//------------------------------//
// Chapter 11: Old Memories 
// Story: Flying With Damaged Feathers 
// by hornethead 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 11: Old Memories

"Quicksilver, you are clear to begin extraction run, expect light resistance in the area."
"Copy, Mother. Beginning extraction run in five mikes." Tiran responded. "Ian, you ready?" He asked his copilot.
"Ready as ever."
There was a knock at the the cockpit door. It slid away and a face like it had been chiseled out of rough granite poked through, "We all set?"
Tiran looked back with a smile, "All set, Gunny, get your boys ready."
Gunny replied with a smile of his own, one that hinted at more malicious intentions. He turned back into the aft compartment and began barking orders to his men.
Tiran liked the Gunny. More so than the Lieutenant that officially lead the detachment, he and Tiran never really saw eye-to-eye on procedures. so Tiran preferred to liaison through Gunny. They had done more than a few missions together and were familiar with each other's tactics. 
The mission was simple. They were to insert into hostile territory, extract an operative and bug out just as fast. Word came down that the operative had come across some extremely valuable Intel and needed to be pulled, quickly. Tiran never really liked the wording in that. To him, it meant the operative was either about to be compromised, or already was.
Even so, he was flying a heavily armed and armored gunship with a load of highly trained Marines in the back. He wasn't too worried about what might happen.
Tiran flipped on the comms to the aft compartment, "I'm starting the run, Gunny, strap in."
Tiran took one last look around outside, noticing the clouds rolling lazily across the moon. He saw a brief flash of a dark silhouette on the clouds that caused him to startle. at first he thought it might be another aircraft, but the shape was wrong. He thought he saw feathered wings and something that looked like a horse attached to them, but that couldn't be right. Tiran shook his head, passing it off as fatigue. They'd been flying nearly six hours now.
He pitched up then rolled the aircraft into a steep dive. They were about to enter the hot zone and he needed to get as low as possible to avoid the anti-air emplacements further in. If he did it right, they wouldn't even register on radar.
"Warning, picking up building thermal signatures below. Recommend evasive maneuvering." Li said to both pilots.
'What?" Ian exclaimed, "there isn't supposed to be anything down there!"
"Li, put it up on the thermal display!" Tiran ordered.
One of the consoles lit up, showing four white blobs against the darkened ground. They were growing in size. Meaning either they were fires, or...
"We got incoming!" Ian yelled beside him.
Tiran went on comms, "Gunny, the ride's about to get a little rough, hold on!"
"Thanks for the heads-up, sir!" Came the response.
"Ian, I need you to put ordinance on those targets, I'll try to keep us out of their line of fire!"
"Got it!"
Outside the cockpit, great bursts began to erupt all around them, followed by loud ticks and pings as they were bombarded with shrapnel. those were just shots for bracketing. Tiran knew the next ones would be much closer. He began to take evasive action, sliding and rolling about in the dive. even with his moves, the gunship took some its, shaking and rattling the frame, causing it to pop and groan in anguish.
Beside him, Ian fed targeting information to the rocket pods mounted on the external racks. They were old, GPS guided digitals, but they were reliable. And nearly thirty-eight of the two-and-three quarter inch warheads from two of the pods would bring a devastating amount of precision guided destruction to their enemies below.
Thick, smokey contrails lashed out from the pods, screaming death at the ground below. Nearly all of them found their mark, obliterating three of the four targets and scattering men and equipment everywhere. The fourth took heavy damage as well, but continued to pump rounds into the sky, though at a slower pace.
Tiran pulled his aircraft out of the dive and headed for the trees, moving into a map-of-the-earth flight pattern.
"Think we were compromised?" Ian asked next to him.
"I don't know," Tiran said, feeling the adrenaline of the close engagement begin to fade, "but we still have a mission to do and the LZ is pretty far from those emplacements. We might be ok." he switched to internal comms, "Gunny, you doing ok back there?"
"We took some hits, sir." Came the reply. "You've got a few new holes and two of my men got a little singed, but we're still combat effective."
"Good to hear."
Skimming the trees, rolling over ridges, the gunship roared across the countryside. It didn't take them long to reach the insertion point, a wide clearing among the tropical foliage. Tiran was further relieved when Li didn't detect any thermals in the immediate area.
He flared up slightly to bleed off some speed before setting the aircraft down with a jarring bump. Even as the aircraft came to rest, the aft hatch began to lower, letting the Marines stream out into the night.
