//------------------------------// // Intermission: Snow Day // Story: A Circle Has No End: Volume I // by Gladi Writes //------------------------------// Spitfire took a long loop over the city, flying high over it in the Hurricane. It was tranquil, still, and covered in snow. Looking at it, one began to forget that Equestria was at war at all. Highbreeze, situated up near the peaks of the Foal Mountains. A plateau of snow, far further south than the Crystal Empire. Tourism was it’s main export, but Spitfire had no time for such things. Her reason was more logical, and was kept in a briefcase that she kept close to her. This was Soarin’s home, and she had a duty to fulfill here. The Wonderbolt’s had an entire division tasked with taking care of it, but Spitfire felt she needed to do this personally. Princess Twilight Sparkle had placed her on leave, somewhat voluntarily, while the Magnificent was in dry dock. That gave her a month to herself, the first two weeks she had spend alone, in the highlands of Equestria, near Cloudsdale. Their she had thought, long and hard, about her past; and future. She had pondered on what she had done right, and what she could change. It had been an enlightening experience, because in the end she had one conclusion. Nothing. She had regrets, but even those regrets were a part of her that made her stronger. She had made mistakes, and those too had made her stronger. Everything she had done, she had done to the best of her abilities. She looked back on herself, her entire life, and was proud of what she had done, and who she was. She fulfilled her duty to the utmost, and was perhaps the most successful leader in the Wonderbolts storied history. That didn’t make the task ahead any easier however, and with a deep sigh she looked to the briefcase. It had been with her the entire time, as the day she planned to spend in the mountains turned to weeks. She had been putting this off, but it couldn’t wait forever. Spitfire turned her attention back the controls of her vessel, and drove it down through the air. Almost like a feather, wafting in the wind, so perfect was her control over it. She touched down just outside the city, disturbing a patch of snow to reveal the still-green grass beneath. Winter was coming early, which for Highbreeze simply meant a longer tourist season. For Equestria as a whole though, it meant rationing. The pegasi were afield, and had greater matters to attend to than weather-patrol. A select few, those extremely gifted at guiding the weather, stayed behind for critical areas. That was only a tiny minority of the whole however, and the rest was left to suffer on it’s own. “Damn griffons.” Spitfire mumbled, as she went through the procedure of shutting down her craft. The humm of the engines silenced, and the spiralling vortex of snow outside settled itself down. Spitfire donned her uniform-coat, and a minute later stood outside, looking towards the city in the distance. The briefcase came with her, attached to her coat at the barrel. It was quite beautiful. Wooden homes, and taller modern buildings, capped with fluffy snow. They reflected the evening sun back into the sky, casting everything in an almost pink glow as the light reflected back down from the few clouds. Peaceful, quiet, exactly what Spitfire needed after so much tragedy. The battle of the Hive had given way to the Liberation of Baltimare, which had in turn given way to the Blitz of the Horseshoe Bay. Not even weeks after, she had arrived on the shores of Waylay island, where she, and the Wonderbolts, lost so much in defence of their country. Scant weeks after that, she had returned to Equestria, and had to put down an armed resistance with incredible force. Canterlot was nearly leveled, by her command. She had done her duty well, but was at this point exhausted. She had seen what no pony had seen since the formation of Equestria: open war. She had seen more death than the last thousand years combined, and a good deal of it by her own order. Even Spitfire, the greatest commander the Wonderbolts had ever seen, had her limits. If only she could have brought the Magnificent with her, the crew deserved this more than she did. Spitfire strode off towards the city, her hooves crunching in the snow. She decided not to fly, better to savour the pleasant evening. It was just cold enough to feel it on your skin, but not cold enough for frostbite to be a major risk. A light coat was enough, perfect weather to contrast with the heat of Waylay island. Spitfire had always liked snow, she found it a pleasant contrast to herself. Snow and fire, the attraction of opposites. On approach to the first series of buildings outside the main city, which she had read about before; a resort for the more well-of ponies, her eyes beheld a spectacle that made her pause, and look to the north in awe. The aurora-borealis, in its full grandeur, lit up the sky as if a switch had been flicked on somewhere. It was magnificent to behold, and so spectacular that Spitfire swore she could even hear a faint humming. Never before had she ever seen anything so beautiful, and for almost ten minutes she simply stood there, watching the colours of charged-gas dance in the sky. It almost even seemed to tell a story, as the green spectre encircled the purple, and the yellow one attempted to intrude. It was always pushed back, but never stopped trying. Yellow, low-altitude oxygen charged by energy from space. It was battling upwards, trying to escape it’s earthy confines. It never could though, it would always be forced back down. