The clunk of a wooden circle echoed into the cold void as the final cut of the saw was completed. Misty light and blizzard song whistled into the lifeless hull of the ancient skyship. No life stirred as a rope dropped, scraping the icy planks. Two unicorns clad in harsh winter gear, one white and the other teal, descended carefully until their hooves clacked down. The white one cast a light spell as the other wiped the fog off her goggles. They trudged forth, fighting the concealing shadows in their attempts to see.
“Think we’ll find anything valuable down here?” she asked.
He grunted, breath frosty. “Possibly. The build points to construction in the last years of the diarchy age.”
She scanned a nailed crate, finding it empty. “Hm. Pretty intact for a mountain crash.”
“Mhm, hence our sheer luck-” A bronze gleam in the darkness caught his eye.
“I do wonder how–captain?” She stifled walking, confused by his rushing forth.
“Hold a minute,” he said.
She complied, though she trotted forth again at a slower face. The captain cautiously slipped towards the metallic sheen. Nothing else in the heaps of wood, rusty parts, and possibly preserved ancient materials shone as much. Numerous hurried steps later, a rather suspiciously large chunk of ice met located next to the airdrop lever. A brittle confetti of dusty snow layered over. Its strange magical aura, a preservation spell, strongly urged him. Hesitantly, he brushed off a fair sweep. The horrified malachite eyes of a frozen feline met, bronze shirt button illumined.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Get the sheriff. He’s going to want to see this.”
The biting teeth of the Yaket mountains snipped at Hitch’s tail. He almost did not want to be here. But duty called, and he was genuinely intrigued by the sparse details he’d been told. The top-secret nature was enticing; he felt elation at this being his first mission after promotion from Zephyr Heights matters to ‘odds and ends’. He’d be tossed around by everyone, for sure, but it’d be nice for a while. A blue glowing ball, faint from above, told him they’d arrived–finally. The chariot rattled in a downward spiral. The ever-shifting fog made it hard to discern the landing zone.
Exactly seventy-eight terrifying seconds later, the metal death cage ramshackled to a halt upon a smoothened bank of snow. Hitch double-checked to leave a sizable tip to the relay team before waving them off. Luckily, his billowing scarf didn’t slam in the door. The blue orb pulsated, still a bit further than what he’d like. Most ponies present were black shadows splattered against the canvas of constant white. Hitch readjusted his bronze badge, then set forth to figure out what was going on. Soon enough, a teal unicorn–the captain–greeted him midway.
“You from Zephyr?” he nearly yowled, the storm muffling.
Hitch politely smiled. “You get many other visitors?”
The captain’s eyes lit. “I like a guy with a sense of humor. Name’s Toko.”
“Hitch Trailblazer, investigator for Queen Haven.”
“Long way from the pegasi territories.”
“We worked out the long range jurisdictions among the tribes. For now.”
“Good to know. Congrats on the job.” Toko flicked his tail.
At Toko’s gesture, Hitch followed. The blue, it turned out, was the center focus of a bubble shield protecting the salvage teams. True to reports, it was ‘an ancient piece; split it in two, and ‘extreme in potential’, though he felt the age construed the main value. A large force of a dozen unicorns, and a couple of distanced pegasi, swarmed all over with equipment, mining the ice and snow whilst preserving the fragile wreck. To Hitch’s surprise, their direction veered to the campsite–not the main attraction.
Figuring something far more important, perhaps a special Equestrian artifact, was at play, he went along in shivering contemplation. The shield blocked the harsh weather, not the temperatures. Toko slipped into the brightest tent, marked by a red medic sign. Any buzzing questions faded once Hitch saw the patient. A remarkably tall feline wrapped in a crimson trench coat, which possessed a sole bronze button, laid on a cot, chit-chatting to a white unicorn. Hitch removed his helmet, for the tent’s warmth and a better view.
This couldn’t be real. Yet it was.
“Shali, how is the fellow doing?” Toko asked.
“Hey, I’m right here, ya shark,” the cat snipped.
“You the nurse?” Toko shot.
“Got me there, toothpick.”
Shali floated a file into Toko’s black aura. “By all accounts, General Capper is remarkably well, if a bit stiff.”
Hitch awaited his turn in awe.
“Wouldn’t be,” Capper remarked, a second time, “If you didn’t keep me in this frozen dump.”
“You can go when we have the paperwork. We don’t like it much, either.” He dropped off the clipboard by Hitch’s helmet. “Let me know when you’re done.”
Hitch nodded as Shali followed Toko, presumably to chip in on the work before he had to be dragged back. Capper smiled at him, one leg crossed over the other, head atop arms. A toothpick traded tooth positions, rolling about.
