//------------------------------// // Chapter 21: On the Road Again // Story: Flight 19 // by ImChangingmynameforreaso //------------------------------// Stivers sat up slowly, shivering as the blanket that had been keeping his body heat in slipped down, the chill mountain air biting hard through the thin khaki of his uniform shirt.  “Holy shit, it’s cold!”  The morning air was slowly lightening with the sunrise, the fiery orb still hidden behind the mountain range to the east but still managing to make its presence felt. “Air tends to do that when you’re high up,” Taylor’s voice agreed from behind him.  “You want me to fetch your slippers and bathrobe?” The Marine groaned, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks absently.  “Taylor, it’s too early for you to be this much of a cheery asshole.  At least wait until after breakfast, okay?” “What, and miss all the fun?  Never in life.” There was a dull clinking sound, and Stivers turned his head to see Taylor hunched near the fire.  The portable kettle was perched over the flame, and the pilot was busily stirring something and muttering to himself.  Midnight Arrow lay nearby, eyeing his efforts with obvious amusement.  Stivers peered blearily at them, rubbing one eye and waiting for the rest of his body to wake up.  “Hey, if you’re cooking breakfast for us, I want my eggs over easy.” “Keep wanting them.  Maybe they’ll show up someday,” Taylor retorted.  “In the meantime, you can have this delicious oatmeal.” “Oatmeal soup if you keep stirring it that fast,” Midnight offered.  “Slow down a bit.” “What, did you take cooking classes while I was on guard last night?” “Just the ones that teach you how to make edible food,” she shot back, but without the usual venom in her voice Stivers had noted of late.  “Did you sleep through those?” “Only the parts when you were lecturing,” Taylor returned.  He did slow his movements a bit, stirring the wooden spoon smoothly through the thickening mixture. “I can’t say I blame you,” Midnight stated.  “You need all the beauty sleep you can get, fur-face.”  She stood up and stretched.  “Looks about done.  I’ll go wake up Sword so he doesn’t think we’ve purloined his sugar stash.  Good morning, Captain.”  She nodded at Stivers and walked past him toward the low rumbling snore that indicated where Golden Sword was. “Morning.”  Stivers yawned heavily, blinking owlishly at her as she stepped past him.  He turned back to look at Taylor and shook his head.  “Told you to shave that shit.” “We’re up in the mountains.  I am,” Taylor stated carefully, “cultivating the image of a true mountain man, beard and all.” “And I still say you look like a bum.” Taylor paused for a moment, glancing over at where Midnight was nudging Sword awake.  “Fur-face?  The dame who’s got a natural fur coat from nose to tail is calling me fur-face?” “Weak comeback, Lieutenant.”  Midnight glanced over her shoulder at him, a smirk curling up one end of her mouth.  “And late.  Keep working on it, though.”  She glanced down at Sword again.  “Breakfast is ready, sir.  Mind if we liven it up a bit?  The sugar is in your pack.” “Huzz,” Sword managed, motioning to one side at where his equipment lay. “Excellent idea, sir.” Stivers chuckled as Midnight moved on to wake the others.  “How you feeling this morning, Sword?” The pegasus blinked at him owlishly.  “I have the most ridiculous headache.”  He frowned, rubbing one eye with a forehoof absently.  “I never have headaches.” “Sometimes the high altitude will do it to you.  I know we’ve been up here for awhile, but it can catch you off guard sometimes.”  Stivers dug into the pack by his side with one hand, searching by feel.  “Want some aspirin?” “Oh yes, definitely.” Stivers pulled out the medical pouch, pausing a moment to unhook the shoulder strap from where it caught on his pack, and flipped it open.  “Gimme just a sec...here it is.”  He pulled a small metal tin from the pack, squeezing it with his fingers until the lid popped open.  “Okay...I haven’t got a damned clue as to the dosage, but based on your body weight, two oughta do the job.”  The pilot shook two small white tablets from the tin and held them out. Sword sat still for a moment, eyeing Stivers wearily.  “Would you mind bringing them over?” The Marine grinned sharkishly.  “Really?  I dunno, I’m kinda nice and warm where I’m at.” “So am I.” “Yeah, but I don’t have the headache.” The stallion frowned severely.  “I have the sugar.” “Actually, Midnight has it.”  Stivers pointed, and the mare in question froze in mid walk, the tin of brown sugar held in her teeth, eyeing both the senior officers warily. Taylor hissed from behind him.  “Oooh, that’s low.  Caught between fires.  You’re in an evil mood this morning.” Stivers chuckled again and stood up.  “Just kidding.  Relax, Midnight.”  He walked over and handed the tablets to Sword with a flourish.  “Modern chemical science to the rescue.  Hope it helps.” Sword flicked the two tablets into his mouth with one motion of his forehoof and dry swallowed them without flinching.  “Thank you.  I think.” “You’re welcome.”  Stivers crouched down, shivering, the small smile fading from his face as he looked at Sword directly.  “You okay?”  he asked in a low tone.  “I really want to know, fella.  You scared the shit out of me yesterday.” Sword’s ears dropped, one corner of his mouth twitching, and he looked away, staring off to the south in the direction of the trail toward his home.  “I...honestly have no idea what happened to me.  I’ve never frozen up like that before, ever.  It was shameful.”  The words seemed more bitter to him than the medicine he’d just taken.  “I apologize for that display, Captain.” “To hell with that.  Nobody prepares you for that kind of situation, Sword.  I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”  Stivers glanced back over his shoulder at the others, watching them for a moment as they drifted over towards the cooking fire.  “Your troops might listen to me, but they need you.  Now more than ever.  So do we.” The pony looked back at him, and the look of sudden and open anguish on his face shocked the Marine.  He reached out and placed a hand on Sword’s shoulder, gripping it firmly.  “I’m here if you need my help, fella.  Anytime, okay?”  He held the contact a moment longer and then withdrew his hand before any of the others might spot him. Golden Sword opened his mouth, closed it again, then tried once more.  “Thank you, Captain.  I truly...truly...appreciate it.  And I’ll remember it.”  He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then glanced up at the human before him.  “Now go put your cloak on, you fool, before you catch cold.  You’re shivering like a foal at his first day of basic training.” “Aye-aye, sir.”  Stivers chuckled and stood up.  “Let’s get some grub, huh?” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gallivan shrugged his shoulders, settling his pack onto his back, then stopped, blinking uncertainly at the amused look Midnight was sending his way.  “What?” “I think we discovered another one of those Equestrian turns of phrase we were talking about at the monastery.”  She chuckled softly.  “Do you always order your soldiers to ‘saddle up’ before moving out?” “Oh!”  The sergeant laughed out loud, the sound pleasant for its rarity alone.  “Actually, yeah, we kinda do.  I guess it’s a leftover from back in the old days when we had mounted cavalry and we actually did have to saddle up the horses before riding off.” “Ah, well.  I suppose it does make sense in that context.”  She frowned a bit.  “It still feels kind of strange that you used horses, ponies and mules as beasts of burden.” “Different world ma’am, just like Captain Stivers said.  Our animals are just….animals, y’know?  They don’t talk or really think, as far as I know.”  He spread his hands out at his sides.  “Don’t take it personal, huh?” Midnight’s cheeks colored slightly under her fur.  “Oh, no, I apologize, Sergeant.  That wasn’t what I meant.”  She glanced over one shoulder at the others, who were finishing the packing up of their camp, and lowered her voice.  “For what it’s worth, I honestly thought you were all some odd sort of enchanted monkeys or somesuch when I first met you.”  The flush on her face deepened.  “I know better now, of course.  All your knowledge and your experiences...you’re all so like us, and yet so unique.” “I guess I learned my lesson about you folks myself.”  Gallivan nodded, then reverted back to his role as first sergeant.  “I did want to speak to you about the march order, ma’am.  We used to have Shadow anchor as our Tail-End Charlie most of the time, but we kinda need to reshuffle.” “Yes, of course.”  She peered at him curiously.  “Did you have a suggestion?” “Sure.  Let’s put Hoof at the back.  