Dear readers—
To the relief of all, my father has emerged from surgery and regained consciousness, though he is understandably very groggy and slow to respond. He is also very tired and his inner magic is weak, leaving him unable to heal or recover quickly.
The latter, unfortunately, is by design—in order for his body to accept and reconnect to the rebuilt wing and not reject the change to his anatomy the operation imparted, his natural aura must be suppressed for several days, rendering him very weak, and, more ominously, vulnerable to various maladies, both physical and magical.
‘Twill be very ‘touch-and-go’, as I have heard the term given, for the next week, and he will not be out of danger for some time. But I may at least report he recognized me and, to little surprise, the first thing he did was to ask me what I thought of his earlier writing.
I could only hug him in answer, telling him all the things I wish I’d been able to before—that nopony would ever think him a coward, and, just as he himself pointed out, true courage was not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it. I then mentioned that he had inspired us to work on the next chapter for distraction ourselves, so he asked to see it. Unable to read it with unfocused eyes, he laid back and listened as Gavian sat at his bedside and recited it to him. He offered a few comments here and there, though he didn’t make it to the end before he fell asleep again, exhausted after his ordeal.
Gavian decided to remain with him after that, saying that as his own story of the battle was finished for now, he would “do a grandson’s duty” and “stay at his grandsire’s side.” He also said he’d been inspired to create a new picture of the vault battle he’d witnessed and participated in, and immediately set out to creating some preliminary sketches.
So for the rest of us, ‘tis time to relate the story of the battle beneath the storm. ‘Twas not the only time such a tactic would be attempted during the conflict, and ‘twas always a desperate one when it was—an admission that no victory was possible and the only remaining option was to try and take as many enemy soldiers with us as we could.
‘Tis the grim calculus of war, as I have heard arcane theorists use the term for such advanced mathematics as to be almost magical in what they can express, and did not always work. But here at the start…?
Well. Perchance we should simply let the story tell the tale.
—Firefly
For those non-pegasi who may be reading this work, I wish it known here and now that ‘tis a myth that pegasi are immune to weather.
For what does that mean? That we do not get wet when it rains? That we do not feel the biting chill and thin air of the upper atmosphere? That we cannot be slain by a direct strike from lightning? All are false statements, as any pegasus who has ever worked with weather can attest.
Does our wind and weather magic make us resistant to such effects? Certainly, doubly so for those like myself or Thunderbolt who demonstrated an elemental affinity for lightning or other weather aspects. But immune? Not hardly. Many are the cases of a pegasus who did not respect the power of the weather or thought too highly of their own ability to control it ending up injured or worse.
Indeed, methinks I was one of those pegasi when, but a single short month earlier, I ordered Fell Flight to fire a bolt from one of our own storm clouds at me so I could practice deflecting it. Even with my as-yet unrealized lightning affinity, I ended up flat on my flank and lucky to be alive.
Indeed you did, Captain. Be grateful that despite your orders, I only used a half-strength bolt! Even so, ‘twas a moment when I thought I had accidentally killed you, rushing you to the infirmary afterwards, though ‘twould be the basest of lies to say I did not enjoy greatly being able to say I told you so when you woke up!
–Fell Flight
I’m sure you did, Lieutenant. And methinks I cannot fault you for it. ‘Twas an incredibly foalish move on my part; one you warned me against, and methinks I more than deserved your ridicule afterwards. But it did at least let me know where I stood in terms of ability, and once I had recovered enough to ‘start small’, as you so correctly advised back then, I started practicing with bolts fired from naturally occurring cumulus clouds and working my way up, if somewhat slower than I would have liked after my close brush with death.
Nevertheless, ‘twas efforts that would serve me well this night, engaged with the gryphons beneath a monster of our own making. Either due to Harmony or happenstance, the timing of the storm was perfect as it broke just as the gryphons began pushing in at midnight, not realizing the welcome we had prepared for them until ‘twas far too late.
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Northeast quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours
I had barely received word of the gryphon intrusion into the empty storm cloud vault when the first Sky Gryphon Talons and Knights appeared in the rapidly clearing air beneath the base of the storm, charging in from their outside staging areas as earth gryphons advanced on the ground in ordered ranks.
I saw a few look up in consternation as they emerged out of the fog and recognized what we had done, but to their credit—or perchance foalishness—none wavered; their orders were to crowd us and use sheer mass of numbers, staged advances and crossbow volleys from above and below to push us back towards the vault entrance where our own rigged lightning cache could kill us.
They knew not that their plan was in vain any more than I knew what their plan was. I did, however, know that their crossbows were almost completely useless in such conditions; the fierce winds the supercell was already generating ruined their accuracy and as the first sheets of rain began to fall from the storm’s forward flank, visibility dwindled quickly, allowing us to close on them where our wingblades could tell.
“All platoons! Hold position! Wait for the storm to fully mask us, then strike!” I ordered with a shout into my red command gem, praying I could still be heard over the growing gale, our forces—and theirs—already being buffeted by the strengthening downdrafts as rain and hail began falling from the cloud base.
‘Twas nothing I could do about the cavern battle except offer a quick prayer up for the civilians, healers and Gavian, and hope that the presence of two Celestial Guardsponies and a Black Lance would provide sufficient combat capability to win it. For if they could not, I not only lost my son, but we lost our planned redoubt and would inevitably fall victim to the storm as well.
But the storm was not at its worst, and ‘twouldn’t be for some time; it had not yet fully matured and would need some minutes—and perchance some more help—to do so. That gave us a window in which we could engage in direct combat with the gryphons with some chance of success.
The first engagements occurred just as the storm broke in all its fury directly overhead, the impact of the first oversized raindrops stinging us even as the storm’s mesocyclone continued to suck in warm, moist air the fog had provided in the normally dry desert air from below, powering itself up further whilst keeping the air beneath it rain-free.
We knew well enough to stay clear of the latter marked by its increasingly roiled and lowering cloud base, made clearly visible in the dark along with the rest of the battlefield by the lightning forking through the cloud.
But ‘twas apparent the gryphons did not as one of their centuries attempted to flank Snow Squall’s platoon through the deceptively clear air beneath it, only to be sucked up within in it and then chewed up in the storm’s interior, shredded by lightning and pummeled by the increasingly large hail that surrounded it, battered bodies raining to the ground below along with the greenish-tinged ice now falling from its base.
Lightning was also starting to reach out from the storm to strike the ground beneath it at an alarming rate, occasionally drawn directly to the metal-armored Knights, and unfortunately, a few of my own soldiers as well, striking several in flight and sending them dead or dying to the ground.
My guts clenched to see it, but ‘twas what we had wanted and invited as, on my order when the rainfall had increased to a torrent, we charged the much larger gryphon formations, intending to mix it up with them at close range.
Holding proper platoon, squad or even flight formations ‘twas impossible for both sides under such conditions, buffeted by wind, rain and initially small hail as we were. But such conditions gave pegasi the advantage, neutralizing all ranged weaponry for lack of visibility and altered flight paths of their crossbow arrows.
They could not see us in the violent storm except at close range, and even then they could not hit us with their crossbows, as chaotic winds ruined their accuracy and the few explosive bolts that detonated did little damage as their shrapnel effects were mitigated by the growing wind and torrent. Our wind and flight magic allowed us to fly and fight better than the gryphons, and we took maximum advantage of this, sensing and using the air currents to slay several dozen swiftly as they simply could not maneuver well enough to meet us.
And in the case of myself, I discovered that I did not need to be able to see them to strike them.
‘Twas a side effect of my as-yet un-fully realized lightning affinity that I could detect electrical fields around me and focuses of increased conductivity within it, like metal armor… or even living bodies when they were close enough and the fields strong enough. ‘Tis hard to describe to the laypony how I perceive them; ‘tis something akin to the magical awareness all ponies possess except directed toward electricity in general and lightning in particular.
‘Tis worth noting that the EIS’s Office of Magical Research tried to determine the extent of my abilities both during and after the war (the latter when they had access to gryphon expertise and technology). They found I could sense, track, and even somewhat influence the course of artificially-generated electricity, including the ‘Alternating Current’ the Minotaurs had discovered and were using to power their city lights.
Such scientific examinations lay in the future, however. ‘Twas in fact an effect I had noticed in the past during bad storms and even occasionally during training sessions involving naturally occurring clouds Wind Whistler used to fire weak bolts at me, but I hadn’t been able to make much use of it. The conditions under which ‘twas both available and useful were simply too limited. But beneath a growing superstorm charging up the very atmosphere around me with plenty of electricity as the gryphons closed in?
Both were met.
