The shower was thankfully empty. The tile walls and floors sweat beads of condensation and the cubic room was soon masked with the minor fog that built from a single showerhead. The paint washed off easily, and Red Field watched as the rainbow snaked toward the drain, where it grew to a muddled brown and then sank from sight.

Red Field counted twenty-two welts of varying size and red-pink hue all across his body. He had no idea what he had been shot by. The water awoke the slumbering pain, and each time he bent to scrub himself, the welts became a stinging firework show.

The mess hall was empty. The tables and benches shone with ammonia and the concrete floors were slick from a recent mopping. Steam rose from the empty metal gaps behind the counter in which the basins of food would soon sit. The cooks’ rolling laughter exited the kitchen, along with the pungent and putrid odor of stroganoff. Red Field took a seat on one of the slick benches and slumped forward.

The unicorn studied the speckled face of the table before him and thought about ammonia. He was hungry and sore and his body wanted nothing more than for him to simply quit harassing it.

He knew Agent Orange was going to make his time harder from this day forward as Flashpoint now officially disliked him.
What kind of concentration of ammonia was typically used for institutionally proportioned cleaning? He heard the door to the mess hall clip closed and somepony called into the kitchen about their dinner. Assuming that a certain PPM couldn’t be exceeded- a raucous laugh interrupted his thoughts. Red Field grumbled to himself and restarted his thinking. Assuming that the predetermined PPM cou-

“Hey.” Somepony jiggled his shoulder. A short unicorn, only a little taller than Red Field himself stood next to him. “Can you give me a hoof?” The pony was a light tan, sort of like a toasted marshmallow. His frame lacked any bulk, and was rather svelte, at least relative to the rest of the ponies of Gale Force, although the tell-tale fibers of a workhorse stood out on his legs and shoulders.
However the most prominent feature of this pony was his profuse brown beard that hung from his chin like a stalactite. Red Field had never seen such a beard before and was mesmerized by the bushy hair for a moment.

“’Scuse me?” Asked the pony. "Can you give me a hoof?"

“Yes, absolutely.” Red Field said, trying to draw his attention away from the pony’s beard.
Red Field followed the pony outside.

“I usually get blanks shipments early in the month but for some reason these came today.” The stallion said as they crossed the center of the compound. “’Preciate the help, ‘rest of the guys are out on duty. I only dropped by the mess hall to grab my dinner.” He turned to Red Field. “I’m Site by the way, head of the armory.”

“Red Field, cadet.”

“Oh, nice.” Site chuckled. “I’ve been so busy with refurbs and a few side projects that I didn’t even see that you guys got in.” He looked Red Field over. “What branch are you shooting for?”

“Clopping.” Red Field answered promptly.

“Oh nice.”

They traveled diagonally across the base and toward one of the nondescript metal shacks that sat across from the long line of barracks. To their left stood about twenty or so chariots in a fenced enclosure. Site clutched his plate in his mouth as he fished a ring of keys from the pocket of his cargo pants. Red Field waited as he unlocked the garage door that comprised one wall of the shack. Folding the door upward, Site motioned for Red Field to follow him around the side of the building.

A stack of three wooden crates about half Red Field’s height were piled next to the corrugated metal.

“These right here.” Site took one end of the crate and Red Field gripped the other.
Red Field expected the box to be aggravatingly heavy, but instead the box jumped into the air as he gave it a sharp tug. The contents of the box, which felt like pipes of some kind, knocked around.

“Sorry sir.” Said Red Field.

“They’re wrapped in foam, shouldn’t be too bad.” Said Site with a shrug.

They carried the box into the darkened shack. Red Field saw benches and tables along the walls, and the biting odor of kerosene filled his nose. They set the crate down amidst a hopelessly disorganized heap of other crates and cardboard boxes. Red Field tried to make out the forms of any swords or spears in the gloom; he was curious to see what kinds of weapons Gale Force stocked. Unfortunately Site immediately turned and started for the next crate, and Red Field saw nothing but darkness.
They ferried the next two crates quickly, and as they rested the final container on the concrete, Site gave Red Field a thankful, if somewhat dismissive nod.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Said Red Field and shuffled out of the shack. He looked up and saw a growing stream of ponies walking toward the mess hall. Red Field sighed, then went to join them.

He reached the doors of the hall in an exhausted daze. He had gone back to thinking about his predicament with nearly every aspect of Gale Force. The hall was now packed with loud, bustling soldiers. After Red Field received a plate of eraser-colored stroganoff, he stood for a moment looking over the crowded tables. Somepony bumped into him.

