//------------------------------//
// Sky High 
// Story: The Breaking Straw 
// by Shinzakura 
//------------------------------//

“Adm. Sentry?  Col. Scootaloo?”  The two ponies stepped off the REN CMV-22D Osprey, looking at the desert expanse of Nevada’s Joint Aviation Center Groom Lake, better known to the public as Area 51.  An older human, a woman in the uniform of a senior US Air Force officer, hustled to meet them.  “I’m Brigadier General Ashley Limon, Commanding General of Area 51,” she said to the senior REN officer.

Flash Sentry offered his hoof to bump, as saluting was not in effect on this base.  “Nice to meet you, General.  I take it you’re here as part of the final tests on the JHMSF Project?”

“JHMSF?” Scootaloo asked.

“Yes, Colonel.  The Joint High-Maneuverability Strike Fighter,” Limon told her. “The fighter intended to replace the F-32 and F-35s in service around the world.”

Scootaloo gave the woman a smile.  “Sorry, ma’am.  I was thinking about the JAD/SF program.”

“I understand – the two programs can get mixed up often, but the Joint Air Dominance/Strike Fighter is being handled over at NAS Fallon, though they often come here and share experiences.  JAD/SF still hasn’t decided on whether the YF-39 or the YF-40 will be the final design.  Personally, I’m leaning towards the YF-40 Manta Ray; the -39 is really just an upgrade of the old F-19 design and I don’t think it will cut it for modern stealth purposes.”  She smiled and gestured to the car.  “The YF-37, on the other hand, has the six testing models already airborne.”

The trio got into the car while they were driven off towards temporary officer housing.  “Six models?” Flash asked.

“Yes, sir: 37A, which is CESTOL; 37B, which is SVTOL; 37C, which is CATOBAR; and 37D through F, which have the same types of landing setup as the first three, but have the SixAxis cockpits installed—”

Scootaloo’s eyes lit up.  “SixAxis?  They finally got that working?”  She realized she’d interrupted a senior officer and blurted a quick, “Sorry, ma’am.”

“It’s okay,” Limon laughed.  “I only put on my stars just a couple of months ago, so I’m still in that colonel mindset too.  And you should’ve seen the REAF, REN, RGAF and RGN pilots the moment it was announced that the SixAxis system was being installed.  I’ve never seen such a group of pegasi and gryphons act like kids in a candy store.”

“Are there any drawbacks so far to the system?” Flash asked her.

“Yes, but not what you’d expect, sir: the way the SixAxis pilots have been putting their aircraft through the paces, well, it’s put some serious strain on the Pratt & Whitney F158 engines.  We had some engineers from P&W take a look at them and said they may have to be seriously rebuilt.”

“How long will that take?”

“I don’t know.  I’m not in charge of the JHMSF Program, just the base.  You would have to ask Gen. Benson, sir – he’s the head of the overall JHMSF project.  Actually, as I understand it, Gen. Benson will be here tomorrow for the big demonstration.”  The car pulled up before the guest officer quarters.  “And here we are, sir.  I’ll have a staffer come by later to see how you two are set up.”

Flash and Scootaloo got out of the car, then waved as Limon and her driver went off.  “She seems a little spacy, if you ask me,” Scootaloo told him.

“Probably all the desert air, Colonel,” the stallion said with a chuckle.  “Shall we go get checked in?”





Thirty minutes later, the two were sitting and having drinks on the patio of Flash’s bungalow, watching as a trio of F-22s raced into the sky.  “So, Scootaloo, penny for your thoughts.”

Scootaloo took a drink of her cider.  “What would that be, sir?”

Flash laughed.  “You can drop the ‘sir’.  We’ve known each other for years, haven’t we?”

Scootaloo nodded.  “Yes, but that was when we were both a lot younger and more naïve about the world, Flash.  Back when I wondered what the strange cutie mark I got was and why it didn’t make sense.”  She gave a soft grin.  “If I had only known what jets were back then….”