He’s sturdy enough, and knows his shi—uhh, his stuff.”  Gallivan rubbed his ear idly, a reflexive habit he indulged when telling officers their business.  “Let’s move Star up near the front with me.  I’d like to keep an eye on him, if you don’t mind.” “Certainly,” Midnight said immediately.  “Anything else?” “Would you mind marching just ahead of Hoof?  Maybe get Lieutenant Taylor to come with you?”  Gallivan motioned with his hands, as if pointing at an imaginary line of troops in the air between them.  “The good captains like to lead from the front.  I don’t mind that...it’s actually good to see, for a change, but I don’t like having all the brass in one nice neat package for somebody to whack if we walk into another ambush.”  His features colored darkly.  “We got lucky once.  I don’t like depending on luck in combat.” “Good point.  I’ll notify Sword.”  She hesitated.  “Did you want to tell Star?” “I’ll be happy to,” Gallivan said, relieved that she’d gotten the message.  “I’ll go get him.” Star said nothing about either the new march order or his own particular place in line, and that in itself brought another warning flag to Gallivan’s mind as the group began their trek back north along the cold, open highway of the gryphons.  Most of the sergeant’s own formal education had ended around ninth grade, and his own diploma was issued jointly by the school of hard knocks and the United States Marine Corps.  Within the depth of his own wisdom, he thought Star perhaps the brightest one among the group, even taking into account the officers’ extensive educations.  The pony’s retreat into silence bothered him on a gut level that he didn’t quite know how to express, only recognize the feeling.  He’d spent many long nights there himself. The group kept to a loose, two-by-two formation as they walked, almost without thinking, the odd number of their group providing the only jarring element to an otherwise neat pattern.  Once again they saw the occasional gryphon traveler along the road, usually pulling either a cart or with a heavy set of baggage slung under their wings.  More often than not the gryphon would give them a genial nod or a wave, and Stivers or Sword would return it, but other than that, the group did not go out of their way to make conversation.  They had lost too much at this point to be sociable to anything with beak and claw. The winter sun did little to warm them, as if aware of their mood and keeping its own distance.  Occasional skirls of icy wind would float down and caress them as they moved, sometimes bringing a touch of snow hither and yon, but the road was mostly clear, due to its sheer openness and the occasional sweeping crew that passed by them from either direction. “This outfit is pretty damned organized,” Stivers muttered, watching another group of gryphons move by, clearing fallen rocks out of the roadway and shoveling a snowdrift off to one side.  “It must have been a hell of a fight between you guys back in the day.” “So I’ve heard,” Sword agreed.  “After Aurora’s fall, both sides drew back and seem to have thought things over a bit.  A peace treaty followed not long after, I think, although when you’re talking about something that happened centuries ago, ‘long’ is relative.”  He turned his head to watch the gryphon work crew idly as they passed by.  “We’ve butted heads several times, but nothing to that degree of severity since then, I think, unless it was ‘off the books.’” “Which is kind of what this falls into, right?”  Stivers asked. “After we’ve had physical, mortal combat with a group of armed soldiers?  Whom we have a peace treaty with?  You could say that.”  Sword’s expression twisted wryly.  “Although I doubt it would get classed as anything more than an ‘isolated skirmish’ by the powers that be.” “Skirmish or war, dead is dead,” the Marine replied, somewhat testily.  “Christ, this is why I hate special operations.  That’s why I stayed the hell out of the Raider battalions.” “What were those?”  The sudden tone of curiosity in Sword’s voice was plainly evident, almost hungry, like a small child asking for dessert. “Specially picked groups of Marines who did some insane shit on our early landings.  Usually way out in front, out of touch with the main body, and on their own if things hit the fan.”  Stivers chuckled quietly.  “Sound familiar at all?” “Well, our situation is a bit different, I suppose.”  Sword shrugged.  “The mission chose us, unfortunately.  And the location was definitely not something we had any options—”  His step faltered, the stallion almost coming to a complete stop.  He stared ahead of them, his jaw open slightly, frozen in the action of forming the next word that had died in his throat. There was a slight gritting sound from behind them as the others checked their motion, and Thompson’s voice floated through the cold air.  “Uh, sir?  You okay?” “Tell Star to come up here,” Sword ordered, ignoring the question.  “Captain, I apologize.  I should have thought of this before we even set out this morning.” Stiver’s expression was nonplussed.  “Sword, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.  Mind sharing?” “In a moment.”  Golden Sword turned aside and looked back along their now halted column as Star trotted up to him, a hesitant expression on his face.  “Relax, Star, this isn’t a surprise inspection.  I just need to ask you a couple of questions.” “Yes sir.”  The other pegasus glanced over his shoulder at the others, then back at his commander, the worry lines still evident on his brow just under the rim of his helmet.  “What is it?” “I know you spent a great deal of time in the monastery library.  Did you happen to look at any maps while you were there?  Maps of this area in particular?” Star blinked, his demeanour changing to that of confusion; this hadn’t been the sort of question he’d been expecting to face.  “Um...yes sir, a couple, I think.  I didn’t spend a lot of time on them though, honestly, I was looking through the history texts more than anything else.” Golden Sword reached up and removed his own helmet, setting it down on the ground carefully before running a forehood through the matted fur of his forelock.  “I wouldn’t expect anything else, lad.  Relax.  You’re not in trouble, I promise.” Nodding, Star exhaled slowly, deliberately trying to untense himself.  He glanced again over his shoulder at the others in the group.  While obviously curious as to what was going on, they managed to keep their wonder in check and did as they were told.  At a muttered command from Midnight, they had separated, keeping spaced well apart as they spread out to either side and watched the tall hills and peaks on either edge of the wide road with wary eyes; the lesson of the ambush on the mountain path had not been lost on them.  “What was it you needed to know, sir?” “Did you study any maps of this route in particular as it heads back toward home?  I’m mainly interested in the area of the pass.”  Sword kept his voice neutral.  “Is it the only exit north of here, or were there other, alternate routes?” Stivers emitted a sudden hiss of indrawn breath, and Star’s eyes flicked up to regard the tall human nervously.  “I, uh, think only one map showed anything in detail, and from what I remember...no.”  The pony’s voice took on a more confident tone.  “I remember now because the cartography lines were totally whacko.  Looked like somepony dropped a bunch of hay on the paper and just drew lines around it.  Aurora’s Pass is the only entrance to this area; you’d have to go back south, farther than we did, and west a ways before you even hit another road back in this direction.”  He waggled a hoof idly to one side.  “It exits the mountain range over a hundred leagues from here, near a lake, if I remember right.” “A hundred leagues air distance, correct?” “Yessir.  On hoof, it’s probably at least twice that, maybe more; the road kinda gets all twisty up in a higher range of mountains.”  Star shrugged.  “That’s the best I can remember, anyway, sir.  I honestly didn’t look too closely.  Like I said, I was looking for history books.” “That’ll do well enough, lad.”  Sword glanced up at the look of dawning recognition on Stivers’ face and nodded.  “Getting in was easy enough; we were expected, after all.  I don’t know how fast word travels here, but I’m pretty sure the sentries on duty will have a problem with us leaving, especially after our fracas with the ambush squad on the mountain.” Stivers nodded grimly.  “I doubt the guards at the pass knew about the ambush itself, or even the mission, but I’m pretty sure that asshole whose head you took off is gonna be missed pretty quick.  And word travels on wings, here,” he added, glancing up at the sky with a mistrustful look.  “They’re gonna be up our ass before we know it.”  