a bayonet. So why would I be afraid of you?" Chuikov answered her without a drop of lies.

The man's words put her into a short stupor and for a while she remained sitting with her mouth half open, thinking about something intently.

"That's how..." the Moon said softly and for some reason smiled.

But Chuikov heard her and risked violating the princess' personal space. After taking a couple of steps and squatting down in front of the mare, the man asked:

"Has something happened?" there was affection and caution in his tone.

"No..." she began to deny it, but under Chuikov's gaze she gave up. "I... have always been afraid of ponies. From the very first day after my return. The nobles and all the families of the aristocrats began to shake with fear, thinking that anyone objectionable to me would be condemned and go to the mines. And simple ponies… They are still afraid of the return of Nightmoon and eternal night, which I promised to arrange. Even if not as much as in the first months, but behind their strained smiles and shifty eyes, I always see a reflection of my rebellion, blood flooding the streets and the cries of the doomed..."

Then she smiled sadly and fell silent. Chuikov took it as a sign.

"Believe me, everyone makes mistakes and..."

The moon suddenly interrupted Chuikov and again hung the mask of the ruler without feelings.

"I know that you, Vasily Ivanovich, need access to secret archives. I can take you there and under my supervision you can read whatever you want in those walls." Luna switched to another topic and looked at Chuikov waiting for an answer.

A heavy burden fell on the shoulders of a fragile woman, even a pony. If she doesn't want to continue this topic, then I have no right to put pressure on her. Chuikov thought sympathetically and got up from his squats.

"There is one more request. My comrade Divisional Commissar Sokolov is now in the archives. He understands documents better than I do and he needs to know all the details of your secret documents with griffins." explained Chuikov.

Luna thought for a while and nodded approvingly.

"In thirty minutes we will meet at the doors of the secret archives. Please don't be late."

"Thank you, Princess Luna." Chuikov thanked her and straightened up and stood at attention. "Permission to go?"

"Of course. Go ahead." the Moon answered in the same tone.

Chuikov turned around a hundred and eighty degrees and walked towards the door. There were conflicting feelings about the Princess of the night in his head right now, but he was diligently suppressing them. Now it is important for him to work and perform his official duties, and only after that a personal attitude.

The door closed behind him and the Moon lowered her head, ceasing to portray. She opened up to a stranger and he treated her past and present with understanding. Luna was sure it would stay between them. Why? Everything was written on his face and read in his gray serious eyes. During her life, she had learned well to recognize ponies like him through all their everyday masks.

***

"... And after returning home, Comrade Stalin personally met us, presenting each of us with a Hero of the Soviet Union medal. That's it." finished Chkalov and pointed his finger at the medal with a gold star on his chest. His throat was dry and he immediately took to drinking the already cooled chamomile-flavored tea.

"It's a great story." Twilight smiled. "If the writer Irling took this adventure and wrote a book about you and your team, she would make a splash among the ponies." and as a sign of her words, she banged her hooves against each other, fantasizing how it would happen.

"And what can you tell us about yourself?" Grishin asked. "I am sure that your stories are no less interesting for us. After all, you have magic and miracles happen every day."

"Yes. We have saved Equestria so often that it is impossible to remember all our exploits." Rainbow Dash rolled out her chest with a wheel and proudly threw her head up.

"Ahem... Dashi, it's indecent to brag."Rarity condemned her.

"Yes, what is there… Just think of some kind of flight. I fly every day and I don't see anything in it. Now, if they were saving the world or their Soviet Union, they would be able to match us." the blue pegasus brazenly declared.

Twilight blushed with shame for her friend's words, and Applejack got up from her seat and approached the boastful pegasus. Taking a red apple from a fruit bowl, the Earth pony plugged the flyer's mouth with it. Tankers and pilots watched all this silently, but with approval.

"You'll forgive Rainbow Dash. She gets carried away sometimes." squeaked Fluttershy, standing up for her friend.

"It's okay."Orlenko answered for everyone. His kind expression and easy smile returned again.

"Don't worry, Fluttershy, we're not touchy people. Orlenko added and winked at her.

But it had the opposite effect and she hid behind her mane again.

"Then I'll take the floor." Twilight began. "It all started when I received a task from my mentor, Princess Celestia, to monitor the preparations for the summer solstice in Ponyville. That night, Nightmoon returned from her thousand-year imprisonment and Princess Celestia disappeared. I intended to find the Elements of Harmony and defeat her. My path lay in an Ever-wild forest full of dangers. They unexpectedly got involved with me and now I am overly grateful to them for this." Twilight looked at her friends with a touching smile, but then returned to the story again. "Every step we took was full of difficulties and dangers left by Nightmoon. So each of us was able to show our element of friendship. Applejack showed her honesty at a dangerous moment on the cliff and proved that she can always be trusted.

"The power is in the truth." Applejack replied with a smile.

"Fluttershy helped the evil Manticore while we were trying to force our way through it. Her kindness was stronger than all of us."

"We need to be a little kinder and then maybe we will be happier to live." Fluttershy added.

"And when we were scared of the terrible forest, Pinkie showed how laughter can help overcome fear. Before her, I would never have thought of such a method in my life."

"And it's true. Laughter prolongs life. You just have to smile more often and the world will become brighter from smiles. Pinkie Pie said, laughing.

"Rarity cut off and gave her tail to a giant water snake when another in her place could be stingy."

"What appears to me is also yours. Rarity said with a slight smile.

"...And of course Rainbow Dash. You don't think she's bad. Each of us has our own shortcomings and even Princess Celestia is no exception here… That day she went against her wishes, but remained faithful to us."

"Betraying friends sucks." after chewing an apple, Dash added.

"And then I realized that the Elements of Harmony are us. Since that day, a lot of water has flowed away: I became an alicorn, I got this crystal castle ..." Twilight finished on a meaningful note.

"And what are the Elements of Harmony? You often mentioned them and they hardly have the last place in the significance of your story." asked Grishin.

"Well, the Elements of Harmony are artifacts that can destroy any villain." Twilight explained.

"So it's a weapon." Kuznetsov concluded.

"No, no. It's not a weapon. It is not capable of harming simple ponies. Only the bad ones. "Twilight began to deny what was not obvious to herself and obvious to people.

Chkalov began to understand from the first words where everything was going and loudly announced:

"Fellow commanders, how about a smoke?" and then he turned to the mares, "I'm sorry, ladies, we need to leave for a while."

Chkalov stood up and ordered Kuznetsov to get up with a look. Fortunately, he understood everything and immediately left the table. The example of the pilots was followed by tankers. The commanders took their caps and went outside. Already on the stairs Chkalov said in a low voice to his deputy:

"You shouldn't do that, Comrade Kuznetsov. Relations with the locals need to be built, not destroyed."

"So I didn't say anything like that. Only revealed that it was a weapon. Perhaps a secret development for the single destruction of strong opponents of the government." Kuznetsov shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, but not really." Chkalov began to explain his guesses. "This is the standard practice of starting a dispute. I, too, like you, consider the Elements a powerful weapon, but we are unlikely to be able to convince the princess who firmly believes that her knife in the sheath ceases to be a weapon."

The commanders went outside and again marveled at the technology of automatic door opening without any sophisticated mechanisms. Everyone took out their own cigarettes, except Chkalov. He fumbled in his pockets for a long time and slapped them in search of cherished cigarettes. In the end, he gave up and looked pleadingly at the others.

"Here you go." said Orlenko and handed the pilot a cigarette made of shag.

He grinned, but took a cigarette. Having struck a match, Chkalov inhaled an unusual "soldier's smoke" for himself.

After smoking and relaxing, the commanders returned back to the hall. It was clear from the faces of the mares that they did not waste time in vain during these five minutes of a smoke break. No one else tried to start asserting their point of view for fear of offending the interlocutor. The time for a simple tea party and conversations about life and everyday life flew faster than I wanted. It began to get dark and the pilots and tankers who had stayed too long began to gather back to their units. After saying goodbye to everyone, they went outside.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, fellow Equestria aviators." Grishin said with a smile and put his hand to his cap, standing at attention.

"And we were glad to meet the wonderful tankers of Ponyville." Chkalov answered in the same joking manner.

The commanders shook hands and went in different directions, pleased with the past, by no means diplomatic, conversations in the princess's castle.

***

Chuikov rubbed his eyes wearily with a blurred look. The text began to float before his eyes and the man got up from his seat, littered with stacks of books and individual folders with documents. Sokolov was sitting a couple of meters away from him and non-stop absorbing information about griffins and drawing conclusions about potential tricks of rivals from Gryphonstone.

Princess Luna came up from behind and asked, already knowing the answer to her question:

"Are you tired, Vasily Ivanovich?"

"That's right, Princess Luna. But losing time can cost a lot. Sleep and rest will wait." Chuikov confirmed her thoughts with a yawn.

Sokolov took a quick look at them, but then returned to run his finger along the lines by the light of a magic flashlight.

"And yet you are unlikely to be able to continue working like this. Fatigue will take its toll and you will fall broken. In addition, now many ponies say that recycling greatly affects the quality of the result."the Moon decided to try to take people back to their rooms. "You have time outside of your sleep as well."

"We don't have that time. We are not kings or nobles to sleep half the day and dance the rest at balls." Chuikov waved away Princess's concern wearily.

Luna giggled without a shred of pretense.

"And you are a simple worker here?" Luna asked with a grin.

"But what about: he started as an apprentice in a spur workshop, and after that he was a cabin boy in a detachment of miners in Kronstadt itself ..." Chuikov began, but remembering that Alicorn did not know anything about the October Revolution, he fell silent.

Pony cocked her head questioningly to one side, but remained silent and did not ask anything.

"Okay, okay. I understand you, Princess Luna." without knowing why Chuikov surrendered.

Although no, I knew. Her anxious gaze of deep blue eyes directed at Chuikov was something fascinating and captivating. Alicorn smiled contentedly at this statement and, without further ado, lifted all the books into the air with her magic, putting everything on the shelves. Any librarian would envy her skills and professionalism.

In a minute it was all over. The door to the secret archives is closed tightly with a lock and a complex magical seal.

"Good night." the Moon wished two soldiers.

"The same to you," Sokolov and Chuikov replied.

Chuikov felt a certain awkwardness between the alicorn and him, but he couldn't say why now. All thoughts were directed to the future dream. Tomorrow, early in the morning, everything will repeat itself and with the first rays of the Sun Chuikov will begin his monotonous working day, simultaneously preparing for the trip.

Author's Note

And this is the military attache - Chuikov Vasily Ivanovich (the one who met the Luna).

The threshold of change

Two sisters, two alicorns stood on the balcony and watched the dawn, the beginning of a new day. With the fatigue characteristic of the Moon after the night shift, through the emerging yawn, she said:

"Sister… I have a question for you."

Celestia immediately turned around and looked at her closely.

"I'm listening to you, Luna."

"And what if everything is bad with friendship. It seems that no one will ever communicate closely with you… But suddenly there is someone who does not see in you only the former Nightmoon, does not want to try to use you for their own selfish purposes… Does he just see you as an ordinary pony?" Luna shared her feelings with a note of sadness.

"And who is this pony?" Celestia asked with a smile, but then immediately shook her head. "No, no. Don't tell me who he is, but tell me one thing: do you want to see him as a friend, not just an acquaintance?"

"yes! Luna shouted. "But... if he becomes a friend, then I'm doomed to watch him grow old and die while I'm still sitting on the throne. This… I don't know. On the one hand, I want to be able to have a heart-to-heart talk with someone else, have fun or be sad, but that will make it scarier every day." The blue alicorn finished in a drooping voice.

Celestia came closer and put her left arm around her sister, comfortingly hugging her.

"Don't be afraid, my little sister. Don't be afraid of life or its rules. Or do you think that just me, Twilight and Cadence are enough for you? After all, there will be not only pain, but also warmth and joy in the soul that there was such an old friend. Do you want to feel like a simple pony? So act!"

"I think you're right… Sister, Tia, can you help me?" suddenly the moon suddenly asked for help.

"of course." The white alicorn answered her warmly.

The moon turned back to sunrise. Her eyes closed for a couple of seconds, but in another second she opened them again, fixing her gaze on the flaming ball.

"I want to go to Gryphonstone tomorrow. Could you take over, taking over some of my responsibilities?"

It took the white pony some time to think over the words of her younger and only sister. Having come to some conclusions, the mare involuntarily got out a silly grin and lilac eyes sparkled with genuine interest.

"And this certain case is not our straightforward, a little stubborn and a lover of working late "stallion"?" Celestia asked innocently, emphasizing the last word. And the grin never left her sly little face with narrowed eyes.

Luna couldn't help but giggle with her sister's expression and tone.

"Everything is a stallion to you, yes a stallion. I'm not calling him to marry." Luna answered, laughing openly.

