Skies above, were those really the last notes I took in this old notebook? It feels like… well, it sure doesn’t feel like a week ago, at any rate.

It occurs to me that I don't have a complete understanding of my desire to write this account. The notion of writing this out of a sense of posterity is appealing... You know, that should the worst happen, there would at least be somepony who knew our story. But that just doesn’t seem entirely right to me. Perhaps this comes from a desire to atone for those I’ve hurt, especially those closest to me... Then again, perhaps it is merely an effort to get my own thoughts on paper.

The other question is whom I intend to be the readers of this account. It would probably be fitting for this to be found in some drawer or another by a scavenger. More immediately, the notion of Enclave Intelligence getting their hooves on this would be rather... Unfortunate. Though were that the case, they’d damn well have to come down here to get it.

Regardless, if I’m to tell this story, context is needed. The context of who I was before coming to the wasteland. I guess I should start by introducing myself and the world I came from. Words alone cannot do it justice, but words will, I suppose, have to suffice.

“I am a pegasus.”

Those words have shaped my life up ‘til now. I could mention my cobalt blue coat, my crimson mane that fades to white at the tips; even the violet eyes I inherited from my mother, or my cutiemark – a shooting star, having just impacted a cloud... but as far as knowing what makes me distinct down here, you really don't need to know more than that: I am a pegasus. I'd lived among my own kind, having only met a couple of the unicorns that live above the clouds in my twenty three years of life. I'd never met an earth pony, griffon, or any of the other myriad of beings living in the wasteland below.

As for the world I come from... imagine a world far above the ground you now tread, above the danger, the deprivation, the violence of the Wasteland. Imagine a world governed by adherence to rules laid down generations before you were even born. It almost seems surreal now, looking back on it all. A world built on a foundation of clouds, sustained by ignorance, and protected by the last remnants of real military might in Equestria. It all seemed so permanent back then...

—Snap Roll’s Journal

I awoke, coughing up a stream of clear fluid as my head broke the surface of a rapidly draining pod. Roughly egg-shaped and made of an amalgamation of glass and intricate arcane technological wiring, the pod itself was substantial enough to hold a large pony. The fluid that was presently draining was a specially designed oxygenated fluid that filled the pod while the user was put under induced unconsciousness. It tasted like nothing at all at first, but like mucous coming back up – a most unpleasant experience. Carefully removing and setting aside the gem encrusted helmet I’d been wearing, I half-stepped, half-flopped onto the cloud floor next to the pod.

The virtual interface program I’d been immersed in was one of the many marvels of arcane technological advancement made during the Great War. Using the same technology and magic behind the memory orbs that I’ve been told unicorns use, devices which were essentially memory simulators had been created – at the request of the Ministry of Awesome, naturally. Designed to introduce soldiers to combat in a controlled environment with safeguards in place to prevent tangible injury to the user, the VI programs hadn’t seen much in the way of updates or improvements since research had halted with the end of the world, so to speak. Despite the safeguards however, the vividness of the experience is still more than enough to… occasionally leave psychological trauma. A splitting headache of phantom pain was a reminder of the final events of the simulation run I’d violently departed from.

The pony I found myself face-to-face (well, face-to-hooves, considering my less than graceful exit of the pod) exploded in a torrent of anger that was only fully attainable by Drill Sergeants, and the drawl in his voice told me exactly which pony it was, too. “Flight Commander Snap Roll, what in the sky loving fuck are you doing on the floor of my VI chamber?!”

With a hasty flap of wings, I threw myself from my spot on the floor to my hooves, standing stiffly at attention despite the VI fluid still dripping off of me and through the cloud floor. I shouted back, “Won’t happen again, Sergeant!”

The older buck was standing immediately in front of me, his uniform impeccable. Obedience kept my eyes glued directly ahead, staring at the chest of the taller pegasus. My gaze settled on the surface combat medal adorning his breast as his tirade continued. I clenched my teeth, having been verbally jacked up enough times to know not to try and get out of what was coming. It was just going to happen.

“Based on your track record, I wouldn’t count on it!” The Sergeant paused for a moment – just enough for me to begin opening my mouth to respond, when he continued, deliberately cutting me off. “But more importantly, what the fuck was that in there?”

I shouted back, knowing that he’d pounce on any sign of weakness. “Sergeant, my team had a chance close contact, with further hostiles deeper in the woods! In response, we broke contact before re-engaging-”

He cut me off again, “Not what I’m referring to, Flight Commander. Who gave you the right to make the call you did? I know it damn well wasn’t myself, so who was it?”

“Sergeant, with so little information about the area and an alert enemy, preserving the integrity of my team was paramount. I made the call to scrub the mission, Sergeant!”

“That call was not yours to make!” Flecks of spittle flew into my face as the old buck maintained his trademark level of anger. My eyes remained glued on the spot he’d inhabited as he began to pace back in forth in front of me. I couldn’t see it from my perspective, but I knew the look he had in his eyes. It was the same look that intimidated recruits and vets alike when he chose to turn it on. “That mission was of critical importance, and you abandoned it!”

