The warmth of the hot coffee flowing past her lips warmed Midnight Dasher from the inside out as she took a long draft from the mug in front of her. The heat repelled the cool chill of the wintry air on her skin while she sat at a little café just outside Canterlot’s train station. She liked the way Canterlot looked in the winter. A light dusting of snow covered the old cobblestone walkways and high rooftops of the city’s structures. She liked the coldness of winter as well. It made her blood run hot, and feel alive.
What she didn’t like was the slowness and boredom. Killing time waiting for the train to take her back home had to be up there as one of the dullest moments of her life. Every few minutes, she would find herself glancing up at the clock above the station. She would then calculate the difference in time remaining, heave a dramatic sigh, and glance back down at the half empty cup of coffee, and repeat the process again.
Across the small circular table from her lay the day’s newspaper. It laid carelessly tossed aside, right where the mare had left it. The story on the front page was the same it had been for the past few days. Extremist rebels, vagabonds from the war in the south, had attacked one of Equestria’s bases. Neither Arabia nor Re'em had claimed responsibility for the renegades, and despite Equestria’s cries for righteous vengeance, Celestia swore no ill will against either side. It was impossible to place blame on the innocent for the actions of a few separatists—not to mention a political and bureaucratic nightmare. Nopony wanted another war.
The renegades had all been wiped out in the ensuing conflict, regardless. The horrific pictures slapped across the thin newsprint sheets had come as a harsh slap of reality to the corporal. When she first saw the photographs of broken buildings and injured soldiers—including her Marines—she had felt such fury flare inside her soul. She had screamed and crumpled the newspaper into a tightly packed wad. She had known something was going to happen, and she had been right. Shining Armor should have sent her with the soldiers.
That had been five days ago. Now, as each day consistently reminded her of the events that had transpired with grainy, off-color photos on each cover, she had found comfort in disconnection. There had been nothing she could do about it, and she just let it pass with indifference. The fire had burned itself out in her heart, and, like everything, faded to memory.
Oddly, the more she thought about the battle, the more pride Midnight felt. Those had been her Marines in that fight, and they had triumphed. The soldiers had returned home the day before, and she had greeted them like a parent watching their child graduate from school. They had proven themselves, and she couldn’t be happier with the results. The loss of several Marines and Guards hurt her heart, but considering how much worse it could have been, she was very happy to see more than half the company return in one piece—or mostly one piece.
It also brought an unusual sense of understanding to her. For so long, Midnight had wondered where in the world the mysterious Captain Fleethoof and company had disappeared. Now she had her answer. Although there were no pictures of the enigmatic ponies in black, she just knew they had to have a hoof in this. It all made sense, and that was enough proof to Midnight.
But still, she hadn’t seen the captain—and now, her time in Canterlot was up. She was headed home, probably destined to never return to the city. She had missed seeing him for the holidays, and as the new year drew ever closer and the final few remaining minutes slipped away, she lost confidence in seeing him appear from the crowd as he so often had a tendency to do.
Farewell, Canterlot, Midnight thought with a touch of melancholy, and dropped her gaze back to the photos on the newspaper, the colors all blurring into one pool.
That was when she saw a dark blue folder slap down atop the paper, covering the images she had been staring blankly at. Midnight jumped slightly, and snapped her head upright while another pony took the seat opposite of her. The pony was dressed in a striking black jacket adorned with badges and symbols and matching cap she didn't recognize, but the crimson coat, golden blonde mane, and rich blue eyes brought back a flurry of memories, all summed up into one name that seemed to leap right off her tongue.
“Fleethoof!”
“That’s my name,” said Fleethoof with the slightest touches of a smile. He folded his hooves across the table, his eyes gazing intensely back into hers. “Sorry I’ve been gone so long. I’ve been busy.”
Midnight laughed and gestured with a hoof to the covered newspaper. “I can see that.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Uh huh…” Midnight wasn’t convinced, but she let it slide. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she finally got one last moment with this peculiar pegasus. “You missed Hearth’s Warming. I was very upset that you didn’t get me a present.”
Midnight crossed her hooves over her chest and pouted dramatically, sticking her lower lip out in a comical fashion. She played the part of genuine upset perfectly, even as her eyes flashed with playful mirth. It broke Fleethoof’s serious demeanor, and he smiled a wide, earnest smile, and laughed.
