Gray wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation today. Everything had started off so simple and the plan was to keep being simple. Breakfast with the family first, both immediate and extended; meet the royal family and give an official ambassadorial farewell as expected of her, plus inform Dawn and Havoc that they were leaving; head to lunch with Flathoof while Green and Rose were at school, maybe snuggle together for a nap; pick up the kids from school, grab some groceries since Flathoof wanted to cook dinner tonight; stay up late with Flathoof to watch a movie on TV, fall asleep together on the couch.
Easy peasy.
Instead, around the time that she and Flathoof were supposed to be eating lunch, she found herself pacing in a hospital waiting room with her husband, Lockwood, and Blackburn, waiting for the go-ahead from the staff that it was okay for their patient to receive visitors. Blackburn had apparently been excessively clear that she wanted to have a conversation sooner rather than later, and nopony questioned it; if their queen wanted something done, they'd do it, unless there was a legitimate danger if they did. They'd assured her that there wouldn't be.
Crossfire was currently in the next wing over finishing up his recovery, and apart from an injured shoulder that would recover in about a day or two, the thing of his that was wounded was his pride. Pattycake was more of a mess than he was, having never figured that being Lockwood's bodyguard would ever actually be dangerous. Gray was glad he was okay; he was her brother-in-law, after all, but that would hardly be the only reason.
Gadget, meanwhile, was with the Princess and Prince and their grandparents, ensuring that the youngsters were consoled and comforted as best they could while their parents attended to necessary business first. Gray would visit them herself later, but imagined they were pretty shaken up about the whole ordeal.
For now, Blackburn's focus was entirely on Gray, and this was a side of the queen that Gray had never seen before, only heard of through reputation. This was the Iron Queen of Hope's Point, the mare that stood up to the NPAF for years and laughed in their faces about it, who gave her citizens every reason to believe it was Hope's Point that should be feared, not the other way around.
"Attack was sudden," Blackburn said simply, her gaze fierce, her posture straight; even though she was shorter than Gray by a fair bit—all mares and even most stallions were—she still had a commanding presence. "Enemy ship possessed cloaking technology; struck without warning from unknown angle. Purpose: disable the Wyvern for a few moments.
"AMP Troopers boarded immediately after, also possessed cloaking technology. Accounts from Crossfire and Lockwood indicate intent to foalnap our children. Inflicted injuries on Crossfire in process, also… responsible for Briarthorn's death." Blackburn took a breath, and Gray could see the sheer sorrow and anger in her eyes. "Killed one of my closest friends."
Gray gave a short nod. "Again… my condolences, Your Majesty."
She and Briarthorn had never exactly been friends, so to speak, but she knew him and liked him well enough when he wasn't acting like a scoundrel. She knew Velvet liked him a lot, and that was good enough for her, too. She couldn't imagine what Blackburn was going through; the only pony Gray knew that had died was technically her father, but that was a big technicality.
Blackburn grunted, then began pacing. "Commander Havoc arrived moments after attack began. Was unsure of it at first, saw enemy ship firing at something else. Then saw what—who—they were firing at: your sister."
"They really fired on her?" Gray muttered, not quite believing just how close Havoc had come to dying. "Airship-grade weapons against a single mare?"
"Indeed. Must have considered her a threat." Blackburn shook her head. "She was… hmm. Best I can describe her, encased by—no, she was fire. Not on fire; she was fire. Destroyed enemy ship in seconds. Alone. Created explosions and flew at supersonic speed through it."
"Supersonic speed?" Gray felt a small smile creep to her lips, her heart swelling with pride in her sister. "Wow. She finally did it."
"Yes. Has made mention of desire in the past, claimed it was possible after witnessing friend 'Rainbow Dash' do it. Always figured it was exaggeration; can see that I was wrong." Blackburn cleared her throat and leveled her glare at Gray again. "Gray Skies, asking this not from diplomatic position, but familial one: did you know?"
The question hurt, though Gray didn't blame Blackburn for it one bit. It was a logical step: figure out if anypony with intimate knowledge of the situation had sold them out. From a purely diplomatic perspective, she shouldn't have minded at all.
Coming from her sister-in-law though, yeah, it hurt quite a bit. But nopony needed to step to her defense; a look to Flathoof told Gray that he'd expected the question the second the attack had been described, and they both knew that it was entirely on Gray to defend herself. Blackburn would never suspect him, naturally.
"About this attack on you?" Gray repeated for clarification's sake. "No, of course not. If I'd even heard a rumor that somepony was maybe going to make an attempt on you like that, you'd have known about it immediately. I'm just as shocked as you are."
Blackburn stared right at Gray for a solid five seconds, then let out a breath and nodded, her expression softening; gone was Blackburn the Iron Queen, and back again was Blackburn the sister-in-law. "Of course. Never believed you knew, had to ask anyway. Just to be certain beyond a doubt. You understand."
"No, I get it. This is serious, and if anypony would know more about it, it would be me and my sisters. I haven't spoken with them about this either, yet. I assume they already know about what happened, but not what's going on."
"Appreciate your cooperation," Blackburn said, standing tall and straight. "No offense meant, but situation raises questions, not sure who to trust. Trust you implicitly: married to my brother-in-law," she said with a slight nod towards Flathoof. "Have family with him, been family to me for years. But not all families are on same page, hmm?"
Gray raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that one of my sisters had something to do with this?"
She didn't take offense, of course—again, it was a logical course of questioning—but that didn't mean she wasn't entirely surprised. If this had been an officially-sanctioned NPAF deployment, that would mean either Admiral Hotstreak was going behind Dawn's back or that Dawn herself had authorized it.
Blackburn tapped her chin. "Can never eliminate all probabilities until disproved. Won't assume Shadow Associate Dawn or 'Spymaster' Curaçao ordered attack, but can't assume they weren't aware." She grunted, her mouth curling into a sneer. "Either way, peace talks no longer an option—"
Lockwood cut in by clearing his throat; his eyes were red. Had he been crying? Yes, of course he had been; supposedly Briarthorn had died right in front of him, though she was still iffy on the exact circumstances. He himself had suffered a minor bruise to his temple from where an AMP had struck him, but it was already healing thanks to restorative magics.
"BB, honey?" he interjected. "We talked about this. Until we have proof that Dawn or Curaçao or anypony they knew ordered the attack or kept it from us and those who could have warned us, we have to assume that this is just as much of a surprise to them. Peace is still a top priority—"
"They attempted to kill us," Blackburn snapped, approaching him with fire in her eyes. "To steal away our children. Peace is the last thing on my mind."
"I understand that, and I won't tell you to just leap back into the swing of things just yet," Lockwood said, utterly calm and collected. "But this peace still needs to happen, if not for us then for our kids, and their kids, and so on. Whoever's responsible for this wants us to fight, to keep fighting like we always have. We can't let them win."
Blackburn paused, taking a deep breath. "Peace talks no longer an option… at present. Will postpone indefinitely, until situation reaches point where I possess absolute confidence in its success. Too many variables to proceed in current state anyway, too much damage dealt to move forward without fixing first, including practical, such as fixing my Wyvern."
Lockwood's shoulders slumped; he didn't look entirely satisfied, but it was apparently good enough. "That's fine and fair. So long as we're still in agreement that we can make peace between our cities. I think now more than ever, we need it. If we work together more closely, we might be able to root out whoever it was that's responsible for this."
"I can guarantee that my sisters are already on the case, even without me telling them all the details," Gray chimed in, hoping to curtail any further argument. "Once I talk to them, I'll be able to give them a clearer picture that might help them figure out what's going on and who's responsible for this attack on our friends and family, and why."
She then tilted her head towards the hospital room door. "As soon as I get more information from Havoc, of course. She's got to know more than I do, or anypony else for that matter."
"Would very much like to hear her account myself," Blackburn agreed.
As if on cue, the doctor exited the hospital room, adjusting his glasses as he went. He immediately turned to Blackburn, who was closest, without even needing prompting. "She's ready for you now, Your Majesty. A fair bit of warning, though: we administered a lot of pain medication to put her at ease for now, so she might not be as lucid as you'd like. Depends on her tolerance for the drugs and for the pain."
Blackburn nodded. "Understandable. Prognosis?" She tilted her head towards Gray. "Family is present, to put at ease concerns of medical ethics."
"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less," the doctor said with a small smirk. He gave his attention to Gray now, looking particularly sober about the whole ordeal. "Ma'am, let me be perfectly blunt: her injuries are… severe. The initial surgery went well and we removed all of the shrapnel, but we can't repair all of the damage just yet."
Gray took a deep breath. She was afraid of this. "Spare me the details, Doc. Is she gonna be okay?"
The doctor thought this over for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "The important things are that she'll live, and she'll still be able to fly normally without braces or prosthetics; luckily, none of the shrapnel clipped through her wings apart from some minor feather damage. The wounds she suffered were apparently cauterized, so she wasn't at risk of infection or bleeding out, either.
