//------------------------------// // Ch.2 - Basic // Story: The Line // by Sooks //------------------------------// For a brief moment, Comet Shimmer believed that she was home in Canterlot, waking up in her own bed. Her mother would be calling her down to dinner before heading out to the library. Her father would be checking all his razors before the first customers of the day showed up. She would stretch, flex her wings, yawn for a comfortably long time, and hop out of bed to begin the day. Three months ago, the filly had clung to this half dream like a lifeline. Two months ago, it still clouded her waking mind, confusing her sense of reality. Today, it existed only in the second between her waking and her eyes opening. Comet Shimmer jumped out of her bed, grabbed her jumpsuit from her bedside chest, and slipped it on as gracefully as a cantering pony could dress. Around her, the barracks was swarming with ponies of all colors doing just the same. The dawn light provided just enough to see by. The first week, some had slunk out of bed, casually donned their suits, and walked out with not a care in the world. The sore wings and sorer legs they fell into bed with that night ensured it would not happen again. Fort Hurricane was an outpost from the earliest of Equestria’s days. Situated atop a narrow mesa, one could see from Neighagra Falls to the Macintosh Mountains. Only the very top was graced with any foliage, while the rest was naught but bare stone. A crossing of headwinds ensured a constant supply of clouds for obstacle courses and exercises. It was a breathtaking scene for anypony that dared to stop and enjoy it. Comet Shimmer ignored the picturesque sunrise in favor of not being last to form ranks. Last place got to do an extra three laps around the fort. The filly stood stiffly at attention, glancing around to make sure she was not the Lieutenant’s chew toy for the day. “Drifter!” Saved for today, or at least for an hour or so. Lieutenant Thunderhead strode up to the rigid stallion, silver eyes flitting between his quivering jaw and his jumpsuit. “Is that a spot on your flight suit?” “Ma’am, no Ma’am!” Stratus Drifter stood as straight as he could. It was possible, even likely, that any more vertical stretching would pop a bone from its socket. "Are you lying to your superior officer, Recruit?" The pegasus pulled him in by the collar. "Two laps, go!” Stratus was off in a blur. For the rest of the platoon, this meant standing in rank until the idiot was done with his laps. If the Lieutenant was in a foul mood- and who could tell when she wasn’t- they would be at attention the whole time. Stratus Drifter finished off his second lap and returned to formation, sticking his landing by naught but Celestia’s grace, at which point morning exercises could finally begin. Push ups, sit ups, wing strength, kicks, topped off with a run around the fort and a flight to the course grounds and back. Yet again, Comet was nearly knocked out of the air as a bigger, stronger pegasus overtook her. She grumbled to herself between pants, but did not stop. Firefly would have her flank if she quit because of a little roughhousing. Was it worse to run or fly first? It was hard to say; they had done both, and neither one seemed particularly better than the other. Either way, they were already exhausted when it came time to face their final ordeal. The Equestrian Royal Air Guard fed its soldiers satisfactorily, no question there. But between incredible hunger, exhausted limbs, and the slinking threat that their stomach might upend itself from the morning’s exercise, Comet Shimmer and her platoon found the meal to be both a blessing and curse. The filly balanced a small book on the space between her wings while her tray sat atop her head. With only a few spaces left in the mess hall, she opted for the table with the easiest chatter to drown out. She received a passing glance as she sat from one or two ponies, but the center stage was already elsewhere. “You’re not listening, Rain,” Willow Wisp, a lemon-yellow colt said between bites. “You’ll make it around that turn a lot faster if you tuck your right wing and roll.” Comet poked her roll. The bread was better today, not so hard. “No, I heard you just fine, Wisp,” Silver Raindrops shot back, her smooth Baltimare accent curling around every word, “since you have tried to tell me about fifteen times now. But tucking your wings makes you plummet like a stone. You end up spending more energy regaining speed and altitude than you save making the turn tighter.” The greens were actually green, too. Willow Wisp muttered something under his breath. “It’s not about energy, you idiot, it’s about the speed. You think some dragon is going to care how tired you are when it catches you in the middle of a turn?” And an apple to boot, fresh picked from the Ponyville orchards. This breakfast wasn’t half bad, as their luck had gone. “If you’re falling out of the sky from exhaustion, it doesn’t really matter what the dragon’s thinking about,” The brick red filly replied. Too bad it was just water to drink, though. Some juice would have really tied this breakfast together. “Faust