HMAS Indefatigable
Thirty Leagues SSE of Manehattan
60,000 Hooves Above Sea Level
He could hear the wind howling just outside the hull, its terrible song promising a quick death for anyone who stepped outside the safe confines of the airship. Relatively safe, anyway, the pegasus pony thought to himself as the Indefatigable shook from a particularly strong gust, her engines becoming louder for a moment to overcome the gale. Even all the way up here, it's tough going. I am not looking forward to this drop.
The thought of what awaited spurred the stallion to check his gear for the umpteenth time. Oxygen mask, check. Tank status, one half capacity. Thermal flight suit, check. Neigh West lifejacket, check. Compass, check. Radio headset, check. Emergency beacon, check. Goggles... He reached up with a foreleg at that, and soon enough pressed the eyewear down from his forehead until they protected his ocular orbs. Check. And stylish, too, though heavens forbid anypony ever hears me say that. This last thought brought a brief smirk to his muzzle, though it was covered by the opaque mask he wore.
“Feelin' confident, Big D?” A mare asked off to his left, having noticed his expression change from the way his face moved.
The stallion turned his head to give the other pegasus a smile. “As much as I can be, Val,” the male replied, noting his voice sounded odd in the thin air. “You know I hate these high-altitude drops.”
Val chuckled at that, and then gave her bright red mane a toss. “Don't worry little colt, Valorie's here to protect you,” she teased.
“I'm bigger than you,” the stallion protested, good-naturedly.
She smiled at that. Like the stallion, her muzzle was covered by a gray rubber oxygen mask. Also like him, though, her expression lit up her eyes enough to make up for it. “Then let's see if you can beat my record today, hmm?”
“None of you better be trying for any records,” a voice snapped at them, sounding harsh and commanding despite the thin air. Both pegasi startled, and then turned to their right to look towards where their squadron's commanding officer was standing at the head of the compartment. He too, was a pegasus, as were the nine other ponies sitting on the benches that ran the length of the Indefatigable's drop bay. “This mission is going to be dangerous enough without any of you hotshots trying for any sun-blasted records. If I see you two trying to carry out that rivalry of yours, I'll personally bust your flanks right out of the Corps! Am I understood?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Val and her stallion friend belted out at maximum volume. Neither were particularly eager to garner the lieutenant commander's wrath.
“Good,” the gray-green commander replied, his voice speaking of how unsatisfactory he really found it. “Since you two were jawing off instead of considering your part of the plan, let me review it again for everypony here so that you all understand your roles.
“As you all know, we are approaching the eyewall of Hurricane Orchid,” the gruff pegasus continued, his voice booming even through his mask, and he eyed every pony in the compartment with him as he spoke. “This storm has reached category four, and has its sights set on Manehattan. If it hits at anywhere near its current strength, it will flood the city and possibly topple several skyscrapers with its winds. Therefore, the Weather Corps has been charged with actively downgrading this mean momma until it's no worse than the usual nor'easters that rage through here in winter.
“That's where we come in,” the lieutenant commander said, and then paused for dramatic effect. “When the Indefatigable reaches the eye we will drop out and deploy in a crescent pattern, and then proceed to head for the southern portion of the eyewall. Once at the wall, we will begin cloud dissipation maneuvers to disrupt the convection feedback loop. If we do it fast enough and with enough force, the eyewall will collapse and thus bring down the rest of the storm with it. After that, we fly out through the rain bands, punching holes wherever we can, and then rendezvous with HMS Ark Royal due west of the storm. While we're doing that, the colts and fillies from the Inflexible and the Indomitable will be doing the same thing to the western and northern portions of the wall, so keep an eye out for them.
“I won't lie to you, this is possibly one of the most dangerous missions any member of the Weather Corps can be assigned to,” the commander added, his voice dropping ever so slightly. “We will be facing sustained winds of one hundred twenty-five knots, and gusts up to one-hundred fifty. The eyewall of a tropical cyclone is one of the strongest thunderstorms known to ponykind; it will be resistant to our effects, and it will take a lot of pounding to knock it down enough. Only the very best fliers in Equestria, neigh, the world could possibly hope to accomplish this mission and get out alive.
