Fallout Equestria: Burdens

Chapter 7- Reunions

“Old faces, bitter memories. Some, better than others…”

It doesn’t feel right…

It’s been on my mind, and I can’t just leave it; the way that dinner-meeting ended— one of the last things the Matriarch said. Fear. Suspicion. Paranoia. They descend on me like vulture-hawks to pick at the cracks in my brain. I tell myself I know why…

Diamond Dust. I know how she is. I still get chills from every memory she’s a part of. Does the Matriarch know how she thinks? I know what she’s going to think when she sees Avie come back with me to the Mountain. Could those mystic eyes see it? I can’t help but shudder in the heat…

I just don’t know what’s worse…The haunting sense brought on by all this, or the fact that I’m going back to the Cage? No. That can’t be the worst of it; it would have to be wondering if she’s at least safe. The Matriarch mentioned a quarantine, but I don’t think that’s safe enough from the mare who holds all the keys to the Cage…

Huh… That’s a thought… Why do the Zebra, and the Matriarch, want to see Avie so badly? I hadn’t thought about it, and now that I’ve brought it to the forefront of my mind… I don’t know if it was a good idea…

What don’t I know? They can’t be this generous with something like that… I expected it to be dismissed as easy as that. No, they wouldn’t be going through all of this trouble… So… What?

If there’s anything that’s making any of the things on my mind fester worse it’s the relative silence of my immediate area. There’s not a word spoken— and there hasn’t been since we left the Mountain some time ago; it’s just me on my end of the roomette and Wildcat on the other. No social ambience, only the mechanical, steady, and rhythmic clickity-clack I can hear clearly and barely feel under the both of us. Occasionally there’s a loud, howling whistle from the engine some carts ahead in the direction we’re going, and as discordant as it’s as if the noise helps me take as deep breaths as it does for the train itself; all together it’s like blowing into a pot of water to keep the bubbles from spilling over. I can’t turn off the proverbial stove, but everything else helps balance the muddle in my head and stomach, somewhat…

Click-click—

–Clank—

Screep—

—Click—

The clangor yanks at my ears. Shock pounces at my heart, and my swollen, dry eyes dart across the roomette aimlessly…

Click-click—

–Clank—

Screep– Screep– Screep—

That fervent brushing noise pulls my focus to the front of me as it makes my teeth tingle uncomfortably. I take a deep breath and wipe the blurriness away to let everything come through clearer. Oh…She’s at it again…

The way she’s fixed on the laid-out tarp full of arranged bits of junk— it’s like I can throw something at her and she wouldn’t even feel it. Her horns glowing, and the aura wrapped around some of those pieces, reflecting off her brass-colored eyes, it’s like she’s not even here in the roomette right now.

Screep– Screep– Screep–

There’s that grating noise again, and it came from what looks like a barrel of a ballistic, without its body. Something bobs inside one of the ends of the tube, and comes out gently all at once. It’s a metal brush of some kind that she sets aside in a pouch next to her while a thin wire is pulled from the laid out arrangement and fitted with a small piece of cloth. It goes in, and she pushes the wire in, twiddling it on occasion before she pulls it out with care. The fabric was a light blue, I think, and now it’s some shade of sickly gray…

“Somethin' botherin’ you?” She asks in her usual curt disposition.

Nothing comes to mind, and it doesn’t matter. As soon as she asked, it’s like I’m gone from her world. She puts away the little rod and uses a small flashlight to shine it into her eye that’s peering into one end of the barrel.

There’s a shared rule about looking into the ends of anything that shoots. Although it’s not really a gun at the moment there’s also one about never looking directly into a lightsource— especially with how that metal tube would be funneling an undispersed source of light directly into her retin. And she’s not even bothered by that? What in the world is she thinking?

“Yes?” She asks, this time sounding mildly annoyed.

I say nothing, again, but the tone’s left me stiff. She’s back to fidgeting with the rest of the laid out parts after the barrel and flashlight ordeal, and… begins to put them back together with her eyes closed?

One by one, the parts float off the tarp and gravitate towards one another. They float about the room, giving me a celestial or spiritual vibe with how listless yet harmoniously they circle and click with one another as the brass glow of her magic fills the roomette. First it’s smaller pieces, and then it’s a moderately-sized assembly; finally, it’s a whole ballistic rifle, gently snapping itself straight, before finally resting upright next to Wildcat. I never thought something putting itself back together can be so… mesmerizing.

With her eyes open, now, she takes her rifle and lays it flat in front of her. She’s inspecting it like a machine— checking everything about it, flipping it around and checking the ornaments that hang along it. They’re just brass casings in a loop, accompanied by red and white cloth ornaments. It looks like the same kind that she’s got wrapped up along her hind legs— bisecting into a criss-cross pattern. How is that advantageous out there?

“Are you run-of-the-mill Enclave normally this quiet? Is gawking what you all do when you’ve got nothin’ else?”

I narrow my gaze and turn my attention back to the little window on my left, adjusting however I can to feel the steady crosswind hitting my face. There’s still a lot of sand to travel over…

It’s still too quiet… Need to fix that…

A gift from the Zebra before we left. Its thick gray frame is hard to miss on my right forehoof, but somehow I don’t feel the weight of it. I never thought I’d be seeing a Pipbuck in this good shape. Everything I know— and heard— it comes with, is still on here; it’s relatively new save for what I take for sand scuffing along the frame. Still, it doesn’t look bad for a hoof-mounted terminal… A little too bulky, in my opinion…

I’ve only been able to handle one before it was scrapped for salvage, but it doesn’t take a genius to find the radio setting…

Damn it… There’s not a single radio station out here it can pick up. I thought these things had infinite range, or was that just a techie rumor? Or was it the Zebra themselves? Nothing comes from tuning the frequency but that same warbling static that tells me there’s absolutely nothing for my Pipbuck to catch.

“I don’t think you’ll be findin’ anythin’ on the radio.” Wildcat tells me. I look up at her and she shakes her head. “That Pipbuck was given to you by the Vhoskilinn, right? Yeah, they’ve been studyin’ those things for a while, and that one’s probably shielded.”

Vou… “Shielded?”

“The Stables always had a technician who knows the ins and outs of these things— how to track them, and the like. You can’t know who else besides them knows how to do it, and as far as I know the Si-Min-Shilinn haven’t been able to clean up everythin’ of theirs from the Reclamation War. It’s a big mess.”

See-Min— The thought fizzles. I shut the fucking radio mocking me, and something else about the Pipbuck catches my eye. They’re supposed to have only one gauge, right? The geiger counter is there, but there’s an extra window coming off it— almost like it’s conjoined or dividing off. It’s like a dark bubble or an eye with the blackest pupil I can imagine. That idea alone sends chills down my spine that tears my gaze away from it. It was like being sucked in just now…

“You should be happy. I thought you— or any decent pony in your boots— would be happy.”

In reference to what? My eyes look back at hers for a moment, hoping for clarification. She shrugs at me, giving a vibe that comes off the same way that someone asking a rhetorical question would radiate; the same ‘you’re-smarter-than-this’ wise-eye always rubs me the wrong way. And what does she mean by ‘decent’?

“So you’re not at the very least happy you’re goin’ home?” She asks aloud. “Wish you were able to stay for longer, maybe?”

Every one of those questions tighten the knot in my stomach, hard and fast with a sense of dreadful urgency. I want to tell her how I feel about it; want to deny the implication that I’m more than eager to get back “home.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bird so eager to get back into its oppressive cage, and I’m glad that won’t be the case; happier that we’ll both be going this time…

Maybe she’ll have the answers. I know she does, and so does Stagona. It still weirds me out that she’s more eager to meet a mare she’s only ever heard of. I mean, I can see why— she’s still around, and she was among the last contacts from the mission… She has to know something, right?

Still… The Nag just can’t let go. Not until she gets one good, long look at me— to coddle her “baby colt” — her “good little soldier” — one more time. All for Avie…

I’m doing this for Avie…

I have to do this for her…

Otherwise… I don’t want to think about it. Not now. I’ve just got to endure it a little longer, and it’ll all be over.

“Fine. Don’t tell me— Don’t even say anythin'.” She says with an annoyed-filled sigh. “To think that, maybe, a caged bird would at least be happy to be outside, again. Hell, maybe it’d be good for you— but you’re just as muted out here as you were inside that hole you’ve been held up in for a good while.”

Again, what was going on that made her assume any of this? That’s not me talking— better yet, “Why do ya care so much?”

She huffs, adjusting one of her bangs, “Nice to know the change in scenery didn’t completely fuck with you. I’d figure you really were institutionalized.”

“Answer the question.” I demand.

She threw a hoof up and raised her brows, “It was just an observation. No harm in it— I don’t think there’d be a reason—”

“A reason for what?” I ask.

