Chapter 13
Fuck You, Murphy
That was two months ago, a good few months after we had started the faction. I have to say, we were doing pretty well: our faction was growing, we had just found a goldmine of ordnance in what looked like an old Soviet vehicle yard and to top it all, the Mercs that had been attacking our HQ from time to time had finally given up.
That did not mean the situation was resolved. As far as I know, they still are plotting to bring us down as of today.
But I digress.
Paperwork had been piling up on my desk and I was working on it in my office, on the top floor of the recently renovated administrative section of the former Jupiter factory. Vano was out in the fields, taking measurements with his team for our small research unit, Celestia was supervising the arriving shipments of spare parts for our vehicles and Snag and Rookie were occupied with the recruits of the week.
Never I could have expected how things would have turned. In my head, starting a faction had meant a new adventure, an occasion to start anew and do thing I could not before. Instead, I ended up leading hundreds of men and having all the responsibilities coming with such a burden.
Complaining was futile and unneeded though: thanks to Celestia’s ingenuity and command prowess, our troops were well trained, respectful and disciplined, we had top-of-the-line hardware, several armed vehicles and our future was bright.
My thoughts were interrupted by one of the long range radios sitting on my desk coming to life. I used these radios to occasionally ask for status reports of units deployed in the field or assign tasks to them. Of course, we had a HQ specifically for such a task, but I preferred being able to be in direct contact with my soldiers.
But on that day, someone was trying to contact me, instead of the opposite.
“Does this thing work?” a voice asked, before there was a moment of static. “One two, one two, do you hear me?”
I heard this voice before… but where?
With a frown, I put down the pen I was holding and took the radio.
“This is Colonel Strider, of the Dawn faction,” I began. “Identify yourself and explain how you found this channel,” I ordered.
“This is professor Hermann,” came the reply. “Your friend Vano gave me this frequency.”
I blinked and stared at the radio in my hand.
“Roger that, Hermann. Why are you calling?”
“Could you come over to the bunker as soon as you can?” Hermann asked. “And bring your quadruped friend too.”
“What is it about?” I asked with a frown. “I cannot afford to waste time I am afraid, and neither can Celestia.”
“I think I know how to find a way for her to go back to her world.”
The room stayed silent for a moment, neither of me or Hermann speaking and I stared at the radio, not really sure what to make of the scientist’s sayings.
“Are you sure of what you are advancing?” I asked, doubtful. “Even our scientific division has yet to come up with a solution.”
“Your scientific division?” asked the scientist, a hint of disdain in his voice. “Look, I respect your guys, but they just lack synthesis logic.”
“You are saying you know something they do not,” I stated. “What are you hiding?” I asked in the radio.
“Nothing. I just have a theory and I want to test it.”
Leaning back in my chair, I let out a breath. “Alright then. I will swing by your lab as soon as possible. Strider out.”
With a frown, I put the radio down on my desk and leaned forwards on my desk, scratching my stubble. After a short reflexion, I deemed that Celestia had to be made aware of this as soon as possible, and I had done enough paperwork anyway.
Stirring in my chair, I turned around, facing my gear. As always, all of my equipment was neatly stored, my exoskeleton sat on a stand and my collection of guns displayed on the wall.
I walked to the stand and grabbed my bulletproof vest. In one fluid motion, I put on the protective piece of gear and secured it tightly on my torso, before I took the exoskeleton frame and put it on too, securing it to its various mounting points with its belts and buckles. After I hit the start-up sequence of the power armor and closed the lid of the wrist-mounted PDA, I let the systems boot, which only took about thirty seconds. Once that was done, I looked at my weapons.
During the past year, I had amassed quite the collection of firearms. Of course, I never used some of them and they were purely decorative, yet I always had at least one magazine loaded for most of them hidden in my office… better safe than sorry.
I had kept my old 1911 pistol, my only piece of equipment from my Monolith days. As always, it was in flawless working condition, despite the scratches on its frame, slide and suppressor.
That gun represented something to me, it was the last reminder of where I had come from, and I felt strange just by staring at it. Even my knife had been lost to a mutant few weeks prior. Of course, it had been replaced shortly with a multi-purpose bowie knife, smitten with the logo of our faction, but it was yet another piece of my past I had lost. It may not have been a bright past, but it was a part of what made me after all.