“You’re telling me.  I’m a guard from a small mountain town and then after the guard was reorganized I’m asked by Shining to take over as a naval officer?  I didn’t know the first thing about being a sailor, much less a naval officer.  Had to spend two weeks with the old airship fleet and then another two with the old combat squadrons before I could attend the special Officer Modernization Program that the American Navy set up for us.”  He laughed.  “And I’d just started dating Moondancer back then – oh, she was not happy that I all but vanished for six months, but she forgave me in time.  After all, her own job requires her to disappear from time to time.”  He leaned back in his chair, looking at the clear Nevada sky.  “I guess we’ve had a lot to adjust to these past years, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.  Another world, another way of life, and so much of what defined us as ponies just evaporated as if it didn’t matter,” Scootaloo said philosophically.  “Then again, Featherweight told me that technology changes so fast here on Human-Earth that sometimes even the humans can’t completely keep up.  They went from old-fashioned typewriters to electric typewriters to computers designed to do typewriter work to just plain typewriter software in a matter of decades, and a lot of companies went out of business as a result, while others grew.”  She smiled.  “When he attended a journalist conference in Milan a couple of years back, he purchased an old Olivetti typewriter as artwork for the house.  We put it next to his old Hoofwriter 2000.  Both of them now nothing more than junk or artwork, depending on how you look at it.”

“That sounds interesting enough.  Well, after today, we’ll see what the future has in store for us.”  He smirked.  “Hopefully no old typewriters, though.”  He held a cider bottle out in a toast and she clinked it, with the two just relaxing and enjoying their lone slow day here at the base.





The following morning, the two officers were escorted down to the flight line.  It was a busy day on the base, with personnel everywhere, equipment being shuttled to and fro and just the general sense of quiet urgency that permeated the storied military facility.  Aircraft of various types roared above, bulleting through the blue sky in various maneuvers.  In the distance, an aged Equestriani airbarque that once belonged to the old Fleet floated above, its hull now bristling with various magical and technological sensors and recording devices.  The base was a blend of the old and the new, the arcane and the sophisticated, magic and technology, and in itself a microcosm of the two worlds.

Having been driven to the flight line – due to drone tests, there was a no-flight restriction on most of the base for the winged personnel – the pair finally reached their destination, a high-tech hangar by itself.  Both ponies could feel the anti-magic fields around the facility, designed to prevent mystical spying; it was enough to make both pegasi feel a buzz in their wings, but nothing more.  In a circle in front of the building were the flags of the twenty nations participating in the JHMSF program: the US, the UK, Equestria, Australia, Canada, Griffonica, Poland, Turkey, Japan, Hong Kong, Saudi Arabia, the Netherlands, Singapore, Denmark, Norway, Italy, Spain, Andorra, Greece and Inari.

Once the driver opened the door, both ponies stepped out, thanked the airman, then proceeded into the building where several humans, gryphons, ponies and kitsune were standing around, watching the large monitor against the wall.



The screen showed a gryphon in a suit, looking at the camera, while to his side, an image of Chrysalis floated onscreen.

“Thanks for tuning in and you’re watching CNN.  I’m Gilead Grammarsmith and you’re tuning in at the top of the hour and the amazing news that has just come out of Equestria: internationally wanted terrorist and queen of the Changeling Empire, Chrysalis, has been confirmed dead by Equestriani officials.  A spokespony stated that while they had sent in military forces into the Badlands region of Equestria, they had found the remains of the queen already dead.  We take you now to our reporter in Canterlot.  What's the latest word, Smarty?”

The screen changed to what appeared to be a press room in a building.  The majority of the seats in the background were pony-sized, with ingress in the back set for larger sapients.  Facing the camera was a statuesque unicorn mare wearing a blouse and skirt.  She had a soft pink coat, a mane of gray and blue and expressive apple-green eyes.  She held her microphone in a silvery field of magic.  She smiled for the camera and spoke.  “Well, Gil, the best answer I can give you is, quite honestly, one of shock.  Many of my fellow journalists here were alive when the capital was attacked the first time fifty years ago, and they simply cannot believe the changeling queen is dead, let alone apparently by the hooves of her own brood.  Some are even insistent, despite the queen’s horn being brought in, that this is nothing more than a trick by the Changeling Empire to catch Canterlot off-guard just as they did just the other day.”

Grammarsmith leaned on the desk as he spoke.  “But isn’t a broken horn a sign of instant death?”

“Normally, yes – but so little is known about changelings that there’s no guarantee that condition applies.  Even CODE director Masquerade Protocol had this to say.”