"However, as a result, the scars along her left side are most definitely permanent. Restomancy doesn't actually heal, merely accelerates the natural healing process, you see. The entire area will feel a tightness to it for years or longer, most likely. I'm not a plastic surgeon so I can't give you or her a concrete idea of whether or not she may be able to 'touch up' the area, but that's up to her to decide on.
"Most importantly, though, is her left eye," the doctor continued, tapping at the left lens of his glasses. "The shrapnel and the cauterization utterly destroyed any chance of saving it. She'll be without vision on that side for the rest of her life. For now she has gauze wrapped over the area to prevent her from touching it and to keep it from becoming infected, but she will need to consider options once her recovery is over."
Gray blinked, her heart feeling like it suddenly weighed an extra ton. "She… she lost an eye from all of this?"
"Correct. If I may put your mind at ease, though, our medical staff can offer a variety of different options for her to consider, whether she'd prefer to leave it as-is, to procure an eye patch, or to opt for a simple prosthetic. She may even wish to consider a more advanced prosthetic as part of our technomagic development."
"That's… a lot to take in. And you haven't talked with her about any of this yet, I take it?"
"Not until she's finished her recovery process and can handle the information," the doctor said with a nod. "It's a big decision to make, and she may require guidance from loved ones."
Blackburn chimed in with, "Anything she decides will be covered by the royal treasury, of course."
"Thanks, Blackburn," Gray said, still lost in the moment. She turned to the doctor briefly, then shook her head. "And thanks, Doc. I'll… I'll talk with her about it. I'm the only immediate family she has here, so I guess this'll fall to me." She glanced at Lockwood, Flathoof, and Blackburn. "I mean, I'm sure she'll listen to any of you, too."
"And she'll have all the support she needs from us and more," Lockwood said.
"Absolutely," agreed Flathoof.
"Shall we see her now?" Blackburn asked, gesturing towards the door.
Gray nodded. "Yeah, let's do that. She's probably confused as all hell about what's happening."
The doctor nodded to them both, then turned to Lockwood and Flathoof, holding up a hoof briefly as they started to get up from their seats. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, Captain Flathoof, but I'm skirting around enough rules as it is. Could we limit visitors to two at a time until after her recovery is finished?"
Lockwood and Flathoof each nodded and retook their seats.
Gray and Blackburn entered the hospital room to find Havoc resting, as the doctor had noted, hooked up to a metric ton of monitors and an IV bag. Gray barely suppressed her anger and surprise; Havoc's entire left side was covered with bandages and gauze, particularly her left eye. The doctors had had to shave bits of her coat and mane away on that side to perform the surgery, it looked like.
If Blackburn hadn't been clear that Havoc had annihilated the ones responsible for this, Gray would've volunteered immediately to seek them out and crush every last one of them.
Havoc's head lazily tilted in their direction, and her mouth curled in a dumb little smile. "Heyyy. What's up guys? Guess I really am in Hope's Point if my big little sister's here. Hey Gray. Are you taller than I remember? You look taller." She glanced down at herself. "Oh wait, I'm lying down. Laying down? Which one is it again?"
"Painkillers are working," Blackburn grunted, allowing her mouth to curl in a tiny grin. "Reminds me of when she's drunk."
"Minus the shouting," Gray added. She stepped forward, looking down on her sister with a sympathetic smile. "How're you feeling, sis?"
"Numb as fuuuck," Havoc muttered, her head shifting to look the other direction. "I can't feel most of the left side of me. Doesn't feel like I can see so good. What happened? Last thing I remember, I was super pissed about something, and… an airship? I'm pretty sure there was an airship blowing up. Did I blow up an airship?"
Blackburn stepped forward now, her expression firm. "Commander Havoc, have a question to ask of you."
"Oh, yeah, sure thing Queen Bee."
"Earlier today, while we were en route to New Pandemonium City, an unidentified, unknown NPAF airship equipped with cloaking technology attacked the Wyvern, damaged it; we flew back to Hope's Point for repairs and to regroup."
"Ah. So I do remember right." Havoc nodded to herself with her usual self-assurance. "Yeah, I guess I was pretty awesome out there…"
Blackburn cleared her throat to retake Havoc's attention. "During attack, cloaked AMP Troopers boarded Wyvern, attempted to foalnap Bluebolt and Fireglow, injured Crossfire. Indirectly responsible for Briarthorn's death."
Havoc stared at her and blinked her one good eye several times, clearly in shock. "Briarthorn's dead? And they tried to do what with the kids?!"
Blackburn nodded, her eyes that mix of sheer sorrow and anger again. "Yes. Will be making funeral arrangements following our conversation." She shook her head, her firmness returning. "Need answers; have questions. First, for you: did you know?"
"Know what?"
"About the attack. Did you know it was going to happen? Do you know who planned it?"
Havoc stared up at the ceiling now, her expression tired and sad. "I found out something was happening minutes before it did. Somepony stole the Chameleon-class cruiser during its supposed decommissioning."
"Enemy ship was a 'Chameleon-class'?" Blackburn asked, legitimately confused. "Unfamiliar with designation."
"Huh? What do you mean? I thought you knew the NPAF fleet's whole spread?"
Pure anger was returning to Blackburn's expression slowly but surely. "Apparently not, both officially and unofficially. Never heard of Chameleon-class; designation understandable with cloaking technology. Unaware NPAF had even developed cloaking technology; did not see listed in any manifests shared with me."
Havoc stared, slack-jawed. "Shit, are you serious?"
"Very serious. Implies that somepony has been keeping secrets somewhere in line of communication. Shadow Associate Dawn provided me with NPAF fleet manifest to come to agreements on decommissioning; shared Hope's Point fleet manifests with her. NPAF Admiral Hotstreak provides her with information."
Blackburn took a sharp breath. "Either your sister has been lying to me, or Admiral Hotstreak is lying to her." She then turned to Gray, her gaze fierce. "Did you know about this? The concealing of information?"
Gray shook her head, her own anger starting to rise up. "No, I didn't. Dawn provided you with that fleet manifest herself, and she never told me that there was anything missing from it. So yeah, either she knew about it and kept it from you and everypony else, or she didn't know at all."
"Both are damning." Blackburn turned back to Havoc. "But you knew about this Chameleon-class. Commander within NPAF, privy to that sort of information. Under impression I knew, though… obviously implies you were also misinformed. Thoughts: your sister, or your admiral?"
"I… I don't know," Havoc muttered, her expression sullen and posture heartbroken. "Admiral Hotstreak has always been upfront with me about everything. It was his son, Commander Jetstream, that warned me about the attack before it happened."
"Oh? Explain."
"Yeah, uh, they both think the commander in charge of the Chameleon, Skyfall, was either a seditionist or that his crew were and they mutinied against him. Either way, the admiral didn't order any attack on you."
Blackburn tilted her head slightly. "Have mentioned 'seditious' element before, seemed assured it had been 'dealt with'."
"Because we were sure!" Havoc blurted, barely able to rise up from her position. "This came completely out of the blue even to us!"
"And I assume you do not suspect Dawn?"
Havoc's eyes narrowed. "Listen, Queen Bee, my little sister is a lot of things—a bitch most of the time—but she's not evil. She's been banking on this peace for years. It was our dad's idea, and she'd do absolutely anything to make him happy." She tilted her head towards Gray. "Gray'll confirm that. Dawn couldn't have ordered this or known about it. There's no way."
"I agree entirely," Gray said with a confident nod. "Both about our sister being a bitch and her not being evil. I know we don't get along personally, but I don't think she'd have it in her to plan to secretly kill you and your family all this time and fool all of us into thinking otherwise. That's too underhoofed for her, not her style. She's really the 'go big or go home' type, trust me."
"And Curaçao?" asked Blackburn.
"Oh, Curie's underhoofed as fuck," Havoc chortled, her eyes galzing over just a little; the pain meds must've kicked back in. "But she's not evil either. She's a softie through-and-through, and she'd never do anything like this. She knew your kids were there, and she's been looking forward to introducing them to her little Jellybean for weeks. She's been teaching her how to talk all fancy-like so she can impress you."
Blackburn glanced between the two for a moment, then firmly nodded. "Again, trust both of you implicitly; have come to know you both, understand your character, welcomed you into family openly. If you vouch for Dawn and Curaçao, will trust your judgment." She took a breath. "Peace treaty still on 'backburner', so to speak. Clear that NPAF is not under control."
Havoc groaned lightly. "Yeah, I guess not."
"Inform your sisters of details of today's events," Blackburn said to Gray. She then turned back to Havoc. "Will have other questions for you, but are irrelevant to current concerns. Specifically, how you did what you did, with the explosions and speed."
