Drill finished wrapping up Comet’s leg and put away the first aid kit. The Hauler’s boiler was as good as dead but the structure could still provide some protection from the wind.

Even so, the colt was shivering. If Drill hadn’t already lit a small fire the bandages might’ve already come loose.

The cold was brutally efficient at what it did. Without the same clothing and steam powered protection Drill had, Comet would’ve had maybe an hour to live. Assuming blood loss wouldn’t get him first.

So with a grim demeanour he ventured back outside and towards the body of his fallen friend.

Smoke Stack was already partially buried by the snowfall when Drill approached, only prevented by the still active thermal regulator pumping hot water around his body. Drill had the forward-thinking to bring a fresh set of clothes for Comet, but those were lost when the Sled crashed.

The only thing he could do now was make sure Smoke’s suit wouldn’t be wasted.

Drill felt numb, either out of emotional exhaustion or the cold finally creeping in. He stared at the open cavity in Smoke’s head and felt…nothing. No anger or horror, disgust or sadness.

Nothing.

Had he finally been subjected to enough it didn’t bother him anymore? Or did he just not have the energy to express emotion right now?

Sadly, he didn’t have the luxury or time to wax introspectively right now.

He sighed as he looked down at the body. “Thank you Smoke, I might not have known you for very long but…” Drill leaned down and pulled a pair of metallic tags off the guard’s neck. “I won’t let you be forgotten.”

Taking a deep breath in, he derobed him and pulled his body near the Hauler.

“I know this isn’t the grave you deserve but...” Drill’s mind flashed back to the dismembered wing Comet found. “It’s better than what New Canterlot will give you.”

He quickly buried what he could and erected a tombstone made from a piece of the local terrain, complete with a crude spelling of his name etched on. While Drill wished he could afford the time to carve something more deserving of the guard, time was a luxury Comet could ill-afford.

So with a heavy heart he walked back inside and laid out the bloodied suit for Comet to see, eliciting a chittered gasp from the colt.

“I know it’s a bit big Comet, but this will keep you warm.

“B-b-b-but it-it-it-it’s…” Comet’s eyes focused a little on the blood visible on the clothing.

“Trust me I’m aware, you’ll-” Drill swallowed his breath. “-just have to deal with it. If I could clean it I would.”

Comet was on the verge of tears just looking at the crimson stained hood, but already the warmth radiated from the suit beckoned him far more than the dying fire.

Biting his lip he allowed Drill to help him put it on. Working to fasten and adjust the suit where he could to better accommodate him. It was lengthy and uncomfortable but the two managed with some creative thinking, like wrapping the rubber tubing around Comet’s limbs as opposed to simply running the length of his hooves.

But even with that little crisis over Drill had another on his desk, that of going home.

“Do we hunker down and wait out the storm? Or try making it to New Canterlot on hoof?”

For an actual trained scout, or somepony who’s job took them outside the city the answer would’ve been easy. But for Drill it was opaque as roughly cut diamonds.

On one hoof, the Hauler provided protection from the wind and once the storm blew over it was highly likely somepony would come looking for them.

But on the other, there was no telling how long the storm would last. They could be here for days and run out of fuel before they saw the sun again.

They were expected, somepony had to be on the lookout for them and the closer they were to the city the better.

Drill’s shoulders laid heavy with the indecision weighing on him. It didn’t matter what choice he made, both felt wrong. But a decision had to be made and no amount of what ifs and hypertheticals could change that. The only pony he could ask for a second opinion was an injured eleven year old who’d never seen a maple tree before.

In this darkness, there was only one voice he could cling to, telling him to push forward.

“This is going to get us killed, but I’ll be damned if I just wait around for death to take me.”

Taking Smoke’s saddlebag and emptying it of redundant equipment, he searched around and filled it with whatever extra fuel he could get his hooves on. Taking from the Hauler, the remains of the sled, even scavenging what he could from the destroyed boxcars and filling the bag to capacity.

For him there would be no rest today, rest was the enemy.

Just like it was back at the prison.

Drill rentered the Hauler and picked up Comet Trail, giving the colt another piggyback ride. He’d gotten used to Comet’s weight by now, he wasn't that heavy.