Funnily enough, I had found out I could mount my new combat blade as a bayonet on most of my assault rifles.
Dismissing the thoughts, I looked over the rest of my gun collection. My old 1911 was surrounded by several similar others of various makes, materials, colors or calibers, most of which I had looted from dead bodies during my numerous patrols in the Zone. A few pieces did stand out however, like one that was chambered in 10mm auto or another in 357 magnum. Of course, these were highly impractical so I had kept my heavily modified Beretta 92, the one that resembled a M93R. Its accuracy was good enough, its magazines could ramp up to thirty-two rounds and its burst-fire capability was a priceless feature.
Oh, and also I had a few Glocks, too, in various calibers, but I preferred my old 1911 for its sentimental value and my Beretta because it was practical and looked wicked at the same time.
Dismissing most of the handguns, I seized my old Monolith-marked pistol and holstered it on my right thigh, followed by the previously mentioned Bowie knife on my left shoulder. I then took my Beretta, racked its slide several times, needlessly checking for any hint of a malfunction. Assured that the pistol would not let me down in battle, I holstered it, both neatly tucked under my left armpit. Under the other armpit, I stashed the magazines for the pistols.
Before taking my semi-automatic anti-material rifle, I loaded it and looked it over for any malfunction. I did have large caliber rifle, a French PGM Hecate II, but I found out that I did not like bolt-action rifles. Too slow.
At least Rookie had been happy to get try out a new toy.
I had not stopped to collecting pistols and sniper rifles however, as I had also several assault rifles: my old AN-94, which was accurate but for which spare parts were extremely rare, a few AK variants, all looted from dead bodies; a G36C, and finally, my pride and joy: a recently manufactured FN FAL, rifle Celestia had spent a considerable amount of time modifying and tuning, just for me.
I remembered how I had liked the AKS-74u I put my hands on, which I had since given it to Rookie. I had liked its compact size and powerful cartridge, but its accuracy was... less than stellar, which is why the AN-94 was better.
This rifle was different.
With a smile, I grasped the rifle with both hands and brought it to eye level. Its matte dark grey finish may have seen better days, but mechanically that thing was a beast: a special handguard, a custom, shortened, free-floating barrel and a variable zoom scope, courtesy of Degtyarev, which allowed for easy engagements at any ranges from five to five hundred meters. Its pistol grip had been customized by Celestia, specifically engineered for my hand and its folding buttstock was custom too. It had rails everywhere, meaning I could mount pretty much anything I wanted on it.
Vano, in a fit of humor had once even fitted it with several sights, a fifty rounds drum magazine, a laser pointer, three vertical grips mounted sideways; an angled grip, on of these vertical grips with a bipod in it, another bipod, two mag holders, a suppressor and no less than five flashlights, all just for laughs and because it was ‘tacticool’.
Of course, I got rid of all that crap, though I did keep the magazine, the suppressor and the bipod.
Chuckling at the thought of Vano’s antics, I left my office while I checked my FAL walking through the corridors of what had been the administrative section of the Jupiter factory.
The buildings of the Jupiter factory were a far cry from what they were only a few months ago. Ever since my friends, Celestia and I had created our faction, we had committed ourselves to renovate our new quarters. The barracks building -which used to house the delivery department of the factory- did have it’s ground floor infested with anomalies, and the level had been blocked off and deemed off-limits. Everybody knew why of course, as we had decided that transparency was the best option.
As the faction grew up, we had to create some kind of administration, and the building had been renovated. By then, we had even repaired the giant hole a military MI-24 had made in the roof of the factory itself when crashing and the big hangar-like building had been converted into a huge workshop and hangar, providing us with the means to fix up and store various vehicles.
Of course, the buildings were old and far from new, the paint still peeled from the walls inside and some windows were barred with planks, but at least they were livable and had doors and windows.
I descended the stairs to the newly ‘renovated’ building, occasionally passing by groups of my stalkers discussing or a few busy NCOs surveying some paperwork, not even looking where they were going.
Once I attained the second floor I exited the staircase, took the walkway over the street, which joined the administrative building and the building next to workshop; and descended the first stairs I encountered, leading me out the back of the building and into the main workshop.
