//------------------------------// // 17. Operation Market Garden Party // Story: Equestria : 1940 // by Georg //------------------------------// Equestria : 1940 Friday 21 June - The Bridgehead, Equestria “Be prepared, and prepare yourself, you and all your companies that are assembled about you, and be a guard for them.” — Ezekiel 38:7 “Let me get this straight.” Jon Walthers took a deep breath, soaking in the surrounding scents of the mixed armada of Equestrian and human forces prepared to foray into a wild military strike deep inside Germany and Italy. Cordite, sweat, draconic breath and the smell of crushed grass, it all mixed together into an unreal feeling of distance that made his words sound small. “You and your new friends, who you haven’t even known for a day want to travel through Celestia’s portal to Norway and rescue another one of your friends who may not even remember you, from the middle of a German occupation. Oh, and fly back here on dragons when it is all over. And you want me to command this…” “Actually, Nightshade would command the attack,” said Twilight Sparkle while he was groping for suitable profanity. “Since it’s an Equestrian operation, we need a pony to be the leader, with a human adjunct to handle any human interactions that might occur.” “You mean shooting people?” “Yes. I mean, no. Corporal Nightshade has been trained as a Royal Guard, and I understand she’s been on missions into Germany before where she had to… um… engage other soldiers, so she has the most experience with violence. The plan we’ve developed depends on there not being any shooting. Violence is bad,” added Twilight with a nervous look at the lump in Jon’s jacket. “Killing is bad,” agreed Nightshade, “but sometimes killing is necessary. Show us the plan first, then we’ll see if there’s a chance in Tartarus that it’s even possible.” Twilight Sparkle produced a sheaf of papers with the details of a large building drawn out in careful inked lines, and a smaller building in a separate sketch. The flat roof of the larger building was indicated as the best place for a dragon to land and remain relatively undetected while a mixed team of ponies and people progressed down the stairs of the roof access, through a connecting tunnel, and up into the other building where the ponies were being held. Then once the rescue was over, the whole process would run in reverse until the dragon took off and returned via the scenic route to Equestria. Easy peasy, except… “So is the roof access to the staircase on this building guarded?” asked Jon, starting at the obvious point that his military science professor from ROTC would have noted first on a long list of problems. “We don’t know,” said Twilight. “These are the photos from two months ago before the initial invasion. The parachute attack on the city was so quick that only the pegasi managed to escape.” “And assuming the stairs go all the way to the basement here,” said Jon, moving his fingers along the building sketch. “And the doors to the tunnel aren’t blocked, and there’s no guards, and the unicorns being held are actually in the second building—” “We know that one.” Twilight floated a small scrap of paper over to the table. “Moondancer sent it last night. They don’t have many more strips of dragonfire parchment, so they’re being brief. They’ve been held in the same room for over a week now, and there’s somebody important coming today to interview them.” Fighting down a snarky reaction at somepony who could not use the word ‘interrogate’ while she was getting ready to launch an invasion, Jon flipped over the weather prediction sheet. “At least the cloud cover is still supposed to be low and thick, with drizzle and low rain over all of Europe.” He glanced up at the clear blue sky that had moved over their marshaling area due to the natural wind patterns which would eventually blow it into Europe. “For a few days, at least.” “How about this,” started Nightshade. “First, since there are Germans soldiers in the area, the whole thing gets called off at the first gunshot. We don’t actually land on the roof unless the cloud cover reaches the ground and is thick enough to keep any dragon hidden. Instead, the dragon sits on the cloud cover above the building and I take Jon down to scout out the roof.” Jon wanted to say something. A brief sideways glance from the stern batpony convinced him otherwise. A plunge down through cloud-filled darkness over an occupied Norwegian building seemed positively vacation-like by comparison. “I’ve done this before,” she continued. “If there are any guards on the roof, we can… stop them and tie them up. Then once the landing site is clear, the ponies come down on a chunk of cloud large enough to cover the descent. We form up there, leave two ponies behind to guard the roof, and the rest descend the staircase, through the tunnel…” She hesitated with her hoof over the building floorplans, which looked fairly sketchy. “We’ll have to play it by ear from there,” added Jon. He picked up the