Side by side, two aircraft appeared out of the mist. Two warriors, freshly bloodied, followed the yellow lights of Valais home.

A puff of smoke and squeal of rubber signaled their touchdown only moments apart, steam rising from the pavement as the jetwash rolled over it. They came to a stop halfway down the runway, turning left to the taxiway as another pair of jets landed, the F-15 she had followed in instead turning right.

As soon as her jet had stopped moving it was immediately set upon by ground crew, the glow of the engines fading. Intakes were covered, fuel was drained, and unspent missiles were unmounted.

Rainbow pulling the helmet off her head, breathing in the clean mountain air as the canopy rose. She listened as the jets came in, her mane blowing in the breeze.

“You okay?”

It was the Dragon from before. She stood beside her, standing on a stepladder that had been pushed next to the cockpit. Her scales were a scarlet red, and she stood at about the same height as Rainbow, perhaps a little taller. Her most surprising feature was that she looked young. “Hey? You hurt or something?”

“Ah, no. I’m fine.” She finally spoke. “Just…”

“First sortie?”

She shook her head. “No… I’ve flown combat missions before. I guess I’m just letting the adrenaline wear off…”

“Hmm. Guessing you're the new pilot I was told to look out for, then. How many kills?”

“Four. My firsts.”

“Well congratulations, then. Head on over to the Sky Kid later and tell that to the barkeep, free drink for anyone’s first score.”

“You a pilot?” Rainbow asked, pulling herself out of the cockpit.

The Dragon shook her head, climbing down the ladder making way for her. “Negative. At least, not for the military. I’m just a mechanic here. Names Sanka, by the way.”

“I’m…” She hesitated for a moment. “My name’s Rainbow. Rainbow Dash. Callsign Prism.”

The Dragon glanced at her mane and then back to her. “So, did you dye your mane because of your name, or..?”

“Oh, this?” She brushed her mane through it. “This is natural. Born with it.”

“Well, now I can say I’ve seen everything.”

Rainbow smiled at that. “If a Rainbow-maned Pegasus surprises you, you clearly haven’t spent enough time in Equestria.”

“I guess not.” Smiling, the two of them shook, hoof and claw.

Her hooves met the tarmac as the last missile was unmounted. She turned and watched the Diamond Dog team cart it away on the back of a trolley.

Turning back to her aircraft, she gave it a once-over with her eyes, making sure there was no battle damage across the airframe.

“You know, I used to have these things fly over my den every day when I was a kid. Hell, I’m pretty sure these things are the reason I’m here right now.”

“I had something similar, actually. Grew up only a few blocks from where the Wonderbolts practiced every year. Could pretty much see right into the airbase from my roof.” Rainbow responded. “Pretty sure I have the rumble of the F-18 to thank for my life.”

While some might consider the J35 Drakken to be ugly, with its large double-delta wings, tall rudder, and huge air intakes at the front of the wings, it’s charm was in its age, even older than the earliest models of the MiG-21 at nearly fifty years. It was one of the first supersonic fighters ever produced, and because of that saw extensive use in northern countries for thirty years before being replaced by newer fighters.

Her model was the newest version, the J35J, built from earlier models of the aircraft and with an improved engine and avionics. Her aircraft was painted an olive green, dark green camo pattern overall, though there were several places were the color of the paint was slightly different shades in some places, where old numbers and markings had been painted over.

A large light green number 3 was painted on the left wing, with a 2 on the right. The same two numbers were painted on each side of the rudder. The tri-colored triangle of the Ustio Air Force was displayed on each wing and the fuselage, though she assumed they would be covered by the ISAF logo soon enough.

“Ugh…” She yawned, stretching out her body and wings, flapping them a few times. “Feels good to finally get out of that cockpit after sitting for eight hours…” She turned to find Sanka watching her, but when they met eyes the Dragon quickly turned and rushed away.

“...Huh.”

Walking back up to her aircraft, she grabbed her worn green duffel bag from behind the seat, slinging it over her shoulder.

Two more aircraft came in, and she watched as the wheels hit the pavement. Panzer Squadron, their Tornados variable sweep wings fully extended, turned right at the end of the runway, just like Pixy had. She watched them as they taxied across the base, tracking them by their lights through the mist. They turned onto a smaller runway, one that ran at a different angle than the main runway, before disappearing into a tunnel built into the mountain.