The air was permeated with the heavy scents of oil, diesel and hot metal, and the sounds of voices, laughs, engines revving and power tools reverberated against the walls and the tall ceiling, along with the constant grumbling of our generator which provided electricity for the whole base. Many workers were walking around and a full team of mechanics was working on a tank, the first of our captured T-80’s. The chassis of the tank was sitting on elevated rails, its treads had been taken off and the engine, a medium-sized turbine, had been pulled out of the frame. The turret of the tank itself was suspended in mid-air by a big ceiling crane and had been stripped out of all its components.
Next to the disassembled tank, two others were sitting, in various states of disrepair, all of which were waiting to be repaired and modernized with the latest electronics our contacts with Nimble’s associates had managed to find.
Leaving the workshop behind, I climbed on a catwalk passing over the big vehicle-sized door leading to the hangar where we stored spare equipment, consumables and the vehicles in operational condition.
Right next to an array of crates, several vehicles were parked, all in mint condition. Celestia was standing top of one of our BMP’s, clad in full combat gear. The only things she did not have were her guns and her headgear, which she had made herself from a military helmet, some electronics and an adapted rubber gas mask. She was holding a notepad and a pen in her telekinesis and giving orders to the stalkers organizing the stock.
As she spotted me, she smiled, opened her wings and took off, only to land gracefully right in front of me on the catwalk.
I straightened up and saluted. “General,” I greeted her.
Celestia rolled her eyes and grunted. “Drop the act, technically I’m not on duty right now.”
I stared at her and relaxed. “Oh.”
“Paperwork bored you?”asked my princess with a grin.
“I couldn’t stay away from you any longer,” I confessed with a smirk, wrapping my arms around her swanlike neck and pulling her closer to me.
My alicorn raised an eyebrow. “Already? Aww, ain’t that cute,” she chuckled, giving me a kiss. “But you’re lying.”
“Alright, alright. I was contacted by Hermann, from the scientist team we had visited a few months ago, remember?” I asked, giving Celestia an apologetic smile.
“Yes, I remember,” she nodded. “Why did he call you?”
I took a breath and knelt in front of my princess. “He found… he thinks he knows a way for you to go home,” I announced in a soft voice, bringing a hand to her muzzle.
“…”
The pen and notepad Celestia had been holding in her telekinesis both clattered on the floor with a clear noise.
Next thing I knew, the alicorn was already on the ground floor, galloping towards the exit of the hangar. Cursing under my breath, I stood up and gave chase, determined to catch up with her.
I put a hand on the catwalk railing and jumped off, landing with thud a floor below. Not wasting any time, I took off running after Celestia. I did not know her destination but I had a pretty good idea.
As soon as I exited the building, I headed for the armory. There was a good chance Celestia was there, seeing as she did not have her guns when I met her and that she was off-duty at the time.
The armory of our faction had been located in the ground floor of old administration department of the Jupiter factory, almost right under my office actually. There, several technicians worked full-time to repair, maintain and modify most of the small arms used in our faction. I said most, because some of my stalkers had kept their personal weapons and still prefer referring to the services of independent technicians, like Cardan or Nitro.
I hurried and ran towards the building, my natural endurance and speed enhanced by my power armor, occasionally passing by a patrol freshly returned to base, closely dodging some that were not looking where they went.
When I reached the armory, I was hit by a white and camo colored blur who immediately took off to the skies.
Ah, shit. What now? I cannot keep up with her on foot… but if I take a vehicle, I just might.
With a grunt, I turned around and ran back towards the vehicle depot.
Once in the large hangar, I lost no time and rushed towards the few bikes we had -multi-fuel Kawasaki KLR650’s, bought or probably stolen from the USMC- and mounted the first I came across, which was sitting next to a very different vehicle covered in tarpaulin, a pet project Celestia and I shared. I put on my modified tactical helmet, linked it to my exosuit and turned the ignition knob of the motorcycle.
The engine came to life with a cough, before it began rumbling docilely. It’s peaceful growl was short lived however as I gunned the gas and released the clutch, causing the rear wheel to spin and the bike to surge forwards, through the exit of the building.
Honking like a madman, I tore through the main street of the base in this cold October morning, slaloming between the few groups of stalkers that hung out outside and cursing the daytime units that preferred to hang out in the street rather than stay in their barracks.
When I finally made my way to the main gate of the base, I had to slow down. Without a word, I nodded to the leader of the men guarding the checkpoint who checked my insignia on my left arm. I was given clearance to leave and was about to hit the gas again when I recognized a voice among the crowd.