The image changed to two unicorns at the lectern: Protocol, as well as an unidentified stallion holding Chrysalis’ horn in his telekinetic field.  As he did, the CODE spymaster spoke: “We are certain that we have the remains of Queen Chrysalis in our possession – why, I equinally did the verification tests myself.  However, we cannot be sure that this means the end of the changeling threat.”

The camera returned to the mare from earlier.  “There are unconfirmed reports that a changeling stallion now leads the Empire, and if true, this is unprecedented.  However, officials do not intend to release further details until they have more information.”  The reporter then signed off with, “And that’s all we have right now.  Reporting live from CODE headquarters in Canterlot, this is Smart Questions for CNN.”



As the pilots broke away from the screen, Scootaloo and Flash looked at each other in surprise.  “Flash, do you think it’s real?” Scootaloo said, temporarily forgetting protocol.

“I nearly lost my life that day,” he told her.  “I was a basic trooper in the Guard and I was hopelessly overwhelmed by changelings.  If it hadn’t been for Shining’s shield strike, I would’ve been killed.  So yes, I hope she’s been taken down, and I hope that we put the fear of the alicorns right back into them!”

At last someone noticed the pair, someone shouted called to attention.  “At ease, folks.  Just here to take a look at the new toys,” Flash told them, giving them all a smile.  He could see pilots from the various nations, a group of warriors of the sky, ready to do their jobs for their countries.



“Ah, Admiral, pleasure to see you!”  A tall, thin black man strode up to him with a smile on his face and a fist ready to bump.  “Hope your trip didn’t take too long.  George Benson, Director of the JHMSF program.  Pleasure to meet you.”

“Flash Sentry, pleasure to meet you as well, General.”

“Eh, just call me George.  And you’re Flash?”

“Exactly.  This is my attaché, Col. Scootaloo.”  The two bumped fists and Benson ushered them towards a door.  “Right this way; we’ve got the units being looked over by the aircrews in preparation for tomorrow’s soiree.”

“Soiree?”

Benson nodded, the grin still on his face.  “Fallon is sending over three of their adversary squadrons to engage us in mock combat.  The Navy’s Adversary Squadrons are some of the best out there, almost even as good as our Air Force ones,” he said with a chuckle.  He turned to the colonel at his side.  “We get any info from Fallon?”

The colonel looked at a pad.  “According to the email I got from Captain Jaspers, they’re sending over VFC-12, VFC-161, and VFC-305.”

Flash and Scootaloo both looked at Benson oddly.  “Adversary?”

The Inarijin kitsune poked her head into the conversation.  “General?” she asked.  “May I?”

“Please, Lt. Nikkō, be my guest,” Benson said, gesturing with his hand.

The five-tailed kitsune looked at both ponies.  “Human aviation has this interesting idea where they train some of their own squadrons to act as if they’re the enemy and do practice dogfights against their own in order to bolster performance.  They fly modified, older generational aircraft tuned to simulate enemy aircraft.  For example, VFC-12 flies old American F-14Ds, painted and modified to act like the Iranian Air Force F-14i.  It’s pretty fascinating, sir.”

“If you say so,” Flash replied.  “Honestly, I’d like to see this myself.”

“Well, that won’t be a problem,” Benson assured him, “because tomorrow, we’re taking them out for a spin.”





Tired, Flash looked at his salad and the glistening black test flight suit.  Most of it was covered in solid-state flexicircuits and relays, intended to send information from his muscle movements to data recorders back on the ground.  He had just read over the Order of Battle for the next day: Benson would be flying the F-37A, paired up with Scootaloo for the 37D; LT Fujiwara of the JMSDF and his 37B would be paired up with RGAF Maj. Graystreak’s 37E; and lastly, USMC Cpt. Kerala and Flash himself would launch their 37C and 37F from the simulated catapult systems that had been built on the elevated runway.  They would in turn act in pairs, engaging against VFC-12 and their IRIAF air tactics; then VFC-161 and their mixture of F-15Ns designed to simulate Russian-built aircraft and EA-18s simulating Syrian tactics.

