The Cirrus, Briefing Room, 1.5 Hours off the Saddle Arabian Coast
16 Years before the Shadowbolt/Wonderbolt War

“Nightshade, escort Blade and Razor to the Infirmary,” ordered Dante. “After you’ve finished there, send in the twins.”

“Understood, sir,” nodded Nightshade, before moving to help Razor.

Rat’s stomach churned as he looked up at the older stallion, who was still cursing and attempting to remove Blade’s weapon from his shoulder and the wall behind it. Nightshade began pulling with all her strength, but the blade remained firmly planted. Finally, after several failed attempts and several foul accusations about Nightshade and Blade’s parents, Descent rolled his eyes, walked over calmly, and gave Blade a solid yank. There was a sickening shlick of a blade exiting flesh, a yelp and expletive, and a thump of somepony falling to the floor as Descent pulled Blade free from the wall. As Nightshade helped Razor to his hooves, Descent gave Blade a solid shove.

“Get up,” barked Descent. “I know you’ve shaken off worse than this before.”

“Not so loud,” hissed Blade, holding his ears. “Give me a minute for this headache to stop.”

“You have fifteen seconds before I call Ruin in to sing you a lullaby,” replied Descent.

Blade groaned, but didn’t move. Descent leaned down to Blade’s ear.

“An old Kelpie lullaby with accompanying bagpipes,” added Descent in a whisper.

Blade was gone in an instant, cursing Descent’s name. Dante laughed heartily at the display.

“You are a cruel stallion, Descent,” chuckled Dante, before turning back to Rat.

“Now, before we turn you loose, there are a few matters of business to discuss,” began Dante. “You haven’t had any sort of formal education or training, so we can’t send you out on missions yet. However, since you don’t have any bits to your name yet, you will need a sponsor for your first few years here while you train. Since Descent is the one who found you, he will be your sponsor. It will be his responsibility to pay your expenses and ensure that you receive the proper training. After you complete your training and begin taking on missions, a portion of your pay will go to repaying him until your debt is payed.”

“Actually, the colt does have some funds to his name,” interjected Descent. “I paid him for his services at the colony, a total of five thousand bits if I remember correctly.”

Dante blinked in surprise. “Very well, it seems that you are fortunate,” continued Dante. “A sum of 5000 bits will be enough, if you live frugally, to cover at least five years of living expenses.”

The door opened suddenly, and in came the two pegasi siblings that Rat had met earlier. Rat remembered their names to be Cloak and Dagger, and now that he had a good look at the two of them, he could see the family resemblance. That being said, the expressions of the two twins were as different as the Night was to the Day. Cloak walked in with an easygoing pace, grinning the same sort of goofy grin he’d had since Rat had first seen him. Dagger, on the other hoof, moved with purpose and determination, her expression unchanged from its frown of grim concentration.

“Twins, meet our newest recruit, Rat,” introduced Dante. “Rat, I’m sure you’ve already met the twins, Cloak and Dagger.”

“What’s up, man?” chimed in Cloak, giving a small wave to Rat.

Dagger bowed her head slightly, opting for a more subtle approach to her twin’s.

“Follow us,” instructed Dagger, her voice soft yet cold. “Try to keep up.”

Rat hesitated slightly, glancing at Descent. While far from encouraging, Descent nodded in confirmation.

“Follow them,” ordered Descent. “I shall join you after my business here is concluded.”

With that, Rat was pulled away from the briefing room. They walked in silence through the hall for a few minutes. Eventually, Dagger reached up without warning and slapped her brother upside the head with considerable force.

“OW! Hey! What the hell?!” exclaimed Cloak.

“That was for almost getting yourself killed out there,” groused Dagger, continuing to not look at her brother.

“What’s with the concern all of a sudden?” asked Cloak, utterly confused and still slightly annoyed.

“You almost died out there today,” repeated Dagger simply. “Don’t do it again.”

“Jeez, I get it. Although,” replied Cloak, his eyes suddenly taking on a distinct look of mischief, “I would’ve thought that you’d be more worried about a certain combat medic-ARGH!”

There was a flash of movement that even Rat was unable to follow. One moment, Cloak was standing, jokingly teasing his sister. The next moment, Dagger had her brother pinned to the ground with both wings bent at a very painful-looking angle. Rat reacted instinctively and shot straight toward the exposed rafters, hiding behind the beams. Dagger leaned down towards her brother.