"Who knows you. And suddenly you ..." the elder alicorn did not have time to finish, but the younger one interrupted her by slapping her right wing on the back of her head.

"It's more likely that you're fooling him… Although not. Such a well-fed croup like yours, he will definitely not be interested." Luna said mockingly.

At such a statement, Celestia neighed indignantly, stomping on it with a hoof.

"Okay, okay. A little too much, sister." The blue alicorn retreated. "But seriously, how do you look at it all?"

"Of course, dear sister. I do not refuse my words and I am ready to help you for as long as my strength and time are enough." Celestia nodded.

Luna leaned on her sister and hugged her:

"Thank you, Tia."

"You're welcome, Luna." Celestia replied, accepting her sister's embrace.

***

The brigade commander's deep sleep was disturbed by the army bugle. The bugler cheerfully trumpeted "rise". Chkalov opened his eyes and stretched. The morning rays of the Sun were insistently making their way into the tent. A few seconds and Chkalov threw back the blanket, standing up to his full height. It took another ten minutes to get dressed and go to the morning toilet. Behind the canvas walls of the tent, the sounds of soldiers charging could already be heard.

Having adjusted the belt with a star on the badge, Chkalov left the tent and headed towards the formation. Before Chkalov opened a view of the slender ranks of the Red Army, Stalin's falcons. Everything is as a selection. Without going out to everyone, he listened with interest to Major Kuznetsov's speech and went to the headquarters tent. The day promised to be a quiet work for the analysis of documents and a detailed study of the history of Equestria, maps of the country, political governance. To do this, books from Twilight's personal library have been lying since yesterday evening.

After greeting the commanders sitting at tea, Chkalov took the book "History from the foundation of Equestria to the present day" edited by a certain White Wing, released in the one thousand and first year. With this not-so-thick book, the pilot found a place for himself near a small tree. Putting down a stool, the man took out his reading glasses from his pocket and sat down with his legs crossed.

The first chapter. Unification.

Since the time we know, ponies have been divided into three races: terrestrial, Pegasus and unicorns. All three races worked on a natural exchange. Earth ponies grew food, pegasi set favorable weather for crops, and unicorns raised the Sun and Moon. But they were also no strangers to war and hatred. Most often, these were local conflicts that did not have critical consequences for any party. These were the hardest and darkest times for all ponies.

Everything was changed by the coming cold of the evil spirits of Windigo. Earth ponies could no longer grow food and hungry times came. Nor could the Pegasus destroy the bad weather. At this critical moment, the ponies went to a truce and gathered a council. It set the task for the young leaders to find a new land. Two ponies from each side went on a hike: Princess Platinum and Clover from unicorns, Chancellor Puddinghead and Cookie from Earthpony, Colonel Storm and Privet from Pegasus...

Time passed quickly during the fascinating reading, but it was not the internal clock of the schedule that gave Chkalov to finish, but the foreman appeared as if from under the ground.

"Comrade Commander, you have a visitor. Pegasus Rainbow Dash asks to meet with you." the foreman reported.

Taking off his glasses and closing the book on the fourth chapter, Chkalov nodded and said:

"good. Go back to your post, Sergeant Major. I'll be right there."

Chkalov left the book on the stool and followed the foreman. A rainbow-maned pegasus was waiting for the brigade on the outskirts of the territory. Simple standing bored her after a minute and now she was doing somersaults a meter from the ground. For this action, Chkalov caught her, at the same time measuring her with a puzzled look. Noticing the pilot, she stopped circling and soared into the air, being a head taller than Chkalov.

"Oh, hi. " Pony shouted. There was a distinct note of audacity and impudence in her voice.

"Good morning, Rainbow Dash. What did you come to us with? Do you have any questions about our airfield and the brigade?" Chkalov asked delicately.

If he had been someone else, not a test pilot, not a commander of the Red Army, he would certainly have answered her in the same tone and even more.

"Well, sort of ..." the pegasus answered with uncertainty, scratching the back of her head with a hoof.

Wow... Chkalov thought about the mobility of the joints of the blue pegasus. Our horses definitely can't boast of this.

"I just wanted to talk about your ability to fly." confidence returned to her words. "How did you, so heavy, big and without wings, learn to fly?"

Chkalov glanced imperceptibly at the soldiers on duty. Those, not without a shadow of pride, occasionally glanced at Rainbow Dash. It is clear that it has become a great achievement for wingless creatures like humans to rise into the air and there is definitely no way to do without pride.

Hmm, an exchange of flying skills? This is exactly to my liking, a fighter pilot. Chkalov thought with approval and relented.

Even if she is cheeky, impudent, but she is also suitable for a pilot. There is no respect for the enemy in the sky for fighters. It is necessary to behave impudently, without showing your fear and inexperience.

"good. I ask you to come to my tent to discuss your questions." Chkalov waved his hand, beckoning Pegasus to follow him. "Just do not leave me a step, after all, this is a military territory and it is forbidden to outsiders on its borders. But for the element of harmony, the princess's best friend, an exception can be made." he warned, noticing the curious look of the rainbow-maned pony in the direction of flight crew training.

Chkalov had nothing to hide from the pony, but it was very hard to miss teasing the filly. After passing through half of the town, they entered under a tarpaulin shelter. There was nothing interesting for the pony here, except maybe a tablet and a small, carelessly folded stack of documents. But the one who might be interested is Twilight.

Sitting on a stool, Chkalov invited the guest to settle down on his couch, it was in any case softer than a hard wooden chair without a back. Look at him, he'll fall off him on the floor.

"Well, ask." said Chkalov and crossed his arms in anticipation.

Pegasus curled her muzzle:

"Please, let's not have these "You" and the like. Just call me Dash." (A little explanation: in Russian, they respectfully address Vy, and to a friend ty. I do not know how to translate this feature of the Russian language into English.) suddenly pony's familiarity began.

After thinking for a few seconds, Chkalov nodded affirmatively.

"Valera. he smiled."

In the first twenty minutes, the questions concerned only the technical part, but the further, the bolder Dash became. Questions from the fighters flowed smoothly into personal ones. Under the stories about the excellent skill of his aerobatics, a small fire of the beginning dispute flared up. Resulted in a full - fledged dispute: who is faster — an experienced pilot and his faithful iron bird or a pony born with wings?

"what? You're a coward and say so!" Dash shouted loudly and excitedly.

Chkalov, who was sitting opposite her, frowned with displeasure at another mockery from the blue pony.

"no! Do you even know what we'll get for this? You don't know about the consequences, so keep quiet." once again the pilot fought back.

The idea of putting an impudent impudent woman in her place more than once slipped through his mind, but he delayed this moment until the last. The blood was boiling with anger, but Chkalov could not prove his case. In theory. But it is not only possible to show the full power of a fighter under his skillful control and at the same time wipe the nose of a rainbow-maned pegasus, but it is also necessary.

"Weakling." Dash grinned, showing her wingspan.

"Good!" This was the last straw. The pilot could not hold on forever, and with a menacing flash of his eyes, the pilot decided to put a firm end to this dispute by taking out a tablet with maps of the Ponyville district and in particular Canterlot. He had seen these maps only briefly, without really studying them. "You will remember this day. I accept your challenge tomorrow on the new runway. My "Seagull" against your pigeon wings."

"That's the mood! But don't be too happy, I won't give in to you." the pegasus rubbed her hooves contentedly.

"Because you're going to lose, Dash."

"Is that me? Yes, I have never lost a race among the clouds."

"And without a sound rainbow?" Chkalov suddenly asked with a grin.

According to Twilight's stories yesterday, he roughly understood what this pegasus was capable of. And while it was not possible to develop such a speed on the "Donkey" or "Seagull". But the designers are not standing still and there will be new fighters: faster, more maneuverable.

"Yes, it's easy. I'll beat you in no time. Only then, Valera, will you fly along the Canterlot itself over the very edge of the houses." Rainbow laughed and looked down her pride at the man. She has no lack of confidence.

The pilot, without showing how nervous he was from the last condition, unfolded the maps and began to show the route of the future race with a pencil.

"From Ponyville, through thick clouds at high altitude, make three dead loops in a row and a barrel. Then five kilometers along the border of the evergreen forest, fly to the city… And fly through Canterlot without taking off above twenty-five meters from buildings. And remember, no rainbows from under the tail." the man explained the upcoming flight.

"It's coming! "Well, I've got to go now."

Pegasus got up and stretched her wings and went to the exit, followed by Chkalov. He was already tired of sitting and was glad to see the end of this meeting.

Coming out into the light of God, the mare turned to the pilot and smiled a little.

"Well, see you later." and rose into the air.

"See you later." Chkalov answered her.

After seeing her off, he walked towards the dining room. From these conversations, a brutal appetite woke up in him, and it played that the brigade commander did not go to breakfast.

"So, well, let's see what our cooks have cooked there." Chkalov said softly.

He couldn't get it out of his head: what kind of punishment would follow for a malicious violation. The question is not whether it will be or not, the question is only to what extent. You can abandon this idea, but it was definitely not in the spirit of an air reckless driver.

***

A medium-sized young brown-eyed man entered Chuikov's office, who was sitting in his usual place. Completely shaved in the ironed form of a political commissar, he quickly put his hand and uttered the usual greeting to everyone:

"I wish you good health, Comrade Lieutenant General. Lieutenant Nazimov has arrived on your orders."

Chuikov looked through the glasses of his glasses at the lieutenant in the form of a political worker and took a folder marked "secret" from the left edge of the table.

After opening and reading something, he returned his gaze to Nazimov.

"At ease, Artem Georgievich." Chuikov smiled and took off his glasses. "How to serve under the guise of a political instructor?"

"Yes, everything is fine, Comrade Lieutenant General. Except that it is only hard to work, there is a large flow of various kinds of documents." the scout complained. "I have no intention in the current situation to begin acquaintance with potential informants."

"Nothing, nothing. The better you get into your role, the more chances you have of completing your assigned task. But not about that now. In your case, an excellent possession of a radio transmitter is indicated ..." Chuikov stared at Nazimov, letting him know that confirmation of this information is expected from him.

"That's right. I am a radio operator and a recruiter." Nazimov answered affirmatively.

"Then I will need you tomorrow in a diplomatic mission. Your task will be as follows: to transmit information to Equestria from me personally, getting in touch three times a day. Indirectly show their sympathy for the griffins and hatred of the Communist Party. It is better to find support in the form of an official or a diplomat. Is everything clear?" Chuikov finished.

"That's right, Comrade Lieutenant General. Permission to go?" Nazimov said and stood at attention.

"Go ahead." Chuikov nodded.

The lieutenant turned around and went out the door, leaving Chuikov alone again. But it didn't last long. After a while, someone knocked on his door again, and this time it was not a man, but a pony. More precisely, Princess Luna. She was here for the first time since the establishment of the Red Army command staff in this wing.

"Good afternoon, Princess Luna." Chuikov greeted her with some surprise at her appearance.

"And the same to you, Vasily Ivanovich." Luna nodded back. "I wanted to talk about tomorrow and, in particular, the diplomatic mission to Gryphonstone."

"good. Have a seat." Chuikov pointed with his hand to the chair opposite him. "What kind of questions are you interested in? Maybe requests?"

"Not really." Blue Alicorn began. "To put it bluntly, I'm going to go with you tomorrow, Vasily Ivanovich. I will act as an outside observer and help you conclude contracts on favorable terms."

From such a statement of the princess Chuikov was a little taken aback, but having mastered himself, he asked an intriguing question:

"Why?"

"It's in Equestria's best interests, too. Your consents will directly affect the pony. — the Moon gave a logical answer.

"And that's right ..." Chuikov said softly, but a little later the chase turned back to the princess. "I don't mind your presence, and even more, it will be nice for me to see someone familiar from the ponies at these delegations."

"That's nice." the mare smiled, pleased with this answer. "I'm not saying goodbye, I'll see you tonight in the secret archives."

Luna turned around and left the office.

"And what are your real intentions on this trip, Princess Luna?" Chuikov drawled thoughtfully and without guessing returned to work. The day promised to be stably difficult, not foreshadowing anything bad. The reports from the districts were good, except for rare moments with the supply of fuel.

***

The night covered Equestria with its soft embrace, plunging the inhabitants into a serene sleep. Only Canterlot continued to live after sunset. Nightclubs and bars worked, aristocrats and nobles gathered for private parties, where courtiers wove their insignificant intrigues, and played billiards and poker… But not in the mansion of the dignitary Redray.

Behind the curtained windows, by the light of magical lamps, twelve ponies were sitting at an oval table. All of them were, to the very last, rich and influential pony aristocrats. Untouched expensive snacks and champagne spoke of the importance of their conversation today.

