At the other end of Ponyville lived, like their fellow fighters, Orlenko's tank battalion. In several rows there were light and high-speed cars that in a moment rush to the enemy's positions, tearing the ground with tracks, and rumbling with the shots of their guns…
But what kind of enemy is here? — Orlenko asked himself a rhetorical question, lighting a cigarette from a small flame of a match. — Eh, here she will burn out and never flare up with her fiery temper again... just like me.
For the umpteenth time, he could not fall asleep in such silence, not being afraid to hear the explosions of shells and the chirp of machine guns. The war in Spain was over for him personally. It was only out of the kindness of their hearts that they did not send him to the rear, to teach the young.
And that business trip, damn it, is no different from the rear. It's better for me to burn a match in the fire of war, while I burn down in this heat to the very tip. — the tanker lamented his fate.
All his life he dreamed of standing guard over the Motherland and its interests, so that no child of a great country would know fear for his life from enemies coming in line after line.
Puffing on the strong smoke given by Major Kuznetsov cigarettes, he turned to the tank with the number twenty-two. The new one, clearly not baptized by the fire of battle, was peacefully waiting for his fate, whatever it was.
If you don't wait for a fight, you'll rust under the warm rain in Equestria. Yes, it's for the best. I don't even want to think that one of the ponies saw you in action on the battlefield. - with a kind smile, Orlenko touched the cold metal of the combat vehicle with his left hand.
After finishing his cigarette, he looked sadly at the clear sky interspersed with white and cold stars. After checking the sentries at the posts at the same time, he returned to his tent. Finding a kerosene lamp by touch, he lit it and put it on the table. On a blank sheet of paper, Orlenko began to write out words that were difficult for him with a pencil.
I, Major Orlenko Timofey Semyonovich, ask you to remove me from my post and return me to the USSR...
But a rustle behind him did not let him finish his report. Turning around, the tanker tried to see the source of the noise. But there was no one else in the semi-dark tent, lit only by one kerosene lamp, except Orlenko himself.
If it wasn't my imagination, then it was clearly not a person. — a crazy thought flashed through Orlenko's head. The tanker's hand reached for the revolver on his belt by itself. — If I wasn't in the world of magic, I certainly wouldn't think about any evil spirits, but here the devil with horns is getting into my head.
After running his eyes over all the corners of the tent once more, the tanker was surprised to notice long white ears behind the couch, right next to the bag of breadcrumbs. Getting up from the stool, he quietly approached the bag. Involuntarily, the tanker burst out laughing, which immediately scared off the rabbit, who was sweetly eating breadcrumbs. The white rabbit immediately tried to gallop away, but Orlenko deftly blocked the exit of the tent, cutting off his escape route. Obeying his instincts, the rabbit huddled in a corner and from there looked at the man with frightened eyes. Slowly, like a hunter, the tanker approached the hunted animal and abruptly grabbed him by the ears.
"Well, did you get caught, little robber?" Orlenko asked the food thief with a grin.
Of course, he did not answer him, only plaintively squeaked for such treatment with his carcass.
Loud footsteps were heard behind the walls of the tent and after a couple of seconds the foreman looked into it.
Seeing that the commander was awake and fully dressed, he put his hand to his temple:
"May I apply, Comrade Major?"
Orlenko examined the foreman and nodded.
"Speak up, Foreman."
"Here one pegasus asks to enter the territory of the deployment of our battalion. Allegedly, her rabbit is sneaking around here and asks to pick it up." the foreman's eyes immediately shifted from Orlenko's figure and stared at the white rabbit.
Orlenko grinned and waved his hand.
"Bring him, let him come to me."
"That's right." the foreman replied and disappeared into the darkness.
Orlenko turned to the rabbit and said reproachfully:
"And here's your mistress showing up. I guess I didn't catch up with you, you weasel."
Sitting down on the couch and putting the rabbit on his lap, Orlenko handed over the same pegasus to wait. We didn't have to wait long and after a couple of minutes the filly entered the tent. As soon as the owner of the rabbit got into the light of the lantern, she was immediately recognized by the tanker. In front of Orlenko stood Fluttershy — a timid yellow pegasus, forever hiding her cute face behind a long pink mane.
"Fluttershy?" the man asked his guest a little surprised.
She nodded curtly in response. Maybe she would have been hiding in a thick shadow, but when she noticed her rabbit, she immediately came to life and came closer.
"Angel!" she exclaimed happily.