plans and gave them a frown, which did not change the numbers on them. “Even if we can find two dragons to carry us, we’re still short members for the team. If we don’t leave a pair of ponies behind to guard each major point on our line of retreat, we could get cut off, and I’m positive Shining Armor won’t let us proceed short-hooved. Plus, if any of the five hostages are injured and need to be carried out, that cuts into our numbers again. Two on the roof, the basement, and at each end of the tunnel—” Jon quirked his mouth to one side “—that just leaves Spike to climb the stairs, break the four ponies out of their room, and carry them back down to us.” “It would be a lot easier if we could land on that second building’s roof,” said Spike, pointing to the photograph. “There’s no stair entrance above the peaked roof,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Most probably tile. Built thick to withstand Norwegian snowfall, so we’d have to break through it if we didn’t slide off and fall several stories to the ground. And besides, what do you mean, ‘we’ Spike? You’re staying here, and that’s final. It’s too dangerous.” “So…” Jon considered the plan, and the earnest expressions on the surrounding mares. “Other than being short two large dragons and ten or so ponies, the rescue mission is good?” Seven furry noses and one scaled snout nodded slowly, which made Jon turn to the quiet golden pony chef and his batpony assistant. Neither of them had moved during the entire conversation other than to simply watch and give the occasional nod, which made Jon ask the question he just had to ask. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to travel to the other side of the world to engage in a little positive ponynapping, would you?” “We’re already going,” said Ping with his enigmatic smile. “The German Crown Prince Wilhelm has graciously given the use of his estate at Cecilienhof for the Equestrian guests. It is the largest concentration of ponies to pick up, slightly over a hundred, so there will be a great deal of work involved in the transportation. Six dragons total, counting the reserves.” While talking, the golden-coated chef was folding up the table into an impossibly small package, which he placed on Anpan’s broad back. He smiled, nodded at each of the Ponyville mares in turn, then shook Jon’s hand. “I wish you all the success in the world, Jon of America. Little Sister,” he added, giving Nightshade a kiss on her raised hoof. “And most of all, Twilight Sparkle, the Student of the Sun. Your role in returning the Moon to her home will forever be remembered in my heart. Be safe in your journey.” Those dark emerald eyes shifted to one side, and Ping regarded the immense motionless bulk of Stone. “And you, fat one. Youth are foolish. Keep them cautious, or I shall be most disappointed.” One huge eyelid opened a crack, then Stone began to stand by stages. It was a little like watching an avalanche in reverse, with the end result being a dragon that towered over their little group. Fluttershy fainted, of course. “The Dragonlord has said he will stay behind, to watch over the treasures of the ones who go,” rumbled the immense dragon. “I also had decided to stay. Unless you wish otherwise.” Both of those immense golden eyes focused on Twilight Sparkle, who actually stood up and looked back instead of cringing as Jon had been afraid might happen. “There are ponies who need us. One of them is my old friend. I want to help, and if you will go with us and convince the Dragonlord to assist, I will be grateful.” “An old friend.” That titanic maw turned up into a small smile, limited by the stiffness of the dragon’s face. “I will do what you wish on behalf of my old friend. But I must warn you, young one. There will be a cost.” “I… don’t have much money,” started Twilight. “Not a price,” said Stone. “A cost. And I will pay it for you. Do you still wish for my assistance in rescuing your friend?” “Yes,” said Twilight without a pause. “Then I will go speak with the Dragonlord.” Then he turned ever so slightly and looked down at Spike, observing him for a long moment before reaching out with one immense claw and touching him gently on the forehead. “You are fortunate to have a friend such as this one, Spike. Treasure the time you have with her, for there will be a time in your future where you too shall discover the difference between a price and a cost. Until then, think of me and remember.” Without another word, the gigantic dragon turned and strode down the runway, leaving shallow pits where his claws dragged. “I will take my leave also, Miss Twilight Sparkle,” said Ping. “May luck smile upon your journey.” The golden earth pony turned and began to trot away, only not on the ground as Jon had expected. Instead, he began to rise and glow, stretching, growing, and shifting as he departed until a immense legless and wingless Chinese dragon swam away through the sky, over to where a number of other dragons were being fitted with net harnesses covered