//------------------------------// // When We Meet Again... // Story: Nearing the Edge // by Eagle //------------------------------// November 22nd, 2005 1214 Hours U.S. 4th Army Headquarters “So we’ll be keeping the same units in the line for Christmas?” the S-3 asked his superior. “We could pull some of them into reserve and let the Marines and British take their place. Both have told me they want to go up and see what the Papa Line is like, for preparation matters if they ever have to fight there.” “No dice, General McBroom, we need those units to keep the rear secure. Last thing we need is internal trouble in the country,” Lieutenant General Hall denied. “At best you can send small-scale units from those divisions up to the front, maybe into the no-man’s land between the Papa Line and the border for a little familiarization, but nothing permanent.” “Yes Sir, understood,” McBroom answered, not wanting to argue any further. “Anything else?” “Did you make sure the Equestrian field drills aren’t at the same time as ours? We can’t have both armies practicing at the same time; someone’s got to stand at the ready.” “Yes sir, I’ve checked with them. The schedule fits out.” "That will be all." McBroom saluted and stepped out of the officer of his superior. The command center of the 4th Army felt much less active than usual, now that the American forces had gotten settled in the country. To an outsider it would seem busy, but it was much less chaotic than when the Army had first arrived. He felt like he could actually breathe as he walked to the end of the hall to talk to the waiting executive officer of the unit. “So what’s he saying now?” Major General Stokes asked as he approached. “Same as before, nothing new. Most of the ground units are staying in place through the winter; only a few Air Force units are getting some leave for Christmas,” McBroom explained, leaning on the wall next to him. “All I got was that he’d allow some units to go up for familiarization; one or two battalions at a time, then when they get back to the rear they’ll rotate out with another two.” “Well… at least I’ll have something to bring back to the Marines,” the XO sulked over the bad news. “I don’t get why he’s so set on keeping so many units so far behind the lines.” “I’ve heard some whispers about that lately.” “Really? Like what?” “Walk with me, it’s better to talk about this in private,” the S-3 suggested. “I’m ready for lunch anyways.” The two headed off through the halls, keeping rather quiet along the way till they reached McBroom’s car in the parking lot. There were few automobiles in Equestria, but being in the staff of the Army had its perks, especially when he had to move about so often. The two decided to simply head into the nearest town and find something before Stokes awkwardly brought up the issue again. “So… what about the rumors?” “Well… the Lieutenant General says he’s keeping these guys in reserve for ‘counter-offensive purposes’ and to ‘deter invasions into our rear areas’ but a lot of people think that’s just an excuse for him to hold them back,” McBroom explained as he turned out of the base. “From what I’ve heard… people say he takes the whole inter-service rivalry a bit too far. I’m not sure if you’ve notice but his decisions seem to prefer the Army and Air Force over the Navy and Marines.” “Yea, it does give off that feel,” Stokes agreed. “We can talk freely, by the way. I’m not going to snitch to anyone that you think these are bad decisions or anything. Trust me.” “Good to know. I’m not sure if a marine stole his lunch money or what but… shit he does not seem to like those guys. Even if war did break out I’m not sure if he’d use them much. Seems to me like he wants the Army and Air Force to get all the glory.” “Hm… well you’ve been working with him longer than me, so I’ll trust you. Why is he like that, then?” “I don’t know,” McBroom repeated. “I think it’s an overblown rivalry, honestly. If the Army and Air Force get the glory, they get the prestige, the extra funding, all that. I don’t think it has much to do with personal glory for himself, so at least there’s that, but I’m not sure… it just seems more… personal than that. I can’t really put my finger on that though.” “Damn, that makes more sense than I’d like it to,” Stokes admitted, fiddling with the air conditioner. “How the Hell does someone like that get to command an army?” “How do you think? He stuck around long enough. I’m pretty sure he’s gotten promotions through seniority and just being one of the few around to promote,” the S-3 said blatantly. “Though…I mean it’s not like he’s a terrible soldier. He just follows the books you know? Not exactly the best for field work but a by-the-books guy is something the generals love for headquarters, and you get