“What did we learn?” asked Dagger.

“...No...dying…” grunted Cloak hoarsely, clearly in great pain.

“And?” asked Dagger, a hint of menace slipping through.

“...No… teasing…” wheezed Cloak.

“And?” Dagger added menacingly, tightening her grip on her brother’s wings.

“...S-sorry…” choked Cloak.

“Good,” replied Dagger, releasing her grip on her brother.

There was no further trace of anger on Dagger’s face as she continued moving down the hall. Cloak stood up, stretching out his wings in an attempt to shake off the pain. He was about to follow his sister, but stopped when he noticed Rat still hidden in the rafters.

“Come on,” said Cloak, motioning with a wing. “You haven’t pissed her off yet, so you have no reason to fear her.”

“Is she always like that?” asked Rat as he followed the young stallion.

“Only if you piss her off,” snorted Cloak in amusement. “Otherwise, she’s pretty much an ice cube with legs. Honestly, the best way to describe her is she’s a cross between Descent and Starry Skies.”

“Who?” asked Rat.

“The purple mare,” clarified Cloak. “You met her earlier: grouchy, grumpy, and all other words used to describe a foul mood. Bottle that up in the form of a pegasus mare, swirl in some violence and bloodlust, and you have Starry Skies.”

Rat shuddered as he nodded in acknowledgement. He’d seen the mare’s violent side up close, the sounds of pegasi with shattered wings falling to their deaths still echoing somewhere in the back of his mind.

“So what is this place?” asked Rat, eyes filled with wonder.

“This flying tin can is the Cirrus,” replied Cloak. “As far as I know, she’s the only one of her class, but there’s been some debate on that among the eggheads downstairs.”

“Why?” asked Rat.

“Something about an original set of blueprints and a ‘nimbus’, I think,” frowned Cloak in concentration. “I kinda tuned Gremlin and Clover out after a bit. They’re nice enough, but all that tech mumbo-jumbo is best left to the techies.”

“So how does the Cirrus fly?” asked Rat. “What about food and water? And how do you get electricity?”

“Not a clue,” quipped Cloak. “Like I said, I leave all that tech stuff to the engineers down below. If you really want to know, ask Dagger. Unlike me, she’s learned how to speak Egghead.”

A voice then called from ahead of the two of them.

“If you two are quite finished gossiping, get your sorry flanks up here,” barked Dagger in an uncharacteristically hard tone.

“Sorry!” gasped Rat as he moved as fast as his tired body would let him.

“You’re new here,” replied Dagger, eyebrow raised. “You don’t know any better. My sorry excuse for a brother, on the other hoof…”

“Up ahead is the Mess Hall,” interjected Cloak, ignoring his sister’s glare. “The poor excuse for food that they serve there will make up the bulk of your meals throughout your career here.”

“How are they able to cook and prepare food up here?” asked Rat, bewildered by all of the advancements of the fortress.

“That will be best addressed when we move down to the Engineering section,” answered Dagger. “However, we’ll say for now that we are able to provide natural gas and electrical power for the kitchen equipment.”

“Where does the food come from?” asked Rat.

“We make regular stops at several hidden support stations,” answered Dagger. “During those stops, we acquire food, fuel, and replacement parts for the Cirrus. Any major refits to critical systems are carried out, and wayward Shadowbolts can regroup with the ship if their mission drew them away from their scheduled pickup.”

The same theme of exposed ductwork and open rafters continued in the dimly lit, bare metal frame. Steel tables and benches were welded to the floor, while items like trays, dishes and utensils were strapped down or held in sealed containers. Rat frowned as he considered something else.

“How many Shadowbolts are there?” asked Rat. “This room seems pretty small for being the only Mess Hall.”

“We have roughly four hundred Shadowbolt pegasi in the organization, as well as another hundred non-flying members,” replied Dagger. “Most of our pegasi are deployed actively on missions at any given time, so the Mess Hall is sufficient for our needs. In the event we ever had full capacity, a second Mess Hall area could be activated at the rear of the ship. At the moment, that room is better suited to storage.”

"Honestly, not much else to see here, so let’s get moving," quipped Cloak, turning to move down the hallway.

Dagger sighed and moved to follow her brother. Rat kept close to the twins, silently taking in his surroundings. Shadowbolts passed them in the corridor without a word.