in ‘pockets’ of a sort. “So cool,” said Spike. “I want to be one of those when I grow up.” “Spike,” chided Twilight with her head down while marking off something on her list, which meant that she probably missed the whole point of Spike’s comment. “That only leaves finding ten or twelve ponies to go with us.” “That’s going to be rather difficult,” said Jon, tearing his eyes off the image of the huge golden dragon settling down next to a scaffolding where carrying nets were being fitted to the raid transportation. “Every single stallion in the Royal Guard seems to be grouped up with their dragons, and all of the male batponies too. Griffons, minotaurs… I don’t think there’s a man out there without an assignment.” Nightshade kicked him in the shins. While he was hopping up in down in agony, the batpony turned to Twilight Sparkle and continued, “How about some of the mares from our village? There’s a number of them with quite aggressive personalities.” The collection of mares (and one dragon) headed off to where the batponies had been gathering, and true to Nightshade’s words, the gathering of the dark pegasi did look mostly female. He leaned up against Anpan and rubbed his throbbing shin while muttering under his breath, then stole one last konpeito from the tray across his back. “So,” started Jon while flexing his ankle to get some of the feeling back, “did you want to ask me something, Mister Anpan? Or kick me in the other shin?” “Actually…” The batpony’s deep voice was very quiet, and he glanced from side to side before continuing. “Before I put on my armor and prepare Master Ping for our mission, I wanted to discourage you from spreading that rumor.” “Rumor?” Jon thought back. “What rumor?” “That the young maid is… interested in me.” The hefty batpony’s expression grew stony. “It’s quite impossible.” “Impossible?” Jon shook his head, trying to get rid of the echo. “What’s not for her to like? You’re… Oh. You prefer stallions.” The stony expression the stallion was wearing developed a few fissures. “Not… exactly,” he put forward. “I mean she can’t possibly have feelings for me because I’m… incomplete.” “A gelding?” asked Jon out of reflex before his mind could stop his mouth. From the lemon-sucking face that Anpan put on, his impulsive guess was most certainly wrong again. Instead, the hefty batpony turned away from him and waited, as if that were the answer to Jon’s awkward question. He was still puzzling out the implications of being ‘mooned’ by the dark pegasus when he spotted a group of pegasus air carriages that had just landed on the other end of the runway, and a certain dark figure that was headed in his direction with sincere purpose. “It doesn’t rain but it pours,” he muttered, looking at the incoming mare. “Look, Mister Anpan. Everything is happening all at once to me. I mean I shot a goddess, got my ass zapped by lightning, and now I’ve gone and volunteered to fly on a dragon into Norway to rescue a couple of unicorns I’ve never seen before. I’m not very keen on twenty questions, and I’m about to be accosted by your not-girlfriend. So if you’ve got something wrong with your blank butt, tell me.” Anpan was set back a step. “You don’t see it?” “What?” asked Jon. “Other than you don’t have a cutie mark.” There was a moment of silence. “Oh,” said Jon. “You’re LOST. Late Onset Symbol Trauma, that is. I see.” “The Kirin do not get cutie marks,” explained Anpan. “Princess Celestia sent me to Japan in the hopes that I would fit in better there, despite the ongoing human war. I was trained in the culinary arts, as well as the art of warfare and defense under Master Ping’s guidance, in the hopes that I would find my inner peace.” “Wait a moment.” Jon held up a hand. “You’re here. Master Ping brought you and the kirin here from Japan?” At Anpan’s reluctant nod, Jon continued, “So we don’t have any ponies to rescue from there. Right?” “Master Ping was most cautious. If there are any left behind when we departed a year ago, he did not mention it to anypony.” “Operational security,” muttered Jon. “I know how that goes. All secrets and hiding and running around without a word of truth because everybody is afraid of it.” “There you are,” called out Laminia, who dropped down at his feet and started taking his lace-up shoes off. “The sun comes back out and everybody at the castle goes crazy. It’s like Operation Let’s Not Tell Me Anything! All I could make out is that there’s some sort of hostage rescue military mission alongside the humans, and I knew your sorry ass would be out there in a pair of oxfords if I didn’t bring your boots. I swear, you need a keeper.” The cranky maid obviously had not recognized Anpan from the rear, and the hefty stallion started to back up while she was pulling Jon’s shoes and socks off, obviously intent on replacing them with the pair of boots she was wearing around her neck. “Secrets,” grumbled Jon. “I’m starting to think you two are the worst. Anpan, stop!” He did, although Laminia jerked upright with a broken