February, 2002
North Arabian Sea
USS John C. Stennis
The wind blew at twenty knots, adding to the aircraft carrier’s forward movement of perhaps thirty. The combination made the total wind over the flight deck fierce, and made talking difficult to understand. The aircraft engines also added to the noise.
The big carrier was one of several, yet had a personality all its own. Those who were aboard had learned all of the little quirks that made Stennis unique. The carriers were the largest ships in the Navy's fleet. Two nuclear reactors, ninety aircraft, and five thousand crew. Everything worked in harmony to project the influence of the United States anywhere in the world.
Strapped securely into her airplane, Lieutenant Rainbow Dash relied on hand signals to communicate with the deck crew. They guided her to the number one catapult and readied the plane for takeoff. The blast deflector went up, and Rainbow brought her Hornet to full afterburner. She knew what to expect from the launch, and pressed her helmeted head against the seat back.
As the cat fired, the jet gained more than one hundred fifty knots of velocity in about two seconds. The plane's automated takeoff system made adjustments to the tail, and the aircraft climbed away from the water without input from Rainbow. She brought her hooves down to the flight controls and took over, aiming the jet for cruising altitude on a northerly course.
She was flying the F/A-18C, the improved model of the one-seat Hornet. It could not carry the same load as the Super Hornets or Tomcats that were also aboard the carrier, and it did not possess the awesome speed of the F-14. The basic Hornet, however, was one of the most agile fighters ever built. Even with the load of ordnance Rainbow’s plane carried, she trusted it to hold its own in a close-quarters dogfight.
“Axe Two, forming up on your wing.”
The calm voice on the radio was Rainbow’s partner for this flight, Lieutenant Guy “Milk” Gunderson. He maneuvered his plane into position beside and slightly behind her.
“I wondered when you’d get up here,” said Rainbow.
“Some of us like to take it easy and watch the clouds go by.”
“I think you’re just slow.” She laughed. On paper, the Hornet could travel at Mach 1.8, nearly twice the speed of sound. For this flight, they were cruising subsonic to save fuel.
Milk grumbled. “Who put you in charge of this flight anyway?”
“Luck of the draw. Think anything will happen today?”
“It’s a freaking wasteland. Just seeing signs of life will be a miracle.” Afghanistan was not an inviting place. As Rainbow settled in to pass the time, she reflected on why the United States Navy was flying combat air patrols over the country.
Terrorism was something that Rainbow hadn’t experienced in Equestria, unlike Earth, where it seemed to happen a lot. The art of terror was simple: if you can’t defeat an enemy one-on-one, then attempt to scare him to death.
There had been attacks that resulted in civilian deaths. True, many thousands of people died each day, but a couple thousand in one go was shocking. For a time, there was a lot of, well, terror. The only thing that could be done was to get back up and go on. If the fear got to you, then the terrorists had achieved their goal.
Rainbow was still not exactly sure what that goal was. A difference of opinion, it seemed like. What a silly thing to kill people over.
The United States wanted retribution. Rainbow could understand that, although she secretly harbored doubts about her role in it. She did not want to kill.
Rainbow was embarrassed that she had never considered she might actually have to fight. The oath she’d taken upon entering the Navy floated up to the surface of her mind. She’d sworn it. The honorable thing would be to abide by it. But was that the same as the right thing?
“Yo, Axe One, you there?” called Milk. “Ready to go feet-dry?”
“Roger that.” The two planes crossed over the shoreline and were now flying over the land.
“Man, it’s just as barren as I remember,” said Milk.
Pilot nicknames were not governed by any set of written rules. Often, they were just a play on the pilot’s name or physical description. Mr. Kraft could be “Cheese.” Someone with an unusual birthmark could be “Spot.”
Also common were nicknames that reminded of a past screw-up. Milk, for instance, had been told a funny joke while taking a drink and had accidentally spit up his beverage on the Commanding Officer. Not everyone could be an Iceman or a Maverick.
