//------------------------------// // For Valor // Story: RAID // by Aqua Fortis //------------------------------// Chapter 8: For Valor 8:19 PM July 2nd, 1005 New Solar Calendar Rainbow Dash inhaled slowly, her torso constricted by the dark blue dress uniform she so rarely wore. She held the breath for a moment, standing at attention with her most recent mission’s squad members. She exhaled silently. Bandages on her face shifted from the movement, eliciting a wince and quiet hiss. The cavernous central atrium of the Hub felt cloyingly small to Rainbow as she stood in formation. Unadorned black banners hung from the overhead cross-braces. Rows and rows of ponies stretched from wall to wall. The only remaining open space was a single lane cutting directly through the middle. At the end of the central aisle, four ponies stood facing the assembled crowd. The Commandant was next to another pony Rainbow did not recognize. She wore a Colonel’s rank insignia, though, and the proud Gamma Division unit patch on her shoulder made her station obvious, if not her name. Her brown coat and grey mane seemed to fade into the somber background, leaving the comparatively bright Commandant nearly alone. The second pair stood several steps away, allowing the aisle to stretch from wall to wall. One was encased in a full set of ceremonial gold armor, the same design worn by the warrior-priests of pegasus armies since before the time of Commander Hurricane. The grey tinting his mane and the beginnings of wrinkles on his face made him seem too old to be an operative. The pegasus next to him wore a Sergeant’s stripes on his standard dress uniform. After more than a year of observing military custom, Dash could tell he was ill at ease. His jaw was clenched tightly, as though he was afraid of what might happen should he open it. Minute twitches in his wings betrayed the apprehension brewing within him. The same gnawing fear grew within Rainbow as the ceremony began. From the rear of the formation, the mournful tones of bagpipes filled the atrium, competing with the staccato beat of snare drums. The song was one that all pegasi recognized, a slow, haunting dirge believed to have been written for Commander Hurricane’s funeral hundreds of years ago. It had been played to honor fallen warriors since before the founding of Equestria, becoming one of the most recognizable parts of pegasus military tradition. Recognizable, but when played in ceremony, dark and humbling unlike any other. She heard the slow, quiet hooffalls of six ponies marching down the central aisle at a ceremonial pace. From her place at the front of the formation, the procession was not visible until it reached the end of the aisle. Rainbow felt cowardly relief at being forced to stare straight ahead. She did not want to find out if she could stand to look at the unadorned wooden box that held the consequences of her failure. The black-clad pegasi set the casket before the armored priest, saluting the four ponies facing the formation. They returned the salute, allowing the pallbearers to take their places to the side of the traditional ceremony about to begin. The gold-clad priest stood before the casket, quietly reciting the words that implored the wind and clouds to protect and guide the essence of the fallen warrior. The rite was a relic from dark and superstitious times, but it was a rare pegasus soldier who did not request to be buried with such a tradition. Dash thought back three days, to the operation that had seemed so simple. She had spent many hours repeating it in her head, trying to convince herself that bad luck had been to blame. Despite the official cause being listed as “enemy action,” and the reassurances of many fellow operatives, Rainbow could not shake the belief that her failure had filled the coffin before her. --- 0100 30 JUN 05 MIL-STD CAL Operation: RATTLESNAKE Mission clock: T+6:00:02 Mouth of the Akula River Water surged around Rainbow’s head as she dove into the muddy waters of the sea, tainted by the Akula dumping hundreds of miles’ worth of sediment into the crystal waters of the ocean. Though the night air was warm and humid, the chill of the river’s water stung her as she glided under the surface, spending the last of her momentum to finally stop a dozen meters away. She adjusted her rebreather mask, fixing the inevitable results of her impact with the water. Her goggles fared better than the mask, the rubber seals successfully keeping the water from her eyes. Though the water was dark and murky, she would still be able to reference her compass to swim in the direction of her target. It was difficult to be absolutely certain in the dead of night, but she should have been approximately three hundred meters from the hull of a rusty freighter docked at a rotting pier in the mouth of the river. The crew had been clever in selecting their hiding place. The tall jungle trees provided adequate cover from prying eyes above and the strong current from the river kept most oceangoing vessels far out to sea. In fact, the only mistake the unfortunate crew had made was agreeing to take on their latest shipment. RAID operatives had clandestinely tracked the suspect cargo all the way from the research facility further inland, leading them to the Ark Star’s hidden mooring. Despite the winding trail taken from the R&D compound, the ship had been discovered barely a week after Dash’s daring reconnaissance mission had returned. When a follow-up mission spotted the aging freighter, the decision was made to send an unmistakable message to the Griffon Kingdom. As the orders were passed down, Dash once again found herself flying into danger. Two magnetic mines were strapped to her sides, ready to be attached to the Ark Star’s hull below the water line. If she employed them properly, they would be powerful enough to sink the dilapidated ship by themselves, but somepony who considerably outranked her was not content with merely disabling the vessel. Five operatives had been deployed, packing enough explosives in total to destroy the ship three times over. Dash brought her foreleg close to the goggles, reading the glowing needle on the compass wrapped around her fetlock. As long as she held her course steady, she would find the vessel’s bow in just a few minutes. Her fellow operatives would be approaching the hull from different angles, all attaching charges to the steel ship with powerful magnets. She extended her wings, pushing against the water in a slow, graceful imitation of aerial flight. The motion efficiently propelled her through the water without drawing attention from any wandering eyes that might glance in her direction. The gentle movement allowed cool water to filter through her coat and under her armor, drawing away the heat from her long flight. The pleasant sensation was forced out of her mind when a beam of light cut through the water directly in front of her, casting an incandescent