“It is the function of military reconnaissance to determine the lay of the land, state of enemy forces and potentially advantageous terrain features.”- Legion TM 1050- Reconnaissance.

Capitaine Adrelana narrows his upper set of eyes, scratching his chin as he looks at the sheaves of documents spread out in front of him. His lips are pursed as he taps one finger upon the table. His eyes then look upward and he leans back in the former conference room, drawing a hand through his shortened black hair before glancing at Capitaine Belial, sat at his right hand.

“Now to the tricky matter, brawling among the ranks, between soldiers of the Fifth and soldiers of the Fourth.”

The Val sweeps the table with a glare. A frisson of nervous energy ripples around the assembled officers as his St Petersburg accent adds a certain menace to the flowing Prench syllables.

“I am very well aware of the tense situation that we find ourselves in. Fourth Compagnie has assumed the burden of providing protection to the Princess, travelling to and from the palace every day, with the associated risks that come with it. Meanwhile, Fifth Compagnie has taken on the burden of providing compound security for a week now.”

His eyes snap upward, to the most junior soldier in the room, and Caporal Rainbow Dash locks her gaze with the four-eyed capitane. She can almost feel the contemptuous gaze of the assembled platoon commanders upon her, but she keeps her back straight. After a moment, Capitaine Adrelana's gaze leaves her face to sweep along the table like a lash.

“The Ninth, meanwhile, has been taking point position on all journeys to and from the palace. We all have shitty jobs, and whilst Capitane Belial and I accept that legionnaires are legionnaires and a certain amount of spirited discussion is only natural... this is the fifth brawl that has crossed my desk in as many days. If I was commanding a band of my clanspeople, that would be considered a slow week, but we are not howling barbarians. We are Equestrian Legionnaires, and a standard of discipline is expected, non, it is demanded.” His eyes suddenly focus on sous-lieutenant Adwaali, a hulking Zebrican who commands three-platoon, from whence one group of brawlers came.

“Sous-Lieutenant,” Adrelana's voice is almost a purr. “What have you done to resolve matters?”

“I have docked five days' pay from the legionnaires concerned, and informed them that any further misconduct will be dealt with by a spell at the post.” Adwaali looks uncomfortable, and Dash cannot blame him in the slightest. Adrelana had been furious at first parade when he'd delivered an absolutely ruthless bollocking to all the Legionnaires in attendance. He had dwelt at some length on the probable heritage of the guilty parties, and waxed eloquently upon the virtues of the Valorossiyan system, where such transgressions would be invariably punished by death in various gruesome ways. He had continued with a biting rebuke that maybe he should be transferring them to the Princess' housekeeping detail, since he could obviously not expect them to behave like soldiers, and that ironing the Princess' underwear would keep them out from underfoot. For the coup de-grace, he’d finished off by reflecting that he expected them to have no problems whatsoever with ironing lacy knickers already since they were quite clearly a bunch of fucking inverts.

It had been a work of pure poetry, even if it had relied heavily on Adrelana's noncom heritage, however it had underscored a problem apparent to all those in the room. Legionnaires will be legionnaires, and if you jam approximately two compagnies of fit young soldiers and their supporting elements into a small compound, which is then surrounded by a large occasionally hostile city, you're going to find tensions inevitably boiling over. This would ordinarily be dealt with by exercises and training routines, but there's limited training one can do when you're actually on an operational posting.

Dash can only congratulate herself that her unit hasn't been involved in the brawling. She and Smit have been too busy to do much by way of spirited discussion, having planned and led every single reconnaissance sortie to travel the route of the Princess' carriage beforehand, before travelling out ahead of the convoy, overwatching it, and then escorting it back. As a result, her thirteen troops have all been too tired to raise so much as their voices. Now, she watches as the short and blond lieutenant Zayvaadsen and tall, dark skinned sous-lieutenant Adwaali discuss the matter of punishment with Adrelana, and the punishment of the guilty parties is agreed upon (fines, with promises of flogging for repeat offences).

