//------------------------------// // Chapter Nine // Story: Earning Wings of a Different Nature // by Strayan Phoenix //------------------------------// Earning Wings of a Different Nature  By Strayan Phoenix Chapter Nine [Unknown Time] [Somewhere in the Zebrican Jungle]         “... Oh... right. This was why I didn’t come this way...”         Daring Do stared up at the half-dozen figures standing around her. Right in front of her was a light-brown Earth Pony stallion, dressed up in a similar ‘jungle explorer’ type ensemble, with a colour theme of dark green. His Cutie Mark was a simple red ‘X’ and a small shovel.         “Daring Do. I haven’t seen you around for a while,” the stallion sneered in the most pretentious Trottingham accent she’d ever heard. “Tell me, are you still shacked up with that one-bit sleeze-ball from Las Pegasus like I remember?”         “Hey, that one-bit sleeze-ball may only be worth one bit, but even if I used her to purchase you, I’d still get change,” Daring huffed snarkily, “And for the record, no. I’m finally in my own place now.”         “... Ha ha, very funny,” the stallion deadpanned.         “... I must admit, I like what you’ve done with the place, Treasure Hunt,” Daring suddenly changed the topic, gesturing down the gaping hole in the ground, “Only complaint was those alligators you left tied to the ceiling. I doubt they’d appreciate being left up there for too long.”         “Good. That’s what makes them angry and aggressive, to keep out nosey meddlers like you,” he smirked, “Or, rather that’s the idea. But anyway, enough reminiscing. The Sapphire Stone. Hand it over.”         “Pfft, no-pony’s having that thing anymore!” Daring scoffed, “I had to drop it to save weight in order to save myself. It’s gone now.”         “Is that so?” Treasure Hunt looked skeptical, and made a gesture to one of his Zebra companions. The Zebra stepped forward, and in a swift swipe, knocked her hat off her head. The Sapphire Stone clunked to the ground.         “HEY! Don’t touch my hat!” she exclaimed angrily, diving to save it from the dirt.         Treasure Hunt quirked an eyebrow bemusedly, as the Zebra picked the statuette up off the ground and handed it to him. “You were saying?”         With a sly grin, he murmured something incoherently to his lackeys. The zebras promptly swarmed her from both sides, tackling her and pinning her to the ground on her belly.         “Get off me, you--” she struggled to break free in vain.         A heavy blunt force suddenly struck the back of her head, and everything went black. -----         “Ugh...” Daring moaned as she regained consciousness to a raging headache, “That is the last time we go to town on the supply of hard cider, I think…”         A tight, coarse rope around her midsection prevented her arms and wings from moving anywhere, and the hard, smooth stone surface beneath her was rather uncomfortable to lie on.         “Aw come on, Cherry!” she grumbled, straining against the ropes, “I thought I told you to untie me after we were done with our super-sexy-fun-time…”         She gingerly opened her eyes. Several faces stared at her in vacant shock.         “Wait…” her face went white with horror as she glanced around at her surroundings. The room was rather uninteresting to look at, but going by the altar she had been tied to, and the sunlight peeking through the roof, she figured it was used for occasional sacrificial offerings, for whatever deity and religion the Zebras of old followed. Several levers were mounted along the far wall, safely out of her reach. “This isn’t Cherry’s place… nor are any of you Cherry…”         “... Go on,” Treasure Hunt grinned widely, “What was that you were saying about ‘super-sexy-fun-time’…?”         She scowled in contempt, blushing profusely. “... I have no idea what you’re talking about.”         “Aw, is our little Dee-Dee into the whole ‘S&M’ scene now, is she?” the stallion smirked wryly, “And with another mare, no less! My my, how the mighty have fallen…”         “Utter another syllable, and when I break free, you’ll be the first on my list,” Daring narrowed her eyes fiercely.         “Pfft. Alright then, good luck with that,” Hunt chuckled dismissively, “Well, I hate to love you and leave you in such a hurry like this, but I’ve got a very important date with a fellow who’s gonna be paying me big bikkies for this here statue.”         “You’d sell your mother for a bit if you could get away with it!” Daring huffed.         “Hey, if it puts food on the table, I’m not complaining,” Hunt shrugged indifferently, “Have fun in Tartarus Dee-Dee, and be sure to say ‘Hi’ to Cerberus for me, will you?”         “Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Daring grunted, struggling against the ropes.         “Well, I would, but I’m not the one dying today, you see,” He snorted, as he turned and trotted for the door, “It was nice knowing you, so ta-ta!”         The Zebras all followed him out as a large stone door slid shut with a heavy thud, leaving the Pegasus alone in the room tied to the table.         “... Okay, so now what?” she glanced around the room, “Is there like, supposed to be some kind of death trap in here or something? Or am I supposed to die from boredom or starvation, whichever comes first?”         A loud click resounded throughout the room, followed by a low rumbling sound as the room started shaking.                  “Okay, that’s not ominous at all, is it?”  she murmured, warily glancing around for anything changing. After a few moments, she glanced up at the roof, and noticed that a large magnifying glass had been shifted over the hole letting the sunlight in. She traced the sharp, intense beam of light down, to find it was directed squarely onto her belly, and after just a few moments, a fierce burning sensation started building up in her abdomen.         “Alright, death by ancient laser beam it is,” She grunted, writhing about to try and avoid the line of fire. “These bloody ropes! Whoever came up with such a stupid idea should be impaled!”         “Agh! Okay, that is now becoming really irritating! Ow-ow-ow…!” She wriggled about desperately, as a thin trail of smoke started drifting up from the singed fur. “Alright, new plan! Need to redirect that thing onto something else, before I become Roast Pegasus!”         “Perhaps if I can redirect the beam onto the ropes… and knock out two birds with one stone…” she grimaced as her skin started to turn a crimson shade of red from the heat.         She jerked her head forward, causing her hat to flip over onto her chest. Grabbing the brim with her teeth, she violently twisted her neck about to the left with all the force she could muster, releasing the hat at the same time, throwing it up at the magnifying glass. Fortunately, the roof wasn’t all that far up, and the hat struck the side of the glass, knocking it slightly off-balance and disrupting the beam of light.         She sighed in relief as the source of the excruciating heat left her belly, and started concentrating on the rope binding her arms and wings in place. “Somepony really didn’t think this setup through very well,” she mused, “Then again, they also thought the world was gonna end last week, but needless to say, we’re all still here, so…”         A small flame suddenly flickered to life with a fwoosh, startling her. “Agh, Sweet Luna, that’s hot!” She yelped, as the flames quickly started eating the ropes, as well as her shirt, evaporating some of the moisture gathered up during her trek, and within a few agonising moments, the rope was weak enough that she could break them, and they cluttered uselessly to the floor, still smoldering. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” she started whapping herself with a hoof to beat out any remaining embers. Taking a deep breath, she was able to bring her nerves back under control, gather up her hat, and focus her attention on the next problem. “Now how do I get out of here…?” She murmured, “... Those levers over there look pretty important, let’s see what they do…” With a flick of a switch, the stone door slowly rumbled back open. “‘Scuse me.” The two Zebras outside blinked in surprise as the Pegasus calmly cantered right up to them and clonked their heads against each other, knocking them both unconscious in a swift strike. “Sorry, gotta catch up with yer boss, so I can’t afford to stay and chat.” As she rounded a corner, she glanced around at the wall paintings for any indication as to where she was. “I don’t recognise any of this…” she frowned, “Where the hell could you have gone?” The adventuress headed up into the corridor on the hunt for where the Earth Pony could have disappeared to. ----- Treasure Hunt and his Zebra lackey quickly made his way out of the temple, leaving the Pegasus mare to her fate. Once he was standing out in direct sunlight, he came to a stop, sat back on his haunches and stared wide-eyed at the Sapphire Stone with childish glee, as it glistened in the afternoon sun. “Whoo boy! This little gem is gonna earn me so much money! It’ll be so good to finally pay off my debt to that blasted casino-strutting twat up in Canterlot!”         “... And pay us for our services as well, right?” The Zebra asked skeptically.         “Well, of course,” Hunt nodded matter-of-factly, turning to look the Zebra in the eye, “I’m a stallion of my word, I assure you. You’ll get your reward soon enough.”         He placed the statuette down, reached back into his saddlebags and pulled out a small, flat device with a red button on top, placing it on the ground.         “What’s that?” asked the Zebra.         “Confirmation that Daring Do isn’t getting out alive,” Hunt grinned, “Knowing her, she’s probably already figured a way out of your flimsy, so-called ‘death-ray’ by now. Seriously, a foal could escape that set-up.”         “It’s purpose was to set fire to grain offerings during the Festival of the Sun,” the Zebra deadpanned, “Not sacrifice living creatures. Just what kind of civilisation do you take us for?”          “... Right. Anyway, I decided to take the liberty to go through the place while she was out cold and leave her with a little… surprise. A plan-B, if you will,” Hunt grinned manically.         With that, he pushed the button.         The Zebra glanced around warily. After several moments of waiting nothing happened.         “... I don’t get it,” she frowned, “What was that supposed to--”         “Just give it a moment,” Hunt grinned wickedly, “Also, you may or may not want to take cover…”         Suddenly, the western portion of the temple erupted in a tremendous explosion, kicking up an enormous cloud of choking brown dust and black smoke, followed by a second and third explosion that completely obliterated the temple from the inside out.         The Zebra turned to the Earth Pony with an angry snarl, “What did you do that for?! This is a sacred Heritage Site for Zebras!” “Not anymore, it isn’t,” He muttered glancing at the ruins with a frown, “... I could’ve sworn I planted four explosives… what happened to the other one?” -----         Daring Do stumbled about warily, trying to find her bearings. The violence of the explosions had rattled the Pegasus to her core, and her ears rang with that irritating high-pitched whistle.         A heavy rumbling sound shook the foundations of the structure, as part of the temple collapsed in on itself. She glanced around warily, slowly letting her senses return to her.         “That sneaky little bastard,” she grit her teeth, “What a waste of oxygen and space he is! When I get my hooves on him, I’m gonna rip his throat out!”         “I think not,” a voice spoke up from behind her, startling her. A Zebra was approaching her with a small device in between his teeth, which had torn wires hanging off of it.         Daring spun around into an action stance with a determined huff. The Zebra’s eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. “You can have whatever’s left of him once we’re done with him.”         She blinked in confusion. “Wait, what?”         “That heretic has gone and desecrated a sacred site with his explosives!” the Zebra muttered through the device in between his teeth, “Such blasphemy will not be forgiven lightly.”         “Then we share a common goal and a common enemy, and as they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she muttered, “Do you know where he went?”         “No,” He shook his head, “But I do know where an exit is. Follow me, pony. If we hurry, we’ll catch him before he can get too far.”         “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s that in your mouth?” She glanced at the device tentatively.         “I believe it’s the trigger for one of the explosives,” the Zebra answered, spitting it out, “I wasn’t exactly keen on being buried alive in here, you see.” “That’s perfectly understandable,” Daring shrugged, “Now, let’s go bash Treasure Hunt, return the Sapphire Stone to its rightful place, and we’ll make it up from there. How does that sound?” The Zebra grinned wryly, “Sounds good to me. Come, the exit’s this way.” ----- [0930 Hours, May 15th, 2020] [Off the coast of Iran, in the Persian Gulf]                  Daring Do exhaled heavily, as she sat precariously on a small beam right at the very top of Brisbane’s main mast. She had finally been released from the Medical Bay this morning, on the condition that she keep her physical exertion to a bare minimum. Walking on two injured legs was a nightmare, so she had to hover from place to place with her wings. It was a good excuse as any to go outside for a fly, and she was relieved to be finally out of the stuffy confines of the ship.         The mast was erratically swaying about as Brisbane rode up and down the waves, and the wind brought about a refreshing sea-breeze that caused her mane and tail to billow about with the flow.         