Post-Equus arrival, day 118
05:09 hours, Canterlot Standard Time
Castle Suite, Canterlot
A gray, overcast day greeted Mark when he awoke. It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t on the Caprica, and even longer to barely remember crashing into one of the guest suite beds at the palace. Upon sitting up and stretching, he vaguely remembered being shown to the room by an attendant and Star Beam entering the one next door. After that, he must have fell asleep before hitting the pillow.
Mark rolled his neck, and after a few satisfying pops, swung out from under the covers and stood. He twisted his trunk left and right, giving him the satisfaction of a few more good pops from his back. Only dressed in a light undershirt and his boxers, a loud snore from the next room gave him a jump. Mark located his flight suit and unfastened one of the pilot’s wings pins from the collar. He exited his own suite, and lightly knocked on the next door. “Star,” he softly said. The pony inside gave no response. “Star,” Mark said a little louder. A snort acknowledged his voice.
Mark then started pounding on the door. “Star!”
A short “Wahh!” was heard from inside, before a clattering of hooves on the floor approached the door. A weary-looking pony with dark circles under his eyes unveiled as the door opened. “Whazuh… oh, I’m sorry, sir. I-I wasn’t sleeping!”
Mark gave his own grunt of amusement as he stepped in. “I hope that’s a lie cadet, seeing that it’s...” He grabbed Star’s hastily-stripped flight suit, inspecting the red LED clock imbedded into the left wrist, “oh-five-ten, and we didn’t put in until after twenty-two hundred after we got all settled.”
“Sorry, sir. Just a bit groggy, I guess.” Star Beam yawned. “I’m usually not this slow to get up.”
“Post-battle fatigue,” Mark diagnosed. “I bet your body’s drained of adrenaline right now. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Mark heard hooves hit the floor as he was stepping back into his flight suit when a knock came from the door. “It ain’t locked.”
Another unicorn dressed in royal butler garb entered the suite, a tray of pastries and coffee in tow. “Her royal highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, has sent a complimentary breakfast for the both of you.” The server placed the trays on a nearby table before revealing a letter from his jacket. “I have also been instructed to give you this.”
Mark took the folded note, breaking the wax bearing Celestia’s seal. He quickly ran down the short letter. “Star, we’ve been summoned to a royal hearing at oh-nine-hundred.”
“Oh, fun,” the still half-asleep pilot responded.
“Is there anything else I may retrieve for you gentlecolts?” the server inquired.
“I believe we’re okay for now. Thank you very much.” The server gave a bow before departing, shutting the door behind him. “How do you take your coffee, Star?”
Star was struggling to get back into his own flight suit. “Ummm… hint of cream, a sugar cube, and a couple dashes of cinnamon.”
“Cinnamon, huh?” Mark said as he mixed the ingredients with a teaspoon. “Never took you for the cinnamon type.”
“It’s in a lot of stuff I eat. Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, all manner of baked goodies my wife makes.” Without turning around, Mark held out the coffee cup, which was taken in Star’s telekinesis. “I’m a regular cinna-holic.” Star brought the cup up to his lips and took a sip. “You make a mean cup-a-coffee.” He gave it a quick swirl. “Thanks, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” Mark said as he turned back with his own straight-up black coffee. “I may be your commanding officer, but that doesn’t mean I’m a stuck up prick that won’t do a friendly favor for his crew.” He blew off the steam before taking a small sample of the beverage. “Speaking of my crew...” Mark placed the cup back onto its saucer. “Your performance yesterday was beyond extraordinary.”
“I was just doing as I was ordered, sir,” Star replied.
“Nah,” Mark said with a headshake. “You did more. You had an emergency that would have doomed your vessel, but yet you managed your discipline, recognized the issue, resolved it, all while keeping your craft in the air and your passengers safe. There were human pilots that couldn’t accomplish what you did.” He unfastened the magnetic clamp. “You went above and beyond the call, cadet; from the frying pan and into the fire.” Star stood and watched, almost with child-like disbelief as Mark re-clamped the wings on Star’s collar. “I think you’ve earned those… Second Lieutenant.”
“T-T-Thank you very much, sir!” Star gave a salute. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just try to wake up on time from now on. You’re an officer now.” Mark winked.