She could hear the distant whine of jet engines as they circled the base, waiting for their chance to land, but she couldn’t see them through the clouds. A single snowflake landed on her muzzle, and she watched it melt.

“Ex-Staff Sergeant Rainbow Dash. Ex-Equestrian Air Force, Ex-122nd Flight Demonstration Squadron.”

The Zebra before her sat at his desk, flipping through her papers, occasionally grunting or frowning at something printed. The office was sparse, the only things in the room a large desk and filing cabinets. The only thing that hung on the walls was a large map of Usea, but it was heavily worn and faded, and most likely several decades out of date.

“Three years in the REAF?” He closed and sat the papers down on his desk, looking up at her, standing at attention in front of him.

“Yes sir. Just over a year as reserves, and then a year each in two different squadrons.”

“Your last squadron… the 122nd, in Cloudsdale. That's the Wonderbolts, isn't it?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

“I’ve heard it’s a very elite squadron, hard to get accepted into. I’ve just never heard of anyone wanting to leave the Wonderbolts.”

“No combat, sir.” She lied. Leave the Wonderbolts? No pony has ever wanted to leave the Wonderbolts, The Wonderbolts was someplace everyone wanted to be, not leave. Truthfully, she had never actually left the Wonderbolts, simply stopped showing up, though she doubted they would accept her back after what had happened. “We were an Airshow squadron, we did performances, stunts, stuff like that. We would never be deployed to the front lines in anything but a symbolic role.” She shrugged. “So I left, and came here.” All lies.

“Well, then.” The Zebra nodded, sliding the papers to the side and standing up. “I formally welcome you to the 6th Air Force, Miss Dash.”

“Thank you.” They shook hooves before sitting back down.

He introduced himself. “My name is Saki, I’m the commander of the 6th Air Division and this air base. Normally, we would assign you to an already existing squadron, however, as you can tell, we’re very low on both pilots and planes at the moment, so we’re assigning you to a brand new squadron with another one of our currently unassigned pilots.” He slid a bundle of papers towards her. “These are your deployment orders, effective immediately.”

“66th Air Force Unit?” She read off the paper. “And your making me the squadron leader!?”

He nodded. “Despite your Wingman having more combat experience than you, Command has decided for you to lead, due to your experience in command and the fact that your wingman is… somewhat of a loose cannon.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “The last few squadrons he was stationed in were either all shot down or he was written up for disobeying orders. The Zebra shook his head. “I’d call him something of a restless soul. Constantly craving for action and he gets restless when he doesn't find it. He’s been known to start fights around base and might be a bit hostile to you at first.”

Rainbow actually chuckled at that. “Well, it doesn't sound like anything I haven’t seen before back when I trained recruits.”

“Glad to hear that hasn't dulled your confidence.” Saki slid another folder over. “That’s his file.” She opened it as Saki continued. “His name is Larry Foulke, though he often goes by his callsign; Pixy. Solo Wing Pixy if he's feeling flamboyant. He’s been with us for quite some time, and is very skilled, with a high number of kills.”

Rainbow nodded as he continued, reading the file given.

Second Lieutenant Larry Foulke, aged 28. Born 1976, in Griffonstone. Signed up to fight for the Royalist Liberation Front during the Griffon Civil War as a grunt until their defeat in 1993. Fleeing the country shortly after, he spent four years working in steel mills in Equestria before signing up to fly during the Saddle Arabian Oil Crisis in 1997. He participated in several small regional conflicts, before finally arriving in the 6th Air Force in 2003.

“He sounds like quite the pilot.”

“An understatement. He has more kills than everyone else on the base. Now... “ He pulled out a pen from his desk. “.. I know you’ve read the contract, so I won’t go over it again, but I will mention a few things that were left out of the initial document.”

Rainbow listened closely. “While we are under the payroll of ISAF, we receive much less than a active duty squadron would. Mostly because they don’t give a shit about us. So, everything, and I mean everything, comes out of your pocket. Everything from food and water to missiles, fuel, and even new aircraft can be bought from the PX. Minor maintenance work on your aircraft will have to be done personally. You receive pay for aircraft shot down, tanks destroyed, emplacements strafed, you get it.” She nodded. “Of course, you also receive a 10,000 bonus at the end of your tour, should you survive.”

Rainbow nodded. This was all stuff she had heard before, back when she had met her recruiter.