“The next big section we have is the Target Practice and Combat Training rooms,” explained Cloak, gesturing to several rows of doors on his right. “This is where you’ve receive all of your training and education.”

Rat peeked into one of the gyms to once again find a lack of loose objects and fixed structures welded to the floor. The majority of the floor was covered in padded mats, excluding the carpeted running track at the back of the room. A variety of practice dummies were bolted to the floor, where a few Shadowbolts were practicing with a wide array of weapons and hoof-to-hoof combat techniques.

“So how do you strength-train without weights?” asked Rat.

“You noticed that, eh?” asked Cloak with a grin.

“Yes, and I’ve noticed that every piece of furniture here is bolted to the ground,” replied Rat. “I’m sure that’s to prevent accidents in the event of a crash, but it must limit your ability to perform certain tasks.”

“This one’s really sharp, eh sis?” commented Cloak to Dagger before turning back to Rat. “Well, to answer your question about strength-training, our strength-training machines rely on these special bungee cord thingies that simulate actual weights.”

Rat frowned. “That can’t be as effective as real weights,” the colt mused.

“It’s better than a dumbbell through the top of your skull,” replied Dagger. “Same goes for beds, chairs, tables, and lockers. If you don’t have any more questions about this section, we’ll continue on to the Medical Bay.”

They began walking briskly down another hallway toward their next destination. Rat finally decided to speak up again and ask more questions about the logistics of the organization.

“You mentioned non-flying members earlier,” began Rat, addressing Dagger. “What role do they serve, exactly?”

“Our non-airborne members fit into two categories: outpost staff and infiltrators,” began Dagger. “The role of the outpost staff is fairly self-explanatory, as they maintain our various resupply outposts and help with repairs and refits when we stop. The infiltrators live down on the ground in all the major cities of Equestria, hidden among the rest of society.”

“What do they do?” asked Rat, slightly alarmed.

“They are purely a non-combat group, if that’s what you’re asking,” replied Dagger. “It will become clear when your mentor explains the Code.”

“‘Code’?” repeated Rat, very confused.

“The only rules we live by,” explained Cloak. “But, they’ll have to wait. We’ve reached our next stop.”

The inside of the medical room was better lit than any of the rooms they’d seen so far. Hospital beds and gurneys locked to the floor with clamps. Rat noticed Hawk and Blade resting nearby, but he soon found himself distracted. Surgical tools stuck to steel lined walls as though by magic. Rat stared in fascination at the rows of blades, clamps, and forceps that clung to the wall as though they were glued there. Pushing one with his hoof, Rat was astonished to discover that the tools could still move and, with additional effort, be removed from the wall. Cloak walked up with a grin on his face.

“What up?” he asked. “Have you never seen a magnet before?”

“No,” replied Rat, watching as the scalpel he held sprung to the wall from his hoof by itself. “It’s amazing.”

Before Cloak could reply, a door at the back of the clinic opened. Arclight, the medic from earlier, was walking alongside a familiar steel-colored stallion. Dagger’s expression softened almost imperceptibly at the sight of the young medic, who in turn gave her a brief grin and a nod before returning to watching Razor, ready to catch him if he fell. Rat winced as he saw the veteran’s heavily bandaged shoulder. A small red oval rested in the sea of white cloth that adorned the shoulder of the steel-colored stallion. With each step, Razor winced in pain, as though the blade stabbed fresh every time. The veteran stopped as he passed Rat, only a few steps away from the colt. Razor frowned at the colt’s guilty expression, confused by the reaction. A long moment passed before Razor let out a weary sigh and spoke up.

“Alright kid, I’ll bite,” Razor sighed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Y-your shoulder-” Rat stammered.

“What, this?” asked Razor, indicating the wound before snorting dismissively. “I’ve had worse, believe me. Still, that doesn’t explain why you’re looking at me like you got caught stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar.”

“But it’s my fault!” blurted Rat, quickly covering his mouth after the outburst.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence as everyone in the infirmary remained frozen where they stood, staring at the veteran and the young thief. The colt turned his head away from the veteran, shutting his eyes tight as he waited to be berated for his foolishness. The sound that broke the silence was one that no one expected, however: the sound of genuine, uproarious laughter.

