//------------------------------// // Leningrad - Kanterlot // Story: Forward and upward // by Solntsepek //------------------------------// On a dark night under the light of a full moon, drowning out the noise and hubbub of people, the whistle of a jet-black locomotive with a red star sounded, its shrilly call garnering the passengers to their cars. The station's platform was crowded. On the second track, where the train was now standing, groups of young commanders from Leningrad were crowding separately, finishing their second cigarette and arguing about something. Soldiers, commanders, doctors, and political workers were saying their goodbyes to their families, then hurrying to the train before the start of their long journey. Chkalov pushed through the mourners, hurrying to the third car. It seemed that the suitcase would come off along with the hand — it was so cramped tonight. But miracles happen in everyday life, so the pilot still managed to catch his train "Leningrad — Canterlot", which was coming from the second, cultural capital. Having arrived safely to his car, Chkalov provided the documents to the military conductor, without having sorted out the rank in the light of the dim lanterns of the platform. The conductor, having unfolded the documents and examined them thoroughly, returned them to the owner. "Your place, Comrade Brigade Commander, is the thirty-first. Please come in,” the conductor's attention completely switched then to a middle-aged woman standing behind Chkalov with a hardened look. “and don't linger any longer, we're leaving now... Citizen, I'm sorry, you can't come here, only bypasses..." Climbing the ladder inside, the pilot encountered the same senior commanders as himself. Almost everyone tried to get comfortable on their shelf, preparing it for bed, while others sat with calm expressions and weren’t drinking tea with eating gingerbread. It was easy to guess that these were the same commanders from the cool, windswept Leningrad. Soon they would serve hand in hand not only in another state but also in another world, in another universe. Throwing the suitcase with personal belongings under the lower shelf, Chkalov climbed onto the upper one and, with his hands behind his head, with a heavy sigh, began to scroll through the latest events in his head. The day turned out to be chaotic; there was no time to think about everything that happened. And Chkalov didn't want to, to be honest. Now there was plenty of it on the way, and in order not to be bored in vain, he started thinking. Equestria. A place, personally unfamiliar to Chkalov, was heard by almost every citizen of the USSR. Magic, miracles, and another world opened just a little over a month ago. ‘Nonsense!’, everyone who believed in science a little bit would say, but no one began to perceive the statement personally from the party and Comrade Stalin as a stupid and unsuccessful joke. The tension was growing by leaps and bounds, many people became afraid that the seizure of their native world would begin. The unknown was frightening. But at some point, everyone was allowed to breathe a sigh of relief when the diplomats returned with good news. A month later, the recruitment of specialist volunteers for a business trip to the other side of the portal began, and last week, a limited military contingent of the Red Army. The telegram sent about the request to urgently arrive in Moscow from vacation explained practically nothing; only an appointed meeting with Stalin personally dispelled the confusion. There was a set of those who want to stand guard over the tranquility of another country for a year and a half. Let it sound proud and even belligerent, but because of the peacefulness of the locals, soldiers, and their commanders will hardly have to take up arms and shed their blood. Then it became clear why a couple of days ago the test pilot was unexpectedly offered a business trip and command of a brigade in the state under the unusual and strange name Equestria. The party needed to send its trusted people to Equestria, and such as Chkalov could show the color of the common people of the Soviet Union. Chkalov did not refuse such a trip, allured by the possibility of new and interesting adventures. The spirit of everything new, unknown, and beautiful has not yet left him. The next couple of days passed like a flash in the confusion and the day of the trip crept up unnoticed… Glasses of hot tea rattled on iron cup holders, the wheels of the train rattled appeasingly and tankers chatted quietly from below. Two stocky and swarthy commanders, their tunics unbuttoned from the stuffiness, discussed the current situation in another world, about the monarchs standing there on duty, about their love and dislike for simple and hardworking people. Yawning, Chkalov looked at his wristwatch and blinked in surprise: the time was well past midnight. Stretching, he turned over on his side, rightly believing that the morning of the evening would be more complicated. *** The light of the bright Sun filtered through the large, uncurtained window, warming everything that stood on the table. The dream, pleasant, but so shaky, slipped away somewhere as someone persistently shook the pilot by the shoulder. