Chapter 9: And the Horse They Rode in on.

Stivers awoke in a near panic, jerking upright and taking in the unfamiliar sight of the room around him before remembering where he was. Taylor was sitting up in the bed across from him, the creaking sound he had made as he sat up being the small stimulus that had reached into Stivers’ dreams and snapped him awake.

“Sorry,” Taylor mumbled incoherently. “Jus’ woke up myself.”

“Yah,” Stivers replied. He pressed both palms against his eyes, rubbing gingerly for a moment. “What time is it?”

“Oh-dark thirty. The sun isn’t even awake yet.” Taylor squinted at his watch, frowning as he tried to make out the dial in the dimness. The hands had stopped moving ever since they had arrived in this odd land… or, at least, they didn’t move normally. Every time he checked his watch, it seemed to have jumped randomly, anywhere from a few minutes to several hours within the same amount of elapsed time. Giving up, he yawned hugely. “Gimme a minute to get my heart started and I’ll wake up the men.”

“I’ll get Gallivan,” Stivers said, coming fully awake. “Him you don’t just shake and hand him his cornflakes.”

“Roger,” Taylor said, not fully understanding, but it was too early to discuss anything that needed real brain power at the moment. He hissed as he stood upright, wincing. “Six feet don’t fit very well into four feet of bed.”

Stivers could feel his own legs tingling as they came awake; his calves had been lying on the foot of the bed all night, and were starting to complain merrily about it. “Thanks for the bulletin.”

Taylor stretched, his back crackling dully, and grinned in the dimness. “That’s the Navy; we aim to please.”

“You need gunnery practice, then.” Stivers stood up and stretched as well, hobbling gingerly from one foot to the other as the blood began flowing normally again. Uttering a curse under his breath, he padded barefoot across the room to its third occupant, who had begun stirring on his own undersized bed.

Gallivan opened his mouth and stretched it wide in a yawn, and reached his arms out as far as he could. He leaned over lopsidedly on the bed, still half asleep. Please don’t let reveille be here yet... just five more minutes. As if someone had read his mind and decided to shit on his prayers, something firm touched his foot and gave it a shake. Of bucking— oh Christ I’ve been in pony hell for too long. He cracked his eyes open just a bit before growling at whoever was touching him. “I swear to God if I roll over and whoever is touching me isn’t wearing a Marine patch, heads are gonna’ roll.” He quickly rolled over into the sight of Stivers looking him down on him, a tired smirk on his face.

“That’s not a good way to make friends, Marine,” he said mockingly.

The Marine shot out of bed and saluted his superior officer. “Sorry, sir.”

“At ease, son. No need for that right now. We aren’t on the record,” the Captain said nonchalantly, still holding his smirk.

“Sorry sir, you know how it is. Training and all that jazz.”

“Aye, I do know how it is.”

“As for making friends, thats not my job. My job is to go where I’m told and shoot what I’m told. I’m a killing machine sir, and a free man. These ponies, they’re not like us, not like humans, I mean. They show compassion where there should be violence. They also have no problem being ruled by a tyrant,” Gallivan spewed, wiping away the smirk on Stivers’ face.

“Whoa, where did that come from?” Stivers asked, confused.

“I...” The sergeant paused, glancing across the room at Taylor; the lieutenant was fumbling with one boot and didn’t even look in their direction. Gallivan looked back at Stivers and sighed heavily. “Bad memories. Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime, skipper. Just… not right now, okay? I’d need to be a lot more awake and a lot less sober, let’s put it that way.”

“No problem, sergeant. Just try to roll with the punches, hmm?”

“Aye-aye, sir. They’d just be easier to take if I knew when to expect them.”

“Reading that loud and clear.” Stivers reached down and squeezed the other Marine’s shoulder for a moment, then dropped his hand to his side. “Go ahead and get squared away. I’m going to go see about some chow.”

Gallivan nodded and waited until the officer moved away. Reached up, he scrubbed his cheeks with his hands, frowning as he heard the raspy sound of his beard stubble against his palms. Unfortunately, a shaving kit was not standard issue on training flights, or in magical winged unicorn palaces, either, so he resigned himself to looking somewhat less than shipshape until he could locate a decent razor, if one could be had in this surreal land.

With another heavy sigh, Gallivan rubbed his eyes slowly, willing the early-morning drowsiness away. The pressure of his knuckles against his eyes made odd starburst shapes flare on and off in his darkened vision. The shapes roiled about aimlessly, then seemed to come together for a moment in a leering face, one that looked at him laughingly and wanted to know why he was so stubborn, when he could have a decent meal and maybe even a cigarette if he would only answer the questions...

The Marine’s eyes snapped open and he reached out to grip the covers beside him, his forehead awash in a cold sweat, and the beat of his heart playing in his ears. He glanced around and saw a sliver of warm yellow light seeping through the doorway where Stivers had left it open. His mind grasped at it like a drowning man will seize upon anything floating, anything at all, that will keep him afloat one more moment and prevent the dark, cold waves from closing over his head forever.

Gallivan sat there for a moment, letting his breathing return to normal, before leaning over to grab his shirt. “I’m getting too old for this...”

The pilots, as well as the guard ponies that were accompanying them on their journey, had all been quartered together in a large room off the south wing of the castle. Their sleeping quarters all connected with a sort of common room in the center, which seemed to serve as both a social area as well as a kitchen, dining room, exercise area, and any other activity that didn’t involve sleeping.

A huge table (by pony standards, and at least respectably sized, for the humans) dominated the center of the room, surrounded by several carved wooden stools and even a chair at one end. Stivers walked in to see Golden Sword seated in the chair and blinking owlishly at a knot in the fine-grained wooden table before him. “Morning.”

Sword’s eyes rolled up to fix on Stivers for a moment, before finally recognizing him. “Guh,” he replied noncommittally.

“What, you don’t do mornings?”

“When you get to be a Captain, one of the nice things is that you don’t have to do mornings if you don’t want to.” Golden Sword blinked rapidly and scuffed his face with a foreleg. “Today, I don’t really want to.”

“I hear that.” Stivers walked over to sit down next to the other Captain. “So, what’s the plan of the day?”

