August 13th, 2005
1400 Hours
Location unknown
When Cole was knocked out and captured by the Equestrians, it was a hard knock out, yet a somewhat relaxing one. It was as though someone flipped his switch from active to tired, and drained out all his energy to keep going, but it was better than being hit; more akin to being sedated by gas before surgery. One minute he was running and a few seconds later, nothing but the black.
He slept in his own peaceful world, dreaming random dreams, unaware of what was happening on the outside world. Sometimes he dreamed about his home, his life, his family, and some other, odder things that he would forget the details too. Sometimes he thought he heard voices around him, or felt as though something was carrying him; but he could never distinguish if it was in the real world of part of his visions. Either way, it kept going; with his sense of time deserting him.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, he felt his body jolt as it reactivated. Everything came back to him. He was not sure what had become of him, or what would happen later on. The United States and Equestria were not at war, but they were not friends, either; and now he was their prisoner. Did that mean internment? Or would they just kick him out of the country and send him back to the States?
Cole turned a bit, and felt something soft underneath him, like a cushion. He opened his eyes slowly, letting them gradually acquire the light in the room, before rubbing them clear and blinking a couple of times. He stretched out his limbs and sat up, and saw that, instead of a prison bed, he was lying on a couch. And, upon further inspection, he found that he was in a relatively normal room, rather than a prison.
The walls were painted in a dim white, with light bulbs shining from the ceiling. There was another couch on the other side, a few chairs, and two square tables; the only thing that stood out was a pool table shoved up against the wall, on one side, and a long line of windows on the other, which seemed to have been blown out and subsequently boarded up.
“What is all this?” Cole asked the empty space.
It was not a prison, but seemed to be more of a recreational room. He wondered for a moment what was going on, but he knew better than to start thinking what had happened was all a dream; it was far too real and clear in his memory. And, from the looks of it, he was still in his flight suit, worn and dirty from his attempted concealment, and with all of his valuables removed from it, as well; including his broken watch. Everything that could help in any kind of escape had been taken, right down to his boots.
There was no one else in the room, and he decided to take the time to explore what little there was to explore. He took his time standing up, his body still stiff from the forced slumber, and walked around examining things. But there was hardly anything worthy of note; being a rather bleak room in all. The only other thing was a heavy wooden door near the corner.
“I assume I can’t just walk out of here,” he guessed. “But, won’t hurt to try… I hope.”
He grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it, only to find it locked, as he predicted. That also would not stop him from trying to get out, seeing as how it was the only way out. He tried pulling it toward him first, attempting to try and loosen it. When that inevitably failed, he resorted to the opposite. He tried pushing the door forward and escalated to kicking and ramming it. The only thing that came from this was a good deal of racket and the ire of the Guard posted outside.
“Knock it off!” an angered voice yelled from the other side.
“Where am I!?” Cole demanded.
“Just wait there and don’t cause any trouble; somepony will be with you shortly.”
“Ok, not my best idea,” Cole thought as he returned to the couch. “Is there any other way out?”
It did not seem that there was. The walls and floor looked solid, and the fact that there were guards nearby did not help. The boards on the windows were probably nailed on tight, but perhaps they could be pried loose. But there was nothing immediately available to pry them with, and even if he did get them off, there was no telling just what was on the other side. Part of the Code of Conduct that he had to follow touched on this; if captured, one must continue to resist, refuse special treatment, and escape by any means necessary. But there were few means of escape readily available to him. Perhaps with some more brainstorming, he could come up with something.
Suddenly, the door shuddered and creaked open, allowing a bright-yellow pegasus in a uniform to enter the room. The plotting would have to be saved for latter. The uniform clearly gave the pony away as part of the military, but there was no sense of immediate seriousness about her; it was oddly distressing.
“Good to see you’re up,” she commented, grabbing a small wooden chair and setting it next to the couch to sit on. “I was kinda worried that we might have hurt you; no sleeping spell’s been cast on a human before. You were out cold for a couple days.”
It surprised Cole that he had slept for days; but, now that the pony mentioned it, he did feel a bit empty.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Fine,” he lied.
“Really?” she queried, giving him a worried look. “Alright, if you say so. What’s your name?”
