//------------------------------// // 39. I Have Demons // Story: Millennia: Eye of the Storm // by Thunderblast //------------------------------// A trio of paramedics rushed a stretcher down the front steps to the street, where a white carriage with a red cross painted on its side sat stationary, ready for a dash to the emergency center on code black alert a few blocks away. "Sir, what is your name?" asked one of the EMTs, fast-trotting beside the other two with one hoof on the side. "M... my n-name?" slurred the brass unicorn with blood staining either corner of his lips. A clean rag replaced the cloth ripped from Ambassador Suldur's suit sleeve, clogging the wound and effectively stopping any more lifeblood from spilling. "B-Buchard," he said through a low breath that was barely audible to either stallion. "Buchard, you are going to be all right. You've lost quite a bit of blood, but the wound is stabilized for now. You are going to Manehattan General Hospital where they will get that bullet out of you. You hear me?" "I-I was... s-shot...?" he groaned, the last words spoken before the paramedics folded up the stretcher's legs and slid the wounded diplomat into the back of the ambulance securely, then climbed into the forward seats. As soon as all were safely in, the snow-white draft stallion pulling the carriage began a gallop down the street and around the corner, guarded closely by some of Celestia's pegasus protectors. The whole scene was an utter mess. Fences used to barricade off civilians in designated locations lay toppled over, some with their bars completely and unbelievably twisted or bent by the sheer strength of the panicking crowds when they evacuated the area. Protestor signs lay strewn across the cement and grass with hoof-sized holes stomped into them, and one or two stuffed animals brought along by foals sat lonely, waiting to be claimed or tossed out like the rest of the trash scattered about. Across the street, police tape surrounded a parked carriage in a narrow alleyway, as well as the entrance of a 32-story tower with windows shot out along the twentieth floor; leftover evidence of an intense gunfight that trapped two of my friends and were ultimately left to fend for themselves. The whole block was a crime scene. Bodies of the deceased, as well as three incapacitated, were carried out one by one, all of which kept separate from the corpses of the good, and thankfully outnumbered the latter in total. As soon as the all clear was given an hour and twenty minutes after the first shots were fired, the two ruling diarchs immediately evacuated on the orders of their own Guard escort, while, against the somewhat vulgar demands of Prince Shining Armor, his spouse and younger sister chose to stay put and help any way they could with the recovery efforts. Amidst the chaos resulting by the clearing out of the Citadel, some injuries took place caused particularly by the stampeding of ponies hurrying to safety, as to be expected. All of which, to our relief, were minor in nature and treated on the spot in one of perhaps a dozen emergency tents put up on the United World of Countries Complex grounds. Among them was Silver Edge, sporting a two-inch wide bruise of alternating purples and blues on his shoulder from where a bullet struck his vest, and a red-tinted mark where another burned off a streak of his uniform sleeve and thin layer of flesh beneath as it grazed his arm. Miraculously, those were the worst of his injuries. Anchorage went unscathed as well, much to our surprise. I suppose that is due to him being more cautious in his perception as compared to the first time he had bullets aiming for him—that is, the first time I have witnessed him in a legitimate combat situation. I strolled up to one of the larger tents and stepped only part of the way inside and glanced to my left, where Silver sat as a nurse tended to his arm. He yipped lightly as she applied a cold cloth and then had him hold it there. He looked over slowly, a small frown pursing his lips. "Could be worse, am I right?" he went. My response was in the form of an agreeing nod, before asking, "How many were there?" The beige unicorn's magenta irides drifted elsewhere momentarily as he shook his head. "I can't really say. If it weren't for Anchorage, though..." he trailed off, sighing, then looked right back at me. "I owe him a lot, I really do." A small smile, nothing quite notable, appeared on my muzzle. "If I am to base my judgement on his word, it's that he believes he owes you." Silver blinked a couple of times, then softly chuckled. "Well, we had each others' flanks up there. He just saved mine more than anything. I'm thankful that he showed up when he did, or else I would have been toast." "That's why having a partner to watch your six is crucial," I commented in addition to a wink. "You never know when you might need them." A gentle conceding nod was the unicorn's response. Right then, a pegasus with a coat of blue darker than mine entered the tent to my right in a rather hasty manner. It was Hardstaff. "Petty Officer," he addressed, briefly flicking his eyes toward me and nodding in acknowledgement of my presence. Silver immediately straightened his back at his former squad leader's entrance. "Yes, Sergeant? What can I help you with?" The denim-colored Marine strode closer and pulled up short of Silver's cot. "It was brought to my attention that you were upstairs with the Sniper Corps this afternoon? Before the attack?" Musing over his query, Silver nodded once, firm in his answer. "I was. At least, where they should have been." Hardstaff's brow raised gently. "Do elaborate for me, sailor. I am trying to gather as much witness information as possible." Silver momentarily glanced at me, then back at the sergeant. "About five or so minutes before the summit meeting began, I spotted a group of ponies entering the vacant office, carrying briefcases of some sort. Almost looked like gun cases, which make sense now considering the circumstances. I followed them inside and decided to check on Overwatch on the twentieth floor, but when I got there... there was only the gun. No operator, not even a trace of them." The pegasus nodded as he began jotting down on a notepad with a pen, scribbling every little detail the petty officer described. He glanced back up when Silver paused. "Anything else?" "Other than the fact that they nearly killed