“Heyhey! Siddown here.” Somepony tugged at his right foreleg. An orange earth pony had shifted over on the bench and offered him a miniscule seat along a table packed with cadets. Red Field complacently seated himself alongside the pony, if only to avoid further embarrassment.
Red Field recognized the pony as the one who had helped him up on the first day of Beast.
The pony took a slopping bite of stroganoff, then cleared his throat.
“So, Jesus pony.” He looked at Red Field, grinning. “How’s it going? What happened to you, we saw you come back all covered in paint.” Red Field saw that the rest of the table was watching him with more or less the same expression of anticipated jest.

“Nothing.” Red Field stood up to find another seat.

“Whoa hey, hang on.” The other pony said in semi-apologetic surprise. Red Field ignored him. No matter how willing he was to be berated by his “superiors”, he would not sit around and let his bullish and ignorant peers make fun of him.
He saw literally no other seat in the mess hall; Red Field scanned the room twice.

With the absolute reluctance of an intelligent pony forced to appear shortsighted to a group of peers that already misunderstood him, Red Field sat the hell back down. He clomped his tray down again beside the pony and started to eat again.

“Heh, okay.” The pony laughed a little as Red Field reseated himself. The other cadets were chuckling at him. “So dude, what happened to you? You were like a rainbow pony when you came back.”

“I got caught in a training exercise with some of the other soldiers since I wasn’t told where to run.” He answered with the correct degree of quietness that would downplay the story, yet with enough enunciation that it wouldn’t sound like he was terribly ashamed of the event. As usual, this careful cadence was moot as the ponies erupted into a raucous wave of scornful laughter.

Red Field had finished half his meal and was rapid downing the remainder. Not too fast so as to appear ill at ease, but fast enough that he could escape within thirty or so seconds.

“Saw that commander guy chewing out what’shisface.” The orange pony said, still laughing a bit.

“Agent Orange.” Said one of the other cadets.

“Yeah that’s him, dude’s suuuuch an asshole.” The orange pony said. The other ponies at the table nodded and grunted in agreement. Red Field traced his spoon around the perimeter of the tray, collecting the last of the oily sauce. “Hey thanks for being the first fuckup dude. Now we know what he’s like when pissed.” Red Field took his tray and started away from the table.

Red Field plunked the tray into the soapy basin by the door and walked into the warm summer evening. He heard one of the cadets say “Jesus pony” again.

Red Field went back to thinking about ammonia, specifically its LD50.

Of all of the things Red Field hated about Gale Force Academy, the non-communication was probably the most irksome to him. Besides Beast and meals, there didn’t appear to be anything to do. A group of upperclassmen/prior soldiers engulfed him from behind. They were shouting a strange semi-song as they jogged. They passed around him in a sweaty, smelly stream of stereotypical stallions.

What did his bunkmates do during the day? It sounded like they had jobs of some sort, mechanical probably, in greasy garages with blaring rock music and posters of barely legal fillies. Red Field had acquired his view of manual laborers in his time around Rockvale. Gale Force seemed like the same kind of lifestyle, just with weapons.

He reached his barracks and entered. He hopped atop his bunk and actually managed to slip into a light sheet of sleep. He awoke to the low tones of two bunkmates conversing beneath him.
Siplinski was asking Bren his opinion on something when Red Field swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Hey.” Bren sounded serious. “Come down here for a sec.” They had heard about his mistake that afternoon. Red Field reluctantly obliged and dismounted the bed.

“What happened this afternoon?” Asked Bren. Red Field had done nothing wrong, and no actual discipline had been administered, yet he was still a little cowed by the seriousness of his squadmates.

“Just, got scared when I was taking the first ropes course. I got a little mad at Agent Orange.”

“Yeah after that.” Siplinski said.

“I accidentally ran into some other guys training.”

“Do you have any idea who the fuck they are?” Asked Bren.

“Their commander was more displeased with Agent Orange for sending me to-”

“Dude shut up.” Bren’s physical anger was much more subtle than the other stallions’. He did not swear or glower quite so much, but Red Field saw his shoulders rising and falling with short breaths and knew the blue unicorn was waiting to add his own spiel to the heap of excoriations. “He’s commander of the UAT. Goddamn it do you know who they are?!”

