September 1st, 2005
0645 Hours
“One!” shouted Desser, taking the role of motivator.
“Two!” the groups yelled back as they followed in the early light.
“Red, white-”
“Blue!”
“Three!”
“Four!”
“PT!”
“Some more!”
The full squadron of men ran along the roadway in good order, chanting in synchronization. Each of them had been on such runs before, and had grown used to it. Physical training usually followed a set pattern, especially for runs; form up and jog at a set pace for a set distance. Jodies, like the one being carried out, were constantly called out along the duration to keep their minds focused on something other than the discomfort. Each of them repeated at the same time, as well, though the Captain in the back had his own rhythm set.
“Left, right, left, right,” Cole repeated to himself, “breath in, breath out, keep control.”
He had never been overly-fond of running; whatever high runners talked so often about never seemed to reach him. The only thing he ever got was a gnawing, not-so-dull pain in his feet and lower legs. Still, he did feel good when it was all done and all of the pain had gone away; a nice mixture of healthy feeling and satisfaction.
Though he did not like running, it was never bad to the point of absolute dread. It hurt, but he kept going alongside his wingmen. When it was all done, things would go back to normal. It was just another exercise to him, nothing too special, but fitness was vital to any soldier, which warranted keeping through to the end on that principle alone.
Even if the exercise was the same, the route today was different. The squadron would be running from the gates of the air base to the town of Ponyville, and then back again. Altogether, the journey counted in at roughly three miles, being a bit over by a handful of feet. They followed the same route they took when driving to the town, as it was the only route the two locations shared, and through the host of features that dotted the land around it.
To him, running outside, especially in new terrain, was always superior to running inside. Needless to say, whenever one would have to run in a war, it would not be on a track in a nice, air-conditioned building. More than that, Cole enjoyed viewing the new scenery as they ran past it; it was one more thing to focus on, one more thing to take his mind off the exhaustion he suffered.
A good deal of the journey took them through the Everfree Forest. Many of the ponies had told some horror stories about the forest, some sounding like tall-tales about outlandish monsters, others sounding like regular occurrences in the human world, such as the weather controlling itself; though for the latter, the Earth’s natural cycles and the increasing danger of flying from the war made uncontrolled weather a more common occurrence on Arcaia. However, as one of the MPs who had apparently had a run-in with one of the beasts reminded everyone, myths could be held as credible as the most basic facts in this land.
All the same, the roadway had cut through the forest and it had been cleared of any nuisances, and was patrolled to ensure they did not return. So long as they stayed on the road, there should not be any issues. That did not stop him from assigning one member of the squad, Runner, a role of guard and having him carry an M9 pistol along the course of the run.
“Doing good, Sir?” the pilot in question asked, running next to him.
“Yep, you?” he said through the exasperated breaths.
“Yes Sir, doing good, just checking.”
Cole assumed that Runner was talking about his heavy breathing. While running, Cole preferred breathing through the mouth rather than the nose, as with the latter he never seemed to get enough air to his lungs. It made it look as though he was struggling, but it was just another small habit he had gotten from growing up in such a humid environment. He turned the issue of the thick air to an advantage, and found that the breathing as such prevented his mouth from drying out; though it also proved to be an issue when the air was dry. Nonetheless, it was never as bad as it seemed, and as long as he kept control over the pattern, he would be fine.
“You know I’m always like this on runs,” he replied.
“Sorry, Sir; I was talking about security, I should have been more clear.”
“Security? With those forest monsters?”
“I figured you would be more worried about that, Sir.”
“I’m not worried, Lieutenant; maybe cautious, but not worried. Just relax; odds are we won’t see anything.”
“I understand, Sir; but even the small odds count, right?”
“I know, Lieutenant, I don’t like having them either. You still can’t let that cloud up your mind,” Cole advised him with the same information he had in the past. “Just try to find something to distract yourself.”
“Do you have any suggestions, Sir?”
“For distractions?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Well, how about the scenery?” the Captain suggested. “Sure there could be some beast out there, but overall it’s pretty beautiful, eh?”
“Yes Sir, I think so.”
“Not just the forest, either; I mean the whole picture. The landscape, the noises, and my favorite part, the sunrise. You see how it just paints the whole sky in new colors? A natural gift and most aren’t up early enough to see it.”
“It is very beautiful, Sir.”
