//------------------------------// // The Rest is History // Story: With the Best of Intentions // by Kaipony //------------------------------// All through the night we worked to move the stolen cargo back onboard. There was more than just the pilfered cargo from the Equestrian ship. Goods and trinkets from other nations, some even bearing the glyphmarks of zebra tribes, were stashed and mixed in with our own. We took those too with the intent of returning them to the rightful owners. Those of us who were able had helped out throughout the night. My wing bothered me greatly. I could feel the torn ligaments and cracked bones with every movement, but watching the pony crew pushing past their own fatigue and pain was anesthetic enough. I had grabbed a mouthful of crate handle and contributed to the efforts. Until, that is, we got the barrels of metal shards. I thought I could be an example of Wonderbolt discipline and resolve, handling the very thing that had taken the life of a teammate only hours before. There was something inside me urging me onward. It was pushing me to confront the murky sensations I felt when I neared those shards covered in Misty’s blood. I had stood there, staring at the blood on the deck, still wet in the damp hold, and marshalling my strength. With careful motions I swept the spilled, bloody shards back into their barrels. I had then dragged them as far as the stairs leading to the next deck above when a crew member, one of the unicorns with pale blue fur and bloodshot eyes, came down the steps. He lurched forward and nearly stumbled into the barrels, hurriedly pushing me aside. “Don’t touch those!” He hovered over the top of the shards like a mother hen protecting her chicks. I stepped back away from the barrels. “Sorry. I was only trying to lend a hoof.” The unicorn rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. “No, no. Sorry about that.” He stepped to the side of the barrels and gingerly placed a hoof on the one of the pieces of warped metal. “These are very important samples from a mining operation. They were found alongside a coal vein in this pure state. We’re delivering them to metallurgists and researchers at Canterlot working under somepony named Midnight Shower.” The unicorn looked at the metal again and I thought I saw his eyes unfocus slightly. “To be honest, I think the pirates wanted these almost as much as the gems we’re carrying. It is quite remarkable.” Despite his words, I could not help but focus on the darker tips that still held Misty’s blood. “Go ahead,” I said. The less I had to look at those sharp tips, their points seeming to claw at the air in search of another victim, the better off I would feel. After that, I spent the remainder of the night just staying out of the way. The sun was beginning to come up over the horizon by the time the crew of the trade ship was finally able to raise the anchors and get the ship underway, heading back towards home. We left the pirate vessel empty and at anchor. It was a problem for the authorities in Roam now. I had to squint against the glare off the water as the vessel turned its bow towards Equestria and plowed ahead through the calm seas. We were going home and in that moment it felt like Celestia herself was opening her wings to embrace us all and welcome home her little ponies. It was cruel, that moment of peace and warmth, because the cold reality came rushing over me like an icy ocean breeze when I heard somepony approaching me from behind. “Spitfire wants to talk to all of us,” the voice said, barely a whisper. It was Whiplash. When I turned from the painfully beautiful sight ahead of me to face the grim truth behind me, he would not even meet my eyes. That was the moment when the first tear crawled its way down my cheek. Just one. It was all I could spare because what mental composure I had left in me was caught up in resisting the heat within my veins that demanded Whiplash be held responsible. As I made my way aft to where Spitfire was, my thoughts raced. This was his fault, right? He told Spitfire his own version of the truth and there had not been time to let her know there was more to the story. I was going to tell her. I had not heard Whiplash when he first told her that Misty’s death was intentional--that it was a murder and not an accident. I wanted justice. I wanted Misty Fly and the others alive and well. Most of all I wanted to forget the bodies. I wanted to forget the striped ones whose dead meat we had shoved into emptied burlap sacks and boxes which would likely be carried back to Roam later on as an offering of evidence against the predators of the pirates. Mostly, I wanted to forget those of our own which I knew had been laid out upon the aft deck I was slowly approaching. Moments later I rounded the corner leading to the stern weatherdeck and the fire in me sputtered to cool embers. Spitfire sat alone, her uniform and flight goggles discarded in a heap stained with spatters that had dried to a brownish-red. She was not slumped over weeping, or wracked with sobs of guilt or remorse. Neither was she fuming with righteous anger or pacing in indignation. She sat quietly, her posture no different from the days spent instructing flight cadets, with four bodies that lay under pieces