//------------------------------// // 13 // Story: The Inconveniencing Adventures of a Washout Kicker // by IC1s5 //------------------------------// The evening of his graduation from West Hoof Thunder Kicker got drunk. That was not unusual. What he did that was unusual involved going up to a senior cadet that had made his time insufferable, telling him to his face how ugly he was, how unsightly his girlfriend was, and how he hoped, he prayed, that he would wind up being torn to pieces by a griffon or in the belly of a dragon. Thunder’s head was ringing. He moaned, spitting out a tooth that he wasn’t using anyways. It took him a moment, but the events of the past few hours came back to him, and he was surprised that he was not upside down in the alleyway behind a seedy bar. Thunder felt very young, for all the wrong reasons. “Sir...” The voice sounded like it was a thousand miles away. Thunder snapped to. The pony examining him was startled. “Yes...yes...how long have I been out?” “Just an hour sir,” the pegasus sheepishly admitted. “Report.” “We got thrashed sir.” Thunder snorted. No kidding. “Fatalities? Ours I mean.” “One, and the civilians...” Spray! Velvet! Thunder was on his hooves. He looked left and right, searching for his nephew and Mrs. Velvet. Hopefully they were recaptured before going over the beam. There he was at the bottom. “He’s all right sir,” the pegasus said, “but he’s hurt.” “Velvet?” “Gone sir,” the pegasus squeaked. I’ve failed. Maybe I’m...maybe I’ve....Thunder kicked at the sand with his hoof, which did not have the good decency to fly away in a cloud, but rather just let his hoof sink in. Maybe I’m just not the guard I used to be. If I ever was. “Anything else?” “Mace appears to have injured his head.” “Let me know if anything important got damaged,” Thunder said, speeding down the beam. Spray’s condition was foremost on his mind. Kickers were resilient. He kept repeating the thought to himself like a mantra. All the bad memories of his nephew’s three day long wanderings came back to him. All the fears, all the anxieties he had to hide behind a guard’s thick exterior. Celestia, if he’s too badly hurt, I may never forgive myself. Spray was rubbing his head. Some serviette had been shredded and shoved up his nose to clog the bleeding. He was developing a shiner over his left eye. His head rang a little, but slowly he was feeling a little better. Physically. “Uncle,” he croaked, his voice rippling with want of water. Thunder detached his canteen and passed it over to his nephew. Spray took it with his mouth and chugged it. By Celestia, I needed it. “Aren’t we a pair,” Thunder said, sitting down across from him. “Feels like the hangover from Tartarus, eh?” “I don’t drink,” Spray said. He sounded like he was a million miles away, and in his soul he wished he was. “You really fell far from the tree, didn’t you.” Thunder sat his weary plot on the ground. “I really could use a drink right now.” There were a few puffy clouds in the sky. The sun’s rays hurt. Such a gorgeous day, which viciously rubbed in the extent of Thunder’s failure. If...when...they got back, Thunder did not relish having to go up to Captain Armour and explaining to him what happened out here. Shining Armour did not get to where he was by having a volatile personality. Nevertheless, Thunder was already choosing his words carefully. Not to diminish his responsibility, but to make the truth sting a little less. Might as well run away to the Everfree right now, save everypony the trouble. Spray extended his wing out a little to see if it was feeling better. A touch---after a second he was forced to retract it. He winced. It wasn’t that bad anymore, though he wasn’t eager to take to the skies again. “You hurt your wing?” Spray nodded. “Let me have a look at it.” Thunder shuffled over. Spray, reluctantly, extended his wing again. Thunder nodded: the wound was healing, and appeared to be reasonably clean. Seen more than a few of them in his time in the field. Earned more than a few, himself. “Stings, doesn't it?” “Yeah,” Spray said. “Well,” Thunder said, “good news is that it’s mostly just flesh there. Technically, you can still fly. If you can ignore the pain. Which you can’t.” “Good to know,” Spray replied. “Trick is to muscle yourself some good altitude,” Thunder said, “after that you can just glide.” Spray nodded. “Makes sense.” “Hey, now you can show it to Hammer and the rest of the family, and prove that you’re a Kicker now,” Thunder said. Spray did not laugh or reply. Made sense: it wasn’t that funny. This was not a funny place; these were not humourous times. Out here, at the mercy of the San Paolomino and the ghost of Old Tom. Olive, pray we never see each other again. Pray. Maybe the consequences wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe Celestia would sign an agreement as fast as it was shoved under her nose. Maybe he wouldn’t have to lurk between places of refuge, a disgrace to his family and country. Maybe this would wrap up in a year or two, with no concessions granted to the griffons that were not dramatically more than they usually demanded. He got Spray back, and the Silver ponies had scampered home over the beam. The Dusty River was safe, for now. Something went right today. Not the biggest thing, but something. Just not enough. “What’s next?” Spray asked. He watched his uncle shrink into himself, like a foal trying to hide some misdeed from his parents. “We get you back to Fort Lancer. I go to face the music.” Spray muttered an agreement. It made sense. It was logical. It sucked. “What did you think?” Thunder asked. “I think it’s not good enough. We got invaded, we got captured. Need to do something about that.” “Amen,” Thunder said. Not