“Sadly, though, they sent me you lot,” the gray-green pegasus added, and then audibly sighed. “It's enough to make a grown stallion cry, seeing this pack of fairy-winged mud-hoppers they call a weather team. Still!” He added, shouting the last word as he swept his gaze over the room. “If you're what I've got, then I'm going to make damned sure I'll do the best I can to make up for it. How about it, Bravo squadron? Ready to show the world why the Corps kicks flank?”
“Sir, yes sir!” The other pegasi in the compartment shouted back.
“Good!” The commander said, and this time he actually seemed to believe it. “Two minutes to drop, everypony. Make your peace with the universe, or hum showtunes for all I care. Just get your heads clear and ready.”
With that, the commander quieted, and then started walking down the compartment, heading aft to where a single unicorn stallion stood at some controls. The weather team in the room remained silent as each mare or stallion contemplated the mission and what was at stake, and more than a few considered their own mortality. Valorie, though, just looked over at her fiend and then nudged him in the ribs with a foreleg. “Just try to keep up with me, Dauntless,” she teased him.
“So long as you don't go chasing after stallions again,” the gray stallion, Dauntless, teased back.
“Aw, where's the fun in that?”
“COMP'NEE, ATTEN-SHUN!” The commander's voice shouted out, making everypony's head snap around to the back of the drop bay. “Form up for drop!”
There was no spoken reply this time, only the sound of eleven sets of hooves standing up on the wooden decking followed by the noise of their owners lining up in two rows, facing the large door built into the rear of the compartment. Dauntless and Val stood side by side, only third in line. At the front the commander took his position with his wingmate, and then nodded to the unicorn dropmaster.
The unicorn nodded back, and then lit up his horn with the yellowish aura of his magic. A corresponding glow maneuvered some levers on the control panel the stallion stood next to, and almost instantly the shriek of the wind grew tenfold as the huge door at the back of the room started to open, lowering on hydraulic arms until nothing but clouds and sky could be seen outside.
No words were said, nor needed as the commander and his wingmate stepped forward, and then promptly hopped off. Despite his reverse psychology pep-talk, we really are the best, Dauntless thought with some pride at how no pony so much as coughed as the line moved forward. The next pair waited patiently for fifteen seconds to pass to ensure that the previous group would be clear, and then they, too, hopped out without so much as a glance backwards.
Now Dauntless and Val walked up to the door/ramp and then stood on it. The wind blasted their manes and tails about, though both ponies – like most Weather Corps pegasi – kept them short for just such occasions, and thus the thrashing was limited. Nevertheless, Dauntless felt his heart start to pound as the anticipation built, and he barely remembered to count down the requisite seconds before he, too, took the plunge.
Gravity seemed to disappear from the world, and Dauntless felt his breath catch in his throat as he took in the scene around him. The eyewall of the hurricane seemed to wrap around him, as if someone had constructed a cylinder of clouds stretching from the foaming ocean below up to the top of the atmosphere. Smaller, crescent-shaped wisps of clouds floated around just inside the eye itself, looking almost inviting as they seemed to lazily drift along. Dauntless knew better, however: the sheer scale of the cloud formations meant that any movement visible to the unaided eye could only come from high speed winds. Fortunately, he and the others were being dropped near the center of the eye, where the winds were almost non-existent.
Thinking about the nature of the storm reminded him of the ship that had brought him here, and Dauntless spread his legs a bit so he could roll in the air to face upwards. Above him the Indefatigable already looked like a small toy, and it grew visibly smaller as he watched the airship straining against the downdraft that formed the clear, calm skies at the heart of nature's most devastating storm. Of course, the Indefatigable and her two sister ships had been specially designed and built for high-altitude operations, and specifically for occasions such as this, where normal airships would have been torn to shreds because they could not climb above the storm, and so Dauntless had little worry over its fate.