"I'm still trying to figure that all out myself," Havoc noted. She looked contemplative for a long moment before continuing, "I remember feeling more angry than I've ever felt before, all because my friends were in danger. I wanted nothing more than to just… burn everything responsible for it. Then I just kind of, uh, exploded, I guess? That's the best I can describe it to you right now.
"And, um… I'm sorry. For being so slow." Havoc hung her head, her expression souring. "If I'd gotten there a little sooner, maybe Briarthorn—"
"Do not blame yourself; fault lies with those responsible," Blackburn swiftly interjected. "Thank you, Havoc. For saving me, my family. Owe you a debt of gratitude."
"Are the kids okay? Gadget? Crossfire?"
"Kids are shaken, but physically unhurt. Gadget furious, but also unhurt. Crossfire suffered only minor shoulder injury, body armor protected him. Otherwise well, but blames self, same as you. Pride hurt more than body."
Havoc grumbled; she didn't seem to be put at ease all that much. "Well… good, I guess…"
"Hmm. Will leave you two alone to talk. Have funeral arrangements to make, discussion with Council to conduct, children to console." Blackburn sighed and shook her head. "Own wits to soothe. Entire day has been stressful, made paranoia seem justified. Let guard down, lost much because of it…"
She then left the room without another word, leaving Gray and Havoc alone.
Havoc sighed, bringing her right hoof to her temple. "This whole thing is fucked, sis. I wish I'd have gotten there sooner…"
"You did what you could," Gray said, setting her hoof on Havoc's good shoulder. "I know things could've gone better, but it's not your fault. Blackburn's right: somepony's been keeping secrets, and that allowed this whole thing to happen. I've got a feeling Dawn purposefully left things out of that manifest that Blackburn didn't already know about."
"I hope she's not that stupid," Havoc grunted through clenched teeth.
"I have no idea what's going through her head. It's not like she ever talked to me much before, anyway, and now it's just all business."
"The kids are okay though, right? Bluebolt and Fireglow? I know Blackburn said they were but—"
"Yeah, they're fine, last I saw them. They're hanging out with Shortcake and Stouthoof right now. Grandma and grandpa oughta keep them placated for a little while. Why?"
"I think I remember seeing Bluebolt before I passed out, and she looked extra freaked out. Lockwood, too, come to think of it." Havoc turned to look at Gray briefly, holding out her good hoof. "Is there a mirror around or something? I know I got fucked up, but I can't exactly see myself."
Gray paused. "Are you sure you want to do that now?"
"Yes, I'm sure. C'mon, pass me a mirror."
Gray sighed, nodded, then glanced around and looked for a mirror. Not finding one in the open, she got up and searched through some of the supply drawers; the hospital staff would have to deal with her not caring if everything was where she found it. She found one after a minute of searching, a square one that she had to hold with two hooves because it lacked a proper grip, probably meant for unicorns.
She held it up for Havoc to see, and her sister's face fell immediately, her good hoof moving to her injured eye first before trailing down the side of her face, her neck, and her exposed shoulder. She seemed legitimately horrified by it all; her body language slowed down significantly, her mouth hanging open just slightly in shock.
"What the fuck happened to me?" Havoc muttered, her voice deathly quiet.
"I don't know the whole deal, but you took a lot of shrapnel to the side," Gray said softly, setting the mirror down and taking hold of Havoc's good hoof.
She noted that Havoc held it readily, tightly at that; the shock of the situation must have really done a number on her to not even hesitate.
Havoc gulped. "Am I gonna be okay?" she croaked.
"You'll make a full recovery from it all, and your wing didn't get hit, but… the doctor said there's gonna be a lot of scarring. And… your eye's completely gone. I'm no good at this bedside manner stuff, so I just have to come out and tell it like it is."
Havoc's hoof went back to her eye. "My eye, huh? Fuck, that's why I can't see…"
"The doctor said you've got a few options on that front, and Blackburn's offered to pay for whatever treatments you need. So y'know, you don't even need our cushy trust fund, turns out," Gray added with a grin to try and lighten the mood.
It seemed to work, judging from Havoc's half smile. "Heh, sounds about right. So what, I can get like a gnarly pirate eye patch or something?"
"That's an option, sure. I'll go over them with you when you've recovered more and aren't hopped up on painkillers."
Havoc set her head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "Guess this is what happens to ya when you try to play the hero, huh? Fuck me." She tilted her head to look right at Gray. "Do me a favor and don't mention how bad this is to Curie and Dawn when you talk to 'em, okay?" she said firmly. "I'll let them see for themselves when I get out of here."
Gray nodded. "Sure, that's your call. I'm just glad it's not worse. You got lucky, sis. Real lucky."
"I guess so." Havoc then smirked, laughing briefly to herself. "And here I thought Velvet had it bad last week. If I was lucky, I'd be able to heal like she did. Guess I gotta settle for keeping my scars. You know she healed hers like immediately afterwards? Just happened automatically."
Gray tilted her head, suddenly lost. "What are you talking about?"
"Huh?"
"You just said something about Velvet. What was that about?"
Havoc gave Gray a dumb grin; maybe the painkillers were hitting again. "Uh, what are you talking about? I mean that Velvet's able to heal herself when she gets hurt. You know that."
"That's not what I meant. I meant about the 'last week' comment, that she 'had it bad'. What does that mean?"
Now it was Havoc who looked lost. "Wait… you mean you don't know?"
Gray grunted, annoyed that apparently there was something she was missing. Again. "Know what?"
"Velvet got attacked last week while she was at an arcade with Caramel and Marée. Caramel's woke up but is still recovering last I checked, but Velvet and Marée are fine now. Velvet got her throat and stomach torn open, but she healed up, no scars or anything." Havoc shook her head in disbelief. "You didn't know?"
"This is the first I'm hearing about it."
"Velvet said Dawn was gonna tell—" Havoc paused, and her mouth curled into a snarl. "Dawn, you colossal bitch. She was supposed to tell you!"
"Well, she didn't," Gray sighed, holding the bridge of her nose. "Why am I not even surprised? You said that Velvet and Marée are okay, but Caramel woke up but is recovering? He got hurt, I take it?"
"Yeah… he got shot, and, um… look, it's not as bad as it could've been. I think it's just like some complications because of his powers. Hypothermia or something. Velvet should be the one to talk to you about it, she knows more than me."
"I'll do that."
Havoc groaned, pressing her hoof to her temple again. "Shit, Dawn was supposed to tell Insipid too, and now I've gotta ask her if she even knows! Fuck me with a rake, I'm tired of this shit."
"See? This is why I stopped bothering with Dawn altogether outside of business matters," Gray said, gesturing about the room with a hoof. "I don't know why you and Curaçao even tolerate this shit. Or why you don't just handle things yourselves instead of trusting her to do it, for that matter."
Havoc steeled her gaze on the ceiling. "After everything that's happened today, yeah, I think I'm gonna handle things a little differently. As soon as I'm out of this fucking hospital bed, I'm gonna go to Blackburn and tell her everything." She looked to Gray with all seriousness. "Everything. About Pops, about us being clones, about our superpowers, all of it. Keeping secrets is just hurting us at this point."
"I'll go with you. We can do it together."
"Thanks sis." Havoc sighed and relaxed back into the pillow. "You should let Curie know about what's happened here, though. And Dawn too, if you care to. I wouldn't bother. Let Curie tell her all about it. She's the only one who actually tolerates Dawn's bullshit."
"She's got more patience for her than anypony else in this family does," Gray snickered, though she wasn't really amused to be admitting it.
Havoc paused, then grumbled. "It should've been her…"
"Huh?"
"Dad's Warden. It should've been her, Curaçao. Dawn might be a powerful unicorn and have a lot of book smarts, but Curaçao's the one who knows how to do the kind of stuff Dad did, and she's good at it, and she actually gives a flying fuck about us." Havoc snorted derisively. "And she's the oldest. It should've been her."
"And here I thought you'd want to be in charge. You're a great leader, if your skyball team's anything to go by."
Havoc rolled her eyes. "Maybe if we were a little assault team or something. I'm great at commanding troops and shit, but I'm awful at all this political garbage. Rainslick practically runs everything on the team, y'know? I just make sure he has the funds to do whatever he needs in order to improve the team, and that he makes our vision work."
"Fair enough." Gray sighed and shook her head. "Dad always seemed so confident in Dawn, though. What happened? What went wrong?"
"I don't know. But whatever it is, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her."
"I'm with you on that, sis…"
"Y'know, Velvet's not in a good place right now. After what happened to her, she's been… distant. She blames herself for Caramel getting hurt. So, uh, I feel bad asking this but… you're probably gonna have to tell her about Briarthorn, too. We can't rely on Dawn to pass shit along anymore, and I'm not in any shape for a heart-to-heart."
Gray stared up at the ceiling, realizing that she was going to be responsible for a lot over the next week. "Yeah, I probably should mention that, huh? Damn, she's not gonna be happy about it. She liked him a lot."
