Chapter Ten
Happy New Year, people!
Here, have a chapter. 
Earning Wings of a Different Nature
By Strayan Phoenix
Chapter Ten
[Somewhere in the Zebrican Jungle]
Daring Do crouched down low beside her new Zebra associate at the top of a cliff, her keen eyes scanning the large clearance before her, as the sweltering humidity literally shimmered up from the ground, distorting her vision of anything beyond a few hundred feet.
They watched as a figure they identified as Treasure Hunt, flanked by his own Zebra cronies, approached a large, royal-blue, quadrupedal… thing, surrounded by several large and exotic, predatory cats. Daring’s eyes narrowed in anger.
“Of course Ahuizotl would be involved in this…” She muttered.
They watched as Treasure Hunt produced the Sapphire Stone from his knapsack and offered it up to the mythological creature. “Here is your Sapphire Stone, my good man. Now, about my payment…”
“Ah yes, your payment…” Ahuizotl mused, snatching the statuette from the stallion’s grip and inspecting it closely. “I’m sure the gods will have something you’ll find to your liking.”
“What-” the stallion began in confusion, before he was suddenly tackled from behind with incredible force, knocking the wind out of him.
Daring cringed and turned her head, as a large tiger ripped out the hapless pony’s throat in a single, bone-crunching snap of its jaws.
“Wretched fiend!” the Zebra hissed, “I wanted to do that!”
“Well, that’s what happens when ponies cut queues,” Daring huffed.
The Zebras all chuckled darkly as Ahuizotl turned his attention to them. “Thank you gentlecolts. You can go now.”
The small group turned and wandered off into the dense foliage.
Ahuizotl grinned manically at the statuette. “Oh, the things I’ll be able to do with you, my dear precious…”
“That’s our cue!” Daring spotted an opportunity, slowly creeping forward and opening her wings, “If he were to leave here with the Sapphire Stone in his grimy hands, the world as we know it will be in terrible danger!”
“Well, the heretic is dead, so my purpose here is now defunct,” the Zebra started crawling away, “Good luck with Ahuizotl, and may the gods have mercy on your soul.”
“Wait, weren’t you going to help me get the Sapphire Stone back?” She frowned.
“No, I was going to kill Treasure Hunt,” the Zebra corrected, “Taking on Ahuizotl however… that’s not how I roll. Farewell.”
With that, he disappeared amongst the foliage and was gone.
“Son of a bitch,” she cursed, refocusing her attention back on Ahuizotl, “You can’t rely on anypony, can you?”
The blue demi-god was chuckling madly to himself as he started walking towards the edge of the clearing. Daring took a deep breath and stood up straight once his back was completely turned, locking her eyes on the statuette.
Snapping her wings out, she took several paces backwards, before suddenly sprinting forward for all she was worth, launching herself off the cliff with a bounding leap.
Her focus was locked on that glint of bright blue crystal as she tore towards the large creature, keeping herself silent to retain the element of surprise for as long as possible.
Ahuizotl blinked incredulously as the Sapphire Stone disappeared from his loose grip with a blurry flash of yellow.
“What?!” He exclaimed, tracing the monochromatic trail of light left in the Pegasus’ wake to the famous archaeologist. “Daring Do? What are you doing here?!”
“Same thing you are, Ahuizotl!” She grinned as she came to a stop atop a branch up in a tree, the Sapphire Stone sliding in neatly underneath her hat. “Looking for this.”
Ahuizotl snarled angrily, “Oh, come ON! Is it possible that I can hatch at least ONE devious plot without you interfering?! Is that too much to ask?!”
“Oh Ahui, you know no party has ever truly started until I trot in,” She grinned, “Maybe if your devious plots don’t involve killing all life as we know it in some way or another, then we might actually be able to get along.”
She opened her wings and took off into the sky. “Until next time!”
Ahuizotl growled furiously as the Pegasus disappeared into a black speck in the distance. “Damn her! Damn that bitch to Tartarus! A curse on you, Daring Do!”
-----
[1013 Hours, 15th May 2020]
[Persian Gulf]
HMAS Brisbane trembled as several unguided rockets slammed with full force into her starboard side, lighting her up in a series of bright orange fireballs, as shock waves rippled across the water. She was thrown uneasily into a port list, before slowly tilting back to starboard.
An anti-ship missile whizzed past Brisbane’s bridge, missing it by the narrowest of margins. The Phalanx anti-missile systems onboard USS Vella Gulf rapidly twisted about to intercept, spewing white-hot tracer rounds as they vectored for a deflection shot. Sailors aboard Brisbane’s bridge exclaimed loudly and ducked down for their lives, as hundreds of stray rounds raked the ship’s bow from left to right, smashing the windscreens to splinters in the blink of an eye, and leaving a pattern of bullet holes across the bulkheads.