Critical importance? Would we have even cared if some small town called “Ponyville” got hit by a surprise Zebra attack two hundred years ago? And on that note, why are we even training to fight in the Everfree Forest to begin with?

I kept my thoughts to myself, instead replying with logic. “The mission was already a failure, Sergeant! The Zebras had been alerted to our presence, and would be responding to our movements. My goal was to keep my troops alive for the next mission!”

I didn’t address the fact that the Opposing Force had a sniper specialist on site in under ten minutes from their section detecting us. If such an asset was available to regular Zebra forces, I expect we would have done significantly worse during the Great War than we had. Notionally, that was what we had been facing in that fictional scenario – A standard, frontline Zebra Legion, that is. Historically, the Zebras never set foot anywhere near the Everfree Forest, but it was a contingency operation that was programmed into the system when it was a theoretical possibility. That’s how old the scenarios on our system were. Like I said, no updates in two hundred years.

The drill sergeant scowled at me, his tone calmer but still angry. He switched tactics. “What would Havoc have thought of this?” I didn’t break my stance at attention, but I’m sure he saw the anger in my eyes. I bit my cheek to keep from saying something I’d regret. It would seem I wasn’t quite subtle enough, as he continued, his drawl remaining in full swing; “Hit a nerve, did I? Good. I served with him for many good years before he died, and he never showed the same...” He trailed off, seemingly looking for the right word. “Selfish streak you’ve been showing.”

I tasted copper, and realized I’d drawn blood from my cheek at the “selfish” comment. He wasn’t quite done yet.

“...Mission before self is our creed, our way of life!”

I get that he had every right to know the Enclave way of life - he’d fought for it, after all. But my family had served too, we had lost a father to it, with what to show for it? A pay out of his retirement fund, and a wall of “Classified - Need to Know Only” barring us from even knowing how he died. I damn well knew the cost of the “Enclave Way”, and he fucking knew it.

As it turned out, that last caveat was just enough to get me to open my skies-damned mouth. “Sergeant, goes to show that you can’t really know another pony’s family, can you?” I replied with the smooth tone one can only attain when willfully being insubordinate to a superior. I locked eyes with him, past the point of caring about the subtler points of military decorum.

He sputtered, wanting to interrupt me; saying something about having me up on charges. I didn’t care. Right then, I was angry enough to take those charges in exchange for what I had to say. “Your own son left you to be a dashite and killed his squad in the process. Don’t bring my father into this when you have Calamity behind you!” I continued, adding in the “Sergeant,” almost as an afterthought. Anger had brought out a dangerously rebellious side of me.

He glared at me. I hadn’t won the argument, and I almost certainly had repercussions coming for that last comment, but it had given him enough pause to back off. Whatever he was thinking, he kept it to himself. “Dismissed.”

Warm water cascaded over my head and shoulders as I gently caressed the small cloud hovering over me into producing moderately warm rainwater. The feeling was positively exquisite as I simply stood there, closed my eyes and let the stream of warm water wash away the VI fluid and sweat matting down my coat and mane from the long day of simulator work.

The shower facility was a short trot from the VI chambers, and was one of many rooms formed of the same clouds that constituted most pegasi architecture. A series of smaller clouds formed naturally in the room, hovering slightly above head height. Unlike the civilian shower buildings, the Enclave military had opted for communal showers. Every choice the Enclave military made had a reason behind it, and the communal showers were no exception. The concept, we were told, was to remove the sexuality of seeing your comrades in such an intimate setting by exposing you to them on a regular basis. Most troopers considered the decision dubiously effective at best, but no pony argued.

My reverie was interrupted as the stream of water abruptly turned ice cold. I instinctively curled into a ball with a surprised squeak. I heard laughter, looking up to see Tailwind hopping up and down on the shower cloud as she giggled like a foal.

“Oh Chief, you should have seen your face! You make the cutest noises, you know.” Tailwind said, collapsing into fit of laughter as she came to rest on top of the small cloud.

“Not. Funny.” I replied, grimacing through clenched teeth. Flapping my wings against the flow of the water, I threw myself into an aerial flip, kicking out at the offending cloud with my hind legs as I passed. The cloud disintegrated with a soft “poof”, sending the laughing mare falling from her perch to land in the soft embrace of the cloud floor.

As her fit of laughter wound to an end, Tailwind fluttered back to her hooves. “Worth it,” she nickered, a cheeky grin dominating her features. She’d always had ways of making it impossible for me to stay angry with her.

I heard a second shower cloud start up, and I turned to see Nosedive scrubbing his mane under the flow of rainwater. The scrubbing caused the yellow streaks in his otherwise olive mane to shift and flow, in stark contrast to his onyx coat. The screaming eagle cutiemark on his flank stood out as always, talons outstretched as if it had just spotted something… well, tasty. He simply shook his head and smiled at our antics.