“So, what do we do about this, gentlemen?” Adrelana asks softly after a second. “We all know the problem: our soldiers are bored. Princess Twilight's decision to cut her escort to two platoons, whilst undoubtedly the right one, leaves three platoons effectively on their backsides doing nothing. Caporal Bolt, your thoughts?”

At once, outraged glances leap down the table to Dash, who blinks in shock. Adrelana's breach of propriety is surprising and none-too-welcome.

“My thoughts sir?”

“Come now, you spent almost six months in this pestilential city, I'm sure there are things your compagnie commander had you doing?”

“Yessir,” Dash says. “We'd be granted liberty to head out from the Embassy into the city in civvies and practice our people watching -- shadow known anti-Equestrian dissidents, generate an intelligence picture of the situation on the ground to shape the ambassador's reports home.” Dash frowns dubiously, not entirely sure how to frame what she'd actually spent the six months doing. There'd been plenty of people watching and covert patrolling, but she's pretty sure that the funny tendency most of those patrols had to wind up coming home roaring drunk does not need to be mentioned. Apart from anything else, it would be fairly detrimental to her career. Not to mention that guards who would have settled for a bribe six months ago would be rather more insistent on the local punishments. “I don't think we'd be able to repeat the gesture.”

“Watch your tone Caporal,” one of the officers growls, but Adrelana holds up a hand.

“Lieutenant, I asked for Caporal Dash's input. That includes recommendations, gut feelings, instincts and theories. She's been here for six months local time and I would be foolish not to take advantage of that.”

“Well I don't think anything outside the wire is really practical right now, given how tense the situation is, certainly we wouldn’t be able to get up to what we used to,” Dash says, feeling a little self conscious, like she's teaching her mother to suck eggs, but Belial nods.

“Indeed. You've hit on the major problem, that we can't send our men outside the wire to relax... do you have any suggestions to deal with this?”

“Yessir... perhaps we could encourage them to turn their competitive energies into more constructive fields? Unarmed combat competitions, marksmanship contests, we've got a lot of those empty airship repair halls, perhaps we could get some training done in the urban disciplines?” Dash suggests, and the officers look at each other uncomfortably.

“From the mouths of caporals,” Adrelana says after a moment. “I'm almost shocked that with the weight of braid in the room, none of the rest of you came up with that. It's simple enough, and it will be a useful way of keeping skills sharp whilst avoiding tying any Khan tails into knots.” The last part is almost questioning as he looks across to Belial, who nods.

“Of course, it sounds workable. We'll adjust a couple of halls and some of the offices... keep this discreet, and don't let the Princess hear about it,” Belial says. Dash tilts her head.

“Why don't we want the Princess to hear about it? I'm sure Twi- Princess Twilight Sparkle would be more than happy...” Dash asks, and Adrelana shakes his head.

“I'm not sure how much experience you have with civilian officialdom, Bolt, but in my experience, any time you let civvies know you've got bored soldiers on your hands, they'll invariably find something unsuitable for your soldiers to be doing.” Adrelana says, and there are nods rippling around the table at that, and more than a few mirthless chuckles.

Dash opens her mouth to object, “Well, Princess Twilight does have some training, she went through the-”

“That will be all, Caporal.” Belial says firmly, and Dash’s mouth snaps shut, with merely a flicker of the lips betraying her consternation.

“So, Lieutenant S,” Adrelana turns to the commander of the Sapeur detachment, “I want you to commandeer a couple of platoons from my compagnie, maybe a platoon from Belial, and do some work to build us some training facilities in one of the maintenance hangars. How long will it take?”

“A day for planning, two more for construction sir,” the unfortunately named S-E, or Sturdy Erector, says. “That's a conservative estimate though, there is quite a lot of scattered material, and I'm sure with some foraging, we can come up with something reasonably convincing.”

“Excellent, so that takes care of that... next order of business,” Adrelana says, and opens up a folder.

“Caporal Bolt, stand please. We need to do something about your rank.”

Dash shoves her chair back, rising to her feet and coming rigidly to attention. Adrelana looks down at the folder and then he nods slowly. A feeling of dread sinks into Dash's belly as every eye in the room turns upon her. This is it, this is where they take my stripes off me, she thinks, remembering her two dead comrades, collecting dust somewhere in Tarhen.

