I awoke to the sun shining right through the window, gently warming my face. Wait, the sun shouldn’t be shining through the window yet. I was supposed to be awake early this morning for my meeting with the general. Looking back at the window, I saw the sun right where it shouldn’t be. Groping blindly on my bedside table, I found the familiar shape of the pocket watch that had been passed from father to son in my family for generations. I depressed the button and the face popped open. The watch indicated that it was 9:30 in the morning. 9:30?!? I was supposed to meet the general at 9:45!

I jumped out of bed near panic. Last night, I received a message from General Cirrus’ assistant saying he wanted a private meeting with me this morning at 9:45, and that it was important. You never kept a general waiting, not if you valued your assignment in the Enclave. I galloped down the hall and jumped into the one of the showers in the barracks washroom. I took what was probably the fastest shower in my life. When I hopped out, I took a look in the mirror.

I was greeted by the familiar sight of the dark gray coat and deep brown eyes staring back at me. I was nothing spectacular to look at. I always seemed to blend in with the crowd. I ran a towel over my short-cropped sky-blue mane. Fortunately, military standard hairstyles meant less maintenance in the morning. I galloped back to the bunkroom and quickly opened the footlocker at the foot of my bed. I grabbed my standard issue Enclave dress uniform. The blue dress uniform slid on easily. I grabbed the rank insignia and fastened them to my collar. I also grabbed my nameplate and attached it to the right chest pocket. Looking at the black lettering on the silver nameplate, Pvt. Updraft, I made sure it was square with the rest of my uniform. I gave myself one last glance in the mirror, making sure I was presentable, and ran out of my room.

I hurried through the rest of the barracks until I was outside. As soon as I got free of the building, I flapped my wings and took off. I hurried as fast as I could towards the Administration Building where General Cirrus had his office.

“Hey Updraft, you still in for poker tonight?” I looked down and saw my buddy Cloud Buster.

“Yes! Sorry! Got to go!” I yelled back at him.

I got to the Admin Building in record time. When I landed, I checked my pocket watch. 9:44. Shit!

I galloped at top speed into the building and up the stairs. The general’s office was on the sixth floor. I ran past confused-looking ponies and nearly ran over one other. “Sorry!” I shouted. As I got to the sixth floor landing, I hurried through the double doors and right past a confused looking guard.

“Halt! Get back here, Private!” a high-pitched, scratchy voice called out behind me.

Damn, this was gonna get me in even more trouble. I skidded to a stop and waited at attention. The guard, a sergeant by the look of his rank insignia, caught up in short order. “You will explain yourself, Private!” he squeaked.

“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir! I was supposed to meet with General Cirrus at 9:45!”

“You know you’re late, right Private? You know what the general does to those who keep him waiting?” he sneered at me. Why couldn't he just let me go!

Before I had a chance to answer, I heard a gentle, deep voice. “That’s quite enough. It seems as if you scared the Private enough.” I turned around and there he stood, General Cirrus. He was not an overly large pegasus. He had a light green coat, most of which was covered by his dress white uniform. His chest was covered with various medals and honors he had received over the years. His brown mane was impeccably groomed. He had teal eyes that, as rumor had it, could see right through to a pony’s soul. “Pardon us, Sergeant, I’ll take it from here.”

The sergeant snapped a salute and responded, “Ye- ye- yes sir!” He turned around and trotted back to his post at the entry to the floor.

“He is right you know, Private. You shouldn’t keep your superiors waiting.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I can’t explain it. I’m usually an early riser.” I said nervously. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. A demotion? Was there a rank lower than Private? Time in the brig? Latrine duty?

He chuckled. “I think we can let it go.” He added with a joking tone, “This time.” We both laughed a little, albeit mine was out of nervousness.

After a short walk down the plushly carpeted corridor, we came to a door with a gold nameplate on it. The nameplate read, “General Cirrus, Special Operations.”

No one was sure what Special Operations did. Ponies that were assigned to Special Operations seemed to disappear. You would hear of their assignment and then they entered the training program and you never heard from them again. Rumors abounded as to what happened in that division. Some ponies said they were turned into super spies and sent on top secret missions; where to no one could ever say. Others said they were sent to the fringes of Enclave territory to watch for gryphon incursions. There were even some soldiers who thought they were subjected to top secret science experiments. The fact of the matter was that no one knew for sure.