09:26 hours, Canterlot Standard Time
Throne Room, Canterlot
Mark flipped his flight suit sleeve over, noting the clock for the third time within the hour. It was very unlike Celestia to run late. Whenever she had an appointment with Mark, they would always start and end on time. Clockwork… just like her Sun. And always with a bright and shining disposition, too. When the double doors to the throne room finally did open, Celestia’s expression was one he didn’t know she knew.
Stern.
That was the only way Mark could describe it. Or it could be said she had the look that said, “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed.” The princess silently walked past the gathered group, composed of Shining Armor, Cadance, Twilight, Star Beam, and Mark. A rolled scroll suspended in magic followed her motions.
“Please excuse my delay,” Celestia began as she turned and sat upon her throne. “I was with the newly founded War Council discussing the disturbing missive we received just this morning.” She unfurled the parchment and began to read it aloud.
To: Princess Celestia, Supreme Ruler of Equestria
I write to you today to inform you of the shameful transgressions, tresspasses, damages, and loss of life that occured on the sovereign ground of the Griffon Kingdom, caused by members of your very own armed forces.
A naval shipping compound was attacked by what several eyewitnesses can attest to be “a group of unicorns,” in the midst of the previous night. Sources tell us that a firefight ensued inside, resulting in the death of a number of our brave soldiers. This same building used as an executive office was damaged enough by a magic attack in the fugitives’ escape that it must now be condemned.
We now have the prisoners in our custody, and they are awaiting trial via a military tribunal. However, we cannot ignore the fact this was a wanton act of war, committed suddenly, and deliberately, by forces who allied themselves with the Equestrian Armed Forces. As a result, the king has had no choice but to issue a decree of war, and you will be hearing from us soon.
However, it was informed to us that a firefight of bows and arrows and magic also occurred outside the compound, and on the adjacent shoreline. These rogue ponies who caused the destruction to our naval port were about to be transferred into our custody managed to escape with the aid of a being of unknown power, one we can only assume is an ally of Equestria, resulting in several other deaths, and the destruction of one airship.
The king has already met with his small council, and we have come to the conclusion that we have no choice but to consider this invasion an act of war.
It was proposed to the king to simply ask for the fugitives, but your position is already abundantly clear, due to your harboring of other criminals in your state. The king has already summoned the legions of our armies, and you will be seeing us soon.
Signed,
High General Neadle
Celestia released her magic surrounding the note and let it fall to the polished floor. “So, who would like to be the first to explain to me why I received this declaration of war?”
Shining Armor stepped forward. “Your highness, the death of Griffons is greatly exaggerated. My team was under strict restrictions to use non-lethal magic.”
“And yet--” Celestia picked the scroll up, letting it flap about as she waved it in the morning air, “--I have a report here that says otherwise. And YOU were under orders to not attempt anything like this. So who am I to believe?”
“Ma’am, if I may?” Mark inquired. Celestia angled herself, acknowledging him. “First I would just like to take a moment to recognize the group of volunteers that stayed aboard the Caprica for the duration of this… incident. None of them had to stay, but every single one of them did, and for that, they are to be commended.”
“Noted,” Celestia shorty replied, “but unfortunately, it will have to wait until all of this is behind us.”
“Of course, ma’am.” He gave a small bow. “Next, for the firefight that occurred on the coast, I take full and sole responsibility. I got an ‘all-clear’ on the airship from Des, and I destroyed it with a missile. In the ensuing chaos and panic, we were able to collect Shining and his party.”
Celestia’s muzzle scrunched. “Captain Frude, that was not your order to give. Also, I gave you strict instructions not to fire.”
“I’m aware, ma’am. But would we all being standing here having this conversation had we not intervened?”
“Would the king have declared war had you not intervened?”
Cadance very loudly cleared her throat. “From the way the Griffon guards were making things sound, that is exactly what they wanted.”
Celestia’s stern statue-like demeanor broke. Her eyes widened and brow relaxed in shock. “Explain.”
“From what I heard and what we were told, High General Nealdle is in complete control. The royal Griffon family is either missing, or worse.”
Celestia gave a quick head shake. “I fail to see how it could be worse.”
“They could be dead,” Mark bluntly stated.
“Yes. Thank you for the grim realization.”
Mark looked away. “Everyone was thinkin’ it. I was just saying it,” Mark muttered under his breath before turning back. “But ma’am, don’t you find it just the least bit odd that you received a declaration of war so soon?”
“Not at all,” Celestia said matter-of-factly. “During the time Cadance was overseas, I would often receive a letter from the Griffon Kingdom no more than two days after I had sent my last one.”