He glanced over at Star, who was sharing an Oh shit! look with Thompson, who had been close enough to hear the conversation.  “We have a problem, Sword.” “Quite,” the stallion said, biting off the remark bitterly.  “Well, I suppose we can try to sneak by under cover of darkness.  It’ll buy us a few moments at least.  We have to count on being spotted.” “That goddamn plain in front of the pass is as bare as a baby’s ass,” Stivers said.  “And those fuckers know that ground like it was their own front yard.  Hell, it is their front yard.  We’re gonna need a diversion.” “I’ll not spill any more of our blood if I can help it,” Sword said immediately.  “Whatever we do, we need to do it fast and clever.  We’ll have to split up, and I think that—” “Uh, sir?”  Thompson cleared his throat nervously.  “Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but I have an idea, if it’s okay.” Sword cut himself off in mid-sentence, and both he and Stivers stared at Thompson, who fidgeted under their gaze.  “Well?  Let’s hear it.” “Sorry to butt in, skipper, but any kind of fire and maneuver’s a shitty plan, “ the Marine said bluntly.  “We ain’t got much fire, and they have wings, so they can maneuver faster than we can.  At least us humans, that is.”  He gestured at himself.  “Any kind of engagement, we’re gonna lose people, whether they got wings or not.” “So we’re ‘people,’ now?”  Sword’s eyes gleamed with amusement.  “I remember a time when you would have cheerfully strangled all of us, Sergeant.  I’m touched.” “I was wrong, then,” Thompson stated simply. “And you’re right now,” the stallion replied.  “It’s going to be bloody work.  If you’ve an idea that will spare us that, I’m all for it.  I happen to also remember a time when another of your ideas saved our collective hides back in the desert, so I’m quite inclined to listen.” “Oh, hell, sir, that was nothin’.”  The Marine reddened slightly.  “Apply enough firepower and you can solve almost any problem, but we ain’t got a fifty-cal around right now, so we gotta think sneaky, like the Navy.  Except we can do it better.” Stivers snorted.  “Don’t let Taylor hear you say that.” “Aw he ain’t Navy, he’s one of us,” Thompson said dismissively.  “Anyway, skipper, you remember hearing about when the squids finally showed back up at the Canal with supplies back in ‘43?  Piles of crap on the beach.  Peaches, sardines, fuckin’ cigars.  We made off with half of that shit before they knew it.  One guy even made off with some officer’s slippers.  Uh, no offense, sir.” “None taken.  I used to own stripes too, you know.”  Stivers cocked an eyebrow.  “If I remember right, they had an air raid to help them out at the time.  I can’t call in an airstrike while we skedaddle.” “You won’t have to, sir.”  Thompson scratched at the stubble on his chin.  “Well, those assholes at the pass saw ten of us come in, right?  Five ponies wearing armour and five wacky looking things on two legs that they’ll sure as shit remember if they see them again.  So we don’t give them what they expect to see when we come out, is all.” “I’m not tracking you, Sergeant.”  Sword frowned. “Five pony guards and five humans go in, sir.  Coming out, there’s four pony traders with no armour on, and that stuff hides enough of you that they won’t recognize the manes and tails and all.” Sword frowned.  “Well...yes, I suppose so.  But you’re a bit much to stuff in my saddlebags, Sergeant.  How exactly did you plan on accompanying us?” “As cargo, sir.”  Thompson pointed past them, and the two officers turned, following his gaze.  Off in the distance, one of the gryphons was approaching slowly, apparently returning from the town of Clawttowa to wherever his home was.  Behind him, creaking and squealing as it bumped over rocks and ruts in the stony road, was a large, old wooden cart that had seen better days. “Thompson, you are fucking insane,” Stivers murmured. “Thank you, sir.”  The Marine smiled pleasantly at the two captains.  “Wanna see if the old geezer is looking to sell that piece of shit to some dumb ‘city folks?’” “Jesus, Buddha and Celestia’s aunt, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Taylor muttered. “Shush!  Celestia doesn’t have an aunt,” Midnight shot back under her breath.  “Now sit still, you big sod, we’re almost there.  If somepony hears you, it’s all up.” “How do you know she doesn’t have an aunt?  Did you ask?” The pegasus mare groaned and glared at the cart that rolled along beside her, where a familiar set of blue eyes was peeping out at her with amusement from under a tarp.  “No.  I swear, if we get through this, I’m going to smack you silly.” “Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty.” Midnight reached up with a forehoof and flicked it to one side, rapping lightly against the pilot’s fingers where they held the tarp up.  Both fingers and eyes vanished smartly, and there was a muffled sound from underneath the thick canvas covering.  “Now who’s talking dirty?” Golden Sword glanced around from his place in the harness where he and Star were pulling the wagon, one eyebrow arched in obvious warning.  “Problem?” “No, just shifting cargo,” she replied.  They had agreed beforehand to drop any rank or title reference until they were well away from the pass.  “Just making sure it doesn’t fall out.” “Hmm.”  Sword leaned to the left slightly as they walked, and the wagon hit a low rut in the road, the whole contraption jouncing heavily enough to make a pony’s teeth rattle.  “That ought to settle it down.” Crimson Hoof laughed quietly, marching on the far side of the cart from Midnight.  If everything else on this trip hadn’t been crazy enough, their stone-cold commander was actually displaying a sense of humor he’d managed to keep well hidden until now.  “Another patrol ahead.” “Normal routine, then.”  The group had already passed three patrols since they’d managed to buy the cart and the remnants of its contents from the gryphon four days beforehand, and none of them had even given them a second glance.  Traveling only in the daytime, with the humans stowed away uncomfortably in the cargo area, they were careful to pull completely off the road at night before letting the bipedal beings out to stretch their cramped limbs.  In their turn, the ponies grouped together into the wagon and slept, sharing their body heat while the humans kept guard; neither Stivers nor Sword was willing to risk the light of a campfire drawing unwanted attention, from either the ground or the air.  It was the latter that worried them both the most, and they made much use of the thin scrub that grew along the edges of the main road, piling branches randomly around the cart to break up its square outline and turn it into just another irregular blob in the darkness. So far, their efforts seemed to have paid off; the haggling over buying the cart had actually been more exciting up to this point.  They had stopped to chat with the gryphon who owned it, a merchant from a small shop in an even smaller town farther to the south, one of those dots on the map that only had a name because a road from somewhere important crossed another road to somewhere else important at that place.  He’d had difficulty selling his stock in Clawttowa, mainly old fabric and second-hand tools, and had been more than agreeable to offloading the remainder of it, including the obviously worn out cart. “Yah, I c’n make ye a deal on it, hee,” he had said, a clear glint of greed in his eyes.  “I’m about ready for a new one m’self.  Thing is, I’ve owned that cart a while now and I’m fond of it.  She’s well broke in, y’c’n see that for yerself.” “Broke in, or broke down?” Taylor had shot back. “She’s well seasoned,” the gryphon had said with a glower.  “Do ye want to do business or not?” “Business” had pretty much consisted of the wily shopkeeper squeezing them for every last bit of the gryphon coinage they had left over from William’s gift, but the old codger hadn’t wanted to let go of the tarp that covered the wagon, and the one element that they absolutely needed.  “It’s brand new, and waterproofed, too.  I got a good deal on it.” “So, you can give us one, too?  Seriously, this is all the shine we’ve got left,” Stivers had said. “Sorry, big fella, I can’t do it.  Pity.  I could part with it for an incentive.” You greedy little shit, the Marine had thought viciously.  Fists balled, he had just about been ready to do a little heavier dealing when Midnight had broken in. “We’ve not got any more of your fair coinage, it’s true.  However, if you’re not averse to other kinds of gold, perhaps we could come to an arrangement?”  She cocked her head and offered a wide-eyed pleading look to the gryphon that would have had any pony in Canterlot scrambling to make a deal. “Well.  