The speeding missile was just that little bit too quick however, and it lodged itself in the starboard side of USS George H.W. Bush, exploding with sufficient violence to wrench apart and disable one of the elevators which carried aircraft up to the flight deck. A subsequent series of catastrophic fireballs tore apart the small collection of F-35 Lightnings that happened to be parked nearby, as well as igniting their weapons and fuel cells, throwing flames, shrapnel and sailors in every direction, and damaging the hydraulics system to the second starboard aircraft elevator in the process.
-----
Somewhere in the world, Michael Bay sneezed.
-----
[Brisbane’s Starboard Lookout]
“Ugh... did anyone get the rego of that bus?”
Executive Officer Paul Cruze groggily shifted his head around, his brain working overtime to try and make some semblance of sense of the information his hazy senses were feeding him.
So far, he had worked out that he was lying on his back in a sitting position, with his head and shoulders resting up against a solid, metal surface. His protective flack jacket and steel helmet, which were clean and pristine just a few moments ago, were now charred, uncomfortably hot, and torn in several places; the former was also feeling agonisingly tight around his chest, making breathing difficult. Lastly, he could feel that there was some sort of liquid dripping down the sides of his face.
The deck beneath him felt… off, like it was on a slant. Before him, the horizon looked a little higher that it probably should be, and the churning ocean twisted about before him in an erratic dance.
A blast of bright yellow and orange off to his right drew his attention to the sudden appearance of bits of shrapnel splashing into the water, and from his raging headache and muscle pains, he had a feeling that his situation was a precarious one. A charred, melted section of Brisbane’s starboard hull just a few metres from him marked where a rocket had struck and knocked him senseless.
Loud groans of twisting metal reverberated throughout the ship, and the muffled cacophony of shouting voices was interrupted by a brief, but loud bang, which the XO reflexively cringed at, shielding his face with his forearm.
The bulkhead door supporting his back suddenly shunted forward, causing him to grimace in agony as he was forcefully moved aside.
“You alright sir?” a voice asked him with a worried tone, and a sailor crouched down in front of him in concern. His name tag read ‘Gilbert’. “Here, lemme help you.”
Cruze groaned as the sailor supported him up onto his feet.
“Sir, you’re burned and bleeding,” Gilbert pointed out, “Let’s get you to the Med Bay.”
“Get this thing off me” Cruze heaved, fumbling with the jacket’s buckles. After a few moments, the now-useless vest hit the deck with a thunk, having done its job.
Finally free to breathe again, Cruze shook his head as he supported himself on the guard rail. “I’m sure there are people who were right in the thick of it, and are in far worse condition than me. See to them first.”
“Everyone else has been accounted for,” Gilbert gestured gently, “At least get something to patch up that head wound!”
“... Fine,” The XO muttered, making an effort to stand up straight and drag himself into the Bridge. Dangerously large shards of glass littered the deck, and several sailors were already carefully going about cleaning them up. He wiped the side of his face with the back of his sleeve, smearing a trail of red across the heat-resistant material.
“Now, what’s the status report so far?”
Another sailor briskly approached him. “The hull was breached in at least seven different places, although most of them are above the waterline; there are spot-fires in Sections Three through Six, minor flooding in Section Five, and the ship is listing ten degrees to starboard. The individual damages were only small, but because there are lots of them spread over a wide area, repair teams are still going to have their hands full patching it all up. The pumps are running, and the fire teams are moving in to deal with them as we speak.”
“Casualties?”
“I don’t know that yet myself,” The sailor admitted, “but someone down in the Med Bay will.”
“Was there any other damage?” Cruze rested his weight on a table of with all sorts of charts and notes strewn about.
“The fighter clipped the main mast with its wing as it blew past, and the navigation radar is cactus,” the sailor stated, “The whole thing is bent in half at an odd angle like a straw, and it’ll have to be replaced once we get back to Australia.”
“That’s gonna be a pain in the arse,” Cruze muttered, “And means a few months laid up in drydock. Are communications and electronics still functional?”
“For the most part, yes,” Armitage nodded, “We’re sending off a message to the Department of Defence about this, and we’ll be waiting on the reply soon.”
Cruze took a deep breath. “We have a lot of work to do. Let’s just patch up the ship as best we can, and we’ll see what happens from here.”
-----
[USS George H.W. Bush]
Daring’s vision swam and her ears rang as she clutched her muzzle with her free hoof, muttering profanity under her breath at the blazing pain across her nose and jaw.
The aircraft carrier had shuddered violently under the impact of a direct hit, and the lights flickered briefly at the moment of impact as both she and Flash Sentry lost their footing, knocking heads before falling to the floor.
A voice blared over the loudspeakers, “Damage Teams Two and Three to the Hangar Bay! I repeat, Damage Teams Two and Three to the Hangar Bay!”