"Gentlemen, we cannot delay." The red unicorn declared hoarsely. "With every hour of our delay, the enemy is only getting stronger, but not us."

"Not at all, Mr. Redray." Black pegasus, who was sitting at the other end of the table, objected to him. "Our influence on the rest of the nobility goes accordingly. And we are about to win over the majority to our side. But you are right about one thing - procrastination can cost us all our efforts."

"good. I heard you, Mr. Blackbelly. How are things with the Guard, Mr. White Tail?" Radray turned his attention to the white-maned unicorn. "Are they ready to fulfill their duty to the whole Equestria?"

"Ready, Mr. Redray. But what will the mob say?" the stallion asked an intriguing question in response.

The red unicorn fell silent, considering the answer.

"And what about the rabble?" Another pegasus with a gold monocle exclaimed. "It's not for them, simple ponies, to decide the affairs of the country when it's so important. Let them stay at home and keep their heads down. In extreme cases, the loudest ones are taken into custody until the circumstances are clarified."

"And yet, it will be better if the townspeople are for us, and not against us… Well, if it doesn't work out, then we will act with a tough method," the green unicorn with emerald eyes quietly added.

"I agree with Mr. Emireld." White Theil nodded. "The support of the masses is in our own interests. Just imagine, gentlemen, if the whole of Canterlot is for us, then the princesses will have to agree with our decision."

"If the information from our informant is correct, then the day after tomorrow at seven in the morning Princess Luna and General Chuikov will leave for Gryphonstone." said Redray with a slight smile, much like a grin. "It's decided. Tomorrow at five o'clock in the evening, the Solar Guard should begin to fill the streets unnoticed by everyone, set up reinforced posts in every block, and small detachments should act to arrest all interventionists on the streets of the city. There should be one answer to the questions of citizens: "A curfew has been announced. Please return to your home before it is completely canceled." Everything should be ready by six o'clock. In parallel, a company of experienced guards captures the airfield and controls the road to Canterlot. At seven o'clock, the remaining forces surround the castle and prepare to capture the entire right wing of the third floor. Remember: no one should use combat spells and weapons until the first person killed or wounded. We'll just force everyone to surrender without too much bloodshed. Does anyone have any questions?" the head of the meeting finished, examining the faces of all those present.

"Yes, Mr. Redray. And a lot." Blackbelly said with a frown. "To begin with, there's also Princess Celestia. If she was not convinced by simple words, then our uprising in her presence in the city will give only one thing — our arrest and purges of all officials and aristocrats close to her." the black pegasus finished on a sad note.

"It's simple. In Mainhatten, a strike at several factories and factories will be staged a couple of hours before the start of the uprising. The city authorities, bribed by us, will turn to the princess for help and she will not be in Canterlot for at least six months." The red unicorn explained with a smile.

"Then another question, Mr. Redray. Against us stands, albeit a small, but still a trained army, perfectly proficient in its high-tech weapons. What can we do against them if a fight starts?" asked a logical, but therefore so terrible question White Teil.

"It won't start." Redray replied firmly and confidently. "Any attack on the ponies will be considered by the princesses and the entire government as a declaration of war. None of their officers will allow their soldiers to attack." when finished, the unicorn examined everyone and added. "If I have answered all your questions, then please read the plan in more detail."

A servant immediately entered and handed everyone an envelope with a sealing wax seal. Opening it, everyone saw one sheet with a map, another with a plan of all actions up to the minute.

"And then you can ask more subtle questions and adjustments to the plan." said Redray, sipping and wetting his throat with champagne from his glass…

We solve the dispute by deed

At the other end of Ponyville lived, like their fellow fighters, Orlenko's tank battalion. In several rows there were light and high-speed cars that in a moment rush to the enemy's positions, tearing the ground with tracks, and rumbling with the shots of their guns…

But what kind of enemy is here? — Orlenko asked himself a rhetorical question, lighting a cigarette from a small flame of a match. — Eh, here she will burn out and never flare up with her fiery temper again... just like me.

For the umpteenth time, he could not fall asleep in such silence, not being afraid to hear the explosions of shells and the chirp of machine guns. The war in Spain was over for him personally. It was only out of the kindness of their hearts that they did not send him to the rear, to teach the young.

And that business trip, damn it, is no different from the rear. It's better for me to burn a match in the fire of war, while I burn down in this heat to the very tip. — the tanker lamented his fate.

All his life he dreamed of standing guard over the Motherland and its interests, so that no child of a great country would know fear for his life from enemies coming in line after line.

Puffing on the strong smoke given by Major Kuznetsov cigarettes, he turned to the tank with the number twenty-two. The new one, clearly not baptized by the fire of battle, was peacefully waiting for his fate, whatever it was.

If you don't wait for a fight, you'll rust under the warm rain in Equestria. Yes, it's for the best. I don't even want to think that one of the ponies saw you in action on the battlefield. - with a kind smile, Orlenko touched the cold metal of the combat vehicle with his left hand.

After finishing his cigarette, he looked sadly at the clear sky interspersed with white and cold stars. After checking the sentries at the posts at the same time, he returned to his tent. Finding a kerosene lamp by touch, he lit it and put it on the table. On a blank sheet of paper, Orlenko began to write out words that were difficult for him with a pencil.

I, Major Orlenko Timofey Semyonovich, ask you to remove me from my post and return me to the USSR...

But a rustle behind him did not let him finish his report. Turning around, the tanker tried to see the source of the noise. But there was no one else in the semi-dark tent, lit only by one kerosene lamp, except Orlenko himself.

If it wasn't my imagination, then it was clearly not a person. — a crazy thought flashed through Orlenko's head. The tanker's hand reached for the revolver on his belt by itself. — If I wasn't in the world of magic, I certainly wouldn't think about any evil spirits, but here the devil with horns is getting into my head.

After running his eyes over all the corners of the tent once more, the tanker was surprised to notice long white ears behind the couch, right next to the bag of breadcrumbs. Getting up from the stool, he quietly approached the bag. Involuntarily, the tanker burst out laughing, which immediately scared off the rabbit, who was sweetly eating breadcrumbs. The white rabbit immediately tried to gallop away, but Orlenko deftly blocked the exit of the tent, cutting off his escape route. Obeying his instincts, the rabbit huddled in a corner and from there looked at the man with frightened eyes. Slowly, like a hunter, the tanker approached the hunted animal and abruptly grabbed him by the ears.

"Well, did you get caught, little robber?" Orlenko asked the food thief with a grin.

Of course, he did not answer him, only plaintively squeaked for such treatment with his carcass.
Loud footsteps were heard behind the walls of the tent and after a couple of seconds the foreman looked into it.

Seeing that the commander was awake and fully dressed, he put his hand to his temple:

"May I apply, Comrade Major?"

Orlenko examined the foreman and nodded.

"Speak up, Foreman."

"Here one pegasus asks to enter the territory of the deployment of our battalion. Allegedly, her rabbit is sneaking around here and asks to pick it up." the foreman's eyes immediately shifted from Orlenko's figure and stared at the white rabbit.

Orlenko grinned and waved his hand.

"Bring him, let him come to me."

"That's right." the foreman replied and disappeared into the darkness.

Orlenko turned to the rabbit and said reproachfully:

"And here's your mistress showing up. I guess I didn't catch up with you, you weasel."

Sitting down on the couch and putting the rabbit on his lap, Orlenko handed over the same pegasus to wait. We didn't have to wait long and after a couple of minutes the filly entered the tent. As soon as the owner of the rabbit got into the light of the lantern, she was immediately recognized by the tanker. In front of Orlenko stood Fluttershy — a timid yellow pegasus, forever hiding her cute face behind a long pink mane.

"Fluttershy?" the man asked his guest a little surprised.

She nodded curtly in response. Maybe she would have been hiding in a thick shadow, but when she noticed her rabbit, she immediately came to life and came closer.

"Angel!" she exclaimed happily.

There was no limit to her joy. Looking at such a yellow cutie, Orlenko had a sincere smile on his lips, which, however, was not noticed by the guest. Pegasus took the rabbit in his hooves and right on the spot began to scold him for hooliganism.

"Angel, you can't run away! A serious conversation is waiting for you at home. Fluttershy said sternly.

Although Angel shivered at these words, he did not run away from the angry pegasus. After enjoying the moment of reunion with her pet, Fluttershy returned her gaze and attention to Orlenko.

"You, forgive me for my rabbit. He can be very naughty sometimes." The yellow pony said apologetically, shuffling her front leg.

"It's okay. I had no idea that you ponies had such clever rabbits. Everyone understands, everyone is aware."

"Then… Can I go?" Fluttershy timidly asked for permission.

"Of course. I'm not staying with you any longer. You probably want to sleep already, don't you? It's already the second hour of the night in the yard. Orlenko replied calmly and gently.

The mare had already taken a couple of steps to the exit, but suddenly stopped. Looking at the smiling tanker, she quietly added:

"Come to tea with me tomorrow… Goodbye."and somehow quickly flew out of the tent.

Orlenko sat on the couch for several minutes, thinking about this pony. Something she breathed so far and dear. What was not and could not be... home.

Glancing at the table, he remembered his report and his departure from Equestria. Part of his being was attuned to the end of everything connected with this world, but another... another was now saying the opposite.

"Well..." Orlenko drawled in a half-whisper. We must wait, the report will not run away early. "and getting up from the couch, the tanker removed his sheet to the very bottom, where the eye could not catch."

***

Early morning. The warm rays of the Sun gently warmed, occasionally hiding behind rare snow-white clouds, blown by a young breeze. After dressing quickly and having breakfast, the three people were fully prepared for a trip to a neighboring state. None of them had a submachine gun, a pistol, or even a knife. The calculation was based on the full sanity of the griffins and fear can act aggressively in the presence of the Princess of the Moon. After all, this pony is certainly not weak, but even more than a powerful immortal. To whom Hosh will be able to give back.

If Chuikov and Sokolov each had a briefcase in their hand with various kinds of documents stuffed tightly, then the political instructor who closed this small group walked with a heavy and massive radio transmitter. Their short walk from the castle ended at the porch, where a car was waiting for them. As soon as everyone sat down, Emka turned around and raced through the deserted streets of Kanterlot to the train station.

Chuikov, Sokolov and Nazimov came out on the platform. At this hour, it was busier than usual: there were posts with the night guard, journalists with cameras were looking for the best angle, ordinary ponies were hurrying with large suitcases, and in the center of all this was Princess Luna, accompanied by two thestrals with short spears. The royal mare walked slowly, as if playing to the public and to maintain her authority. At some point, her ears twitched at a new sound and she turned to see three people walking behind her. Involuntarily, a barely noticeable smile slipped through her, which soon quickly replaced the more serious expression of her muzzle.

Chuikov and his comrades were delicately offered a seat in the royal carriage, which is why he did not refuse. Ten minutes later the train started for Gryphonstone. The task promised to be difficult, but when the Moon was sitting next to it, it ceased to be so difficult to accomplish. So Chuikov thought, not guessing what would happen after the next sunrise.

***

Princess Celestia was sitting all alone at the dining table and was eating sweet "potatoes" without pleasure — a cake made today by Soviet chefs. Out of the kindness of their hearts, they decided to treat Princess Celestia, giving her a whole bag of this "potato".

No, the cake was delicious, even very. Simple, without finesse, but delicious. The meal of the royal person was overshadowed by something else entirely. Her sister, Luna, behaved extremely atypically for her character. Closed, having no friends, with the appearance of Chuikov, she became quite joyful and familiar with him. Let Celestia support her little sister in all this, but knowing how this friendship ends ... for Celestia, it was a stage passed: do not get attached to mortals, because they will die sooner or later. After their death, the heart is torn apart, the soul is tormented by thoughts of helplessness and curses of its immortality for months on end. Luna, who never really liked communication, spent days and nights with books, and after that, running the country. This stage of her eternal life will be one of the most difficult, leaving emotional wounds. Let them heal over time, but the scars… They are forever.

Well, now, without knowing it, she will protect him like the apple of her eye, standing in front of him with her chest under all the dangers, alicorn thought with warmth about her dearest sister.
There was a knock on the door. Celestia looked up and, pulling on her usual smile, answered:

"Come in."

A black pegasus in an elegant snow-white suit and with refined manners entered the dining room. In principle, as befitted a hereditary aristocrat. Immediately bowing, he continued on his way to the Princess of the Sun, stopping only five steps away from her.

"Princess Celestia, I have some bad news. There are mass strikes at several glass factories in Mainhatten today. Production has been stopped, and local authorities cannot solve this problem themselves."

Celestia frowned and said in a more serious tone:

"What are the reasons for these strikes? Were there prerequisites for this?"

"Unfortunately, Princess Celestia, there's a lot we don't know. Perhaps because of non-payment of wages and large fines in production in order to enrich the owners of factories. Pegasus shook his head. "That's it for me."

