//------------------------------// // Chapter Six // Story: Earning Wings of a Different Nature // by Strayan Phoenix //------------------------------// Earning Wings of a Different Nature By Strayan Phoenix Chapter Six [0921 Hours, May 12th, 2020] Daring’s eyes shot open as a loud, muffled *crack* resounded about the ship. She sat up in her bunk and warily looked about for the source of the noise. Aside from the usual rumble of Brisbane’s engines, and the constant sloshing of the churning ocean around them, she could hear the rapid-fire tap-tap of rain thumping against Brisbane’s hull. Dismissing the sound which woke her as thunder, she plopped her head back down on the pillow. A sharp pain in her back finally drew her attention across both of her wings, which looked more than a little dishevelled.  She gingerly stretched them out, noting that they were still tense and sore from yesterday afternoon’s exercises. ‘Maybe I just slept on them wrong,’ a possibility crossed her train of thought. A powerful jolt snapped her attention back to reality as the ship suddenly seemed to drop from beneath her, before suddenly surging back up again. ‘Must be rough weather out there,’ she thought with a frown. Another range of sounds attracted her attention, from the other side of the cabin door. A muffled voice alerted her to the presence of sailors loitering in the hallway. She carefully shuffled herself off her bunk and tip-toed her way to press her ear against the door. Well, she did the pony-equivalent to tip-toeing anyway, while being careful not to slip over as Brisbane powered on heedlessly through the rough seas. “... dunno what you think, but I don’t reckon things look too good at the moment. The weather’s just too shit for the chopper, so we’ve got no eye in the sky until it blows over,” one of the voices said. Daring identified him as XO Cruze. “We’re not confident Shef’s flying abilities at their full potential yet, and on top of that, it’d be just too bloody cold and windy for her to cope with as well, so we simply can’t risk asking her to play the role of stop-gap. She’d just get smashed out there. Speaking of which, how long has she been asleep anyway?” “Since about twenty-two thirty last night,” the other voice replied, Medic Rogers by the sounds of it, “She looked completely knackered when she went to bed. She must’ve created quite an exhaustive work-out for herself. And then she was tossing and turning all night as well, which we noticed stopped at around oh-two forty-five this morning. Symptoms included murmuring incoherently under her breath, and looking to be in a lot of pain at several stages.” ‘Oh yeah, the nightmare,’ Daring frowned, ‘They’re probably going to be asking me questions now, by the sounds of it. Wait a minute... they were watching me sleep?! That’s just a little bit of a breach in privacy!’ She scowled indignantly as she reached up and pulled the lever, letting the door swing open with the sway of the ship. Both officers instantly jerked their heads in her direction, blinking in surprise. “Oh Shef, you’re awake!” Cruze shuffled about to face her, “How are you feeling this morning?” “A little stiff, actually,” Daring murmured, stretching her neck about. Her entire body visibly tensed up as she struggled to hold her grip on the bare metal deck with the ship’s movement. “I must’ve slept wrong or something.” “Sandman didn’t decide to pay you a visit or anything?” Rogers asked casually, “No nightmares or anything like that?” ‘Real smooth way to try and pry what you already know, Rodge. Real smooth,’ Daring thought. She shrugged, “Not really. I had a dream where this one guy single-handedly killed a heap of weirdos with a laser gun, and then I had a dream I was practising flying off cliff-tops all day, but that’s about it.” Well, that was partly true. Hopefully Rogers wouldn’t notice that he only got less than fifteen percent of it. Rogers folded his arms across his chest while raising an eyebrow suspiciously, “Yeah? And tell us a bit more about this ‘guy with a laser gun’.” “That’s exactly what it was,” Daring shrugged as nonchalantly as possible, “A guy with a laser gun. Nothing else needs to be said.” “...Alright,” Rogers didn’t seem convinced, but otherwise let the matter drop, “You missed breakfast, by the way. The mess hall is still open if you want a bite to eat before lunch, though. If you ever want to talk to me about anything, I’ll be at my usual post in the Medical Station.” Daring gave the Medic a nod as he turned and walked off up the hallway, disappearing around a corner. Daring then turned her attention to XO Cruze, who was still standing there, waiting for an opportunity to speak. “Can I help you?” she asked politely. “Well, I was having a chat with the Skipper last night, and we’ve received a reply from Top Brass about a message we sent them regarding your little aesthetical crisis,” Cruze gestured, “and frankly, to say that they’re in disbelief is like saying this rain is just a bit of a drizzle. And who can blame them, really? The video footage we sent them was probably a little confronting, and they said they’ll need time to stew it over and digest it.” “What else is there?” Daring’s head tilted slightly to the right. “I guess that’s it really. The order for your supplies is due to arrive within the next few days, and both Laura and Martin have been assigned duties helping out the engineers keeping the chopper in order, so that’s them covered for the time being. I’ve been mulling over a few ideas about what we could do with you, and I’ve even thought of potentially requesting that you get an entire sub-unit all to yourself. How does that sound?” Daring’s ears perked slightly, “How would that work?” “It’s simple. Since you’re no longer functional as a pilot, we can use you as the basis for a section in the Navy Air Arm entirely for yourself. An extraordinary unit for an extraordinary case,” Cruze explained with a grin, “So that way, whenever you’re on station as an operational unit, you at least can have something to identify yourself as.” “Do you think they’d accept it?” Daring’s head tilted back across to the left. This was sounding a little too good to be true. “The amount of paperwork and resources required for all of that would be a little much for something which might turn out to be only a temporary thing. I don’t plan on just living my days out as a pony, you know. I want to get to the bottom of all this as soon as possible.” “Hmm,” Cruze visibly deflated slightly, “I s’pose you’re right... Look, at the end of the day, you also have a big say in what we’re going to do with you, and if you’re happy to stay attached to your current squadron for now, then I guess that works too.” “I appreciate the gesture,” Daring nodded with an apologetic smile, “I really do, but I think that giving me my own niche out of the blue is jumping the gun a little bit here. My main focus is to first come to grips with my current situation, and THEN we’ll figure out what to do from there. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop serving Brisbane the best way I can, there’s no doubt about that. But sorting out my place in the Navy isn’t that high on my priorities list.” “No, no, you’re right. I just got off onto a bit of a tangent with that train of thought,” Cruze shrugged, “That makes our job a little bit easier, I guess.” A loud voice resounded over the ship’s intercom system, “Could XO Cruze please report to the Ops Room? XO Cruze to the Ops Room.” “Ergh, I better go see what’s up,” Cruze shook his head, turning about to leave, “In the meantime, you’re free to do whatever you want, within reason. As always, the gym and its facilities are all yours to use as you see fit.” Daring stared blankly up and down the now-vacant hallway. ‘Cruze did raise a valid point, I suppose. It could be quite some time before this whole ‘pony’ ordeal comes to a head, so we’ll need to figure out how this will impact my place in the Navy,’ she sat down on her haunches, slightly leaning her left side against the wall. ‘Add that to a long list of other problems. I need to re-learn how to live, for one thing, which is going to be a pain in the flank. Pegasi require different lifestyles to humans, with plenty of exercise and flying-time, which is going to be easy enough, but I have no idea how to even keep myself hygienic, beyond a basic scrub-down with water and maybe some proper cleaning stuff. I’ll have to do a bit of Googling later on about how to preen these wings and keep them clean. MLP Pegasi seem to place great emphasis on keeping their wings in top condition, and I can kind-of understand why. I never knew having six limbs would be so complicated! It’s like having a second pair of arms attached to my back! It’s a very intriguing sensation, to say the least.’ She glanced over her right shoulder, absent-mindedly flexing her wings up and down independently of each other, before shifting them back into their folded storage positions across her sides. ‘What else is there...?’ she furrowed her brow in deep concentration, ‘The issue of food is being sorted out, and I have all the muscle movements and patterns memorised, so finding my way around is no longer an issue. ‘I haven’t experienced another hunch-sensation yet, but I have a feeling that that is triggered whenever I intentionally go looking for things of high value. I’ll have to put that to the test later on.  ‘New physical body, and a female one no less, is going to have some rather... interesting quirks and side-effects. I’m certainly not too keen on finding out if getting kicked below the belt is any less painful for females, so we can definitely cross that one off the list. ‘Female hormones in humans typically follow a predictable monthly cycle, but what’s the case for ponies? Some of the fanfics that I spotted Chris reading theorise that they have the same seasonal routine as normal ponies, coming into heat every couple of weeks throughout the year and all that crap, but I guess we’ll never know unless it actually happens. I for one sincerely hope they’re wrong. I don’t exactly want to be caught strutting around with an ice pack jammed between my legs for several days just to keep my cool. Damn, that’s going to be so awkward. ‘And what about sex in general? Shit, I wasn’t even able to score as a human! I suppose it’s my own fault, considering I was concentrating more on getting my life in order than anything else. So now that my first time will be as Daring Do...’ “Ergh,” She visibly shuddered, “Let’s just leave that can of worms alone for the time being.” ‘I have to think of a way to break this to my family! How are they going to react to all of this? Chris will probably be over the moon, having a genuine Pegasus for an older sister. I mean, who doesn’t think that Daring Do is awesome? Any brony worth his salt would be half smiling like a Cheshire cat, half gobsmacked by the fact that Pegasi are real.’ She audibly sighed, ‘Mum and Dad will probably flip their shit, so I’ll have to tread carefully with them. That’ll be the hardest part, I suppose.’ She blinked as a low growling sound resonated up and down the hallway. “Alright, alright,” she grumbled as she glanced down at her tummy, which was angrily reminding her that she not only missed breakfast, but was about to miss lunch as well. “I’ll feed you, just hold your horses for a minute. One problem at a time. First, I need to think a few things through...” She swore she could hear a little voice inside her shout “No!” “Argh, fine!” She started pacing at a brisk trot, heading for the mess hall, “Have it your way then.” ----- As Daring set about to prepare some lunch for herself, she realised that it was times like these when she kind-of wished she had been transformed into a Unicorn like Twilight or Trixie, so that way she could at least use her telekinetic magic to make up for the severe loss of dexterity in her limbs. Wielding a simple thing like a butter knife was never a more challenging task in her life. She had to hold it between her teeth in a rather awkward fashion, and it was more like watching a disabled child trying to make their own meal than anything else. Removing toast from the toaster was a two-hoofed effort, and finding the right balance whilst carrying the loaded plate between her teeth was quite a strain on her neck and jaw muscles. The rough seas meant that keeping her balance was incredibly difficult. The flat soles of her hooves provided very little in the way of grip, and it was a game of hit-or-miss to not to slip over as the deck moved about beneath her hooves. Her wings flared out on either side of her in a feeble attempt to help, by leaning them against the cupboards, the walls, and basically anything solid enough to support her weight. Several sailors sitting at a table closest to the door were all watching the spectacle with curious amusement, and in one voice, they all gave a gruff cheer as Daring’s sense of grip failed her, sending her head-over-heels just short of the table. The hapless Pegasus found her snout jamming into the seat on the way down, causing her to drop the plate, nearly breaking it, and dropping the slices of toast in all directions. A rather lengthy string of vulgar and somewhat crudely-assembled profanity escaped Daring’s mouth as she clutched her now-bleeding face in pain with a hoof, and at the same time used her other foreleg to save what toast she could by flipping it back onto the plate, which now had a serious crack on the underside and several chips here and there. In all honesty, the mess floor was routinely scrubbed to borderline-OCD standards, and was probably sanitary enough to eat off of without any side-effects, but it still didn’t stop her from acting like the five-second-rule still applied. She scowled in frustration at her salvage attempt, judging less than a third of her original plateful as still edible, still swearing like a sailor under her breath as she discarded the rejects in the nearest rubbish bin. “That’s the SECOND time that’s happened!” She sat down to eat what was left of her lunch. She glanced up towards the sailors in the corner, who all quickly turned their heads to look at something else, chuckling quietly amongst themselves. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you wankers,” she added for good measure in a hushed mutter, more-so out of irritation than anything else, “Let’s see any of you lot do better when you’ve got no hands and about the same level of traction as a car driving through a fucking oil slick.” Apparently she had said that a little louder than she intended, and the raucous laughter from the back corner significantly increased in volume. “That’s why we love you Shef,” one of the sailors chortled, “You’re like a walking highlight reel!” Deciding that responding would only make things worse, she wisely kept her mouth shut as she ate the rest of her meal in silence, being careful not to drip blood on her toast. She would wipe her face with the back of her foreleg from time to time, which after a short while created a rather sizable collection of red smears along her arm. ----- [1410 Hours] Despite a rather disappointing lunch which still left her feeling peckish for more, Daring decided to continue her strenuous exercise routine from yesterday, taking up a considerable portion of the small gym area for herself. The extra space was handy, and it gave her plenty of room to move about. Anything less and she’d start feeling claustrophobic, which after some thought struck her as odd, because Mark as a human never had an issue with cramped spaces. She shrugged and dismissed it as one of Daring Do’s traits brought on by the transformation. With hindsight, she came to the realisation that Pegasi are creatures of the air, and their mentality being to be free to do as they pleased with unrestricted access to their vast airspace, their natural element. With that thought in mind, she wasn’t really surprised that the small confines of a Navy warship such as HMAS Brisbane would cause some issues to arise within that regard. After all, it was designed partly with space efficiency in mind, cramming as much technical equipment, weapons, armour and mechanical gear as the designers could fit within a four hundred and eighty by sixty-one foot hull of solid steel. It was to be expected that even breathing room would be a little hard to come by in some places, let alone enough space to stretch one’s wings. Then again, it was never designed with Pegasus crewmembers in mind, was it? The hangar had become Daring’s favourite place on the entire ship, and she had a feeling that it had something to do with all the free space she had to play with while the Seahawk was out on a sortie. It was the largest available area where she could practice her flying and hovering, short of opening up the hangar door and letting her loose outside. Unfortunately, due to the current poor weather, the crew refused to do anything of the sort today, out of the concern that #1) If something went wrong, they had no means of safely retrieving her if need be; and #2) It’d let far too much rainwater and potentially seawater in for their liking. So, without anything else to do with herself, Daring spent her afternoon pumping weights and slowly trying to coax some semblance of physical strength into her limbs. Her muscles were adamantly clear that they didn’t take too kindly to being worked so hard, and before long, she was collapsed in a heap on the rest bench, with a range of muscles she didn’t even know existed crying out in agony. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she gazed about the gym. Sharing the space with her were several sailors which she recognised as members of the Clearance Divers, the Australian Navy’s rough equivalent to the US Navy Seals. For the most part, they paid her no more attention than they did before she had turned into a monochrome-maned, dull yellow-coated Pegasus, regarding her with little more than professional indifference as they went about their business. Besides, it was rather bad taste to simply stare at someone whilst in a gym, the reason being that it sometimes gave rather bad impressions whenever you spotted someone gawking at you while you exercised. At least, that’s how Daring felt about it anyway. It made her feel more self-conscious than she’d like. Even as a human, she never really enjoyed an audience whenever she hit the gym, not that there was much to gawk at anyway. Mark was never exactly tall per say, standing at around five-foot-nine, and he felt himself to be pretty average in the way of muscle build, even for someone in the military. He was certainly a solid bloke, by no means lanky and underweight or anything, but he just didn’t quite have that vibe of physical intimidation about him. That little memoir triggered Daring’s train of thought to drift back to her life before that fateful event of May 8th. The last time she saw her parents was when HMAS Brisbane was departing from Fleet Base West, in Perth. They had flown across the entire country from their home in Melbourne and booked a hotel just so that they could be there to see him off in person. God bless them both. Chris was on board HMAS Sydney out on exercise near East Timor, so naturally he couldn't make it. Now that she thought about it, Sydney had been selected to take part in RIMPAC 2020, over in Hawaii. They'd probably be pretty busy getting ready for that right about now. With unwieldy hooves like these, she’d never be able to grip a video game controller again, much to her dismay, amongst a growing mental list of other distressing inhibitions. She’d forever have hassles trying to press the tiny buttons on the remote control to the TV; she’d never be able to turn a circular door knob again; she’d never be able to so much as hold a pencil to draw with; she’d never be able to hold a pool cue properly again (Chris always beat her at pool anyway, so nothing was really changing there); She’d never be able to hold a gun properly (not without a brace to support herself with); She’d never- - “Are you alright there, Shef?” a voice derailed her train of thought. She glanced up at one of the Clearance Divers, Lieutenant Chappell she realised, who was standing over her with a concerned look on his face, “You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.” She blinked and hastily reorganised her thoughts into a more professional state of mind. She had been standing in front of the weight rack, staring vacantly at the twenty five kilo weight for quite some time. “Sorry, got lost in my own thoughts for a moment there,” she gripped the weight in between her teeth, beginning to delicately drag it off the rack. At the rate she was going, her neck and shoulders were getting far more exercise just hauling the things around than any other muscle in her body. They certainly seemed to scream for respite more than any other place, anyway. She paused to gingerly rub the back of her neck, before reconsidering and replacing the weight to its original position. “I think some cool-off stretches are in order, and then I’ll finish up for the day,” Daring stepped across to an exercise mat on the floor, easing herself into a stretching pattern she picked up during her training days at HMAS Cerberus, and modified accordingly to suit her new physiology. She started out by gently stretching out the muscles in her neck, moving her way backwards to her shoulders and forelegs, then her back and wings, before finishing up with her hind legs. Another loud crack of thunder from outside the ship caught Daring’s attention, and her mind drifted back to how Princess Luna in the TV show seemed to be able to control lightning simply through her emotions alone on a whim. It was the only major Luna-centred episode Mark had watched, but her intimidating presence was well-rounded off and memorable to watch, as the Princess of the Night nearly ruined a Halloween rip-off celebration through her sheer social awkwardness. Just a few months isn’t really much time to reassociate oneself with the current times after spending a millennium on the Moon, and Luna’s characterisation portrayed her as the very embodiment of ‘old school’. It was curious as to how the fanfiction often mentioned Luna’s ability to ‘traverse the dreamscape’, for a lack of a better term, using her Magic to enter a pony’s dream at will, because Mark had never actually seen an episode where she utilised such a skill, and in the episodes he had seen where she made an appearance, it was never mentioned. Granted, he hadn’t actually seen every single episode, so it was likely that he had just missed the ones which expanded on that. Experiencing the Princess’s ability at work firsthand for herself however set the fan-base’s theories in solid concrete. She initially had doubts about whether this Princess Luna was the real deal, or just a figment of her imagination. In the heat of the moment, it hadn't really clicked in her head that it was Princess-fucking-Luna giving her a get-better hug. If Chris ever learned about that, he'd be shattered that it wasn't him on the receiving end. After a few moments of thought, she realised that her turning into Daring Do was in and of itself just as mind-shattering and outlandish, so ANYTHING could be possible at this point. In hindsight, the Lunar Princess held an aura about her as someone... erm, somepony who could play the role of mother/mentor figure just as proficiently as her older sister Celestia. That was another thing which Daring was uncertain about. Sure, the Lunar Sibling was the younger of the two, but the show never specifically stated how big their age difference was. In fact... they didn't even look remotely related at all. The colour palettes were too different and contrasting. Whatever the case, Daring theorised that Luna had much more wisdom and experience under her belt than the show let on. Everyone makes mistakes from time to time, and letting her jealousy get the better of her was probably not the worst mistake she ever made in her existence. Of course, turning into Nightmare Moon was a pretty terrible thing to happen, but everyone loses their grip on things at least once in a while. As far as she knew, the transformation wasn't really voluntary, and that the Nightmare entity was a seperate being born out of her anguish, so technically Luna couldn't really be held accountable for whatever atrocity took place between then and her banishment, due to a slight case of Split-Personality Disorder. If that excuse could work for some of the complete dropkicks that went through the Judicial System these days, then by golly it'd be appropriate for Luna too. Daring personally felt that an entire millennium in the time-out zone was probably overkill reaction from Celestia, considering that in the show’s second episode, the Elements of Harmony simply separated and destroyed Nightmare Moon as an entity, restoring Luna to her former state. A much more efficient method than having to re-banish Luna to the moon for another millennium, if she thought so herself. In all seriousness, couldn’t Celestia have done that the first time around when she held the Elements of Harmony at her disposal, rather than go through the pain and agony of being alone for a thousand years? It made no sense. Recognising her thoughts were getting off-track, Daring refocused her frame of mind back solely on Princess Luna. The Princess had explained to her towards the end of the dream that at her core, she really was the brave, adventurous explorer and archaeologist Daring Do, who had simply been transformed into a human and had her memory wiped clean. When she gave the conversation some thought, it actually made sense. 'It might also explain why I was able to learn to adjust to my new body,' She realised, 'I wasn't really learning... I was remembering.' Even before the transformation, Mark always seemed to have a sharp wit about him, often the go-to person when it came to solving practical problems such as team tactics in a sports game, a trait that Daring Do was depicted with within the show. During school, he was convinced he had read nearly every history book in the school library at least twice, whether it be Medieval or Twentieth Century. Not out of necessity, but rather out of trivial interest. It was that love of knowledge which also must’ve survived the transformation and the memory-wipe.   