“Now, there’s one last thing to discuss before you can sign this final document, and that is your health.” Rainbow shuddered. “More specifically, your mental health.” She had been dreading this part.

He voice lowered, getting deeper and more serious. “Considering that HQ already passed you, I won’t get into it too much. But you should know that war is a dirty business. People live, people die. You’ll see some terrible shit, even if your not on the front lines. We can’t have someone breaking under the pressure.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen it before.”

“I’m… aware that command considers me a slight risk, sir.” Rainbow replied. “But I have yet to suffer from any sort of ill effects from my injury, so-”

Saki held up a hoof to silence her. “I know.” He said. “I’m just notifying you that I have been told to look out for reports of… behavior from you.”

“I… thank you, sir.”

He nodded. “Now that all the official stuff is over…” He slid one final piece of paper to her. “Sign this and you can get out of here.”

After giving it a brief skim with her eyes, she eagerly scribbled down her name, writing in cursive as best she could.

“Thank you.” She slid the paper back to him, stood up, and saluted. He returned the salute, and Rainbow picked her duffel bag of the floor and made for the door.

“Oh, sir…” She turned back to the office from the doorframe. “I… I request for you to not share personal information about me to anyone else on this base.”

He nodded, and she shut the door.

She stood in the hallway for a moment, let out a tense breath, and made her way down the hall.

Stepping out into the cold, she shivered, before looking over and finding her aircraft where it had been parked.

The rumble of a engine caused her to look up, just in time to see a rather strange vehicle come around the corner, but one she instantly recognized.

It resembled some sort of ATV and motorcycle cross, with the front looking like a standard motorcycle front, but the back replaced with a tank-like tracked section that seated two.

It stopped a few feet from her, a diamond dog who had been riding in back dismounting and dashing towards the administration building.

“Is that a…”

“Sonderkraftfahrzeug 2 Kettenkraftrad HK 101? Yes it is.” Sanka said from behind the handlebars as Rainbow approached, grinning slightly.

“Uh.. yeah, that.” Trying to process what the Dragon just said, Rainbow just admired the ancient vehicle she had rode in on. “How…?”

“I took Griffon in University.”

Satisfied with that answer, she took a moment to look over the vehicle. “Nice ride.”

“Thank you. So, I assume you need to be someplace, otherwise you wouldn’t have come over.”

“Well, while I did come over to check out this nice machine. I actually do need to be someplace. You know where Hangar 13 is?”

“Ah, yes, it's over in the Citadel. Hop in, i'll take you.”

Slightly giddy, she placed her bag in the place between the seats, and lifted herself into the back. As they began to move, she took a glance back to her aircraft, before turning to her driver.

“So, this thing yours?”

“Yeah!” Sanka replied, keeping her eyes ahead. “Found it run down in a small garage beside one of the old hangers by the flight line! It was in fairly good condition when I found it, only needed a few replacement parts for the engine and the tracks! Took it apart myself and reassembled it over about two months!” She swerved onto the runway, gunning across it.

As they made their way out across the base, the Kettenkrad squeaking and rumbling across the pavement, Rainbow spoke up, shouting over the noise.

“Hey, uh, slow down will ya? I may like to go fast but that’s only when I’m in control!”

The Dragon just laughed as they sped past a row of hangers and fuel tanks. Rainbow managed to catch a glimpse of a EF2000 in one of the hangers before it was out of sight.

They reached the end of the taxiway, making a sharp turn left onto the second, smaller runway. She finally saw their destination: a thick concrete tunnel drilled right into the rock. Two large metal doors stood at the entrance, their interlocking metal teeth giving them an imposing look. As they passed through the gateway, she could see that the doors were at least a few feet thick, and most likely very heavy. The daylight faded, being replaced by overhead lamps the farther they went down the tunnel. Eventually, the tunnel opened up to a large area, enough space for several aircraft to be taxied around. Two similar tunnels branched off to the right and left, leading to hangers.

On the side, two Tornado GR4s lay, ground crew unmounting the last bits off the aircraft. In front of both aircraft, two figures stood, conversing with another member. Even if she couldn't tell even what species the two were, she knew they were pilots. The stance was unmistakable.

“Hey, Gryphus!” Sanka called out, beginning to slow the bike.

One of the figures turned, and Rainbow was finally able to get a good look at it. She blinked in surprise. It was a deer, two of them, to be exact. She had never seen one in person before.

