//------------------------------// // Heartache and preparations. // Story: X-COM Ponies // by Sneaky Breeze //------------------------------// Chapter 5: Heartache and Preparations. It had been almost a week since Sneaky Breeze’s parents had gotten the letter detailing his disappearance, and now were attending his 'funeral' for lack of a better word. A guard pony declared missing in action would not be given the regular service as one who had fallen in battle, their ceremony would be more bittersweet. It would honor their memory and service as an empty casket was lowered into the grave with the blessings of the two rulers of Equestria. Then the guard's surviving family would be given a small statue commemorating their proudest moment while ponies still went out in search of him until the standard amount of years for the pony life span had past. As the empty coffin was lowered down, Brick layer did his best to keep his grieving wife from jumping onto it. “No, don’t put that down there! You say he’s alive so why are you putting that there!? He’s alive, I feel it! My boy’s still alive!” she shouted as Brick layer held her close and let her sob into his shoulder, her cries hurting his heart worse than his ears. Brick layer turned his gaze over to the memorial stone next to his son’s. It was that of his best friend, the one who had sworn to him that he would keep Breeze safe, Sgt. Rock Fist. Brick layer looked at the statue above Rock’s grave site where it showed him proudly kicking a diamond dog in the jaw. The two ponies had long ago both been in the business of construction. Brick layer had, obviously, been a brick layer while Rock Fist was a rock farmer. He broke down larger rocks into smaller portions to be carried away to be made into granite and marble. They both had heard the call to arms and enlisted to the guard. The similarities between their jobs had allowed them to be on friendly terms, while their duty to each other had made them as close as brothers. As Pegasus ponies slowly dropped flower petals into the grave a guard pony with purple armor walked up to a small single pony stage and cleared his throat to make a speech. Everyone looked at Shining Armor as he began. “Not many ponies can do what we do. Some say we enlist because we love the violence or because we think it will be easy money. While that may be true for some, the rest of us join because of duty, honor, and the love of our homeland. Sneaky Breeze was one of those ponies. He dutifully guarded us against all enemies, both outside and from within.” Brick layer looked away and tried to block out the speech in his mind. He had told his son that no good would come of joining the guard, but the boy was so certain of his choice that he hadn't listened. “ ...and so we commemorate this grave of flowers to the earth, with each flower petal symbolizing the thanks and blessings of every pony in Equestria. May he be found and greeted with open arms by those who love him, but if not then may his memory be honored for all time,.” Shining Armor said and removed his helmet to bow his head as an officer pony shouted orders to the unicorns. “Present , horns!” With a swift and precise movement the unicorns lifted their horns to the sky. “ “About, flank!” With three precise hoof steps the guardsmen turned to face the grave with their horns raised upwards. “Blast!” The air was pierced by the sound of magical energy being blasted into the sky as they repeated the final step seven times and brought the ceremony to a close. Several hours later Brick layer and his wife had left the royal guard cemetery and Brick was inside a shed behind his home while his wife held a scrapbook of photos to her chest in her son’s old room. Light Feather had kept Breeze’s room just like it was when he left to get his weather pony degree in rain making and a secondary in storm management. She had left all his old toys and comic books as they were when he left and only moved them to dust them off and make sure his room looked nice in case he came to visit. Light Feather slowly rolled over in her son’s bed before sitting up and opening the scrapbook of photos. Looking at the collection of memories, the very first photo she was met with was one of Sneaky as a new born foal trying to fly up to a cupboard as Brick held him by his tail. That memory brought bittersweet laughter to her heart and she continued to look at the photo, seeing her son again as he was before he had to dye his fur. She continued looking through the scrapbook to find good memories to ease her pain. The next photo she flipped to was of Sneaky blowing out candles on his sixth birthday cake, his blue mane with streaks of red was short cropped just the way his father had kept his and his fur was a darker shade of her blue. Everyone always did say he looked so much like both of them. Light Feather then settled on a bookmarked photo of Sneaky all dressed up in his graduation gown after he graduated from Cloudsdale University, his dark blue fur matching his gown. His father was hugging him tightly and smiling with actual joy in his face, a joy she rarely saw in him. Now satisfied with her trip down memory lane she flew up to her own room and into her bed, sleeping with the book of memories tightly held to her chest. “My precious little Nimbus cloud. I know your okay somewhere and I know I'll see you again.” Outside, however, there was no healing as Brick stood in the shed behind the house looking at an old rocking crib he used to put Sneaky into when he wouldn’t take a nap. He pushed a hoof against the crib and watched it sway gently. The memory of his son sleeping in the crib with an old stuffed toy and a pacifier in his mouth brought a smile to his face. But then the moment of peace was quickly eclipsed by rage as he remembered how his son came to him and told him he was signing up for the royal stealth fliers. The argument that had broken out between them was heard by their neighbors and ended up being the subject of gossip. Despite Brick's usual cool head he