4. Scene – In the sky
(the Chinook has cancelled its ten minute area supervision, and returns to the designated air path towards the mainland. Kinsman loosely sits on the co-pilot’s seat, meticulously studying a map. His second, ‘Jane’, has instilled the autopilot. The situation is all in all very relaxed. Locon, the aeronautical engineer, leans over the cockpit’s ice box and tosses Coke cans to the others, who gratefully catch them)
·Kinsman: Thanks, Locon. *opens it and drains it halfway in only one mouthful* I hope *points down* the gentlemen manage to amuse themselves down there. But I have no idea how to pick them up again. They didn’t set an ultimatum or anything…
·Locon: DILLIGAF? I’m just happy that we could bug out without any further special requests of their ‘majestic highnesses’. *takes a big zip* Should’ve been my free day today. No flight routines, no training, no patrolling, not even bloody desking, how generous is that? Anyways, then *gesticulates with a hand-wave* the Light Colonel himself flutters up at my place about “the classified escort assignment” for that bunch of pencil brass. And my mood went downhill from that moment on. And on your question who’ll pick them up again, Flogg Off; *wipes his mouth* let C-group do it. That lazy bunch of WOBTAMs. *empties his can*
·Kinsman: RHIP, my friend. I was at least proposed to.
·Locon: And you accepted it?
·Kinsman: Yes. Because ‘that’s’ *points at his smile* how you impress the brass. Y’know flying politicians around and being all cosmopolitan and contributioning or whatever. And we didn’t even fly over unknown terrain. Hell, it’s not even boring! There’s interesting things going down there. Why else would you think the goddamn UN is interested in it?
·Locon: Oil. It’s always oil these days.
·Kinsman: I heard that it’s about a lost tribe or civilisation something. And rare animals. Or both. Figure they have a few spare dodos lurking around. *squashes the empty can and nonchalantly throws it on the ground; turn to his co-pilot* So Jane. How’s the course? Are we over the borders soon?
·Jane: *equally nonchalant* No, Flogg Off. In fact, I’m quite worried it will take much longer. The autopilot is being nuts again. I’m currently trying to spot ourselves on the map.
·Kinsman: And *his patience being tested* you couldn’t have told us this incredibly disturbing matter of facts any earlier?! FIGJAM, Jane, FIGJAM!
·Jane: *trying to evade Flogg Off’s berating, he looks outside on his side; he notices a very large cloud, formed like an entire white mountain range floating in mid-air* Now that’s interesting.
·Locon: *follows Jane’s view* Well, where did that big thing come from?! A cumulus cloud, and how!
·Kinsman: Looks dangerous. We change the flying route above it. There’s no point in circumventing it left or right. Advancing to 16500 feet…
·Jane: *takes out his binocular* Now, that is very strange. *hands the binoculars to Kinsman* Flogg Off, look at those shadows atop of the cloud. They look like structures of some sort.
·Kinsman: *looks through them* Aaaah, yes. Very funny optical illusion, but nothing special, really. *turns to Jane* Ever been to New Zealand? That’s where the landscape starts getting really interesting.
·Locon: *inspecting the radar panel; quizzical* Uhm, Flogg Off. You better take a look at that one here.
(The radar screen shows a tiny but fast little dot closing in on the Chinook from behind)
·Kinsman: *bows over and observes the small dot* Its fast. But nowhere near the speed or agility of a SAM or AAM.
·Locon: No doesn’t look like it. *observes it for another second* But it is coming closer. It’s trailing path is curved and inconsistent. As if it were manually directed.
·Jane: So it’s a plane?
·Locon: No, it’s nowhere near the size of a plane. It’s the size of a medium missile…
·Kinsman: *sitting upright in his seat* That’s good enough for me. *straps himself hard; jumps into action*. Jane, deactivate the autopilot.
·Jane: *leans forward toward the switch panels* Right, Flogg Off! *the helicopter trembles and turns as the autopilot is exited*
·Kinsman: And Locon, make the IDFs ready!
·Locon: *dashes towards his sear, buckles in and makes use of the switches* Yes, Flogg Off!
·Kinsman: *checks his mechanical watch* So, Jane, make ready for evasive manoeuvre starting at fifteen!