“So, you’re the bureaucrat coming to release this old pirate, ay?”
Hitch took an enticing inhale, filtering out the nerves. “That’s right. Hitch Trailblazer, under Queen Haven.”
“Yeah, yeah, kid.” A small sadness sagged; it mopped as quickly as it came. “They gave me the crash course on divisions. So, whaddya gotta do?”
“Just some questions about the circumstances of your crash. In addition, she offers you residency of your will.”
“Right, right, uh, I just… need a moment or two.”
The earth pony nodded. Capper’s tail swished slowly, his expression soured from happy-go-lucky to an anchored somber. Hitch formulated a few theories as to why but opted to let the cat take his time. After centuries of lost time, he needed some to himself. Capper yawned and sat up, dangling the knees off the cot to stretch. Hitch stole the opportunity to stash the salvagers’ paperwork into his satchel whilst preparing his own. Sunny’s gift of a bright yellow all-terrain pen also whipped out. He really liked it now.
The clanging of the crew’s equipment, mixed with their shouts, the mountain’s hissing permanent blizzard, Capper’s fur bruising on cloth, and his own blood thumping blended together. The wild range of irregular harmonies conspired to create an esoteric melody of soothing for the two of them alone. A pleasant, yet unsettling atmosphere. Capper gently adjusted his old jacket, a precious piece of the past. Hitch settled into a comfortable haunch. The tent’s thin floor insulated well. Protecting him from the mountain underneath, not so much.
Capper whistled lightly to indicate his willingness to start. A smile bore still, despite the obvious, implicitly different tone his dimmer eyes hinted. Something marred, overshadowing the cat’s mind. The wondrous miracle of being alive to help with reunification must be one thought. Being the only member left of the crew–another. No reminders of his past, Hitch’s logic ran, to avoid triggering… or, well, anything to prevent a complete breakdown, to respect the hero’s wish to just get back in the groove. Starting with small questions would be best.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Capper Prometheus, no middle name.”
Hitch clicked the pen, hoof jotting thereafter. “Certainly a unique one. Any history to it?”
Capper shrugged. “I was an orphan before I got into the sky. Needed a full name, and a cool one at that.”
“Plenty of sense there,” Hitch agreed.
“Say,” Capper brightened a bit. “Hitch feels common, but where does Trailblazer hail from? Feels unique.”
That he was opening up socially indicated a stable, healthy mindscape. Hitch scribbled away, switching eyes between notes and the interviewee. “One of my greats, seventh or whatever, beat a pegasus in a long-distance race. Used it to market some tech.”
“Savvy stallion,” he mused.
“Yep! That he was.” Hitch flipped the paper; the front was mostly for ramblings. “When were you born?”
Capper scratched his chin. “Hard to say, but uh… yeah… hard to say.”
“Can I provide some numbers to help guesstimate?” Suggestions helped smoothen interviews exponentially, he’d found.
A pointer-thumb formation shot from his paw. “Lovely idea, chk chk. Ya know your stuff.”
“The math is rough, but we place Princess Twilight’s reign starting at 0 A.T.S.-”
“After the sisters, I presume? Dandy acronym.” Capper’s commentary edged between hollow talk and genuine chat
Hitch nodded. “Correct. Research yada yada, it’s now 2134 A.T.S. You appear biologically early forties, in pony years… add in the Siege of Yaket-”
“Exactly twenty years after Twilight took the throne.” Rigid coldness underlined Capper’s voice. “The dates are etched in my heart.”
“-would make you 44 biologically then, and legally…. two thousand, one hundred, eleven years old.” This would be one Tartarus of a report to file.
“Heh.” The word came out strained. “Ripe old age to live to.”
Hitch elected to move on. Not many questions, due to strangely efficient management for a government. Capper should like that. On the flip side, it required elongated talks alongside reams of individual notes to organize and formalize. Though, given his circumstances, he might not mind an amount of chatter. The hidden hurt in Capper’s answers stung Hitch, too–that no one he truly knew was alive. Hitch has a duty to carry out. Perhaps, if careful, it’d served as a stepping stone for Capper. A sort of pseudo-therapy. It was nice, in an odd way.
“Thanks for the help, Capper.” Hitch gave a smile. Not big enough to feel forced, but not too small to feel uncaring.
Capper returned a minute sliver, the mask steadily slipping.
A fresh question would lift the mood. “So, what was your last job, and the status that came with it?”
“Before the eh… incident-” The deliberate phrasing caused a slight choke. “-I’d been one of three Generals in the small but powerful airship section of the Equestrian military. I flew the Wonderbolts Division.”