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he saw the guide standing over him. "Five minutes until we arrive at Canterlot Train Station. You should get ready, Comrade Brigade Commander." "Okay, I got you." Having heard the affirmative answer, the conductor went further along the car to wake up the others, leaving Chkalov to jump off his shelf and go to wash his face. It was not fitting for a commander to get acquainted with a dirty and sleepy new city. As the conductor said, the train stopped exactly five minutes later. The aisle was already crowded with people with personal belongings. Taking his small brown suitcase, the pilot moved to the exit. Having descended onto the gray-yellow platform, Chkalov, like most of those present here, was surprised by the beauty of this place. A low-roof station building with a mounted clock stood opposite it, and behind, in the distance, towered the spires of a white stone castle. Even from the city center, it was visible at a glance. "Comrades, enter the station building! I repeat, please enter the station building!" a white-haired man in the uniform of an NKVD major with crimson buttonholes broadcasted through a megaphone. Most of the newcomers, talking quietly, went to the arch of the building. It was then that Chkalov saw an inhabitant of this world for the first time: a pony. It was a black mare in a train station employee uniform. She had a small stature and, relatively speaking, large, expressive green eyes. She looked at the approaching people without much surprise on her face while they openly and shamelessly stared at her. Inside the station, there were many spacious benches. With some noise, the arrivals sat down and awaited further instructions. A few minutes later, a familiar NKVD major returned. He looked at everyone present with a heavy sigh and began to explain the situation without a mouthpiece. "Commanders, military doctors, political workers, and fighters, you are now in the capital of Equestria, in the city of Canterlot. I think all of you have already been told about your new responsibilities and rights. I will only repeat the most important of them: do not use your service weapon against the local population, do not engage in fraud, and do not interfere in local showdowns. And, of course, be polite, kind-hearted, and, if possible, help. Remember, all other people will be judged by you. You will learn the rest directly at the place of your service. In the meantime, you will temporarily reside here in Canterlot. Any questions?" "May I apply?" a young political officer in a dashing cap raised his hand. The major nodded affirmatively and the political instructor continued: "How long do we have to sit here?" The gray-haired man stood for a while, thoughtfully stroking his chin, but answered: "Unfortunately, I can't say. Most of you will go to your units today or the following day, but there will also be those who will have to wait up to a week. This is the deadline." he answered the political instructor's question with full confidence. "Is that all?" the major asked. Silence answered him. "Then I ask you, comrades, to follow me to the castle. There, you will receive the keys to your rooms." Everyone stood up- Chkalov turned out to be almost at the very beginning of the column with more than a hundred people. Three three-toners and two Black Emks were waiting for them on the street. Senior commanders were offered a place in the command vehicles, while the rest had to settle in open trucks. There was an incredible heat, from which there was nowhere to hide. But unbuttoning the tunics and taking them off was not supposed to be according to the regulations, and it was simply indecent. A little further away there were already curious ponies of all types and varieties. According to the issued brochure, Chkalov already knew about all four types of ponies: pegasus, unicorns, terrestrial, and alicorns. There were even a few reporters taking pictures of the people arriving by train. Someone waved with a smile, some just watched with their head tilted to one side, and some went about their business without noticing anyone. Sitting in the back seat of the emochka, the pilot immediately opened the window — albeit not much, but it helped to cope with the hot air. The divisional commissar was sitting next to Chkalov. He kept wiping the sweat running down his face and neck with a blue handkerchief and adjusting his thin-rimmed glasses. Ahead was a young driver, tanned to a bronze hue, and a major of the NKVD already familiar to everyone present. Reaching out and shaking hands with everyone present, he said: "Let's get acquainted. Pyotr Mikhailovich." "Valery Pavlovich." replied Chkalov. "Alexey Valentinovich. The commissar nodded and also squeezed his calloused palm. "So we met. If you have any questions, feel free to come to me, I will always be happy to clarify anything you’re confused about." smiled Pyotr Mikhailovich. The first car started, followed by all the others, letting everyone give way to the column, driving slowly to avoid hitting an unwary foal or distracted resident. The road was originally for everyone, without sidewalks, and not made for modern cars. Chkalov took off his cap and, putting it on his knees, began to look at the city around him. Canterlot was definitely ancient, full of unusual architecture; Chkalov thought it would be a good idea to walk through these streets in the coming evening until his work was loaded. A strange sense played out before the pilot during his sightseeing. On the other side of the street was an open carriage with an earth pony harnessed to its front. He was carrying his passengers, two unicorns, at an easy trot. “So, they’re unaware of the work of an ordinary