//------------------------------// // 7 // Story: The Inconveniencing Adventures of a Washout Kicker // by IC1s5 //------------------------------// Thunder cleared his throat. “Ready?” The secretary nodded. He sat before a typewriter. Thunder had requested a moment to dictate letters he was hoping against hope he never had to send. “Dear....insert names here....it is my inestimable pleasure to inform you of the death of your foal, Mace/Pinion.” The secretary looked up. He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me, sir?” “Just roll with it. For too long, your son has been a blemish on the standards of honour and professionalism of the Royal Guard. Rest assured, I will not fault you for his conduct: I do not believe there is any way for anypony to consciously raise ponies as inept and uncouth as he was. I do not know what tragic circumstances produced him, but I am certain they were beyond your control.” The secretary was typing very slowly, hoping that this was some kind of obscure test of character. Was he supposed to be loyal to his superior or disobedient? If he was, what would the consequences (or possible reward) be? “Unfortunately, their deaths were not as agonized as I would have preferred, but we must make do with what we get. I am, with extreme joy, my name here, commanding officer of your late colt, the boob. Got all that?” “Yes,” the secretary weakly said. All of Thunder’s words he had captured on paper. “Do you want me to read it back to you?” “No need. Surprised?’ The secretary nodded. His eyes were wide as saucers. “Good,” Thunder replied. “Now here’s the real challenge: find a way to make it tactful.” Thunder strode out of the room. Dearest Celestia it felt good to finally get off of his chest. Of course, now his responsibility was to inform his family about Spray’s death, if it came to that. Exactly how he was to manage that escaped him. Kickers were used to sacrifice, including making the ultimate sacrifice for their country. But Spray, like this... For the past six hours he had been thinking heavily of the possibility that Spray was...not going to rest with his ancestors, which he deserved, if Herald was going to still be a grump about things. He always was, but at least the rest of the family could veto his crankiness. Coral. Oh Dear Luna, Coral. Poor filly’s heart was going to be ripped right out. Who was going to get the unenviable task of informing her? A Kicker who was a real softie in heart---who could he find in Manehatten who could have gotten the job done? Liberty Kicker? Perhaps. He had a soft spot a mile wide; hopefully he could avoid crying long enough to get the thankless job down. Thunder would write him first. “Where is commander Olive Branch?” Thunder asked a subordinate pony. “He is with Guard Captain Armour,” the pony said. The chariot had arrived half an hour ago, with Olive Branch taking great pains to meet him on the waterlogged parade ground and ushering him into the briefing room. “When did he...” Thunder stormed off to the briefing room. You’re not getting away from this that easily, Olive. Thunder needed to get in before Olive successfully buttered up the captain. Shining Armour and Olive Branch were bent over the table examining the latest photos to come in from the beam. The upper third was sectioned into four parts. “Water depth is at four feet and sinking. When that happens, we can expect them to stampede across.” Shining Armour nodded. “Concentrate on that. Guard reinforcements are coming, we can manage the rest if it isn’t too bad. What the other regions?” “Photos are developing, but it dosen’t look good. Apparently there was a small dry fork near the Dusty river that has widened considerably the gap...” Shining shook his head. Granted, the Long Patrol wasn’t the most well administered part of the guard, but the chain of bad events was getting ridiculous. “This is not good,” he muttered. “Well, our weather patrols had difficulty suppressing the local weather,” Olive said resolutely. “It’s an unfortunate problem around here. Class 4 anvilheads are such tricky things.” Thunder cleared his throat. The two ponies looked up at him. “We are still missing three patrols,” Thunder said. “I’ve requested that we make that a higher priority, particularly given the...composition.” Olive did not like Thunder breaking the news for him. Own it, Olive. Shining was more professional. He looked Thunder in the eye, striding forwards. An uneasy feeling was brewing in the atmosphere. “Am I to intimate the civilians who embedded here were with them?” Shining asked. Something he probably knew inherently, since if his mother was here no power in Equestria could separate them. The longer she did not attempt to impose herself on him, the deeper his anxiety grew. “Yes sir.” “My mother among them.” “Yes sir.” Shining nodded. His eyes betrayed his stoic composure. He swallowed. He