“Urban Assault Teams.” Red Field said sharply. He knew of the UAT, though little besides. He now attempted to translate what Agent Orange had said about them earlier in the day into something semi-cogent. “Roughly forty ponies, tasked with special operations and procedures, limited deployment. Emphasis on small scale operations with strategic and tactical values.” He was out of information and now attempted to infer meaning from his interactions with them. “Fluid team strategies, modular unit size-”

“Jesus Christ shut up.” Bren said. “You’re totally right, that’s exactly UAT. They’re the best of the best.”

“Unless they’re planning on killing us while we sleep what’s the problem?” Red Field’s confusion gave way to anger; anypony had yet to tell him of any grievous sin he had committed and all of the condescension was unwarranted until then.

“UAT sometimes plays in the war games. They always pick whatever side they want.” Siplinski sounded less angry, but Red Field could see the dismay lining his face.

“They’re probably going to remember today. They’re going to remember who fucked up their training session and which team you’re on.” Bren said. The damned war game? That was it? The explanation had the opposite effect on Red Field’s guilt; now he was vindicated.

“The war game?” Red Field asked slowly. “That’s what you're so concerned about?”

“Yeah, you know what, fuck it.” Bren said. He pointed to Red Field. “Sip you can deal with this, I’m done.” He started for the door. Siplinski shook his head and followed after Bren.

Red Field’s blood went cold as they left.

“Er, I’m sorry!” He said, running after them.

He bolted toward the door to speak to them. It swung open as he reached it. The wood edge caught his snout and he recoiled into the side of the sink. The metal sank into his flank and both ends of his body burned in pain. Black Rain didn’t seem to notice Red Field and walked toward his bunk. Red Field’s eyes were watering from the sting and he was wiping them as Black Rain turned.

“Hey.” The dark pony wasn’t particularly talkative that night. Red Field thought perhaps he should apologize to him first, especially since the war games would no doubt hold quite a bit of meaning for the surly unicorn.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry but-” Red Field hadn’t the slightest idea as to how to phrase his apology properly. “I know you’ve probably heard that I was-” Black Rain pulled open the drawer aside his bed, rifled through it, then yanked it from the stand. He lifted a thin black case from drawer and started back toward the door. “Excuse me.” Red Field fell into step with him. “I know I messed up this afternoon but I want you to know I’m terribly sorry.” Black Rain opened the door slightly, then hung his head.

“Kid, stop, just stop okay?” His deep voice was the epitome of exasperation and instead of looking to Red Field, he stared at the door before him. “Me and Sip and Bren’ll be back later tonight. For God’s sake just stop doing anything okay?”

Red Field took a step back.

“Okay.” He said softly. A light buffeting of warm air wafted in as Black Rain departed with the other two members of barracks six. Then the dark coolness of the empty barracks overtook Red Field. He reached for the door, then stopped.

The hoofbeats of the three faded away.

Why had he forgotten to respect the game?

His flank rubbed the side of the bunk as he climbed back into bed. He would just wait until they got back to apologize. He started to think on everything that had happened earlier in the day; Red Field was asleep in a minute.

When he awoke, the barracks was dark and still. The day outside was just growing light and he could see everything in the barracks without squinting, including the empty bunks of his comrades. His heart jumped.
He had slept in and missed Beast.

He tore off the blankets and leaped from the bunk. Throwing open the door, Red Field looked toward the gate where the cadets would assemble. The sky lingered in twilight. The sun hadn’t risen at all and the light came merely from the preemption of the sunrise. A few soldiers patrolling the perimeter talked and yawned peacefully as they passed by. Red

Field breathed a nearly orgasmic sigh at not having missed training. He looked back.

Where was everypony? The beds of the rest of Barracks Six didn’t even appear to have been slept in. Siplinski’s nightstand had the plastic beetle of an alarm clock on it and Red Field read the time. He had about forty minutes before sunrise and the next day of his training.

Had they left him?
The mess hall doors were open, but the hulking forms of the stallions mashing up the day’s breakfast in the kitchen were absent. The exhaustion of inadequate sleep hung over Red Field and he took a seat at the nearest bench.

Why had he awoken so early?
He started thinking on how to avoid being picked first by Agent Orange for any more training sessions. Could he meet with Bombs Away to apologize? How should he apologize to the rest of his barracks? With the regularity resembling that of a physical constant, he came to somepony’s attention. Somepony tapped his shoulder and Red Field sighed.

“Cadet, breakfast isn’t for another thirty three minutes.” Flashpoint seemed like a physical constant, his appearance wasn’t haggard from the early hour and his squared disposition was unaltered from the day before. “Please explain what you are doing here.”