Cole did not answer, just stared at the mare with a determined face. According to the rules, the only information he could divulge was his name, his rank, and his serial number; but he preferred to withhold even those. Assuming the Equestrians did not know that, he could still act as though it was important to keep from them. And, if things went South, it would give him some ground to give away.
“How’s about I break the ice and tell you my name first?” she decided. “I’m Spitfire, and you are?”
Still, he did not answer, and the pony’s look quickly went to one of frustration and disappointment.
“So you’re really going to pull this gig? Figures,” she sighed, looking back towards the open door. “Sergeant!”
“Yes ma’am?” a unicorn asked, peeking through the door.
“Go ahead.”
The unicorn Sergeant entered the room, magic surrounding his horn, and a thick coat of Berlin Blue that heavily contrasted Spitfire’s yellow. It could not mean anything good, and it surprised Cole that they were moving to heavier measures this early. It scared him to death; though he tried hard not to show it on the outside. He had somewhat hoped that his position as an American would give him a bit of a political barrier; but, from the looks of it, the small, empty room was going to turn into Equestria’s version of the Hanoi Hilton. And God knows what magical torture was going to be like.
The unicorn aimed at the pilot as Cole mentally prepared, and anguished, for whatever upcoming pain was going to be felt. The bluish aura around the pony’s horn encased him, but to his surprise, there was no pain. It felt a tad cool, and almost ticklish, as if something was scurrying along him, until it ceased and vanished. Spitfire spoke up before Cole could make a comment.
“Let’s try that again,” she ordered. “What’s your name? And your rank, since you didn’t want to play nice.”
“Captain John Quincy Cole; United States Air Force,” he answered automatically and without any thought. “W-what the hell!?”
He immediately shot a look over to the unicorn.
“Truth spell,” he said with a chuckle. “Not as many unicorns know it as you’d think.”
“I don’t believe this,” Cole sighed, burying his head in his hands. “Course there’d be something to force me to talk, just my luck. Just like last when I tried to run.”
“Yea, when I knocked you out you fell like a sack of bricks,” the unicorn stated.
“What?”
“Well, I was the one who caught you,” he informed the human, rather proudly, before realizing what he had said. “Oh, uh… sorry about… that.”
“I’ll handle the conversation, Sergeant Backscatter,” Spitfire told him sternly. “Just don’t say anything to make him go crazy.”
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, ears drooping.
Cole actually did not feel too angry with the unicorn. He had to admit that, at first, he first reaction was anger and a brief thought of payback entered his mind. But, seeing his latest form of disappointment, either for bragging or from his superior, it showed Cole that he was just kid doing his job. And he was the same thing, just in a different form.
“So, you’re an officer in the American Air Force?” Spitfire asked him rhetorically. “How’d you wind up here?”
“I crashed and you caught me,” Cole responded with a touch of ire.
“And how did you crash? Why were you flying near our border to begin with?”
“My squadron scrambled to intercept a large raid along the Southern coastline in an attempt to scare them off, which in itself is somewhat of a... common occurrence for us,” he explained. “There was a Changeling flying around, not in a plane, but just on his own, with no company. I went to intercept him and we collided; all things considered, I came off on the better end of that exchange.”
“Guess that’d be the latest raid on Las Pegasus,” Spitfire quipped.
“How bad were the losses?”
“It wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” she answered.
That was enough for Cole, and though he was the one being interrogated, he quickly changed the subject.
“So, are you in the Equestrian Air Force... Spitfire?”
She immediately changed her tone again, this time to one of vexation.
“I’m not the one being held hostage, am I?” she asked the bewildered pilot. “Or do you think I’m gullible enough for you to trick?”
“Oh no… I-I’m not trying to trick you or anything! I just… look what I meant was to… sort of-”
He stopped as he heard her laugh, and watched Spitfire stand from her chair and put a hoof on his shoulder as she grinned kindly at him.
“Hey, it’s alright; I know you didn’t mean anything funny,” she said, trying to calm him. “I’m sure you were just concerned; or you were just being stupid and didn’t think before you talked.”
Cole retained his silence, but returned her smile with a small one of his own before she returned to her seat.
