//------------------------------// // 3. Learning Experience // Story: Ghost Recon: Phantom Hunt // by TJAW //------------------------------// Canterlot Castle 01:30 October 12, 1196 CE Day 1 “Sir, with all due respect, we shouldn’t get involved in this conflict,” Master Sergeant Matt Beasley argued. He’d always been wary of volunteering for things at the behest of others. Not out of cowardice or any negative trait, rather as a survival mechanism, a remnant of his days as a “latchkey kid” growing up in Detroit. “I’m not crazy about it either, but it might be necessary,” Matthew Reeves stated. “A ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours’, kinda thing,” The leader of the of one of the teams of attached Army Special Forces, his support would be vital in any endeavor. Reeves was didn't outrank the other team leaders. For a 25 year-old, he had plenty of experience to his name. He was still under Mitchell’s command, that was one reason that each team leader was temporarily bumped down from an O-3 to an O-2. But in their current situation the group would need to avoid internal conflict, even milder forms of it. The humans had all gathered for a meeting, discussing what had happened and what lay ahead for them. They’d arrived on a new world populated by mythical creatures. Their hosts had been attacked. Now, they had a trove of books to go through. Everything supported the idea that the events of this night - both the assassination attempt and this first contact - had been unprecedented in the history of Equestria. The "official" history at least. The meeting turned into a debate as to whether they should aid their hosts in return for finding a way home, or simply demand a method of return without anything to compensate their hosts. Some of the people in question were more influenced by their political ideologies than others were. They didn’t expect to change the outcome of the decision themselves, only to exchange ideas and potentially influence the highest-ranking person present. After an hour of discussion, Captain Mitchell gathered the task force around him. He had to lay things out. Personally, Mitchell wasn’t fond of speeches, but he found this one necessary. He pulled his balaclava down around his neck, and removed his helmet and held it under his arm. He had brown hair trimmed to a short and uniform length in a buzz-cut, and steel-blue eyes. “Listen up. You all know the situation, and I’m working on a way for us to get home. In the meantime, our hosts gave us a place to stay and have offered their help. We repelled an attack on them by an unknown force, and I think it’d ungrateful of us to let them try and topple our hosts’ government while they try to get us back to Earth, especially considering the possibility of a follow-up attack. Like it or not, we’re going to help them, but things will go a lot smoother if you’re behind the mission. Objections?” There were none. Mitchell dismissed them. After that, he replaced his helmet and headed back into the castle to find Princess Celestia. He kept his weapons holstered and his mask tucked into his collar as he re-entered the building, wary of sowing fear among his hosts. Since he’d bandaged the regent up earlier, the radio frequency identification chips in the bandages allowed him to track her as long as she wore them. It was a feature intended to increase awareness of who was wounded on the battlefield and where they were, but also allowed short-range tracking of targets. After ten minutes of striding through the halls, he came to a balcony. The Princess had hidden her wound under a purple cloak, likely to keep her subjects from being alarmed by her injury. She looked nice in it, it matched her eyes. He silently walked up beside her, but said nothing, noting that she seemed to be thinking about something. “Is there something you need, Captain?” She asked, emphasizing his rank. She was probably still sore about being misled. “I wanted to apologize for leading you on. We didn’t know much about our situation, and I decided to go with the diplomat story after you gave it to me. Soldiers landing near a foreign government’s capital isn’t usually a very friendly event, so I decided to not push my luck. The last thing I want to do is put the people under my command under any unnecessary danger.” He hated this political role he’d been thrust into, but he needed to keep relations going as smoothly as possible. “I understand. Were you coming to ask me about finding a way home?” She seemed to be very calm for someone who’d almost been killed mere hours before. “Yes ma’am.” “I’ve already had a notice put out to find a way for you and your people to return. It’s a little vague, but since you’re not supposed to be here and I already agreed to keep your presence a secret, that’s fine. Some legally binding documents and a few spells can go a long way in keeping things secret.” There was a moment of silence before Mitchell spoke again. “I want to talk about the attack. At the dinner