“Well, maybe I can make it up to you,” he said, winking to the mare seated across from him. Before Midnight could ask what he meant, the pony slid the navy folder across the table to her side, maintaining eye contact all the while. Midnight’s gold eyes reluctantly dropped from the stallion’s, studying the cover. It had no designation, date, or name printed on it. Just an embossed emblem on the plain surface. She recognized the insignia with the winged sword and symbols of the princesses, matching the pin attached to Fleethoof’s lapel and the patchwork that had adorned his other uniform.
There was a moment of silence as she looked up at him again. The questioning look in her eyes spoke volumes, and he gestured with a subtle wave of his hoof for her to open it. Midnight’s hoof reached for the seal on the side, tapping against the wax gently. If this was what she thought it was… Her hoof snapped the seal, and flipped the cover open gently. A plain white sheet of paper greeted her eyes, with large, bold words printed across it, reading:
EQUESTRIAN ROYAL GUARD
PERSONNEL FILES
RESTRICTED ACCESS
The insignia of the royal family decorated the paper, designating it as an official document of the government. Midnight’s breath caught momentarily. She turned the page in excitement, ignoring the warning of restricted access that made up the second page. The third was much more interesting:
Personnel File
Skyfall Unit
Name: Fleethoof
Attached to the sheet of paper was a photograph of the pony now seated at the table with her. She looked at the photo, almost laughing at how neat his mane had looked then, opposed to the messy, unkempt look it had now when she glanced upward at him. She liked it better this way. He looked more like a stallion that had lost care for the stuffy regularity of the Guard, and had opted for his own style. That, or he just really needed a haircut.
Fleethoof was staring at her closely, watching her reactions as she looked down the long list of his basic information. His rank, birthdate, gender, appearance, blood type… Everything lay documented in this file. Although she knew much of it from spending time with the captain, she felt like she was learning all this information again for the first time. Her long quest to understand Fleethoof was coming to an end, and it tasted like sweet, sweet victory.
“You’re really letting me read this?” she asked, looking up over her eyelashes at the stallion, who was now idly shuffling the abandoned newspaper on the table. The whole situation almost felt like a practical joke—or a trap.
He shrugged calmly, cool as ever. “I owed you a gift, and I knew what you really wanted.”
Feeling as giddy as a foal being let loose in a toy shop, Midnight flipped to the next page—and felt her enthusiasm die on the spot. The entire next page was covered in long, black bars, hiding its contents away from the world. At first, Midnight Dasher was very, very confused. Then she laughed out of sheer disbelief, surprised that she had expected any less from the picture perfect definition of enigma embodied in the stallion.
“...Really?” she asked in a scathingly sarcastic tone. She shook her head and cast a glare at Fleethoof.
“It was the best I could do.” Fleethoof shrugged again and gave Midnight an apologetic, sagacious smile. “I can’t give you the complete document. That would technically be treason, and espionage too, I think.”
Midnight huffed and stuck her tongue out at her companion. Fleethoof chuckled, and she returned to her reading. The next page detailed Fleethoof’s service record, surmised in a few points, many also redacted by black bars. It amused her that the Guard thought they could sum up the entire history of a pony like Fleethoof in a single page. Somehow, the bureaucrats had managed to do it.
The next few pages were papers documenting Fleethoof’s activities in the Griffon War. Surprisingly, none of the paragraphs were censored. Midnight skimmed over the text, taking in the gist of the story contained within. Most of it was stuff she had heard through gossip and rumor, or from one very chatty bartender. It was still an interesting read nonetheless.
“I’m not gonna go to prison for reading any of this, am I?”
“No, of course not,” said Fleethoof. He cast a wary glance around, watching a group of Guard ponies marching past the café. “Okay, maybe. Just don’t let anypony see.”
Midnight raised an eyebrow curiously at the captain. “Breaking the law for me, Fleety? I’m touched.”
“It’s not the first time I've bent the rules. And I’m letting you get away with using my name—not ‘Fleety’. Don’t push it, Midnight.”
The bat pony gave her soft, airy laugh and turned the page. Her amused smirk dropped to bewilderment as she read the next segment. Fleethoof tried to lean across the table and see which part she had gotten to, but she was already looking up at him in shock.
“You rescued the Royal Family?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah. That was a while ago.” Fleethoof smiled humbly. “I was just doing my job.”
Midnight looked down at the details again, reiterating with emphasis, “You rescued two royals and a captain from a hostile force with only a hoofful of ponies.”
“Well, when you say it like that, you make it sound difficult.”
