//------------------------------// // Training Period // Story: The Night Guard - Night Mares // by Georg //------------------------------// The Night Guard - Night Mares Training Period “I suppose I’m supposed to welcome you to your new training assignment,” growled Comm Sergeant Stroganov, looking at the eye-burning pink pegasus mare standing beside Commander Snowy Peaks. There was a certain aggressive attentiveness to the mare, as if she were rigidly holding herself in place to give all of her attention into staring straight forward with orange-tinted wings tucked solidly onto her firm flanks and the armor of the Night Guard resting far too comfortably on her pink back. At her side, Commander Peaks in his uniform jacket managed only to look bedraggled by comparison, nearly completely moulted and with the tips of white pinfeathers beginning to repopulate his wings, but otherwise seeming rested and relaxed, and not at all disturbed by the abomination to stallions he had brought into Stroganov’s office. “Sergeant Stroganov, please address Specialist Daelia Thermal with a modicum of respect. I’m the one who requested Night Commander Buttercup assign her to the Communication department for training while the finer details of their protective detail assignment to Her Highness are being worked out.” Peaks somehow even managed to sound serious about the assignment, and Stroganov decided that bending a little was a far better alternative than having a major planetary body dropped on his head for insubordination. “Yes, Commander.” Turning to the mare, he continued, “Are you aware of the important tasks the Communication department is responsible for, Specialist Pink? I mean Thermal.” “The Communication section of the Royal Guard is responsible for all communications between elements of the Guard in all local and remote locations utilizing encrypted telegraph, heliograph, selenograph and other forms of insecure messaging,” snapped the pegasus, still staring at that spot on the wall with such intensity that Stroganov almost turned to see if perhaps she was reading off a projection. “In addition, this section is responsible for personal delivery of sensitive materials by direct pegasus post or by relay of same for distant positions unreachable by conventional means. A security rating of Secret or Top Secret is required for all couriers of sensitive materials, which I am not qualified for due to my husband being unreachable in Vanhoover at this moment. As such, I can only be utilized for messages classified as Urgent or General Staff level unless directly designated by the Office of the Princesses with an exemption. Is that sufficient, sir?” There was a long pause before Sergeant Stroganov gave a terse nod. “Yes, I suppose so.” “By the way,” said Peaks, removing an envelope from his armor and hoofing it over, “here are her exemptions, direct from the Office of the Princesses and signed by Her Highnesses.” “So if an Equestrian diplomat were to request you to deliver a message directly to Princess Luna, what would you do?” asked Stroganov with one eye on Commander Peaks, who had just developed a most unusual smirk. “Validate the identity of the diplomat, and convey the message to the Foreign Service Office of Diplomatic Communication for delivery, sir.” The answer had been rattled off nearly verbatim from The Manual, and Stroganov fought back his own smirk as he continued, “What if the diplomat explains that the message is absolutely critical and insists that it has to go directly to Princess Luna right now with no delays at all?” “I would ask the diplomat to validate the Prime Security Code of the Day which is Sugar Niner Seven Hotel, sir.” Set back a step, Stroganov thought furiously for a moment to remember the daily code response. “The diplomat validates with the response of Foxtrot Two Seven Echo Echo.” “Is the diplomat the only pony around, sir?” Specialist Thermal blinked and turned away from the spot on the wall to look into his eyes. She had very nice pink eyes and a coy little smile that showed a few perfect white teeth as she continued, “Because if he is, I’m going to pound his head into the ground and put the cuffs on him once he’s unconscious. According to procedure, Prime Royal Guard security codes are not shared with any other departments or cabinet offices for any reason. The only way the ‘diplomat’ could know those codes is to have read my mind or extracted them from another Royal Guard. Is that correct, Sergeant ‘Cheezy’ Stroganov?” Sergeant Stroganov swallowed. “Welcome to the Communications section, Specialist Thermal.” ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ The sound of a typewriter stopped echoing through the paper-packed office as two mares in Night Guard armor picked their way over to an apparently unoccupied desk. Specialist Banehammer tapped one hoof gently against the top before a solid whump from underneath made the desk hop slightly, dislodging one stack of paper in a long sliding avalanche that stopped in Specialist Rose’s pink magic aura. “Pardon me, sir. We’ve completed the paperwork that Sergeant Ecks said we needed to get signed, and we’re ready to begin our assignment. All we need is his approval and we can get to work on the mentoring process. I’m sure we have a lot to learn about how the office works.” Rose smiled and brushed back a short lock of pale pink mane while watching the nervous stallion lift up the sheets of paper he had been picking up from under the desk and arrange himself back on the chair. “He’s still in a meeting.” The tan earth pony shuffled a few pieces of paper while Rose settled into a nearby chair, still smiling. “It may take a while,” he added. “That’s fine. I’ll just wait. Lily, could you get Corporal Linseed and I some soda, please? I believe there was a machine down the hallway.” “How did you know my name was Linseed?” asked the young stallion once Banehammer had trundled out of the room. “I heard from Corporal Shots that you dropped by yesterday, but I didn’t think—” “It’s on your jacket, dear.” “Oh!” Linseed threaded his dropped piece of paper back into his typewriter and lined it up carefully before tapping several keys. With a sour grimace, he rolled the sheet up so the typo was on the platen before grabbing an eraser in his teeth. “Try this.” A stick eraser floated over to the corporal and sat down next to the paper. “At the department, we had to fill out paperwork all of the time, and I found this brand of eraser works so much better than the ones they bought for the supply cabinet.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Linseed carefully erased his typo and rolled the paper back into the typewriter while avoiding looking at the smiling mare. “You’re right. It works a lot better.” “The right tool for the job, is what our desk sergeant always used to say.” Rose remained sitting with a certain air about her that indicated a willingness to remain in her seat for days if needed to see Sergeant Ecks. Linseed returned to typing, finishing one sheet and glancing sideways at the smiling mare before clearing his throat and whispering, “Sorry about everypony else giving you the runaround.” “That’s perfectly fine,” whispered Rose back. “Lily and I have had a wonderful time visiting all of the offices to get the signatures that Sergeant Ecks said we needed. I don’t think we could have gotten a guided tour that would have shown us more of the support base of the Royal Guard.” She took a moment to cast a quick glance at the corner office where the elusive sergeant was most probably sequestered and lowered her voice again. “We had to go through a few snipe hunts in the police department too. I once was sent down to the supply room for a can of beat wash for the patrol officers.” They shared a quiet giggle, both taking a look at the closed door to the corner office before returning to their activities, although Linseed seemed bothered by something. Eventually he looked up from his typewriter and asked, “Why did you need to wash beets in the police department?” Rose paused and closed her eyes for a moment. “No, beat wash. You know. A police officer walks a beat in the city. It’s the section of the city they’re responsible for patrolling. That kind of beat.” “Oh.” the corporal returned to typing with a sideways glance. “It’s slang, like calling the bathroom a head, or the graduating cadets pingers?” A girlish giggle escaped Rose. “Yes, but not that dirty.” After typing for a while longer, Linseed looked up and cocked his head to one side. “So what did you bring back?” “I went down to the market — my husband is a grocer there, by the way — and got a bottle of their vegetable wash. I told the officer that it was the perfect tool for the job. It could not only wash his beets off, but also his carrots, celery, and peas.” The corporal snorted cautiously, as not to disturb his boss’s solitude, and returned to his paperwork. After a few more sheets of typing, he whispered, “You know, it’s been really busy around here lately since we heard about the Crystal Empire. Princess Celestia even came to visit the sergeant yesterday.” “Yes, I know. Something about the reinstatement of a number of canceled leave requests. I presume it’s very disruptive to your office routine.” “You aren’t kidding,” he grumbled, shoving a stack of paper back into the upright position. “I’ve been here for five years and this is the worst it’s been.” “If you’d like, I’ll ask the sergeant if we could help your office with the papers for a day or two. I understand how these paperwork piles tend to multiply if they get too tall.” Rose smiled shyly as the young stallion looked up, fidgeted for a brief moment as if he were going to say something, then turned back to his work. Eventually he looked back up and cleared his throat. “Thank you, Ma’am.” “You’re welcome, Corporal.” She remained sitting patiently as the stallion stuffed several folders, making an uneven pile that he straightened after a quick glance in her direction. The tension in the office grew until he finally looked up with