“I took the liberty of getting breakfast sent down. We don’t really have time to cook… or eat, for that matter, but I’m not stepping forth on something like this without a full belly to start with. Celestia knows that meals will get rare enough before long on something like this.”

“That’s the way it pretty much works where I come from too,” Stivers agreed. He leaned his head back, letting it roll about on his shoulders as he stretched his muscles for a moment. Suddenly he froze, staring at Sword in shock. “Holy shit. You’re naked.”

“I what?”

“Where’s your armour?”

“We’re in the castle, I don’t sleep in it here,” Sword said, rather stiffly. He tilted his own head to match Stivers’ pose, the golden forelock between his ears flipping down to settle over one eye. “You’re going to get a cramp if you sit like that much longer.”

Stivers straightened back up. “Sorry… I just got used to seeing you in uniform, I guess.”

“Well, even so. I am not naked. We don’t normally wear clothes, unless it’s a special occasion or the situation warrants it, like our armour. Besides, you did notice the fur coat? It’s standard issue.”

Stivers raised his hands in surrender. “Too early for this discussion. I need coffee before we decide anything important, anyway.”

“On that, I agree with you.” A knock sounded at the door to the main hall, and Sword brightened. “Right on time. Here comes your coffee, Captain, and mine too.”

A steward opened the door and shuffled in, tugging a laden cart behind him. Stivers blinked and stared at the contents. “Wait. Eggs? You eat eggs?”

“You don’t?”

“Hell yes.” Stivers sat up straight and patted the table in front of him expectantly. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

The door creaked behind him and he glanced over a shoulder to see Taylor and Gallivan come wandering out. “Is that coffee I smell?” Gallivan asked.

“Yep. The real deal.”

“Thank God, Celestia, and Buddha’s belly button,” Taylor said. “That’s the last thing I...” He stopped, frowning, peering at Golden Sword for a moment. “Captain?”

“Yes, it’s me. No, I am not naked. I’m half-awake and hungry, and not a zoo exhibit, so do you mind the staring?” Sword said testily.

“Sorry,” Taylor said. “I just didn’t-” He stopped again as a bluish-purple pony with a sable mane and tail emerged from one of the other rooms. “Shadow?”

The pony shook its head and emitted a low growl, the tone clearly identifying the owner. “Taylor,” Midnight Arrow grated, “you and I need to talk about the difference between colts and fillies.”

Stivers, who had been sipping gingerly at a steaming mug before him, nearly choked on his coffee. “Strike one, Navy.”

Taylor threw his hands up in exasperation. “Aw come on! They look different without the armour on.”

Midnight seated herself at the table beside Sword. “And so do you with that interesting hairstyle.”

Taylor reached up and brushed a hand through his hair; the lieutenant’s blonde hair was cut military short, but long enough that sleep had been able to give it a thorough touseling.

The wrinkles furrowing Golden Sword’s forehead were building up like thunderheads, and Stivers stepped in hurriedly before the storm broke. “I think I already had this discussion once. Try the coffee before you say anything else this morning, Lieutenant.”

The wisdom of this argument was beyond debate, and one by one the members of the group came in to sit down and prepare themselves for the day ahead. The food was excellent, and almost like anything the humans might have found back home; breakfast, apparently, transcended any barriers time and space might have thrown up between the worlds. The bacon tasted somewhat odd, but Taylor decided not to bring it up at the moment; it obviously wasn’t real bacon, from the way the ponies were crunching it down, and it wasn’t the first time in his military career he had dined on food that wasn’t exactly made of the traditional ingredients.

When Sword had finished, he sat back reflectively for a moment, rubbing idly at one ear with a forehoof. “One should never begin a journey on a sour note. I hope I didn’t get off on the wrong hoof with any of you this morning; if so, I apologize.”

Stivers and Taylor blinked at one another. “Sure, Captain,” Taylor offered. “Same here. I mean, sorry about the staring and everything.”

“Of course. What I mean to say is...” The Captain paused, frowning. “We’ve had very little time to train together, and not spent much more in each other’s company at all. But today we set out on a journey into dangerous parts of this land... places I’ve only heard about, and not seen. Dangerous places, and we’ll need to be able to count on each other, for certain.”

Stivers straightened. “Captain, my men know their duty. They won’t let me down. Or you.”

Midnight nodded. “You’ll be able to depend on us, as well,” she said to Stivers. “Whatever you need, we’ll be there.”

Golden Sword glanced at her, then back to meet Stivers’ gaze directly. “Well, Captain, it appears we have each other’s word. That’s a good enough place to start for me.”

After breakfast, the ponies had donned their armour once more, and the combined group was met outside their chambers by a small escort who led them along a meandering pathway through the castle that ended by the southern exit. A set of elaborately carved doors stood open, the archway over their heads surmounted by a portcullis set cunningly into the stone; the iron tips of the lower edge gleamed dully in the pre-dawn air. The escort came to a halt, and was dismissed by a higher ranking officer. Stepping closer, he greeted them pleasantly enough, and they were surprised to see Shining Armour.

“General,” Golden Sword said, stiffening at attention.

“Be at ease, Captain.” He tilted his head to study them for a moment. “You sure do make for an odd group… but maybe it takes one to get a job like this done.”

“We’ll be there and back before you can say ‘Jack Robinson,’” Taylor quipped.

The ponies all turned almost as one to look at him. “Why in Equestria would we say that?” Crimson Hoof asked.

Before Taylor could reply, there was a low beating of wings from above. Glancing up, the ponies immediately knelt down in supplication. There was almost a feeling of music filling the air, a sensation more felt than heard, as Princess Luna alit on the ground before them. The cobalt flow of her mane and tail seemed alight with stars, a shifting, shimmering pattern of light that came and went and came again in random patterns. She nodded at them, folding her wings to her sides. “Please, subjects, stand up. Do rise.”

“Great,” muttered Gallivan. “Here we go again.”

The alicorn’s expression looked pained; she had clearly heard the remark. “Please... allow us a moment to bid you farewell. We would...” She paused, her stance altering subtly before them. “General,” she said to Shining Armour, “would you excuse us? We shall inform them of the details.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Shining Armour’s hooves clicked as he came to attention, and then nodded at Golden Sword before moving off.