"Considering she asked him to knock her up way back when, yeah, I'd say she liked him," Havoc snickered. She then sobered a little. "He wasn't in bad shape, was he? I thought I saw him before I passed out, but it was pretty brief. He… he didn't look dead."
"Lockwood said something about performing Diffusion loops to protect him, without the sanctioned equipment. I won't pretend to understand how he did it—something about family legacy?—but he did."
"Whoa, seriously? I thought that shit was, like, dangerous? Impossible, even."
"Yeah… dangerous is right. He undid years of therapy and treatments in minutes. Complete and catastrophic organ failure. Lockwood said he was dead before the Wyvern even picked them up."
"So he died doing what he loved. Damn…" Havoc then groaned and held her side. "Fuck fuck fuck, fuck me that stings, augh. I think the painkillers are wearing off. Send the doc in, would ya? I don't think I should keep flapping gums with ya."
Gray frowned, but nodded; she wanted to keep the conversation going, to make sure her sister was at ease, but if Havoc needed some space, she'd get it. "Sure thing. I'll get out of your mane and let you rest, okay?"
"Yeah, thanks sis. Sorry. It's been nice talking with ya. Love ya."
"Love you too, sis…"
Gray patted Havoc's good shoulder reassuringly, then headed out the door and let the doctor know about the painkillers; he seemed ready for it and was already moving inside with a nurse to get to work. Gray also noticed that Lockwood and Blackburn had already left, and didn't blame them for not waiting around; they had family matters to attend to as well, and other important business. Flathoof was still here, of course, and stood to greet her.
"Everything okay in there?" he asked, a concerned smile on his lips.
Gray nodded and approached him. "She's been better, but she's strong. She'll get through this. I'll visit her again tomorrow, though, if just to talk with her about what she wants to do once she recovers. It's a bit too much right now."
Flathoof pulled her in for a hug. "If there's anything either of you need, I'm here for you."
She let out a breath and turned the hug; she needed this right now, more than she wanted to admit. "A lot of this is too much right now…"
She was glad to have somepony in her life who cared about her so much. She didn't even need to ask him how much he cared; she knew that he did. She knew that he'd tell her immediately if anything happened to anypony important to her. He didn't keep secrets from her, and neither did she from him.
This was what family was supposed to be like.
*****
Dawn sat impatiently at her desk, gazing out the window of her office in anticipation for what was supposed to be the event of the century. Even from here she could tell that the winds were starting to pick up, based on how the distant smog was moving through the air more swiftly and haphazardly than was typical. It would be less than a week before the winds out in the Wasteland picked up so much that they sent a veritable hurricane throughout the continent, bathing it all in dust that no sane pony would dare travel in.
A part of her hoped that Winter would know to either shelter up at the Checkpoint before the dust storm hit, or would be done with her business by then and already be someplace safe, preferably safer than the Checkpoint was.
The main reason the weather was bothering her so much was the tightness of the schedule. The royal family of Hope's Point would be departing just a day or so before the dust storm hit and would be spending the following week or more on the southern continent; Queen Blackburn had meticulously planned out the schedule so that they would have the optimal amount of time to spend on peace talks and superfluous "family time" here in New Pandemonium before leaving.
Of course, they had to be here first before they could leave.
Hence, the fact that Blackburn was late was most bothersome. Either she was delaying her arrival on purpose for some reason that Dawn just didn't understand, or Gray had jumped the gun when she'd informed her of the departure time. Dawn would rather chalk it up to her sister's irresponsibility rather than assume this was some petty attempt by the queen to get a rise out of her.
Then, Curaçao burst into the office. Without knocking first, mind; very rude. She looked like she'd been in a rush getting here too.
"Curaçao, what in the world is the meaning of this intrusion?" Dawn asked, her building aggravation slipping into her tone. "I was under the impression that you were more observant of social norms such as privacy and politely knocking before entering a room. Was I mistak—"
"Nous avons un problème," Curaçao interrupted, eyes wide.
Dawn translated her sister's words in her head. A problem? "I would be inclined to agree. Her Majesty Queen Blackburn is has tarried far too long—"
"Yes, exactly, that's the prob—"
Dawn snorted loudly, adjusting her glasses to get a better look at her sister if only to ensure it was her sister; this behavior was so unlike her. "Curaçao, what manner of malady has afflicted you that you are behaving so erratically? That is twice now that you have unnecessarily interrupted me. My patience is already thin this afternoon—"
"Tais-toi!" Curaçao snapped, looking angrier than Dawn had ever seen her. "Shut up, and listen. Her Majesty's personal airship, the Wyvern, was attacked on its way towards the city, just inside our airspace."
Dawn's eyes widened. "What?"
"I received a report from Commander Jetstream that one of the cruisers slated for decommissioning, the Chameleon-class, went missing. He reported it to Havoc as well, and she apparently found the cruiser openly attacking the Wyvern, though he was only able to piece that together based on circumstantial evidence; he lost contact with her.
"I also haven't heard anything from Havoc all afternoon, but then Gray contacted me just moments ago." Curaçao let out a relieved sigh. "The Wyvern returned to Hope's Point, intact but heavily damaged. Havoc destroyed the Chameleon-class herself and rescued the royal family. Regrettably, Queen Blackburn's friend, Captain Briarthorn, was indirectly killed in the attack due to AMP Troopers that were attempting to foalnap the Prince and Princess."
Dawn froze for a moment, then sharply rose from her seat, hooves slamming on her desk and glasses dislodging from her nose. "What?!"
"Havoc was critically injured as well during the attack, though Gray says she'll recover; she neglected to give me details on the extent of our sister's injuries, claiming that was Havoc's decision to let us see for ourselves when the time comes. I've respected Havoc's wishes and not made contact with her."
Dawn's eye twitched; she hated being left out of the loop like this. "Gray contacted you, but not me?"
"Yes."
"Would you happen to know why?"
Curaçao gave Dawn a scathing look of disapproval; never before had Curaçao ever looked like the eldest sister she actually was. "It would seem that our sister is incredibly upset with you at the moment. Something about not knowing that Velvet was attacked last week? Havoc had to tell her because apparently you didn't?"
Dawn snorted. "Is that all? Velvet made a complete recovery. It was inconsequential—"
"She deserved to know, Dawn!" Curaçao snapped again. She then let out a breath and held out a hoof as if to calm herself. "That is besides the point. The point is that Gray informed me, so this is the situation we find ourselves in. We need to fix this, immédiatement."
"On that, I agree. Contact Director Underhoof and Admiral Hostreak, enlighten them to our situation and have them prepare for a conference call with me exactly one hour from now. And inform Hotstreak that he had better have an explanation for this fracas."
"And what will you do in the meantime?"
Dawn straightened her glasses and lit up her horn. "There are some additional ponies that should be made aware of the situation that I feel require a more… personal touch. One hour, Curaçao."
With that, she disappeared with a flash and a pop, reappearing a split-second later in a room in a home that she had never been to before, but that she had seen many, many times via the Committee conference calls.
In person, Taskmaster Concrete's penthouse didn't look any more or less impressive than over the calls; for somepony who didn't take care of himself, he at least wasn't a messy slob, but he wasn't exactly classy, either. The decorations were plain and dull; no substance or taste. Dawn never really cared much for such things herself but knew that appearances were everything.
Normally, teleporting to a location that she couldn't see was incredibly dangerous; she could end up accidentally teleporting into the same space that another pony occupied at that precise instant, and the effect was supposedly… messy. She'd never witnessed it with her own eyes, naturally, but had seen video and photographic evidence of the event—using dummies, of course—and didn't have any desire to experience it for herself.
Concrete Girder was nothing if not predictable though, and she knew that at this time of day, he was taking his lunch in this very room; a number of Committee meetings over the years had taken place during meal times so that the Committee could make expedient use of their time, a fine idea that she'd been enlightened to due to Vendetta's otherwise misfortunate dinner meeting all those years ago.
Sure enough, Taskmaster Concrete was seated at the back of the room at his dining table scarfing down a meal more fit for three ponies than just one and more for a scrumptious dinner rather than a light lunch. Whatever program he was watching on his humongous television set was unimportant, and so Dawn paid it no heed.
"Taskmaster Concrete!" Dawn snapped the instant she materialized. "We must have words!"
Concrete's eyes widened and he stared at her in stunned surprise, his fatty hoof reaching up to clutch at his chest. He didn't say anything, just sputtered and coughed up some of his latest mouthful of food.
"Her Majesty's private airship was attacked en route to New Pandemonium this afternoon, no more than two or three hours ago," she said, approaching him with the most intense glare she could manage.
The calculation was inexact, of course. She based it off of when Gray had contacted her and when Gray had contacted Curaçao, accounting for travel time based on how fast she'd been told the Wyvern could fly at an average pace, but didn't know any other factors that might have contributed to a delay. Havoc had supposedly been injured, so perhaps a few minutes had been spared to attend to her wounds, but that was unlikely to take too much time.