transferred his feelings to the energy required to get this job done. “Have we determined the status of the patrol they were with?” Thunder tried his best not to cringe, and failed. “We haven’t found them in any condition, though your mother’s hat was found near the body of the only pony who is accounted for. No other signs were available, and the situation was too dangerous for a prolonged search.” “I see,” Shining said. He chewed his words for a moment, once again trying to reinforce his composure with a strong sense of duty. “Ensure that as soon as we have a handle on the beam situation finding them will be our next highest priority.” We live in despair. “Of course, sir.” Duty comes first. They turned back to the map. The latest reconnaissance photos showed where the beam had broken, in the exact places Olive had feared. Olive had made a preliminary estimate of how many ponies could be deployed where. “While the Silver nation is scrabbling to capitalize on this, their forces regionally are going to be small and scattered. Easy to contain if we work fast enough.” “Thank Celestia for small marvels,” Olive said. “Well, it’s up to us to keep this a small situation,” Shining said. He turned to face Olive Branch. “Move out against the dry lakebed first, and immediately. Secure as much as we can while we still can. As for the patrols...let’s just try and find them before the Silver nation does.” “Sir.” Olive marched out. Head held high, striding confidently forwards. That left Shining and Thunder alone for a moment. “You will have control of a guard contingent. You will secure the Dusty river mouth and all other affected regions.” “Yes sir.” Shining looked pensive. Difficult to tell what precisely he was thinking, though it was not unimaginable what the topics were. Thunder would not have faulted him for the burden his mother’s presence was placing on his mind, atop considerable responsibilities. It was my fault she was here. “You couldn’t have foreseen this, sir,” Thunder said, hoping in some small way to help. Help him calm his mind or help him go insane---the point was, Thunder felt a compulsion to help him. Shining said nothing. Thunder did not leave the room, implying there was still something he wanted out of the guard captain. “Questions?” Shining asked. “Just one,” Thunder said. “I just want to know why the beam was made the way it was.” Shining laughed. It would be one of the first things he could have fixed about Equestrian defence priorities, if only there weren’t more important things to worry about and high ranking bureaucrats coolly explaining about how it would appear to the nobles and the public. To err is pony...to really screw things up requires a bureaucracy. “Being an equine nation,” Shining explained, “it was believed that we were automatically on acceptable terms, and therefore did not need to enhance our border security. It was better to spend more where we needed it more, went the argument, and since it hasn’t rained here in two hundred years, what harm could it be.” Thunder’s face fell into his hooves. Dear Celestia...why....They know that they eat meat in the Silver nation, right? “I’ll arrange a meeting between you and the minister who approved the project if you want.” “I’d like that,” Thunder said, “more than anything I’d like that very much.” Shining sighed. “Against stupidity, Celestia herself contends in vain.” # With a grunt, Spray dropped Mace onto the ground. It had been very hard and he was exhausted, first having to lift Velvet from certain peril to safety, and then going back to fetch Mace and Pinion. Three very heavy ponies: Spray felt like he could have died right there and then. He fell upon the ground and he panted. The ground was soft and damp still. “Thank you, dear,” Velvet said. She trotted over and gave him an affectionate stroke of his back. “Don’t mention it.” Spray rolled onto his side. His legs hurt. “The other ponies?” she asked, her voice wavering. “Did they make it?” She had dispatched ponies in many ways in her stories. Being broad minded, it had not always been karmic revenge for their misdeeds. Good ponies had died, and died horribly. That had always happened on the page, not before her eyes. Spray shook his head. “I couldn’t find them.” Spray had made a cursory check down the length of the stream. The water was less violent now, but no less opaque. He called out and received only silence. His priorities had been trying to get the others to safety---nothing to be done. “You did what you could, dear.” Velvet sounded small and distant. She had been weakly hoping that maybe Bright Star or at least one other pony had made it. It would have made her feel less useless and helpless. Adventures appeared to be better lived in the pages of a book rather than the real world. The heat was returning. It never left, but the rain provided the illusion of relief. Puddles