Her brows furrow. “Do you really hate the idea of visiting your home?”

“Where are ya getting these things from?”

“The fact that the Cloudskip in front of me has a gawkin’ habit, and constantly looks like he’s in between fading away and shittin’ his seat. Do you mean to tell me somethin’? Do I bother you that much? You don’ say anythin’ at all, and I’m supposed to be okay with it?”

“Ya didn’t have to come. This is involving me.”

“That wasn’ up to you. The Matriarch stuck me with you, and I intend to follow through with Her decision despite the things I can’t stand.”

I’m pressured to ask her what things she specifically couldn’t stand, but I just take a deep breath instead. What are we even going back and forth on, again?

“Just sayin’,” Wildcat continues, “I don’t know what you told the Matriarch when she invited you— or if what we’re doin’ and where we’re goin’ has anythin' to do with it— but it baffles me— disgusts me, even— that you don’t seem grateful for this in any way.”

She falls back into her seat, pulling her bangs back and rubbing her head like she’s got a headache. “The Reclamation Wars took a lot of things. What do you think happens when you’re robbed of everythin' held dear within a decade of conflict? You have the slightest idea?”

I don’t. I don’t want to know, and I’d rather not want to feed that line of thinking with possibilities. Not anymore than I already do. I don’t know about war, but I know what it’s like to live with the fear of loss; knowing that at any moment, I can lose everything because of the ones sitting in the seats of power. I’ve had to learn that since the day I got my cutie mark…

A sharp, windy whistle cries out from somewhere ahead. The momentum, it’s slowing with the panning of scenery from the window. A thought comes to mind and out my mouth, “We’re not there already, are we?”

Wildcat looks as confused as I am. She stands to poke her head out of the door to our roomette. Through the crack, I can hear some faint chatter going on, and some armored Aridians coming from behind us— her immediate right— stop momentarily to respond to what I guess is her own questions about what’s going on.

She pulls her head back in and the Aridians continue going to the front, “Routine supply stop.” She says aloud, sitting back into her spot. “Looks like we’ll be here a while.”

Wait a minute… we’re actually going to stop here? Right this second? I’m torn; all I feel is a pensive loosening of the knot in my stomach. “What about the Na— the General?”

“The Enclave’s gonna have to wait.” She says, waiting at the door for me to get up, “I’m sure the Matriarch— or at the very least the Qalkam-Hal’shalinn— had told them about the route this freight train would be taking, and the Mutfaylinn need to keep to their schedule…”

Another word I don’t know? Or have I heard it before? It feels like I do…

“Just hang in there, and stay outta the way.” She continues, “The faster they get this whole thing done, it’ll go by like nothing.”

My stomach growls with agony as the knot gets tighter and tighter, writhing on the inside as it threatens to constrict all the nerve bundles from inside. Fuckin dammit… Fuckin dammit!

“Supper’ll come along soon, too.” She says. “Just hang in there and don’t throw a fit.”

That’s not what I’m waiting for… I don’t want to wait for anything, anymore…

* * * * * *

The train whistle sounds off in a strange, familiar pattern. Momentum pulls at me slightly like before; it’s slowing down, but this time I can hear it. It’s a long, dragging, metallic creek that echoes under us as we’re eased to a halt. Finally, it stops, and the whole armored locomotive breathes long and hard, easing in its entirety.

While it rests, everything else stirs. Wildcat jumps up, throwing her tarp over her frame— becoming a cloak— followed by her rifle, proper. “We’re here,” She says nonchalantly, before her tone whips into a more stern and pushy type, “Get movin!”

The way her words cracked in my face, my knees go rigid and cold— forcing me upright and stiff as armor in stasis. Memory echoes the first time she spoke to me like that; when the Matriarch was expecting me. I know who’s expecting me, and my stomach becomes lead while my blood slowly becomes ice. I don’t have to think about where my head’s going, and I can’t stop it; not until every fiber in my body is frozen till my joints creek, and my cheeks begin to burn…

“We’re not doin’ this again, Cloudskip,” Wildcat snaps with restraint. “C’mon!”

I lower my head and follow her out, keeping my eyes open and to the shadow of her tail. The whole trek through the bowels of the armored snake it’s as if there’s a fire just at my flank; if I don’t maintain a steady pace and keep up, I’ll get bit. Just go along with it… Just go along with it… It’ll be over and done with; just a little back and forth, and then we’re done… Just a little longer…

The air, it’s full of chatter, invading the stillness of the train. Beyond the step in front of me is concrete. My booted hoof reaches out, makes contact, and I force myself to jump off. There’s a bump at my shoulder, and I instantly recoil. Senses flaring, joints springing; my wings ruffle and pop half-way open. What was that? Who was that?!

“Hey, are you still with me? What was that?” Wildcat asks, shooting me a skeptical look.

Everything settles, and my breath slows with my heart. Throbbing comes around to make my head a beaten drum. I hold myself at the bridge of my nose, cover my eyes and rub them in to make it go away.

“Don’t—” A throb catches me. “Don’t sneak up on me. Not here.”

She looks even more confused. “You weren’t sayin’ anythin,’ and I was right here the whole time—”

“The lost son’s finally here!” A sound that cuts through the ambience. It’s a stallion’s voice that pushes everything and everyone else aside, bringing animosity to the forefront of my mind. Wildcat looks caught off guard by it, and she turns around into the direction of those loud, boisterous words. And there he is…

“Ace…” I mumble.

He comes up with a cold strut that betrays the energy his words had, clad in Wonderbolt-themed combat armor that starkly contrasts his fiery red colors. His smile makes me think he’s genuinely happy to see me, but I can’t say the same— not for him or his entourage of lackeys.

Wildcat steps between us, and Ace looks genuinely surprised. “Back up,” she warns.

He looks over her, fixing that one large, ridiculous bang hanging over his face. “You’re really Trade, huh? I almost didn’t recognize you under all that Aridian garb. Seriously, almost a month or so and you start mingling with the natives?” I give him a cold stare, and not a word.

“Where’s your General?” Wildcat asks, finally catching his attention.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. That’s why we are here.” He says. “The General’s inside, waiting. She wanted us to bring him to her while we wait for the arrival of your Matriarch. Say… are you really an Aridian? You don’t look like—”

“You’re about to look like a real mess if you don’t shut it.” She snaps.

“Feisty like one; maybe you really are. I apologize.” He says. “Anyways, Trade you’re with me—”

“Wherever he goes, I go.” Wildcat interrupts with firm certainty in her voice. “I’m his Keldusrani'; it’s the job given to me by Her.”

“Last I checked, we had jurisdiction within our own territory given to us by… her. The General wants him, and him only. You can wait here and help your cousins, or sisters, or whatever this crew means to you, with unloading the supplies. It’s only him that’s allowed.”

She looks back at me. Is she expecting an objection? I don’t even know if I can. Her nostrils flare with a snort and she turns back to him, “You have your duties, I have mine. I’ll leave when she’s the one to tell me.”

That’s a little bold… I wish he was wrong about the whole jurisdiction thing, but he isn’t. Still, I don’t think it’d be in the Nag’s interest to do anything drastic with an Aridian in the Cage…

Ace rolls his head back, opening up his smile, “Alright. Alright, we’ll play it like that.”

Wildcat exclaims something, though I can’t hear what it was she just said above all the commotion going on. A part of me is relieved, nonetheless, but another isn’t so sure how to feel about it. It’s like I’m floating without a harness and no control over my own buoyancy; I’ll sink at any minute. Any minute…

“You can’t be walking around with either of those things,” Ace gestures to her brass- gilded get up; to the rifle she has slung on her, and such. “Check in with the Master of Arms, she’ll hold your stuff, and then maybe I’ll consider letting you tag along.”

I can hear her equipment clatter against her frame. One of her hooves is firmly against a particular place along the side of her chest. The burning look on her face makes me think of a mare who’s been asked a deeply personal question that would’ve had a stallion slapped for bringing it up.

Ace’s own expression is unmoved. “I didn’t think a mare could marry what amounts to metal and wood. What, flesh and blood stallions too much for you?”

He chuckles; his lackeys chuckles. Wildcat steams.

“You’d get your toys back.” Ace reassures her in his condescending tone. “If you’re not okay with it, then just wait here. Help your fellow Sandtrotter and stick to your social codes or whatever it is you all do. I’m sure Momma Aridian will completely understand why you chose your toys over your duties as a… Kel–Kal–Keldu–whatever it is you call yourself.”

Wildcat’s eyes twitch and the bridge of her nose creases. Her nose is flared and her eyes look more orange than brass. Everything tells me to back up, and I’m slowly letting it happen. She begins to swear something fierce under her breath. Whatever it sounds like, it makes me think of a tantrum.