horse. I wonder if this place has sledges here?” Chkalov thought, eyeing the passing cart with a surprised look. The car then turned a corner, driving onto a humpback bridge over an artificial river about a meter and a half across, and started to go down a new street. A ghostly coolness wafted from it, which disappeared at the next moment. There were bright and colorful signs of shops and cafes. But not only ponies were sitting in the open air at street-side tables of eateries — here and there, Chkalov noticed people in military uniforms. They drank tea with a pony across from them without experiencing a sign of discomfort from their unheard conversations. A light aroma of sweet pastries flew into the car's interior, arousing the appetite of all those sitting within. The driver, looking into the rear mirror, apparently noticed Chkalov began to scour the houses with his eyes in search of the source of such a delicious smell, said: "Comrade Brigade Commander, may I apply?" "Of course." "Here, on the corner of this street, is an excellent bakery, although it’s not very noticeable at first glance. The ponies cooking there are, relatively, inexpensively and make good food." "Hmm, thanks. I'll take that into account." the pilot nodded gratefully to this advice. Turning back to the window, Chkalov again began to look over the architecture of Canterlot, all the while thinking that the city would be a good place for his future service. Let it be a bit far from the center to the outskirts, where his brigade will most likely be, but the local beauty and diversity cover it all. The road then went uphill. Ten minutes later, a line of cars drove under an arch with statues of two alicorns holding the Sun and the Moon. The territory of the princesses' castle has gone. The driver of the car turned sharply to the right and drove into a parking lot. "That's it, comrades, we’ve arrived." said the major as he opened his door. "Come on." When everyone left the car, they had already taken out a cigarette from their packs, intending to take a drag of bitter smoke, but the major pulled them back. "Please do not linger. You will always have time to smoke." Disappointed, the soldiers and commanders put them back in their pockets. Chkalov just grinned at this and looked around- a park was not too far away, full of tall and shady trees, and white stone statues of various exotic creatures everywhere. The road they turned off led directly to a small square in front of the castle, their tall spires, undoubtedly of the great architect, were pointed to the sky and the Sun. As soon as everyone gathered, a group of people moved to the entrance of the castle. And when they approached, the group was met by guards standing on either side; gilded cuirasses and helmets sparkled in the light, like the noble knights in fairy tales. Each had a halberd on his shoulder, and their muzzles did not express little emotion. “What wonderful training they must have.” Chkalov thought, examining the guards in medieval armor from head to hoof. The major just walked by, also not paying any attention to them. Doing the same, Chkalov and the others entered the castle, following closely behind the major. Once indoors, they found themselves walking down an expansive hall with a chandelier holding thousands of candles, marble staircases with red carpets, paintings, and nobles scurrying around. It was calm and quiet here, unlike the busy streets. Several aristocrats greeted the major and asked something. But he dodged their questions, saying he was in a hurry. They nodded understandingly and did not detain him with small talk. The arriving people were taken to the second floor by the stairs and then to the left wing of the castle, its left and right walls adorned with guest rooms. The other side was decorated with mosaics of various battles and great events led by two alicorns. “Either they are the greatest rulers or very narcissistic.” Chkalov mentally issued his verdict. At the end of the corridor, the group encountered several employees of this part of the castle, receiving a key to a private room from them. The pilot looked at his key to see he got the seventy-eighth room. He found it almost immediately, unlocking it and entering with no hesitation. The room turned out to be good, but meager compared to the rest of the castle outside. Double bed, bedside table, wardrobe, toilet, shower, and a small window at the end of the room that looked out onto the square in front of the porch. Nothing superfluous and only the most necessary. Putting the suitcase on the bed, Chkalov began to sort things out. The three-piece suit immediately went to the closet, on hangers, thoughtfully left for guests. The pilot then carefully put his underwear, T-shirts, and shorts with pants in the nightstand’s drawers. But after thinking a little, he took out one set back and put it on the bed. He was going to sweat a lot today, and it definitely wouldn't hurt to shower beforehand. Chkalov quickly closed his room door and locked it with his key to prevent random and uninvited guests from walking in as he undressed and got into the shower. There was no faucet, but instead, there were two large buttons colored red and blue. The shower tile was pleasantly cold on bare feet, but as soon as the water started, it ceased to remain that way. After washing off the dirt and sweat, Chkalov stood under cool water for another minute to cheer up and clear his mind. The day had just begun, and there was a lot