Greetings to all readers.
Before we begin this latest entry, Fell Flight wishes me to pass along an update on the deliberations of the Society of Outpost Omega Survivors, with regard to the gryphon-delivered news of Omega’s last stand.
Rather than simply build yet another battle monument, ‘tis been decided to request from Corps Command the temporary reactivation of Omega as an active base, with Fell Flight rejoining the service long enough to take command of it, as ‘twas intended she would so many years ago. A weeklong series of commemorative events that she will preside over will follow, culminating in a massive farewell-to-arms festival that Omega never had. ‘Twill be not a funeral service but a celebration of its deeds and defenders, with multiple honors being granted to it along with the supporting Equestrian Army bases, collectively known as Outpost Black.
There is also to be a new on-site museum containing the released Office of Owl archives regarding the battle, with both gryphon and pony reports posted with translations into Aeric and Equish. This is so that future generations on both sides may understand exactly what transpired there; what it meant and what it cost. Something similar will yet be done for the Equestrian dishonor against the gryphons, whose nature I am not yet able to divulge.
The centerpiece of the final festival will be a commemorative song by Silver Seax and his Swheatish brethren, who, after being contacted, have expressed both willingness and eagerness to offer up their rather unique musical talents to the occasion.
They do not oft give performances any longer given their familial obligations, but they can still be summoned for what they feel is the right cause and story. Such is the case with Outpost Omega.
But that lies in the future, and much planning remains to be done. For now, the retelling of the war continues without them, though ‘tis certain Silver Seax and his brothers will appear again in this story shortly. For the first demonstration of those talents was soon to come!
—Firefly
Indeed they were, Captain. Though methinks they were as much surprised by that first demonstration as the rest of us!
Fair skies and following winds again to all readers. ‘Tis Commodore Shady writing now, and for those who are interested, I did not participate in the battle to defend Gavian. ‘Twas simply never near me, and I did not seek to join it as I feared what deleterious effects my bad luck powers would have on anypony but myself. But I did hear Rolling Thunder make a coded emergency call into his crystal, which I assume was what actually summoned Captain Typhoon from the mountaintop where he’d been hiding.
Guided by the signal, he passed right through the thick cloud base of the city—something its enchantments should not even have allowed—and then burst out right beside us, spotting Thunderbolt just as he was about to slay our young gryphon friend. He then blasted him with a mighty wind that seemed to manifest from nowhere, generating his signature gale without so much as a wing flap.
The rest you already know, but ‘tis worth noting that Tailwind was the one who called out the air wing in hopes of containing Thunderbolt. ‘Tis to all our relief that the Captain of the Guard arrived and they were not forced to attempt it.
—Commodore Shady
Commander, Battle Group Capricorn
Royal Navy Base Capricorn
Stalliongrad
Cloudsdale
Central District
Courtyard Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0102 hours
“The Polaris Pressure Points Technique,” Still Way said in great satisfaction and admiration as I trotted over following the apparent end of the duel. He saluted his Captain crisply as Gavian all but leapt into Firefly’s forelegs, crying like an endangered foal returned to his mother.
“An amazing art, enabling its practitioner to paralyze or even slay with but a single touch. An art so potent yet difficult to learn that not even I could counter or master it.” Methinks he seemed to be saying it as much to Typhoon as to me.
“Greetings, First Sergeant.” Captain Typhoon returned the salute with a wing instead of his hoof as he stepped back from Gavian and Firefly. “Your compliment means much, given the potency of your art. Perchance you wish to try its luck against mine again?” he asked with a sly grin as the Corps and Naval pegasi stared at him in awe. Methinks I was no different—I had no idea such an incredible and unlikely battle art existed!
“I might,” Still Way admitted with a wry grin of his own as the two then exchanged an affectionate hoofclasp followed by bumping their forearms to the other’s chest; I recall having the thought that ‘twas a greeting more suited for two old friends than a commander and underling. “Once I’ve regained my full power, that is. ’Tis just as well you arrived when you did, Captain. For I was not relishing the prospect of trying to restrain Thunderbolt with my magic in a weakened state.”
“Understandable. I look forward to hearing your report, once I am more settled and rested. But for now, I must take command of the city, as per Our Princess’s orders.” He looked to his left to see the civilians and Rolling Thunder approaching, on hoof instead of by air; the former looking almost afraid to come near him and letting the Sergeant Major take the lead.
To his credit, Rolling Thunder himself had no such qualms. “Sir!” He stood to attention and saluted hard along with his remaining militia Lieutenant, waiting until the honor was returned before lowering their hooves. “Welcome to Cloudsdale. ’Twould seem you received my message.”
