//------------------------------// // Spitfire -- Gives To -- Luna // Story: Collab Cage Mini-Monthly December -- Secret Santa Hooves // by The Collab Cage //------------------------------// Written by: Lapison Canterlot Castle, front gate. 0755 hours. “Ugh, I hate dresses.” Spitfire stood among the throng of nobility waiting to see Celestia. The day court was opening in five minutes, and this would be her best chance to get into the castle without arousing suspicion or being detected by her target. She shifted uncomfortably, not used to the feeling of cloth restricting her movement, even if it only offered the slightest hindrance. There had been a bit of time before this operation, and Spitfire had taken the time to consider her options, given herself objectives: get the package to the target, Princess Luna, discreetly and undetected. She could always sneak in, using the cover of night to slip in without the guards seeing her. Unfortunately, the viability of the night approach was already shaky, because of the simple fact that her target was a night owl by nature and loved to watch the stars. It was imperative that her target didn’t know that she was coming, and trying to slip in while the target was awake was a risk that Spitfire wasn’t willing to take. So much for the night approach. The operation was also complicated by the fact that Spitfire needed to plant a package for the target to find. Her anonymous inside source had told her that the target regularly circulated the upper chambers of the castle. Usually, an objective in a high place was easy for a pegasi like her. Windows, vents, even skylights were feasible points of entry. A quick flight in, leave the package, bug out. But again, her mark’s unusual habits deterred her. Any attempt to fly in would probably be spotted by the mark, because of her stargazing. A mark that looked up all the time was impossible to evade by flight. The only tried-and-true method for aerial stealth was using clouds to cover the advance, which was always iffy at best, and usually disastrous. The worst part? The forecast for the next few days was clear skies for miles around Canterlot. So much for the flight approach. Spitfire had also considered a rather unorthodox approach, where she’d dress up as Santa Hooves and deliver the package during Hearth’s Warming Eve. This would have nullified all the disadvantages of the flight approach; knowing ponies, many would actually leap at the opportunity to show Santa Hooves to their foals. The approach also appealed to her for another reason: the details she had received on the target showed that she (or he?) had a childish side and would appreciate a touch like that. But she also discounted this for three reasons. First, she didn’t want to give anypony the idea that Santa Hooves was a pegasus, let alone a mare. Sharp-eyed ponies might see her wings, and she also knew that it was possible to identify a pony’s gender by their silhouette. It would prove quite disabusing to a foal if they deduced that Santa Hooves was a mare. Secondly, she was unsure how the guards would react to the alleged Santa Hooves. She didn’t want to be responsible for a full lockdown of Canterlot on the off-chance that some paranoid veteran got a little alarm-happy. And finally, it was incredibly easy to track which ponies got a Santa Hooves costume. Spitfire didn’t want any trace back to her. That was the whole point of the operation; if the target somehow got wind of the fact that Spitfire given the gift, the mission was a failure. So much for the magical approach. Finally, Spitfire had resorted to this approach. It wasn’t the best; she could still think of a hundred and one ways that this could go wrong. She could get frisked. Or she could drop the small package that was nestled between her wing and her dress. She could get shunted along by the nobility, caught in the flow of opulence that went to see their beloved leader. But there were a few perks. One was the fact that she was just another noble. There was nothing to identify her with; even her cutie mark, usually so distinctive, was just one more among the throng of others that the multitude bore. The ease of blending in was a massive boon to her objective of not being caught. Another one was the easy entry point. Most ponies don’t expect a pony with something to hide to brazenly walk in the front door, but that was just what Spitfire was doing. And her most important one: they wouldn’t even see her coming. Even though she looked like just another noble, she was a Wonderbolt. And one of the crucial things she’d picked up in her career as a daredevil: Defy all expectations. Canterlot Castle, Grand Hall. 0900 hours. Spitfire couldn’t hold back a yawn as she scanned the wide space in front of her. Even though the operation was a delicate matter, it was hard not to relax when nothing of interest was happening. Sure, she was in line for the day court. Sure, she was inching toward her goal: the side door that was the route to the gardens. That didn’t mean it was any less boring. Spitfire’s thoughts were interrupted by a commotion up near the head of the line. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t bring that in here.” “Why? It’s nothing harmful, it’s just a gift!” “Be that as it may, it has to stay outside the court. If it’s for the Princess, you can mail it to her.” “But I can’t do that! This is a very special package, and the Princess has to receive it in person…” Spitfire suppressed a chuckle as she realized what the mare was trying to do. Guess I’m not the only one Mr. Anonymous contacted. She couldn’t really help out the poor mare directly; she couldn’t afford to blow her cover. But as another pony in this grand scheme that somepony had put together, she was a teammate. Another lesson she had learned as a Wonderbolt: help your team. Besides, the “help” Spitfire was considering might be the excuse she needed to liven up the place a bit. She sidled toward the mare’s room, passing by the distraught mare on the way. “Get ready to run. Slip past the guards. You’ll know when,” Spitfire breathed. The other mare jumped, startled by the quiet voice. “Wh-who