"While the details are currently still in development, it is clear that whoever is responsible for this fiasco possessed the motivation of spoiling my lauded peace treaty. You, Taskmaster, have been opposed to this peace from its inception! I demand that you provide evidence that you are not responsible. Now!"
Concrete gasped and tumbled out of his seat, both forehooves now clutching at his chest.
"Taskmaster?" Dawn watched him writhe and convulse on the floor for a few seconds before going stiff, then she let out an aggravated sigh.
Opening up her mind, she contacted Curaçao. "Sister, if you would also summon emergency medical personnel to Taskmaster Concrete's abode?"
"Ah, oui?" came Curaçao's swift reply. "Should I ask why?"
"Apparently my interrogation technique provoked cardiac arrest. Leave that out of your dispatch report, of course."
"Oui, of course."
With a glance towards the overweight stallion, Dawn added, "Also, I would not be entirely opposed to the medical personnel embarking on a more scenic route here, if you catch my meaning? A less slovenly Taskmaster might be an improvement."
"Hmm. I will handle it." Curaçao didn't sound like she necessarily approved, but that was irrelevant; she'd do it because Dawn asked her to.
"Thank you, Curaçao."
Dawn then lit up her horn again, and without so much as another glance at Concrete, she disappeared again with another flash and a pop.
She reappeared in yet another familiar-yet-new place from the conference calls, the private communication study of Treasurer Vendetta. She knew he only used this particular room for Committee business, so it was empty when he wasn't taking conference calls or otherwise contacting Committee members, and since she was the only one he apparently ever talked to in private, she was firm in her belief that he wouldn't be in here.
She was right, of course, because she was never wrong.
She wasted no time in throwing open the door to the study to move into the room beyond, which if the layout of his penthouse estate was accurate to what Curaçao had provided her, meant that she'd now be in his bedchambers. That much she expected, and she also expected him to be nearby, since Vendetta almost exclusively did all of his business from his own estate and rarely if ever left except for matters that required his physical presence, of which he didn't have anything scheduled that she was aware of.
"Treasurer Vendetta! We must have words!"
To her luck, he was indeed in his bedroom, and she'd apparently caught him just as he was coming from the bathroom and taking a shower, since he was very much nude with a towel wrapped around his neck and nothing else. Normally Dawn would have averted her eyes instantly and waited for him to dress, as was appropriate behavior in such a social situation as far as she knew, but this was hardly the time for manners.
Vendetta was, of course, genuinely surprised to see her, his eyes wide and mouth agape. "Shadow Associate Dawn? Well now, this is a surprise. A pleasant one, at that." He made zero attempt to hide or otherwise cover his shame; if anything, he seemed… emboldened? "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"The intention of this visit is as far from pleasurable as could be, Treasurer," she snorted. "Her Majesty's private airship was attacked en route to New Pandemonium this afternoon, no more than two or three hours ago. While the details are currently still in development, it is clear that whoever is responsible for this fiasco possessed the motivation of spoiling my lauded peace treaty."
He nonchalantly moved over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of brown liquid—Dawn wasn't adept at identifying liquors, but remembered that he preferred a certain liqueur, amaretto?—as well as a pair of glasses.
"And this concerns me because…?" he asked, his tone as nonchalant as his movements.
She stamped her hoof on his carpeted floor. It wasn't as imposed as she'd hoped it would be thanks to how well the carpeting cushioned the blow. "You, Treasurer, have been opposed to this peace from its inception! I demand that you provide evidence that you are not responsible. Now!"
He raised an eyebrow, not so much curious as intrigued. "Hmm. Yes, I can see why this would concern you. My heart doesn't exactly ache for Her Majesty Queen Blackburn—long may she reign—but I do know how important this peace is to you."
"Quite. So—"
He tilted his head towards his bottle of amaretto. "Drink?"
"What?"
"Would you like a drink? I always like to drink while talking business. I know it's not wine, as you prefer—magmaberry was your favorite, if I remember correctly—but I find that a good amaretto is more than suitable."
She rolled her eyes. "No thank you. Now, if you would please cease these attempts at distracting me?"
He smirked and poured himself a glass of his liqueur over some ice that he procured from a refrigerator inside the cabinet, then sat on the edge of his bed with almost calculated positioning so that Dawn would get a good look at… all of him even though she was trying not to, swirling his drink casually all the while. By the stars, was he becoming arroused?
"Is that what I am, Miss Dawn? Distracting?" he asked, taking a slow sip. "I know you made it clear that you weren't una creatura sessuale, but five years can certainly change a mare's mind and body, can't it." He traced a hoof over his chest. "Go on, bevilo—drink it in. This is what a real stallion looks like. Maybe you've just never seen one before?"
Her eye twitched. "Enough games, Treasurer. Provide me with the information I seek, or—"
He sharply rose up. "Or what? You come into my home, barge into my room, and demand anything of me while giving nothing in return? Sei deluso." He chuckled, sitting back down and setting a hoof down in his lap and patting it invitingly. "But I'll tell you what: I'll give you the evidence you want, if you give me a taste—"
Dawn, teeth clenched in anger, ignited her horn and grabbed Vendetta by the throat, then slammed him into the nearest wall hard enough to shake the room and knock loose several picture frames. There was an absolute seething anger welling up inside her that barely compared to how she normally felt about him and his deviant nature, which was saying quite a lot.
Her magical field flickered around the room with furious, violent purpose. She cared little for what was damaged or destroyed in the process as tendrils of black lightning snaked about, disintegrating anything and everything they touched: a vase, most of the nearby wall, half of his bed, portions of the ceiling. His bedchambers became a literal warzone; anypony or anything that got in the way of what she wanted right this moment wouldn't survive.
"You incomparably repugnant degenerate!" she spat, stepping forward so that they were almost face-to-face. "I approach you in the interest of protecting our city, in fostering peace with Hope's Point, and you dare to proposition me?! The ones responsible for this attack are a threat! Not just to Her Majesty, but to us! Now, answer me! Are you accountable one way or the other?!"
His hooves went up to her magical field around his neck; there was nothing for him to grab in order to relieve the pressure, no hooves or binds or anything physical, so it was a reflex. "Sei bello quando sei arrabbiato," he choked, somehow managing a cocksure grin.
"What? Speak Common Equish, you abhorrent cretin."
"You're beautiful when you're angry."
She tightened her hold on his throat, barely holding herself back from cutting straight through and decapitating him right then and there. "Answer my question!"
"Go on, girasole. Do it," he replied, barely getting the words out. There was fear in his eyes, absolutely, but also a flicker of something else that Dawn didn't recognize. "If you think that I had anything to do with this attack, then do it. Kill me."
She clenched her teeth and stepped forward so they were nose-to-nose. "Vendetta, you are playing a dangerous game—"
"Am I? We both know that I didn't have anything to do with any attack on Her Glorious Majesty. Sure, I wouldn't shed a tear if she and her two-bit husband crashed and burned, but I'd be a fool for trying to bring that about myself. Not just because it puts me in danger of being discovered, of course, but because I'd never do anything like that to you."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He chuckled, which seemed difficult to do considered he was being choked, but he somehow managed to do it and sound confident. "My dear Miss Dawn, why would I ever do anything to jeopardize my chances of earning your forgiveness and drawing you into my bed, hmm?"
"You are delusional if you think—"
"You can choose to believe me, or choose not to. I don't care which. Either kill me and be done with it, or release me and I'll forget that you broke into my home and threatened my life. What's it gonna be?"
Dawn tightened her grip further for an instant, then released it all at once so that Vendetta fell to the floor, coughing and clutching at his throat as if it would help him breathe better now.
"You disgust me, Vendetta," she hissed. "But, there is a certain undeniable wisdom to your claims. It would be foolhardy to arrange such an impetuous act of aggression when you are aware that I would immediately suspect your involvement. You are both impulsive and repulsive, but you are no simpleton."
"See? Was that so hard?" he chortled as he rose back up to his hooves, still rubbing his neck tenderly. "So, Miss Dawn, it would seem as if we're finally even, wouldn't you agree?"
"What? 'Even'?"
"Yes, 'even'," he said with that trademark cocksure smile as he picked up his spilled glass—miraculously it hadn't even been chipped—and moved to his cabinet to refill it. "You threatened me once before because I'd made the ill-advised mistake of messing with the wrong mare—your sister. This time though, you've broken into my home and threatened my life for something I'm utterly innocent of."
She raised an eyebrow, not following along with his train of thought. What was he getting at? "And that makes us 'even' how, exactly?"
He took a sip of his amaretto, stepping back over so that they were face-to-face again. "Simple. Now things can go back to the way they were before that unfortunate revelation. You no longer hold anything over my head." His hoof went up to gently cup her chin and very nearly press his nose against hers. "Actually, better than before. I didn't know you were so… dangerously attractive."
