Chapter 9: General Order and Mayhem
Chaos laid on his side perfectly still as he imagined he had for hours before consciousness returned to him. The fog of sleep still hung oppressively about him like the silk sheets he was draped in as he finally mustered the will to open his eyes to a world he hoped was his own, but already knew wasn’t.
Beyond one timidly cracked eyelid he confirmed what he already knew, and worse yet the first rays of a foreign sun had begun to invade his guest room; taunting him with the knowledge that time and tide wait for no one. The memories of his actions the day before caused him to restlessly turn away from the window and it’s reminder of a new day. What could he have done, what could any man have done except follow the path of least resistance that lead him to this bed? He knew it was a cop out as soon as he thought it. A smarter pilot wouldn’t have pressed the mission with a storm on the way, a smarter officer wouldn’t have let an enlisted man so easily sway him into taking up an orbit next to an unknown city, and a smarter man would have looked a gift horse in the mouth. No matter how accommodating that horse seemed.
In a bit of a dawning epiphany he knew he’d taken a very passive stance during yesterday’s events and steeled himself to be a bit more assertive for the coming one. Celestia and her sister had held the reins while he was disorientated, but now was the time to establish that he had as much of a say in how events would pan out as they did, and the first thing he’d need to do is establish a clearer understanding of why they’d brought him here. Barring that, he’d at least attempt to give them a clear reason, he didn’t trust altruism, and the last thing he wanted was to become indebted to their kindness. Debts, even imagined ones don’t make willing friends, they make slaves of them.
Mustering his resolve he threw off the blanket to set about a semblance of his natural routine. He ignored the bathrooms automated lights when he couldn’t find a sensor, and he tried to be grateful of the indoor plumbing even if it was just a squat toilet. After all, it wasn’t the first one he’d used in a foreign country.
After his routine was complete he spent more time than usual clipping strings off one of his spare uniforms, and spent maybe five minutes more making sure his velcro patches were on just right before he donned his uniform and inspected himself in the mirror. He couldn’t say he was all that displeased with the results of his incessant grooming, but what he really wished for was a dress uniform in lieu of his… more combative looking multicam flight suit. He took one last roaming look over himself in the mirror, briefly meeting his own steely blue gaze before it wandered over his perfectly coiffed blonde hair and gave a small nod of satisfaction before he set out to deal with his first order of business...Struggle.
Struggle woke up unceremoniously to the sound of shades being drawn and an ungodly amount of light assaulting him. Grunting in exacerbation he drew the sheets higher and tighter as he turned so his head was facing the back of the couch.
“Get up Struggle,” Chaos demanded.
“Mmnnn.”
Struggle actually thought he’d be left in peace when Chaos didn’t say anything else. The only thing letting him know that Chaos was still around was the sound of a faucet and a glass being filled.
“Last chance Struggle, get up.”
“Don’t do it.” No sooner then he responded was he doused in cold water. “What the heck man, I was awake,” Struggle said, as he threw the wet covers off and glared at Chaos.
“Watch your tone, you don’t get to be angry at me after what you’ve pulled. Presenting false statements to a foreign sentry, insubordination, smuggling alcohol on the aircraft, and drinking in front of not one but two foreign heads of state. I’m sure I missed something in there as well, but it’s clear you’ve lost your ever loving mind. If this situation was in any other circumstance I’d be forced to recommend an immediate investigation on grounds for a Court Martial.”
Chaos let what he said hang in the air for a few seconds before he went on. “That being said, I don’t have the resources required for a trial. I don’t even have the manpower to dull out proper Non-Judicial Punishment. I can’t confine you to quarters without increasing the strain on the rest of the crew, and I can’t dock your pay here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have any recourse.”
“Come on man, I’m sorry alright,” Struggle said, as he stretched before cracking his knuckles.
“That’s not going to cut it Struggle, I put my neck out there for you when you begged me to go on this deployment, I went to bat for you when leadership said you weren’t ready to go back downrange, and now I’m sorely regretting that.” Struggle for the first time that day hung his head.
“I know, and I’m grateful. I really am, it’s just…” Struggle trailed off as his eyes lingered on the nearly empty bottle next to the table, “I hoped getting away from the Squadron would clear my head. Help me get back on the right path. Give me a chance to prove myself again, you know? I was hoping to leave my problems behind, but instead I brought them with me.” Struggle looked back to Chaos who’d taken a seat on the Co’s unused bed as he struggled to find anymore words.
“This have anything to do with how you lost Staff Sergeant?” Chaos said in a fatherly tone.
“Yeah, not that I care about losing the rank. Although, losing my Lead Gun certification stung, especially after all that praise I’d gotten for being the youngest in Squadron history,” Struggle said, as his eyes unfocused on the swirling memories.
“Go on.”
“Why? I’m sure you heard about it. There’s no secrets at the Fourth.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t hear your side of the story.”