“I did indeed,” Typhoon confirmed with a nod. “And fortunate it was. ‘Twould seem I got here in the proverbial nick of time.” He turned to look at Firefly and Gavian, who was still crying like a cub in her arms. “Though I believe the bat-ponies were less than pleased when I broke through their cordon and disobeyed orders to halt. They did not attempt to stop me, though.”
“Sir? Thank you!” Firefly spoke up in a trembling voice, tears in her eyes as she held her son tightly. “Thunderbolt was going to k-kill Gavian. And I couldn’t stop him!” she admitted to great apparent shame with a glance at the wreckage of her friends and comrades around us. Thanks to Tailwind, they were already being attended to by unicorn healers, who were levitating them onto the Loyalty deck for treatment; I made a mental note to check on them as soon as possible.
“’Tis no shame in that, Master Sergeant, as there are very few on either side who could. But ‘tis worth noting you have significantly improved your abilities since I last saw you,” he told her truthfully. “For ‘tis certain such a bolt as you batted aside would have overwhelmed you the last time we sparred. So make no mistake, Guardsmare—by doing so, you did save your son from his initial attack.
“And that is to say nothing of your defense and escape from Epsilon, which are already legendary… as is the Loyalty itself!” he concluded as I took that opportunity to step forward, and was surprised to receive a salute from him! “‘Tis an honor to meet you, Captain Shady. Your surprise strike and successful extraction of the Epsilon garrison was a huge boost to not just Naval morale, but the entire Equestrian military!”
I hardly felt deserving of such praise just then, but accepted his respect nonetheless. “On behalf of my crew, thank you for your kind words, Captain. I was told you were looking for Cloudsdale as well, but I had no idea that you had already found it, or I would have coordinated with you.”
“We found it but an hour ago, from the ground, as the thestral patrols were suddenly and unexpectedly recalled, allowing us to infiltrate their borders. Perchance ‘twas your secret crossing of the border that drew them away?” he mused, and as I thought about it, I realized ‘twas likely the case. “Once I got into range, I called on the Corps command crystal and the Sergeant Major answered. I would not have appeared this quickly but for his emergency request to restrain Thunderbolt.
“In any event, ‘twas to your great credit that you not only found and reached the city first, but did so bloodlessly. For only adding to your long list of accolades, methinks the Loyalty is well on its way to becoming the most famous ship in the fleet. I look forward to learning how, but before that, methinks there is a minor matter I must attend to first.”
His expression turned cold again as he marched over to where Thunderbolt lay.
Ten seconds later, Typhoon stood over the fallen Thunderbolt, staring down in contempt at his stiff form; his vanquished opponent did not move but his gray lips were starting to turn noticeably blue.
“Having trouble breathing, Lieutenant?” Typhoon asked unsympathetically. “Not surprising. I froze all your muscles short of your heart itself, including those that controlled your lungs. But make no mistake—I could have stopped your heart and slain you right then and there. So be assured that had you succeeded in killing Gavian or any of his protectors, we would not be having this conversation.”
He paused to let the words sink in. “But as I have already been told by Rolling Thunder of your deeds here, and given you showed at least some restraint by not using lethal force against those protectors, I will spare you—for now,” he added ominously before continuing.
“I know you can still hear me, so I will say this once, and one time only: if you wish to live and continue to fight in this war, you will control your bloodlust. You will accept that not every gryphon is a mortal enemy to be slain. And you will obey my orders without question or hesitation. Or as the Mare in the Moon is my witness, you will die at my hooves. Is that clear, Lieutenant?” he asked in an imperious tone.
To no surprise, there was no answer, so the Captain simply smirked and struck Thunderbolt once on the back of the neck with a wingtip. The action elicited a great gasp of air from the fallen stallion, followed by several more as his body began to tremble.
“Is that clear?” the Captain asked again, hissing out the words through bared teeth, his wind—which was far more powerful than anything the average pegasus could generate—coming up hard again, swirling around them both.
“Cl-clear…” Thunderbolt finally managed to say between breaths.
“Good.” Despite the acknowledgement, the Captain then grabbed his fellow stallion by his wingblade harness and flew up to the side of the Loyalty, slamming him hard against the hull and then holding him in place with but a single hoof against it.
“For the moment I decide that you are a greater threat to us than the gryphons is the moment of your death. Against them, you have no equal. But against me, you have no chance.” He then dropped Thunderbolt to the cloud surface below, and his body, though no longer rigid, fell limply into a bank, his limbs and wings still not working.