She paused a long moment, his words utterly befuddling her to no end, then snorted derisively, pushing his hoof away. "Treasurer Vendetta, if I have not been clear over these past several years, allow me to—"
"No no, have been clear, Dawn, very clear," he said, sitting back down on the bed and going right back to displaying himself; by the stars, he was aroused. Disgusting. "But those are just meaningless words in the end. There will come a time when you change your mind, when your body can no longer resist my masculine charm, when you crave what i can give to you. And I'll be eagerly waiting for when you do.
"Why, you even know how to come to my bedroom without anypony knowing about it. A handy skill for a mare to have if she's looking to capture my attention. Not to mention you know just what I like: a sharp, professional mare who isn't afraid to get a little… violent." With a wink, he added, "Maybe next time, girasole, you'll use your hooves to choke me, hmm?"
Her eye twitched again. "You… atrocious individual. Have you no shame whatsoever?"
"Careful, Miss Dawn. Flattery will get you everywhere."
As he laughed, Dawn seethed in place, then lit up her horn and with a flash and a pop, she was back in her office.
*****
By the time Dawn was ready to meet with Admiral Hotstreak and Director Underhoof, she had calmed down considerably. A shower, a cup of her favorite coffee, a cinnamon sugar donut, and some pleasant operatic music did wonders for her nerves, bringing her back down to earth with all due speed.
She sat at her desk and started up the conference call at the appointed time, greeted by the faces of Hotstreak and Underhoof as expected. The latter appeared to be her usual calm, composed self with nary a hair out of place in her mane, and as always was dressed for the occasion. The former, however, while groomed and dressed appropriately, was the picture perfect definition of stressed, his eyes belying the sheer anxiety he must have been under. And deservedly so.
"Director Underhoof, Admiral Hotstreak, I appreciate the punctuality, as always," Dawn said with a firm nod. "I have summoned you both to discuss the urgent matter in regards to the attack on the royal family of Hope's Point earlier this afternoon. I assume you each have been provided with the basics?"
Underhoof nodded first. "This attack is news to me, but Miss Curaçao provided me with a rundown. The CIA stands ready to investigate this matter with all of its resources."
"I, too, have been informed of the situation in full," Hostreak said, his mustache bristling. "And, as requested, I've brought with me all of the new information I can provide. Tangible information, of course, not simply eyewitness reports. I trust Commander Havoc's judgment of the situation but this requires more than just her say-so."
"Agreed," Dawn said, straightening her glasses and leaning back in her seat. "Admiral, if you would present your new information now, it would be greatly appreciated."
Hotstreak pressed a few dozen keys on his keyboard, and a new display window opened up in the call, which appeared to be little more than a collection of data packets. He opened the first one in the sequence, which then displayed a video feed—a live one, if the information on the screen was accurate.
It showed the wreckage of the Chameleon-class cruiser in the Wastelands, little more now than a smoldering hunk of metal. Beyond the clear explosive damage dealt to the hull, all of which appeared to have come from inside the ship, there were a number of smaller, almost pony-sized holes in the sides that appeared as if something had literally bored its way into and out of the ship's exterior.
Several smaller NPAF ships—search and rescue teams formed of Angel-class and Spirit-class light transports and emergency vessels—hovered about the wreckage. Some were dousing the derelict with water to put out the fires, others were scanning the remains with lights and data-retrieval devices, while some still were sweeping the nearby dusty plains for signs of life.
"This is the crew I've sent to investigate the site of the attack," Hotstreak explained. "Preliminary estimates suggest the first team arrived forty-five minutes after the attack occurred, and other teams arrived within the following ten minutes. Combat-ready cruisers have already pulled back from the scene, as there seems to be no further threat in the area.
"Initial scans indicate that the Chameleon-class was struck multiple times by some sort of new weapon that, in the words of the investigation team, melted straight through the ship's hull to the other side and vaporized every single internal system it came into contact with." He shook his head. "Worth noting is that the heat required to melt military-grade durasteel is roughly two thousand degrees Kelvin."
Dawn hummed to herself quietly, frankly a little impressed. Curaçao had said Havoc destroyed the ship entirely herself, and while she wanted to assume this was just Havoc exaggerating and boasting in a pathetic display of machismo from a mare, she knew there was no use denying it. The only other option would be that Queen Blackburn had secretly armed the Wyvern with powerful weaponry, which Dawn knew wasn't the case.
Speaking of which: "I have it under good authority that Her Majesty's airship was not equipped with any such armaments," she said, her eyes darting between both Underhoof and Hotstreak. "Ambassador Gray Skies communicated with me moments prior to the Wyvern's departure, and I trust her familiarity with the ship."
Underhoof raised an eyebrow. "Then what's responsible for the damage to the Chameleon? Commander Havoc? I wasn't under the impression that her flamethrower weaponry was capable of that level of destruction."
"For the moment, let us assume that there was a malfunction with the Chameleon's internal systems that caused a readout error in their damage reports," Hotstreak said, tilting his head and steepling his hooves. "Considering all of the hardware malfunctions within the NPAF airfield and shipyards related to the Chameleon over the past twenty-four hours, I must assume that the cruiser itself suffered similar issues."
"Of course," Underhoof said with a nod, clearly taking the hint that the issue was to be dropped; it was unimportant to the matter at hoof and made little difference otherwise.
"At any rate, all of our scans thus far have indicated there were no survivors on the Chameleon-class. The ship's entire internal infrastructure suffered massive damage. I was not exaggerating when I said that the innards of the ship were vaporized. That includes the crew."
Dawn hummed. "How many casualties would you estimate were suffered?"
"Assuming a full operating structure, that would be one hundred casualties. We're unsure if the cruiser was operating with a full crew, however, or utilizing automated AMP systems to fill the necessary positions."
"Either way, this indicates a lack of any potential witnesses from our perspective apart from Commander Havoc," Dawn said simply, finishing with a sigh of annoyance. "You are absolutely certain that there are no culprits to which we can assign blame or suspects that we can interrogate?"
"Unfortunately, Miss Dawn, no." Hostreak sighed, removed his hat, and ran a hoof through his sweaty mane. "Until the attack occurred—or rather, the disappearance of the Chameleon—I was under the assumption that the seditious elements within the NPAF had been dealt with accordingly. Not only does it seem that I was mistaken, but I have no way of knowing if there are more."
Dawn instantly snapped her gaze to Underhoof. "Director, I am entrusting you with the responsibility of uncovering any further NPAF corruption, effective immediately."
"Are you sure about that?" Underhoof asked, raising an eyebrow. "If I get involved with what seems to be an NPAF internal affair, word is going to get out. It could sour the reputation—"
"The reputation of the NPAF is the least of my concerns presently, Director," Dawn hissed. "It has been made abundantly clear that this seditionist movement is far more resourceful and secretive than we were initially led to believe. I will not have the peace efforts that I have endeavored to make a reality for years spoiled by some pathetic warmongering buffoons operating under our noses."
Hotstreak's mustache bristled angrily. "Miss Dawn, with all due respect—"
"No. Do not attempt to finagle yourself out of this, Admiral. I have spoken, and the CIA will be handling this investigation moving forward."
"Very well…" Hotstreak cleared his throat. "I have further data to present, of course." He tapped another key, and the next data packet opened, which displayed a series of lines of command code that Dawn had trouble parsing through at a glance.
"What is this, Admiral?" Dawn asked, adjusting her glasses to read it more clearly.
"Looks like AMP command data to me," said Underhoof, rubbing her chin. "Complicated command data, too. Lots of complex functions not included in standard-issue orders. Coded orders too, to make it more difficult to interpret at a glance."
"My crews recovered some of the Chameleon's AMP Trooper data cores that weren't destroyed in the battle," Hotstreak explained. "Most of them were found around the site, destroyed by small arms fire, not by any airship-mounted weaponry. This indicates that the royal family's bodyguards were involved in combat, likely defending the interior of the Wyvern from a boarding party."
"A perfectly justifiable action," Dawn said with a firm nod. "We cannot fault them for engaging in self-defense. All evidence thus far suggests the attack was completely unprovoked."
"What's interesting in the command data is that there were lots of complicated orders being issued, as Director Underhoof keenly observed, and which my technicians have managed to decipher. The AMPs were not set to simple 'board and neutralize' commands as is typical of our pre-ceasefire operations."
"Oh?"
"From what I've been told, the command orders suggest that…" Hotstreak leaned back and sighed. "The command orders suggest that the AMPs were attempting to abduct the children of Queen Blackburn and King Lockwood, to leave the Queen and King alive, and to kill or incapacitate any other resistance."
"What? Why?" asked a shocked Underhoof. "Wasn't the Chameleon trying to shoot down the Wyvern in the first place?"
"Without any survivors to interrogate, I don't have an answer to that. I can speculate, certainly, but I don't see what good that would do. Without a detailed report from Commander Havoc, I don't know the particulars of the attack."