Finding a new shower cloud I gently caressed it into producing warm water, and started scrubbing out my own mane and coat. As I washed myself my eyes wandered, eventually settling on Tailwind. She had found her own shower cloud, and was letting the water cascade from her cream mane down her sky blue coat. Her cutiemark stood out against her slender frame, a black feather sending out gentle ripples as if it had just touched down on the surface of a pool of water. I realized I was staring as I eventually found my way back to her emerald eyes, glinting with mischief back at me.

“Like what you see, Chief?”

I held her gaze and adopted a cocky smile. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“I’m right here, you two. Get a room.” Nosedive called from my opposite side.

“But we have one,” Tailwind replied smoothly, “Right next to yours.”

Glancing over my shoulder at Nosedive, I replied with a sultry smile and a purr in my voice, “Well it is our last night before our first real mission...” I let the implication sink in long enough for the poor buck to start looking rather uncomfortable, before adding, to Tailwind’s delight and Nosedive’s chagrin “...Which means this is the perfect night for a party!”

We shot through the skies above the city of Neighvarro without a care in the world, the slate grey clouds that denoted the perimeter of the base flashing beneath us. We flew over the massive Raptor cloud-dock, where the colossal form of the Arcus rested against its moorings. The thunderheads providing lift for the hundred-and-eighty-six meter long vessel crackled idly with stored energy, restrained for the time being. Batteries of anti-air weaponry bristled across the vessel’s surface, overshadowed by the immense anti-dragon cannons mounted on swivel mounts pointed towards the fore. We couldn’t see it from above, but I knew there was also a battery of air-to-ground artillery mounted to the undercarriage. The myriad of rapid deployment hatches for armoured troopers and aerial vehicles such as the Skytank and Vertibuck were open wide, and pegasi clung to the vessel’s surface like one might have imagined the surface ponies clung to life on the poisoned ground.

Maintenance of the Raptor fleet was one of the highest priorities of the Enclave military: We only had so many, and we weren’t going to be making more anytime soon. They were, after all, what had given us the military might to win the pegasi-griffon war, ensuring the Enclave remained the sole curators of the skies. Though there wasn't exactly any danger of our ever so benevolent superiors letting us forget that, not with how often they reminded us.

The Arcus in particular was the Raptor we’d be launching from on our mission the next day, and its crew were going to be putting in a long night's work getting her ready to fly by morning. I didn't envy them. Before transferring to the recce trade, I'd been a part of a Skytank crew long enough to know how much maintenance goes into a ship of that size, and could hardly imagine the amount of work that went into keeping a Raptor in the sky. I didn't envy those with the "cushy" jobs on the Raptors one bit.

We quickly emerged from the grey-tinted clouds to the field of fresh, white cumulous clouds stretching to the horizon and beyond, further than the naked eye could see. The only points to break up the otherwise uniform cloud layer – aside from the cloud buildings of the city itself – were the impossibly tall, pointed towers of the Ministry of Arcane Science Emergency Broadcast System, or MASEBS for the non-eggheads among us. The broadcast system itself was, and always has been a sideshow for the towers’ true purpose. There were fifty two of them spread – not scattered, like it was tempting to believe – across Equestria. Using a combination of pegasus and unicorn magic, it was those towers that created the curtain of clouds spreading over the vast majority of Equestria and the surrounding lands. Each tower had observation devices built in, and though they had originally been intended to allow operators to view the weather status anywhere over Equestria, there was also the fact that they could easily be turned dirtside. Made having to recce the surface only truly needed when things weren’t visible to the towers, reducing the strain on our relatively limited numbers. The MASEBS towers were what made the Enclave viable, though exactly how they did what they did was considered privileged information. All we needed to know was that they were worth protecting with our very lives, and the hub they were controlled from was nestled right here in Neighvarro, protected by the full might of the Enclave military. Were anything to happen to it, or the towers linked to it, the Enclave might never recover. Though, to be honest, I would be more worried if there wasn’t proof that those towers were fully capable of withstanding a direct hit from a megaspell. Not a single one had fallen when balefire bombs rained from the sky, and if that doesn't speak to the durability of earth pony engineering, then nothing will. I might not have met them, but I could still respect their work.

Hundreds of meters below us, cloud farmers were wrapping up another long day of tending the cloud-apple orchards. And cloud-peaches, cloud-pears, cloud-lettuce, cloud-potatoes, cloud-you-name-it; we could grow it all in the clouds. It was how we survived where the surface did not – agriculture. Before the Great War’s end, a technique known as "cloud seeding" was invented, and incorporated into the clouds produced by the MASEBS towers. Oddly enough, the technique was pioneered by the Griffons, but was only capitalized on by the pegasi that would eventually form the Enclave. I’m a little fuzzy on the details, to be honest. Regardless, it allowed us to grow enough food to sustain ourselves, imposing a nigh impenetrable curtain of clouds over the land below.