to do. After finishing the water procedures and getting dressed, the test pilot went outside. It wasn’t difficult to find the maid; she and several others were on duty in this wing, ready to help, explain or take her to another part of the castle. A lilac filly in a maid outfit happily agreed to escort the man to the dining room. On the way, she told him where the major's office was, saying it was not always possible to find him there, but his two deputies worked until ten in the evening and usually don’t leave the office. The small pony took Chkalov to the first floor, walked through several corridors, and arrived at a dining room with people and ponies inside. Thanking the maid for her help, the pilot went inside. The large room was almost empty, with only a few round tables for five people occupied. Taking a tray and cutlery, Chkalov stood behind the counter as a soldier in an apron and a chef's hat came out of a side door. "What can I get you, Comrade Brigade Commander?" he asked and smiled. "Let's go with the usual: soup and something on the side." "Good." The soldier turned around and took a plate, putting a steaming bowl of soup and pasta on it before filling a glass with tea and handing it to the pilot. Chkalov nodded and thanked the chef, leaving and sitting at a table in the far corner of the dining room. After taking a sip of hot tea, he started the first course. Cabbage soup with fresh cabbage and mutton satisfied his appetite, making him eat quickly with the provided spoon. Having finished with the perfectly cooked soup, Chkalov started on the pasta, eating much more slowly and getting the full taste of each piece of meat with the noodles. Now with an empty plate with a satisfied stomach, he drank the remaining tea and wiped his lips with a napkin. Chkalov looked around, seeing people gradually filling the empty tables more and more. Looking at his wristwatch, realizing he had arrived a little earlier than lunch had started. After throwing the tray with dirty plates into a compost bin, the pilot left the dining room. It makes little sense to go and find out immediately about his appointment team. Most of them have a legitimate lunchtime, and no one wants to spend it on work- it's uncultured. Plus, the blazing outside deterred Chkalov from exploring the city despite his curiosity. So, in the meantime, he was confined to the castle. "Let my legs carry me by themselves.” Chkalov said to himself, walking forward along one of the many corridors without turning anywhere. The souls of his boots thumped loudly on the red-carpeted marble floor, the carpet having a simple, golden design. On one side of the corridor were windows taller than a man with low window sills. Through them, the backyard could be seen, possibly with the private garden of the princesses and their favorites. Stopping at one of the windows, Chkalov stared at the beauty and diversity of the local flora and fauna. Even if not everything was visible from here, it was difficult not to notice the beautiful fiery-red bird on the branch of an apple tree, as if the bonfire itself had come to life to see the world through the eyes of the living. A heavy knock distracted Chkalov from contemplating the garden, and the unfamiliar bird, as three guards left one of the adjoining smaller corridors. Two were already wearing the familiar simple cuirasses and helmets with spears. The third wore a white crest on the helmet and light-plated armor connected by a fibula in the form of a sun with a short sword hanging at his side. They were arguing loudly about something, apparently not noticing the person ahead of them. When they did see him, they immediately fell silent with an awkward silence, which Chkalov decided to break first. Approaching the guardsman, the pilot saluted and introduced himself. "Commander of the fighter aviation: brigade Chkalov. I arrived in Equestria this morning by train." After a short silence, the guardsman with the comb replied,"Captain of the solar Guard White Theil.” he shallowly bowed, “I'm sorry, Sir Chkalov, but I'm in a hurry to meet Princess Celestia. If you are lost, I can escort you." "No need. I decided to explore the castle in my free time. But I wouldn't mind seeing your supreme rulers in person." "Sorry, but no. The reception of visitors today is strictly limited." "It's okay. Goodbye, comrade Captain." Chkalov said, waving to the guards. Captain White Theil nodded and, together with his soldiers, resumed walking briskly down the main corridor. The pilot, after seeing them off, walked to and turned down the direction where the three ponies came from. Its corridor was distinguished by fresh flowers arranged in silver vases filled with dirt- roses, tulips, and hyacinths bloomed and filled the area with a pleasant but faint sweet smell. An arched door appeared ahead with a mare depicted wearing crossed spears with a white rose in the middle. "If you don't open it, you won't know." With these words, Chkalov pulled the door open. It gave way with no issue, opening without the slightest creak. A small hall with drinking guards, full of hubbub and laughter, instantly quieted down once its inhabitants noticed the pilot entering. Dozens of pairs of eyes darted into the doorway, looking with interest at the uninvited guest. *** Vasily Ivanovich Chuikov, who had recently been appointed military attache in Equestria by the party, was in a hurry to attend an urgent meeting with Princess Celestia. He had a leather briefcase with