“Yeah, I tell you, I can’t wait to see the new recruits get their asses chewed by Snag! I mean, he’s a damn good drill instructor, scary and all, even if that’s technically way below his rank.”
On my nine o’clock, I saw a patrol of Rangers approaching the checkpoint I had just crossed, who were led by no other than Vano, who was talking with his squad, his helmet tucked under the arm.
“OI! Vano!” I called, waving an arm “Over here!”
Not waiting for a response from my friend, I got off my motorcycle and ran towards the group.
Vano tilted his head to the side. “Strider?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Aren’t you supposed to be with-”
“That’s just the problem,” I interrupted. “No time to explain. Celestia left the base abruptly and I have to catch her before anything happens to her!”
“Come on now, she’s more than capable of fending by herself, you know it!” countered by tall friend.
“I am more worried about how she reacted!” I yelled, walking backwards to my still running bike.
“Hold on.. reacted to what?!”
“You are in charge of everything here until I get back, understood major?” I ordered, jumping on the bike and revving the engine, taking off towards the scientists’ bunker near Yanov station.
I could still see Celestia’s speck in the sky and was not about to let it disappear.
I stared in disbelief as Strider disappeared on the horizon in a cloud of dust, the engine of the motorbike he rode revving to the redline. In less than a minute, I went from off-duty to being in charge of the whole faction while he and Celly were gone, doing the Zone knew what.
With a grunt, I gestured my squad to follow. We passed the checkpoint and entered the base, where we stopped after a few meters.
I took off my exosuit helmet. “Alright people, dismissed,” I announced, turning towards the men I had been responsible for during the night.
The group of Rangers saluted and broke apart, some going on their own while others grouped together, heading towards the big building where we had amenaged the living quarters for most troops. Of course, I didn’t live there. Along with Strider and Celly, we had refurbished what had been the directional department of the jupiter factory. I had taken the first floor, which I sometimes shared with Snag, and Celly and Strider had opted for the second floor.
But I wasn’t heading there. Instead, I had to refer to our scientific division, which were in charge of our medical antenna but also regularly tasked my Rangers to retrieve samples from anomalous areas. Of course, sometimes we did more exciting stuff, such as hunting for artifacts or exploring unknown areas and the like. Sometimes, we even had to team up with some of Strider’s Spartans when we had to exterminate mutant lairs.
I have to say, they are good at tracking and killing.
Anyway, I was heading towards the scientific department of the base, located in a separate building across the vehicle workshop. I made my way through the fairly crowded main street of the base, entered the medical building through the double doors and headed down the first corridor that I came across, passing another set of double doors. Finally, I turned right and entered an airlock which closed behind me, waited for the pressure to stabilize and walked through the door that opened itself subsequently.
I ended up in a lab, where about a dozen men clad in lab coats were working on various experiments, some of them mixing stuff in test tubes, observing sciencey stuff with a microscope, others taking notes all the while observing machines which purpose was unknown to me. The lab had that caustic smell all hospitals have and it was almost completely silent, not a word was uttered. The only sounds I could hear came from the machines functioning and the pens of the scientists scratching against their notepads.
Without a word, I produced several test tubes from an armored pouch on my vest. Each of them was labelled with the date, number of expedition and what it contained, in this case, samples of vegetation that had been living exposed to chemical anomalies: grass blades, leaves, moss; we had been tasked by the scientists to take whatever we could find and bring it back to them.
To this purpose, I left the labelled test tubes in a box bearing the inscription ‘FIELD SAMPLES’, before I turned around and headed for the airlock once again.
I let the door open in front of me then close itself behind. Once again, I had to wait until the pressure was even. Then the door opened and I was free from this lair of eggheadery.
Ugh. They are even creepier than Strider’s Anvil Spartans on the job.
Suppressing a shiver, I walked along the same corridor I had taken on my way in, passed the same set of double doors before I could finally reach the main hall of the building and finally, the outside.
I greeted the cloudy sky of this cold October morning with a smile, thankful to be out of this place where nobody talked to each other and barely acknowledged their visitors. No matter how many times I go there, I have that feeling of dread and I want to get out of there as fast as possible.
Shaking my head, I chased the thoughts away and began walking towards my living quarters, which were in a two-story building somewhat separated from the base.