Her injuries prevented her from doing anything that required any degree of flexible, acrobatic athleticism, but she was still glad to just get out and feel the breeze in her face with the entire sky to herself, and to enjoy some of the more simple, relaxing aspects to flying. Yesterday had been very boring for the restless Pegasus, who had been trapped inside the Medical Bay all day after she had a bullet surgically removed from her shoulder, as well as a heap of stitches in her thigh. The only thing that kept her from going insane from the total lack of brain stimulation was her trusty iPod, which loyally continued to play music all throughout the day. In fact, at around lunchtime, Nurse Harris and the other medical team members requested that she sing a few songs for them to break the monotony. Unfortunately, half of the songs they requested, she didn’t have, so the mini-concert didn’t last very long. The only other interesting event was that the supplies that were ordered for her finally arrived, air-dropped by a passing RAAF C-130 Hercules. Now that she had proper equine food, the first thing she did was chow into her first bowl of alfalfa, just for the sheer novelty of it all. Surprisingly, she had to admit that it didn’t actually taste all that bad. Also in the package was her brand-new, purpose-made Disruptive-Pattern Uniform, which she required help to put on, due to the encumbering bandages limiting her range of movement. She glanced at a nearby reflective surface and appraised her altered appearance. For all intents and purposes, it fitted her rather snugly. Her tail looped through the hole in the seat without a hitch, allowing it to freely swish about. At her request, the Australian flag patches that would normally be attached to her arm sleeves were instead permanently sewn into the legs of the pants, right on top of her Cutie Marks. Squeezing her wings through the holes cut for them was more challenging than she thought, since the holes in question were a little small to comfortably fit the entire wing through. It was a bitter struggle, and the shirt tore slightly at the seams, but she pulled it off in the end. She flexed her wings up and down several times, and was satisfied that their movement wasn’t restricted. The rest of her afternoon was spent in relative pain and irritation, not just because of her shoulder and hip, but from the multiple immunisations that were promptly pumped into her arm once they were unpacked. On the plus-side, at least she wasn’t getting Tetanus or Pony Flu any time soon. Today however, promised to be different. Today was the day HMAS Brisbane was to rendezvous with the Americans, and finally meet this Lucas Ferguson guy. Several assumptions and theories stewed over in her head about this guy, mostly centered around which Pony he had turned into. The first and foremost idea was that he was a Pegasus of some sort, based on the fact that Mark, a Pilot as a human, had turned into Daring Do. So it made sense to her that this guy, flying F/A-18 Super Hornets, must be a Pegasus as well. Nearly every Pegasus she could think of off the top of her head was filtered through, with major standouts being Wonderbolt superstars Spitfire and Soarin’. Personal hopefuls were Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, or even Flitter or Cloudchaser. ‘Damn, it’s been ages since Chris showed me an episode. I’m sure there were more than just those few...’ ‘...’ ‘Nope. Brain doesn’t want to work. Ah well, I guess it’ll have to be a surprise.’ A yell from down below drew her attention to XO Cruze, standing at the base of the mast. He pointed out towards the port side of the ship, and she traced his line of sight to a cluster of warships far off in the distance. “That must be them,” She shuddered in anticipation, snapping her wings open and jumping from her perch. Cruze watched on as the Pegasus gracefully glided down, circling around the mast to maintain a sense of forward momentum and keep herself from stalling. “So that’s where you’ve been all morning,” Cruze grinned, “We’ve been looking all over for you! Skipper wants you to be ready to board the chopper in fifteen, so that we can be ready to go by oh-nine-fifty hours. You looking forward to it?” “Yeah, it should be great!” Daring smiled cheerfully, “I’ve always wanted to see one of these beasts up close!” “Good, so get down here and start packing up your stuff from your cabin,” Cruze gestured, “If you have anything you don’t want left behind…” ‘Oh… that’s right...’ Her face fell. ‘I’m leaving. Most likely for good.’ “Yes sir,” she murmured softly as she flared open her wings and took off, launching herself in a huge leap towards the flight deck. As she dragged herself through the narrow corridors towards her cabin, several fond memories from her short time onboard HMAS Brisbane forcefully barged their way to the forefront of her mind. She had friends here, in Martin, Laura, Skipper, Rogers, Harris, and even Chappell, to an extent. As she thought about it, she owed the Clearance Diver her life, when he and his team made her safety and well-being (in the long run) their top priority. Skipper had been most supportive for her during the past few days, and really helped ease her nerves, and she was grateful that Brisbane had a person like him in charge. Loz and Marty had been her mates ever since Training. They had been assigned together as a crew, and had to learn to do everything together. Operating a Seahawk involved more than just a pilot at the controls. Laura’s job as Mission Commander meant that she had the reins on where 'Hawk went and what it did, whereas Mark was just the pilot who kept it aloft. There was no radar or sonar on the flight deck; that was Martin’s job in the passenger bay. He was their eyes and ears, and would occasionally operate the cargo winch when the situation either required or allowed it. ‘... If I leave Brisbane, what do I gain, in all honesty?’ She questioned, ‘All of my friends are here, on board this vessel. The Americans would have ponies, sure, but my friends and my family are here and in Australia respectively. I can’t just up and abandon them… can I?’ ‘What’s the alternative? I s’pose it’d be to locate and stick around other ponies while we either try find a way to reverse this curse and turn us back into humans… or we find a way to Equestria. That’s gonna be the real big problem… I don’t suppose anyone has a second-hand TARDIS sitting around that they don’t need anymore, do they?’ She grinned. ‘Heh heh, imagine that. A paddock-bomb TARDIS… Slightly-used; previous owner was an old man who only used it for shopping runs, Sunday drives, and occasionally saving the Universe as we know it. Give to good owner.’ ‘Anyhow, joking aside, I don’t like these options. There must be an alternative. If I somehow DO manage to find a way back to Equestria… what’s sitting there waiting for me? A lot can happen in twenty five years. All of Daring Do’s friends and relatives would be gone, or close to it. Her bank account would be cut off, since no-pony’s accessed it in yonks, so I’d effectively be broke. And then there’s the whole deal with Discord running around, fucking everything up, so neither Equestria’s environment nor the economy would be doing too flash.’         A concerned frown formed on her face. ‘In fact… there’d be nothing worth going back to. No friends, no family, no defined possible method of supporting myself, short of going native and slugging it out in the wild like Bear Grylls.’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘... I may as well be better off staying here.’ Along the way, she stopped at the Mess Hall for a quick drink of water, and spotted the Clearance Divers sitting at their usual table, sharing a coffee and a quiet yarn amongst themselves. One of them had a small, cordless laptop with him, and every now and then, he’d glance down at the screen expectantly. The only other people in the room were several of the ship’s cooks milling around the kitchen. That was something else she had noticed. Even amongst a (relatively) small crew of just of just over two hundred people, they were all divided up into their own little subgroups. Engineers, Aircraft Mechanics, Bridge Crew, Boatswain’s Mates, Cooks, Clearance Divers, and Seahawk crews all had their own little groups that for the most part, kept to themselves. Even with two months spent on board with this crew, she still didn’t know all of the names or faces, but they all seemed to act like they were all best of mates anyway, even if they didn’t really know that person.         