Struggle sighed as he looked out of the windows only for his head to start pounding, “The deployment I had after ours was eventful… It was during the surge and when we’d just started doing daylight operations deployed. Taliban weren’t aware that we’d started flying in the light. We were escorting a few Marines doing village clearing in Helmand and they started taking accurate fire from a house on the East side. The Ground Force Commander was afraid to sign off on us striking the building so he passed it up to HQ to make a decision on. Whole time we’re listening to our guys scream over the radio, begging and pleading with us for help, and we just had to sit on our hands while the mud brick wall they were hiding behind was being turned into swiss cheese. I was seeing red and I kept telling the Pilot and FCO to declare self-defense so we could schwack the dudes. They didn’t listen to me. Good thing too. HQ came back twenty minutes and one friendly body bag later with approval and we started shelling the building.” Struggle stopped to massage his aching head.
“I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.”
“Well, it certainly did. We didn’t get more than six rounds out of the plane before a ceasefire call came over the radio. Bunch of women and children squirted from the building. Turns out there were more than just Taliban in the building. About two dozen women and children peppered with frag and torn up by the blasts. The Taliban had taken them hostage to ransom off later, at least that’s what I figure. Can’t see why that many would have been in that building otherwise. Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe.”
“Wait, this isn’t anything like the story I heard.”
“Course not. You heard about the mission afterwards. The one where I lost it and wouldn’t let my gun crew arm the guns. The one where they had to knock me out to get rounds out of the plane. One bad day is all it took to destroy my reputation as the golden boy. No one gave me the benefit of the doubt or bothered to ask what happened. Nah, they just packed my bags for me and sent me on the next flight back stateside.”
“I’m sorry Struggle, I didn’t know.”
“How could you? It’s not the story people like telling behind my back. It’s what the sycophants who had been jealous of my achievements loved telling people over a beer. The “rogue gunner,” ”section 8,” “pacifist,” and when I lodged a complaint with the IG for hazing they settled on just calling me Struggle. Well, at least after they stopped calling me Snitch.” A silence dragged out when Struggle didn’t go on.
“How about this Str...Jake-”
“It’s Struggle.”
“Alright, you take the punishment now and keep your nose clean for the rest of the trip, and I’ll leave out everything that’s happened so far. I knew you before all that happened and I know one things for certain. You’re one of the best gunners we’ve ever had, and I don’t see why you can’t turn things around. A second chance Struggle, you just need to take it.”
Struggle didn’t know when it happened, but he’d moved closer to the window. It didn’t matter that the sun was punishing him for his hangover, the pain distracted him from the pity wafting off Chaos.
“What’s the punishment?”
“Twelve hour shifts watching the aircraft.”
“That’s...mighty generous.”
“One more thing, I’m putting us on General Order 1, no booze from here on out.”
“Figures the shoe would drop. I’m not looking forward to the shakes.”
“Sorry, but that’s just going to have to happen to dry you out. You got anything other then this bottle on the table?”
“Just one other in my backpacks largest compartment.” Struggle said, as he heard Chaos grab the bag and the bottle.
“Mind if I check?”
“Go for it, just leave my toiletry bag and a spare uniform out.”
“Oh, and when you’re done getting ready get something to eat and relieve Co.”
“Understood.” After a few moments Struggle heard the door separating their apartments close. Struggle stood silent for a second as he turned his gaze to the sun. It burned his retinas and it felt like his head was about to explode. He didn’t understand what he was doing, or why he was suddenly drawing out the pain. But it felt right. For some reason the pain felt transcendental, it felt empowering.
Chaos was currently trying to type up a report on his laptop of yesterday’s events without making himself sound insane. He’d only got a sentence into the report.
A knock at the door gave him a convenient excuse to put it off for now.
“Enter,” he shouted.
When the door opened he saw Celestia standing with a bright smile at the doorway.
“Morning Princess, you’re up early,” he said before standing up to greet her.
“No earlier then the Princess of the Sun should be,” she replied chuckling, causing Chaos to silently mouth “Princess of the Sun.”
“Anyways, I was hoping you’d join me for breakfast. There’s some things I’d like to go over with you.”
“I’d love too. I don’t know what your schedule is like, but do you mind if we swing by to see Papa?”
“Papa? Oh right, sorry I’ve had a lot on my mind recently. I believe I can set aside a few minutes to visit your wounded crewmember, but it will have to cut into the time I have allotted for breakfast. Perhaps we could chat on the way?”
“That works. One second.” Chaos shut the laptop and grabbed his personal ipad from the table.
Chaos walked out the door of his suite followed by the princess until he slowed down.
“Something the matter, Major?”
“I...I don’t know where you put up Papa.”
“Oh, right this way,” Celestia said, as she turned to walk down the hall.