documents in his hand, followed by Ivan Ivanovich Kopets, the commander of all Red Army aviation units in Equestria. They approached the doors of the conference room. Two guards standing by cleared the passage and let the commanders through without hesitation. Inside, at a large oval table, most of the guests were already sitting. After taking their seats, the generals breathed a sigh of relief and began to wait for the last ones, among whom were Princess Celestia and the captain of the solar Guard. The table was divided into two parts: five ponies were sitting on one side, and six people were sitting on the other. The door swung open again, and a belated White Tail entered. After examining the hall with a close look and not noticing Celestia, he plopped down on a chair. Everyone sat in silence. Finally, the majestic Princess of the Sun appeared on the threshold, making everyone present to stand up. The ponies bowed to their highly respected leader, and the people only nodded in greeting. "Good afternoon, my loyal subjects and guests of Equestria. Thank you all for being able to come to discuss the important events of the past week." Her muzzle was decorated with a friendly half-smile, which could hide anything. But it was not easy to recognize true emotions through a thousand-year-old mask. Celestia went into the hall and sat at the head seat of the table. "So… Heavy Hooves, what can you say about the negotiations with the griffins?" A fat Earth pony named Heavy Hooves cleared his throat and spoke: "In short, the griffins are very much concerned about our close relations with the Soviet Union and the growing limited contingent of the Red Army. They have dramatically increased spending on defense and weapons. There are beliefs that they are preparing for a possible repulse of our combined offensive, which isn’t planned. Relations have become tense but not yet hostile. Our embassy and the best diplomats continue to convince them otherwise. That is all from me, Princess." "Thank you for the information provided. What about the food supply? Is it enough, dear Vasily Ivanovich?" Celestia said, turning to the pilot. Chuikov got up from his seat. "Food supplies have always been provided on time, but the problem lies elsewhere. We have a catastrophic shortage of transport for transportation. Almost all cities and settlements located near the parts themselves take the initiative and allocate the missing reserves. Parts of Canterlot, Manehatten, and Las Pegasus are fully secured. But the daily wagons with transport, fuel, and specialists should solve this problem within two months." "Hmm... good. What do you think about the griffin situation?" Celestia tapped her hoof on the table thoughtfully. "A temporary decrease in the activity of aviation, tanks, and infantry near the border. Perhaps sending a diplomatic mission from us to Gryphonstone." Chuikov suggested. Celestia pondered Chuikov's words for a moment before saying: "Does anyone disagree with Vasily Ivanovich?" Celestia asked, carefully looking around at everyone present, looking for answers on their faces and muzzles. Everyone was silent. "Then so be it. Are there any other important reports that require my immediate response? You can leave written reports and statements to the Chief Secretary. I will review them all as soon as I can. Thank you all again for your time. You can all leave now." Celestia got up from her chair and nodded goodbye, disappearing in a flash of golden magic. The others left their important documents for the secretary and began to slowly leave. A corps commissar approached Chuikov, who had remained silent until that moment. "Vasily Ivanovich, do you think this is a good idea? Have you thought about the fact that they themselves are not averse to attacking Equestria?" "I was thinking, Pyotr Ilyich. But we cannot show our strength on someone else's territory, otherwise, it will entail the severance of trade and diplomatic relations not only with griffons but also with other creatures. We can only defend ourselves. If the situation does not improve in a week, then take measures to create a defense and counteroffensive plan. The plan must be kept in the strictest secrecy and the Princesses and pony officials don't need to know about him." "I Understand You, Vasily Ivanovich." commissar nodded. A group of six commanders led by Chuikov left the hall and soon dispersed to their offices. There were still a lot of problems to solve and, some, on the same day. *** Chkalov did not have time to apologize and hastily retreat as one of the sitting mare guards with a mug of foamy liquid waved a hoof. "Would you like a drink, sir?" She asked. "Drink?" the pilot asked in surprise. "Yeah. Have a cup of cider with us for the friendship of ponies and people!” someone else exclaimed. Accepting the invitation, Chkalov sat down next to the same mare, an azure pegasus with a mane the color of straw, prudently moved. She smelled faintly of alcohol and blueberries. She held her hoof out to the man and said: "I'm Blueberry, and what's your name, sir?" "Valery Pavlovich." he didn't bother with his full title and shook the hoof of the pegasus. Blueberries giggled at this gesture and added: "It is customary for us to knock hooves against each other, not squeeze. But I don't mind such a greeting either." A large wooden mug with carbonated cider was then placed in front of Chkalov. Laughter and noise reigned again in this room, taking the man for their own. The unicorn