Cole took some time to take in the scenery himself; truth be told, he did not really recognize how nice it was today until he told Runner. The sun was climbing its way into the sky, casting shades of bright colors. The fiery orb began to light up the area around them, revealing the surrounding woodland and the path that they ran on. It was a welcome evolution from the initial run, which had begun just before dawn itself.
Just as he had said before, nothing else seemed to be up at this time besides the animals, and even they were unseen. He could hear them in the surrounding woods now and again, the chirps of birds and the rustling of leaves on the ground, a few far-off calls from some unknown ones, but none of them had been spotted yet. There was a single exception, a large bird of prey that soared high above, as if keeping watch over them and the land. Perhaps it was hunting for breakfast, but it was a lovely sight regardless.
The bird continued to soar overhead, flying in long, drawn out circles. It continued to do so through the remainder of the run, until the squadron returned to the base, churned down to a regular march and then a stop, and were dismissed. Lieutenant Elijah and another one of his flight mates, Baker, had asked beforehand for a short leave to head into town for lunch once the run was over, desiring to try a café they had heard about. Cole agreed, provided he come along, as he was rather curious about it himself.
After taking a short time to shower and change, the three grabbed a vehicle and headed down the same road they had spent the morning running. This time Cole drove, on the request of other two, though he did not mind any. That meant that he got to choose the music for the battered CD player they had, which always made the day better for him.
“You like Asia any, Baker?” he asked the pilot in the back seat.
“I haven’t been there before, Sir, so I can’t say.”
“No, Asia’s the name of the band, the one that’s playing,” Cole clarified.
“Oh, uh… no Sir, sorry,” the young man replied. “They were before my time.”
“Ah, alright, I figured.”
“Yea?”
“Yea, that happens a lot; I mostly listen to older stuff, not too much new music.”
“I don’t think a lot of people do as compared to stuff like this,” Zeppelin commented.
“Doesn’t Garlic listen to this?”
“No, that’s his Canadian cousin,” Elijah reminded him, “the one who’s flying for their Navy.”
“Right, right.”
“I’m actually surprised I remember him mentioning that; especially when my brain’s running this slow.”
“Didn’t sleep well last night?”
“Well, yes and no. I’m not sleepy, ‘cause I got plenty of rest; I’m just sort of… not thinking straight. Had some weird dreams.”
“Oh, nightmares huh?”
“Yea, freaky ones.”
“Did the Princess visit you?”
“You had a nightmare too?”
“A little while ago, yea,” Cole confirmed. “She came and put an end to it, thankfully.”
“What was yours about?”
“Eh, nothing too big,” Cole quickly dodged, not wanting to discuss it until he could think on it more. “I’m not quite sure, really. I… need to think about it a little more. What about yours?”
“Sort of odd… but I think I died at the end.”
“Same with mine,” Baker added in from the back seat.
“Well… I mean she told me that they were more like warning predictions than ones that will happen for certain, you know?”
“That’s what I was told, too,” Elijah confirmed. “Need to be ready for when it does happen.”
“I feel like we’d be ready, we just need to keep our eyes open,” Cole suggested. “But we can’t do anything till that time does come, so let’s talk about something else. I don’t want to ruin such a nice day.”
“And what would you like to discuss, Sir?”
“Let’s go back to music; seems like a good time to introduce you to some classic stuff.”
Cole and Elijah did this for the rest of the journey talking about the singers of whatever song came on the radio, though it was more to each-other than teaching Baker. Driving into the town itself did not attract as much attention this time around, but still caught some as there were no other vehicles around. Most of the time the ponies simply watched the car roll on for a bit and continued on with their work.
It was virtually impossible to miss the building, looking like a massive gingerbread house and having a giant cupcake on the roof’s peak. At first Cole figured it to be a bit over-the-top, but the inside was much tamer, being mostly wooden and decorated lightly. The three took to a booth close to the door, with Cole sitting alone on one end and the other two pilots taking the opposite seats.
“Good afternoon, gentle… men?” a blue mare asked them.
“Yes ma’am, gentlemen,” Cole confirmed.
“Ah, I knew I would remember it,” she said with a smile. “So, have you all come to try some of the local food?”
“Definitely!” Baker replied enthusiastically. “I’m dying to try something different than what’s served at the base.”