There was no limit to her joy. Looking at such a yellow cutie, Orlenko had a sincere smile on his lips, which, however, was not noticed by the guest. Pegasus took the rabbit in his hooves and right on the spot began to scold him for hooliganism.
"Angel, you can't run away! A serious conversation is waiting for you at home. Fluttershy said sternly.
Although Angel shivered at these words, he did not run away from the angry pegasus. After enjoying the moment of reunion with her pet, Fluttershy returned her gaze and attention to Orlenko.
"You, forgive me for my rabbit. He can be very naughty sometimes." The yellow pony said apologetically, shuffling her front leg.
"It's okay. I had no idea that you ponies had such clever rabbits. Everyone understands, everyone is aware."
"Then… Can I go?" Fluttershy timidly asked for permission.
"Of course. I'm not staying with you any longer. You probably want to sleep already, don't you? It's already the second hour of the night in the yard. Orlenko replied calmly and gently.
The mare had already taken a couple of steps to the exit, but suddenly stopped. Looking at the smiling tanker, she quietly added:
"Come to tea with me tomorrow… Goodbye."and somehow quickly flew out of the tent.
Orlenko sat on the couch for several minutes, thinking about this pony. Something she breathed so far and dear. What was not and could not be... home.
Glancing at the table, he remembered his report and his departure from Equestria. Part of his being was attuned to the end of everything connected with this world, but another... another was now saying the opposite.
"Well..." Orlenko drawled in a half-whisper. We must wait, the report will not run away early. "and getting up from the couch, the tanker removed his sheet to the very bottom, where the eye could not catch."
***
Early morning. The warm rays of the Sun gently warmed, occasionally hiding behind rare snow-white clouds, blown by a young breeze. After dressing quickly and having breakfast, the three people were fully prepared for a trip to a neighboring state. None of them had a submachine gun, a pistol, or even a knife. The calculation was based on the full sanity of the griffins and fear can act aggressively in the presence of the Princess of the Moon. After all, this pony is certainly not weak, but even more than a powerful immortal. To whom Hosh will be able to give back.
If Chuikov and Sokolov each had a briefcase in their hand with various kinds of documents stuffed tightly, then the political instructor who closed this small group walked with a heavy and massive radio transmitter. Their short walk from the castle ended at the porch, where a car was waiting for them. As soon as everyone sat down, Emka turned around and raced through the deserted streets of Kanterlot to the train station.
Chuikov, Sokolov and Nazimov came out on the platform. At this hour, it was busier than usual: there were posts with the night guard, journalists with cameras were looking for the best angle, ordinary ponies were hurrying with large suitcases, and in the center of all this was Princess Luna, accompanied by two thestrals with short spears. The royal mare walked slowly, as if playing to the public and to maintain her authority. At some point, her ears twitched at a new sound and she turned to see three people walking behind her. Involuntarily, a barely noticeable smile slipped through her, which soon quickly replaced the more serious expression of her muzzle.
Chuikov and his comrades were delicately offered a seat in the royal carriage, which is why he did not refuse. Ten minutes later the train started for Gryphonstone. The task promised to be difficult, but when the Moon was sitting next to it, it ceased to be so difficult to accomplish. So Chuikov thought, not guessing what would happen after the next sunrise.
***
Princess Celestia was sitting all alone at the dining table and was eating sweet "potatoes" without pleasure — a cake made today by Soviet chefs. Out of the kindness of their hearts, they decided to treat Princess Celestia, giving her a whole bag of this "potato".
No, the cake was delicious, even very. Simple, without finesse, but delicious. The meal of the royal person was overshadowed by something else entirely. Her sister, Luna, behaved extremely atypically for her character. Closed, having no friends, with the appearance of Chuikov, she became quite joyful and familiar with him. Let Celestia support her little sister in all this, but knowing how this friendship ends ... for Celestia, it was a stage passed: do not get attached to mortals, because they will die sooner or later. After their death, the heart is torn apart, the soul is tormented by thoughts of helplessness and curses of its immortality for months on end. Luna, who never really liked communication, spent days and nights with books, and after that, running the country. This stage of her eternal life will be one of the most difficult, leaving emotional wounds. Let them heal over time, but the scars… They are forever.
Well, now, without knowing it, she will protect him like the apple of her eye, standing in front of him with her chest under all the dangers, alicorn thought with warmth about her dearest sister.
There was a knock on the door. Celestia looked up and, pulling on her usual smile, answered:
"Come in."