cone that dissipated into a dull glow near the muddy sediment of the riverbed. She stopped just short of the illuminating column, letting it sweep through the swirling eddies of mud and sand kicked up by the river. It scanned through the water like the malevolent gaze of a stalking predator, hungrily seeking prey swimming in the murky river. Dash was suddenly glad that her team had opted for the slightly bulkier rebreathers instead of scuba tanks. If the smugglers were vigilant enough to include a spotlight in their security precautions, then they would easily pick up the bubble trail left by five approaching operatives in scuba gear. Rebreathers addressed the problem by recycling and purifying the wearer’s exhalations, eliminating the bubble trail altogether – but at a price. Below depths of eight meters, the system would fail after just a few seconds. Once upon a time, Rainbow Dash would have ignored such details. The same discipline that kept her attentive during pre-mission briefings also gave her the patience to approach the mooring slowly despite the delay caused by the unexpected searchlight. As long as she kept her pace and went about her work efficiently, she would still carry out her task within the mission timeframe. Though the presence of the searchlight complicated her mission somewhat, it brought the reality of her new situation into clear focus. Theta Division had predicted that the crew would be edgier than usual, given their exceptionally shady deal. Heightened security was to be expected when such a large, expensive shipment had come out of the blue. Suspicions had been confirmed with a secondary reconnaissance mission – the thieves had taken extra precautions to secure their hidden mooring. The spotlight held steady for a harrowing moment, barely ten centimeters from Dash’s nose. Despite the lack of bubbles from her exhales, she found herself taking shallow breaths until the light moved away. Once she was confident that the beam would not turn back, she extended her wings and pushed against the water in a powerful stroke to return to her objective. Below her, the ocean floor dipped deeper as the river’s current cut a path through the soft silt. The same current picked up strength as she got closer to the upstream mooring. Her flying motion began to lose speed as she fought against the river’s growing influence. Rainbow kept her compass constantly in view to assure her heading. Fighting the head-on push of the current was simply a question of strength and endurance. Compensating for the sideways drift required vigilant checks and proper adjustments. Amphibious infiltration operations had been one of the most difficult segments of Dash’s training, and for good reason. To make progress through water, especially against a current, required that the swimmer take powerful strokes, which necessitated large, sweeping movements. In order to avoid detection, though, movement had to be minimized. When an operation called for the infiltration of a heavily guarded marine target with a strong current, operatives walked the razor’s edge between too much movement and not enough progress. As Rainbow neared the Ark Star’s hull, she found herself fighting against the river’s flow as well as her own impulse to move as quickly as possible. It took every last ounce of willpower to keep her motions slow and fluid enough to avoid detection by sentries’ prying eyes. Minutes passed like hours. Dash’s gaze constantly darted between her compass, the searchlight beam, and the black expanse of water directly in front of her. The light lazily drifted about the river’s mouth, its apparent disinterest masking the violent response it would provoke should an operative be unlucky enough to wander into its path. Theta Division could not provide intelligence on the smuggler’s combat capabilities, but it was a safe bet that being discovered could lead to anything from a barrage of arrows and javelins to improvised but sophisticated depth charges. After an agonizingly slow swim, Dash could finally see her target through swirls of mud and sand. It appeared like a ghost, materializing just a few meters in front of her. Its rusty surface appeared as a black shape against a background of even darker black. For Rainbow, though, it was enough. She had made it to her objective – time to carry out the mission. She hung close to the hull, using the ship itself to hide from any prying eyes on the deck. She slid along its surface to the centerline ten meters behind the bow. This first charge would break the ship’s spine, cracking the keel in two and separating the bow superstructure from the rest of the ship. If the smugglers managed to survive the rest of the charges to attempt an escape, everything fore of her magnetically attached mine would snap clean off. Dash detached the charge from her armor and gently touched it to the metal sheets of the ship’s belly. Holding it in place, she touched the arming switch to activate the electromagnet and prime the explosives inside. When she removed her hoof, the mine stayed attached, held firm by the magnet. Satisfied with her work, she spun towards the bow and slowly crept towards the waterline. Her second charge served a very different purpose. Dozens of metal flechettes were packed inside, each tipped with diamond dust. When combined with the explosives behind them, the darts would penetrate clean through the hull and whatever lay behind it – ship structure, cargo, crew, and anything else they might encounter. It would be the first to detonate, shredding everything belowdecks before the other nine assured the ship would go nowhere with its now useless cargo. Dash slowly floated towards the surface, detaching the mine from her armor. In the dim light above, the blurry outline of a griffon could be seen gesturing confidently. She could only guess what orders he was giving to the unsuspecting crew, but none of them seemed to bring any attention to the water. Rainbow slowed her ascent, hiding her movements in the murky water. Instincts from her training began to kick in. Go slowly. Keep your movements fluid. Stay close to the hull. The minimal amount of space between her and the surface sent a shiver up Rainbow’s spine. There was so little keeping her hidden. Even in such muddy water, she would be easily visible if the sun had been out – or if the searchlight pointed in her direction. She kept a wary eye on the smuggler’s silhouette, watching for any sign that she had been detected. Seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. Her eyes still on the griffon, she brought the mine towards the hull. Adding to her distress, the current tried to pull the explosive out of her hooves. She fought to maintain a careful balance between keeping a tight grip on the charge and moving too erratically. After thirty nerve-wracking seconds of painfully slow movement, she turned the mine’s magnet-lines face to face the ship’s hull. Without