"All clear, sir, back in ten." The Gunny said to Tiran through comms once all of them had disembarked.
"Copy, Gunny. Happy hunting." Tiran undid his harness and stood up, "I'm gonna take a look at the exterior, see how bad the hits are. Keep me posted," he said to Ian.
"You got it."
Sliding the cockpit door back, Tiran strode out into the aft compartment. His crew chief was already inspecting some of the damage, but it was all minor. Tiran noticed grimly that there were a few splotches of blood on the deck, but there were no bodies so he didn't worry too much.
Going to the back hatch, Tiran walked out into the night and circled his aircraft, careful to avoid the still burning thrust nozzles. There was some black scoring along one side, accompanied by an inordinate amount of scratches and dents, but nothing to worry about too much.
Finishing his inspection, Tiran returned to the back hatch and sat down on its lip, taking a moment to admire the landscape. Fading moonlight glinted off of the wide, flat leaves of the trees as an errant breeze ruffled their tops. He looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of the moon again before it was completely obscured by clouds.
There it was again.
The silhouette, it was back. Just as quickly, it was gone again. What was it, was it real? Tiran shook his head again, thinking that he really needed to get some sleep.
*pop*
*pop*
*pop*
Tiran suddenly sat up straight, back rigid. That had sounded like gunshots, even over the whine of the engines. Tiran strained, trying to listen more.
It happened again, but this time more rapidly and building. There was a firefight happening, which could only mean one thing. Tiran shot to his feet and sprinted back to the cockpit. The crew chief saw him running and immediately knew what it might mean, he went over to a bulkhead and started taking down and putting together his deck-mounted weapon.
"We got anything on comms!?" Tiran asked as he burst into the cockpit and took his seat.
Ian looked frightened, "I got a call from Lieutenant Collins, but it cut out! They're under fire and are heading back!"
"You shitting me? Sonovabitch," Tiran cursed as he began strapping back in. "Spin up the twenties on the sides and link up. Be ready to put some rounds down range."
"Right."
"Quicksilver, Redhawk!" It was Collins, the Marine Lieutenant. "Taking heavy fire, six casualties, walking wounded, ten returning, coming in hot!"
Tiran glanced over at Ian, a troubled expression on his face, "Only four with six casualties? Where are the other five?"
Ian looked as if he was about to offer an answer when he was interrupted by the loud rattle of small arms fire impacting their aircraft, "Shit!"
Tiran looked wildly about, he could see it in the tree line to their right. A handful of muzzle flashes, all aimed at them. "Goddammit, what the fuck is going on!?"
More impacts, this time on the cockpit door, answered with the ripping sound of the crew chief's own weapon. They were getting hit from two sides, a coordinated attack. Tiran needed to get in the air, it wouldn't be long before they started using—
"RPG!"
In a panic, Tiran hit the ventral thrust, shooting the gunship vertically in the air. A rocket streaked by beneath them, just barely missing the hull.
Without any prompting, Ian immediately began to saturate the forest in front of them with 20mm rounds. The muzzle flashes slowed and scattered, spreading out to become harder targets to hit. With him hitting the front and the crew chief covering their rear, they were putting up one hell of a fight. But they still needed to pick up the Marines.
"Where are you guys? We're almost there!" Collins came on over comms.
"Ian, I'll make a low pass at the tree line, you hit'em hard."
"Copy!"
Tiran pushed the nose down and barreled for the tree line. Just before they hit it, he dropped to only a few meters off the ground and began sliding to the left. Ian continued to fire the whole time, cutting down entire trees and even setting a few on fire. Tiran pulled back, satisfied as the tree line fell silent. Then he whipped back around to do the same thing to the other group of attackers, but they appeared to have vanished.
To the south of the clearing, he saw a line of men emerge, some being carried on the shoulders of others. It was the Marines. Tiran put the gunship into a low hover, just a few feet off the ground and backed up towards them.
As soon as he was close, he heard the thump and rhythm of bodies and boots loading onto the ramp. One particular set of boots stomped to the door, it slid open.
"We're loaded up, let's get out of here!" It was Lieutenant Collins.
"Where's the rest of your team and Gunny!?" Tiran shouted back at him.
"We got separated, They're probably dead, now let's go!"
"We don't leave men behind, Collins!" Ian argued back.