shoelace dangling from her teeth. “I’m done with secrets, particularly between you two.” Jon pointed at the hefty stallion, who still looked about to bolt. “Lamina, he thinks you can’t like him because he doesn’t have a cutie mark.” Then before the stunned mare could make some sort of snappish comeback, he pointed at her and added, “Anpan, she thinks you won’t like her because she’s had surgery on one wing to correct a birth defect. There. Now you don’t have any excuses.” “Why do you think I won’t like him just because his cute butt is blank?” snapped Laminia. Literally, because her sharp teeth were uncomfortably close to his face, and she was spitting a little. “I knew she had an injured wing,” said Anpan, sounding almost accusing in his deep voice that carried far too much threat for Jon’s comfort. “It’s not really a secret. Although she doesn’t ever display it.” Mare and stallion stared at each other for a short time before Laminia ever so slowly began to extend her crippled wing out from under her cloak. Anpan sucked in a breath, moved closer until his nose was almost on the pattern of white lines criss-crossing her wing, and said in a near whisper. “That’s a lot of scars. Did it hurt?” Laminia nodded. “You know what it’s like to be looked at whenever ponies think you can’t see.” Jon cleared his throat. “Studies show nearly all cases of LOST resolve themselves by the mid twenties.” “Jon,” said Laminia without looking at him at all. “Shut up.” “Yes, ma’am.” Anpan ever so gently helped Laminia fold her wing back up and put it back under her cloak. “You must be very strong to endure that,” he added once she was put to rights. “You traveled all the way to Japan,” she responded. “It must have been quite difficult to be so far from home.” Jon said nothing. He just watched as the two dark pegasi wandered away, speaking in low tones between them. It took a few minutes to finish changing his battered brown oxfords for the boots, which thankfully contained clean socks, before he had a chance to just look around. In the distance, he could see the immense form of Stone speaking with the Dragonlord. Groups of soldiers and pony guards clustered together, getting pep talks from their team leaders and collecting gear. A mess tent had been set up and mixed groups of diners chatted as soldiers had probably done ever since the first caveman hunters roasted the results of their successful hunt over a fire. There was no sign of Twilight or her new friends anywhere, and since it was doubtful that they would go off to war without him, he settled down next to a tree, rolled his tweed jacket up as a pillow, and rested in the warm sunshine. * * ✹ * * “Doctor Walthers?” Jon blinked away the aftereffects of his brief nap and considered his surroundings, which were much more populated than he had expected. There were over a dozen ponies all sleeping in the shade around him, cuddled up to each other with wings draped over flanks or heads resting on barrels. Six of them were Twilight and her friends, while the additional dark mass consisted of the dark grey batpony mares, who were mixed together in such a density that it was difficult to tell where one started and another stopped. The only pony not sleeping was the brownish-yellow pegasus who had just woke him up. She was dressed in a pith helmet and jacket, but Jon would have recognized those dashing eyes anywhere. “Professor Yearling!” He struggled to rise, eventually shifting Applejack’s head off his legs and easing his way back out of the snoozing group of equinity while putting his jacket back on. “So sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Likewise, until I looked over the last-minute roster changes,” said the middle-aged archeologist. She gave him a quick look, bottom to top, and dusted a bit of grass off his tweed jacket. “I was told Twilight Sparkle was going use a spell to get her group rested before the mission takes off this evening, but I really didn’t expect to see you sleeping with so many beautiful young mares.” While he spluttered for a response, she gave a brief laugh and gestured him away from the impromptu napping spot to where a pony and a stocky man were hunched over a model of the Norwegian buildings, done in exacting scale with number markers on each of the steps on the hostage rescue plan. The pony was a scarred and rough character with an unlit cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth, and several lines of white hairs marring his dirty brown coat. The cutie mark of a lit stick of dynamite made his role in the upcoming missions obvious. The man to his side was a little more difficult to place, although his face lit up in a huge smile when Jon drew close. “Ah, it’s our Yank passenger,” he said in a pleasant Canadian accent with one broad hand stuck out to shake. “You probably don’t remember me, do you?” “You’re Jimmy, our pilot trainee from the flight here,” said Jon, feeling the hefty muscles behind the man’s handshake. “I was wondering what became of you when