“And then you came back to fight off the rest of the army?”
Fleethoof was now deliberately trying to avoid making eye contact with the bemused mare. “I’m good at what I do.”
“Damn good, I think you mean,” she said with a smirk. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why was this all such a secret? You should be proud of your achievements.”
This time, Fleethoof didn’t respond right away. He stared blankly down at his hooves, folded neatly on the table. His eyes were distant and fogged with memories made a lifetime ago. He bit gently at his lip, his ears folded back against his head, and he muttered, “Some things are better left forgotten…”
At first, Midnight didn’t understand what he meant. Then she recalled the stories the bartender at The Cannon had regaled her with. Bloodshed, death, and loss had tainted the captain’s lifetime of warfare and honorable duty. She decided not to press the issue further, and instead finished reading his file. The rest of the pages were almost completely covered with black bars redacting sensitive information, making reading it impossible. With ginger hooves, she shut the file again, and rapped them against its surface like a drum.
“So what is Skyfall?”
Fleethoof’s lips twitched in the corners, fighting a smirk. He knew she’d ask that first. “It’s the name of my team. Beyond that, I can’t tell you any more without bringing you into the program. It’s classified.”
Midnight heaved a sigh. “Figures…” She leaned back against her seat, thinking to herself for a moment. “Are you the good guys at least?”
“I like to think we are.”
“Is that a ‘no’?” Midnight grinned teasingly, but the look on Fleethoof’s face told her that it was no joke. “Did somepony die?”
That caught Fleethoof’s attention. His eyes suddenly became unreadable, and something Midnight didn’t recognize darkened behind those blue irises. “What?”
“The getup. Why are you all dressed up?” That teasing grin on her face widened a little. “Not that I’m complaining. You look good in a suit. Like a real suave, hot Canterlot bachelor. Not some dime-a-dozen raggedy soldier from the front lines.”
“Hey! I take pride in being a raggedy soldier,” remarked Fleethoof, playing along. He seemed to calm down again. “I just finished handing out promotions to some of your Marines, actually. Shining Armor and I felt they had earned it after their actions in Saddle Arabia. Especially Fire Wave. From what we hear, he was the one who sounded the alarm and was one of the ponies that engaged the enemies first.”
Midnight clopped her hooves together happily. “That’s my Marine! Good for Corporal Fire Wave.”
“Sergeant now, actually.”
“Right.” Midnight took a deep swallow from her coffee and pushed the file back towards Fleethoof, making sure not to stain the cover with her drink. “You didn’t let me read this just because you missed Hearth’s Warming. I was just messing around, anyway. So, what’s the real reason for all this? I thought you hated me?”
Fleethoof’s eyes met Midnight’s again, and he cocked a half smile at her. “I don’t hate you. You just make me want to hate you sometimes.” He ignored Midnight as she rolled her eyes. “Consider it my way of saying thanks for training the Marines so well, and a goodbye present.”
“Who said this is goodbye?” asked Midnight, cocking her head to one side.
“Nopony, but in my line of work, I can’t expect anypony to stick around long. I like to hedge my bets.”
“Well, I wouldn’t count on getting rid of me that easily. Especially not now since we’re friends.” Midnight’s smile mimicked Fleethoof’s.
“Who said we’re friends?”
“I did,” Midnight said proudly in declaration. She reached across the table and snatched the captain’s hat off his head, setting it slightly lopsided down on hers. The theatrical look of authority on her face was downright comical to Fleethoof, who had to bite his lip to stifle a snicker. “Got a problem with it? Too bad! We’re friends now, no ifs, ands, or buts. Got it, pegasus?”
Fleethoof shot upright in his seat, a dramatically serious expression on his face as he saluted the mare. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Good! Now, drop and give me fifty!”
Fleethoof rolled his eyes, and Midnight all but cracked up. From across the table, he studied Midnight Dasher. She was a pony he would originally have been very happy to ignore and forget about. Now, seeing her smiling and laughing again with his hat atop her head like a Nightmare Night costume softened the tough front he put up. Yeah, he could see being friends with this mare—even if her style was in stark contrast to his. It disappointed him that he’d probably never see her again after this.
Midnight was thoroughly enjoying each second she could grasp with Fleethoof. Although she couldn't quite place her hoof on it, something about him was different. Something had happened in the time he was gone, and the stallion seemed... vulnerable. He had softened up to her, a quality Midnight had fully expected to never see in the captain. Something had broken through his tough exterior and lowered his guard. Now she was seeing him for the pony he really was, and it was clear to Midnight just why he was so special.