sitting opposite with a reddened muzzle stammered, asking: "Well, how do you like Canterlot, man?" "I haven't had time to process it all yet. So far, I like it… And I will ask you to address me by you or by your first name and patronymic." "What?" the stallion rolled his eyes. "I'm a corporal, and who are you anyway?" Chkalov was about to reply harshly sharply to the impudent pony but stopped when he felt a hoof resting on his shoulder. Turning to the mare with an unspoken question on her face, he saw her shake her head. But the unicorn sitting behind the pilot answered instead. "Don't mind him, Valery Pavlovich. When the fool drinks, he can say or do something he will regret the next morning. Hey, guys! I think our corporal has had enough for today. Can you take him to bed?" She called out. Three stallions from the next table approached the drunk pony across from Chkalov, grabbed him by the forearms, and tried to pull him off the chair. At some point, he suddenly started up and kicked. "Let go! I command you! Let me talk to it!" He slurred angrily. The pilot silently watched as three healthy Earth ponies easily twisted him out of the chair and dragged him to the door. "I overdid it a little.” Blueberry shook her head and grinned sadly, but after a couple of moments, she returned to the man with furrowed eyebrows. "It's a little noisy here. Can we go for a walk?"Her little face with big yellow eyes expressed a mute request to go with her. After a little reflection, Chkalov got up without touching the alcohol. "Sure." he answered shortly. Happily waving her tail, the mare jumped to the door. The pilot followed her, leaving the rest of the ponies to continue drinking cider and having fun. Finally, leaving behind this noisy company, they were left alone in an empty corridor. "Forgive me if I was too blunt, but I've only been in the Guard for a week. I lived in a quiet village and never heard a lot about people. I really, really want to know more about you." Chkalov broke into a kind smile. "There's nothing to apologize for. Healthy curiosity has not hurt anyone yet. I wouldn't mind learning more about ponies myself." Suddenly she giggled and noticed an inquiring look, hurried to explain, "Oh, I just thought up so many questions before the meeting, and when it came time to ask them, I sort of forgot. Can… Can you tell me where and how you became who you are now?" "Well, I was born in the village of Vasilevo, graduated from seven grades there, then went to college, but I couldn't finish as the school was closed. I worked as a stoker for a while, but everything changed when I saw the plane with my own eyes for the first time..." "The plane? Is this the thing that sometimes circles over the city?" Blueberry interrupted. Chkalov nodded, "Yes, she is the one. That's how it all started. I caught fire with the idea of flying like a bird in the sky, to feel the freedom given only in a spacious blue sky. And now you see in front of you a test pilot, a brigade commander, a hero of the Soviet Union… Maybe you can tell me how fate threw you into the capital?" She was a little embarrassed and shuffled her foot, answering: "My story is not so interesting. I've spent my whole life in my village of Lonley Field. All my childhood, I helped my parents sow oats and rye. One day, I got damn tired of it and decided to enroll in the guard. I haven't reached any heights, I don't have an officer rank, and I'm not even considered a hero of my village." She peered at the floor, a frown developing on her muzzle. Seeing the sadness on the pony's face, Chkalov decided to support her. "Everything is still ahead. If you want it, you have to give your all. Only then will you be able to reach your set heights. Your whole life is ahead, so cheer up." Blueberry looked up at Chkalov with surprise, which turned into a thankful look. "Thank you. Sometimes this is not enough when friends and family are far away and cannot help." a slight smile flashed across Blueberries' face. Together they reached the end of the corridor. Chkalov did not press with his questions, fearing to seem callous. Silence formed between them. "And what is your world like?" Blueberry decided to be the first to break the silence. "It's complicated. I can't explain it the first time.” Chkalov sighed heavily and leaned on the sill of a nearby window. “ We have no magic, no miracles, and magic, unlike you. Throughout our history, we have achieved everything with sweat and blood. Our mind is what becomes our main tool. We invented and studied, became stronger, and did everything so that the children and the children of our children could live better than us. We also had tsars, nobles, and the bourgeois. At one point, peasants and workers got tired of suffering hunger and constant wars of emperors and kings. We overthrew the elite and formed our current Union of Soviet Socialist Republics." "And we love our princesses Celestia and Luna. And never before have ponies wanted them gone." Blueberry interjected, a look of subdued shock on her face. "That’s your country, but in our’s: the power is to the Soviets! Peace to the people! Factories to workers! The land is for the peasants!" said the famous slogan of the pilot. "Why do simple ponies need power? Princesses know better how to live and work. Why take everything from some and give it to others?" There was an unkind note in Blueberry’s voice. "Is it good when the bourgeois and aristocrats live at the expense of us commoners? When people