Further out, near the horizon, I could see the weather monitoring pegasi beginning to call it a day and head back towards the city. While the towers managed to cover most of Equestria fairly thoroughly, it was still a standing job for pegasi to monitor and maintain the cloud cover, reinforcing any sections that end up thinning out, the skies above the Everfree Forest notwithstanding – that forest was untamed before the world went to balefire hell, and had only gotten wilder since. It had even spread to the local weather systems, making it nigh impossible to seal the skies over that particular forest. The winds themselves were wild there.

All across the Enclave, I could imagine similar scenes playing out; ponies worn out from long hours of flying gradually making their way home. Home to a meal of tasteless, cloud-grown produce they might well have helped farm with their own hooves and wings. If they were just a little bit lucky, they might have a foal to care for to take their mind off of how routine the days were. A foal. Singular. There is a population limit to consider, after all – When your entire society is internally self-sufficient, there isn’t much wiggle room with population.

But that wasn’t the only option in an Enclave pegasus’ life. The alternative to that bleak, repetitive existence was the Enclave military. You just had to tough out three years of military education, followed by three months of basic training, and you’d be set for all the benefits of military service – the incentive of having a permit to have an additional child was a big one, to be sure. A funded retirement policy, sparse as it was, was also guaranteed income after a pegasus’ enlistment contract had ended, not to mention the opportunity to be a part of Enclave politics – But it wasn’t exactly that easy. As one of the enlisted, one of thousands forming the bulk of our military, it was neither economical nor practical to take advantage of the incentive to have children. Senior officers and veterans were typically the only ponies to be in a position to retire, or in the case of a certain drill sergeant (though in his case, he was a veteran of the pegasi-griffon war almost two generations ago) have just short of a half-dozen kids while still serving. It irked me that the one pony who really made my life hell on a regular basis had everything I ever really wanted. It sounds kind of cruel, but I was almost happy his wife died giving birth to his last child; it took his quality of life off of its nigh unreachable pedestal of awesomeness, just a little bit. Enough to summon the will not to back talk him… Well, when he didn’t insult my father, anyways.

My father. Havoc. He had never wanted me to join the Enclave military, if you’d believe it. A hero in his own right, fighting hoof and wing to beat back the griffons all those years ago, and he was horrified by the thought of his daughter following in his hoofsteps. He’d married a simple weather maintenance pony and had truly considered himself blessed beyond his stature. He’d been content with siring a single filly. He’d lavished love upon me, taught me how to fly, to love the skies he’d fought for. He believed that he was sparing me from the hardship of his youth. Then… one day he just didn’t come home. An officer – A captain, as I know now – though back then all that filly saw was the crisp black dress uniform, sharply dressed with polished brass… just like dad’s. He was carrying a briefcase, too. I’d known something was wrong when mother had dropped the plate she’d been cleaning, and heard the crash from the other side of the house. The officer said there had been an accident during a routine operation. His body could not be recovered. In the briefcase was more than the total pension my father had earned. As if it would be enough to replace the stallion that had been a part of my entire life. I had graduated from military education not three weeks earlier. I joined the Enclave military the next day. That was seven years ago.

Since then, I had grown up. I learned to fight, learned to obey… I learned to heal too, if that evens anything out in the end. I learned what it was like to be willing to give everything for a cause. Eventually, I even learned to lead. To teach. To pass on what I’d learned, even in the mere seven years I’d been in. There were always new recruits to train – It was simply the way the system worked. Every year some retired, and the youths took up their post. A rejuvenation of blood into the Enclave system. But those empty posts don’t all indicate retirement at a ripe old age, now do they? For years, I tried to get access to the documents – or the ponies – that would tell me why my father died. What it was for, how it happened, even why there was no body would have been something. But there was nothing. Nothing but walls and walls of ‘restricted access’.

But no-pony likes a downer, especially on the eve of a team’s first surface mission. With force of will, I dragged my thoughts back to the present. It wasn’t the time to be ruminating on the past. In fact, it wasn’t the time to really think at all – It was time to have one hell of a party.

We could hear the beat of the music before we even set hoof in the club, and as we pushed our way through the entryway the sounds of pegasi drinking, dancing, and having fun washed over us. The Buccaneer Blaze was, as with virtually everything in Neighvarro, a military establishment; but unlike the junior ranks mess, the Blaze had no rank restrictions, and all garb that denoted rank or status was left at the door – it was even open to civilians. It was simply a place for ponies to cool off and unwind after long days of serving the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Or, in our case, party it up the night before we went on our first mission to the surface.

The cloud building itself took up a solid amount of airspace, though to divide it into the three “floors” that made up the club itself was something of a misnomer. The only place for a pony to actually rest their hooves was the bottom floor, with the main bar, a modest traditional dance floor, and relatively private tables surrounding it. The second and third floor were entirely airspace, spanning several hundred vertical meters and complete with a total lack of roof at the top. All this resulted in a fantastic view of the starry night directly above our heads, with pegasi performing elaborate (if inebriated) dance moves throughout the air in the club, usually in pairs. When ponies got tired, there were small alcoves in the walls of the building to rest tired wings (and to continue drinking somewhere you weren’t likely to spill your drink on ponies below you). I had to credit the building’s engineers for catering to the needs of their all-pegasi client base. The atmosphere was incomparable with any of the other clubs in Neighvarro. In fact, it was probably the only one of its kind in existence, now that I think of it.