to headquarters you get to know the brass, stay in long enough and outlast everyone, so on and so forth.” “Christ I’ve known a few of those. Not a fan of promoting based on time over skill but I suppose you take what you can get.” “Yea? Well we got one that’s trying to cut out two of our branches so his boys can get the spotlight.” “Yep, at a certain point generals stop playing soldier and start playing politician.” “A little take-away from your time in Washington?” “One of many.” “Alright turn in a bit, and make sure to delay a bit so we don’t make the exact same turn. Don’t want to play a game of chicken.” The two planes had broken away from each other in opposite directions, only to turn and come back towards each-other. Cole’s F-15 turned in to the left, while Dash’s F-16 turned right. The Falcon’s turn was a bit tighter, and as a result, when the two found themselves going in similar directions, they were a bit off from each other. After the jets passed they went again, and the two continued the cycle a few more times, forming figure eights in the sky with the contrails. Each time they passed, Dash took a small aim at the imaginary fighter that they pretended was on Cole’s six, allowing the pretend MiG to be shot down as it passed through her gun sight each time. The idea of missing was not something she wanted to focus on, nor did she think she should. “And that’s how you pull off a Thach weave,” Cole congratulated, leveling out and allowing Dash to form back up next to him. “Seems like it was easy enough for you.” “I guess I’m just that good,” Dash joked. “Though I guess I’d never learn it if you didn’t teach me… huh?” “So we went over the scissors variant of that,” Cole recounted, thinking her question rhetorical. “Let’s see… chandelle, the yo-yos, lag barrel… sandwich… I think- ah, there’s still a few others you need to learn. I’m just hoping you’re picking them up and I’m not cramming you.” “Hey, don’t worry; I pick up things better when I fly anyways!” Dash assured him. “Besides, I’m doing better than you think.” “Are you now?” “Oh yea, I can already tell I’m back to being one of the best in the sky!” she exclaimed, though a small part of that was more bluster than honesty. “You haven’t even had a real dogfight with a fighter yet,” Cole retorted, immediately thinking up his next lesson. “Alright hot shot, I’ve got a little challenge for you, if you’re fast enough.” “Oh yea? What?” “Keep up,” he ordered, quickly breaking off to the right and diving towards the Earth. “H-hey!” Dash yelled, mimicking the maneuver. “What’s that about?” “Keep up!” Cole repeated. “Think you can stick to my tail? Try and get into a position to shoot me down!” Dash attempted to comply, but her friend was not going to make it easy for her to do. Cole came closer to the ground and leveled out, moving faster and juking about left and right each time she came close to leveling with his plane. The two jets shot along the countryside, dodging every which-way to avoid obstacles, and in Cole’s case his pursuer. The F-15 screamed across the countryside, the loud roar echoing about the hills and hanging in the air. After every twitch and break Cole checked behind him to see if Dash was still there. In his mirror, the Falcon always popped up after a second or two, sticking to his tail like glue. “That’s it kid, keep it up,” he thought to himself, pulling the stick back and climbing into the sky. Dash followed in suit, trying her best to predict Cole’s next move. However, she quickly realized something he had mentioned at the start of their training, as she began to focus much more on simply reacting to the targets movement. She kept up with him through every maneuver, many of which they had practiced today. He probably thought that she was bluffing when she said her memory was better while flying, and in that case Cole was badly mistaken. After a couple of failed slow-downs and another Chandelle, the Eagle began to dive for the ground again. Dash followed closely, going a little faster this time, and once her target leveled out it returned to skimming about the terrain. After pulling up to dodge a ridge and the rather tall patch of trees on it, the two broke out into an open field, giving Dash a much less restricted view. With this, and having decided she had sufficiently proved her pursuit abilities, she activated the targeting system on her jet. There was no hazard, as they were unarmed for the training mission, but the radar lock attached to Cole’s jet immediately. “Whoa, what the Hell!?” he jumped, not expecting the lock. “I win!” she proclaimed proudly. “Hey, c’mon, get that lock off me!” the American demanded. “Alright, alright. Jeez, you’re a little sore about losing huh?” Dash asked, forming back up with Cole as he returned to a