“Sorry sir, I was just up early.” Red Field said, rising out of his seat. “I apologize if I’m not supposed to be here.”

“I see.” Flashpoint looked past Red Field and started for a bench across the room. The simple excuse appeared to have satisfied him. Flashpoint carried a small black box slung over a shoulder. A worn cloth rolled up like a sleeping bag hung from his side. He walked to a table and took a seat.

Setting both the cloth and the box before him, Flashpoint reached into the breast pocket of his uniform and produced a small book, which he began to read. Red Field watched him for a moment then returned to thought.

Flashpoint was a soldier. Clearly he would tolerate no perceived insubordination and Red Field started to devise cogent apologies and requests for clarification to apply to the stark officer. Red Field looked back up to the stallion across the room; what was he doing? Red Field watched Flashpoint for the next few minutes. The grey unicorn scanned the pages with the visible engagement of a rock. Eventually he set the book down and placed his hooves on the table. He looked straight ahead.

Somepony entered the cafeteria behind Red Field and called to Flashpoint. The pony was another officer that Red Field hadn’t seen before. He too wore a clean uniform and tightened expression. Flashpoint rose, walked past Red Field and left with the officer. Neither said anything to Red Field. Red Field was glad for that.

The opening jog to their next exercise wiped away the last traces of foggy exhaustion and left Red Field with just a dull ache in his stomach to indicate that he had not slept well. His canteen bumped and sloshed against his side as he trailed behind the crowd of cadets jogging into the forest.

According to Agent Orange, today was day one of land nav.

“There’s actually two war games in the training year.” Agent Orange called as he ran backwards through the foliage. “First is team one on team two.” A few whoops and shouts of agreement rose from the cadets who had grown team loyalty in their few days at Gale Force. “Team One has most of the Pegasi and like a lot of the EODs.” He grinned dubiously. “But we don’t fight in Cloudsdale or Cantorlot.” He kicked the thick trunk of an oak tree. “We fight in the fuckin’ forest, and more often than not, it’s the team that’s better at land nav that wins.”

They ran for another half an hour and he continued to describe the factors that decided what team won the war games. Finally, they stopped at a dilapidated wooden fort that barely contained all of the cadets. The wooden palisade walls were rotting and the structure didn’t even have a roof. Agent Orange shoved his way through the milling ponies until he found a moldy folding table which he opened in the center of the cadets and used as a podium.

“Cadets, atten-” Red Field had read enough books about armies to know to stand still before the final syllable. The group took a few moments to discard their conversations and Agent Orange frowned disapprovingly at the ponies beneath him. “A message going forward for you cadets: When I say attention, I get your attention. Or you get kicked out of Beast and Gale Force. First part of land nav is simple traversal; you can’t move through Equestria if you don’t know how to move through a forest. We’re starting simple cadets but I’ll still throw your asses out if you fuck up.” He clopped his hooves. “Get into teams of four cadets, thirty seconds.”

In a second the group began to converse and attempt to arrange its membership into increments of four. The ponies around Red Field were asking one another names and hurriedly forming groups; nopony asked Red Field. He resigned himself to another berating from Agent Orange since he didn’t particularly want to ask anypony if he could join them.

“Hey, you, Jesus pony.” Somepony grabbed him by the withers and tugged him backward. It was the pony that had named him from the day before. “You want to join our group?”

“Time! Let me see those groups!” Shouted Agent Orange. The cadets hurriedly ranked themselves and Agent Orange perused the groups.
He noticed an odd cadet.
“Cadet, where’s your group?” The cadet said he hadn’t found one.

After forty pushups performed before his silent teammates, the cadet was sent to a group of three and labeled a “dumbass.” Agent Orange saw Red Field and called to him.

“Cadet! Group!” Said Agent Orange as Red Field pulled up beside the orange pony.

“Here sir.”

“Great.” Agent Orange turned his attention to the crowd again. “One cadet from each group takes one of these.” He took the pack from his back and unzipped it. Setting it at his hooves, Agent Orange pulled a bundle of worn laminate sheets from the pouch.

After the maps had been distributed, Agent Orange again clopped his hooves.

“There’s three locations you need to make in any order before heading back in to base.” He pointed to the gate that led out of the fort and into the forest. “Nopony skips a location. Nopony uses any spells or magic and nopony takes longer than 2200 to make it back to base or they’re getting kicked, got it?” The cadets murmured their submissive understanding, but at least one of them had the courage to ask what Red Field was wondering.

