Chapters The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
Act I: Intervention
Chapters 1 - 10
Act II: Vengeance
Chapters 11 - ?
Act III: Ascension
Chapters ? - ?
Act IV: Eclipse
Chapters ? - ?
Author's Note
Whoa, a table of contents?!?! Does this mean F.C. Silvestris is actually planning a fic through for once?
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
Act I: Intervention
The air blew backwards at two hundred and seventy knots, yet Soarin only felt the dull heat of his Hurricane's engine. Though the Wonderbolts prided themselves as champions of the air, the best pegasi of all three continents and certainly better than any griff, many were skeptical about flight technology, even after close to a decade. Soarin himself was no exception: even though this was his sixth hundred and eighty-sixth aircraft flight, he still wondered if he would be better off skipping over to the army with Fast Clip. Soarin pressed his control stick forward with one hoof, pitching the aircraft down an even twenty degrees. There was only one benefit of these steel birds, or, rather, one that mattered to him. He depressed a button at the base of his stick, and two flurries of blasts erupt from the Hurricane's wings, its machine guns tearing up a papercraft outpost. The firepower of even a single plane far outmatched a platoon, even a whole company, of ponies. With his strafing exercise complete, Soarin pulled the stick towards himself, overshooting a level horizon until he pushed it forward again for less than a second. He reached a hoof to the radio system in his plane, pressing in the talk button.
"Wonderbolt Two, mission complete," Soarin announced, "Wasn't Wonderbolt Lead supposed to run a counter-exercise and try to intercept me?" He cut his outgoing signal, glancing to either side in case his expected opponent snuck up on him. Instead, a voice crackled from the radio, incoming from the air base.
"Ah, Tartarus, I knew I was forgetting something," muttered the voice, feminine with a light Baltimare accent, "CAF Cloudsdale reads you, Wonderbolt Two. Wonderbolt Lead got called off for a meeting."
'Spits got dragged into a last-minute meeting, huh,' thought Soarin, 'Real last-minute. Ought to be urgent, then, but why aren't the rest of the Wonderbolts involved?' Sighing, he responded, "Wonderbolt Two copies, heading your way now." He pushed the stick to the right, his Hurricane banking the same direction before he pulled both stick and plane 'up' towards Celestial Air Force Cloudsdale.
Prince Blueblood poured a cup of tea as his guest watched the rhythmic ocean waves. The guest placed her cloven hoof against the porthole as she looked down, breathing deeply. Blueblood figured she wouldn't be used to maritime travel- he had to sacrifice many amenities himself- but he was starting to worry about her condition. "Come now," offered Blueblood, "A warm drink to quell your nerves and seasickness."
His guest looked towards him, shaking her head as azure antlers snagged on the hood of her cheap, beige cloak. "The churning of the waves is not the churning of my stomach," lamented his guest, "I cannot quell the ache I feel for all my deer so long as they are being slaughtered by the Changelings. I am pleading that you petition your aunt for volunteer forces."
Prince Blueblood froze, the refused teacup that he already took as his own now hanging in place under his unicorn magic. "But that would reinforce your brother's claim to Olenia's throne. Queen Velvet, if we acknowledged and upheld Johan's-"
Velvet stamped a hoof on the cabin's floor, and Blueblood nearly jumped back. "Better a bastard on the throne than a monster! If Chrysalis wins, the massacre of my deer shall only grow until all I can be queen of are bones!"
"I… we'll…" Blueblood could only mumble in response. Finally, he sighed, and peered out the porthole himself. "Still in Luna Bay? Why cannot we land right here on Equestria's west coast?"
"You already know why, young prince. A ship to Equestria is too suspicious, we still share land borders-" Velvet paused for a second, but when Blueblood tried to get a word in, she interrupted, "Which are much too guarded to cross. Relax, my brother would not dare interrupt New Mareland's trade."
"I don't think it's your brother that we have to worry about now," Blueblood said, drawing out his words as his eyes sharpened. Queen Velvet followed his glare, at a listing Olenian escort. "U-boats." The ship shuddered with a scream of metal, and Blueblood's teacup fell, shattering on the cabin's floor.
Spitfire felt guilty to ditch Soarin. She knew Soarin struggled to find his place in a motorized Wonderbolt Squadron, she was one of the only old Wonderbolts that didn't. Worse, this sudden meeting reeked of redaction and secrecy, like she was keeping things behind Soarin's back. She knew some secrets stopped at her level, but with how much of the team was held together by her second in command, it always hurt.
When she entered the meeting room, Spitfire immediately realized the meeting came not just of urgency, but emergency. Both princesses of Equestria sat at the head of the table, Luna at Celestia's right hoof. To Celestia's left, the noblepony Fancy Pants sat, stoic and stonelike. The rest of the seats were disturbingly barren, save for one familiar pony.
"You would've had me on cleanup duty for weeks if I were this late," cracked Fast Clip.
"My apologies, General, Princesses," Spitfire said, saluting her superior officer before bowing to the Princesses.
"Please, no need to call me General," Fast Clip offered, "I should be the one under you." Spitfire didn't blame Fast Clip for leaving the Wonderbolts for the Army; he himself still did.
After a second, Fancy Pants cleared his throat, stating, "Take a seat before you get lost in reminiscence; we are running late." Princess Celestia 'discreetly' dissuaded him from further expression of irritation with a single flap of her left wing. Once Spitfire sat down, opposite Fast Clip, Fancy Pants began, "I have already given the Princesses a brief summary, but there have been concerning developments in the Olenian situation. Four hours ago, a Changeling Unterseeboot- that is, submarine- squadron attacked a New Mareland trade convoy in Luna Bay, destroying three cargo ships and five Olenian escorts. New Mareland has already organized volunteers to Olenia in response to this attack. Internal contacts report considerations of joining against the Changelings."
"So be it," outcried Fast Clip, "New Mareland has wanted to hold their own for a long time, let this be their test, they can't cry home to Equestria any more!"
"Equestrian citizens were on those ships," retorted Fancy Pants, "High profile citizens were on those ships. We have confirmation that the ship carrying Prince Blueblood was sunk. Survivors are already piling into Vanhoover."
"But no sightings of our nephew," surmised Celestia.