“Is everyone alright?” Chappell barked, glancing around.
“I’m still breathing,” Flash grunted, hauling himself up and offering her hoof of assistance.
“Same here,” She nodded, accepting the help as she straightened up.
“Captain, this is Alpha Team,” the Diver held up a forefinger to his earpiece, “What’s the situation?”
The other end was muffled and staticky, as klaxons and voices in the background disrupted the microphone’s clarity. “Dunno just ye- … -assive hole blown into the side of the shi- … - so just stay there and keep the Pegasi safe! I’ll k- … -in touch.”
“Copy your last, sir,” Chappell grunted, getting the general gist of Skipper’s garbled message.
“That doesn’t sound good,” another Diver murmured worriedly.
Daring’s ears flattened as another series of explosions rocked the boat, and heavy footsteps rushed about to and fro, along with a lot of indistinct shouting.
“We need to get the Pegasi off this ship,” Wellman stated concernedly, “If this escalates into a full-blown conflict, which I suspect it will, then they’re going to get caught in the cross-fire.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been caught in the line of fire,” Daring muttered grimly.
“The sooner we can get you two stateside, the better,” He grumbled, typing something into his phone.
“Hang on, I never agreed to be a part of your little pet project!” Daring protested.
“Well tough shit buddy, you just got drafted,” Wellman replied indifferently, pressing ‘send’. “Both you and Ferguson will be put on the next plane to Bagram Airfield, and from there you’ll be flown to New York. There will most likely be several stops along the way, but we’ll see.”
“That’s bullshit!” Daring scowled, “You’ll first need to run that past the Australian Department of Defence--”
“Done,” Wellman cut her off, before looking her dead in the eye, “You must understand, Miss Sheffield, that you’re much more valuable to anyone alive than risking your furry, cartoon hide on the front lines. If you want any chance of proper recovery from your injuries, then we must get you out of here, because you’re not going to get any respite in the thick of the action once things start getting more heated up than they already are.”
Another, smaller explosion sounded somewhere in the distance.
“This attack came completely out of the blue!” He continued, “And we don’t know if there’s possibly a ‘wave two’ on its way or not! This might be our only opportunity to get you off this boat in one piece!”
She grit her teeth, glancing down at her bandaged shoulder. He had a point there. With a heavy sigh of reluctant acceptance, she sat back on her haunches in defeat.
“Alpha Team!” Chappell’s radio buzzed, “This is Skipper!”
The background noise wasn’t as chaotic now, and Skipper’s voice was much clearer. “Brisbane was hit hard in the attack, and they’re gonna need a few extra hands over there, if you don’t mind. There’s a chopper up top ready and waiting to ferry you across.”
“On our way,” Chappell acknowledged. He glanced at the SWAT Team Leader. “You mind watching over the Pegasi for us?”
The SWAT Team collectively shrugged indifferently, and the Divers hurriedly exited through the door, locking it shut behind them.
“So, if we join Project Sagittarius, what’s in it for us?” asked Flash concernedly.
“A roof over your head, a place to socialise, and a place to potentially find answers,” Wellman replied off-handedly, fixated with the new message he was writing on his phone, “Plus a free feed.”
“To find answers…” Daring mused, rubbing her chin, “That sounds nice… What’s the catch?”
“What do you mean?” Wellman blinked.
“What do you want out of us joining you?” Daring narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “What’s your angle?”
“All we want is information, and your cooperation,” Wellman replied, “We’ve been asked to find out as much about this condition as possible, and that’s what we’re going to do, to the best of our ability. The President is a worried father, that man, and in a way, I can sympathise with that, so we’re not going to let him down.”
“If we go along with you, where will you take us?” Flash asked.
“That’s classified information that will have to wait,” Wellman dodged, “Sorry.”
A loud *clack* interrupted the moment as the door opened and a sailor leaned her head in. “Director Wellman, the flight you requested has been granted, and the Greyhound will be prepped up and ready to go for you. Just beware that the starboard flight deck elevators have been knocked out, and priority for the port elevator has been allocated for the strike fighters and the returning air patrols. Your flight will have to be delayed until repairs have been completed, and the mess in the Hangar Bay has been cleaned up.”
“Understood. Do they know who it was who attacked us?” Wellman inquired.
“Not yet,” the sailor shook her head, “But apparently the helos from Truxton, Dunham and Sherman are already combing the area for debris, to see if there’s anything left which can help us identify them.”
“Did we get ‘em all?” asked Daring.
“Affirmative,” the sailor nodded, “No survivors.”
She sighed in relief, before furrowing her brow in confusion.
“Who on Earth would have the blatant audacity to assault an American Battle Group? The only people who could legitimately pull this off, and be able to deal with the consequences, are all either America’s ally, or too far away to be bothered launching a strike all the way out into the heart of the Middle East.”