The general opened the door and led me inside. The office was huge compared to my bunkroom. The office was lavishly appointed and had a window which afforded an awesome view of Fort Canterbury and the cloud cover beyond. All pegasi were familiar with the cloud cover that separated us from the Wasteland below. It was nearly universally revered as our main source of food and our protection from the horrors below.

“Won’t you have a seat, Private?” he gestured to one of the two open seats on one side of the large desk that dominated the room. I sat down in my chair while the General walked around his desk and sat down in his. “Do you have any idea why I asked to meet with you this morning, Private?”

I shook my head and responded, “No, sir.”

He laughed softly. “Good, good. Private, I asked you here to make you an offer. I have been looking at your service record. Middle of your class out of Neighvarro. Assigned right out of the academy as a transport officer for Supply Operations. Annual reviews are good, but not excellent. Combat Readiness evaluations are OK. I’ll be honest, though. You are nothing but an average soldier, at best. You really don’t have much of a future in the Enclave if you hang around.”

His assessment hurt. I know I wasn’t the best flier or markspony or anything for that matter. But I always gave my best and finished what I was assigned. “B..b..but, sir…”

“Let me finish, Private. If you stay in the traditional hierarchy of the military, you may get a couple of promotions, but you will end up working low level, meaningless, thankless jobs. I can assume you don’t want that to happen. I have an alternate offer for you.”

My thoughts came to a screeching halt. My father was a General in the Enclave army, as was his father, as was his father, etc. My family had a long, proud tradition of service to the Enclave. If what the General just said was true, I’d be the first member of my family in about 200 years to not become an officer. I was going to be an embarrassment to my family. I sighed deeply.

“You misunderstand me, Private. This is a good thing. Do you know what Special Operations does?" He continued without even waiting for a response. "Of course not. No one knows what Special Operations really does. I am in charge of all the missions that the Enclave doesn’t want to, and shouldn’t, publicly acknowledge. If the general population heard about what we were doing, then they’d riot and we’d have trouble on our hooves.

“Now, back to my previous point. You are an average, but loyal soldier. But being an average, loyal soldier won’t necessarily get you far. You might make Sergeant, maybe Lieutenant if you tried really hard, but that’s about it. You will never see the rank of your father, or his father, or any predecessor of yours. I am here to offer you a chance to do something meaningful, instead of loading and escorting skywagons filled with supplies to other bases. If we are to continue this conversation, you need to swear, under penalty of death, that what we discuss will not be shared with anyone not in Special Operations. What you are about to hear is a secret that only members of Special Operations and a few superior officers know. Do you swear to keep this a secret?”

I nodded my head. “Yes sir, you can trust me, sir.“

“Okay then… sit down, because we have to discuss a little history. You do know what the SPP towers are, right?”

I eagerly responded, “Of course, sir. They are what allow us to maintain the cloud cover and seed clouds and raise the food the Enclave needs to feed the population.”

“Correct. What you may not know is that we do not have full control of the towers, never did. Rainbow Dash crippled the towers and defected before we could open them up for full control. We can neither expand the cloud cover nor retract it. Now, I know you know that every family in the Enclave can only have a limited number of foals because of limited food supplies. However, there have been, shall we say, dissenters who believe that we shouldn’t limit their freedoms that way. They are not aware of how severely limited our food production is. Which brings me to the next important part of our story.

“You also know the origin of the term, Dashite. As everyone knows, any Enclave citizen who drops below the cloud cover is immediately expelled from the Enclave since they are now tainted. You even know they are branded with Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark over their own and are labeled a Dashite. You may be wondering why I am rehashing something every elementary school foal knows. Here is the big secret. The Enclave has been sending pegasi down to the ground, on purpose. And we aren’t talking isolated incidents. We are talking thoroughly planned, repeated excursions.”

My jaw dropped open. “But sir, why would the Enclave do that? There is nothing but radiation, mutants, and raiders below the cloud cover.”