The stallion reflected on this for a few moments, but a wave from Val off to his left brought him out of his ruminations. He turned himself in mid-air until he was upright again, and then checked his altitude via the simple altimeter strapped to his left foreleg. Ah, time to deploy, he thought, and then slowly started to spread his wings.
They caught air right away, and Dauntless grimaced as the initial shock strained his muscles a bit. Fortunately it was short-lived, and soon the pegasus had fully spread out his wings and angled them to follow Val's lead as she turned towards the eyewall.
“Bravo Lead to squadron,” the commander's voice sounded in Dauntless' ears, scratchy from the poor radio reception. “Synchronize maneuvers, six-zero seconds from my mark. Three, two, one, mark!”
Val bolted forward at that, and Dauntless followed immediately, making sure to keep his wingmate position to the white pegasus' left rear. Both ponies pumped their wings hard, building up speed as they began to steer right, turning to plow headfirst into the cyclone's winds. Dauntless clenched his jaw as he watched the tremendous tower of storms grow ever larger in his vision, and he felt the wind start to fight against him. It's so immense, so wild, the gray pegasus thought as he continued to pump his wings, pushing harder and harder as he followed Val in. How can mere ponies affect something so mighty, so indifferent to our meager little lives? Soon enough, though, he pushed such thoughts aside and cleared his mind of everything but the mission.
The stallion's change of attitude came at the right time, as Val abruptly slowed ahead and then rolled left and began to dive. Dauntless waited a few moments before he copied the maneuver so he could follow in her wake, and as he turned down he felt the familiar rush of adrenalin surge through his body as he folded his wings back, leaving just the tips out so he could still steer. No need for braking this time, he thought, as he followed Val down and forward.
The winds began to tear at them more viciously now, but their reduced surface area and high speed made them as bullets heading for their target. The eyewall loomed, and at the last second Val made a quick maneuver to reduce her angle of approach so she could point more into the wind. It was proven prudent a split second later as she seemed to cross some invisible wall and abruptly slowed.
Dauntless saw this and copied her moves before he grit his teeth as firmly as they would go, just before he was hammered by the same invisible wall. Stay on target, the stallion told himself, as he watched Val slam into the first bank of clouds in the wall. The fierce thunderstorms blasted lightning at her touch, as if trying to fight back against the onslaught, yet Val remained unscathed as she continued her steep dive, ripping a long, deep trough though the wall as her pegasus magic reversed the condensation heat effect that drove its impersonal rage. Suddenly forced back into a vapor state, the water molecules sucked up tremendous amounts of heat, and so even the clouds she didn't touch started to slow their furious ascent, which itself acted to arrest the condensation of water vapor.
Dauntless watched this happen within the space of a few heartbeats before he, too, slammed into the cloud bank, his forelegs stretched forward to concentrate as much as his natural magic along his line of attack. The storm seemed to scream at his insolence as lightning arced everywhere, adding its terrible booming to the cacophony of wind that shrieked around the pegasus pony. Dauntless lived up to his name, though, and he continued his dive with an almost single-minded determination. His only outside considerations were for his wingmate, whom he could still see below and ahead of him, and his altimeter, which would let him know when to terminate his dive.
He needn't have worried too much about the latter, though, as Val herself turned out of the eyewall and began to level off as she banked right. Once again Dauntless followed along like a good wingmate, and soon both ponies were flying horizontally at five thousand hooves, and going with the winds in the invisible inner boundary of the eyewall. They let the fierce wind carry them as they flapped their wings just enough to maintain steering and lift, and the red-maned pony in the lead took this opportunity to glance back and check her partner's condition by eyeball. Dauntless returned the look and then nodded to her, a gesture she returned before she brought her head back around and then began to climb.
