The Canterlot Morgue lay beneath the castle, just beyond the property of the citadel. A small, unassuming building alongside the castle walls marked the entrance. From the outside, the façade looked exactly the same as any other structure in Canterlot, with stark white walls and a rich purple roof. A few brightly potted flowers adorned the eaves, adding splashes of color to the world.
It was a far cry from the interior.
The basement was home to the crypt, with rows of cooled fridges built into the naturally dark stone to store the bodies of the deceased. Two lanterns hung overhead, bathing the chilled room in a warm, yet unsettling orange glow. Several autopsy tables sat at even intervals around the room. A single body lay across the surface of one, covered in a sterile, white sheet.
A shiver ran down Fleethoof’s spine. He had never been to the morgue before, and standing still in the cold air of the business of death, he hoped he’d never have to return. His blue eyes lay fixated on the tarp-covered body, unable to move, scarcely able to keep a steady breathing pattern. Across from him, Celestia and the pathologist stood side-by-side, going over the charts associated with the departed. Luna and Spitfire stood to his left, both as silent as he was.
How could this have happened…? Fleethoof wondered.
Celestia signed off on one of the forms the pathologist handed and dismissed the mare.
“We’ll be taking all of your reports on the matter,” Celestia informed her. “No records are to be left behind.”
The mare nodded, and replied, “Yes, your majesty.”
She left the ponies, making her way back upstairs to her office to retrieve all the associated files. The room was deathly silent, a fitting atmosphere, given the surroundings and the situation. Spitfire was staring down at the shiny metal sheen of the autopsy table, seemingly entranced by the gleam, or some faraway thought. The princesses were exchanging a look between themselves.
Fleethoof didn’t know what to do. His mind had come to grasp the reality of the moment, but seeing the shrouded cadaver seemed like a cruel joke. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were at peace. Nopony was supposed to die.
“I’ll have some of my guards retrieve the body tonight,” said Luna softly, her voice low. “We must adjourn back to the castle, sister. We need to handle this matter immediately.”
“You are right,” agreed the sovereign alicorn with a nod. “Come, Lieutenant Spitfire. We have much to talk about.”
The three mares made their way across the room, back towards the stairs, their hoofsteps echoing all around. Luna paused, waiting beside the door as the others left, and cast a glance back at the lingering stallion. His gaze hadn’t moved from the body.
“Will you be joining us, Captain?”
“Yeah, I just… need a moment,” said Fleethoof, still transfixed.
The princess nodded slowly and sighed before departing as well. Left alone, Fleethoof could feel the silence crushing in around him. His mind was thinking off too much all at once. He could hear the pounding of his heard in his head.
This couldn’t be real. But it was. Union was like their sister unit. It was their job to look after them—except it wasn’t. They had always been separate entities. But they were kin—brothers in arms. If Skyfall didn’t exist, Union didn’t exist. They were one and the same…
…Right?
For whatever inexplicable reason, Fleethoof had felt compelled to look after the members of Fireteam Union. They had been like their shadows: similar and yet starkly different. They had always needed help and guidance. But they also needed room to grow.
And look at where growing got them…
Fleethoof swallowed back a lump in his throat. It wasn’t his fault… but why did he feel guilty and partly responsible? He didn’t even know if Skyfall’s intervention would have prevented anything. But not knowing was exactly what drove him mad.
The stallion slowly lifted a hoof, setting it on the side of the autopsy table. The cool metal sent tingles up his leg like an electric shock. He had to see for himself. Letting his hoof slip underneath the sheet, he gently tugged it downward about halfway down the length of the body.
A dulled yellow mare lay across her back on the table, her green mane falling down past her shoulders across the metal surface. Her eyes were closed, and the expression on her face was surprisingly peaceful, as if she were simply asleep. The pallid lack of color in her face told the dreadful tale regardless.
Fleethoof took a deep breath, doing his best to keep from gagging on the oppressive scent of formaldehyde as he stared down at the body of Sergeant Harp Strings.
Union’s leader was lying dead on a slab in front of his eyes. The team themselves were nowhere to be seen. It made the captain’s stomach turn. How could they just abandon their own teammate in death like this? Cowards… Fleethoof had no respect for them.
The sound of hooves on the stairs caught Fleethoof’s attention. His ears swiveled back when the steps hit the stone floor, but still he refused to turn around.
