Sand enveloped Spitfire’s hooves as she touched down, pleasantly warm in the morning sun. Waves softly lapped the shore behind her, the beach curving away on either side so she and Rainbow stood surrounded by pristine waters on three sides. Iconic palm trees dotted the beach here and there, which stretched back to lush green tropical forest inland, gently stirring in the breeze. Ahead of the treeline stood a house: a large, low building with a sloping roof of logs halved lengthways. More logs made up the steps from the sand to its porch, and despite the wide panes of glass set in the walls, the house was one with its surroundings.

Even having just experienced first-hoof the toil of the long flight to get there, Spitfire did fleetingly reconsider just how impossible it might not be to commute to the Academy from such a place. A pony could dream, right? She stared ahead of her at nothing while taking in one last breath of salty air – and even that tasted exotic rather than cloying – before exhaling it all away. Yet another fantasy lost to the miserable laws of physics.

“Girls,” called one of the two mares sunbathing up the beach ahead of them, accompanying it with an unconcerned momentary raising of her chin in an inverse nod. That could only be Aria, as Lightning Dust lounged beside her saying nothing and looking unimpressed. “Official business, I assume? Pour yourselves a drink and sit down.”

And sure enough, each mare had a cocktail glass or two beneath a sunshade on a low table beside her, filled with clear or vibrant liquids and in some cases piled high with ice. Aria rolled her head to point off to one side, almost identically to how Starlight had in the observation room the day before, and Spitfire was struck by the visual similarity between the two. Starlight had a horn, and her mane was wavy where Aria’s hung in delicate braids, but the resemblance was uncanny, and the mirrored head movement made it spookily so.

“Thank you,” Spitfire replied, starting to trudge up the beach towards them. A glance suggested the offer looked genuine, too: two sun loungers lay beside the two already occupied, the sand showing the tracks of their recent relocation. So they knew we were coming. And in the direction Aria had indicated there was a bigger version of the shaded tables, this one sporting several dozen glass bottles arranged in rows, a cluster of limes and other fruit, and buckets and buckets of ice beneath it. “That’s a lot more cordial than I was expecting.”

All those limes, after the exhausting flight and exasperating time with Sonata the day before – a mojito had never been more tempting.

“You’re here because of my sister, I’m guessing,” Aria said, “and we don’t do those discussions sober.”

Spitfire made sure not to let her shadow fall across either pony as she and Rainbow drew up in front of them; no sense in blocking their sun and getting off on any more of a wrong hoof than necessary.

Up close, Aria looked rougher around the edges than Starlight. Her body was mottled in a few places with bruises in various states of healing, including swelling around her neck and a particularly large purple blotch on her stomach. She acted as if they weren’t there, lying on her back with her ankles crossed and her forehooves behind her head.

“Of course,” Lightning added, breaking her silence, “how not-sober you need to be depends on which sister it was.” Spitfire had forgotten how feminine Lightning’s voice was, the mental association with Rainbow making it more coltish in her memories.

“Uh, kind of both?” Rainbow offered. Lightning’s eyebrow rose, reminding Spitfire in that moment of Fleetfoot.

“Wow,” Aria said, “we’d better get you plastered then.”

Several overtones came through in that reply, each bringing a different facet to first impressions of Aria. There was a disparaging lack of regard for those she called her sisters, of course, but given that one of them had told vacuous stories for hours on end purely in a bid to be irritating, Spitfire could completely relate.

But there was also a rebellious desire to challenge and subvert authority, and a similar disdain for it. It wasn’t just a question from Aria, it was a test as well.

“Let’s start with just the one, we need to fly home again,” Spitfire said. One was ok. To refuse entirely would have been rude. They were on somepony else’s cloud, and if that was how business was done on said cloud, then she’d at least make accomodations in that direction.

Lightning sneered. “The legendary rock and roll attitude of the Wonderbolts, right there…”

Oh, like you’d know, you little– No, Spitfire wouldn’t let it show. No indicator would appear on her face to even acknowledge Lightning’s comment. The stakes were too high, and even if they weren’t, she was better than that.

“Oh, you guys are Wonderbolts?” Aria asked, probably not with the intention to spare Spitfire having to make a response, though she was grateful for it all the same. “That explains the delicious tension in the air.”