help me, am I the only one who sees sense here?” Wisp’s plea fell first to Comet. She looked up from her book only in time for the colt to dismiss her. Around the table he went, drawing near everypony into the debate. Wisp and Rain had been at each other's throats for nearly a month now. It was anypony's guess whether they were actually adversaries vying for the top spot or hiding their infatuation behind a farce of hostility. If it were the former, Lieutenant Thunderhead would sooner kiss lightning than declare either of them best in their group. If it were the latter, Comet wished they'd sneak off after lights out and get it over with already. While the two ponies continued to bicker over minor flight performance improvements, the chiroptequus nibbled at her food and carried on through the latest section of her text. Of what she had brought from home, this was probably her most valuable pick: a pseudo-biographical history of the Gryphonic War some fourteen decades prior. Her rush from home to the fort had left her with little time to think, and it had not occurred to Comet to bring books that might actually prove useful. Instead, aside from said history book, she had mostly brought a couple of her favorites- oases or familiarity to aid in the foreign land she had wound up in. She knew that, when she returned them, she would have to explain the splotches her tears had left the first few nights when the reality of Basic was just starting to settle in. “-head is actually listening to anything you have to say,” Sparky Bolts jeered at Wisp, “right, Shimmer?” “Huh?” And things were going so well before. The marine blue pegasus harumphed. “Wheezy Wisp here was wondering if you had found anything in that library of yours about aerodynamics at high altitudes, and I was saying that you weren’t listening. Evidently, I was right.” “I believe your choice of words was ‘the egghead isn’t listening,’ Sparky,” Silver Raindrops corrected. The colt shot her a glare and offered Comet the best apologetic smile he could fake. Comet rolled her eyes and went back to her book. Egghead was a new one, but hardly the first. Truth be told, the entire argument was a moot point. Everypony had their strengths in this group. Sparky Bolts could fly a hundred meters and land on a hoof wide platform with no course correction. Silver Raindrops was as graceful as she was beautiful. Nopony could keep with her in the obstacle course, except maybe Lily Nimbus and the twins. Willow Wisp was tied for highest endurance, comparable only to Moon Fang. Each had simply found tricks to compensate for their weaknesses, not that any of them saw it that way. And Comet’s leading attribute? Words per minute, she imagined. Teasing was nothing new to the filly. Her schoolmates had hardly been any better, or they had been utterly moronic. Sometimes, often times, they were both. The ponies at the pub had told her repeatedly to make friends with the ponies in her training group, but they had never mentioned how. She was sure they all saw her as a head in ranks, or a filled seat in class. But they didn’t see her as a fellow recruit. They were not trying to be her friends. Why should she? Besides, she already had ponies waiting. Returning to her book, she had found her place missing somewhere on the page. With a huff, she placed the library card turned bookmark in the rough location it should have been, wolfed down the remainder of her meal, and excused herself. “Off to the mailroom again, Shimmer?” Rain called after the retreating filly. “Can’t hurt to check. I’ll see you at lecture.” As the filly grabbed her tray, her tangerine eyes flitted around to each of her comrades. Rain nodded with a quiet smile, Wisp was already off somewhere else, Sparky Bolts ignored her altogether. Comet might have felt slighted if it wasn’t the exact response she had anticipated. A quick trot across the green found her in the mailroom, part of a crumbling building supposedly among the first to be constructed in the fort’s ancient days. Perhaps, Comet thought upon entering the dusty old building for the upteenth time, the Guard simply didn’t much want them to think about home. The indigo filly checked in with the front desk to bad news again: no package yet, but check back this evening. Twice a day for three months, the same response. Maybe it had gotten lost. Maybe it was never sent. ~*~ Thunder Clap, a considerably large, green pegasus with a penchant for winning hoof-to-hoof exercises, had once made the mistake of mocking morning lectures in front of a senior officer. As a result, he had been excused for the day, and instead spent all class and study time doing exercises under Lieutenant Thunderhead’s watch. Attendance after that was perfect. Comet had gotten in trouble in school repeatedly for not paying attention to one teacher or another. She would be caught reading a book or jotting down notes on something entirely unrelated, but never failed to answer when asked what had just been discussed. Professor Summer Blossom, their primary professor, was not one of her regular school teachers. The first three months, roughly half of their time in Basic, had