“Hello, Polaris Wind?” Came the baritone voice of Mr. Stablecolt.
“Yes, this is him! This is Mr. Stablecolt?” The pegasus chimed, eager to learn of his fate.
“Yes, although you can now call me N.C., because congratulations! You’re the First Field Technician Assistant to Night-Mare 2! Officially!” Declared Stablecolt.
PW was so excited he dropped the phone onto the table, sending a *bang* through the line. “Sorry, I dropped the phone! This is the happiest day of my life! I’m actually officially getting to keep helping her!”
“Yes, Polaris; you’ve ticked all the boxes. And just between us, Number 2 asked me to choose you.”
“I’m so glad I fit your selection criteria!”
“Me too. Now, let’s discuss some less attractive topics. You’ll need to go through boot-camp for Intel Officers and clearance onboarding.”
“Ok.”
“When can we get you in? Training will take one seven day week. Are you free this Monday to begin?” The coordinator asked.
“Actually, I can be ready tomorrow morning!” PW exclaimed.
“The enthusiasm is appreciated but the next class doesn’t even start until Monday. Does that work?”
“It does!” Replied a very excited PW.
“Great. Since you’re already here that makes things really easy. Your training center will be at Thalassa Naval Station. It’s almost within walking distance; only a few minutes by air. If you’re around tomorrow we’d like to bring you into the office to get your onboarding paperwork taken care of and get your initial briefing in. We’ll also get you cleared to know the classified details for when you are processed for the first mission.”
“I’ll be there!” Vowed PW as he hung up.
“There goes my beautiful mane!” PW complained as the shaver buzzed it nearly flush with his coat.
His tail was likewise cut short and bundled up. He then was issued his uniform and shown to the barracks where he waited for training to begin with several other recruits.
The door flew open, revealing a large, green earth-pony with a flat top and an angry look on his face. “RECRUITS! I AM SERGEANT WHIPPING POST! FROM NOW ON YOU WILL SPEAK ONLY WHEN SPOKEN TO!” He bellowed, approaching the line of stallions. “SOUND OFF!” He ordered.
“Yes sir!” The unsure chorus replied.
“YOU BETTER TRY THAT AGAIN LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!”
“YES SIR!” They cried.
“YOU LOSERS WILL ONE DAY BE INTELLIGENCE WEAPONS OF WAR, HANDLING CLASSIFIED INFORMATION! BUT, UNTIL THAT DAY YOU ARE LITTLE PANSIES, MUSHROOMS, AND MOSS GROWING IN THE GROSSEST RECESSES OF THE EQUESTRIAN DUNGEONS! NOW, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” Whipping Post hollered into the face of the nearest recruit.
He went on down the line, mocking and insulting them as they went. Each of them was given a nickname. Some weren’t half-bad but most were humiliating. Of course, PW hoped his would be badass but the drill instructor had other plans.
“WHAT IS YOUR NAME MY LITTLE PRIVATE?” He yelled at PW.
“POLARIS WIND, SIR!” PW shouted back.
“CLEAR YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OUT PRIVATE IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU ARE CHOKING ON PISS!” He yelled, mocking PW’s scratchy voice.
“POLARIS WIND, SIR!” He tried again, cleaning his voice.
“I DID NOT ORDER YOU TO REPEAT YOURSELF, LITTLE PRIVATE! NOW WHY ON EQUUS DO YOU THINK YOU ARE WORTHY OF MY CORPS?” He challenged.
“SIR, I WAS SELECTED FOR A CLASSIFIED OPERATION, SIR!”
“PRIVATE POLARIS WIND YOU USE ONE SIR AT THE END WHEN SPEAKING TO ME! NOW REPEAT YOURSELF!”
“I WAS SELECTED FOR A CLASSIFIED OPERATION, SIR!”
“BULLSHIT, YOU’RE BARELY TALLER THAN MY GRANNY!”
“I AM THE HEIGHT OF AN AVERAGE PEGASUS, SIR!”
“ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME LITTLE PRIVATE?”
“NO, SIR!”
“I WOULD CHOOSE MY NEXT WORDS CAREFULLY LITTLE PRIVATE! NOW WHY ARE YOU IN MY CORPS?!”
“IT REALLY IS CLASSIFIED, SIR!”
“BULLSHIT! YOU MOCK ME LITTLE PRIVATE!” He yelled, knocking PW down and back towards the bed. “GET UP, LITTLE PRIVATE!”