Ours wasn’t the only team headed to the surface. We probably could have found a good dozen or more ponies headed to other operations tomorrow, but my team had a long standing preference towards keeping our own company, and that night was shaping up to continue the trend.

As we stepped inside, Nosedive glanced back and forth. “So... why are we doing this the night before our first surface mission?” He asked, still unsure of whether or not the night out was a good idea or not.

“Why Nosedive, it's tradition.” I replied while heading straight for the bar, my teammates falling in behind me. “Before any team’s first surface mission, they’ve gotta have a proper send off the night before.”

“Tradition?” Tailwind queried from my opposite side. “It's also an excuse for a party and you know it, Chief.”

“Ok, fine. But it still is; a tradition, I mean.” I replied, conceding the point as I ordered a round of drinks. The bartender, having heard at least part of our conversation despite how crowded the place was, shook his head and smiled as he turned to pour the beverages.

As I leaned back against the bar for a moment, I caught a glimpse of yellow and white amidst the crowd. Sure enough, I saw the two pegasi that would be our flight crew for the operation occupying one of the tables near the entrance. Flaps and Aileron were quite the pair, going pretty much everywhere together. At the time, they had an impressive array of potent-looking shot glasses arranged before them.

“See, Nosedive?” I pointed with a forehoof, “Even the pilots are getting into it! You don’t want them to outdo us, do you?” As I spoke, the shots started to disappear as they drank one after another, fully absorbed in each other. It would seem neither of our pilots were in the mood for a slow-burn kind of night.

Retrieving our beverages, I dropped a hoof full of bits into the mug beside the cashier, enough to ensure we didn’t have to worry about paying for drinks for a while, and a decent tip besides.

We found a spot without issue, and soon we were seated around one of the tables on the first floor of the club. A tentative sip at my drink revealed that we had come on a good night – judging from the distinct lack of burning sensation in my throat, Blue Shift had used actual vodka in the drinks, a sure sign that somepony had managed to smuggle some of the good stuff back from a surface recce. The alternative… well… lets just say trying to distill alcohol from cloud-grown foodstuffs typically results in something more along the lines of a solvent than a beverage. I made a mental note to tip him bigtime when we got the next round.

Somewhere, somepony started up a round of song, belting out one of the bawdy Enclave drinking songs that typically made their way around until they basically became common knowledge. That said, nopony ever really seemed able to remember most of the lyrics. Regardless, the singing spread from table to table, til even the ponies wheeling and diving throughout the airspace joined in. I saw some baffled faces; Newbies or civilians that hadn’t hung around off duty troopers long enough, but for every pony who had no idea what was happening, there were two more who joined in and sang, letting voices resound through the club. They reached a certain verse, and I just couldn’t help myself. I gave Nosedive a devilish smile, throwing down the gauntlet as I joined in the song.

“...Now if you fly a Skytank then you drink it all for show,

And if you fly a Raptor then you gotta drink it slow...”

He still looked uncertain, but I could see the waver in his eyes. That last sign of willpower holding out before just giving in and having fun. I kept singing, louder now, with Tailwind joining in. Across from us, I could see Flaps and Aileron raising their last shot glasses in toast as they sang, drinking game evidently taking a side seat to spontaneous song.

“And if you fly for recce then you gotta drink it fast,

Cause this ain't a time to loiter; and we ain't got the gas...”

At long last, it would seem he couldn’t take it any more. He glanced between Tailwind and I one last time, before joining in, adding the bass of his voice to the singing coming from our table, joining with the song that seemed to have engulfed most of the bar as we took the verse towards its end.

“Now if you fly the 'armour then drink it on your own,

And if you fly a chariot then you can't drink it alone...”

We were practically shouting more than singing by the end, more or less trying to outdo the ponies around us in sheer volume. I raised my mug and sang, forgetting the worries of the day, the anxiety of tomorrow. There was only the ever present now; and it had booze, bass, and buddies all around.

“But if you're stuck in Vertibucks then my advice to you;

Is to drink the fucking bottle, mare; there's nothing left to do!”

A cheer rang out throughout the bar, as if we were all proud that we’d finished a song despite the inebriation. Maybe because of the inebriation? Whatever the reason, it was good enough to warrant a toast. We brought our mugs together with a sharp clink of glass before we collectively drained the remainder of our drinks.

I had to give credit to the DJ for being able to read his crowd. He’d faded the ambient volume of the music as we’d sung, indulging the spectacle as it happened. In the wake of our song ending, he didn’t miss a beat, bringing in fast, dancey music to capitalize on the mood of the bar as a whole. Ponies flocked to the dance-space, even Nosedive hardly needed convincing as Tailwind and I each grabbed a forehoof and dragged him up and into the skies, a goofy, wide smile across his face.