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The soft voice would normally have startled Spitfire, but she was so relaxed at this point that she only turned, and smiled at the visitor. An older stallion, wisened by age. She faintly seemed to recall his face, but couldn’t quite place it. His cutie mark, and most features, were covered by a thick cloak he wore to keep out the cold. Not everypony was as naturally hot as Spitfire. “It really is. Do you see these often?” she asked. “Like this? Oh no, but we do see them now and then. I haven’t seen it this strong in decades,” he said, and stared up with Spitfire. “You know, they say that when it glows as brightly as this, that it’s because Equestria is facing a great challenge. The brighter it is, the stronger we are in the face of whatever threatens us.” “It’s quite bright,” Spitfire noted. “Indeed, and I think that no small part of that is you. Come with me, Spitfire, I have something to show you.” He said, and Spitfires gaze shifted down to him. “Who are you?” He snorted, as if it was obvious. “In due time, I think you will recall soon enough.” He trotted off, and Spitfire followed her curious companion towards the small village. There was something in his walk that she sensed, in his long and purposeful strides, that set her mind ablaze. This pony had known command before, and walked as one that had once towed armies behind him. Who was he? He, whoever he was, led Spitfire to a small hut outside the larger buildings. It was quant, and lonely, but certainly cozy enough. A well cared-for series of ice sculptures sat outside before it, the thin light coming from inside through the windows reflecting through them, and painting the front yard with rainbows. Spitfire followed him through them, and noted what they were. Each was a great Wonderbolt leader, with Hurricane in a position of honour in the middle. Beside him, was herself. “I’m rather good at it, if I do say so myself,” he said, noticing where Spitfire’s gaze had gone. “Why?” Spitfire asked. “To remember, of course. I remember those that came before me, and after, to keep perspective on who I was. He is in the middle, because it was he who gave us form and purpose. He led us into battle against hell itself, and protected Celestia in those dark days. You do much the same, although the political landscape has changed somewhat.” He turned to her, and smiled. Captain Lightdash, her predecessor. She had forced him out of office fifteen years ago, by humiliating him at a flying contest. She had beaten him so throughly that the shame made him retire without even promoting her; Celestia had to do it herself. Spitfire never cared where he had gone, only that he was. And now he was smiling at her. “Captain, you should have said something! I would have come earlier, and dressed properly!” Spitfire protested. “Oh please, Spitfire. I’m not a captain anymore, you saw to that quite well fifteen years ago. I meant to thank you, by the way.” He turned, and strode off towards his home. “It means I don’t have to clean up this mess.” He opened the door, and gestured the still-stunned Spitfire follow him inside. Not seeing a way to escape, she did so. “A rather interesting craft you have there, by the way. Too good for your own wings?” Lightdash said as he put away his snowy boots. Spitfire merely stood there awkwardly, as the snow fell off herself to the floor of the entryway. “Dear me, Spitfire, where’s the fight gone? Are you so afraid of an old stallion that you’ve lost it?” He hobbled off to the larger room to the side, which appeared to be his dining room. It looked out to the yard, and the table was already set- for two. “No I.. I just don’t know how to properly respect you. This is all so sudden, a-“ Lightdash laughed, looked back at her. “Respect never stopped you in the past, and I’m just a civilian now, Air Martial Spitfire.” “Too good to be a captain too, eh?” He added. “Celestia felt… that a re-organization was required for our new role. I have additional duties to those of a Captain, and more independence of doctrine.” He laughed again. “So why not just give those duties to the Captain? It’s a hell of a break from tradition all this. I think you just like the title, it’s got a little more flair to it.” Spitfire was about