“But to answer your question, I am in the Air Force; the Royal Equestrian Air Force,” she specified. “I’m also the commander of a squadron.”
“Really now?”
“Really. I’m the leader of the Wonderbolts; the best group of pegasi in Equestria,” she said, not bothering to hold back on the pride of her position. “During peacetime we were an aerobatic squadron, pulling off stunts and shows and the like; but, when the war started up… you can’t exactly limit your best group of fliers to circus acts, y’know?”
“It’s understandable,” Cole agreed.
“But, we are the best, so it’s expected of us. Luckily our losses have been relatively light, compared to other units,” the pegasus continued. “Hey, you haven’t heard of us, have you?”
Cole took a moment to scan through his memory before responding. The Air Force’s intelligence on specific Equestrian units was sketchy at best; new ones were always being raised while others were disbanded from losses. Still, the name did ring a bell.
“I’ve heard some stories,” he admitted. “Mostly just rumors; though a few names came up… including yours, I think.”
“Yeah, back in the day everyone knew the Wonderbolts; course, doing a show nowadays is just too risky,” Spitfire sighed, her mind wandering through her own memories. “I can’t remember the last time we did a real show; probably not since the whole displacement incident.”
As Spitfire talked, Cole was becoming more and more confused. He was their prisoner, but it certainly did not feel like it. It was not quite as brutal as he feared it to be, though that was probably due to them being able to take any information he knew with no real effort. And to add to that, Spitfire seemed more interested in getting to know him rather than taking useful information. At least it seemed that way.
“Anyways, since I was nice enough to tell you all of that, maybe you could tell me some more about your job,” she finished. “Like what unit you came from.”
Cole refrained from speaking yet again, giving her a wary look.
“You know you don’t have much of a choice,” she reminded him.
“Yea, I know,” he grunted. “I’m… I am the commander of the First Tactical Fighter Squadron.”
Spitfire’s eyebrows went up for a second from the surprise.
“A Tactical Squadron? Your Air Force’s big blunder?” she specified.
“How in the hell do you know that?”
“We’ve got some sources on the outside, despite what our policies might make you think,” she stated. “But this is one interesting situation; it’ll be useful to learn more about them.”
“The Tactical Corps was formed as an effort to reorganize the Air Force squadrons into multi-purpose ones,” Cole clarified unhappily. “It didn’t work.”
“What happened, specifically?”
“Quite a few roadblocks and problems… popped up,” the pilot went on. “The biggest problem was that predictions and calculations came in saying that for such an Air Force to be as effective as we needed, the standards of each mission type were set outrageously high; far beyond what some aircraft they were assigned were built for. No one squadron ever passed all the tests.”
“So how come you never stopped?” Spitfire asked. “And why is it our intelligence ponies say there are still several Tactical squadrons left?”
“That revolves around three specific things; the General in command, Congress, and Bureaucracy,” Cole explained, though he had always blamed the commander for most of it, but the others contributed just as well. “The basic idea was actually the brainchild of the guy leading it, so understandably he wasn’t keen on shutting it down. To add on to that, Congress put a lot of money and effort into that project, and it was pretty hyped up over the media. So, when it started becoming obvious that the program was… flawed, they tried to push it through all the same; they didn’t want to see billions of dollars in planes and training go to waste, not to mention catching an egg on their face.”
“Pride’s always getting in the way of common sense; I had a cadet that did something stubborn and almost killed some ponies because of it,” Spitfire recalled.
Cole only nodded his head in understanding before starting up again.
“And then there was all the problems that came from the contracts of it; all the requirements and necessities chained to the project that it needed to follow if it was going to continue,” he resumed. “Of course when you’re going to replace and re-structure an entire branch, there’s got to be a lot of specifics to work out; people doing their best to fix as many kinks as possible on the paper before we found them during the actual testing. But they took it too far; between getting paranoid and wanting to lock other things down, the project got ensnarled by red tape.”
“Sounds rough,” Spitfire commented, her stomach churning at such a thought.