“M-Mr Drill B-B-Bit? W-Where are we g-g-going?” He asked, teeth chattering.

“Home Comet, Home.”

An endless void was all that surrounded Drill Bit. There was no telling what time it was, only that no matter where he looked, darkness surrounded him.

He and Comet were blips in a vast, endless frozen ocean. One that threatened to whittle them away into nothing.

The life sustaining device mounted to him was working overtime to maintain his body temperature, every step was heavy and riddled with pain, his aching muscles protesting from exhaustion. Ice formed just as quickly as it thawed over his body, and every lump of coal thrown into the miniature furnaces was another ring of their death bells.

Worse still, he tried tracing his steps back in the direction of the city but any remnant of the sled’s tracks had long been snowed over, and his compass froze a mere minute after he’d pulled it out. The only lights he had were the ones from the thermal regulators and chest mounted glowlamps, which were dim at best.

He may as well have been blind. What point was there in pursuing the city if he’d mishoot it? In his haste he hadn’t taken this into account and now this mistake could cost them their lives.

It was deja vu all over again.

Soon they’d run out of food and fuel, lay exhausted and cold, waiting for death to bury them. Such thoughts only pushed Drill Bit further, but without direction he found the only virtue he could turn to was hope.

Hope, the eternal candle.

No matter how much he was tossed and turned by nature’s windswept wrath, no matter what pains his body brought on, or what torment his mind could conjure, he would not falter and he would not fall. For there was one flame within him that required only force of will for its fuel, and it burned as bright as a star.

He’d come too far to give up now.

Even so, he’d been presented with insurmountable odds.

It was a long walk ahead, but one he was prepared for.

What felt like an eternity had passed since they left the Hauler behind.

Eventually it did indeed get brighter as Luna’s dark blanket was withdrawn, but the storm still blinded them. Regardless, Drill pressed on, eager not to waste precious seconds of fuel.

Comet stirred and almost fell off his back, having briefly forgotten where he was and tapped his neck. “Mr. Drill Bit?” He squeaked. “I’m hungry.”

Without a word he stopped and reached into his bags to pull out one of only two rations. He and Smoke had packed light and he prioritised fuel over food when scavenging.

Drill couldn’t deny he was feeling the effects of hunger as well, and while Comet was important. If he didn’t keep his strength up it wouldn’t matter how well fed Comet was.

“Comet?” He craned his neck around. “I think it’s for the best that we share this. We don’t have a lot of food.”

It was near impossible to see the colt’s face behind the mask and goggles, and if he said something it was lost to the wind. But his nodding of agreement was communication enough and Drill let them sit for a few minutes to eat.

Afterwards it was back to their travel, his belly was left aching for more but that didn’t bother him. Half rations and hunger pains were only mild annoyances to him now. For another full day they walked, step by step, little by little, the storm grew darker all around them and Drill was forced to use his last ration for their dinner.

Sleep deprivation was taking its toll his body was driven more by muscle memory than conscious effort at this point. Never had Drill pushed himself like he was now and such was readily apparent.

Drill felt fit to collapse, his legs like brittle stilts numb at the hooves. His breathing was laboured and his eyes were as heavy as lead. The saddlebags that had once been laid with so much weight were now slack and thinly filled with black soot.

His very mind was tethering on the edge of consciousness. The night’s black void had returned and this time seemed intent on finishing them off. It wouldn’t be long before the regulators ran dry and the cold came to collect them.

Maybe this was it? After a heartfelt struggle and an outstanding display, he’d return to what from whence he’d came. Dust to dust, soot to snowflake.

He could feel it already, the cold embrace surrounding them as the wind relentlessly assailed them. His mind was a muddy bog for his thoughts to trudge through and his skin feeling more like one big rubber glove. The mask and goggles laid deep on his face, and his clothing was drenched in half-frozen sweat.

He was so tired, everything was so heavy…

“Maybe…just…five minutes..wouldn’t hurt.”

But just as the world began to dim, a rich amber light somehow broke through the ebony fog. It started off dim, but quickly brightened and such a thing became Drill’s lighthouse within this storm.