Luna watched him until the pony was out of earshot. “I would like,” she continued more quietly, “to explain something to you all.”

“Yeah, you did pretty well with that riddle of yours, Your Highness,” Taylor said, folding his arms. “I think we’re confused enough at this point.”

Luna glanced at Stivers.

“Don’t look at me,” he said curtly. “I happen to agree with him. But go ahead. Explain away, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“No, Captain, that’s not why I...” Luna glanced up at the castle, then off towards the east, where the dark sky was beginning to show a hint of losing its grip. “Captain Stivers... Golden Sword knows of a tradition concerning journeys like the one you are about to make. One should never leave ill will behind one’s hoofprints on such a trip.”

“Yeah, he did mention that,” the Marine acknowledged.

Luna nodded. “I thought he might. He’s one of our best, most loyal troops.” Sword stirred at this, but said nothing. “And what’s more important, he’s a good pony. Inside and out.”

“Thanks for the news flash,” Gruebel said.

“At ease, men.” Stivers held up a hand, not removing his gaze from Luna’s face. “Go on.”

Luna dug at the ground with a forehoof unhappily. “He’s a good pony. Nearly all of us are, Captain. Even my sister and I, although you probably don’t think so at the moment.”

“How very perceptive of you,” Taylor said icily. “Was figuring that out another riddle? Because you hid that one pretty damned well yesterday.”

“I’m aware of that.” Luna dropped her gaze and looked at the ground, plainly ashamed, a sight that shocked the ponies in the group. “I wish I could explain, Captain. As it is, I’m pushing the limits in even telling you this much.”

“Princess, you haven’t really told us anything.”

“And I wish I could,” she said, her voice suddenly bitter. “All I can say is that even we have to play by rules, Captain, and I’m aware this is not a game. My sister and I both know that. However,” she added, her voice lightening a little, “I’ve become adept over the centuries at learning how to bend rules to my advantage. And maybe even to yours.”

Stivers uncrossed his arms. “You’ve got my undivided attention, Your Highness.”

“Your provisions and supplies have been prepared,” she said, one wing flicking out from her side to point towards a small nearby cart laden with saddlebags. The weapons they had chosen the day before were laid out neatly as well, the edges of the swords and spears honed to a bitter sharpness, the arrowheads glimmering like the teeth of an angry wolf. “But I took the trouble last night to prepare something a little more helpful besides lunch. If you’ll walk a few hours east of here, you’ll come to a small clearing; Gorseberry Grove, it’s called.”

“Fruity’s Plaza?” Shadow perked up from behind Taylor. “I know where that is; we.... well, I had my commencement exercises there.”

“Just so.” Luna’s eyes gleamed a liquid teal as she looked at the group. “You’ll find a few friends there who also want to bid you farewell... and you may find something useful to you. A couple of somethings, actually. Although it’ll take a bit of work to make the gift usable, from what I understand.”

“More weapons?” Taylor looked at the dusky alicorn with a mistrustful expression. “I think we’re set in that department.”

Luna laughed abruptly, the sound clear in the still morning air. “I think you’ll find this riddle much easier to solve, Charles Taylor. And much more to your liking than my last one, I think.”

Taylor stamped a boot into the dirt and looked at Golden Sword. “Is she always like this?”

Sword was looking at the princess with something akin to adoration. “Not always. But when she is, it’s worth listening to her, Lieutenant.”

Luna’s wings flicked outward into full extension, and with a mighty sweep, they propelled her into the air. “Time for each of us to go. I’ve pushed my luck as it is, and you’re going to need all of yours in the days to come. I’ve managed to pull my little prank on fate, and now it’s up to you to make sure the trick works.” Her voice changed, sounding both young and ancient at once. “Go now, and may all our blessings follow you, children.”

“Lady, you’re nice and all, but I grew up a long time ago,” Thompson said.

The alicorn laughed again. “That’s what I told my sister a thousand years ago. It took me awhile to learn, too.” She rose up into the lightening sky, circling as she headed toward the needle-like tower that surmounted the castle’s central keep. “Farewell!”

Stivers found himself raising a hand reflexively, waving as he watched the dark shape rise higher and higher until it landed on a balcony high on the eastern side of the tower above. Peering upward, he could barely make out a white shape up there as well, one that stood still, as if waiting for something.

“Well, troops, I think that’s our cue.” He glanced over at Golden Sword. “Captain?”

“Well parted,” Golden Sword said in reply, suddenly smiling openly, the expression startling on his normally somber visage. “By all means, Captain. Let us gather our things and move out.” Shouldering the saddlepack marked for his own personal use, the gray pegasus took a moment to check that his sword was firmly seated in its scabbard. Nodding to himself, he took a step forward on the path leading out of the courtyard, pressing his hoof down hard to leave a clear mark in the soil.

After an hour of walking in a dual file column, the group’s encounter with the Princess had faded into the back of the minds of the company and small conversations had been struck up. Taylor and Midnight were arguing about the finer points of vegetarian cuisine, while Stivers and Golden Sword discussed the possible threats, tactics, and other mission-related details.

Gruebel and Gallivan had stricken up dialogue with Shadow and Crimson Hoof about the action that each side had seen. The ponies talked about fending off manticores and hydras and all sorts of creatures that seemed mystical to the humans. In turn, the pair of pilots talked about their tours through the Pacific Islands. Gallivan told a gruesome story of him watching a friendly soldier get pulled underwater by an alligator, never to be seen again. That made both the ponies and even Gruebel grow quiet for a moment; it wasn’t always the bad guys who got you. Sometimes, sheer perverse Fate would step in and knock you on your ass.

Gruebel mentioned several stories he had heard of the prisoner camps that the Japanese had operated during the recently ended war, drawing silence out of Gallivan and shocked anger out of the ponies at the injustices he described.

Just ahead of them, Thompson uttered a low curse as the group shuffled slowly past a particularly dense thicket of blackberry bushes, the thorns seeming to reach out eagerly to grab and catch at the clothing of the humans. “I thought the place we’re going was well known,” he said in a peevish tone.