"Nor the… friend he was supposed to pick up," confirmed Fancy Pants. Spitfire turned to Fast Clip in response, but his face betrayed the same confusion. Both officers concluded it was outside of their clearance.
Silence filled the room, everypony turned to Princess Celestia. The princess snorted, wings flared. "So, it has finally come to this," announced Celestia, "The fatal decision, whether I find it best in my heart to leave or to send my little ponies to their deaths."
Princess Luna lifted a wing towards her sister. "Then do not leave the decision to thyself, sister," she offered, "General Fast Clip, Captain Spitfire, you would be the ones to lead forces into Olenia; do you choose this path?"
Once again, Spitfire and Fast Clip eyed each other in silence. This time, Spitfire could discern no emotion from her compatriot. Princess Celestia mouthed an expression of thanks to her sister. In a flash of magic, Fancy Pants adjusted his tie. Fast Clip closed his eyes, and gave a light nod. Spitfire sighed, and shook her head.
"Not yet," whispered Spitfire.
Fancy Pants snorted, wondering, "I do not follow, whatever do you mean?"
"There's somepony else that needs to be here," stated Spitfire, "I can't accept this on my own."
"Right now, this information is of the utmost secrecy-" before Fancy Pants could finish, Celestia flared her left wing again.
"Enlighten me, Spitfire," asked Celestia.
"My wingpony, Commander Soarin," said Spitfire, "There's nopony I trust more."
"Then so shall we," confirmed Celestia.
The moment Soarin kicked open the canopy of his Hurricane, Spitfire dragged him across the base. In a hushed voice, pausing when passing others, she briefed Soarin. By the time Spitfire returned with Soarin to the meeting room, the duo knew their answer.
"Your Majesties," addressed Spitfire, "The Wonderbolts will depart for Olenia."
Princess Celestia nodded, saying, "Thank you, marshal, commodore ."
"M- marshal?" wondered Spitfire, "Is this a brevet?"
Celestia shook her head. "No, Air Marshal Spitfire, this is a promotion. The same for you, Air Commodore Soarin. Even you, Field Marshal Fast Clip."
All three addressed officers saluted their princesses, shouting, "Understood, Your Majesties."
As Fast Clip held his salute, he thought to himself, 'This still means I outrank Spitfire.'
Author's Note
The Hawker Hurricane is the sexiest plane ever manufactured and I will die on that hill.
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
Princess Luna had noticed a new quirk of her sister: she had grown adverse to mirrors. At first, when all she saw were cloths draped over the ones in her sister's room, Luna surmised that Princess Celestia was merely tired of seeing herself, but the situation grew stranger when Celestia began to dismiss, even get angry at servants who tried to polish or clean the glass cases in the palace.
On the night after the sinking of their nephew's boat, Luna heard her sister awaken. Silently, she followed into a dark, forgotten basement. There Celestia sat, peering through a mirror. Encased in gold, ornate, curving lines stretching out from the sides in a near mystical manner, it was one of many enchanted mirrors hidden throughout the palace.
Luna wasn't sure if it was the sound of her breath, a shift in the floor, or merely her reflection caught in the mirror, but in a few moments, Princess Celestia noticed her. Turning to Luna, she sobbed. Luna ran, faster than ever in her life, towards her sister. Forcibly, she gripped her sister in an embrace, forelegs and wings both. Tears rolled down upon Luna's back, but she did not let go. Luna looked again to the mirror herself. She did not know what it was, what it did, but she knew what it was not. This mirror was not one that had brought such heartbreak to Celestia, at least, not one in her time.
It was not until Shining Armor found them that the sisters broke their embrace. He, the captain of the Royal Guard, had grown worried, scared at the seeming disappearance of the princesses. He did not say, however, how long they had been there.
"Alright, Wonderbolts!" Spitfire shouted as she held her radio talk button, "We are about to cross Luna Bay, expect heavy resistance over Vaverfront, we can't land until we've secured air superiority." Though CAF Vanhoover, where they had last refueled, was already close to Olenia, securing the Vaverfront base was critical for further operations in Olenia. As the Vanhoover City docks rushed underneath the Wonderbolts, Spitfire took to the radio again, ordering, "All Wonderbolts, status report."
"Wonderbolt Two," called in Soarin, "Everything's good in here."
"Wonderbolt Three," replied Rainbow Dash, "I'm a bit cramped, but my plane is feeling awesome!" Though Dash was a newer member of the squadron, her acts as part of the Elements of Harmony quickly solidified her position amongst her fellow 'Bolts.
"Wonderbolt Four, A-Ok!" announced Surprise.
"Wonderbolt Five, ready to split off on your mark," confirmed Blaze. Once the Wonderbolts crossed the bay, they planned to split into two flights to cover the region. She would lead the second flight.
"Wonderbolt Six, all systems nominal," reported Wave Chill.
"Wonderbolt Seven, all good, but Six is speaking some strange words," teased Thunderlane.
"Wonderbolt Eight, what everypony else said," answered High Winds.
"Alright, Wonderbolts, weapons tight," ordered Spitfire, "Our allies may have captured planes, so focus on splashing the ones with visible Changeling emblems. Wonderbolts Five through Eight, break north." As the coast crept into view, half of the Wonderbolt planes banked to the right. Spitfire's flight pressed due west, and foreign planes grew from specks above the horizon.
"Vater, sie ist wach! Sie ist wach!"
Queen Velvet found herself in a straw bed, with nothing but a candle between her and a Changeling. Her instinct, her upbringing, her knowledge told her to escape, to fight till her hooves were shattered if she ever wanted to see her kind again. Her body screamed differently, screamed to stop as she moved a single hoof. As her muscle screamed, it escaped her body through her muzzle, a shriek of pain echoing for just a second before Velvet stilled.
"Hey! Hey hey hey," called the Changeling, "Don't move, you are hurt. I am sorry, I do not know your language. You do not know mine. Do you know Equestrian?" The Changeling began to trot forwards, but Velvet cried out, through gritted teeth,
"Keep your shredded hooves away from me!"
"Ah, you do speak Equestrian!" exclaimed the Changeling, "Please, mein Vater says you are important. He kept you secret when he fished you out of the sea. We are harmonists, I swear."
"And where in Tartarus am I?" Asked Velvet, unsatisfied.