to reply, but Lightdash broke in before she could. “Now, come on! Sit, have dinner with me. You can do that at the very least, humour this old war-horse for a few minutes!” Awkwardly, and slowly, Spitfire removed her coat, and boots, and put them neatly aside. She entered the dining room, and sat rigidly across from Lightdash. If the awkwardness of the situation could be quantified, a new number would need to be invented. “Good, good! Dig in, I grew all this myself you know, I have a ranch near Ponyville. Damn government jackboots don’t even know it exists.” “Rationing, bah!” he spat. Spitfire looked down at her serving, and was surprised at how complete it was. Steamed carrots, a few potatoes, corn and a side of sweet cider. All of this was quite out of season, which meant he must be maintaining a small areas weather entirely for himself, or had been. “I have a place outside Ponyville for all this. I go there once a week, to keep the weather at bay. It’s gotten harder though, now that you’re all at sea. Soon enough, I’ll be unable to keep it up I reckon.” “Well, dig in, get some meat on those bones!” he said. Spitfire reluctantly tried some of the carrots, and found them delightful. Soon enough she gave in, and did indeed dig in. She began to relax in the company of her old master, and eventually worked up the nerve to speak. “I’m sorry, about what happened fifteen years ago.” Lightdash was taken by an ill-timed fit of laughter, and spewed potatoes across most of the table. “No you’re not! And why should you be? You beat me, fair and square. I may have hated you for it then, but I can see it was for the best. You’ve done well in my place, far better than I could have.” “Thank you,” Spitfire replied simply. “I find it interesting that the first thing you’ve said to me is a lie, but you must have felt it proper to say it. You need to stop being so… proper.” “Loosen up a bit!” They continued to eat, and Spitfire found the cider quite pleasing as well. It was also extremely high-proof, as near as she could tell. She did start to loosen up, thanks mostly to that. “Best cider you’ll ever have, I can promise you that. I thought of selling it once, but I don’t think Equestria deserves anything that good.” Lightdash grinned at Spitfire. “Just us.” “Us as in pegasi, or us as in captains?” she asked. “Pegasi. We’ve defended Equestria since it was founded, and we defend her now. The others may have their place, but ours is special. We take the risks, and we receive the honour.” Spitfire squinted at him, looking for signs of how serious he was. “Don’t tell me you’re a racist, I would rather you tell me you’re a changeling.” Lightdash was clearly offended, and glared back at Spitfire. “Don’t you dare. I said we had a special place, not a superior place. The only ponies better than any other are those that unite the three races, and there’s only…” He paused, and seemed to do a quick calculation in his mind. “Four, four of them.” He shook his head, and mumbled something about doubling. “I’m sorry, things have been tense lately, and I’ve begun to expect the worst from people.” Spitfire said. “Well, stop.” Lightdash returned. They finished their meal, and Lightdash collected the dishes. Spitfire hadn’t eaten like that in years, and wondered if her flanks would pay for it. Still, there was nothing quite like a full stomach- a very full stomach- and good company. Lightdash had an odd sort of charm, and it was slowly starting to work through her defences. The cider was helping too. “Got the appetite of an earth-pony you do, I’m amazed you manage to stay in shape.” Lightdash said, and collected up the dishes in his wing. Spitfire, greatly relieved her crew wasn’t there, belched. Lightdash either pretended to not notice, or was deaf. She sat back in her seat, and her gaze turned downwards to her mid-riff. She found her stomach protruding a few inches, she almost looked decently pregnant. Her uniform wasn’t going to fit too well tomorrow, thankfully she wasn’t due back for a few more weeks. “All it takes is a little work now and then, it doesn’t come easy.” Spitfire slid out of her chair, and looked out the window while her host cleaned the dishes. The aurora was still quite visible, and now that the sun went down, was even more impressive. “I suppose I should take my leave now, I have to find somewhere to stay for the night,” Spitfire said, and quickly darted, or rather awkwardly waddled, into the entrance. She was half-way through putting on her coat when Lightdash called back. “Am I such a poor host, that you would rather spend your bits on one of the inns?” Spitfire sighed, and took it back off. “I just… don’t want to be a bother.” Lightdash snorted, and then laughed a deep hearty laugh. “Too late for that, Captain.” He left his kitchen, and gestured Spitfire follow him down the hall. He led her to what seemed to be a small guest room, which had not been used in ages unseen. He