We danced. Oh how we danced. If you’ve never seen pegasi dancing, you’re missing out. It’s one part choreography, one part airshow. We flew for the top, weaving around and between ponies in the air around us in a manner as elaborate as we could manage. It was instinctual flying, moving to the beat and picking a path through a crowded airspace. There was always the danger of hitting the ponies around you, but that was all part of the rush, the excitement. It made actually pulling off the moves we did feel that much better. If you weren’t confident in your own flying abilities enough to join in, it was quite the sight just to watch.

When we reached the top, we threw our hooves out as we reached the apex of our flight, as if we were reaching for the starry sky stretching out infinitely above us. We were just above the highest cloud walls of the club, and had a view of the night sky stretching as far as the eye could see in every direction. Celestia’s light was long gone, and Luna dominated the night sky, shining her light down on the ponies below. It was enough to give me just a twinge of pity that she hadn’t lived to see such a night. Princess Luna, I mean.

The moment passed. I wasn’t about to let thoughts of a long dead Princess weigh me down. We dove, through crowds of ponies in the increasingly crowded airspace. Bare meters from the floor, we pulled up and out as if we’d practiced it. Granted, even if somepony hadn’t managed to pull up, it wasn’t like running into a cloud would be dangerous to anything but a pony’s ego. As we pulled up and out, I pretended to fumble a wingbeat, sending myself into what could only have looked like an uncontrolled spin off to the side – Except that it conveniently sent me right towards Nosedive. He caught me as I all but landed in his lap, back first. A look of worry crossed his face, no doubt wondering if I was ok.

I flashed him a devilish little smile over my shoulder, sliding his forehooves down my body until he was holding my flanks just above my cutiemarks. Then I started dancing all over again, grinding against his hips and barrel to the beat of the music. As I said, he was large for a pegasus, and there was hardly any fat on him. The sensation of toned stallion muscles pressed up against me was wonderful, and he wasn’t even moving. To his credit, he only had a dazed expression on his face for a second or two before he caught on and… well, rolled with it.

The thing with dirty dancing as a pegasus is that it takes some serious coordination between partners – We had it in spades, even when Tailwind joined us. I’m sure we were quite the sight. Hell, I could tell that from where I was. Some time between all-too-soon and the entire night later, we found ourselves drifting back to the bar, sweaty and in need of a breather.

Right as I was in the process or ordering another round of drinks, somepony nearly smashed my face into the counter as she bumped into me on her way to the bar.

“Woah, sorry ‘bout that,” The pony quickly apologized. “Blue Shift! I need the girliest, fruitiest drink you’ve got.” She barged up onto the bar, using her forelegs to balance herself as she leaned over further, adding, “And it needs a cherry!”

The bartender chuckled, evidently on relatively familiar terms with the mare. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to get clean, Frosty. One Sangria, coming right up.” I guessed she was a regular the way they bantered easily at one another.

“What?” She replied with a surprised tone of voice, “Oh, it’s not for me. I’ve got a hoof-full of ‘mint-als’ to dispose of in Lightning’s drink.”

A hoof-full of what now? Aren’t those some sort of crazy surface drugs?

“Frooosty,” Blue grunted in a warning tone, leaning towards her as he paused mid-pour. “You know what I–”

“I’m joking,” The offending pony interjected, seemingly exasperated at the bartender’s apparent inability to catch on. He resumed mixing the drinks (ours included, I noted), shaking his head at… well, her. It seemed confrontations like that were a regular occurrence between them.

“You…” I began, interrupting their conversation while still facing away, “You bump into me, then insult the delicious fruity beverage? What do you have to say for yourself?" I spun in place to get a good look at the mare who’d ran into me, accidentally or not.

A teal mare stood before me, her head quirked to one side, causing the blue streak in her otherwise white mane to be highlighted in the dim light of the bar. She had an earring pinned to her right ear, the same green shade as her eyes – eyes that had me fixed with a blank stare. “Did… did you want a mint-al? I mean, it’s not really a drink, but it's all I've got."

Tailwind fluttered up beside me, a mischievous grin on her face. “She wouldn’t take it, but I could probably find a use for it.” She put a forehoof to her chin, as if deep in thought. “Yes, I can think of a variety of uses for one of those.”

“B-but–” I sputtered, caught between anger and Tailwind scheming right before me. I glanced between the pony and Tailwind, horrified at the implications of this turn of events. Not to mention the thought of whom Tailwind’s target would likely be, well, probably me. I settled on glancing at the pony, “Why do you even have those? Who are you, anyway?”

“Relax, I don’t actually have any. Do you even know how much trouble I’d be in if I got caught with a class-three controlled substance? Name’s Frosty. Winds Fro–” The pony groaned and rolled her eyes. “You know what, I don’t care enough right now. I’m tired, annoyed, a little drunk, and on leave.”