“It’s not that hard.” Ace comments.

“I will leave them, and I will know if you’ve done anythin’ to them.” Wildcat finally speaks with a tone that can cut skin by just being near her.

Ace actually looks like he can’t hold his laugh, and it comes out. He catches himself afterwards, this time looking like he broke the high score at the range. “ I might actually like you. Just… wow— that’s a lot of fire for firepower! Heh…”

She’s not having it. The feeling is mutual…

“That’s exactly what I needed to get my morning started…” Ace thinks aloud, giving himself a good headshake as he takes point, “Stick close— especially you, uh…”

“Wildcat.” She says.

“Yeah. Just stick close, watch yourself, and you’ll be able to leave your guns with the Master of Arms stationed at the entrance further down the loading station. It’s not everyday a horned one walks in, especially one like you.”

Wildcat says something in response. Still not sure what it was, but I recognize a razor’s edge in the exclamation.

“If that’s the split-tongue I keep hearing, try showing a little hospitality and regard for those around you. Not every pegasus here can speak it.”

Nothing else is said. I’m glad she recognizes the value in going back and forth with this stallion. It’s just not worth it. Never is…

Into the Cage proper.

Can she see me? I know she can; the chill hits me strongest here.

What do ya want? What is it ya really want? I already know the answer, but asking regardless helps me, somewhat… If just a little…

* * * * * *

Nothing has changed since not waking up here. It’s still the same crowded and cold halls; the same murals along the walls— some of it has expanded, if only a little; the same O’Leery banners hanging under the lights lining the edge of the ceiling.

But their eyes— all of their eyes, every one of them in the halls— they gawk at me, as Ace and his Wonderbolts part the traffic. I try keeping my head down, but the feeling doesn’t fall off like rain; not like it used to.

Do they know something, after all? Am I that big a blip on their radar, now? How spread out is the incident?

Nothing around me helps, not even the hood I pull over my face. It’s as if their stares burn through the fabric hiding me; neither does Ace or Wildcat’s presence help. The attention is worse by their proxy, and it’s getting harder to breathe; colder to move.

“Keep up back there!” Ace hollers before turning his snout back to the crowd yet to be parted before him, “Make way! Make way for the Wonderbolts! Nothing to see! Make way; Go about your business!”

“Nothing to see”... Pointless. These drones, they listen to him; they part way for him, but when they’re out of his immediate area it doesn’t matter. “Go about your business”... In one ear, and out the other for all of them. I can feel every one of them, but I can still feel hers over all. It gets stronger and stronger the higher and closer we get to the acme of the Cage.

One flight; Two flights; it’s not that far from when we left the station— it shouldn’t be that far. Is it me or is it the world that’s forcing the distance to stretch and time to slow. I don’t want to be there, but the anticipation bleeds me cold.

It’s all the same, but things still feel out of place in the back of my mind. The Captain; the team, I can’t make any of them out. They’re somewhere, but I don’t know if they’re here in the Cage at this moment. Even as the crowds begin to thin the lower we go, they still don’t show up. Slowly, it’s starting to seem just as likely that they’re up and about… Or worse…

“What do you all even do here?” Wildcat speaks up as we continue our descent. I don’t know if she’s asking me, or our escort. Maybe both?

“Depends on the job and the officer.” Ace speaks up.

“Like what?”

No answer.

Taking a peek to my right, Wildcat makes a peeved face. “So many pegasi for one place, in a land that needs as much of them out there, than in here. Why?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

Nothing else is said. The rest of the walk is still, and we stop right at the last flight leading up to the acme room looking down on everything inside this bunker. The Wonderbolts guarding the set snap to attention the minute Ace rolls up. They salute; he exchanges the gesture, and they resume guard the minute he drops his hoof.

“This is it.” Ace says, turning to look at me. “Your friend’s gonna have to wait out here while I bring you to her.”

We’re not friends… “What about her?” I ask, flicking my head towards Wildcat.

“She’ll be escorted back.” He answers. “She can’t linger anymore than she’s been allowed. We can’t be too careful, eh, uni?”

Wildcat audibly snorts.

“And that’s what I’m talking about right there. She’d be better with her kin or whatever they call themselves. The General wouldn’t want any fuss or complications, and neither do I since I’ve had to deal with her so far.”

I take a deep breath, looking at the stairs and seeing the landing at the top of this flight get away from me. Freezing at the first step, looking up and seeing many more to go. I’d fly over them— get it over with like a bandaid, but the dimensions won’t let me open my wings comfortably to do that. It’s forcing me to walk them; to count every step up as my own heartbeat gets louder and louder with every thud my walking makes.

It’s not that many stairs… It’s frustrating and dreadful.

With every step the atmosphere changes just a little, it seems. Colder, and harder to breathe.

Just get it over with…

Just get it over with…

The door’s right there… It’s right there!

My hoof won’t budge to push the button to request entry. She’s right behind the door, I just know it. She’s waiting for me… The first thing she wants to see…

“Open the door, Trade.”

Ace’s words give me the shock my hoof needs to buzz for entry. The door opens to jolt me even more. She’s… She’s not there…

The open doorway is clear, but I could’ve sworn she was there grinning at me.

“Anytime, Staff Sergeant!” Ace pushes me into the spacious office. She’s not at the desk at the center of the room, or at the numerous screens behind it. The dread pulls my attention to the left — to the giant glass eye overlooking the hangar. Her back is turned towards me, and she’s quiet…

“General Diamond Dust, ma’am!” Ace snaps at attention, his stomp and salute startle and bounce off the walls. Her ears flick, and are the only thing that moves in response to Ace’s introduction.

“What is the first thing you do when in the presence of an officer, Trade Wind? What aren’t you doing, now?” Her words—seasoned, windy, ostentatious— crawl into my ears and rake at my brain.

The deeper they go, the more lost I feel— the more lost I feel the more every thought feels wrong, stuck, and hesitant— the more they feel stuck, wrong, and hesitant, the angrier she’s getting that I’m not saying or doing what she wants me to do…

She’ll be mad if I salute now because I didn’t when I was supposed to, but if I don’t salute I’ll still get what’s coming…

I-I-I didn’t—I mean—Um—I’m supposed too—

“Captain Ace. Leave us.” She says, stern and authoritative like a gavel strike. “Thank you for bringing me what I asked. Now see to the preparations for the eventful arrival of the Matriarch of Grand Aridia.”

“Ma’am!” Ace snaps with confidence and pride. My eyes fall onto the floor as my ears hone in on the fleeting hoofbeats of the Wonderbolt leaving the room.

The door closes behind me.

Time stands still, and the dread seeps into every muscle and joint that’s holding me up. I just keep my eyes down, fighting the urge to look at the General. She hasn’t said a word, and my blood runs cold because of it.

My eyes shift on impuls—

The room shifts into a blur, sound becomes a buzz in my left ear, and it’s as if the world slid out from under my hooves. The floor meets me with a harsh thud that knocks at my head. Stars are in my vision, and everything I see is dimmer. My cheek feels fat… Numb… Stinging… Burning…

Thinking about it makes it hurt, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s hot to the touch; my hoof won’t stop shaking, the wounds won’t stop throbbing. Tears well up and blur everything as I hold my head to keep it from falling off. I try to say something, but all that wants to come out is a hissing; too many things that want to come out.

I’m trying to say I’m sorry… I need to say it, but she won’t like the scream…

Her words slowly slither through the droning, getting right into my ear and biting hard, “Do you remember now?! Answer me!”

Taking a deep breath, stifling the sniveling and shakiness in it, I get back up on my hooves and crack the salute.

Tells her what she wants to hear… Tell her what she wants to hear…

The pain from the smack’s welling up and pushing what needs to come out down. It’s suffocating to dredge it up, and it’s like I’m going to pop. “Staff Sergeant Trade Wind! Third Stormtroopers! Reporting, General Diamond Dust, Ma’am!”

Those icy blue eyes. The air burns my skin as they radiate everything that makes my bones rattle. I can’t drop the salute, and I suck up the pain as best I can. She’ll kill me if I do, and…

She doesn’t blink, not once. Her hoof sharply raises and I wince from the jolt to my heart, trying hard not to look away. I dare not move away, but so many things are screaming in my head; painting blurry pictures that rouse bring up all the horrible stings and bruises. What did I do? What did I do— I’m sorry—I’m so—

My heart might’ve just stopped, but— it doesn’t make sense. Her hoof’s blow is a lot softer, and she decided to go for my shoulder. It doesn’t stay there, but wraps around and pulls at me, bringing closer to her. She hums into my ear, the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. Her breathing is deep, slow, but it stops abruptly. Why did she stop? Why did she?

“Those split-tongued animals,” She says with a growling whisper. “When was the last time you had a shower? Answer me.”