quickly brushed off a few cobwebs, and fluffed the beds blanket. “I… rarely get visitors,” he said, and pointedly avoided Spitfires gaze. Spitfire sat down, and thought she caught something in his voice. “Really? I should think such an honoured veteran would be quite welcome around here.” Lightdash sighed, and sat beside her. “Welcome? Yes, and no. They love to hear my stories, and they make a big show out of showing me the proper respect, but they see me as more like an artifact than a person. All I am to them is history, not a friend.” Lightdash looked at Spitfire, and for the first time she saw the sadness in his eyes that he had been concealing so well. “Don’t make my mistake, Spitfire. There’s more to life than the job. When I lost it, I lost everything. I had no friends, only comrades. I had nobody I could turn to, nobody to support me. They all moved on with the chain of command, and I was left in the dust. I’ve lived here for fifteen years, and not once has anybody come to visit.” He put a hoof on hers, and clenched it tightly. “Don’t end up like me.” With that, he got up, and quickly left. Spitfire did not sleep well that night, and she kept thinking about what he had said. Was he right? She thought long and hard about it, and realized he was. She had no friends, only comrades. What would happen to her, when the next person kicked her off the top of the pile? Who would that even be... "Rainbow Dash..." If she was removed from duty tomorrow, who would be there for her? Her parents had passed away years ago, naturally and surrounded by loved ones. Who would be there when she did? An honour guard, that saw it as a duty to fulfill, and never even knew her? Members of state only showing up as a token of respect to the institution she had served, and had never even spoken to her? She was doomed to live outside a tourist town for the rest of her life, with the vain hope that one day somebody would visit her as a friend. That is where her thoughts led. She would live alone, she would die alone. She would be forgotten, except for historians that only cared about her life for facts, not for who she was. The person, nobody knew the person; nobody cared. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of her future. Eventually she did fall asleep, and woke up in the morning to the smell of hot-cocoa. Too used to life on the front line, she quickly shot up out of bed and reflexively looked around for her uniform. She sighed, and remembered the last night. She went to the attached washroom, and made herself proper for the day. In doing so, she found a slight thickening of her plot. “I swear, he did that just for revenge,” Spitfire mumbled, and set to work styling her hair. Aerodynamic, stylish, and attractive, the perfect style. When she had finished, she strode out into the hall, and saw Lightdash sitting at the table. Two cups of hot cocoa were there as well, and he was reading todays Equestria Daily. “They say the Griffons are on the run,” Lightdash said, and folded the paper up. “Are they?” “No.” Spitfire settled into her seat, and Lightdash pushed the newspaper across at her. She only needed to read the headline before rolling her eyes and pushing it away. “WINGS REACH BY HEARTHS-WARMING: CRYSTAL EMPIRE JOINS WAR.” “It’ll take a lot more than the Crystal Empire to get this done. We’re winning, Lightdash, but it’s a slow crawl to the home islands. Current estimates are two years, and a hundred thousand lives,” Spitfire said. Lightdash whistled. “Somedays, I’m glad I’m not in charge anymore. This is one of them.” Spitfire nodded, and Lightdash replied respectfully. She certainly had a lot on her plate. The fact of the matter was, no matter what she did, it wouldn’t be perfect. There would always be “what ifs” and contingencies, missed calls, and mistakes. History would judge her for centuries. The two drained their liquid-breakfast in silence, and when finished Lightdash pulled Spitfire’s briefcase from under the table, and put it on top. “The worst part of the job. I only had to do it once, I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you.” Spitfire wasn’t even mad he looked through it, she could share her pain with him, and that was worth the intrusion. “We have a… program, now. This time it’s personal though, and I feel I have to do it myself. I knew him, Lightdash.” “You loved him, I can see it in your eyes.” Spitfire felt a tear bead up, and in the company of her former commander she let it fall. “I did.” Lightdash glanced aside out of respect. “I loved once too, Spitfire. I made the mistake of thinking the job came first, and now look where I am. I was afraid that if I loved, I wouldn’t be able to do the job.” He turned back to Spitfire, and slammed a hoof on the table. “Damn the job! Life, love, that’s what’s important! What point is having the Wonderbolts around to protect us if we don’t enjoy our lives? To hell with all of it! It’s