“Sir? What should we do with him? Confine him?” I asked.
“Leave him there,” Typhoon directed. “He’s still partially paralyzed. I’ll release him later, but for now, let his defeat sink in. He needs to know that I am in charge, and I will not brook his bloodlust or any acts of wanton murder!” His words were loud enough that 'twas clear he intended for not just Thunderbolt, but all onlookers, to hear them. He then turned his intimidating gaze on the civilian officials who had initially cheered the idea of Gavian’s death. All of them immediately looked away.
“Aye-aye, Captain Typhoon.” I told him with a deeply respectful salute and grin. As I said it, methinks it left me feeling how odd it was to call somepony else by that title. But to be Captain of the Guard meant he was a service head and not just a mere ship commander, and thus by definition, he outranked me. “The Loyalty is at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Captain Shady,” he rejoined, his tone dry but containing the barest note of humor. “I believe I will avail myself of that offer, as I also bear a message for the bat-ponies. To that end, I wish to meet them formally, and I believe your ship is the proper place to do so.”
“Of course, sir. We have already received a request from their new Division commander to meet us. But a message?” I repeated.
“A personal appeal from the Princess,” he stated simply, then his eyes narrowed slightly. “And a warning…”
Thank you once again for taking this section, Commodore.
In truth, I started writing it myself but had to stop. As to why, I fear that unlike Gavian, there are certain memories I simply do not like to relive or dwell upon, even now. ‘Tis not so much the fear and terror of losing him I did not wish to recall, but the great and abiding shame that I could not protect him and fell so easily. That Thunderbolt could simply not be stopped by me or anypony else short of the Captain or Ambassador does not matter to a mother’s love, or her instincts to protect.
So I will simply state ‘twas a bitter lesson indeed in terms of where I stood and how far I had yet to go; that there were levels of power and ability far above mine that I could not yet touch. I vowed then to redouble my efforts to do so, and I daresay ‘twas the same for Fell Flight and Swift Strike as well. None of us liked being humbled or the knowledge that we had failed to defend our son, student, and friend.
Though the question has been posed to me as to whether I could have taken Thunderbolt in wingblade combat as opposed to a battle of lightning affinities at that point in time, I must reluctantly but truthfully answer no. For if I could not defeat Swift Strike, who at least knew Thunderbolt’s abilities but was still felled by him easily, then ‘tis certain I had even less chance of success in direct combat with our future Bolt Knight comrade than he.
But one lesson I learned first from Windshear stuck with me, even long after his fall—defeat is but an opportunity to learn and better oneself. And now that I had seen what was possible with a fully realized combat ability and lightning affinity, I vowed to recommit myself to reaching them, even in whatever time we had left before we entered the war again.
I also couldn’t help but wonder if there was any way I could learn that strange art of the Captain’s, if for no other reason than to have the means to ensure Gavian’s safety should he not be present to pull our flanks out of the proverbial fire again.
—Firefly
EAS Loyalty
Central District Anchorage Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0200 hours
Methinks I spent the next hour seeing to Gavian’s well-being and the treatment of my friends.
Fell Flight came to fairly quickly, as the stun-level shock she’d received wore off, and initially refused to be taken to the infirmary until she was satisfied that Gavian was safe.
Despite her expressing great satisfaction over Thunderbolt’s defeat and wishing she had seen it, I knew her well enough to tell how torn she was over him. For Thunderbolt was her beloved mentor no less than Windshear was mine; the stallion who had set her straight when she was but a troubled and belligerent filly, later putting her on the road to military service.
He had personally trained and sponsored her in the face of anti-thestral bigotry, teaching her everything from the gryphon tongue to tactics and wingblade combat. And when she had rescued three abducted earth pony families from gryphon raiders, infiltrating Imperial territory to do so, he had pinned the Sapphire Sentinel medal—the Corps’ highest combat award—and the Sergeant stripes she’d won with that action on her dress tunic personally.
Once she was able, she went outside to find Thunderbolt still lying in a cloudbank. Telling me that she would speak to him privately, I watched from a distance as she lectured him angrily as he could only listen helplessly; at one point she hoisted him bodily into the air, lectured him again and gave him a hard hoofstriker hit to the jaw that left him bleeding before dropping him and flying away, her mood dark.
All she would say afterwards was that “he expressed no remorse and promised me I would understand soon.” She shook her head angrily.
In contrast, Swift Strike didn’t wake up for several hours. He suffered a severe double-concussion from the fight, once from being hit in the head by Thunderbolt’s hoof and the other from being struck by the hilt of his own throwing blade. He thus had very few memories of the action afterwards, which ’twas the reason he did not contribute to the retelling of the scene.