“Right, Caporal Bolt, as I'm sure you're aware, we can't really have a JNCO commanding a compagnie. Not only is it unseemly, it creates organizational problems.” His eyes are hard, and his mouth is a thin line, and Dash takes a deep breath as an icy feeling slowly settles in her chest. This is where he's going to take her compagnie away from her.

“How would you solve the problem in my position, Bolt?” Those four eyes are levelled at her, completely expressionless.

Dash summons her courage, all the while frantically dredging her brain for the half-remembered admin lectures that were part of the dreaded caporal's course, during most of which, she'd been half asleep.

“Well sir, uh, there'd be three options. Firstly, you could... dissolve the compagnie, and distribute the members amongst the ranks. Ninth Compagnie has no SNCOs so there wouldn't be many administrative headaches. There are always holes in compagnies that need filling. Uhh, you could also bring in an experienced NCO to take command of the unit. That would be more problematic in the case of the Ninth Compagnie. We're a specialist outfit rather than a line compagnie... any leader brought in at the NCO level would have to be reconnaissance trained. The issue's not so urgent if you were to bring in an officer, since most of our field work is done at the section level and a commanding officer of reconnaissance troops is primarily an administrative or planning role.” Dash's lips are dry, and her hands are sweating behind her back. “Alternatively, you could promote someone from the ranks.”

“I asked you how you'd solve the problem, not to recite the tables of organization to me. I presume you have recommendations?” Adrelana asks, his eyes narrowing very slightly, reaching down and slowly tapping a pencil upon his notepad. Dash's flush deepens as the knot of anxious fear in her chest tightens another notch.

“I do,” Dash says, trying not to think about the resemblance of Adrelana to his countryman, the regimental commander, Zaranov. All the while, her thoughts are whirling. Why are you asking me? I'm a JNCO, I'm not supposed to worry about this crap... what the fuck do they want?

“I'd recommend appointing an officer, or a reconnaissance trained NCO to head the compagnie. We're still an asset, and we're not dead yet,” Dash says, and Adrelana shakes his head.

“Not an option. We're short on officers as it is, and there's more that goes into planning and administration than you'd believe, particularly recon, and we don't have any reconnaissance qualified NCOs that I could spare to shift to command your unit. As you say, appointing an untrained NCO to command your unit would be worse than what we've got right now. You at least know how to employ your people and you know the people concerned, I couldn’t say the same for a new commander.” Adrelana taps his pencil again. “What would your second recommendation be?”

Dash takes a deep breath and swallows before she gets the words out. “Dissolution. We're under-strength and we don't have a command team. We could probably be used as a blank file somewhere,” Dash says.

Adrelana nods, making a note in his pad, as though considering the possibility. “Dissolution... that's interesting. As you've identified, it is an option.” He then clicks his tongue softly. “Belial, what do you think?”

“I'd like to give some more thought to the prospect of appointing a reconnaissance trained NCO to head the compagnie,” Belial says. “I've been perusing the table of organization and we do have an NCO whom we could appoint to command the unit. She's a little headstrong and aggressive but I think she's capable.” He turns to look at Adrelana who nods.

“Mmm, I'd forgotten about her. She's got leadership experience definitely... I think it's worth giving her a shot. I had to speak to Zaranov about it and he's all for it,” Adrelana says. Smiles start to ripple around the table, as though there's a hidden joke. Dash tilts her head, confused.

“So you're bringing someone in from The Pit? When will she get here?”

“She's already here, in fact she's been sitting at the end of the table for this entire meeting,” Adrelana says, and Dash's eye widens in shocked horror as guffaws of laughter start to bubble around the room.

“Congratulations, Sergent,” Adrelana says, his eyes flashing as a broad grin spreads across his face.

Dash blinks, shocked, unable to quite take it in, and Adrelana opens the wallet and pulls out two pairs of rank tabs.

“We're going to brevet you up to sergent. Formal promotion will have to wait until we're back in The Pit and you’ve gone through your Stage Sergents, but I have no doubt that Zaranov will be more than happy to officially confirm you in rank,” Adrelana continues speaking, but Dash doesn't quite hear him. A little happy voice in her head is chanting over and over: ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh. She'd never expected this, never even dreamed that she'd make it to Sergent, yet here she is.