“Sir! Where are we now?”

“It wouldn’t be land navigation if you knew that.” Said Agent Orange with a smirk.

“All right, let’s get out of here.” The orange pony held the map and he led Red Field and the other two ponies out of the compound. Some of the other groups had already rushed into the woods in an effort to gain a head start, while others waited inside the walls and reviewed the map. Red Field hoped his team would follow the latter example. “Okay, so, let’s do names.” The orange pony put a hoof to himself. “I’m Blue Streak, yeah I know, weirdass name but it’s whatever.”

“I’m Fit Finish.” Said a white unicorn who sounded quite a lot like Full Wing.

“Ah’m Apple Core.” The rich green pony with an apple core Cutie Mark said.

“My name is-”

“Jesus pony.” Said Fit Finish with a laugh. Red Field’s face burned as the others laughed a little bit. “You’re Jesus pony.”

“Right so,” Blue Streak held up the map, “we need to figure out where we are.”

“Let’s just start walking, we’ll run into something on that map eventually.” Fit Finish said.

“I think we should try and get our bearings.” Red Field said, eager to avoid getting more lost. Blue Streak looked to Apple Core.

“What about you?” He asked.

“Ah’m good with whutever, let’s just get goin’.” He said.

“All right, let’s just start walking.” Blue Streak said.

Of course they started walking.

Over the course of the next half an hour, the group had passed five or six potential landmarks that Red Field could have probably identified had he been given the map. The heat of the day had peaked and the forest steamed and choked the bumbling cadets. Apple Core tripped on a hidden root and fell.

“Shit we’re not headed in the right direction.” Said Blue Streak, bringing the map into a patch of the dappled sunlight. “We need to be here, or here, or here.”

“Lemme see that.” Fit Finish took the map. “Easy, we just walk until we hit the river that runs right through the middle of the forest. Then we follow it down to this like bunker thing and then from there we head to the first place.” He gave the map back to Blue Streak. “This is easy.” He said with the certainty of a pony who wasn’t aware of which side of said river he was on. “Apple, you okay?” Apple Core was pulling himself out of the weeds.

“Eyeah ah’m fahn, let’s just get goin’ agin.” He said, wiping some mud off of his body.

“Where’s Jesus pony? Did we lose him already?” Asked Fit Finish with a chuckle.

“Naw he’s right behind you.” Said Blue Streak. Fit Finish looked back to Red Field.

“Oh hey, glad you’re still here. We’d probably get a penalty for losing you or something.”

After another hour of walking, all four ponies were scraped, bruised and out of water. Red Field trailed behind the other three, especially Fit Finish, who ran further and further ahead with each passing minute.

“I hear water, come on!” Called Fit Finish.

“Yeah, sure you do.” Blue Streak muttered. “Goddamn it, how did we miss the river?”

Red Field could have very well told him they had never missed something that had always been behind them, but he was hot, stinging and not keen on his nickname. They could all fail together.

“We gotta hit it sometahm raght?” Asked Apple Core.

“Psh, not with this dumbass leading us.” Said Blue Streak. Fit Finish called that he heard rushing water. “Yeah, okay.” Called back Blue Streak. “What time do you think it is?” He asked Apple Core. “We’ve got to be way behind the other teams.”
Red Field knew the time was between 12:00 and 1:00 given the position of the sun, and of course they were behind; they were being led by an imbecile.

“Hey move your asses, it’s right up ahead!” Shouted Fit Finish.

“All right fine!” Shouted Blue Streak. “Goddamn it I’m gonna take the map back after this shit.” He said as they galloped ahead to Fit Finish’s “river”.

“Those two’re a couplea jackasses.” Apple Core said to Red Field. "Glad ah at least got somepony with a brain."

“No shit. I’m Red Field by the way.”

“Kahnda wondered whut ya’ll’s real name was.” Apple Core said.

They had found a cliff. Instead of rushing water, Fit Finish had heard the sounds of a dry wind whipping over the rocky ledge that hung over the seemingly infinite sands of the Neigharan Desert. Fit Finish and Blue Streak were already arguing when the pair reached them. Red Field stood back, waiting for the pair to finish their fighting when Apple Core stepped past him and approached the two.

“Shut the hell up botha ya’ll.” Apple Core’s accent flexed with frustration at the squabbling ponies. “Ya’ll ain’t found shit.”

“He hasn’t found shit, I didn’t get a chance.” Said Blue Streak.