“Ah, Sanka! Just the Dragon I wanted to see!” It was clearly a male, a small pair of antlers sitting atop his head. His voice was thick with an accent, but it was one she hadn’t heard before. “My Electronic Countermeasure Pod conked out in the middle of the flight, had to dodge the missless the old fashioned way!” He laughed at that. “Anyway, thought you could take a look at it.” It was then he noticed Rainbow sitting in the back. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Rainbow.” She replied, climbing off the bike. “ And you, I believe, are Panzer Two, correct?”

The deer's eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, yes! The new pilot in the Draken!” The two of them shook hooves. “And I must say, thank you again for saving me a couple million dollars and stopping me from taking the helicopter of shame back to base!”

She chuckled. “Your welcome.”

“So your the new Greenie, huh?” Another deer approached, this one female. “Name’s Nagase. Panzer One.”

“I saw you take out those bombers back there. Some pretty nice flying for such a heavy aircraft.”

“Thanks. The Tornado might be an attacker, but it's a surprisingly capable dogfighter. Speaking of which…” She turned to the shorter dragon. “I took some rounds to my wing from a tailgun from one of the Stratofortresses. Nothing too serious, at least I hope.”

Sanka nodded. “So, a patch job and fixing a ECMP? That I can do.” She called out to one of the ground crew as she made her way towards the Tornados, leaving the three pilots standing next to each other.

“Hey, I never thanked you for saving Gryphus’ ass back there. I owe you one, as I’m sure he does too.” Nagase turned to the buck. “Right?”

“Yeah…” He smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, again.”

Checking her papers one last time, she looked up at the large black block numbers marked over the two tunnels branching out from the room they were in. One side read 1-9, and, turning to the other, it said 10-19.

“Guess I go to the right…”

“Where you headed?” Gryphus spoke up.

She showed him her paper. “Says here Hangar Thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Isn’t that Pixy’s place?” The question directed more towards Nagase than her.

“Yeah, it is,” Nagase answered, confused.

“It should be. I’ve been assigned to him.” Rainbow took back her paper.

Both the Deer looked at her in shock. “Command assigned you to be Pixys wingman?”

She shook her head. “No, he's my wingman. We’re forming a new fighter group, the 6th. I’m the commander.”

“Ah. They finally sent someone to tame the beast, then.” Nagase smirked a little at that. “Good luck. Thirteen is down that way on the right.”

“Uh… thanks?” She was slightly confused by their reaction. It was almost like they were perhaps a bit scared of him. She smirked. She had faced down Discord, Tirek, Chrysalis, and Spitfires constant yelling, as well as possibly some of the worst recruits she had ever met.

The tunnel was very much like the entrance, thick concrete and a curved roof, the industrial lights turning everything an orangish-yellow. But this time large door lined the sides, each marked with a number.

Towards the end of the hallway, she found her destination.

On the hanger door was painted a large white thirteen, and to the right a smaller, more personal sized door. She pushed it open with her hoof, stepping inside.

The inside was much like the outside, arched concrete roof and a space barely wide enough for a single aircraft, though this passage was long enough to hold two lined up. In the center sat an F-15, the C model she assumed. On the left wing sat a Griffon, a welding mask to his face, sparks flying from an expanded set of wiring in a service panel. Just like she had seen before, about 3/4ths of the right wing was painted a crimson red, the other remaining the same light grey as the rest of the plane. Other than the ISAF roundels, and the aircraft number being 011, there was no other marking on the aircraft.

The Griffon lifted his head from his work, looking over to her when he heard her walk in. He pulled the helmet off his head and looked her over, sizing her up.

He was a pretty average Griffin, standing a good half foot taller than her and twice her size. His body was a light grey, contrasting with the normal ivory white of his head. Her eyes were drawn to his right side, where, just like on his aircraft, his right wing was a dark crimson red. She blinked in surprise. It was something she had never seen before.

“Who are you?” The Griffon asked.

“Are you Larry Foulke?” She asked, showing her papers.

“I am.” He answered, climbing down from the wing. “Who needs me?”

“I do.” She handed him the papers when he reached her. “My name’s Rainbow Dash. I’m your new flight lead.”

Author's Notes:

Introducing: A Brother In Arms
Larry "Solo Wing" Foulke
Aka Pixy

Done by HoodwinkedTales