It took a couple of seconds for Alicorn to think. Looking up at the aristocrat, she answered firmly:

"Good. I will solve this problem myself today. Cancel all remaining meetings and conferences for that day. I'll probably be back late tonight. You can go now."

"It will be done, Princess Celestia. The black stallion obediently replied and turned around.

A restrained but satisfied grin appeared on his face. Even if not seen behind the pensive princess.

***

It was almost time for dinner when Chkalov, dressed in a flight suit, was checking the runway of his airfield. Behind him, Kuznetsov walked with a closer look, looking for flaws. Even if he was no longer the commander of the entire brigade, this did not negate the fact that responsibility for the work done to the command would not fall on his shoulders.

"What do you think, Dmitry Alekseevich?" Chkalov asked without turning his head.

"With such a length, even "SB" will sit down. The strip is solid, smooth."

Chkalov nodded, clearly agreeing with this conclusion of Comrade Kuznetsov, and went to the fighter standing in the distance. The "Seagull" with the number thirteen for many superstitious could threaten quick death, but not for Chkalov. And to prove the stupidity of this number to the personnel, he chose it for himself. Chkalov had a firm belief that his achievements on this fast and maneuverable device would depend only on the personal qualities of the pilot.

A couple of hours before checking the strip, Chkalov ordered to fill the fuel tank by three quarters. All the extra ones are useless now — the less the load, the greater the speed advantage.

For a while Chkalov admired his car. Turning to Kuznetsov he proudly said:

"It's a good car, there's nothing to say."

Kuznetsov hesitated. He was not happy with the idea that the commander decided to arrange a race with a local pony. This can be followed by anything, up to arrest and demotion. But he could not influence Chkalov's decision, he was too stubborn in his decision: "I gave my word to the Soviet commander that I would overtake him, and I will not take him away," Chkalov firmly replied to Kuznetsov last night.

Having nothing to say to him, Kuznetsov only belatedly nodded his head. To which Chkalov grinned. He saw and understood how his friend was worried about him, but there was nothing he could do. He gave his word, so keep it.

In the same silence, they returned to the staff tent, where, under the care of several commanders, Chkalov left sitting not only the blue pegasus, but also another guest — Twilight. The princess of friendship, who found out about everything, could not help but come to see an unusual competition between two sky lovers.

The commanders entered. As Chkalov thought, the pilots gave alicorn and pegasus tea with sugar and sweets brought from their native world, simultaneously asking about everything. But this curiosity did not bother the two ponies at all and they willingly answered all questions.

The pony's ears twitched at the sound of footsteps and the mares synchronously turned to Chkalov and Kuznetsov. At the same time, the pilots stood up at the sight of their seniors, but Chkalov waved his hand: They say, everything is fine, sit down.

"The strip is completely ready and tested. So get up, Dash." announced Chkalov.

"You still haven't decided to go back on your words?" Pegasus asked with some surprise.

Twilight rolled her eyes and frowned at her friend, but didn't say anything. She clearly didn't like the tone with which she communicates with one of the influential people in Ponyville.

"Of course. I will not back down from my words." Chkalov firmly assured the mare and turned to the exit.

Two ponies and most of the commanders of the staff tent followed Chkalov. But not only they were aware of the upcoming race — soldiers and sergeants, not busy with business, wanted to see such an event with their own eyes.

Twilight and Kuznetsov with the squadron commanders took binoculars in advance for excellent observation. Chkalov, calling out to the technician, went with him and Dash to his "Seagull". Soon he will plunge into the familiar element of air. The final check of the fighter's readiness did not turn out to be long and, soon, the pilot started the engine and stroked the body of his iron bird, saying something. The engine sneezed and hummed obediently, cutting the air with the propeller blades. Chkalov waved his hand to the technician and he gave a sign that everything was ready, it was possible to take off.

To the right, thirty meters away, a blue pegasus was preparing for its takeoff. More precisely, she did not prepare at all, showing with all her appearance that she would catch up with Chkalov in a moment. The pilot did not pay attention to the pegasus teasing him and added momentum. The plane slowly began to accelerate along the runway, gradually gaining speed for takeoff. Seeing how the plane began to move, Dash pushed off from the ground and with a powerful flap of her wings rose first into the air. Trying to keep up, she accelerated her strokes herself and overtook Chkalov. Breaking away from her opponent, she rushed to the clouds over Ponyville.

The start of the race was behind her, as expected. But now the "Seagull", having gained its take-off speed, broke away from the runway and began to rapidly increase altitude. Chkalov removed the landing gear and pulled the control stick towards himself, sharply taking the height. Pegasus, by this time, approached the clouds, intending to begin performing aerobatics by human standards, but not for winged ponies.

The wind was in his face, Chkalov was pressed into the seat by overload, and the clouds and Dash were still far enough away. I had to push the lever again, increasing the power. The Chaika was just a great fighter for maneuvers with its unstable stability. Dash performed a dead loop without much difficulty, and then the remaining two. On the last loop, she stretched out in an arc, folded her wings and turned over. While falling, Dash stabilized the dive with her wings and opened them completely, exited the loop. Without postponing the second trick, the pegasus performed the barrel with the same ease.

Chkalov squeezed everything out of his half-plane, rising to the clouds in a matter of minutes and flying through them. Having slowed down, the pilot began to perform his first turn. The overload drained the blood from his head. Chkalov felt it, leaned forward and squeezed the abdominal arteries with his abdominal muscles, preventing the blood from going down. The plane easily lay belly up and the blood began to rush to the head. After flying in this position for a few more moments, Chkalov repeated his actions again.

At the last stage of the three loops, the human winged machine tilted its nose towards the ground, gaining speed. Suddenly, gusts of wind picked up the fighter and he quickly came out of the dive.

Taking a deep breath, the test pilot increased the speed, leveling the plane and taking the direction to the ever-wild forest. Chkalov pressed the right pedal with his foot and the "Seagull" obediently turned over on its side, starting the last element of aerobatics and finishing it in just five seconds. The pilot's hand reached for the lever again, squeezing everything out of the steel heart of the winged machine.

"Well done, Valery Pavlovich, well done." Kuznetsov said with a joyful smile, watching the flight of his commander.

He seemed to feel what Chkalov was experiencing now — the whistle of the cool wind, the adrenaline in his blood, the joy of speed and the danger of turns. All this ecstasy, with a mixture of wonderful feelings, connected all fighter pilots at the sight of their comrades flying.

And the air race continued…

Turning around and making sure that the plane was far behind, Dash smiled and thought to herself:

Ha, I'm also an ace pilot!

The feeling of approaching victory was destroyed in a few minutes. The fighter, which had lost speed and time to execute the highest pilot, was now confidently catching up with the pegasus. Now time has stopped playing on the pony's hoof, taking a new favorite. After a while, the plane with red stars on its wings caught up with Dash and leveled off. Flying side by side, the two flyers looked at each other: Chkalov with a solemn grin, and the rainbow-maned pegasus with discontent. Waving his hand at the last, the pilot added revs to the maximum and rushed forward and up. About four out of five kilometers along the border with the ever-wild forest had already been passed, and ahead was Canterlot, the most difficult part of this flight for Chkalov.

The rays of the Equestrian Sun flashed in the man's flight glasses, forcing him to squint. A mountain with an ancient city appeared in the field of view. A huge castle with towers stretched to the sky, like a petrified giant with his hands in his last minute of life. The waterfall from the mountain cascaded down somewhere, getting lost in rainbows and fog. A test pilot had to conquer a wonderful city for walking with old houses of aristocrats and wide cobbled streets. There was no route through the city itself and you will have to fly through it by intuition.

The kilometers between the fighter and the target were melting by the minute. And then the moment came when the plane flew into the territory of the ancient city, dropping as low as possible as Chkalov could allow it. Unexpectedly, a sixth sense prompted the pilot to turn back to notice a Rainbow Dash that had passed next to the right wing of the half-plane, behind which a rainbow plume was curling. A light sound wave washed over the "Seagull", and it swayed. Having gritted his teeth angrily at such a violation of the rules, Chkalov increased his speed, despite the fact that in such conditions it could lead to death. Now it just didn't play a special role for an excited and angry person.

Scaring away a small detachment of guards crossing a stone bridge over a small river, the "Seagull" slipped after the rainbow pegasus under an arch with bronze statues of two older alicorns. Dash didn't care about all the arrangements and used her rainbow punch to catch up with Chkalov at any cost. However, now she braked sharply, almost crashing into someone's ancestral mansion. The odds were even, but with every second the scales were leaning towards Rainbow.

A strange noise attracted the attention of the royal Guards. Three pegasuses in golden cuirasses appeared around the corner with serious-minded muzzles and immediately pressed into the wall of the house in fright. A couple of meters away from them, the white wing of the Seagull passed on a low-level flight, and under the control of a daring man, it sped forward to meet the visible white towers of the Canterlot castle. Screams and curses were heard from everywhere at the sight of the crazy fighter. But Chkalov did not even think of retreating, keeping his plane under control in great tension. The castle was rapidly approaching, despite Chkalov's low speed. Pegasus was probably already there, but that didn't mean she won this competition.

Having slowed down, Chkalov lowered his head over the side of the fighter for a full assessment of the new maneuver. But suddenly, his gaze was riveted by another, out of the usual rut movement. Below, in the square in front of the castle, a dozen Red Army soldiers were trying to break through the disjointed ranks of the royal guards with long spears. Like a bristling hedgehog, the Red Army soldiers formed an uneven circle, exposing rifles with bayonets to the ponies. None of them even tried to fire.

Exercises? Chkalov thought and slowed down to a minimum. The race was fading into the background.

Tilting the fighter to the right, Chkalov flew in an arc for another two hundred meters. On the ground, as far as the eye could see, there were detachments of royal guards, unnoticed earlier by the pilot due to the intensity of passions in the air. The few Red Army soldiers, being in the minority, tried to resist. Shots were fired. The soldiers were shooting into the air and shouting: "Stop! Don't move!". However, this did not stop others much.

And yet, there was no complete, fatal collision. The Red Army soldiers fought with butts, fists, but none of them fired to kill. In principle, like ponies, they did not try to kill at least one person.

Many guards who noticed the circling fighter over the city tried to attack Chkalov. Unicorns began to beat spells.

Chkalov immediately began to gain altitude, leaving the attack zone of live "anti-aircraft guns". Multicolored clumps of magic with a characteristic whistle passed next to the fighter. A few magic projectiles hit the tail, but nothing critical.

"Damn it! What's going on here?! Chkalov spat, dodging dozens of magic balls.

The pilot did not understand the essence of everything that was happening, but he knew one thing — he urgently needed to inform all the nearby units. The Seagull headed out of the city. Chkalov's decision was opposed by several groups of armed pegasuses, who flew out as soon as the unicorns stopped getting their dense magic fire.

Chkalov increased his speed. At such a height, it was possible not to be afraid to touch high-rise buildings and get away from the tail. If now the pilot had not a "Seagull", but an old, training U-2, then the chances of escaping from the pursuers were minimal.

Soon, the end of the capital city appeared. Hand-to-hand fighting was going on all the way to the outskirts. No matter how courageous the soldiers of the Red Army were, the Royal Guard took magic and numbers. Beyond the Canterlot line, just one kilometer away, there was a large airfield capable of receiving heavy bombers. Fighting was raging on the territory of his unit. Having descended, Chkalov roared into a dive, scaring away the unicorns that were smashing the planes. Several fighters tried to take off, but the savage guards broke the landing gear every time and the plane turned over or plowed through the ground with its belly. The attempt of the rest of the fighters to protect their cars from attack with chains did not lead to anything.

The dive fighter attack provided invaluable assistance to the pilots on the ground. One "Donkey" was able to accelerate and get off the ground. But now most of the unicorns began to fire at Chkalov, considering him the highest danger. After all, none of the ponies knew that the shells and cartridges were not loaded into the plane.

Only there was absolutely nothing left to the ground, as Chkalov pulled the control stick with all his might. The "Seagull" came out of a dive attack. The plane shook several times, but the unicorns could not bring it down. Chkalov got out of the shelling as best he could, dodged and again tried to climb to an unattainable height for unicorns. The use of defensive magic projectiles did not allow this to be done immediately, forcing Chkalov to perform aerobatics no longer for a race with Dash, but in order not to be shot down.

The pilot looked around. The "Donkey" that took off was also able to get out of the firing zone and was now flying at full speed to the northeast, where large cities were located. Of all the decisions, this was the right one: if you can't use weapons, then you need to warn the rest of the units.