me, and Petty Officer Anchorage saved my ass, I'm going to say no. He did try and chase after the sniper, though." "Were you at all able to catch a glimpse of the pony?" Silver shook his head. "No, Sergeant. I was unable to tail Anchorage when he shot out a window and leaped through it in pursuit." All of this was compelling enough. Though, in the end, it was not sufficient to provide a definitive answer for Hardstaff. He finished writing and glanced up again. "Is that everything?" "Yes, Sergeant. I'm sorry, that's all I've got," Silver replied, drooping his ears in disappointment. "That's all right, Petty Officer. Thank you for your time," Hardstaff nodded once to him, then being returned by Silver. As he turned to walk back out, he stopped and stared at me for a couple of seconds. "Can I have a word with you for a moment, too?" I blinked, nodding once. "Of course, Sergeant." At that, I tailed him out of the tent and around the corner, where nopony was standing. I faced him and quietly went, "What do we know?" The stallion stoically met his light blue gaze with the crimson of mine. "Not that much, other than those ponies in the Citadel were likely paid assets. We're talking paid heavy sums of money, or offered beforehand if they were successful," he shrugged, I nodded again in agreement to his gesture. "Weaponry isn't anything we haven't seen, mostly shit that can be purchased from your average gun store. Probably from outside the city since there aren't many around here. The armor they wore is being transported for examination, thinking they might provide a few clues." "What about the rounds recovered in the Citadel? The ones used by the sniper?" He stared for a few seconds, blinking. "None were able to be recovered. Bits of debris that are too far pulverized to even be recognized as any type of round, let alone be pieced back together in a lab. Our only option is when they remove the shell from Consul Buchard's barrel, and even that isn't guaranteed of a result. Whatever the weapon, it was evidently powerful enough to obliterate its own ammunition and render it virtually unable to be back-traced." "And the rifle itself was likely packed up, too. They wouldn't leave something like that behind; seems too precious of a commodity, and a murder weapon. They had to have been planning this for some time, too. The concept has the air of being awfully well-thought out," I commented, motioning my hoof. Hardstaff shook his head in disagreement. "Unlikely. The assembly was only publicly announced a week ago. Acts such as these take months, even years to prepare for." "Unless perhaps a third party got wind of it ahead of the announcement. Gives them plenty more time to think things through," I suggested, but then grunted as the counter came to mind. "Still, that's only about thirteen days. I imagine it was not an immediate decision on behalf of Canterlot to hold a conference with the Ajerstanians after the incident at sea. There is obviously a bigger motive in play here that we are unaware of." The sergeant tipped his chin. "You make a good point, though some of it just doesn't add up. This'll be something for Intelligence to work on as we're just their guinea pigs for right now. Until they piece it all together, it is still our job to maintain the integrity of civilians' confidence in us to protect them and their city." My head bobbed in a comprehensive nod, as there was no more that I felt needed to be uttered. "Yes, Sergeant." Hardstaff softly grunted, walking around me. "As you were, Corporal." *** As usual, life went on in the week after. The incident remained fresh on everypony's mind, and no one escaped the head of command's wrath of throwing out double shifts to virtually everypony with non-essential rates; meaning ponies like Silver and Ashfall were stuck with sometimes upwards of 22-hour shifts. Every day. I couldn't help but pity them, even though out of all of us Ash is likely most accustomed to abrupt changes in scheduling. He has been in the Marines longer than even Anchorage has been a sailor. Then again, he is also the oldest of our circle. Carrying along a travel mug filled completely with freshly brewed coffee for the morning, I routinely entered one of the three offices at the complex. All seemed well upon my first paces inside, walking past working Marines and sailors in the hall on my way to the geological department some four doors in on the left. Coming up to the door, I took the mug handle in my teeth and dug into a pocket, producing a ring of three keys and briefly fumbling with them before unlocking and entering. The first thing upon entry was three knocks on the door jam, a signal in the office every time one of us walks in. Anypony else not a member of the team without a key to unlock the door themselves must knock twice, then wait to be allowed in—this was swiftly determined in the aftermath of the second lieutenant's murderous rampage to know when to defend ourselves from a possible intruder should some of us wind up trapped in the complex. The locks had not yet been changed over to the new key card scanners due to a demand surge of them in virtually every building on base, leaving us one of the few offices to receive extra security measures last. Nice to see they care about our safety so much. Strolling up to my desk, I set the mug down and slid the chair out, uttering to my coworkers as I did so. "Good morning." "Morning, Corporal," replied Argony, momentarily flicking his chin up in acknowledgement from his computer monitor across from mine on a separate setup. Like the usual, I asked my daily question as I hung my computer satchel by the back of my chair. In reality, our jobs lately have been tedious at best. "Anything new that I should be made aware of?" "Nothing but Captain Shadow turning up a little bit ago," said Sergeant Major Aphrodite, carrying with her a folder that she brought over to a cabinet to tuck away, before adding, "Said he was looking for you." "Oh yeah?" My ears perked and I glanced up at her. It was relieving to have her back after the incident and fully recover from her wounds. "What for?" "Didn't say, except he expects you at the Eclipse at ten." The brunette-coated mare lifted her hoof and slid back the sleeve a couple of inches to read a watch, then shifted her softened, neutral gaze up at me. "You've got five minutes, Shooter." I blinked twice. "I'd better run, shouldn't