(Fifteen seconds go by as the crew actively watches the mysterious FO advance upon their Chinook. 10000 feet, 5000 feet…)
·Kinsman: Locon; flares! Jane, turn ‘er around!
·Locon: Affirmative, Flogg Off!
·Jane: Yes, Flogg Off!
(A rocket-like hissing emanates from the Chinook’s back as the area outside is lit in orange light. Then the Chinook immediately whirls around by it’s two rotor sets, shaking and pulling fast to right. The crew cling to their belts, but Locon watches the left side’s porthole to espy the mysterious trailer. It shoots past it like a white and yellow flash. As the helicopter normalises again, the three airmen see that the thing has suddenly halted and stopped only a few dozen metres left from their windscreen.)
·Jane: It’s a bloody bird! It must be, it’s standing, like, in mid-air.
·Locon: That is not a bird, Jane. Look. It’s got… legs. Four of ‘em.
·Kinsman: It’s a… *doesn’t believe his own eyes* It’s a Pegasus!
(The Pegasus outside makes menacing movements with it’s hooves that resemble them carving in an arena’s sand. Then, suddenly, its takes another shot directly at the windshield, much to the helpless pilots’ horror. But it stops directly in front of it, staring at them.)
·Kinsman: (breathes) I do not believe it… a real Pegasus. A real Pegasus!
·Locon: *lost for any other words* Your orders, Flogg Off?
(The Pegasus, however, bangs against with his hooves against the windshield, then rests his head against it, glaring once more at the crewmen. Only now do they notice it wears metal plates and a helmet that resembles ancient greek armour. The armour looks like pure gold)
·Jane: It doesn’t like us. SNAFU.
·Kinsman: Second that.
(Then, the Pegasus slides to the right of the helicopter, apparently meticulously looking for an entry point. It drags the hooves alongside the plane’s outer skin, creating as haunting scratching sound.
Meanwhile, only a kilometre beneath, lies Cloudsdale, misinterpreted by the pilots as visual illusions. Rainbow Dash and Derpy have a private cloud circumventing marathon. As Derpy, slower as always, gets one full roundabout, she nearly collides with a Royal Guard Pegasus flying through the race track, apathetic to both Rainbow Dash’s and Derpy’s presence)
·Rainbow: Hey, watch where you’re going, or you’ll have to deal with me!
·Derpy: Yeah, you’ll have to deal with her!
(Before they can get any further, they espy the Chinook hovering far above them.)
·Rainbow: Is something going on up there?
·Derpy: Well, I don’t see anything…
·Rainbow: *still looking up* Derpy, if you won’t put on those darn glasses sooner or later, you wont see where you’re flying either.
·Derpy: I can see perfectly awesome. Thank you very much for your trustfulness, Rainbow Dash!
·Rainbow: *notices the strange thing above* It’s another royal guard. He’s attacking something.
·Derpy: *gawking up* Wut?
·Rainbow: I have no idea.
(Notices how the Royal Guard tries to attack the rear end of the Chinook, just as another flare round shoots out, in a desperate attempt to frighten him away. The Guard notices that the phosphorus bullet scuffed his tail, and evokes a panicked yelp as he shoots straight back to Cloudsdale, leaving a black smoke trail all the way)
·Rainbow: Whoah, it spurting fire! It’s attacking him!
·Derpy: We have to do something!
(Speaking of the devil, several more Guard-Pegasi storm past them, taking off to engage the monstrous thing. Two of the guards halt, and turn around to Rainbow, whom they remember)
·Guard: Hey, aren’t you the weather pony who won in the Best Young Flying Competition?
·Rainbow: *skeptic* Uh… yeah?
·Guard: *stern and certain* We may need your help. That monstrosity up there was trying to attack Cloudsdale. Thank goodness we had caught it on the hop! But it’s armoured, so we cannot beat it down. Can you possibly blow it out of the sky with a tornado or a thundercloud?
·Rainbow: *modesty* Heh, if you mean I should… *suddenly vitalised* a tornado sounds good! I’ll give you the biggest tornado you have ever set eyes on!
·Guard: *unimpressed* Follow us.
·Derpy: *hyped* And and and what about me? Can’t I help with something too?