“So, tell me what the royals are like,” Midnight asked, eyes flashing with intrigue as she rested her chin on her hooves and inclined towards him. “Are they awesome and down to earth, or are they like every other pony here and are really stuck up?”
“Yes, Captain, what are we like?”
The soft, feminine voice made Midnight Dasher turn quickly and Fleethoof nearly leap out of his skin. Striding gracefully across the café’s small courtyard came Princess Cadance, smiling with gentle warmth at the two ponies. Midnight’s eyes widened in the presence of the alicorn, wearing her trademark smile. Fleethoof felt his heart race in panic, managing a nervous smile.
“Cadance!” Fleethoof realized how obvious that exclamation had been. Anypony with eyes could see who it was. “I didn’t… What are you doing here?”
“Shining and I were looking for you,” she explained, hovering beside the table. She turned her gaze to the bat pony and smiled in greeting. “I don’t believe we’ve met. How do you do?”
“Oh, yeah. Cadance, this is Corporal Midnight Dasher. She’s been helping retrain the Guard. Midnight, this is Princess Cadance, the Princess of Love.”
“Oh, I know who you are!” Midnight said, energetically shaking the princess’ hoof with gusto. “Wow! I’ve never met a princess before! We never see the princesses out in The Shades.”
Cadance laughed lightly, entertained by the mare’s delight. “Well, I’ll have to make it a point to have my aunts visit more often! We certainly don’t want anypony to feel left out.”
“Princess, tell me—is it true? Did Fleethoof really save you from the griffons?”
Fleethoof could feel the shock hit him like a ton of bricks. “Midnight!”
“What?!”
Cadance simply laughed again. “Yes, he did. The griffons took me hostage, and Captain Fleethoof very bravely rescued me.”
“Did he come galloping in like a knight, slaying the griffons and whisking you out a window?” Midnight was incorrigible.
“Actually, sort of! There was definitely whisking out of windows.”
Fleethoof could feel his face begin to burn as he hid behind his hooves. He could hear the two mares giggling.
“So Fleethoof, how long have you been seeing this lovely mare?” Cadance asked.
In an instant, Fleethoof felt the heat of embarrassment consume his entire being. “We aren’t together,” he answered quickly.
Cadance looked a little surprised. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed when I saw you two having drinks, and her wearing your hat—”
“He gave it to me,” Midnight lied, grinning all the while, her eyes flashing mischievously. “We’re planning on eloping in Trottingham soon.”
Fleethoof rubbed his temples, muttering, “She stole it from me.”
Another musical laugh from the princess. “Well, I wish you two the best of luck!” she joked, playing along with Midnight, seeing as how it bugged Fleethoof.
A train whistle blared shrilly in the wintry afternoon air. A train had just pulled into the station. A glance at the clock let Midnight Dasher know it was hers. She pursed her lips, conflicted between blowing it off and just staying for a little while longer, and heading back home to see her family after months apart. In her mind, she knew she had already made her decision.
“Well, looks like we’ll have to run away some other time, Fleety. I gotta go,” said Midnight wistfully, hiding the remorse behind a typical Midnight Dasher smile as she grabbed her saddlebags. “It was great meeting you, Princess Cadance.”
“And you as well, Miss Dasher.”
Midnight gave a small smile to Fleethoof, reluctantly gave him back his cap, and began trotting off towards the train station. Fleethoof turned slightly, watching her go. He still needed an answer from her though, and he was losing his chance.
“Excuse me, Cadance. I need to see Midnight real quick.”
Cadance said nothing, but smiled an astute smile, like she knew something he didn’t. Jumping down from his seat, Fleethoof galloped after the retreating mare. He caught up to her just as she began taking the steps up into the station.
“Midnight, wait!” His words stopped the mare in her tracks. She turned and gave him a look that reminisced of happiness and surprise. “I have to ask something… I spoke to Shining Armor. He said your training segments ended a month ago. The rest of your friends left a while ago. Why did you stay?”
Midnight blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by his inquiry. “I still had to finish training the Marines.”
“The Marines were deployed a week ago. You could have been home for Hearth’s Warming. So why stay?”
Midnight appeared to be all out of answers. The silence was very uncharacteristic of the boisterous bat pony. It put Fleethoof off slightly. Even she seemed to be struggling with something.