It was evident that they shared a love for adventure. The whole reason Mark joined the Navy was to get out and do something exciting with his life. Much of his inspiration to become a pilot stemmed from watching too many documentaries about American aircraft carriers, and how naval air power had the power to potentially change the balance of an entire war. Unfortunately, the closest thing Australia had to aircraft carriers were perhaps the Canberra class Landing Helicopter Docks (LHD), which technically were small-scale aircraft carriers, but were unsuitable for taking anything other than rotor-wing helicopters as the title implied, or perhaps the V-TOL variant of the Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning. Much to Mark’s chagrin, the Australian Defence Force neither possessed the latter nor did they entertain any plan to, which was a shame really. Mark himself never got a chance to operate from an LHD, since all the available spots were taken by other aircrews in the squadron, leaving him with the only remaining vacancy left on HMAS Brisbane. But again, Daring’s thought train was digressing. She had a sneaking suspicion that her love for the air was an unconscious reaction, a latent spark reignited by a simple childhood passion; that inner Pegasus beginning to stir within. Or it could be just a coincidence that they both loved flying, one of the two. Her new accent and mannerisms were entirely Mark’s. Her time as a human had given her a new life and a new set of memories to live with. A new life of ambitions, mistakes and ideals. A fresh perspective on life. The sudden claustrophobia was definitely Daring Do’s, that much she was certain of, as was the strange knack for finding lost objects of interest. She had a feeling that had the cutie mark appeared a day later, she wouldn’t have been able to find Martin’s watch so quickly. That reminded her, she had made a mental note earlier to test out what triggered that ‘hunch’ sensation, and whether it is triggered manually or automatically. So, on a rainy day with nothing else to do with the rest of an afternoon, that’s what she would do. Packing away the gym equipment she used, she made haste back to her cabin and began rummaging through her belongings for anything of any particular value. The only things of any true interest to her were her wallet, her mobile phone, an iPod, and the Daring Do plushie she received in the mail from the creepy anonymous person. Gathering up these items under her wing, she trotted back across the ship to the hangar, searching intently for a particular person who could provide assistance. Standing amongst five aircraft mechanics next to the Seahawk was the exact person she was looking for. “Hey Laura!” Daring called out to grab her attention, above the rain tapping loudly on the roof, “Could I borrow you for a second?” “Sure, what’s up Seabiscuit?” Laura looked rather relieved for the distraction. Technical mechanical details were becoming boring for her anyway. “Number one: enough of the racehorse references. Not only are they not funny, but they’re also out of context. I’m a pony. There’s a big difference,” Daring frowned, “Number two: I want to try out a little experiment, but I need an assistant to help me.” “Sure thing, Red Rum. What do you need a hand with?” Laura smirked. “Daring Do is supposedly a world-renowned treasure hunter, the Indiana Jones of My Little Pony if you will. I want to see if any of those skills have survived my time as a human and carried over into my transformation,” she explained, purposefully ignoring the airwoman’s playful jabs, “I’m going to close my eyes and count to sixty, and all you have to do is hide these items from me.” She crouched down and unfurled her wing, gently letting the items drop to the floor. “My task will be to find them as quickly as possible.” Laura picked the items off the floor, briefly examining each of them individually. Daring turned about and pressed her face against the wall, “Your time starts now.” “So... where do I hide them, exactly?” Laura asked. “Anywhere within this hangar,” came the simple reply, “Just don’t tell me where or it will ruin the experiment.” Glancing about uncertainly, Laura wandered off to find some hiding spots as Daring began counting under her breath. “One, two, three, four...” ----- “...fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine, sixty!” Daring about-faced, glancing around the hangar. Laura was standing back in her original position with the aircraft mechanics. She cast the Pegasus a sly smirk, indicating that the game was afoot. Daring blinked and glanced beyond the grinning airwoman. When beforehand, she counted five technicians, now there were only four. “One of ‘em must’ve gone to grab a snack,” she rationalised. Daring shut her eyes and began concentrating on everything which had happened the first time the hunch was triggered. #1: An important item had gone missing. #2: She knew that she had at least seen the item firsthand at some point. #3: She began thinking of all the possible places it could’ve possibly gone missing. #4: Voila, the hunch mysteriously appeared to guide her in the right direction; an unseen force of magical proportions. In an attempt to replicate the process, she began by first concentrating on her wallet: a rather small thing made of vinyl with only a handful of card slots and not much room for particularly large amounts of money. While it was rubbish for holding gold coins, what made it special to her was that it was emblazoned with the emblem of the Hylian Knights from the Legend of Zelda series. Mark had bought it from a merchandise store in Melbourne several years ago, and he hadn’t replaced it since. The only things she kept inside it were a small wad of cash (which was useless outside of Australia anyway), her driver’s licence, her official military ID card, a credit card to access her bank account with, and her EB Games membership card. Upon opening her eyes and glancing about the hangar once more, she immediately recognised numerous places where any one of her items could be easily hidden out of sight. Potential places just off the top of her head included in amongst the mechanic’s tool box; inside one of the numerous drawers allocated for spare nuts, bolts, and other tidbits; under the mechanic’s workbench; inside a mechanic’s pocket; in Laura’s own pocket; somewhere inside the Seahawk; somewhere inside the gym; somewhere amongst the large rack allocated for the Seahawk’s spare parts; on top of the Seahawk, where a mechanic had left the primary maintenance hatch open; the list went on and on. And then she felt it. Faintly at first, but as she tentatively took several steps forward, she could feel a tugging sensation developing at the back of her head. She experimentally began walking in the direction of the hangar door. To her annoyance, the hunch sensation subsided. Turning forty five degrees to her right, she began walking towards the Seahawk. Circling the helicopter like a small fighter would circle its mother ship, Daring warily searched the external surface of the ‘Hawk from top to bottom, giving her wings a powerful flap to give her the height to scan the aircraft from above. Satisfied that there was nothing on the outside surface, she hopped back down to the deck, landing on her hooves with a loud clack. She decided not to bother searching the interior, since she never heard any of the doors open or close. By feeling her way around, she was able to narrow down her hunch’s general direction, directing her to one of the large set of drawers, made from aluminium and used by the mechanics for storing their tools and gadgets. With her facial features locked in a frown of concentration, she opened up the bottom-most drawer and thoroughly scrimmaged through it before moving onto the next. She was still tall enough to be comfortably able to reach into the middle drawer, which again turned up nothing of interest; however accessing the contents of the top-most drawer required her to stand up on her hind legs in order to get a view inside. She shut the top drawer with an unsatisfied grunt. Her hunch was definitely leading her to this spot, but that was about it. The drawer frame was dead bolted to the deck, so there was no gap underneath to stash anything, which left the only other possible place... “Up top,” she murmured aloud, flapping her wings to get an aerial view. Sure enough, there was her wallet, lying out of sight just beyond the edge of the frame. She leaned forward, scooped it up in her mouth with a content smile, and the hunch disappeared within seconds. One item down, three more to go. After handing her wallet back