//------------------------------// // 2. Exposition // Story: Agents of F.R.I.E.N.D. // by PeppyJoe //------------------------------// The sun hung low in the sky as the day drew near its end, and it cast long shadows on the collection of tents outside Ponyville. Many of the casualties had happened near that small town, and the local hospital simply could not provide the necessary care. It was a nurse who finally broke momentum and ordered the EMT's to establish a triage center elsewhere. After a hasty stop at Tents and Turnips (and a second stop when the intern remembered he was supposed to get some tents too), the staff had a functional outpost where they could treat the victims of Tirek's attack. While the as-yet-unexplained rainbow phenomenon had restored the innate magic in most ponies, it did little for physical injuries sustained in the interim. Some, like earth ponies caught off-guard, were relatively unharmed. However, pegasi in flight or unicorns in the midst of casting a spell were another story. Broken limbs and thaumic fatigue threatened either group, and the wake of the battle had left many injured. This basic explanation, Soarin received from a nurse as he helped her change IV drips on a series of bedridden ponies. He was the only active Wonderbolt who hadn't been seriously hurt during their defense against Tirek. He'd taken it upon himself to help where he could, despite thirty-six hours of pleading from medical staff that he go get some rest. He was nearly ready to relent when a creme-colored mare with a candy-stripe mane ran up to him. "Mister Soarin, sir," she panted. "Miss Spitfire, she's awake!" Without so much as an acknowledgement, the stallion took to the air and flew west. Cutting across the camp and ruffling the canvas of several tents as he passed, he made his way to the area dedicated to guardsponies and Wonderbolts. He found her tent easily after checking in so many times, and after a brief pause, he pushed the flap back and stepped inside. Three beds away, the captain of the Wonderbolts was in the midst of a fierce battle to fend off a collection of nurses. "They changed it ten minutes ago, I swear! The wing is fine, it doesn't need re-bandaged! Where the buck is my lieutenant?!" Grinning and reassured, Soarin trotted up and brushed aside a nurse, resting a hoof calmingly on one of Spitfire's. She looked up and grinned back, and all the other ponies took the hint to give them some space. Spitfire shifted in bed, making eye contact with Soarin. Then she slugged him in the foreleg as hard as she could. "Ponyfeathers, Spit! What was that for?" "Figured you got off too easily. Now tell me, how is everypony? Doctors say Tirek's done, but I can't get a straight answer on anything more." Soarin sighed, glancing back towards the exit. "We didn't lose anyone, but... Hay, that's where the good news ends. Fleetfoot is still in critical, and one of the stallions I spoke to says we'll be lucky if Blaze ever flies again. Most of the reserve took a beating too." "I suppose that's it, then. End of the Wonderbolts." Spitfire turned to face upward and shut her eyes. "We'll pull through, Spits. We always do. Maybe there won't be any air shows for a while, but-" He was cut off as the mare began convulsing and the machinery surrounding him beeped incessantly. Almost immediately, a group of doctors and nurses rushed in, shoving him aside. "-internal bleeding in the thoracic-" "-get a cardiothaumic expert in-" "-can't be here while-" Before he could understand what was happening, Soarin had been dragged outside the tent and dumped unceremoniously on his face. After a moment's temptation, he determined it best to not attempt entry again just yet. He stood up and began brushing himself off with his wings before the sound of his own name drew his attention away. Standing before him was a pony of relatively average build, colored a golden yellow coat and a brown mane with grey streaks. He wore a simple black half-jacket over his barrel and forelegs. "Lieutenant Soarin," he repeated without any hint of question in his voice. "That's me, mister..." "Golden Stud. I am here on behalf of the Noble's Council with an important proposition." He paused for a moment, reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a scroll. After passing it to the pegasus, he continued. "In light of recent events, the council has seen fit to charter and fund a new subdivision of the royal guard. We would like you to be part of it." Soarin looked momentarily taken aback. "I, ah... I'm sorry, I'm no guard. I'm just a stunt flier." "We both know that's not quite true," Golden answered with a sad shake of his head. "Like any Wonderbolt, you have basic military training. What we need is something more than military, though. Your expertise and ability make you uniquely suited for the role, and you will