"Far and wide, even beyond the horizon's edge, the towering canopies of Everfree rose above the damp and fertile ground below. The sun, as always, was brought into view by the Princess of the Sun herself, even in these darkest of times. It cast a warm light over the sea of green, and the darkest iniquity where the leaves prevented any light from reaching the forest floor.
Few noises could be heard, apart from the howling of timber wolves deep within the forest, the chirping of birds nesting with their families in the treetops above, and, of course, the gentle breeze blowing in from the east.
There was a discernible serenity, with the only sounds coming from Mother Nature herself, well known to the few inhabitants of this sparsely populated area.
However, black billowing smoke darkened the sun, as a fiery craft with sleek lines and unnatural propulsion boomed and cracked above, with burning pieces falling through the trees. Meanwhile, the black ship lost altitude with each passing second, heading for one of the very few clearings.
Far below, a group of natives took notice.
A group of pegasi was the first to take notice and take off, using only the gestures of their hooves to communicate. They escorted the rapidly disintegrating ship while avoiding the choking fumes directly behind it. The squadron leader, a pegasus of average size with light blue fur, took note of what they saw within the cockpit – a fire and a dead humanoid body, an unknown Sylanian. Yet, before they had time to react, the creaking hulk brushed the treetops before violently sliding on and then crashing into the grass below, cracking the very earth itself and leaving an unnatural and lasting brown scar in the ground.
The earth shook for the duration of its hard landing, though the flying pegasi did not take notice, being far above. They used the momentum gathered before to turn around in a four-hundred-metre-long curve and land, in contrast to the once-flying contraption, safely on the grass.
The group of four approached the burning wreckage carefully, with bolt-action rifles loaded and in their hooves. It was clear that it was quite a miracle that this spacecraft had survived in mostly a single piece. The cockpit had cracked from the branches of trees, brushes, and, of course, the ground itself it was directly hit with. The wings were on the verge of breaking off.
"Careful. I don't want any nasty surprises," the spearheading pegasus muttered as he approached the ship's door, torn open by the blast, while his comrades put out the fires by utilizing the clouds from above.
The inside of the ship was as much a mess as the hull. Broken pieces of art and decoration no pony aircraft would have been inside were spread across the floor. A holo table also stood there, right in the centre, mostly undamaged but now dysfunctional. The pegasus turned his head in every direction, towards the cockpit and towards the hind door, once used for the rapid deployment of soldiers but now an unrecognisable piece of near-supernatural metal debris.
Approaching the cockpit, rifle still in hooves, he heard a cough from below. He looked down and what he saw was shocking and surprising in equal measure. The reaction was to point his rifle at it - a breathing but dying Sylanian in cracked and broken armour. The pegasus' heart skipped a beat and then pounded faster than at any other point in this diversion from the monotony of all-day patrols.
"Silver! Get over here now!" the pony in the broken ship commanded as he dragged the near-lifeless and quite heavy humanoid body out of the smouldering wreckage before laying the pale figure down on the grass grounds of the clearing and taking off his Wonderbolt mask to reveal himself as Soarin.
"A Sylanian? Am I supposed to kill her?" the medic asked, with clear confusion written on his face.
Almost completely ignoring his brother in arms, Soarin took note of a small handgun. It was in the sleek style typical of Sylanian manufactured arms, except for the unusual light grey colour. He inspected it in his hooves for a moment before putting it in his bag. "Hmmm, nice gun. I think I’ll take this as a small souvenir."
"Sir…?"
"No, stitch her wounds together for the love of Celestia!" he commanded once more with a much more stern voice. With the others taking note of the situation, Thunderlane and Fleetfoot, too, landed and surrounded the armoured body.
"How am I supposed to treat a Sylanian? My tools only work on ponies."
"Just do what you can!" Soarin insisted.
"Sir, why are you saving this alien pilot?" Misty asked, while scratching her mane with the hoof on her right before looking down to inspect the humanoid.
"Considering his ship didn't turn into a miniature orbital strike the moment things went to Tartarus, he might carry some valuable intel. We can dispose of him later. For now..."
"You two..."
"Yes…?" both Thunderlane and Fleetfoot asked at the same time.
"Keep a lookout. I don't want any unwanted visitors coming."
They each nodded and took off again to continue their sorties above and around the clearing. As the medic continued his work on the unusual patient, Soarin moved his hoof beneath the armour of the passenger in search of something.
As he was quite insistent, the continuously working Silver Zoom took note and asked: "What are you doing?"
The answer came by itself, with no words and only the violent tearing of the suit's already broken headpiece by the pegasus leader. He took out a small chip, not even half as big as a Breezie, before allowing it to fall to the earth and then crushed it beneath his uniform's leather boot.
"One of those tracking chips. It was already broken, it seemed, but better make sure."
"I will not lie, if I can stop this thing’s bleeding, then he might have a good shot at surviving this. He better be worth the trouble; I could've used all this bandage on a pony."
"Remember that I want him… her, whatever it is, to live. We've never captured a live Sylanian. This could be quite the catch."
"Sure. Just give me a few more minutes, and he should be ready for extraction." As he uttered this, Surprise, from high above the crash site, gave a thumbs-up, with Soarin giving a clear nod in return. With seconds turning into minutes, Silver triumphantly announced, "Stable condition, heart rate normalised. It was quite a pain in the flank, but it worked."
"Great work. Thunderlane and Surprise, you'll carry her to camp."
"Really Sir? I'm not sure I can lift something so heavy." Thunderlane bemoaned as he landed on the ground, his sorties complete.
"We've taken off her armour. She should be lighter now. Granted she might look a bit pitiful right now, but we’re not taking her to a beauty contest."
"Alright. Let's put her on the stretcher," Soarin announced, as all four moved the body onto a stretcher latched onto Thunder and Surprise, respectively.
"Fires have been put out, thank you, Surprise, the prisoner is on the stretcher... let's get the Tartarus out of here," Soarin stated, with all four starting to take off from the ground, while Fleetfoot, ever vigilant now too, started to escort the group back home.
Halfway to the clouds, however, renewed groans emanated from the alien. She moaned and panted, not from pleasure, of course, but writhing in pain as she pitifully asked, "Who… are you?"
"Shut up. You're not supposed to wake up yet, alien scum!" Fleetfoot proclaimed, with visceral hatred flaring in her eyes, as she approached and slapped the Sylanian back into the unconscious state he had awoken from seconds prior.
"The hell?" Surprise asked from above, momentarily confused about what just happened with the passenger she helped carry.
"Fleet! Keep yourself together; I want her alive." Soarin berated her, still flying in formation, unlike the female pegasus, who just let out her anger.
"She is alive, alright; just let me vent on her."
"You can let off steam once you are back at base. Until then, shut it."
"Yes Sir…" Fleetfoot answered with disappointment, as the group flew deeper into the forest with a destination unknown to all but them."