earlier, you told me about your world, and the good and bad that came with it. You’ve done a pretty good job with Equestria from what I can tell, but your nation ends if these ponies succeed. I’m offering my team to help you.” “I believe in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I will not condone the inverse of my beliefs,” She responded firmly, keeping her voice at a normal level and her face stoic. “Princess, my country was founded on the same principles you say you support. We stick to them for the most part, even if we’re not as upright as we want to be. Those notions are just idealism on their own, because there are people everywhere who don’t have those rights. I believe in those ideals. But not all world leaders are the same, and that seems just as true here. It doesn't take much reading on this world's history to find that out.” “I won't deny that's common outside Equestria. I've isolated us from the world, and my ponies forget how blessed we are. Less than a hundredth of the Equestrian population even knows what war is, or what soldiers are. If you were to explain to a pony what you did, they wouldn't even understand. The only combat they know of is with untamed beasts, the only trained fighters the peacekeepers of our Royal Guard. Every gift I've given them has made them happier but weaker and more... Naïve.” She said that last word with some distaste. “I can’t raise an army out of nowhere. Not after everything I’ve said over the years rejecting a military. Even if my past statements were overlooked by the world, it’d be years before we could take on the puppets of these… Aggressors. And even then, an army is little use against this kind of enemy.” He turned to face her, no longer looking out at the stars. “Ma’am, my team aren’t just soldiers. We’re Ghosts; one of the best special operations forces on Earth. When I said we specialized in politically sensitive and dangerous areas, I was telling the truth, because officially, we're just another Special Forces unit. We can fight this war for you.” “Are you the only organization that does that sort of… Deniable tasks?” “No. There are others like us, but some of them do different work. We do limited cross-training and joint ops with some of them occasionally.” “You’d have to be in unfriendly territory quite often. And what if you’re captured?” “That kind of danger is the norm for us. Plus, there’s no reason for anyone to believe that our unit belongs to you, so political fallout is a non-issue. We can stop this before it comes into the open. All we want in return is for you to work on a way for us to return to Earth.” She closed her eyes and breathed pensively before answering. “… Captain Mitchell, we have a deal.” “Good. We’ll interview the surviving attackers tomorrow…” He removed his helmet, showing his now-uncovered head. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing here?” When on a mission, the captain cared little for idle banter. But when in relative safety, he was sociable enough. “Not at all. Tonight is Nightmare Night. It celebrates how I banished Nightmare Moon to the moon 996 years ago. But Nightmare Moon was once my younger sister Luna. Luna raised the moon and arranged the stars just as I raised the sun. She felt nopony appreciated her work, with fewer astronomers and astrologers than today, and very few ponies who would bother to enjoy the night sky. Being as introverted and insecure as she was, it drove her to madness, to the point where her negative emotions coalesced into a second personality that took over her body. She attempted to create an eternal night, and I had to banish her using the Elements of Harmony.” Mitchell was skeptical of much of her story. At least the parts involving celestial bodies. But in a world of actual magic, it wasn’t completely implausible if the details were altered some. Perhaps she was linked to the planet’s rotation rather than the sun, acting as a living focus that increased the rotational speed of the planet, or the planet existed within a Dyson sphere that was linked to her and her sister. Science fiction helps make sense of things here, if only because they don’t make sense at face value. But then, what does make sense here? Celestia deflated slightly, though she obviously tried to remain stoic in front of him. “You feel like you could’ve or should’ve done more. Like you could’ve prevented it and a lot of suffering along with it.” She was surprised by his assertion. “Was it that obvious?” “No. But every leader’s been there. Every older sibling too.” They discussed a few points of the working relationship between his unit and her inner circle of trusted ponies, as well as a short-term plan of action, then they each headed off to their respective beds. The next morning, before dawn, Mitchell headed to the suites where the surviving members of the attackers resided. Until they were identified, their group was simply referred to as OpFor, short for “opposing force”. He had his mask tucked away and his helmet