“Oh, it is,” Shadow replied immediately. “Almost everypony in Canterlot knows about Fruity’s Plaza, or at least has heard of it.”

“Then why are we wandering through the outback, and me without a machete?” Thompson paused to grab a handful of the blackberries, which hung invitingly. If the bushes wanted to make him bleed, they were damn well going to pay for it.

“Well, only the graduates got to go, and as I said, you have to be really good to be one of those, so it doesn’t get too many visitors, I guess.”

“I was gonna ask you about that,” Gallivan broke in. “Why is your hand-to-hand... I mean, your unarmed combat training so strict? Where I come from, bad injuries in training only happen by accident, and they’re almost never fatal.” He frowned and shook his head. “It just seems pretty goddamn brutal to me, honestly.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t with us, either. I took the basic course like everypony else in the Guard,” Shadow said. “Sergeant Gorseberry’s course is an optional one, for the toughest, the elite.” The pony arched his neck proudly. “I wanted to be one of the best of the best.”

Gallivan opened his mouth to reply, and closed it again. That was the reason he’d joined the Marine Corps himself. “Okay… well, I guess I can understand that. You seem pretty competent.”

“Thanks.”

“How long have you been in the Royal Guard?”

Shadow’s ears flattened back for a moment as a bramble scraped over the armor on his side with a tinny screech. “Um, about four years now.”

Gallivan looked at the guardspony sharply. “Really? With all that training? How come you’re not an officer yet? You seem smart enough.”

Shadow blinked in surprise and stared back at the human. “Why? They don’t get to have as much fun as I do.”

Thompson found this deliciously funny and burst out laughing. The sound was infectious, sweeping Gallivan and Shadow up together in its grip, the pony’s laughter occasionally including an odd, whinnying snort that would set all three of them off again. The early morning sunlight, which had been streaming out at them from between a low line of trees ahead, dimmed a bit as one of the fleecy white clouds scattered low overhead drifted in front of the fiery orb before them.

Gallivan wiped his eyes, letting a chuckle trail off. “God, definitely smarter than I thought. You should at least try for sergeant, though. Get that one extra stripe, I think it’d wear ok on you.”

“That’s what Lieutenant Midnight keeps telling me,” Shadow said, nodding. “I don’t know, maybe when we get back from all this—”

“Shhhhh!” Gruebel’s hissing whisper cut across the entire column, humans and ponies all freezing motionless in place. “I think I heard something.”

“What?” Stivers looked around, seeing the private crouching down and glancing around them.

Gruebel slowly made his way up until he was even with the officers. “I don’t know, sir. It sounded like the wind almost....”

“Except there’s no wind.” Golden Sword replied in an equally hushed tone. It was true; the clouds above were moving about aimlessly in the upper airs, but down here at ground level it was almost still.

“Any idea where it came from?” Midnight asked.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Gruebel replied quietly, shaking his head. “Almost from every direction at once. And I only heard it the one time; when we stopped, it seemed to go away.”

“We’re only a league or so from the castle, and things ought to be safe out here.” Sword frowned. “Still, perhaps we ought to-”

“Why are you all whispering?” The loud voice broke in on them from above, sounding very much amused. “Ya look like a bunch of fillies tryin’ to swap secrets in class.” The timbre of the voice, along with the odd little break it made in mid-sentence gave away the identity of its owner, and the group all glanced upward to see a familiar pegasus with a rainbow-hued mane peering at them through a hole in the cloud overhead.

“We are not ‘swapping secrets in class,’. Miss Dash,” Golden Sword said. “That gets you detention, if I remember correctly.”

“Been there, done that,” Rainbow Dash said. “You oughta try it sometime, Sourpuss. Have a little fun.” She ducked down through the cloud and hovered before them, seeming rather pleased with herself. “I’ve been sittin’ up there watchin’ you guys for a half-hour. You’re pretty slow.”

“Yeah, well, we all ain’t got wings, hon,” Taylor said, straightening up. “What’re you doin’ way out here spying on us?”

“Hey! I’m not a spy.” The pegasus glared at Taylor for a moment, but the smug expression soon resumed its place on her face. “We’ve all been waitin’ for you to get here. Hey Fluttershy!” Rainbow’s head tilted up to look at the cloud overhead. “Go tell Twilight they’re here!”

Another small opening appeared in the wispy cloud as the yellow pegasus’ face appeared, her pink mane and forelock framing her wide aquamarine eyes. “Yay,” she exclaimed softly. “Oh, they’re going to like this sooo much! I just can’t wait to tell Angel about it.” Her whole form emerged, and she circled them once overhead before zooming off toward the line of trees that lie directly ahead of them, flitting delicately through a gap between two of them and calling in a low tone of voice that barely carried back to them. “Twiiiliiight!”

Midnight Arrow looked after her for a long moment, then turned to face Rainbow. “Twilight? The Element of Magic is here, too?”

“Yeah, we’re all here. Elements of Harmony present and accounted for!” Rainbow Dash sketched one of the sharpest salutes that Stivers had ever seen, her lopsided grin destroying the military precision of the pose. “C’mon, everypony’s waiting.”

Midnight’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “But what... I mean, we’re glad to see you, certainly, but why are you here?”

Rainbow shrugged as she landed among them and walked through the group, taking the lead. “Twilight got this funky letter from Princess Celestia last night, and then Princess Luna came by and we... well, it’s complicated stuff.” She glanced over one shoulder, her multi-hued tail flicking impatiently. “C’mon, you’ll see for yourself.”

As she led them toward the line of trees, Shadow spoke up. “Hey, this is it! We’re here. This is Fruity’s Plaza!”

The cyan colored pegasus in the lead gave him an odd look. “What, the clearing up here?”

“Yes.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Ohhh-kay... I don’t wanna know.” She led the group through one last thicket of tall bushes, the undergrowth fading away as they passed through the treeline. The sightline into the clearing was unblocked, now, and the humans all froze in place, gaping at the sight before them. Twin sights, actually.

Sights they had never expected to see again, much less encounter here, far from where they had left them, for the last time, they had assumed. Sights that seemed somewhat surreal now, after all they had seen since the humans had arrived, and yet ones so achingly familiar that all of them felt the tug of the world they had almost given up on.