“I wanted to make sure my friend was all right,” Midnight said slowly, enunciating each word, and giving a small smile to the stallion. “I wanted to see you again. I couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye to the pony I bugged the heck out of.”
Fleethoof gave his half smile. “I thought this wasn’t goodbye?”
Now it was Midnight’s turn to laugh. She trotted down the steps and flung herself at Fleethoof, wrapping her hooves around his neck in a tight embrace. Fleethoof was taken by surprise at first, giving her a half hug back with one hoof, both surprised and at the same time not by her outward signs of affection. When she finally pulled back, Midnight gave a little wave of her hoof in a mock salute. “Take care of yourself, soldier. I’ll see you soon, Fleety.”
“That’s ‘Fleethoof’!”
Midnight Dasher left laughing, her shoulders rising and falling in quiet laughter all the way into the train station. And then she was out of sight, and gone. Fleethoof lingered on the stairs, waiting until he was sure she was gone. The wind gently tousled his long mane in the air as he stood still as a statue. It was like closing a chapter on his life. Fleethoof always hated that feeling: leaving behind one part of your past and starting a new page for the future. This time, he knew how it would come to close. This chapter would have a conclusion, but no happy ending.
After a slow moment had passed, he stepped back down to the street. Cadance was still waiting for him beside the café, an odd look and smile on her face. Fleethoof smiled a small smile back as he approached her, sighing softly. An empty feeling had settled in his chest. Where it had come from, even he didn’t know.
“You’ll see her again,” said Cadance confidently.
Fleethoof chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of. So what were you and Shining looking for me for? Is Equestria under attack again or something?”
Now it was Cadance’s turn to roll her eyes. “No, nothing like that. The world doesn’t need to be in danger for somepony to need you, you know.”
“Lately, it doesn’t seem that way…”
“Shining wants to take us out to dinner. A Hearth’s Warming, slash New Year’s gift, and a welcome home thing for you.”
“That’s awfully generous.”
“He won’t take no for an answer.”
“And I’m guessing you won’t either?”
Cadance smiled widely at him. “Nope!”
Fleethoof knew he wouldn’t have resisted anyway. “I hope they have hay fries. I'm in the mood for something fried and delicious that I'll probably regret later.”
He went to grab the file on the table. The wind had flipped the cover open, fanning the papers out. Fleethoof gathered them up and stuffed them haphazardly into the folder. That was when he realized his photograph was missing from it. He blinked his eyes in confusion, and then quickly scanned around the area to see if it had blown away. There was no trace of it anywhere.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cadance.
Fleethoof scrunched his brow in confusion—and then slowly turned to look at the train station, just as a train had begun to depart from Canterlot. Realization dawned on him, and a smirk tugged at his lips. That wily mare… he thought.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
After all, he was going to see her again someday…
“So, what is it you wished to speak to me about?” Luna asked, sitting down at her desk.
Fleethoof approached the princess, removing his cap out of respect. “I want to build a headquarters for my team outside of the castle, in the city of Canterlot itself. Just some offices, even. Nopony likes being stuck underground, and it would give Quarter Master more room for his lab, his team, and his experiments.”
“What did you have in mind, Captain?”
“Just a single structure somewhere in the city, solely so my team can be up in the air and sunlight.” He saw the look on Luna’s face at the last word. “And the moonlight as well, of course, your majesty.”
Luna rolled her eyes. “That is not what my reaction was for, my captain. I am merely confused as to why you never brought this up before. Of course you may have your headquarters in the city. I will have an architect get in touch with you to draw up the blueprints immediately.”
Fleethoof was pleasantly surprised by Luna’s willingness to cooperate so readily. He had prepared a whole presentation and speech as to why they needed the room all around. All Luna wanted to know was what they needed, and that was it.
“That’s all, your majesty? No persuading? No debating?”
Luna giggled softly. “Oh, Captain Fleethoof. You need not explain yourself to me. You are my ponies. If there is anything you ever require, I will grant it to you. I trust your judgment, and I know you have legitimate reasons.”
He couldn’t fight the proud smile that spread across his face. “Thank you, Princess Luna.”
“Now, is there anything else I can do for you, or was that little project it?”
“No, that was all—”
A knock at the door caught both ponies’ attention. At Luna’s call, the doors opened, and Lightning Flash stepped inside. Both princess and captain looked surprised by the corporal’s presence.
“Lightning Flash, what brings you here?” asked Fleethoof. “Is something wrong?”