“That’s just you being picky,” the Captain teased. “But I guess I shouldn’t talk. You don’t sell any kind of meat, do you?”
“Well, there are some recipes for the native races that eat it,” the mare replied, “but I don’t think it will be… anything you like, really.”
“So no hot dogs, huh?” Cole joked.
“Probably not the kind humans eat,” she said. “You… don’t eat dogs, do you?”
“No, no, it’s just a sort of pork.”
“Oh, well in that case, yes!”
“Really now?” he asked rhetorically. “I’ll try one of those, then. It’s been forever since I had a good, homemade one.”
“Same for me please,” Elijah added.
“You guys have cake here?” Baker asked. “That’s one of the things I’ve heard is really good.”
The mare gave him a quick nod in response.
“Alright, I’ll have a couple of slices of chocolate, please.”
Before she left to put in the orders, she asked what the three of them would have to drink. Cole asked for a glass of tea, while the other two wanted coffee, and she left for about a minute before returning with the drinks. Cole waited until she left again and turned back towards Baker.
“Cake for lunch?”
“To be fair, Sir, it’s more like brunch at this hour.”
“And I can assume that cake is a breakfast staple in Astoria?”
“I wish it was.”
“Oh, Captain,” Zeppelin interrupted, “has it been decided what flight ours is going to be facing in the exercise?”
Elijah was referring to a large mock dogfight the squadron was scheduled to hold the day after next. Despite having a base and an increasing flow of resources from the States, the 1st was still the only unit in the country, and there was not much to work with. As such, the drill was scheduled to keep the pilot’s skills sharp, as their next encounter with the Bloc probably would not be as one-sided.
“Like I said, Lieutenant, it’s being kept under wraps until everyone gets the briefing,” Cole reminded him. “But I am glad you asked that; reminds me of some work I need to finish when we get back.”
“What’s that?”
“Just organization stuff, logistics and such,” the Captain explained loosely, “and just generally making sure everything’s ready.”
“Ah, the boring part of planning huh?”
“All planning is boring to me,” Baker spoke up. “Only feels good when you see it executed, and you get the payoff. I’m more than happy to let you guys do all that.”
“Well, you’re a good follower, I’ll give you that,” Cole replied.
Much of the remaining conversation was focused on this, and later changed to politics and the regional occurrences, as it often did. Towards the end, Baker brought up rumors of some engineering project that was said to be underway at the northern and southern ends of the country. Cole could not say much of it, not because of restricted speech, but because the rumors were just that. He had heard the same thing a while ago, but it lacked any kind of detail.
The talk wrapped up as everyone received their meal, which, interestingly enough, came with their drinks at the same time rather than getting the beverage early. None of them complained, and took their time enjoying the food, which was much fresher than anything they could have gotten at the base. Cole’s hot dog had a much gamier texture than a regular one, but it tasted fine all the same and he did not bother to worry about it.
It was not until afterwards that they realized paying for it could be an issue, as they only had American money. At first the mare insisted that it was free, as thanks for their assistance, but Cole was rather adamant about paying, and she happily accepted the dollar currency. She also asked if he could wait, as a pony had come over asking to see him, to which he agreed.
The two other Airmen went outside while he remained in his seat for a bit. After around three or so minutes, he was approached by a unicorn with a coat as white as snow, and a stylish mane that looked as though it had been dyed in indigo. She was also carrying a large box with her, which she levitated over to the table before addressing him.
“Good morning… Captain, was it?”
“Yes ma’am, Captain John Cole, U.S. Air Force,” he confirmed.
“Thank you, I’m not very versed in ranks.”
“That’s fine, most civilians aren’t,” he replied with a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry if this sounds blunt, but you seem a little more… jolly than what I was told.”
“Guess I’m just in a better mood. Finally got my sleep back, have some time to relax, bunch of stuff,” Cole explained. “So you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes sir, my name is Rarity. Have you heard of me before?”
“It… sounds familiar,” Cole tried to recall, “I think I’ve heard the name a few times. You’re one of Dash and Twilight’s friends, right?”
“That’s right; most know me as a… rather busy fashion designer, but I would say my friendship is more important,” she explained. “But enough about me, I came here to talk to you; or rather, to give you a gift.”
“A gift for what?”
“It’s a token of gratitude for your chivalry,” she said poetically.
“You know you don’t have to give us gifts to say thank you.”