your return trip caught fire in the harbor. Between you and Professor Yearling, it’s old home week. I’m Jon Walthers,” he added, shaking hooves with the scroungy earth pony. “Boom Boom,” the pony responded, giving a solid shake back. “Let’s get down to business, Mister Walthers. The big lady wants you to discourage the nice gentlemen who decided to detain her little ponies. With that in mind, I’m going to loan you Jimmy here, and he’s going to give the facilities a display of his skills after the ponies have been evacuated.” “The hydro plant drives a hydrogen production operation there, I think.” Jon picked up the operation plan that was sitting on top of the model buildings and paged through it. “They turn natural gas into fertilizer with it and pipe the leftover hydrogen to industrial sites in the village, if I remember right. They’re going to make an awfully big bang together.” “At’s why the Brits made these,” said Jimmy, patting at a steel cylinder about the size of a coffee thermos he had on a bandolier thrown over his shoulder. “Thirty minute pencil detonators for using on quite a few blocks of Explosive 808.” “I reserved your supplies over at the depot.” Boom Boom shifted his unlit cigar to the other side of his mouth and gave a wave of the hoof at a distant collection of crates where it appeared that humans were collecting weapons. “Use it all. The only thing I want you bringing back is your team and the hostages. If we don’t return you in good shape back to the Canucks, they’re going to be awfully upset, and probably won’t ship us any of the good toys they’re working on.” “Boom Boom and I will walk you two through the plan twice, then we need to get with our own troupe of traveling entertainers,” said Miss Yearling with a fierce grin. “We’re dropping in on Wewelsburg castle. Around fifty ponies to rescue and Nobel only knows how many artifacts that have been stolen from around the world. Ponies first, of course.” “An’ the safe in the basement of the west tower, if we can find that missing crate,” added Boom Boom. “Are you sure you want to head out with this lot, Doctor Walthers? We’ve got space, and there’s going to be a lot more excitement than just picking five or six ponies out of some hydroelectric generator building. Daring said some good things about you keeping a level head when the bullets start flying, and Jimmy here can take care of that hydrogen pipeline by himself. He’s an artist, that man is. Can blow a cap off a beer bottle without making it fizz.” “You still owe me thirty dollars,” said Jimmy with a friendly grin. “Never bet against an Irishman when booze is on the line.” * * ✹ * * Admittedly, the plan was simple, and after going over it twice with his former archeology team leader and the demolitions experts, he could recite it with his eyes closed. Rescue the ponies first, blow things up on the way out if possible. And one additional thing. “They’re variants on the pony dragonfire-imbued scrolls,” said Miss Yearling, passing Jon another silvery thermos on a web belt bandolier. “Every team has them. Twenty units of stabilized dragonfire in glass and plastic tubes. Break the tube and drop it into any paperwork that looks interesting, and the resulting… well, it’s magic. The paper will turn into attuned smoke and travel to the world’s highest magical potential, which is Princess Celestia. Don’t risk anypony’s lives to get one more stack of paper or map. Just break, drop, and run. Each tube is good for about an encyclopedia.” “Thermos bottles with red tops have real fire, green tops have paperwork bombs,” explained Boom Boom. “We’ve got a lot of them, so we’ll set you up with a half-dozen or so of each. Just make sure you don’t get them mixed up. The red ones light up really fast when you break them. I figure a block of explosive to rupture the gas pipelines, a tube of red dragonfire to make sure it ignites, and a thirty minute pencil detonator to make it all go boom after you’ve gotten clear.” “I’ve got it.” Jon looked at the sample thermos bottles and belts, trying not to think about using them halfway around the world in just a few hours. “Thank you, Boom Boom. And you, Professor Yearling. Jimmy eased himself down and squinted across the miniature buildings that Twilight Sparkle had most likely created out of magic and dust. “Aye, ma’am. We’ll get everything ready for this evening, don’t you worry. We’ll meet after this is all over and have a beer. Boom Boom is paying.” The scroungy demolitions pony chuckled, then gave the two humans a long look and a brief salute that was more of a hoof waved in the general vicinity of his forehead. “I’ll see you there. Double or nothing.” Miss Yearling moved up to Jon and took his hand in both of her forehooves, giving him a small smile. “You take care, Jon. I owe you one, after all. I will see you at Philippi.” “At Philippi, then,” said Jon in return. “Don’t take any cab rides from disreputable Romans.” “Miss Do! Miss Do!” The distant shouting voice of a unicorn mare drifted over