better to die loving, than it is to live life as an uncaring machine! Believe me, I know!” Lightdash’s chest heaved with intensity as he finished bellowing out his speech, and then he slunk back into his chair. “I only had to do it once, Spitfire,” He repeated, and pushed the briefcase across. Spitfire understood. "Now, before you go, there's something else," Lightdash said. He got up, and disappeared back into the house. A few minutes later he returned, with a large shard of ice in his wing. He gently placed it on the table, and sat back down. "His name is Shard, we've been together for a long time. I think he deserves better than to share a hermits life with me. Take him, and show him the world I never could," Lightdash said. Spitfire took it, and felt the weight of the shard of ice. It felt cold, and yet it wasn't melting in the heat of the room. It was also much heavier than it should be, but not much larger than her hoof. "Are you sure?" Lightdash nodded. A few minutes of goodbyes later, Spitfire strode back off into the snowy plateau, briefcase in tow. The morning had brought a cold wind from the north, and grey skies blocked out the sun. It was rather cold outside, and so Spitfire decided to fly the rest of the way to the city. Highbreeze, the island of snow. Tall walls surrounded it, a relic of the ancient past from before Equestria. It was one of few cities from that time, back when each city was on its own. Inside the walls modern buildings clashed with ancient stone structures, which was perhaps an image of what was to come about in Canterlot, now that it was laid so low. Spitfire flew high over it, and squinted through the blowing snow towards the streets below. Soarin’s next of kin made their home in an apartment building on Liberty street. Spitfire had no idea where that was however, and so flew downwards to find some sort of landmark. Down in the streets the chilly wind became an almost insurmountable hurricane, as the winds funnelled through the narrow roads. Spitfire greatly regretted not bringing a warmer coat, but soon enough found a map, designed for tourists with all the local landmarks highlighted. To her luck, she found that she had happened on Liberty Street already, and Soarin’s building was the one hosting the map. She quickly darted inside the wooden doors, and paused to feel the warm air relieve her frost-bitten skin. It was a modern building, probably not more than ten years old. All concrete and glass, with thick carpet in the lobby. It was warm too, and that was the most important part. Spitfire stamped the snow off her legs, and looked around to find a mare behind a desk across from her. “Excuse me,” Spitfire said, as she approached. “Yes?” The mare asked, peeking from behind some vanity magazine. “I’m looking for the home of Wingloft and Fallfeathers.” The mare paused for a moment, in thought, and then began to reply- slowly. “I believe… that they are in…. suite two…. sixty.” She thought it over again, and nodded to herself. “Yes, suite two-sixty.” “Thank y-“ The mare suddenly shot up in her chair, as the dim bulb in her head finally came alight. “Hey wait a second, you’re Captain Spitfire, what brings you all the way…” A second realization ran through her mind, and she slumped back in her chair. “Oh no…” Spitfire was quickly into the stairwell, and left the mare staring ahead into space. Suite two-sixty was apparently on the fourth floor, which gave her a chance to work off a little of that pie. Soon enough she was on the floor, and then in the hallway, and then found herself standing in front of a door. “260” Spitfire took a long, deep, breath, and knocked. For a moment, which Spitfire hoped to never end, there was silence. And then the door opened. “Howdy.” Spitfire looked down to see an adorable colt, dressed in a mock-up of a Wonderbolts uniform, staring back her. No, why is there a colt here. Why now. “Hi, are your parents around?” “Great aunt and uncle are home, I’ll go get them!” He left the door open, and zipped off down the hall. Spitfire looked in, and noticed the Wonderbolts posters on the wall of the entrance hall. Thin carpet ran to the end, and the blowing snow could be seen out a window. They had a rather nice view of the city. After a minute of waiting, an older mare appeared around the corner. Her happy demeaned was quickly squashed when she sighed the uniformed Spitfire, briefcase in hoof, standing in the doorway. She stood there, stock still, and seemed to just gaze right through Spitfire. The grey pegasus, with a matching mane, seemed almost like a statue. “Good morning, my na…” Spitfire trailed off, and noticed that the mare had begun to tremble, and a great torrent of tears was running down her face. She dropped the briefcase, and darted forward just in time to catch her before she fell. Her name, Spitfire remembered, was Wingloft. “Wingloft, it’s… going to be okay. Just…” She had passed out in Spitfire’s