attached to his tactical vest, as well as his weapons with him. After consulting with one of the doctors, who’d been vetted to the best of their hosts’ abilities, he headed to a room holding one of the OpFor members, specifically the only medically stable one. He was given a clipboard with all available information on the individual, most of it medical. Patient 04 Mid-30s (presumed) Male Pegasus Coat: Brown Mane: Slate-Gray Eyes: Green Cutie Mark: Absent Patient was treated for numerous wounds inflicted by an unknown weapon. Small conical projectiles were removed from body, having caused extensive trauma to the left foreleg resulting in significant blood loss. If not treated more thoroughly soon, amputation may be necessary. Currently fitted with a bulky cast and kept in cell-like room. Under suicide watch and guarded at recommendation of unknown third-party advisor. Patient is stable and lucid, but refuses to talk about himself. Cutie mark appears to have been removed, though no signs of surgery are present. Sodium pentothal administered at the behest of aforementioned third-party advisor. Mitchell opened an iron door and entered the room holding his subject. The subject limped over to him, intrigued by his presence, before sitting back down. The soldier took a seat on a stool facing him. Between them was a table. “Ah. You must be the one who did this to me.” The pony lifted his cast disdainfully, but smiled all the while. “And you’re here to…?” “I’m here to talk. Last night, you and nineteen others conducted a terrorist attack on Canterlot Castle in an attempt to assassinate a sitting head of state. I’m gonna ask you some questions, and I want you to answer them honestly.” “I’ll do my best,” He said mockingly. “I want your name and the name of your little club.” “I don’t have a name. I have a title given to me for each assignment, and I use the one from that assignment until my next one is given. Just call me ‘Sparrow’. And my organization isn’t known to a peon like me, as I’m only an extension of their will, the same as the rest of my ‘little club’. Members of my part of the organization are just one way of implementing that will, and only the higher-ups know who we work for.” “Alright. So what’s your part of the group called?” “We’re called ‘Strangers’ for a reason. We exist do the wetwork for our leaders. And I doubt we’re the best they have. We’re expendable assassins. But we’re all important enough to know why we do these things.” “Why, then?” “Do you know what cutie marks are?” “Between books and dinner, I got a crash course on Equestria last night. A pony finds their ‘special talent’, it appears like clockwork.” “It’s a method of control. Every country on this world has one. Most use hatred, fear, patriotism, wealth, or xenophobia to control their citizens. Equestria, for all its rhetoric and ‘freedom’, uses some of these as well. But they’re minor methods in this nation. The true method of control lies upon ponies’ flanks. What better way to control somepony’s goals than to tell them what their ‘greatest’ skill is? To tell them what their destiny is?” “Are you saying cutie marks are some kind of mind control?” He asked incredulously, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. He’s giving this information too freely. Something’s up. Sparrow leaned forwards. “Once you get that mark on your flank, your fate is forever tied to it. But remove the mark, and your freedom returns. In another life I was a carpenter. I hated it, but it was all I could do. Every attempt I made to break from that destiny was thwarted by how others saw me because of that mark, and how it stopped me from succeeding in unrelated pursuits by inducing unnatural spasms. The Strangers found me, recruited me, removed my mark, and now I’m free. Now I can release my anger, my frustration, and use it to spread freedom. Equestria without cutie marks… That’s why we didn’t kill any guards, because they were slaves to our real target: Princess Celestia.” The stallion was silent for over a minute before a crack came from the back of his mouth and he began to turn blue. Mitchell called for a doctor and a Cyanokit, declaring that the patient was suffering from cyanide poisoning. They were unable to save him, leaving Mitchell with a single lead. *** “So they’re called ‘Strangers’?” Princess Celestia asked after Mitchell went over what happened. “Their ideology is certainly… Strange.” "He talked way too easily. I don't get why he'd do that, then kill himself," The captain said, shaking his head. There was a grain of truth to the ideas, and she knew it. Cases of cutie marks indicating false talents and holding ponies back were rare, but not unheard of. Some theorized that the mark indicated a talent of the owner, rather than the talent. It was all speculation, and only her parents knew the truth about the marks. A truth that was lost over a thousand years before. As for the cause of death, Captain Mitchell was adamant that he’d used a cyanide capsule embedded