I?" The question was met with a slow nod from the sergeant major, who turned and started back for her office quarters. With that, I snatched up my coffee and hauled ass out the door without a moment wasted. Most would think I have lost my mind when I say sprinting is one of the greatest feelings. This goes especially when you're dressed top to bottom in a cotton undershirt and blouse, both of which consisting of the darkest shades of blue and grey respectively that absorbs the hot summer sun like an infomercial sponge in a clogged sink. It's even worse being a pony whose coat is already exactly like or close to that of a navy blue. Somehow on the rushed jaunt, however, not a single bead of sweat broke on my forehead. I slowed my pace to a trot upon reaching the pier housing the Eclipse and eventually halted in the middle to search for Shadow. The task was not particularly difficult, though the abnormal amount of activity surrounding the carrier did lengthen the time it took for my eyes to set upon the patient captain donning the regular working uniform and start towards him. Glancing around steadily, he soon spotted me on my approach and shifted to face me as I pulled up short. "Corporal," he greeted. "Captain," I responded, voice barely yet discernibly exhausted from the run, nodding once. "You requested to see me?" "Of course. I wanted to get you up to speed on some things, but most importantly, I hoped to familiarize you with our new ship," Shadow said, half-monotone, then flicked his gaze down at my mug. "If that coffee's not for me, leave it down here. A spill even from a lidded cup could be costly." My brow furrowed at his comment, but I went no further to question and, after chugging a large portion down yet not quite finishing the contents, placed it on a portable workbench and turned to the captain. "Ready when you are, sir." He gently tipped his chin and spun, striding in a leading pace to the aircraft elevator lowered to the dock's level for easy transference. The smallest of waves sloshed harmlessly against the ship's hull and between it and the pier. The carrier still rocked to the river's influence, even in the best of conditions, which to one might frighten upon having to hop over the ten-inch gap safely separating and preventing the elevator from grinding against solid cement and causing potentially grave damage. I scanned our surroundings, questioning the validity of Shadow's use of 'new' as we left the hangar bay behind and started through the ship's corridors to the bridge. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Captain. This is exactly the same ship we sailed on. What's different?" "Believe it or not, Star—everything. Anything electronic has been stripped or is in the process of doing so, and will soon be replaced by the latest and greatest. At least, that's what Mace tells me." Immediately my gaze honed in on Shadow. "Armet Mace? He is doing this for us?" "Per request of the Head of the Navy and the fleet admiral. Against the train wreck that was the Ajeri summit meeting, my point seemed to have gotten across pretty well when I said our shit was way outdated," he replied, glancing over his shoulder briefly. "So, it's roughly a ten-million-bit deal with GenTech to provide the Lunar Fleet with the newest operating systems and everything in between, starting with our dearest Eclipse," Shadow continued, pausing only when we reached a ladder to the next level. "After her, they'll move on to the Gibbous, the Lacus, and the Aphelion." "And... what does this mean for me?" I commented on the climb up after him. "Come again?" "Am I being replaced?" A somewhat loud chuckle came from the greenish-grey stallion, the first I have heard him let off in a while, faintly boomed in the narrow space we stood in with the bulkheads reverberating the noise in all directions. "Of course not, Corporal. It's just computers, not the ponies operating them. The only difference is your station will look completely new." "Good new, or bad new?" "I'll leave that up to you to decide," was his curt response, climbing a second ladder that led into a stairwell going up to the main bridge deck. The hatch to the bridge sat open as it usually did with a faint clamor emanating from within where somepony presumably was still working. A couple of times I flicked a glance at Shadow while he kept in the lead, mentally questioning his notable lack of explanation. Clearly something was there that he chose to hold me out on, and I had a decent idea of what it could be. "It might be a couple more hours before the bridge is done, and they have been working since around 1700 yesterday. Mind your step," he cautioned, lifting his hoof and stretching it forward to gently hop across an opened toolbox sitting in the middle of the floor. I carefully followed suit before looking up. Every last keyboard, every mouse, and all of the monitors once securely bolted to their respective stations and desks now sat packed away tidily in basic cardboard boxes with their cords and wires separated, rolled up and tied neatly with plastic zips. All of the stations were different, too. To an extent, the bridge now looked like a proper command center. LED displays lined the forward-facing station from port to starboard, as well as small screens hanging from either corner. The captain's chair sat propped up near the front, standing taller than the others, equipped with a retractable arm connected to a completely transparent electronic screen—almost like a piece of glass, but it was an actual computer. Below the display sat a small assortment of organized buttons as well. In dead center of the bridge sat a round-edged, rectangular quartermaster's table with a large light consisting of much of the table surface in the middle. Between the table and the captain's chair stood a thin bar standing a foot off the floor with a glass pane stretching up to a lip in the ceiling,connected to what appeared to be tiny holographic projectors in my best assumption. So, that was a computer too of sorts, or a map. Finally, there was the wheel, and the radarpony's station, separated on their own desk-like platforms at the rear of the room. My new station occupied a simple, thin lip-like bar sticking from the bottom of the desk, and a slab of glass built into the surface with a tiny power button positioned beside it. I strolled up and studied the station thoroughly, before pressing