I couldn’t see more than twenty feet ahead of me as the wind-driven downpour intensified, but I didn’t need to—to my surprise I could tell clearly where each gryphon soldier was within a hundred yards; even their stance or where their head was turned was apparent to me if they were close enough. Methinks the sky gryphon Wind Knights shone brightest, for lack of a better term, due to their mainly metal armor showing up clearly in a static-charged atmosphere while the mostly-leather wearing Talons weren’t quite as visible until I got closer. As such, I targeted the former, occasionally sensing and dodging a lightning bolt, swerving around its path though the booms were still deafening and the shock waves rattled me.
A couple times I sensed a prospective lightning path bending towards me and realized my own Guardspony armor was drawing it in, but the enchanted metal was designed to protect against Magus Knight attacks, including their lightning bolts, and thus afforded me a degree of protection to anything except a direct hit.
‘Twas the same for the non-Magus Knights, as they fared far better beneath the storm than the Talons. More than once I sensed a strike take out an entire decade of the latter by impacting a metal helmet in its center, which caused the bolt to branch outward to strike other nearby soldiers. For the former, lightning bolts took a few out singly but their armor enchantments were, like mine, sufficient to protect them from near misses or indirect effects.
But they did not protect against me. Ordering Blindside’s platoon to come in behind me and concentrate on the Talons, I focused my efforts on the nearest decade of Knights, swooping and slashing. I tried but did not always succeed in riding the near-hurricane winds by harnessing my own wing-generated gusts to counter and compensate, using the cover of the storm and my suddenly-amazing awareness of my surroundings to pick off the elite gryphon soldiers one by one.
When possible, I struck them from behind where their armor protection was weakest, attacking their wings and necks; only occasionally did I have to parry a sword strike or dodge a swipe from their steel claws. To my surprise, at least one crossbow bolt found its mark, partially penetrating my flank armor as I plunged into a full decade of them, hearing some startled shouts before a fresh boom of lightning drowned them out. I felt a sharp sting of pain run up my leg from the armor-piercing arrow but ignored it, just glad it hadn’t been an explosive bolt as I went to work slaughtering them, able to fly and fight as they struggled just to hold position and mount an effective defense under the superstorm’s onslaught.
To their credit, they fought well even under the severe conditions the storm offered; more than once I took a hit that marred my armor, including a surprise sword strike to my lower back from a Talon that staggered me —’twas very sloppy of me; I’d been so intent on the armored Knights in front of me that I hadn’t detected the leather-wearing Talon catching a favorable wind gust and using it to dive on me; twas sheer luck he didn’t hit my wings—but able to produce storm-force winds of my own, I was able to counter, slaying each in turn until I found myself being pelted by small hail from above. My armor and helmet protected me against it without issue, but I knew with the storm still ramping up, small hail was just the start.
As ‘twas stated before, pegasi might be weather-resistant, but ‘tis certain that does not make us magically immune to the impacts of tempest-driven hail that could reach the size of a large hoof; especially Corps soldiers wearing only light armor. We couldn’t linger out here more than a few minutes or the storm would slay us too. We had to do what damage we could, keeping the gryphons engaged before their leadership came to their senses and ordered them out, and then retreat back to the cavern. ‘Twas then, with the Knights decimated and the storm still worsening that I checked in on the efforts of Blindside’s platoon.
I could tell them apart from the Talons by my magical awareness more than my electrical one; Corps soldiers lacking metal armor as the Talons did, ‘twas their flight and weather magic that shown brightest to me. They were doing well against the Talons but had taken some casualties of their own judging by the fewer number of soldiers I sensed. And one in particular seemed to be having trouble, not able to navigate the storm that well. Methinks I wasn’t immediately certain who it was, but I could tell she was isolated from the others, only barely able to parry attacks from the half-decade of Talon soldiers that surrounded her and were trying to strike her down.
Worse, she was starting to take hits; as I recognized her distress and approached, she blocked one sword with a wingblade only for a second to impact her side and knock her askew whilst steel claws raked her flank, leaving dripping red lines on both.
She wheeled and swiftly slew the gryphon who owned the latter but then was tackled in midair by another earth gryphon Talon who began to bring his blade to her throat, and within mere moments, he would succeed. Her movements were stilted and uncertain; ‘twas that plus her uncharacteristic inability to navigate her surroundings that made me not recognize her at first, but as I got closer, my stomach clenched.
“Blindside!” I called out frantically and raced to her rescue, a fresh adrenaline surge giving me extra speed. I attacked the sword arm of the gryphon holding her first, knocking his blade free, then grabbing it in the crook of my foreleg to pull it backwards, peeling him off her and flinging him away. That accomplished, I slew the remaining Talons quickly even as Blindside didn’t quite seem to understand what was happening, forcing me to dodge a panicked slash from her!
‘Twas then I grabbed her and shook her. “Sergeant!” I yelled at her, making sure she heard my voice. “It’s me!”
“F-Firefly…?” Blindside finally recognized, and then she hugged me hard in her hover as she started sobbing, holding onto me like a lifeline. “Ma’am…” I could see her face at close range; see all the pain and fear on it. “I can’t see…” she told me shakily through her tears.
“Can’t see? What do you mean?” I asked, my voice a near-shout. I didn’t immediately take her meaning, given her one good eye looked fine and was clearly locking onto mine.
“My second sight… the storm…” She shivered in my grasp as I brought her back to her troops. “I-I can’t see anything through it… I fl-flew right into a decade… c-couldn’t get away… they were going t-to...” She broke down crying again.
‘Twas then I understood—she was saying her normally otherworldly awareness of her surroundings was ruined by the storm; she couldn’t use it when all the senses she relied upon to create it were completely saturated and overwhelmed by the combination of wind and rain, lightning and hail, leaving her very vulnerable. And very afraid. “It’s okay. I’ve got you…” I promised her as I led her back to her platoon, shouting in my blue crystal to pull back and regroup, hoping they heard me.
Fortunately, they did and broke contact quickly; I counted around thirty soldiers remaining from her platoon as they retreated out of combat and I caught up to them, meaning that they’d lost a fourth of their numbers. “Ma’am! Beg to report!” Corporal Shrike came up to me and saluted, his blades bloodied but showing some of his own blood from uniform tears over his chest where steel claws had slashed him. “Six down from 2nd and 3rd squads! We took out around forty Talons in return but they’re still pushing hard and methinks we can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” he reminded me, struggling to hold his hover in the face of the howling wind, a nearby lightning strike and its tooth-rattling BOOM! giving emphasis to his words as the strikes became more frequent.
“Agreed! Corporal Shrike, take over the platoon! Withdraw towards the cave and dispatch a flight to get Blindside into the infirmary—after confirming it’s clear of enemy forces! If it isn’t, clear it, and then station your platoon at the entrance! You will be our rear guard as the rest of the battalion makes our way to cover!” I ordered him, shouting even louder to be heard over the din; I could only pray that whatever battle was happening inside the cavern was finished and won; once the storm had intensified I’d lost contact with them due to intense lightning activity.
“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He saluted again. “If it’s not, we’ll clear it!”
“Good. Now go!” I directed, gently moving a bleeding and shaking Blindside towards him.
Blindside accepted the help, but not before turning around and hugging me hard once more, “Th-thank you…” she managed before departing, allowing a platoon mare to guide her; I can only imagine how it felt to her to suddenly feel like a helpless foal, stripped of her senses and all that made her such a fine warrior.
I can only too well, and ‘tis why I declined to write this section, Captain. You wouldst understand if I have no wish to relive that night and the battle beneath the storm for the sheer terror I felt within it! But methinks I will at least say this: thank you for saving me yet again, and know that my feelings for you only grew further in its wake.
—Blindside
I understand perfectly, my love. ‘Tis perchance ironic that I discovered my second sight that night even as you lost yours, but I am glad for it; for ‘tis what enabled me to find and save you!
—Firefly
As they departed to carry out their instructions, I checked in with other platoon leaders, at least the ones I could reach; aural interference from the intense lightning and static charge in the air was causing issues with our crystals—and, I’m sure, the Gryphon scrying networks. Fell Flight reported she and Stormrunner’s platoon were about to ambush a gryphon force charging in from the northwest. In contrast, Osprey was unreachable, Blue Bolt’s storm teams were now fighting as regular soldiers in flights amongst my other troops, and as for my fourth platoon, defending the southeast quadrant: “Lieutenant Snow Squall! Report!”
“This is Flight Sergeant Starling! Snow Squall’s dead, ma’am!” his first squad leader and the platoon commander he had replaced reported through audible tears. “He was leading our attack and took a direct hit from lightning! He’s gone!”
I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in pain at the news. I hadn’t known him for very long, but he had struck me as a fine stallion and officer, even fresh out of the Equestrian Officer Academy as he was. Though lacking our Guardspony-inspired training, he’d shown plenty of combat and command ability; I’d had no qualms about leaving him in charge in the absence of myself and Fell Flight when we were off leading the spoiling attack or attending the earlier parley. “Understood…” I offered up a silent prayer for him, but could spare little time to make it. “Take command, Flight Sergeant! What is your platoon’s status?”