But it was going up against the recently activated Composite Adversary Squadron THREE ZERO FIVE that would be the most important: VFC-305 would be flying modified F-14Ds based on the information they had so far about the mysterious fighter that had attacked Canterlot, which had since been given the NATO Reporting name of “Fruitbat”.  What little was known about them was that they were of a swing-wing design with apparently magical-based stealth rather than conventional, that it had extreme range unheard of fighter aircraft and that the shot down wreckage was extremely hard to recover, as it was magically burning the moment Equestriani recovery teams attempted to retrieve them.  In the report attached to the OOB, a detailed analysis done by the US Air Force indicated that while it shared some basic designs with the F-14 (and thus could be of Iranian origin), there were also some Russian properties to the aircraft as well.  Russia firmly denied being involved with it, but Britain’s MI-6 uncovered that over the past decade, dozens of aircraft engineers, designers and other experts had vanished, with their last known location being in a city within one hundred miles of a Gate to Alter-Earth.  Lastly, the German BND uncovered recent purchases of QF-16 targeting drones, ostensibly purchased for Equestriani military use, but vanished shortly after crossing the dimensional divide.

Flash rubbed his head, feeling every bit of his sixty-four years.  Had it been over four decades since he had been just a basic trooper on his first real day as a fully-fledged guardspony, nearly losing his life in the changeling invasion.  And so much had happened since, over the years: his falling in love with Twilight Sparkle.  Her subsequent rejection of his heart, because – and he didn’t know it at the time – she had been betrayed by a pegasus stallion that had been part of the terrorist group attacking during Rarity’s wedding.  His time volunteering with Project SANDALWOOD, followed by his injury on one of the human worlds, only to recuperate back in Canterlot and meet an alluring mare who was almost the spitting image of Twilight.  Eventually he found out that she was Twilight’s cousin, but by then he’d learned to appreciate her for who she was.  A whirlwind wedding, followed by wedded bliss with Moondancer and a very…interesting…honeymoon in Donkonia.  The fact that they made their marriage work despite her demands at SMILE and his demands as he became a more senior guardspony – and then the whole thing magnified as she grew into the CODE structure and he was designated a naval officer.  Raising three children, two fillies and a colt, one from each tribe.  That had been his life in the past forty-two years and even with days like these, he couldn’t imagine them any other way.

He opened his laptop and meant to call home, but he was too tired.  Instead, he wrote Moondancer a loving email and promised he would pick up something for her from Vegas before he returned to Canterlot.  Closing the laptop then, he crawled into his bed, intending to sleep the slumber of the battle-weary.





In the bungalow two doors down, Scootaloo yawned, flexed her wings and continued to read the reports.  She remembered when she was so young and rambunctious and couldn’t wait to get airborne like her sister or other pegasi.  And when she did, it was great – she felt as though she had gained something that she had missed for all her life.

She just wasn’t expecting to gain so much more.  Accepted into a flight squadron.  Flight leader.  Squadron leader.  Then came the humans and the revolutionizing of the way war was fought.  She was immediately promoted to Captain once the REAF spun up, then adjusted to the human way of war.  Now, she was a colonel with the chance of being promoted to brigadier general in the near future; it would probably end her flying days save for qualifications and other, similar reasons, just as Rainbow and Soarin’ experienced.  Of course, that was to be expected: she was getting on in years, and no one who didn’t have a horn and wings or an elemental jewel stayed young forever.

It was times like this that she wished she and Featherweight had children, but after Applebloom’s stillbirth, they both had unspoken fears about it.  Maybe if we weren’t at war, I could retire and work on a family while I still had the chance.  But that was a new fear: the possibility of raising a family in the middle of a war.

She resolved to talk with Fluttershy about it.  There were plenty of foals that needed families, and she had adopted.  Perhaps it was time for Scootaloo and her husband to consider it, too.





Morning came and the flight briefing came from SQNLDR Zhang, RHKAF.  It would be a survival situation, and the adversary squadrons would literally throw everything they had at the six fighters.  For the first half, the SixAxis fighters would take the lead, giving the magical compensators time to build their charges so the conventional fighters could perform the same maneuvers without injury to their pilots.  The six fighters would be carrying modified ordnance and rounds tweaked by REAF and REN aircrews; upon a successful takedown, the enemy fighter would change to a bright day-glo green that would last until the aircrews washed the color off.