The pony hesitated for a moment, mouth parted as he searched for either the words or the will to speak. “Could I speak with you, Captain—privately?”
Fleethoof nodded, and excused himself from Luna’s presence. The two stallions stepped out of the office and began walking leisurely down the corridors of Canterlot Castle. They walked slowly past large glass windows, looking out over Canterlot.
“What’s on your mind, Corporal?”
For a long moment, Lightning Flash didn’t say anything. He was staring down at the carpeted floor beneath his hooves. Then, after several minutes, he looked up again, up at his leader.
“Captain, I want to resign from Skyfall.”
To say he was taken off guard by the request would have been an understatement. Fleethoof was bewildered by his comrade’s appeal, amazed that he had entreated such a thing from him.
“You want to quit Skyfall?” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard correctly the first time. “May I ask why?”
“It’s just this whole thing with Union… I don’t think I could do much more of this.” Lightning Flash took a deep breath to steady himself. “It was different in the war, or before. There were clear sides. This time they were our own ponies. They were our friends. I don’t think I can handle killing fellow soldiers anymore.”
Fleethoof scowled slightly. “Corporal, they relinquished their allegiance to us when they turned on us.”
“You can say that all you want, sir, but I know you feel something about what we did. No matter what you think, they were still our brothers at one point. How many more times are we going to have to kill our countrymen when circumstances change?”
Hopefully, never, Fleethoof thought. He knew it was a fool’s hope to even think that. He didn’t have an answer for the pony standing beside him right now.
“Not to mention the torture business... I’m sorry, Captain, but I’ve given this a lot of thought. I can’t do this anymore—I can’t.”
“And there’s no way I could convince you otherwise, huh?” he asked. Lightning Flash shook his head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so…”
There was a momentary lull in their conversation. The two ponies stopped walking and stared out at the cityscape.
“You’d have to surrender all of your equipment,” Fleethoof explained. “And you know sensitive information.”
“I don’t want to be discharged—just transferred. Back to a regular Guard unit. I want to help ponies—not harm them anymore.”
It was a reasonable enough request. Fleethoof nodded slowly, his eyes darkening ruefully as he pondered the situation. Finally, he sighed, and murmured, “Very well, Corporal. Go home. Enjoy your leave. I’ll have somepony deliver information on your reassignment to you.”
Although he couldn’t see his face, Fleethoof could hear the relief and gratitude in Lightning Flash’s voice. “Thank you, Captain. It’s been a pleasure serving under you, sir.”
“It’s been an honor serving with you, Lightning Flash.”
Fleethoof listened to each step the pony took as he walked away. Soon it was just him, standing alone in a quiet, empty hallway, staring at shadows across the rooftops and courtyards of Canterlot, cast against a white ground and gray sky. It was nostalgic, and reminiscent of what he felt purgatory would be like.
He took a deep breath, and then exhaled it slowly, letting the breath pass slowly over his lips. His shoulders quivered gently. A single tear cut down his cheek in the silence and solitude.
Down in the cold of the Canterlot Morgue, four ponies stood around an autopsy table. The pathologist was busy gathering up her reports as the two princesses and soldier from before gathered around the body of a pegasus recovered from the base in Saddle Arabia. Fleethoof swallowed hard as he stared blankly at the body of Lightning Strike, trying hard not to feel like he had failed the pony.
“Why are we here?” he asked sharply.
“Because the doctor told us she had made a startling discovery,” Luna said in explanation.
“That is correct. While performing the autopsy on Sergeant Lightning Strike here, one of the tests we always run is a standard toxin screen to rule out any poisons in the system as cause of death.” The mare returned to the table, levitating several clipboards laden with papers with her. “With Mister Strike here, I thought the cause of death was pretty straightforward: stab wound to the chest, deflating the left lung and severing the pulmonary artery, and a gunshot wound to the head, causing catastrophic brain trauma. But, there was something unusual about his toxin screen.”
“He was poisoned?” asked Celestia.
The pathologist hesitated. “Well… yes and no. There were traces of something in his system, but I couldn’t identify it at first. I had to go back through very, very old accounts and records before I could find anything like it.”
“Well, what was it?” Fleethoof asked, losing his patience with being here. All he could think about was putting this ordeal behind him.
“Changeling venom.”
The three ponies instantly looked up and stared at the pathologist in near-perfect synchronization. The mood of the room instantly shifted from solemnity to concern.