cruising speed. “I just wasn’t expecting that, just startled me,” Cole shot back. “You get in combat that noise can send a chill up your spine... and I was going easy on you anyways.” “Oh come on, that old excuse?” “Hey I’m not lying. I’m trying to help you, not beat you.” Dash sighed a bit, a bit upset as she knew he was telling the truth, but still glowing from her victory. “Anyways, you did great Dash. But that’s enough flying for today, I need to get back and start packing.” “Wait, packing?” she yelled. “Packing for what? Are you leaving!?” “Shit I forgot to tell her. I thought I had already!” Cole thought to himself before turning back to Dash. “Uh, yea… I’m real sorry I didn’t tell you before Rainbow. The whole squadron’s been relieved, and a bunch of other squadrons are going to be taking our place at the base. We’ve been given some leave for the holidays, so we’re heading back home for a few months.” Dash huffed over the radio, clearly unhappy over not being told. “I mean I won’t be gone forever, we’ll be coming back once it’s over.” “Yea I just… wish you wouldn’t,” she responded. “Hey, you think I could come visit you?” “At my place? I mean… if you ever got the time off I’d be happy to, but I don’t think that’ll happen.” “I could always fly there,” she said, continuing on with the theory. “With my wings, I mean! I-I don’t mean steal a jet.” “Heh, you’d fly all the way to the eastern U.S.? Just to chill with me?” “I’d fly all the way there! To the end of the sky!” she confirmed with her usual determination. “That’s sweet Dash, but you need to stay here. They need you here, you know that.” “Yea… yea I know.” “But like I said, I’ll be back. It’s not like I’m dying or anything.” “I know, Cole… I know.” Over the course of the new cold war’s buildup, from the year 2000 to the present day, the Rangers, the elite shock troops of the U.S. Army, had undergone a massive and almost economically unsustainable expansion, as had many other military units at the time. Over the course of five years the 75th Ranger Regiment had virtually doubled in size from three battalions to six. Knowing how powerful these troops could be in conventional battle, the Army clamored for more of them. They wagered that if one battalion could equal an average enemy regiment then six could out-fight a whole division or more. That was what was expected of the 75th Ranger Regiment, and its mission in Equestria reflected that. They were deployed in the No Man’s Land in between the border and the American defense line behind it, and they were expected to aid the Equestrians in the event of an attack, or defend their base and hold up the enemy advance should the Equestrians collapse. To all, the latter seemed more probable, and all of the realistic precautions that could be made for the defense were in the process of being implemented. This was how the regiment came to be stationed in the small town of Saddleburg. It was rather odd to see the sleepy area be turned into a base for troops foreign in both race and nationality. In fact by the time the entire 75th had gotten settled, there were more American troops in the area than native residents. The locals reasonably began to feel like they were strangers in their own homes, and more so that their homes did not even feel like home anymore. The awkwardness and growing pains extended deeply into the culture clash as well. There was one unfortunate tale of a ranger who visited a local dentist for a check-up and, through a series of communications errors, had his canines filed down as the dentist did not know they were natural among humans. Still, in spite of all this, the ponies showed their natural warmness and welcoming kindness that was rather common throughout Equestria. One squad of troops, belonging to Charlie Company of the 2nd Ranger Battalion, pondered this over their morning meal at a popular local café. “Kind of feels like you’re in a Disney movie, you know?” Staff Sergeant Vanderbilt asked. “Feels kinda weird, creepy too.” “How?” Sergeant Crockett asked through a mouthful of apple. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a personal thing. Us being here kind of looks bizarre too; like mixing Thin Red Line with Bambi.” “I’ll take it; I spent some time over in Germany and man, it’s nice to be in a country that speaks the same language as you.” “Hear, hear,” Sergeant Wakefield agreed, wiping some coffee from his mouth with a napkin. “I need to write back to my folks and tell them to look at getting a summer home for the family here. It’s really nice when you ignore the possible war.” “Really? You thinking of getting it in the wilderness? I’d kind of like a little mountain cabin myself around here,” Crockett said. “Not a mansion, just a little something for hunting, if they even allow