A black pegasus in an elegant snow-white suit and with refined manners entered the dining room. In principle, as befitted a hereditary aristocrat. Immediately bowing, he continued on his way to the Princess of the Sun, stopping only five steps away from her.
"Princess Celestia, I have some bad news. There are mass strikes at several glass factories in Mainhatten today. Production has been stopped, and local authorities cannot solve this problem themselves."
Celestia frowned and said in a more serious tone:
"What are the reasons for these strikes? Were there prerequisites for this?"
"Unfortunately, Princess Celestia, there's a lot we don't know. Perhaps because of non-payment of wages and large fines in production in order to enrich the owners of factories. Pegasus shook his head. "That's it for me."
It took a couple of seconds for Alicorn to think. Looking up at the aristocrat, she answered firmly:
"Good. I will solve this problem myself today. Cancel all remaining meetings and conferences for that day. I'll probably be back late tonight. You can go now."
"It will be done, Princess Celestia. The black stallion obediently replied and turned around.
A restrained but satisfied grin appeared on his face. Even if not seen behind the pensive princess.
***
It was almost time for dinner when Chkalov, dressed in a flight suit, was checking the runway of his airfield. Behind him, Kuznetsov walked with a closer look, looking for flaws. Even if he was no longer the commander of the entire brigade, this did not negate the fact that responsibility for the work done to the command would not fall on his shoulders.
"What do you think, Dmitry Alekseevich?" Chkalov asked without turning his head.
"With such a length, even "SB" will sit down. The strip is solid, smooth."
Chkalov nodded, clearly agreeing with this conclusion of Comrade Kuznetsov, and went to the fighter standing in the distance. The "Seagull" with the number thirteen for many superstitious could threaten quick death, but not for Chkalov. And to prove the stupidity of this number to the personnel, he chose it for himself. Chkalov had a firm belief that his achievements on this fast and maneuverable device would depend only on the personal qualities of the pilot.
A couple of hours before checking the strip, Chkalov ordered to fill the fuel tank by three quarters. All the extra ones are useless now — the less the load, the greater the speed advantage.
For a while Chkalov admired his car. Turning to Kuznetsov he proudly said:
"It's a good car, there's nothing to say."
Kuznetsov hesitated. He was not happy with the idea that the commander decided to arrange a race with a local pony. This can be followed by anything, up to arrest and demotion. But he could not influence Chkalov's decision, he was too stubborn in his decision: "I gave my word to the Soviet commander that I would overtake him, and I will not take him away," Chkalov firmly replied to Kuznetsov last night.
Having nothing to say to him, Kuznetsov only belatedly nodded his head. To which Chkalov grinned. He saw and understood how his friend was worried about him, but there was nothing he could do. He gave his word, so keep it.
In the same silence, they returned to the staff tent, where, under the care of several commanders, Chkalov left sitting not only the blue pegasus, but also another guest — Twilight. The princess of friendship, who found out about everything, could not help but come to see an unusual competition between two sky lovers.
The commanders entered. As Chkalov thought, the pilots gave alicorn and pegasus tea with sugar and sweets brought from their native world, simultaneously asking about everything. But this curiosity did not bother the two ponies at all and they willingly answered all questions.
The pony's ears twitched at the sound of footsteps and the mares synchronously turned to Chkalov and Kuznetsov. At the same time, the pilots stood up at the sight of their seniors, but Chkalov waved his hand: They say, everything is fine, sit down.
"The strip is completely ready and tested. So get up, Dash." announced Chkalov.
"You still haven't decided to go back on your words?" Pegasus asked with some surprise.
Twilight rolled her eyes and frowned at her friend, but didn't say anything. She clearly didn't like the tone with which she communicates with one of the influential people in Ponyville.
"Of course. I will not back down from my words." Chkalov firmly assured the mare and turned to the exit.
Two ponies and most of the commanders of the staff tent followed Chkalov. But not only they were aware of the upcoming race — soldiers and sergeants, not busy with business, wanted to see such an event with their own eyes.
Twilight and Kuznetsov with the squadron commanders took binoculars in advance for excellent observation. Chkalov, calling out to the technician, went with him and Dash to his "Seagull". Soon he will plunge into the familiar element of air. The final check of the fighter's readiness did not turn out to be long and, soon, the pilot started the engine and stroked the body of his iron bird, saying something. The engine sneezed and hummed obediently, cutting the air with the propeller blades. Chkalov waved his hand to the technician and he gave a sign that everything was ready, it was possible to take off.