“Oh, I didn’t realize anypony was still here…” It was the pathologist. She must have come back to return the body to the cold storage. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
“No, you’re fine,” Fleethoof murmured, shaking his head subtly. “Do whatever you have to. I won’t be in your way.”
The soft clip-clop of hooves approached his side. He didn’t need to look up to know she was standing beside him now.
“Did you know her?”
He shook his head. “No. I only met her once before, very briefly.”
“Oh, I see. It’s just that usually the ponies who linger are often close to the deceased.”
“We were in the same business,” said Fleethoof listlessly, his eyes darkening.
“You mean the Royal Guard, right?” the mare asked.
Fleethoof nodded slowly.
“I get a lot of soldiers through here, especially after the war a while back. It’s a grim business, but somepony has to do it, right?”
The mare chuckled timidly, trying to lighten the mood. Her words sparked something in Fleethoof’s brain. What she had said, she was right. Their job was dark and grim, but somepony did have to do it. If not them, then who?
“No matter how hard you stare, they won’t come back.” The pathologist giggled softly. “Trust me, I’ve tried before.”
“I have to make this right…” Fleethoof said darkly, tugging the sheet back over Harp Strings’ body.
The pathologist merely stood and watched as the captain turned on his heels and marched out of the morgue. He had to have a long chat with Lieutenant Spitfire and tear the remaining Union members a new rear end. Then he was going to find out what the hell Union Team had been up to and finish their fight.
“Union’s op was supposed to be quick and simple: infiltrate and execute. It was so straightforward, anypony with half a brain could have followed it,” Spitfire said in calm explanation, pacing back and forth across the wooden floor. “I didn’t expect any complications to arise…”
Luna leaned her head forward on her hooves as she sat at her desk. Celestia stood beside her sister in her office, listening as Spitfire described the nature of what had occurred.
“Something clearly did become complicated, Lieutenant,” the Princess of the Night observed. “Otherwise we would not have one pony dead and three missing entirely.”
Spitfire was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t have an excuse for that, your majesties.”
“We aren’t interested in excuses, Lieutenant. We want an explanation.”
“I don’t have much to report on what exactly happened…”
The door to the office opened briefly. Fleethoof slipped inside, leaning back against the closed door while patiently listening. Spitfire cast a wary look at him. His gaze was hard as steel as he glowered at the Wonderbolt leader. There was so much he wanted to say, but out of respect for the officer and the princesses and common decency, he held his tongue for the time being.
“Tell us what you do know,” said Princess Celestia tactfully.
Spitfire turned back toward the sovereigns of Equestria. “Fireteam Union was pursuing a known arms dealer and threat to Equestria. We had intel linking him to many black market deals all over the world, including the war in the south and over in Zavros. Knowing that he was escalating these conflicts, Union moved in to intervene.
“On their last mission, we had enough proof to reasonably believe we had our target’s most recent location. Union moved in for the kill, but… something happened in the field. The target was lost, and Sergeant Harp Strings was killed in action.”
“What happened?” Fleethoof interjected, demanding the details.
“I don’t know. We lost communication with Union and when we extracted them, the sergeant was dead,” Spitfire answered bluntly.
Fleethoof was not letting the matter go. “So where is Union now?”
Hesitation passed between question and answer. “They’re licking their wounds.”
“I would imagine so.” Celestia sighed, sorrow in her wise voice.
“They’ve been too reckless for far too long,” said a very displeased Fleethoof, scowling as he muttered, “It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. They have no serious experience under their belts. They weren’t prepared.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll have them back, disciplined, and ready for duty in no time,” Spitfire reassured the alicorn princesses.
“No.” Fleethoof’s interruption had been swift and adamant, stepping up beside Spitfire before the princesses. “Union has already proven that they are far too inexperienced and reckless to be dealing with these sorts of operations. We can’t continue to allow them to act in matters they have no idea of.”
Spitfire glared daggers at the pony beside her. “Excuse me?”
“No offense, Lieutenant, but your Special Forces training has been lackluster at best with Union,” said the stallion in a matter-of-factly manner. “One is already dead, the rest are demoralized, and little progress has been made on their end, where my team would have excelled months ago. They had their chance—in fact, they’ve had several—and they’ve shown no signs of improvement. If anything, they’ve been proof that not anypony can handle these kinds of tasks.”