"Didn't you hear me?" Collins shouted, "They're dead, it was a set up! We were ambushed as soon as we got there, it was a total clusterfuck!"
"If they're dead, then what's that!?" Tiran said angrily as he pointed out the windshield.
From the forest to their left, three figures emerged. Or rather, it was one figure, dragging two more along the ground. It paused and waved up at them.
"You gotta be kidding me, I saw him get shot!" Collins protested.
"Either way, Lieutenant, we're getting him. Get your men ready, I don't think those hostiles are gone yet."
Collins stomped away in an angry huff as he started shouting orders to his men that were still able to fight. Meanwhile, Tiran spun the gunship around and set it down by the three men on the ground. Just as he did, the rest of the enemy combatants decided to once again reveal themselves. They had picked the absolutely worst time for Tiran.
He immediately heard a chorus of screams as rounds streaked into the aft compartment. The crew chief's weapon fired back, but went silent after only a few brief bursts. The rest of the Marines that could fight back began to as Collins ducked back and swore a blue streak.
Gunny was still hunkered down against the starboard side, trying to open one of the side doors, but the thing wouldn't budge.
"Take the stick, Ian!" Tiran said as he unbuckled himself and rushed out the cockpit.
"Fucking seriously, Tiran, get back here!" He called back, but Tiran was already out. "Jesus! I'm calling in the calvary, this mission's botched!"
The aft compartment was a mess. Wounded Marines littered the deck, the few that were conscious firing their weapons into the trees. The crew chief was slumped against one of the bulkheads, one arm still dangling on his weapon and four neat holes in his chest.
Tiran rushed to the starboard side door and tried to pull it open, but the thing wouldn't move. He looked down and saw the locking mechanism was blown out and jammed up from a shrapnel hit. Thinking quickly, Tiran pulled out his sidearm and aimed at the lock.
"Gunny, get back!" Tiran hollered, hoping Gunny would hear him.
Tiran set the pistol to high power and began blasting away at the lock, each metallic dart he launched taking chunks out of the frame. Eventually, there was nothing left of the lock but a ragged hole with sharp edges. Re-holstering his weapon, Tiran began kicking at the door until it finally flew back with a bang.
On the other side, Gunny stood there smiling, even as rounds whizzed by his head. He was bloody and burnt, looking like hell with two wounded Marines at his feet, but he somehow managed to still look in control.
"About damn time!" He hollered as he began picking up one of the Marines and handing him up to Tiran.
Tiran grabbed onto the guy's tac vest and began pulling him in, "Sorry, but we're a bit busy!"
"I can see that!"
"Glad to see you're still alive though!" Tiran yelled over the screaming engines and sharp pings as rounds struck his aircraft while he pulled up the second Marine.
"Takes a bit more than these pansies to put me  down!" Gunny said with a grin as he reached up towards Tiran. 
Just as Tiran's hand reached out to take Gunny's, the old sargeant's expression changed becoming grim and hard set. Tiran was about to ask what was wrong when there was a flash behind him and blood began spurting from the Gunny's neck.




Something shook Tiran awake. He shot up to a sitting position, hand flying to his pistol. Beside him, Ruwa suddenly jumped back in fright, knocking into one of the bed posts. Tiran looked around the room, sunlight was beginning to stream through the window. He looked at Ruwa, waiting hesitantly by the bed post, then leaned over, covering his face with his hand.
"Are you... are you ok?" Ruwa asked timidly from the corner.
Tiran rubbed his face, embarrassed and started to get up, "Yeah. Sorry about that," he said somberly as he started gathering his things.
Ruwa began to approach him, regaining some of her confidence. "That's ok. What's wrong any way?'
Tiran feigned ignorance, "What is?"
Ruwa's face changed into an annoyed pout, "You were mumbling and tossing around in your sleep. Was it a nightmare?"
Tiran sighed under his breath, "You could say that, but it's over now. Mind helping me with the suit?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.
Ruwa looked as if she were about to refuse for a moment, but then walked over and began helping him fit the pieces of his suit onto his arms. If she still wanted answers, she didn't ask for any, and for that, Tiran was silently grateful.
After a light meal in their room, Tiran and Ruwa departed, quickly exiting the Inn.
"So where-to now, Ruwa?" Tiran asked as he glanced nervously around.
"Well, I had an idea."
"An idea?" Tiran questioned with skepticism creeping into his voice.
