Millennia: Eye of the Storm

by Thunderblast

25. At Ease

POP! BANG!

I shot straight up, panting softly at first as adrenaline kicked in, eyes snapping to the left of the television screen. The silence that followed was comforting, but brief, as a second startling bang had me out of bed, followed by a third almost immediately after, and countless more.

The sheets covering my lower half failed to remove themselves when my hooves flailed, latching on to my hinds and making me trip halfway off of the mattress and falling to the floor with a grunt. Each explosion and the jolt of smacking the thinly-carpeted floor created smaller, aching waves in my head that worsened the migraine significantly.

Out of desperation, I kicked multiple times, managing to break free of the grasping arm of cloth that now partially strewn messily across the bedside floor. My head kept low to the floor while I kept in prone position with only an inch or two space beneath my chin to spare. The bathroom door stood no more than ten feet from the bed in reality, yet felt far more distant and seemingly growing further despite moving towards it.

A crushing weight bore down on my chest and across my back reaching the cold tile floor. Every detonation now seemed directly above the hotel, rattling the floor, the walls, everything. Within the safety of the bathroom, I only hardly managed to reach up and take hold of the counter's edge and pull myself up.

First thing I locked on to were my own eyes, dilated in fear. A thin black cloth material atop the helmet I wore flapped slightly in a breeze, torn in many places. Blood dripped from a gash across my cheek and near the top of my left ear, where a piece over an inch in length had been blown off and practically painted my ear below it in a wine red that ran down over my temple and as far as my cheek bone and upper neck.

The look I gave myself was horrendous. I knew chaos had erupted. Airborne explosions shook the earth, some larger and closer than others. My chest heaved laboriously, lungs pained with every breath in. I swallowed a stone between gasps, focusing now on a trio of bullets caught by the armored plates I wore over my clothes. Stinging marked each spot where the momentum of them impacting bruised my skin beneath.

I grasped my chest with a hoof suddenly, taking hold of the vest and yanking strongly after a few seconds and managing to break the velcro straps over both shoulders, dropping the armor free of my chest where it fell to the floor. The noise of it matched that of another explosion, the force of its shock wave throwing me to the ground.

A heavy grunt escaped as I pressed roughly into the cold tile, only to immediately press myself up enough to shift back into prone position and writhe my way through the door. Despite lacking the gear worn in the mirror, its heaviness continuously attempted to weigh me against the ground and prevent movement. The worst of the pressure centered over the heart and lungs region of my chest, forcing my breaths to remain short and rapid.

Much alike from my bed to the bathroom, the journey toward the suite's door could not have been longer than it needed to be. Dragging my hinds along and using nothing but my forehooves to move myself didn't exactly contribute, either. An abrupt queasiness surged in my stomach, with it threatening to make me hurl violently across the floor before me. In tandem with the migraine, dizziness, and nausea, my sickness began to quickly catch up overwhelmingly.

Just feet leading up to the door, I gave out flat on the floor, trembling weakly with my face burying itself into the carpet as I attempted to hold the chunks down and avoid a devastating mess. Images of... it... flashed in my head. The initial explosions at the start of the attack, a breached gas line igniting a fireball that engulfed a short row of buildings, the grenade...

The fragmentation grenade that Solar jumped atop to cover it, the pop of it setting off muffled by his body, and deadly metallic shards piercing flesh, and the pool of blood that collected around his corpse in the moments after. All of that came rushing back at once.

I pleaded it to cease. Begged, prayed even. None of it would. After a few minutes, it seemed it would never end, as if time no longer ticked on. Tears welled in my eyes, squeezing between the crack of my lids, my teeth grit and grinding back and forth, slowly and agonizingly.

Soon the pounding of my heart turned painful with every other pulse it made. If this wasn't what a heart attack is like, I could not possibly imagine.

Explosions soon became constant. Frequent enough to be mistaken for a constant, booming roar of thunder, or a passing train. The whole room vibrated intensely while it went on.

Then it stopped. At long, relieving last, it stopped.

My eyes shot open, pupils crazily dilated, and breathing heavy still. They darted over my shoulder and behind, toward the bed room. I lowered my hooves from the top of my head, which I had thrown up defensively to protect myself. Evidently, it was all for nothing.

Chest heaving in and out, I rolled upright and pressed up on trembling hooves that struggled to hold my weight. Cautious, unnerving strides were taken back toward my bed, looping around, coming to a window pane beside the television.