of an Equestrian flag that had been found amid the pilfered items. Looking up at the mast, I noticed that the part where a flag normally flew also held a similar scrap that was fluttering in the strengthening breeze. I shivered when I left the light of the rising sun and crept into a shrinking but still substantial shadow created by the aft cabin. Soarin appeared from around the opposite corner and nodded once to myself and Whiplash. Without turning her head Spitfire pointed to the deck behind her and said one word, “Sit.” We obeyed without question or hesitation, taking up a flanking position on the teak planks. For several minutes she did not speak again or make any other movements. I glanced at the ponies to my left and right. Whiplash looked out to sea with the expression of a pony that had seen something terrible; something ponies should never have to witness. His color was pallid. Soarin was faring worse. His eyes were rimmed in red from the shedding of tears and he looked a sickly shade of green. I did not know exactly what to feel. Sorrow. Rage. Guilt. I guess they were all there in a tumbling mix in the pit of my stomach and the silence that reigned only served to sour the mix further with each passing minute. Not even the sharp thudding pain of the injuries I sustained in the fight could bring sufficient distraction to keep my mind from traveling to dark places. “You will say nothing until I submit my report when we get home. After that you will echo my version and you will not deviate from that report. Is that clear?” Spitfire’s voice came out strong and clear. I had expected grief. I had expected anger. I had not expected the complete lack of any emotion at all. It was unsettling. I muttered an affirmative, but Whiplash spoke up, “What are you going to tell everyone?” Spitfire whirled around and for an instant I thought she was going to leap at Whiplash’s throat. Her voice was devoid of emotion but her eyes blazed with the light of the fiery sunset. “Were my orders unclear, Lieutenant?” she demanded. The contradiction between her eyes and her voice was disconcerting. Whiplash ducked his head in submission. “No, ma’am.” “I will tell you the details that you will need to know when I am ready.” Spitfire then cast a slightly cooler gaze at her second in command. “Soarin, I’ll need your help with some parts.” He nodded weakly. I could not let her order stand. I had to know what was going on in her head. I wanted to tell her the truth. “Ma’am?” “Not a word,” she barked. “Or you can spend your time on this boat as its coal passer.” I snapped my mouth shut but my mind began to mirror the somersaults that my stomach was doing. I wanted to say something; to set straight what had been said in the hold of the pirate ship. But now? I did not know if she would listen to me. It certainly would not change what had already happened. If Spitfire told our superiors back home that the fight was started because of an accident, would it be any different from her telling them it had been intentional? They were pirates, and they were zebra pirates. Regardless of the truth, I doubted what I had to say would make a difference to the future. So I did as I was ordered and stayed silent. Soarin cleared his throat to come to my rescue. “Take it easy, Spitfire. W-we… today didn’t go like we planned. A lot went wrong. It’s not Rapidfire’s fault, or anypony else’s. The zebras did this; they did it to the hostages, to us, and to themselves. There was nothing more that we could have done.” If Spitfire accepted that explanation, she did not say anything. She only turned away from the three of us to go back to staring at the bodies of Misty Fly, Fleetfoot, Lightning Streak, and Fire Streak. “Try asking them if they think we couldn’t have done better.” I jumped when I felt a hoof lightly jab me in the side. Whirling about, I came face to face with a young mare whose cheeks were bright with tears. One of the hostages. “Sorry,” she squeaked. “I just wanted to let you all know that my sister works for a newspaper in Manehattan and I plan on telling her everything you all did for us today. She’ll make all of you heroes and let everyone back home know about your sacrifices.” I could not correct that mare; could not tell her that our sacrifices were caused by our own failures. There was a small voice in my head trying to tell me that I was not to blame. I had not lied, after all. Whiplash had been the one that painted that mysterious zebra, and all zebras, as having murderous intent. But I couldn’t help but feel, in that moment, that somehow I held equal responsibility by not forcing the issue with Spitfire. A lie of omission is still a lie. I had let the matter stand without speaking up and allowed the zebras to take the blame. She looked at us, at me, with a measure of reverence that I knew I did not deserve. Yet I could not stand the thought of breaking her heart with the truth. So I said, “Thank you.” She continued, “I’ve heard ponies whispering the word ‘war’ a few times, but once word gets out about what the zebras did here today, everything about this head-butting between Canterlot and Roam will change. You’ll see; this has to change everyone’s mind. Everything will be just fine.” “No, I’m afraid that this is just the