Still Way tended him along with the ship’s healers, demonstrating he could turn his now-famous arts to more medical ends, ensuring the damage my Black Lance friend suffered wasn’t permanent and he could return to duty quickly.
“I oft wondered if I could actually take Thunderbolt whilst I was assigned to watch him some years ago. ‘Twould seem I have my answer,” my Black Lance friend told me ruefully the next morning. He put up a brave front, but he seemed rather depressed to my eyes. Perchance ‘twas understandable; he had thought himself nearly invulnerable only to be disabused of that notion rather rudely over the past few days. Worse, he had failed to defend Gavian when he needed protection the most.
After reading the initial draft of this entry, which I sent to him at Foxford University in Trottingham, he notes to me that the way he felt was probably much the way that the Ravens did after facing Thunderbolt, and for the very same reasons. Upon reflection, I cannot but agree. For finding an opponent against whom all your skill and experience counts for nothing is very demoralizing, to say nothing of extremely frightening to find yourself reduced to a helpless foal in their presence.
And as for myself? I shook off the electrical blow within another minute and helped Gavian back inside, given leave by both Captains to do so. Even as I comforted him, I noted my much-more rapid recovery from this latest lightning strike as opposed to from the Magus bolt I’d taken back in the cavern. It left me wondering if by absorbing these blows, my body ‘twas in fact becoming better able to manage them.
‘Twas a question for later, however, as a badly-shaken Gavian needed reassurance; methinks ‘twas his combat confidence that was hurt most of all. We kept him inside after that and under guard at all times for the duration of our stay in Cloudsdale; Private Mammatus—whose actual PSD rank, I later learned, was a Stiletto Sergeant; their equivalent of Flight Sergeant—taking over for Swift Strike again as he spent the next day in the infirmary.
Given leave to do so, I stayed with my son for the rest of the night. In the end, with Reveille sounding and my services needed elsewhere, Gavian assured me he would be fine even though I knew it to be a lie from his darting eyes and shaking talons. His life was safe, but his trauma would linger, and would not be fully helped until he could face and fight Thunderbolt again.
That day would never come if I could help it, as I wanted nothing to do with Thunderbolt after that, and I admit to feeling regret as I saw the wreckage of my friends and Gavian’s psyche that the Captain did not kill him.
Fate had other plans, however, and though I would not have believed it then, ‘twas to our great benefit that he did not.
‘Twas to the great benefit of us all, Captain, as his otherworldly combat abilities would yet prove crucial in this conflict, saving not just a single city but all Equestria more than once.
When I think about Thunderbolt, I am reminded of an old saying that ‘no great gift comes without an equally great curse’. The reverse holds true as well, as my own abilities have driven home over the course of my life. I thought for the longest time ‘twas but the worst kind of jinx only to finally find that it—and I—did indeed have a place and purpose; a way both myself and my strange power could serve others.
In an odd way, ‘tis the balance of Harmony, methinks. ‘Tis also true that to be capable of great good and deeds is also to be capable of incredibly immoral and evil ones… and vice-versa. There are no exceptions to this, and in some ways, methinks Thunderbolt was the ultimate embodiment of that truth, capable of saving all Cloudsdale on one hoof and slaughtering innocents on the other.
He was not a problem for now, though. As the table was set in my wardroom for what may as well have been a state dinner, ‘twas time to receive our honored guests, and conduct what still promised to be some rather delicate negotiations regarding the disposition of Cloudsdale and Thestralslovakia’s potential role in the war.
Looking back from thirty years later, I feel I must apologize to Admiral Tailwind for denying him access to that meeting, but ‘twas a deliberate choice to keep my second out of the line of fire should the thestrals engage in some form of treachery.
‘Twas not that I believed that likely given the Major General’s removal and all that had happened since, but one thing Thunderbolt’s assault on Gavian had driven home was that guards could never be dropped. That in war you had to be alert at all times, even to the dangers posed by your own side.
—Commodore Shady
EAS Loyalty
Captain’s Wardroom
Central District Airship Anchorage
Outside City Hall
September 4th, 1139 AC
0200 hours
Two hours after the anxiety of our approach followed by the brief but terrifying battle with Thunderbolt, the ship was finally coming off general quarters and the crew was allowed to rest.
Most of them, anyway. The hours were odd, but so were the ones our Nightborne hosts kept as my wardroom was hurriedly prepared to receive them as honored guests. Thunderbolt, by then, had been retrieved by the Captain and personally thrown in the brig—after, that is, he released him from paralysis but also somehow disabled the stallion’s lightning affinity. Methinks I never understood how his odd art worked, but ‘twas no blunt instrument; his control of it was so precise he was able to use it to selectively disable any group of muscles or magical abilities he chose.