PW gasped and floofed his chest tuft.
“DO YOU THINK I’M FUCKING STUPID? I SEE YOUR CHEST HAIR, LITTLE PRIVATE!”
“I AM BEING TOUGH SIR!”
“BULLSHIT! LIKE HELL YOU ARE, PRIVATE POLARIS WIND! YOU ARE NOT ONLY A LIAR BUT YOU ARE A TINY, MISERABLE MIDGET! I WILL CALL YOU PRIVATE SQUAT!” He yelled.
There was snickering in the room.
“DO I HEAR GIGGLING? TIME TO MAKE SQUAT HERE PROUD. ALL OF YOU LITTLE PRIVATES GIVE ME FIFTY ‘SQUATS’ NOW!” The sergeant yelled.
“Nice job, Squat!” The stallion next to PW hissed, obviously upset about his poor performance impacting everypony negatively.
-1 Week Later-
Once the week had passed, PW managed to graduate with most of the class. While they would continue their rigorous training for more specialized tasks PW was accelerated through training because of concerns regarding the situation of the Night-Mares. The coordinator, Stablecolt, was there to congratulate him on passing.
“I would have asked Number 2 to join us but she is currently on assignment.” He said.
“I get it.” Replied PW.
“She will be returning tomorrow for a refit so we are just going to process the both of you tomorrow.”
“Great!” Replied PW, anxious to see 2 again.
PW was awarded his rank in a small ceremony and was surprised to see the N.C. approaching him.
“Private Wind, are you aware of the tradition of rank advancement? I see your boss is here to help you celebrate the moment." Whipping Post asked.
“No?” PW responded.
“A friend or family member is invited to punch your badge.”
“What?!” Exclaimed PW as Rex stepped up to him and punched his shoulder.
“Oww!”
Rex placed a hoof more gently on his shoulder. “Polaris, when your new rank is awarded in the Royal Guard somepony you know gives you a celebratory punch on the badge. In lieu of any such persons present I did the honors. Just know that in the future 2 has volunteered herself to be the familiar doing the congratulatory-punch next time. You should feel proud, PW. And terrified.”
“… oh nooo!” He cried, fearing the next promotion.
“I’m sorry we’re not able to give you a day off.” Said his boss.
“I know what I signed up for, N.C. The sooner I’m beside her, the better. Have you replaced her j-box yet?” Asked PW.
“Yes, immediately. So far so good; you helped us out again, Polaris.” The N.C. said.
The exhausted training graduate went home and slept the best night’s sleep he had in several weeks. The training was done, he was back in his own bed, and now he was officially on team Night-Mare 2, to be at her side professionally.
The next morning he walked to the office with great excitement and was surprised to see somepony he wanted to see so badly already there in the waiting room.
“Night-Mare 2! I’m for real now!” PW exclaimed to the earlybird.
“PW! Nice haircut.” The large mare called back with enthusiasm before reaching down into a saddlebag.
“I got something for you!” She removed a small object from the bag.
“Ha, a plushie?” He cocked a brow and chuckled.
“Not just any!” She held it aloft.
“Oh Celestia! It’s you! As a plushie!”
“Yup, they’re making plushies for the Guard now. Thought I’d ask for one too.”
“She’s so CUTE! I love her so much!” He exclaimed, embracing the toy.
“Size is measured in spirit, nothing more!” It cried.
The surprised stallion took the toy in his hooves and squeezed it again. “Move in to engage!” It squawked.
“Oh my Celestia, 2! She even talks! This is so great!” PW added.
“I’m glad you like it! Well, me.”
“This is so cute!”
“Boop your nose to hers! This one’s special – a one of a kind.”
“Okay?” PW responded, pressing his nose into the plush’s one.
“PW, you’re my number 1!” The toy replied.
PW looked over at the Night-Mare who was now a bit red and looking down shyly. PW jumped up and hugged the mare around her chest.
“Thank you. Really.” He said sincerely. The mare raised her right foreleg to place her fingers over his back.
“What did you name your rifle?” She asked.
“You really want to know, 2?”
“Yup. Tell me.”
“Snowheart!” PW bleated.
“After me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you cuddle with Miss Snowheart in bed?” The mare asked in a teasing way.
“N- no!” PW responded, turning red in the face.