You’re polite, and fine spoken, miss, so I suppose there’s no harm in that.  What sort of arrangement did y’have in mind?” Midnight had reached under her left saddlebag and plucked out a small pouch, much worn and travel stained by this point, but the soft jingling sound inside was clear.  “Equestrian bits?  You seem to be well off, and I’m sure you’ll be back this way again, so they’ll come in handy when dealing with our folks next time you’re here, won’t they?” “Gold’s gold,” the gryphon had stated flatly.  “How much you offering?” “Would five bits see you?” “Twelve,” the gryphon shot back immediately.  “That tarp’s dear, and I’ll not be had cheaply by some foreigner.” “I do beg your pardon,” Midnight said quickly.  “I’m not really sure of the exchange rate, you understand.” “Quite all right, m’dear,” the gryphon had replied with a laugh.  “I can’t keep up with it meself half the time.” Which just proves you’re a greedy old git, who likes to squeeze, she thought.  Well, two can play that game.  “Allow me to start over.”  Her expression firmed.  “Seven bits.” “Wha—”  The old gryphon’s wings had fluttered in surprise before he settled down.  The mare before him wasn’t some oddball traveler, apparently, and she knew how to play the game.  “Ridiculous.  Ten.” Midnight tilted her head back and eyed the rim of the mountains on the opposite edge of the road idly, as if watching a passing cloud.  “Eight.  And that’s only if there’s no rips in the thing.  Otherwise, you can take five, or be damned to you.” The trader had clacked his beak alarmingly.  “I’d not sell a shoddy piece of fabric like that!  I just got the thing, as I already said.”  He stood fidgeting for a moment, then finally nodded.  “Eight it’ll be, then.” “Excellent.”  Midnight smiled sweetly at him, then tossed the pouch over her shoulder to Taylor, who juggled it for a moment before catching hold.  “Would you count that out for the good fellow?  I want to examine this piece of lovely fabric.”  Turning, she brushed past the pilot, lowering her voice.  “Take your time about it.  I don’t want him to know that’s all that’s left, there.” “Uh, sure, you got it.”  Taylor shot the gryphon a sour look and carefully counted out the pieces one by one, handing them over and carefully holding the now empty pouch as if his life’s fortune was inside.  “That’s all, fella.  The rest is for back home.” “Pity.  I like doing business with you folks, hee?  Think you should come back to Clawttowa again in another moon or so, I’ll have a nice display set up in the main bazaar.” “Not bloody likely,” Sword had murmured.  They had made their goodbyes as pleasantly as possible for a group that had been practically fleeced, with Midnight fussing loudly over the layout of the cart’s contents until the gryphon was beyond earshot.  Once they were sure he was well on his way, Sword had walked over to where the other officers stood grouped together.  “Lieutenant, was that the last of your bits?” “All I had left over, sir.”  She exhaled with obvious relief.  “Any more haggling, and we’d have had to try sterner measures.” Gruebel had elbowed Gallivan in the ribs at that.  “Might have had to sell a piece of your ass, Sarge.  Not that its worth that much; most of it’s shot away.” The sergeant had given Gruebel a withering look.  “My ass and your face, private.  You’d get about the same price for either one, even odds.” The sun had set long before, and the sky was open and clear above them, the stars a scattering of diamond points that swept brilliantly over the vault overhead.  The moon was not yet up, but the narrows of Aurora’s Pass before them were easily visible in the light of several watch fires, and shadows passed before them at regular intervals. Midnight took in a deep breath and swallowed, edging closer to the cart.  She wished desperately for a moment that she was wearing her armour plate, but that was the whole point of the thing.  The armour rode hidden in the cart now, along with the more vital cargo.  “We’re nearly there,” she murmured.  “Keep quiet now, for all our sakes, and no matter what happens, stay still.” There was a muffled double-tap against the inside of the wooden cart as acknowledgement, and the mare moved back up to walk next to where Sword and Star stood in the traces, pulling steadily.  “Ready as we’ll ever be.” “Let’s do this, then.  Har-aii,” the stallion responded.  Sword glanced over at Hoof.  “You’re on.  Make it good.” “I always do.”  Hoof sped up a bit until he was leading the group by about a full body length, then put on an impatient air, glancing behind him.  “Step lively, for Celestia’s sake!” he shouted.  “We’ve got good money sunk into that stuff.  Bad enough we had to sink more of it into your sorry hides.  We’ve got a time bonus waiting if we get in early, remember?” “Yeah, yeah.”  Star panted and glared at the other pony, fighting hard to keep from looking at the three gryphon guards who had stopped their pacing and were angling in their direction.  “You’ve only told us, like, ten times, already.” “Twelve,” Sword added in a low, unfeigned grunt of effort.  The combined weight of the humans, armour and other belongings in the cart was pushing the limits of the ponies’ endurance, forcing their speed to a low crawl. “Surprised he can even count,” one of the gryphons snorted as they closed in and stopped in front of the group, forcing them to a halt.  “Names, destination, cargo,” he said in a bored voice. “Name’s Scarlet Stomp,” Crimson Hoof said.  They’d had no idea if the gryphons knew of the pony predilection for having names related to their cutie marks or talents, but they’d decided to take no chances.  “Heading back home on another cargo run to Canterlot, Ponyville, and anywhere else where gold’s good.”  He brightened.  “Speakin’ of which...you fellas interested in a sale or two?  You could save me some time by taking some of this load off my hooves.” “Mine, too,” Sword groused.  “Stuff’s heavy, boss.” “So’s your head, which is why I pay you for your legs,” Hoof shot back.  “Now shut up and let grownups talk.”  He turned back and offered the gryphons a wan smile.  “Sorry about that.  They agree to contract rates and then complain about it the whole way.” “Sounds like army pay,” the lead gryphon said agreeably, but his eyes were unsmiling.  “What’s the cargo?” “Dry goods, a few perishables, which is why I’m in a bit of a hurry, and some fabric or something.”  Hoof waved a foreleg absently.  “Buying’s not my specialty, I’m afraid.” “What moron hired you to head up this team, then?” the gryphon commander shot back. “That would be me.”  Midnight strode forward, flicking her mane out of her eyes.  She had clipped on the earrings that Cadance had purchased for her in Clawttowa, and the gems shone viciously in the reflected firelight.  The gem of the Pentachoron was safely stowed away in a small pouch at her side; she had no intention of letting anyone other than her own group get a sight of that.  “My name is Sure Shot, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.  I quite forgive your remark, Captain, as you’re correct.  I should have chosen a better crew, but I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’m afraid.”  Unlike Sword, who had kept his words short and clipped, she allowed the full richness of her Canterlot accent to hold sway.  “Would you mind passing us through chop-chop?  I’d so much like to get back home as quick as possible.” “Tough night for you, then.  Besides, I’m a sergeant.”  The gryphon waved a foreclaw at the cart.  “Open ‘er up so we can inspect the lot.” “Oh, that’s quite all right, we’ve a manifest from the Clawttowa Trade Overseer.”  Midnight smiled widely.  “Such a charming fellow, and quite obliging.  Give the good Captain the list, Stomp.” “I’m a sergeant,” the gryphon repeated in a resigned tone.  Civilians.  Pony civilians.  Just great.  He was supposed to get off duty in ten minutes and inside out of this cold wind.  The vague sense of excitement he had gotten at initially sighting them was fading rapidly; this group didn’t match the description of the one he’d been briefed on by his commander earlier in the evening.  That fact eliminated them as a threat and turned them into something worse: boring routine.  “Fine.  Give it over, then.” Hoof fiddled about with his saddlepack for a moment, frowning.  “Sure, I, uh...just a moment.”  Luna’s sake, Lieutenant, what are you doing?  Manifest?  The plan had involved a quick bluff and a goodly dose of random bullshit, which was something Hoof was fairly good at at short notice, but things were going off the rails rapidly. Across from him, Midnight glanced at the gryphons.  Their attention was mostly fixed on Hoof at the moment, and she’d blurted out the line about the manifest as a desperate bluff.  