·Guard: *bluntly* No, Derpy! *flies off with Rainbow*
·Derpy: *disgruntled; hissing to herself* ‘Oooh no Derpy, we don’t need your help, Derpy, you’re of no use, Derpy!’ *double-takes* Wait, how did he know my name?
(The guards scatter as Rainbow begins with her big whirls around the supposedly dreaded fire-spitter. She gets faster and faster, collects all the clouds she can find on the way. Soon, when she reaches a break-neck speed, she releases the clouds, and the winds inside the designated area get more and more turbulent. The pilots try to fly away, but they cannot control the Chinook optimally enough to make it outside. They are trapped in the eye of the storm)
·Rainbow: *can hardly speak due to the speed* That’s what you get for trying to ruin my hometown, you monsteeeeeeeer!
(The Chinook can no longer balance out the wind pressure, and begins to turn with the wind. As it now is out of control, it begins to float out of the eye, right into the dangerous current. Inside, Kinsman, Lokon and Jane make their prayers as the red emergency lights and electronic alert signals dye the cockpit red)
·Kinsman: *while being rocked back and forth by the storm* I don’t know what we have gone ourselves into. It’s like a bad dream from which we can’t manage to wake up!
·Lokon: *suddenly unbuckles himself, much to the shock of the others* This is not how I’m going to go, Flogg Off! *rips the parachute from under his seat* I’m going to jump for it!
·Jane: Are you mental?! Have you seen what’s happening out there?!
·Lokon: Yes! And no, sir, I don’t know what’s going on! But by God, I at least want to end up the way I want to! Flying like a bird!
·Kinsman: *looks for his parachute* Or a bloody Pegasus, hah! Where’s my chute, Jane? *Jane frightenedly looks at him* What? I don’t have anything to lose now, do I?
·Jane: No! No, sir! *unbuckles himself*
(The Chinook turns and tilts, and eventually literally falls out of the sky. Rainbow Dash exhaustedly looks at the hurricane she initiated. The hurricane slowly diminishes again; she had carefully made him short-lived so Cloudsdale itself would not be imperilled.
Then she spots the Chinook’s back hatch opening; the three jump out, falling nearly synchronically with the helicopter. Then, one chute after another opens. They are literally hurled away from the whirlwind, enabling them to slowly but gradually descend upon Cloudsdale.
The Chinook however, drops directly at the city’s heart. Countless Pegasi make a fly for it as the massive iron bird melts through the individual cloud layers like a hot knife through butter, and then proceeds to plummet towards earth and out of eyesight. The three pilots dangle on their chutes, nearly five kilometres above the mainland. The remaining winds carry them towards the massive cloud, and only now do they notice the white buildings and streams of rainbow colour making up most of the surface. Locon lands first, when his parachute becomes entangled on a big chimney which strangely lies in-between many, tiny small rain clouds. Kinsman lands on solid roman roofing belonging to the great forum in the centre. Jane, on the other hand, sinks right through the ground, unable to find a solid halt.)
·Kinsman: *overwhelmed by what just happened; unpacks a small emergency radio* Ahem, Locon, do you read me?
·Locon: *hears the radio message; sees Kinsman sitting on the forum roof, about 500 metres away; answers extremely calmly* Positive, Flogg Off. Every single word. Over.
(an awkward silence ensues as both dazed men fully realise that they have landed on)
·Locon: *looks left and right* Dear God. *to radio* Flogg Off?
·Kinsman: I hear you.
·Locon: Are we, by any chance, in heaven? Because I always thought that heaven looks like this.
·Kinsman: Negative, Locon. *Scrambles to the edge of the roof, looking for the plane, but is instead received by dozens of Pegasi on the main square, looking up to him.* Very negative.
·Locon: Negative negative or WAG negative?
·Kinsman: The latter. Say, have do you happen to see Jane or the bird around here somewhere?
·Locon: *tries to see everything around him, until he remembers that he hangs by his shoulders* Ehm, negative. Over.
·Kinsman: This is really bad. We’re stranded. So’s the pencil brass on the ground.
·Locon: Will someone get us down? Sooner than later?
·Kinsman: *takes another look at the stunned crowd* Definitely.