“How long were you at the post for?” Usually, inquiries annoyingly required verbal communication of obvious facts. Yet here, Hitch felt, they were needed.
Capper threw his tail around the cot. “Officially, when Twilight took the throne–no title, close friends, you see?”
“Of course.” Another scribble.
“So, twenty years there. Unofficially, twenty-two. Celestia slipped us funds to discreetly militarize airships. Before that, piracy and mailing, as long as I’d been alive.”
“Always the airship cat, huh?” Clicking his tongue, he found admiration in the hero’s lifelong passion for the skies.
“You’ve got me nailed there, my friend.”
Friend.
A good sign of progress.
One more question before the hitter.
“Second to last-” Hitch announced.
“Already?” Capper snickered.
“Yeah, already.”
“I’d kill-” a flash shone in those weary eyes. “-For that efficiency way back when.”
“Believe me, it took my father twenty years of lobbying.”
“Unbelievable.” Capper returned a slight glimmer. “Your family is orderly and ambitious. Impressive.”
Hitched stowed away the praise for later. “Thank you. Your wild yet effective tactics are still studied by pegasi today.”
A tear of amazement escaped. “To think I left a small fry such as I left a legacy…”
“It is no easy feat.” Hitch hoped to match that impact, someday.
“Mhmmm… one more question you said?” Capper fizzled back to topic.
“Two.”
Tinges of hair fluffed–a dread of the memories, perhaps.
“Ask away Hitch.”
Usage of his name–a good step, and a buried checkbox.
“Going to lay it out real fast: chocolate or vanilla?”
Capper raised an eyebrow to the astral planes above. “You serious?”
“One hundred and ten percent, Capper.”
“Queen Haven throws vanilla lovers in the dungeon?” He chuckled. “Not a bad strategy.”
“I assure you,” Hitch confirmed, “It’s real.”
“What does it even do? Strangest law I have ever heard.”
Hitch shrugged. “Apparently some wisecracks a few years back found it really helped with logistics in some divine manner.”
“I take it helps she has a penchant for ice cream?”
“As legendary as Celestia and cakes, Capper.” Hitch grinned manically in a flash.
The cat almost coughed dead, giggling. “Or Twilight and hayburgers-”
“-Luna and fudge brownies-” Hitched found himself struggling to hold his stuff
“Oh, oh, Cadence and emeralds-” Capper improved, word antics plundering breath
“To add to her, Flurry Heart and cheese!” Hitch liked that one the best.
“And last I heard, Luster Dawn and platinum bars-”
And last I heard.
The mood instantly died.
Hitch sighed. Time to pivot to the last question. The true home hitter of the bunch, the one he knew would make or break Capper. Biting his lips, the pen flew off and onto the final page. This would hold the meat of his quest today. Technically an interview, officially an investigation, as the motto went. Capper simmered in the lowest point he’d been since first meeting. Toko’s muffled orders of motivation invaded. Clicking the pen a few more times, Hitch shifted his tail about. Leaving Capper to initiate worried him. Yet, he considered the most straightforward option.
“Final question, huh?”
“Correct.” Hitch balanced pronunciation with neutrality
“I knew it was coming…” Capper focused on the tent’s flap crack, the whiteness inviting.
“It…. may help to discuss it, I believe.” Hitch fueled that statement honestly.
Faint specks sparkled and died in the eyes. “Twilight would’ve said the same.”
A moment of silence in honor and memory.
“Proceed,” Capper practically ordered.
“How… did the Siege of Yaket, or your involvement in it, end?”
There it was, the depressing question.
No turning back now.
“The memories…” Capper trailed off.
“You’ve been awake only a couple of days. Incompleteness is alright,” Hitch reassured.
“No, no,” Capper waved his paw, “It’s fine. They’re intact, just… fuzzy.”
Hitch gave him a minute, hoof tapping.
“The last volley of shots had fired off, forcing the Shadowbolt Marauders away. They waved white flags, so we gave them five minutes to move back across the border. Mercy and all that.”
Writing down a first-hand account, personally, felt weird. “What were the origins and durations of the battle?”
“It’d been a rather quaint patrol near the outreaches of Equestria. The crew and I were just about to head home, to refuel and rest, switch out with the other team.”
“Exhaustion does not lend well to battle, I imagine.”
“Heh. You’ve got that right,” Capper agreed. “Anyway, these bastards popped from up north, hoping to intercept, encircle a village, ransom, basic scum bagging even to a former pirate like myself.”
Under his breath, Hitch cursed the long-dead goons. “They almost succeeded?”