A little more forethought and they might have actually managed to come up with something beforehand, but she hadn’t expected it to actually work.  Midnight Arrow had never even heard of a Trade Overseer, much less met one. You’re wasting time,  the cold voice of the Pentachoron spoke up suddenly from that dank room at the back of her mind.  He’s cold and bored and he’s going to rip the tarp off your pathetic meatwagon in a moment.  You’re disappointing me, Midnight Arrow.  I thought you were more exciting than this. The mare shivered, a spark suddenly shooting up from within her and filling her with a dull heat of anger.  She glared hotly at Crimson Hoof, the rage boiling over, curling her voice into a barbed weapon as she spoke.  “Oh for Celestia’s sake!  Go ahead.  Tell me you’ve lost it.  You don’t have it any more, do you?  Do you??”  The words ripped out of her and through the cold air, and gryphons and ponies alike were staring at her in shock.  “I don’t believe this!  The first real profitable trip I’ve made in six moons, with a chance for a real bonus.  I could upgrade this cart.  I could upgrade ALL of you!”  Midnight seethed and began pacing back and forth.  “What happens?  My majordomo decides to lose the manifest I gained at quite the effort, and when all we need is a simple inspection pass, what do I get?  Delays.”  Her voice dropped to a growl.  “Delays.  My cargo contains several items of some interest to Commander Shining Armour in Canterlot.  Items which would be horribly damaged by the cold if exposed, and would be quite worthless to him, which, in turn, would make him not as grateful as he could be.”  She jerked her gaze to the gryphon sergeant.  “I’m sure you are aware of how grateful a soldier can be, hmmm?” The gryphon blinked, wondering just who this hellion was and why she had shown up on his watch.  Ten more lousy minutes.  “Uhh, yes, ma’am, we can be.” “You see?”  Midnight lifted her head, glaring triumphantly over at Hoof, who was staring at her, slackjawed.  “It’s all about timing, you know.  Your poor planning caused delays.  Delays.  I should have been halfway home by now, but nooooo, and now it’s started, and I have to travel with you idiots when I could be looking forward to some royal gratitude and...comfort.”  Her eyes narrowed, and she flicked her tail from side to side in a slashing manner as she looked back at the gryphons.  “I was born into a traditional family, Captain.  I happen to like soldiers.”  She sauntered forward, closing the gap between them.  “You look like a brave one.  Serving your duty out here in the cold.  You’re a tough one, yes?” The gryphon sergeant felt his wings clamp tight against his sides in reflex, and he glanced over at Hoof, who was shaking his head emphatically, eyes wide.  The two ponies who stood still, harnessed to the wagon, had a look of obvious horror on their faces while simultaneously trying to look like they were hearing nothing at all.  “Uh, no, ma’am.  Just need to do a quick inspection, and we’re through here, that’s all.” “Quick?  Oh, how quick can you be?”  Midnight’s eyelashes fluttered as she stepped closer to the gryphons again.  The other two guards fell back several steps, and the sergeant found himself suddenly alone with an obviously addled mare less than his own body length away.  “Not too quick, I hope.  I can see you’re shivering in that horrid armour.”   Her voice dropped, becoming guttural.  “I can help with that.” “No!  Just...a quick safety inspection, and we’ll be done.”  The gryphon sergeant took a cursory look at the wagon, and if a safety inspection had been warranted, he would have failed the rickety contraption immediately; it was obviously overloaded and looked like it would collapse any minute.  The thought that it might do it right here, in front of him, sent a cold chill through him that had nothing to do with the freezing night wind.  Out of courtesy, they would have to put the civilians up in the guardpost until morning, and this mare would be there, waiting.  “Uh, looks like you’re, uh, good to go!”  He offered a wide, insincere grin.  “Looking good there!” “You think so?”  Midnight cooed, stepping up to within touching distance. “Absolutely!”  The sergeant cringed backwards, creeping back a step.  You didn’t run from hunting animals, or else they would pounce, and…  “You’re good to go, ma’am!  Have a safe trip home, and we hope you enjoyed your stay with us!”  He backed up out of the way, tossing off a salute and shouted to the other gryphons nearby to clear the road. Hoof took that as his cue, and cleared his throat.  “You heard him!  Move it out, slugheads!  The mistress is in a hurry, and she doesn’t like waiting!” “I’ll say,” Star murmured from his place in the traces, but he pulled forward with Sword and the cart began rolling and bouncing again, the two stallions trying not to move too quickly as they passed between the towering crags on either side.  The other gryphons on guard watched curiously as they passed through, the mare following them at the rear of the cart and administering such a tongue-lashing of invective that if the stallions appeared to be in a hurry, none of the gryphons could blame them. The cart creaked as it came to a halt, and Golden Sword exhaled heavily.  “I think...this will do, for the moment.”  He glanced over his shoulder, the wind whipping his forelock out of his eyes as he glanced behind them at the mass of Aurora’s Pass off in the distance.  “We’re well over a league away now, and it’s dark enough that we should be safe.” “Thank Celestia,” Star groaned, sighing as the straps of the cart’s harness slackened on his frame.  “It feels like we’ve been hauling stone for the past ten minutes.” Midnight glanced behind them, then trotted up to the edge of the cart and tapped on it with a forehoof.  Her cloak whipped and billowed around her, and she had to raise her voice to be heard.  “It’s all clear.  You can come out, now.” The edge of the tarp rustled underneath the ropes that held it down, and Gallivan’s face peered out from under the flap of fabric, his hair tousled around his features.  “You sure, Ell-Tee?  It’s mighty warm under here.” “Then you can get out and pull for a bit while we jump in and take a breather,” she replied edgily.  The moon rode higher in the eastern sky, but was mostly obscured by clouds, leaving them buried in a pool of night.  Still, she felt incredibly exposed on the open plain before the pass, as if a set of unseen eyes were watching them all and waiting for something.  “Come on.” “You heard her,” Stivers’ voice spoke up.  “Un-ass the vehicle, troops.” A pair of booted feet appeared, and Gruebel’s form emerged from the end of the cart. He swayed unsteadily, shivering, his eyes blinking owlishly as he looked around them.  “Holy shit, I forgot how cold this place was!” “You can warm up while we march, then.”  Gallivan rolled out behind him and tossed out one of their cloaks.  “Put that back on.”  He grabbed another, donning it quickly, then leaned in and pulled on something, then stopped at a muffled squawk of protest.  “Sorry, sir.  Move your foot.” “Yeah, no shit.”  A few seconds later Taylor emerged with his cloak under one arm, moving to one side and slipping it on as Stivers began to worm his way out of the confines of the wagon.  “Holy Christ, I can’t believe we did it.  I thought we were screwed when that guy ordered you to open up the cart.” “Yeah, so did I.”  Hoof chuckled quietly and shook his head.  “I thought I was good at misdirection, but the Lieutenant put me to shame.  How the hell did you come up with that?  It worked better than my idea.” “I...honestly, I don’t know.  I just got mad and it...happened.”  Midnight shook her head.  “Doesn’t matter.” Gruebel grinned at her, his teeth flashing in the darkness.  “‘I happen to like soldiers,’” he said in a falsetto voice that made Hoof snort in laughter.  “Ell-Tee, you are friggin’ amazing.” “Yes, that was a bit...unexpected.”  Sword finished unhooking himself from the traces and gave his second in command a curious expression.  “We all seem to be finding odd talents on this jaunt.” “Yeah, and mine is finding new ways to say ouch,” Stivers added, rubbing one hip.  He paused to hook his cloak about him, then glanced over at the two stallions who had been pulling the heavily laden cart.  “How are you feeling?” “Worn out,” Sword said bluntly.  “We can’t stop yet, though.  I want to at least get back to the Rock of the Horn before we call a break.  It’s too open out here and there’s bound to be at least one sweep of this area by a roving patrol, if that lot back there are any good at their job.” “Speaking of which,” Thompson broke in.  “You guys ready for a change of clothes?”  He pulled out an armoured helmet, the crest of which marked it as Hoof’s.  “You never know when you might want this.” “Oh hell yes,” Hoof said immediately.  He trotted over and retrieved the helm from the Marine and settled it firmly on his head.  “I think I’ve had enough of playing team boss.”  Leaping up into the cart, he began pulling armor plate out indiscriminately and relaying it to Thompson, who set it down on the ground for the ponies to sort out. “That tears it.  You’re all fired.”  Midnight felt suddenly giddy, the relief making her limbs tremble as the fact of their escape finally sunk in.  “I’ll get somepony else who doesn’t complain as much to do my work for me.”  She smoothed her forelock back and pulled her own helmet on, sighing as the familiar weight settled against her face and neck.  There was a clink! from overhead as she eased her ears through the slots in the armour, and she saw a dim gleam rolling around on the ground for a second before it vanished.  “Oh blast it!” Taylor glanced up from where he was untangling the straps of his pack.  “What’s wrong?” “I forgot I had those earrings clipped on, one of them just popped off.  Damn it!”  She looked back and forth, her eyes flicking over the dim stone around them but not seeing anything.  “To hell with it.  We don’t have time for—” Taylor held up a hand and crouched, heels against the backs of his thighs.  The pilot’s eyes glittered in the dim moonlight for a moment as he searched around them, then stopped, pointing.  “There.” Midnight looked where he indicated and saw a faint gleam about twenty feet away.  The earring had gone farther than she would have expected it to, and she trotted over and picked it up with a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.”  Removing the other from where it was clipped to her ear, she tucked both carefully away in the small pouch that had held her coins.  “It was a gift from Princess Cadance, and I would have hated to lose it.” Taylor’s booted feet rasped against the stony ground as he walked over to join her, stooping beside her and dropping his voice down to a low tone that barely carried between them.  “Midnight, relax.  You did it.  We’re out of there.” “I know.”  She kept her voice even but did not turn, reaching up with a forehoof to tuck her mane back up beneath her helmet so it wouldn’t pull when she moved; her ebon locks were grown far past regulation and she really needed to see about that.  It wouldn’t do if they got caught on— “Are you okay?”  Taylor reached out hesitantly, but refrained from touching her shoulder.  “What is it?  Please talk to me.  I swear I won’t say anything to anyone else.” Mmmm, isn’t he considerate?  The voice of the Pentachoron was cold in her mind, colder than the wind that cut steadily around and through them.  Maybe I should leave you two alone for a bit while you warm up, it tittered.  Oh!  You can even tell Fluttershy about that the next time you start scribbling to her.  It might liven up that boring sheaf of paper you call a journal. “Oh for Luna’s sake, shut up and leave me alone,” Midnight growled.  “I’ve heard enough of your voice tonight.” Taylor jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  His knees popped as he straightened up and stood.  “I’ll go, uh, get your armour, okay?” “No!  Not you!”  The mare whirled around and looked up at the Lieutenant; the human looked like he’d just been punched in the stomach.  “Taylor, I’m sorry.  That wasn’t directed at you at all.”  She could hear the cold, empty laughing of the voice in her head and shoved it away with an effort.  “I apologize, really.” “Okay, okay.”  He opened his mouth to say something else, then paused as Stivers walked over toward them.  “What’s up?” “Thought Midnight might want the rest of her gear.”  Stivers set the metal plates down carefully, along with the packs that bore the pegasus’ name stenciled on the inside of the straps.  “You okay?” “Yeah, just dropped some stuff, we were getting everything picked up.”  Taylor glanced over the other pilot’s shoulder.  “We almost ready to move?” “Yeah, I just wanna check over Sword and Star before we go any farther.  That was one helluva pulling job they did.”  Stivers touched a forefinger to his brow and nodded at Midnight.  “And one hell of a job pulling our asses out of the fire back there, Lieutenant.  Damn good.  Thank you.” “You’re perfectly welcome, Captain,” Midnight returned in a normal tone of voice.  “Just doing my job.” “You keep on doing it like that, I’ll be saluting you before we get back at this rate.”  Stivers smiled, then turned around and frowned immediately.  “Star!  Hold up a minute.  I want to check something.”  He headed off toward the rest of the group at a fast walk, leaving the two of them alone again. Taylor watched him until he was out of earshot, then turned back to where Midnight still stood.  The mare had unslung the pouch she’d been carrying against her side.  Setting it down between them, she flipped it open, then paused, peering down into it unhappily, like a small child who has been told she has to clean her plate before she’s allowed to leave the dinner table.  He leaned over and peeked in, and saw the jewel of the Pentacharon within, glimmering at the end of its chain.  “Oh.” “Yes,” she sighed.  “I wish I could drop this instead and not find it again.” “It’s talking to you again, isn’t it?”  Taylor asked, his gaze still fixed on the gem at the bottom of the pouch.  It lay there as if peering up at him, daring him to pick it up and see what might happen.  “That’s what shook you up back at the pass.” She blinked and stared at him.  “How did you know?” “Midnight, I’ve heard you in damn near every mood I can think of, including being pissed off, and that was at me.  I sure as hell won’t forget that soon.”  Taylor looked up and met her gaze.  “I’ve never heard you that furious before, ever.” The pegasus laughed uneasily.  “Well, I was pretending to be a particularly deprived mare in a bit of a mood.  I’m pretty sure you’ve not heard that one from me or anypony else, yet.” “Relax.  I know that wasn’t like you, and it’s okay.”  He smiled at her gently, not the crooked grin he usually used when he was yanking her tail with some joke, but one that touched a depth in his eyes.  “You saved our lives back there.  Regardless of how you did it, you did it, not some fucking goblin locked away in that damn jewel.”  He reached over and picked up her armour plate, lifting it up and settling it over her back carefully, the clamshell shape folding down to match her form along her sides.  “Don’t forget that.” Midnight stood motionless, feeling the armour tighten comfortably about her as he began buckling the straps and marveling at the fact that he’d evidently been paying attention to how the complicated setup was done.  “But...what if it….what if I—” “What if I slip and crack my clumsy head on a rock?  Hell, Midnight, you can’t control everything.  Just worry about the stuff you can control and let the rest of the world deal with itself.”  He finished buckling the straps and reached down into the pouch, lifting up the Pentachoron carefully by the chain it was attached to.  “As for this thing?”  He reached out and fastened it around her neck, the gem clinking lightly against the metal armour plating.  “Next time it says something, go tell it two things.  First, it can go play hide and go fuck itself.” She giggled in spite of herself.  “That ought to make for an interesting conversation.  What else should I say?” Taylor fished the golden wings out of the pouch and held them up before her eyes before pinning them carefully back in place on the front strap of the armour.  “Go Navy.” Midnight felt a warm flush pass through her, and she looked up at the tall human who stood before her.  “Thank you.  For everything.” “No problem.”  He reached down and straightened the pin slightly, then winked at her, the familiar grin returning.  “Come on.  I think I hear Stivers bitching somebody out that ain’t us.  Let’s go watch.” “I’m telling you sir, I’m fine.”  Star’s voice was a low growl.  “I don’t mind pulling the cart more.” “And I’m telling you to get the fuck out of that harness and take a break.”  Stivers’ voice was uncompromising.  “The strap’s cutting into your shoulder.  How long have you been bleeding?” “A little while,” the pony replied sulkily.  “It’s just a chafe, I’ve got worse from my armour before, sir.” “And did you act like a total asshole then, too?”  Stivers looked over at Sword.  “Jesus Christ, you two are like an old married couple who won’t admit you’re wrong.” Golden Sword sighed.  “Lad, I’m afraid I see his point.  You do need a rest.  You’re not doing any of us any good by sitting there and leaking.” “What about you, sir?”  Star looked over at his commander, who was acting much more chipper now that he had his own armour on again.  “You said earlier you were tired.” “We’ve been here a good half-hour already,” Sword shot back.  “I just needed a breather.” “Yeah, and you can both get a nice, good breather by sitting in the back of the cart while somebody else pulls it.”  Stivers crossed his arms and glared at both of the ponies before him.  “Don’t make me give you an order.” Sword eyed the human balefully.  “You don’t outrank me, Captain.” “No, but I’m big enough to pick you up and put you back there,” Stivers replied, giving the pegasus a shark-like grin.  “Plus I’ll have Gallivan lay on both of you to keep you still if you don’t behave.” “Works for me, skipper.”  Gallivan shrugged.  “I wouldn’t mind sittin’ on the two of ‘em for a few hours.  Beats walking.” “Besides, we can make better time this way.  We can all take shifts, rest, and keep moving without having to stop for anything.”  Stivers held up his hands.  “We can’t leave the cart here anyway; the gryphons would find it by morning.” Golden Sword looked at him, then exhaled slowly.  “You’re...incredibly correct, Captain.  And I do admit I could use a break off my hooves for just a bit.”  This was more than an understatement.  The stallion could feel his legs quivering under him as he stood, burning with fatigue, but he would be damned if he would admit that out loud.  “Let’s let the others do their part, Star.  You and I will stand watch and be a rearguard, what do you say?” Star stood head down for a moment, then finally nodded, clearly unhappy but unable to come up with any reasonable argument.  “Yes, sir.” “Finally.”  Stivers eyed the pony for a moment.  “Gallivan, help him out of that truss.  I want to get some ointment on those cuts before the muscles stiffen up on him.” “Aye-aye, sir.”  Gallivan moved over and began helping Star unhook himself from the harness while Stivers moved away and began digging around in the back of the cart, looking for his medical bag.  The sergeant glanced around, then leaned in close.  “You did okay, buddy.  Take it easy for a bit.  Even Shadow would have had to take five every now and again, and ain’t none of us him.” Star shot the Marine a wide-eyed glance, but Gallivan was busy undoing a knot in one of the straps that had cinched tight near the buckle and cut into the pony’s shoulder while he’d been pulling.  “I...I wasn’t trying to—” “Don’t bullshit a master at the craft.  I know what you were tryin’ to do.”  The sergeant hummed happily as the knot came undone and he unhooked the strap and freed it from Star’s shoulder carefully.  “Just don’t do it again, okay?” Shining Star bit his lip and then nodded, unable to suppress a sigh of relief as the last bit of the harness dropped away.  He stepped carefully around the mess of leatherwork and limped alongside the wagon toward where Stivers stood with the bag, the large red cross on the front of it announcing its purpose.  The captain would have something that would take the sting out of his shoulder, and that was good.  He’d go take a rest along with Sword, and that would be good, too, because then he could keep on doing his part, and a little bit more, besides.  He owed Shadow that much, at least. His eyes lit up as he saw his armour stacked neatly near the rear corner of the wagon, but Stivers’ voice stopped him immediately.  “Uh-uh.  Not yet.”  The pilot sat down on the  rear decking, his legs dangling down, boot heels nearly scraping the rock.  “C’mon.  Get up here and lay down so I can work while you rest.” “But I—” “Once I get that cleaned and a pad put on it, you can armour up again and go play war.  After you rest.  The last thing we need is you getting an infection or passing out on us.”  Stivers glanced over at Sword, who pointedly leaped up into the back of the cart and settled down with an audible sigh of relief.  “See?  Even Sword agrees.” “Oh, yes,” Sword replied wearily.  “Sword most definitely agrees.  Come on up lad.  You’ve earned a break.” Star shifted from one hoof to the other unhappily, then spread his wings and kicked off, flapping twice before landing next to Stivers.  He laid down carefully, offering his wounded shoulder for inspection, then pointedly looked the other way.  “It’s not that bad.  Um.  Is it?” Stivers laid a hand carefully on the pony’s shoulder muscle, feeling it jump under the touch before relaxing slowly.  “Well, lemme take a look, here.”  He leaned closer and then caught himself with one hand as the wagon jolted underneath them and slowly began to move, the wood creaking and complaining in a fashion the Marine had heartily gotten sick of hearing over the past several days.  “Whoops, sorry.” “What’s going on?”  Star looked over the edge of the folded back tarp and stared, open mouthed.  Both Gruebel and Thompson had taken the leather traces of the harness, hooking it around their shoulders and waists in haphazard fashion, and begun to pull the cart, both men leaning forward intently as if walking into a strong wind.  “Okay, that looks just weir-OW!” “Sorry,” Stivers repeated, continuing to probe the pegasus’ injured shoulder.  “I told you, we were going to take shifts on the cart, and I wasn’t kidding.  Star, you got yourself one hell of an abrasion here, and it looks like the buckle cut into your muscle a bit.” “For Luna’s sake, lad,” Sword said, peering over the Marine’s shoulder.  “Why didn’t you say something?  We could have stopped and fixed the strap, or switched you out with Hoof before we got to the pass.” Shadow, why didn’t you say something?? Why didn’t you SAY something? “I….”  Star managed a croak, opening and closing his mouth for a moment before shaking his head. Sword narrowed his eyes, looking the other pony over carefully.  “You’re exhausted.  You’re relieved of duty until you get some sleep, and that is not negotiable, Private.” “NO!  Sir, please!”  Star’s eyes were wide and pleading as he looked at his commander.  “I can do my part, I swear!” “I’ve never questioned that, lad.  Not once.”  Golden Sword started to say something else, then glanced down.  Stivers was half-turned toward the other pony, and his right arm was stretched back behind him, out of Star’s sight.  The Marine’s hand was open, his fingers splayed outward, and he was waving it back and forth in a motion Sword had grown familiar with.  Back off.  The stallion clicked his teeth together and nodded.  “Light duty, then, at least until Captain Stivers says your shoulder is better.  Would you mind keeping overwatch and lookout duty?” Star fixed his attention on Stivers, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then made a grunting noise of assent.  “I think I’m okay with that.” “Thank you, sirs, I won’t let you down, I swear!” “As long as you let me lay down, I’ve no worries, lad.”  Sword gave the Marine a careful look as he bent back to the task of cleaning and bandaging the gash in Star’s shoulder.  Settling his chin down on his forelegs, he let the slow rocking motion of the wagon lull him down into a welcome embrace of sleep.  His eyes drawn down to slits, he watched as Stivers wrapped a clean piece of fabric around the wound, his hands and fingers moving nimbly as they tied it into place.  Handy things, those.  Handy.  The joke was no less funny for having been made before, at least to him. For the first time in his life, Golden Sword laughed himself to sleep. “You know,” Stivers said ruefully as he looked at the mostly empty wagon, “I wish we’d had something like this coming the other way.  We made damned good time getting back here.” “True enough.  I doubt it’s very aerodynamic, though, and you’d have had Discord’s own time of it trying to strap it onto your flying machines.”  Golden Sword chuckled at the mental image, then flattened his ears as a loud shout and a laugh sounded off to his left.  “What in Equestria is going on over there?” “Sounds like Taylor’s indulging himself.”  Stivers stretched, feeling his back pop, then glanced over to his right, squinting as the warm yellow glow of the morning sun shone through the leaves of the trees.  They had finally left the rocky hills behind them, and the uneven terrain here and softer ground had forced them to abandon the cart which had allowed them, pulling in relays, ponies and humans alike, to travel nearly non-stop back to where they had left the aircraft behind.  The wagon sat before them now, looking forlorn, a surreal objet d’art amidst all the greenness, looking as if it belonged in a painting or a drawing on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post. “Good morning, sirs.” Midnight ambled slowly toward them, pausing to emit a jaw-cracking yawn before drawing up beside the two.  “Saying goodbye to our companion?” “Goodbye to it and all the crap that sourpuss gryphon couldn’t sell to anyone but us.”  Stivers grimaced.  “Seriously.  