been spent on necessities to avoid accident and death: ballista and cannon usage, weapon safety, combat aerodynamics, geography and climate. Today, however, was something a bit more interesting, interesting enough for Comet to set her book aside. “The last time anypony spoke at length with a dragon was shortly before the start of the Celestial Era, over one thousand years ago. As a result, any information we have related to the dragons is,” Professor Blossom grimaced, “well, pitiful.” The rose-pink pegasus hefted a large, wooden scrollcase onto her podium and pulled a half dead roll of parchment from its interior. “We do know that they are a loosely constructed society, built around a hierarchy of strength. We know they migrate, though the interval between migrations is hazy. We know there are multiple breeds of dragons, but the records of the time either never saw all of them, or they were lost.” Professor Blossom skimmed the rest of the scroll for anything else of importance before huffing and repackaging the ancient text. “But, above anything else you might manage to fit in that space between your ears, there is one thing you cannot forget about dragons. What is it?” “You can’t outrun a dragon,” Willow Wisp said. “Wrong. Maybe you can’t, recruit, but our fastest are faster than theirs.” “Armor won’t stop their claws?” Silver Raindrops offered. “Not bad, but no. Armor will stop a glancing blow from dragon claws. If they get a good swipe or bite in, though, you’re probably right.” The instructor looked over the rest of the class, silently expecting somepony, anypony, to say the right thing. When nopony did, she sighed and looked to Comet. The filly cocked her head. why would the professor expect her to already know the answer? She had not read anything more on dragons than her peers. They weren’t stupid, there just wasn’t anything to know- “...They’re not stupid?” Comet realized aloud. Summer Blossom smiled. “Not as stupid as you lot, anyway. Shimmer is correct. Every dragon is capable of speech. Many can read, coordinate, strategize. When you fight a dragon, you are not fighting an animal. Look down on them, and they will not hesitate to make you pay. Is that clear?” “Yes, Ma'am.” The entire class answered together. “Is that clear, recruits?” “Yes, Ma'am!” “We’ll see. Now, I almost hate to spend time on the rest of this, but you’re going to get a crash course on everything we know about dragons. On Thursday, we’ll be discussing formations, so I suggest you read up ahead of time.” An indigo hoof raised. “What is it, Shimmer?” “Ma’am, why are we only spending three days on dragons?” A quiet groan came from somewhere behind her. “Because there isn’t enough to spend four on. Anypony else?” Silence. “Good.” To her right, Shimmer caught a few distasteful glances. Professor Blossom had, upon realizing Shimmer’s capacity for fact retention, come to use her for answers whenever the class at large failed. She had become the bookworm, the egghead, the teacher’s pet. The classroom was where she far and away excelled. And they hated her for it. Silver Raindrops had once admitted how petty it was. Soldiers shouldn’t resent each other for their strengths, they should appreciate them. But as Lieutenant Thunderhead loved to point out, they weren’t soldiers. They were college students, shop workers, farmers, clerks, busboys and waitresses thrown into training in hopes of making them combat worthy. They did not have the minds of soldiers, the same way she did not have the body of a soldier. And after lunch, some of her peers would be all too happy to remind her of that. ~*~ Moon Fang’s sorbet-orange back hit the mat with a forceful thump. The chiroptequus colt was, despite Comet’s best efforts, no worse for her attack. Whenever she could, she tried to partner with Fang; he at least tried to work with her on the combat exercises. He would roll with her tosses, fold with her blows, but the fact that he effectively had to did not help Comet feel much better. “Well, the form’s all there, I think, you just need…” Fang scratched the back of his head and sat up. “Strength?” Comet deadpanned. “...Yeah.” Comet groaned. “It’s been three months, Fang. If I haven’t gotten any stronger, I’m not going to.” her shoulders slumped. “Maybe it’s for the best. You go find another training partner, someone you can actually practice with.” “Hey, come on. It’s not that hopeless.” He gripped her barrel. “Maybe you’re just… lifting with the wrong parts? Try working from your hind legs, keep those solid.” Moon fang grinned, the teeth he was named for flashing in the midday light. Comet couldn’t help but smile. She had a pair of sharp canines too, a common trait to chiropteqi, but hers were molars compared to his knifelike chompers. Often times, their ilk did what they could to hide their fangs, to make them less noticeable to other ponies who did not appreciate such offensive teeth. It did not help their case, in that chiropteqi earned a reputation of smiling rarely. But Fang seemed to smile more often than not, even when his smile wiped others away. “Come on, give it another go-” “Oi, tangerine.” Trouble rode on four green