And as we would learn shortly, he could enhance them as well.
He had a storage gem with him that contained both his armor and his formal uniform, and he donned the latter here as I did the same to receive the Nightborne division commander and her aides. Fell Flight joined us as Corps representative in lieu of her future Captain this time, as Firefly wished to remain with Gavian; ‘twas to the immense credit of our shipboard tailors that they quickly fashioned for her a passable dark blue Corps dress uniform from available stocks.
The first to arrive were not the thestrals, but the Cloudsdale contingent, led by Rolling Thunder. He did not bother with formal uniform; methinks he’d barely slept over the past several days and had only hastily bathed and groomed for the affair. Nevertheless, his appearance in a quickly cleaned and ironed Corps combat uniform was, to my surprise, greeted with great warmth by Fell Flight.
“Sergeant Major!” She saluted him crisply, her dark mood instantly brightening at the sight of him. “’Tis an honor to see you again!”
“Trainee Fell Flight,” The Sergeant Major recognized her with a warm grin. “’Tis an honor for me as well, and to see the superb soldier you have become! I knew you had it in you, and I couldn’t have been more proud when I heard of your daring assault on the Indala raider group!” He returned her salute and offered her his hoof, motioning to her head with his wing. “I do not recall you with green eyes, so ’twould seem you indeed found a solution for your day blindness?”
She smiled and bumped it respectfully. “Indeed I did—thanks in part to the recommendation of you and Sergeant Panacea, sir!” More pleasantries between the two were exchanged before a bell was shortly rung to warn us our visitors were arriving, being received by an honor guard led by the Mare at Arms on the foredeck.
“Nightborne Army, 3rd Division—arriving!” Cutlass Cleave called out over the general quarters crystal, her announcement indicating that the commander of the stated force had stepped hoof onto the ship. Preparations were then rushed to completion as she welcomed them aboard and escorted them to my wardroom, within a cordon of guards.
Once again, the lights were dimmed, but this time, the table was set for a meal. ‘Twas closer to breakfast than dinner for us, but the bat-ponies had their sleep and meal schedules reversed from ours, and thus we served what for us would have been an evening feast—minus the meat, of course; as the fish we’d obtained from the Lunar Sea was prepared at Fell Flight’s instructions.
Though less than happy about cooking for carnivores, methinks the galley had outdone themselves, producing everything from Cloud Creole to glazed carrots to exquisite dinner rolls, and had even managed to cook the fish to Fell Flight’s satisfaction.
The doors then opened to admit six bat-ponies, four mares and two stallions dressed in their own formal finery—excepting Colonel Aegir Ale, who had been there on the foredeck with Cutlass Cleave to greet them but didn’t have her dress uniform with her.
At their head was a bat-winged mare with bright orange eyes and a short-cut deep purple mane whose dark coat had a slightly greenish cast—Brigadier General Blackhawk herself; her single star prominent on her starched collar along with a series of sparkling silver epaulettes. They were in marked contrast to her deep indigo dress uniform; one that looked very reminiscent of the Naval uniforms of Luna’s time. They were all armed with but a pair of sheathed short blades, which seemed odd, as I saw no way they could both be wielded at once by their mouths.
Introductions were then made and salutes were exchanged—the bat-ponies habitually saluted with a wing instead of a hoof, we quickly learned, and did so with their odd mid-wing talons. We were surprised, however, when the General brought out several bottles of what they called ‘wines’; fruity alcoholic beverages that had more bite than ale and far less sweetness than cider. Though I wasn’t sure about them at first—a glance around the table showed me my uncertain opinion was shared by the other ponies present—in time I found them surprisingly pleasant and mellowing.
“Before we begin, I wish to offer my most fervent apologies, Captain Typhoon,” General Blackhawk addressed Typhoon first, who was sitting in my usual spot at the head of the table whilst I took the first officer’s position.
“Our formal inquiry into the General’s actions has just begun, but ‘twould seem all his machinations were meant to bring about conflict between our two sides, in direct violation of his orders. In hindsight, his instructions to Colonel Ale were designed to provoke battle with the Loyalty, and ‘twould also seem he was trying to find a way to secretly get word to the gryphons that Cloudsdale was here. He was further deliberately withholding aid and supplies from the city in hopes of causing riots and attacks on our soldiers.”