Navy blue above, dove grey below, the two TBM Grumman Avenger bombers sat side by side before them, aircraft FT-28 on the left, and on the right, FT-117. The latter aircraft leaned drunkenly to one side, the main gear wheel and rudder assembly having been broken off when it had impacted the ground upon its initial arrival in Equestria. The missing items in question were now laid out neatly next to the damaged airframe, the bright edges of the torn aluminum rudder gleaming wickedly in the sun. Twilight Sparkle emerged from under FT-117, a glowing stack of papers hovering in mid-air before her as she grinned at them.

“Hey, everypony! We’ve got a little project here, and you’re lucky; I made a checklist of everything we need.” She clapped her forehooves together like a teacher summoning her students to their work. “Come on now, let’s get started!”

Midnight Arrow watched in mild amusement as the humans all made beelines to the two machines, clambering over them and calling out to each other like colts opening presents on Hearth’s Warming Day. Golden Sword had accompanied Captain Stivers and the two appeared to have a lively interchange going on while the human ducked under and climbed over the intact aircraft on the left. She stood for a moment, noting how the six Elements of Harmony were moving about, the Element of Magic having assumed immediate (and proper, to Midnight’s mind) command of the project, directing them as they began the task of assisting the humans in repairing the two flying contraptions.

“Fall out, everyone,” Midnight said finally. “Check in with the Element of Magic and see if you can help out in any way. Shadow, Hoof, let me know if she or the Captain need anything.”

“Yes ma’am.” The guard ponies all saluted smartly and headed over to where Twilight was dictating rapidly to her assistant, the baby dragon scribbling madly on the stack of sheets he held in one claw. Midnight took note of the length and thickness of the paperwork he held and shook her head. I hope you brought a quiver worth of quills for that batch.

Glancing once more over at Golden Sword, Midnight turned and walked idly over to the other aircraft, the one on the right with the pieces stacked next to it. She frowned as she circled the large, flat piece that lay on the short grass, examining it critically. The edges were mostly smooth, but one side had several noticeable dents in it, and the edge next to it looked ragged and torn. The pegasus glanced up at the aircraft itself and noticed a matching rent near the back end, above the flat, small wing. A couple of flaps hung down limply from it, and she grasped almost immediately that this must control the pitch, the up and down motion of the machine as it flew through the air. The large wing near the center of the machine must control the roll, then, just like a pegasus’ wings would, allowing it to bank and turn. But to turn, a pegasus also used her tail; otherwise you’d just roll around on your central axis and go nowhere until you made yourself airsick.

This broken piece must be part of the machine’s tail, then. If a pegasus had her tail clipped off or accidentally burned short in some freak accident, you just had to walk around on the ground and deal with the funny looks until it grew back enough to help you steer. Midnight knew very well that metal didn’t grow back, however, and until the tail piece was reattached somehow, this aircraft wasn’t going to get very far.

“Oh, you look so glum,” a voice spoke from beside her. “Don’t worry, Pinkie Pie says she can fix it up in a jiffy.”

Midnight’s head snapped up and around to see Fluttershy standing next to her. “I’m s-sure she can,” she managed to stammer out. “I mean, after all, you’re the Elements of Harmony. You always find a way to do what needs to be done.”

“Of course. Because I have the best friends a pony could ever have.” Fluttershy smiled radiantly, and Midnight Arrow felt a slow flush creeping up under the short fur of her cheeks. “Is it true that you’re going to go with those big, noisy people on a journey?” the yellow pegasus asked her.

“Yes, it’s true. Captain Sword, our best guards and I are all going to accompany them.”

Fluttershy’s voice dropped, her ears lowering a bit. “Is it... will it be dangerous?”

“Possibly.” Midnight glanced critically once more at the damaged tail section before her. “We’ll be traveling far from here into the gryphon lands... places I’ve not been before, to help them find something that can send them back to their own home. We’re not going to go looking for trouble, but... strangers in strange lands, trouble tends to find you.” She suddenly clapped her mouth shut, aware that she was rambling. The mission was supposed to be secret, although the Elements had obviously been made aware of some aspect of the plan, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. To just blurt out their objective was so unprofessional, however... Sweet Celestia, filly, what’s wrong with you?

“Oh... my.” The mention of the word ‘gryphon’ had made Fluttershy’s ears pin back against her head in obvious alarm. “Will you... are you, I mean... do you think you’ll be okay?” Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

Midnight glanced up at her, the odd change in tone breaking through her own musings. “Why, I should think so. Like I said, the Captain and our guards will be with me... and those... big, noisy people seem to be able to handle themselves well enough.” She offered the other pegasus a small smile. “I’ll be fine, I’m certain. But it’s nice of you to ask, Element of Kindness. Your title fits you well.”

A pink rosette appeared under the fur on Fluttershy’s cheeks, and she returned the smile, her ears perking back up. “That’s good to hear. But you know my name, Midnight.”

The Sub-Lieutenant looked away sharply. “I wouldn’t presume, ma’am.”

“Midnight... it’s me. Remember in the forest? You called me by name, then.”

Midnight Arrow’s jaws clenched visibly, her heart beating rapidly. “I was... weak, then. And I shouldn’t have presumed to—”

“I thought we went over this. You weren’t weak.” The yellow pegasus’ voice came on strong, now. “You were my friend, and you still are. You’re strong and brave and you helped out when it mattered. You’ve earned the right to call me by my real name.”

Midnight shook her head. “I only did my duty... what I should have done.”

Fluttershy lifted a forehoof and touched the dusky pegasus under the chin, lifting her head up so their eyes met. “I wasn’t talking about your duty. I was talking about you, Midnight, my friend.” Her eyes wavered a bit. “Please, call me by my name.”

Midnight’s cheek twitched, the touch under her chin tingling. “Fluttershy... I... that is, can I...”

“Midnight!” Golden Sword’s voice carried across the clearing. “Come over here for a moment, I think we need your help on this.”

The pegasus jerked her head aside, cheeks aflame, but the Captain’s back was turned to her, his head almost covered by a large metal flap he was peering under. “Yes sir, be right there!” She turned back to Fluttershy, her tail twitching rapidly back and forth as her voice returned to normal. “I... I’ll be right back, okay?”