Celestia was the first to speak. “Changeling venom? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” the pathologist confirmed. “I ran tests against the chemical makeup and it perfectly matched old accounts of the venom.”
“Changelings…” Fleethoof said, murmuring his words. “Are they like insect ponies? Dark bodies covered in shells? Bluish eyes and blood?”
“Yes,” answered Luna. “They have the ability to change their forms at will, and function on the emotions of living beings. It’s the same creature we have in custody. Spitfire showed her to us. I believe you interrogated her.”
Fleethoof felt his gut twist into a knot. Changelings. Now he had a name to place with the monsters he had killed. He knew of the legend of the creatures, but had never thought he’d live long enough to ever see them return.
“What does changeling venom do then?” he asked.
“Changeling venom is a very interesting biotoxin that affects the brain. It does not kill the infected pony, but instead completely shuts down any inhibition the brain has, as well as disabling any cognitive control they possess, depending on how much of the poison is injected. Low amounts, like what Lightning Strike possessed, would simply make him delirious, paranoid, and make his emotional state easily manipulated. Much greater doses would have made him a puppet to whoever envenomed him.”
Fleethoof could feel the rage building inside him again. “So what you’re saying is that he had no control over himself?”
“Not exactly,” the pathologist began. “He would have been very much aware of his actions, but he may not have realized he was doing them until they were done—sort of like sleepwalking, I would hypothesize. If he was acting under a paranoid delirium, it would have been impossible to get him to settle or stop whatever he was doing.”
“And what would the venom do in cases of rage?”
The unicorn took a deep breath. “There’s no detailed reports on how the venom effects emotional instability and disturbances, but if I had to guess, I would say it would exaggerate them to greater levels. He wouldn’t have control over them, and would more or less simply act on however he felt when he had been infected.”
Fleethoof closed his eyes tight. He leaned forward against the cool metal of the table, fighting back a choking sob of anger and frustration. “And what would happen if he began to bleed out? Would the venom just leave him?”
“Again, there’s no reports of any bloodletting as a cure or treatment, but since the venom is hemophilic, I would also guess that as he lost blood, the venom would leave his system as well. He may regain some conscious control or thought, but I wouldn’t be able to confirm that.”
He was apologizing… Fleethoof thought angrily over and over again. He was apologizing because he was coming back... Glider had him under his damn control the whole time and we never noticed!
“The armor the body was brought back in was also made of changeling shells,” the pathologist said, continuing on. “Reinforced multiple layers of changeling shells. Extremely durable to force and heat. How they managed to get a suit made out of it is incredible. That would require a hive to manufacture.”
Flashbacks to the battle in Oxford flashed back in his mind. There had been a hive. They had wiped it out after Glider and Lightning Strike had moved on. That’s where the armor had come from. Chitin must have been making it to sell along with the weapons.
Fleethoof felt sick to his stomach. His head hurt, and he very much didn’t want to be there anymore. A gentle hoof on his shoulder forced him to open his eyes, just to look up at whoever was touching him. He tried his best not to look at Lightning Strike, lying dead mere inches away.
Luna rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “There was nothing you could do for him, Fleethoof. He was lost the moment Glider caught him in his web.”
Fleethoof was far from convinced. “Is there any way to know when he was infected, or how?”
“Well, any bite from a changeling would do the trick. I couldn’t find any marks on him, which means they had probably healed, so I’d say he’d been poisoned for some time. Changeling venom never dissipates in the blood, so it’s impossible to tell for certain.”
Strangely, that made Fleethoof feel a little better. At least he wouldn’t know if he had ever known Lightning Strike as a pony or as a puppet to Glider. He couldn’t think about killing him as a hostage to the real villain’s will.
“What should we do, ‘Tia?” Luna asked quietly, looking to her sister for answers. “If he was not in control of his actions, do we vilify him? Is he innocent, or guilty by association?”
Celestia shook her head slowly. “I do not know, Luna… I just do not know…”
Fleethoof pushed himself away from the table, making his way for the door. “I’m done with this. Whatever you decide to do with him—don’t let me know.”
The guilt was gnawing at his soul all the way up the stairs back to the outside world. He couldn’t let himself know Lightning Strike’s fate. He’d feel too responsible for that too. Even if he never knew the condition of Strike’s mind during his demise, he didn’t want to know if he’d killed an innocent soldier or a corrupt traitor. Ignorance truly was bliss. In the back of his mind, Fleethoof sealed the whole incident away in a vault as he stormed out into the world so cold.