"This is Dytrisium. Please, allow me to treat your wounds. I am Keratin, what is your name?" Keratin outstretched a hoof, and Velvet warily pressed her own cloven hoof against it.
"Velvet, I am Velvet," she admitted, hoof collapsing to the floor.
"Hey hey, do not strain yourself!" called Keratin, "My Vater- sorry, father- wants to talk to you."
"Does he at least know Olenian?" muttered Velvet. "You do know most deer aren't fond of harmonists?" she chuckled, "Not when that would mean I should have my brother's throne."
"So it really is you, Queen Velvet," An older Changeling, Keratin's father, addressed Velvet, stepping into the room- or perhaps had been waiting at the entrance for all Velvet knew, only given the light of a single candle. "My name is Chalcone, I could not believe my eyes when I saw you over the side of my ship, out in the Olenian Ocean."
"I washed that far out?" exclaimed Velvet, "I was trying to escape to Equestria, but one of your U-boats attacked."
"Hey, I am an honorable battleship captain," protested Chalcone, "Well, nothing much honorable anymore under Chrysalis, but I would prefer not to be likened to those Maar-damned Unterseeboot cowards."
"Maar?" asked Velvet, "I knew you Changelings arrogated whatever you felt like from Griffonia, but not religion."
Chalcone snorted, but did not meet Velvet's eyes. "Well," he said, "I got it from a friend. A dead one now, at least, that's the best I can hope for after the death of the Aquileian Revolution."
"Flight Group South," addressed Spitfire, "We're the last line of air defense from Vaverfront Air Base, focus all firepower on their Stukas, we can't let them give their ground forces any breakthrough."
Spitfire herself was already taking care of the lone fighter that had snuck past the northern battlefield, an Sv 109. Though the Changeling pilot was quite nimble, she kept right on its tail, spraying tracers that got closer each burst. Suddenly, the Changeling pulled up, halting their engine so Spitfire would overshoot.
It didn't gain enough altitude. Spitfire's Hurricane slammed into the canopy of the 109, shredding the pilot as both planes became piles of metal. The impact shattered Spitfire's own canopy, and she cried out in pain as glass showered onto her. She slammed the radio button, shouting, "Wonderbolt Lead, my plane is going down. Wonderbolt Two is in charge now." She tried to unlatch her harness, but it was stuck. Frantically, she picked a larger shard of glass, and slashed at it. Barely above the treeline, she leapt out the broken canopy, and unfurled her wings, catching the wind just before she would've rammed into a tree.
Above her, another Hurricane blazed past her, weaving and turning against a Stuka whose tail gunner lit the dim dawn sky. A stray tracer flashed in front of Spitfire's muzzle, and she reared back. Inside the Hurricane, Surprise pressed in her radio, saying, "This is Wonderbolt Four, I have visuals on Lead, she's out okay!"
Princess Luna had not visited a dream in many nights, but this night, she chose something she had not done in an even longer time. This night, she visited her sister's dream. When they were young, Luna and Celestia would share dreams, visit realms and wonders from countless minds together. When Celestia discovered nightmares, when they visited the sleep of a Crystal Pony who lived under the oppression of the terrible King Sombra, Celestia learned why she was not the sister with the power of dreams.
This night, Celestia's dreamworld was an empty, thin stretch of land, endless in front of Luna as she saw nothing else but ocean. Always, when they were young, Luna had seen dream ponies gallivanting about in Celestia's dreams, but now there was no trace of life, even the ground was barren, hard earth. The sky turned dark, and Luna looked up, a great ring of fire hovered in the sky, the moon in the sun's shadow, and the land in the moon's shadow.
"I suppose it's new to you, sister," noted a voice behind her, loud yet soft. Luna knew it was Celestia, yet there was something different. "I've been here every night for over a thousand years. It started the day before I…" Celestia trotted forwards, passing beside Luna, appearing not as her pastel self, but clad in crimson, with a mane of fire. She looked at Luna, tears flooding from her eyes that looked just like the eclipse above. "This is who I see in the mirror."
Author's Note
Will Spitfire get her plane replaced with a... Spitfire?
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
By the time the last Changeling plane retreated from Vaverfront, and Soarin had taxied his plane to the hangar, Spitfire was already admitted to the infirmary. Commodore Soarin quickly reached his commanding officer, saluting Marshal Spitfire as she lay, bandaged, in a foreign bed.
"Soarin, it looks like you'll keep leading in my place for a while," said Spitfire.
"Was the crash that bad?" asked Soarin.
"Not quite," denied Spitfire, "My replacement plane won't be in for a week."
"It's about your plane?" wondered Soarin, "Couldn't you commandeer one of our lieutenants' planes?"
"I am the one who crashed," retorted Spitfire, "Why should I ground somepony else?"
"I-" Soarin's eyes wandered away from Spitfire, his voice barely audible as he saluted her again. "I'm sorry, Marshal."
"Soarin, cut the formalities," ordered Spitfire, "I have known you for thirty seven odd years. Because of that, I also know that you can fly without me. You were always better than me at flying with real wings, why do you still hold yourself back in a plane?"
Soarin snorted, "I'm not flying in, mane on fire, and getting myself killed."
"You know that isn't what I meant," pleaded Spitfire, but Soarin still refused to meet her gaze, he began to step away, but she called again, "You were supposed to be the gunner that day, not Fire Streak."
He paused, sighing. "I wish it were as simple as that, Spits," he said, "I already took out my anger when Fire Streak was maimed. It's the dogfights I'm scared of; I'm scared I'll like it, scared that my tallies will stop being the threats I've stopped, and start being the bugs I've squashed."
"Then why did you accept coming here, to Olenia?" wondered Spitfire.
"I did not want to wait for Equestria to be in her dying throes before fighting back," answered Soarin. He took a glance at Spitfire, and left.
The basement window didn't provide much of a view, hidden behind a row of flowering bushes. Fortunately, that also meant little of the inside was visible to any wandering Changelings. Now that the sun peered through the foliage and into the window, Velvet had a better view of the room she felt she may very well waste away in. The basement was built from stone, the walls somewhat jagged, but any sharp edges must have been well smoothed out. Around the room were cases and boxes littered with trinkets. If anything, Velvet found it mundane. She had heard much about the Changelings and their great, ominous hives, yet this was a simple house. Then it clicked that it was a Griffonian house, that Dytrisium was a trade harbor.