Fluttershy nodded and offered her a small, sweet smile that touched the depths of her aquamarine eyes. “Go on. I’ll be here.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stivers sat on the edge of his plane’s wing, rubbing it as if it was a newborn baby. The aircraft now sat upright and level, a makeshift wooden support holding up the right side where Twilight and Rarity had levitated it into place. He glanced longingly back at the tail fin that read ‘117’ and sighed deeply. “You are definitely a sight for sore eyes, girl.”

A giggle sounded next to him, and he glanced over to see Pinkie Pie perched on the wing beside him. How she had made her way onto the metal surface without making a sound was beyond him, but the marine Captain was getting pretty good at starting to tune these events out. “Well, hello.”

“Howdy!” Pinkie grinned at him, her intense blue-eyed stare seeming to bore through him. “Do you always talk to your flying machine?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Stivers suddenly felt self-conscious.

“So,” the pink earth pony queried. “What’s it like to fly? I flew once, but my flying machine got broken by this mean old meanie gryphon. Well, actually, the ground broke it when I crashed into it, but she’s the one that made me crash, so I guess she still broke it even though she didn’t actually break it.”

The marine responded with a blank stare, still trying to figure out how she had got up there beside him. “Um. Flying is… good, I guess?”

“Oh come on!” She responded indignantly. “That’s what Dashie and Fluttershy always say. There has to be more than that!”

“Not really. If you want to know so bad, go ask Taylor.” Stivers said as he pointed a thumb at the man who was hugging the other aircraft so hard, it looked like it would snap the metal. “He’s the one who loves flying. Besides, I never—”

The pink pony was already gone.

“...completed flight school.” he finished in a hushed tone.

“Well then, sir. We’d best get started welding this...” Gallivan deadpanned pointing at the tail of FT-117. “Oh. The tail is already re-attached. When’d you do that, sir?”

Stivers raised an eyebrow at the crazy insinuation that in mere minutes, the tail had been put back in place.

“Seriously, Sir!” Gallivan said, eyes pleading. “Look!”

Looking behind himself, Stivers noticed that the tail was indeed re-attached to the plane, the seam where it had been resealed to the fuselage gleaming brightly. “How the fuck...” he mumbled. Looking under the plane, he saw Applejack holding the broken main gear wheel firmly in place next to the strut under the right wing. The pony turned her head away, protecting her face as silver-white sparks began arcing from behind the wheel hub where Greubel worked at welding it in place. “Hey, I didn’t know you were such a good welder, Greubel.”

“Sir, I just started.” Greubel dropped his hand from where he had been shielding his eyes and looked up at his commanding officer.

Stivers deadpanned. “Then who welded the tail on?? Where did we get a welding torch anyway?”

“Um, sir, There is no way the tail is welded on. I’ve had the torch, which was kindly provided by Pinkie Pie, for this entire time. There is no way I sleep welded it on either.” Looking to the rear of the plane, Greubel did a double take. “Or maybe there is?”

“Pinkie did it.” Applejack said nonchalantly, running a forehoof over the large rubber tire before her with interest. “Boy howdy, if mah apple carts had a couple o’ these babies hooked on...”

“What do you mean Pinkie did it?” Stivers asked. “She was talking to me not five minutes ago.”

“Aw, that’s just Pinkie Pie bein’ Pinkie Pie.” The orange mare said, waving her hoof absently. “Ya get used to it.”

“You know what?” The Captain asked rhetorically. “I don’t even care right now. I’m gonna go check the guns. Gallivan, you coming?”

“Sure thing, Cap,” the Sergeant stated. “Got nothing better to do.” Gallivan ducked under the wing and began inspecting the gun mounts on the leading edge. Stivers, still atop the wing, leaned to one side and opened up the loading port for the machine gun ammunition. He ran a hand lightly over the belted .50 caliber shells, feeling for any odd lumps or kinks in the ammo box. Everything seemed well enough, and if it wasn’t, well, there was no ordnance shop anywhere nearby that he knew of. If the weapons jammed, they jammed. Besides, he wasn’t expecting any Zeros or Messerschmidts to come swarming after them. Nevertheless, he was glad they hadn’t expended any of the gun ammo on their practice runs, just in case. There were some weird critters in this strange new land, and not all of them might be as helpful as the current company he was in.

“Starboard mounts look good, sir.” Gallivan’s head peeked over the edge of the wing. “A few scratches and dings, but nothing that’ll keep them from working when the time comes. I’ll go check the port side out.”

“No dings, huh?” Taylor came walking over, wiping his hands on a bit of loose cloth. “That reminds me...what’s brown and sounds like a bell?”

Stivers glanced helplessly at Gruebel and Applejack, but the two had returned to work on the landing gear, and he was on his own. “I give up,” he said, sliding down off the wing and landing on his feet next to the Lieutenant. “What?”

“Dung!” Taylor beamed.

Stivers reached up to his own face and rubbed his eyes. “You made that up yourself, didn’t you?”

“Just now,” Taylor agreed. “How you lookin’?”

“Starting to get shipshape. Pinkie did… something, to the tail. Anyway, it’s back where it’s supposed to be. Too bad we already dropped the bombs, but that was what we were supposed to be doing, at the time. Rest of the ordnance looks good, at least what’s left.”

Taylor’s eyebrows lifted at the mention of ordnance. “All of it?”

“Seems to be.” They both crouched and peered under the wing at the other bit of armament the Avenger bombers carried. Beneath each wing of both aircraft was mounted a 58 gallon drop tank of fuel. Nestled outboard of each of these was a rack of four HVAR five-inch rockets, designed to be used against ground targets that required a bit more punch than a machine gun could provide. Armor piercing high explosive warheads tipped each one, with enough muscle to knock out a tank if required. The things were notoriously inaccurate at range, however, not good much beyond four thousand yards, but the sight of them was comforting to Stivers. “How’s your bird?”

“Not bad, actually… pretty much as I left her,” Taylor said. He turned and walked over to the other aircraft, Stivers following along in his wake. “The instrument panel’s still shot to shit; I’ll just have to deal with it, though. Damned electrical fire.”