“It’s ok- it’s only natural for you. So how about this- how many times did you drop the soap?”
“Just once.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And did you do it?”
“Yeah, I sang ‘I’m a little teapot.’ Let’s be honest. What am I unarmed when I can’t fly...” Admitted PW.
“You’re a lot of things PW. More than you realize.”
The door on the other side of the waiting room opened and the boss walked out. “Ah, the former Night-Mare-series-2-serial-2, now Night-Mare team. I’m glad to see you both catching up. Come on back.” He led the way with the size-reversed dimorphic pair in tow.
“Polaris, this is the ready room. This is where the Night-Mares prepare for their missions. It’s really a series of rooms. You started in the creatively-named Waiting Room. We have a series of rooms grouped together with various functions, but we normally refer instead to the stations within the rooms. The stations aren’t set in stone and can change. Like this mission for instance; Station 1 is entirely dedicated to you, Polaris.”
“I’m the reason?”
“Yes, you are. I am going to be sharing very sensitive information now. 2’s portfolio." Rex hoofed PW a folder that looked like a piece of machinery. "This IS classified, and you have the right to know.” He added.
“Ponyeon Systems Night-Mare Weapons System Platform Series 2 / Serial No. 2… Frosty.” PW read. A tear fell onto the paper, which his observant boss picked up on.
“Everything alright, Polaris?”
“Yeah! Absolutely! I just cannot believe that I am worthy to read this!” Exclaimed the fountain of joy that was PW at the moment.
“You barely made the cut...” Teased the NightMare. PW laughed out loud, then opened the folder.
“Oh, the ID!” He read. “Series 2… Serial number 2… codename Frosty. Frosty! Is that what I should be calling you?” PW asked.
“Yes. That’s my handle.” She responded.
“Public alias is Miss Snowheart… Your birth name! Tiny Hooves? Your REAL name is Tiny?!” PW asked.
Frosty stood and walked into PW’s file, into his hoof holding it, and stopped only once they were hoof to hoof. With her muscular chest directly above and in front of the small pegasus stallion's face, and the mare’s face staring down with an expression of disgust so foul it looked as if he’d deeply insulted her. “Look at my hooves. Do you think they are tiny?” She asked.
PW looked down and was convinced he could have fit three of his own hooves in one of hers.
The terrified stallion squeaked. “I… fucked up bigtime! Forgive my transgression!”
She grinned and backed off. “You are forgiven PW. If you must know, my dad named me Tiny Hooves because, when I was a foal, he thought I had tiny hooves. And before you ask; yes, my dad is BIGGER than I am.” PW gulped, hearing another reason it was better to die alongside the Night-Mare than survive her in action.
She noticed Rex smiling at her.
“He likes it when I do that.” She muttered.
“Really?” He gave a curious look to PW, who remained completely motionless, unable to confirm or deny that statement.
“Moving on!” PW all but shouted, desperate to change the subject. “Stats… standing height 60.4 inches… full ancillary clearance height including mane and ears 65.4 inches… width gauge clearance 27.9 inches… body length 56.0 inches… rearing height- holy shit! 80.9 inches! Commissioned weight 394 pounds. Woah! Strength stats! Deadlift 1,685 pounds, bench 882 pounds, torque 1,605 pounds, thigh contraction pressure 79 psi!” Read PW.
“Do you see why it’s a bad idea to fuck with me PW?” Asked the mare.
“Yup, this is insane!” He replied back, completely nerded out.
PW started paging ahead in the file. “Leg augmentation system… finger augmentation system – ah, here’s all the stuff I knew from I&T!” PW mentioned as he paged through the detailed design drawings.
“Sounds like you have the lay of the land.” Rex noted.
“Actually, sir, I really want to go over this and memorize everything by heart.”
“I really do admire your dedication. The more you know the better, as it’ll be your job to look after her. For example; the clearances on missions. You will need to ensure she’s able to move around safely.”
“Consider it done!” PW exclaimed with a salute.
“Great. Then we’ll move on to Station 2 where we’ll confirm everything is up to date on our Night-Mare and also get your stats down for my file on you. We won’t need to collect strength stats or anything like that though.” The N.C. motioned to the other side of the room where a small team of nurses came in and greeted Frosty.
One, a blue unicorn, climbed up a stepladder and released a measuring tape. “Height on fours: 60.25!” She announced, before climbing up higher.