“So I’ve got a Press Conference after breakfast to address concerns about the changeling invasion, as well as what the country will do to recover from and address the threat. Now, I was thinking that instead of fielding questions at the end, I introduce you and your crew. With any luck the invasion will take the front page and your presence will turn into more of a upbeat fluff piece. The added benefit is that I won’t have to dodge any leading questions from any dubious reporters. What do you think?” Celestia said with a bit more pep then usual when talking about Press Conferences.
“Hmm?” Chaos winced as he realized he hadn’t been paying that much attention. “Sorry, I think that’s about the best that we can hope for if you believe it’s necessary to announce our presence.”
“Everything alright, Major? You seem apprehensive.”
“It’s nothing, just hit me that with everything going on I didn’t even know where my crewmen were. Does that make me an awful leader?” Chaos asked.
Celestia stopped trotting and put a comforting hoof to his chest, “No, an overwhelmed leader, certainly, but not a bad one. Don’t worry Joshua, things will settle down.”
Chaos nodded a bit reassured as they walked on a bit further in silence.
“Before I forget. I summoned a special session of The Council of Nobles for this afternoon.”
“You mentioned something like that, but you said we wouldn’t need to go.”
“I did, and you won’t. However, there’s always the odd chance the political infighting will cease at the mention of your arrival. If that happens it would help if I had a short speech written by you declaring your good intentions towards Equestria, a point here and there about what we stand to gain from each other, and an anecdote about who you are as a people. Nothing complicated, just some reassurance if they take any immediate interest. I suspect that they’ll be far too busy squabbling over the invasion to give you too much attention, but it’s important to grease the wheels of bureaucracy sooner rather than later.”
“I thought you and your sister were in charge?”
“We are administratively speaking, but we’re not a Traditional Diarchy. The Council is the Legislative arm of our government. Normally, I could grant you and your crew ambassadorial status on my own, but since we’re not in talks with your nation, I’ll need the Council’s blessing to make an exception.”
“And if they don’t?” Chaos asked slightly alarmed.
Celestia’s ears folded back as she thought about it. “Then you’ll be branded as Stateless.”
“And what would that mean for us?”
“Well,” Celestia said coming to a stop as fluffed her wings in irritation, “Normally, refuge status would be open to a Stateless people, but considering your parties military background… I’d expect they’d levy a formal notice of Expectant Departure. You’d be effectively exiled, and returning would be considered an incursion.”
“Great, just peachy, so much for things ‘settling down,’” Chaos said, before Celestia cut in front of him.
Laying a wing on his shoulder Celestia did her best to give him a reassuring smile, “I wouldn’t worry just yet Chaos. My Little Ponies are rarely so cruel, I have faith they’ll welcome you with open hooves like I have. In fact, I’ll be shocked if they don’t.” Celestia said, puffing out her chest in just a bit of pride.
“I’ll take your word for because I’d rather not think about it if they don’t.”
As they continued walking Celestia finally started to get curious about what Chaos was holding.
“Major, what is that?” she said, pointing to the black ipad tucked under his arm.
“What? Oh, it’s called in ipad. It’s basically a miniature computer.”
“Really? It seems a bit small…”
“That’s the only time I’ll think I’ll be happy to hear a woman say that.”
Chaos and Celestia had entered the Medical Wing of the palace a few minutes ago. Long enough for Chaos to dismiss Story who’d fallen asleep on a hospital recliner. The Doctor on call was currently giving Chaos a run down of the various treatments Papa had been given while Celestia seemed to be busy between listening and playing a game of candy crush on his ipad.
“The patient is responding well to the treatments for his burns, and I expect that we might be able to avoid grafts barring any unforeseen developments or infections.” The Doctor said, before dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he drew the privacy curtain around Papa, “There is, however, a more concerning matter I need to bring to your attention. I don’t know how Doctor Manner missed it, but the patient suffers from a rare potentially fatal disorder,” Chaos’ eyes had gone wide and he felt like he’d been punched in the throat, “the worst case I’ve ever seen in fact. I fear what would have happened had I not caught it in time,” Celestia had put the ipad down and was now doing her best to comfort Chaos with a wing. “I assume you’ve heard of manaphilia?”
“What?” Chaos asked, befuddled.
“Now don’t get hysterical, modern medicine has come a long way in the last few decades. I embedded a thaumaturgical metastasizing coagulant into a dead space in his chest cavity to slow the mana hemorrhaging, and I’ve got him started on an intravenous mana regiment.”
Chaos was looking at the pony doctor like he’d grown a second head and was busy sawing the old one off.
“With any luck and a bit of restraint given the revelation about his medical condition, he should be back to using magic in a few days and living an almost entirely normal life.”
“I don’t understand...Celestia,” Chaos said as he turned to Celestia who looked somewhere between laughing and shedding tears of joy.
“Remember when you said your people don’t have magic?”
“Uh huh… Wait, nooo.”
“You do now.”