the button. The glass lit up in a glow of bright blue with the interactive picture of touch-pad keyboard, and the projector sprung up a paper-thin hologram made of pure light energy, yet was completely solid in nature after a couple of light taps with my hoof. On the projection showed three individual displays; weather and nautical radar, and sonar. Scrutinizing the change, I turned right to Shadow approaching on my left. "What the hell is this?" were the first words on my mind to escape my lips. "I take it you are not much of a fan?" remarked Shadow in a low tone, grunting softly as I replied with a firm shake of my head. "Trust me, Star, I do miss good old fashioned monitors with keyboard buttons that you can feel with your own two hooves. But this is what they had for us, this is what is on the demand market right now." I scowled in mild irritation. "What are we, a floating Bridleway now?" The stallion cocked his head curiously. "Why do you say that?" My eyes narrowed solely on the captain. "Come on, Shadow, even the coffee pot has a big blue 'G' printed on the side," I said, pointing to the side at the mini-kitchen. "You think I wouldn't notice that first thing? Last I checked, we don't ride around with every brand of everything plastered on the bulkheads—or better yet, the hull of the ship." Rather than meeting my expression with equal dismay, the smallest of genuine smiles pursed his lips. "Rest assured when I say the brand of coffee we have on deck isn't going anywhere, there'll be plenty of that next deployment." I waved my hoof around in a gesture to put that notion aside. "That's not the point, Captain. Do we need all of this new shit?" Shadow's smile vanished abruptly, returning to the neutral demeanor he typically wears. It was a moment before he gave a single nod. "Yes, Corporal, I believe we do." My brow furrowed suspiciously. "Why not just... you know, refresh the operating system we run on, or strip all of the receivers on top of the island and replace them? I'm not sure I even recognize the ship anymore!" "Because our old hardware couldn't handle the stuff GenTech produces, according to Armet. Old processors, displays, everything had to go or else we would be essentially sailing in the nineties." "Shadow, I thought this was the New Lunar Republic. We are supposed to be the top of the line for military technology in Equestria. Why on earth did we let that fall off?" He didn't initially reply, instead turning to look at the technician across the bridge who happened to glance up from his work. Shadow nodded to him, shifting his attention back only when we were the only two in the room. "The defense budget, Star. Celestia is still trying to slash it, even with all the shit that has gone down in the past year. Less funding means cutbacks, and cutbacks means sacrifices have to be made. Either personnel or the gear they use, we can only have one or the other. We sure as hell cannot afford to lose crucial sailors or Marines on the force, so upgrades for all of our equipment is discarded until the next royal fiscal agreement is considered. "We train everypony normally, as well as we can or more so everyone's expertise in how to defend themselves and fight when the time calls for it is mutual. The common excuse is that Equestria's navy is functional enough, though it's quite the opposite when we lose the most basic of navigational systems to something as meager as a lightning strike without the aid of contemporary safeguards. "This is everything we have ever needed, Star. I may not be all too fond of Armet, but he has no hesitation when it comes to our operational boundaries being raised. I have him to credit for his generosity toward the integrity of my ship and the safety of my crew in future deployments." He then stopped, drawing in a breath slowly, letting it off in a quiet form of a sigh. Shadow lifted a hoof and cordially pressed it on my shoulder. "That includes you—my friend. I perfectly understand your reasoning, why you are hesitant to accept the new. It will take some time for everyone to adjust, even me. Believe me when I say that you will not have to learn anything, or go through more classes for the technology. Everything you know is there, just in a new place. It'll be a new force of habit. Do you understand?" I stared neutrally for a few moments, considering thoughts for a moment, then nodding comprehensively before speaking. "Affirmative." Shadow took his hoof off of my shoulder and stiffened his posture slightly. "If there are no further statements you wish to speak your mind on, then I believe we are done here, Corporal. I'll walk you down." *** It was well past nine, and the sun had set no more than a half hour ago. The dark of night shrouded Joint Base Manehattan, illuminated by street poles and the few remaining lights of some administrative buildings. A gold hue echoed above the distant skyline with a touch of neon blue from GenTech Tower, shining like a bright beacon of the future over the bustling metropolis steadily becoming busy once more in time for its famed nightlife. Following the end of a half shift at the geology office, replaced by Magnus for the night watch, I made my way to the dormitories for the evening. A lukewarm, dew-scented breeze bounced the strands of my sky-blue mane a little under my cover and whisked gently between my feathers, prompting me to partially spread them as I walked to feel the air flow around, like a rock in a stream; the one sensation I could get that matched flying, or how I assumed it to be like. Times such as now were when my mind roamed freely, often jaunting between brief thoughts correlating to work, among other things. However, that was not the case this evening. Along the trek halfway across base, my contemplations congregated around one thing, and one thing only; the shootings. Alas, that is to be expected with many wherever I may go. It happened only a week ago, after all. Stuff like that remains fresh on everypony's heads. But it felt... different. These were not the musings glanced over mentally a hundred times since it occurred. I knew exactly why, too. It was all coming back to me; a frightening reminder of last year, soul-wrenching memories of the attack on the Eclipse and the city mere months apart from one another, and partially recurring the scuffle on the Alder with those weird figures. About a third of the way to the dorms, I stopped