“Forty-eight hours versus less than nine for a letter. Smells fishy to me.”
Celestia’s stern demeanor seemed to shift to one of skepticism, borderlining on disgust. “Are you implying that the Griffon Kingdom has deliberately lead us on in starting a war?”
“From what I’ve started to piece together, yes.”
“How long have you been piecing this theory of yours?”
“About sixty seconds.”
Celestia let out a heavy sigh. “And I don’t suppose you have any physical evidence to support your claim.”
Mark pulled out a small handheld touchpad. “Sadly, I only have a complicated theory based on a chain of connected events.
“First, we start with the young and charismatic general, full of passion and zeal. He’s had a taste of true power, and now he wants more. He knows his country’s history and is well-aware of the bad blood between the Grayclaws and the Goldclaws. So he begins to make it his mission to make the other Grayclaws hate the Goldclaws again. The problem he runs into is the tolerant Royal Griffon Family. How do you get rid of them? With a silent coup d’etat, drown out by all the noise you are already making. It’s like trying to distract a foal with some kind of shiny bauble while also trying to give them an immunization. ‘Hey, look at the shiny while we do this bad and hurtful thing!’
“Now, maybe an immunization isn’t the best metaphor because those are always beneficial in the long-run, but you get my meaning.” Mark looked to see several nods of agreement. “So, your competition is out of the way, and now you need fuel for the war machine. The Goldclaws are on high alert. The Royal Family has gone quiet, so those of higher echelons look for a third-party solution. And who better than the ponies of Equestria? They’re intermediary, unbiased, and completely unaware of what’s going on behind the scenes.
“The Grayclaws aren’t dumb. They know better than to try and restrain the Princess of the Night. They would never stand a chance. However, if they were to get another, say, one with less foreign affairs experience and a hot-blooded husband, things might just get interesting. Perhaps the husband will attempt to rescue his wife. Such an event happens, and as soon as Cadance arrives, the Grayclaws now start to put the pressure on the Goldclaws. Homes are invaded. Property is destroyed. Goldclaws start to go missing! So the Goldclaws are left with one option: Leave, and go to the only place they know they’ll be safe.
“General Neadle knows we’re not going to willingly let Grayclaw conspirators take away innocent Goldclaws, so they give us an ultimatum: The Princess for the refugees. A diplomatic nightmare is about to ensue, and all General Neadle has to do is sit back and wait for the Prince to save his Princess. He doesn’t have to wait long, as he comes and botches the rescue attempt. All they need to do then is catch the perpetrators, plant some phony evidence, cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.”
A distant rumble of thunder echoed in the hall after Mark’s explanation came to an end. Mark could almost see the smoke coming out of the ears of the ponies before him as they churned and processed the information. “It does seem logical,” Twilight was the first to break the silence.
“However,” Celestia started, “you have not mentioned their motive. Why are they Grayclaws doing this?”
“To put it simply: Control.” Mark scrolled down on his handheld. “A few weeks ago, we discussed the current state of the standing Griffon military. As I recall, it was rated as poor. Have an incident like this happen, and Griffons will be crying out for justice and revenge. I’m willing to bet my wings that there are already lines at recruitment stations throughout the Griffon Kingdom. And now, with a large standing army, who would dare challenge General Neadle’s authority?”
“There’s just one problem,” Shining’s voice now joined with the others’. “You said their plan relied on us being captured. But here we are, with the truth on our side. All we need to do is tell them what really happened.”
“Try convincing a country full of angry Griffons you didn’t do it when there is a mountain of planted yet logical evidence that says otherwise.” Mark holstered his handheld. “By the time anyone would care enough to listen, it would be too late.”
Celestia once again took the note from the Griffon Kingdom in her magic, giving it a once-over. “Captain Frude,” she said from behind the note, “you make a compelling and sound, yet uncomfortable argument. But I still need to see more concrete evidence before making rash decisions.”
“The strike in the middle of the note,” Mark pointed out. “I caught a glimpse of it when you were waving it about earlier. If I may?” He outstretched a hand, to which Celestia filled with the now slightly tattered scroll. He carefully inspected the document, but the words themselves were his interest. “What do you make of the handwriting change in the middle?”
“Looks like someone tried to cram information between paragraphs,” Cadance said, reading the note over Mark’s shoulder.
“And about the striked paragraph after that,” Mark continuted, “I’m willing to bet that as soon as we made our getaway, the guards reported back and made sure the story fit.”