“Rear up please?” She asked, to which 2 reared to her full height. “Height rearing: 81.” The nurse said as 2 dropped all fours, producing a light tremor.
The other nurse, a yellow earth-pony, measured her width. “Width: 28, body length: 56.” She read off.
By now the first nurse had put the ladder away and now was wheeling a spring scale out. The unicorn set the large notch in the 300’s position and started advancing the 1’s all the way up to 50. Then she reset for 350, advancing the 1’s towards 400. The scale did not tip. The mare then advanced the first notch to 400, it’s final position, and began advancing until a balance was reached. “404!” Called the nurse.
“Beat that, shrimp-boat.” Teased Frosty, stepping off the scale with a loud *clack*.
“Alright Polaris, we’re ready for you. Since the scale’s out let’s get that taken care of first!” The unicorn waved him forward.
The mare reset the 50 and 1’s weights to 0 and took the 100’s weight back to 100. The scale did not tip. The nurse set the 100’s weight to 0 and moved the 50’s weight back up to 50 and worked the 1’s column out, taking forever to balance. “99!” She called.
“Feathers; he’s lighter than I am!” Called the earth-pony nurse.
Snickering could be heard from the other side of the room where 2 watched.
“I’m four times bigger than you, PW.” She said as the scale was wheeled back. The nurse started wheeling out the ladder.
“Oh hon, you can leave that. I think I can reach.” Said the yellow colored nurse. “Rear up sweetheart?” She asked. She did the same with PW and held the tape up to his ears. “Got it- can you read it?” She asked the blue unicorn nurse on all fours.
“54.25!” She called as an embarrassed PW looked over at the big mare, barely at eye level with her as she sat. PW returned to all fours as the nurse put pressure on him to do so.
“Height on all fours is 40.0! Width… 11.5! Body length… 36.50!” She called off.
“Okay, mister Stablecolt, we’re done!” The unicorn said, passing the clipboard over to the N.C. while the other started clearing up the room.
“Thanks girls! Ok you two, into the next room!” He ordered.
“Beds?” Asked PW, confused.
“Yes. We need somewhere comfortable for you to rest while you receive your immunizations.” The N.C. explained.
“Immunizations?” Asked PW, gulping.
“Yes, shots PW! Big ones.” Teased the mare. He looked back at her to find a stupid grin on her face. She was having too much fun terrorizing her small teammate.
One bed was obviously sized to her (and structured accordingly) while the other to a normal pony.
“We’re back!” called the blue unicorn, carrying a tray in her magic. “You’re due for a booster, Frosty!” Called the mare, lifting a syringe nearly as thick as the nurse’s leg, and nearly as long.
“What the buck is that?!?” PW cried.
“Immunization.” Frosty called back.
“Don’t worry hon, yours is much smaller.” Reassured the nurse.
The nurse unsheathed the inches-long needle and drove it deep into the Night-Mare’s thigh. The Night-Mare continued smiling at PW for the thirty seconds it took to deliver her dose, never once changing her expression.
“Would you like the auto-wagons or the fuzzy dice?” Asked the nurse, holding up two bandages.
“I’ll take the fuzzy dice.” The enormous mare responded.
The yellow earth-pony nurse came out carrying a normal sized syringe and pushed it against PW. “This is Cutie Pox.” She said, delivering the dose.
“I’ll take the autowagons!” PW called.
“Oh noted sweetheart but you’re not finished yet.”
“Ugh!” Cried PW, dropping his head onto the bed.
“Influenza…” Replied the nurse performing the injection. She discarded that needle and picked up another.
“Roots…” She continued.
“Fuck, that hurts!” Complained PW.
“Didn’t you go through boot camp?” Asked the big mare.
“That doesn’t change everything...” Replied PW.
“I don’t know what this is...” Said the nurse, stabbing him again.
“Are you kidding me? What if it’s a lost lethal injection?!?” Complained PW.
“It shouldn’t be – it came with the Night-Mare care package. It's likely a classified pathogen.” Added the nurse, finally putting the bandage on PW.
The door to another, dark room opened. “We’re ready!” A familiar voice announced from within.
“Shall we?” Rex motioned.
The combat team stood up and walked into the room. The floors and walls were colored scarlet. There was sound deadening everywhere, low profile lighting, and red padded cloth seats facing a table and map at the front of the room, where a particular stallion sat.