“Plenty rough; they’re responsible for shackling each squadron to one plane type to try and save money, they’re responsible for forcing us to start over whenever we messed up, and they’re responsible for not dropping those older versions of the experiment,” Cole went on, getting rather irritated as he continued. “So many requirements for so many reasons, all contracts ironclad and no way to go back on them.”
“What did you mean when you said they forced you to ‘start over’ and you couldn’t get rid of earlier versions? What were you talking about with ‘earlier versions’ anyways?”
The pilot moaned at the thought, but he did not stop. He had gotten to a state where he did not mind continuing on about the experiment’s failures. It felt more like blowing off steam than anything else; something he did not get to do often enough.
“One of their big money savers; planes were built for the squadron, right? Of course you wouldn’t want to just get rid of million-dollar planes just because one squadron messed up,” he said. “The contract, for some God-forsaken reason, forced the Air Force to start over every time a squadron failed to meet expectations, which was every damn time, so rather than reassign the squadron a new set of planes, they were forced to form an entirely new unit with fresh planes and pilots. It’s like playing an impossible-to-beat level on a videogame and having to start from the beginning every damn time you lose; it’s just ridiculous!”
The Equestrian had never played a videogame before, but decided not to ask about it as Cole continued his rant.
“But like I said, they didn’t want to waste all those planes. So on top of that, not only did we have to start over; we had to keep all the failed squadrons active! The only thing we could do was commission parts of the squadron instead of the full thing, to try and save time and money; but it barely made any difference. So now we’ve got dozens of these generic squadrons, most of which aren’t even fully manned, just flung everywhere serving no real purpose!” Cole spouted. “All of this tried to save us money, and it ended up squandering more than it saved! Jesus, how dumb can you be!?”
“Wow just… it’s really hard to believe that going on in such a powerful country,” Spitfire observed. “What in the world made the contracts so… non-negotiable?”
“Pft, the hell if I know,” Cole remarked, causing Spitfire to become suspicious. “Hey, not like I can lie anymore, right? I just can’t read through all the fat shoved in it. Feels like only Bureaucrats could.”
“Fair enough,” she relented.
Silence followed after this, somewhat intentional as Spitfire wanted to give the man some time to calm down. It was a rather odd situation to her; she could understand how Cole felt, as her country’s government had done some rather foolish things. But for some reason it felt harder to believe when it came to the United States, with such a massive military force. All the same, it seemed to add up.
Cole himself was an interesting character. He obviously was not happy about being captured and forced to tell the truth, only he seemed to be somewhat depressed about it, more than one would usually be, as if he had completely failed. And he had, though she did not think he had to be too sad about it. Surely, he would try to resist as much as he could, but being non-magical, it was out of his control.
The silence was suddenly broken by a low groan. She was not quite sure what it was, and nearly decided to just ignore it as nothing, until she noticed Cole clutch his stomach. It seemed he also lied about feeling ok, as well; for what reason, she could not comprehend. It did not seem brave to not to ask for food; more foolish and arrogant.
“Hungry?” she asked, knowing he could not lie this time.
“Yea, a little… now that you mention it,” Cole finally admitted.
“I figured; I don’t know a ton about humans, but I know they can’t go for too long without something to eat,” the pegasus stated, turning her head back towards the door and calling for the guard still standing outside. “Sergeant! Go find some loaves of bread and bring them over!”
“Yes ma’am!” the Guard replied in a gruff voice.
“So where am I? This seems a little… comfy for a prison cell,” Cole observed.
“Well our prisoner center was kind of… blown apart in the last raid on this base; thankfully there were no actual prisoners in it,” Spitfire clarified. “This is… or… was the team’s recreation room. A bomb landed near it in the same raid and blew out the windows; hence why they’re boarded up for now, and we had to move most of the things out for clean-up.”
“I was gonna say, this doesn’t look like much of a relaxation spot for Equestria’s best fliers; I’m sure the one at your home base must be something.”
“Funny you should say that, this is actually the Wonderbolts Academy.”
It took Cole a minute to come up with a response.
“This place is your headquarters?”
“For the Wonderbolts; and Equestria’s most powerful military base,” she affirmed. “That’s why we brought you here; you’re position as more of a… political prisoner is sensitive; so we needed to keep you protected.”