“Why not simply toss this letter and start anew?” Cadance asked.
A surprising voice answered. “Time,” Twilight said. “There wasn’t enough time to get another draft going and keep with the timetable.” Twilight looked to her former mentor. “Princess Celestia, I stand convinced that this has all been one elaborate plot to lure the nation of Equestria into conflict.”
Cadance and Shining Armor stepped forward. “As do we.”
“As do I,” the sudden voice of Luna startled even the posted guards at the doors. “The Royal Family was somehow always busy when I requested a direct meeting with them. I had to speak with one ambassador or another. It makes sense now why I never saw them.”
Celestia looked down upon her small audience. Even though the physical elevation of her throne allowed her to do this, she had the strangest feeling that they were looking down upon her, waiting for an answer. “It pains me to say, but I must agree.” Celestia stood. “There are no other explanations for the sudden hostility toward Equestria, or to the Goldclaws for that matter. What we must now do is decide how to proceed.”
“I’ve given that some thought,” Twilight said, “but you’re not going to like it. It’s basically a lose-lose situation we’re in. If we try to stay diplomatic about it, attempting to contact General Neadle directly, we run the risk of him making outrageous demands, such as turning back the Goldclaw refugees and my brother, or worse, having no response at all. The other way to proceed is to march into full-scale war.” Twilight gazed about the hall. “But I feel I speak for everypony when I say that no one wants that.”
Celestia sadly shook her head. “We do nothing, or we bring fifteen hundred years of peace to an end.”
Silence now filled the hall, with the occasional low rumble of thunder from a distant storm. Mark began to walk along the hall, observing each of the great stain glass windows. He had not noticed it before, but next to the window depicting Twilight’s defeating of Tirek, another had been installed. A great yellow circle, enclosing a basic outlining of the Type 271-BXR. Below, a Cobra was in flight, flying directly over what looked to be Twilight’s castle.
Marcus saw passed the colored glass to see his actual Cobra and Star Beam’s Hopper, still in the designated landing zone. His thoughts went back to times he had deployed, fighting for survival, fending off the countless swarms of Driden fighters, bombing Driden troops on a hit-and-run ambush --
That’s it, Mark thought to himself. I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this. “Your highnesses, there is a third option.”
Mark’s back was still facing the ponies, and he did not see their ears perk back up and the sound of another choice. “Let’s hear it. Anything has to be better than the options already on the table.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Mark said as he spun to address the equines. “A preemptive strike on General Neadle himself, with two, no… one laser-guided, high-explosive bunker buster, dropped from an altitude of five thousand meters.” The stares he was receiving burned into him. “He and his command staff will never see, hear, or feel what hit them.”
“You want me…” Celestia paused. “...to authorize the killing of Griffons.”
“Think of the lives that would be saved. ‘Cut off the tail, and it will grow back. Cut off the head, and the monster dies.’”
“No,” Celestia defiantly answered. “I cannot and will not condone this course of action.”
“Okay,” Mark unholstered his sidearm. “Then to full-scale war, it is, then. With all it’s glory,” he loaded a round into the chamber, “and all it’s horror.”
“That is not acceptable, either.”
“Sister,” Luna approached the throne, “we must consider this. How many lives would be wasted if we were to engage the Griffons on the open battlefield?”
“There is no guarantee that his action would not have dire consequences. It could further escalate our conflict,” Celestia rebutled.
“See, I don’t think it will,” Mark said to the two sisters. “There’s a tactic, from long before I was born, called ‘Shock and Awe.’ No one here has ever seen a penetrative high-explosive device in action, am I right?” The hall gave no answer. “Once it has been demonstrated, they will become too scared to fight. They will see wherever General Neadle happened to be now lies in ruins, realize that no place is safe, and return to their homes.”
Celestia looked up to her sister, who was slowly nodding her head, before closing her eyes and turned away. “And all it will cost,” Mark continued, “is one power-hungry general, a handful of his most loyal staff, and a drop of blood that found its way onto a hoof.” Mark himself walked up the steps to the throne. “Where I’m from… that is a bargain.”
Celestia’s stoic demeanor broke, as a tear fell from an eye. She reached for her sister, who readily reached around her barrel in a tight embrace. A sniff was heard, as was a drawn-out, uneasy sigh. Celestia pulled back from the hug, and looked directly to Mark. “Very well.”