The rest of the talk was filled with dry, Power Point Ranger-style droning that represented a new challenge: staying awake during the whole tedious representation, from the “estimated” information about the maneuverability and the weapons, to the weather conditions in the engagement area, to the limits of the box that they would be flying in, and all the other variables, rules of engagement and conditions that pilots only cared about insofar as they had to hear them at least once.

Furthermore, the rest of the test pilots would be watching, including SQNLDR Zhang himself.  It would be interesting to see how pilots who had never been behind the stick of the F-37 would fare against adversary pilots who were trained in how to fly like the enemy flies.  In particular, the modified F-14 designed to mimic the Fruitbat, so the rumor went, would be able to actually cobrahead, something that was unthinkable in a swing-wing fighter during the F-14s prime.

And when it was all said and done and the bagels and coffee had been consumed and jokes made, the six pilots headed off towards their aircraft.  For the sake of simplicity, the pilots had all been assigned callsigns of Air One and Two, Hover One and Two, and Navy One and Two.  The B and E models would take off once they taxied out onto Runway One, while Scootaloo and her counterpart would take off from Runway Two.  Flash and his wingman were shuttled out to Catapult One, a raised runway purpose-built to replicate the catapult launch.

In separate locations, Scootaloo and Flash stepped onto their points of entry, not aircraft ladders, but instead elevator jacks; the plane captain told them that this would be the standard boarding/debarking setup for the SixAxis models, and that in the field, there might be situations where they would have to directly fly into their cockpits.  The two pegasi nodded and looked at the cockpit for the first time in person.  It looked very similar at first to conventional cockpits, save that the screens and other necessary information was lowered to a height more in line with a natural flyer.  Weapons controls and functions not necessary for flight were moved to a series of hoofpads (or clawpads, in the case of RGAF and RGN models) in the front, while the throttle and afterburner functions were set to the after hoofpads/pawpads.  Both pilots were told that although the fighter could be modified to set some controls to the tails, that was not yet planned.  But the big deal were the wingslips: large glove-like coverings that slipped over their wings and as they did, blew a soft gust of air in order to register all the wings’ feathers in preparation for absolute control via the wings.  The pinnacle of the SixAxis system had been in design for the past ten years and was an incredible marriage of science and magic, an almost perfect union.

Both Flash and Scootaloo were given a few minutes to test out how their wings and feathers’ movements controlled the elevator and rudders and would ultimately be responsible for the movement on the eponymous six axes that the fighter would be able to move along.  At first, it felt odd; Flash would later tell the test pilots that it felt like wearing two pairs of wing covers over his wings, while Scootaloo would later admit that at first it felt like her days as a filly when she couldn’t really fly because of her stunted wings that had taken forever to grow out.  But after a few more minutes, the two quickly got a hold of the situation and began taxiing to their positions.

Both pilots heard a voice over the comms.  “All units this is the Tower; you are clear for launch.  We have bandits inbound southwest of the facility, current reading is coming in from the northwest at angels six.  You may go when ready.”



On Runway One, ventral and dorsal ports opened, exposing the giant turbofans that lifted the fighters, as their engines kicked in.  After a few minutes, the silvery arrows moved forward and the vents closed as the fighters accelerated to cruising speed.

On Runway Two, Scootaloo called out, “Air One, launching!” and kicked her throttle into gear, boosting the fighter’s speed as it rocketed down the runway.  After a few seconds, she shifted her wings and the wingslips complied, pulling the fighter into the air as she toggled the switch to retract the landing gear before she lanced into the blue, off to join her counterparts.

On Catapult One, the RN catapult officer signaled to the pilots that they were good to go.  From his perch, Flash gave the officer a nod – saluting, like in the old days, wouldn’t be possible in this configuration, and he boosted the engines to maximum running.  A second later he felt the inexorable pull forward as the EMALS dragged the aircraft towards the flight deck terminus, throwing 70,000 pounds of metal, crystal, weapons and pegasus into the air.  Flash pulled up with his wings and the wingslips processed the orders, and within seconds he was rocketing directly vertical before levelling out in order to give his wingman time to catch up.  Cpt. Kerala soon did, and with that, the two were off to join their counterparts.