Lightning, meanwhile reached for her drink and took a sizeable gulp. Well, a big sip, but given that the clear liquid in the Y-shaped glass with a twist of lemon on the side was very likely a dry martini, it was a sizeable gulp.

“This is Rainbow Dash,” Lightning said, turning to Aria and waving her drink in Rainbow’s direction, and then, with a shudder Spitfire hoped was from too much vermouth, added, “and that’s Spitfire.”

Captain Spitfire, to you, but never mind. If Aria’s eyes narrowed with intrigue at the mention of Rainbow’s name, they positively lit up at Spitfire’s. While she could hardly remember a time when she hadn’t been talked about – and Lightning saying whatever she liked about anypony was certainly her right when in her own home – it wasn’t exactly a good sign that she still appeared to hold such a grudge.

Huh. I honestly figured she’d hate Dash more. Betrayal of a friend, and all.

Aria’s eyes flicked between the three of them, visibly calculating the feelings on display, most likely weighing up who was likely to dive at who first. “It’s strange,” she mused happily, “being the only one not involved in your awkward family reunion.”

Spitfire let her eyebrow arch of its own accord. “How does it look from the outside?” If her bridges were burned with Lightning, she had to try all the harder to build them with Aria.

“Delightfully uncomfortable,” Aria said. Spitfire didn’t know if the sirens in their native forms had been carnivores – although it was likely, given the general predatory vibe they gave off – but if they were, then Aria’s teeth would have been on full display at that moment.“You’re definitely going to need that drink.”

One pony there hated her, the other was amused by the prospect of her failing. Spitfire nodded grimly. “Good call. Rainbow?”

Before Spitfire had even finished speaking, Rainbow was moving towards the bar. “Alright, it’s margarita time!” So much for her unswerving concern for Fluttershy.

But it quickly proved to be simply Dash getting excited – though she was first to arrive face to face with the miniature forest of bottles, her enthusiasm had turned to sheepishness by the time she actually stood there.

Rainbow scratched the back of her head with a wing in response to Spitfire’s questioning look. “It kinda feels like you’re still my boss here, Captain, so I’m not sure I should be doing this in front of you while sort of on-duty.”

I’m not sure either. About any of this. All they really had was trial and error, and their current approach showed no signs of success.

“Do they seem at all ruffled to you?” Spitfire asked. She kept her voice low enough that Aria and Lightning wouldn’t hear, but not so low that was obvious as her intention. “We’re in their territory here, Rainbow. They’re in control, and they’re not just going to give up their secrets because we asked nicely.” She picked up a clean highball glass from the bartop and set it in front of her, casting an eye over the table to make sure mint leaves and sugar were present. “Not sober, anyway.” She gave Dash a meaningful look.

“Yes ma’am,” Rainbow said after half a second of uneasily glancing around with her eyebrows pressed together, in a tone usually reserved for the phrase ‘it’s your funeral.’ The talk on the flight over about them being equals for the mission had been sincere, but life was definitely easier when ponies just did as Spitfire said. Especially when she’d likely be the one Princess Twilight held accountable either way.

“Who’d have thought that all those aftershow parties were actually training sessions?” Spitfire chuckled as she sliced a lime in two and squeezed each half above her glass. She was all for professionalism, and obviously never would have dreamed of it had they not been invited to – indeed, expected to – but there was only so long she could stand on a desert island within sight of a cocktail bar and remain empty-hoofed. As an odd but lovely mare on a train had once said, she was just a pony. The sugar and mint leaves followed the lime juice into the glass, after which she found the muddler and ground them all up.

Reaching for the lime vodka, she continued, “And now comes the big match: holding it better than they do, and getting what we need to know out of them.” In went the vodka, and the club soda on top of it, complete with a mint leaf as garnish – because it felt rude not to in such a picturesque setting. She picked up her glass, though reception of the finished product was marred with a grimace as she added, “And possibly not mentioning how stuck we are without it.”

Rainbow shared the uncomfortable expression, setting a wedge of lime on the rim of her ice-heaped margarita glass but frowning down at it as she did so.