near a brightly-lit spot to catch my breath. I hadn't been running, yet I found myself gasping for air. Almost like it was being forced out of my lungs, but without any sort of pain or pressure that I could properly acknowledge. I pressed my hoof up against a lamp post and rested against it, head dipping and facing downwards, essentially huffing in and out in deep respiratory movements. My gaze darted to my far right, past the pole I leaned on. For some odd reason, I expected to see a pony standing there, but no one was around. Somehow, I detected a pair of eyes looking from afar. It might have been somepony randomly peeking out their office window, yet it felt... constant. Like they were watching me. If they were, whoever it was, their stealth far surpassed my immediate field of view, even with how well-lit the base typically is past dusk. Hiding would not be a particularly easy task to pull off around here. Regardless, I decided to keep moving. This time, there was a weight on my chest. A light one, at that, though discernible at most. Breathing didn't hurt, but I could make out that it wasn't right. Something wasn't right. I couldn't put my hoof on it. Then I stopped in my tracks. Immediately, my attention turned to one specific administrative complex standing just a floor up and no higher, small in overall size, but with plenty of room for compact offices. Most of the lights were still on, glowing in an unfiltered bright bluish-white across the ground in rectangular patches. My sights studied the building for only a few moments before it came to mind. This is Haywalker's building. A turn in my path brought me to the door, still wide open in terms of not having been locked up for the night. I don't think this place did lock up since one of the maybe five or six departments occupying it functions day in and day out, though I could be wrong. The door creaked as I jarred it open and slipped inside, hooves gently clicking against the polished tile flooring. Being the only noise after the door closed behind me, they almost seemed loud, and subconsciously began ensuring each new step forward would not draw unwanted attention. My pace slowed on approach to a door on the right, sitting completely open with a gentle light of a lamp shining within. I pulled up to the frame and stood in it, gawking into the little room and at a sky-blue unicorn with a mane of pure coal slicked back tidily as possible for its short length. He flipped through a booklet in a folder, silently stood before an open filing cabinet drawer where he extracted it from. It was only a couple of moments spent standing there when I cleared my throat, then uttered, "Doc." He lurched, closing the file and turned quickly over his shoulder, looking ultimately caught off guard by my unexpected presence, only to calm when he adjusted his glasses to scrutinize me. Now I felt bad for startling him. "Corporal! I was just about to head home for the night. Can I help you with something?" Ears swiveling back, I pulled off my cover and held it over my chest in a show of eased manner. "I... I need to sit down and talk with you for a few. Would that be okay?" Haywalker slipped the folder back into its respective place in the cabinet. "If it is as imperative as you make it out to be, I don't see why not." He motioned his head toward his desk and slid out the upholstered mahogany chair, seating himself slowly. I eased myself onto a chair of similar color, but far less fancy in style. "How are you doing, Corporal? It's been some time since our last talk. I trust Pastel has been working her magic?" First came a nod, but then a shrug, partial in my answer, which raised the stallion's eyebrow. "She has, though it's been a couple of months at least between our more recent appointment. Deployment played a big role in that, but for the most part, I haven't... had much of the will to go back." "And why is that?" Haywalker gently cocked his head to the left curiously. "Do you feel her efforts are not working in your favor?" "No, no, that's not what I'm trying to say at all. She's helping, she really is, and I could not be more thankful for you to have referred me to her, it's just..." I paused, the words halting at the back of my throat. Softly I sputtered in attempt to muster what I wanted to say, further building upon the doctor's apparent bewilderment. After a solid half a minute, I gave up and lost my straightened posture. "I have demons, Doc. I can't shake them, no matter what I do." "What makes you say that, Corporal? That you are unable to rid yourself of these troubles?" he queried further. A pain struck my chest, like a spear driven into my very core. For a second I contemplated a fib, only to then acknowledge it would not make a difference. I drew in a deep breath, then shakily let it off. "The dreams don't stop. The memories. When the summit meeting was attacked, I felt it all coming back. The inhibitions, the possibility of dying to the enemy, the fear of failing my peers and Equestria. They all grab me with razor sharp claws and just... they won't stop scratching, and they won't let go of me, no matter how much I resist." I paused to take in a short breath then swiftly letting it out. "Don't get me wrong, I feel great after talking to Pastel, it's... just... all of it feels so provisional. "I can be confident in myself the entire day after the fact no problem. But, come the next, everything seems so... dull. When I glance out at the city every morning, all of the color I saw the first time I arrived in Manehattan is gone. I see my coworkers on a shift and I feel like they shake their heads at me in disappointment when I'm not looking. I glance at my friends, and... I can hear them silently judging me." Again, I stopped, gaze falling to the desk slowly as I let it all out. My eyes turned glassy with tears threatening to gather, and a lump clogged my throat. Gradually, I lifted my blurry focus to meet the poised bearing of the psychiatrist, swallowing the blockage. "I sound like a soppy jackass right now, I just know I do. How am I meant to fix all of this, Doc?" Haywalker stared for a good minute or two, before I managed to detect an almost unnoticeable falter of his ears. The manifest hurt in my eyes was all too evident of my state of mind. A low sigh escaped the Marine's lips. "Star, there are some things that just do not leave you. Efforts can be made to minimize the