warning, the mine was pulled from her grasp, slamming into the hull. The metal plates of the ship’s bow rang as though struck with a sledgehammer, reverberating through the water with a sound that realized all of Rainbow’s terrors at once. A sudden splash from directly above compounded her fears. She snapped her head up to catch a split-second of a sickly yellow claw stabbing down from the surface, grasping a fistful of her mane. A sharp yank pulled her out of the water, throwing her violently onto a wooden dock. The spotlight quickly swiveled toward her, revealing half a dozen armed thugs surrounding her, weapons ready. “Don’t move! Don’t move! You try anything, we’ll kill you!” --- 2123 27 JUN 05 MIL-STD CAL To an unfamiliar observer, Rainbow Dash would have seemed very upset by something. The grimace on her face and flattened ears seemed to be the expression of a mare who had been recently publicly embarrassed. Her head was held low, contributing to the general appearance of a pony who wanted nothing more than to disappear into thin air. Ponies who knew her better, though, could tell that she was trying to hold back an honest opinion. Her patience and discipline had limits, and she was rapidly nearing them. There were a few tics that gave it away – the occasional twitch of an ear or flick of her tail – but the most telling sign was the griffon next to her ranting loudly as they walked down the concrete ramp. “I’m just saying, there’s, like, two dozen ponies here whose job is giving briefings. Their only job. It’s not like they run training ops on the weekends or anything. It’s briefings, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. So why was I picked for this?” After a moment of silence, she elbowed an equally irritated Rainbow Dash. “C’mon, ask me why.” Dash complied with a sigh. “Why?” “Why what?” “Why were you picked to give this brief?” she asked through gritted teeth. “I have no clue!” Gilda shouted. “Especially ‘cause, like I said, there’s a bunch of ponies who get paid to give these classified briefings and nothing else!” Her jaw still clenched, Dash pointed out the obvious. “Maybe because you’re a griffon, and since we’re kind of fighting them, you might know a thing or two about them? It was your homeland.” The griffon scowled. “That’s not it. I don’t know what’s up with that bunch of freaks. They’re all ‘give to the clan with all you can, and the clan will do what’s best for your nest’. You and I both know that doesn’t fly with me.” “Yeah, you never were one to help others out, G,” Dash observed dryly. “I’m perfectly fine with helping,” Gilda shot back. “I just don’t like it when it’s mandatory.” Dash raised an eyebrow. “So now you earn your bits by giving me mandatory help?” Gilda opened her beak to reply, but the rebuttal to Rainbow’s argument was nowhere to be found. She scowled again. “I have a briefing to give. Leave me alone.” “Whatever, G,” Dash replied. “Just try not to blow your top in the middle of it.” The pair stopped at a small metal door that sat flush with the tan-grey concrete of the tunnels. Gilda held her eye to a scanner in the wall, eliciting a pair of electronic beeps from the device before the door swung inwards to reveal a briefing room filled with a dozen other ponies packed into the tiny room that was nearly at its capacity. Dash took the last remaining seat among the operatives and handlers assembled as Gilda stepped to the front, placing the pages over which she had obsessed for hours onto a podium offset from the room’s center. As the lights dimmed, the front wall split in the center. The two halves pulled apart to reveal a recessed screen that displayed the rotating RAID emblem ubiquitous to all screens in the Hub. From her seat near the front, Rainbow could barely make out an irritated twitch in the darkness as Gilda began her briefing. “As you’ve probably all heard by now, the incidents of the past few months have been linked to a Griffon company called Nor’easter Heavy Industries. It’s a large conglomerate company headquartered in Mosclaw, manufacturing everything from toasters to railroad cars. Unfortunately, it’s also a big supplier for the Griffon Kingdom Army/Navy. Their nasty little claw marks have been found on equipment recovered by RAID operatives in the aftermath of their recent deployments. “One of their less-reputable subsidiaries is Typhoon Defense Solutions. Sounds like a bunch of think-tank dweebs, but they’re way more dangerous than that. Typhoon recruits straight from the GKA/N Special Purpose Forces. They find troops whose contracts are about to expire and offer them a fat bonus to sign up. They’ve put together a small army of almost three hundred highly trained operatives. With help from other branches of Nor’easter, they’re very well supplied – overall, not a group to be taken lightly. “Theta Division believes that Nor’easter, using Typhoon as its own private military, is responsible for the recent incidents. They’re working on leaking these details to the Kingdom’s National Police, but in the meantime, we’ve been tasked with a… somewhat less diplomatic stopgap measure.” She fumbled with a remote control, switching the screen to a map of the south coast of the Griffon Kingdom. Dash recognized features of the northern edge of the map from her last briefing, including the river that had doubled as her landing zone. It snaked south through the jungle, meeting with dozens of small tributaries to before cutting through the more mountainous region near the coast. “Nor’easter must suspect that we’re on to them, because they’ve secretly contracted the Ark Star to move their latest shipment of supplies to Typhoon. It’s an outlaw freighter crewed by smugglers and rumrunners. They’ve managed to get by mostly unnoticed until now, thanks to a well-hidden dock in a steep mountain valley.” The map zoomed in on the river, centering on the mouth in the southern sea. Nothing was visible past the coastline, obscured by heavy foliage from the jungle on either side. “High-altitude recon photography doesn’t show the banks of the river, which is what they were counting on to stay hidden for so long.” Grainy, green photographs replaced the map. “Theta Division operatives probed the southern coast for days before finding the Ark Star’s anchorage. There’s no good approach during daylight hours, which is why we’re stuck with lousy night-vision photography. It shows enough, though – the ship and crew are there, and it’s our job to change that.” With a satisfied smile, Gilda changed the slide. Schematics of an explosive device appeared, showing views from multiple angles. “The best tool for the job is the Barnacle magnetic mine. It can be packed with a dozen different payloads and will attach to the hull easily. Just one of these with the right explosives would pretty much ruin the ship, and we’re gonna stick ten of ‘em on there.” A handler in the audience raised a hoof in question. “Why so