the runway as the pony galloped in their direction with a wooden crate drifting along in her magic. “Trixie found the gelignite we were missing! Does this mean Trixie can come along on your trip?” “Gotta fly,” said Professor Yearling, darting off in the unicorn’s direction. “Be careful, Jon,” she called out over her shoulder. Jon watched them trot off, collect their additional member and her floating crate, and head over in the distance to where the dragons were gathering, all dressed in their rope web carrying outfits for the trip. Jimmy watched alongside him, then clapped a hand across his shoulders, which felt a little strange since Jon had been exclusively around ponies for what had seemed to be so long. “Here I was thinking it’d be a year afore I got the chance to kick the Germans in the nadgers,” said Jimmy. “Then I take the opportunity to get a little flying done on my leave, and this happens. You can’t keep a Scotsman out of a fight, because the fight always comes to him, like my grandfather MacTavish always said.” “I thought you said you were Irish?” asked Jon. Jimmy shrugged. “Scots-Irish, but the Scots claim we’re Irish, and the Irish claim we’re Scots, so my family moved to Canada to stay out of the squabble. And speaking of squabbling, let’s get over to the depot and get our gear while there’s still something left. Maybe get you a gun, just in case you have to shoot something.” “I’ve got a pistol,” said Jon, producing his revolver while they walked. “I’m not sure if I’d be comfortable shooting anything else, and if there is shooting, we’re going to be on the way out. I should probably pick up a box of ammunition that hasn’t been through a lightning strike, though.” He checked the revolver’s cylinder anyway before holstering it again while Jimmy got out an Army issue .45 automatic and ejected the magazine, showing that he had already visited the depot once. “Not sure if I can hit anything with this, but it’s gonna make one whale of a noise,” he admitted, making sure the chamber was empty before putting the magazine back in. “Besides, I’m going to be carrying most of the bombs, so somebody needs to be able to cover me.” “Most unarmed modern invasion force ever,” admitted Jon. “Besides the two adult dragons we’re taking.” * * ✹ * * Preparing for the rescue mission was far easier than Jon expected, and much better than if he had a week or two for the tension to crank up. Simple and straightforward was the goal, with every step taken to reduce the complexity of their interactions. Even the batpony mares that Nightshade had recruited agreed to use code names and striped leg bands instead of the rest of the pony/human contingent trying to identify them by the subtle differences they used between their own race. Team One A and One B would stay behind at the top of the stairwell of the large building to guard their rear, Two A and Two B would guard the bottom of the stairs, Three A and B the tunnel entrance, and so forth. That left only the colorful bunch and the humans to go up the stairs of the smaller building and search one floor at a time until the hostages were found. Then the whole thing would go in reverse, picking up ponies as they moved back to the large building, called Ruby down to the roof, then escaped up into the clouds. Jon had thought the Dragonlord would be providing primary transportation, but he had switched roles with one of the dragons who had been going to Wewelsburg, a reddish-colored female with suspicious eyes. Ruby made no secret about the Dragonlord telling her to eat any impudent human who tried to get intimate with Nightshade. It had not helped Jon’s nerves, because he was fairly sure she would do it, too. Particularly with the way she kept sniffing him. Not all of the sleeping bag-ish pockets on the dragon’s rope web outfits were for ponies and people to ride inside. Some of them held supplies in case the flight back took longer than anticipated, and additional weapons, just in case. Even Stone accepted his contribution to transportation, although the web of ropes looked almost flimsy against his gigantic bulk, and the bulges of supplies were nearly invisible. In the few hours they had before taking off on the mission, ponies and people alike on the hastily built team familiarized themselves with the equipment. Several greatcoats had been rescued from the depot for use by the humans, for both disguise capacity and just in case summer evenings in Norway were more chilly than expected. Rarity had adjusted them for Jon and Jimmy while keeping one for her own ‘fantastic rescue outfit’ because after all, sneaking into a building undetected and saving other ponies was not good enough if you could not look fabulous in the process. Weaponry was also checked. Jimmy explained the simple but unforgiving technique of using the chemical pencil detonators, which had to be activated in a specific sequence or one risked the potential of having it go off immediately instead of after the color-coded number of minutes. The