sorrowful brown eyes. “I really didn’t want to participate in the runaround we’ve been giving you ladies, Ma’am. Corporal Shots and Sergeant Ecks, they said it was for your own good, but it just don’t seem right. You just want to protect the Princesses like us, right?” “Of course, Corporal. That’s all any of us want.” “It’s just with all the news about the Crystal Empire, things have gotten all twisted around in the section. They say—” Linseed’s voice got very low and he lowered his head as if he were afraid of being heard “—he has returned.” “He who?” Rose tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound as if Princess Celestia’s ex-coltfriend has come back.” Corporal Linseed relaxed and snorted at the idea, shaking his head and smiling. “As if she’s ever had a coltfriend. Twilight Sparkle, maybe.” “Well, if there was any threat from this Crystal Empire, I’m certain Princess Celestia would tell us,” declared Rose with a gentle nod. “Personally, I think we’re more endangered by a paperwork avalanche.” She stood up and rearranged the sidesaddle on her armor. “You know, the sooner we get to see Sergeant Ecks, the sooner we can get situated. A friendly Crystal Empire will make Lily and I quite busy with advance work for all of the curious Royals who want to make the trip. Could you do us a favor?” “Good point.” The young stallion rolled the completed form out of his typewriter and paused, seemingly conflicted for a moment. “What do you want me to do?” “Just let me in to see Sergeant Ecks for a few minutes regardless of what he told you,” said Rose. “I’m sure he won’t mind once he hears what we have to say.” Corporal Linseed paused while he thought, then stood up with his lips compressed into a thin line. “You’re right. We’re spending far too much time running you ladies in circles that we should be spending on our jobs. But I should warn you, he’s going to be mad. He’ll probably bust me back down to specialist again.” “Don’t worry, Corporal. Everything will work out just fine.” Rose followed the young stallion to the office door and waited while he knocked. “Sir. Specialist Rose is here to see you.” There was a shuffling noise, as if a deck of cards had been dropped and a comfortable chair had been abruptly moved, a few rapid hoofsteps, and then the sound of a different door opening inside the office, potentially a back door used for a rapid getaway. Then there was a quite solid sound of metal against metal, much as a fast moving Royal Guard running into an unexpected immobile object might make. “Excuse me, sir.” The powerful voice of Specialist Banehammer was only slightly muffled by the intervening walls, and Corporal Linseed looked back at the tranquilly smiling Rose. “You set him up,” he whispered. “Not me,” she whispered back. “Get out of my way, you worthless bitch,” bellowed an unidentified voice from inside the office that could only belong to Sergeant Ecks. “I have a very important meeting to attend, and don’t have time for this foolishness.” “Certes, thou dost.” The second more powerful voice was unmistakably Luna, and the sound of armored hooves scuffling backwards away from the back door followed, as did the rather solid ‘Whump’ of an officer’s rather large backside returning to the comfy chair it had just vacated. “Sometimes the best tool for the job is a sledgehammer,” said Rose, her soft smile not changing one iota. “Don’t you agree, Sergeant Linseed?” “Ah. I’m not a sergeant, ma’am.” “Sergeant Linseed, get in here,” growled the low voice of Luna from inside the office, sounding just a little like she was ordering lunch. “I think that’s only a short matter of time,” whispered Rose as she gestured to the office door. “Your office may be short a sergeant in a few minutes. After that, it’s just a matter of assigning the right pony for the job.” ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ There was a distinct whistling noise that accompanied Commander Snowy Peaks as he trotted back in the door to his office, wearing his uniform for a change instead of armor while his feathers regrew. The whistling could have conceivably been a tune of some sort, if not for the fact that the commander did not whistle, and could not have carried a tune if it had handles. He drew up to a halt in front of his desk and regarded the perfect stacks of paper with the rainbow of little colored sticky notes giving a circus air to his working table. “You two certainly have been busy while I’ve been out of the office,” he remarked, trying to figure out just why watching the two unicorns standing there seemed so unusual. “Welcome back, sur,” said Lieutenant Kudzu with a sharp salute. “You’re looking much better, sir,” said Specialist Grace with a matching salute. She was also wearing a uniform today instead of armor. In fact, both of them were in uniforms, despite the fact that Peaks could not think of the last time he had seen Kudzu without several pounds of steel wrapped around his torso. Well, other than the Officer’s Club showers. As he worked his way through