Glasses in hoof, the two of them made their way back to the seats, hardly eager about the prospect but not moving slowly enough for their reluctance to be obvious.

Like the others didn’t know anyway, with how Aria was practically hanging on her seat watching with glee! The kind of seat edge hanging that involved lying languidly just as she started out, true; but the excitement was still easy to pick up in her expression, and how her eyes tracked Spitfire and Rainbow as they sat down on the adjacent pair of sun loungers.

It was just the right spot, though: the perfect distance from the sea for the cool breeze rolling off the waves to not quite balance the sun, leaving the difference to be covered by the iced drinks kept fresh on the low shaded side tables each lounger stood next to.

Nopony had said anything yet, and Aria was still watching them like a foal waiting for fireworks to start, while Lightning stared out to sea and seemed to be pretending they weren’t there.

Partly to buy herself time to think of some way to start the conversation that wouldn’t give Aria exactly what she was looking for, and partly to savour it for a moment before the atmosphere turned it sour, Spitfire reached for her drink and took a sip. She closed her eyes without even meaning to, and for a moment she was only sun, sea, sand and the taste of being allowed to unwind.

“Small talk’s not going to work, is it?” she asked, loud enough to be heard by everypony without opening her eyes or looking around. Sometimes the best answer to a problem was that there was no answer; if conversation couldn’t come naturally or comfortably, she might get further by not even trying that route.

Then she did look over at the others, gauging the reception. Aria wore a pout so deliberate it looked like she’d copied it from Sonata. And while disappointing her was perhaps unwise when their success essentially hinged on her goodwill, it might be worth it to show that Spitfire wouldn’t play Aria’s games. Not unless there was something to be gained.

“Ok,” she said, as plainly as she could. Aria had called the other sirens her sisters, hadn’t she? Good, that would do then. “Your sister, Adagio, is allegedly responsible for the disappearance of a pony named Fluttershy, under circumstances best called ‘mysterious.’ ”

To which Aria unhelpfully said nothing, but she did at least appear thoughtful.

Much to Spitfire’s surprise, it was Lightning who broke the stalemate, though only to ask Rainbow, “How does the other sister fit in?”

Badly. But at least Rainbow hadn’t been there for the endless hours of storytime with Sonata, so she might be able to answer in a slightly more positive way.

“Uh, she’s the one who made the allegation, after she was seen nearby,” Rainbow said.

“Of course she did…” Lightning shook her head to herself, eyes closed, before reaching for her drink again.

Had she had the forethought to have Rainbow lead the way back from the bar, Spitfire could have taken the far seat so Rainbow could push conversation with Lightning. Instead, with Spitfire and Aria sitting between them, that wasn’t really happening.

“And, naturally,” Aria said, so companionably Spitfire could smell the trap coming, “the famed Equestrian legal principle of familial guilt brought you here.”

“I really hope that’s not a real thing,” Rainbow said. Her shell-shocked tone was no quieter than normal, though it sounded like she were talking to herself, and a glance in her direction showed her looking straight ahead out to sea with wide eyes. “Especially if it still counts for sort-of families, or I am in so much trouble thanks to Scoot.”

“Absolutely,” Aria assured Rainbow, “that’s why Celestia famously had to banish herself to the moon, too.”

Lightning snickered to herself, but a small sign of progress was that she did so behind a hoof. Rainbow gave a flat look, but the one she got back from Aria carried more weight.

“So why are you here?” Aria asked, all traces of levity gone.

“Preliminary investigations involve checking known associates,” Spitfire answered, sticking to the facts and trying to present them as reasonable. Hopefully it was the sunshine, rather than the situation, which was making her sweat, and she reached for her drink as she finished. “That means you.”

“Uh huh.” Aria didn’t miss a beat. “D’you drag Filthy Rich in for questioning too?”

Mid-sip of her mojito, Spitfire froze, and only realised too late how she’d given herself away. Before she could wreck things even further, she stopped herself from glancing at Dash.

But she had absolutely no idea what to say!

Pushing on, Aria said, “Because that might’ve caused a bit of a stir…”

Spitfire countered, fixing Aria with a glare.

“But we,” Lightning took up, “alone out here, with no prying eyes on you…?”