effect on your mental state, perhaps make you immune to the horrific memories, but you cannot forget what you so vividly recall. "You do not know how much it pains me to see ponies of your age—or even younger—trot into my office seeking guidance. I offer them the best advice seared into my brain during the classes I took, sometimes I give my own personal word that may violate better judgement, and sometimes that turns out to be the better choice." Where he was going was beyond me at that point. "What, exactly, are you trying to say, Doc?" "I'm saying..." Haywalker stiffened his posture. "I'm saying the road is long and winding. It will continue to lengthen the more you refuse to walk it. Granted, there are shortcuts, although it involves weeks, possibly months of multiple strong forms of medication, the strongest currently on the market. Frankly, as I have said in the past, I am the furthest from comfortable writing you off with a bottle of pills and stamping you as battle-ready again, because you are not, and conventional medicine will not aid in your ailment. "It's precisely as I suggested eight months ago, Corporal. The better option may very well be honorable discharge, to get you away from this life and gradually reintegrate you into the civilian world. I understand how difficult that may be, but I now see it is active duty which is affecting you this way." My head cocked, eyes narrowing with tears now sitting in them. "So, what, I won't get any better until I am given the boot in five more years?" Haywalker shook his head. "No, no," he waved his hoof dismissively, then exhaled. "Corporal, you are attached to your rate. You are attached to your platoon, and you are fully attached to your Marines. I fully understand that. But all of this places you in prime position for danger, such as what has occurred these recent few months. What I am trying to say is that your road to recovery won't begin unless you relax, which is why I prescribed those two weeks at the start of the year. Clearly it is much more that you need." "Like what, Doc?" "Go home, see family, hang out with your friends. Surely you have not taken the time to do that recently?" The stare I wore in that very instance was one of pure sarcasm and minor annoyance. "Don't get me started on that." Haywalker raised his eyebrow again at my remark. Instead of continuing on that note, he leaned forward, hooves on the desk. A thin frown curled his lips downward as he shifted the course back to the original topic. "What you went through, Star, will always be a part of you. There is no denying that it will forever be clinging to your memories like a bloodthirsty parasite. For the time being, it is practically impossible to fix without intense hypnotization magic which, right now, is hard to come by, not to mention extremely expensive, and an extremely risky procedure; one even the smartest of unicorns would have trouble mastering. "Now, over the passage time, varying between pony to pony, you will begin to move away from these reminisces, and they will start to affect you less. Perhaps you may grow accustomed to them to where they no longer cause you to lose sleep or other normal functionality." I motioned my hooves, a look of evident desperation now permeating my countenance. "But how long, Doc? That is the main question I have for you, because I... I don't know how much longer I can tolerate it." The unicorn's ears notably lost their perk, and his gaze faltered. A silence fell between the two of us for a couple of moments before he could look me in the eye again. "I don't know," were his words. "That is why I referred you to Pastel. I hoped she could possibly aid in the process being sped up slightly for your convenience, but..." "But?" "It is your impatience that is bogging your progress, Corporal," he affirmed in a sudden change of demeanor. "I recognize your intense need to promptly end the worst parts of your memory, and quite honestly, I would too if I were in a similar situation. However, as I have stressed prior, this process does take time. A lot of it. But, to do all of this, I need your consent. I always need the patient's consent." I sat there for a few moments, staring with worry across the desk. Steadily I zoned out and broke eye contact, gaze lowering to the wooden surface between us. The words he spoke reverberated throughout my conscience in my state of muse. "I'll let you think about it." Before long, I sighed, looking up and pinning my ears back. "I don't think I am ready for all of that. I just don't, Doc. Not yet." The look on his face hinted of annoyance, masked by his own collected nature. I was irritated with myself, too. "Is there anything else?" he questioned. I shook my head. "No—well, there is one thing... but..." "But?" he furrowed an eyebrow again. "I... feel like it's less of a problem than it was then. That, and... I think it's something for me to solve on my own." Haywalker stared questionably in silence for a few long, uneasy moments, but went no further to query what I meant. "I trust your word, Corporal. Is that all?" My head bobbed in a gentle nod. "Yes, Doc. That was everything I wanted to talk about," I answered, cracking a small, genuine smile. "Thank you." "Anytime," he nodded back once. "Take care, Star Shooter." *** "Beginning today, mares and gentlecolts, I am pleased to announce a new wave of automated security drones will take to the streets to keep the public safe and sound. This order was given on behalf of Mayor Gold Pendant in the wake of the unprecedented tragedy at the United World of Countries that the city continues to pick up the pieces from." Down in the press, countless journalists and reporters raised their hooves and simultaneously called the maroon unicorn's name. His sights nonchalantly selected one in the forward row of seats, quieting the room to let the mare talk. "Mr. Mace, I believe I speak on behalf of many citizens when I forward these questions; what are these 'drones' you speak of? What will they do for the ponies of Manehattan?" Armet nodded once at the mare reporter in acknowledgement of her query. "That is a very good question that I am glad you asked, Ms... uh..." "Locket, Blue Locket, Equestria News Network," she finished for him. "Ms. Locket," he nodded again. "These drones, taking the shape of your average pony, will serve as an addition to the Manehattan Police in patrols around Manehattan