remained but they were growing smaller. Where they sat there was no cover from the sun, which, for now, remained behind a cloud. But like a hydra or a manticore, it was stalking them. It was just waiting for the right moment to strike. Some creatures were out scampering, feeding or fornicating. Some of them may have been buried beneath the sand for decades, waiting for the drought to finally break. When the last of the water was gone, they would burrow back under the ground and sleep until the next rainfall. Velvet should have asked Twilight about the nuances of the San Paolomino ecosystem. Fascinating to watch, if one’s life was not hanging in the balance. Staying out here for much longer was not a smart idea. “We have to make it back to Fort Lancer,” Spray said. Obvious to everypony, but it still needed to be said. It felt like saying it out loud would fire every pony to the purpose. “Okay,” Mace said, “how?” “We head back the way we came...” Spray began. That was obvious, wasn’t it? They just needed to follow the path back to the fort. How hard could it be? It wasn’t that hard to get out here, right? “You know it?” Mace asked. “You know the way back? By heart?” Spray could divine a few landmarks, probably would have been able to see their hoofprints before the rain erased them. He realized that this wasn’t as simple as the thought had led him to believe. “No,” Spray admitted. Slowly, the pieces were beginning to fall away before his eyes. Not that the puzzle had been fully assembled anyways. “You’ve got the map? A compass?” Mace added. “A magic carpet?” “Of course not.” “What about water? What are we going to do about that?” Pinion asked. “The sun comes out, we’re going to get pretty thirsty pretty quickly.” “Well it just rained...” “That water is muddy to the point of being undrinkable! We can’t seriously drink that if we’re going to survive!” Pinion roared. Spray was very quiet. It was like he was a foal again and was being scolded for forgetting his homework. Mace sighed. “We lost all of our water and what we need to get back in the flood. We’re really up the creek here.” Spray, for an instant, regretted his parents hadn’t been as assertive with wilderness survival skills as they could have been. Not like cousin Blaze, who insisted at being dropped blindfold into new places with the expectation of coming back. Always fun to take him for a spin, drop him in the neighbour’s backyard and let him come to the conclusion himself. “Anypony got any ideas of how we’re supposed to get through this?” Mace asked, his plot sinking onto the ground and his head sinking into his hooves. “Anything? Now’s the time to say so.” “I know how to navigate by the stars,” Velvet mentioned. “How well?” Pinion asked. Let’s see: she and Night Light had been lying back on a hillside the night he taught her, the night sky above them like a jeweled quilt. Night Light was pointing out how to navigate the maze of stars, which ones were the most important, and what rhyme she needed to remember to help her find it. She was distracted by his golden eyes, leaning in close to the most handsome, patient and wonderful stallion she had ever met. Her lips brushed against his cheek.... Velvet could have cursed her younger self. Love kills. “Not with confidence,” she admitted. Pinion snorted. Great. Might as well lie down and wait for our end right now. “I’ll got after them,” Spray said. A sudden decision. “Come again?” Mace asked. “The saddlebags we lost: I’ll go get them." Pinion sighed. “They could be miles away, and with the beam in this condition...” “Got a better idea?” “Well, one...” Mace admitted. “Let’s hear it.” “Well,” Mace said, “when we fall asleep next, and we should do that very soon, we think of the strangest dream that’s possible, so that Princess Luna can find us and rescue us.” “That’s statistically unlikely,” Spray replied. “Yes, well...” Mace went into detail about what he had hoped his dream would be. Down to the last detail, in complete precision, about how he hoped this dream would be unique enough to attract Luna’s attention. At that day Mace’s true destiny he was revealed. He was the Element of Awkward Silences. Nopony spoke. “So...I need the pair of you, being creative types, to help me think of...” Spray broke the mood as it was imperative that Mace stop talking: “I’ll go fly over the area, and see if I can’t find anything of what we lost.” “How do you know you can even find that stuff?” Pinion asked. “Sitting around and moping won’t get us home. At least it’s something.” He got up on his hooves. He gave a shake, knocking off the dirt and moisture he had been lying in. You picked a heck of a time to rediscover your Kicker pride, he thought to himself. He took off before anypony got another word in. He couldn’t live up to his family’s traditions entirely, but he would have to fake it. Anything less would not be smart.