“Fighting but faltering! We have thirteen down! The gryphons just keep coming and it’s getting harder and harder to stay in the air! We took out a couple turmas, but the hail’s getting worse and the Knights are wrapping around our flank!” Even grief-stricken as she was over the loss of their stallion leader, she was still a soldier and recited their situation quickly. “They’re massing in the clear air south of the storm! We’re being pushed back and if we don’t get out of here, we’ll get crushed and in another minute our only escape route will be right under the wall cloud, ma’am!”
I swore under my breath, knowing that likely meant a death sentence to see the lowering and rapidly spinning cloud base to my right through which glitters of growing hail could be seen in lightning strikes. Our plan had thus far worked; our efforts combined with the superstorm overhead had inflicted grievous losses, but with the storm nearing maturity, we were running out of time. “Withdraw your platoon towards the cavern, Flight Sergeant! Get your wounded inside the vault and help Shrike keep our escape route to it open!”
“Aye-aye, ma’am!” she called out as I called Shrike again to advise him to watch out for incoming friendly forces.
“Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt! Where are you?” I asked next, switching crystal frequencies.
“Here, ma’am!” To my relief, I got a quick answer. “Currently stationed with Blindside’s platoon defending the vault entrance!”
“Sergeant, you know the skies better than me! How long before the storm spawns a tornado?”
There was a pause as he appraised the situation. “At this rate, methinks it might not, ma’am! The storm’s flanking line is still weak!” he said, referring to a trailing front of stepped cumulus congestus clouds behind the mesocyclone that fed into the storm’s main body, continually powering it. “That means we’re not getting a strong rear flank downdraft, and without it? No tornado! And methinks the storm’s going to start running out of moisture soon! Once it does, the downdrafts weaken and odds of tornado formation go way down! We’ll also lose our cover of rain!”
I swore again, which was unusual for me. ‘Twas within our capability to build a tornado on our own, but ‘twould require the entire battalion to generate one strong enough for our purposes and if the storm structure was not able to support it, ‘twould fall apart once we fled—if it didn’t turn on us before that. For our final plan to work, we needed the storm to produce a large tornado on its own within five minutes, but without a full pegasi platoon to provide the final push to make it do so naturally, it wasn’t going to happen.
The storm needed more help. But most of my troops were engaged or falling back; by rough count we’d already taken nearly forty casualties and that number was only going to go up the longer we stayed out there, fighting beneath the storm. Yet if we simply broke contact and headed for our redoubt, the storm would not produce its ultimate weapon and we’d be left vulnerable to attack, especially as the storm’s low pressure occluded and drew back into its main mass, uncovering our base. But it would take at least an entire platoon of pegasi to make a difference, and the only platoon unaccounted for was…
“Ma’am! Beg to report!” My train of thought was broken as I suddenly heard Fell Flight’s voice through my crystal, though the sound of it was distorted by the storm. “Osprey’s platoon is missing and Stormrunner’s platoon got hit from behind and has lost half its strength! We were forced to break contact and retreat back towards the vault! We can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” she reminded me.
My guts clenched, wondering if Osprey’s platoon, which was stationed in the area of the flanking line, had been ambushed and overwhelmed in the clear air beside the storm. “Copy that! Take position near the watchtower and interdict any attempt to flank Blindside’s platoon, which is holding position at the entrance!” I told her, then switched aural frequencies so I would be broadcasting to every communication crystal within range, including the building-mounted outpost ones, which dutifully picked up my transmission and boomed my voice throughout the base, just audible over the continuous rumble of thunder and violent winds that were now whipping back and forth.
“Flight Sergeant Osprey!” I shouted into my red gem, praying she was still alive and could hear me through the companion crystal in her possession. “If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”
With my sincerest apologies, commander, I did hear you, but we were otherwise engaged at that moment, and I could not grab at the gem on my belt.
Greetings, readers. I am Aves Osprey. After nearly forty years in the Corps and countless engagements spanning not just the war itself but one or more decades on either side of it, I still marvel at the fact I survived it all and now bear the rank of Colonel, currently commanding the Corps Canterlot garrison and perchance in line to become Commanding Corps General someday. ‘Tis a far cry from the young mare with a domineering mother who hated authority and blamed her frustrations on everypony except herself with great regularity.
Perchance ‘twas why I joined the Corps. I, like Fell Flight, needed to find productive outlets for my fighting blood and desired to find a cause I could serve. I found it there, though in my case, it took several years and methinks more than a few fights and duels before I finally understood that I was there to serve others and not myself. 'Twas due to such attitude issues that my progress through the ranks was initially quite slow, but I eventually settled into a position of platoon leader. Rapid advancement for me happened during the war, as it did for so many; veteran soldiers were needed to train the newer ones and I soon found myself in such a role.
I will not discuss my initial issues with Gavian except to say they are long resolved and he did not deserve my hatred. Perchance ‘twas simply another manifestation of my tendency to blame others for the ills of my life; perchance ‘twas just that I made him the focal point for all my frustrations as I’d done with others in the past, including Fell Flight. But either way, methinks ‘twas not until he bested me and then spared me in a death duel that I truly matured into the soldier and warrior I became.
But that story is already told in the previous volume, and methinks I prefer not to dwell on it now. Perchance one day I will relate more of my tale, but ‘tis not the time here. I pick up the quill for the first time in this story at the Captain’s invitation, and leave her and the others to get some much needed sleep. In truth, Fell Flight and I are now the only ones to remain active at this late hour, the former to no surprise.
Perchance what is surprising is that the two of us collaborate for the remaining parts of this chapter, sharing experiences and editing each other’s work. ‘Tis a far cry from our initial hostile feelings towards each other, as I relentlessly hazed her when she was but a hatchling, as the Corps calls new soldiers fresh out of basic. But she later paid me back for it ‘in spades’ as they say, when she jumped ranks over me just two years later.
—Colonel Aves Osprey
Commander, 1st Division
Corps Canterlot Brigade
Canterlot
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Southwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours
As the storm erupted and the gryphons struck, methinks my platoon actually had the easiest time of it.
We were stationed to defend the southwest quadrant, to the rear of the storm and far enough away from the main shaft that we actually had some clear air to work with and more manageable winds. The storm was still in its explosive growth stage, and within a minute had hit the top of the troposphere to begin fanning out into a characteristic anvil shape; bulbous mammatus clouds starting to protrude from the anvil’s bottom.
‘Twasn’t long before hail started falling from its upper reaches and began pelting us, though the stones were small to start; rain did not reach us yet as the main downdrafts were on the front of the storm and the rear flank ones would take some time to get started.
My time spent as a ‘Cyclone’, or Storm Corporal, on a weather team back at Omega had served me well.
“Omega! On me!” I shouted to my platoon of Outpost Omega veterans as several gryphon centuries came into view; as the fog cleared and they beheld the monster we had created, I saw the lead Talons falter, begging their commanders to turn back.
Perchance they remembered the losses they had suffered in Gamma’s superstorm strike against Raptor base back in January, as retaliation for repeated Empire-sponsored raider attacks on Epsilon. But instead of heeding their warnings, the Knights ordered them forward, and though frightened (as well they should have been!), they obeyed, even as lightning began forking out through the air, striking the ground and, ‘tis certain, threatening to strike us all down.
There were ways to mitigate that, however. “Omega! Discard your helmets or their metal might attract bolts! And loosen your formations! Don’t fly too close to each other or ‘tis certain a single bolt might take out several at once! Now follow me!” I said into my blue gem, appraising the situation, then ordering my three squads to retreat back into just inside the storm’s main tower, hiding us from view.
We watched as the first hints of the flanking line began to form; a line of arcing cumulus reaching out from the storm’s rear as the warm air was undercut by the downdraft wrapping around the storm. We were buffeted by the latter, certainly, and the air was quite turbulent, but manageable at the outer edge of the storm.
Unlike the main storm, the flanking line that fed it was not dangerous to start, excepting the possibility of a landspout or two forming beneath it, as its updrafts were both gentle and easily ridden. We waited until the gryphons had neared—’tis certain they knew we were there and their commanders placed the several decades of Knights above the Talons, waiting to receive us should we suddenly reappear—before beginning our move. Their intent was clear enough; they would use the Knights to hold and weaken us whilst the Talons swept around to envelop us. Ragged raiders ‘tis certain they were not; these were trained soldiers who understood us and the tactics to use against us well.
But so were we, and methinks I wasn’t going to oblige them. My own experience and tactical skill was hard-learned; it had taken me nearly eight years to rise through the ranks at Omega just to make Flight Sergeant, which, I will note as she reads this beside me, Fell Flight took but two to reach.