Island. With GenTech enhancements, they have the grand ability to neutralize a suspect of crime without so much as harming them. Have a look at this diagram," Armet said, shifting his attention to a holographic display he set up behind him. It pictured a multi-dimensional image of the robot in question from multiple angles, as well as each of its features, including the array of weapons built in, which would certainly be terrifying in the eyes of a mother and her foal. I rubbed a hoof gently along my forehead just below my hairline, staring blankly at my other placed atop the bar counter. The smooth, glossy lacquer surface glimmered under the ceiling lights and faintly reflected the ever-changing picture of the five individual television screens hanging over the kitchen and broadcasting different channels, most of which particularly dedicated to sports across Equestria and the world. The only exception was the one local news channel turned on, replaying Armet's press conference. Sports were the last thing on my mind. Hell, I hadn't walked six and a half blocks just to catch up on the Wonderbolts and their current racing season, or the coming hoofball season. There weren't many ponies I knew who did that on any regular basis, anyway. Heading off base, in my situation, was strictly limited to groceries, the occasional night out with the colts, or going into the city to catch a train. Never have I gone out to drink alone—but that changed tonight. Three drinks in. That's where I was. Drowsiness had begun settling, much less any sort of drunkened stupor like I hoped to be. Either the cider I had been ordering wasn't alcoholic, or it didn't have as much in it anymore—or I have grown a rather quick tolerance to the beverage. Whatever the case, I needed another drink. "Sir!" I called, not too loud though, raising my hoof. "Can I get another?" With an acknowledging nod, the previously unoccupied bartender snatched up another mug and filled it to the brim with the foamy apple-based drink, enough to where some of it dripped off the side. He set it on the counter and slid it right into my hoof from a few feet down, where I gave him a single, appreciative nod and took a long, slow sip to savor the fresh goodness. Now the buzz had kicked in. Only a little, though, since I could still hear the gears turning up above. Typically this place packed out, especially around this time of night. The sole reason why only a select few including myself made the venture likely had to do with ponies wanting to stay inside and turn in early after last week; the exact same way everypony did when the Constitution bombarded the city. Despite the potential loss of revenue, the bartender and owner of the pub seemed content with the notable lack of business. He only perked up when the door at the corner of the establishment creaked open and in stepped another customer. It was until after he approached did I neglect to pay any mind to him. "Oh, Star! Didn't expect to catch you over here," said Anchorage, slipping up into the bar stool to the left of mine and folding up his wings snugly to his sides. He probably flew here, the lucky bastard. "What's the occasion?" "None in particular, just wanted a drink," I responded tiredly, eyes briefly darting to the three emptied mugs of cider still dripping foam, sitting off to the side. "Just a drink?" Anchorage furrowed his eyebrow questionably. He shrugged it off after I nodded, facing forward and glancing up at the same television screen I was watching. He scoffed in disgust. "This pony is the news?" "When isn't he?" I grunted softly, chin only a couple of inches from the counter surface. "I swear, every day they have a segment about him. It's absurd." "Isn't he deep in hot water as it is? Y'know, with the whole Canterlot mining deal?" Anchorage remarked, waving his hoof at the bartender to order a drink. "Well, now he's putting robots out there to 'protect the city'," I rolled my eyes. The greyish-white pegasus shifted his ice-blue gaze directly to me. "You kiddin'? Where the hell were they when the UWC was attacked, when they tried to kill the princesses?" "Don't ask me, brother." I shook my head, rubbing my hoof down my face and sighing. I then looked over at him. "Anyone else coming, or is it just you?" "Just me that I am aware of, mate," he responded, holding a mug to his muzzle and taking three enormous gulps that downed half of its contents. He slapped it down with a sharp exhale. "Why?" "Only curious," I said lowly, scratching behind my ear to satisfy a small itch. "Anything stressing you out?" Anchorage cocked his head a little at the question, only to look up at one of the television screens broadcasting a hockey game that attracted his attention. "Other than the usual idiot or two at work, nope. You?" My sights fell to the counter and my one hoof stretched halfway over it. "Where do I begin?" "Somewhere," he said before taking another sip of his own cider. A glower took form on my countenance, staring at the smooth and shiny wooden surface. "Now, you know I trust you more than anypony when it comes to speaking my mind." "More than Silver? Or Ash? Even Nightpath?" "Well, not entirely. I trust you all equally, but we seem to have the most encounters when it comes to this," I stated, garnering an agreeing nod from the pegasus sailor. "Anchor... do you have trouble sleeping?" He froze just before the mug could reach his lips and snapped his head right over to make firm eye contact. "What is that meant to imply?" he asked, honing in on me with a questionable stare. "Nothing in particular, just..." I drew in a small breath, meeting his concerned light blue with my drowsy crimson. "Answer the question." Anchorage blinked a couple of times. "Only because I'm a damn petty officer who's always on his hooves, because some dipshit fried a circuit or gave his computer a blue screen because he overloaded it with too much—" I waved my hoof around dismissively. "Okay, okay. But do you for any reason other than your job?" He raised his eyebrow and stared in silence for a few moments, up until the question finally clicked in his mind. Slowly, he faced forward. "Yes." My ears swiveled sideways. "Dare I ask, or are we on the same page?" "I believe we are," he grimly answered, gently nodding. "But that ain't why I drink." "So I'm wrong for it?" He turned to me, eyes slightly widened. "No. Everyone has their own reasons. Mine