in a molar to commit suicide. Murder was unheard of in Equestria, with less than half a dozen cases over the last century, but suicide was something nearly unspeakable. To suggest that any individual or group of individuals would consider having a ready method of suicide to be an asset was sickening. But outside of Equestria, in the lands they had allied themselves with and the ones aligned against them, she knew that things were likely much more grim. The cold indifference the officer showed towards death was almost as alien to her as the lands outside Equestria had become. Her foreign policy consisted mostly of diplomatic missions and economic forums, with a smattering of foreign aid. For the most part she kept her country isolated, not out of xenophobia, but out of caution. The many cultures of the world possessed a shocking capacity to change ponies for the worse, if they would be allowed to. And as their leader and guardian, Princess Celestia found the isolationism a sad necessity. “This is our best lead right now. Tell the ponies you trust after they have breakfast. No sense having them anxious during the most important meal. ” She nodded in acknowledgement, wondering where their lead would take them. And if I use these humans as weapons for the sake of my ponies, am I any better than the warmongering leaders I’ve distanced myself from? She shook her head and sighed, resuming her normal schedule. *** “Six fifty-nine,” Shining Armor muttered, glancing at his pocketwatch. He stood in front of the pedestal of the statue he was supposed to meet Princess Cadance at. Eos, the mythical embodiment of dawn, arched her head forwards as her wings held aloft the sun. In lieu of the majestic white marble used for the rest of the statue, an orb of quartz with gold insets was suspended between the figure’s wingtips to represent the sun. As the actual sun rose further, he realized something about the statue he hadn’t the previous hundred-and-something times he’d seen it. It was perfectly oriented on axis with the sun. “Three, two, one…” Cadance whispered from behind him. He was about to turn around to face her when the sun aligned perfectly with the crystal orb, which began to glow from within, a golden mist filling the inside of it. They silently stared at it together for a few minutes, until the sun was no longer aligned with the ornament. “Is that why you picked this place and time?” Shining asked. “Yes. I thought it’d be a nice way to start our day,” She replied. “Our”? He wondered, repeating that word in his head. No, it’s nothing. I’m just reading too much into things. “Right. Um, I just wanted to say…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words. Suddenly, he realized he hadn’t figured out how he’d tell her he wasn’t interested. Plan B. Play it by ear, wait for the right moment. I really don’t want to get in trouble for dating a Princess. But I don’t want to break her heart either, because she’s the embodiment of love, and that would probably make her explode. Maybe twice. “I mean, where do you want to go?” Oh, Tartarus. Okay, I just need to avoid drawing too much attention so nopony misunderstands and thinks we’re dating. Someplace dark, where she’ll probably be distracted. “Yeah. There are some new movies out that look fun. They’ll probably have most of them advertised in the newspaper, so we can eat breakfast and choose one before we go.” “Sounds good,” The Princess said. “I could really go for some haycon and eggs.” Oh, that sounds delicious. And how many girls have such good taste in breakfasts? It’s probably just a fluke, not much chance at more similarities. “Me too, let’s go.” *** Mitchell and a few members of his team sifted through news reports and educational literature, searching for any information on these “Strangers.” So far, there was nothing. After a few hours of searching, they stopped, reasoning that the group they were looking for was probably secretive enough that only major conspiracy buffs would know anything about them. In fact, they couldn’t find anything even somewhat related to their attackers. They replaced the books where they found them and headed out. On their way, they bumped into the young mare from the previous night. She was carrying a hefty stack of books with her magic, which collapsed on the captain, knocking him to the wooden floor. He grunted at first and wished he’d been wearing his helmet. I guess telekinesis isn’t as strong as I thought. Or hers just isn’t that good. “Go on, I’ll catch up,” He said, waving away his comrades. “Oh my gosh, I’m really sorry! Please don’t hate me!” He pushed the pile of books off of his chest a few at a time and got to his feet. Brushing himself off, he looked back at her. “You really think I’d hate you because of a little accident?” He asked. Her ears lowered and she looked avoided eye contact. “Well, it’s happened before. Most of the ponies at the school I go to take every chance they get to make fun of me… You can call me a klutz if you want.” He