Spitfire’s brilliant orange eyes were ablaze with anger at the captain’s words. Who was he to say such things about her training? She was the captain of the Wonderbolts, the head of the Wonderbolt Academy. If anypony knew how to train Special Forces, it was her!
But Fleethoof was far from done. “And under these circumstances, I would urge your highnesses, Princesses Celestia and Luna, to move to abort and disband the Fireteam Union operation. It would be beneficial to the health of the ponies involved and to Equestria’s general safety. Reassign them to the Royal Equestrian Air Force out of Cloudsdale, but don’t let them run around acting like my team when they don’t know the basics of what they’re doing.”
“Captain Fleethoof, I don’t know who you think you are, but nopony demands I step down from a task, especially when my duties are not yet complete.”
Fleethoof rolled his eyes in an overly exaggerated manner and turned on the Wonderbolt. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Would you be more satisfied when every member of Union is lying on a slab in the morgue?”
Unwittingly, Spitfire’s drill sergeant nature began to come out in response to the officer’s berating. In a brash, daring move, Spitfire stormed right up into Fleethoof’s face, eyes practically glowing with the bitterness she felt towards Fleethoof’s views of Union.
“I would be satisfied when you get off our backs and let us do our job.”
“My job, you mean,” Fleethoof snapped back, refusing to back down. “Union is nothing more than a babied up version of Skyfall, and don’t you dare insult my intelligence by denying that, Lieutenant. I’ve been doing this a little longer than you have, and I don’t think you’re in any position of authority to be telling me what’s what. Be thankful I don’t have command over your division, or I’d seriously consider putting you down for a suspension of duty for this insubordination alone.”
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Authority? What authority do you even have?” Spitfire seethed, refusing to back down from defending her ponies and her pride. “What exactly are you an officer of anyway? I train the best pegasi soldiers in all of Equestria. What do you do?”
Both Celestia and Luna looked visibly shocked at the exchange of words between the two officers. “Lieutenant!”
“You put soldiers into tasks they can’t accomplish and brush off their deaths like they were dust on your perfectly pressed uniform.” A cold glint flashed through the stallion’s deep blue eyes, gritting his teeth together between words. “You do little more than a foal setting up dominoes to be knocked over.”
The princesses gasped again. “Captain!”
Spitfire snorted under her breath. “You’re lucky I’m not in charge of Skyfall, or I’d have you discharged on the spot… Captain.”
“And if you were my CO, I’d shoot myself before your incompetence could get me killed.”
“Enough!” Celestia near shouted, catching both ponies’ attention and ending the verbal warfare between the two.
Fleethoof took a deep breath, gathering himself again. “Your majesty, please see reason in scrubbing the project. It’s far too risky!”
“Union isn’t done yet!” snapped Spitfire.
“Enough, both of you! You’re acting like foals.”
At Princess Celestia’s scolding, both pegasi turned their gazes from one another to her, shocked and still bitter.
“I must agree, Union has been showing minimal growth and results,” said the princess, her words slow, carefully considering everything she said. “But I do not think we need to truncate this so prematurely. Union simply needs the field experience, and somepony to show them how to operate.” Her eyes turned up to Fleethoof. “Somepony like you, Captain.”
Both ponies looked startled and confused, speaking in sync. “Excuse me?”
“You said it yourself, Captain Fleethoof: they need to learn how to work. And who better to teach them these ways than somepony who has mastered it?”
Luna nodded eagerly. “I concur, ‘Tia. Skyfall would make excellent role models for Union to exemplify. Perhaps another mission together would shape them up nicely.”
“It’s worth a shot. Far better than sending four ponies back down to the lower ranks.”
“Three ponies,” Luna grimly corrected.
“Yes… Three… Right…”
“Your majesties,” Spitfire spoke up quickly. “Union doesn’t need any help from this Skyfall Team. They’re doing fine on their own!”
“The evidence is to the contrary, Lieutenant Spitfire. And this is beyond conversation.” Celestia’s words were adamant and unwavering. “Include Skyfall in your next mission briefing. They will be going into the field with Union.”
“But… But…”
“Your majesty, I don’t—”
Celestia silenced the two stuttering officers with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “This is the compromise. Spitfire, you want Union to be given one more chance. Fleethoof, you want proof Union is capable of doing their jobs. You both get what you want this way.”