It probably was not the greatest of ideas to stand beside the window in the likely event that it would shatter suddenly and spray my face with deadly shards. But, much to my reassurance, that didn't happen. In fact, nothing was wrong to begin with.

I went back into the bathroom, this time in a significantly calmer state. In the mirror stared back a dark-coated pegasus, muzzle red and raw and eyes mildly bloodshot and puffy from a lack of proper sleep. Three nights in a row on one or two hours was getting to me.

What I saw wasn't what raised self concern. Rather, it was what I could not see. Not with my own two eyes, that is. One glance at myself told me all there was to hear, what words themselves could not so easily convey.

It was time to put this at an end.

***

It wasn't until somewhere past eleven that night when the lock slid open with a click. The handle turned downward, door swinging inward. Through the frame, silhouetted slightly by the light of the hall behind him, Nightpath walked in, carrying with him two plastic bags that, upon closer inspection, weren't full of groceries.

"Hey, Night," I said quietly, below the level in which my throat would begin to hurt.

"Hey, Star. Didn't know you were still awake," he replied, door closing on its own as he came closer.

"Whatcha get down there?"

"A lot, actually," Night grinned, setting one of the bags down on my bed. "All of that is yours. Some of it is from Ash and Anchorage that they bought for you in your little souvenir bag."

I chuckled quietly, which turned into faint coughing. A hoof placed on my stomach to try and cease it. "You guys didn't have to buy me anything down there."

"Ah, bull," Night plopped onto his bed, dropping his bag gently on the floor beside it and his luggage. "You don't deserve to miss out on everything."

A meek smile crept onto my muzzle. "Thank you."

"Hey, anything for my best friend," Night glanced over, returning a more genuine smile, albeit tired from his day.

While unnoticeable in the dark, my cheeks heated faintly, enough for me to feel and be thankful it wasn't visible to him. "Crazy how a few months ago, we hated each others' guts."

The brown draft stallion let off a short laugh. "Yeah."

"I would say good times, if that were the case. But, I am thankful that things changed."

He nodded slowly. "As am I. Makes me wonder, honestly, had the ship not been attacked, we would probably still be at each others' throats, you know?"

Another chuckle escaped. "It's weird how life-threatening situations bring the best out of ponies," I faced up at the ceiling. "If only that were the case all the time, not just in times of need."

"I can't agree more, Star."

A silence between us followed. It lasted for only a few minutes, before Night continued with a questionable statement.

"You know, it might have been for the good that you didn't come with us?"

My ears perked slightly, body tensing, eyes moving over to him. "Huh?"

Night was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, both hooves on his chest. "Those fireworks... they were something. But we barely handled them. At least, Anchorage and I did."

I calmed slightly, initially believing he would say something else. Something hurtful. "Yeah?" I poked for him to continue.

"A few of them sounded exactly like they did that day. Precisely like them. I look down and I see Anchorage crouched down. His ears weren't up, and neither were mine. My heart was racing, and I felt like I was hyperventilating a bit."

"How did Ash take it?"

"Like a professional. In fact, he didn't notice us the whole time. I am not too sure if that is a good thing, or a bad thing..." he sighed. After a few moments, he looked back over. "Did... did you do okay?"

His question hit hard. A couple seconds of silence split his question and my response, which was a slow shake of my head. "No. In fact, you are more than correct. I wouldn't have lasted one minute down there."

Night sat up, staring right at me with high concern. "How bad?"

"What words could I use to explain in one?"

He blinked twice. "Grievous?"

I pointed a hoof to him as a gesture that he was spot on. "Grievous," yielding a sigh.

"Man, I'm sorry. I wish I—"

"Hey, don't worry about it. As long as you still had fun down there, that's all that matters to me," I gave back an authentic, reassuring smile.

"That isn't exactly settling, Star. It might not have happened to you if I were around—"

I threw up a hoof to stop him. "Night, please, I insist," lowering it, deeply breathing out. "This is something I must work on alone. I will not overcome any of it if I have ponies with me at all times, not to sound rude. This is our problem, and if we are to get better and move on, it is up to us to make sure we solve it individually. You get me?"

He stared in silence, eyes twitching ever so lightly, letting off a heavy nasal sigh, a frown curling his lips. "I get you," he responded lowly, nodding once.

"That mare I see in Manehattan. She's getting her start still and is always open to new patients. Maybe I can talk to her about getting you in if you want?"

"The psychiatrist?" he laid back down steadily. "I don't know."

"She is good. But, I will have to tell her that it is time for more vigorous steps after this."

"What does she charge?"