“I knew it,” Rolling Thunder growled under his breath as the first plates were served, starting with the highest-ranked guest first, then the highest-ranked civilian, which was actually High Pressure, the Governor of Cloudsdale. The serving staff then altered serving the bat-ponies and civilians, working their way down the rank list until all were served.
Hearing him, the General turned to Rolling Thunder next. “Be assured, Sergeant Major, that we are working to redress this immense wrong immediately—on the real orders of the Lunar Council, we are flying up as many supplies as we can. I will also give you what medicines and medics I can spare, but lacking unicorns, I fear that our healing arts are simply not the equal of yours.”
“Any aid you can send would be welcome,” Rolling Thunder replied, speaking more diplomatically at the warning glance from Typhoon. “’Tis certain the city’s hospitals and healers are taxed to the limit, and we have had dozens die in the past day alone, succumbing to both injury… and grief.” He bowed his head. “We are also running short of food.”
“I see.” The General nodded gravely. “We will supply you with all we can before your departure.”
“Your assistance is appreciated, if belated, General,” Captain Typhoon pursed his hooves, not immediately starting into his meal. “But the safety of the city is only part of my reason for coming here.” His announcement caused the General to noticeably stiffen, as perchance she knew what was coming next.
“I am here on behalf of Princess Celestia herself. To be blunt, your nation’s open declaration of neutrality in this conflict is not acceptable,” the Captain stated directly. “As Equestria stands invaded by a powerful foe, the Solar Princess calls upon Thestralslovakia to fulfill the terms of the sovereignty settlement signed three centuries ago, and offer her soldiers into our service.”
All eating stopped as the General schooled her expression carefully. “You wouldst understand, Captain, that your Princess is not the most popular figure in our nation, and that we are in a rather… delicate position right now with the gryphons already poised on our eastern border,” she replied. “Many would say that treaty was signed under duress, and that we are in fact under no obligation to defend any borders but our own.”
“And do you really think the gryphons will stop with us, General?” Fell Flight, I had quickly learned, was never one to stay silent or mince words as her fish was served. “They want all of Equis under their wings, and you lie squarely on the flank of their advance! How long do you think ‘twould be before they decide that an army of predatory ponies who could potentially strike into their rear cannot be ignored?”
The General stared at her in distaste for a moment, though to her credit, she had not reacted with outright hatred or bigotry at my Corps colleague’s introduction. “You wouldst forgive me if I take your counsel with a large grain of salt, Master Sergeant, given you’re a Highborne,” she said in an air that suggested she was pointing out the obvious.
“So I’ve been told.” Fell Flight rolled her eyes and shot a glare at Aegir Ale, who had to look away. “You may take my counsel however you wish, General, but for the record? The title of ‘Highborne’ is meaningless to me. Methinks I had barely even heard that term before yesterday! I know not where my eyes came from, as my lineage is pegasus for as far as it can be traced. I grew up here in Cloudsdale, so be assured that the only side I serve or act in the interest of is that of Equestria!”
“I can vouch for her, General.” Colonel Aegir Ale spoke up from her superior’s left. “She acted to protect me when my aide turned on me.”
“Your aide?” Blackhawk and Typhoon echoed.
“We have detained Corporal Zodiac, as he attempted to arrest her for treason and threatened our lives when she agreed to escort us across the border,” I explained shortly.
“As well he should have, when he witnessed what he saw as treachery from his superior,” the General surprised me by nodding approvingly. “All subordinates are required to help hold their superiors to account in the Nightborne Army. Given he was only attempting to do so, I will request his immediate release.”
I exchanged glances with Typhoon before speaking, who nodded. “You may have it—with the understanding that I do not take kindly to having my life threatened in my own wardroom.” I finished by raising an eyeridge of my own.
“In fairness, your life was not under threat, Captain,” Aegir Ale spoke up as she sniffed at the Cloud Creole and took a small bite, then blinked, followed by taking a larger forkful. “Corporal Zodiac was armed with nonlethal projectiles as per my instructions. If we had to make a quick getaway, his orders were to fire the electrical bolt to stun our pursuers and the smoke bolt to cover our escape. Such bolts cannot easily kill… though launching one into my head at point-blank range might do it.” She grimaced, then raised her glowing eyes to mine.
“I know our ways may seem unduly… severe, but do not judge him harshly, Captain. He was trying to obey his standing orders and acting in what he thought were the best interests of his nation,” Colonel Ale went on when she saw my troubled expression. “He was young and overzealous, and ‘tis certain he did not think things through. But I blame myself for not sharing my suspicions with him or anybat else previously. I should have briefed him more fully.”