Still too weak to get up onto her four hooves, she rolled onto her other side, knocking about some straw. On the other side, Velvet lay just next to a bookshelf. She tried to take a book to read, but as soon as she could see the front cover, she felt rather foolish. The book was written in Herzlander. Sighing, she turned back over, only to be nearly given the strength to leap from the straw-covered ground as Chalcone had entered in silence.
He shook his head with a faint smile before saying, "I am sorry, you do not have much to do. Keratin is quite fond of chess, but once I'm back at sea, he'll be quite busy. As for getting you out of here, we could either risk smuggling you through Griffonia, or get you north to the neutral Polar Bear Communities."
"So, either getting sunk again, or crossing the whole country just to freeze," summarized Velvet. "Stealing a plane would require someone down here to pilot, as well as fighter cover."
"That might not be as difficult as it sounds," said Chalcone.
"Whatever do you mean?" asked Velvet.
"Well, I suppose you must not know already, but New Mareland's declared war," he revealed, "I expect if we can get word out through our underground networks, we could get a nice big screen of Skywinds."
'Of course,' thought Velvet, 'It was a New Mareland ship they destroyed.' "Well," she said, "Then how do we get a pilot?"
"Those logistics I am not in charge of," he answered, "I can pass off the plan, and they'll sort it out by the time you're healthy."
"Only one concern, then," noted Velvet, "Just where is an airfield?"
Chalcone chuckled, "Oh, it will be a dreadfully arduous journey, circumnavigating all the way around the hive. That's right, half a day's journey on hoof, a couple minutes if we can get a truck."
"Can we get a truck?" asked Velvet.
"No."
Princess Luna returned to her sister's dream the next night, yet something felt different. The eclipse had already begun, but the ring of fire around the moon flared so bright that the ocean was illuminated as if in twilight. She couldn't see her sister, couldn't sense her. It was as if she were in an empty dream, yet she knew that could not be.
She walked forwards. She did not know if she would find anything, but her mind screamed that something was wrong. She broke into a canter, then a full gallop. She did not stop, not in a minute, nor an hour, nor as she tired, all until the line of rock beneath her hooves grew brittle and snapped.
As her gait faltered, forehoof searching for purchase, Luna looked into the ocean. A column of bubbles settled on the surface, waves of heat following.
"Celestia!" she shouted, her voice pulling enough power to send ripples across all the ocean she could see. She wouldn't have been surprised if her body in the waking world had cried out the same. She leapt, wings flared until she pulled them close as she plunged into the water.
Luna had been to the icy Crystal Empire before, she had even been to the coldest mountain summit in Equus, but never had she felt a cold so great, so absolute, so burning. The ocean, as empty as the land, seeped into her fur and mane and feathers, washing away bits of her as the dimmest of lights peered through the abyss.
As she pushed herself deeper, the cold ended. It was not replaced with warmth, merely emptiness, until a great inferno surrounded her without portend. She realized she was no longer in water, instead immersed in a thick cloud of heat, its immense mass holding her in place. She looked up, a field of stars speckling over each and every corner. Somehow she knew this was the sun she stood on.
In front of her, a plume of plasma burst upwards and faded away, suddenly revealing her sister- no, Daybreaker. Luna could not feel Celestia in the alicorn that stood in front of her.
"Where is my sister!" pleaded Luna.
"I am… housekeeping while she accepts what has to be done to save our little ponies," said Daybreaker.
"And who will save them from you?" challenged Luna.
"The nightmare," offered a softer voice from the Mare of the Sun. Suddenly, Luna felt her sister in front of her again. She nearly trembled before a pressure took hold on her shoulder, and the sun burned away as her name was called.
"Princess Luna! Princess Luna! We heard you shouting," said Flash Sentry. Luna looked at him, brushing his hoof off her shoulder, before looking about her room. Sighing, she accepted that she had been forced awake, and professed to him,
"I was just… worried about my sister."
Knowing well that the Princess had dominion of dreams, Flash Sentry was doubtful it was that simple, but he kept his concern silent, nodding as he responded, "Princess Celestia is in her chambers, resting." Luna knew that already, Flash could tell.
Author's Note
Please don't try to deconstruct the symbolism, I never constructed it.
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
The engine in Soarin's Hurricane sputtered to life as he rushed through pre-flight checks. Nine days had passed since entering Olenia, and the combined pressure of New Mareland, the Wonderbolts, and Fast Clip's forces had stopped the Changeling Blitzkrieg. Now, the Wonderbolts sought to cripple the Ostwind region operations of the Luftwaffe- the Changeling air force- in a combined assault beside Olenian and New Mareland aces.
Soarin taxied out of the hangar, and he caught a glance of Rainbow Dash preparing her plane to take off after him. Sure enough, as he throttled up at the runway, pulling up into the air, Dash followed. Soon the rest of the Wonderbolts were flying in formation behind him.
To some miracle, the skies of the southern Ostwind were clear of Changelings. As the Wonderbolts passed over the ground border, Wave Chill swept his gaze around the canopy, hooves tensed in apprehension. The land battle below was barely audible, but a burst of rounds suddenly pinged against Wave Chill's plane.
"Was that a rifle?" he asked incredulously.
Thunderlane dipped his plane, looking up at Wave Chill's. "I would certainly be disappointed if that was the strength of their ack-acks," he said, "They didn't even leave a dent!" He was quickly assured otherwise as the sky lit up with flak.
"Wonderbolts, break formation!" shouted Soarin.
"Where the hell did all these ack-acks come from?" complained Thunderlane.
Wave Chill banked wholly perpendicular, narrowly pulling his plane away from a stream of flak. "Are my eyes playing tricks on me?" he asked, "AA tanks spotted, there's at least a dozen of them!"
"Celestia grant us strength!" plead Blaze, "I've heard rumors about those, but they have a whole company down there!"
"Just take evasive maneuvers," ordered Soarin, "They can't outrun us, all this means is we can't strafe them to Tartarus." He forced his plane into a dive, avoiding a low-angle burst. He changed his frequency to the air base, calling, "Wonderbolt Tw- I mean Wonderbolt Lead here, requesting an anti-tank run, sixty-five miles north bearing twenty-one degrees west of the base, they have heavy anti-air."