are at the head, ponies, no matter who, born in the circle of aristocrats rule those whom they know nothing of the truth. Monarchs can be as naive as children. Seeing that in the capital, in the city of aristocrats, they live well and believe the reports about the same good life of these insatiable bourgeois- these are not rulers, but stupid and big children." "You don't know them! Shut up! Shut up!" Blueberries shouted, her voice bouncing off of the walls of the corridor. Chkalov fell silent. He himself did not notice how he insulted not only her princesses but also Pegasus herself; he should have predicted that his commitment to a different ideology would lead to such a clash. He's older and more experienced, but now he's behaving like a child. The pilot lowered his head, shyly hiding his eyes from the angry pony. Judging his gesture in her own way, the mare turned around, angrily swinging her tail, and went in the opposite direction. A simple and good-natured conversation turned into a fierce argument. Angry at himself and his tongue, Chkalov spat on everything and took out a pack of Elite cigarettes, his favorite. A minute later, he was already inhaling bitter smoke. He was so lost in his confused thoughts that he failed to notice how they approached him. "Hello, Valery Pavlovich. Long time no see." someone said in a familiar voice. Looking up, Chkalov saw a tall man with joyful blue eyes — in front of him stood Ivan Ivanovich Kopets, an old friend and an equally wonderful fighter pilot. "Good afternoon, Ivan Ivanovich." He greeted back. "You shouldn't be smoking here." Chkalov gave up on it, "I don't care. The mood is spoiled. it has become unbearable." "Well, finish your cigarette and come with me to my office. I think you're wondering how everything works here." After taking a couple more breaths, the pilot put out his cigarette and left the butt on the windowsill. "Yes, we already know... Eh..." "I see, I see. Faced with an ardent lover of the local princesses?" "Yes. And how did you guess, Ivan Ivanovich?" Chkalov asked. "Everyone has had such an experience. There is only one way to avoid such a thing — not to raise this topic, Valery Pavlovich." Chkalov only nodded at this advice and followed the young general. After walking down the corridor, they came to the stairs, where they climbed to the third floor. Staff workers were running around with stacks of papers, Red Army soldiers were standing at their posts with rifles, and there was not a single pony. "It's strange, but I don't see any ponies here; even ordinary guards are replaced by our fighters." "It's very simple, my dear friend. This part of the floor was given to us by Princess Celestia herself. But the ponies still come here occasionally." Kopets immediately answered Chkalov's question. The two commanders turned into an inconspicuous, at first glance, room. It had not yet been completely refitted, but there was already a massive table, several leather armchairs, a small sofa, and a telephone. The curtains were drawn, creating a pleasant twilight in the office. Kopets sat in one of the chairs and offered the same to the brigade commander. While Chkalov was settling in, the general took out a clean ashtray and a silver cigarette case with an engraved coat of arms. "Would you like to, Valery Pavlovich?" Kopets held out an open cigarette case. "I won't refuse." said Chkalov and took a cigarette. There was silence. Each of the commanders was busy with his own thoughts about life in Equestria, and each had plans for this world. "Ivan Ivanovich, what did you like about this city?" Chkalov blew out a cloud of smoke while his fingers drummed on the table with his other hand. "Unfortunately, I didn't have the opportunity to walk through all the streets and get acquainted with the sights of the famous capital, Canterlot. While recruitment is underway, and equipment is being supplied from our world, we can only dream of peace. But from what I've seen, I can say that the city is beautiful, and the people… Sorry, the ponies here are friendly, even if there are exceptions in the form of arrogant nobles. Valery Pavlovich, I think you have the opportunity to freely explore the capital." "What about the rest of the cities, provinces? How are things with the other parts?" Chkalov asked the following question. "I'm sorry, my dear friend, but I don't know that. According to the reports of other commanders, it is even easier in the provinces than here. Even if they are inferior to Canterlot in terms of the number of amenities. There is Manehatten: a city with factories, high-rise buildings, and a working population. Now there is the five hundred and thirteenth fighter regiment. But it is equipped with only one-tenth of the aircraft. The airfield is uncovered, and the pilots temporarily live in the city. Ponyville is a small town not far from Canterlot, about a hundred and fifty kilometers away. It is important not only as a strategic point but also as the residence of another princess — Twilight Sparkle. I haven't seen her personally, but I've heard a lot of positive and flattering words." Kopec stopped and poured himself some water from a decanter on the table. Wetting his throat, he continued. "There is also a fighter brigade and a tank battalion of Orlenko. Maybe you've heard of him?" Chkalov shook his head negatively. "This is the first time I've heard. A good person?" "Yes, just fine, though a little grumpy.” The general smiled, remembering something about