Dawn nodded. "Then I shall ensure that such a report is delivered posthaste."
Hotstreak replaced his hat on his head. "In any case, I managed to keep the entire situation under wraps, as it should be. A 'routine training exercise' for the search-and-rescue teams, and a little manipulation of the scheduling so that Her Majesty's visit was delayed due to the upcoming dust storm. Nopony will question it."
"Exemplary foresight, Admiral," Dawn snorted derisively. "If only I could claim the same to be true of your handling of internal affairs."
Hotstreak paused a moment, clearly struck by the weight of those words. "With Director Underhoof's support, I don't foresee any further issues on that front. As I said, all of the evidence I had at hoof suggested that we'd quashed the insurrection completely over the past few years."
"Evidently not."
Dawn then steepled her hooves and stared right at Hostreak's image, barely keeping her aggravation in check. The admiral was supposed to be one of her most loyal allies, and her father had spoken highly of him and his capabilities in his personnel reports. She'd expected so much more, and yet here they were with enough disappointment to share.
"Admiral," she said after a moment's thought, "I am of the opinion that in the wake of this catastrophic turn of events, it would be unwise of me to permit such ineptitude to continue."
He raised an eyebrow. "Miss Dawn?"
"I am invoking Committee Guideline Article Two and exerting my authority insofar as the constitution of this Committee is concerned, namely the authorization of power to designate when a sitting member requires dismissal due to gross dereliction of duties.
"There will be a priority Committee meeting scheduled for dawn tomorrow—no delays will be accepted. You will formally announce your resignation as Admiral of the NPAF at said meeting, and you will recommend that I appoint your replacement rather than you appointing your own. For justification, there was an… unfortunate accident during the training exercise."
Hotstreak slumped back in his seat, his expression faltering. "I can't say that this surprises me, but… I'm still stunned by it." He shook his head. "Miss Dawn, if I might ask you to reconsider the matter of appointing my replacement. I have been grooming my son, Jetstream, for the position—"
Dawn huffed, narrowing her eyes. "And if he shares in his father's ineptitude, then he would be an ill-advised choice for the role."
"Please, Miss Dawn. He's worked together with Commander Havoc on many occasions, and the two are good friends. She will vouch for his capabilities."
"If you are so insistent, then perhaps I will consider including him in the potential pool of candidates that I will organize."
Hotstreak, looking quite defeated and not at all satisfied, merely nodded once. "That… is the most I can ask for, I suppose, given the circumstances. Is this a full retirement from the NPAF, or just from the Committee posting?"
"I believe that in your advanced age, Admiral, your commanding capabilities have diminished sufficiently enough that I would suggest a full retirement, just to ensure no further incidents."
"I see. Very well… I will make the announcement tomorrow morning."
"Excellent." She swiftly turned to Underhoof. "Director, you have your assignment. I expect prompt results. I will not tolerate similar ineptitude from your department. Understood?"
Underhoof's eyes were on Hotstreak at the moment, but she nodded. "Yes, Miss Dawn. I'll take care of everything."
"Then we are adjourned. I must prepare statements and apologies to deliver to the royal family, appoint a new NPAF Admiral, and collaborate with them on how best to approach our next attempt at a peace summit. Until tomorrow's meeting Director Underhoof, Admiral Hotstreak."
With that, she shut off the conference call, removed her glasses, and slumped back into her seat, feeling utterly exhausted.
No, today had not been a good day.
*****
Late that night, Havoc stared up at the ceiling of her hospital room, feeling as relaxed as she imagined was possible given the circumstances, and just let her mind wander. It had been difficult to keep her thoughts coherent over the past several hours; the painkillers drained her of her lucidity so much sometimes that she felt as though her mind and body were on different planets, let alone part of the same mare. It took a lot of effort just to focus her eye on a single ceiling tile.
Today was supposed to have been awesome. Instead, it had been awful, and that was in every sense of the word. She felt worse than she'd ever felt before. Angry. Sad. Disappointed. Confused. Every negative emotion she could think of just described how she felt so perfectly that there was no sense in picking just one, and then there was the physical pain and discomfort on top of it all.
No, today had not been a good day.
A light knock at the door indicated that she had company, though, which was odd. The nurse wasn't supposed to be back for another hour to check up on her and maybe administer another heaping helping of pain medication, and the doctor wasn't on duty again until morning unless there was an emergency. Visiting hours were long over, too.
Then the door cracked open a smidge, and Havoc saw the familiar face of Cotton Rose tentatively poke her head into the room. Cotton smiled immediately when she saw that Havoc was awake, then entered the room quietly and closed the door behind her. She was wearing a cute polyester blouse and a long, ruffled skirt that both matched the colors of the medical staff: dull green.
"Cotton?" Havoc muttered, rising up in bed just a little. "What are you doing here?"
"Coming to visit you, dummy," Cotton said with a grin as she approached the right side of the bed.
Havoc immediately tugged the bedsheets up so that her entire body was covered, save for her head and bits of her neck. She did it without even thinking, actually; it just happened automatically, as if on instinct. She even found herself tilting her head to the left so that her bandaged eye socket was against the pillow as much as possible, hidden from view.
As if noticing Havoc's turn, Cotton shifted around the left of the bed instead, pulling a little chair over in the process so that she could sit. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been better," Havoc grunted, barely containing the frustration in her tone; not frustration with Cotton, mind, but the whole situation.
Cotton frowned, but nodded slowly. "Sorry. I didn't mean that to sound insensitive. I know you're not feeling good, being in the hospital and all. It's just that the nurses wouldn't tell me anything when I tried to visit earlier, since we're not related or anything."
Havoc's good eye drifted up to Cotton, curious. "You tried to visit earlier?"
"Yeah, but like I said, we're not related, so they're not taking just anypony as visitors yet." Cotton smiled again and gestured proudly at her clothes. "Sooo, I went back home and put together this little ensemble. I look enough like a nurse that nopony stopped me on my way through the hall. I had to be pretty sneaky, though."
"You snuck in here? To visit me?"
"Of course I did," Cotton said, tilting her head and looking as if the question Havoc had asked had been incredibly stupid. "I mean, I heard on the news that you got hurt saving Her Majesty and the royal family. The whole city knows what you did. You're a hero. More than ever before."
"Oh. I guess that makes sense, yeah. I didn't really expect anypony to tell you anything." Havoc sighed, shaking her head softly. "Sorry if I don't seem like it, but I am glad to see you. I guess I just wasn't expecting you so soon. Or to sneak in to see me. You couldn't wait until regular visiting hours?"
"Psh, no. I had to see you, sooner rather than later." Cotton shook her head, and her expression turned angry. "I had to tell you how stupid I think you are, you idiot. You almost got yourself killed today."
Havoc blinked, surprised and confused; why was Cotton so angry about this? She'd never been angry before about Havoc risking her life. "I mean… yeah, but nopony else could've done what I did."
"I know that, but that doesn't mean I'm not upset with you about getting hurt." Cotton reached her hoof out towards Havoc's covers. "How bad is it, anyway? Nopony knows except the ponies they'll tell, but you can tell me—"
Havoc instinctively shied away from Cotton's hoof, tugging the covers close. "It's not that bad, but Doc says I gotta keep it covered up."
"Oh, yeah, I imagine you've got a few bandages under there," Cotton said with a sagely nod. She reached her hoof out again. "But I'm gonna make you a new jacket to wear over it while you're recovering, so I need to have an idea about where—"
Havoc tugged the covers closer. "No, that's okay. Any old jacket oughta do. Whatever you make will be fine, I'm sure of it. I love all the jackets you make for me, you know that. I wear them all the time. Warm in the winter, airy in the summer, and they look boss. Yup."
Cotton tilted her head. "I know I make good clothes, bunbun, but I want to make sure it breathes in all the right areas and covers you up so that you'll feel comfortable. I need to know where I have to pay the most attention to. Why are you acting so weird?"
"What? I'm not acting weird," Havoc scoffed. "You're the one who's acting weird, babe."
"No, you're acting weird. Why are you trying to hide from me?" Cotton frowned. "Is it bad? Oh no, did… did your wing get hurt? I'm so sorry, I should've thought about that."
"No, it's not like that. I mean, yeah, I got pretty banged up, but my wing's fine. I just, uh, don't want you to see anything until I'm all patched up. Wouldn't want you to get squeamish, y'know?"
Cotton gave Havoc a half-lidded stare. "Havoc. You know I'm not the squeamish type. I watched you slice yourself open trying to cut limes for tequila shots just two months ago. I took you to the emergency room and everything. And it wasn't the first time either, 'cause you're a klutz-and-a-half in the kitchen."
"Oh. Oh, right. This is, uh… different. Yeah. And I, uh… don't want you to see it."
"Bunbun, you're never like this. So… shy. It's totally unlike you, and it's scaring me." Cotton set her hoof on Havoc's good one, the one on top of the covers. "Please, just tell me what's wrong?"