I admit I was given some pause by the use of anybat in the place of anypony. “I see…” Methinks I had to reappraise my opinion of both the Corporal and Colonel at that moment, raising my estimation of both. I already respected the Colonel, but ‘twould seem she had planned things out even better than I had previously given her credit. And though badly misguided, the Corporal’s actions required no small set of horse apples to attempt.
“If it makes you feel better, Colonel, I admit to some of those same doubts but not sharing them with anybat either. ‘Twas not until your gambit exposed the Major General that I was able to act. For revealing his treachery and preventing conflict, I do not believe you will face any real punishment for your actions, though ‘tis certain there will still be some calls for your head.”
“I knew this when I elected to disobey my orders,” the Colonel admitted, her expression turning downcast. “As I believe I will be treated fairly now, I will surrender myself for arrest and court martial if you wish.”
“‘Tis not my place, but may I request she remain here, as Nightborne liaison to the Loyalty, General Blackhawk?” I spoke up. “You wouldst understand that for leading us safely to the city and successfully exposing the Major General whilst preventing a bloody battle from erupting, we trust her now. I feel she has earned that post.”
The General thought about that, and then nodded slowly. “For the moment… yes. Though ‘tis possible she will yet be recalled pending an inquiry into her actions. I can assign her to you for now, and make a recommendation to our leadership that she stay in such a post, yes. But ultimately, her fate will not be decided by me.”
“Understood.” I accepted her terms as, to the surprise of all, the Captain of the Guard requested and received a fish after he’d only been served vegetarian fare along with everypony else short of Fell Flight.
“I am pleased to see such amenable discussions and attempts at accommodation between our two sides. ‘Tis my great hope they can continue,” Typhoon spoke up again. “The city may leave soon, but I wish to be taken to your leadership in Hollow Shades. My instructions are to deliver the Princess’s appeal to your Viceroy and Lunar Council personally, and I am authorized to negotiate on her behalf.”
“Unfortunately, Captain Typhoon, I am not authorized to grant you permission to journey there, or to conduct such negotiations,” Blackhawk replied cautiously. “I will pass along your request immediately upon my return. Regardless, we do ask that Cloudsdale provide us with as much rainwater as you can before departure, since it seems unlikely you will meet your usual mid-month schedule for refilling Lake Luna. I might suggest that such an action would go a long way towards making the Council look favorably upon you.”
“We can’t,” Rolling Thunder muttered.
“We’re sorry, General, but the weather factory was destroyed, and with it, our entire cloud supply,” High Pressure explained, her voice subdued. “Please understand—we are still tallying the damage and dead. We lost not just the facilities but far too many of its workers, so ‘twill be many months—or perchance even years—before the factory ‘tis rebuilt and working properly again.” Her lip quivered and Fell Flight visibly stiffened; I did not then know she had family who worked at the weather factory.
“I see…” The Nightborne General exchanged worried glances with her aides. “This will be problematic for our irrigation systems, as Lake Luna is starting to run low.”
“Rain will come, but not from us,” Typhoon spoke up, waiting until attention was on him before explaining: “The Princess has ordered that all weather control over Greater Equestria be suspended for the duration of the conflict. That means that wild weather patterns will slowly reestablish themselves—that given time, fronts and low pressure areas will sweep across the continent again as they did in days of yore. It may take some weeks, but rain will fall on Thestralslovakia again before harvest.”
“Then what is the point of our agreement if you cannot meet your side of the bargain?” one of her aides—a stallion Lieutenant Colonel—asked. “Why should we pay taxes or obey the treaty in such an instance?”
Typhoon’s eyes narrowed, as did my own. He held up a restraining hoof as Fell Flight hissed and Rolling Thunder looked ready to launch into a tirade. “We have faithfully filled your reservoirs and left you to your own affairs for three hundred years, Colonel. These circumstances are exceptional, and I sincerely doubt that your logic would be looked upon favorably by the Princess. Or Equestria as a whole,” he said with a dry tone and an arched eyeridge, leaving me in admiration of his tact and diplomatic touch.
The Nightborne officer looked like he was about to retort, but this time was stilled by a raised wing from his superior. “My apologies again, Captain Typhoon. We are soldiers, not administrators or diplomats, and such decisions as you seek are far above our pay grade. We may have opinions on the matter, of course, but ‘tis our duty to the nation we serve that we keep them to ourselves and to let our elected leaders decide our course of action?” she concluded pointedly with a warning glance to the Lieutenant Colonel, who fell sullen.