“A-a-a day before—” I cough and swallow the growing lump in my throat. “A day before the departure… ma’am.”

“They don’t have running water on those trains?” She prods. “Or do they drink that, too, after they’ve used it— per their backwater custom?”

I’ve never seen anything like that… “No… ma’am.”

“Trade Wind, I thought we were past all of this. This isn’t how I remember my good soldier.”

I know what she means. My brain and my heart tussle over reason and fear, trying to figure a way around this. I don’t know what to do— What does she mean? “I’m sorry.” Is all I can say.

“I’m sorry?” She echoes… or does she?

“I’m sorry, ma’am!” I repeat, a little louder.

“Sorry about what?”

I shake my head a little. I’m sorry for something, and it’s what she just said. I’m not being a good soldier, and I can’t keep my words steady. They just… fumble out of my lips and fizz out like a dying spark on a wick.

“How can I have a pleasant conversation with my son if I can’t hear a single thing he’s saying? I certainly hope you weren’t this meek with the Aridians.”

The crushing weight of realization makes my ears fold. That’s what happened, sometimes, but all the time. I didn’t mean to…She knows, right?

“You did, didn’t you?”

She saw right through me, and I can’t look her in the eye to tell her. “I’m sorry… ma’am. I didn’t know what happened… ma’am.”

“Trade Wind, you’re not making any sense. Why are you so worked up? You’re home.”

This isn’t— “I know. It’s just… It’s been a while. I don’t— I don’t know what happened…”

“You decided to contribute, for once, to the Enclave.” She points out. “I’m disappointed it didn’t go as smoothly as I hoped. How often does this happen, to have your son suddenly disappear? You nearly gave me a heart attack for everything. Everything.”

“But… I came back.”

There’s a long, debilitating sigh. She braces my shoulders again, “Yes you did, for the better.”

I did come back… But then I left… I left her behind…

“Still, it’s good that you’re back, and not entirely lost to indignation,” Her hoof glides across the clothes Stagona gave me. “These clothes, however, stink of the desert. I’d rather you get out of them before I can barely recognize you.”

“They were a—”

“A what?”

“I had nothing… ma’am.”

My chin is pulled up, and my eyes follow. It’s hard to keep the chills from showing, and it’s harder to to look away, again. “We really need to work on how you say “mom” like that. It wouldn’t’ve been an issue if you were still here— where you should always be.”

But… I’m being respectful… I’m saying “ma’am” not “mom” — She heard me say it… Unless I really did… I did…

Another smile creeps over her face, and she begins to laugh at herself. No, she’s laughing at me. My cheeks feel hot, and that sinking feeling gets a whole lot worse as she chortles.

“Oh Trade Wind, just relax— it’s just a joke. Don’t overthink it.”

That doesn’t sound right. “For once”? I’ve contributed more than that. But how can I do that when she wants me here? She didn’t have a problem with me moving to the barracks, but then again I got a nasty look when I decided to move forward with it. It’s confusing…

“Look at us still standing; we should be on the couch.” She shakes at my shoulders and makes her way to it against the wall, sitting on her preferred cushion. The moment she turns her head to me, I jump to take my seat. She insists with a gentle patting that I sit right next to her.

Taking a deep breath, and easing onto the spot she set for me, I keep looking elsewhere. Somewhere; some place ahead of me. Waiting…

“So tense as always.” She comments. “You can’t seem to relax, can you. How… ironic.”

Ironic? What’s ironic?

“Look at me,” she asks. My body tingles along the parts of me closest to her; I don’t know where she’ll be touching, or how I should react.

Where’s she going to come from? I can’t make it out. The tingles are scrambling along my left side from my face to the wing…

I can’t… I can’t…

“I thought you knew better, Trade Wind. I will not be made the bad pony, again. All I’m asking for is your eyes. Show them to me.”

Like she hasn’t seen them enough, already? It’s always my eyes, always. What does she see in them? I don’t understand; never did. They’re just like anyone else's…

My right cheek is hooked, and my face torques painfully in her direction. She doesn’t let go of me, and I can feel my skin burning.

Her hooves come up and hold both my cheeks. I dare not look away. Her cold eyes are so happy with my vermillion in their reflection. Her lips come close, and she bends my head down a little to peck my forehead. One time; two times, almost back to back, but everytime our eyes are forced to lock the peering gets a little longer.

“Good soldier.” She tells me. “Good, good soldier.”

I am… The Matriarch’s words echo in my head; the talk of oath and faith— honor-binding, and the like. I know what I said; I know what I thought to myself. What I said, and what the Na– what General Diamond Dust says. How am I a good soldier, when I ended up where I am, now?

The general lets my face go, and now her attention goes to the Pipbuck on my forehoof. She pulls it up to her face where she can get a better look at it. “Now, why would they give you something like this if not to trade? That is unbecoming of them, now… hello?”

She was asking me that time? Taking a deep breath to come up with the explanation. It’s there, “Um… Yes, ma’am. The Pipbuck was… was given to me because… Well, because…”

“Because what?” She asks, fidgeting with the knobs.

I can’t get my words out. There’s not enough air coming past my lips to project them, “I-I-I don’t know. I don’t…remember...”

“You mean you’re forgetful? Or you just won’t tell me?” She snaps. I look away as she says that. “This is not like you to keep secrets from me. You wouldn’t want to keep from your dear mother, Trade Wind. Remember that? Do you remember what happens when you keep things in the dark?”

I want to say I don’t, but I’ve always had a feeling. But it’s just that; a gut instinct that makes imagination and speculation run wild. It's a coincidence, but maybe it’s not? I don’t know— there’s nothing substantial about it. They always disappear, but everyone and anyone can get lost out there or suffer an accident doing something. Just like Avie’s… No, that one was an accident!

“Your eyes say it all.”

Stones drop in my stomach, en masse. I’m sinking into the couch; shrinking; I can’t close my eyes or stop thinking about it. She knows… She knows!

“You wouldn’t break my heart, again, now, would you?” Her words are sad. “First you turn down my exemption for military service; then you brush me off callously when I worked hard to bring you into the Wonderbolts; and now you continue to lie, lie, lie to me!”

All those things. I had my reasons, and they were mine to be made. “It’s not like—”

“Like what?!” She bursts, throwing my forehoof away from her and forcing me to look her in the eye, again. Her hold’s too tight… It’s too tight… “Don’t. You. Dare. I seriously doubt I taught you anything like that. From where and from whom did you pick this up? Is it those split-tongued savages?”

There’s a rumble in her voice; a low growl itching to come out.

“I-I-I wanted to do things on my own… Spread my wings.”

“And look where that got you!” She snaps. The force of her words is like a grenade, and the shock makes me jump. “Look at yourself, now! It has barely been a month that you have been taken from me, and you only have yourself to blame! A son should never have to come back like you did. The way she was carrying you… The danger she brought into this place— those eyes from the desert gawking at you! Careless! This is what happens when you completely disregard all I’ve tried to do for you! Everything! None of this would have happened!”

It’s like a hammer coming down. One remark after another pounds into my head, knocking me down several pegs until I’m the size of a colt. It never grows numb, no matter how many times I hear it for any little thing; always more aggressive. Always the loser.

My eyes hurt, trying to fight back the tears from the words worming into my head. I can’t get them out, because I know she’s right. It’s my fault. It’s always been my fault.

I didn’t mean to…

I did mean to…
I couldn’t—
I wouldn’t—
I…

There’s a presence on my head easing itself down, and I still flinch. It feels like a hoof, rubbing itself into my mane in a stiff, seemingly gentle manner. I can’t get over her words, even if she were trying to scrub the thoughts away— Or rub them in…

“Forty years since we lost everything; twenty-odd years since I lost everything.” She says, in a waxing tone this time. “I do not like having to do or say things that are difficult to swallow, but sometimes they need to be done. I won’t lose more— not to the Wasteland, or to the ghosts of the past. It won’t happen.”

There’s too much noise in my head. I understand all of it, and none of it at the same time. One word stands out from the buzz: “-She-”

“I’ve done your mother’s last wish right, in spite of every bump in the road. You are my responsibility. Mine. ” I feel her lean into my ear. Her subtle, cold breathing crawls down my ear and makes my hair stand on end. “She won’t take you from me. No matter what. Now, give me a hug and a kiss.”

Who’s she? Which she? Don’t say anything…

Don’t assume anything out loud…

Hold my breath, count to three; bite on my tongue if I need to…

Don’t say a word…

Don’t step out of line…

Compulsions jerk me around to give her a peck on the cheek and the hug is nothing but me lounging onto her frame until my entire side is up against her front. I can never hear the heartbeat from a mare so cold to the touch that it bleeds through my clothes, too; one who calls herself a ‘mother...’