many? If one could gut the ship, isn’t ten kind of… y’know, overkill?” The query elicited a squawk of laughter from Gilda. “Funny, I asked the same question when the higher-ups read me in. According to them, we’re sending Nor’easter a message. Whether there’ll be any ‘message’ left after you’re done depends on what they’re hauling. Comm gear and conventional weapons? Should come in loud and clear. More arcano-explosives?” She trailed off for a moment. “Maybe not clear, but definitely loud.” Quiet laughter filled the room as the briefing continued. “You’ll be going in under cover of darkness. There’s no unified early warning system like our Border Watch stations, so your approach should be clear until you’re within a few hundred meters of the dock. At that point, you’ll go underwater to the objective. SEAPONY rebreathers will allow undetected infiltration of the anchorage for placement of explosives. “After the charges have been set, exfiltration will follow the Akula’s current five hundred meters out to sea before taking to the air again. All charges will be set to a common timer for five minutes, which is to be armed only after everypony is confirmed to be clear of the blast zone. After leaving the target area, head to this small island. It’s about twenty-three kilometers to the south and uninhabited. Rest there and then don gear identifying you as Equestrian Royal Navy divers for a rendezvous with a frigate later that day. Transit back to port and head here for debriefing.” The lights rose to a soft yellow, signifying the end of Gilda’s presentation. “Your handlers will give you individual instructions for munitions placement and familiarize you with operation of the Barnacle. Go time is set for June twenty-ninth, sixteen hundred local. Arrival at target location is set for zero-one hundred on the thirtieth, Kingdom West Coast local. That’s all you need from me.” With that, the small crowd began breaking off into pairs of field operatives and handlers, each beginning to discuss he particulars of their mission. Dash hopped off of her seat and trotted to the front of the room, where Gilda was putting all of her papers in order once again. “Not bad for someone who nearly gave me a migraine earlier,” Dash remarked. “Eh. I figured I gotta do it anyway, so why not just get it done?” Gilda stacked the papers into one large pile and placed them into a locking briefcase before handing them to a Theta Division representative for safekeeping. Rainbow gingerly rubbed her temple with a hoof. “You couldn’t have figured that before you made me want to chew my own ears off? C’mon, G, you would have given Rarity a run for her money with all the complaining you were doing.” “Yeah, well, it’s done now,” Gilda rebutted. “No need for either of us to keep complaining.” “If you say so, G.” Dash slowly shook her head, hoping to change the topic to a question that had popped into her mind at the end of the briefing. “So this mission’s scheduled for two days from now? Isn’t that cutting it a little close? We have almost zero prep time for a fairly complex op.” She shrugged. “It’s a target of opportunity. Gotta strike while the iron’s hot, you know.” “Yeah, well, that doesn’t change the fact that we’re kind of rushing into this. I hope you’ve got some good intel on that anchorage, ‘cause we’re gonna need every advantage we can get.” A grin stretched across Gilda’s beak as she led Dash to a table in the back of the room. “We’ve got plenty of that. First-class stuff. As much as I trust Theta about as far as I can throw them, they did pretty good work on this one. The first thing you’re gonna have to watch out for is the spotlight…” --- 0121 30 JUN 05 MIL-STD CAL Operation: RATTLESNAKE Mission clock: T+6:21:44 Ark Star anchorage Dash’s head snapped to the side as the griffon’s clenched claw struck her across the jaw. The only thing keeping her from collapsing onto the wooden planks from the force of the impact were the four ponies tightly grasping her legs and wings. Eight other ponies and zebras stood at foreleg’s length from the captured operative, observing the scene with weapons in hoof. The griffon readied another strike, his fist impacting Dash just below her eye. Rainbow had always known that griffons were naturally stronger than ponies, but she had not appreciated just how much stronger until the angry one in front of her had demonstrated his full ability in an ad-hoc interrogation right where he had pulled her from the water. “I know we’ve just barely started,” he snarled in Dash’s face, “but I’m gonna give you a chance to stop this early and point out where your teammates attached their mines.” Dash spit into the black water. “No teammates. Solo mission,” she mumbled. The griffon made is disbelief known in the form of another punch to Rainbow’s gut, causing her to double over in pain. “There’s no way you’d risk getting that close to the surface if you came alone. You’d just stick a couple charges to the bottom of my ship and leave. So, let’s try this again.” He grabbed a clawful of Rainbow’s mane, bringing them face-to-face again. “Show us the mines.” In the back of her mind, phrases from her counter-interrogation training sprang forward. Admit nothing. Deny everything. Make counter-accusations. “There are no t-teammates. I was sent alone.” Her lie was rewarded with another strike across the jaw. “Equestria never sends solo operatives. Even the Royal Guard isn’t that stupid.” Though her thoughts were beginning to get cloudy from the pain, she recognized her opportunity in the griffon’s assumption. “Not Royal Guard.” The griffon scoffed at the denial. “Lying will only make things worse. This stinks of the Special Operations Group.” Deny everything. Make counter-accusations. An idea sprung into her mind. It was a long shot, but it was the only idea she had. “1st SOG?” She started to laugh, but it turned into a hacking cough. “If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead.” Another punch threw Dash’s head back. “What’s this ‘us’ business? You work for Equestria. It’s painfully, stupidly obvious. You even styled your mane after that one pegasus. Rainbow Run or something.” “Yeah, well,” Dash coughed again, praying her ruse would work, “the eggheads at Typhoon are no slouches.” The griffon’s eyes widened for but a moment before he caught himself. “What are you talking about? What’s this ‘Typhoon’ thing?” “Come on, you idiot!” she shouted as best she could muster. “Typhoon doesn’t want this shipment going out! Equestria’s been tracking the Ark Star for months! They aren’t sending anything anywhere – they’re tying up a loose end before the Equestrians get a hold of you!” An expression of genuine puzzlement settled onto the griffon’s face. “You’re wrong. The shipment’s all there. They wouldn’t sink this much equipment just to throw off the ponies.” “They need you to think that so you don’t get suspicious and run off to Equestria!” The ponies restraining