legs. Thunder Clap, with all the charisma of a pony in his natural habitat, sauntered up to the glowering pair. “My partner went to the bathroom. What do you say to a round or two?” “I think you can wait for your partner, Clap,” Moon Fang spat. “Not askin’ you, runt.” The pegasus’ eyes never left her. “You gotta let other recruits fight your battles, Tangerine? Not enough soldier in you to handle a training exercise?” Sizing up Thunder Clap was not much of a challenge. Large, aggressive, already well built when he arrived, he was probably a hoofball player back in Manehattan. He was a good player, too, if his expectation of a posse was any indication. Where Wisp, Sparky, and Raindrops worked best on the flight course, the combat mat was Thunder’s dance floor. The thought of this lumbering musclehead and his tendency for force made Comet want to play hoofball even less. More important than his background, she thought, was a distinct lack of the word “no” in his vocabulary. He wouldn’t let up until she said yes, as she always eventually had before. Her usual method of dealing with bullies, ignoring them until they got bored, did not seem to work with the brute. Perhaps, she thought, it was not his goal to get a rise out of her. Perhaps he just saw it as his right to treat anypony as he pleased. The officers watching from the side knew Thunder Clap. They probably liked him- good soldier material. They would not do anything until something went wrong. Better to do the same thing that had gotten her through three months with this moron and get it over with. “Fine, Thunder, let’s just make this quick. Don’t want your partner to have to wait,” Comet said, glancing at the pegasus waiting near the center of the room. “That’s what I like to hear, a little backbone from the nerd.” The green pegasus set in; apparently, he was going to be doing the tossing. Hardly a surprise. Comet waved Moon Fang back, nodding as assuringly as she was able, before halfheartedly charging her aggressor. But instead of tossing her like the exercise called for, Thunder Clap jumped to the side, tripping her as she ran past. She glared over her shoulder as she got back up, but when she heard Moon Fang growl, she waved him down and set for another charge. Her tormentor, pride stretching from ear to ear, took his place as well. Comet came at him again, ready for another trip. He did not jump away, but neither did he lead her into the toss. Instead, Comet found herself being lifted into the air, almost clear above Thunder Clap’s head. He wasn’t going to toss her, he was going to throw her. The filly panicked, cried out, and began to flail in his grip. One of her legs swung wide and elbowed him in the side of his neck. With a cry, Thunder Clap stepped back and lost his balance. Still caught in his grip, Comet could only go down with him. The room spun over itself in a blur before the mat rushed up to meet them. Unfortunately for the smaller filly, the way they had fallen left her underneath the larger, much heavier pegasus stallion. She hit the floor first, her wing sandwiched awkwardly underneath both ponies. Pain. It lanced from her ears to the tip of her wings, up and down her back and through her hooves. Her vision blurred. Her limbs curled. A scream left her throat, though she did not recall thinking to cry out. Above her, Thunder Clap loomed like a shadow, all green fur and orange hair and grimace. Fear seized what muscles were not paralyzed by pain. Comet rolled out from under Thunder Clap, curling her legs under her. The pegasus looked up to see where she had gone. She could not tell what was in his gaze. Fear? Confusion? Anger? Violence? His eyes found hers. Her leg unfurled. Comet was not a strong filly by any means. Her kicks were laughable, and had almost no power to them. But a pony’s nose did not need much power to break, and adrenaline can do wonders for strength. A sickening crunch sent Thunder Clap’s head whipping back. The stallion clutched at his nose, howling in pain as blood dripped around his hooves onto the mat. A whistle sounded. The thunder of hooves grew louder. Comet Shimmer lay on her unhurt side and curled into a ball, trying with all her might to not move anything. “You two, get her to the infirmary. You two, get him.” Somepony’s voice rang over her. “Ma’am, permission to go with them?” Moon Fang’s? “You’re staying here and explaining what the hell happened.” Hooves reached under Comet and lifted her up. One hoof grazed her wing, and the pain returned anew. “Sorry, sorry,” Sparky Bolts whispered. The pain radiated down into her front right leg, forcing her to limp along in their care. “Come on, egghead. Let’s get that checked out.” Silence ruled over the practice room as the two parties exited with as much dignity as they could muster. Comet cried from the pain, she could not deny the tears. But aside from the involuntary grunt with each limp, she did not make a sound. She had not thought to hit Thunder Clap, she had not thought to kick him in the face, but she had. She knew what she had done. And she clenched her jaw with the thought that, in truth, she wished she had done it three months ago.