My mind drifts to Avie, and her gentle hugs. It’s hard to try and hold onto that memory of her cozy, warm, soft fur and wings; the soup and her glee; her eyes and smile. It’s too cold for that feeling to stay…

Avie…

Where are you, Avie…

What did she do to you?

“Now,” the General says aloud, “you better get that bruise on your cheek sorted before the Matriarch arrives. I want you to look exceptionally presentable, and, thankfully, I’m prepared.”

She gets up from the lounging couch, and I stay where I am. My eyes follow her slow gait to the far end of the office— past the circular desk at the center of the room and to the right of the master security terminal, to a separate room beyond another door.

The minute she vanishes, my eyes catch onto a standing picture frame. Those are my eyes staring back at me, but the pony in the picture is a smiling mare with colors like the sun. It’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time, but it’s one I have no feelings about. She looks so happy… Is she?

Diamond Dust enters the picture, and my attention’s back on her. Underneath a pale white wing are… “My… My dress uniform.”

“I had saved it when they took you from me. It’s all you needed, and everything else has been donated. I know you understand.”

It’s the one thing I didn’t think would happen. I might as well have been considered dead, and the Na– the General, kept what she felt was important. Still, a part of my heart wrenches over some of the small things I collected; all gone.

“What about… these… ma’am?” I ask, weakly gesturing to what I’m wearing.

She takes a deep breath, and her eyes pull up to the ceiling. Annoyed. “We could have it burned if it didn’t mean offending a certain somepony. I suppose you can just leave them here, and I’ll have somepony throw them back into the train.”

I nod and she drops the folded clothes next to me. Atop the pile is a manilla folder.

“That is for the mare she’s been asking about. You’re going to get yourself presentable and leave this with the Med Wing staff. Once you do, you will come right back to the station and we will wait for the Matriarch. Do I make myself clear?”

The question sounds like it’s said through gritted teeth. I swallow the growing lump in my throat. “Yes… ma’am.”

“I’m sorry?!”

Fear forces my eyes back up at her; forces the answer she wants out, “Yes ma’am! Right away, ma’am!”

That smile creeps across her face, again. A sated smile that burns into my mind.

Yes, ma’am…

Sorry, ma’am…

Right away… Ma’am…

* * * * * *

The call was relayed; a call from the Mountain. She’s on her way, and we wait in the shade of the Mouth of the Cage— looking out towards the emptiness slowly gaining a tint of orange, and trying to make sense of the rippling heat waves. It’s deathly silent, and that’s more than unnerving. It’s just us— me, the Na— General, and the small ceremonial welcome standing in formation and waiting to go forward with the welcoming. The crew of the train— they’re also waiting, but I don’t see Wildcat. Is she still wrangling with her things at the QM? Or is she just lost in the crowd on account of the Aridians’ size?

A breeze rolls though to pick up dirt and sand to make it dance along the tracks. It comes back around, this time bringing more of it up like a curtain or a veil. Once more, only something’s different. There in the distance, where it looks like sandy whirlwinds are forming— There’s something there. Someone.

At first, it may have been just a shape; my mind making something out of the twisting shadows, but it’s more than that. As the sandy curtain builts, the shape becomes a distinct silhouette, and when it finally drops there is a figure walking towards us. The lookouts confirm it: it’s her.

Not just her… Something’s off about her. The heat-haze, the way it dances around her… It’s like I’m seeing two…three of her—now five of her, walking towards us…

Each of those mirages split from her, still walking as she does as they drift away from her at the center. I blink, now there are four figures fanking her— two on each side, and the closest to her were different. To her right was a figure covered in dark robes from head to hoof. The veil over their face, in particular, is familiar.

On the Matriarch’s left is somepony else. They’re definitely a pony, but their face is covered with a muzzle-less mask.

Accompanying the three— flanking all of them, is a small group of the Matriarch’s Guard… Saansrah, I think? The sun highlights their brilliant white robes, but as they begin to stand out from the mirage, it’s their eyes that remain the most luminous thing in the sun-bleached emptiness— more than their dress, and more than their wicked armaments. Yellow… Violet… Yellow… All their eyes glow, save for the extras.

My eyes shift over to the General. Without turning her head to Ace on the other side of her, she says, “Proceed with the welcome.”

The dog parrots her words with a howling order. The leads of each of the welcoming parties begin their march and pour out into the sun as the Matriarch gets closer, following a vocalized tempo; left-left-left-right-left. Marching side by side in their own single-file lines, they split from the track in a Y-fashion until they’re roughly the same distance from one another. They keep going, going, then stop; snap their attention towards the track and the direction of the Matriarch relative to them; stomp their hooves once and keep themselves stiff as boards while she walks on through.

They shouldn’t be out there like that… They don’t even have camel packs, and their peak caps don’t help with the sun… Doesn’t dark clothing absorb more heat?

None of them are bowing…

The Aridian crew, they’re out in the sun; covered in their garbs, hoods, and face-masks. They all bow with the gesture, some of them going even lower than others— so low they might even kiss the sand, or fall face-first into it. Huh… All of their tails are curved around in the same direction—

“Kalsha-haam!” Diamond Dust shouts out towards the Matriarch from the shade. “Welcome, Great Mother of Grand Aridia! I wasn’t expecting the School or the Inquisitor. Is there something in particular that I should know?”

I do the gesture; hoof to heart, frog out, and a gentle bow. As I do it, the cold creeps up on me, disapprovingly. Without turning to acknowledge those icy blue eyes, I slowly take back my gesture and go back to standing about, staring out.

The Matriarch keeps her attention to Diamond Dust, speaking clear through the mask, “General. How thoughtful a welcome, but careless.”

“The desert may take the weak, but my soldiers can endure. It’s what they trained for; it is the Enclave, itself.” The General retorts. Just as she says that, I’m beginning to see the cracks forming under the heat stress. It’s seen in how they keep their chin too far high, mouths open, and their booted hooves shifting restlessly in the dirt. How long until the sun dries them out? Until they’re unable to sweat and overheat? The weather’s still strange; a pegasus should handle it. The question is whether or not the General can see that…

“Bring them in, General.” The Matriarch tells her. The way she says it, is like a cautious command; considerate.

The General waits for a bit before saying something, finally, “Bring them back in, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Ace barks before parroting the orders over the Matriarch. For fuck sake, is he serious?!

“Why don’t we come inside,” The General suggests. “I can see if the cooks—”

“I will not take long with these discussions. Where we are will suffice, so long as you stay in the shade.”

There’s a noticeable, but still very subtle turn to the Matriarch’s head when she hears the General speak up. “I suppose that works. How about we wait until the station has been cleared of any eavesdroppers. This is a private negotiation that nopony other than our entourage should hear—”

“The train is right there,” The Matriarch gestures to the armored beast. “It should have a compartment that can make this exchange more formal and comfortable.”

“Ah yes, your train,” The General’s words are a little uncertain, but she sets herself straight, “I apologize for overstepping, but I’d like to repeat my question from before.”

“This is about the stallion, no?”

“That doesn’t thoroughly answer my question.” The General says, almost annoyed.

“And it will be answered once talks begin.” The Matriarch reassures her. Her mask looks about our immediate area, “I cannot help but notice that we are one party short. Where might Aviatrix be?”

“She is being prepped, and will be with us shortly.”

“Excellent, then we shall proceed,” As the Matriarch turns to the entrance of the train, she looks back at me. “Trade Wind, would you be the one to inform us when she has arrived?”

Hearing the name make my heart skip a beat. I didn’t think I’d hear it from her, but my skin crawled hearing her voice say it.

I nod, but a chill crawls up my back to stop my head midway through it. In the edge of my vision, I feel those icy blue eyes burning into me, again. This time, I know what I need to do…

With a gulp of air, I push out my chest and salute firmly. “Ma’am, yes ma’am!”

I haven’t let go of my breath, nor have I let my salute drop. The flow from the eye-holes in her mask don’t calm like the last time I saw them.

What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong? What did…

“He’s such a good young stallion, General.” The Matriarch comments to the pegasus in black.

Diamond Dust’s lips twitch into an open-mouthed smile. “Why thank you, Saan-Al’Kimah.”

Not another word as they step up into the cart. The Matriarch’s guard escorts the entourage and the General inside, and some remain posted outside like sentries. They stare out, the intense glow of their eyes are like searchlights. Always scanning; always waiting.

Alone, again… There’s nothing left but my thoughts, and they’re all saying the same things: What are they discussing?

It’s not my business… But it’s about me… Me and Avie—

The thought brings my attention to the way I’ve been coming and going; past the Wonderbolts and Aridians; past the entrance to the Quartermaster. I’d hope to see her just as I focus on it, but nothing. It’s as vacant as it gets.