Suddenly, I stopped, remembering what had transpired not even ten minutes earlier: Strider had left the base, blazing off on a bike as he was giving chase to Celestia.
My face met my palms as I massaged my eyes, trying to come up with a plan of action. With my two superiors gone, I was in charge of the entire faction for the time being on my own… which was a first, thinking about it.
I made a quick list in my head: the patrol schedules had been made, the deliveries had arrived the day prior, all units on duty were assigned at their posts -in theory, though I knew there were always a few of my Rangers slacking off- and everything seemed to be in order. With a mental shrug, I decided to go visit Snag before he started to drill the recruits of the week.
The training fields were just outside the big building of the barracks, and actually outside what had been the Jupiter factory. They were still within the base though, as we had erected a big fence with barbed wire and watchtowers all along the perimeter. If I wanted to find Snag before he began his shift, this was the place I had to check.
Alas, the morning drills had begun. Snag was there, walking back and forth in front of a dozen of terrified recruits all ordered in two rows of six, most of them seemingly younger than him.
“I don’t give a fuck where you came from, who you are and how good of a fighter you think you are,” I could hear my boyfriend’s voice shout authoritatively. "If you ladies survive my training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings! You are nothing but unorganized, grabastic pieces of amphibian shit! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me the more you will learn," he growled.
With a sigh, I turned around. There was no point to bother Snag when he was on duty, and quite frankly it could even be dangerous to do so. Even if I technically outranked him. His training grounds were his lair, his sanctuary where he was the indisputable master.
Wondering what I would do next, I walked away from the training fields, only to be struck by an idea: if Snag had begun working with the rookies, so would have Rookie! In all honesty, I just wanted to talk to someone, if only to get my head straight after a long night in patrol.
The new idea in my head, I exited the base through the main gate and walked along the outside of the perimeter wall towards the shooting range, which resonated with sounds of gun reports. I knew Rookie was supposed to train some of my Rangers in marksmanship that morning.
Maybe I could get a lesson or two while I was at it. One thing was sure, as soon as I was done with my mandatory duties, I’d jump into a bed and take a long, well deserved nap.
Turning around the corner of the perimeter wall, I ended up in the gun range, which had once been some kind of water retention basin. The bridge crossing the basin in it’s middle had been repurposed as shooting area, with the targets below in the basin itself, facing South.
I raised an eyebrow as I took notice of what was going on: Rookie was laying prone, letting out a shot every so often with his big anti-material rifle he inherited from Strider, while several others were observing the range where he was aiming at through spotting scopes.
I approached the group. “Hey guys, what are you doing?” I asked, eyebrow raised, making my presence known.
Immediately, my Rangers snapped to attention and saluted me, some waving, others giving me a nod. With a nod of acknowledgement, I signaled them to return to what they were doing and turned towards Rookie, who had not looked out from his scope.
“Always informal, eh?” he asked with a bit mirth in his voice.
“You know me, ‘lieutenant’,” I replied with a chuckle, sitting down next to him. “What are you guys doing?”
“Let’s just say that your Rangers are terrible shots, ‘commander’,” he deadpanned, letting out a breath. “They can’t use a gun properly and use way too much ammo. Your guys have almost the same budget as Strider’s Spartans who are the ones with nearly all the vehicles.”
*BOOM*
With a thunderous crack, Rookie’s rifle let out a shot.
Damn. We should invest in hearing protection.
“These guys here are the top of the class though, most of them know how to use a gun. Some of your Rangers can’t even control their trigger,” added Rookie. “And don’t get me started on breathing control. The vertical stringing sometimes… tsk tsk tsk. So, I’m teaching them to shoot, maybe they’ll be worth a damn.”
“Then why are YOU shooting?” I asked, perplexed.
“They are learning,” simply answered Rookie, not even looking away from his scope. “Any sniper or marksman must be able to pick up the vapor trail of a shot and make corrections for an eventual follow-up,” he added, racking the action on his rifle. “How was I?”
“A bit low, and to the left,” replied a Ranger to Rookie’s left, eye glued to his spotting scope. “Give me two clicks of elevation and plus three of windage.”
“Roger. Plus two elevation, plus three windage,” repeated Rookie, fumbling with the knobs on his scope, before he let out another breath.
I took my binoculars and observed the range below.
*BOOM*
Another bullet was let loose. A second later, we heard the characteristic sound of a hit on the metal plate that was the target. Of course, I didn’t see the vapor trail in question.