“Ah, I see the propaganda campaign is still working. You see, Private, that statement is not entirely true. Yes, there are parts of the Wasteland that are irradiated. Yes, there are terrible mutations on the surface. And yes, there is definitely a population of ponies who have turned their back on equinanity. However, there are large pockets of earth ponies, unicorns, and even ground-born pegasi alike that are just trying to survive down there. They have formed small communities and support systems to help each other survive the challenges of the Wasteland.”

“But sir, doesn’t this mean that the Enclave is wrong?” I gulped audibly at that statement. Sedition was not tolerated readily by the Enclave.

“Normally, I would have you immediately arrested and brought up on charges. However, this is not a normal situation. Private Updraft, you are right. The Enclave is, and has been wrong about this for a long while now. As you can imagine, this has been kept quiet in order to maintain order among the population. If they thought the land below was habitable, we may have a mass exodus, whether it be to have more freedom, or to help our former comrades. The Council can’t have that. But, they aren’t clueless either. They know the status quo can not stand.

“So this is where Special Operations comes in. We are currently scouting out the Wasteland. If you join, you will be trained in infiltration, concealment, and observational skills. We will send you as part of a pair of operatives to one of the Wasteland settlements and you will embed yourselves into the community. The settlements we are picking are the ones that are closest to pockets of land that, by the calculations of our eggheads, will be the best locations to start farming.”

He gestured to a large map that dominated one wall of his office. It was a map of Equestria with several locations labelled. There were old cities such as Fillydelphia, Manehattan, and Canterlot. However, there were also a number of other labelled locations with names such as Coltington, Bucklyn, and Arbu. These other locations were also circled in red.

“Your job is then to observe the population and see if it will be possible to work with them. You will report back to me, through a facilitator, on daily life, alliances, enemies, opinion on pegasi, anything you think we need to know before we try to make contact. Ultimately, our goal is to work with the community and start farming operations so we can boost our food stores and, in the best case scenario, allow Enclave civilians to choose to leave the skies and settle on the ground, still under Enclave authority. But please note, you will be relatively on your own down there. If you and your partner get into trouble, it will be up to you to get out. The Enclave will disavow any knowledge of you and your mission. You will also be reported as M.I.A. so it won’t be alarming that you suddenly disappear. You will be referred to as an Operative and not by any formal rank. You will not be able to share any of this with anyone outside of Special Operations, even with your father, General Thunderclap. Finally, you will be a part of this division until the day you die. So what do you say, Private?” He placed his hooves on the desk and stared right at me. “Do you want to work for me?”

I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. I was extremely conflicted. On one side, I would have to ostensibly abandon a family tradition of proud Enclave service. But it seems that I would never be able to serve with any level of distinction. At least with Special Operations I would be doing something meaningful, something important. But I couldn’t let anyone know. As far as my family would know, I would be labeled as missing. This was not how I expected my day to turn out when I woke up late this morning. Then again, I would be doing more for the Enclave than I ever could otherwise. “Where do I sign?”

“Attaboy… now, what do you think of the name Dust Cloud?”

One year later….

Today was the last day of my Special Operations training. Tomorrow, I would head down to Coltington to start the reconnaissance operation I was being assigned to. My last act above the clouds for a while would be to pack up my belongings, and then head to the staging area for final preparations and my last night of sleep topside.

When I got back to my Special Operations room, I noticed that my roommate and future partner, had packed his stuff up and had probably reported to the staging area already. For the last year, I had shared a room with Operative Clear Skies, codenamed Muddy Waters, so that we could build some familiarity with each other before heading down to the Wasteland.