“That is, unless you can think of anyone better?” Belial asks, grinning archly, and Dash releases a nervous laugh.

“I'm sure I probably could... this is... thank you sir.”

“Don't thank me. This is all you. Just be careful, they come off a hell of a lot easier than they can go on. If Belial or myself think that you've been overpromoted, we'll take them off you in a heartbeat,” Adrelana says, and his smile is tempered by an edge of steel that takes the edge off Dash's own happy glow, and she nods quickly.

“Yessir, I understand,” Dash says quickly, before Adrelana reaches out and tosses the diamonds of fabric to Dash. She snatches them out of the air, running her thumb over the two stripes, the bursting grenade topped by three more angled chevrons, to replace the twin hash marks of the caporal. Some part of her mind doesn't quite believe it yet, and she can't help but lick dry lips with a dry tongue.

“Right, if that's all taken care of, next order of business is fire watches...” Dash sits down, as Adrelana sets the folder to one side and turns to the next order on his agenda.
____________

Half an hour later, the meeting breaks up, and Dash rises from her chair with a bulging notebook and a sense of relief. She's never been fond of admin meetings, and the fact that this meeting was an officers-only meeting meant she still felt like an outsider, but she's learned rather more than she'd expected. But then, she supposes that might just be the point. This is the Legion, in an operational environment, and Belial and Adrelana don't have time to take her through the Stage Sergent exams, never mind the Aspirant course.

As the officers file past her, some with congratulatory words or back-slapping, Dash organizes her paperwork. She's got things to do, re-organizing her troops first and foremost, though the process of reorganization is not going to be too difficult. Smit is already at her old rank, and if she brevets Sov up to fill the role of the other caporal...

Dash's thoughts are suddenly yanked back by the sound of bootsteps clattering up behind her.
“Sergent, congratulations.” Capitane Belial falls in next to her, and Dash clicks to a halt, but Belial shakes his head.

“Let's walk and talk sergent. We've got some things to discuss,” Belial says, gesturing for Dash to fall in beside him, which she does, looking down at the small Khan officer.

“I think your suggestion about extra training is a good one. We need to keep the men moving after all,” Belial says, opening the door and leading her out into the hallway.

“I think however, that we should find an alternative... a means of letting them blow off steam,” Belial says, and Dash tilts her head.

“You're talking about launching... recreational patrols into the city?” Dash asks, and Belial nods.

“I am. Training only goes so far, and these are soldiers... we can't keep them chained up in this compound forever,” Belial says, and Dash nods slowly. She can understand that train of thought, even if she doesn't agree with it. This is a hostile city, and under the circumstances, sending legionnaires out by the platoon to go and get wasted sounds like an excellent way to lose men. That being said, something in Dash cries out for a chance to go out on the town, a chance to go and kick over the traces.

“It's a good idea sir...” Dash says delicately, trying to think of the best way to tell her superior officer that his idea is not only a bad idea but a stupid one. “Just... given the situation right now, how tense things are...”

“Things are calming down,” Belial says airily. “It's my thought that the worst is behind us. If things were as bad as you're saying, then Princess Twilight wouldn't be taking the last two days off herself.”

Dash bites her tongue, wanting to argue that Twilight doesn't even know the meaning of the words 'Day Off'. But then, Sergent Arc Bolt wouldn't know anything about Princess Twilight Sparkle or her working habits, no siree.

“Well sir... I'm still not sure it's a good idea. When the soldiers concerned are incapacitated through drink...”

“Then we'll flog them as an object lesson to the others,” Belial says. “Aside from your initial foray, none of the units have come under any sort of attack save the occasional thrown stone or insult... even the protesters at the gates have calmed down somewhat.”

Dash nods slowly. This sounds like a recipe for trouble if she's ever heard one, even if Belial's argument does have the support of facts. However Belial is giving her an order...

“Very well sir... so when are we starting the recreational patrols?” she asks, and Belial smiles benevolently.