Dash held tighter as she became more hysterical. “Everything in there is fake. It’s all just meant to get you out to sea so that when those mines go off, you won’t be rescued. Nor’easter is cleaning house!” For a moment, the griffon was silent, considering the tale Dash had just woven. He absently scratched his beak, staring into the darkness beyond the ship. “You know,” he mused aloud, “that all kind of makes sense. This whole deal seemed too good to be true from the beginning. I figured it was legit after they sent us the cash, but I guess they could always take it back if we’re all dead.” He turned back to Dash, tilting her chin upwards with a sickly yellow claw. “I didn’t know any ponies worked for Nor’easter, but sending one to take us out would be a master stroke. If the little pony gets killed in the attempt, it looks like Equestria’s to blame.” Rainbow felt a sudden surge of elation. No way… is he buying this? “They didn’t seem to think you’d be captured, though,” he continued. He set his claw back on the dock, taking a step back from the restrained pegasus. “You flipped on your bosses pretty quickly. Doesn’t sound like the actions of a loyal employee to me.” Uh oh. Um… uh… “What else could I do?” Dash countered. “You caught me red-hoofed. Giving in seems like the only way for me to survive this.” The griffon responded with an ominous chuckle. “Oh, even that’s still up in the air. You kinda pissed us off, little pony.” Dash knew she was on her last legs. She had to sell her deception harder than she ever thought she could. Wracking her brain in the precious few milliseconds she could afford, she went with the first explanation that came to mind. “Please. I was just doing my job. I’m all my daughter has.” “Ooh, a daughter!” A twisted grin splayed across the face of Rainbow’s captor. “You’re in a dangerous line of work to have kids.” She cast her eyes down, trying to summon tears. “I didn’t… plan to have her. Not yet.” One of the smugglers holding her down growled in response. “There’s no way this little filly has a kid, boss. She’s too young and too small. Not to mention pretty stupid,” he added, glaring at her. “Young and stupid is exactly the type this happens to, Freeboard,” the griffon responded acidly. “I bet you didn’t know it happened to me, too.” A contradictory mixture of relief and frustrated anger swept over Rainbow. Thank Celestia he’s taking a little pity on me. But come on – I come up with that Typhoon story on the fly, but the thing that saves my flank is ‘think of the children’? Dash could see the stallion’s ears flatten as he stumbled his way through an apology. “Boss, I… I had no idea. I mean, you just didn’t seem the type. Uh, not that you wouldn’t be a good-“ “Shut up,” the griffon commanded. His subordinate quickly complied. The griffon turned his attention back to Rainbow. “You tell a good tale, pegasus. I’m almost inclined to believe you.” He gestured to the ship next to them. “But I just can’t afford to take you on your word. If you’re lying, and Nor’easter doesn’t get their order, well, we’ve got to get much better at hiding. The stuff in here is worth its weight in gold to this crew, and we aren’t getting paid to drop our shipment at the first sign of trouble.” Glancing towards the dilapidated shore house, he scratched his beak, weighing his options. “Bring her inside and string her up while I figure out what’s going on. Keep at least two guards with her at all times. If Nor’easter’s turned on us, we gotta find a new harbor to hide in for a while. As for those mines-” The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud splash to Dash’s left. As she turned to look, time slowed to a crawl. An armored pegasus jumped clear out of the water, sinking a knife into the back of the stallion holding Rainbow’s wings. The newcomer landed on the dock and bucked a second guard with his powerful hind legs. He unsheathed a second knife from his dripping armor, gripping the hilt in his mouth as he prepared to attack the griffon. Dash had not expected a rescue attempt, but she capitalized on the newfound opportunity. The guard to her right had been distracted by the sudden attack and loosened his grip, allowing Rainbow to twist her limbs free and deliver a devastating hind leg kick to the smuggler’s head. He fell to the dock, limp. As she coiled her legs in preparation to take to the sky, she saw her teammate lunge at the griffon, who took an inadequate step backwards in an attempt to escape the sudden attack. Both acted unnaturally slowly, as though they were moving through a viscous liquid. Rainbow saw the knife cut across her captor’s throat. The mortally wounded smuggler stumbled into the armed ponies behind him, blocking their access to the rest of the dock. Dash was barely able to get airborne before the first of the guards from behind her were able to climb over their injured comrades. She felt the blade of some heavy, slow weapon pass through her tail hairs and thanked her luck that she had not been a split-second slower. Her rescuer followed suit immediately after, pumping his strong wings to put distance between himself and the startled but angry band of criminals he had just assaulted. The entire effort had not taken more than six seconds. The two pegasi flew away from the dock as quickly as their wings could carry them, skimming the water. The ad-hoc interrogation had taken its toll on Rainbow Dash, though. Her rescuer was able to pull ahead as the two rocketed into the night sky, but his lead did not last long. Before the pair was twenty meters away, a pair of archers on the dock started firing at the two fleeing operatives. Rainbow had an arrow deflect off of the lightweight polymer plate, but her teammate was hit in the fabric around the wing joint. The arrow penetrated through the thick weave and embedded itself in the unfortunate stallion’s bone. Rainbow had no time to react before her rescuer hit the water. Before her mind had time to process her options, she had already bitten down on the rebreather mouthpiece and dove into the water to search for the fallen operative. Inky blackness surrounded her once again. She groped around blindly, hoping to find the stallion before he sank to the bottom. In a stroke of luck, the random flailing of her limbs brushed against the operative’s side. She lunged towards the patch of darkness she felt him in. Their bodies collided. Dash quickly wrapped her legs around his midsection, gripping him as tightly as she dared. She pushed the shaft of the arrow aside, eliciting a spasm of pain from her rescuer. Once she finally got a solid grip, she opened her wings and gave a mighty push upwards. The powerful motion barely moved the two ponies. The stallion was completely limp, nothing but dead weight. The extra bulk of their equipment dragged them down even further, making Rainbow’s struggle even more difficult. She fought against the water, scraping for every centimeter. Her