Chapter 22: Distractions

The ride back was uncomfortably quiet. Only the hum of the engine as it generated just enough electricity necessary to keep the bird aloft. Myst had brought it to high altitude and caught a jet stream heading east. With the prop out of commission, the trip was going to take a whole day, maybe longer. Fortunately, the craft was still packed with rations and the team now sat in the drafty main cabin. The broken windows had been boarded up, but there were still holes here and there in the bulkhead. Currently James was chowing down hungrily on a cold oatmeal paste out of a chipped bowl somepony had left. It wasn't very appetizing, but the only other thing was compressed blocks of hay and he hadn't eaten since the morning before. After all was said and done yesterday and Myst informed him that they could leave by first light, he had simply passed out in the Clipper.

He had woken up sore and aching all over his body with a ravenous hunger. He was half way done when he noticed the deck. There were spots of blood spattered around the deck from when Myst had been transporting wounded to safety, staining the wood. His right hand started to shake slightly as his mind reflected on the events of the past day. Then he remembered he was not alone and looked around him. Sparks was laying in a corner, eyes closed, but not asleep. Flash was sitting across from him, absently pawing at the deck with his hoof. Feather seemed to be taking it the best. He was reading a book he had brought with him. All were silent. James put down the bowl and offered his canteen to Flash, who took a few swigs of it, grateful. Then he stood up and checked on their pilot. She looked as if she hadn't slept all night. Here eyes were puffy and red, mane a mess. Still, she kept an eye on the instruments in front of her, ensuring that her airship didn't drift off course. They were all haggard. The four ponies had just experienced their first ever battle, and it was taking its toll. James had lost his appetite now, so he just went up the ladder to the upper deck and lay down. The air was chilly and thin at this height, but there was barely any wind given they were travelling at the same speed of it. He just closed his eyes and started breathing; in through the navel, out through the nose. James just lay there and listen, enjoying the absolute silence of the skies.

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When the small airship finally reached Ponyville, the sun was close to setting. James was leaning against the guard rail on the upper deck with Flash and Feather, just enjoying the view of home. They had had a little talk about what had transpired the other day. Sparks was below decks taking a look at the engine so he could help Myst fix it later.

"Just remember, don't dwell on it. You all did what you had to do and saved lives because of it. If anything, think about that. We're going to take a week or so off here, so make sure you guys go do something you really enjoy. Take up a hobby, go visit family, as soon as we touch down you're all on leave. Just make sure you guys are back by next monday."

The two nodded without saying a word. As the town grew in the distance, a small speck on the horizon started expanding. Within no time it transformed into a rainbow blur. James could recognize it anywhere and he began to grin as a thought formed in his head. He himself needed something to do and take his mind off morbid things, and there was nothing quite like a near death -- or to quote one of his favourite movies, "a near life" -- experience to do just that.

"Fellas, I gotta go. Pass on what we talked about to Myst and Sparks. I'll see you guys later."

James slid down the ladder and grabbed his parachute, donning it. Then he ran back up and waved to the rapidly approaching pegasus. Rainbow Dash waved back and doubled her speed. The smile on the human's face grew wider. When she got close, James balanced himself on the starboard guard rail and flashed his quick little salute. Then, spreading his arms, he leaned forward and kicked off the rail, propelling his body into open sky. Dash immediately dove after him, easily catching up and pulling along side. James' response was to bring his arms to the side and his legs together, increasing his velocity as he speared towards the ground far below. The wind tore at his clothes, like icy fingers clawing at his body. He became giddy as he reached terminal velocity and he felt as if gravity had been switched off. Dash appeared nearby, her wings tucked tight against her body, a look of excitement on her face. James decided to play around while he had time. He arched his back and went spread eagled, slowing his descent before throwing his legs out in front of him and tucking into a ball, sending him backflipping up past the speeding weather mare. She flared her wings and spun laterally, coming level with the jumper. She smiled at him. James pointed down at a cluster of clouds directly below them and approaching fast. Dash started to slow down, anticipating an impact, James simply plowed right through, shooting ahead out the bottom. The human flipped upsidedown and wave up at the cyan mare. Then he made a ripping motion across his chest. Righting himself, James pulled the ripcord. The pilot chute shot out the back and caught the air, bringing the main with it.

James was jostled by the sudden stop, but then began a peaceful descent to the surface of the earth. He was still a ways off the ground and angled in the direction of his new HQ. Dash drifted down beside him.

"That was so cool! How did somepony like you learn to do tricks like that?" She called out to him.

"After we're trained to jump, we still have to practice to keep our skill up! Sometimes we get bored!" He shouted back. "We also learned to do this!"

He yanked down on one side, hard. This sent him into a rapidly descending spin, centrifugal force swinging him around at the end of the straps. He stopped and leveled out once his vision started to go dark. Passing out up here would not be healthy.

"So what are you doing later?" Dash asked him.

"Tonight I just want to rest up and get some sleep. Plus I also gotta get my gear cleaned up and put away before I do anything else."

"Awww, really?" She moaned.

"Yeah, afraid so. Come get me tomorrow or the next day, I'd be glad to do something."

"I have a day off in two days!"

"Ok, I'll see you then. And Dash, could I ask you one favor?"