To the right, thirty meters away, a blue pegasus was preparing for its takeoff. More precisely, she did not prepare at all, showing with all her appearance that she would catch up with Chkalov in a moment. The pilot did not pay attention to the pegasus teasing him and added momentum. The plane slowly began to accelerate along the runway, gradually gaining speed for takeoff. Seeing how the plane began to move, Dash pushed off from the ground and with a powerful flap of her wings rose first into the air. Trying to keep up, she accelerated her strokes herself and overtook Chkalov. Breaking away from her opponent, she rushed to the clouds over Ponyville.
The start of the race was behind her, as expected. But now the "Seagull", having gained its take-off speed, broke away from the runway and began to rapidly increase altitude. Chkalov removed the landing gear and pulled the control stick towards himself, sharply taking the height. Pegasus, by this time, approached the clouds, intending to begin performing aerobatics by human standards, but not for winged ponies.
The wind was in his face, Chkalov was pressed into the seat by overload, and the clouds and Dash were still far enough away. I had to push the lever again, increasing the power. The Chaika was just a great fighter for maneuvers with its unstable stability. Dash performed a dead loop without much difficulty, and then the remaining two. On the last loop, she stretched out in an arc, folded her wings and turned over. While falling, Dash stabilized the dive with her wings and opened them completely, exited the loop. Without postponing the second trick, the pegasus performed the barrel with the same ease.
Chkalov squeezed everything out of his half-plane, rising to the clouds in a matter of minutes and flying through them. Having slowed down, the pilot began to perform his first turn. The overload drained the blood from his head. Chkalov felt it, leaned forward and squeezed the abdominal arteries with his abdominal muscles, preventing the blood from going down. The plane easily lay belly up and the blood began to rush to the head. After flying in this position for a few more moments, Chkalov repeated his actions again.
At the last stage of the three loops, the human winged machine tilted its nose towards the ground, gaining speed. Suddenly, gusts of wind picked up the fighter and he quickly came out of the dive.
Taking a deep breath, the test pilot increased the speed, leveling the plane and taking the direction to the ever-wild forest. Chkalov pressed the right pedal with his foot and the "Seagull" obediently turned over on its side, starting the last element of aerobatics and finishing it in just five seconds. The pilot's hand reached for the lever again, squeezing everything out of the steel heart of the winged machine.
"Well done, Valery Pavlovich, well done." Kuznetsov said with a joyful smile, watching the flight of his commander.
He seemed to feel what Chkalov was experiencing now — the whistle of the cool wind, the adrenaline in his blood, the joy of speed and the danger of turns. All this ecstasy, with a mixture of wonderful feelings, connected all fighter pilots at the sight of their comrades flying.
And the air race continued…
Turning around and making sure that the plane was far behind, Dash smiled and thought to herself:
Ha, I'm also an ace pilot!
The feeling of approaching victory was destroyed in a few minutes. The fighter, which had lost speed and time to execute the highest pilot, was now confidently catching up with the pegasus. Now time has stopped playing on the pony's hoof, taking a new favorite. After a while, the plane with red stars on its wings caught up with Dash and leveled off. Flying side by side, the two flyers looked at each other: Chkalov with a solemn grin, and the rainbow-maned pegasus with discontent. Waving his hand at the last, the pilot added revs to the maximum and rushed forward and up. About four out of five kilometers along the border with the ever-wild forest had already been passed, and ahead was Canterlot, the most difficult part of this flight for Chkalov.
The rays of the Equestrian Sun flashed in the man's flight glasses, forcing him to squint. A mountain with an ancient city appeared in the field of view. A huge castle with towers stretched to the sky, like a petrified giant with his hands in his last minute of life. The waterfall from the mountain cascaded down somewhere, getting lost in rainbows and fog. A test pilot had to conquer a wonderful city for walking with old houses of aristocrats and wide cobbled streets. There was no route through the city itself and you will have to fly through it by intuition.
The kilometers between the fighter and the target were melting by the minute. And then the moment came when the plane flew into the territory of the ancient city, dropping as low as possible as Chkalov could allow it. Unexpectedly, a sixth sense prompted the pilot to turn back to notice a Rainbow Dash that had passed next to the right wing of the half-plane, behind which a rainbow plume was curling. A light sound wave washed over the "Seagull", and it swayed. Having gritted his teeth angrily at such a violation of the rules, Chkalov increased his speed, despite the fact that in such conditions it could lead to death. Now it just didn't play a special role for an excited and angry person.