arms, and Spitfire looked around for somewhere to set her down. There was nowhere obvious, she gingerly pulled her along, and down around the corner. It led to a sitting room, and Spitfire let her down on one of the three couches. When she got up to collect her case, she found a stallion watching her. His coat was a bright blue, and Spitfire begun to see where Soarin got his light-blue coat from. “So, it’s true,” he said. A few minutes later, after some introductions, Spitfire sat across from the pair, briefcase sitting in her lap. Fallfeathers served tea, and softly ran a hoof through his wife’s mane, trying to wake her up. “When did it happen?” he asked, after some time of silence. “A few weeks ago, during our first major offensive. Waylay Island.” “He always wanted to prove himself, Soarin. He passed on his love of the Wonderbolts to his nephew, whom I believe you met. His brother is in the service, with the Legion. No wings on that one, but he does what he can.” Spitfire nodded, it was an admirable thing to serve, no matter which service. “I remember the day Celestia declared war. I knew then, that this would happen. I made my peace long ago, but Wingloft… she always assumed he would come home.” He looked at Spitfire, and for a moment he stared into her eyes, as if searching for something. “You’re the Captain, aren’t you? Don’t you have people to do this for you? You can’t possibly see everyone in person, there’s too much tragedy for any one Pegasus to handle. Spitfire, right?” Spitfire nodded, and allowed him some time to go through his thoughts. “He wrote about you, now and then. I think…” He took a deep breath, as the conclusion caught up to him. “He loved you.” “I loved him,” Spitfire said. She had never really admitted that, had always hid it behind insinuation and innuendo. He was a “close friend” or a “good soldier," but she had never really admitted that she loved him. She had never said it, either. Not until today. “Then you know our pain, and are welcome here as family,” Fallfeathers said, and stood up. “But not today. All I can see in you is… the war. I know it’s not right, but part of me blames you, and it will for a long time. Perhaps, in time, we can learn to embrace you…” “But not today,” Spitfire said, and rose as well. Spitfire shook Fallfeathers hoof, and then left back into the hallway. She quietly closed the door behind her, and as soon as she was clear, slunk against the wall. She cried. Eventually her tears ceased, and she stood herself up on wobbly legs to begin the return journey. Like most modern apartments, this one had doorways to the outside on every floor. Quite convenient if one had wings. Spitfire did indeed, and she soared up into the sky back towards the south, where she had parked the Hurricane. With her duty done, all she wanted to do now was get the hell out of Highbreeze. She found it where she had left it, although it was now covered with snow. She quickly boarded her craft, and just as quickly slammed the cockpit tight. The first thing she did was crank the heat up, she was shivering at the bitter cold. Spitfire took out that ice shard that had been in her coat, and placed it on the dashboard. It glimmered in the light, almost as if it had eyes watching her. "I suppose you're more used to the cold," Spitfire said, and rubbed herself to warm up. Once she had warmed up enough to trust her shaky hooves with running the machine, she began to run through the start-up sequence. The dull hum of the engine felt soothing below her, and as soon as it started she was in the air. The Hurricane quickly shed it’s snowy covering, and shot off along the ground towards the south. After only a few minutes flight, it flung over the edge of the plateau, and back towards Equestria proper. Spitfire swung it around towards the west, and set her minds focus on guiding the craft to her next destination: Cloudsdale. - Northstar had been rather enjoying herself the last few weeks. She, and a few of the bridge crew, had been exploring the entertainment Cloudsdale had to offer. While the civilians were rationed, there was still a reasonable supply of cider for those in the armed services. Tonight they were going to hit the Wilted Wing, and they were going to hit it like it was Waylay. On the way there, however, they found a perplexing figure approach them from the sky. It was following them, at a rather awkward distance. Northstar halted, and looked upwards at their tail. “Hey, you got something to say!?” She yelled up at it. The figure, whom Northstar now could see had a bright yellow coat, dropped from the sky before them. Northstar panicked, and hastily saluted. “Just one thing,” Spitfire said, and unbuttoned her uniform. Northstar swallowed, and felt a pang of fear shoot up her spine. “Can I join?” Spitfire asked. Northstar had no reply, and all she could do was gape her commander. There was a glistening, translucent, bird on her shoulder.