“Ya’ll had yer chance, gimme the map.” Apple Core snatched the map from Fit Finish. “And nao we got no ahdea where were are.” He shook his head. “We could be on any edge a’ this damn forest.” He looked back to Red Field. “Ya’ll any good with maps? It mahght as well be ya’ll’s turn.”

“We have to be on the western side since we came to the cliff before the river.” Red Field looked up along the cliff. Trees and mosses obscured his view of the outline. “There’s nothing to tell us where along the cliff we are so it’s best to just go back.” Blue Streak started to interrupt him but Red Field spoke over him. “There looks to be,” he squinted at the map, “that looks like a logging camp, that’s a bunker, and this is a little marsh.” He held out the map to his cohorts. “If we run into or see any one of these, we’ll have our bearings. If not, we walk until we hit the river and follow it down to this little dam.”

“Go back the way we came and just keep wandering around. That sounds great.” Said Fit Finish. The thought dawned on Red Field that neither Blue Streak nor Fit Finish particularly liked him, and that showing up their cartography skills was not helping his case. However he was thirsty and losing his patience with his companions’ idiocy and he began to ask aloud about how it was that Fit Finish had mistaken a sirocco for a river and if that qualified him to judge the validity of his comrades’ plans.

"Alraght, sounds good, lets go, we’re losin’ daylahght.” Apple Core said before Red Field could say anything.

“Yeah let’s go, we’re way behind.” Blue Streak said and stepped around both Red Field and Fit Finish. Red Field followed him, and Fit Finish brought up the rear.

Red Field had never taken any classes in cartography. Nor had he joined Rockvale’s chapter of the Coltscouts. But imagining himself as a point of undetermined location on a map didn’t require any sort of concentration. As they walked, he kept watch for any signs of the landmarks on the map.

They reached the marsh first. Apple Core’s hooves sank into the spongy ground and he motioned for the group to stop.

“Ahraght, we’re at the marsh, nao let’s figure out where t’go from here.”

From the marsh, the group spent another twenty minutes traversing the forest before they came to their first checkpoint. It was represented on the map by a simple blue dot and Red Field wasn’t particularly sure what they were looking for. The cadets had searched for some time and only when Red Field caught the sound of some ponies talking that they found the first checkpoint.

The blue dot on the map represented a thick pillar of rebar painted a bright blue that stood amidst a few pines. Two camouflaged soldiers were leaned up against the surface and were conversing as the group popped out of the forest.

“Took you long enough.” Said one. “You guys are the last group; you better hustle up.”

“Who’s your leader?” Asked the other, noticing the discord within the group.

“Ah am.” Apple Core said over both Fit Finish and Blue Streak.

“Really?” The second soldier pointed to Red Field. “Then why is he carrying your map?”

“Ah jus’, he was-”

“If you’re leading these soldiers.” The stallion snatched the map from Red Field and held it toward Apple Core. “Then typically you lead them. Not follow somepony else.”

A chuckle escaped one of the two ponies who weren’t Red Field or the “leader” and the first soldier pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in a reaction of feigned surprise.

“Sounds like you have a discipline problem too, better sort that out if you want to make it back in time.”

“Ah, eyeah, we’ll kin do that. Sorry sir.” Said Apple Core.

“Hey don’t apologize to me, it’s your guys’ asses that are on the line here.” Said the pony, resuming his reclined position.

They waited for a moment as Apple Core realized he was making the decisions now. He turned back to Red Field.

“Uh, ya’ll,” he looked back to the two soldiers, “kin ya’ll advahse me on this?” He asked carefully. Red Field looked back to the two soldiers to see if this would violate some rule. Neither seemed interested in the cadets and Red Field glanced down at the map.

“We’re,” He thought for a moment and realized he still had no idea which side of the pillar they were on. “Which way is north?” He asked the soldiers without thinking.

The two looked at him, then laughed.

“Maws always grows on the north sidea trees.” Apple Core said pointing to one of the pines.

“Okay!” Red Field didn’t bother asking why Apple Core hadn’t mentioned that earlier and he perused their options. “We should,” he caught himself, “I advise we move that way.”

“Alrahgt!” Apple Core said with a grin. “’S go!”

They made a good team. Red Field wouldn’t have believed any relative of the Tartlets could be so cooperative, but the green pony and he made quick work of the next leg of the journey. Both Fit Finish and Blue Streak whispered to one another the entire trip and followed with a minimal degree of cooperation. However for the first time in his life, Red Field wasn’t bothered by the slander of other ponies. As impossible as it was, Red Field felt himself feeling some camaraderie toward another stallion.