A crackling voice answered, "Vaverfront Air Base responds, can't you take out their flak first?"
"The tanks are the flak!" Soarin shouted, "If they're not gone on our return trip, calling our chances grim would be very optimistic."
Silence, then Vaverfront responded, "We can sortie in ten minutes." Soarin cut the radio back to the Wonderbolts, and he nearly jumped at the sudden shouts.
"-didn't see him get out!" called Blaze.
"Those holes went straight through the cockpit," Wave Chill announced, coldly.
"The hell is going on?" asked Soarin.
"They shredded him!" shouted Rainbow Dash.
"Clipper, we lost Thunderlane," informed Surprise.
Soarin rolled his Hurricane to find the wreck. There was little left, but something else was mixed in the scrap. Thunderlane had crashed into a flak tank.
"Don't let his sacrifice go in vain!" ordered Soarin, "We're almost out of this kill zone!"
But Thunderlane wasn't. Thunderlane, the youngest in the team. Thunderlane, hoof-picked from the cadets by Soarin.
The firing stopped. Soarin peered out the canopy, two Hurricanes on his left, three on his right.
'Is this how it will be?' lamented Soarin, 'The Wonderbolts, smaller and smaller each week?'
The 1st Pegasus Division was the pride of Celestia's army. Nicknamed the Wonderbolts Land Division, it was almost officially titled such before its commander, then Major General Fast Clip, declined.
Signaller Braeburn found it a heavy mantle to take, most especially because he was an Earth pony. He didn't get there for nothing, though. He was declared a hero after the Canterlot Invasion, warning against a Changeling plan to halt their retreat and seize the less guarded city of Tall Tale. Now he sat, an eighth of a mile above the Changeling Lands, tapping his hoof in boredom at the rack housing the silent radio system. It wasn't like he would get a chance to say anything into it, not so long as he hoped to avoid the wrath of an enemy Sv 110 squadron.
He knew that soon, the plane would go quiet. Any minute and the two dozen pegasi in the cabin behind him would leap out, and he would be left alone, the two other crewponies packed away in the flight deck. Thus it had been the last mission, and there were no signs it would change.
If only war were that predictable. The radio set came to life, his headset blaring with a warning, "Östskog Invasion Force, a Flakpanzer division is operating in the region. Exercise extreme caution."
'Flakpanzer?' wondered Braeburn, but it dawned on him all too quickly the meaning, 'Sweet Celestia, anti-air tanks!' He nearly tore his headset off as he dashed around the divider to the pilot, shouting,
"The Changelings have mobile Anti-" Before he could finish, the floor in front of him exploded in shrapnel. The pilot and copilot burst into a cloud of… Braeburn couldn't finish the thought, and in a sick sense of mercy, the debris blinded him, keeping the visceral sight out from his eyes- but not his mind. One of his forehooves- he couldn't even acknowledge which- seemed to burst open under him, it felt much the way he imagined a mason jar would feel after being used for target practice. He managed to stumble backwards into the cargo compartment, where somepony braced him up.
"We gotta jump, now!" shouted the pony who now held Braeburn, "Sergeant! Help me carry him." Braeburn distinctively recalled a sound of rushing wind and a feeling of weightlessness before an extended period of nothingness.
"Greetings, sister," Princess Luna offered to Celestia. In her waking hours, Daybreaker did not seem to have any control over Princess Celestia, but Luna was cautious. Celestia smiled back, saying,
"Good day, Luna. Have you heard the good news?" Luna was almost taken aback by how cheery Celestia had become, but she kept her surprise to herself. Instead, she only responded,
"I do not seem to be aware of the happening you allude to."
"Velvet is alive, she's okay!" rejoiced Celestia, "In a couple days time, she'll be flying right into Vanhoover!"
"What about our nephew?" wondered Luna. Celestia's face faltered, and Luna knew the answer.
"Still nothing, but he could've washed up anywhere," Celestia tried to keep hope, but a thought loomed silently between the two sisters,
'He could've never washed up, or worse, he could be a captive of the Changelings.'
"We repelled a border raid with no losses yesterday," offered Luna.
"I wouldn't be too proud of that," Celestia said, "The increasing attacks are worrying, all-out war would mean leaving our north-east border open."
"Do you believe Serov would take that opportunity?" asked Luna. Neither sister knew the answer, the new General Secretary of Stalliongrad was an enigma to them both, and it terrified them.
The sisters parted ways, and as Luna trotted through the palace, she stopped next to a glass case, which a servant seemed to have finally snuck a proper polishing to. As Luna gazed into her reflection, thinly slit eyes leered back into her.
Author's Note
I know Flakpanzers were a later development, IRL but it's not the wildest jump in technology so I'm sure nopony would even notice if I hadn't mentioned it, and really in EaW, they can be developed barely over a month into the game.
Can anyone guess why I made Braeburn a radiopony?
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
"Sarge! Braeburn's stirring!" Indeed, a distant, prolonged gunfire was dragging Signaller Braeburn from a shadowy unconsciousness. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted with a blurry, pastel blue shape, draped in a smudge of olive and brown. He recognized it must be somepony who air-dropped with him, but he could not tell who.
"Ah… can't-" Braeburn tried to speak, but each vowel dug into his throat. In fact, he realized most of him was sore- or rather all of him, save his left foreleg, which he thought instead burned with the whole strength of the Alicorn Princesses.
"Hey!" the shape warned, quiet but sharp, "Look at me, save your strength."
"Ah can't look," protested Braeburn, "Ah can't see."
"No, I guess not," as he spoke, the smudge of color carefully approached. By the time he stopped, Braeburn could see the outline of his face and the medic band on his arm. "The Changeling garrison is holed up in the hospital. If we don't take it soon, I'm afraid I won't be able to save your sight."
Braeburn recognized a different, browner form approaching, he figured it must have been the sergeant which the medic called for. "Signaller, I hate to give orders to a wounded pony," she admitted, "But B Company has secured a radio station, and we need it fixed."
The medic was close enough that Braeburn could see him turn towards the sergeant. "Sergeant Fig Fang, I cannot advise this," he warned, "He just lost a hoof!"
'A hoof? I lost a hoof?' Braeburn's eyes drifted down to his forelegs, the left of which was wrapped tight. Horrified, he realized it ended before his right leg did.