“Oh, I know, but I felt it was important all the same,” she said, opening the box. “I wanted to make something a bit special for you.”
Rarity levitated a long, white scarf out of the box and into his hands.
“Rainbow and Twilight did a tad bit of research, and found that these lovely garments were a staple among pilots.”
“Yea, back when people first started flying the aircraft seats were out in the open, so they’d need to cover up their body well enough to keep warm at high altitudes… and the scarf was part of it, you know?” he said, extending the explanation as he fiddled fruitlessly with the cloth, tying an awkward noose. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually wear these. Could you help me?”
“Of course, dear.”
Cole watched a purple aura of magic take over and let go as the scarf began to move freely, wrapping itself around his neck. The cloth felt wonderfully soft and smooth as silk, and was tight enough to be warm and snug. As the Airmen had gone in civilian clothes, with his being kept simple to a t-shirt and jeans with a jacket and baseball cap, there was no worry of regulation violations.
“Feels nice. How does it look?”
“Fabulous, darling, you look like a dashing knight!”
“Really? That seems like a bit much for just this.”
“Perhaps, but still, it looks marvelous on you and makes you look marvelous in return, like a true hero.”
“I’ve been getting that a lot but I still don’t think I’m some kind of hero. Just feels like doing the right thing, in a way… the necessary thing, something that someone's got to do.”
“Maybe not to yourself, but to us you are. You all are.”
“Guess everyone needs someone to look up to,” Cole thought to himself, before noticing some writing stitched into the hanging edge of the scarf. “What’s this?”
“Initials. Everypony in town helped to make these in some way, be it time or resource or finance, or all of these in many cases. Though being the town’s best seamstress I had to work a bit harder ensure they all did a satisfactory job. It was quite the task for some, being totally inexperienced.”
“You helped them sew each one together?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t too terribly difficult; it is my life’s work, after all,” she assured him. “Anyways, as there are well over one-hundred ponies in town and only a handful of pilots in your squadron, each of these carries a group of the initials of those who worked on them.”
“And whose are these?” Cole asked, holding up and inspecting the scarf’s end.
“Those would be Dash’s, Twilight’s, mine, and three others of our closest friends; Dash was quite adamant that we make yours.”
Cole read over the list, each one holding a different color. As Rarity said, he was able to recognize Twilight and Rainbow’s, while her initials were more different, being a single ‘R’ in the same purple shade as her mane, a bit darker than that of Twilight’s. There were three other sets he did not recognize, being ‘PP’, ‘FS’, and ‘AJ’ in shades of pink, light-yellow, and orange, respectively.
“Guess I still need to meet the rest of you,” he said, tracing a finger over them.
“Oh, don’t fret over it! We all understand you’re quite busy.”
“Yea, speaking of which I should probably get back to my guys.”
“Of course, I’m glad I was able to meet you,” the unicorn replied. “It was a joy, and thank you again for helping us.”
“Thank you for the gift, and the idea” Cole replied, looking over the white cloth again. “I… think you’ve inspired me to try a little art project of my own.”
“Splendid! I look forward to seeing it!”
“Take care, Rarity,” Cole nodded, grabbing the box with the other scarves in it and heading back outside where the other Airmen were waiting.
“What’s that, Captain?” Zeppelin asked.
“A gift for us,” he responded. “Remind me to head to the supply office when we get back. I want to see about ordering some paint.”
“Welp… it’s not too gaudy, if that’s what you mean,” Runner said to his commanding officer.
Cole ran his hand over the freshly-dried coat of paint on the front of his Eagle. The nose cone up to the cockpit had been painted over a pure white on each jet of the squadron. The tip of the cone on his bird had a bright, lively golden-yellow. Given the color and the small area, it did not seem like it would prove a deadly giveaway for the squadron, especially not in the age of radar, when planes could be tracked from miles away.
“I just want us to look good up there, Lieutenant,” he explained. “We’re the first ones here. Tip of the spear and everything, you know? Figured the tip would look good with some color on it.”
“I guess it looks pretty good. Gaudy, but good,” Walker admitted.
“Great! Now let’s get up in the air, we’ve got work to do.”