As the stepped but still-shallow cumulus of the flanking line reached out a mile from the main cloud tower, we set out directly through it on my orders, following its gentle arc further out from the storm until we had passed the main gryphon formation and the Knights that were trying to shield them.
‘Twas my original intent to slash out from its base and ambush the Talons from behind before retreating back into the main storm area, but then…
“Ma’am! Look!” One of my squad leaders shouted. I turned to where she was pointing, and ‘twas then I noticed something through the frequent lightning flashes:
Following the main attack force and above the level of the flanking line was a smaller group of gryphons, including a Talon eagless in full chest armor and cape, whose shoulder insignia was that of a single eagle metal feather, gleaming bright in the electrically lit-up night.
A Tribune! By her rank alone, ‘twas likely she was second in command of the legion we faced. She was gaping at the storm and calling somewhat frantically into an odd contraption which I guessed was some kind of communication device; perchance trying to recall her forces before our supercell claimed them.
But the storm interfered with their scrying network as much as our dragonfire-based crystal communications, and she couldn’t seem to get through to whoever she was contacting, judging by her fearful tone.
She was flanked by around twenty others, a mixture of higher-ranked Talons and Knights, who were likewise trying and failing to reach their respective forces. In any event, ‘twas a command group that we had stumbled upon, and thus, a priority target. In any event, we did not want their attack to be recalled, and they were but fifty yards from the cloud top, so methinks my next decision was quite easy.
“Omega! Strike!” I ordered as I burst out of the cloud and my platoon followed, surging up towards them. For those that wonder, I called them Omega because that’s how we thought of ourselves, even after nearly nine months at Epsilon. For the heavy fighting and losses we oft bore the brunt of whilst stationed at Equestria’s most dangerous border base, those who served at Omega tended to identify with it even long after they left. Such it was for us, and methinks ‘twas doubly a rallying cry for us given we knew Outpost Omega was unlikely to survive the night.
Neither were we, I well knew, but as I said when we discussed surrender—’twas not even worthy of consideration for me or anypony else in my veteran platoon—if our sisters at Omega were fighting and dying, then we could do no less. My call into my blue command gem caused heads to turn from above, but ‘twas already too late. We shot out of the growing cumulus and were on them in seconds, and I took the Tribune for myself.
They were just able to draw their weapons but, hovering as they were, they were not able to set a proper defense or get in sufficient motion; methinks I took great pleasure in the surprise and sheer terror I saw on their Tribune’s face as I knocked her barely-drawn blade aside and then took off her wings with a sweeping slash on their upswing, hearing her shriek of agony and holding onto her by her foreleg for just a second to lock eyes with her and smile sweetly, ripping off her shoulder insignia as a trophy before dropping her to her death.
Perchance the modern pony might think this needlessly cruel. But quarter was never asked or offered in any fight we’d been through against raiders at Omega, and thus ‘twould be the same here. The rest of my platoon likewise made the most of their surprise and took out the bulk of their leadership in short order, though a half-dozen earth gryphon Knights and Talons survived by going back to back. They succeeded in taking out two of my platoon, putting us down six counting the losses we’d suffered in the earlier actions that day.
Mayhap we could have stayed to wipe them out out of sheer vengeance, and but a year or two earlier, perchance I would have ordered us to do so. But though it had taken me a few years to understand the true meaning of duty and appraise situations properly, I now could, and thus I ordered my platoon back into the cover of the flanking line before they could summon reinforcements from below.
The cloud formation wasn’t growing as fast as it should have, but we could still use it to track back towards the main storm tower and engage the century or three of soldiers that got past us—if, that was, the storm combined with Fell Flight and Stormrunner’s platoon hadn’t already annihilated them, I thought hopefully to myself, pulling my red gem to call to them only to find that due to the storm, I could no longer reach them.
I admit to a little annoyance now, Osprey. Perchance you might have at least informed us before you struck as to what you were doing and to expect an attack from the left? They ended up ambushing us, you know!
—Fell Flight
With apologies, First Lieutenant, but ‘twas our original intention to engage them ourselves, whittling them down via ambush before falling back towards you. That changed when we saw the command group. Time was pressing and the opportunity was there, so I took it, and by the time I was able to call you, I could no longer.
—Osprey
Well. Perchance I might accept that, except your tenure at Omega was oft marked by sloppiness and failure to inform others of your intentions! Methinks more than once did your squad or platoon go out of contact in raider engagements. And methinks more than once were you upbraided over it, both by me and by Windshear!
—Fell Flight
As unmincing with words as ever, I see. And yet, I stand before you not just a veteran, but a Colonel now, having survived the war and even commanded a battalion of my own before the conflict was done. So ‘twould seem I did learn. In any event, as the fighting now shifts to you and I would not receive the call from the Captain for a few minutes more, perchance you should take up the story from here?
—Osprey
Perchance I will. Greetings, readers. If you read the first book, you know me and my story well, and I feel no need to recount it here, even though the Captain wishes this volume written such that new readers do not need to study the previous one. But as she is not here to direct me differently—perchance that is something we do have in common, Osprey—I will proceed with the story of the battle involving myself and Stormrunner’s platoon.
—Fell Flight
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Northwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0000 hours
To me, the superstorm exploding skyward over our heads and threatening to slay us all was not a monster, but a creation of greatest beauty.
An elegant instrument of destruction only pegasi could make or fight effectively within, ‘twas both invigorating and exhilarating to be out in the middle of, though I admit ‘twas certain I was given some pause when the first downdrafts struck us and I felt myself being buffeted, having a hard time holding formation and flight. And that was to say nothing of the massive—and very dangerous—static charge in the air; a point flown home when a bolt struck dangerously near; the shock wave of its passing staggering me and leaving me momentarily deafened while the faint tinge of ozone crossed my nose and tongue.
But we had a job to do and a trap to spring as the first sheets of rain began to fall, starting in the northeast quadrant of the storm where the commander was with Blindside’s platoon and then working slowly backwards around the periphery, though the main updraft remained clear for now.
That would change within minutes, though ‘twould not be rain falling from there—’twould be progressively larger hail, and to get too close to its base would be lethal even to pegasi, as ‘twould seem at least one gryphon century discovered quickly according to the Captain’s earlier account. The fog nearly gone, sucked up into the storm, we got a glimpse of a large formation of gryphons charging in from the northeast before the rain hid them—and us—from view again, their armor gleaming and glittering in the lightning strikes going through the cloud.
Since she failed to mention this before, perchance out of sleeplessness or distraction, I must explain that ‘twas the Captain’s plan—and here, I must note that though she was not a Captain at this moment, ‘tis still the way I always think of her—that we use the opening minutes of the storm to draw them in towards the updraft whilst we could still fight beneath it, using its elemental assault of wind, hail and lightning combined with our ability to (initially) fight effectively beneath it to whittle down their numbers before the storm matured.
Once it did and just before it turned tornadic, we would retreat to the bunker and let whatever monster vortex it generated destroy the gryphons following us, then wait out the storm from cover. And afterwards…?
Well. If there was an afterwards, whatever was left of us would make our final stand in the cavern, defending the vault doors. ‘Twould not avail us in the end, of course, but we could at least die knowing we inflicted far worse than we took, perchance crippling a legion.
For Cloudsdale and for all Equestria, that would have to be enough.
* * * * *
Unlike Snow Squall’s and Blindside’s platoons, we were not engaged right away.
Their formations and the storm itself initially concealed in the fog, they had not seen what we were building before it was too late. As midnight was reached, gryphons charged in from low altitude from multiple directions, and I saw some hesitation from their lead formations just before they were obscured.
“Should we go after them?” Stormrunner asked, the lightning throwing a greenish cast over his gold armor as the first small pings of hailstones were heard against it.
I appreciated his deference to me; even though we were equal in rank, and he could even make a claim to be over me by virtue of his title of Celestial Guardspony, he never asserted it. He simply accepted his place in the Corps chain of command, which subordinated him not just to the commander, but to me as her second.
“Aye,” I replied after a brief pause and a thin smile, appraising the situation just as I had countless times before during raider engagements at Omega. My own tactical skill had come from experience and from the lessons of Thunderbolt before that, who was my mentor just as Windshear was the Captain’s.
“We do not want them to decide to depart before the storm gets a chance to consume them. 2nd platoon! On me!” I called into my blue gem, and Stormrunner’s squads formed up as best they could under the increasingly chaotic winds, keeping their formations loose and more widely spaced than normal at his orders to guard against what I’d once heard Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt term “splash damage” from lightning strikes into our midst.