Mark leaned in. “I want you to know, ma’am, that it is with a heavy heart that I take responsibility for this action. I thought I had come to Equestria to stop fighting.” Mark gave a low huff of a laugh. “But I guess I’m destined to not stop.” He stood erect again. “But first, we need to know where he is, exactly.” Mark pushed a button on his belt. “Shocker to Des.”
A momentary fit of static came through his wireless earpiece. “This is Des, go ahead, Captain.”
“How soon will you pass over the Griffon Kingdom?”
“Thirty minutes, sir.”
Mark released the button. “Can you write a scroll and send it directly to General Neadle?”
“Yes,” Celestia softly replied. “It’s how I have always been sending correspondence to him.”
“Okay. What we’re going to do is send a letter back to him, acknowledging the declaration of war, and also telling that the Equestrian Navy is already on its way. We should be able to get a thermal fix on his exact location.”
“Okay,” Celestia said, pulling up a quill and paper.
Mark switched back focus to his headset. “You still there, Des?”
“Standing by,” Des acknowledged.
“We will be sending a letter via magic over to the Griffon Kingdom. Set the sensors on normal focus, with emphasis on the unidentifiable anomaly. As soon as it is detected, begin a thermal track of the target, and relay the information to my Cobra.”
“Aye, sir.”
“That is all. Frude, out.” He turned back to the small gathering. “It’s going to take me thirty minutes to get over there, anyway. May as well start heading that way.”
Marcus began zipping and resealing his flightsuit when a tug on the collar stopped him. “Do not miss,” he heard Celestia say.
“I never do.”
Post-Equus arrival, day 118
10:12 hours, Canterlot Standard Time
Five thousand meters above the Griffon Kingdom
There was always something about a solo flight mission that caused a pilot to do deep thinking. For most, it usually entailed some factoid of their current situation. “I’m in a tin can with wings, explosive devices below my feet, and the way that my craft can propel itself is its tank of flammable fuel that is constantly exploding behind me.” Those kinds of thoughts have driven many pilots into early retirement.
For Marcus, it was more personal. What would Commander Mandkea say to me if he were here? What would my mother say to me? Wait… I already know what she would say. “You’re only dropping one?” Yes, Mother, I’m only dropping one. I want to eliminate the target and make a statement, not destroy a mountain.
“Caprica to Shocker,” a voice in his ears snapped him out of his trance.
“This is Shocker. Go ahead.”
“Captain, sensors have picked up a magic anomaly. The target has been tagged. It’s right where we expected him to be. The large fortress embedded into a mountainside. Sensors indicate… not much between him and the ground level, but it’s thick enough for conventional Equestrian ordnance to not be able to reach him.”
“Acknowledged,” Mark reluctantly said as he flipped up the “Master Arm” switch on the bomb bay. Below his seat, two retracting doors opened on the Cobra’s belly, and a single bunker buster, no bigger than three footballs laid end-to-end, slowly lowered into release position. “Coordinates loaded into payload guidance systems. Approaching drop point.”
He could see the ground below him, green and pristine, the outline of the Griffon fortress clearly visible even from his altitude. “Caprica, how many life signs are in lethal proximity to the target?”
“Two, sir.”
All Mark could do was give a sad sigh, and look back at his readouts. “Ten seconds to drop.” Lords, forgive me, for what I am about to do.
The tone signaling for the drop came, and Mark reflexively brought a thumb down onto the release button on his stick. His craft lurched upward as the hydraulic release mechanisms fired. “Payload is in transit. Returning to homeship.”
“Solid copy, Shocker. Standby for approach orders.”
Mark banked to begin his rendezvous ascent back into space. A full minute of silence passed before three beeps rang in his ears. He didn’t bother to look back and confirm his kills. He already knew.
Post-Equus arrival, day 118
20:35 hours, Canterlot Standard Time
Commander’s quarters, Caprica
Marcus was sat on his bed, reclined against a wall and reading the text version of his audio log when three dull, metallic thuds came from the hatch. He flipped off the screen. “Come in.”
The wheel spun, and in stepped a golden pegasus, her amber eyes looking somber upon him. “Hi,” she softly said as the hatch closed behind her.
“Hey,” he quietly returned.
She took a few steps closer. “Did you hear the remaining elements of General Neadle’s staff surrendered?’
“Yeah.”
“And that they found --”
“Yep,” Mark cut her off. “Celestia told me.”
She let out a sigh. “You missed chow.”