are you?” Spitfire grinned. “Me? Oh, just another mare on a mission.” Trotting into the mare’s room, Spitfire ducked down, pretending to fix her dress. In reality, she was grabbing the magical noisemaker that she had a friend of hers make as a Plan B. She hadn’t been planning to use it at all, if her approach went off without a hitch. Looks like it’ll see some action after all. Detaching the noisemaker from the primer and dropping it into the waste bin, Spitfire walked out, counting under her breath. Thirty...twenty-nine...twenty-eight… The other mare had returned to her argument with the guard. All the while, she kept glancing nervously at Spitfire, who had gone back to her original place in line. Spitfire lowered one eyelid slowly in a wink. Fifteen...fourteen...thirteen. The guard, annoyed at the persistent mare, said brusquely, “Ma’am, you’re holding up the line. I’m going to have to escort you out if you don’t back down within ten seconds. Ten. Nine.” Five...four...three. “This is your final warning. Five. Four. Thr–” BOOM! The magical noisemaker, smoldering in the paper towels, exploded into action, crackling and sparking. A harsh blue light began emanating from the mare’s room. The guard whipped his head around and cursed. “Ma’am, stay right here. I’ll be right back.” However, the calm in his voice was completely eclipsed by the frantic yelling of everypony else. “What the hell?!” “Fire! Fire!” “I don’t wanna die!” “Aaahh! Bomb!” “Let’s get outta here!” Spitfire couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping. She had expected the noisemaker to have an effect. She hadn’t expected the proper and uptight nobility to heighten that factor by ten. The chaotic scene with everypony running every which way certainly didn’t help her stifle her mirth. Out of the corner of her eye, Spitfire saw the mare slip into the court chamber. Good luck, friend, she wished silently. And may the wind be at your back. Speaking of which, she still had her own mission to complete. Spitfire fought against the rush of ponies scrambling to get out. She had to get to the gardens; they were out of the line of sight for anyone looking from the upper chambers, making them the best area for a takeoff. Just because Spitfire couldn’t fly in didn’t mean that she was grounded for the entire operation; if she could find blind spots, she could use them to hide what she was doing, whether it was flying or hiding or something else. Butting her way into the gardens, Spitfire frowned as she looked up. It was impossible to see her from the vantage point up above. However, to fly in, she was going to have to be in plain sight of anypony looking out. She scanned the windows, searching for a way in. One window in particular caught her eye; it seemed less transparent, like the inhabitant didn’t want any light inside, and the dark blue curtains were drawn. Spitfire smiled. Well, there’s the most likely place for the target…But how to get up there? She didn’t want to attract attention, and she couldn’t see any way of getting up there and opening the window without getting spotted. She racked her brain for any way to complete the mission. Come on! You’re the leader of the Wonderbolts, you’ve been assigned with a task, you’ve come this far, you can’t give up now! It was in this desperate state of mind that Spitfire decided to relax her constraints a little. She’d hoped for no collateral damage, but it seemed it would have to be inevitable. She grabbed the small package that she was carrying. I hope that the Princess won’t send me to the moon for this… Spitfire hefted the dense little package. With a small grunt, she threw it as hard as she could, immediately turning and fleeing back into the safety of the agitated Great Hall. She couldn’t see the result of her throw, or if it was any good. But she did hear a small crash, followed by the tinkle of glass. Luna’s Chambers. 1024 hours. Luna was rudely awoken by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, followed by some rays of shining light. Frantic screams echoed from the Great Hall down below. Her immediate reaction was one that any Royal Guard would have been proud of. She rolled off the opposite side of her bed, her horn flaring to protect herself and hopefully anypony within the area from the explosion that was guaranteed to follow. Her ears turned down in anticipation. When the expected ball of fire didn’t come, she cautiously peeked around the bed. All she saw was a package, roughly spherical in shape and wrapped in nondescript brown paper, surrounded by shards of glass. Luna creeped towards it. It showed no signs of exploding, but a mare couldn’t be too careful. Luna fired a bolt of magic intended to probe it for any dangerous materials. After a second, nothing seemed to be happening, other than it glowing faintly, a sign that magic was involved. In other words, it was perfectly safe to open. Now that her initial caution proved to be unfounded, Luna’s thoughts turned to a different question: Why toss this through a window? Well, only one way to find out. Luna unwrapped the small sphere. At first glance, it didn’t appear to be anything at all--just a simple glass orb, transparent, with no secrets at all. Luna knew otherwise; the presence of magic around the orb meant that it was meant to do something. That something became apparent as she continued to inspect it.  Luna held back a small gasp of shock at what she was seeing. She could see her beautiful night in all its glory. Moreover, she could see all her lovely stars, millions upon millions all encapsulated in the little world of glass. They sparkled blue and red, countless little gems twinkling in the light. And to seemingly top it all off, her moon hung at the very top, an orb of its own that seemed to smile at her. By manipulating it, Luna found that she could zoom in, twist the stars around, even seem to fly among them. She spent a good twenty minutes familiarizing herself with the little orb, before feeling small, elegant engraving on the bottom of the glass. She turned it over to read it. Shoot for the moon; if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.