to Laura for safe-keeping, she returned to the hunt for her other valuables. The next item Daring concentrated on was her mobile phone; an older model of the Samsung Galaxy, which she used as little more than a three hundred dollar alarm clock, and rarely for its intended purpose. Now that she had these big clumsy hooves, it was useless to her anyway. The only reason Mark had bought it was so that people could have a method of contacting him, and not very often would he actually call anyone. Granted, his contacts list was limited to just relatives and close friends who he could just contact over the Internet, but still. Daring Do began her quest for the missing phone by thinking of all the possible places Laura could’ve placed it, starting by searching around the mechanic’s workbench. She fumbled her way through the drawers, scanned through the cluttered mess of tools and bits of machinery on the bench top, and even ducked her head under the table. Just as the hunch sensation started to kick in again, she found her phone inside a mechanic’s tool box, underneath a spanner. Shifting the spanner aside, she collected the phone in her mouth and triumphantly passed it to Laura. Laura cast an uncertain glance at the Lead Technician, “It’s like watching a bomb-squad dog play ‘Fetch’.” The technician, whose nametag read ‘Griffiths’ (but everyone just him called ‘Grizzly’ instead), didn’t really seem to pay her much heed as he concentrated on watching Daring Do resume her quest. It was rather awkward for Griffiths, keeping in mind that just a few days ago, this Pegasus was one of their pilots, and now that ‘he’ was a ‘she’, the technician couldn’t help but feel slightly flustered about the whole situation. No-one, to his knowledge, had ever just up and turned into a technicolour horse out of the blue before, and now suddenly here was one of his own comrades and honorary shipmates fluttering around on wings of dull yellow feathers like nothing life-changingly drastic had ever happened. To be that calm and rational about it was just not normal. Daring probably never gave this much consideration herself, but what made this whole ordeal worse for the other crewmembers was that, because she wasn’t wearing any clothing, pretty much anyone who stared at her from behind for more than thirty seconds had an off-chance of being greeted by the sight of her tail inadvertently swishing just that little bit too far to the side for the viewer’s comfort. During the lunchbreak, shortly after Daring had left the mess hall, it was mutually agreed by those gathered that whenever she was around, the new unwritten rule was that whatever you do, don’t look at her anywhere other than her face. For the love of God and all things modest, just stare at her face and anything else other than her backside. The message had spread about the ship rather quickly, and amazingly enough, Daring was none the wiser as people began regarding her with a new sense of caution and wariness. On any other occasion, Griffiths would have no problem calling out issues he had with someone or something, but the problem was that he rarely had anything nice to say. He was blunt with his words, and seemed to be perpetually infected with foot-in-mouth disease. The other sailors knew him far too well, and warned him that if anyone were to ever alert Shef to the issue, he would be the last person on Earth to do it. So, with a discontented sigh, Griffiths purposefully turned his attention back to the Seahawk to take his mind off the distraction. Daring Do, oblivious to the technician’s worries, pursued untiringly for the next item on her list: her iPod. The device in question had been in her possession since she was fifteen, and it was one of the last models to come out before the introduction of the touch screen to the global market. Its eighty gigabyte capacity was by no means outstanding by today’s standards, but for Mark’s purposes, it was absolutely fine. Even after all these years, she still had at least fifty five gigs of memory space still unfilled. Since the buttons were all located around a circular, touch-sensitive ‘slider’, she could still use the device to a degree, and it was the most frequently-used of Mark’s hand-held electronic devices. She hadn’t been using it as of late, due to unforeseen circumstances, but she intended to overcome the difficulty of navigating the menus with her new appendages in the near future. After such a long period of service however, the iPod was starting to show its age. Numerous chips and nicks were evident along the edges, from countless times of being accidentally dropped. The back of the iPod was adorned with a faded sticker of a generic cartoon character, which Daring no longer remembered the name of. Sometimes, the music randomly decided to pause itself, even when the device was ‘locked’ and Mark wasn’t even touching the button. He had a suspicion that it was because the head-phones plug was slightly out of whack, and didn't always connect properly. It was by no means in sellable condition, but it had doggedly soldiered on for this long, and as long as it still functioned properly, Daring was adamant that she wouldn’t upgrade anytime soon. The hunch sensation finally kicked in for the third time in ten minutes, pointing Daring in the direction of a cluster of rucksacks placed haphazardly outside the gym door. Splitting them apart revealed the glint of metal, and Laura was soon in possession of the third item. Daring pumped her wings to boost her leap towards the roof of the Seahawk, sitting on her haunches directly above the cockpit and scanning around the room for where Laura had potentially placed the plushie. The strange little plush toy from an unknown sender was probably the only other thing of any worth that Daring had on this ship, aside from clothing and uniforms. There wasn’t anything particularly outstanding about the plushie, other than the fact that it was almost identical to the full-sized Pegasus it was based on, with the addition of Daring’s default shirt and hat ensemble.   Having searched the workbench, the large of stack of drawers, the cluster of rucksacks, and the toolbox, that left only a handful of places within the hangar where Laura could’ve been able to hide it without it being too obvious. She frowned. After around eight minutes of waiting, and the hunch still hadn’t kicked in, Daring sighed and dismounted the Seahawk to find it the old-fashioned manual way. “So it’s rather picky as to when it wants to work or not. That’s just perfect,” she muttered under her breath as she scrimmaged through the spare parts rack, hoping to spot the elusive glimmer of yellow and green. The spare parts rack didn’t turn up anything of interest, so with a frown, Daring slowly milled around the edge of the hangar, carefully scanning each and every object she came across for any potential sign of the plushie. She searched high, and she searched low; inside nearly every conceivable drawer, and even poking her snout inside some of the rucksacks, much to their owners’ disdain. There was an audible huff of agitation as Daring reached the end of her circuit. Every possible place had been searched, and nothing new had been found. There was no trace of the plushie, and Daring had to grudgingly applaud Laura for actually making this one difficult. The airwoman had a large grin from ear to ear as the Pegasus briskly trotted about to and fro, slowly getting more frustrated by the minute with her lack of success. “Where the hell could you have put it?!” Daring muttered, glancing about to every possible place she had searched, “There’s no spot I haven’t checked, and it still hasn’t turned up!” Her ear perked up as the bulkhead door in the back wall opened up, allowing one of the technicians into the hangar. “She wouldn’t possibly...” a thought crossed her mind. Daring broke into a sprint, charging through the open door just before the sailor had a chance to close it again, “Scuse me Shark, coming through!” The sailor glanced down, surprised by her sudden speed, and held the door open long enough for the Pegasus to exit. “Alright you mongrel, where did you put it?” she glanced around the corridor, murmuring aloud as the door locked behind her with a solid clunk, “Unless she threw it overboard, it must be somewhere within these walls.” Daring grunted in a very unladylike fashion as she stormed up and down the maze of corridors, scanning every possible crevice where it could’ve been placed. “There’s no way in hell Laura was able to find a spot all the way out here AND still find a suitable place for the other three items within just sixty seconds. She must’ve had help,” Daring mused, “Let’s see, who else was in the hangar at the time? There was me, Laura, Grizzly, Shark, Hotrod, Sketch