Dauntless followed, of course, as he knew what needed to be done. Like the other thirty-five pegasi in the storm's eye, he had studied the operation plan back in Cloudsdale until he knew every part of it by heart. Despite what some ponies may think, the Weather Corps isn't a place for idiots, Dauntless mused as he followed Val through the updrafts. It takes discipline and skill to do this work, and do it well. He felt some pride at this as he looked along the inner surface of the eyewall and saw dozens of large, deep, slanted gashes ripped into the clouds, stretching into the distance. Looks like Charlie squadron's a bit late in deploying, he thought as he saw a few of the gashes along the north face of the wall still growing downward. Ah, well, no plan survives reality. Fortunately, we build in a lot of leeway for such things.
“Bravo leader to squadron,” the commander's voice again sounded through the headset pinned to Dauntless' ears. “Good run, colts and fillies, but don't get complacent yet. Climb to twenty-two thousand hooves and hold. Flight leaders call in when you get there. Bravo lead out.”
Val's gonna want to be first, Dauntless told himself, and then took in a deep breath to get a bit more oxygen into his bloodstream. Briefly he noted the taste of salt in the air, and his mind marveled at the magically-driven air valves that worked to cut off the oxygen bottle at lower altitudes, preserving its contents while other valves opened to let in the ambient air, though such thoughts disappeared as his flight leader started pumping her wings furiously to increase her rate of climb. Dauntless followed suit, and in all too short a time his altimeter showed twenty-two thousand hooves above mean sea level.
“Bravo five and six on station,” Val smugly called over the radio, the first to do so. With radio still a new and unpopular device in a world of magically delivered messages, the technology had not been developed much, and could not support more than a few channels in something small enough to fit on a pony's head, necessitating the use of a common channel.
Which is why Val's so dang smug, Dauntless thought with a grin, despite the heavy breathing he was doing as a result of the steep climb the two ponies had gone through. She knows every pony in the squadron just heard her call “first!”
The unspoken message had not gone unnoticed, if the tone of the other flight leaders was anything to judge by. Still, they remained cool and professional, and soon enough the entire squadron had reported in. “Alright, we won't have the speed from the high-altitude drop to aid us this time,” the commander began once the last flight leader had reported in. “And our dives won't rip as much of the vertical column, so we're going to mix it up a bit. When we hit the wall, each element is to do a thatch weave parallel to the inner surface so we can really turn up the shred effects.
“This is where we earn our pay, fillies and colts,” the gruff commander continued. “It's going to be easy to lose your bearings as we weave, so everypony stay cool and frosty. If you think you're in trouble, call it out and head for the eye, you can form up after the run.
“Any questions?” The stallion leading Bravo squadron asked, and then waited for a moment. No words reached his ears, and so he began to speak again. “Alright, synchronize maneuvers on my mark. Three, two, one, mark!”
Val broke left almost as soon as the last word left the commander's mouth, and Dauntless followed a split second later. Once again both turned towards the wall and pumped their wings hard, building up speed only to lose it again when they finished turning into the wind. Neither paid it no heed, however, and instead they concentrated on their maneuvers as they folded back their wings and dove.
As the commander had predicted, it was much tougher this time. Without the additional speed that falling from great height had given them the pegasi found the clouds and the winds much more resistant to their efforts. Nevertheless, both Val and Dauntless plunged headlong into the eyewall, though this time the stallion spread his feathers a bit to brake his descent in order to maintain a longer separation between himself and his flight leader. This was, of course, part of the thatch weave - a maneuver developed, appropriately enough, by a pegasus named Thatch Weave – which had both pegasi in a flight weave back and forth across each other's flight path. The purpose of this was to increase the volume of air a pony sliced through on his or her way down, thus increasing the amount of clouds one could dissipate with their innate magic.
Of course, it slows you down, too, Dauntless griped to himself, as he felt the terrible headwinds rip at him when he headed against them in one part of the weave, and then try to spill him in the next. Below him he saw Val having a rough time of it, as even for a mare she was on the small side and her lack of mass meant the winds had more play with her. Yet she persevered, and so Dauntless girded himself and followed her example and continued the weave. Soon enough, though, they had to leave the wall and level out, this time at only two thousand hooves. Once again, they turned to follow with the rotation to conserve energy, which Dauntless was really starting to appreciate as he panted in his mask.