“Good estimation,” commented Rookie, once again racking the bolt of his rifle. “What brings you here, Vano?” he asked.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, you know. Stuff.”
“You’re bored.”
I put down my binoculars. “Kind of,” I sighed, massaging my nasal bridge. “I just want to get my head straight. I’ve been out in the field the whole night and now I’m in charge of the whole base!”
“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Rookie, aiming towards the left of the range, before he scrambled the knobs on his scope. “Viktor, your turn.”
*BOOM*
“Well get this: just as I was getting back to base, Strider comes blazing on a dirtbike, telling me that Celly left without warning and he just runs after her!” I exasperatedly shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “And I still don’t know why!”
“High, dead center,” commented the Ranger Rookie had solicited.
“Damn. That sucks,” breathed Rookie, racking the bolt of his rifle once again. “Have you tried contacting him?” he asked, looking at me for the first time. “Damn, you look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” I retorted without a pause. “And no, I haven’t tried,” I sighed, realizing I should have done so a while ago.
Rookie sat up. “Tell you what, I’ll take command, you go sleep,” he offered. “Just remember to change the name and info of the responsible on the schedule board… now that I think about it, making an announcement would be a good idea,” he thought aloud, unloading his rifle.
“You’d do that?” I asked? “You’re the best, Rook!”
“Think nothing of it, dude, just go get some rest, you need it,” Rookie debunked, before he turned towards the others. “Alright, men, load your rifles and get to work! Show me what you learned!”
The single cylinder bike engine roared and sputtered, pushed to it’s limit as I zoomed on a derelict road, plowing through the greenish fields of Yanov. I had lost sight of Celestia by then, but I was sure of where she was going: the bunker/lab of Hermann and his scientific team.
I was not worried about her being alone in the Zone, no, I was worried about her reaction when I had said there may be a way back to her world. It was not like her to act on an impulse, without thoroughly thinking through the causes and the consequences of her actions. After all, it was her rational thinking, leadership abilities and knack for organization that had made of the Dawn faction what it was at that day.
My princess, she was usually so calm, collected and then she acted completely out of character. She had not even thought twice before taking off towards the scientists’.
Without me.
Would she really leave me alone for her home?
Forcefully repressing the thought, I kept riding. The greenish fields had been replaced by a forest, with tall trees and lots of brushes, which meant I was not far away from the scientists’ bunker.
Disregarding the scenery, I kept gunning the engine, going as fast as the Zone’s derelict roads would allow me.
I felt a tear make it’s way down my cheek, between my skin and my gasmask.
I had to make it. I had to. I pumped my wings as hard as I can, dodging and weaving between the few airborne anomalies, only one thought in my head.
Home.
If what that scientist had told strider was right, it meant that I had a way back to my world. A way back to my Luna, my Twilight… to my... lack of friends.
A way away from my friends, and from my love, my Strider.
I stopped dead in my tracks, took off my helmet and hovered in place, the cold autumn wind blowing against my face. With many conflicting thoughts in my head, I glided back towards the ground.
What am I supposed to do?
For the first time ever since I had founded the Dawn faction with Strider and my friends, I felt lost. This role of leader had set me into a comfortable routine I knew, something I needed after my destabilizing first weeks in the Zone. And now, everything was shattered again.
As I touched down on the ground, I realized that, for the first time in a long while, I really didn’t know what to do. It was a new thing to me. While I had felt lost before, I always had someone to rely on. A political matter? I always had an army of advisors ready to help me steer Equestria in the right path. A personal grief or doubt? I had Luna… most of the time. More recently, I had my human friends, and most importantly, Strider.
That man was everything to me. During my first weeks in the Zone, he had provided me with food, shelter, warmth, protection, weapons, and training. I would be eternally grateful for all that, but he had dismissed my thanks, saying I needed it… and to be fair, I did. But instead of letting me fend on my own, he had helped me. He had been a great friend and he had become so much more, so fast. He wasn’t interested in anything I could offer, he was just interested in… me. He was my love, my other half, and in a way, my life buoy... I couldn’t imagine being separated from him.
I couldn’t imagine myself going back to Equestria and leaving him behind.
Yet, I had to, I wanted to. But at the same time, I didn’t. Pondering about what I should do, I sat down and stayed in place, as if waiting for inspiration from the Zone itself.