Was he seeing things? It wasn’t uncommon for the sleep deprived to witness hallucinations. However, if so, he wasn’t one to question and followed it on instinct. It was a warm, even familiar light too, but he couldn’t afford the energy to pin down where he’d seen it prior.

All that mattered was to move, movement was life, rest was the enemy and slowing down was a death sentence.

Drill had to push on, just a little further, just a few more steps, push forward for the dawn after darkness.

The light seemed so close yet so far, would he ever reach it? Was it even there to begin with? Would it leave so soon? Perhaps there was no rush and he could stop for a bit, he felt awfully hot under all that clothing and the regulator did his comfort no favor-

“NO!” With a slap to the chin he woke himself back up. “Not now! Not here!”

He had to follow the light, the bright orange light that signalled his salvation and promised him peace. Weakness of the body couldn’t stop him now! But it tried oh so hard.

Vision blurry, eyes heavy, legs weak and numb. The eternal candle threatening to be blown out. All it would take is a stumble, a simple misstep or critical moment of weakness.

But he held firm and resisted the temptations of his body, propelled now by sheer willpower and soon where one light had dominated the skies, the twinkling brights of hundreds more joined it.

He had found the city.

The vehicle deport had become a very quiet place since the storm hit. With the ceasing of operations only a skeleton crew had remained to prevent any mischief. Many of those guards were the same ones who’d witnessed the hijacking just a couple days ago.

Now they quietly sat and waited, staring into the empty blacks outside with baited breath.

They were expecting someone.

Of course the prospect of facing nature's wrath was intimidating, enough so they’d collectively strayed from helping. By the time they were having second thoughts it was already too late to join, and so trepidation had set in.

Some were hoping for a safe return, others for no return at all, lest they be confronted with the crime of cowardice.

But as one guard quietly watched from a platform absentmindedly, they saw something stir from within that void.

The light of a glow lamp.

A cold chill ran up his spine and ended through the tip of his horn, limbs locked in place and mouth left agap. Little by little, the shape of a couple ponies emerged and the guard briefly shook himself to blow into his whistle, before rushing over to help them inside.

More quickly arrived and Drill quietly turned to the unicorn, taking Comet’s sleeping form off his back. After so many hours under the hood, boiling and freezing at once, he finally felt the courage to peel that blasted mask off his face. Only twice had it been taken off and only for a few minutes to drink and eat.

“Corporal? Is that you?” One asked.

Drill raised a hoof and slowly pulled the rebreather and goggles off, shortly followed by the thick ski mask. A series of wide eyed wonder and horror followed as they took in the state of the stallion.

Bags the size of luggage cases hung under his eyes, greyed and near lifeless yet staring a thousand yards. Ice and snow caked his suit until the fabric and rubber became indistinguishable from them, and even after pulling his hood down his mane had become flaky and stiff.

“W-Where’s the Corporal?”

Drill reached into his bags and dug around before pulling out a pair of metal tags, speaking lowly.

“At the Hauler.”

On any other day he would’ve pressed further to nail the point across, but the faces of their collective realisation were enough to satisfy him. Guilt, anger, regret and more were subtly shared throughout the small crowd with some ponies turning away bowing their heads in shame, likely regretting their own cowardice now.

Another guard approached, more astonished than the last.

“How the buck did you manage to find the city? It’s pitch black out there!”

“We followed the giant balloon with the blinking light. Scouting Beacon I think it was called?”

More looks of confusion followed and for a moment it puzzled Drill too, until another guard replied. “My friend, we lowered that when the storm hit. It would’ve snapped the tether otherwise!”

A long moment of silence followed and Drill slowly blinked. He had to internally repeat the sentence a couple dozen times before it really registered.

“If what I saw wasn’t the beacon, what else could it have been? No common light can shine that brightly.”

Had he the energy to contemplate it further he would’ve. But It didn’t matter now. Comet was safe, he was safe. And he really needed some rest right about now.

The floor seemed good enough…

THUD!

Author's Note

To help refugees, scouts and other wanderers locate cities and settlements, most use a tethered balloon with a set of flashing lights called Beacons.