Why the hell does a carnivorous critter try to make a living selling vegetables?” “Well, he had a general store thing going, if I remember correctly.  And Clawttowa is one of those odd places where you never know who might turn up to buy your wares.”  Midnight made a face.  “Turnips are an acquired taste though, even if you intend on selling them to ponies.”  Her face brightened.  “Oh!  There was something I was meaning to ask.” “Hmmm?” “I’m afraid Mr. Taylor has some odd delusions concerning our menu.”  She frowned.  “We typically have oatmeal for breakfast.  Not that our diet has a lot of variation at the moment, but still.  Every time I took my turn helping to pull the wagon when he was resting, he kept sitting up and saying ‘Mush!  Mush!’”  Midnight shook her head.  “We don’t have any corn meal at all, and why he would want that of all things to eat in the mornings, I’ve no idea.” Stivers tweezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, something Midnight had seen him do periodically when stressed about something.  “Uh...maybe you should ask him about it, Midnight.  I really don’t think I can explain it properly.” “Ohhh.”  The mare’s ears flattened.  She’d spent enough time with these people to catch hidden undertones in their voices, and there was definitely one here, now.  “Well then!  Are we ready to move out?” “By all means.”  Sword walked forward and gave the cart a rap on one side with his forehoof.  “And bid a fond farewell to our—” There was a loud cracking sound, and the stallion jumped back in alarm as the side of the cart quivered, then flipped upward.  A horrendous squealing and snapping sounded as the main axle gave way, and the cart settled into an ungainly pile of lumber and metal fittings, the wheels collapsing inwards drunkenly to rest on the shattered hulk.  Coughing, Sword backed away, then glanced around with wide eyes to the others. “Well.  That won’t be covered under warranty, I think,” Midnight managed after a moment. Stivers burst out into laughter, the sound rolling and clear in the greensward around them.  “Oh my God, Midnight, you’ve spent way too much time listening to Charlie’s bullshit.” “Thank you for reminding me, Captain.  I believe I’ll go have a chat with Sergeant Gallivan about this ‘mush’ thing.”  Turning, she strolled away, heading toward where the rest of their group was assembling their gear. Golden Sword looked after her for a moment, then glanced at Stivers.  “Do I even want to know?” “Sword, our good Lieutenant Taylor is liable to end up looking like that wagon if she finds out before we get moving.”  Stivers hitched his pack up higher on his shoulders, tightening the straps.  “I’d recommend we double-time it out of here.” Midnight worked her way up the moving column slowly, carefully peering about her and casting an occasional glance skyward out of habit, but there was nothing to be seen or heard at the moment but the clear chatter of birdsong.  After what seemed like years of walking on stony turf in the mountains, the soft earth and clean grass felt delightful against her hooves, and she almost wished she could remove the standard issue metal shoes they all wore and just go running over the turf, kicking up her heels like a filly just to watch the dirt fly. Just now, however, she was on a mission of intent.  The target she sought was near the head of the column instead of walking near the rear, as he’d been told to, but his haste was understandable.  The glade where they’d left the humans’ flying machines was less than an hour from here.  Soon he would be swallowed up in the business of flight and navigation, and she didn’t begrudge him that in the least: Taylor belonged in the air.  This was a concept she had no trouble empathizing with at all, and she longed to stretch her own wings in the sky once more.  Right now, however, she intended to give him a piece of her mind.  He’d been avoiding her all morning, had risen before she had and had been off in the woods, still wrapped up against the cold so that only his nose peeked out from under the hooded cloak. Less than five minutes talking with Gallivan had unraveled the ‘mush’ mystery.  It was a harmless enough joke, but she quite intended to get him back for that one, and in spades.  She’d put her knowledge of human idioms to work and had come up with a particularly nice one involving several anatomical references that would have probably started a fight back home, except that they didn’t translate well to someone from Equestria.  To a human, however, it would work quite nicely. “Lieutenant!”  she called out, trotting past Gruebel and Thompson.  Taylor strode just ahead of them, his hood down now, head cocking this way and that as he peered ahead.  “I’d like to talk to you for a moment.” “Yeah, sure.  What’s up?”  He didn’t break stride, but kept on moving, not even turning his head. “Well, I’m quite acquainted with your custom of dog sledding, for one.”  She was slightly out of breath and getting a bit irritated.  Was he ignoring her?  “I would appreciate it if you did not apply the term ‘mush’ to me any more.” Taylor slowed up, and there were several snickers from some of the nearby Marines.  “Oh.  Yeah, um….sorry about that.”  He finally came to a stop.  “Tell you what,” he said, still facing away from her.  “I apologize for that one.  That was stupid.”  He crouched and turned, giving her a smile.  “Friends?” Midnight halted, peering at him, feeling suddenly disarmed and foolish for having made a fuss over something so meaningless.  “Of course.  I wasn’t really mad, I just don’t like not being in on the jok—”  She stopped, looking at him oddly. “What, a guy can’t clean up before a flight?”  Taylor rubbed a hand over his beardless chin.  He’d borrowed a kit from Hoof and had shed the whiskers he’d grown since before leaving the monastery, although the lack of warm water to shave with had given rise to some interesting curses during the operation. Recognition flooded into Midnight’s face, and she laughed.  “Sweet Celestia, that looks so much better!  I’d quite forgotten what you looked like without that mess.” “Whaaat?  I thought you’d be used to folks running around covered in fur.  Or hair.  Or feathers.  Whatever.”  The light breeze tingled against his chin, and Taylor rubbed it again absently.  Shaving after keeping a beard for any length of time was a pain in the ass; your skin acted like a lady up on a chair with a mouse under it, screaming bloody murder at the slightest touch until it toughened up again. “For us?  Yes.  For you, not so much.”  The mare snorted.  “Although I’d almost pay to see what you look like with a faceful of feathers.” “Catch me on New Year’s Eve sometime, you’ll probably find out for free.  I’ve been known to dance the tango with a pillow while wearing a lampshade on my head.”  He grinned evilly.  “Best time that pillow ever had.” They began walking again, Midnight rubbing one side of her head with a forehoof.  “The frightening thing is, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”  She glanced around.  “I think we’re almost there, aren’t we?  I remember that birch tree, the one with the split fork off to the side, there.” “Oh, yes.”  Taylor’s face brightened immediately, and he broke into a fast trot.  “I can see the edge of the clearing up there.  Hold on baby, daddy’s comin’ for ya!”  He let out a yodeling shout and shook both fists in the air. “Charlie, hold up!”  Stivers called out, looking around worriedly.  “Jesus Christ, the last thing we need to do is walk into a goddamned ambush right here.  Charlie!” “I don’t think that will be the problem, Captain,” Sword spoke, his voice doleful.  The pegasus’ sharp eyes had already picked out the clearing, as well as the piles of brush and tree limbs that had been laid over the aircraft as camouflage.  He walked forward and stopped at the treeline, the others gathering to either side of him and standing still, all of them facing forward and looking at Taylor. Taylor stood motionless, breathing heavily after his sprint, the tall grass whispering against the faded khaki of his trousers as he walked about in a small aimless circle, staring at the flattened mass of limbs and brush that now lay against the ground.  Coming to a stop, he reached down and picked up a clod of dirt that had been thrown up near the brush.  Raw earth showed in several places, displaying clearly where several heavy objects had been dragged across the meadow and into a low cut between two groups of trees.  What the heavy objects were was painfully clear; there was no glint of metal visible anywhere in sight.  Whatever had taken the bombers had taken them completely, as if swallowed whole. Taylor turned back around, squeezing the clotted earth into powder in his clenched fist, and screamed up at the blue sky overhead.