“Whut’re we lookin’ for?” Apple Core asked as he mantled a fallen tree and turned to assist his navigator.

“That.” Said Red Field. The Apple turned to look where Red Field was pointing. Rising out of the undergrowth and culminating in a wooden apex, was a pile of logs painted green. It was off to their right side and Red Field instantly saw his navigation had been off by about ten degrees. However Apple Core didn’t seem to care about the miscalculation and he bolted toward the two soldiers leaned against the stack.

“All right, you guys are third to last so you need to haul ass on your remaining objectives.” One of the soldiers said.

“Yessirs!” Apple Core said. “Red, ‘s go.”

“Whoa, you think you have everything?” Asked the second stallion, stepping off of the logs. Red Field hurriedly produced the map.

“Yes! I’m advising him you see, I just-”

“Not that, a couple of things that walk on four hooves maybe?” Asked the soldier. Red Field and Apple Core looked back.

Fit Finish and Blue Streak were nowhere in sight.

“Fuck.” Apple Core muttered as he ran back the along their path. He was followed closely by Red Field. Apple Core, having no idea where his teammates might be, began to shout their names as they retreaded their journey. “Ah’m gonna skin those clowns alahve.”

In five minutes they found their lost teammates. The two ponies were resting beside a tree and didn’t appear particularly concerned at their separation.

“Whut are ya’ll doin’?!” Apple Core asked. “We gotta get t’the last target.”

“Hey calm down, we stopped to take a break and by the time we got up, we couldn’t see you guys anymore.” Said Blue Streak.

“We thought you’d come back.” Said Fit Finish, who was still lying on his back with his hooves crossed.

“Wha’ the hell didn’t ya’ll come lookin’ fer us?!” Asked Apple Core.

“We got tired, and we were just going to wait until you guys finished and came back for us.” Fit Finish said as he got to his hooves.

“Whut? Ya’ll are the biggest bunch a pansies ah ever seen.” Said Apple Core. Fit Finish, whose opinion of their leader hadn’t grown in their separation, stepped before the country pony.

“Well it took ya’ll a pretty long time to notice we were gone.” He said. “Ain’t too leaderlike of ya’ll now is it?” He said in sudden, yet unsurprising anger.

“Ah didn’t hear ya’ll volunteering to lead us nao did ah?” Said Apple Core.

“Guys, we’re wasting time.” Red Field stepped between the two. “Come on, we need to go.”

“Yeah guys, kill each other after the test, seriously, let’s not lose cause of this okay?” Blue Streak said.

The tenuous truce between Apple Core and Fit Finish lasted the next few hours as the sky began to fade to black. Red Field had forgotten to track their progress on the map and they spent forty five minutes returning their bearings, only to find that their final objective, a group of buildings, lay on the opposite side of the woods. The sun was drifting down to the horizon as the ponies pushed and snagged their way through the underbrush. Red Field had long since lost the ability to read the map and was hoping he hadn’t made any mistakes in the dead reckoning calculation of the final leg of their trek. He walked behind Fit Finish, who walked behind Apple Core.
The four were silent as they marched.

“When’s 2200?” Asked Blue Streak.

“Ten.” Said Red Field. They had to be nearing the deadline. The last rays of the sun were slowly bleeding out orange into the skies above them when Red Field heard the quiet thrash of a river.

They weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the river.

He galloped toward the noise and the other ponies hesitated, then followed their errant navigator.

“Hey! I thought you said it was this way!” Shouted Blue Streak. They reached Red Field. He was standing on the bank of the river.

“I didn’t think this was here, I think we might have taken a wron-”

“Fuck!” Blue Streak tore the map from him. “Goddamn it I knew this was going to happen.” He squinted at the map for only a moment before throwing it to the ground. “Great, I can’t see anything. Now we can’t even figure out how lost you got us!”

“We have to be-” Red Field began.

“Just shut the hell up okay?” Said Fit Finish. They were bathed in the glow of a dim blue light. Emanating from Fit Finish’s horn was a dull illumination spell. Ignoring his comrades, the white pony scooped up the map and began reading it.
Red Field was instantly at his side.

“Whoa back off! You don’t know shit for spells and are the whole reason we’re here in the first place.” He said, giving Red Field a shove.

“Ya’ll let ‘em see the map.” Said Apple Core.

“Hey fuck off captain, you’re not much better.” Said Fit Finish, still trying to pinpoint their position. Apple Core shoved him and the smaller pony stumbled a few steps.