“I thought we could start with a recreational reconnaissance patrol tonight, by your people. You've spent time in the city most recently, I'm sure you can think of a few watering holes that might be suitable,” Belial says, and Dash nods slowly. She can indeed think of quite a few places... all of which are too far away to make them practical. There’s also the minor matter of the changed regulatory climate...

“I'm sure we can find some places sir,” she says dubiously, and Belial grins, a smile showing an array of carnivorous teeth.

“That's the spirit.” He claps Dash powerfully on the shoulder. “This is all incognito naturally, I don't want your men talking about this until we've actually found somewhere to send our troops. If it turns out there is nowhere suitable, then we can put the kibosh on the whole thing without risking rioting among the troops.”

Dash tilts her head, thinking hard, before she then nods. Belial's making sense. Out of all the units on base, her reconnaissance troops are least likely to be missed and their absence can be most easily explained away. They're also very good at keeping secrets and being sneaky—and, an uncharitable little voice whispers in the back of her head, we've earnt it. We've been under contact here, none of the other legionnaires have. We deserve to have a night off once in awhile.

“Yessir, I'll get with my troops and we'll sortie out tonight,” Dash says after a second. Belial's the senior officer here, he's given her orders and it's up to her to make those orders work. Even if they are the stupidest orders I've ever heard in my life.

“Excellent, enjoy your night out, Sergent. Oh!” He grabs Dash's arm as she makes to head out. “There's something I forgot to mention, we're getting your Normalization paperwork expedited. That should be with us in a few days.”

It's all that Dash can do not to let her hands start to tremble as he walks away.

The Legion has long standing traditions of anonymity. Due to the nature of service in the Legion, many people with various murky pasts have found a second lease on life within its ranks. However there comes a point, generally when one is crossing the boundary from JNCO into SNCO territory, when the Legion needs to know about your past and what you used to be, since you're now entrusted with the lives of other legionnaires. Normalization of Military Situation is how that happens. Your background is checked and your name changes back, at least in your official paperwork, and so Arc Bolt reverts to Rainbow Dash.

This would not ordinarily be a problem, since most make it to SNCO ranks after five to ten years of service, by which time whatever you did that propelled you into the Legion's ranks is ancient history. Two, maybe three years have passed since Dash and Twilight broke up... and given the current, extremely high profile nature of Twilight's current work and Dash's own assignment...

“Crap,” Dash mutters, casting a venomous glance at Belial's retreating back. This is going to bring the mother of all shit-storms crashing down directly upon her and Twilight's combined heads. It's going to be a major disaster. It's going to torpedo the conference, and turn her into a laughing stock among the legionnaires.

“Hey Boss,” a voice from behind her snaps Dash out of her reverie. She turns to see Smit walking up behind her, his klepi blanc tucked under one arm. “We wondered where you'd got to. I've got everyone else doing kit maintenance and general busywork... though by the sound of it, I should be getting them all filled up with ballast.”

Dash merely gives a noncommittal grunt and Smit falls in alongside her.
“You alright Boss?” he asks, and Dash nods.

“I'm fine... and yeah, get them full of ballast before we head out tonight. Draw straws to put a couple on shark watch. Belial's lost his fuckin' mind.” Dash glowers and Smit raises an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Smit agrees. “Ordinarily, I'd disagree with you, but I can't see this being anything other than a major fucking headache. Wanna take it up with Capitane Adrelana?”

“No thanks. A piss-up is a piss-up, and we haven't had one of those in quite some time. I think we're due some I&I.” Dash says. Intoxication and Intercouse… sounds like an excellent idea right about now.

“We definitely are,” Smit looks relieved at the prospect of their piss-up not being cancelled, and Dash can't blame him. She could do with a drink or seven herself. It's been far too long since she and the rest of her unit had a good run ashore...

Rainbow Dash and Smit walk across the parade square, both of them too engrossed with planning the run ashore to notice the Khan Capitane gazing down from his own window. After a moment, he turns away to send a telegram. It’s a short message, to a local address that doesn't appear in any Legion directories.

Next Chapter: Chapter 12: Party Time Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 43 Minutes