And then there was herself. The lone Pegasus amongst a crowd of humans.         ‘Hmph. Should I be lonely here or there? What’s the lesser of two evils…?’         Blinking out of her trance with a shake of her head, she resolutely started making her way towards the Divers, fluttering just a few feet off the deck to avoid placing significant amounts of weight on her injured legs.         The Clearance Divers above all were people she wanted to get to know better. They hardly ever interacted with the other sailors, outside of a professional manner during operations. They had their lunch breaks at different times, and always seemed to be working different shifts from everyone else. They normally kept themselves to either the ship’s armoury, where they seemed to constantly tinker with their weapons and equipment; in the gym, where they trained and sparred; or off in the RIMBs checking fishing boats for contraband.         Their stoic indifference to those around them made them seem cold and distant at times, but having seen them in action first-hand, Chappell seemed to place her safety as their top priority, rather than putting the mission first. So they obviously had something human underneath their tough, reserved exteriors. ‘This’ll probably be the only opportunity I get,’ she thought sadly. The Divers all became quiet and turned about as she approached them. “Dee-Dee,” Chappell grunted as he sipped his coffee, acknowledging her presence with a simple nod. “Chappell,” Daring nodded likewise, “I’d like to take the opportunity to thank you and your team for pulling me out of that hostage situation. Your intervention was most timely--” “There’s no need to thank us,” Chappell interrupted curtly. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “Your appreciation is noted, and there’s no need to worry. You did your job and more, so it was our turn to do ours. Those injuries needed immediate treatment, and I made sure you sure as hell got it. It was the least you deserved, for all that you had to endure.” She blinked expectantly, waiting to see if he had anything else to say.         After a few moments of awkward silence, she sighed in reluctant acceptance. That was probably the best she was ever going to get out of him, so she might as well not press it any further. With a forced smile and a wave, she murmured her goodbyes and fluttered across to the water dispenser mounted on the bench. As she poured herself a drink, her ears twitched as footsteps approached her from behind. “What’s hap’ning, Hop-along-Harriet?” Laura asked, reaching into the cupboard for a coffee satchel, “You feelin’ alright?” “I dunno Loz,” Daring shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at the airwoman, “I’m kind-of in a dilemma here… On one hand, I’m stoked about getting out and meeting a new pony, but on the other… I don’t really want to leave my friends on Brisbane just yet. Or my family in Australia for that matter. If things turn out that the Yanks have something big stewing up for us ponies, then this might be the last day I spend with this ship, and as they say, ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’. I just don’t know what to do…” Laura furrowed her brow in thought. “Well... when you look at and compare the two scenarios, which one would you think would best benefit you in the grand scheme of things? Staying with us, where your only friends, in all reality, are just Marty, Skipper and myself? Or would you rather go out into the world to potentially meet other ponies like yourself? Ponies who can actually empathise with you, and can provide the support and care that you need? You might find much better friends out there than any of us could ever be, and with a bit of luck, you’ll find yourself that extra-special pony who can provide you with all that, and a little bit more, eh?” She nudged the Pegasus’ side with a sly wink for emphasis on that last part. Daring sighed and turned her gaze away. “I s’pose you’re right…” “Listen, sitting around moping about this isn’t going to do you any good,” Laura paused the creation of her coffee, crouched down to her knees and placed a comforting hand on the Pegasus’ uninjured shoulder. “I want to help you in any way I can, but... as much as I really want to… the sheer scale of this whole transformation thing has gotten way out of our control. If there is something bigger to it all that this, then this is an issue only you ponies are going to be able to handle, and they’re going to be needing every pony they can get their hooves on. Marty and I won’t be able to keep tabs on you forever, you know. When this new guy comes in to replace you, then that’s it. We’re going to be dragged back into the business and working full-time again.” The airwoman sighed. “Look… I just want to encourage you that perhaps getting out there and meeting these other ponies is going to be better for you than you might realise. As a familiar species to yourself, I’d understand if being around them would be easier--” “And what if it isn’t?” Daring interrupted her, “You’re selling yourself short here, Laura! I’m sorry if I don’t really express it much, but as the people I’ve toiled long and hard alongside, you and Marty are my closest friends! Seven whole years, we’ve known each other, and you’re letting a silly little thing like this make you pause to reconsider and decide what’s best for me?” The Pegasus stiffened up resolutely, “Does seven years of friendship, memories and struggle mean nothing to you?” “Of course not--” Laura began, before she was cut off. “Laura, I want to stay here on board Brisbane!” Daring adamantly stomped her hoof, “I want to be able to adjust to this change and simply go with the flow! I want to still belong with the people I’ve known all my life! Ponies or no ponies, you are my family, not them! Think about this for a second, will you? In my new form, I could bring so much to the table!” “Well, I know that, but--” “I can get to a scene of distress far quicker than a helicopter,” Daring stated, “If it weren’t for those pirates who turned up, that operation would’ve been a flawless success, and I’d have proven to the XO, as well as Skipper, that I can fill in a niche to keep any people from drowning until the chopper arrives for a proper extraction! I-I’d be able to… uh, provide aerial observation on a suspicious vessel, and free up the chopper for something less menial that keeping tabs on a group of fishos! If it weren’t for these injuries, I’d be able to do so much more than just take up valuable space and oxygen!” Laura paused for several moments, processing the Pegasus’ words. “Well… at the end of the day, Skipper’s the one you’ll need to convince, not me. If you think that there’s a silver lining to this, then I’m going to trust your word on that.” Daring exhaled in relief. “It’s going to take a bit of willpower and a bit of persuasion… but I think I can make this work. All I need is time to recover back to ship-shape, and then we can start getting things done. For