just for the Silver nation. Equestria has alot worse neighbours to worry about than just them. The griffons were like vultures. Always circling, always (in public) patient. Always ready to find some fault in Equestria that they could manipulate into an accusation of a double standard with how Equestria handled Westmark and the griffons. Which meant one of Thunder’s deepest nightmares, of the griffons innocently suggesting a protective presence in the Silver nation, may very well come true. History wouldn’t completely blame that on him, he knew; but he figured a few armchair generals back home would dump the blame onto his back. “If you had the power to give me orders,” Thunder asked, “what would you suggest?” “Go after them?” Spray asked. “Get Velvet back?” Thunder shook his head. “Our mandate is to secure the beam, and recover you and Mrs. Velvet. Going over the beam exceeds it. Region’s sensitive enough as it is without us making it worse.” “So?” Spray asked. “They did it first.” So obvious, yet so painfully naive. Thunder swallowed his contempt for the soft foreign policy that was all the rage in Manehattan, or wherever smarty pants ponies gathered. “Okay. The world has enough creatures in it that would love, just love, to start something with Equestria. Going over the beam would very much delight them. Invasion of the Silver nation’s sovereignty or whatever. The griffons alone would just love a way to get back at us somehow, just love it.” “So, we shovel some road apples...” “Half our diplomacy with the griffons is a load of road apples! Trust me, the griffons know it when they see it!” Fair point. Spray looked defeated. “We managed to get a hold of you. That’s good enough, by our orders. We can head back with at least some pride.” “But if I wasn’t here?” Spray asked. “If you had the choice.” No need to use words: Spray could see his response on his uncle’s face. Determination, fiery and strong. If it wasn’t for Spray, maybe it he would have had her back already. He didn’t need to answer the question. He was a Kicker, after all. “So, why are we still here talking about it?” Thunder sighed, conceding defeat. “Going after them, like I said, exceeds our mandate. Which means Equestria is not going to push for our release very strongly if things go sour. The way today has been, it very much will. We go over the beam, and don’t make it back, we may not come back.” Spray nodded. “Besides, we’ve got you to worry about. Going over means total commitment, now or never. We can’t wait for them to get too far away, and we can’t afford to take you along.” “So why not?” His nephew was serious. Thunder could see it in his eye. The look that West Hoof tried to beat out of him. The look all young colts had, before they did something that would result in screams of pain. “Firstly you’re a civilian; and secondly, you’re hurt.” “Like you said,” Spray replied, “gain altitude and glide. I could stay airborne, circle around, and let you finish the job.” That would make the way back a little easier to deal with. Getting there would be difficult, not too painful, but feasible. Dear Celestia, he was beginning to see things Spray’s way! Thunder was beginning to like the idea, and had to fight himself against it. “Well,” Thunder said, “forgive me, but I try not to turn suicide missions into a family affair!” Thunder scooted closer to his nephew. His face monopolized Spray’s vision. “The less Canterlot knows, the more they can blame me, and not the country. It’s in the nation’s interest to blame a nearly retired, glory hungry Kicker for breaching the border and not the guard. We cannot ask for, much less expect, help on this. Canterlot is not going to be racing to our rescue.” Thunder wanted to look into Spray’s eyes to say the next, most vital part. He wanted to watch his pupil shrink as he hammered it with his gaze. Spray needed it. “Also, before you come along on this, bear in mind you have a bride waiting for you back home. You really want to make her a widow before you’re even married?” Spray paused. This was a very weighty question for him. Coral. He still remembered when they met, when she whispered at him if he an extra pencil during class. If it were possible, he would have gold plated that pencil. Should have eloped following their first coffee date. It would have been so natural. He couldn’t have imagined art school without her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. Nothing in this world could make him hurt her. Then he remembered Twilight Velvet, separated from her family, perhaps forever. She didn’t deserve that. No pony did. Leaving her behind would make him feel rotten. He would hate himself if he walked away and she did not. Spray tried never to leave anything unfinished. Coral would understand that. “She’d understand,” Spray said. “You sure?” Thunder asked. Way, way too many guard ponies said that and were unpleasantly surprised. “I am,” Spray said. The Kicker stare. Better late than never. “Alright,” Thunder said, “please tell me you had wing-to-wing combat training as a foal? I don’t care if you’re just a tourist, but you better be ready to defend yourself.” Most Kickers did. Given how Spray had taken to the military life, it wouldn’t surprise Thunder if he had to start from scratch. Spray nodded. “There was a charcoal drawing class I wanted to take, and me and my parents compromised on taking it if....” “That’s good. How did you do?” “Second to last.” “As long as it wasn’t last place,” Thunder said. He trotted over to the corpse of the pegasus they had lost. Thunder gave a reverent nod, then unfastened the wing blades. Sorry, pal, but this is an emergency. No time for ceremony. Thunder dragged over the wing blades. He fastened them to Spray’s