I have been too hasty with my actions, I should have thought it out… I should have asked Strider.
And just like that, my feeling of distress was gone, only to be replaced by anger. I was angry at myself because I had slipped. I had let my emotions take over my rational thinking and had rushed head first into a dead end, making a selfish decision.
Finally realizing that I couldn’t make the choice whether to go back or not alone, I sighed and turned around, unfurling my wings with the intent to go back to base.
Strider must be worried sick.
Before I could take off, I heard the noise of an engine in the distance, growing closer by the second. It was the exact same noise as our dirtbikes some of our recon units and snipers use from time to time to get to places faster than on foot; and judging by the sound of it, whoever was riding it was in a hurry.
But what put me off not the noise itself, but that none of our bikes were scheduled to be in this area at this moment. Curious as to what was going on, I folded my wings and approached the road nearby, where the noise seemed to come from, readying my M249 just in case.
The engine sound was growing closer by the second, and after half a minute, a silhouette profiled itself on the horizon: it was a man on a bike, wearing a combat helmet and what looked like a high-end armor. His head was lowered, as if he was trying to offer as little resistance to the wind as possible. On his back was a big rifle, he was actually wearing what looked like a custom made exoskeleton and… his helmet was adorned with two big, white feathers.
My feathers.
Strider?
My magical grip on my machine gun broke apart and I ran in the direction where he was coming from, my weapon clattering on the ground behind me. Instantly, he seemed to take notice of me and slammed the brakes, screeching to a halt only a few meters from me.
We looked at each other for a moment, not muttering a word, the silence only disturbed by the engine idling and the wind blowing through the vegetation, rustling the brownish bushes that bordered the old ruined road we were on.
Slowly, Strider raised his hands and took off his helmet, revealing a face bearing such an expression of worry and despair that I felt a lump form in my throat, just by seeing him in such a state.
I rubbed my forelegs awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ran off like that,” I whispered, giving him an apologetic look. “I know I shouldn’t have reacted like that and, to be honest, I didn’t think,” I added, going back to stare at the ground. “I just realized that-”
A heavy thud interrupted me mid-sentence, and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around me. Looking back up, I noticed that the dirtbike was laying on the ground, still running, and Strider had pulled me into a tight hug, his face stained with tears.
“Do not leave me please do not leave me please do not,” he repeated, his voice cracking.
“I won’t, don’t worry,” I softly replied, returning the hug. “I’m sorry I ran off.”
At that, Strider burst into tears. “Thank-k y-you,” he stammered, hugging me tighter. “I do not want you to go. I love you.”
I let out a breath and pulled away from the hug, my lover’s grasp trying to refrain me from doing so, as if afraid that interrupting physical contact would cause me to disappear.
“I love you too,” I replied, looking at my lover in the eyes, before I gave him a loving kiss.
We stayed like that in each other’s embrace for what felt like an eternity, mutually calming our minds and soothing our hearts. As I pulled away, I gave my Strider a reassuring smile.
“So, what do we do now?” he asked, cleaning his face off the tears stains.
“We go back to base. I cannot choose whether to leave this world alone,” I replied. “It’s a decision I have to make with my friends, and most importantly, you,” I added, poking his chest with a hoof.
Strider let out a breath, and looked at me in the eyes. “Thank you,” he simply said, pulling me closer and kissing my head. “I just… I just cannot imagine life without you, not anymore.”
I let out a tranquil sigh. “Me neither,” I admitted, before I pulled away and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Shall we go then?” I asked.
“We shall,” replied my lover with a weak smile. “Wanna ride?” he offered, gesturing his head towards the bike laying on the ground a few meters from us.
I smiled slyly. “I’d love to,” I replied.
Strider returned my smile and walked back to the still running motorcycle laying sideways on the ground. Thanks to his exosuit, he lifted the one hundred and thirty kilograms two wheeled vehicle back up with no effort and climbed onto it, before he removed his rifle from his back and slung it in front of him, where his assault rifle was. Turning around, he flashed me a smile, gesturing me to join him.
I unfurled my wings and slowly lifted myself off the ground, hovering above the bike behind Strider and lowered myself onto the seat, sitting on it a bit awkwardly. Confident of my seating, I put my back hooves on the passenger foot pegs and wrapped my forelegs around Strider, resting my head on his shoulder. My anatomy did make the whole ordeal a bit awkward but I didn’t care.