"Sure, anything!" Her eyes lit up.

"I seemed to have lost TOO much altitude, could I get a tow?"

"Fine, but you owe me one." She replied, a little annoyed.

"Yes, I owe you one."

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James racked the charging lever on his rifle, producing a satisfying *click-clack*. He had spent the last three hours in Sparks' workshop cleaning his weapons. The maintenance for sniper rifle and pistol were easy and routine, but he had had to completely strip down and hand wash all the parts on the assault rifle and shotgun. He had hastily tossed them aside so as not to impede his movement during the fight, but they had been kicked around in the mud in the ensuing chaos. Every bit of the machines were caked with dirt and grime. And the sight on his rifle needed to be readjusted. James pulled the trigger and was rewarded with a smart click. Now he just needed to make sure everything really was working. He grabbed a two half filled magazines, one for the rifle and one for the shotgun, and made his way outside to the edge of the forest. He loaded the rifle and shot off a few on semi. that worked fine so he switched to auto. A tight grouping exploded into the trunk of the tree he was aiming at, no jams. He repeated this with the shotgun without any problems. Glad he could finally get some rest, James retreated back to the workshop to stow his gear.

He sat down at the workbench for a minute and checked his iPod. It was almost midnight. He huffed and pulled out the strange orb he'd picked up on the battlefield. It still glowed eerily, the colors of its aura shifting and flowing. It was warm to the touch. At first he thought it might be made out of glass, but when he tapped it, it sounded like crystal. There were no discernable markings or any kind of buttons or knobs, just a smooth uniform surface. Not being able to glean anymore information by just looking at it, James wrapped it in a thick cloth and gently placed it on a shelf with a note not to touch it. He could have Sparks examine it when he got back from leave. Tiredly, He slunk out of the building and made the long hike back to the house. At least tomorrow he could sleep in for once.

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It was dark, hot and stuffy. The musty smell of rock and sand was strong and the bright light in his face was disorientating. His arms an legs were bound tightly to the chair with rolls of ducttape. His head, body and limbs throbbed with pain. He had taken quite a beating. Behind him a door swung open and closed, two pairs of footsteps could be heard. Metal objects could be heard klunking against wood as they were placed on a table. Heavy footsteps made their way to his side.

"What you doing here, man? You try to hurt us, man?" A thickly accented voice asked from out of sight. "We catch now, you not good."

The man in the chair remained silent.

"You talk, man. Tell us where friends are. Your kind, never alone."

The man still didn't respond, defying his captor without a word.

"You want talk, man. No talk, much hurt."

Still nothing. The man in the chair simply continued to stare forward, past the source of light.

"Fine, is your choice. Kashim, lotfan bei man aachar bei dadee."

An individual wearing a scarf around his face entered the man's field of vision with a large spanner wrench in his hands. Swiftly, the masked person swung the wrench down on his left arm, hard. The captive grunted in pain, but was otherwise silent.

"Still no? Is not smart, my man. Ooh ra barsh."

The man winced as as blade was drawn quickly across the skin of his right shoulder, hot blood running down his arm.

"Knife sharp, yeah? Maybe he put in stomach. Die slow. Not sound good, yeah? You just talk."

The man in the chair just smiled. This earned him a blow to the jaw. The man chuckled and spat blood onto the ground at his feet, still smiling, teeth stained crimson. His interrogator brought the wrench down on the back of the man's left hand, producing a sickening crunch as the thin bones inside snapped in several places. It only resulted in another grunt.

"You know you can end it quick, man. We just need you speak."

The man in the chair stared at his torturer with malice. "Then we're in for a long night, 'cuz I don't know shit."

The wrench whipped through the air at his head.

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James sat up. He massaged his hand, remembering the dream. The docs had fixed it up good, but it still ached from time to time. The wounds had long since healed, but he could still fell the impact of the cold steel, the slippery sensation of a blade across his skin. After capturing his team in an ambush, the insurgents loaded them into the back of a truck. Nix ended up causing a crash by stabbing the driver from behind with a small hidden blade when their guards weren't looking. The rest of the team escaped in the following chaos, but James had been trapped underneath the wreck. They had kept him in that small chamber, starving him for days. Everytime he tried to escape, he would just become lost in the labrynth of the cave system. Eventually, Rocka had found him and busted him out during the interrogation session. James remembered as blood and brain matter was sprayed all over him when his buddy had shot his captors upon finding them.

He got out of bed and threw on a shirt. It was still late at night, the bright moon only just starting its descent. Unable to get right back to sleep, James made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a small glass of rum. Then he walked out to the porch and sat down, admiring the starry night sky. As he thought about his past experience, he realized the unicorns that had gone missing might be in a similar situation. But why just the unicorns, and why simple townsfolk? If it was for information, a pony in an administrative position would have been more logical. Then again from what he had seen, those warmongering things were rarely, if ever, logical. Right then, He swore that his top priority would be to locate and free those that had been kidnapped. He just hoped they were still alive.

James finished his drink and went back upstairs to his room. He reached into his desk, retrieved his parchment, quill and ink and began to scratch out a letter. If he was going to undertake this project, he might need to bring in some extra help. If they were ready. It was time to go on the offensive.