"Then may Celestia damn me, Compress," Fig Fang muttered, "If we can't send artillery coordinates, we can't hold our position, let alone advance."
"How-" Braeburn's inaudible response was halted by a coughing fit, "How far?"
"Braeburn, you are in no condition to be playing hero," Compress argued.
"Ah'm in no condition," retorted Braeburn, "To lie down and wait for nothin' short of a miracle."
"Doc, do we have any sort of crutch for him?" asked Fig. Braeburn could hear Compress snort in response.
"You didn't think to mention there was active combat between us and the station?" shouted Compress, dragging Braeburn into a sandbag-lined gutter. Green smoke erupted from the sandbags as a Changeling patrol opened fire. Thankfully, even with magic rounds, the triple lined barricade held.
Sergeant Fig Fang took hold of her rifle, kicking open its bipod as she dug it into the sandbags. She peeked over the barricade, and bit her firearm's trigger, a three-round burst shearing through the air. "They must have been hiding from our patrols," defended Fig.
"Those bugs," muttered Braeburn, "They shot at a medic! Ah can't see mah own tail, but ah saw yer legband."
Fig fired another burst, while Compress merely shook his head. "Trust me, they saw it," he replied.
"I think I got them," Fig announced, "Compress, get Signaller Braeburn behind that building. If any more Changelings peek their heads out, I'll make sure those heads don't stay connected to their bodies." Compress nodded, and strode beside Braeburn. Braeburn stumbled, but Compress's wing wrapped around him. Just before reaching the cover of a diner- or, at least Braeburn figured it was, given the large portion of awfully tablelike objects in the window, which still were set with dirty circles- three more rounds fired behind them. Fig galloped toward them. "Miscount corrected," she noted, "We're almost to the station."
Indeed, Braeburn could tell a disproportionately tall building lay at the end of the street, the open road splitting in a T-intersection. As the three advanced, Fig Fang reached into her saddlebag, extracting a grenade. Just before the intersection, Fig stopped, flaring her wings. With one wing close enough to brush against Braeburn's snout, he noticed they were the fleshy, membranous sort typical of a thestral. Fig rolled the grenade out to the street, and with a crack, a grey haze seeped out. For an impossibly long time- perhaps half a minute- the trio waited in silence as the haze encroached upon them. Once their legs were mostly obscured- not that Braeburn could see any of them- Fig plunged into the cloud.
Now it was Braeburn's turn to halt. "This won't make mah sight any worse, will it?" he asked. Compress wordlessly pushed him forwards, which he hoped meant there was nothing to fear.
By the time Braeburn saw anything but grey- which had quickly grown to be a very tiring color- he was inside.
"Sergeant Fig Fang, is this that radio colt?" asked a gruff, tawny stallion, trotting towards the group from a side room.
"Yessir, Major Conifer, sir!" Fig Fang saluted her superior officer. Braeburn tried to do the same before awkwardly realizing he raised his missing hoof.
"This is the best we have?" asked Conifer. At first, Braeburn felt insulted. As he looked at… something- he was the furthest pony from knowing what- he reflected upon his condition, and accepted despair. Major Conifer was not interested in a signaller's wallowing, and shouted, "Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Celestia damn you, Lieutenant Vapour Trail, get your bloody haunches over here and escort our new signaller!"
Before Braeburn had any opportunity to recall the familiar name, the tea green lieutenant dashed into view. Braeburn heard a gasp of awe from Sergeant Fig Fang, suggesting that Vapour must appear rather beautiful, or perhaps majestic, not that that would be his area of expertise, now for more reasons than one.
"Sweet Celestia! What's a flying ace doing down here?" exclaimed Fig Fang. Braeburn then understood who this was. Vapour Trail was an aspiring Wonderbolt cadet many years ago, but she drifted to the world of planes well before the Wonderbolts ever did. In fact, she was the first pilot ace Equestria ever saw. She fought, however, against the revolution in Severyana, a war that Equestria had no wish to remember, and so she was forgotten along with it.
"I got shot down," explained Vapour, "I was as unprepared for the Flakpanzers as everypony else." Silently, Braeburn noted how quickly the term had been adopted. "Signaller, I'll be your eyes and hooves today."
Vapour led Braeburn to the radio kit. When she brought it close enough for his blurry vision to discern a vague estimate of its condition, he sourly exclaimed, "Textbook problems, this will be right simple, 'cept for the fact that it's about every problem in one."
By the time Braeburn flipped the radio's power toggle to a successfully audible station, he noticed the light around him was no longer the hot afternoon sun, but instead solely mechanical. Unfortunately, the lights were about the most he could discern. As he twisted the radio from public bands to the proper military frequency, mostly catching Olenian folk songs along the way, he noticed one of the speakers had blown. He decided one speaker would serve its purpose.
As he finally reached the frequency he desired, he pushed another toggle, calling, "This is Diamond Dog Five, calling… whichever artillery battery survived the drop, over!"
"Sunrise Six copies," responded somepony, "We're holed up just outside town, Changeling snipers are pinning us away from our cannons, over!"
'Of course,' thought Braeburn, 'Things were starting to go too smoothly.'
Author's Note
What's this? One perspective this chapter? Eeyup, the second half of this act will be nothing but single perspective chapters, and next up is everyone's favorite little hjort*
*not actually everyone's favorite, not actually even my favorite, that would be Prince Mathias
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
By the time Keratin brought a pilot to Velvet, she had the strength to walk with a barely noticeable limp. The pilot had yellow eyes, and not a single other defining feature to Velvet- though if Velvet said anything about that, she would surely be chastised.
"Do we still have no truck?" asked Velvet. The answer was, indeed, a lack of a truck. She was going to have to walk, hiding in a cloak, all the way from just north of the Dytrisium hive proper, eastwards for many miles.
And thus she walked, as did her companions. Velvet left Keratin's small home for the first time, into a village on the outskirts of Dytrisium that was far more diverse than she would've expected- with griffons and griffons and… oh, it's just griffons- into the vast forest outside Dytrisium, into more vast forest, into a deforested land that fought back the industrialization and returned to forest, and so forth until a great open field, surrounded by razor wire and guard towers, came into view. By then, the sun was bearing hard upon their backs, and Velvet felt she was cooking in her dark cloak.