The insinuation of unfair persecution was groundless – for all Spitfire wanted to believe Fluttershy’s note, many others would have pointed out how easily it could be forged, which would justify interrogating Aria with a lot more hostility. Spitfire widened her glare to include Lightning, dialing up how piercing it was to a level that would hold a newbie to the spot.

Finishing the thought, Aria said, “...They might never find your bodies.”

The set of Spitfire’s jaw only hardened, but it was clearly Aria trying to get under their skin rather than a sincere threat, and even if it had been; she figured they were in with a fighting chance. Especially if the bruises she could see through Aria’s coat were anything to go by.

“That wasn’t what I…” Lightning began, brows drawn down, before closing her eyes and shaking her head to herself. “Never mind.”

If Aria noticed Lightning’s response, she gave no sign. And if their joint goading had run its course, it was time for Spitfire to jump in again.

“Rich may be an associate of Sonata,” she stated, letting some of the firmness from her gaze carry into her voice, “but he isn’t of Adagio, as far as I know. You are. You’re relevant where he isn’t.”

“Ooh,” Aria turned coy, eyes lighting up, craning her head towards Lightning but frequently looking back over her shoulder at Spitfire as she spoke, “she called me relevant.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think she’s flirting with me.” Then she rolled onto her side facing Spitfire, relaxing into a pose best described as ‘come to bed.’

Behind Aria’s back, Lightning muttered something Spitfire couldn’t quite catch, but from what she could piece together it sounded like ‘that’s better than she ever called me.’

Quite a few complimentary things Spitfire knew she’d said to Lightning came to mind, but she was hardly surprised they’d been forgotten if Lightning still held so much anger about it, even four years on.

And she looked murderous; eyes fixed somewhere straight ahead of her, perhaps not even seeing the sea despite it stretching as far as the eye could see. It was anypony’s guess as to whether the answer they were after would come from Lightning or from Aria, and letting the latter drive a wedge further between them and the former really wasn’t going to help their position.

“Keep dreaming,” she told Aria, who she figured would have been unlikely to reveal anything she didn’t want to in such a staged fashion anyway.

“I will,” she murmured contentedly, her eyes half-lidded and not leaving Spitfire’s. “And what is it you look for in someone relevant?” She brought a hoof to her chest, as if her heart were on offer.

Was it Spitfire’s imagination, or could she hear Lightning’s teeth grinding from two chairs away, over the sound of the lapping waves?

“Information.”

“Well then,” Aria spread her front hooves invitingly, then trailed the foreleg not trapped beneath her down her side, so casually it was almost believable as a gesture not deliberately designed to draw the eye. She rolled even further onto her left side towards Spitfire, bringing her right knee up a way to reach over the left and touch the fabric of the chair, her rump on full display, and the trailing foreleg stopping when resting on her waist with the hoof dangling carelessly in front of her. “What would you like to know about me?” Her eyes and teeth flashed in her most wicked smile yet.

Before Spitfire could answer, a thump came from behind Aria, where Lightning slammed her now-empty martini glass down onto her side table and practically launched herself to her feet.

“Would you like to go for a fly, Rainbow?” Her face was a flat mask over fury. “Via the kitchen, perhaps. I could use something stronger.” She glanced at Rainbow briefly, but mostly kept her eyes on Spitfire, including a few glowers in Aria’s direction too.

“Uh, s-sure,” Rainbow answered, quickly setting down her own drink and getting to her hooves. “Thanks.” Rainbow trotted over to Lightning, sharing a concerned look with Spitfire as their eyes met on the way.

In theory, Lightning led Rainbow off towards the house, but in practice it was more like the other way around, with Rainbow waiting ahead of Lightning expectantly, and Lightning shooting more dark looks at Spitfire while stalking off.

Flying again after the long trek to get there wouldn’t be fun for Rainbow, even compared to the time she’d made it from Canterlot to the Crystal Mountains and back and then flown in the show, but the bigger concern was her sharing whatever Lightning raided the kitchen for and it kicking in mid-flight. Lightning Dust was not worth ploughing into the ocean and drowning for. But maybe Fluttershy was, in Rainbow’s eyes?

Don’t be an idiot, Crash. Come back in one piece.