this tankman, and returned to the conversation a couple of seconds later, “ They say that there will be more infantry and a cavalry regiment next to Ponyville. As you can see, many have not arrived yet. The situation is the same in other cities, provinces, and villages: lack of equipment, personnel, and equipment." "Yes, Ivan Ivanovich..." Chkalov drawled. "According to you, things are not going well." "This is only so far. In a few months, all combat units will receive the equipment they will need. The trains are coming, Valery Pavlovich. They are going steadily and tirelessly." Suddenly, Kopec abruptly stood up and looked at the wall clock. "I'm afraid, my dear friend, I could only spare such a short time for our meeting. When everything settles down, we'll have plenty of time to talk. But in the meantime, if you'll excuse me, there are urgent matters." "Thank you, Ivan Ivanovich. I will visit you soon. Goodbye." Chkalov got up from his chair and shook hands with the general. As he was leaving, Chkalov heard Kopets start looking for something in his desk, furiously moving the drawers. He didn't have a minute of free time, but even with such a schedule, he wanted to devote this short time to an old acquaintance and, like him, a pilot. After closing the door behind him, the test pilot looked at his wristwatch; seeing it was already late afternoon, he went to the major to find out about his future brigade. After circling around the floors a little, Chkalov- albeit not quickly -found Pyotr Mikhailovich's office. After knocking, Chkalov entered the major's office. He wasn't there, but a young political instructor sat hunched over at a nearby table covered in various papers. The political instructor didn't pay any attention to the pilot for a while, but after finishing the last words, he raised his tired, bloodshot brown eyes. Noticing the brigade commander at the threshold, he roused himself and stood up. The crumpled uniform, ink-stained hands, and a deep sigh, unnoticeable to the newcomer, spoke of his incessant work for several days. Putting his hand on his cap, which tilted to the side, he prepared to say a greeting. "Stand down, comrade political commissar. No need. I can see how tired you are." Nodding gratefully, he sat back down on the chair and discreetly scratched the stubble that had grown over a week. "What do you want, Comrade Brigade Commander?" said the political instructor in a soft and quiet voice. "I need to know my destination. Arrived by today's train." Chkalov said directly and clearly. After rummaging through the stacks of papers, the political instructor shook his head slowly. "Please forgive me, Comrade Brigade Commander, but there are no documents with your appointment and the location of your unit, just like everyone else who arrived today." "Thank you, Comrade political commissar. I won't distract you anymore." the pilot turned around a hundred and eighty degrees and left. Not knowing what else to do with himself until the evening, the pilot returned to his room. Having taken off his shoes and thrown off his tunic and cap, Chkalov collapsed on the bed. It only creaked softly under his weight but good-naturedly accepted a person into her feather bed. There was an unpleasant feeling that everyone was working tirelessly, and he was the only one doing nothing. Everyone Chkalov met was either too busy or turned out to be Pegasus monarchists. Knowledge about this world is very small, but even this is bread. Wherever he is sent, they will be hospitable, and there should be no difficulties. It pleased me, but I still wanted to stay in the capital. It has everything a military man needs and even more. And who would refuse a big city? Rethinking everything that had happened during the first half of the day, he fell asleep unnoticed. *** When the brigade commander left, the young political officer tried to get back to work. The usually cheerful Artem looked at this moment, to put it mildly, unimportant. His fingers trembled from the incessant writing, and an approaching headache threatened his head again. Rubbing his temples and wincing, Artyom rose from the table and went to the window. The sun, the blue sky, and the happy residents walked about the castle grounds. That's what political instructor Artem Georgievich, sitting in a stuffy office without fresh air, saw, who went on a business trip to see the world but did not sit for a whole century at work that did not end. Two days without a break for sleep. Closing his eyes for a while, he smiled faintly, imagining how soon he would be walking through the park, along the city streets and alleys of Canterlot, enjoying life and giving smiles to passers-by. "Artem Georgievich, you're not alive. Sorry, I'm late today." The political officer turned sharply at the familiar voice and saw the senior political officer with a worried look. "Listen, go get some sleep. You’ll collapse from impotence and fatigue right on the floor if this keeps this up." Indeed, a little more and Artem would have fallen right here. Without a verbal response, the political instructor nodded briefly and trudged to his room to sleep. Without noticing anything or anyone, Artem Georgievich got to the bed and, after touching the pillow, passed out immediately without changing his clothes. “Where have I seen this brigade commander before? Not in person, but I saw it. Who is he?” That was his last thought before he fell into a deep sleep. For him, a rough and endless day is over now.