wings burned with effort. The pair continued to sink, though. Dash’s desperate attempts only slowed the backwards progress of the two operatives. She did not know how deep they had gotten, but she knew the situation was getting worse. A lightheaded sensation began to creep into her consciousness as they slipped even further below the surface. Dash paid it no heed at first, assuming it was the consequence of her exertion. As they continued to sink, the feeling intensified at a frightening pace. Sudden panic was tempered by a calming euphoria that spread through her like the warmth of a fire. Dash’s movements slowed. Her weight was dragged further below the surface. She was aware that she should be terrified, but it never hit her. Part of her mind was screaming at her to keep fighting. The desperate pleas never reached her body, though, as her legs went limp, releasing the stallion. He drifted beyond her hooves just as she stopped caring. The blackness was peaceful. She could stay there forever. Relieved of the extra weight, Rainbow began floating back to the surface, but her mind took no notice. She saw blurry shapes fade in and out of existence, briefly coalescing into pools of grey before vanishing into swirling eddies of nothingness. Her sense of direction was pleasantly confused. She could not tell up from down and lacked the will to care, choosing instead to bask in the strange phenomenon that had taken over her mind. Rainbow noticed something in her mouth. She had been biting down on it the whole time without a second thought. Something told her that it was important, though she had no idea what it could be. Deciding to trust her instinct, she kept the thing there. Soon afterwards, something new started coming out of it. The stuff tasted strangely familiar, like something she had tasted every day but never really noticed it was there. Some small portion of her mind wondered what it could be, but the rest of it simply enjoyed the new sensation. As more of the substance wafted into her mouth, a rising sense of fear gripped her. Something was wrong. She was missing something. Her breathing picked up, inhaling more of the gas. Had there been another pony with her? Where was he? Why was he gone? With each breath, Rainbow’s mind started to return. What had happened? Where was the stallion that fell? She nearly choked when she realized the thing in her mouth was the rebreather mouthpiece. How deep was she? Had she gone below the maximum depth of the SEAPONY? In the dark, weightless world below the water, she could not tell which way was up. Falling back on her training, she removed the mouthpiece and blew a small stream of bubbles into the water. The tiny pockets of air floated directly away from her, briefly dancing about in front of her face before disappearing into the dark of night. She shifted her weight and pushed against the water with her wings one last time. Her head broke the surface moments later. Gasping for breath, she looked around for any sign of the operative who had rescued her. The only visible movement was on the dock, now partially hidden by the Ark Star. Panicking smugglers were running back and forth, reacting poorly to the death of their leader. The dark surface of the water was unbroken as far as she could see. The stallion was nowhere to be found. She wanted to dive back down and give one last effort to bring the operative back, but she stopped herself. Even if she could have seen him in the dark, muddy waters, she was simply too small to drag the combined weight out of the water. Even if she could, the stallion would be unable to fly. They would have to swim away, and she had no way to call for rescue. No matter where they hid along the coast, they would not remain hidden for long. The smugglers would eventually find them – or worse, Typhoon mercenaries would. Bringing her mind back to the mission, she swam away from the dock for what seemed like an eternity before pulling herself from the water and flying towards the island where the team was to regroup. Everypony else should have made it there already and were likely wondering where the last two operatives were. Rainbow’s heart sank as she realized she would have to be the one to tell them everything that happened at the dock. Adrenaline from her escape still coursed through her veins, fighting off the exhaustion from her short but harrowing captivity. Despite the injuries inflicted by the smuggler crew, she lifted herself into the night sky, flying vaguely southwards in the hope that she would find the rally point where the rest of the team would be waiting to exfiltrate. Once she was airborne, the pain previously masked by her fight-or-flight response began creeping back, needling her in every bruise and laceration left by the griffon’s punishment. Her armor had prevented him from causing serious damage to most of her body, but that simply focused his beating squarely on her head. A dull throbbing that began in her temples angrily grew into a sharp, unrelenting pressure, stabbing at her from the open wounds that covered her head. She breathed the night air deeply, calling upon her last reserves of willpower to stay flying. In a calmer state of mind, she would have been amazed that her wings could still carry her. Flashbacks of her evaluation came to mind. A distant roll of thunder told Rainbow that the mission, such as it was, had been accomplished after all. She looked back, witnessing a fireball billowing into the night sky, shifting colors from orange to blue to green as the Ark Star’s magical cargo vaporized from the intense heat. The roiling explosion set fire to the trees above, bathing the river’s mouth in a hazy orange glow. Flames consumed the pier and dilapidated shore house. There was no evidence of the ship or its crew. Echoes of the explosion slowly died off, leaving Dash with only the sound of wind rushing past her ears. She closed her eyes, focusing on flying, trying to keep the pain at bay until she could land. The wounds on her face burned as the wind tore at them. Minutes crawled by as she pushed herself to stay aloft. The vast expanse of ocean seemed never-ending under the starlit sky. Grunting through the pain, she scanned the waves for the outline of her rendezvous point – the black smudge of darkness against the water’s shimmering surface. Her compass reported that she was on the proper course, but after what seemed like an eternity of flight, Dash could feel the beginnings of panic creeping up through her. Just as she was about to turn and begin a slow search pattern, a shadow on the surface caught her eye. Passing by the tiny spit of land, she mentally compared the island’s shape to the reconnaissance photos in Gilda’s brief. Doubts swam through her mind as she struggled to make out the rocky formation against the inky water. Was this the one she was after? The lacerations burning in the wind made the decision for her. She circled the