helped her sort out the tomes, stacking them the way he remembered seeing them before he was hit. “I thought the Princess taught you personally?” “She does, but only every other school week. And I still have to spend the other half of the school weeks attending classes with everypony else. I only have to spend about half as much time in class as the other ponies, but I hate every second of it. Some days I wish I’d never been applied to Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.” She looked scornful as she placed her books on a nearby table and levitated a work titled “World Herald, September 1196 Collection.” in front of her. She opened the tome and splayed it out. “Why?” “Because they hate me. They make fun of me and say the princess keeps me around for a laugh because I’m so pathetic. They mock me because when I had to deliver a speech to my class I… I wet myself without realizing it until afterwards. I’m no good at sports, the smart ponies are all jealous of me because I’m the Princess’ protégé, the popular ponies make fun of my manecut and everything else about me, and everypony else just finds me an easy target.” She started to cry about halfway through, and Mitchell immediately walked over to give her a comforting hug, his big brother instincts unexpectedly kicking in. *** Youngstown, Ohio, USA After school Friday, May 7, 1993 Jennifer Mitchell got off the school bus crying, and ran to her house from there. She covered an eighth of a mile in a few minutes, her sobs mixed with panting by the time she got to her doorstep. Before she could open the door or ring the bell her older brother, oldest brother actually, answered the door. The second-grader ran into his arms as he knelt down to hug her. She began to recite the injustices her classmates had done her that day, every sentence punctuated by a sob. Her brothers’ school had gotten the day off, but she hadn’t been so lucky. Then again, even if they hadn’t gotten the day off, they still would’ve been home earlier than her. Scott hated seeing his baby sister like this. He couldn’t help her at school, he couldn’t talk to the PTA, he couldn’t do anything, and neither could his father. Since his dad was a foreman at the General Motors assembly plant in Lordstown, and his mother’s passing three years before, he’d become the de facto man of the house. He helped his dad run things, and whenever they could find the time, the whole family spent time together watching movies. It was a troubled family, but not an abusive or unloving one by any means; they all did their best to make things work. He was giving his brother Nicholas increasing levels of responsibility, preparing him to take his place after he graduated high school in a couple of years. At school he was an above-average student, but he was too busy at home to focus on raising his grades to a level where he could get a scholarship. After a while, he was able to calm his sister. Still, he felt guilty for not being able to do more. *** Canterlot Castle - Library 08:00 October 12, 1196 CE Day 1 Mitchell let Twilight cry into his shoulder for a while. “Why don’t you tell your brother, or your parents, or Princess Celestia about this?” He asked. “Because my brother would overreact, and my parents would be extremely overprotective if they weren’t all the way on the other side of Canterlot. Princess Celestia wouldn’t have time for that kind of thing.” “Next time I see her, I’ll talk to her about it,” He said reassuringly. “Thank you…” The soldier began to walk out of the library as Twilight read aloud. He’d almost passed through the door when he heard her mutter the words “Strangers” and “Journalist”. He returned to her side and put on his helmet, activating a recording feature. “Hold on. What was that part about ‘Strangers’?” She perked an eyebrow but humored his request. “Calliope, the freelance journalist and photographer, recently responsible for breaking the Moscolt corruption scandal, among many other credits, has disappeared. Sources close to her claim she’d headed to Coat D’Azure to investigate rumors of a mysterious guild reportedly known as ‘Strangers’ after interviewing renowned diplomat Marey Pat Foaly. We here at the Herald hope she returns safely.” “Thanks.” He transmitted the audio-video feed to his team members and told several of them to come find him in the library, and bring their hostess. A few minutes later, Princess Celestia was present Rosen, Reeves, Ramirez, and Diaz, the “senior” officers on the team. They dug up information on the missing mare and the place she was last seen. Twilight’s help proved invaluable in locating that information. “She’s a pegasus mare. Golden coat, brown mane. Green eyes, and a crossed pen and sword as her cutie mark. Reminds me of my high-school crush,” Reeves joked. “I still can’t believe where we are,” Ramirez sighed. “Don’t think about it too hard. We all agreed we’d just accept the situation we’re in for our sanities’ sake,” Diaz responded. “Could be worse,” Rosen