“Didn’t much feel like eatin’.”
Spitfire’s wings flared out, giving a quick fluttering before gently landing her on his bed. “Because of…”
“Yeah.”
She turned around and faced the same way Mark was before sitting. Two minutes of silence passed. “Cadance told me what was said down there today,” she said as she faced him, still speaking in hushed tones. “When you were talking about how many lives would be saved if you did it, where you trying to convince them, or yourself?”
Mark slowly took a breath and fully exhaled. “I dunno. Both, I guess.”
Spitfire took her forelegs and wrapped them around one of Mark’s arms. “You know, I stopped by your little ‘zone of zen’ first. Figured you’d had gone there.”
“Didn’t much feel like walkin’, either.”
She tugged on his arm. “Well I do. C’mon.” Her head motioned toward the hatch. “Take a girl for a walk.”
Five minutes of quietly passing through mostly empty corridors later, the hatch closed to the Emergency Landing Bay Control Area. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the internal lights the only source of illumination apart from the endless field of stars, until - “Lights, off,” - Spitfire turned them off.
Mark leaned back against a panel and sat, Spitfire seating herself in front of him. Mark’s gaze turned toward the stars, only to be intercepted by Spitfire, the gentle glow of the command consoles making the amber color in her eyes shimmer. “Talk to me.”
“You know, you don’t seem like the ‘sit and talk about our feelings’ type.”
“You humans have them, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“Hey,” she brought a hoof up to his chin, making sure he was still looking at her. “No sarcasm.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Mark’s eyes again went to the stars.
Spitfire sighed in frustration, before her own sight the the dots of light in the sky. It was hard to believe, now that she had been up in space for a little more than two weeks, that ponies of old used to tell their foals and their grandfoals of heroes that lived in the night sky, immortalized forever. Perspective, she guessed.
Five silent minutes passed, the only noise bringing either of them comfort coming from the constant humming of the ship. “You did what you had to do,” Spitfire broke her line of sight, shifting back to Mark. “Nopony blames you for that. Not even the Princesses.”
A lump began to form in the back of Mark’s throat. He could feel his heart wanting to burst out of his chest. He took a breath to speak, but no words came out. He closed his eyes, and composed himself before trying again.
“When I came here, I was hoping to not be… well…” he motioned to the hull of the ship, “this. I wanted to be just a guy with a cool mode of transportation.” Both had a little laugh. “But that also meant abandoning everything that I had ever known. So… I’m torn. Torn between the like I want, and the life I have.”
A small peck on the cheek caught Mark by surprise. He didn’t even realize what had happened until after Spitfire’s lips had broke contact. “There’s more than that.”
Mark swallowed hard. “Do you know what it’s like to be alone?”
“Yes,” Spitfire said with a nod.
“Do you know what it’s like to be truly alone?”
“Not in the manner that you’re talking about.”
“I do.”
She brought a hoof to his chest. “But you’re not alone anymore. We’ve taken you in as one of our own. Sure, you have a little less hair on your head, and walk on two legs, but so does Spike the dragon, and he considers himself more a pony than a dragon.”
“That’s different,” Mark barely muttered.
“So you haven’t accepted that we’ve accepted you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I don’t understand, then.”
“You wouldn’t. You can’t.”
“Tell me. Make me understand.” Her hoof pressed harder into his chest. “Tell me, please.” No response came from Mark. “Tell. Me. Please.”
“Why do you care, all of a sudden?” Mark asked, with a slight angered tone.
“Because I care… about you.” Spitfire’s hoof came back down to the metallic panel.
Mark drew in the biggest breath he could, and held it for a few seconds, before letting it all go. “I’m afraid that I will forget them.”
Spitfire tilted her head in confusion. “Who?”
“Everyone I already lost.”
The sudden realization hit Spitfire like crashing headfirst into a mountain. “You’re still not…”
All Mark did was shake his head.
Spitfire’s forelegs wrapped themselves around his back, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. Mark hesitated at first, the sudden show of affection. Slowly, his hand crept up, coming around her back before tightly returning the hug. A stream of tears flowed from Mark’s eyes onto Spitfire’s neck, but she paid them no mind. Their embrace finally broke, and the mare locked eyes with the pilot. “You will never be alone again. I promise.”
Just the sound of the words brought a sense of comfort back to Mark; a feeling of belonging. The two held each other, content with the silence, and looking back at the planet Mark was now comfortable in calling “home.”