And what to do to everyone, they will already come up with and say there, Chkalov thought, directing his fighter to Ponyville…

Palace coup: 1 part

The day gradually and even leisurely went towards evening, making the guards of the second shift bored while waiting to go out on patrol of the city. Someone was busy with anything: someone was playing cards, fueling interest with small bets, someone was cleaning his cuirass or helmet to a perfect shine, and someone was just too lazy to get off his bunk, and only a wandering look with boredom in his eyes said that the guardsman was not sleeping. Against the background of all this, a light wave of cheerful music from the gramophone, which was presented along with a couple of records from human brothers, spread out.

"My Marusechka, everyone is dancing around." Blueberries sang along in a low voice, combing her golden mane in front of a small mirror. "My Marusechka, we'll dance together."

Song "My Marusechka"

But everything stops abruptly after hearing a loud clatter of hooves. Turning around, Blueberries notices the captain of the solar guard, White Tail, accompanied by two unicorns from an elite group of guards.

The captain calmly waits for the inhabitants of the barracks to form a line and stand at attention. No one expected this visit, but if it happened, then expect trouble. After waiting for complete silence, he began to proclaim with an extraordinary expression, as if he was now speaking not to a simple company of guards, but to Princess Celestia herself.

"Brothers and sisters, you and I have been through a difficult ordeal. The people we trusted infinitely exposed their true, diabolical nature! A couple of days ago, people's hidden plans for our holy land came from reliable sources. Hiding under false masks, they are secretly preparing an attack on all the cities from their garrisons and combat units. With a quick blow of their weapons and bloody ferocity, they will destroy everyone who can stand in their way. And after… Then they will enslave everyone else, turning the great and mighty Equestria into their colony. But all is not lost, brothers and sisters! We can still fix everything and drive these primates off our land! Today we will decapitate the hydra, which brings death and destruction. Today you will become heroes of your country, liberating heroes!" the inspiring speech echoed.

No matter what anyone said about the character of White Tail, he was a good speaker. And for the guards, weak to beautiful speeches, and bright emotions of a talker, it was quite easy to trust such an officer. But still, this news shocked everyone: The Red Army soldiers became older brothers in arms for the Royal Guards. So unusual in appearance and at the same time intelligible in mind; the boundaries between people and ponies gradually began to fade, as everyone dreamed of… Well, or almost everything.

There was confusion among the guards. Few people wanted to accept such a harsh but truthful reality. But still humility came, leaving only the willingness to follow the orders of the captain of the solar guard on the faces of the ponies.
Blueberry was no exception to all the others, but deep down something whispered the opposite: people could not do this, not these.

VaitTeil did not let the blue pegasus drip deeper, bringing it back to the real world in his own words.

"Now they are not ready to make their strike. They are accumulating strength, importing their weapons in whole trains into our world. But now, at this very moment, their regiments are not full-blooded, combat vehicles are not able to give full advantage and most importantly, they do not expect such a course of events. We are not animals, no! We will not kill even such vile creatures. We will force their generals to personally withdraw their troops and sit down at the negotiating table!" White Tail finished on an unambiguous note for everyone. "May Princess Celestia and Princess Luna be glorified in the rays of the Sun and the light of the Moon!"

"Glory!" echoed in chorus in response.

"At ease. Disperse."the captain announced in his usual tone. "Lieutenant, lieutenant and sub-lieutenant, to me."

Three people came out of the not yet collapsed formation: the orange unicorn mare immediately took the dominant position in the group when approaching the captain of the guard.

"Lieutenant Firestar. Commander of the third company of the first battalion of the Canterlot Life Guards Regiment. " the mare reported.

Vait Teil took several sheets out of his briefcase and telekinetically handed them to Firestar.

"Here are all the instructions that everyone in the company should know. The task of your company will be the arrest and disarmament of all people in the area of the "New City". Use weapons only to subdue particularly violent, without lethal and severe outcome of the latter. But if a person starts a fight first and kills someone, it is allowed to eliminate them in any way available to you. Understand?" the captain said and looked sternly at the company officers.

"That's right. Arrest and disarm all people in the area of the "New City"." repeated the lieutenant.

"That's it for me. Seven minutes later, that the whole company was already on the march to the "New City". We will keep in touch through Pegasus messengers. Get started!" White Theil ordered harshly, not accepting the wrangling.

As soon as the captain disappeared from sight, the lieutenant took a deep breath of relief, but it didn't help much. Reluctantly, she ordered everyone to be ready on the parade ground in five minutes. But everyone was already wearing armor and arming themselves for possible battles without her urging. But if a real battle begins, then they can do little against people's firearms, except for an unexpected attack, forcing the Red Army to take a melee. Then it will become a massacre, where the guard will lose more than a third of its personnel.

Fastening the last strap on her cuirass, Blueberries began to withdraw from the real world into her thoughts again. She was haunted by how much people could be bloodthirsty invaders.

Yes, they are against the monarchy, against all the foundations and traditions of our world, but they are also no stranger to friendship and respect for ponies. the blue pegasus mused as she fastened a light crossbow to her side.

Behind all this, the mare did not notice how her friend approached her and put her hoof on her shoulder in a comforting, and at the same time doomed, gesture.
"Are you all right?" it sounded from the mouth of a black pegasus with piercing, scarlet eyes.

"Yes, Blackcloud, yes. I'm... fine, yes." Blueberries replied monotonously, examining the ponies from her platoon preparing for the operation.

All of them were previously involved in communicating with people, even if someone is less, and someone is more. Each of them talked at his leisure about new acquaintances or newfound friends from among the soldiers and commanders of the Red Army.

And now they all unconditionally believe in these false accusations? Yes, not even a single princess talked about it! mentally indignant Pegasus.

You can see some of the emotions reflected on her muzzle, which her friend certainly noticed.

"And here it is not! You clearly don't think this order of the captain is correct." Blackcloud said forcefully, and then added in a slightly saddened tone, "By the way, I am also against all this..."

"So you too?!" Blueberries almost shouted, but when she came to her senses, she lowered the volume of her voice to a whisper.

The friend nodded in the affirmative.

"It's a secret, but I like a young man. I can't believe that he and others would want to do this to us. I think that the aristocrats of Canterlot and their shady dealings are involved here. According to the castle guards, Princess Celestia has left on an urgent matter for the whole day, it is not known where. This is a great moment to capture people who have a rule in black and white not to harm any Equestria creature. Even if the pony is a criminal, if there is no order to help the police or the guard in the capture, they will not be able to do something." Blackcloud shared her conclusions.

"It's just not clear why the aristocrats are doing all this..." finished the thought of a friend of Blueberries.

"Exactly."

"Then we need to inform the human commanders immediately." the blue pegasus came to the general conclusion. "Only if our loss is noticed we will be stopped by all means."

"Well, for the rest of the company, we can introduce ourselves as messengers with an important message. It'll work for a while," Blackcloud suggested.

"Only when?" Blueberries asked the question of interest to both of them.

"I think it's necessary now. By the time they miss us, we'll be a few blocks away."

Fully dressed in armor, with light crossbows on the right and a short sword on the left side, the two friends set out on the path of betrayal. Having slipped unnoticed by the officers who were violently discussing what was happening, they flew up to the level of two-story mansions, keeping as close as possible to the roofs.

The sun standing in the sky reflected dimly from the gilded cuirasses, warming the already tense Pegasus. Flying at an average pace, they did not attract such strong attention from the rest of the guards, even if they were wasting precious time. But it's better to arrive later than not to get to people at all.

Blueberries' eyes ran over the ground, looking for any danger and an angry look from the guards and officers. But they also had their own affairs to see, except to chase and interrogate who they were and for what purpose they were flying towards the castle. Below, small groups or troika of guards were herding citizens into their homes for their own safety. Some followed the lonely Red Army soldiers. But even half of the soldiers of the people will not be typed with a formidable weapon — a rifle and a machine gun. There was no way to help them. Two pegasus will never be able to cope with an entire squad, and even more so a platoon consisting of all three pony races at once.

Here appeared the last houses of the rich ponies that lived nearby just outside the castle grounds.

Discord damn you! Just a little bit left Blueberries thought angrily and frowned, —three pegasuses were flying towards them.

The two defectors did not have any fully written report with them. And the lookouts will definitely lead Blueberries and Blackcloud to the officers — then there are no more guard units, all the forces of this group seem to be just preparing for an attack. The two Pegasi had about forty seconds left before contact with the sentries.

"Black Cloud, we have guests. Quickly to the castle, while they are not far away." the azure pegasus has made a decision.
"Got it."

The calm flapping of the wings was replaced by gaining momentum and height. Quickly gained speed and a safe height from the shelling from the ground, they flew into the castle territory. Such actions on their part discouraged the three guards and for a couple of moments they were confused, not understanding what to do. But it's not for nothing that they eat their bread and two rushed in pursuit, while the last one dived to the ground with a report about deserters. The speed of the interceptors turned out to be higher, the distance began to shrink rapidly. Two defectors did not have the opportunity to fly through the entrance, and the solution to this problem came by itself. The large windows of the castle in the corridors were just right for another entrance.

Squeezing out the last of her strength, Blueberries pressed her wings to her body and exposed her hooves like a battering ram, entering a peak. For a couple of meters, she pressed her head as hard as possible to the cuirass, bringing the helmet forward from the fragments. Having lost visibility, Blueberries first heard a loud ringing of breaking glass, and then a sharp pain in the exposed areas of the body and wings. Overcoming the pain, she exhaled sharply and opened her wings in an attempt to slow down. Raising her head, she saw the corridor door rapidly approaching. Dropping another couple of tens of centimeters, the pegasus touched for now and ran forward by inertia, stopping only a couple of meters from the oak doors.

Every muscle was burning with fatigue, while the pain was drowned out by the adrenaline raging in the blood. Breathing quickly and unevenly, pony, through the noise of pulsating blood and beating heart, heard the landing of her friend. Turning in her direction, Blueberries saw that she was more fortunate than she, who took on the role of a battering ram. There was a broken window and a clear sky behind them—the Pegasi did not follow them into the castle.

I wonder why? the azure pony asked herself.

But after a couple of seconds, the questions disappeared by themselves: five people ran to them at once with machine guns at the ready. Ahead was a human commander with a pistol and a menacing look.

"Stop! Don't move!" there was a shout from the commander in the cap.

The ponies froze, trying to move as little as possible.

"Now it's clear why the patrollers didn't fly in after them." Blackcloud whispered softly to her friend.

The guards stopped a couple of meters from the pony and raised their weapons in the direction of the Pegasuses.

Only the commander came forward, now holding the revolver at his hip.

"Who are you and why did you break into the castle?" the man asked the question sternly.

"We are from the Guard… We have an urgent report to your commanders... the entire guard is now preparing to capture all the people!" Blueberries answered for two. "They were being chased and we couldn't get to you any other way."

It took the commander a little time to make a decision and quickly orienting himself, he ordered some of his group:

"Maximov, Pestsov, take the guests for a full interrogation to Comrade Major Bondarev. The rest will return to their posts."

The answer to him was a choral "Eat" and the execution of orders.

***

The square was noticeably empty after Princess Celestia's urgent trip. There were no aristocrats, hereditary nobles scurrying back and forth, and the number of guards sharply decreased several times. Perhaps this was due to the emergency situation in Mainhetten with the workers of some factories and all forces were sent there. Few people in Canterlot knew about this and, fortunately, Kopec was among them. Just before the departure of the head of state for an indefinite time, he and a group of commanders received a message from the princess's personal secretary. The pilot saw in this gesture great confidence in the senior commanders of the Red Army.

"Somehow everything is suspiciously quiet..." Kopec muttered thoughtfully standing at the open window in his quiet and cozy office.

"What are you talking about, Vanya?" a handsome young Chernykh-haired man with colonel's buttonholes and a hero's star on his chest asked casually.

Kopec turned to his friend, comrade and deputy in one person, who was reading the local newspaper "Life of Kantelot" at that time. It was none other than Sergey Alexandrovich Chernykh. Like his friend, Chernykh moved very quickly through ranks and positions, having gone from lieutenant's cubicles to colonel's sleepers in just three years of service. Kopec personally asked to put Chernykh as his deputy and, of course, achieved his goal. Maybe Chernykh did not have much experience in command, but his extraordinary courage and experience of the war in Spain could give a good result in this post.

"Oh, nothing, Seryozha. Just thoughts out loud," Kopec answered him reluctantly and sat down at his workplace.

But I didn't have to continue working — the front door opened abruptly and a panting NKVD major Bondarev stumbled into the office with a machine gun tightly clenched in his hand.

No sooner had the major reported the incident than the commanders who were sitting jumped up from their seats with faces full of anxiety and at the same time ready for anything.

"Ivan Ivanovich, Mikhail Petrovich is calling you urgently. We seem to be planning an uprising and a military coup. All the towers were broken, there is no connection with the rest of the parts." Bondarev reported after catching his breath a little.