and Condor. When I turned around... there was no sign of Shark.” Now that she thought about it, the mechanic was gone a little too long just for a usual snack run. And then when Shark finally returned, he didn't have anything with him. He must’ve taken the plushie and hidden it somewhere! There was no alternate explanation. One of the most frequented places on the ship was probably the Junior Sailor’s Mess Hall, where the non-commissioned sailors ate their lunch separate from the officers, located not all that far from the hangar. If Laura had given the plushie to Shark for him to hide, one of the first places to look was the lunchroom. The Mess Hall was Shark’s favourite place on the ship, because that’s where the pool table was located, which in turn explained where his nickname originated from. With a scowl locked on her face, she marched her way towards the Sailor’s Mess Hall, determined to find the plushie, and then wring Laura’s neck later on. Daring had specifically told her to hide it somewhere in the hangar! Not give it off to some random so they could take it who-knows-where! She wouldn’t have a clue as to the plushie’s exact location, now that her hunch wasn’t co-operating anymore. To her relief, the lock to the Mess Hall door opened up quite smoothly, and she quickly gazed about the area with a sharp glare. Around a dozen sailors briefly returned her glance, before returning back to whatever they were doing. “*Ahem*, Excuse me,” she cleared her throat and asked aloud, “Did anyone see Shark come in here a few minutes ago?” Three sailors in the back corner glanced at each other, before speaking up, “Why? Who wants to know?” “No reason,” Daring shook her head, “I’m just looking for something of mine, that’s all.” The sailors looked at each other again, this time with wry smiles on their faces. One of them turned about to face her properly, reaching inside his pocket, “Oh, what kind of ‘something’?” “... That doesn’t matter,” she turned her head slightly to avoid their gaze, “But it’s important that I find it as soon as possible.” “That depends,” the sailor smirked. ‘This guy obviously knows something, and he’s clearly not going to co-operate with me on my terms,’ Daring inwardly scowled, ‘I don’t have time for this! I need that plushie back before too many people know I even have it!’ “Look mate, it’s not a difficult question,” Daring urged testily, “Was he in here or not?” “What is the object yer looking for? Maybe we can be of assistance,” the sailor shrugged, not budging an inch. “I gave something important to Laura, but she went and handed it off to Shark. Since he had it last, I want to know what he did with it, now cough up! Was he here or not?” Daring demanded, taking a step forward. “Would that ‘something’... happen to be this?” the sailor removed his hand from his pocket, holding up something for everyone to see. Daring’s eyes widened at the sight of the plushie, and the other sailors all chortled in amusement. “Yes! That’s mine! Could you give it back, please?” she pleaded. “That’s funny, I didn’t know you still enjoyed playing with children’s toys, Shef,” the sailor gave the plushie a once over, “It’s a bit below your age, isn’t it?” Several voices in the background audibly chuckled. “It arrived in the mail last week, now give it back! It’s mine!” her tone was almost turning into a snarl. “Alright, here. You want it?” the sailor held it out towards her, “Come and take it.” With a hasty pace, Daring trotted forward and held out her hoof to take the plushie back. The sailor suddenly flung the plushie out of her reach across the room, where another sailor on the far side caught it, “It’s over there now.” “That’s not funny! Give it back!” she glared warningly. “I don’t have it,” the sailor raised his hands defensively, “He does.” With several sharp wing flaps, Daring quickly cleared the cluster of tables and landed on the other side of the room, surprising everyone present. She stood up on her hind legs, pressing herself against the man's chest with her forehooves and shoved her face into that of the sailor now in possession of the toy, flatly demanding, “Give it.” The man reeled back slightly, stunned by how scary those damn eyes looked up close. It was like staring into a pair of black holes, that sucked you in to never let you see the light of day again. “What’s the big deal about this thing anyway?” he collected himself with a shrug, “It’s not that important, is it? It’s just a miniature version of you, after all.” “That thing isn’t even supposed to be here in this Mess Hall, now give it back, before I take it back!” she growled. “Settle down there, Shef,” the sailor stepped back slightly, letting her drop to the floor as he offered her the plushie, “Fine, have your damn kiddie toy back.” She swiped the toy from the sailor’s hand with a frown. Or, she would have, if the sailor didn’t jerk his hand back at the last second, in a classic bait-and-switch gag. With a playful wink, he held the toy back out. “What are you waiting for? Take it already.” ‘Oh, you are NOT playing that game with me!’ The sailor’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as Daring suddenly jabbed her foreleg in between his legs, her aim lethally accurate as he doubled over in agony, dropping the toy in the process. Several sailors all jumped up at once in alarm as Daring gave the man a verbal spray. “When I ask you to give my stuff back, it’s not a fucking question of whether you want to or not! You give my damn stuff back!” A loud cacophony of noise quickly rose up as the sailors all grappled to restrain the furious Pegasus from clocking the man across the face for good measure. “Hey, just cool it, Shef! We’re only messing around with ya, man! Settle down!” they pleaded, “Take it easy! Jesus, do you wanna get us all booked or something?!” She shrugged them off as their grips loosened, casting them all a venomous glare as she exited the Mess Hall, slamming the door shut behind her. “Since when did Shef have such a stick up his arse like that?” they frowned worriedly, murmuring amongst each other, “He nearly looked ready to take it out and start hitting people with it!” “Well to be honest, I suppose I kind-of deserved that,” the sailor still lying injured on the floor chuckled sheepishly. “Walk it off, Dennis. You’ll live,” they all crowed without compassion. “That still doesn’t explain why Shef was so high-strung just now though. Usually it’s almost impossible to get a reaction out of him,” another man spoke up. “Maybe the whole pony-thing is getting to his head,” someone else chuckled, “Perhaps turning into a female also came with PMS.” Several voices cracked up laughing at once. ----- ‘That could’ve gone much better,’ Daring shook her head angrily as the plushie dangled from her mouth, ‘I shouldn’t have gotten so upset so easily like that! What’s gotten into me?!’ “Oh, there you are Shef,” Laura’s voice called out, “I was wondering where you went--” “What the hell, Lozz?! I thought I asked you to hide the items in the hangar!” Daring angrily lashed out, “Not pass them off to the morons from Engineering! You know they can’t be trusted with personal stuff!” “Don’t yell at me like that,” Laura retorted indignantly, “I thought it would be amusing if Shark hid it in the Mess Room. Make a nice challenge from the simple and easy hangar locations. Because in all seriousness, there weren’t very many decent hiding places there.” “There were HEAPS of spots!” the Pegasus gestured wildly with a foreleg, “If I wanted you to hide it around the ship, that’s what I would’ve asked!” “Alright, sorry!” the airwoman rolled her eyes, “I’ll keep that in mind for next time then.” “Fortunately, there doesn’t need to be a next time,” Daring sighed, settling down slightly. The experiment was a success. The hunch kicked in pretty much on demand, with one exception, so why should she have to do it all again? “So, what were you ‘experimenting’, anyway?” Laura inquired. “Sometimes when I’m looking for something of importance, I get this nagging sensation at the back of my head,” Daring explained offhandedly, “It grows in intensity when I’m going in the right direction, and simmers down or disappears altogether when I’m either going the wrong way, or I’ve found the object.” “So, it’s like a built-in metal detector?” Laura guessed. “Kind-of. It would explain why Daring Do is so capable as a treasure hunter,” she wing-shrugged, “Although, it’s never mentioned in the books in the TV show... maybe it’s just her little secret. Her overall screen-time on My Little Pony isn’t actually all that much, so pretty much nothing about her is actually known.” “What do you mean? I’ve never watched that show,” Laura scratched the back of her head in confusion, “Who IS Daring