The two officers stopped in front of FT-28, and Stivers took a moment to pause and admire the clean lines of the aircraft. Good old aluminum, steel, wood and Plexiglas, all made in America and assembled by General Motors for this particular warplane, the Grumman production lines being overloaded with orders at the time. “That’s gonna make navigation fun for you.”

“Eh, that’s not a problem.” Taylor reached out and patted the side of the engine cowling. “I can fly this thing with my eyes closed.”

“Oh, is that how we got here, then?” Stivers said with a straight face. “It was you leading the navigation exercise, if I remember correctly.”

Taylor made a rude gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, the compasses won’t work here anyway, not that they were very good before. And I can gauge my airspeed by the sound of the engine pitch.”

Rainbow Dash, who had been standing nearby and inspecting the wing’s leading edge with a professional eye, blinked and looked at him. “Really? With those little things?” She pointed with a forehoof at Taylor’s ear. “You can’t even move them.”

“Hon, I’ve been listening to aircraft engines sputter and roar since you were in diapers.”

Rainbow made her own rude gesture, the rich content of which Taylor totally missed. “Horseapples. I was flying when I was in diapers.”

This managed to bring the pilot to a standstill. “No shit?”

“No shit.” The look on the pegasus’ face was practically a study in smugness. “So… what were you doing when you were in diapers? Or are you still using them?” She somehow managed an innocent expression for ten whole consecutive seconds. “I’m not really sure about your age, ya know...”

Taylor was struggling to work up a retort to this when Stivers stepped in. “All right you two, enough fun. Let’s do a walkdown on both of these, just like you taught us, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The two started slowly down the right side of the aircraft, checking the cowl flaps, the engine exhaust ports, and numerous other fittings and receptacles. Stivers noticed sparks flying away from the other aircraft as another fit of welding took place, but he put it out of his head and kept his focus on what he was doing. If either of them missed some important detail, a loose flap, a torn hose, the aircraft and everyone in it could quickly be turned into scrap metal in an eyeblink. He eyed the machine guns in the starboard wing, debating whether or not to try to zero them in before they left, and decided not to. Golden Sword had said nothing regarding the aircraft other than the fact that they seemed to be a serviceable, if somewhat awkward, means of flying. If he was unaware of the teeth the birds carried, well, that was one little surprise Stivers meant to keep to himself for the moment. Now I have my own little ace in the hole.

He stopped suddenly, brow furrowing in consternation. “What the fiddledy-fuck is that thing?”

“What?” Taylor looked up from inspecting the portside landing gear. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah. I’ve been preflighting these birds all through school, and I never saw one of these before.” Stivers reached out and dinged a finger off a metal mount that was welded to the upper surface of the starboard wing. Looking it over, he saw three more, laid out in a rectangular pattern along with the first. The mounts were semi-circular, four to five inches wide and about three inches in height in front, tapering off in a half-moon crescent shape. “When did these get put on?”

“Those weren’t on there when I took off,” Taylor said firmly, all humor gone from his voice now. “They look like weapons mounts, almost... but I’ve got over three thousand hours in this type of aircraft, and I’ve never seen a bulletin from BuOrd about anything like this. Besides, who puts a weapon rack on top of the wing?” He ducked under the airplane for a moment. “Shit, there’s two sets of them on the port side. What the hell is this?” He reappeared, narrowly missing banging his head on the engine exhaust pipe as he straightened up. “Are they on yours, too?”

“I don’t think so... I didn’t see any when I was up on the wing earlier.” Frowning, Stivers turned and walked back toward his own aircraft, where Pinkie Pie was bounding down from the port side wing. “Whoa... wait. There’s some on mine, too.” He reached out to touch one, and jerked his hand back quickly; the mount he had tried to touch was still glowing with heat from a recent weld. “Pinkie! Did you do this?”

“Huh? Oh, sure, silly!” She laughed gaily, twirling the welding torch like an Old West gunslinger before setting it down carefully on a flat rock. “They’re wing-shoes!”

“Wing-what?”

“Wing-shoes,” Midnight Arrow said, trotting over to them. “It was Pinkie’s idea, really. We’ll ride along with you on those.”

Shining Star, who had been nibbling at the short grass absently, straightened with a jerk and stared at Midnight. “We will?”

“Yes. Captain Sword and I have been looking over your machines, Captain Stivers, and they’re not particularly roomy inside, if you know what I mean.” Midnight gestured at the bomb bays, long since empty of their load. “We looked at those hatches on the bottom, but after I talked with Lieutenant Taylor about them, we decided they wouldn’t make a very safe place to ride around in.”

“And standing on the wing in mid-air while we’re going two hundred knots is safer?”

She looked at him primly and extended her own wings. “These still work, sir. But machines don’t get tired. I, however, do, eventually. If we ride along, we won’t have to stop as often to rest.” She closed her wings and shrugged. “Besides, there’s a little side benefit you’ll have from it; I spoke to Lieutenant Taylor about it the other day.”

“Maybe I missed out on that… you wanna recap that for me?” Taylor stepped over.

“Wind resistance… or the lack thereof.” She laughed as Taylor’s eyes lit up in recognition. “We can’t get rid of all of it, your machines are too big and they wouldn’t work anyway if we did, from what I gathered. You won’t go any faster, either; I understand the fact that you have a top speed limit, just like we do. However—”

“We can throttle back, still hit cruising speed and save some fuel along the way,” Stivers said. “Holy shit. Pinkie Pie, you’re a genius.”

“Great!” The pink earth pony jumped into the air and turned a somersault before landing. “Does that mean we can have your farewell party now?”

“Uhhh... I don’t think we’re gonna have time for that.” Stivers crouched down and held out his hand. “Tell you what, though. If we make it back, you can have a welcome back party. And I’ll buy the drinks this time.”

Pinkie stilled suddenly. “Even with hot sauce?”

“Hell yes.”

She leaned close to him, peering at him with one bright blue eye. “You Pinkie Pie Promise?”

Stivers didn’t know where to go with that one, but just shrugged. “Sure, whatever that means. A promise is a promise in my book.”