"Damn it… That's what we needed right now," Kopec swore and took out a holster with a pistol from a drawer. "Sergey, quickly go to the airfield and raise everyone there, let them warn other garrisons and units nearby. The airfield to take up defense and conduct surveillance from the air. Do not engage in combat until the circumstances are clarified! Shugai, hit with butts, but don't let there be a single corpse on the pony's side, Seryozha!"

"That's right," Chernykh nodded in response and, putting on his cap, ran to the cars in the parking lot.

Kopets and Bondarev also ran, but in the other direction. NKVD soldiers stood everywhere with machine guns and rifles in full combat readiness. After skipping the entire corridor in a short time, they arrived at the doors painted in gold and silver, behind which the military council was located.

Opening the doors and going inside, Kopec put his hand to his cap and greeted all the sitting senior commanders. Ten people were sitting at an oval table. Nearby, two ponies from the guard, both Pegasus in appearance, were positioned against the wall.

"Comrade Kopets, Comrade Bondarev, I ask you to sit at the table." the man sitting at the head of the table invited the commanders.

After Chuikov's county, Brigade Commander Kirponos became his temporary duty officer. Mikhail Petrovich was a strong-willed and determined man, but his stubbornness and love of challenging everything made him out of touch with other commanders, for which he still wears the brigade commander's buttonholes. He was appreciated and respected by a few among the command staff, among whom was Chuikov, who did not notice Kirponos' weakness point-blank.
Kirponos looked at all those present with a serious and unshakable gaze.

"Today, after the urgent departure of Princess Celestia, we received information about the strange behavior of the royal guard and most of the nobles and aristocrats of Canterlot. The data was confirmed by two defectors from the guard..." on the last word, he looked at the two ponies sitting against the wall and beckoned to him with a glance.

The black and blue Pegasus appeared next to Kirponos in the blink of an eye. After a little hesitation, they told everyone present everything that happened today on their side of the barricades. Everyone with complete silence delved into every word, noticing some details for themselves and writing them down in sheets.

***

Chernykh and a fighter from the NKVD with him with a machine gun got into the car. Slamming the door, the pilot immediately shouted to the driver: "Let's go." Emka quickly turned to the road and rolled to the exit from the castle grounds. Somewhere in the distance, the occasional single rifle shots and short bursts of machine guns could be heard. At the exit, the speeding car was met by deserted streets. But this feeling turned out to be deceptive: after forty meters they were blocked by guards with clearly hostile muzzles. Five ponies stood up so that it was difficult to go around without passing them with wheels.

Damn... the pilot cursed mentally, trying to come up with a plan of action on the move.

Taking out his revolver, Chernykh put his hand on the driver's shoulder and ordered him to stop.

Brakes screeched and the car stopped a meter away from the pony.
"On my command, be ready to give gas and drive with all your might." the pilot whispered to him.

The sergeant sitting in the front seat prepared his machine gun for battle, but he was stopped by Chernykh who saw it.

"Don't shoot someone here, fighter. If something happens, then hit with the butt or shoo the queue nearby."

"That's right, Comrade Commander." The submachine gunner nodded understandingly.

Two people approached the black car — an earth pony and a unicorn, while the others stood in a semicircle chain. Chernykh lowered the window only halfway and looked sternly at the pony.

"What does it all mean? Immediately let me through, I am the deputy commander of the Red Army Air Force Brigade Commander Chernykh!" the pilot demanded an explanation for the sake of appearance with a dissatisfied look.

The Unicorn Guardsman responded to this human attack with his own demands:

"Sir Chernykh, please step out of the vehicle for inspection and document verification."

There he is, talking like that. Since the pony was born, they did not check the documents and did not conduct an inspection, especially from senior commanders, and here without explanations and with demands, thought Chernykh, realizing that there was an obvious coup d'etat with the capture of all the commanders of the Red Army.

"Okay, I'll get out." After a couple of seconds, the pilot replied and touched the driver's shoulder with his hand.

Satisfied that they did not have to use force, the unicorn and the earth pony slightly moved away from the car door. At that moment, the engine roared and the car took off. The sergeant deftly stuck the muzzle of the machine gun through the slightly lowered window and gave a short burst under the feet of the ponies surrounding the car. Bullets, striking sparks and the looming silhouette of a car gave its result. The guards rushed in different directions, clearing the way for crazy people with weapons, afraid of being killed or crushed.

"Drive, dear, drive away from here!" the pilot shouted, in a voice full of raging emotions.

Emka, picking up speed unusual for a trip through the streets of Kanterlot, zigzagged ahead with all the dope, through scattered groups of rebellious guards. Crossbow bolts flew after them, both from the ground and from the air. One of the bolts pierced the rear window and stuck into the front seat, miraculously not injuring the driver. Chernykh bent down sharply, fleeing from a hail of small fragments of broken glass. A few more broke through the roof and hood, but it was almost impossible to stop the people who broke through.

"The bastards are short. If I had my hands free, I would show you how a Soviet fighter pilot fights." He cursed the rebellious Chernykh ponies in a whisper, clenching his teeth with annoyance and anger. "But nothing, nothing… Soon your precious princess with the Sun on her rump will pour all of you on the first number, instead of us ..." the pilot continued to swear, imagining the hour when he would no longer have to run without taking a real fight.

The Pegasi were still on the tail, firing light crossbows at the car. Shots of Red Army soldiers who had not surrendered just like that still sounded on the streets. Occasionally there were broken and abandoned cars with cargo that for some reason were not touched by looters. Suddenly, a BT tank jumped out of a turn into a skid, not noticing the attempts of unicorns and pegasus to stop it.
Blackened from the constant bombardment of magic, with peeling paint, he raced straight to the castle. The emki driver, who noticed the tank late, sharply turned the steering wheel to the right, avoiding the fate of being crushed by the BT tracks. There was a sharp jolt and the pilot collapsed on the seat, strewn with fragments. Oblivious to the pain in his now bloody left arm, Chernykh got up and looked around. The car was driven back and forth, but the control was not completely lost. Emka continued her way through the central streets; even with the bumper smashed into trash, strewn with dents and holes from crossbow bolts, broken windows, but she continued to drive to the goal no matter what. There wasn't much left.

Rushing past all the armed groups, the car suddenly flew into an ambush platoon of unicorns, clearly ready to meet people rushing to the airfield. Magical clumps of energy of different colors flew into emka from all sides. Chernykh, the sergeant and the driver crouched as low as possible, hiding behind the thin and battered metal that still held back the shelling. Several particularly successful hits fell on the exhausted engine. Black smoke enveloped the entire cabin, reducing the view to a minimum.

"As soon as we slip through...… On my order, immediately jump out of the car on the move." shouted through the cough of the Chernykh.

The pilot reported twenty seconds, the approximate time for which they will drive a maximum of a faulty car and get the maximum head start from the pursuers. At the subsequent command of the pilot — "Jump out!", everyone tumbled to the ground.

After a soft landing, Chernykh, having lost his cap, looked after the burning car going by. At the same time, mentally thanking fate that nothing exploded and everyone remained alive. Standing up, he turned his attention to his fighters. They were already getting up and preparing to run or cover as soon as Chernykh ordered.

Getting up, Chernykh scanned the sky: the Pegasi were very close, but they were not diving in an attempt to attack yet. This was their chance. The airfield is quite a bit away, just a stone's throw away.
Rumpled and disheveled , Chernykh shouted:

"To the airfield... run... after me!"
Adrenaline was raging in my blood. There was no fear, only a strong desire to reach their own.

"And I will carry out this order, no matter what!" whispered the fleeing pilot with a revolver in his hand.

Author's Note

The hard days of the session have come to an end (I really tried and didn't get a single three in the score) and I'm back in the ranks writers. I may not have finished all my studies yet, but I already devote a lot more time to creativity. So here's a chapter that I delayed too much already because of laziness and workload.
A small note: the ranks for the guard were taken from the table of ranks of 1722.
A small fact: The surname of Chernykh, if translated literally, will be Black

Life in the capital

The evening crept up unnoticed. When Chkalov opened his eyes, he looked outside the window, seeing the Sun descend over the darkening horizon, slowly filling the sky with glistening stars. Bringing the back of his wrist close to his face, he saw the small arrow at seven and the larger one on three on his watch. So the time has come to explore the city below without the concern of today's blazing heat.

After stretching his cramped and tired muscles with several exercises and stretches, the pilot washed his face in the bathroom and finally removed his sleepy appearance. Placing the cap on his head and buttoning his tunic, he examined his seemingly flawless reflection in the bathroom mirror for a minute.

After making sure that he looked like a commander of the Red Army, Chkalov left the room and went into the corridor. Having locked his room's door with the key and making sure it stayed that way, he moved downstairs, meeting familiar bored soldiers and commanders along the way, who wandered around the castle grounds just like he had a few hours ago.

There were still guards on the porch, not paying attention to the man with exhausted looks. The square in front of the castle was nowhere near as it had been earlier in the day that evening, quite the contrary. There were many times more ponies and people around this time. Joyful foals were having fun playing with each other while the adults discussed some trifles and daily problems. A warm, faint breeze rolled across the air, bringing a copious range of smells with it as it passed by Chkalov.

The pilot walked along the square's edge, trying not to rough his way through the crowd the best he could. Eventually, after bypassing the flocks of rushing children, loving couples, and general passers-by, his sight fixed on the city below. Because of the slop, the man walked at a brisk pace along the stone path, passing the turn to the parking lot and reaching the arch with two stone alicorns. Chkalov's gaze then caught something from the corner of his vision: a few wild daisies growing on the edge of the road. Plucking the largest one, the pilot unbuttoned his breast pocket and gently put a flower in it, having previously tucked the upper part of the pocket inside. Grinning and slanting his cap to the side in a reckless fashion, Chkalov walked under the arch and left the castle grounds, entering the city streets ahead.

Immediately, he ran into a fork in the road pointing in two directions: west and east. Scratching his chin thoughtfully, the test pilot settled with the former direction, the same path he passed on from the train station his first day here. Walking along the edge, the pilot heard the noise of a car behind him. Turning around, he stopped and watched the empty rumbling lowering as it sped by, going further into town. Having missed the vehicle, Chkalov turned right on the road and entered under the shadow of mansions with large pastel-colored balconies. The houses stretched in all directions but were uniquely designed in their own ways. Each owner or hostess clearly did everything to separate their home from the neighbor in color and shape.

“I don't know how: but they don't look out of the blue and fit together pretty well. Amazing.” Chkalov admired under his breath, turning his head in all directions to soak up the environment as he walked. An elderly pair of unicorns passed by, smiling sweetly and sincerely at the man, to which he responded with a half-smile and a short nod.

When he reached the end of the street, the pilot went out to approach a fountain, only stopping in the middle of a small area of crowding foals. They were trying their hardest to get something from the bottom, nearly falling inside as they stretched their hooves into the crystal-clear water. Deciding to help the troubled children, Chkalov passed through the foals and stepped into the fountain, soaking his lower pants and tunic arms as he grabbed a golden coin from the bottom. Smiling at the foals' shocked expression on the foals' faces, he presented the gold coin- held between his thumb and pointer finger -to them. With a cheerful squeal, a foal ran forward and nabbed the coin with their teeth before moving on, closely followed by the others. Several on-looking adult ponies clicked their tongues, gazing at the little brats with displeasure, but said nothing.

After watching the pack of foals run off, Chkalov turned a corner and was met with a view of multiple store signs. On the corner street, there was a well-maintained wooden stall with newspapers covering its front and inner walls. Behind the counter sat a beige earth pony, reading the pages of a book. Looking closer, Chkalov noticed a small stack of brochures with a picture of the city on the cover amongst the daily newspapers, books, and magazines within the stall.

Closing the distance between himself and the stall, the pony behind it looked up at him as he stopped before her. "Sorry, ma'am. Can you tell me if you have a city map?" he asked.

The mare smiled as she closed her book, "Yes, of course, there is. We have specially released a trial batch for the new people in Canterlot. And we're giving them to everyone so that you don't get lost, like you. just kidding!" the mare chuckled at her joke, shaking her head slightly.

"Would it be much trouble if I could have one myself? It'd be better than wandering around blindly and missing all the grand sights of your stunning capital."

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” The saleswoman sarcastically said as she reached for a stack of brochures, grabbing one with her teeth. With great dexterity, the mare handled the card into her hoof, leaving no marks or spots on it. “Here you go.”

"Thank you, you helped me out." Chkalov smiled at the mare, grabbing the brochure from the mare.

"You're welcome. I am glad that you like our city." The earth pony replied contentedly.

Saying goodbye, Chkalov followed up by walking ten meters away before unfolding the map, revealing locations of shops, boutiques, bakeries, cafes, and other places displayed on the map. The sights of the city were highlighted with a separate sign, and at the bottom, small notes described the local neighborhoods. Drawing his finger along the detailed road line on the map, the pilot pointed at a seemingly random point.