There’s nothing better to do, but to just wait for things to happen— I guess. With that, I ease near one of the support beams, facing the way into the Cage.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

A familiar face comes around from the Aridians. The sight of her amber-orange bangs and gray horn isn’t the kind of hope I’d be feeling— I’m not even sure why I’m feeling like that, honestly. Still, it’s something, I guess, seeing her checking her guns at the Master of Arms station several times over even though she’s not at the focus of my attention.

Tick…

…tick…

…tick…

The heat and humidity are going, and the lights are dimming awake.

Pegasi go in and out, trading places as the cold starts to settle. The uniform I’m still wearing isn’t too good at keeping the heat when it matters. I wrap my wings around myself to try and make things feel a little better, and make sure that the wind coming up on my back doesn’t get through.

“Well, this looks familiar…” Ace’s voice cuts the gentle ambiance with his smug voice. “The General’s son, all by his lonesome, wrapped in his wings and waiting for pegasi to come to him.”

I look over to see him coming around my right and looking down at me. I’ll give him credit: this does feel uncomfortably familiar and juvenile.

“I thought the lapdog would be with the General.” I told him, turning my attention back to the entrance ahead of me.

“I thought her pet would be with her, too. But here you are, looking less the soldier and more the lost pup.”

“Pet”... He has no fucking clue what he’s talking about…

“What do ya want, Ace?”

He clicks his teeth, “I can’t play catch up with an old friend?”

It’s like he’s mocking me with the way he plays with those words. It makes my teeth grind, “Shouldn’t a Captain of your outfit be doing more important things than talking to me?”

“Na, I’m off duty! Friends get together for that… unless they’re you— a shy-eyed recluse who’s more occupied with things other than what he’s already got.”

“How you got into the Wonderbolts with an aim like that, trying to shoot the shit, is a mystery.”

He chuckles, “I prefer ‘miracle’; a hard-earned miracle.”

“Ya haven’t answered my question—”

“Yea, and neither did you— do you remember that? When you abandoned friendship and end-goals for pussy?”

His words are gas on embers. I feel it boiling in my chest with how he’s worded her— objectified her like that and put obscene thoughts into my head. It’s hard to keep my tone down; too tempting to explode if it didn’t mean worse things. Steam is still coming out of me, and my breath feels hotter than it should. “Who…the fuck…do you think you are?!”

“Maybe you’ve forgotten that, too,” He says with a dimming grin. “Speaking up to somepony higher up than you is grounds for disciplinary action.”

That’s just like you: hiding behind your occupation when it suits you— you pretentious prick…

I snort hard and bury half my head in my wings— fighting myself not to scream at the situation.

“Bless you,” He says, making it much harder for me to vent silently. “You know, that mare that follows you… you have a terrible taste in mares. Why do you do that to yourself? You literally can’t look elsewhere?”

It could be those words he’s shoved into my head a while ago, but I can see what he’s trying to say. I think I know him enough to know what he’s trying to say, and it’s pissing me off. Why is he even still talking? Is he baiting me into doing something I’ll regret? Something that’ll come with a transactional cost to waive? “Get out of my head…”

“What was that?” He asks.

“Ream someone else out… Please… Sir!” My jaw can’t take the teeth grinding anymore than it already is.

I look up at him, he just stares at me. Some part of me expects something snarky to come out of his mouth. His ears twitch instead, and he looks in the direction I’ve been trying to keep my focus on this whole time. “And here she comes.” He says in a lazy singing tone.

My eyes slide over in that direction. She is… What did they do to her?!

Avie’s coming over, her head hanging low; mane is a tangled mess under her hat; her eyes obscured by goggles; muzzled by a constricting breathing apparatus; chained, wings restrained; surrounded by pegasi in orange-dommed helmets and white outfits that cover them head to hoof.

Everyone around makes room for the group as they walk on over into our direction. The closer she gets, the more I see the state she’s in; the more it tears at me to see her like this. My thoughts go wild with how she’s gotten like this; how a mare in quarantine could end up… like this! She looks more like a prisoner of war…

My knees are aching to sprint for her— to push all these armed escorts away and to just… hold her! Why?! Why is she like this?! The more the questions pile up, the more this pain in my chest festers and threatens to take out the asshole that just shoved her along with the broadside of a rifle!

“Avie? Avie!” The questions, the concern, they all propel me towards her in haste. The closer I get— the harder my heart starts to pump. “Avie!”

She’s not reacting to me. Her warm natural smile is a cold, withered frown. I can’t see her eyes through her goggles, and it’s even harder with her mane dropped over them.

One of those faceless monsters puts his rifle out to keep me from getting to her, “Back away, soldier!” His filtered voice warns, “Step away from the thaumahazard!”

“She has a name!”

“I said step back!” He shoves me back, causing a slight stumble. “For the love of the flock, don’t make this any harder than it already is!”

A hoof lands on my shoulder, and my heart jumps immediately.

“Easy there, Sergeant.” Ace speaks up, coming around at my side and keeping that hoof on me. “Let’s just back away, and let the Hazard Team do their stuff. Don’t worry, they’re taking good care of her.”

Good care of her?! Nothing about the way she looks tells me that’s the case! If I see so much as a bruise or a scuff on her I’ll—

“Let’s give them the space, Sergeant.” Ace continues, pulling me back before speaking over me. “Carry on.”

The Hazard Team moves Avie into the third cart down from the one the discussions are taking place. Following them are two of the Aridians, beckoned by one of the Team— may be asking where’s the best place to leave her. I expect them to be asking about a proper isolation space on the train; that and their incessant demands for them to speak a language they can understand. The expectations go on in my head…

“Hey, there comes that Unicorn.” Ace points out, still holding my shoulder and shaking it as if I were more than just an ‘old friend.’ I finally pull away from it, and look to where Wildcat would be coming from.

Her walk is stiff, with a bad eye and frown, stopping for a moment to notice the Hazard Team’s coming out of the train with the Aridian escort before moving along towards us.

“Say, hope everything went smoothly for you!” Ace calls out. “I know the QM is a little hard-nosed, but maybe she kept your things as they were the minute you set them on her counter.”

Wildcat snorts, then looks at what I’m wearing. “Where did your clothes go?” She looks right at Ace.

He gently raises a hoof in protest, cocking his head away from her. “Don’t look at me, Mutfay—however-you-say-it. Weren’t me, but the General. He looks more dashing than those bandages you had him wear. I wouldn’t’ve been surprised if she mistook him for a mummy.”

“He looks like a doll.” Wildcat retorts.

That comment… It doesn’t stick well with me, at all…

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then. Dolls are nice, and these little fashion accessories are the latest model. Makes us stand out, proper.”

Ace’s comment just feels wrong… Worse, even…

“Civilization isn’t just about clothes, Captain.” Wildcat comments.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Ace chirps. “Remind me: what’s a civilization without technological advancement and decent clothes that actually match the cultural and social ensemble?”

Wildcat just shakes her head. “Ponies with the gift to fly into the heavens, but so full of clouds they’re blind to everythin' but themselves. You Enclave can’t be humbled, can you?”

“I would love to sit here and play a game of Back-and-Forth,” Ace says as his eyes wander, “but from the looks of things you’re going to be on your way, anyways.”

I look over to the train. The game’s over, and the parties are stepping out; first the Matriarch, her cohorts, and finally the Na— the General, herself. The Hazard Team from before meets with the General, and they pass something to her. Then she passes the item along to the Matriarch.

“Ah, Wildcat Cartridge! There you are, my dear,” The Matriarch gently calls out.

Wildcat drops, instantly, into the gesture and bow. “My Matriarch! I’m sorry! I got caught up, and it’s entirely on me. I had priorities, and I overlooked them over my own. Please, forgive me!”

The aggression in her voice, it’s turned into something else entirely. Is this still the same mare that gives out evil eyes like candy?

“My dear Wildcat, I only asked that you do what it takes to fulfill your duties, and you did. You brought our guest to his nest, and for that you have succeeded.”

“Thank you, my Matriarch.” Wildcat keeps her stance for just a little longer before relaxing.

“Trade Wind, may you come here?” The Matriarch calls me, but hearing her has the General’s hoof snake around my foreleg. It gets tight, and I can feel the joint in her knee pinching me through the uniform. I can’t move forward. I dare not move forward.

The Matriarch extends a hoof. I feel the General’s eyes fall on me with her tightening grip. The pressure’s building; everything’s slowly cascading— the avalanching questions and anxieties drown me slowly.

What do I do? What do I do? Do I grab her hoof? Do I just come over? “Yes, ma’am?” “Yes, Matriarch?” I’m wasting time— I’m embarrassing her—I’m sorry— Do something— I’m sorry—

I see her eyes shine sharper at me, and all the small streaks of light stretch into my vision. I made her mad. I know it… I know… I don’t—

The cold runs up the side of my face. She’s looking at me with that forced smile. Do I comply? Is she okay with me complying?