Runner headed off to his own aircraft while Cole got into his own. They followed the same procedures they had done so many times before, and soon enough they were in the air, flying away from the base to their respective spots where the other flights were waiting. The big exercise today was based around two large simulated dogfights between the wings of the squadron. It had been some time since the squadron was able to practice their close-in flying skills, and they needed to stay sharp for when the Bloc came back with their own fighters.
The drill would be run between the squadron’s four flights, with two separate duels being fought between them, one flight against the other. Alpha and Delta flights would be facing each other to the northwest, while Bravo and Charlie fought to the southeast. Cole and his XO would act as observers and partial referees, besides the AWACS and ground control, keeping a watch over the engagement. The Captain kept an eye on the northern battle while Lieutenant Walker watched over the southern.
Below, Cole could see some spots of reddish color around the forest and some other areas. The first bouts of fall had hit the day before. Despite the beautiful look, something in the back of his head churned, and he sighed slightly to himself. It was a reminder that the cold was coming for the next two seasons, something he did not like very much.
From what Cole was told, the ponies and other species of Arcaia would bring about the seasons themselves. The pegasi in particular were vital to this process, being able to control the weather. Though this was still possible, the influence of Earth’s own weather patterns, and the disruption caused by the war, made this far more difficult, and Equestria recently decided to let the weather run its course. Perhaps when peace returned Cole would be able to see it; he was curious if they could keep summer going year-round.
“That’s if I survive till then,” he mentally reminded himself.
He shook his head, rattling the helmet a bit, so as to focus on better things. For one, the dogfight was starting in a minute’s time, and he had to keep a watch over it. He fully expected the pilots to do well, and do their best. It was not so much watching over them to stop them from messing up as it was to take track of what they messed up on, and show them afterwards for correction. Basic Fighter Maneuvers in dogfights were done in acts to shake the pursuer and the pursuing craft responding. The one that made the first mistake would usually lose, and there had to be a loser, even if the loser was excellent at flying.
Alpha under Firebird broke up early on. He went off on his own to a high altitude while his wingman, Orion, and one other, stayed at a mid-low altitude and the remaining two as a team stayed a short distance behind. Delta took a different approach, keeping close together even at approach, with the last two breaking off as their own team at a lower altitude and keeping pace with the main ones.
Cole listened and watched as the two Flights merged. No one in Delta seemed to notice the single plane at high altitude, or did and did not bother with it immediately. The three-man flight in Delta went after Orion’s group, which broke in two with Orion quickly turning around and the other, a pilot that went by Parrot, took off in a slightly different direction. Delta stayed in its formation, only going after Parrot, who found, rather upsettingly, that he was now the bait of the whole opposing Flight.
As the match was kept to close-range with Sidewinders and guns in mind, the fancier moves would be needed, and Parrot tried this to his best as two of the main Delta flight stuck close to him while one moved off slightly to get a better shot. Springing his trap, Firebird came down from the clouds on the strayed plane and managed to get behind him, though not before he helped sandwich Parrot in between him and his other comrades. With the little reaction time for his target, Lieutenant Desser was able to get a lock on the enemy craft, ‘killing’ him, while the others were able to lock onto Parrot, exchanging the loss.
Now Orion was returning to assist and the remaining two planes a short ways behind, but Firebird, found he was facing four hostiles, as the other two planes in Delta had stuck closer to their allies. Worrying over the approaching Alpha Flight birds, Delta’s commander, Lieutenant Chester ‘Dart’ Wilkes, sent the other two in a guarding posture slightly ahead of them while he and his remaining wingman attacked Firebird. The range was now very close amongst all of them, and in the heavy movement, Desser, who was now maneuvering for whatever he could get, found himself in a good spot for one of the two craft that was moving to guard position, and with a couple tight turns in a few seconds, shot off a long, simulated gun burst that recorded as striking and killing the craft.
Delta’s plan continued as such with the remaining plane moving to tangle with a fast-moving Orion and the remaining two going after Desser. Now clearly on the defense, he attempted to evade and survive till the rest of Alpha arrived. Dart ordered his wingman to try and push for gun range as he gained a bit of altitude and tried for a missile kill. As the range closed ever more and the maneuvers became more extreme, Firebird became more focused on what was directly behind him. Eventually, he turned hard to the right and found Dart was looking over him from a comfortable missile position at his 4 O’clock, and had a clear missile tone on him in no time.