Truly, there were times I thought the odd ‘Ogres and Oubliettes’ games he and his stallion-heavy storm teams favored playing during their off hours had gone to their heads, but his meaning was clear enough.
Still, as we set out towards the gryphon formations which had disappeared from sight about three hundred yards away, our own visibility was limited to perchance a sixth of that as the driving rain picked up, their sheets turned an odd shade of green in the barely-muted flashes of lightning that was forking through the cloud with greater frequency—or perchance ‘twas just my implanted light-dimming crystal lenses that imparted that effect; a result of the slightly bluish tint the sapphire crystals cast over everything.
I’d had them implanted to allow me to fight and see as effectively in the day as in night, but my ‘superlative’ night vision, as I’ve heard Corps eye doctors describe it as, did me little good here when ‘twas a struggle to see much in front of my nose.
What did me more good was the experience that came from a score or more of raider engagements and the training of my mentor. “Master Sergeant! Take 1st and 3rd squads in directly! I’ll head high with 2nd squad to try and ambush them from above once their attention is on you!”
“Aye-aye, ma’am!” He gave the standard Corps acknowledgment of an order I could just hear over the roar of the storm, calling his first two squads to him whilst I did the same for the third. Our blue command gems gave our voices just enough range to be heard over the din by squad leaders, and their subordinates who had not heard simply followed them.
‘Twas a good plan, but as I took 2nd squad into just inside the cloud base to hide our approach whilst the Master Sergeant struck the incoming century from below, ‘twas quickly thwarted by a sudden call that he was under attack—not from ahead, but from behind!
We reversed our course immediately whilst I instructed Stormrunner to fire a red flare so we could see where he was. A brave and bold Talon Century had indeed struck him in his left rear flank—no innuendo intended to the former Master Sergeant—and in a reversal of what was supposed to be us ambushing them, he reported they’d lost six soldiers almost immediately to a volley of close range crossbow bolts and sword strikes.
Suddenly wondering where Osprey’s platoon had disappeared to and why they had failed to cover our flank—methinks I swore to buck her flank all the way to Mosclaw if she had gone off on her own again!—I attempted to carry out an ambush against the new group, only to all but collide with a turma of Knights who’d been anticipating the tactic and shielding the Talons from above.
Methinks they were surprised as we were and the battle quickly degenerated into a rather ugly melee, illuminated in strobe light fashion by the frequent lightning strikes that would have dazzled my thestral vision without my protective lenses. Indeed, methinks I said a silent thank-you to Iris Aid, the healer who had invented and implanted them into my eyes, more than once that night.
We could barely see or hold position as we engaged them blade to blade as best we could, though the storm proved our ally by sending a lightning bolt into their midst, striking one of their Knights and then partially deflecting off her enchanted armor, branching out like a scattershot strike I’d seen our storm teams practice to find half a dozen other large metal bodies, which were almost uniformly Knight armor.
The powerful bolt—’tis worth noting that the bolts these superstorms produced were far stronger than naturally occurring ones, coming from military-grade pegasus storm clouds as they were—only slew the directly struck gryphon, whilst their enchanted armor saved the rest…
But only momentarily. They were all staggered by the electrical blow, their muscles convulsing for a moment, and though we were not unaffected—I felt an electric current go through me for a moment and at least one of Stormrunner’s platoon took a hit to her steel-helmeted head, sending her lifeless to the ground—our weather magic meant we could recover quicker.
And thus we did, as the earth gryphon Fortis Knight wearing the shoulder insignia of a Decurio—rather unusual to see them fighting in the air like this!—who’d been fighting me to a standstill found himself suddenly unable to defend himself; accidentally dropping his axe. I took immediate advantage and attacked his face, blinding him with a slash to his eyes and following that up with a downward strike to the exposed back of his head as it slumped forward, getting through his thin rear armor and severing his spine.
He fell dead whilst around me, 2nd squad was having mixed success. By my rough count we’d taken out a decade or so of Knights thanks to the lightning and their inability to fight at full strength or speed beneath the storm, but lost three of our own in the dangerously chaotic environment, and I quickly realized if we didn’t break contact the score or more that remained would likely overwhelm us; doubly so if the Talons should suddenly reappear.
My worst fears were realized when the force we’d originally targeted caught up to us, threatening to crush the platoon between their two groups. I shouted orders into my blue gem to escape back to the roiled cloud base despite the danger, but I then heard a shouted Aeric order in return reciting my words back in the gryphon tongue and telling his forces not to allow it—clearly, there was at least one Knight who spoke Equish in their mix!
“Their leader is ordering them to escape into the clouds! Eagle group! Come in high and do NOT let them withdraw or regroup! Cut them off, close in and KILL THEM ALL!” he ordered to my consternation, thinking both that the raider groups we dealt with at Omega would not be so brave or stupid as to continue combat under these conditions, knowing that even if they slew us, the storm would likely slay them!
‘Twas then I heard Stormrunner’s voice, leaving me in some relief he was still alive and had heard the call, knowing enough Aeric to recognize the enemy order and its proper counter. “Platoon! Break contact! Dive for the deck!” he ordered even though I was the ranking pony present, but ‘twas the right tactic so I did not countermand it, leading 3rd squad, now down a third its numbers, after him. We escaped with some difficulty, cutting a swath through the second group of Talons to do it but taking even more casualties in the process; when we broke out into the slightly clearer air below, I could see we were down to just over half strength with a dozen or more pegasus bodies littering the ground below along with two score of gryphons.
I closed my eyes briefly in prayer to the moon goddess. We’d taken plenty of casualties over the years at Omega, including thirty in a day once during the battle that Windshear had won his first Defender of Harmony award in. But this…?
If our losses were this bad; methinks I didn’t even want to think what the other platoons or outposts had suffered this day. We fanned out low over the base only to get buffeted by strengthening headwinds and larger hail the closer we got to the main updraft tower; its swirling and lowered wall cloud now clearly visible and ominous to the point that even the gryphons knew from sight alone to avoid it.
“Master Sergeant! I can’t contact the commander!” Stormrunner reported, showing me his small but non-working red command gem that was supposed to be linked to Firefly’s. “We can’t take another fight like that, ma’am!”
“I know…” I told him, pulling my own gem, which was larger and more powerful since I was second in command and had to have the same ability as my future Captain to command troops should she suddenly fall.
“Let me try mine! Ma’am! Beg to report!” I shouted into my command ruby crystal after we’d gotten some distance, hoping its greater magic and range meant she could hear me, even over the ever-more-violent storm. “Osprey’s platoon is missing and Stormrunner’s platoon has lost half its strength! We were forced to break contact and retreat back towards the vault! We can’t stay out here much longer, ma’am!” I reminded her, watching as a lightning bolt struck the vacated outpost watchtower, blasting a hole in its side and sending wood and stone fragments flying in every direction, some of the former on fire despite the heavy rain wrapping around the edges of the updraft. The rest of the buildings already had some of their windows blown out by the intense winds, though the walls and roofs still held for now.
“Copy that! Hold position near the watchtower and interdict any attempt to flank Blindside’s platoon, which is holding position at the vault entrance!” the harried voice came back, and then I heard it come again as she tapped into the base crystal array, her voice booming out, broadcasting basewide and, as she said, to every command crystal within range:
“Flight Sergeant Osprey! If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”
Again, my apologies for not replying, Captain, and for leaving Stormrunner’s platoon hanging before that. Though perchance my subsequent actions made up for it?
—Aves Osprey
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Southwest Quadrant
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0008 hours
I admit to having a sinking feeling in my stomach when I heard Stormrunner’s badly distorted call that he was under attack from what was likely the same force we had let go. My response that we were doubling back went unanswered, and ‘twas then I wondered if I’d just made a grave mistake.
Though ‘twas certain I could justify my actions by virtue of the command group we’d stumbled upon and slaughtered, methinks my first thought was indeed that Fell Flight would likely slay me for once again going off on my own and leaving Stormrunner vulnerable, if she was still alive afterwards and the Commander didn’t kill me for the same reason first. Methinks the former is correct in that I’d had the habit of going off after other targets at Omega and not informing others of my intentions.
But somehow, it always seemed the right thing to do at the time, and recriminations could wait. For now, ‘twas certain all we could do was try to rush back and ambush the force that ambushed them.
As we backtracked through the still-flaccid flanking line—I thought I might have seen a weak dust swirl on the ground below in one of the lightning flashes but had no time to check if ‘twas a landspout we might be able to use against any enemy pursuit—I saw other gryphon formations closing in around me; having perchance received the panicked calls of the command group that we were upon them. But they arrived too late to help, and did not see us. We, on the other hoof, needed to be able to see where we were going, so I ordered us to drop just below the level of the cloud so we could spot the force hitting Stormrunner’s flank in front of us.