explosives were carefully segregated from the detonators, and in particular kept in direct control of either Jon or Jimmy since many of the other batponies had come over to help get things ready, and both Puff and Thistle were running around underfoot, poking their curious noses into everything. For a while, Applejack considered rigging up a revolver for her use by wiring back the trigger, but it was obvious that the rest of her friends disapproved, so that idea went nowhere. In any event, the muscular farm mare had enough power in her hind legs that in close quarters, she would probably be more effective with natural weaponry. Jon, for one, had no real desire to be kicked by those steel shoes, although he did volunteer his body for the task of training the assault team on how to tie up a human once they had been subdued. Surprisingly enough, Fluttershy was the best at using a rope to incapacitate a human captive, while Twilight could not tie a knot to save her life. They went over the model buildings one last time as the sun sank close to the horizon, stepping through the checklist and the minimal contingency plans at each stage while the rest of the teams gathered near their dragons. It was obvious something was up, and from the looks of it, Princess Celestia was going to give an inspirational speech of some sort before they all took off. * * ✹ * * “My little ponies, and friends of all,” boomed Celestia’s voice over the assembled forces, each of them next to the dragons who would be carrying them to their destinations. That is all of them except for Stone, whose clawed hand was being used as an elevated platform so she could look out across the audience with her sister at her side. Then as a hush fell over the crowd, she followed her introduction with words Jon never thought he would hear from the Alicorn of the Sun. “Let us pray.” An older pegasus came out from behind her, a stallion that Jon recognized, in fact. Shepherd stepped up to the front of Stone’s large palm, lifted his head, and spoke with such clarity and force that Jon was not sure if Celestia was boosting his voice with a spell. “Oh, Lord most high. We beseech your blessing upon our endeavor this day. For it is written in the book of Luke, chapter fifteen, ‘which of you men, if you had one hundred sheep, and lost one of them, would not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness, and go after the one that was lost, until he found it? When he has found it, he carries it on his shoulders, rejoicing. When he comes home, he calls together his friends, his family and his neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost!' “As we go forth to rescue the lost lambs of Equestria, we have taken up the mantle of that Good Shepherd, facing the dangers of the wilderness in order that the innocents caught up in the dangers of war might be returned to the safety of their homes. May the Lord guide your arms and hold you safe, may all whom you are sent to save be returned, and may we all meet again, united in our victory over those who would cause harm.” “Amen,” pronounced Celestia, and the echo of people and ponies repeating the word echoed around the vast area. Jon expected that to be the end of the inspirational Before-We-Do-Something-Heroic-And-Stupid speeches. He obviously had not learned enough about Celestia to anticipate her, because she continued just loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough that the entire audience was nearly holding their breath to hear every word. She spoke of family, of friends, and of companions thrust together by circumstance, all bonds that lasted lifetimes. About life and death, triumph and defeat, the power of hatred and the victory of love. And most of all, she thanked them all, in a way that seemed as if she meant it individually, from the greatest of them to the least in a long wave of overwhelming emotion that had even the dragons sniffling by the time she was done. “Awright,” snarled the Dragonlord once Celestia finished speaking and stepped back. “Dragons! Take your places and load up! We’ve got puny ponies to save, and most of all—” Torch blasted his fire into the darkening sky “—remind the humans why they fear the night!” - - ☾ - - Looking back at what he was actually doing made Jon more than a little uneasy. Not afraid, per se. Just oddly introspective, and with more than a few considerations of just how he was going to explain how he spent his time in Equestria over the family dinner table for some holiday meal. With or without Nightshade, this week would probably be just as difficult to explain over the mashed potatoes and cranberries. But he was not afraid of that social interaction either. It was amazing how catching a lightning bolt to the face made every other suicidal action look reasonable. Probably after a few days went by and he had some time to think about it, he might resume his normal reluctance to engage in risky behavior. The week after his near-death encounter in Egypt had been a mixture of