We were together, and together, we can do anything.
“You what?” I asked with a disbelieving frown, tiredly scratching my beard. “Dude, I just want to sleep, don’t you get it? I’ve been on patrol all night long, only for the eggheads to give my squad a last minute assignment, I’ve been trying to find sleep for the past hour and it’s ten in the morning!” I shouted, the lack of sleep making me irritated. “You left precipitously after your girlfriend threw a temper tantrum and now you need me to… to what, anyway?”
Strider and Celly, who just came back from… wherever they had been, had come right to me in my quarters and pulled me out of my bed, only to ask me to help them make an ‘important decision’. Suffice to say I was pissed off. At least, my outburst had shut them up and apparently they had realized what state I was in.
Celly was staring at the ground, awkwardly rubbing her forelegs, her ears folded down on her head, while Strider was staring at me, mouth half open and an expression of shock on his face.
I closed my eyes and sighed, rubbing my nasal bridge. “Look, just keep it short. What do you want from me?” I asked as calmly as I could.
Celly looked up. “Well, how to put it?...” she pondered aloud.
“Hermann and his group have found a way for her to go back to Equestria,” interrupted Strider.
“Yes,” sighed his girlfriend, going back to stare at the ground. “But I don’t know if I should, I don’t know if I can anymore.”
As, I looked alternatively between my two friends, my tired mind understood what it was all about. Celly and Strider loved each other dearly, that was obvious. After all, they had been in a stable relationship for nearly a year by then. And now, they were thinking that something was about to end that.
Upon piecing everything together and understanding my friends’ concerns, I facepalmed.
When I pulled my face out of my hand, I sighed. “Don’t you remember what I told you the first time you confessed your fears about this exact same situation Celly?” I asked the alicorn.
Said alicorn only stared at me, a look of incomprehension on her face.
I shook my head, looking at the imaginary sky that was blocked by the ceiling of the room we were in.
“I said that we could mount an expedition to your homeworld,” I stated, looking at Celly in the eyes. “You get to go back to your world, we follow you and stay a little while, and even then, Strider could stay with you indefinitely. I can manage the faction on my own with Rookie and Snag’s help,” I offered with a smile.
Celly opened her mouth and stayed silent, staring at me wide eyed.
Strider put a hand under his chin. “An expedition, eh? That may be feasible,” he said, scratching his stubble. “Very clever.”
I sat back down onto my bed. “You know me, I’m the guy with ideas,” I stated with a shrug. “Don’t count on me to help organize all that stuff though, I’m horrible with tha-”
I was interrupted mid-sentence by a white and camo blur who tackled me and knocked me flat on my bed.
“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” cried Celly, hugging my bare chest with a force I didn’t know she had. “You’re the best Vano!”
I chuckled. “I know you’re grateful, but I wasn’t expecting that,” I said with a smirk, “tackling me half naked onto my bed and all. Now, this armor you’re wearing looks mighty uncomfortable, need help taking it off my sweet four legged marshmallow?”
Instead of being aggravated, Celly burst out laughing, and so did Strider.
“You were almost credible,” commented Strider between laughs.
“Thanks, I’m working on my acting skills,” I replied from under Celly. “Seriously though, get offa me.”
Celly let out a chuckle and finally climbed off my bed.
“Good,” I said, standing up. “Now you two get out AND LET ME SLEEP!” I shouted, pushing the both of them towards the door and slamming it behind them.
With a sigh, I walked to my bed and tucked myself under the covers. Enjoying the silence and the warmth the covers provided, I shifted around, making myself comfortable.
Nothing could prevent me from enjoying several hours of well deserved sleep.
That was when I heard the noises, coming from upstairs… right above my room.
I raised my head from my pillow and blinked several times, pricking up my ear.
It began with the sound of a door slamming, followed by several thumps on the ceiling, as if some heavy objects had been dropped on the floor above. Then, I heard a bed creaking, followed by slamming noises against the walls, and occasional high pitched screams and guttural groans, both male and female.
Strider and Celly were at it… again.
I let out a long sigh.
My head hit my pillow and my hands covered my face.
After a few seconds, I slid my hands down my face, taking a deep breath.
“FUUUUUCK YOU, MURPHYYYY!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, raising my balled fists towards the ceiling.