“Bravo twelve, where are you?” A voice called over the radio just then, briefly startling Dauntless. He soon dismissed it, however, as he recognized the voice as being Bravo eleven. Probably just got separated in the clouds, the gray stallion thought. Happens often enough, even in regular storm busting missions. Hay, that's why the Corps bought these radio things in the first place.
Yet even as he thought this, Dauntless felt a nagging sensation crawl along his back. The feeling only grew worse the longer the silence on the radio continued, and it was almost a relief when Bravo eleven spoke up again. Almost. “Bravo twelve, I don't see you on my wing. Brewster, where are you?”
...Oh, no, Dauntless thought, and a ball of ice seemed to form in his belly
.
“Bravo eleven, this is Bravo leader, give me a report,” the squadron commander spoke up just then.
“Sir, I lost Bravo twelve in the clouds a few seconds before I turned out,” the pegasus stallion who'd called first immediately reported. “I... I don't see him anywhere near me, sir.”
This revelation only served to chill Dauntless further, and up ahead he saw Val shiver a bit as well, the gesture visible even amongst the normal muscle movements required to keep her aloft. Come on, be a broken radio or something, Dauntless thought, as he started to scan all around him, looking for the distinctive orange coloration of the standard issue lifejacket against the sea, or the yellow and black thermal flight suit against the sky.
“Okay, this is how we're going to do this,” the commander said, after he had taken a few moments to think. “Everypony, maintain your current altitude and try to orbit your current position as best you can. Odd numbers check the sea, even numbers watch the sky for Bravo twelve. Bravo eleven, orbit as well, but turn your radio to the emergency channel and listen for Brewster or his beacon to squawk. Report in on the main channel as soon as you hear either, or every five minutes before then. I'm going to switch to the ship channel and let the task force know we have a missing pony on our hooves, so Bravo two will answer you if I'm busy. Those are your orders, now execute them.”
No one save Bravo eleven replied, and even the suddenly lone pegasus was barely audible over the static-filled radio. For his part, Dauntless felt like screaming in frustrated rage, but he kept his feelings bottled up and instead turned his attention to scanning the airspace around him. Part of him noted that the two runs against the eyewall were already having a profound effect in destabilizing the feedback loop that fueled a tropical cyclone, which was evident as the cloud wall was becoming ragged and frayed. Yet this time he felt no pride, and instead only barely noted it in passing before he resumed searching for the squadron's lost flier.
Time seemed to lose meaning for Dauntless as he followed Val while she led them in a wide circle just inside the eyewall's slipstream. He supposed he could have kept track by counting the number of times Bravo eleven called in, but Dauntless ignored the depressingly negative reports and instead chose to concentrate on his search.
Eventually, the commander spoke up after one of eleven's no-contact reports. “Alright son, that's enough,” the normally gruff voice said, in a tone that was almost apologetic. “None of the airships have had any contact, either, nor have Alfa or Charlie squadrons seen him. As of this moment I'm declaring Bravo twelve missing in action.
“For now, we proceed on mission,” the commander continued, his voice still subdued. “This storm isn't down yet, and it's still too strong to let it hammer Manehattan unchecked. Bravo eleven, you're now overwatch. Stay in the clear zone and keep an eye out for anything, and continue to check the emergency channel at regular intervals. Everypony else, ascend to twenty-five thousand hooves and set up your next run. Flight leaders call in when ready.”
Val started to lead them back in another ascent at that, though this time it was more sedate and subdued. Dauntless was grateful for this, as he needed the time to struggle with his thoughts. Yet another name to add to the list, he thought, as he contemplated the fate of Bravo twelve. And we'll probably never know what happened. Could have been a wind gust, he could have made a mistake and spilled out or stalled, could have been a lightning strike, or heavens know what else. Tears threatened to well in his eyes, but the pegasus stallion forced them down. Not now. I didn't cry when we lost Hawker or Blackburn, and I'm not going to do that now. Dauntless took in a deep breath at that and then slowly let it out, letting the exercise calm his mind. There's work to be done, and the Corps doesn't leave any job unfinished.