“Look no offense, but I don’t feel very safe being held in a room that almost got obliterated not too long ago.”
Despite what he said, Cole could see Spitfire’s ears droop a bit.
“Yea, I know,” she agreed. “This place used to be a symbol of the R.E.A.F.; the place where all the young pegasi would dream about going to. It’s hard to see it in the state it’s in now that I can barely believe it myself.”
Cole felt bad now, very bad. It seemed that he had just gone on a long rant about his country’s problems and, when it was over, just insulted the quality of her home without even thinking. He truly did not mean anything insulting by it, but that did not seem to make things better; at least not in his mind. He really needed to think more before opening his trap.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-”
“No, it’s fine; you’re right anyways,” Spitfire stopped him. “I’m just… remembering the old times; back when things were good. Just wishing I could go back to them and everything. Seems like everything might be going downhill; I just wish ponies could watch us fly again.”
“Well… maybe someday you will,” Cole responded. “I’d certainly like to see a show; your team sounds impressive.”
“We were, and we still are,” she pointed out quickly. “It’s just too dangerous to put on a show nowadays. We would get shot to pieces; not to mention the civilian casualties.”
Cole could not think of what else to add, and the returning silence also brought the awkwardness along with it. The first thought was to mention that the United States was willing to help Equestria in the war, but he also knew how isolationist they were. He was not sure what Spitfire thought of the idea, and he was worried about saying the wrong thing and getting on her bad side. And no matter how hard he tried, his mind just went back to that option.
Thankfully, he did not have to, as the Guard who had been waiting outside trotted in, carrying a plate of bread, which he sat down on the table. Cole immediately grabbed a loaf and started eating on it; he never did realize how hungry he saw food. He also noticed that the guard seemed a tad irritated for some reason.
“Oh, thank you!” Cole said quickly, before tearing off another piece.
The earth pony simply grunted, which only made Cole further worried.
“Eh, don’t mind Ferrus; he’s just a grumpy old man,” the blue unicorn spoke up, levitating a loaf over to himself. “He’s just mad we have to babysit you instead of watch over the borders.”
“Sergeant! You are not supposed to give out our names in the presence of prisoners!” he yelled back angrily, not having much effect on the younger stallion.
He must have been oblivious to Spitfire giving Cole her name, but what struck him was Sergeant’s name.
“Wait, Ferris? Like Ferris Bueller?” Cole snickered. “That’s kind of a normal name for a pony… relative to others I’ve heard; Ferris, hehe.”
“Ferrus,” the pony replied, putting emphasis on the ‘u’. “I was an iron miner before the war started, that’s why my name is Ferrus; just Ferrus.”
“Just Ferrus? No last name?” Cole went on. “So I can still call you Bueller then?"
“Wh-no! What are you talking about!?”
“Ah, nothing,” the pilot sighed, still snickering to himself.
To his surprise, the unicorn was laughing lightly, as well, not trying very hard to hold it back. Spitfire also seemed to find the comment amusing. He doubted they had seen the movie he was referring to; Ferrus obviously had not. Still, he found it comical, and apparently the other two did, as well.
“Ma’am, may I please return to my station now,” Ferrus growled.
“Go ahead, Sergeant,” Spitfire replied, with the earth pony immediately stomping out of the room as soon as it left her mouth.
As he watched the Guard leave, Cole found it a bit odd that comedy was able to come up in such a scenario. He had not actually meant to insult Ferrus, it was only an offhand comment to him. It was not too surprising he took it as a possible attack, but it was odder that the other two ponies had found it amusing. From the start they had felt like his captors, possible enemies; now, they still felt somewhat like that, but they felt like friends, as well.
“So, where were we?” Spitfire asked.
“You mind if I ask another question?” Cole asked, trying to evade giving away any more sensitive information.
“Sure,” she agreed.
“How come you don’t want our help?”
Spitfire was taken aback by this question, but answered as quickly as she could.
“Because it’s not your war to fight; we don’t need you guys getting killed for our problem.”
“You’d rather get wiped out than accept help?” Cole simplified it.
“I trust the Princess; I know that she has something worked out,” Spitfire replied. “And even if we are, I suppose it would be better than sending that suffering onto someone else.”