Methinks I was not encouraged when I didn’t see them and aural interference increased to the point that I could not only not reach them, but I could no longer hear them. Looking around, I saw at least one instance where a mage shot some kind of spell into the cloud base only for it to backfire on her; the cloud erupted with lightning which lanced down all around her and struck down not just her, but several of her comrades.
The sparks then propagated upwards and outwards throughout the cloud, emerging out the top as anvil crawlers. The lightning ceased for only a few seconds before friction within the cloud from the strong updrafts and downdrafts quickly regenerated the storm’s static charge, and the bolts began flashing again.
We’d just about made it back to the main storm body when we ran headlong into the remains of a gryphon century retreating out of the cloud; methinks they were just as surprised to see us as we were them; and we soon found ourselves engaged with them.
Though this fight took place in clear air just outside the main cloud tower; they were exhausted by fighting both Stormrunner’s forces and the storm, whilst we were still relatively fresh and dealt with them easily, dropping another thirty before they hid in the clouds again. We were just finishing them off with the loss of another two soldiers when the Captain’s call came through, barely intelligible through the storm:
“Flight Sergeant Osprey! If you can hear this, take your platoon to the flanking line and enhance the rear flank downdraft! We need a tornado NOW!”
‘Twas nearly twenty seconds before we had broken contact and I could attempt a reply, only to find that once again, I could not get through. All I could do was attempt to follow orders and hope the gryphons would not attack us as our instructions required us to operate outside the storm, in the clear air behind and above the flanking line.
* * * * *
Before I continue, a brief weather lesson is in order, one I hope might be worthy of Storm Sergeant Blue Bolt himself:
For those who are unaware, the flanking line is basically a trailing front of clouds formed by plunging air from the atmosphere’s middle levels—the rear flank downdraft—wrapping around the back of the storm and undercutting the more moist surface air it encounters, forcing it upwards and producing progressively larger cumulus congestus clouds the closer to the main storm body it gets.
The size of the flanking line ‘tis oft a measure of the supercell’s likelihood of producing a tornado, as the parent rotation cannot be brought to the ground without a strong downdraft wrapping into the mesocyclone—the storm’s low pressure area—from the rear, tightening and stretching the circulation vertically.
‘Twas our task, therefore, to produce and enhance that downdraft, which was only weak to that point, perchance because of feeble mid-level winds—not too surprising this close to Equestria, where natural weather patterns are suppressed. With more time, we could have provided that wind ourselves at the outset and gave the storm a push with it in the direction we wished it to go, but with only ten minutes to spare creating it, we barely had enough time to build the main storm structure and hope it would tap into enough natural wind for the task.
Unfortunately, and perchance fatally for us if we could not get a large twister to cover our retreat and sweep the base of gryphons before they could storm our weakened formations in the cavern, it did not. So that left it up to my platoon, still thirty-five strong. I did not then know the fate of the other platoons or what was going on elsewhere beneath the storm; nor had I heard a thing about the vault battle aside from the initial call that one was happening.
In any event, it mattered not. “Omega! It’s up to us! On me!” I ordered again after quickly passing word to my squads, sparing but a moment’s thought for our sisters at our former home, wondering if Outpost Omega still stood or if any still lived. And ‘twas indeed a sisterhood, methinks it bares repeating again, for those of us who served there; just being there six months entitled you to a special award and I belong to a society of surviving Omega veterans to this day.
We surged upwards just inside the storm tower, using its peripheral updrafts to soar skyward, into the atmosphere’s middle levels, climbing four thousand feet in the space of two minutes on its strength added to that of our wings. Normally we’d prefer a bit more height, but there was no time.
Turning on our wings, we burst out of the clouds into the clear air at that altitude; somewhat to my relief I saw no nearby gryphons as the landscape around us was illuminated clearly by continuous lightning—perchance the gryphon magus had learned their lesson about trying to use their lightning release spell on the cloud after their first had killed its caster?—and we fanned ourselves out to a distance of about a mile from the main storm shaft. We took position behind and above the flanking line, being pelted by hail now falling from the storm’s expansive anvil, which was stretching nearly to the horizon in every direction; neither the Mare in the Moon nor twinkling stars could be seen.
Again, if we could take our time with this and had sufficient numbers? Methinks we’d use at least a hundred pegasi for the job packed in over that distance, starting from higher altitude. But ‘twas time and numbers we did not have; every moment we wasted was one more in which the gryphons pressed in on our own battered base and forces. We were also putting ourselves in grave danger by operating in the clear like that; should another turma or two of Knights see us—and as our fur dye was white against a night backdrop, ‘twas a distinct possibility given gryphon night vision—we were dead, but perchance the glittering hail falling would camouflage us.
And perchance it did, as by Celestia’s grace, we were not attacked in the next minute. I had a storm team of four pegasi attached to my platoon—also Omega veterans; to little surprise they had asked to join my platoon for what we assumed would be our last stand—fighting as airborne infantry like the rest of us in the absence of storm clouds to fight with, so I ordered them to take command of the effort, functioning as squad leaders. They in turn ordered us into four elongated cone formations spaced a quarter mile apart, ones designed to mutually reinforce pegasi wind magic, and then, we took the literal plunge.
We pulled the air with us as we flew, our wings grabbing it and dragging it behind us as we increased speed, aiming ourselves to pass at a high angle beneath the flanking line’s flat cloud base, going nearly to ground before flattening out. I felt the rush of the air grow around me to the point I could no longer hear anything, including any additional orders that might have been given through my gem by the Commander as our plunging speed reached one hundred, then two hundred miles per hour.
We set more and more air in motion as we passed beneath the flanking line, and as we neared ground, I chanced a look back over my shoulder to see that our efforts were indeed having the desired effect. I saw the cumulus of the line begin to bulge up nicely as more air was forced up and into them from below, looking far more healthy from it.
We then veered back towards the base and the main storm body, trying to turn its newly enhanced winds inward toward the circulation. We passed by a few startled groups of grounded or airborne earth gryphons at several points, who were immediately bowled over by the hurricane blast of our passing, but even if they knew our intent, ‘twas nothing they could do to stop it.
For we had already succeeded in our task, and we continued to ride our new gust front all the way back, not to enhance it any longer but simply to use it to speed our return to friendly lines and our final redoubt. Hoping we were now close enough for a transmission to get through, I called into my red gem again to announce our success and imminent approach, warning the commander that the battalion should take cover immediately, but again received no reply. ‘Twas difficult to see the mesocyclone over the desert dust our own winds had kicked up, but at that moment, the fate of the gryphons—and perchance ourselves—was sealed.
And Captain, if I may ask, why are you up again? Methinks you left for bed scarcely two hours ago.
With apologies to you this time, Colonel, I couldn’t sleep and perchance my worries are getting the best of me again. ‘Tis nearly sunrise anyway, and I normally rise at dawn as a matter of course. Some military ponies simply never shake the habit of reveille even long past their careers. ‘Twill be awhile before I can see father again, so methinks I will review your writings and perchance finish off this chapter.
I see that you and Fell Flight have written much in my absence. To answer your question, yes, I admit I was ready to come down on you hard for going out of contact without explanation, but ‘twould seem you had good reason, spotting who I can only assume was the Tribune we’d had the earlier parley with along with a plethora of other commanders.
I still think you could have spared at least a few seconds to attempt contact of Stormrunner or Fell Flight to announce your intentions, which would have allowed them to expect a second force from your side, but in your place, methinks I would have fretted about losing the chance or having reinforcements show up should I delay.
Wind beneath the clouds at this point. I thank both you and Fell Flight for contributing so much to this tale, telling the sides of it I cannot. ‘Tis now time for me to finish this chapter, as methinks ‘twill give both me and father when I later read it to him some ongoing distraction. In the meantime, I grant you both leave to get breakfast from the cafeteria.
And Fell Flight? Perchance you could leave at least a few mangos for the rest of us this time?
—Firefly
No promises, Captain!
—Fell Flight
Airspace over Outpost Epsilon
Central Area
Pony/Gryphon Border
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0015 hours
‘Tis said that of all combat actions a military force is required to perform, a fighting retreat is the most difficult one.
Methinks I was learning the truth of that statement quickly as I attempted to manage one through violent winds and still-growing hail, which was increasingly replacing the rain as the storm’s primary precipitation, either due to a strengthening updraft or the storm’s expected transition to a low-precipitation supercell as its fog-fed moisture supply ran out.
‘Twas a chaotic fight; very difficult to keep any semblance of control over at times, and to their credit, the gryphons were doing their best—and perchance worst—against us even given the severe impediments they were operating under. To their great credit, they had not faltered, even staring the superstorm and their own heavy losses in the face; they continued to press forward despite the lightning strikes picking them off one by one and the progressively larger hail pummeling them.