“So, Lightning Flash…” Captain Stratagem said, looking over the pony’s personnel file before her. “Your record appears to be quite impressive. I’m familiar with your service with Captain Fleethoof as well.”
Lightning Flash gave a short nod. “Yes, ma’am. He was a very skilled leader. I took a lot away from him.”
“I should hope so. We go back a ways.” Stratagem mused over the papers in her hooves. She lifted up the letter from Fleethoof attached to the files, reading it, and staring proudly down at the signature at the bottom. “Why did you choose to leave Fleethoof’s unit?”
“We had a difference in style,” he explained honestly. “I wasn’t suitable for the jobs they did. So I’m trying to get back to where I belong.”
“As leader of the First Responder unit?”
Lightning Flash furrowed his brow. “Ma’am?”
“That’s what Fleethoof’s letter says,” Stratagem said, reading it aloud. “’It is for these reasons that I highly recommend Sergeant Lightning Flash to head your First Responder rescue unit.’ He says you’re the fastest pony on four hooves. Is that right?”
“W-Well, yes, but… I think there must be a mistake, ma’am. Did it say sergeant?”
“There’s also this attached for you.” Stratagem pushed a sealed envelope with his name scrawled on the front over her desk to the Earth pony. He quickly tore it open. Inside, a single sheet of paper had one sentence across it:
Good luck, Lightning Flash. Be a better pony than I am.
—Fleethoof
A smile of heartfelt gratitude spread across Lightning Flash’s lips. Since the day he had tendered his resignation three months ago, he had been terrified that Fleethoof would be bitter about his leaving. He knew the captain was an honorable pony, and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his reassignment—but never in his life would he have expected this. Fleethoof had taken what he wanted in life and given him the greatest wish he could have hoped for.
“So…” Stratagem’s voice caught the stallion’s attention. “I think you should go meet your new teammates. You’ve all got a fitness test next week. Think you can pass it, or am I gonna have to ship you back to Fleethoof?”
Lightning Flash’s eyes narrowed and he smiled with determination. He saluted his new commanding officer with a, “Yes ma’am!” and hurried off to his new position.
Springtime had claimed the city of Canterlot. Winter had been wrapped up a week prior, and though a slight chill still clung to the air, Celestia’s bright sun bathed the land in warmth and the promise of the new season. Flowers had begun budding, popping up from the thawing earth, and songbirds filled the skies with dots of color and harmonious song. Three months had passed since the attack in Saddle Arabia, and the incidents with Fireteam Union. Much had changed in three months.
Fleethoof stood outside the skeleton of a building as a dozen unicorns worked tirelessly to put it together. He mused over the blueprints with the architect in charge of the project, going over every minor detail as the building went up. The effort had been moving along quickly, and all that remained were the doors, windows, and finishing details. The new Skyfall Headquarters was coming along beautifully.
“The windows will be arriving from Trottingham in the next few days,” the overseer said. “And the doors are supposed to be in this afternoon. We just need to pick them up from the carpenter across town, and then get the furniture moved in.”
Fleethoof nodded his head, half smiling to himself. “Excellent. So we’ll be done by the end of the month?”
“I’d say the end of the week if we move fast enough.”
“Perfect.” Another nod from Fleethoof. The changes and transitions were almost complete, and he was ready to be back where he belonged. Since the new year began, he had felt like he was stuck in limbo—lost in a space between the past and the future. Skyfall Team was still lingering, waiting for their new home, and remained with a staff of five. Nopony had been found to replace Lightning Flash yet. If he was honest with himself, Fleethoof didn’t want to think about that right now. Some changes he wasn’t ready to put behind him yet.
A clatter inside the structure demanded the attention of the overseer, who rushed off shouting at somepony inside. Fleethoof watched him go, and then returned to his private thoughts. Union had been sealed away from his memory. He refused to touch that side of his past yet. But a lingering mystery still consumed his thoughts: the pony aliased as Silence.
He had spent the last few weeks searching the Royal Archives for any traces of the name, and had come across a few references to it, but they were all partial accounts or incomplete, unverified details. Nothing had helped bring him any clarity. This furtive puppeteer of the Union tragedy remained hidden and unknown—and it greatly disturbed the captain.
Somehow, he would find this pony…
Silence… I’m coming… And I will get you… he vowed in thought, his muscles tensing on reflex. There was still much more to go through, and in his heart, he knew the truth.
One chapter had ended. The next was just beginning, and the story was far from over.