exhilaration and dread, after all, but life had returned to normal afterward. Then again, ‘normal’ was relative, considering that he was climbing onto a dragon’s back along with a dozen or so magical ponies in order to be thrown through a portal to Norway where they were to rescue four other ponies and then fly back to Equestria, most likely with a short stop in southern England to rest and do some shopping. Then the concept of normality got set back again when their dragon turned to one side and proceeded to apparently breathe out in the same way all the other dragons lined up were doing. Smoke coiled and writhed in front of Ruby, then coalesced into a pile of gems and gold tall enough that Jon could have been buried up to his neck inside. “Transport smoke,” explained Nightshade from the next ‘pony bag’ where she was watching his reactions through narrowed eyes. “Dragons can carry around all or part of their hoard in their second belly that way, but it keeps them from using their fire as effectively.” Jon looked across the runway and the piles of glittering gold and gems that now decorated the whole length like buttons on an expensive jacket. “Cool.” “It sure is, Jon,” said Nightshade. “Dragons are awesome.” “I didn’t say that,” said Jon, looking around, although he was almost immediately drowned out by Nightshade calling out the roll, and each of the ponies in turn responding, from the ten batpony mares, Twilight’s friends, and finally the two humans at the end. All of them were snugged down in a bag of their own, although there was enough space to put two in a sack if needed, or three in extreme circumstances. Jon was positive the explosives were stored in the bags next to Jimmy due to his personal assistance in tying them down in case of in-flight turbulence. There were exactly four other supply bags, two on each side of Ruby, although there was a third bag on his side of the dragon that looked suspicious. That was really all the time he had to think before immense wings opened up and the dragon shot up into the darkening sky, turning her path into a long, slow curve. At the far end of the runway, a shimmering disk appeared between three hovering alicorns, with nothing but darkness visible beyond it. The dragons in the first group vanished one at a time into the ebon maw of magic, then something changed in the way the portal was shimmering in the growing darkness and the second group lined themselves up for transport. “We’re in the last group, right after Stone,” said Nightshade over her shoulder. It was a redundant piece of information since they had gone over the plan so many times, but still welcome, and kept Jon’s heart rate relatively calm. “Tail End Charlie,” said Jimmy, who was socked into his own ‘pony bag’ behind Jon. “Bet you wished you were in the airplane now, don’t you, Jon?” “No, not a chance.” Jon continued to crane his neck in order to watch the dragons below vanish into the dark portal. “Miss Ruby is handling the flight quite well. And she seems to be a quelling influence on Miss Nightshade’s constant attempt to get into my pants.” “Not before a mission,” said Nightshade, seeming just as entranced by the dance of dragons as they swooped down and through the portal in neatly organized groups. “Or during a mission.” “Ah…” Distracted away from the dragons, Jon looked at Nightshade, who gave him a wink. “Oh. I suppose if everything goes well…” “Eww,” came a small voice from nearby, which was quickly hushed up. “What was that?” asked Nightshade. “Nothing!” said the small voice again, followed by a number of harsh shushings from another voice. “Stowaways,” said Jon as realization hit him. “No time to deal with them now. Our place in the queue is coming up.” “Puff and Thistle?” asked Nightshade, only to shake her head and turn back to the rapidly dwindling number of dragons in the sky. “You two need to shut up and hold on. There’s no way we’re putting you down now without scrubbing the mission.” “But—” started one small voice from the lumpy bag. “Can it, squirt!” snapped Nightshade at the same time Stone rolled his enormous bulk up on one wing and plummeted toward the ground. “Hang on!” Then it was Ruby’s turn to roll to one side and plummet toward the ground, trading altitude for speed by pulling out of her dive. At the same moment, Stone tucked his wings up, held his legs tightly to his body, and whisked through the dark portal with no more than an inch or two clearance to either side. The way the portal fairly rocketed at him should have held Jon entranced, but his eyes were drawn to the three alicorns pouring their magic into the spell. Cadence had her forehooves held together as if she were praying, Luna’s face was screwed up in an expression of intense concentration with foamy sweat pouring down her forehead, but Celestia had her eyes firmly locked on Jon as they zipped past, as if he were being held personally responsible for what was about to happen. Then they were through the portal, into the crisp, cold air of Norway.