We were being pressed by numbers approaching a rough cohort, attempting to hem us into a smaller and smaller area whilst we tried to hold them back long enough for the storm to unleash its final surprise. But the supercell was still showing no signs of generating a tornado from its rotating wall cloud; the gryphons were now in perfect position for one, but without it?
Without it, methinks we had but minutes to live; even if we retreated to the vault now, they’d come hard on our hooves and charge in with us, denying us our redoubt. Their numbers would tell against my increasingly battered battalion, and then ‘twould be all over.
‘Twas then my command gem lit up and vibrated to announce a transmission, and methinks I might have heard Osprey’s voice over the crackling interference and very loud wind noise in the background. “Osprey?” I shouted back into it. “Where the hay ARE you?”
To my frustration, she went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “Ma’a… if you can… we’re on our… was successf… rear fl… inbound... take cover!” By Harmony or perchance the simple fact that she was getting closer, the last two words came through loud and clear along with a sudden hurricane rush of warm, dry wind at ground level as opposed to the cold rain-generated downdrafts of the storm’s forward flank, turning inward towards the main circulation. It reacted instantly, visibly strengthening and stretching from the added inflow.
‘Twas then I felt my ears pop and, knowing what it meant, methinks I instantly upgraded my intentions towards Osprey from kill to commend.
“All platoons! Break contact! Retreat to the vault now!” I shouted into my red and blue command gems at once, praying to be heard over the loud and growing roar as the circulation gathered strength and a small dust swirl beneath the base of the wall cloud quickly grew into a larger one, an initially needlelike funnel quickly expanding into a trunk just off the western end of the outpost.
With the magnitude of the downdraft wrapping into it, feeding it from below, it had now the fuel and inflow to strengthen and widen further, and did so, quickly surpassing half a mile in width. But its influence was felt far beyond that; I felt its winds and suction already tugging at me even in its immature stage, and ‘twas all I could do to make my way to shelter.
Not everypony was so lucky as several of Osprey’s returning platoon were unable to escape the pull of what I would guess were its 250-mph winds, visibly screaming as they were sucked into the circulation along with dozens and then hundreds of gryphon soldiers from above and below.
The earth gryphons that had proven surprisingly formidable in aerial combat fared the worst; their wings were simply not strong enough to escape the suction, whilst about half the sky gryphons belonging to the mingled cohort were likewise all but inhaled by the monster vortex, which now took a wedge shape from the lowered cloudbase, its horrifically large and churning mass both backlit and illuminated from within by lightning, carving a swath right across the edge of our base and the canyon itself.
I was forced to watch as our watchtower and most of our base buildings fell to its force, crumbling before it, though by luck or happenstance, the walls of our two-story headquarters building including my stateroom survived a glancing blow with nothing more than blown-out windows and a ripped-off roof. Standing guard before the vault entrance with Shrike’s platoon, I waited as long as I dared for stragglers to come in—which did include two of Osprey’s platoon who got sucked up and then miraculously thrown back out, both badly battered and bleeding, flayed alive by the vortex and barely able to fly—I ordered the Vault doors closed.
Using their innate magic to anchor themselves to the Earth itself, the six remaining members of our earth pony maintenance crew pushed the large metal doors shut against the wind, helped somewhat by levitation spells from our healer team—who, I was shocked to see, had been reduced by half. I wondered why Still Way wasn’t helping only to see him lying exhausted on the ground following his duel with not one but two gryphon mages, who I could likewise see lying dead along with a score of gryphon and diamond dog corpses.
I didn’t know what had happened during the battle there, and I couldn’t consider the question or look for Gavian just then. Instead, my gut clenched when I saw a wounded Shrike struggling to hold on against the wind—he’d taken a crossbow bolt to the hip but was still at his post, commanding the rear guard I’d given him, but he no longer had the strength to fight the wind and his frantic platoon mares couldn’t reach him as he began to be sucked backwards towards near-certain death.
Ignoring pleas to halt, I went out after him, taking the full force of the hurricane gale and then yanking him forward. Methinks I just managed to pull him inside before the Vault doors closed with a resounding CLANG!, sealing us away from the superstorm and leaving the gryphons to their fate.
‘Twas only then as I looked around that I saw our sharply reduced ranks, and realized how many of my own forces had fallen.
‘Twas only then I wondered if we had truly won anything and if the cost to my base and battalion was worth it.
If I may say, very well-written, Captain. I have brought you breakfast, including some of that new Zebrican ‘coffee’ import you so seem to favor, and yes, I did even leave you some mangos. Methinks if I have any regrets in this life, ‘tis that I did not discover their joys sooner!
—Fell Flight
Thank you, First Lieutenant. I know you prefer to be called Emissary now, but methinks Lieutenant is simply the way I always think of you for as long as you stood at my right hoof. You served as my second in some capacity for the better part of two decades and never sought to be more than that despite the fact that you had more than ample opportunity to receive a permanent command of your own.
—Firefly
Because ‘tis certain I knew in my heart my place was at your side, Captain, and when it came down to it, methinks I wanted to be there. You were the best commander I ever had, and thus I gladly served as your second. Methinks I can give you no higher a compliment than that.
—Fell Flight
Considering you were once under the command of Windshear himself, methinks that is high compliment indeed! I thank you for the honor and trust you showed me for all those years and thank you in return for seeing fit to stay with me, for ‘tis certain many of my accomplishments were only possible due to your presence. Methinks ‘twas General Fairweather herself who once said that no commander was successful without the competency and loyalty of their second, and ‘twas very much true with you.
And now, I offer the final part of this chapter to Commodore Shady, who just arrived from Stalliongrad to visit her former first officer. I had not planned for her to contribute to this chapter, but upon reading the Admiral’s earlier contribution, there is an additional and somewhat surprising tale of her battle group’s approach to Epsilon she wishes to relate.
—Firefly
Thank you, Captain. I do wish to visit with Tailwind, but as he is still quite weak and sleeping again, ‘twould seem this is the best use of my time.
—Commodore Shady
Wild North
140 miles north-northeast of Outpost Epsilon
September 2nd, 1139 AC
0350 hours
With little more than an hour before arrival at Epsilon, the mood aboard the Loyalty was best described as tense.
Methinks the feeling I had was something akin to seeing a bad storm approach and waiting for it to break, and ‘twas not an invalid analogy as we watched the superstorm spend its fury from afar.
We knew by then ‘twas indeed a desperate last-ditch defense by the Epsilon garrison, and ‘twould seem it had worked to devastating effect as more chatter was heard on the gryphon scrying network announcing a failed strike and crushing casualties; shaky Aeric voices describing a monster storm and accompanying twister that had torn their attacking formations to shreds whilst pleading for magus healers and reinforcements to keep Epsilon contained.
Both were promised, and worse, an eavesdropping Ensign Kusema reported they planned a fresh and final strike against the battered base before daybreak; one that, with their storm cloud cache spent and now down at least a third of their strength (both according to gryphon sources), the garrison’s exhausted battalion had no chance of surviving.
‘Twas a grim report, but one we drew great heart from. For incredibly, nearly twenty hours into the invasion, Epsilon not only still stood, but by all gryphon reports had accounted for nearly a fourth of a legion—a heroic stand indeed, and one that I could only hope would be rewarded with our rescue. It also, as Tailwind himself pointed out, made our escape from Epsilon easier if the besieging gryphon forces had been thinned out by the earlier battles.
We could only hope, for unlike our circuitous ingress route, our only chance to escape was to make a mad dash for friendly lines and hope our fuel reserves held out that long, to say nothing of our combat worthiness. With daybreak but ninety short minutes away, we’d been at general quarters for nearly two hours as we made the final turn for our objective and proceeded at flank speed.
‘Twas then, as I checked with Aries Azimuth and a slightly frantic Flash Fix as to our progress and the ship’s status—the latter was very nervous, not about our imminent engagement but our rapidly dwindling fuel reserves—that I made one final decision I knew Tailwind would not be happy with, but one ‘twas certain to me I needed to make.
“Ensign Kusema, order the group to reduce speed from flank to full,” I instructed, closing my eyes as I awaited the inevitable explosion. “We need to save enough fuel to reach friendly lines.”
‘Twas not long in coming. “But ma’am!” Commander Tailwind protested loudly despite my preemptive explanation. “You heard the reports—they’re only holding on by their hooftips! We have to get there before the gryphons strike again!”
With effort, I held my normally cool temper in check. Under most circumstances, methinks I wouldn’t have gotten so angry, but in the end, ‘twas certain I was as tense and on edge as every other pony present, even if I was doing my best not to show it.