Scaring away a small detachment of guards crossing a stone bridge over a small river, the "Seagull" slipped after the rainbow pegasus under an arch with bronze statues of two older alicorns. Dash didn't care about all the arrangements and used her rainbow punch to catch up with Chkalov at any cost. However, now she braked sharply, almost crashing into someone's ancestral mansion. The odds were even, but with every second the scales were leaning towards Rainbow.
A strange noise attracted the attention of the royal Guards. Three pegasuses in golden cuirasses appeared around the corner with serious-minded muzzles and immediately pressed into the wall of the house in fright. A couple of meters away from them, the white wing of the Seagull passed on a low-level flight, and under the control of a daring man, it sped forward to meet the visible white towers of the Canterlot castle. Screams and curses were heard from everywhere at the sight of the crazy fighter. But Chkalov did not even think of retreating, keeping his plane under control in great tension. The castle was rapidly approaching, despite Chkalov's low speed. Pegasus was probably already there, but that didn't mean she won this competition.
Having slowed down, Chkalov lowered his head over the side of the fighter for a full assessment of the new maneuver. But suddenly, his gaze was riveted by another, out of the usual rut movement. Below, in the square in front of the castle, a dozen Red Army soldiers were trying to break through the disjointed ranks of the royal guards with long spears. Like a bristling hedgehog, the Red Army soldiers formed an uneven circle, exposing rifles with bayonets to the ponies. None of them even tried to fire.
Exercises? Chkalov thought and slowed down to a minimum. The race was fading into the background.
Tilting the fighter to the right, Chkalov flew in an arc for another two hundred meters. On the ground, as far as the eye could see, there were detachments of royal guards, unnoticed earlier by the pilot due to the intensity of passions in the air. The few Red Army soldiers, being in the minority, tried to resist. Shots were fired. The soldiers were shooting into the air and shouting: "Stop! Don't move!". However, this did not stop others much.
And yet, there was no complete, fatal collision. The Red Army soldiers fought with butts, fists, but none of them fired to kill. In principle, like ponies, they did not try to kill at least one person.
Many guards who noticed the circling fighter over the city tried to attack Chkalov. Unicorns began to beat spells.
Chkalov immediately began to gain altitude, leaving the attack zone of live "anti-aircraft guns". Multicolored clumps of magic with a characteristic whistle passed next to the fighter. A few magic projectiles hit the tail, but nothing critical.
"Damn it! What's going on here?! Chkalov spat, dodging dozens of magic balls.
The pilot did not understand the essence of everything that was happening, but he knew one thing — he urgently needed to inform all the nearby units. The Seagull headed out of the city. Chkalov's decision was opposed by several groups of armed pegasuses, who flew out as soon as the unicorns stopped getting their dense magic fire.
Chkalov increased his speed. At such a height, it was possible not to be afraid to touch high-rise buildings and get away from the tail. If now the pilot had not a "Seagull", but an old, training U-2, then the chances of escaping from the pursuers were minimal.
Soon, the end of the capital city appeared. Hand-to-hand fighting was going on all the way to the outskirts. No matter how courageous the soldiers of the Red Army were, the Royal Guard took magic and numbers. Beyond the Canterlot line, just one kilometer away, there was a large airfield capable of receiving heavy bombers. Fighting was raging on the territory of his unit. Having descended, Chkalov roared into a dive, scaring away the unicorns that were smashing the planes. Several fighters tried to take off, but the savage guards broke the landing gear every time and the plane turned over or plowed through the ground with its belly. The attempt of the rest of the fighters to protect their cars from attack with chains did not lead to anything.
The dive fighter attack provided invaluable assistance to the pilots on the ground. One "Donkey" was able to accelerate and get off the ground. But now most of the unicorns began to fire at Chkalov, considering him the highest danger. After all, none of the ponies knew that the shells and cartridges were not loaded into the plane.
Only there was absolutely nothing left to the ground, as Chkalov pulled the control stick with all his might. The "Seagull" came out of a dive attack. The plane shook several times, but the unicorns could not bring it down. Chkalov got out of the shelling as best he could, dodged and again tried to climb to an unattainable height for unicorns. The use of defensive magic projectiles did not allow this to be done immediately, forcing Chkalov to perform aerobatics no longer for a race with Dash, but in order not to be shot down.
The pilot looked around. The "Donkey" that took off was also able to get out of the firing zone and was now flying at full speed to the northeast, where large cities were located. Of all the decisions, this was the right one: if you can't use weapons, then you need to warn the rest of the units.
And what to do to everyone, they will already come up with and say there, Chkalov thought, directing his fighter to Ponyville…