At this point, the opposing sides had returned to even footing, three against three. The Delta flight pilot that had broken off had already merged with Orion, and the remaining planes were closing in fast. What started with two planes dogfighting turned into six in a minute, and the rest of the engagement ended in the space of around five more.
Orion tangled with his opponent for a bit before the last of Alpha’s arrival forced his target to make a drastic bank in the wrong direction to avoid being locked, and gave the pursuer and excellent gun shot that took the target down. However, he was almost immediately locked up by one of the remaining two enemy aircraft, knocking him out of the competition as well. Another Delta plane got the good luck of firing off a nice shot at one of the approaching Alpha fighters on merger. The sole survivor of Alpha flight only realized he was alone until he was already chasing after a target and a second dropped in behind him. Caught between continuing pursuit and breaking to evade, he chose the former in hopes of achieving a kill and once more re-balancing the table, but was not quick enough before he, too, was locked on.
The simulated battle ended with a victory for Delta flight, killing all of Alpha flight for a hefty loss of three of their own. Lieutenant Desser commanding Alpha had made a big mistake in choosing to break up his flight, having the reserves stationed too far away, and choosing to dive in and break up the enemy too soon. Lieutenant Wilkes and Delta had an opposite problem, needing some more aggression and individual action. Neither were too terribly serious, and in fact both flaws were more habits of the commanders, habits which both had done well to grow past over the course of their time as flight leaders. After a few more minutes Runner reported in with the results of the second skirmish.
“Eagle One, Two here, SITREP, over.”
“Eagle One copies, go ahead, over.”
“Exercise complete on my end, both flights are RTB. Any further orders, over?”
“Negative, head home if there’s nothing else, over”
“Understood, out.”
Satisfied with the exercise’s conclusion, Cole switched back to the other two flights under his supervision to pass on the same.
“Alpha, Delta, exercise complete, you are cleared to RTB, over.”
“No shows for our new friends in town, sir? Over,” Firebird asked.
“Negative, I doubt you guys have the fuel One-One, over.”
“Permission to pass overhead? It’s on our way back, over.”
“Hm, alright, but keep it slow and not too low. I don’t want a complaint coming in saying we shattered some windows or blew off the tiles of a roof,” Cole said. “And I’ll be heading first, copy that?”
“Solid, One,” Desser happily replied.
Cole was already closest to the town, so he would be reaching it first regardless, but he did not want the rest of the fighters going too fast in an effort to catch up. Just breaking the sound barrier in Mach would be enough to break glass. He ensured that the plane was kept at a good altitude and speed that would not cause any danger. It felt somewhat unnatural in a way, given that the F-15 usually worked in high-up chases, and this was rather slow and low compared to the Eagle’s normal range, but it would still look good from the ground.
The town came up first as a blurry cluster that became more defined the closer he got. Before long he could make out individual buildings in it, and even some pegasi that were flying about, none of which were in his path, thankfully. If he looked close enough, he might be able to catch a brief glimpse of some of the townsfolk on the ground looking up at him. No doubt at least one of them was one of the many ponies he had met so far.
Indeed, on the ground, there were three Twilight, Rainbow, and Rarity, who were talking on their way back from the market. They, along with the rest of the ponies in the street, turned their gaze skyward and kept track of the fast-approaching dot. Rainbow seemed a bit excited to see it, but Twilight shared the same feeling as the other unicorn, one of slight confusion, as they had not been told that the exercise would pass over the town. There was a slight worry that something was wrong, but nothing seemed to be so, though she realized at the same time that she knew little about the jet at all.
Regardless, the jet came in low and fast, quickly growing from a little dot to a large fighter. From the distance came the deep sound of a rumble, growing faster and closer to match the growing anxiety. The jet came closer, the noise louder, and the ponies still stood and watched, unable to look away, many of which had grins and looks of excitement growing across their faces, Rainbow included.
Finally the jet matched the spot they were standing in. There was a loud, whooshing yell as the Eagle dropped a bit lower and screamed overhead, blanking out all other sound for a split second. Some of the ponies crouched from reaction, others jumped, but all together there was a collective rush of energy. The yell instantly turned into a deep, powerful roar as the American fighter passed by and moved off in the other direction.
It reached the edge of town a second later and pulled up sharply, moving up towards the clouds, its afterburners giving the colorful touch of the shock diamonds in the back. The roar continued to echo in the streets in waves as the plane climbed, and Twilight and the others watched the spectacle of F-15 climbing, a vapor cone momentarily enveloping the body as contrails traced the path of wingtips with thin white lines.