island once, bleeding off the speed she had unintentionally gathered during her flight from the anchorage. Angling her wings, she landed on the rocky shore with a stumble. She was immediately greeted with cold, sharp metal pressing at the back of her neck. “Tornado,” a voice from behind challenged. With a heavy sigh, she provided the response. “Silver.” The metal tip withdrew, leaving a phantom sensation on Dash’s skin. A similarly outfitted operative appeared from the darkness, cracking a chemical glow stick to provide what little illumination it could. “Sweet Celestia, you’re a mess,” he observed in a hushed tone. “What happened back there?” Dash fell to her haunches on the stony beach, gasping for breath. “Mine slipped. Smugglers found me.” With a hiss, the operative waved the glow stick at a large boulder. Three more operatives appeared, all clutching dive bags with E.R. NAVY printed in reflective lettering on the side. One of them opened his and produced a small first-aid kit, tending to Rainbow’s wounds without prompting. A second produced another dive bag and began removing equipment from Dash’s black armor with practiced speed. Wincing from the antiseptic the medic was applying, Rainbow answered the lead operative’s unasked question. “Target’s destroyed. Shore facilities burning, ship totally – tchhh! – gone.” “Good. Now we’re just waiting for Hailstorm,” he replied, glancing into the darkness. “Where is he?” --- 8:45 PM July 2nd, 1005 New Solar Calendar The priest finished the traditional rites, moving to the front of the casket. At the same time, the sergeant who had been standing at attention alongside the Commandant and Colonel marched out of formation and stood at attention directly opposite the priest. He gave a crisp salute that was returned by the armored chaplain. “Sergeant Wing Walker,” the priest began, “you have volunteered to stand the Last Watch for Staff Sergeant Hailstorm. This solemn duty requires that you maintain your post from sunset to sunset without food, water, or rest as a tribute to our fallen comrade. Are you prepared to assume the watch, Sergeant?” The response was clear but deadpan. “Yes, sir.” “In life, the Staff Sergeant was our brother in arms, at our side until his dying breath. The Last Watch honors his loyalty by placing one of his brothers in arms at his side. Will you show him the same level of dedication and sacrifice that he has shown us, Sergeant? “Yes, sir.” “During your watch, you will allow nopony to dishonor him, especially yourself. You will demand the highest respect from all who approach and turn back those who do not show that respect. Are you capable of performing these duties, Sergeant?” “Yes, sir.” “Staff Sergeant Hailstorm lived and died by the sword. He took up arms to defend Equestria, fighting alongside his fellow soldiers to preserve peace and harmony at home. Such weapons are once again necessary to protect him from those who would desecrate his legacy. Are you armed, Sergeant?” “Yes, sir.” “Assume your post.” Both ponies pivoted towards the casket, raising their forearms in a slow, final salute to the casket. From her position behind the ceremony, the Commandant shouted a command to the formation. “Present arms!” Every pony in the atrium saluted in unison. Dash bit her cheek to maintain composure as she rendered her final honors to the operative who had given his life to rescue her. She drew shallow breaths as the salute was held for five long seconds before the sergeant and the chaplain cut their salutes, followed by the ponies gathered in formation. Sergeant Wing Walker marched to the right of the casket, pivoting towards the crowd on the spot while the priest took his place behind the casket. He remained silent for a moment, bowing his head over the fallen warrior in silent prayer. Over four hundred ponies were gathered in the atrium, and not a sound could be heard as the chaplain finished the silent ritual and addressed the formation. “We all go into danger’s path hoping that we will have the good fortune to return, and yet we would all willingly give our lives so that our fellow ponies may have that privilege. Staff Sergeant Hailstorm embodied that dedication as he sacrificed himself to save a captured operative.” Dash winced at the reminder. For a moment, she could hardly believe that the chaplain would include a description of the tragic event, however obscured. After a moment, though, she reconsidered her objection. Staff Sergeant Hailstorm had more than earned the right to have the circumstances of his death described, even if it was only in vague detail. Her name was kept out of it and Hailstorm’s honorable deed was made plain for everypony. Despite the rapid change of heart, she still felt a painful twinge of guilt at the mere mention. “We are all honored to have fought at Staff Sergeant Hailstorm’s side. May his actions be a guide to us all. May his spirit give us the courage to fight on in his name. May his indomitable will be the wind under our wings that carries us to war, in order that we may bring peace to our homeland. “May we remember the fallen.” The chaplain marched to the casket’s front, pausing to give a slow, final salute before stepping back and turning away, proceeding down the center aisle. As the golden-armored priest reached the formation’s rear, the Commandant’s voice spoke out in the silence. “Division, attention! Dismissed!” As one, the entirety of Gamma Division stepped back and turned, falling out from the rigid formation they had held for the funeral proceedings. Near the back, a group of five ponies gathered in a small circle, distinguished by a unique and immediately recognizable emblem on their uniforms. One of them searched the crowd for a single pony in particular, but in the mass of bodies, the rainbow-maned rookie had slipped by, unnoticed. --- 9:04 PM July 2nd, 1005 New Solar Calendar The last rays of the summer evening sun bathed Rainbow in a warm orange glow, but a cold wind swept through her mane. She shifted her weight on her perch of cirrus, countering the icy high-altitude gusts. As a former weather pegasus, she would have hardly noticed the cold anyway, but her mind was far from the tiny crystals of frost forming on the edges of her coat and feathers. The last fateful moments of the river infiltration kept playing themselves over and over again in her memory. She pored over every detail, trying to find the point where it all went wrong. Was it when the charge slipped from her hooves? Could she have done something to escape before her rescuer flung himself from the water? Or was the whole mission botched from the beginning? Should they have fallen back when it became clear that the smugglers had been expecting trouble? Every time she thought she was close to an answer, it slipped away, vanishing in the wake of a conflicting fact or resurgent memory. She could only explain so much of what happened as bad fortune. The arrow that