"So. I'm apparently here now- next to the 'Fountain of Happiness.'. To the right of this street is a street block of clothing and shoe stores called "Old Town". If I go to the left, then in three kilometers, I will enter the "Merchant City". There will be a "New City" right there. Well, I think I figured it out." The pilot mentally listed his directional options to himself.

Deciding that it was better to visit the "New City" now, and leave the rest for later, Chkalov proceeded straight ahead.

Almost everywhere he looked, there were the same taxi carts on the side of the street, with ponies either passing by or sitting in street cafes. The road swerved in different directions, showing that the city was clearly not built according to plan but grew by itself. Soon, Chkalov encountered elegant homes with small adjoining towers. Almost every tower had some form of a crest of the family's estate or a flag with two alicorns, the Sun and the Moon, on a blue canvas hanging from poles attached to the walls.

As the sun finally finished its sink into the horizon, the disappearing sunset did little to interfere with the townspeople in any way. And, as if by magic, lanterns bolted to buildings began to light up simultaneously, bathing the streets with a pale glow. With an impressed grin, the pilot went along on his exploration.

Soon Chkalov reached a paved stone bridge. Standing by the railing with his arms resting on top and supporting his weight, he looked at the surface of a clear, flowing river. After admiring the current for a few minutes, Chkalov suddenly heard the sound of music playing in the distance. Moving towards the sound, he came to an area with another fountain, this time, with three adult ponies standing in front of it: a pegasus, a unicorn, and an earth pony. They reared up on their hind legs and touched each other with their hooves, moving flawlessly in dance. And next to the fountain was a second group of ponies with musical instruments with passion running deep into the notes they played.

The pony and human listeners that had gathered around the performing ponies stomped their hooves or clapped their hands to the beat of the music, accompanied by a few whistling cheers.

Stopping behind the crowd, the pilot stayed to watch the performance of local musicians. After a while, they were suddenly replaced by a circus troupe of ponies in clown get-ups. They deftly and naturally performed complex somersaults, jumps, and juggling with their front hooves while standing on stilts. A noteworthy fact that the pilot noticed was a lack of unicorns with their magic among the speakers, making their act all the more impressive. The crowd clapped loudly and stomped to the artists until the trio faded into the background.

Now remained was a mint-colored unicorn in a hat with a feather and a lyre in her hooves at the center of attention. She sat down on the still-warm stone ground and started with a long, and slightly, sad melody, singing after a few seconds.

"Long ago in centuries remained

Dashing cold —

Rallying all the ponies

A single trouble.

I came to forget my pride

It's the turn of the rulers

And friendship has melted the flame

And their arrogance and ice..."

Her voice, rich and soft, plunged the pilot into the story of a ballad full of snow and ice that melted under the power of the unity of ponies together with the proud rulers of the lands.

"And not to come back

Strife never,

To the kingdom of the Alicorns

Called cities

So the two sisters appeared

Take the throne at the call,

But their princess is Platinum

I decided to expel him out..."

Chkalov found himself not listening to the ballad but becoming a part of it. He saw an arrogant unicorn mare in the robes of a monarch and two younger alicorns — Celestia and Luna. With her head held high and without glancing, she said she would rule the lands herself with an iron hoof. The Alicorns only nodded silently and remained behind to watch the pale pink unicorn's reign. But, at one point, the proud mare fell to the bottom without touching the throne, screaming defiantly and in rage as her reign, along with her life, came to an end.

But the man abruptly woke up, the thunderous applause of the crowd snapping him from his imagination as the light green unicorn left the improvised stage. The pilot, albeit belatedly, also clapped his hands to the beautiful bard with a lyre.

“What was that? The magic of unicorns and music?” Chkalov wondered how he had fallen out of reality like that.

After the bard left, no other performer came onto the stage, leaving the crowd to slowly disperse. Chkalov also went, unfolding the map and setting his eyes on the "Unity Square" from where he was walking now and turned right. "If I go a little to the right off the main road, a path will pass through an alley named after Princess Celestia." The pilot mentally said.

Suddenly, three armored cars and two half-tank trucks came around the bend ahead. Some ponies curiously followed the movement of the cars, examining the armored vehicles with turrets and machine gun barrels sticking out of them. They roared past the pilot and onlookers at low speed and drove onto the main road, traveling to, based on the direction, they were going to their unit.

After a couple of blocks, the alley began, narrow enough that a car couldn’t pass through it, and two pony carts would have difficulty fitting in.

Above the alley were towering, well-groomed three-story houses with large windows on the top floor. The trees growing on the towers’ sides were trimmed, all bearing fruit: apples, pears, apricots, and plums. Many fruits were already ripe, filled with juice, practically asking to be ripped from the branch and eaten.

Chkalov looked around, but none of the ponies were picking apples or plums.

So then they would rot since the ponies only admire them. “Why should good food go to waste?” With such thoughts, the pilot plucked one apple from its tree.

Wiping it on his tunic, he took a big bite with a pleasureful hum. The sweet juice flowed down the man's lips, and the pulp melted in his mouth. Several mares with a proud, aristocratic bearing looked askance at the man and snorted, but he ignored them. After eating an apple in one sitting, Chkalov went on, face soaked in the fruity aroma.

Soon, the alley with fruit trees ended, and a street full of cafes and expensive restaurants began. Chkalov's stomach rumbled treacherously: one apple was not enough for him. Opening the map again, he checked the approximate path of his afternoon trip and the location of bakeries and cafes. After a couple of seconds, the pilot spotted the same cafe he found, and the driver pointed out to him that morning.

With his pep in his step, Chkalov reached it in fifteen minutes. As the driver of the emochka said, he went into the alley, seeing a one-story building with a terrace decorated with a large bagel over the entrance. After opening the door, the pilot heard the bell above the door ring as he stepped closer to a small queue of four ponies ahead. Standing at the edge of the queue, the man patiently began to wait, examining the counters with a hungry look. Time flew by unnoticed to the bored piolet, and Chkalov was eventually able to stand before the counter.

"Hello. Please give me two apple pies and one each with blueberries and cherries." He said to the stallion behind the counter.

He nodded in return, disappearing through a door and reemerging minutes later with a pie-stuffed paper bag in his teeth, placing it on the countertop. Chkalov took his wallet out of his pocket to pay the stallion, but that’s when he felt like lightning had struck him. He had forgotten that the Soviet ruble was not in use here, and he didn’t have any local currency on his person.

"Twenty bits." The stallion lazily called the price.

"How could I forget so much..." the pilot whispered and sadly put his money back in his pocket before looking into the seller's eyes, "Sorry, I can't buy."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and was about to leave when one of the mares standing behind him in the queue shouted:

"I'll pay."

Before the stunned pilot could say anything, she quickly put the correct amount of coins on the counter with the help of telekinesis. He wanted to say no to the mare's kind gesture, but when he saw her determined look, he held his voice back. "Thank you. I’ll replace the coins when I get paid." the man said gratefully, taking the bag in his grip.

The snow-colored unicorn mare just smiled and shook her head. "Don't. It is necessary to help those who need it whenever possible. It doesn't matter if it's a pony or a human." She said.

"You are very kind and generous. But, if I may, what is your name?" Chkalov asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If you insist more on returning this small amount. My name is Rarity."

"And my name is Valery Pavlovich."

Rarity turned back to the counter, asking the stallion for some muffins, paid for them, and walked out of the queue to the pilot standing a little to one side. They left the bakery together and entered the terrace, sitting at an empty table.

"Let me guess, you arrived in Equestria today, right?" The blue-eyed mare asked a rhetorical question with a grin.

"That's right. How did you find out?" The pilot asked as he pulled the pie from his bag. Chkalov took a piece from the pre-sliced pie and slowly began to chew, thoughtfully examining the unicorn.

"You looked very confused and, of course, the lack of bits." giggled Rarity.

"So, I take it that you're a local, right?" Chkalov asked after swallowing his food.

She smiled and shook her head, "Unfortunately, no. I'm from Ponyville, a small town south of here. You probably haven't even heard of it yet."

Chkalov raised an eyebrow. "I know a little about the place. Isn’t there a fighter brigade stationed there, along with Princess Twilight Sparkle living there?"

"That's right. Twilight is the princess of friendship."

The pilot suppressed a laugh, but a slight smile remained on his face, "The princess of friendship? This is the first time I've heard such a title." He lightly chuckled.

"There's nothing funny here, Valery Pavlovich." The mare frowned at such a frivolous attitude to the princess. "She really solves friendship problems." She huffed offendedly.

"A diplomat?"

"In a way.” Rarity replied evasively.

After eating the remaining pastries, Chkalov wiped the remnants of food from his lips with a napkin."Rarity, are you in a hurry somewhere?" the pilot asked, seeing the mare fidgeting.

"Well, no, just to the castle. I have an early train tomorrow morning and I wanted to sleep."

Chkalov got up from his chair and adjusted his cap. "Then I apologize for delaying you. Mind if I walk you home?" the man offered, holding out a helping hand.

"I don't mind," Rarity smiled. "I've been assigned a room in Princess Celestia's castle." She said, taking the pilot's hand.

***

Chuikov was slowly stirring a spoon in an empty tea glass and reading a newspaper from his native world. The hard day came to an end not too long ago, and the general was about to go to bed when there was a knock on his door. Opening the wooden barrier, a blue unicorn in a formal black suit and a monocle on their left eye held a letter from Princess Celestia in their magic.

Closing the door and walking further into the room, Chuikov broke the sun-shaped wax seal holding it closed, where he then pulled out a piece of folded paper and began to read.

"Dear Vasily Ivanovich,”

“I bring to your attention that the Gryphon ambassadors have agreed to a meeting and are ready to conclude agreements with the Soviet Union. However, they request specific conditions. Firstly, no more than two people you trust may be able to accompany you. And not have a weapon on your person. The meeting will take place in Gryphonstone in two days. If you agree, Vasily Ivanovich, I will ask you to approve this request and start preparing.”

“Signed, Princess Celestia of Equestria."

Chuikov thought over the letter’s contents for a while, factoring in the dangers of this diplomatic mission.

But after weighing the pros and cons, he went to the phone and dialed a number. "Alexey Valentinovich? Hello, this is Comrade Chuikov. I'm sorry it's so late, but there's an urgent matter. Can you please come to my office?" He spoke into the phone's transmitter.

On the other end of the line, heavy breathing was heard for a few seconds until the divisional commissar Sokolov’s voice answered with, "Of course, Vasily Ivanovich. I'll be there in seven minutes." He said before he hung up.

After the allotted time went by, another knock came from the door, catching the general's attention. Chuikov then opened the door to see a sleepy man with a receding hairline and glasses in the uniform of a divisional commissar. "I'm sorry again for calling so late, Alexey Valentinovich," Chuikov apologized, moving to the side to let Sokolov into his office.

"It's okay, Vasily Ivanovich. If it's urgent, then it's a serious matter that does not require any delay." Sokolov said as he stepped inside.

Sokolov sat on the sofa and prepared to listen to the general, but he handed the commissar a recently opened letter. Adjusting his glasses, he scanned the paper with his borderline sunken eyes. "So you want to agree to a meeting?" Sokolov asked and put the sheet on the table after finishing.

"Of course, these griffons seem unlikely to wish something stupid to happen in the future. In extreme cases, they already stationed forces on the border, fully provided with equipment and fuel. They will be ready to move out immediately if there is a slight chance of danger. Alexey Valentinovich, I know firsthand how well you are able to work with peace treaties. My request is that I would like to see you on this diplomatic mission."

Sokolov looked closely at Chuikov, assessing his words. He just arrived today and is already being asked to participate in negotiations. "I agree." the commissioner said firmly and nodded. "But who is the third in our group?"

"Let's take one lieutenant."

"I Don't understand, Vasily Ivanovich?" Sokolov was genuinely surprised. "How's a lieutenant beneficial in this situation?"

Chuikov smiled and began to explain.

"We cannot risk all the right people. But while this adventure will approve from above, precious days will be gone, of which we have so few. This world lives in a different time, and griffins are no exception. While we live in the twentieth century, they lag behind in development and sit in the Middle Ages. Even though I didn't have to work with this race, according to the pony diplomats, they have a shortage of personnel, and the griffons are far from sophisticated in discussions. I don't promise that it will be easy, but it's not that difficult either. And the lieutenant will act as a radio operator. Weapons are not allowed, but no one talked about a means of communication."

"Okay. But how will you conclude a peace treaty if you almost don't know a thing about the griffons?" Sokolov voiced his logical question.

"This issue can be resolved in the next twenty-four hours. I ask you to get us copies of all available treaties and pacts of ponies and griffons, as well as their state’s history. Will you, Alexey Valentinovich, be able to work at an accelerated pace?"