now… I’m willing to still go ahead with this meeting with the Americans; there’s no backing out of that now. I’ll see how that goes, and what they have in store… and we’ll work out from there. Now if you’ll excuse me… I need to see Harris about getting me cleaned up so I can get ready to go.” With that, she downed her drink in one go and dumped it in the waste bin, before turning and walking out of the Mess Hall, leaving Laura to her devices. “... He’s got a resilient mentality, I’ll give him that.” Chappell murmured, “Turning into a goddamned cartoon character, then a near-death experience… I’m not exactly jealous of him right now.” ----- Time seemed to pass exceptionally quick, and before she knew it, she was sitting in the passenger bay of the Seahawk, amongst the Skipper, Lieutenant Chappell and three other Clearance Divers, whose names she didn’t get. Sitting at her feet was a small duffle-bag filled with all of her possessions. Mark didn’t really pack much when he left Perth, and was generally rather lean in the wardrobe department whenever he packed to travel. “Don’t take what you’re never even gonna use,” He always said. She made a quick assessment of her appearance using the light reflecting off the window. Harris and her team had really gone to town, cleaning up her scruffy, unkempt mane into something presentable, tying the back of it into a bun and neatening up her fringe. Her tail had been given a thorough brushing, the challenging task requiring several sailors working on it at once in order for the Pegasus to be ready on time. “I always wanted to brush up a pony when I was little,” Harris had remarked, “Didn’t think that it’d have a mane quite like this though.” Satisfied with her appearance, she stared past her reflection and quickly made a rough assessment of the American Carrier Group before her. USS George H.W. Bush dominated the center of the group, surrounded by what looked to be three Arleigh-Burke-class Destroyers, a Ticonderoga-class Cruiser, a state-of-the-art and exotic-looking Zumwalt-class Destroyer, and some sort of support ship that she couldn’t identify, most likely a Fleet Replenishment Oiler. At the back of her mind, she also had a feeling that the Carrier Group also contained at least one or two Submarines, but they were almost impossible to spot on short notice amongst the churning waves of the ocean. She felt a shiver of giddiness jolt her spine as the Seahawk passed over the flight deck. The ‘Hawk touched down on the deck with a solid thud, and the six Australians immediately stepped out. The Pegasus stared at the scenery around her with a humbling sense of awe. An Aircraft Carrier was so much more awesome up close than on a TV screen! The George Bush was truly a grand sight to behold, as deck-hands scurried about like ants, in their brightly coloured vests, and aircraft patiently sat parked on the flight deck in organised rows, almost divided evenly between various models of the F/A-18 Super Hornet, and the Lockheed Martin F-35C Lightning. The Carrier effortlessly and positively dwarfed the Australian Destroyer joining the formation alongside them as it veered through a right-hand turn onto a southern heading and into formation alongside George Bush’s starboard side, and some distance behind the lone Ticonderoga-class Cruiser, USS Vella Gulf. A broad, unrestricted grin adorned Daring’s muzzle as she quickly started rattling off every single detail off the top of her head about Nimitz-Class Aircraft Carriers, as an F-35 began warming up on the flight deck. She was talking so quickly that it was near-impossible to understand half of what she was saying, nearly putting a certain hyperactive party pony to shame. Several deck hands paused what they were doing to regard the Australian Destroyer with brief curiosity, which then turned into surprise once they caught a glimpse of the dull-yellow Pegasus grinning broadly at them from behind at the rear of the flight deck. “Oi, settle down Shef, you’re scaring them,” Skipper nudged an elbow into her side, “Remember now, we don’t want to make a bad impression on our hosts.” The excited Pegasus seemed off in another world however, and was far more interested in the Hornets lined up along the deck, as a small welcome party approached them from the Island. “Hey, look at that one!” She suddenly exclaimed, waltzing right up to several of the aircraft, “This one’s an EA-18G Growler! You can tell by the all Electronic Warfare pods and the lack of a gunport for an internal cannon. Although technically, they basically are Super Hornets, just re-fitted to perform the Electronic Warfare role after the US Navy dropped the Grumman Prowler--” “Leftenant!” Skipper gruffly interrupted her. “Hmm?” “Shut up and get back over here!” He gestured hurriedly, “Show a bit of decorum for God’s sake.” “Oh, right. Sorry,” she sheepishly strutted back into line. Both groups gave each other the appropriate salutes. “Welcome aboard the George H.W. Bush,” the American greeted warmly. He was a short, stocky man who looked very much like a spitting-image of the Sea Captain from The Simpsons, except without the accent, mannerisms, or wooden leg. “I’m Rear Admiral William Del Rio, and I look forward to doing business with you.” “Captain John Stevenson, of the HMAS Brisbane,” Skipper introduced himself, “It’s a pleasure and an honour, sir.” “Likewise. This is the pony you were talking about, right?” Del Rio immediately cast his gaze towards the monochrome-maned Pegasus, getting straight to the point. “The radios were buzzing about you, my feathered friend. You’re making news in Yemen, did ya know that? The locals that you rescued have all gone and are trying to spread the word about an ‘Angel sent from God’ or something or rather like that. What’s your name, lieutenant?” ‘... Huh,’ Daring blinked, ‘So that’s where those guys were from… I just passed them off as Arabs, to be honest.’ “Right,” She cleared her throat, “My name’s Daring Do, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The American Commander spent several seconds appraising the Pegasus’ appearance. His gaze drifted with concern towards her arm in a sling and the bandages across her thigh. “Interesting name... How bad are your injuries, do you know?” he asked suddenly. “Nothing just a bit of time and rest won’t fix,” she dismissed. “I see,” Del Rio murmured, stepping aside, “Well… shall we get this over with?”         “By all means, lead the way,” Skipper nodded.         ‘He’s not one to piss around, is he?’ Daring wondered.         The Australians followed their hosts into the Island, and into a vast network of electronic systems and operations tables, as sailors scurried about like ants, busily focused on whatever their job at hand was. Such a scene was not unfamiliar to the Pegasus, having served on a Destroyer and all, but the sheer scale of it all in comparison to the Combat Information Center on board Brisbane had a humbling effect on her. She glanced across at a sailor manning a radio, and her ears automatically swiveled about slightly to listen in on his conversation. “... Lion Nine-One and Lion Nine-Two, permission for Air Support Mission granted,” the sailor spoke in a clear voice, “Heading vector is Three-Two-Five. I repeat, heading vector is Three-Two-Five; Range is approximately one-hundred miles.” “Copy that, Avenger,” the muffled, barely audible voice on the other end responded, “Vector Three-Two-Five.”         “You wouldn’t believe how many of you there are,” Del Rio spoke up, regaining her attention, “They’re popping up all over the place, like termites from the woodwork! All across the States, Europe, a few in the Middle East. They’re everywhere.”         “So… how many of us are on board this ship?” Daring questioned.         He shook his head, “Just you and Lieutenant Ferguson, but more will be explained to you once you’re introduced, so right this way please, just in here.”          He brought them to a briefing room, typically used by the pilots when planning to go out on a sortie. “Just wait here a minute, and we’ll call you in,” Del Rio gestured, half-closing the door behind him as he entered.   ‘Last-second guess,” she took a deep breath to try and relax her nerves, ‘Spitfire or Soarin’. No, scrap that. Lock in Soarin’.” “Lieutenant Sheffield,” He opened the door wide and stepped aside, “Meet Lieutenant Lucas Ferguson.”         She stepped into her room, and her eyes widened as they settled on the pony before her. It was not one of the above-mentioned, nor was it a pony she actually considered to be a serious possibility. The Pegasus stallion’s mane-style looked a little off from what she remembered it to look like, but the dull-yellow coat colour, two-tone electric-blue mane and tail, as well as the distinct Cutie Mark (a yellow lightning bolt on a blue shield) could not be mistaken for anypony else. The one pony who single-hoofedly managed to polarise the fandom about whether his inclusion in that film series was actually necessary or not. She remembered Chris had slandered him for days after the first one was released. Just three words managed to escape her mouth in a soft whisper. “... Flash-fuckin’-Sentry.” Both Pegasi stared at each other blankly. The awkward silence so tense that a chainsaw would have difficulty cutting through it. She spotted a camera mounted on a tripod at the back of the room, which was being monitored by a US sailor, and the gathered humans didn’t make things any less awkward by standing around, watching them expectantly.                  She glanced around the room and made a quick assessment of the other humans in the room. Six figures at the back in particular caught her attention. Two of them were each wearing a simple, stylish tuxedo, and looked to be the ones that did all the talking. The other four, at first glance, looked like Special Forces troopers, with their navy-blue body armour, and the dark sunglasses and face masks obscuring their identities. A closer look at their badges confirmed their identity as a section of an FBI SWAT Team. The four soldiers were each armed with some variant of the M4, each with several different bits and bobs attached here and there.         “Uh… do I… know you?” Flash cringed worriedly, drawing her attention again.         Daring blinked and shook her head. “Oh, no, sorry. I-I don’t know you, but I know of you. Lucas, right? I’m Daring Do; nice to meet you.” “... What happened to you?” Flash asked concernedly. “You look pretty banged up.” “Had a run-in with some local thugs,” she shrugged and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’ll live.” “Oh! You were with the Australian Destroyer that apprehended that boat full of armed pirates, right?” Flash sat back on his haunches with realisation, “Congratulations on that haul! I heard they found like, several hundred thousand dollars worth of contraband on that thing! Not to mention rescuing those twelve fishermen! You must be patting yourself on the back about that, eh?”         “What are they saying about me, exactly?” she questioned. “To be honest, when the official report was released, it never mentioned anything about a pony being amongst the action, so everything about you is just hear-say. I heard, for example, that after you kept the hostages alive long enough to buy time for the Boarding Team, the Boarding Team suddenly just took you away back to your warship for medical attention, and they never saw you again,” Flash explained. “Well, I think at that point I had passed out from pain and blood loss,” Daring deadpanned dryly, “Can’t really interact with them anymore when I’m incapacitated now, can I?” Flash suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. She furrowed her brow and glanced across at Del Rio. “... Why was my inclusion censored in the report? I was the entire reason for how they were able to escape in the first place.” “That will be explained in due time,” Del Rio dodged fluidly. Daring huffed in slight annoyance, pausing for a moment as she mentally assessed the meeting so far. “So uh…” Flash shuffled about uncomfortably, “W-What actually happened on the fishing boat? The report I read said that the hostages had simply worked up the courage and muscled their way out by force all on their own, but if you were actually there…” Out of the corner of her eye, several of the more important-looking American sailors stiffened slightly, which gave her cause for concern, and she subtly shook her head. “Er, what else is there?” She gestured, changing the topic to something a bit lighter, “I’m from a small town in Australia called Warrnambool, and uh… I’ve been in the Royal Australian Navy for around seven years now. Joined up straight out of school, and managed to get a spot to be trained as a helicopter pilot. You?” “Wor-nam-bool?” Flash’s tongue nearly stumbled over the strange word, “Where’s that?” “It’s uh, in the state of Victoria, along the south-east coast,” replied Daring.   “Huh. Well I grew up with my uncle in Milwaukee, Wisconsin,” The stallion explained, “I went straight out of school to the US Naval Academy for four years, and I’ve been in the Navy proper for about three years now. My rank is actually 'Lieutenant Junior Grade', but it's a bit long to say in a normal conversation. This was supposed to be my first deployment with an operational squadron, VFA-213, also known as the Black Lions.” “Isn’t Milwaukee where all the Harleys come from?” Daring mused curiously. “That, and the local brewery is pretty famous too,” Flash nodded, with a prideful grin, “My uncle is a pretty avid fan of both of those things. He runs a garage in one of the outer suburbs.”     “Does he make good money?” “Eh, it’s enough to get by on,” He shrugged, “But enough about him. What happened between you and the pirates? I-If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth! Surely, those bandages each have a tale to tell!” “Well this one,” she purposefully ignored his use of the phrase ‘horse’s mouth’ and pointed at her shoulder, “Was a direct hit from some generic handgun. Stung worse than a wasp-sting, let me tell ya that. Not something I want to go through again. My leg injury was caused by a glancing bullet that carved a whole bloody trench into me leg.” “Ouch,” Flash winced, “How long will they take to heal, do they know?” “The Medic’s given me a bare-minimum time of around a month to recover,” Daring sighed, “The actual time is unknown, but my guess is that we don’t know if ponies naturally heal at a quicker rate than humans or not.