felt his vision wash over with red. Brick took the small crib in his arms, shaking with anger. He had told his son countless times of how he had almost lost his ability to walk with his back hooves after a diamond dog had slashed at his ankles with a diamond knife. He had told his son so many times about how hard life was in the service, waking up incredibly early in the morning, constant marches, and the danger of being killed. With a shout Brick threw the crib right at a nearby wall of tools and watched it smash before he shouted out at the top of his lungs, “Dammit all, boy! I told you not to go!” He then fell to the floor and, for the first time in years, broke down into tear filled sobs. *Back on earth. The Crow’s Nest*. Cotton sighed as he washed his face in the restroom of his personal office. Sneaking a quick glance at his face, his auburn hair had been shaved down to military regulation and his brown eyes carried with them the look of someone who had aged beyond his years. “And all this could be yours, ladies and gentlemen, if you pick eligible bachelor number two,” Cotton joked with himself as he walked out of the restroom into his office. “Sure he’s only about thirty-two years old, but he still can bench-press with the best of them. And he graduated with a degree in law before fucking it all up by enlisting to save the world.” Cotton sat down in his chair and crossed his legs as he activated a computer on his desk and looked at a report he had on subject 'Trixie'. So far Trixie had remained inside the alien containment unit and communication had been established through use of the new universal translation program. The technology worked through the process of handlers showing pictures and objects repeatedly and in various orders to the subject while a trio of supercomputers recorded everything that was said by the subject. They then slowly analyzed patterns the repetition of words until, eventually, a basic translation was worked out. Cotton stopped reading the details of how the translation had worked and then began reading what they had discerned. Supposedly Trixie, as she calls herself, had been teleported to earth by accident along with three other of her kind. She called them an Earth pony, and two Pegasus ponies. After some interrogation and testing they had determined Trixie had no affiliation with the aliens and no idea what the situation on Earth was. When asked about her psychic abilities Trixie proceeded to say that many ponies where she came from could do it but that she was one of the best. That statement had actually shown up false on the lie detector. Cotton then grabbed a communicator from his pocket and placed it on his ear before he activated it. “Get me Central.” The small computer activated and called upon the earpiece of Michael Bradford, the central operations officer lovingly nicknamed 'Central'. “Commander, you requested to speak with me?” Central responded into the headset. It sounded to Cotton as if the man were right in the room with him. “Yes. I'd like a status update on how much longer it will take until this base can be combat ready. We’ve been out of the fight since it began and I don’t like my trigger finger being idle.” “Commander, the crew has been working as hard as possible and the base should be ready tonight.,” Central said as he walked into the command center. “In fact, the Geoscape is coming online now.” Central looked up as a large holographic image of the earth flickered to life, coating the room in a blue glow as it revealed the current status of various nations around the globe. At the moment Central could see that a series of green lines hung over a blue USA, signifying the country was both protected and had satellite coverage against the aliens. Brazil on the other hand was orange due to too many victories by the aliens and the cult of Sirius. This was due to there being too much ground and hiding places for the enemy. “Sir, the hologlobe is ready, the Skyranger is fully equipped, and the interceptors have pilots and the new avalanche missiles. I’d say were fully loaded and ready for war, but I’d suggest talking to the other two base leaders before we go charging into the breach.” Central reported with a feeling of pride in his work. “Understood, Central. Keep me up to date on any occurrences and if there’s any trace of Trixie’s pony friends.” Cotton hung up on Central and then called Dr. Shen down in the engineering module. “Dr. Shen here, Commander. What can I do for you?” Shen said as he sipped his own homemade tea while watching his engineers building the new Arc Thrower stun gun which would give field operatives a better chance at taking the aliens alive. “Shen, I'm told our base is almost ready for combat but, what about our equipment?” Cotton said as he stood up and walked to a fake holographic window behind him which showed a sunset, even though it was 1:05 in the afternoon. The image always helped him relax in theese stressful times. “The weapons we have are the best that can be expected, communications as well. The only area of concern I have is with our armor.” “What’s wrong with it?” Cotton asked as he began to feel worried. “Well... nothing really.This armor can withstand up to fifty caliber rounds. You could even jump on top of a fragmentation grenade and have a good chance at survival. But the Hercules armor was designed along the lines of stopping bullets and shrapnel, not high heated plasma particles.” Shen set down his tea and walked out of engineering and towards the main elevator that led to the third floor. “Give it to me straight, Doctor. Are my boys walking into a slaughter?” “All war is slaughter, Commander, this armor will grant them a measure of protection. But not alot. “It will have to do for now but I want you and doctor Vahlen working together to try and find a way to better keep our troopers safe. If you have to, start asking other bases if they have any breakthroughs.” “Understood, Commander. Oh, before I forget, I am on my way to the excavation site underneath the