“That doesn’t make sense; we’d have to fight the Bloc at some point anyways,” Cole shot back. “Their kind, Sombra’s especially, isn’t exactly locked in your world; we’ve had plenty of power-hungry people start wars because of their greed, and this isn’t anything special.”
“Which is pretty odd; last time that happened your country chose the opposite,” she pointed out. “You decided to keep to yourself until you got attacked. That was your world’s biggest war, and it was not very long ago, either.”
It took Cole a minute to realize she was referring to Pearl Harbor, which surprised him greatly.
“How… how do you know-”
“Like I said, we may keep to ourselves, but we have resources,” Spitfire reminded him. “And I try to keep up with the history of important events.”
Cole tried to think up a response in kind to the subject, but wanted to go back to the previous subject, to justify some things.
“That war is the reason my country’s policy is reversed.”
“And I have also read stories where that policy did more harm than good.”
“But it’s been largely good, hasn’t it?”
The pegasus sat there and thought for a moment; she opened her mouth to say something, but shut it quickly, before another period of silence and finally speaking up.
“Perhaps… it depends, from what I’ve heard.”
“Then why won’t you let us help?” Cole pressured.
“I told you what our policy was,” Spitfire replied in an irritated manner.
“Yea, I know what your government says, but what do you want?” he asked.
Again, Spitfire was surprised by this, and again she spent some time thinking of an answer; this period lasting much longer.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I have seen some… terrible things in this war. Cities being bombed, civilians being hurt… I just want to do what I can to try and stop it, to end it. Do you know what any of that is like, Captain?”
“No ma’am; but I’ve got an idea.”
“And do you want to see that idea thrown onto your people?” Spitfire asked. “You’re not as untouchable as you think; if you go to war, there will be a lot of destruction.”
“No I… I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” he admitted, “but we have to do what we have to do, and I think we can take it.”
Spitfire let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to show all of her sadness flowing away.
“Is that what you want?”
Despite having asked the question first, Cole had no personal answer for it. He did want to help Equestria, but at the same time he understood how heavy the cost would be to fight the Bloc. And considering how far the Bloc had advanced, and how disarrayed the Equestrian forces seemed to be, it may already be too late.
“I just want to stop people from being hurt; that’s why I joined,” he replied, giving a similar answer to Spitfire’s.
“Well, if you are telling the truth, it’s a noble one,” she responded. “Either way, we aren’t going to have a say in it. Things are changing, and the two of us have no influence in it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Princess has flown to your capital city to talk with your President.”
“What!?” Cole jumped. “She’s never gone to Washington before! What made her want to go now?”
“Take a guess,” Spitfire replied, staring at him.
The pilot immediately realized that it was his presence that caused that break in political isolation.
“Oh… right,” he realized, a bit embarrassed.
“Yea, and this situation is getting to be a problem,” she continued, fluttering up out of the chair and landing on the floor. “I’m not sure if we’ll just be shipping you back to America or what, but you will not be staying here forever.”
“How long do you think it will be?”
“I do not know, but I will tell you if anything develops,” she answered. “Until then I have some paperwork to finish. We will continue this later. Sergeant Backscatter!”
“Yes ma’am!” the unicorn answered.
“We are done for now, you can restore him to normal.”
“Got it,” he replied, readying his horn.
Cole again felt the strange magic run over his form, and again felt little different afterwards.
“You should be good, but let me know if any of your fingers fall off,” Backscatter warned.
“What!?”
“I’m joking, Captain, relax,” he replied. “And here I thought you had a sense of humor.”
“If you need anything, knock on the door and the Guard stationed there will bring it to you,” Spitfire stated before her and Backscatter exited the room. “And do not cause another ruckus.”
As the door slammed shut, Cole noted a sense of ire in her voice; she obviously was not happy with the last piece of the conversation. And, stretching out on the couch to think, he felt like it had gone nowhere. At first it seemed they could be friends, despite the status he was in, and at the end it felt like one had been lost, and nothing had changed. And beyond that, he had given up sensitive information involving his work, and would have to divulge any more they requested in the near future. Anguishing over the idea, Cole wondered if there was anything left in his control.