There were a healthy number of cheers from those who had been pleased with the surprise, and a few others were left shaking from it, and still some just watched in awe or confusion, as was Rarity’s case. She asked Twilight what the meaning of that was, to which Rainbow replied first, saying it was supposed to be celebratory. Rarity could not think of what they would be celebrating, except for the exercise, which did not seem like much. Even so, Twilight admitted there was something to it, even if it was for nothing, it felt fun. In the end she simply went with Rainbow’s conclusion of it being ‘just an awesome thing to do.
The rolling fields of green that made up the land of the former Crystal Empire were a hypnotizing sight at times for the General. He had grown up on the plateau at the heart of his nation, near an area that had many woods and other geographical changes in it. Fields were not usually this large, and the vast open proved easily enthralling, especially on clear days. Still, the effect was reduced by all the activity of the day.
Here and there soldiers of the Shadow Empire patrolled across them; occasionally a vehicle would go out as well. Artillery pieces sat in their positions usually covered up by camouflage netting that did little to hide that something of important lay underneath. Tanks, personnel carriers, and support trucks drove up and down the busy roads, especially in the town he was in.
Being one of the few built-up places in the area, the moderate town had become a resting and meeting place for many units, including his own. It also served as a sort of command area, being relatively close to the Equestrian border, ensuring that it was always a place of great activity. Shadow soldiers filled every house in the town, the original occupants having either fled or been forced out, filling it with the dark bodies covered in dark uniforms that made it feel more like a barracks than a town.
However, one group of ponies did not fit in with the rest of the inhabitants, whose meeting tore the General’s attention away from the field. Shadow ponies, though they had some variation, usually had dark fur and hair, a sort of memento to the tormenting banishment the Equestrian Princesses had inflicted on them. These ponies, all pegasi, had differing colors amongst themselves, with the one up front bearing a light-blue coat. It was not unusual, as it gave a clear indication to who they were.
“Look at them over there,” the General said to one of his subordinates, “busy and demanding, as they always seem to be.”
“The Night ponies?” the subordinate answered as they watched the leader greet an officer from the Air Force on the sidewalk.
“The acolyte of Nightmare Moon,” he confirmed.
“Why are they still here?”
“They returned us from exile, and now they are in exile themselves,” the General answered. “It’s an honorable thing to do.”
“What? I actually just meant around town instead of the airfield. I heard they only stopped by for a visit.”
“Oh… yes, my bad. I suppose their work is not complete, though I’d wish they would leave. Their smugness has started annoying me a bit,” the General responded with some. “Take their name, the Shadowbolts. One of ours should have that name!”
“Relax , Vaq, they aren’t that bad,” the subordinate replied, turning his attention back to writing out papers. “You ask me they’ve earned it; they’re the best in our Air Force anyways. And like you said, they’re the ones that brought us back. A little name isn’t that big a deal.”
“Yes… perhaps.”
Across the street from them, Nightingale was discussing matters with an Air Force officer that was attached to one of the frontline units. A few days ago their attempt to bomb the Equestrian Academy following their capture of an American pilot had ended in disaster. It had been hoped to completely destroy the important target and possibly even capture the pilot after, hence why the escort had been relegated to pegasi. Instead, they were greeted by a squadron of American fighters, losing almost the entire force.
“Thank you,” she said to the officer, turning back to her fellow Shadowbolts. “It seems as though the American fighters present have limited their patrols. Only a single group a day is going up for a short time.”
“And it’s the same jets that destroyed our attack force?” one of the others asked.
“The very same, Drag,” she confirmed.
“Good, I’m looking forward to shooting them all down.”
“We should be more careful, attempting to destroy the entire unit at once could be costly for us, and may convince the Americans to send more.”
“Plus we already lost a lot to them to begin with,” Descent, the team's XO, added. “Attacking them directly will set us back even more, something that can’t be afforded now that the Americans are allying closer to the Equestrians.”
“They’re very good,” Nightingale acknowledged, looking slightly at the ground. “We need to handicap them before we do anything else.”
“And that’s where your plan comes in?” Drag asked.
“Exactly; we’ll give them something that shoots back and shoots better. If everything goes right, they’ll be dead before they know it.”