“Skyfall will join Union in the field,” Luna ended succinctly. “Understood?”
Both pegasi’s wings drooped and ears folded against their skulls. Spitfire even dipped her head slightly. “Yes, your majesties.”
Luna looked happy at the despondent agreement. “Very good. Hopefully, this will be a good learning experience for everypony involved. You are dismissed, officers.”
As the stallion and mare sulked out of the office, Spitfire cast a fiery glance at Fleethoof. He reciprocated with a cold glare.
“Just because we’re working together doesn’t mean I forgive you…” she muttered under her breath.
“I wasn’t apologizing.”
“Good.”
“Fine.”
Silence.
The ponies headed down the hall, still walking in the same direction. The tension was like a thick fog.
“Our briefing is in Manehattan, the Guard base, at 0600 hours tomorrow.” Spitfire spared him a sideways glimpse. “Think you and your team could be up in time for that?”
A wry smirk touched the corner of Fleethoof’s mouth. “One thing you’ll learn about us, Lieutenant: we like to be fashionably early.”
What bothered Spitfire most about Fleethoof’s blatant assault on her team wasn’t the hostility of it. It was the fact that he was right. Union wasn’t turning out to be her most successful endeavor she had ever undertaken. But she was no quitter. At the beginning, she had vowed to herself to make it or die trying, the same mantra that had so rightfully earned her the rank she now carried over the Academy. Union was rough, but she was determined to work them into some of Equestria’s elite.
The alarm clock shattered the early morning silence with an awful din. It was a noise she had become accustomed to in her time in the Guard. She had quickly learned that a swift beating from a stray hoof silenced the cacophony it created.
Her morning routine began, mind plagued with bitter thoughts and resentment towards the Skyfall leader. He had no faith in Union—no faith in her. That bothered her. She could recall when she had informed Soarin on her new project. The stallion stared at her like she was speaking a different language, and then had just burst out in laughter. It was ridiculous, he had said, and she only knew how to train fliers. She had stormed out of his office, leaving the blue-maned pegasus nearly in tears.
Now this lack of faith was the salt in the wound. Whoever he was, she wasn’t going to let him show her—or her team—up. Granted, Spitfire didn’t know what Skyfall did, but her briefing into Project: Union had said it was similar to Project: Skyfall. She could only assume they were closely related.
The mess hall on base wouldn’t be serving food for another hour or so, so Spitfire settled for what she had left in her personal coffeepot from last night. The bitter drink was barely lukewarm now, and tasted like dirt. Today was already off to a flying start.
Still, even as she downed what remained of her coffee, she had the peace of knowing she had a half hour reprieve to herself before Union came in to be briefed. That breath of fresh air to herself would be exactly what she needed to de-stress and unwind before having to deal with Skyfall.
She trotted sluggishly down the corridors of the army base, listening to the buzzing of the lights overhead. It was still dark outside, with just a hint of the morning sun beginning to turn the black night into pale blues and purples. The Briefing Room was at the far end of the base from her quarters, and by the time she got there, her half hour had turned to fifteen minutes.
Still, it’s something I get before dealing with… Spitfire thought, unlocking the doors and tugging them open to find, Skyfall!
The Briefing Room was, surprisingly, already occupied by six stallions, seated together around one of the rectangular tables. Each pony was dressed in a matching sleek black uniform. Guns sat propped against their chairs or across the table while the ponies themselves occupied their mouths with a box of donuts from one of the local stores.
“Good morning, Lieutenant!” one of them, a unicorn, greeted much too cheerfully for this time of day. “Want some? We made a run before you got here, ya know, cuz the chow hall is closed.”
Spitfire was too surprised to say anything. Nopony ever showed up early. But Fleethoof was turning out to be a pony of his word more and more. Now he really was showing her up.
“How did you get in here?” she asked, still frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights. “The door was locked.”
“We picked it,” the same unicorn said as nonchalantly as if he were talking about the weather. “We didn’t wanna disturb you for the key.”
Fleethoof simply smirked proudly at the bewildered lieutenant from his seat, reclined back with his hooves up on the table.
“We’re ready whenever you are, Lieutenant.”
Today was really off to a flying start…