"You know," remarked Velvet, "I get the feeling they might mind if we borrow a plane."
"I think I can see where you're coming from," noted the pilot, who Velvet did not get the chance to know the name of. It rather surprised Velvet that the pilot spoke now, given the complete silence that had met her upon prior attempts of communication during their grueling trek- not that one could wisely call their journey such, but Velvet had been in the mood for complaints, rather than wisdom, for most of the hike.
"Our opening is just three minutes away," announced Keratin, examining a watch right above his hoof, "Let's get into position." The trio skirted about the edge of the treeline, finding the spot where a guard tower's shadow crept over them. Soon, they saw guards descend from the tower, wings buzzing as they moved to some building in the compound. Keratin led Velvet and the pilot under the shadow, then as they reached the fence, Keratin gripped the chain link in his magic, tearing open a hole. He ushered the other two through, and forced it as close back as possible. Hopefully they would be out before any Changelings felt like inspecting the fence.
Velvet turned around, and realized Keratin was on the other side. "Hey, what's going on?" she asked.
Keratin shook his head, saying, "I cannot follow you, I cannot leave without my father."
"By Ukko, what are you talking about!" exclaimed Velvet, "Your father wanted me to take you."
Velvet flinched as the pilot placed a hoof on her shoulder. "We don't have time to argue," he stated, "If he stays, so be it."
"So be it?" wondered Velvet, "So be it?! He's still a kid, we can't just leave him in Dytrisium. I may not be the most familiar with this place, with your kind, but I know it is no place for a fawn- er, foal… you get my point!"
"They don't like my kind over there," protested Keratin, "No pony will help me!"
"Well VOPS doesn't like our kind either," retorted Velvet, "We're wasting precious time, come on."
Finally, in a flash of green fire, Keratin shifted into a mouse, slipping through a gap in the fence before turning back into himself. The group made their way to one building in the compound that had giant rolling doors, which they theorized, correctly, to be the hangar. As they crept in through a hole on the door's side, they noticed how disturbingly bare of Changelings it was. They trotted towards an Sv 110, the pilot deciding the extra firepower would be worth the cramped space.
Just as Keratin and the pilot pulled Velvet atop the plane, a guard made their presence known with a shot clipping Velvet's back hoof.
"I am rather disappointed by your behaviour, Queen Jelzek," announced a Changeling mare. As Velvet dragged her pained self inside of the plane, she caught sight of the patrol that arrived. Alongside three soldiers were two naval officers, one admiral- the one who called to her- and one bound captain. "I suppose we should be grateful" - though Velvet could no longer see her, she could tell the admiral sneered not just with words, but her expression - "After all, without your help, we never would have been able to root out some… undesirable individuals. It does not excuse stealing from us, however. We had no ill will against you, Your Majesty, after all, it is your dishonourable bastard half-brother we fight."
"A bastard is better than what you bring!" shouted Velvet.
"I am sorry you feel that way," lied the Admiral. "Now, let me speak to your little friends. Keratin, dear, I know you're in there. I have heard so much about you." Velvet saw Keratin tense up as his name slid from the Admiral's tongue. "Please, little Keratin, come down and you can still live with your father. At the very least, come give him one last goodbye before I execute him."
'Of course,' thought Velvet, 'Chalcone is the captain they brought.'
To some surprise to Velvet, Keratin shouted back, "Do you take me for a grub? That is a Maar-damned fake you got down there!"
The admiral sighed, loud and drawn out to intentionally punctuate her feelings. With a glow of magic, she unholstered a pistol, shooting the Changeling that proved decidedly not to be Chalcone- as a green flame sizzled to change the corpse to its original appearance. "I suppose you're right, lad," she noted. "Let's try this again, do you want us to blast his ship to oblivion, or execute him once he returns to dock?"
"Don't let her get into your head," warned the pilot.
"Ah, and how could I forget," mocked the admiral, "Sky Terror Hartling. You know those deer, or those ponies, or whoever you run off to, they won't let you fly again, but isn't that what you were hatched to do?"
"You're a terrible negotiator, Mimic," retorted Hartling.
"That's Generaladmiral Mimic to you, wastrel!" shouted Mimic. Hartling didn't respond, instead starting the Sv 110's engines. "I see, the negotiation's over. You know, despite all this, I will be generous and leave you to the fighters." She turned to one of the low rank officers beside her, noting, "Unteroffizier, you're going to need that door repaired."
Before the officer could ask why, two explosions screamed throughout the hangar. The first was from Hartling firing a rocket from the plane, and the next was the impact of the rocket against what formerly was a rolling door. As the plane accelerated away, one of the officers dared ask,
"Are you sure our fighters will destroy them?"
Mimic snorted, "One ace can't stop a whole squadron. Come, who wants to bet they'll be shot down before they're even out of view." She trotted towards the smoking rubble of a doorway, and suddenly grew a very disgruntled countenance. The Sv 109 squadron that had been sent out to lie in wait was coming into view, or, rather, what was left of it. Three fighters, one of them barely hanging on, were being chased by a foreign plane.
"I don't think they have just one ace," said the unteroffizier. He recognized the plane as an Olenian Tunturihaukka- no, Zero Two's Tunturihaukka.
Author's Note
Y'know how a chapter ago I was saying we're onto the second half of Act I? Yeah it's getting a bit longer.
The Last Flight of the Wonderbolts
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," greeted Princess Luna. Her fellow princess, Cadance of the Crystal Empire, had arrived on a pegasus-pulled chariot. Just the night before, Luna had asked in a letter for guidance from her.
"I know those bugs have been pressing hard on the border," said Cadance. "I'm not sure how good a comfort I'll be, Auntie Luna, but whatever you may need, just ask."
"It's not the front I'm worried about," said Luna. "Please, come inside." She waved a wing as she led Cadance into Canterlot Castle, to her chambers. As Luna entered, she nodded to the guards outside her door, ordering, "Dismissed." Once Cadance was inside, Luna shut the door, collapsing onto her side.
"Luna, what's wrong!" Frantically, Cadance tried to help Luna up, but she protested,
"No, no, I just…" Luna paused, then shook her head, locking eyes with Cadance. "I am too scared to sleep."