"Nothing. Goes through our insurance as military. That is how she receives payment."

"You're kidding, surely. She's kidding. Insurance doesn't cover that!"

"She doesn't ask for money when I go in there."

"Star, insurance does not cover psychiatrists. That isn't how any of it works."

"How do you know?" I looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Trust me when I say it. She is not and has not been making money off of you. That is cool of her to not charge you for your service, but, she is not benefiting. Her taking me in would take up more of her time, and that could run her out of business!"

"Why wouldn't insurance cover that?" I blinked, puzzled.

"You don't understand insurance these days, Star. Corporations choose what they want to cover you on, and what they want out of pocket for. Hell, you can break your wing, crush your hoof on a construction site, and you'll be hit with the bill later on for what they refuse to pay. Even for us. It is a privilege for the military, but there is always a catch: it's cheap, it's worthless, but they are obligated to insure everypony that enlists. That is the law."

My gaze fixed back on the white ceiling above, tinted bluish by the glow of the television that flickered as the picture constantly changed. "Man, that... I feel like shit knowing that now."

"I apologize. But, unfortunately, that is reality. I thought you should know since you didn't already."

"No, thank you, Night. Honestly, I needed to know that," I grunted out, sitting up and taking a sip of water from my bottle before continuing. "Now I just need to negotiate something with Pastel."

"How long has it been?" he shifted on to his side to look at me.

"How long?" I paused for a second, my ear twitching. "Around six months."

"Wait, wait—" he shot up, sitting with his forehooves along the edge of his bed. "You have been seeing her for six months, and you have not noticed any progress?"

I grimaced. "I wouldn't say no progress, but minuscule, more or less. She is doing significantly more than Haywalker ever did."

"Why, what did he do?" his eyebrow furrowed in question.

"Obnoxiously ask questions and offer to prescribe me medications. You know that shit never works, right?"

"Only medications? All right. Now, Pastel, what does she do?"

I eased myself down onto my pillow slowly, hooves crossed behind my head to rest on them, staring up at the ceiling once more. "She does her job. Lets me explain what there is to know, what's happened between appointments, then offers little solutions to get started. She herself said she is against prescribing pills for her patients, because she actually wants to help them."

"I feel like she actually listens to what I have to say, that she understands. She's... somepony outside of the military who can comprehend exactly how I feel. That isn't something common in society, Night. Base psychiatrists slap you with a bottle of ibuprofen and pills that numb the nerves in your mind so you stop thinking. That's what they prescribed my father before he was discharged, and you saw exactly how he acts."

"...Right," he nodded slowly, gaze falling to the floor, sighing.

"I trust her specifically because she is genuine. She sits back and examines my words, my posture, everything. What I don't say, she can make out by studying the way I sit, my hoof gestures, the tone of my voice, and so forth. You know, if she weren't a psychiatrist, you would think she was a detective previously."

"Well... if you are happy with her, I will take your word for it," Night smiled vaguely. "But, it might be the right idea to bring up the whole 'covered by your insurance' gimmick, even if it's casual. How many patients does she have?"

I shrugged slowly. "Frankly, I don't know. I've never seen anypony else other than her receptionist in there. Her office isn't in the most convenient of spaces, either. In a back alley."

"Yeah, you told me that part. Does she advertise?"

"Her assistant, the receptionist, told me she was working on it, but I've yet to see something anywhere," I sighed afterward. "Man, if I'm her only client... I can't afford to lose her advice if she closed up."

"Well, uh... hey! Six months, right?" I nodded. "She wouldn't still be open if you are her only client, especially if she doesn't receive money from your insurance."

"But she can't get much business. Not in that location..." I stopped, pondering, then a light bulb flicked on in my head. "Night, I know exactly what I can do."

***

By the end of the week, and a final, sneaky goodbye to my mother at the station who'd come out by herself while Dad was apparently napping, we were finally back in Manehattan. The sickness in me lingered still, but despite my protests to keep the others from falling to a similar fate, they stayed in the same train carriage as me on the uneventful journey back.

These past few days really brought out my abnormal desire for returning to work. In the end of our excursion, things wound up less awful than expected heading there, and my mother and I could finally begin on a fresh slate.

The trip overall, with the exception of my father's drama and catching a nasty cold off of him, it was good bonding time—even if the majority of that time was spent cooped up in a hotel room on the days I had hoped to pass at ConFest. Oh well, there is always next year, meaning a whole three-hundred and sixty-five days between now and then.