“Aww, now isn’t that a shame.” Tailwind grabbed her drink from the bar, glancing from Frosty to me, taking a drink to hide her sarcastic grin. I felt my face flush, and it wasn’t the drink.

Nosedive groaned, sidling up to the bar and retrieving his own drink. I was a little distracted at the time, but I’m pretty sure he took the time to glance at the bottom of the glass before taking a swig. You know, as a precaution.

“Woah, okay. Now we’ve gotten into creepy territory.” Frosty took the opportunity to gnaw the dried cherry off the straw in her drink. He might have gotten a new shipment of booze, but it would seem the garnish was the same as it always was.

“Tell me about it, and you aren’t stuck in a squad with them,” Nosedive rolled his eyes at Tailwind and I.

“Hey! I never said I was okay with this!” I added, to a chorus of raised eyebrows. “Bah, you ponies drive a mare to drink,” I grabbed my own drink, tipping some back and enjoying the sweet, fruity taste. In an attempt to change the tack of the conversation, I turned to the teal mare standing before me. “So Frosty, what brings you to the Buccaneer Blaze? I’ve probably seen you around the base, but I can’t say I recognize you.”

“I usually just hang out in one of the corner booths with my squad if I’m here. Otherwise I spend about eighty percent of my free time sleeping.” Frosty replied between sips. “And you’ve probably seen me around base from time to time. Firing range, mess hall, you know – all over the place.”

Tailwind shot a glance over at me. “If she’s from another recon squad, she’s probably fought you in the VI at some point.”

“Well, lets see about that, shall we.” I glanced over to address Frosty again, “So Frosty, been assigned to any OPFOR lately?”

“VI?” Frosty asked, anger in her tone. “Here I am doing field training with outdated gear and paint rifles, and you’re doing Virtual Interface crap?” She angrily chugged the rest of her drink. “Figures as much, you’re probably all pampered little fillies riding on daddy’s coattails. You get real experience in the field, lying in dirt and mud for hours on end, waiting for somepony to tell you to take the shot. VI’s total bullshit, anyway.”

“Uh–” I glanced down into my drink, taken aback.

Daddy’s coattails? Not exactly.

Frosty blinked, as if surprised at her own response. “Woah, I just got angry there. Huh. Bluey! I need something stronger!”

Blue Shift, having seen this turn of events coming, slid a glass of what appeared to be whiskey on the rocks in front of the slightly discombobulated mare.

Nosedive leaned forward, a serious look on his face. “So miss experienced, what is it like? The surface, that is.”

“It sucks,” She replied, slipping into a more conversational tone, but the hint of anger remained, as if she were patronizing us. “The air smells funny, everything and everypony’s trying to kill you, and there’s a lot of me not being able to tell you anything else before I get in trouble. It’s on a need-to-know basis, and you do not need to know.” Frosty narrowed her eyes at me. “What’s your unit, again?”

“Enclave Surface Recce, Falcon team,” I replied evenly, a hint of pride in my tone as I looked up from my drink.

“Oh, those guys… but you said you’ve never been to the surface? That doesn’t make a lot of sense. The hell do you guys do, anyways?” She glanced off to the side, as if mentally ticking off an invisible checklist. “Item retrieval? Nope, that falls to us. Radiation monitoring? That’s for the eggheads. Escort? Nopony cares about that stuff anyway.” She met my gaze again, “It seems like you don’t really do much, now doesn’t it?”

Pre-empting me, Nosedive interjected. Standing up from the bar and taking a step towards Frosty, he placed himself slightly between her and I. It occurred to me that he was using his size to be intimidating. I was flattered he felt the need to come to my defence. “They bring us out to play when your ponies find a credible threat to the Enclave.” The way he emphasized it, I could tell the mare’s abrasive attitude was getting to him. It was a challenge.

She regarded a forehoof as if it suddenly gained relevance, responding in a bored tone, “Yeah, there’s a credible threat alright. There’s the constant threat of the Council running out of bullshit to feed you guys.” She glanced up, meeting his gaze with a curious look, as if trying to see how he’d take that comment.

Nosedive leaned forward, as if gauging the mare in front of him. He held the stare for a few moments, before finally breaking into a smile. “Well, I guess we can agree about that.”

Her response was to crack a wry grin and gave him a wink. Frosty turned to me, gesturing at Nosedive with her glass. “That one’s a keeper, you know that?” She downed the rest of her alcohol and chuckled. “If only my coltie Thunderclap knew how to pull off such smooth moves like that… Heh, he’s too adorably stupid for that.”

Potential conflict avoided, Nosedive and Frosty seemed to find each other amiable enough to continue the conversation. For my part, I found something about her just a little off… which is why I let my gaze wander, simply engaging in some harmless pony-watching of the various occupants of the now rather crowded bar. Which was exactly when I found one of them staring back. I’m not sure how long she’d been there, but she’d been looking my way long before she managed to catch my gaze. With a mumbled excuse to the ponies around me, something about having to use the fillies room or something, I turned to make my way over to where that mare sat. It would seem she wanted to talk to me.