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the FBI agents take a step forward. She turned about to properly face them. “And who might you gents be?” “Lieutenant Sheffield,” the agent on the left greeted with a simple nod. He looked older than his companion, perhaps in his mid-fifties. Both of them flashed her their ID badges from within their blazers. “My name is Carl Wellman, and I’m the Head of the FBI’s Research And Development team.” “The FBI?” Daring mused, “Things must be pretty serious if you guys are involved.” “Indeed they are,” Wellman nodded, “Sheffield, Ferguson, what I’m about to tell you must not leave this room unless authorised at a later point. Do you understand?” Both Pegasi nodded.         “You have my word,” Daring stated solemnly.         “As you’re probably aware by now, this ‘ponification’ epidemic is believed to have spread across the entire planet,” Wellman explained, “The FBI and the CIA have been tasked by the President himself with investigating this phenomenon, and to learn absolutely everything there is to know about everything regarding it. The Internet in particular has been most helpful in that regard. Beyond the physical changes, it has been observed that the affected’s personality alters slightly as well. I assume you already knew that?”         “Correct,” Daring nodded politely.         “We analysed the Medical Report about you sent by your superiors,” Wellman continued, “While it was very interesting at a trivial level, and the CIA’s science team certainly made good use of it, unfortunately it didn’t shed any light on how these transformations came about in the first place.” “Well, if it’s any use, I’ve been told that this is a curse that’s finally wearing off,” Daring shrugged. “A curse?” Flash frowned, “What did they mean by that?” “Exactly that,” she replied, “Apparently the ponies are here on Earth because a magical curse was placed on them, transforming them into humans, and now that the curse is lifting… we’re all turning back into ponies again.” The Americans all looked at each other with quirked eyebrows.  “So what you’re saying is…” Del Rio spoke up, “That all of these people are turning into ponies… because of some kooky, voodoo witch or something like that?” “Well, not just any kooky old witch,” Daring shook her head, “Uh… are any of you actaully familiar with My Little Pony?” “For the past week, I’ve seen nothing but,” Wellman grumbled, “Why?” “On that show, is a character called ‘Discord’. Do you know about him?” Daring asked. “I’ve heard that name float around, yes,” the American nodded. “Well, I’m under the impression that the universe of My Little Pony is actually real, and we have been sent here by a strong magical spell--” The American snorted. “Right. And tomorrow, a flock of pigs will fly over the deck.” Daring quirked her eyebrow, “Look at us, mate. Look at us. Knowing that we used to be humans, but are now talking, flying ponies, implies that that could very much be a real possibility. All bets are off now, and everything goes.” “... Touche,” Wellman admitted. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Skipper asked politely, “Why would the President of the United States be personally invested in this?” Wellman eyed the Australian captain with a serious expression. “... Because this epidemic has now affected his daughter.” Daring’s eyes widened in shock. “She too has become afflicted by this condition,” Wellman muttered, “and so that’s why we’re working our hardest, day and night, to investigate this matter. If there is a way to reverse the transformation and turn them back into humans again, we will find it. Meanwhile, the CIA have been tasked with keeping the information from leaking to the public media, to keep the people from doing anything rash.” “We have been utilising every relevant resource available we have, and we’ve organised it into a single, entire unit that has been codenamed Project Sagittarius,” the second agent spoke up, “We’ve conducted a joint search with several other allied intelligence agencies, such as MI6 and the GIGN, and we’ve managed to assemble several servicemen and women who have been affected to assist. We’ve discovered at least fifty ponies among all branches of the US military alone. Out there in the civilian world, there could be hundreds or even thousands of ponies.” “Thousands…” Flash murmured incredulously. “Now do you see how serious this is?” Wellman pressed, “Our offer for you is to help out a worthy cause, and assist us in finding a way to deal with this issue.” “... With all due respect sir,” Daring resolutely stared him in the eye, “Perhaps changing back isn’t the hottest idea.” “Oh? And you think you have a better one?” Wellam asked skeptically, “You actually like being stuck as a garishly-overcolored cartoon horse?” “Maybe, maybe not,” Daring muttered, “My point is that these ponies all have unique and very useful abilities. Unicorns can use Magic. Pegasi can fly for a far cheaper amount than any aeroplane. Earth Ponies are like tanks on legs. Simply squandering such useful, untapped potential would be the dumbest decision Humanity has ever made.” “So what do you suggest then?” Wellman  frowned. “I’m saying that your R&D team would be better off looking into how people can adjust to the changes, rather than try and wind back the clock,” Daring explained, “Get them working again and try to re-instill a bit of self-worth and pride back into them.” “Lieutenant, most of the people we’re working with have been in the military their whole lives,” Wellman frowned, “In case you haven’t noticed yet, ponies can’t exactly hold guns or equipment properly anymore.” “Ponies are also more creative and resourceful than you might realise,” Daring squinted slightly, “It won’t be long before someone figures out a solution for that problem. Like I said, if we can learn to adjust and adapt, life could become so much more interesting!” A sailor abruptly burst in amongst the group, glancing worriedly at Del Rio. “Sir!” Everyone turned and stared at the intruder, causing him to suddenly feel a little hot under the collar. “We have a problem!” “What’s happening, sailor?” Del Rio frowned in concern. “We’ve just lost contact with the Hawkeye. The last transmission we received from her was that there were unidentified bogeys approaching her, at speeds of around Mach one point five. Missiles were fired, and we believe that they were shot down.”         Everyone glanced at each other warily.         “How long ago was this?” Del Rio asked flatly.        “Within the last minute, sir.”         He didn’t need another moment to think over these implications. This was an act of war. “Radio the Fleet. Get every ship to Action Stations, and prep anti-air defences, just in case.” He glanced across Skipper, who was holding up his hand-held radio. “Captain Stevenson--” “Already done,” Skipper nodded, “You can count on us.” “Good,” He turned to a nearby officer, as klaxons started blaring and the ambient light of the room turned to an ominous red colour. “Captain, follow me. Everyone else, stay here in this room!” ----- “Ensign, what’s the status of Air Patrol Alpha?” Del Rio barked as he entered the Combat Information Center. “Alpha is committed to supporting troops on the ground in Afghanistan, sir,” the man replied. “What about Bravo?” Del Rio pressed anxiously. “Bravo is providing air support for friendly vessels in the Gulf of Aden, sir.” “... Okay, why the hell are both of our CAPs busy at once, and nobody bothered to put aloft a third, just in case?!” Del Rio grit his teeth, “Get a flight of Lightnings into the air and heading towards the Hawkeye’s last known coordinates, on the double! This fleet is now potentially in serious jeopardy! MOVE!”         