the Ritual of Intercession Paperwork, Peaks had to admit that even with as much as he did not want mares in the guard, having Grace in the office was a gift from the heavens. Color-coded notes flowed by in an endless stream with Kudzu playing the role of ‘In’ by floating over folders for his signature while Grace played the role of ‘Out’ by taking the signed folder and dispatching it to whatever appropriate section deserved having yet another infernal lump of papers dumped on it. Morning passed rapidly with the coffee having Kudzu’s certain flair to it, possibly barley salt mixed in with the creamer (soy, thankfully). It was actually pleasant, although there was something bothering him about the highly productive morning activity, even though he tried his best not to think about it. From such thoughts came madness. Still, his father used to tell him that when everything was headed your way, you’re probably flying the wrong way down a one-way street. There was no sign of conflict between his long-serving adjunct and the female temp; in fact, they worked in an almost synchronized fashion, with “Here you go, Specialist Grace” and “Thank you, Lieutenant Kudzu” exchanged at every opportunity. It was only when they took a break for lunch — delivered by a nameless rating who apparently had been given the order earlier — that Commander Peaks finally twigged to what was going on. The afternoon transitioned from purchase orders to transfer requests as the stacks in the office slowly eroded away, helped by a soft tissue massage spell from Specialist Grace that kept his signing hoof from cramping up and a perpetual re-inking spell from Kudzu to keep him from having to stop every so often to reload his inky ammunition stocks. He tried to keep his good humor, but the constant string of “Beg pardon, Specialist Grace” and “My apologies, Lieutenant Kudzu” that passed back and forth between his two aides finally made him scoot his chair back and glare at them. “Stop it, you two. Just kiss already.” “Sur?” Kudzu looked much more Kudzu than he had ever looked before, staring at his superior with an expression of critical affront and high dudgeon that only missed adding exasperation due to the lack of available space on his slender face. “I have no idea what you are speaking about, sir,” added Grace in a perfectly ordinary tone of voice and an expression that mimicked Kudzu with two exceptions. The extent of her emotional reaction was a single raised eyebrow and the faintest pouting of the lips that somehow insinuated that the delicate facial features in question had never been touched by a stallion before. In fact, it was that slight movement that enlightened Peaks to something that he should have noticed earlier if he had not been so preoccupied. “You’re wearing lipstick.” Lieutenant Kudzu reacted first, straightening up and rubbing the back of one hoof across his face. “Sorry, sur. It helps me express my inner mare.” Grace turned and gaped at the perfectly serious stallion, and then burst into laughter. It was blatantly obvious that she had little practice with the emotional reaction, the uncontrolled braying turning only worse when Kudzu pouted in perfect feminine fashion, puckering up to make a moue with his lips and bringing one hoof up to fluff his short curly mane. There was a fairly substantial thump as she fell off her chair and rolled around on the floor, clutching her gut with all four hooves while Kudzu took a moment to look at his chuckling commander. “Two years of theatre classes at the university, sur. Played Yum-Yum for a week’s worth of sold-out shows.” Peaks patiently waited until levity had faded and the normal impassive expressions of his adjunct and temp had returned, although it took too far too long for his comfort and involved a certain amount of brushing off little flecks of dropped paper from both of his aides. After returning to work, they stamped and signed their way through nearly half of another pile before he added, “I just don’t want my desk used for immoral purposes while I’m not in the office.” “Heavens forbid, sur,” said Kudzu, floating over another form to sign along with the summary sheet. “I notice you qualified your statement, sir,” said Grace, closing a folder and placing it in the correct stack for distribution. “Or while I’m in the office too,” he quickly added. An entire stack went to its ultimate fate before the outside door vibrated to the blow of an impacting hoof and Night Commander Buttercup popped his face into the office without waiting for a response. “Peaks, may I speak with you for a—” He paused, his snow-white mustache quivering as he looked around the office and the relative order that had been brought out of the paper avalanche chaos. “We’re remodeling,” said Peaks, not pausing in his signing and stamping for a second. “Right.” The older Nocturne officer took a skeptical look at Grace before switching his golden gaze to his fellow commander. “I desire to appropriate Kudzu this evening for assisting in the collection of ‘Special’ Night Guard candidates among your collection of new graduates.” “Poaching all the clever ones before Swifty gets his hooves on them?” Peaks clucked his tongue. “What a naughty colt you are, Commander.” “Not nearly as naughty as some of these reprobates, Peaks. I merely wish to get them in harness before their inevitable post-graduation drinking spree turns into a crime spree.” The Night Commander eyed Grace, who ignored him. “Perhaps I should include your—” “Careful, sur,” warned Kudzu before glancing back at Peaks. “He’s right,” said Commander Peaks. “If you’re considering using a derogatory profanity in front of Specialist Grace, please remember that her special talent allows her to replay every single detail of that event visually and audibly for the enlightenment of our superiors. Both of them.” Commander Buttercup raised one eyebrow and flicked a somewhat ragged ear acquired earlier in his career. “Are you implying that if I were to use an unfortunate adjective to describe your female staff member in less than glowing terms, that said discussion might wind up in front of Their Royal Highnesses in rather short order?” Commander Peaks looked at Specialist Grace. Specialist Grace looked back. Peaks nodded his head. A lime-green glow flowed from Grace’s horn and a somewhat smaller version of the room and the ponies inside formed out of her magic, complete with motion and somewhat tinny sounding voices. The entire scene, from Buttercup’s abrupt entrance to his last sentence, played out in front of them before the magic faded away and Grace returned to placing folders in piles, apparently oblivious to the stunned Night Commander. “Perfect recall,” said Peaks. “It was in her file. Seems to be quite an advantage in her other line of work.” “Not always, sir,” added Grace. “That is unmitigated horsehocky,” snorted Buttercup, his membranous wings giving a short flap that rustled the stacks of papers in the room. He grabbed a falling folder from under his wing and opened it up. “Tell me all you know about Cadet Blade.” She shrugged. “Pegasus, excellent to exemplary scores in all of his categories, top ranked in sparring and strategy, fair to mediocre scores in STEM categories that would normally indicate a lack of proper preparation for the Academy, but combined with deficiencies in his immunization record and personal contacts…” Grace trailed off and looked straight into Buttercup’s eyes. “Unusual interest in his record from the Night Guard Commander would tend to weigh my evaluation into highly positive territory, except for the educational issues. There’s no photo in the file, but there were two different points in the final assault of ‘Save the Hostage’ where a pegasus matching his physical description gained entry into the hostage chamber.” Two glowing green images of a dark-blue pegasus in flight being struck by a bolt of magic appeared in the room, one pink bolt, the other green, and Grace continued, “Without speculating to the background of the cadet, I can say that his reaction to fire is different than what it should have been, considering that both Royal Guard and Police units receive training to block magical attacks with the enchantments on our armor or uniforms instead of trying to dodge completely out of the way. His experienced dodge appears instinctive in the midst of battle, more what I would expect from a major city street thug accustomed to real violence than a product of your Equestrian post-secondary educational program.” Both of Buttercup’s fluffy white eyebrows had climbed during Grace’s description and remained stuck high in his mane even after Grace made the illusionary cadet images vanish. He took a breath to regain some composure and added, “What if I were to tell you his name is actually Shiv?” Grace blinked. “Two years ago, the Manehattan police department broadcast an arrest warrant for a pony named Shiv with roughly the same physical description as Cadet Blade. Shiv was facing charges of Assault, Criminal Damage to Property, Misdemeanor Theft, Arson, Robbery and Public Urination on a Police Officer. We received notification six months later that the Manehattan police had lost track of him, and were considering that a certain gang dispute involving an earth pony thug named ‘Breaker’ may have resulted in his death. I presume the two ponies are the same, and that you knew of his criminal history when he enrolled?” There was a very long pause as Commander Buttercup stood silent with his mouth drawn into a thin line. Eventually he turned to Peaks and said, “I’ll take her for a few hours tomorrow. If I believe she is insufficiently prepared for a position as my temporary adjunct, I’ll return her for reassignment. That is, if it is acceptable to you, Specialist Grace?” “Agreed,” said Grace, “under the provision that I be ensured alternate Friday evenings off.” At Buttercup’s inquisitive glance, she continued, “I’m currently pursuing the possibility of a personal relationship.” There was a very long silence in Commander Peaks’ office.