Rat opened his eyes and looked at Razor, stunned. The older veteran was laughing heartily, impeded only by the pain in his shoulder, which caused his laughter to be punctuated by winces and swear words. For a moment, Rat remained frozen, glancing around the infirmary at the smiles that slowly started appearing as others joined in, most likely in relief that the confrontation had not turned violent. Rat even found himself laughing a bit, although more nervously since he now had no clue which way this conversation was going to go. Eventually, Razor’s laughter died down as he turned to the young thief, eyes streaming from the pain of his outburst.

“Sorry kid,” Razor chuckled, wiping his eyes with his good arm. “I don’t know what I expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.”

Rat nodded slowly, still utterly confused. Razor then got a very serious but not unkind expression on his face, almost as though he were a father lecturing a young colt.

“Kid, let’s make one thing absolutely clear before I go on: This wasn’t your fault,” Razor began, indicating his injured shoulder.

“But we were-” blurted Rat again, stopping before he could continue to make a fool of himself.

“Don’t interrupt, kid: It’s rude to cut off your elders when they’re lecturing your ass,” quipped Razor. “As I was saying, I don’t blame you for this, and neither should you. Hell, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s that limp-dick moron Blade for leaping in half-assed before I could disorient you.”

“Hey!” Blade exclaimed indignantly, before a roll of bandages bounced off the bruised part of his forehead.

“Weren’t you listening to what I told the kid about interrupting?” Razor flatly asked the now swearing stallion. A few laughs escaped around the infirmary as Razor turned back to face the colt, who looked as though he were desperately trying to suppress his own laughter.

“The point is you were fighting to survive, any way you could,” Razor explained earnestly. “Don’t let anyone, pony or griffon or what have you, make you feel bad about that. And before you jump in with that ‘allies’ talk or some misguided sense of ‘honor among thieves’, let me make another thing absolutely clear: we were trying to kill you. That wasn’t some play-acting test that would have been called at the end of it if you failed. You would be dead right now if you had not acted the way you did.”

Rat’s blood seemed to freeze in his veins as he heard this. Only one thought seemed to pound in his skull as he stared at the steel-colored stallion with red eyes: Why? What was the point of actually killing a potential recruit if he failed? Razor seemed to anticipate the question, as he answered moments later.

“Because we couldn’t afford the chance,” Razor answered simply. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” replied Rat.

“Alright,” mused Razor. “Look at it from Dante’s view. You’re the leader of an organization of hundreds of mercenaries who all follow you. A scrawny colt is brought before you, recommended for recruitment to the organization after a few years of training. Still, he looks like he’ll probably die in his first mission, getting veterans injured or killed in the process. Would you honestly let him into your ranks?”

Rat considered it for a long while before shaking his head.

“Didn’t think so,” continued Razor. “You probably haven’t been taught our Code yet, have you?”

Again, Rat shook his head.

“Well, I’ll leave that to your mentors, but one of the key things in there is keeping our Organization secret above all else,” explained Razor. “So, taking that into account, letting the runt go is clearly not an option since he knows too much.”

“So you have your subordinates kill him,” concluded Rat.

“If he shows promise, you call off your subordinates,” confirmed Razor. “If not…”

Razor let his words trail off. Surprisingly, Rat did not shudder at the implication. In an odd sort of way, it all made sense to Rat.

“Scaring my charge, Razor?” a deep voice cut in.

Rat jumped in surprise. Descent now stood behind the group, having approached unnoticed. Cloak’s reaction was much more dramatic.

“Sweet Celestia’s teats!” swore Cloak as he fell over a desk full of medical records, scattering them everywhere. “How the hell did he sneak up on us?!”

"If you had been paying attention, you would have heard the door open," snapped Dagger.

“Not intentionally,” replied Razor, ignoring the twins. “Wasn’t successful, either. You were right about the kid being stronger than he looks.”

Descent nodded briefly, before glancing at the young colt.

“Keep up,” ordered Descent. “There is much more of this ship to see before the day’s end.”

To be continued...

Author's Notes:

Jeez, that was a lot to go through for a shorter chapter.

Anyhow, we've only got one more chapter before the first time skip, which concludes Act 1 of the story. I've got the next two or three chapters thought out fairly well, but I may need to go on hiatus before then due to midterms popping up. Hopefully, I can get mostly through Act 2 before that happens.