“Which is why I request to be taken to them.” He nodded in genuine respect to his Nightborne counterpart, who methinks I was rapidly coming to like as well. “In the meantime, I am satisfied with both your attempts to make amends for Major General Muscadine, and the quality of the meal here. So let us not speak more of political matters for now, and simply enjoy this feast—a rare respite in a time of war,” he invited as the fish was served, and everybody watched in varying degrees of surprise and satisfaction as he did not hesitate to slice a piece and pop it in his mouth.
“Well-seared and well-seasoned. My compliments to the galley. And perchance, General Blackhawk, I may trouble your side for a meal of slow-cooked flying boar before I depart?” He requested to shocked looks from our enlisted unicorn attendants, who quickly schooled their expressions though one facing me had to visibly stifle a gag.
“Methinks that could be arranged,” the General openly chuckled, enjoying the reaction of the galley staff as much as he did. “My compliments to your cooks as well, Captain Shady. I know not what this is, but ‘tis excellent, and the fish was prepared perfectly,” she said as she loaded a larger forkful of the fluffy rice-and-vegetable pile covered with a tomato cream sauce onto her plate.
“Cloud Creole,” I named it. “Originally a Neigh Orleans specialty imported and then altered by Cloudsdale pegasi. And you may thank the Master Sergeant here for the fish preparation. ‘Twas done at her instructions.” I nodded to Fell Flight, who bowed her head in acknowledgement.
“I see…” the General said somewhat grudgingly, but complimented her all the same. “Then I thank you for your hospitality and understanding, Master Sergeant Fell Flight, and apologize for any… visceral reactions your appearance may have provoked. You may not know your ancestry, and for it, our rivalry with the so-called Highborne, but be assured ‘tis mutual enmity that was well-earned.” Her eyes glittered angrily for a moment.
“Nevertheless, as ‘twould seem you have earned the Colonel’s trust, you have earned mine as well. ‘Tis it true what the Colonel says—that you have special lenses which enable you to function equally well in both darkness and day?”
“’Tis indeed.” Fell Flight grinned and repeated her firegem trick, earning some startled flinches from the bat-ponies and the unicorn staff as her left eye turned instantly from nearly gold to a deep green when the gem was lit beside it. “And with them, day is like night to me, and I can fight within it easily. ‘Tis what enabled me to join the Equestrian Aerial Corps and reach the rank I now hold!” she proclaimed as Rolling Thunder suddenly looked like a proud papa.
“Remarkable…” The General sounded impressed, though some of her other subordinates looked troubled. “I might wish to know more, as such a treatment could do wonders for our own daytime combat capability.”
“Perchance that could be part of any bargain we reach,” Typhoon suggested idly. “But ‘tis a question for later. Difficult times and talks lie ahead, so for now, let us simply enjoy the moment. To friendship, and to two sides sitting down together for a shared meal in peace and Harmony,” he offered, raising his glass of thestral wine in a hoof in toast. ‘Twas accepted and repeated, with glasses gently clinked together before sips were taken.
Our meal and discussions went for another hour before concluding.
Thank you for sharing this tale, Commodore. I find myself feeling regret now that I declined the opportunity to partake in that dinner, but Gavian needed me and ‘twould seem that Fell Flight did quite well in my stead. Indeed, mayhap she was the better choice for the affair anyway, as sometimes her bluntness and directness was what even a diplomatic dinner required.
Methinks she made abundantly clear to our Nightborne guests by word and by deed who she was, and where her loyalties lay. By doing so, she won respect and a second look from those initially inclined to dismiss her for her mixed heritage and the color of her fur. ‘Tis certain she had no idea what role she was yet to play with them, and would likely have scoffed at the notion were it suggested to her then.
—Firefly
Methinks you are correct, Captain. But I now know ‘twas always my destiny, and one that, to this day, I strive to fulfill. But ‘tis not that which drives me now so much as a simple desire to see my old comrades properly remembered and honored.
Greetings to all. This is Fell Flight, recently returned and stealing the last word of this entry with but a brief announcement: The Society of Outpost Omega Survivors has indeed reached its decision as to what to do with the revealed Imperial information about the fate of our beloved base, and it will be fulfilled as quickly as it can be arranged by Corps Command and Canterlot.
Unfortunately, ‘quickly’ will still mean a matter of some months. The Captain has already described the broad outlines of our desired outcome, but much remains to be done in order to bring it to fruition. To its end, we request donations and expertise from both camps to build the war memorial/museum we envision there, and ask for it in return for the gryphon side when the Equestrian dishonor is finally revealed.
—Fell Flight
President, Society of Outpost Omega Survivors
Canterlot
“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.” ― Oscar Wilde