Of course, that didn’t imply that every pilot needed a nickname. Some managed to go their entire career without. So far, Rainbow had never been called anything other than the mild “Dashie,” and even that was not in common use.
The E-2 Hawkeye radar plane circling just off the coast kept Axe Flight in communication with the carrier. As of now, their orders were to remain on station and wait for something to happen.
It was not Rainbow’s first time on Combat Air Patrol duty. It was unknown what they might face, so the planes were loaded with a mix of weapons.
Both fighters were equipped with the same loadout: missiles, both air-to-air and air-to-ground; bombs; a machine gun; and external fuel tanks for longer range. It was best to be prepared for anything.
The time was now midday, and the sun shone brightly though the plexiglass of Rainbow’s canopy. Her darkened visor was pulled down, although the custom-made oxygen mast was unfastened. It was times like this that she did her best thinking.
She’d first arrived on Earth about nine years previously, just days after the first doorway had been opened. Wow, had it been that long ago? There had been a brand new President in the White House at the time, and now he was gone, two terms later. The new guy had a completely different take on things, some good, some bad. As a member of the military, she was not allowed to publicly express her political opinion, particularly not of the President. He was the Commander in Chief, and he gave the orders.
“Axe Flight, we’ve got a little job for you,” said the combat controller sitting in the back of the Hawkeye. “Some Marines could really use your help.” He gave them coordinates to steer for and a radio frequency to call.
Rainbow dialed up the new frequency and said, “This is Axe One, how copy?”
“This is the ground team.” The man gave them the authentication code. “Now if you don’t mind, we’ve got a target for you.” He sounded stressed. Rainbow thought she heard gunfire in the background.
“Going to ‘burner,” Rainbow said to Milk. She pushed the throttle forward. The computer readout gave her an estimated time of arrival. At supersonic speeds, it would be four minutes.
“Four minutes, ground.”
“Could you go any faster? We’ve got a big problem here.”
“We’re coming as fast as we can. Tell me more about the situation.”
“A group of hostiles has a mortar set up on the ridge above us. Thank God they aren’t very good with it. Things are still getting too close for comfort.”
“Do you have a way of marking the target?”
“No, but you can’t miss it. It’s the tallest point in the area.”
“Roger that, we’ll be there soon.” Switching channels, Rainbow said, “What do you think, Milk?”
“One low pass to confirm the target, then blow it up.”
“Sounds good.”
The Marine’s voice on the radio cut in, sounding frantic. “They found the range, and mortars are practically falling on our heads now. Where are you?”
“Coming in from the south. You’re going to have to sit tight for just a little longer.” Rainbow hated to put it that way, but there was only so much speed the jet could give her.
“Coming out of afterburner,” she said as they approached. The jet slowed quickly with the loss in power.
“We’ve got a visual on you, Axe Flight.” His words were interrupted by an explosion. “Aim for that hill, and do it ASAP.”
Rainbow swooped low, lining up the Hornet’s targeting package. There were visual, infrared, and other sensors that combined to give her a good view of the battlefield. As she went over the designated target, she saw the mortar setup with men standing around and…a pony?
“Ground, can you confirm that there is a pony at the mortar site?”
“Yes! Everything up there is hostile. If you don’t get some ordnance on it now, we are dead!”
“I saw it, too,” said Milk. “I don’t believe this.”
Rainbow was in shock. She had no idea what a pony could be doing in Afghanistan, especially cooperating with the enemy. She wanted to believe that she’d simply gotten it wrong. Maybe he was a prisoner. But no, she’d seen the stallion helping with the mortar. Forced labor or not, he was considered hostile.
“Axe One, are you all right? I can do this.”
“Wait.”
“Axe Flight, what are you doing?”
“Hold on.”
“They can’t wait any longer!”
What could she do? If the target wasn’t taken out, friendly forces would die. The target consisted of men and a pony that were flesh and blood just like any others. They could be dead at the press of a button.