The CIC suddenly came alive with frantic activity as people moved about in preparation for the worst. ----- Daring’s pulse elevated with tension as she warily glanced around, unsure of what she should do. On board Brisbane, she knew that her job was to assist the Boatswain’s Mates if required, but here on board George Bush, where she didn’t know whether they would need her or not, she felt out of place, lost and disoriented. Even from within the ship, she could hear the high-pitched whine of jet engines as the interceptors began warming up. In spite of the tense atmosphere and warnings of danger, the Pegasus felt a shiver of giddiness jolt her spine as her brain switched into ‘fight-or-flight’ mode, and her muscles reflexively tensed up, ready for anything. Chappell’s grip on his side-arm noticeably tightened. Both Special Forces teams stared uneasily at each other as they tightened their protective circles around their respective charges. She glanced at Flash, who wore the same worried expression as her. She audibly gulped. ‘Really starting to wish I didn’t have these blasted bandages right about now.’ -----         “Captain Stevenson, I want you to be my line of communication to Brisbane,” Del Rio instructed hurriedly, now having to shout over the growing cacophony of noise.         “Yes sir!” The Australian nodded. Skipper glanced around warily as he followed Del Rio towards a radar screen, keeping his radio handy.         “Sir, all Damage Control Teams are ready and on stand-by,” someone called out.         “Med Bay reports ready,” another sailor shouted.         “Sea Sparrow, Rolling Airframe and Phalanx CIWS Defence Systems are all warmed up and ready to fire,” the Weapons Officer spoke up.         “Vella Gulf reports ready!”         “Zumwalt reports ready!”         “Jason Dunham reports ready!”         “Forrest Sherman reports ready!”         “Truxtun reports ready!”         “Scranton and Montpelier have both dived to combat depth!”         “Brisbane reports ready,” Stevenson nodded.         The whine of jet engines exploded into a loud roar as the interceptors began launching off the flight deck one-by-one.                  “Combat Air Patrol Charlie is in the air and on an intercept course,” an air traffic controller reported.         Stevenson approached the radar officer from the side, glancing from around his shoulder at the screen, which showed the relative position of every surface vessel in the fleet. The edges of the screen were marked like a compass, with North and the top, and so on. Four blips representing CAP Charlie, registered on the screen as ‘Felix 91’, ‘Felix 92’, ‘Felix 93’ and ‘Felix 94’ respectively, were slowly drifting towards the right side of the screen to the east, as the fleet slowly budged towards the south. “The next twenty minutes is going to be absolutely crucial,” Del Rio aloud, attracting everyone’s attention, “We need to stay on our toes and keep a clear head. We don’t know what’s out there, so be ready for anything.” -----         Felix 91 glanced down warily at his radar screen, as the F-35’s radar maintained a vigilant watch for any blips daring to appear from beyond the horizon.         “Avenger, this is Felix 91, approaching the Hawkeye’s last known location,” He spoke into his radio, “Negative on the hostiles, they got away, but we’ll keep our eyes peeled.”         “Felix 91, acknowledged.” -----         “We’ve just lost radar contact with Patrol Charlie,” the radar operator spoke up, “Streaming satellite feed and tracking radio signals.”         “We need another Hawkeye in the air once this clears up,” Del Rio spoke into his hand-held radio, “I want them to start preparing now so that it will be ready by then.”         “Yes sir,” the voice on the other end replied.         “Sir, new radar contacts! Eight bogeys, two hundred miles west of our position at Vector two-seven-eight, and approaching fast on a hostile vector!” the radar operator exclaimed anxiously.         Del Rio facepalmed. “And of course Charlie is going in the completely wrong direction. What do the bogey squawk tags say?”         “Squawk tags are blank and unresponsive,” the sailor replied, “Attempts at radio contact are proving futile." “Brisbane, Zumwalt, Truxtun and Vella Gulf report radar lock, Standard ERAMs are armed and ready to fire,” someone spoke up.         “Fire at will.”         Skipper reached for his radio. “XO, are you there? Weapons free! I repeat, Weapons Free!”                  “Roger that, Skip.” -----          A starboard lookout on board George H.W. Bush was staring vacantly at the Australian Destroyer alongside them, and blinked in surprise as the fore-deck suddenly disappeared amongst an explosion of smoke, and two consecutive missiles blasted from their tubes in the Vertical Launch System, followed closely by six more from the Truxtun, Zumwalt and the Vella Gulf. The missiles arched gracefully through the air as they hurtled off towards their designated targets. The lookout chuckled under his breath in awe. “Never gets old, that.” -----         “Missiles away, sir,” the radar operator confirmed.         “What’s the estimated time for those fighters to be on top of us?” Del Rio asked warily.         “At their current speed, two minutes and twenty seconds,” the sailor reported grimly.         “And how long will Patrol Charlie take to intercept?”         “Four minutes, sir.”         “What about Alpha and Bravo?”         “Alpha and Bravo have been recalled,” the operator nodded, “Alpha’s ETA is seven minutes; Bravo’s is five.”         He exhaled heavily as he glanced over the radar operator’s shoulder at his screen. He unconsciously tapped the console as the blips representing the missiles slowly bleeped towards the approaching hostiles.         An electronic computer spoke up, “Impact on target in three, two, one…”         The hostile blips scattered as the missiles ploughed into the formation. “Three hits confirmed,” the electronic computer spoke, “Chaff and flares detected.” “They’re diving on to an attack vector now, sir,” the operator said anxiously. “Starboard lookouts have a visual! They’re starting their attack run!” someone off to the side shouted. -----         [HMAS Brisbane, Starboard Lookout Post] XO Cruze grimaced as the Typhoon Weapons System beside him opened up on the attackers, followed by a salvo of short-range Sea Sparrows from the fore-deck. The hostile fighters were but specks in the distance, but he could hear the scream of their engines quite clearly as they tore through the sky straight for the large American Carrier. The fighters were almost skimming the wave-tops, too low for Zumwalt and the Arleigh Burkes  on the other side of the Carrier to effectively provide a counter attack, leaving the task to just Vella Gulf and Brisbane. He counted three more hostiles exploding into fireballs, as the withering return fire began finding it mark with ruthless efficiency, and the survivors finally released their deadly payloads no more than a kilometre from their target. His eyes widened as a spray of guided and unguided missiles quickly crossed the gap in a matter of seconds. Reflexively, he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Hit the deck!”