We were met with balmy summer air and a light, albeit muggy breeze once off the train and out on the streets. Thankfully we hadn't been forced to deal with Anchorage's complaining as we had back in Coltlumbus. Much to our annoyance, however, there were no carriages available to hail, leaving us no choice but to quite literally hoof it back to base.

It was still the weekend, so none of us were in any real hurry to get back. While persisting congestion in my nose continued to be a nuisance, I'd been worse prior to now. The only thing I could really use was some water, especially for the walk ahead.

With our luggage across our backs, we headed west, bent on taking a new path home, picking up some water to keep hydrated while we were at it. Evidently that bridge we'd used to get into the city back in December—the one that was incomplete with a gap between girders, forcing us to jump—now opened to traffic pony traffic after months of delay.

While slightly out of our way, and longer of a trip admittedly, we could explore parts of upper Manehattan along the way. We even passed the Urban Combat Training Center. It still to this day made no sense to put it in the city as compared to having it conveniently on base. That was apparently the fault of those in charge of zoning and planning out the space needed for Joint Base Manehattan.

Along the way, our mildly peaceful walk was soon interrupted by the shouting of newspaper colts shouting from their wooden stands along the sidewalk every other block.

"Extra, extra! Read all about it! GenTech CEO Armet Mace acquitted of authorizing illegal gem mining beneath Canterlot!"

Eventually, Ash had about enough of the yelling, storming up to one of the colts and handing over a small pile of bits.

"Here. If I give you this, will you be quiet?" he grumbled, lowering his offer before the younger pony.

The colt's eyes lit up and he snatched the coins from Ash's hoof, slapping three newspapers in exchange, before vanishing behind his stand to stash away the payment.

Returning to us, the moss stallion offered Anchorage one of the three, who declined, then to Night and I, who took one each while Ash rolled his up and tucked it away into his bag. I simply carried mine, intent on reading it later so as to not be walking and distracted and piss off anypony I might bump into. Night, on the other hoof, was digging in on the headlines.

"Whoa. No way!" Night blurted, in awe over something. Probably the gossip or entertainment section for all I knew.

Anchorage peered over, rolling his eyes, before commenting, "Hey, what about what that kid back there said?"

Night stopped, looking down and over at him briefly, before closing the paper and turning to the first page.

"Huh. He wasn't wrong. It says here, 'Famed and wealthy tech giant in controversy over cavern catastrophe'." His eyes then grew wide. "Oh ho, Celestia had something to say!"

"Oh yeah? What, did she stand behind his decision?" Anchorage scoffed, looking away.

"She said..." Night paused, clearing his throat. "These caverns are sacred, not only to our great ancestors, but to modern Equestria. They are behind what drive magic across the land and contain an expanse of knowledge not yet cracked. No business or corporation shall interfere with these natural treasures." quoting the princess of the sun.

"Huh. Well, I'll be damned," said the white pegasus, now looking genuinely surprised. "You mean to say she hasn't fallen to the will of Corporate Equestria?"

"Why would she?" my brow arched. "Her or Luna... or Twilight, or Cadence. At least they give a shit about their subjects."

"I am inclined to disagree, Star," Night chimed in. "Remember the bat ponies?"

"Vaguely."

"The lessons they give in middle and high school about the Lunar Rebellion and the Great Thestral War are fixed. Never the full story," he continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if Princess Luna still isn't aware of what happened."

"Well... yeah, but..." I paused. "No, listen, that's beyond the point. She did what was done because she had no other choice, and the reason why the truth isn't taught is because it would spark an outrage among everypony. The country would be in anarchy. Petitions and voting sessions everywhere fighting to impeach Celestia while she is helpless to defend herself and her decisions. I guarantee the alteration it is all for a good reason. Besides, foals don't need to know that stuff. They aren't old enough to understand."

"I would not call it fair to tell them one story and turn around and say something completely different later on, either," Ash added.

"All right. Ash? I gotta disagree with you there. That has always been a concept of early grades, changing the facts as the years pass. Tell me, did you even go to school?" Anchorage then stopped, facing forward, cracking a small grin. "Right, I forgot. Muscles are required, intelligence not essential."

Ash threw the pegasus a glare, slugging him in the shoulder roughly, replying with, "Never again volunteer yourself, ass!" and receiving a punch just as hard in return to the arm, though it had less effect on him than his own with Anchorage.

Night and I simply exchanged looks of confusion as the two went on, even as we begun crossing the bridge over to Bronclyn.

Author's Note:

After taking longer than it should have, here's chapter 25. Mostly filler, nothing special.