Killing to save lives? Either way there would be death. Rainbow had to decide whose. All manner of lessons that she’d learned over the years swirled through her head. She couldn’t keep thinking about it, a decision had to be made now. She just prayed to Celestia that she was making the right one.
Back at the carrier, Rainbow set the plane on the deck. The tailhook caught the number three wire perfectly as usual, even if her mind was somewhere else. She was still thinking about what she’d done.
The sailor on ordnance duty noted that her airplane had come back short one bomb. He mentioned it to his chief. There are no secrets aboard a Navy ship, and now the word was spreading.
Rainbow climbed down from her Hornet and went to the briefing room for post-flight. They were going to analyze the patrol and determine what went right and what went wrong.
The pilots and the operations staff had a discussion about the data collected during the flight. The feed from the plane’s video was shown. Rainbow sank low in her chair as all eyes turned to her.
"The target was destroyed, although with some hesitation that could be eliminated in the future," said the operations officer. "Lieutenant Dash, do you have anything to add?"
"Um, no, sir."
When she was allowed to leave, Rainbow went to have a shower and try to come to grips with her actions. She went up to the deck and stood in an out-of-the-way spot with her wings spread and eyes closed. The strong wind allowed her to imagine that she was flying. It was calming.
There was a sound of shoes on the nonskid surface of the deck. She looked up. A chaplain stood there.
"Do you mind speaking to me for a moment?" he said, raising his voice to be heard. Rainbow shrugged and walked back through the hatch the man had come out of. Inside, it was quieter.
"Lieutenant Gunderson asked me to talk with you. I understand that you're a little shaken up."
"I don't know if you're someone who can help me."
The chaplain reached up to his collar and popped off his Cross pin. "Forget for a moment that I'm a man of God. I just want to talk to you about what happened. You're probably conflicted about how to feel, am I right?"
Rainbow nodded.
The man went on. "My duty may be religion, my number one job on this boat is keeping everyone in harmony. When one has problems, everyone has problems. You've got to get this issue sorted out."
"How do you suggest I do that?"
"You can think of it as inner peace. Once you've got that, you can work on your relations with the rest."
"Isn't inner peace the same thing as religion?"
The man nodded. "Many times, yes. Mostly, though, it's about being okay with who you are and what you've done. You can either come to terms with it, or let it eat you. If you made the right decision, fine. If you didn't, then do something to improve. Either way, you have to move past it."
"I don't know how."
"Talk to your friends. They'll help."
He said goodbye and walked away. Rainbow stood there, thinking hard. She felt terrible about what she’d done, but would she feel different if she’d chosen to do something else? Did her allegiance to the United States override her loyalty to Equestria? What about loyalty to her species?
It’s not the same thing, she told herself. That pony on the ground did not represent her homeland. Equestria and the United States were allies, both on paper and on a personal level. Any self-respecting pony would refuse to turn against a friend, even under threat of death. The stallion she’d seen was either a coward or a traitor.
It seemed like a very callous thing to think, but then, what was a mere thought compared to dropping five hundred pounds of high explosive on the target? She’d already rationalized the attack, so it shouldn’t take too long to get over accusing a dead pony of being disloyal.
She found Milk and apologized. It wasn’t right that he had to deal with her issues, and she didn't want to loose his trust. He was a skilled pilot, and good to fly with.
Milk said that he had confidence in her and would support her decisions. He didn't actually say so, but Rainbow knew that he'd forgiven her for freezing up and for having doubts.
She realized that the chaplain had been right. She had made a lot of friends of all kinds over the years, but one thing remained constant. Friends were there to help when you needed it. Friends were wonderful.
Author note:
As I wrote this, I wondered a bit what might happen if Rainbow had made the other choice and refused to kill anyone. She'd probably get some kind of punishment, if not kicked out of the Navy. I am in no mood to explore a story with a downer ending like that, but if someone writes it, I will happily link to it.