I opened my closet and grabbed the Enclave-issued armored barding that I would be bringing with me. It was specially designed for Special Operations. It was made out of a black material, but it was worn to make it look like it had years of rough Wasteland treatment on it. There were seams that were splitting and frayed threads, but it was still solid. Under the outer facade was the armor layer. Since the damn Steel Rangers had appropriated all the energy weapons, the Wastelanders were forced to use projectile weapons instead. Therefore, the typical energy dispersion material was replaced with carbon fiber panels designed to stop projectiles. It also made the armor lighter. The front legs had holsters that were for weapons and tools, and other necessary items for quick deployment, like healing potions. There were integrated saddlebags to hold other supplies. There was also a side holster for carrying rifles. I probably wouldn’t be using that since I scored at the bottom of my SpecOps class in marksponyship. The most unique feature was one that was not readily apparent. Since our main goal was to integrate with our assigned Wasteland communities, the armor was designed to hide our wings when they were folded up. Therefore, we could pass as smaller earth ponies and not stand out too much. Plus it allowed us to get true feelings on pegasi. In an emergency, I could pull a cord near the neck of the armor that would release panels and allow us to fly. It was probably the most unique armor I had ever seen.

After I removed the armor and put it on top of the bed, I looked back at the closet. I looked longingly at my Enclave uniforms. After today, a crew would pick everything up and it would be placed in top secret storage where only General Cirrus and I, if I was ever to return to Canterbury, could access it. Today would probably be the last day I wore an Enclave military uniform. We were told that if we survived our mission and were allowed back, we would be given support roles within Special Operations until the day we died. I took out each uniform and neatly refolded it and placed it inside the storage box I was given. It was a black plastic crate with a vacuum sealing lid. The only mark on the side was the special designation number I was given to identify me within Special Ops. I took my pocket watch and moved it towards the box as well. Our instructors told us anything unusual and of value would become a major target for thieves and raiders. If I took the watch along, it could get me into trouble and we didn’t want that. As I went to lay the watch down in the box, my leg froze. I couldn’t leave this behind. Since I was the only stallion in my family, and I was unlikely to have any foals now, the watch would not pass any further down the family line. I couldn’t leave it behind. If I were to die, I wanted to be buried with the watch, if possible. I placed the watch in the bottom of my saddlebags inside a secret compartment built into the armor. It should be safe there, at least for a while. I placed the rest of my meager belongings inside the crate. I really didn’t own much besides my military issued gear so it didn’t take long. I closed the lid on the box and left it near the door next to my roommates box. Spec Ops support would be by the next day to pick it up and archive it.

I went back to my barding. I began to load the other necessary equipment we were issued. All operatives received a worn, but well maintained 10mm pistol, along with boxes of rounds. The gun was artificially aged to look old and in disrepair, but was still in perfect working order. Although, if you listened to my fellow trainees, I could barely hit the broad side of a barn. We were each issued a small first aid kit containing several bandages, two healing potions, a bottle of Rad-X and a sachet of Rad-Away. The settlements in question didn’t have elevated radiation levels, but in case I did wander into any, we’d be prepared. Each of us received a combat knife for hoof to hoof combat. The knife was about 8 inches long and had a curved tip. One edge was flat and the other edge was serrated. It could also be used as a tool if necessary. I fared better during knife combat training, but would always fall to larger foes. The last piece of major equipment we were given was a flare launcher with one flare. If we were ever in a truly dire situation, we could fire the flare and any operative in the area that could assist would try to find me. However, operatives were well spread out and were so deeply embedded that it may be hard to get away. Finally, I stashed my canteen, compass, and small pouch of caps on one of the utility pockets on my front legs. I closed up the saddlebags and donned my barding.

I looked back in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. First, I noticed my gray coat broken in places where injuries had been received during combat training. Any injuries were healed using Wasteland techniques, so most left scars. This was to make us look more weathered as if we had been in the Wasteland a while and not newly descended from the sky. We were also forbidden to cut our manes during training. My military buzz cut was replaced with a long, flowing mane which was several inches long. We were also forbidden from caring for it the last few weeks in training so it became more messy. I could feel knots forming and the smell and dirt was uncomfortable. We were warned about this and that it would pass with time. However, not everything was bad. Training had helped me bulk up a little so I was not as slight as I used to be. I still wouldn’t win any strength competitions, but I could hold my own better than I used to. I dare say I was more of a soldier now than I ever used to be.

With one last look around my room, I made sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. My room was as bare as it was the day I was assigned here, except for the box near the door. With a deep sigh, I backed out the door, and turned off the light. I made my way down the stairwell, out the front door, and flew off to meet my partner before we went down to Coltington together.

As of right now, Updraft was gone. And Dust Cloud took his place.