that here.” “I’m not sure; my parents have always liked the coastline more. It comes with the territory around Connecticut.” Crockett took a long sip of his own coffee and wiped his mouth with his arm. Wakefield came from money, and in origin felt like the most opposite to himself, being the more backwoods type. They got along perfectly, however, and neither felt themselves better or worse than the other. They were both rangers, and had become like family along with the rest of the squad. They all depended on each other, as in every other team. He was about to take another bite from the apple before he heard another one of his squadmates pipe up from the table behind him. “Hell no. You seen those things? All dark and broody and foreboding, talking in the most evil way possible? They deserve to be the bad guys, they fucking earned it. This’ll be more one-sided than the Nazis!” “Everything good Carlyle?” he asked, turning around to look at the table of three soldiers behind him. “Uh, no sir… just boasting a little.” Crockett felt as though he had to keep more of an eye on Carlyle than the others. While the rest of the squad seemed fine with the new territory, with the exception of the unease by Vanderbilt, he hated being here the most. It was not distaste for the locals, but a much larger issue. He blamed them for the new cold war that sprung up, and for the probability of another massive war breaking out. Though he was fine with the prospect of killing the enemy, he still believed Equestria should deal with its own business. His world seemed very blatant and black and white. “Alright, just keep it down a little. Don’t want to cause a disturbance, you know?” “Yea, my bad Sergeant,” he apologized before turning back to his table. “You don’t honestly think he’s going to cause trouble with the locals, do you Crockett?” Vanderbilt asked, allowing the lesser Sergeant a moment to think. “If I had to guess I’d say he won’t. He likes a fight but he’s not one to lash out over nothing,” he surmised, hoping he was correct in the assumption. “I’ll still watch for him though, we won’t take chances.” “Padre seems to look out for him enough anyways,” Wakefield spoke up. ‘Padre’ was the nickname for Private Franklin Rockford, the fourth member of Crockett’s fire team. He initially wished to be a pastor, and joined the Army with hopes of becoming a chaplain. However, he switched to combat out of a desire to more closely watch out for others, ‘the shepherd tends his flock’ as he explained once, and somehow found his way to the rangers. He retained his chaplain’s nature even here, and hence the nickname came to be within the squad. Though he was not official, many of them were happy to have a would-be chaplain right with them in the squad, considering how quickly one of them could be felled by a bullet. “That’s good; sometimes I think he’s the only one Carlyle will take advice from,” Crockett commented. “Trust me, he listens. He just doesn’t show it at once, but he takes it to heart,” Wakefield assured him. “You know, it’s nice to not talk about war possibly breaking out for once.” “You don’t want to go to war? You must be in the wrong outfit!” Vanderbilt joked. “But yea, it’s nice to imagine something other than shooting stuff every blue moon.” “Or being shot,” Crockett added. “I try not to think about that.” “Yea, sorry… I sure wish I could,” he agreed solemnly. “You think the Shadows or any of the bad guys think about that?” “Hell I’d assume so, but they’re a bunch of emo-looking freaks from another dimension. Who the Hell knows what goes on in their mind.” “We waited too long, that’s all it comes down to,” Descent commented. “We need to be more aggressive from now on.” “It’s the same thing that me and Blitz have been saying for some time now,” Drag added. The Shadowbolt squadron rested about the room in various positions, some resting in chairs, others standing or floating by their wings. They all looked up at a map of Arcaia showing the new positions the Americans were thought to occupy, taped to the chalkboard of what had been a classroom. It was lit up by the light coming in through many windows, shining against the colorful paper. A red marker was used to mark the large number of possible positions, though the most projecting was the long line running vertically down the length of Equestria, representing the line that would block any progress of the Bloc. “We should have hit them with everything we had!” Blitz agreed from the back. “We should have run them down until they couldn’t run anymore and crushed them! Being this timid only allowed them to entrench themselves.” “Control your brother, Drag,” Descent asked. “Why? He is right, we waited too long and now our hopes of ending the war quickly and avoiding one with America are