found Sergeant Hailstorm during their escape was an undeniably lucky shot, but if she had not fumbled the mine in the first place, the whole team would have swam away undetected. She could have argued for a different strike package before the mission even began. A waterborne infiltration was incredibly risky and would not have accomplished the primary objective any more effectively than, say, a hit-and-run torpedo attack. Was sending a message to Nor’easter worth the life of an operative? The sun had slipped below the horizon, painting the west with deep hues of purple and orange as the rest of the sky faded into blackness. Summer constellations took their place in the firmament, looking down on the weary pegasus with twinkling indifference, failing to provide the answers she could not find within herself. She stared back at them in vain hope that they would show her the missing pieces to her puzzle. Lost in the stars, she did not notice the faint whisper of wings beating against the night air until the pony responsible landed next to her. True to her name, Spitfire’s mane seemed to glow with heat even as her breath formed tiny clouds as she exhaled. Dash barely spared a glance for her mentor. “How’d you manage to find me way up here?” “You’re a RAID operative,” Spitfire replied, looking into the distance alongside her. “You get tracked like everypony else. Remember the display in Section 37 Headquarters?” Rainbow let the question lie, dropping the pair into an uncomfortable silence. She could only stomach a brief moment. “I should have done things differently. I’ve been trained to think on my hooves, but back there was just-” “Stop.” A firm hoof on her shoulder cut off Dash’s next words. Spitfire’s face was resolute, but her eyes were gentle. “I know what you’re thinking, and I know what you’re gonna say.” With a few flaps of her wings, the veteran operative floated in front of Rainbow Dash, softly landing on the wispy cloud. The two locked eyes for a silent moment before Spitfire continued. “I know that you blame yourself for what happened. You think that if you hadn’t been caught, your fellow operative would’ve flown away from that mission, same as you. You’re wondering why you survived and he died. It’s not right that you were the one to screw up and he was the one to pay for it. Am I right so far?” Rainbow’s mouth opened to protest, but she could find no words. She hung her head, nodding weakly. “What you aren’t thinking about,” Spitfire continued, gently lifting Dash’s head with a hoof, “is what the Staff Sergeant’s perspective was. He cared for his fellow operatives, same as you.” Spitfire’s gaze turned steely in an instant. “Put yourself in his position. Could you have left an operative on that dock? Let them get tortured and interrogated to the breaking point? Killed as soon as they weren’t useful anymore?” “No! But, this is…” Dash trailed off, biting her lip in thought. “It’s different.” “How,” the veteran countered, “is this any different? Because it’s you? Would it have made any difference if it were somepony else? Or if the error was beyond your control?” Rainbow’s only answer was to cast her gaze down wordlessly. “That’s something you have to come to terms with,” Spitfire said. “You can’t always control what happens out there. Who goes down and who doesn’t. Thinking you can will drive you insane. On an op like that, you just have to focus on doing your job and let everypony else do theirs.” For a moment, Dash was silent. Then her head perked up the slightest degree. “If that’s the case, then why did Hailstorm come back for me? Why didn’t he just do his job and blow the mines?” She saw Spitfire’s jaw tense for a fraction of a second, but the reaction disappeared as soon as it had come. A slow sigh calmed the veteran’s muscles. “We fight Equestria’s battles before our enemies even know they’ve started them. At home, when we’re alone in our quarters, thinking about what we do, we justify it with a lot of politics. We tell ourselves how many lives we save by taking a few. How we keep the peace at home by bringing the fight abroad. If it weren’t for us, Equestria would be fighting half a dozen bush wars that the average pony could hardly understand, much less support. “But when we’re actually out there, when were risking our lives and the lives of our friends and comrades...” Spitfire looked far into the distance, shaking her head. “Politics are the first thing to go. We don’t care if Equestria is at peace. It doesn’t matter how many lives we’re saving by cutting some anarchist’s throat. All that matters is the pony next to you. You trust them to keep you safe and fight by your side. “I know it sounds like a tired cliché, but you’re experiencing it first-hoof right here.” Spitfire raised an eyebrow at the young operative. “We’ve struck a serious blow at Nor’easter’s operations – probably set them back months. That buys us precious time to prevent full-scale war. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?” she asked. “It’s all a load of bullshit. Your fellow operative gave his life for yours, and you got to fly away. That’s what matters. Strategy and geopolitics could never put Rainbow Dash in a cirrus cloud all by herself at sunset. But this does.” Dash looked at her mentor with a heavy sigh. “It’s just… what do I do now? How do I, y’know, deal with it? I’ve been affected by death before; everypony has. But…” She shook her head in defeat. “This isn’t the same.” “No, it’s not,” Spitfire agreed. “Surviving because of somepony else’s sacrifice is difficult to understand. Especially the first time. “And yes,” she added, “there will be more. But I don’t expect you to handle it quickly, and neither does anypony at RAID.” Dash’s ears perked up at that. “The physical injuries you’ve sustained, coupled with the psychological trauma of survivor’s guilt, more than qualify you for a medical leave of absence.” Dash’s expression instantly morphed from hopeful inquisition to a disgusted scowl. “Oh, no. I’m not going back into a hospital bed. I hate hospitals.” A hoof patiently held up silenced her. “I’m not talking about bed rest, Dash. I’m recommending you for two weeks of medical leave. That means no missions, no briefings, no RAID at all.” Spitfire gently prodded Dash in the chest. “It means you go home. Not your barracks – to Ponyville.” Rose-colored eyes widened at the suggestion. “I go home t-to… Ponyville?” The veteran operative nodded. “What you need right now is the support of those closest to you. I know you’ve kept in contact with your friends back home. Nothing helps you through a tough time than being surrounded by friends and loved ones.” Feeling the anticipation building inside her, Dash could barely compose herself long enough to ask a final question. “When do I leave?” “First thing tomorrow morning. Go back to the Hub, pack what you need, and head home. I’ll see you on the fifteenth.” NEXT CHAPTER: Intermission – On Leave