The General turns me towards her. Her hoof finds its way under my chin and pulls it up towards her. I didn’t— I didn’t do it this time. I won’t keep you from seeing my eyes. I won’t. Not here…

She steps back from me, that faint smile still holding. I still don’t know what she wants me to do. She’s not telling me. I–I guess I go to the Matriarch then? Biting my tongue, fighting the nerves rattling my legs, I keep my gaze low and inch closer to the Matriarch, trying my damndest to keep face. I brace for a scolding. Nothing happens…

“A mother’s love has rooted your son, General.” The Matriarch comments.

“I haven’t seen him in so long. I apologize.” The General explains.

“Remind me, again, dear General. This mare— Aviatrix. She is what would be called a ‘squad-mate’ of Trade Wind, correct?”

“Yes, Matriarch.” Diamond Dust clears her throat.

The Matriarch looks down at me, “Then it would do the poor mare some good to see a familiar face, wouldn’t you agree?”

There’s a stiff pause. “Matriarch, she was brought in with a Hazard Team for a reason. I will not let my son be contaminat—”

“You allowed your son here.”

Diamond Dust’s words are cut off and crash in her teeth as a flabbergasted hiss, “Excuse me?”

“Aviatrix poses no threat. Your measures, while thoughtful for the safety of your kin, may not have been necessary. It would do her well to see a familiar face, and your young stallion would undoubtedly be a welcomed one.”

“I don’t wish to speak out against you, Matriarch, but this is not about my son.”

The knot in my stomach tightens more and more, from hearing it over and over…

“It has always been. All of this, and where we are now; what we have just discussed was because of him. You will not spin a web to convince me otherwise of the subject that has brought us to this very moment, in this very bunker.”

The Matriarch’s words, they were gentle— were. It was like a rolling storm; calm one minute, then slowly becoming more imposing the next. I can’t help but slink at the implications of the tone; how the wrath of the Matriarch could have gone, if she even got to that point…

Diamond Dust still holds her chin high, inhaling sharply as she speaks, “Well, I still aim to keep him free of affliction, Matriarch.”

“And that he shall be,” The Matriarch reassures, before turning her attention back to me. “Would you please ensure that young Aviatrix is okay?”

“I insist–”

“Nothing more. You will insist nothing more, General; no more and no less than what was said at our most recent negotiation.”

The look in the General’s eyes; the way her lips tighten and her wings puff. I want to duck and cover for an impending explosion.

She lets out a deep sigh, fixing her mane back. “I apologize for my…indignation, Matriarch.”

That forced, wide smile; a wicked, foreboding one from my nightmares. Her teeth were clenched when she just apologized. My head shakes slowly with chilling discomfort, knowing what it means. My heart’s racing, again…

The Matriarch nods, and turns back to me. “Now, may you do me this favor and see to Aviatrix’s spirit. As I said, it would do her well to see a familiar face.”

I get to see her? Finally? Finally… Nodding my head, I let out a deep sigh. “Yes, ma’am. I will.”

She gently picks up my hoof, guiding me to turn it over, and while still holding it some other pony drops a small set of steel keys. The small chimes they made, I know what they belong to. “Wildcat, let him have his peace. I need to speak with you.”

“Yes, my Matriarch!” Wildcat confirms, making her way over. Just as she does, the Matriarch gently brings my hoof with the keys closer to me and letting go. I slide them into one of my chest pockets.

“May the Sands pave you the Path, dear Trade Wind. Until soon.” She tells me with words sweet as honey, and full of motherly wisdom. They give me the energy to do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw Avie, but I have enough awareness to take the time to stop and salute the General.

“Ma’am!” I tell her, as sharp and with feeling as possible, trying hard not to show how much I want to get this out of the way. Those sweet, encouraging words from the Matriarch freeze just a little, but now I can look her in the eyes… like she always wants; always wanted…

The subtle twitches in her face and in the icy blue, they’re not the same. She salutes, her eyes narrowing with a silent scorn, “Until we see one another, again, Staff Sergeant.”

* * * * * *

There in the roomette; in the quietest train cart, alone with only a glowbulb for company, is Avie. Finally, I’m allowed to see her. I’ve been given the opportunity too…

But…

I can’t just walk in unannounced. I need to say something, but nothing comes to mind. How long has it been since we last saw each other? Her goggles… She hasn’t covered her eyes like that in a long time. It only serves to stir the imagination, with thoughts that want to boil my blood.

Did they hurt her that much? Did the way they parade her do more than humiliate? Did Diamond Dust force her to wear them to save face and fake regard for her well being? Those fucking chains shouldn’t be something to be proud of, and I remember the General smiling like there was nothing wrong with it— right in front of the fucking Matriarch of all ponies.

Calm…

Calm…

I’m getting ahead of myself, more than I’d like and faster than I’m afraid of. But Avie— What did she do to you?! The thought twists and turns in my gut. I know there’s only one way to get it to stop: take the leap and open the damned door to see her. My words will need time, but I need to move. I need to know she’s alright. I have to…

Looking through the window, I see her huddled in the farthest corner of the room– back towards me; bound wings under a tight harness. She’s curled up, even, and her only company is the glowbulb that floats daintily over her like a whimsical drop of sun.

There’s so many things wrong with what I’m seeing, it hurts too much to keep looking. I won’t turn away; I need to commit. Reaching the lever to open the door takes longer than I’d like. It’s like reaching for a pan you know is still too hot to touch, but you need to get to it to save your breakfast. The fear of pain lingers, grows stronger the closer my hoof gets.

More thoughts; more emotions; more uncertainty. It’s a recipe that makes time want to dilate the distance between me and Avie. If I run, I won’t stop; If I continue walking, I’ll never get there.

Avie… You make this look easy… How did you do it, when I was there and you were here?

No. It wasn’t always like this, I remember now. That one memory stands out: the day her pa… That day.

You needed somepony…

You needed me…

I know it’s different, but… You need me now, don’t you?

The lever clicks. I freeze, straining to open the door as calm as possible. I don’t want to spook her. What do I even say when I finally do? I’m thinking about words, but it’s like everything wants to come out all at once. There’s too much on my mind and in my heart; both are too agitated like the unstable particles in the energy cell; itching to get out however they can. There’s only one way to do it, and I have to keep telling myself or else I’ll explode.

A deep breath, the door slides open. It catches her attention immediately— her ears perk up as her muzzled face turns sharply. I’m sure there was just a gasp of surprise, but I can only assume that with how covered up her face is. Short silence sets in, and I can’t figure a way to break it. There’s nothing appropriate coming to mind; no words, only frenzied urges.

That mask needs to come off. Her goggles need to lift. I need to see the damage; need to see her eyes, again… Why isn’t she doing anything? Why isn’t she saying anything? Why can’t I say anything?

The thumping in my chest is booming up into my ears the longer this goes on. Everything I see feels like it zooms in without my input. The subtle breathing from that mask over her muzzle shortens my breath, and the sight of her bound hooves and wings make my skin feel tight. I can’t sit still anymore— everything’s jittering harder and harder with every passing second.

She stumbles to her hooves, and my heart jumps into my throat— thrusting me forward just in case she falls, completely. Everything stalls as she finds her footing and looks right at me, “Ward?” She calls out softly in a tone that’s twisting my insides.

“Avie…” Is the only thing I can say.

“... You’re here.”

I nod, “I tried… to get your attention earlier. Ya wouldn’t—” She stumbles, again, and this time she really might fall. I lunge for her, catching her with my shoulder and wing just as she leans too far forward and into me. “Avie, y—”

“They…tightened the chains,” She says weakly. I feel her pulling herself away, and I haven’t been able to hug her right yet. It doesn’t feel like one, anyway.

We’re face to face, and closer than I would’ve been able to get by myself. The goggles’ lenses only reflect me; I can’t see her eyes. The mask she’s wearing— it looks too tight, and her breathing is so tinny and heavy.

I gently bring my hooves up to that mask, and she stays still as I do. Tugging makes her whimper in pain, and my joints turn to stone while my lungs just stop. “Those bastards…” I say aloud.

“They padlocked it.” She says, turning around and taking off her pilot hat to give me a better picture. Sitting there in her mane is the small block of metal holding everything so tight it outta be pinching her whole head.

Reaching for my chest pocket and feeling the uneven lump in there, I pull out the small bundle of keys. Only two: one big, and one small— not hard to tell which belongs. Jamming the little key in is something that really hardens my stomach. Hooves just aren’t made for this kind of thing, and I’d rather not tell Avie to lay down flat to get it—

No. No, I don’t want that in my head. I don’t want to imagine how they got this on her— stop!