"Yeah. Your arm's all busted up, but it's mechanical, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Well maybe I can get it fixed." Ruwa offered.
Tiran looked at his mangled limb, then back down to Ruwa. "Get it fixed? By who? This isn't exactly a simple machine."
"I know. But I know somepony that travels through here from time to time. She's really good with machines and stuff. if she's here, she might be able to help." Ruwa smiled sweetly up at him, trying to gain his confidence.
Tiran wasn't sure. The prosthetic was pretty complicated, given that it was basically an exact mechanical replica of the limb he had lost. It took a fully licensed and qualified bio-technician just to do routine maintenance on it. He was a little wary of letting some strange pony life form with questionable repair skills take a look at it. Still, it would be nice to have his arm back.
"Ok," Tiran said, deciding to take the gamble. "Lead the way."
"Awesome! Alright, follow me."
Tiran followed her down a side street and through an odd part of the small town. He was starting to question his judgement call, looking at some of the things they encountered along the way. The relatively clean streets near the center of town soon gave way to obviously neglected ones. 
Here and there, Tiran saw junk piled into corners. Old metal scrap from trains, ore carts, even what he thought might have once been a jukebox. All of it was covered in rust, or scrapped up where people had scavenged parts.
Soon enough, they arrived at the pinnacle of junk heaps; an entire junkyard.
Tiran gazed all around at the tetanus bearing piles of sharp metal and scrap. he was becoming unsure if this had been the right decision and if they shouldn't have just kept going to the next town, but Ruwa seemed to be confident in where she was taking him.
Eventually, they rounded a particularly dangerous pile of broken glass and came to a large sheet metal shack. On one side were two enormous sliding doors, also made of sheet metal, open for all to see the cluttered, yet otherwise empty garage. Towards the back side of the ramshackle building, a plume of smoke climbed to the sky, under-lit by a flickering inferno.
Ruwa lead Tiran into the garage and stopped at a rickety door in one of its walls, "Wait out here, I'm gonna se if she's here."
"Alright..." said Tiran, lowering his pack and sitting down on a nearby workbench.
Ruwa opened the door and disappeared inside, leaving Tiran to sit alone with his thoughts. Well, except for Li, of course, but she had so far decided to remain silent. He thought about bothering her, but she was likely keeping watch through what was left of his armor's sensors, so he let her be.
Tiran gazed up at the roof, peering at the slivers of blues sky that showed through the narrow gaps between sheet metal panels. He wondered why the roof of a building belonging to a mechanic was in such disrepair. In fact, the whole place was in dire need of a touch-up. He silently wondered if he should just walk away from here and insure that his arm at least stayed intact.
But he still needed Ruwa. She was the only native he knew here, not to mention the only one he trusted even a little bit. He quickly thought about just bursting inside and dragging her out, demanding that they just continue on their trek. He seriously considered it for a moment, but something made him pause.
He heard voices. They were coming from inside the building and growing in volume. From what Tiran could hear, it almost sounded like an argument. Two distinct voices approached the door, one was clearly Ruwa, but Tiran couldn't place the other one. He tried to make out what they were saying, but the words were too muffled.
Then, just before they reached the door, the argument stopped. The door creaked a little, opening up only a tiny bit. Tiran stood up, wondering if he shouldn't grab his pistol.
The door opened a little more and Tiran briefly caught a glimpse of a single large ocean-blue eye and a tuft of almost platinum-blonde hair before the door slammed shut again. Tiran wondered at it. He heard more arguing, low heated whispers.
Then the door opened again, this time wider. A pony walked out. Chestnut coat, a pale—almost platinum—mane and those same deep ocean-blue eyes he had seen before. He noticed she also had a horn on her head. A unicorn. Tiran's hand instinctively moved closer to his sidearm.
"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise." She said as she approached and began circling him. "Or maybe it's not. I don't know yet."
"Ruwa, is this your friend?" Tiran asked, looking back at her where she was standing in the doorway.
Ruwa smiled, but she seemed a little uneasy, "Yes." She directed her next words at the unicorn, "So you think you can fix it?"
Tiran felt a tug at his right arm, "Hey!"
"Hm... maybe..." the unicorn said as she poked and pulled at the mangled limb.
She pulled on it again, Tiran felt a twinge of pain at his shoulder that caused him to step back away from her. "Who are you anyway?" he asked.
"Oh, little old me?" The unicorn smiled. "My friends call me Q. But you can call me Quick Fix."