"I'll try." the commissar sighed and lowered his shoulders. "Anything else?"

Chuikov shook his head negatively. "No, that's it for now. Tomorrow at seven in the morning, come to study the documents." He said, holding his open hand to the commissar.

Sokolov stood up and shook the major's hand with a thin smile."Goodbye, Vasily Ivanovich."

"Goodbye." Chuikov answered.

As Sokolov shuffled back to his room, Chuikov found that he could not sleep for a while that night. Such unexpected news demanded immediate action, but the general could not do anything now, no matter how much he wanted to. Chuikov used his newfound awakeness to walk around the room and smoke a pipe, thinking over all the details of his initiative. If it fails, then, at best, he will be removed from the post of military attache. At worst, he would be court-martialed for his failure.

Sitting in an armchair, Chuikov took out an ink fountain pen and a blank paper.

***

Having escorted the mare to her room and wished her good night, Chkalov slowly returned to his room. On his way to the castle, he learned a fair bit about the princesses and the ponies themselves. And this knowledge did not give rest, only giving rise to new questions to which there is no answer.

After opening his room, he turned on the light, went into the bathroom, and carefully looked at himself in the mirror. The structure of his body turned out this way because of evolution. But the ponies didn’t seem to be affected by it, as if they immediately became intelligent, without development or change. Although, in building an ideal society, they have advanced further than people in that regard: abandoning mass weapons, and replacing them with solutions with words. Friendship has become a priority. After Rarity's words, he realized how important this princess was in the politics of this world.

Chkalov went to the window and opened it, letting in fresh air into the room. There was a full moon in the sky, according to Rarity, controlled by her namesake, Princess Luna. It is difficult to believe her claim, but it is impossible for a Soviet person to accept it. So the blue alicorn also knows how to walk through dreams and influence them? The transcendent power and immortality of the monarchs became a sign of the weak technical development of the country. Why do we need cars, machines, and airplanes if there are native wings and magic? They can’t look at the world from a different point of view because it is easier to live by old foundations and traditions.

“No, I’m thinking about it too much. We are different: it is difficult for us and the natives of this land to understand each other. It's better to go to bed. Otherwise, I’ll waste an hour of the night on philosophy and comparisons.” The pilot thought, closing and leaving the window, turning off the light.

Darkness enveloped the room, cut only by the light of the planet's moon that leaked a cold light into his room. Throwing a blanket over himself, the man closed his eyes, the soothing silence calmed the raging wave of thoughts, and Chkalov sank into sleep.

Eventually, the morning Sun crept through the window to Chkalov's face, baking and tormenting the sleeping man. Chkalov tried to hide from the bright rays for several minutes with a pillow, but he reluctantly admitted defeat to the shining orb in the sky. Opening his eyes, he shut his eyes sharply from the light hitting his face, before blinking the sleep from his eyes and leaving his bed to do stretches. Taking the watch from the bedside table and looking at the dial after the fact, he was surprised to find it was already eight o'clock.

Washing with cool water and putting himself in order, the pilot went to the dining room the way the maid had escorted him down yesterday. Already a few meters away, he smelled buckwheat with stew. Opening the door, the man entered the dining room full of people, the tables all nearly occupied, flooding the room with the sound of talk. Chkalov sighed heavily and, taking the tray, got in line. In front of him stood two young- twenty-something -gunner men dressed to the nines. Their smiles shone with pure joy mixed with delight at the new world.

They didn't have to wait long for their turn, quickly filling their trays and running off to the end of the dining hall. The pilot turned to the food distributor and recognized him as yesterday's, still wearing a chef's hat and an apron that was slightly stained.

The man smiled, "Hello, Comrade Brigade Commander. Today we have buckwheat with stew."

"Put it on." Chkalov nodded.

Taking a full tray of food with him, the pilot now faced the problem of where to sit in the dining hall- all the good seats were occupied. Walking to the end, he noticed one empty seat, the other seats holding four ponies.

Approaching them, Chkalov asked if it was possible to sit down. Seeing a nod and a short "yes" from one of the tables' occupants, he put the food down and sat in the empty chair. Looking at those who already sat at the table, he saw, sitting opposite, among the guards, the familiar pegasus guard, Blueberries. She silently lowered her gaze at the sight of Chkalov and began to pick at her vegetable salad with a spoon.

Chkalov wasn’t the most well-versed in the ponies’ behavioral patterns, but it was impossible not to notice the obvious shyness held in her expressive eyes.

However, he didn’t have time to say anything before Blueberry spoke. "I'm sorry that I so unconsciously snapped at you yesterday. I didn't think we were very different, and we need to listen to other people's opinions, even about princesses." the pegasus said a bit haltingly before falling silent, looking down at her plate again.

Chkalov smiled encouragingly, but the mare did not notice it. "It's okay. I understand where you’re coming from. I did not exactly behaving politely myself when I began to criticize your conceptual views of the world and life."

She looked at the man hopefully while the other guards at the table looked at the two speakers in surprise but were silent.

A kind smile appeared on her face. "Thank you." She answered shortly.

For the remainder of the time, Blueberry and the pilot ate without further word to each other, enjoying their breakfast in silence. Soon, Blueberry had finished her food and stood from the table, turning to look at Chkalov with a smile.

"Well, see you later. I have to go." She said softly to Chkalov and trotted to the exit.

A few minutes later, the pilot finished clanking with a tin spoon and left the dining room. It was already half past eight on his watch— time to visit the major. Straightening his tunic and now well-fed, he cheerfully walked several corridors, a flight of stairs, and found himself at the door with a newly appeared sign "Major Bondarev P.M.". After knocking several times, Chkalov entered the office.

The first table was empty this time. The second one, on the contrary, is occupied by a new secretary for the pilot: a well-built senior political officer with a head of fiery red hair typing rapidly on a typewriter. He stopped and stood up abruptly at the sight of the senior officer and saluted.

"I wish you good health, Comrade Brigade Commander." he barked loudly.

Waving his hand, Chkalov asked where Comrade Major was now. The senior political officer pointed to the door to his right. Having overcome these few meters with long strides, he knocked again. Hearing "Come in" from behind the door, he opened the door.

The major stood by a window with a glass of hot tea and a saucer in his hands, sipping from the cup slowly. He turned around, clearly forcing a smile to spread across his tired face. "Good morning, Valery Pavlovich." The NKVD major greeted hoarsely.

"Good morning, Pyotr Mikhailovich." Chkalov replied in the same spirit.

The major walked over and placed the tea on the table, now putting his attention on the pilot. "I assume you’re probably on the issue of your distribution?" The major asked. Seeing an affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, you have to command a fighter brigade in Ponyville. I think you've already heard about this town." Dismissing the surprise on the pilot's face.

Chkalov digested what he heard for a few seconds before letting out a disappointed sigh. That wasn't what he was hoping for. He really liked the metropolitan life.

Noticing the pilot's dissatisfaction, the major offered to send a telegram for transfer to Canterlot, but Chkalov refused. "If they sent us there, that's where we are needed." Chkalov reasoned, pulling a fake smile.

He didn't like the idea of being Stalin's favorite and had no right to show it. What kind of Stalinist falcon is he after that? They were overcome with pride, the pride of being strong and independent, like a bird in a clear sky.

The major sat down on a chair and picked up the glass again. After blowing on it, he took a sip, "Don't worry too much, Valery Pavlovich. There will be weekends or free days, and you can come back to the capital since the village isn’t far from here." he chuckled.

"What is, is." Chkalov also laughed.

The major got up and went to the drawers on the desk. He sorted through several papers, pulled out a sheet with an appointment, and put it on the table. "Here. Brigade Commander Valery Pavlovich Chkalov is appointed commander of the two hundred and forty-third brigade in Ponyville.” He summarized. Raising his eyes to the pilot, he added: “The town is good. Get acquainted with the local heroes of Equestria, The Elements of Harmony, and Princess Twilight Sparkle, in particular. I've heard they are good girls, even with their oddities."

Picking up the sheet, Chkalov quickly ran his eyes over the text and nodded to himself.

“So, Ponyville. Maybe it's not bad at first glance.” The pilot thought.

"You can stay in the city until three o'clock in the afternoon. Then all those who arrived yesterday will be given assignment sheets to their new units and sent by train. Or go by car now. According to your rank, you are supposed to travel in a personally provided transport with all amenities." The major told the pilot.

At least like the idea of getting carried to Ponyville by car, Chkalov stood and gave a smile. "I'll go now." Chkalov gave a short answer.

"Then you can pack your things, Valery Pavlovich. The car will wait for us in the parking lot in ten minutes."The NKVD major stood up and shook hands with Chkalov.
"Have a nice day." He said in a casual tone.

"And the same to you, Pyotr Mikhailovich." the test pilot replied.

That's where they parted. Chkalov quickly reached his room and, in a few minutes, packed all his personal belongings in a brown suitcase. Looking around the room once more to check if he had taken everything and found nothing missing, Chkalov took the suitcase in his right hand, walked out into the corridor, and looked for the maid.

Seeing a filly in the form of castle staff in the distance, the pilot shouted: "Miss, come here, please.” In just one evening with Rarity, he, a citizen of the USSR, learned how to address the local pony etiquette.

She turned around and trotted up to Chkalov. After looking questioningly at his face and not finding any answers, she lowered her gaze, noticing the suitcase.

"Are you leaving already?" the mare decided to test her guess.

"Yes. Here's the key." From Chkalov's outstretched hand, the key quickly enveloped in white magic, flew into the maid's pocket. After saying goodbye, the pilot went down and left through the front doors.

It was hot outside again.

“It's just like sitting at home.” Chkalov thought.

Pulling his cap over his eyes to protect them from the sunlight, Chkalov strode to the parking lot packed with cars. In a small, shaded area, under a canopy, there were emochki and one-and-a-half trucks, mechanics examining them and swirling around like bees. Nearby, drivers were sitting in the shade and discussing something loudly. There was already a wound-up black emochka on the landing, sunlight reflecting dimly off its dark hull.

Touching the heated black metal handle of the emochka back door, he opened the door, throwing the suitcase on the next seat, and sat beside it, slamming the door on his way in.

Without turning around, the Caucasian-looking driver spoke in a deep voice with a Southern accent. "Good morning, Comrade Brigade Commander. You should take off your tunic. The sun, oh, how hot it is today."

"I see." Chkalov answered sarcastically, "Let's go." he ordered.

The driver shrugged off Chkalov's irate disposition and pressed his foot on the gas peddle, backing out and turning the car onto the road. So, at low speed, the emochka left the castle’s ground and entered the city’s streets; the driver looked out for pedestrians as he turned his head in all directions. Soon, the car drove out of the city border and found itself on a smooth dirt road that winded among the hills of wheat and rye. In the distance, several carts with ponies dragging them could be seen slowly crawling toward the turn.

A passenger car in a clear expanse began to gain speed quickly, the engine growling loudly like an unruly beast; a large cloud of dust rose behind her as they sped down the road. The air flowing through the wide-open windows pleasantly cooled Chkalov's face, which was soaked by sweat droplets running down his head. The black car quickly caught up with two carts loaded with closed boxes. And, without slowing down, steeply laid to the left. After skipping the turn, the car began to climb the steep hill before quickly rising to its peak. Here the road stopped winding, and there was not a single turn visible for a couple of kilometers.

Suddenly, a violent rocking motion shook the entire vehicle, causing it to veer side to side across the road uncontrollably. Only through the driver’s efforts that the car didn’t fly into the ditch, only stopping at the very edge. There was silence for several seconds, interrupted by Chkalov, who hissed in pain. It happened so quickly that the pilot did not have time to be scared; the back of his head hurt, electing a pained groan.

"Are you alive, Comrade Brigade Commander?" The driver asked, turning around to face Chkalov.

In appearance, he turned out to be a middle-aged Armenian. His sincere brown eyes were intently examining the commander for severe bruises. "I’m alive, I’m alive." the pilot belatedly replied. "What was that just now?"

"I don't know, Comrade Brigade Commander. Maybe a pit." The Armenian said vaguely.

Chkalov sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. The driver did not sit idly, getting out of the car to start inspecting it for damage.

After climbing for a few minutes, he returned to Chkalov with a guilty face."We need to fix it, Comrade Brigade Commander. The elastic bands of the stabilizer fell out. We need to put new ones." the driver of the emochka reported.

Chkalov nodded, "Come on. Let’s fix it."

The driver immediately ran away to work on the malfunction, and the pilot went out on the road. Taking out his cigarettes, only to find out that they were already running out, he struck a match and lit one. Taking a deep drag, he blew out the bitter smoke and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's not as bad as it seems at first glance. It could have been much worse.” Chkalov said, putting the smoldering cigarette to his lips again.