is because work is stressful. That, and I miss home. Been far too long." I nodded in acknowledgement. "Why not take some time off if that's the case?" Anchorage flashed a look over, which made me back off. "Please. If you knew my chief, you'd know it ain't that simple." I gazed forward again, opting toward minding my own business at that point. "Well, damn, I'm sorry." "Don't be. I just have to put up with him 'til my time comes to get out." The smallest of smiles cracked on my lips. "As if twenty-three-year-old, Petty Officer Second Class Anchorage has any intention of discharging from his beloved Navy," I teased. A smirk crossed the northern pegasus' muzzle. "Ya know me too well, Star. And here I thought that was Ash's job." We both chuckled at that, all while watching our own two programs from our stools. Anchorage continued to follow his hockey game, while I listened in to Armet Mace's continued address on the news channel. "With these, we shall make Manehattan a safer place for the ponies of Equestria. The future... is now. That will be all, thank you." *** Despite his roots, I never quite pegged Anchorage as a hockey fan. I suppose it made sense in all reality, though it quickly became embarrassing, in my opinion, when he ended up being the only one shouting in the pub over the game and occasionally beating on the counter repeatedly every time a goal was scored. In the end, his team, the Winneighpeg Blizzards, didn't even win—not that he seemed to mind. Watching him get this excited was amusing enough. After long, the bar did kick us out, claiming it was for our own sake. It wasn't for any bad reason, they simply refused to keep serving drinks after I finished my sixth and Anchorage finished his ninth, and yet he barely seemed tipsy, much to my perplexity. It was roughly a quarter 'til one when we left the pub, so we were the only two out on the street at that point. No pony wandered Bronclyn at this time, and typically for a justifiable reason—not that it was a crummy area of town, although big cities tend to get rowdy after dark, and because flying isn't one of my particular skills, in spite of being a pegasus, Anchorage opted to walk with me back to base. Like earlier, sleepiness loomed more than drunkenness; I guess that's what effect alcohol has on me, which is slightly irritating to say the least, although it's nice to not be stumbling around and knocking shit over, or be excessively loud to the point where ponies don't open up their windows and tell either of us to shut the hell up. In fact, we were especially quiet along the jaunt. Breaking the silence, however, we stopped short of a cut between two shops at the sound of a debilitated, pained groan. My ears perked and I glanced over to my friend, saying, "Did you hear that?" Anchorage's ear twitched, not saying a word as he waited to hear it again. When a second noise occurred, he turned to me and went, "Wait here," patting my shoulder. The wary pegasus moved with caution into the darkened alleyway, vanishing into a veil of dark where only his faint silhouette could barely be made out, even in my current state. I strode a few paces forward, standing at the opening of the cut. A sharp, yet low gasp from him startled me. He said aloud, "Star, come here!" Quickly, I moved up along his side, looking right down at the ground to what he had fixated on, and what I discerned in the shadows made my blood run cold. A stallion no bigger than the two of us with a mane frail and greying with a similarly-colored beard lay trembling, foaming at the mouth, like some sort of rabid animal—but he was not infected with rabies, like that damn rat that bit me in the bathroom of my dorm could have been. He was in trouble. But that wasn't all, that wasn't what stood out the most about him. We both knew this stallion. It was the captain of the Alder. We both turned to look at each other, one as bewildered as the other as we each caught the same idea simultaneously. "Hold on... that can't be! They flew him and his crew back to Trottingham months ago!" "Hnn... nnngh..." grunted the grizzling sea captain. Our eyes drifted back to him, Anchorage kneeling on his side and placing a hoof to his chest. "Stay with me, Captain," asserted Anchorage, gently turning his head to make the slow-blinking stallion look up at him. "We're going to call for help, alright?" A low groan emanated from the weakened pony, eyelids shuddering in a feeble attempt to keep open. He trembled beneath Anchorage, mustering every last bit of strength to raise his head and whisper to the worried pegasus. "The future... is... now..." His head lowered steadily and fell sideways, eyes closing at last. Without so much as hesitating, I dug into my pocket and retrieved my phone, beginning to dial for an ambulance. My heart raced a thousand miles per hour in the few seconds it took for an operator to pick up, which felt like an absolute eternity. "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" "Hello? We've got... a downed pony in an alleyway, seems to be heavily intoxicated or poisoned and showing signs of cardiac arrest, and he just closed his eyes! We're at the two-hundred block of..." I turned quickly to check the street name for the paramedics to easily track. As I did, however, my head was met with a powerful strike that sent me straight to the concrete. "Star!" shouted a shocked Anchorage. He lurched up and over to my aid, only to be struck down beside me. My mind raced, though like paralysis, I found myself unable to move any parts of my body. Pain surged through my head in the form of a heavy migraine, throbbing at the source of impact. Hooves clicked on the concrete, steadily moving past us to the older stallion. Faintly, the words, "No, please...!" rang through my head, distorted in my plighted state, before his moans of desperation were ultimately ceased by a single, silent shot to the forehead. Groaning, blinking heavily in an attempt to keep awake, I turned my head sideways to look at my fallen companion. He lay more stunned than I, motionless on the ground. I made a feeble attempt to call his name, but no coherent words escaped my maw, and I fell utterly limp when one of the figures stepped beside him. "Uh, what about this one?" uttered a younger-sounding voice, the pony it belonged to gently prodding and poking Anchorage's side with a hoof. "Get rid of him. The boss said the blue one is who we need."