Do, exactly?” “Daring Do is one of the lesser characters on the show,” the Pegasus explained, “Throughout all five seasons, she only has three major appearances. The first time around, she’s little more than a book character that acts as a plot device for Rainbow Dash, who is recovering in a hospital and with nothing to do. The second time she appears is in Season Four, where she is introduced as a living pony, who just writes books about her adventures, and so of course, Rainbow Dash fangirls all over her, unwittingly getting them all into trouble in the process. To be honest, I didn't like that episode all that much. The third and final time is supposedly during the second episode planned for Season Six, but since the show was cancelled at the end of Season Five, the episode was never released.” “If the episode wasn’t released, how do you know about it?” Laura raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Because my brother’s a nutter that has no sense of ‘spoiler alert’,” Daring deadpanned, “He’s always scraping the bottom of the barrel for any news of a potential renewal for the series, and one day he happened to come across some leaked footage while the episode was still in the development stage, shortly before Hasbro confirmed the cancellation and shut it down.” “Huh. Go figure,” Laura murmured. She reached into her pocket and held out Daring’s other items from the experiment, “Here’s yer stuff back, by the way.” “Oh,” the Pegasus slightly curled her right wing, creating a small gap between the wing and her body, “Just slot them in there, please.” After some initial difficulty, the phone, the iPod and the wallet were tucked away nicely amongst Daring’s feathers.  Her body involuntarily shivered in response to the cold metal of the iPod pressing against a rather sensitive spot in her wing, however. “Thank you for helping out with the experiment, by the way,” Daring nodded, “I really appreciate it.” “No problem,” Laura smiled slightly, “It’s not like I had anything interesting to do anyway.” Daring glanced up at a clock on the nearby wall. 4:56 PM With a deep sigh, she turned about and headed back for her cabin. Dinner was still a while off yet. Curiously, the storm outside seemed to have calmed down. The ship wasn’t moving about as much as it was a few hours ago, although the rain was still maintaining a consistently heavy downpour. “So... what’s next on the to-do list?” She breathed softly, placing her things next to her on the bunk. “I s’pose I could call it a day and figure out how to use this iPod again...” “Could Leftenant Sheffield please report to the Ops Room?” the warbled voice with access to the loudspeaker system suddenly proclaimed, “Leftenant Sheffield to the Ops Room.” “... Well, there goes that idea.” ----- The Operations Room, or just ‘the Ops Room’ for simplicity, was located a level beneath the Bridge, and was Brisbane’s literal nerve centre. The majority of the planning, thinking, number-crunching and directing took place here, in amongst the organised mess of the high-tech computers which made up Brisbane’s Aegis Combat System. Radar, Sonar, Communications, Tracking, Electronic Warfare and of course the ship’s Weapons were all either controlled or directed from this one room, run by a crack team of sailors working around the clock to routinely maintain a vigilant eye on the world around them within a two hundred kilometre radius. Anything identified as ‘hostile’ could expect a world of hurt to come crashing down and ruining their day very quickly indeed, and not even necessarily from Brisbane either. Since anti-piracy patrol was a multi-national team effort, all it would take was a single urgent distress beacon to ring the bell for dinner, and nearly every NATO ship operating within the Arabian Sea would be swarming the area like flies, eager to get a piece of the action. Of course, trying to prove yourself as a proficient and competent team player is rather difficult when your competition for the goodies includes a sizable US Navy Strike Group, centred around the aircraft carrier USS George H.W. Bush and her flotilla of escorting destroyers, prowling the seas like wolves for misfits and potential terrorist threats alike. The carrier’s mobile air power gave the Strike Group a very wide arc of influence, but fortunately it was very rare that the Combat Air Patrols were ever actually needed. It was amazing piracy in general hadn’t been eradicated yet, since it was nearly impossible to go out on even a simple fishing cruise on a jury-rigged sail boat and not get pulled over by at least two or three different NATO warships searching for potential contraband. Granted, the Allies’ highly cautious behaviour was often justified, with nearly one in ten searches resulting in a positive find for drugs and narcotics or something illegal like that. The bulkhead door opened up, and several heads turned as a dull yellow Pegasus briskly scanned the room, and trotted up to a sailor who was waving her over. “You rang, XO?” She snapped to attention. “Yes I did, and I have good news,” Cruze turned about to face her properly with a grin on his face. In his hands, he carried a clipboard and a pen. “I think we’ve found something for you to do.” “Oh? What’s up?” she tilted her head. “Just a few minutes ago, we received a distress signal from a capsized dhow, just over twenty kilometres away to the southwest of us,” Cruze explained, “There are two other NATO warships on hand to provide assistance, however we're the closest ones to the scene, AND they also have to go through the time-consuming process of prepping their choppers first. Since you’re ready to go within minutes... how fast do you think you can fly twenty k’s with a bit of extra weight?” “What happened to ‘Her flying abilities aren’t at their full potential yet’?” Daring quirked her eyebrow skeptically. “When did I... oh. You heard that, did you?” the XO visibly deflated, slightly embarrassed, “Look, the weather has calmed down since then, and the only real problem you’ll have is the rain, so we’re willing to go out on a limb here and field-test whether you’re up to the task. Just keep this to yourself though; Top Brass will probably have my head if they find out about this.” “Meh, screw ‘em,” Daring grinned, “Just point me in the right direction.” ----- There was the high-pitched whirring of electric motors as the hangar door slowly rose up off the deck, locking into the ‘Open’ position with a click. The rain was still pelting down, but the wind seemed to be rather passive this late afternoon. Several figures dressed for the weather stood in the hangar doorway as the Pegasus, wearing a bright red harness which felt rather tight around her chest, sauntered out onto the deck. Clipped to the harness, resting on top of her left shoulder, was a small hand-held radio, with earphones reaching up and wedged into her ears. A small microphone had been tapped to the earphone’s cord, and was activated by holding down the trigger on the left side of the radio. Attached to the back of the harness and sitting in between her wings was a small tracking device so that Brisbane could keep tabs on her location at any given time. It also served as a positive IFF beacon for any other NATO vessel in the vicinity, to avoid any misidentification and possible friendly fire. The crew had given her the largest pair of snow-goggles they could find, borrowed from the Clearance Divers, to help keep the wind and rain out of her eyes. The dark tint made it a little hard to see in the cloudy conditions, but the difference was not that much of a hindrance. A large, folded up, self-inflating life-raft was securely clipped to the bottom of the harness by a quick-release mechanism, and was crammed in between her legs. This raft could inflate itself within fifteen seconds at the pull of a chord. It was usually reserved for emergencies only, when the crew had to abandon ship, but it had now been repurposed as a rescue tool, with Daring Do as the method of delivery. Wrapped around her right wrist was a jury-rigged compass watch, a temporary stop-gap until the proper one arrived in the mail, to help her keep her direction. “South-by-southwest,” she mumbled to herself as she lined up her watch to the horizon. The compass slowly settled in between the letters ‘S’ and “SW”. With a deep breath of air, she opened up her wings and pumped them with all the energy she could muster, launching off the deck and into the air. The extra weight required more effort than usual, but she was confident that the difference wasn’t all that great. It was definitely rather cold outside, but she found that whereas her human body would be shivering like an icicle, her new Pegasus form was much more tolerant for the low temperature. “Let’s see how fast this puppy can go,” she stretched her limbs out to a more aerodynamic, Superman-esque posture and opened up the figurative throttle, her wings pumping with considerable exertion. She could feel herself accelerating at a rapid rate, and the rushing wind bit into whatever part of her which wasn’t protected by the goggles. Even with the encumbering package slowing her down considerably, she was confident that she could maintain her pace. The XO’s final words to her before she left rang through her head. ‘Don’t worry about having to fly back home. Lieutenant Daniels’ team will be following you in the Seahawk, so all you have to do is make sure those people aren’t drowning anytime soon. Godspeed, and good luck Shef’. She decided to test the radio, reaching across and pressing the trigger, “Hotel Actual, this is Papa Two. Just doing a radio check, over”. “Papa Two, this is Hotel Actual, radio check confirmed. We read you, but at your current velocity, the wind interference is causing some static on our end. Your current air speed is three-two-five knots, heading two-three-two degrees. At your current velocity, we estimate ETA to be two minutes, over”. ‘Three hundred and twenty five knots?! That’s like... around six hundred k’s an hour!’ Daring’s eyes widened with glee, ‘And I’m not even giving it everything I’ve got!’ With a rush of confidence, she began putting slightly more power into her flaps, as well as increasing their frequency, increasing her speed considerably. “Come on Daring, let’s see if we can get there in a minute flat!” she smirked. The radio squawked again moments later. “Hotel Actual to Papa Two, Charlie One is in the air, and will be on station in twenty minutes. Be advised, friendly NATO ships report sighting of a bogey fishing vessel in the vicinity of the sinking ship, and they don't trust its intentions, so watch yourself out there. Hotel Actual will be in suitable support range in one hour, over”. “Papa Two to Hotel Actual, Copy your last,” Daring replied. Far off in the distance, she could make out two distinct shapes on the horizon. Off to her right was possibly the ‘bogey’ that they mentioned, slowly inching its way across her field of view towards the capsized dhow, which she spotted directly ahead of her. She had all the time in the world to swoop in and beat them! The sinking dhow was still some way off, maybe just under a kilometre away, but she was still close enough to make out figures in the water, clinging to floating debris for dear life. The bogey vessel off to her right, which looked like an unassuming fishing boat from this distance, had noticeably picked up speed, and it was quickly becoming a race to the finish, with Daring Do holding the clear advantage in speed and relative position. Nearly everyone in the water looked up at her in wonder and awe as she flared out her wings to slow down, entering a final approach. The rush of wind pushing against her helped slow her down considerably. She quickly reached across and simultaneously pulled two separate release handles. She almost jumped upwards at the sudden drop in weight as the life raft dropped around twenty feet to the ocean beneath them. The raft, which could probably be more aptly described as a floating, conical tent with a large tube around it, inflated to its full size of around four metres squared. Its bright orange colouration made it impossible to miss for miles around, and a ring of hand-hold ropes around the edge made it easier to cling to. She counted around a dozen individuals in the water, desperately trying to swim across to the life raft. Some of them didn’t even have life jackets, and all were poorly dressed for an afternoon swim in a deluge of rain. 'Some of these guys are gonna drown before they reach the raft,' Daring realised as she watched them flail about in the water. "Papa Two, sitrep," Cruze requested. "Uh, Hotel Actual, I count at least twelve individuals in the water," She replied, "I'll see what I can do to help." "Copy that, Papa Two. But watch yourself; that bogey FFV is nearly on top of you." Deciding to lend them a hoof, she hovered around a foot off the water and offered out her hind legs to the nearest straggler, a middle-aged man who looked to be rather poor at swimming in torrential conditions. The man desperately grappled around her limbs, wildly kicking about and rapidly blabbering something in his own language which Daring couldn’t understand, nearly dragging her into the water with him in the process. She yelped in surprise as her lower torso briefly dunked into the freezing seawater, only being held up by her pure wing power alone. “Woah!” she exclaimed, nearly burning herself out in one go in an effort to haul the man across to the life raft. He reached out and grabbed the hand-holds, releasing her in the process. Landing and balancing herself on the tube, she leaned down and bit onto the metal zip, dragging it up to open up the conical cover, which was made from the same material as a tarpaulin. The man raggedly hauled himself into the raft, graciously offering his thanks to her in his own language. Seawater was quickly pouring in, and it would be a long wait in the bitter cold, but it at least wouldn't sink anytime soon, and that was what mattered. "That wasn't too bad," Daring assured herself, "Just be ready with the afterburners so that way they don't drag me down with them." She immediately made for the next swimmer which was furthest away from the life raft. Some of the people were likely able to reach the raft under their own accord, whether it was by swimming or using bits of debris as floating kickboards, however the majority of them were having difficulty, struggling against the power of the surging waves. One by one, Daring would reach down with her legs for them to hold on to, and forecefully drag them through the angry gale and swirling ocean towards the life raft in a frantic back-and-forth relay. Some of them were heavier or more twitchy than others, and Daring herself was stunned by how much effort she was having to put in. "I can do this!" She grunted determinedly, "No-one is drowning on my watch!" Her expression gradually twisted into a frown though, as her wings started aching from the exertion she was placing on them. ‘No, not now!’ she grit her teeth, urging herself on despite the growing aches across her back. She could feel herself gradually slowing down, fighting against the weather and her own fatigue, which was creeping up on her. Daring mentally shoved the pain in her body to a disused corner of her mind, and set about assisting the last remaining swimmer. It was then that she noticed just how ragged her own breathing was. Her chest was visibly heaving in and out as she panted like a dog. The tendons across her back screamed fire and brimstone upon her, a heat which not even the freezing rainwater could sate. Her fur and feathers were soaked to the skin, and she was sure that by all means, she probably shouldn’t be considered flight-worthy in her current state. She looked over her shoulder for the other dhow, which was just under a hundred metres away. The screaming for help was indistinguishable though, no matter what language it was in, and that was something she couldn’t just ignore. "One more to go," she murmured to herself, "Just one more." So, against the will of her body, she dragged herself away from the safety of the raft and flew out to the last person. The man, looking to be around thirty to thirty five years old, visibly perked up as the Pegasus approached him, calling out to her. With a resignated sigh, she took a deep breath and turned about, offering the man her back leg to hold onto. Again, she was nearly dragged down into the water, but by now she was ready with the figurative afterburners, slowly but surely dragging the man, who assisted by kicking with his back legs, all the way to the raft. Daring made sure she was the last person/pony to enter the raft and collapsed in the middle, a tattered, wheezing wreck. "There..." she exhaled, "That's the last of 'em." The stranded people all murmured amongst themselves in shock and awe at their saviour’s appearance. Daring lazily looked out the raft’s entrance as the unidentified vessel pulled alongside. She sighed in relief as she sluggishly sat up and leaned her head out. Several men of African appearance stood about on the deck, watching them all carefully. The Arabs sitting with her in the raft didn’t seem all that pleased that these people were here, and that mutual feeling of wariness amongst them caused Daring to frown in worry. The Arabs’ concerns were justified when one of the ‘rescuers’, produced a glint of metal from his pocket and pointed it at Daring’s face with an audible click. Daring’s eyes widened. “Ah... shit”.