wings. Spray found them to be heavier than he expected. Regardless, with one flex of his wings (which hurt, but Spray gritted his teeth to make it through) they moved easily. If it wasn’t for the stinging, he imagined that he would forget that they were even there. “Right,” Thunder said, “you know how these work?” “Sharp and pointy end goes into whoever you want to die?” “And the rest is commentary.” It’ll do. Silver nation will be lazy, and not expect us. Then again, offering burnt offerings to Old Tom is starting to sound pretty good about now. “Mace! Pinion! Get over here!” The two ponies groaned. They looked like they were going to cry. The two ponies meekly walked over, terrified as to what was coming next. After the last couple of days, they were afraid of what Thunder might have planned for them. “Assume the position, Mace.” Her royal highness did not seem too concerned about Mace’s welfare. One of Thunder’s ponies seized Mace from under his forelegs and lifted him off the ground. Mace was too afraid to whimper. “Not again,” Pinion moaned. “Pinion,” Thunder said, “you’re the least stupid, right?” Pinion found himself nodding. “Cherry Beach is bringing up a force of ponies not long behind us,” Thunder explained. “I need you to run, here...” He dug out a map for Pinion’s benefit. He stabbed at where Cherry Beach should be mustering his forces. “Tell them to wait. Do not follow us. Can you do that?” Pinion nodded. Thunder doubted the pony could find his own plot with both hooves and a mirror, but the situation was desperate. “Yes sir.” “Good pony,” Thunder said. “Form up!” Thunder had twelve---eleven---ponies under his command. His nephew was a complication, but one he could not avoid. It would have to do. Slowly, the assembled ponies began to fly over the beam. # Velvet was tired. Too tired to cry, fight or do anything that she believed was expected of her. She just wanted to get to where they were taking her, collapse in a heap and go to sleep. Silver nation or Equestria, she just wanted to be somewhere that wasn’t the desert. Well, she thought, at least this will make an interesting part of my memoirs. I’m sure my readers will be dying to know what it’s like to eat iguana. Her legs felt like jelly. Her hooves burned. Her eyes were on fire, her head pounded. The beam was well behind her. She was being led to her fate, whatever that may be. Well, her youthful wish to visit the Silver nation was now granted. Lucky me. They were approaching what appeared to be an encampment. Nothing fancy, just a couple of tents and some perimeter wire. A few ponies had been left behind to guard it, young ones. Looking bored out of their minds, idling next to their long spears, cursing their bad luck to be left behind. A bored looking pony strode up to the party. “Report, Scorpio.” “Scorpio, returning from behind the Equestrian Hostile Intentions Rampart,” Scorpio announced. “Light casualties, unable to make a sizable penetration, but we have an urgent dispatch to make.” The pony fetched a tablet and a quill from a saddlebag. “Go on.” “While asserting our sovereignty,” Scorpio said, “we rescued an Equestrian civilian, lost in the desert.” The pony nodded. “So?” “Her name is Twilight Velvet, mother to Twilight Sparkle and guard captain Shining Armour.” The pony looked like Scorpio hadn’t made his point clear enough. Scorpio looked like he wanted to bash the fool’s face in. “She is a high value pony of interest within Equestria, and I seek the capital’s advice on how to proceed. Should she be conveyed directly there, or delivered to the custody of an impartial, neutral power? I want a message sent out immediately to the capital.” The politics began to play out in Velvet’s mind. The griffons had always advocated for a presence in the Silver nation, for their mutual interests---and she was now the leverage. Unless Equestria raised their hoof first. Either way, a win for the Silver nation. Part of her didn’t want Equestria to cave in so easy. A much larger part of her wanted to see her family again. Hopefully Shining would forgive her for causing so much trouble for him. The pony shrugged. “We can keep her here, then. Just go reinforce Copper.” “Excuse me?” Copper asked. The pony looked confused. “Didn’t you get the orders?” “What orders?” Scorpio looked about ready to bite out the poor pony’s throat. “They were sent out...but you were over the beam...” “Get to the point.” Scorpio sounded deceptively patient. The pony smiled weakly. “Captain Copper is experiencing stern resistance along the lakebed front. He wants your unit to assist.” Scorpio snorted. “Copper was never very quick on his hooves,” he muttered. He looked back at his fatigued ponies. Clearly not eager to be sent out again. Scorpio sighed, not excited about what he would have to say next. Duty was duty. “Form up,” Scorpio barked. “Corona, you and Redstone, join the rest of the advance post and watch the captive.” “What do you want us to do with her?” the pony asked. Scorpio thought for a moment. “Get her, I don’t know, writing something about how Celestia is a false monarch, and should abdicate in favour of our prince, the rightful ruler of Equestria. Or draw pictures. Whatever.” Canterlot would have to fall down the mountain before that happened! Velvet shook her head. This was going to rival a few undergraduate essays she wrote in terms of contorted logic. Corona looked like he expected to be picked, like an eager colt at gym class. Scorpio sighed. “Corona may assist her.” Corona beamed. Can’t you waterboard me? Velvet thought. Something a little more pleasant? “Seriously?” Corona asked. “Don’t knock yourself out,” Scorpio sighed. Corona beamed. Velvet wanted the ground to swallow her up. Her hoof met her face.