“As you were, Commander,” I bit out, letting only the barest of ire into my voice. I did not want to relieve him, but methinks I was actively considering doing so as he had done little but pace and inspect everything repeatedly for the past hour, raising tension levels on the ship even further. “Mister Sora, you have your orders. Carry them out.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am.” He pulled back with a hoof on the speed control lever with a slightly wary glance over at Lieutenant Azimuth, who was heads-down at his own station but kept an ear pointed at us. “Reducing speed to full.”
“Belay that!” Tailwind ordered, even though he had no authority to do so.
Hearing his words and defiant tone, I very deliberately turned to him. “I beg your pardon, Commander?” I put heavy emphasis on his lower rank. “You are not the Captain here!”
“Well, mayhap I should be!” he retaliated, fire in his eyes. “For your gross negligence if not outright cowardice! This is twice now you’ve ordered us to delay our arrival, and for what?” He bared his teeth at me, which would normally result in getting immediately thrown in the brig if you did it to any superior officer, let alone your Captain. “For fuel reserves? Who cares when we can move our ship by wind from our pegasi?
“Or perchance you’re just hoping that if we hang back long enough, they’ll be wiped out to the last pony and we won’t have to make a rescue at all? That we can spare the battle group whilst at least saying we tried to rescue them, gaining glory whilst winning no victory? Methinks Luna would be ashamed of such dereliction of duty, ma’am! And for it, methinks I should relieve you here and now !” He brandished his wingblade, a desire to duel in his eyes.
The bridge went deathly silent; methinks everypony was waiting to see what I would do in the face of such gross insubordination.
I was considering the question myself as I very deliberately stood up and turned to face his significantly larger form, standing eye to eye with him, my sheathed naval saber prominent.
“Now you listen, and you listen well, Commander Tailwind. I understand you are under a great deal of stress right now, as are we all. But I am Captain, and I will not brook your challenge to my authority!” I flared my horn to restrain him with a paralysis spell, preventing him from moving or speaking until I had said my part; methinks he looked stunned at my use of such a spell on him.
“I am responsible for this ship and this crew, as you yourself reminded me not twelve hours ago! This mission was my choice, so don’t you dare call me a coward when I’m risking the group and defying the Admiral’s orders to make this rescue!” I let him see and hear my anger even as I was struggling to maintain the spell. My magic simply doesn’t work the same way that of other unicorns do; to this day, even standard spells tend to be taxing to me.
“Methinks I owe you no explanation, but you’ll get one anyway—you wouldst have us charge in as quickly as possible, but you wouldst doom both our ships and the Epsilon battalion by doing so! For even if we do proceed at flank speed and arrive before the predawn strike, what then?” I asked, making sure my voice was heard by everypony on the bridge.
“Then we’ll have to fight off an incoming attack in the dark whilst simultaneously evacuating Epsilon, giving both our gunners and our air wing a severe disadvantage against gryphon night vision! We can’t fight or save what we can’t see!” I reminded him heatedly.
“But if we let them hit the base first, then ‘tis far less likely they’ll see us approach! They won’t be expecting anything but friendly forces from the gryphon side of the border and we can get in a devastating first strike against their deployed units!
“And as for your claim that we could escape by wind alone, you know perfectly well that the best we can attain even under full sail and gale is only one-third speed! We couldn’t possibly outrun the gryphons then, meaning their remaining cohorts would catch us and crush us!” I stood nose to nose with him as I spoke.
“As such, we will need enough fuel for at least one hundred miles of flank speed to have any chance of escaping pursuit and reaching friendly air cover! Am I wrong?” I challenged him, loosening my grip just enough to allow him to shake his head even though he still couldn’t speak.
“Am I wrong?” I asked again a little more sharply when I did not immediately get an answer. I did not like having to restrain him or dress him down like that in front of everypony, but he had to get the message that I was in charge, and he was assuredly not thinking clearly.
Finally, he gave me a terse nod of his head.
I relaxed, but only slightly, trying to hold on to my faltering spell for just a few seconds longer. “Good. Now let us be clear on the disposition of duties one final time, Commander Tailwind: I am the Captain of this ship! And all of my orders are directed towards giving us the best chance of completing the mission, which means both making the rescue and escaping afterwards!” I spelled it out. “And that means we time our arrival for dawn, when we will have the light of day to see by and Celestia’s sun at our back, masking our approach!
“I do not want to relieve you, but methinks you are making it very difficult for me not to! So if you do not wish to spend the rest of this trip in the brig and have any chance of participating in the Epsilon rescue, I highly suggest you mind your tongue and remember where your duty lies—to the survival of this ship and the completion of its mission, not to your adopted daughter! Is that bucking clear?” I asked him with a sharp shake of his uniform lapels from my aura, my rare use of profanity getting the attention of everypony on the bridge. ‘Twas only then I released him from my magical grip and stepped back, readying to rear up and draw my saber if he demanded a duel with my captaincy at stake.
To my relief, he did not, his expression going chagrined. “My… my apologies, ma’am.” He finally managed once he was able to move and speak again, his brow sweating and legs shaking. “Y-you are correct on all counts, Captain. I… I am emotionally compromised and unfit for duty. Request permission to leave the bridge and go above decks to clear my head, ma’am.” He asked in a far more respectful tone, snapping to attention and saluting.
“Granted,” I told him with a far more level voice, returning the gesture. “You are far too good an officer to forget your place and your duty, Commander. So go get some air and then check on Engineering. Confirm that the weapons crystal is charged, and get a drink from Flash Fix if you need—methinks ‘tis certain he has some. And once you have regained your focus and are ready to assist with our final approach to Epsilon, return to the bridge. Engagement is but ninety minutes away—or sooner should they spot us—and I need you to help me manage the battle.”
“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he told me with a second salute, and then left the bridge without another word.
The silence around me stretched on after he left as I went back to my captain’s seat and sat down in it. “Captain?” Lieutenant Sora finally called out.
“What is it, Lieutenant Junior Grade?” I answered a little more sharply than I meant to, my emotions still roiled and raw.
“I, uh, just wanted to say… well done, ma’am,” he offered cautiously.
“Thank you,” I acknowledged, though I’d taken no pleasure or satisfaction in any of it. “Is that all?” I further asked, seeing he was hesitating.
“Well, uh…” he glanced back and forth at the other bridge crew members before he asked his next question, receiving a couple nods back. “Forgive me for asking, but… might we have some of that drink ourselves, ma’am?”
“Seconded. Methinks we could all use some, ma’am,” Lieutenant Azimuth added.
I couldn't help but smile at the request. “In Luna’s day, ‘twas tradition to double the Royal Navy rum ration after a won battle,” I told them, “and thus shall we do here! If we win, then we drink. I do hear that Flash Fix has been brewing some excellent moonshine right under my nose. ‘Tis past time I try it, and I promise all may partake to their heart’s content once we are safely back!”
The cheers and hoofstomps that followed were thunderous.
I admit to feeling some guilt about relating this story whilst my former second and current Admiral lies weak in recovery with his fate uncertain, but methinks he will approve, as he was always one to admit his own shortcomings. I relate this tale not to denigrate him, but to show the intense pressure we were all under, and that none were immune to it after a ten-hour trip to war.
Tailwind perchance least of all as he spent the entire time fretting over the fate of his adopted daughter and grandson. ‘Twas understandable, but still unacceptable that he would turn on me like that and put their welfare above that of his ship, but so long as he realized that in the end, I would not relieve him.
In truth, I wonder to this day how I was able to hold together so well myself on that long journey with little more than my own silent fears to keep me company—fear of death, certainly, but mostly fear of failure; fear of the bad luck which had haunted me for all my life interceding here and dooming not just me, but all under my command.
I would learn this night that for as much grief as it had caused me over the years, ‘twas an equally potent weapon against enemy forces as well.
Signed,
—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad
Thank you for sharing this story, Commodore, which yet again was one I never knew. We who bear the title of Hero of Equestria are so often depicted as unconquerable warriors and paragons of military virtue who never faltered or failed, but the truth ‘tis far more nuanced.
It does not surprise me that father reacted this way given his love for me and Gavian, and ‘twould be a lie to say I did not nearly succumb to my own internal crisis sometime later, forgetting myself and my duty in much the same manner. For that reason, I do not hold it against him, and I commend you for dealing with his outburst so effectively, asserting your command and backing him down without arresting him or resorting to a duel.
But for the remains of Epsilon now holed up in our empty storm cloud vault, effective resistance no longer seemed possible from my exhausted battalion, down sixty soldiers and with no storm clouds left to defend ourselves with.
As such, methinks the penultimate and final chapters of the Epsilon battles will be written by me and me alone. For after all this time, ‘tis my turn to reveal something I kept secret from everypony for all these years…
—Firefly
“There are two types of people in this world: those who crawl under their bed in a storm, and those who charge, arms wide and without fear, into its very midst and dance.”
Beau Taplin - The Storm Chasers