“Welllll, then... okay!” Pinkie Pie clapped her forehoof against Stivers’ extended hand, then bounded into the air again and bounced off toward the other ponies. “Boy have I got a welcome back party to plan! I need streamers and balloons and party favors and cake and ice cream and...”

Thompson walked up to Stivers, eyeing the pink pony warily as she pogoed up and down, still rattling off a list of party supplies. “Sir, we’ve pretty much finished up with the repairs, and the aircraft look okay, as far as I can tell. If we’re gonna go, now’s as good a time as any to do it.”

“Good enough.” Stivers looked over at Taylor. “Well, Lieutenant? This is your specialty, not mine.” He came to attention. “How do you want to handle the crews?”

Taylor blinked in surprise, then collected himself. “Um. Okay. Three and two split on crews, both groups. You take Gruebel and Gallivan, they’re your normal crew anyway. Midnight!”

Midnight Arrow and the other ponies blinked at the odd change of tone in Taylor’s voice. “Yes?”

“Would you and Shining Star mind riding with Captain Stivers?”

Midnight nodded. “I’d be delighted.”

“Good.” Taylor turned to the others. “Thompson, you’re with me in the rear turret.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Captain Sword, Hoof, Shadow, you’re on my wing.” Taylor grinned. “Literally.”

“Very well, Lieutenant.” Sword turned to the other ponies. “Equipment check, and mount up. Let’s move, ladies, the day’s burning away while we stand here.” A chorus of acknowledgements floated through the air as the group scattered, gathering up their things.

As Stivers turned to head toward his aircraft, Golden Sword cut him off. “Captain, a moment please, before we go.”

“Sure.” The Marine looked at him curiously. “What’s up?”

Sword stood, seemingly irresolute for a moment, and then snorted. “I have something for you.” He ducked his head and opened one of the flaps of the saddlepack strapped across his shoulders and back. Rummaging inside for a moment, he pulled a loosely bound package free with his teeth and tossed it through the air to Stivers. “You may need these.”

Stivers caught the bundle awkwardly, feeling hard angles inside of it. “I’m guessing this isn’t a sandwich.” He pulled the drawstring that held the bundle together and unwrapped it, revealing another set of familiar metal shapes. “Our pistols?!”

“Yes. They’re not doing anyone any good in the armory at Canterlot, and no one can use the damned things anyway, except you.” Sword cocked his head oddly. “Besides, you never know when you might need them, yes?”

“You’d better believe it.” Stivers pulled one of the sidearms free and holstered it immediately. “I’ll give the other one to Taylor before we take off. Thanks, Captain. I’m surprised the Princesses let us have them back, honestly.”

Sword’s cheek twitched. “They don’t know about it.”

“What?”

“Princess Luna is not the only one willing to break a rule in service to her country, Captain.” The grey pegasus stood at attention. “Let’s get going, then, shall we?” He turned about smartly and trotted over toward Taylor’s aircraft, yelling at Shadow to hurry up and stow his pack before they left him behind. Behind him, Stivers stood watching for a moment, feeling an abrupt feeling of shame creeping over his face. He’d never bothered to tell the other Captain about the extra weapons on board the aircraft, and the deception suddenly seemed petty and small to him, part of a child’s game that he should have outgrown.

Still, you never know, he told himself as he strode over towards Taylor with the bundle still clutched in one hand. An ace in the hole is never a bad thing to have, especially if somebody else joins the game.

Midnight Arrow crouched on her place on the wing of Stivers’ aircraft as the engine caught with a whine, followed by a coughing roar. Her ears pinned back against her head in fear at the sound, a snarling growl that she imagined might come from the belly of a dragon. A very hungry, angry one that was far too close to her for comfort.

Thank Celestia we don’t have to go fight one of those, she thought. She lifted her head a bit, noting the violent blast of wind that pushed against the grass below the airplane’s nose. Hardly a feather moved on her wings, however, and her theory seemed sound, for the moment. She caught a bit of banter between Stivers and the other two humans in the airplane, the group obviously pleased at the prospect of being airborne once more. It was a feeling she shared. She’d not undertaken a journey of any real length in some time, and the promise of this one filled her with a feeling of excitement and hope. I’ll bet we’ll have some real stories to take back to Canterlot when we get home.

Getting back... that was always the trick, wasn’t it? She straightened suddenly, her eyes widening. “Captain! Captain Stivers! Wait a moment, please!”

The pilot craned his head to look at her out of the still open cockpit window. “Sure thing, I’m just letting her warm up. You forget something?”

“Actually, yes. It won’t take a moment, I promise.” Midnight pulled her hooves clear of the shoe-like mounts on the wing and stepped off to the rear carefully; the whirring vibration of the propeller made her nervous in a deep, instinctual way. She glanced about, then broke into a jog, running past the tail of the aircraft over toward where the Elements of Harmony stood lined up in a row, waving energetically. All of them but one, and that was the one she was focussed on now.

“Fluttershy,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath, “I’m so sorry. Everything was so busy, and I wanted to ask you, but there was no time to talk, and now we have to go.”

The yellow pegasus smiled at her. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I...” Suddenly aware of the stares of the other ponies, Midnight flattened her ears. “It’s... it’s kind of... well.” She leaned her head down, her nose almost touching Fluttershy’s ear, quiet words muttered between them that were lost to the others in the rising noise of the taxiing aircraft. Finishing her short, crude speech, as she thought of it, Midnight stepped back, feeling her own heartbeat in her ears and cheeks, and waited for the explosion.

It never came. Instead, Fluttershy simply tilted her head, eyelids lowering a bit. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. “Very much, Midnight.”

The Sub-Lieutenant exhaled sharply, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. “Really?”

“Yes.” Fluttershy peered out at her now from under a sheaf of pink mane, her own cheeks reddening a bit. “Please, do.”

A yell, half caught by the noise from the bombers, carried across to them, and she saw Stivers waving an arm at her. Midnight backed away, half-turned, then stopped and looked back. “I’ll be back. No matter what, I’ll be back. Okay?”

“I know.” The yellow pegasus’ eyes glimmered. “I’ll be here.”

Midnight held the image in her gaze for a fleeting second that lasted forever, and then turned to run for the howling aircraft.