'The Princess of the Night, afraid of dreams?' thought Cadance. The idea was nearly laughable, but Luna's sullen eyes, baring into Cadance's meeting gaze, betrayed no humour. Cadence wanted to ask how that could possibly be, but she did not want an answer.
Luna gave it anyway, "I am scared that the one who wakes up will not be me."
"You can't be talking about Nightmare Moon," pleaded Cadance. "You are strong, Luna, you will not succumb to the darkness's allure."
"But I am not stronger than Celestia," said Luna, "and she is wavering."
Cadance's complexion could not decide which expression of surprise, fear, or worry to settle upon, and stood there with her muzzle half agape. "What-"
"She is going to sacrifice her soul for her ponies," warned Luna, "She loses herself in her dreams, and what's left has already promised the Nightmare would be her end."
"These are dangerous words you speak," protested Cadance. She trod backwards, fear having become the dominant emotion reflected in her eyes. Suddenly, a sharp flash erupted behind her, and Cadance nearly shrieked.
"Sister! She's here-" As Cadance turned to the booming voice behind her, the cheery face of Princess Celestia tilted quizzically back at her. "Princess Cadance! I was not expecting you here as well," noted Celestia, before quickly turning to Luna. "Now sister, stop sitting on the floor, and come greet Velvet!"
"Celestia, I-" Luna tried to speak to her sister, but Celestia disappeared as quickly as she arrived, "- I have told you not to teleport to my chambers."
After a moment, Cadance locked eyes with Luna, asking, "You sure that's the same pony we've been talking about?"
"Ask Pinkie Pie about forced smiles," responded Luna.
"Did she mention Velvet, as in, rightful queen of the Jelzek dynasty of Olenia?" questioned Cadance, changing the subject.
"Indeed, Cadance," confirmed Luna, respecting her wish to cease dwelling on the previous matter. "Despite the… setback with Blueblood, she's finally flying in, safe and sound."
'She was on that ship, then,' thought Cadance. "Well, let us join your sister in greeting her, Auntie Luna." This time, after dragging Luna up, Cadance took the lead. Though it had been many months since her last visit, Cadance was swift in her routing through the castle. Soon, both found their way onto the grand terrace that Princess Celestia watched from.
Cadance followed Celestia's gaze to an approaching chariot much like the one she had arrived in. A pegasus guardsmare, who had been flying in formation beside it, flew forwards in advance, announcing,
"Coming before you today is Velvet, eldest child of the late Aldar II of the Royal House Jelzek of Olenia. With her are the brave souls who helped bring her here, hailing from four different lands."
'Four?' Luna and Cadance met each other's gaze, neither understanding the choice words. Once the chariot landed, the answer became clear. Six individuals sat inside, two deer, two ponies, and, to the surprise of many- yet not Celestia- two changelings.
It was obvious which deer was Queen Velvet. It wasn't that the other wasn't graceful or pretty, in fact, Velvet was much more disheveled, but there was no faking or mistaking her sharp, ice-blue antlers that caught rays of light in a way that Cadance knew well.
'Reminds me of home, of my Crystal Ponies,' thought Cadance, 'I wonder if she's ever been called a Crystal Deer? No, that would be silly, her coat doesn't shine.'
Cadance could hear one of the ponies from the chariot, a cerulean pegasus mare with a white mane, "Gosh, they make it sound like we're all great heroes, you lot were already in allied skies by the time I joined the formation. Of course, I won't protest meeting the Princesses."
"I feel like a drop in the ocean myself," remarked the other pony, a dark orange thestral stallion. "I finally earned my ace wings, but Zero-Two got more kills than my whole squadron." As the two finally leapt from the chariot, the stallion looked back at the Changelings behind him, asking, "Oi, Hartling, you get any? Nah, as if the bug would splatter his own."
"He was busy getting our asses into Equestrian skies," retorted the smaller of the changelings. "I got three, if you care."
"Oh simmer down, you foals," muttered the pegasus.
Cadance stopped paying attention to the others as Celestia trotted to Velvet, saying, "I am so sorry that I could not make it to Vanhoover, but I trust it was calmer getting here than the first part of your journey."
"Other than the rain," quipped Velvet. "I can barely recall the last time I was presentable."
"I will try to remember to remind the drivers to stay above the clouds next time." Celestia looked over the other assorted passengers. "I am afraid I do not recognize most of your entourage."
"They seem to be collecting like stray cats," laughed Velvet. Celestia laughed with her, and turned to the pilot doe, asking,
"Let's start with you, what would your name be?"
"Nolla Kakkonen, Your Majesty," she responded, bowing her head.
"Are you toying with me?" Celestia tilted her head.
"Did I mishear you, Your Majesty?" asked Nolla, "My Equestrian is not the best, but my name, minun nimeni, that's what you asked for, wasn't it? My name is Nolla Kakkonen."
"Are those not numbers?" asked Celestia, turning towards Velvet.
"It's the best she has," responded Velvet. Celestia paused, politely nodded, and moved to the thestral.
"Captain Crimson Pomelo," he said, pre-empting Princess Celestia's next question. The latter only shook her head, moving now to the pegasus.
"Well, there's at least one familiar face," said Celestia. "Night Glider, isn't it?"
"You remember correctly, Your Majesty," responded Night Glider. "Even if you didn't, I would change my name to rectify it."
"Err… thank you," said Celestia. 'Quite a fan she is,' she thought, 'Didn't she come to Equestria after the schism of Starlight's Town?' She moved, finally, to the Changelings. "And you must be the family Thorax's resistance has told us about, Chalcone and Keratin, yes?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," answered the larger of the two Changelings. "Phyllodon Hartling, my enemies call me Sky Terror, but you don't need to anymore."
The younger Changeling added, "VOPS knew about the mission. They allowed Generaladmiral Mimic to personally see to me and my father. Her sick sense of pride allowed Hartling to fly away with me and Queen Velvet, but my fathers is on death's row, unless Mimic already executed his entire ship."
"I am sorry, little one," said Celestia. "Even more sorry that words are all I have to give." She stepped back, waving a wing as she called to the whole group, "Come now, I am sure most of you wish to wash up before we dine."
Author's Note
Writing this chapter made me realize the Olenians have an ace with no name, seriously, Nolla Kakkonen just translates to Zero Two, I think I might need to give her one hell of a backstory.