alien containment facility. The workers there have discovered a large amount of steam from a vent, and with your recommendation I would like to begin building a thermal energy facility to help power the base and surrounding area.” Cotton exhaled at the mention of another base module. This whole operation was costing the world a lot of money and Turkey had actually pulled out of the council after seeing the bill on what it would take to make and maintain even a single X-COM facility. “I'd love to, Shen, but were pushing the limits of our blank checks as it is.” Shen let out an aged chuckle at the Commander’s words. “Commander, that’s why I said 'to the surrounding area as well'. With both our regular power generator and the thermal plant combined we would have an excess of power and be able to sell some to Area Fifty-One and add it to the state power grid of Nevada.” Cotton could not suppress his grin as he heard a cash register going off in his head. “Shen, I like the way you think. Make it so, but lets be easy on the costs, okay?” Cotton then hung up and dialed up Dr. Vahlen. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me? Is this vorking?” Vahlen said in her German accent as Cotton tried to be Mr. Smooth while he spoke to her. “Ah, Doctor, it's so good to hear your voice.” “Likevise, Commander,. I guess you are probably calling to see about Trixie?” “Yeah, yeah, how is she? Have we learned anything new?” Cotton asked as he continued pacing around in his room in the dark with only the holographic window providing a measure of light. “Ve have come to the conclusion zat Trixie comes from a world almost exactly like ours. I have not been able to come up with any theories und her genes are similar to regular horses on our world as well as one or two genetic markers the Sectoids have.” “Are you saying the Sectoids might have created Trixie’s people?” “No, no, Commander. We share far more similar genes to the Sectoids than the ponies do but I can't be sure with just one subject.” “I understand, is there anything else you can tell me?” “Vvell, she is an absolute pleasure to talk to but that could just be my affinity with horses. I mean vhat girl never wanted to have a pony to pet and be friends with?” She said as two scientists snickered at their consoles. She slapped both their heads with her clipboard while mouthing silently for them to get back to work. “I see,... well Doctor, our base will soon be combat ready but I think our armor could do with some of your techno wizardry.” “I see. I will begin vorking to see if there’s anything from the aliens that we can use to help our people. Its just a shame that such amazing technology must be used for so much destruction.” “Don’t feel sorry for the aliens, Doctor. They struck first so we are going to finish it. I'll talk to you later." Cotton hung up before he could hear her response and slipped the earpiece back into his breast pocket before he walked out of his room and into the main barracks corridor. Cotton passed a pair of soldiers in short sleeved green shirts and tan cargo pants. One was Israeli and seemed to be trying very hard to understand what his New Yorker friend with a very thick Boston accent was saying to him. Cotton took a turn down a corridor and headed towards an elevator. A trooper inside held the doors open for him. “Thank you, Boris,” Cotton said to the Russian heavy weapons man who simply grunted and nodded. Cotton made a mental note to put the orders for the new universal translation headsets on priority since the language barrier seemed very visible among his soldiers. In an emergency he didn't want anyone not understanding an order. As the doors opened onto the rec room of the barracks Boris let Cotton step out first as he was the commanding officer. Cotton walked over to the main room where he noticed one of his interceptor pilots, Chelsea Mitchel’s, a top rate pilot playing an arcade version of Galaga. Of which she currently had the highest score of the entire base. While Cotton would have liked to flirt with the destructive red head he knew work came first. Besides she was not really his type of girl. Especially since she seemed the type of girl when pissed off enough to drop a ten thousand ton bomb right on his head. But Luckily for Cotton the beautifull Dr. Vahlen was more agreeable and mostly a pacifist. Cotton then went over to the pool table where Boris had just picked up a pool cue to join a lone marine who was playing alone. Ramos, a Puerto Rican marine who had grown up in New York and called himself a "New Yorican", had just missed a shot on the corner pocket. “You are not so good as you think.,” Boris said with a grin and swallowed a piece of sandwich. Ramos ignored him and listened to his headphones. “Not listening, brotha,” Ramos said and then straightened up as he saw Cotton. “Sir!” Cotton saluted and smiled. “At ease, Ramos. While I'm in here without my hat I'm your friend,” Cotton said with a smile and shook Ramos’s hand. While it was generally frowned upon for a commanding officer to become too friendly with those under their command, Cotton would rather know the names and personalities of his soldiers. That way if they fell in battle he could properly express his sorrow and regret to their families. "I was just watching. I'll let you get back to your game," he said and walked over to the small bar the base had. It had mostly non-alcoholic beers since everyone was supposed to be on call twenty-four seven and they couldn't risk a staff member being drunk. Though the imitation beers tasted close enough. As close as Diet soda tastes to regular soda. "Tony, give me one of those microwave hotdogs." Cotton said and pointed to the plastic wrapped snack. As Cotton waited for his lunch to be ready from the microwave he swiveled around in his chair and looked to his troopers, smiling and laughing as they messed around and socialized. "I hope they keep this spirit through the war," Cotton said silently to himself and tried not to think of who might die in the coming days.