My thoughts were elsewhere when Frosty put their conversation on hold (mid sentence, if I overheard correctly) to call out in my general direction, “Good luck with that. Have fun and don’t fall in!”

Startled and momentarily taken aback, I called back in surprise and mild horror, “‘In’ what?”

She gave me a knowing look and a sage nod, simply replying, “You’ll know.” A moment later, she put me from her mind me and went back to her conversation with Nosedive; “But really, he tries to get away with the ‘I was just experimenting’ excuse. The third time, though? Come on!”

As Frosty began to ramble, Nosedive glanced my way with an expression I could only describe as “enduring.” Catching my gaze, he mouthed “Save me.” I winked at him and blew him a kiss over my shoulder. Whatever Red Glare was doing here, it wasn’t like her. She didn’t even drink, last I recalled. She was here for a reason, and from her demeanor when I caught her gaze, it would seem it had something to do with me.

Cantering over to her table, I pulled up a seat and made myself comfortable. Sitting across from me, the mare who’d been named for her scarlet eyes kept them locked on me, the rest of the club seemingly forgotten. I felt safe in the assumption that anything we discussed would be drowned out to those around us by the steady beat of the music. “Well this is a surprise,” I began, “Long time no see, Red. Last I heard, you’d managed to get on the bridge crew of the Nimbostratus, quite the feat considering the last time we saw each other was when we graduated basic.”

She smiled at the compliment, “It isn’t all perks, you know. Commander Winters can certainly be..." She paused, obviously conflicted on how she wanted to word her next thought. It looked kind of like the face one would make when swallowing something particularly unpalatable. "Difficult, at times… I hear you’re leading Falcon team now, Snap. Not too bad yourself.”

As she’d said, we’d done basic together. It was how the system worked, and the only instance in which prospective officers and the enlisted undergo the same training. I think its rather obvious which of us was which at the time. Despite the differing career paths, we’d become friends before she was whisked off for the training that would lead to her current standing. I wasn’t envious – I couldn’t see myself filling her horseshoes just as she most likely never would have imagined herself filling mine. We hadn’t kept in touch, but the ties were still there. In the time I’d known her, she never was one to dance around her point: This wasn’t simply a meeting of old friends, and I was eager to cut to the chase.

I leaned forward, folding my forelegs in my lap as I dropped my voice to a more serious tone, “So what is this about? You know what ponies can think, seeing the XO of a Raptor having face-time with a lowly trooper.”

Red Glare’s smile dropped, and she seemed very tired. “I heard about your debrief today. You should know better than to bring up his son at a time like that.”

“I’m not in the mood, Red.” I growled, “He brought my father into it, turnabout is fair play.”

“He also has the connections of a lifetime spent in the military. He instructed on our basic for skies’ sake.” Her curt, chiding tone surprised me, gaining my full attention. “You don’t think his sons got where they are by sheer talent, did you?” She paused for a moment, seemingly in thought, before adding “Well, aside from Calamity, that is. That one pretty much got where he is all on his own.” She shook her head as if to dislodge an unwelcome thought. “At any rate, I just want to tell you to keep on your guard.”

“That’s it?” I raised an eyebrow. “I know how to play the game. A completed surface mission, some asses kissed, should be swept under the rug, right?”

She shook her head, her mane swaying back and forth as she did. “Things are in motion, Snap. There’s a lot going on at the top brass level, and I’d hate for a friend of mine to get caught between the gears.” She glanced around, as if seeing which ponies were actually in earshot of our conversation before leaning forward, almost conspiratorially, “You don’t really believe that assassination attempt on High General Harbinger just happened to kill the mare that was supposed to replace him, do you?” She leaned back in her chair. “This place is far too public to talk plainly. I’ll see if we can’t run into each other again once you get back from your mission. Good luck.”

The hair on my neck stood on end. I could still recall the lockdown we’d been a part of after that… Incident... and that the perpetrator never had been found. The implications of what she’d said disturbed me, to say the least. “I’m not sure what to make of all that, but thanks for the heads up,” I replied.

She smiled back at me. “I do what I can.” She extended a forehoof, “Through the storm…”

A smile made its way across my own face. I returned the hoofbump. It had been just under seven years since we’d last done this.

“...And the smoke, to the clear skies beyond!”

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Author's Notes:

This chapter contains a big cameo in the form of Frosty Winds, the protagonist of theBobulator's Fallout: Equestria - Memories, from the days before she got stranded on the surface. A slightly less serious take on the wasteland, with significantly more brain damage. A smaller reference, but one I'm quite fond of is the allusion towards the end of the chapter to Adder1's "Victory", part of The ABC's of Fallout: Equestria project. I heartily recommend it, as well as his full length story, Fallout: Equestria - The Last Sentinel.