said with a shrug. “How?” “Could be Care Bears.” The humans chuckled briefly, while Twilight and Princess Celestia remained clueless as to why. “Alright, can the chatter. What do we know about Coat D’Azure?” Mitchell said, putting the conversation back on track. “It’s a border town in Prance, just a stone’s throw across the North Trough River from Equestria. It’s relatively small, with only a few hundred ponies living there. Most of them are earth ponies and unicorns,” The Princess explained. “I found something more about her disappearance. She disappeared from the Carte Blanche Inn. Constables didn’t look into it because the owner has a lot of influence. He might know something,” Twilight reported. “Environment?” “Stone buildings, mostly. There’s some low-level fog at night, usually just a yard or two above the ground. It’s a temperate region with lots of hills,” She continued. “Language barriers?” “They don’t speak Equestrian like we do. Being in Prance, they speak Prench, naturally.” “Alright. Could either of you speak some as an example? If it’s a parallel language like we already share, then one of us might speak it.” Celestia said something in an elegant, silky-sounding language, to which Mitchell replied in the same tongue, his response eliciting a chuckle from them both. “Okay. Last question. How far away is it, and where exactly is it?” “210 miles northeast of here…” Twilight said, in the tone one used when being the bearer of bad news. “At an average of three miles per hour for fourteen hours a day in a straight line, that’s a five-day journey on hoof, absolute best-case.” “Or an hour-and-a-half by Black Hawk,” Rosen grinned. “Make it happen. Ramirez, I want you, Hume, Smith, Diaz, and Beasley ready to fight by sunset,” Mitchell ordered. “Beasley and Diaz will keep a low profile and act as a sniper-spotter team, in case things get hairy and we need the extra guns. Ramirez, Hume, Smith and I will locate and retrieve the target. We’ll use our Crosscoms’ FLIR function to see through the fog, and we can put a Cypher in the area for extra coverage.” “You’re not going in there, are you?” Celestia asked, clearly harboring thoughts against the idea. “We can’t be traced back to you, ma’am. As for civilian casualties, Ghosts have never killed an innocent, and I intend to keep that record going. Don't worry about us; we’ve taken out enemy bases with less.” “What if something comes up?” “I’ll keep in touch with my people here. If we need your help, I’ll tell the people here to get you. Before you ask, our communications gear is good enough that we can communicate over that kind of distance easily. And as a heads up, we might need you to convince the reporter to keep quiet about us when we get her back here.” “I understand.” Mitchell and Celestia left the room, and continued to speak outside. By then, the purple teenager was once again alone in the library. “Twilight told me, and apparently no one else, that she’s been putting up with a lot of bullying in school, and I really think you should talk to her about it. It’s really eating her up, and in my experience it’s best for the victim if the bullies are taken care of sooner rather than later.” “Why hasn’t she told anypony about this?” “She thinks her brother would overreact, her parents would be overprotective, and that you wouldn’t have time to deal with that sort of thing. And she sometimes wishes she’d never enrolled in your school because of the bullying.” She furrowed her brow and looked down, her eyes going out of focus. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was noting similarities between her self-perceived neglect of her sister and the suffering of her student. “My little sister had to put up with bullies for a while, and it was really hard on her. My father had to work long hours to support my family, and with my mother dead nobody was able to help with her problem except for a few people at her school. I couldn’t do a thing, and neither could my siblings, and I was supposed to lead and take care of them,” Mitchell explained. “She needs your help, Princess.” “I know. And I’ll make time to help her.” “Thanks.” *** “I didn’t expect that movie to be as good as it was,” Shining Armor commented as he walked Cadance back to the castle. She’d simply put on a blouse to cover her wings and removed her jewelry, and nopony realized she was a Princess. “I had a lot of fun.” “Well, sometimes sequels are really good,” She responded. “Hopefully we’ll get one.” “Yeah,” He replied with a smile. “I hope so too.” Just outside the walled-off structure, she gave him a peck on the cheek. When she turned away from him and headed inside, his face turned cherry-red. He bit his lip and struggled to not say anything as he internally panicked. Oh Goddess. She thought that was a date. Why would she think that? Do ponies go to movies for dates? I don’t think they do… I need to figure out how dating works. I’ll need a book on the subject, but I can’t let Twily catch on. She would freak out.