gone. Many more lives and resources must be lost to drive them out, and we aren’t even sure if we can do that.” “Enough!” the squadron’s leader called from next to the map. “There’s no need to focus on the past when we know what we did wrong. We need to focus on the future, that’s why we’re gathered here. Our plans ran into issues because of a squadron-” “A very annoying squadron,” Blitz interrupted. “One I’d like to squash like gnats.” “And we will, Blitz. But we must adapt our plans to do so.” “What do we adapt them to? Any ideas, Nightingale?” Drag asked. “Yes, actually. Descent and I have been talking a good deal with ponies in the rest of the armed forces. We clearly can’t defeat them in a straight battle, not anymore,” she admitted. “So, we must find a way to remove their advantages in sea, air, and land. Strike together, quickly, powerfully, and with surprise. The branches of the American armed forces are a system interconnected, each relying on certain pillars of power. Destroying these pillars and cutting them from each-other go hoof in hoof for achieving victory.” Nightingale fluttered up from the ground a bit, leveling herself with one of the many red circles on the map that signified an air base. “We should note that one of the greatest threats to us is their air power, from both sea and land. Defeating these two will give us the supporting fire we need to break their ground forces.” “How do we beat their Navy and their Air Force at the same time?” another Night pony asked from her chair in the back of the room. “Their Air Force is equal to the entire Bloc alone in numbers and our Navies are even worse. You don’t expect the Chinese to join us, do you?” “No, Zap, not immediately. But I do know of a way,” the Captain assured her colleague. “Have you ever heard of the attack on Pearl Harbor?” Zap nodded her head in confirmation. “It’s an event that resonates with Americans to this day, though not so much it’s lessons. They get too comfortable behind false protection at times. We should find a way to use this to circumvent these defenses, namely these radar sites that keep track of us so well,” Nightingale continued, gesturing to the two marks on Celestia’s and Luna’s points on the tips of Equestria. “Doing so when they have their guard down will give us full range to destroy their forces before they can come into play.” “And we’re still trying to figure out how to do that?” Drag guessed. “Yes, but we will find a way eventually. An opportunity will present itself, and when it does we must be ready to seize it to the fullest.” “I was speaking with an officer in the Air Force a few days ago,” Descent recalled. “He was also telling me of a plan he thought up based on another decisive strike in human military history. A pre-emptive air strike by a nation called Israel, Operation Moked I think. Perhaps we can bring some of these plans together and come up with a way to disable their air power entirely, from land and sea. It would be stressful and taxing to ours as well, with the amount of flying we are asking of them, but it seems possible.” “Try and find that officer again and ask him to meet with us. The rest of you ensure that we are ready for whatever operational plan is drawn up,” Nightingale ordered, finishing the meeting. “Shadowbolts dismissed!” The Night ponies all got up and exited the room one by one, with Nightingale leaving last. As she did she noticed a Shadow pony waiting outside next to the door. She had promised to talk with him once the meeting was over, though she knew exactly what it was about and precisely how it would end. She felt it a waste of time but figured she would have to hammer in the point eventually, especially if they were to move on in working on invasion plans. “Captain, how was your meeting?” General Vaquero asked. “Productive,” she replied simply. “Have you come up with any plans for a successful attack?” “We are working on them,” Nightingale replied. “Though from what you said before, this is not your original reason to talk to me.” “That name should belong to our fighters, Captain Nightingale,” Vaquero stated, returning to his original worry. “We are the Shadows, you are the Night. Returning us from banishment is appreciated, and you know that, but to take the name for your unit is too much. That very word is deeply important to us; it is a mark of pride and power to have our title.” “There is no stronger shadow than that of the night,” Nightingale retorted, intent on ending the discussion at once. “We are the best in the sky, any sky. Don’t ever forget that. We will call ourselves what we please.” “Very well, I suppose I can’t stop you… Please make sure to inform us when you have a strategy for defeating the enemy’s air power.” “I will have one, just be ready to enact it.”