“Whoa cowboy, you want to fight?” Fit Finish said in an eager recitation of a question meant to be asked in surprise.

“Goddamn it stop it both of you.” Blue Streak said. He picked up the map and held it to Red Field. “You, figure out where we are.” He pointed to Apple Core. “You stop telling everypony what to do.” He pointed finally to Fit Finish, who was still glaring at Apple Core. “And you lead us to where we need to go.”

“Fahn.” Apple Core said.

“Here, Jesus pony, figure this out.” Blue Streak gave the map to Red Field. Red Field looked up and down the represented river.

“Here, we’re here.” Red Field said.

Blue Streak took the map and gave it to Fit Finish, who was still eyeing Apple Core.

“All right, let’s move out.” Said Fit Finish, finally drawing his attention from Apple Core.

Their final objective wasn’t staffed by any soldiers, and all four knew they were late. Fit Finish led the way, his horn's ambiance allowing the team to see just enough of the foliage around them. Red Field saw stars appearing in the sky above them when the warm white glow of the academy began to illuminate the trees around them.

“C’mon, we gotta run.” Said Apple Core, though they were already galloping at full tilt. Red Field’s lungs were raw and his legs seethed at the overexertion, but he knew they were far behind and he pressed himself onward.

The first three of their group reached the edge of the trees sitting before the sloping hill that led into the camp.

“Red, come on, we all gotta make it t’gether.” Apple Core called to the straggling pony. Red Field reached them after a minute and they exited the test as a complete, if belated, team.

Flashpoint was standing behind the linked fence. Two other ponies stood with him and he was telling them something. He looked up the instant the four left the woods.

“Fuck.” Was all Fit Finish had time to mutter before the steely officer reached them.

They stood at attention. Flashpoint had halted them, and took a green notebook from his breast pocket. He opened it and flipped to a page. He read for only a few seconds.

“Group fourteen. It is now 2330. You are an hour and a half late to the rendezvous. Do you have any explanation for this?”

“Yessir.” Apple Core said. “We-”

“Who are you cadet?”

“Apple Core sir, ah, ah’m the leader.”

“I see.”

“Well y’see sir. They got lost, an’ we all got lost a few tahms, so ah reckon that’s wha we’re late.” Flashpoint listened, then gave a nod of comprehension.

“I see. Who do you think deserves the blame for that?” He asked. For the first time since their unfortunate confederation, group fourteen worked as a team and nopony said anything. Flashpoint surveyed the tired cadets. “Well then, as no exact member has been indicated, I imagine discipline ought to be meted equally then.” He flicked his head to the fence. “Ten laps, then head back to barracks.”

Red Field’s heart fluttered and he panicked. He couldn’t make ten laps. He couldn’t possibly make ten laps. The ponies around him began to shuffle toward the fence and he followed them.

“Cadet Core.” They stopped and looked back. Flashpoint was replacing the notebook. “Why is it that one of your ponies is currently utilizing a spell, after being explicitly informed of the illicit nature of such enchantments in this exercise?”

“Ah, ah guess-”

“Cadet Core will be the only one doing laps tonight, the rest of you can go to your barracks.” Said Flashpoint. All four hesitated and Flashpoint grew impatient. “You three return to your barracks, cadet Core will spend some time learning what the responsibility of leadership entails.”

Fit Finish and Blue Streak left immediately, but Red Field watched helplessly as the only other productive member of their team was punished for the failure of another pony. Flashpoint, who was following Apple Core to the fence, turned back to the small, black and white pony.

“Cadet Field, return to your barracks or join your squad mate.”

Nothing was right with Gale Force.

Red Field would have been more outraged, however he was incredibly exhausted and he realized he hadn’t eaten dinner. The mess hall was closed and he walked past, hoping to just fall asleep and forget the day.
He reached his barracks and pushed open the screen door. The lights were off and he flicked them on.

A few groans rose from the beds, then a minor barrage of obscenity. Siplinski poked his head out of the covers.

“Red!” He pulled off the covers and climbed out of the bunk.

“Oh.” Said Black Rain. “You made it back.”

Red Field remembered his apology.

“Hey guys I’m sorry. I was being completely insensitive last night about your game. I know it’s a big deal to you and I wanted to say that I-”

“Hey guys.” The voice came from Red Field’s bunk. Full Wing sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What’s goin’ on? We having a drill or something?”

Next Chapter: Chapter 7 Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 11 Minutes