be serving all of Equestria. So, lieutenant, can F.R.I.E.N.D. count on you?" ~ ~ ~ Five months later... A charcoal-black earth-pony mare with a deep purple mane paced back and forth on the deck of the F.R.I.E.N.D. Ship, and stopped only to turn an angry glower at Soarin as he landed. "Do you have any idea the trouble you just caused me?" Soarin still wore a manic grin from the earlier pursuit, and just shook his head in response. "We've spent two weeks tracking this thing around the globe, and when we finally get caught up and grab its attention, you fly it practically to Canterlot's doormat! But no, that just wasn't stupid enough. You go and have Turner shoot it straight into a princess's castle!" "In fairness," Soarin began, "we'd never actually used the Flare before-" "Don't give me that!" The mare's voice cracked, and she paused for a moment, considering. "I'm going to go talk to Command. They probably haven't heard yet, and I'd like to get the first word in. You, just... Go practice not being an idiot." She trotted into a nearby room and slammed the door shut after her. A long, soft whistle made Soarin jump and turn to the griffin who had just walked up behind him. "Somepony's sure got her tail in a twist." "You know the big-manes are always pressuring her, though. They don't blame you if something goes wrong, Gilda. They don't blame me. They blame Captain Knight." Soarin gave a shrug. "I might put more stock in your defense of her if you weren't so willing to tear your wings off in defense of a manticore." Smirking, Gilda took to the air. "Now, I'm gonna go have a lay down. Unless," she paused, her smirk becoming something a bit less antagonistic, "you'd like to come have a lay down with me?" She laughed and flew off after seeing Soarin turn red and bristle his feathers, sparing him the indignity of a response. ..... Below deck, Soarin made his way through several narrow passages, headed toward his bunk. The sight of a dapper, monocled unicorn backing out of another room forced him to a halt. He cleared his throat, and the stallion turned to face him. "Ah, Soarin my lad! Jolly good work with that Itzrhydere, I must say. An unfortunate business that it should hit the castle, but a fine job nonetheless!" Shaking his head humbly, "Oh, really, I just did my best not to get eaten. I expect anypony in my place would've tried just as hard." This prompted a hearty laugh from Fancy Pants, who gave Soarin a good-natured nudge on the shoulder. "I am sure of it, old bean. Regardless, I expect the rest of our little band will be offering commendation and congratulation for some time yet, so you had best brace for it now." The unicorn then tilted his head slightly to peer past Soarin. "Ah, well now, I do believe another fan approaches. If you'll pardon my passing, The dear lady Knight has asked for me on the bridge." He gave a slight smile, adjusting his monocle. "I dare not keep her waiting." Soarin pressed his form against the wall to facilitate Fancy's squeezing past, and after several long seconds of mutual excusing and pardoning, he was once again free to proceed. "Hey there!" Without so much as a sigh, Soarin turned to see the mare addressing her. "Hey, Minuette. Thanks, as always, for coordinating everything." "Well, I could hardly not coordinate everything! Besides, the hear-me gems did most of the work; I just did a bit of message-ferrying on the ship. It was Pants's fancy flying and Time's timing that saved the day!" Soarin (like most ponies) needed an extra moment to process her rapid-fire style of speaking, but the bright blue mare didn't seem to mind as she beamed back at him. "Still, thank you, Mini. And if you hadn't gotten the Flare working, I don't know what we would've done." "It sure did work great, huh? At first, I thought it wouldn't do much, but then you were like, 'line it up,' and I was like 'copy that, Victor-Five-Nine,' and then you said 'now,' and I was all, 'take the shot, Turney!' and it went zowee and then it hit the castle, and then Knighty-Knight was all, 'ooh, I'm gonna mumble grumble mumble mutter'!" Soarin blinked back at her. "Anyways, I'll just let you be squeezing-ing on past so you can talk to Knight! Should be fun!" "Mini, I'm not even heading in that dir-" A brass tube trailing along the ceiling rattled, prompting Soarin to fall silent, and a voice came from a connected horn at the end of the hall, mounted at eye-level. "Soarin, get back up here. Turner too; we've got a new project." Minuette grinned. Soarin shuffled in place to turn his full body facing her, and raised an eyebrow. The mare tapped her horn, still grinning, and answered, "Magic." Fearing further inquiry, Soarin just shook his head and moved past, confident in the knowledge that whatever this meeting held and whatever new project followed, it would surely be no stranger than this.