“Just give me a second, Avie.” I tell her, getting the key to click. “Almost…” The padlock gives with a hearty snap, letting go of its tightening hold over her face. It comes off and the straps over her face ease up, fall off, and the mask itself slumps under its own weight.

She takes an immediate, sharp breath like she’d been forced to hold in the air for way too long. I take the muzzle, give the fuckin’ torture aparatus one more disdainful look, and toss it away from us. If I had talons I’d do more to it than a stomp ever could…even if it is leather.

The chains. Their mockful, dissonant song tell me what needs to be done next. I bring myself around to Avie’s front, and take her hooves. My eyes won’t look away from the grimey steel. “Do they hurt?” I ask, trying to see how tight their bite is on her soft white coat.

“A little.” She answers.

“Damn them.” Wasting no more time, I take the big key and shove it into the first keyhole I see. It slips in, but there’s no click. No, this isn’t right. The key fits and it twists, but only barely. It feels like I’m turning the key with a lock under springy tension. The more I feel it not cooperating, the wider the hole in my stomach stretches.

The longer this goes on the more other things begin to press into the back of my skull. The Matriarch’s probably waiting; Wildcat will come in to ruin the moment; I’ll still be here fidgeting with these damned hobblers when the sun rises, and I can’t get this one lock open— four more waiting in line, and no progress to show!

“The damn thing won’t—shit!” Even with my teeth, it’s as if I’ll lose my front teeth trying as hard as I am. No matter how much I wiggle it in the lock, it’s like wherever it needs to sit just moves out of the way like some kinda joke.

My growl becomes a snarl; jaw is hurting from clenching too tight. I can get this. I just need to get it right. Hooves or mouth, this lock is having a chuckle at my struggle while the chain's tiny rattles continue to irk.

“Ward. It’s okay.” She tells me.

“This isn’t okay. The last thing I wanted, and you’re in them. I need to do this.”

“Ward…”

I don’t want to be useless. If I can’t even get you out of your chains, then what am I? How can I start to make things up to you?

Click…

…Click…

…Crrrick–chonk!

My jaw drops with the lock’s weight on the chain-link still holding onto the keys. Yes! A rush of good feeling comes with seeing that shackle lose its grip. Now four more. Every one of them that comes off, this feeling builds gradually in big waves. Hearing the steel hit the floor, defeated, is like triumphant music. It’s harder to keep myself from ripping the final lock off; her wings are under there.

“Can you still feel these?” I ask her. My answer comes with a wiggle under the oppressive canvas. When the padlocked straps give, and the lock undone, I gently unravel the whole thing. Her wings drop out like there was no life in them; some feathers— dead, broken, and bent, scatter about. Something catches my ears; a hard, but meek thunk a feather shouldn’t make.

An inkling of wonder trills its way up from inside me. It prompts me to look about the floor for whatever made that noise. Scanning for it, that feeling grows stronger like it’s a game of hot-and-cold with instinct. Under broken feathers, blown away by a gentle beat of air, is my talisman.

That wonder from before explodes, and I can’t hold myself back from picking it right up. It’s back in my hooves, its soft faces in its rough cut twinkling in the glowbulb; it glows gently, like a welcoming smile in my eyes. It’s here… You’re here…

“I thought I’d never see you again… Ward.” Avie speaks up, pulling my attention back to her. Those flowery feelings wilt, she’s still in rough shape.

“Avie…” I look back down at the talisman, minus its leather loop that kept it around my neck. “Avie, I— Ya. Ya kept it?”

She nods, slowly, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

I give one more cursory glance at the talisman, and move between its condition to hers. I can see the imprint of those shackles on her hooves— where they bit into her from the unevenness of her fur to the pinkish-red lines that cut into her soft white complexion.

Everything’s sour, like curdling milk, now. My stomach’s pulling into itself, taking my lungs and chest with it. Something’s boiling in my blood, seeing the broken feathers and those marks that paint pictures of abuse and neglect in my head; riling up memories of my own so much that I’m wanting them out of my head.

“This isn’t how it should be,” I tell her, looking down at her hooves and the feathers. “The chains— the depravity— that muzzle. It’s just—” My lips curl inward and I snort, taking one more look at everything I’ve taken off her. If I stare at it long enough, would I be able to burn it just so it isn’t there anymore? It would’ve made this whole thing less of a hassle.

“They’re just… scared.” She tells me. I look up and her ears fold back into her cap; goggles turned away a little. “I’m scared too.”

The way she says it, it’s like I have to hold myself; like I need to fear something that isn’t there. What isn’t with me; something I don’t know. “Of…”

“I don’t know. I… can’t be sure, but I know it involved Outpost SE-Seven. Maybe they checked it after we came back. They would have, I’m sure— they wouldn’t have believed me, or any of us that came back.”

“That doesn’t excuse these chains, Avie. These—” I pocket my talisman and pick her hooves up, making sure she sees the chains’ bites. “What she did to you!”

“She blamed me…”

“Hmm?”

“She blamed me. The look on her face when I brought you back. It’s like… like I had done sacrilege; like I wasn’t allowed to bring my teammate… My…” She moves to wipe her face, pulling a few mane hairs away. “I don’t know what happened… but you came back.”

Blamed her…

“I wanted to wake up thinking it was all a bad dream.” She says. “That night still haunts me— how it played out; what memories it dredged up. One minute, I was surrounded by familiar faces; good friends, and better company. The next… I was alone, again; just me in an empty, cold room without colors. Everypony looking in…”

Quarantine… “What about the team? Didn’t they…”

She shakes her head. “Only the General. But through all of that, I wondered where you were; what had happened to you since. I never got an answer… only that look from her when she checked in infrequently…”

There’s a pause, her chin pulls back into her chest a little while she takes a few breaths. The small sharp cuts in her breathing pull at my heartstrings.

“That whole time I was there… I wasn’t just in that cold quarantine. I was reliving that day… And I waited— was waiting.” Her words are struggling to come out. The more she spoke, the more her lips seem to strain with her scrunching features. She puts a hoof over her eyes, as if trying to wipe something but stopping at her goggles.

Her shuddering breath becomes a sharp gasp. I reach for her, first stroking the side of her leg and feeling that punch in my gut. No, she doesn’t need this. She needs more…

If I have to go outside, again, and see the Nag there… If she can smell it… I’m ready…

I bring myself in closer to her, my rubbing hoof around to her back— both hooves, this time— minding her wings, and holding her close to me. Her wings gently unfurl and come around my back, and I can feel her hooves sliding up near mine as she buries her muzzle into my chest.

She’s quivering, holding me tighter than I am to her. “I don’t know how else I can say it… I wanted to know you were here. I wanted to see you come through that door; I wanted you to come back from the desert like nothing was going to happen. I thought all I’d have left… was your necklace…”

It’s wrenching to hear her like this. It’s as if her squeezing can pinch the growing pit in my stomach close for good. There are still things about her words that make it hard to digest, but now… All I want is to hold her.

“I’m here… Avie.” It feels like the right thing to say.

“Ward… Can you help me?”

“Hmm?”

Her tight hold around me loosens, and I reciprocate the gesture. We’re staring at each other— eyes to lenses. She looks down, my hooves in hers, and back up.

“I want to see you...”

The stone’s back in my gut and its mass is denser than ever— What does she mean? Why is she talking like that? Is something else wrong with her eyes?— Questions mount and flood my head about it, and they’re not letting up. They compel me to bring my hooves to the sides of her goggles, gently, and lift them over her eyes, slowly— What will I see? How bad is it? Did the Nag do something else? Something worse? — I’d rip those goggles off if I didn’t know what they mean to her.

I rest them atop her forehead. Her eyes— although closed— are sunken, dark, and wet. My heart jumps, but settles— they’re not bruises after all. She isn’t opening them, though…

“Ward…”

“Avie…”

She opens her eyes, slowly. The glowbulb’s light shines through the glistening windows to the soul; purplish-blue, and still stunning to see. They get hazy, her lips quiver and become a shaky smile.

It strikes me right in the chest seeing them again; seeing her eye-to-eye, again. Feeling her here with me, again. Everything’s growing blurred, but her face remains clear in my vision.

We cling to one another. I don’t know if she’s the one quivering, or if it’s me. It doesn’t matter. She came closer than a hug could ever be. The space between us bridged at the lips; Feeling hers on mine— it’s like something that’s been a part of me had come into the light, completely. My heart beats a different kind of rhythm; a fluttering, daring, fulfilling kind. It’s as if the world made more sense, and it’s in slow motion. The longer we stay locked like this, the more the sorrow, the hurt, and yearning in this reunion becomes easier to deal with.

I don’t want it to end…