Capper nodded. “By a miracle, we sped up to and caught them crossing. A rare, clear summer day over the peaks. For the next fifty-six hours, it was hell for us.”
“Did the intended patrol not make it?” Hitch found history fascinating for once.
“Some fatal-” Heavy emphasis was applied- “Error in logistics delayed them far too long. I’ll give the enemy intellectual credit. They recognized the advantage and hounded us for as long as they could.”
“Yet you pulled through,” Hitch finished, writing word after word down.
“Another celestial miracle… then… well…
The chains of burden were slowly being dredged up.
Hitch could tell.
“It happened.”
Capper wistfully met gazes, nodding.
“Just as they were nearly out of range, someone, one of them, decided to fire one last shot of spite, against every principle and moral everyone on both sides expected.”
The flames almost flickered in the cat’s eyes.
“By chance, the briefest breeze of ashen explosives filtered into the deck… that no one died to that is the greatest miracle.”
A few tears trickled. Hitch scooted closer and patted his knee.
“Due to some material within, the entirety of the upper ship roared into a blaze in seconds. A few pegasi flapped away, but the rest of us fled to the hull.”
“From there, the ship plummeted.”
“And…”
“The airdrop escape was stuck,” Hitch finished.
“Quick and right again, kid,” Capper gave a sad grin.
“Do continue, if you can.” If he wanted to stop, Hitch wanted him to.
“Tis alright,” Capper sniffled. “I need to let it out.”
“If you desire.”
Capper picked up. “I had to keep myself on the lever to let everyone flee, whether by device or on each other. They always say a captain goes with his ship, but they failed to anticipate a general on his airship rocketing to rocky peaks below.”
“Hard to predict the future, Capper.”
“That it is… that it is….”
Hitch let him rumble on.
“I don’t know who enchanted me with blast protection and cryo-sleep, but I thank them.” Tears ran freely. “I truly do.”
The howling storm weighed on Hitch.
“Wherever they, or maybe them, went, I hope they lived a peaceful life.”
“I do too, Capper, I do too.”
“I don’t feel guilty sacrificing myself to let them all live… just sadness I went without a goodbye.” His eyes flowed like waterworks. Rubbing them helped very little.
“It… is a tumultuous emotion.”
“Indeed, my friend, indeed…”
And with that, it was done.
Hitch closed the manila folder, returning it and the lucky pen to his satchel. Job complete. Awkwardly, he gave Capper a hug as the cat cried it out, reviling in letting it all out. It was not a long-lasting or quite comfortable hug, but it was better than nothing. The stallion decided to stay a few minutes more until Capper pulled himself together–for now at least. Hitch handed him a pre-made ID card to assist in legal passage. Capper might require all he could get in the new, terrifying Equestria.
Toko and Shali journeyed to the tent at Hitch’s summons. A few shuffles of the paper trail and signatures later, everything was in order. Capper watched, stiff as a statue. Namely, proof they hadn’t harmed Capper, exclusive legal rights to salvage the airship, as well as small tax breaks for general compliance and hospitality. The captain bid good luck to their hero, then left to message the chariot station. Hitch reattached his helmet. He sauntered to Capper to initiate a farewell as best he could.
Less than half an hour had passed inside the tent. The experience left Hitch feeling it’d been far, far longer. Wiser, too, in a twisted way. He’d made a friend simply via several basic questions. All he’d accomplished, in theory, was his job–nothing more. Yet, a sense of satisfaction in helping someone process their reality, come to terms, and form a genuine bond with them, settled forth. Reflecting on it at the moment, he knew he’d come to treasure the last hour for years to come. So, too, would Capper, he suspected.
“I must return to the queen, now,” Hitch informed.
Capper leaned to the side, blurry eyes gleaming. “Duty calls.”
“Unfortunately.”
“I understand.”
“Indeed.” A pop of guilt gnawed at Hitch.
“Thank you, my friend, for everything.”
“And you as well,” Hitch replied sincerely.
Capper reached and shook Hitch’s hoof. Hitch boomeranged a strong grip.
Saluting farewell, Hitch turned to leave. The chariot awaited.
The flaps of the tent opened. They almost closed.
Then Capper called one last time.
“Hitch?”
The stallion pivoted his gaze.
“Tell the queen to buy my airship as my new home, or else.”
“Absolutely.”
Capper smiled.
Hitch nodded
And walked out into the mountain’s frozen welcome, queen awaiting.
Author's Note
The opening scene is shamelessly ripped straight from Captain America: The First Avenger.
I do apologize if Hitch feels out of character in any way. I haven't seen much of G5, but thought it'd be fun to take a crack at one of the characters.