Havoc paused, staring into Cotton's eyes, then sighed and muttered so quietly that she was surprised anypony could hear: "I don't want you to see me like this…"
"What? I've seen you hurt before—"
"Not like this you haven't. And… and it's not going to get better. Doc says a lot of the damage is permanent. I'm gonna have these scars for the rest of life, most likely. And worse."
Cotton froze, then gulped quietly, her expression soft and gentle. "You don't have to hide it from me, Havoc."
Havoc considered Cotton for a moment, then closed her good eye, nodded slowly, and turned her head so that Cotton could see the bandaged eye socket clearly. She also tugged her sheets down and lifted up her hospital gown so that Cotton could see the extent of the injuries. Her Restomancy treatments had finished their healing process by now, so the nurses had removed all of the gauze.
Havoc's entire left side, from her face all the way down to her flank, was covered in ghastly scarring. Shrapnel impacts had torn into her, and the surgery required to remove them so that they didn't kill her had apparently been neither noninvasive nor gentle. Havoc had unknowingly cauterized most to the wounds herself before she even got to the hospital. What remained were nothing but burn scars, including one that almost completely obscured her cutie mark on that side of her body.
Cotton's hooves rose to her mouth as she gasped. "Oh my stars! Havoc, what the hell happened? This isn't 'pretty bad', this is terrible." A glance at Havoc's eye made her frown. "Oh no, don't tell me your eye, too… oh, Havoc…"
"I know…" Havoc sighed, setting her gown back down to hide herself away again. "That's why I didn't want you to see it. I got fucked up, and you shouldn't have to see me like this." She rolled back onto her side, this time facing away from Cotton. "I'd understand completely if you don't want to see it again."
"What?"
"You heard me. With all this shit all over me, I'd get it. Plus I still have no idea what I'm gonna do about my eye," she said, tapping the bandage there. "So, y'know… if you don't want to see it or me again, I'd get it."
Cotton was silent for a long moment. "You think that just because you got hurt and have a few scars that I'd never want to see you again?" she asked, almost incredulous.
Havoc turned slightly. "I mean, yeah? You wanted to see how bad it was so you'd know if I still looked good, didn't you?"
"Bunbun… Havoc… I don't care about any of that. I didn't want to see how it looked because I care if you're still attractive. It's because I worry about you. I'm always worried about you."
"Huh?" Havoc asked, rolling all the way onto her back so that she could look at Cotton again.
Cotton got up from her seat and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. "You go out into the Wasteland all the time to fight against big, scary bugs that frequently used to kill ponies. You're always putting yourself in harm's way, and I'm always worried that you're gonna come back hurt, or… or that you won't come back at all."
Havoc let a little smirk come to her lips. "Why would you be worried about that? I'm awesome."
Cotton scowled. "Why wouldn't I be worried that the mare that I love is in danger?!" she snapped, her hooves coming down onto the pillow on either side of Havoc's head.
Havoc blinked, frozen in place for a long moment as she tried to process what was said. Had she misheard Cotton because of the pain meds? "Did… did you just—"
Cotton paused, then gave a little nervous smile, her face redder than Havoc's coat. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."
"I, uh… I thought we were just, y'know, fuck buddies, or dating at best?"
"And if that's how you want things to keep going, then that's fine with me." Cotton said, giving Havoc another gentle smile. "But after seeing you like this and knowing how close I came to losing you? I needed you to know that I love you. I have for a while, but… I wasn't ready to say it. I'll understand if you don't feel the same, but—"
Havoc grabbed Cotton and pulled her down onto the bed, kissing her gently, but only briefly. When she pulled away, she gave Cotton a dumb little smile, keeping their foreheads together and ignoring the returning pain in her side. She couldn't even stop herself from crying, something she never did in front of anypony, ever.
"I was so scared that you'd never want to see me again," Havoc breathed, sniffing and she tried to fight back the tears. "Nopony's ever made me feel like you do."
Cotton, also with a dumb little smile on her face, brushed Havoc's mane out of the way of her good eye. "So, does this mean you do feel the same?"
"I wouldn't be scared like that if I didn't want to be with you. I love you too, Cotton. More than anypony."
"That makes me so happy to hear that."
"I… I have for a long time, and… I kinda want to be with you for, uh… forever, I guess." Havoc loudly sniffed and took a deep breath; the tears were making this harder than it had to be. "Shit, I'm bad at this. I blame the pain meds. They've had me hopped up on some powerful shit. It's starting to wear off a bit, but uh… yeah."
Cotton looked absolutely stunned. "Are… are you asking me to—"
"Oh no no, marriage ain't my deal. I'm not wife material." Havoc paused, then hastily and nervously cleared her throat. "N-not that, I… I wouldn't want to marry you. It's just that marriage is… not my deal. I don't want to be anypony's 'wife' or walk down an aisle in a frou-frou white dress."
"There's more to being married than wearing a dress down an aisle, bunbun," Cotton said with a quirked grin. "Besides, I'd be wearing the dress. I could make you a snappy little tuxedo fit for a mare. Ooh, or, you could wear your dress uniform, the one you wore to your sister's wedding. In fact, yeah, wear that. You're extra hot in uniform," she added, biting her lip.
Havoc blushed, imagining Cotton walking down an aisle in a lovely white wedding dress. She shook that thought away though; she needed to focus. "Okay, so… maybe a little private ceremony sounds… nice. Really nice. I never thought of that. Just the two of us and like, an officiator or something?"
"That sums it up, yeah. Lots of couples do it like that these days."
"Good, 'cause like, you wanted to visit earlier right? But you couldn't, because you're not family? Well, if you and I were, uh… married, they wouldn't have a problem with it. So, let's do that. I'll get Queen Bee on it in the morning. She'll figure something out to get it done quick and easy-like."
"Wow, you're really gung-ho about this, aren't you?" Cotton snickered.
"Hell yes I am. I love you, and I want you to be… part of my family." Havoc gulped and took one of Cotton's hooves in her good one. "So, uh… let me try this again. The right way." She paused again. "Wait, shit, I don't have a ring or anything—"
"Just ask me the question, dummy," Cotton interjected,
"Oh. O-okay."
Havoc took another deep, deep breath; her nerves were acting up something fierce, and the painkillers had long since worn off but she wasn't going to let a little pain get in the way of the most important moment of her life.
"Cotton… will you m-marry me?"
Cotton stayed quiet for a moment, then grinned and booped Havoc's nose gently with her free hoof. "Absolutely. I love you, Havoc, and I would love to spend my life together with you."
Havoc let out a sigh of relief, feeling like the entire world had just done the same. "Cool. Cool cool cool, super cool." Another breath. "So, uh… now that this is kind of 'official', or whatever… what exactly do we call each other here? Like I said, I don't want to be a 'wife'. Is… is 'wife' good with you, or…?"
"You can call me your 'partner' and I'll do the same for you, if that's what you'd prefer. I know things sometimes get complicated with these sorts of marriages."
Havoc smirked. "'Partner'? What, like we're in fucking business together?"
Cotton waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, there'll be fucking business, for sure."
She leaned in and kissed Havoc again, though this time it wasn't quite a soft, gentle kiss, and it made Havoc's heart beat just a little faster. Havoc's left hoof—she didn't want to call it the "bad" hoof because it wasn't, but it wasn't "good" like her right—slid up Cotton's side and snaked its way under Cotton's skirt—
Somepony cleared their throat from the doorway. Havoc and Cotton looked to see that it was the nurse. "Ahem?" she said, expression disapproving but… intrigued?
"Oh, uh… I was just—" Cotton muttered, eyes wide with worry.
Havoc realized that Cotton would get in trouble for sure; she wasn't supposed to be here, seeing as they were actually married yet. "It's my fault! I… I asked her to come here!" she blurted.
"I'm supposed to be administering Miss Havoc's pain medication soon," the nurse said flatly. She lifted her foreleg up to glance at her watch. "I'll be back in two minutes, so any unauthorized visitors had better not be here when I get back."
"Y-yeah, sure—" Cotton started.
"And they'd probably want to come to my nurse station to get themselves added to the permission list, which does allow for engaged partners to visit, by the way. Speaking of which, congratulations."
Cotton blinked, stunned. "Um… r-right." She glanced at Havoc briefly, then back to the nurse, biting her lip as she did. "Only two minutes?"
The nurse narrowed her eyes in disbelief. "Two. Minutes. Starting… now. My patient's in no condition for anything… strenuous. Understand?"
"Spoilsport," Havoc muttered under her breath.
"I can make it one minute if you'd like?" the nurse quipped.
Havoc slapped her right hoof over her mouth.
The nurse then left the room. Havoc and Cotton turned back to look at each other, chuckled and giggled respectively, then returned to their kissing and… well, a little light petting wouldn't hurt anypony.
Maybe today wasn't so terrible after all.