beginning.” We turned to look at Spitfire and found her standing at the railing, looking not at the bodies of our friends, but at the final glimpses of the pirate ship as it slid over the horizon and disappeared from view. “Ponies back home will rally against the zebras. The zebras will rally against us. Eventually, it’ll head down one path.” She shook her head slowly. “After Nightmare Moon. After Discord. After a thousand years of peace. I’m sure of it. Just like that old pre-Equestrian general, Ulysses Granite, said: nations, like individuals, are punished for their transgressions.” I heard her stifle a sniffle. “War.” Her body heaved with a sigh that spoke more than her words. “I wish I could say with certainty that we've learned from the past, but I'm afraid that some things will never change.” ~~*~~ Other than Frank, only Rapidfire and Reggie were still at the bar when Rapidfire stopped talking and finished his final remaining mug of cider. “And that was it.” He sighed, closing his eyes and visibly drooping in his chair. “The hostages were returned home and the ship was left for the zebras to reclaim after the cargo was removed. We buried our dead with full honors and soon afterwards the Equestrian Skyguard was formed. All Equestrian naval vessels and even some merchants started arming themselves. The rest you know.” Even as Reggie struggled to respond, the bartender appeared silently and swept the empty mugs from the table before returning to straightening the bottles behind his counter. The unicorn glanced down at the pad of paper and the pen he had brought for the occasion and blanched. It was blank. Rapidfire opened his eyes and glanced down at the empty pad. “I’m going to stuff you into one of Frank’s bottles and sell you as a ‘special reserve’ vintage if you ask me to repeat myself.” “I… but… is it true?” Reggie sputtered. “Is what true?” Springing to his hooves, knocking the contents of a half-empty mug of lukewarm cider over the table, Reggie gestured into the air. “Everything!” he blurted out. “Everything you just told me. Is that really how it all happened?” Rapidfire nodded and caught a rag thrown from behind the bar. He started to calmly sop up the spilled drink. “I was there, kid, and the only lies I’ve told since then were lies of silence.” “So you’re telling me that we started the war? That Equestrians were the aggressors?” The unicorn paced back and forth, his eyes locked onto the floor and his lips moving silently. “I never said we started anything. And you’re paying extra for spilling Frank’s best brew.” Reggie continued unfazed, “But you and Whiplash lied to Spitfire and the others. They acted on those lies. If you had told the truth then maybe the situation could have been handled without a fight; without anypony else dying.” “Are you forgetting what those zebras were?” Rapidfire asked with a sharp glint in his eyes. He leveled the cider-soaked rag at Reggie. “They were pirates and thieves. And though Wakku said he didn’t want the title, at some point in their lives I know some of those zebras were a clear menace. Even if they only wanted the attention of the world, I can’t believe that the majority of them were really interested in a peaceful solution. I think everyone except Misty could feel that from the moment our hooves touched the deck of that ship. We didn’t want it to end the way that it did and Celestia knows we tried talking, but looking back--I honestly doubt it could have ended any other way.” Reggie came to a halt. “So you’re saying the zebras are entirely to blame?” “No. We might eventually have been able to reach some sort of compromise or agreement that would have satisfied both sides if we worked hard enough, but those same pirates probably would have taken their freedom and captured another ship and crew. By caving in and negotiating we might have proven that their method of extortion worked. There might have been fewer casualties that day and maybe that would have changed things down the line, but maybe not.” “So then whose fault was it really?” Rapidfire shrugged. “What does it matter?” “It matters!” Reggie slid back into his chair. “Ponies all have different ideas as to why the war started in the first place. A lot have forgotten what it was like before it began. Foals have been born and are starting to grow up having not known peace at all in their lives. What are we supposed tell them when they ask questions about whom and why?” “Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it; that’s what you’re getting at, right? You’re worried about about who or what we’re going to tell our children are to blame for all these deaths?” The aging pegasus tossed the cider-soaked rag back to Frank and rose from his seat for the first time that evening. He carefully walked around the table until he was standing only inches from Reggie and leaned down. “Who gives a flying feather!” The unicorn fell backwards out of his seat as he involuntarily jerked away from the pegasus. “Do you really want the next generation taught to place blame or render judgment upon an entire race based on the actions and misdeeds of a few? It might pain some ponies to admit it, but not all zebras are the monsters from the propaganda posters. Some of them deserve that label, but I don’t really think a legacy of assumptions is what you or I want to leave behind.” He bucked one of the chairs and sent it slamming against a wall. Frank continued to work calmly behind the bar while Rapidfire went on. “If you want to blame Whiplash for saying Misty’s death was murder, go ahead. You want to blame me for not speaking up? You couldn’t say anything to me that I haven’t already beat into my own heart. How about we get a zebra shaman in here to conjure up the spirits of those pirates and put them on trial with Luna, the Caesar, the Ministry Mares, and every zebra politician we can round up? Tell me when to stop because I can come up with names to blame all night long. Is that the path you want us all to go down? You want future generations to keep a list of ponies and zebras and whoever else so they can blame all their problems on someone else?” Reggie shook his head. Rapidfire stood still and silent for a few moments, taking time to compose himself before speaking again. “Besides, the asinine decisions over coal imports and gem exports had more to do with this war in the long term than what happened onboard a single ship. That’s not the Ministry line that I’ve had to tow ever since, but it’s what I believe and I’m through being silent. What happened that day may have provided fuel for the fire but common sense and decency were already on the chopping block. That day on those ships made that much apparent to me.” There were no sounds, no talking, for a long time except for Frank coming around to put the chair which had received Rapidfire’s attention back in its place. “I’m closing up in a minute,” Frank said. “Alright,” Rapidire sighed, rubbing his temples before inspecting the chair he had kicked for damage. “Thanks for sticking around and letting a friend gab on all night.” Reggie gathered his pad and pencil as Rapidfire pushed the chair back into place. Together they headed for the door and the unicorn spoke softly as the pair neared the exit. “Did you ever tell Spitfire what happened with Misty Fly?” “Of course I did.” “And? How did that go over? What did she do with Whiplash?” “She threw him out of the Wonderbolts. Did the same to me. He was tossed out for conduct unbecoming of a Wonderbolt officer in connection with public comments he made later about Roam and the Caesar. With my injury, there was a medical discharge coming my way regardless, and that’s what it says in my official record, but she made it perfectly clear to me the real reason why I wasn’t going to fly with her anymore. She couldn’t trust somepony that didn’t have the courage to stand up to her.” Rapidfire stopped short as he reached the door. “I should have said something. It was my duty to speak up, and I failed.” He took a long look back into the room. “And that wasn’t even the worst part.” “She never told anyone else about what happened,” Reggie guessed. “Eyep. She acted on what Whiplash told her was the truth. If I hadn’t had a moment of indecision down in that hold, I might have been able to race topside and stop whoever ignited the whole thing. If she had told the brass that Whiplash had lied or that I had withheld what I knew, we’d both still be in the Canterlot dungeons. Instead, she let the report stand. The pirates were blamed for instigating the fight and Spitfire took responsibility for our four deaths.” He met Reggie’s eyes with a look that was softer than it had been all evening. “I broke part of my oath to the Wonderbolts, as well as my pledge of honesty to Spitfire. I think that hurt more than my wing ever did; knowing and believing that I had a hoof in creating a terrible situation, but never getting punished for it because the mare in charge took all the blame for her team.” “Isn’t that kind of what a leader is supposed to do?” Rapidfire nodded his head. “Yeah.” And then, he smiled. “But it’s also what a friend did too.” Together, the two stallions pushed through the door, crossed the threshold, and stepped out into the warm night air, the scents of summer and city street mingling in a melange of odors old and new. Reggie offered a hoof and Rapidfire, after a brief pause, shook it firmly. “Thank you for telling me your story.” “You’re not the first to figure out that something about the official story didn’t make sense, but you’re the only one who I let stick around to hear the whole thing. The others either wrote me off as a mopey old mule or rendered their own judgement halfway into the story. I called it quits on them before I got to the end. ” Reggie dropped the hoof and gave the pegasus a hard look. “Rapidfire, your actions or inactions are your own to judge. I can’t tell you what to think or how to feel, but, in my opinion, you weren’t the cause of anything.” The pegasus snorted but he did so with that lopsided smirk that a passerby might have recognized from an old Wonderbolts poster. “Curse you to be Cerberus’ chew-toy for eternity kid, but thanks all the same.” He turned and started to walk away but stopped and turned back after only a dozen paces. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow night. I’ll buy the cider and you can tell me a story about your life.” He wore what could never be mistaken for anything but a genuine grin. Reggie returned the grin and nodded. “You have a deal.”