She absent-mindedly scratched behind her ear. “If Russia wanted to strike at America, they would simply do so via the Pacific, same with China and North Korea. So for either of them to attack a Carrier Group out here ju
st doesn’t make sense. It’d only be logical if this attack was by an Arab country, who would most likely be supplied with Russian jets and weapons... but who? Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan have all been in wars with the US, and it always ended badly for them in a straight-up, open-field slugfest.”
“Damn straight, it did,” Flash murmured with a smug grin.
“Unless their point is to draw youse guys into another drawn-out, costly goose-chase through the Arabian deserts, which will be far more pointless and expensive for you than it will be for them,” Daring mused.
“What do you mean, ‘more expensive’?” Flash frowned, “We always kill more of them than they do us, so kill-ratio-wise, we win.”
“Maybe, but only Yanks would drop a shit-load of bombs worth just under half a million dollars a pop onto a mud-brick shack that was built for peanuts,” Daring deadpanned.
“Good point,” Flash shrugged.
“What are you getting at here?” Wellman frowned.
“What I’m trying to get at, is that there might be an ulterior motive behind this attack, beyond just trying to sink an American carrier,” Daring explained, “Like it’s a precursor to try and draw us into a trap or something.”
“Like to make us drain our economy funding a war, even with the enormous financial debts that we still have to pay off?” Wellman guessed.
“Exactly,” She nodded.
“Hmm…” Wellman pondered the Pegasus’ words, “It’s certainly a possibility. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So…” Flash glanced around awkwardly, “What do we do now?”
Wellman took a deep breath. “We wait until Del Rio gives the all-clear, and then we can hop on this flight. Other than that… we just sit tight.”
-----
[1450 Hours]
The long wait was beginning to grind on everyone’s nerves as they waited for the green light. The sound of frantic voices and activity outside still had not subsided, and the loud roar of fighter jets landing and taking off carried on like clockwork.
The only thing which really prevented Daring’s mind from going numb from the lack of activity was Flash, who was perpetually asking her questions to keep the silence from becoming too unbearable.
Most of the time, they were questions of trivial matters, mostly about her life in Australia and so on. She had a suspicion however that the only reason the stallion was asking her so much was because he was infatuated with her accent. At one point, she decided to give an answer about a completely different topic to the question asked, to make sure he was paying attention. To her relief, he gave her an odd look of confusion.
She also pretended not to notice that he had been staring at her bandages with wary curiosity for an awful long time now, keeping a healthy distance from her as if she was a delicate, fractured jewel that would shatter if he so much as breathed on her.
His relentless stare was starting to make her confused and uncomfortable. It bothered her to think that he had found her so interesting to look at for the past three and a half hours. She wasn’t even all that much to look at anyway, in her opinion.
Her colour pallet wasn’t particularly bright or eye-catching; she was in a military uniform which wasn’t exactly eye candy in any way; and while her bandages were mostly hidden underneath her uniform, it didn’t hide the fact that she was walking with a limp.
Flash’s bright blue eyes seemed to flicker and dance, absorbed in studying every tiny detail about her appearance. Enough so that when she turned about to face him properly, it took him a full ten seconds to realise his stare was being returned.
He blinked and turned away abashedly, mumbling something of an apology in a barely audible voice.
And thus, an awkward silence ensued.
Wellman blinked as his phone buzzed in his pocket. After briefly glancing at what the message entailed, he turned towards Daring. “Well, it’s confirmed. Your Government has granted your release from the Australian Navy, and you’re coming with us back to the US.”
She blinked, an uncomfortable feeling of disappointment rising in her chest as she digested his words, before exhaling. “... So be it.”
“You don’t need to worry about the paperwork either,” He assured her, “That’s all being taken care of as well.”
“Attention all crew, attention all crew!” the loudspeaker suddenly buzzed, “All Clear. I repeat, All Clear! Stand Down from General Quarters!”
Everyone collectively sighed in relief and relaxed.
Daring straightened back up and started walking towards the door, formulating a plan of action in her head. The sound of an extra set of hoofsteps on the bare metal floor alerted her to Flash following her.
“Where are you going?” He asked, as she hauled herself up a ladder. It was rather difficult and slow-going, since two of her limbs were still sore and sensitive.
She answered his question with a question of her own. “I need a laminator, a video camera, and a disposable USB. Do you know of any on board this ship?”
“Er, I think there are both a laminator and an old USB in Administration,” replied Flash, rubbing his chin in thought, “It’s a deck below here and on the other side of the ship, I think. As for a video camera, I think my pilot Donnie has one. Why?”
"... No reason. Just need to borrow them for a quick second, that’s all.”
-----
Martin wiped his brow in relief as he sat back against the Helicopter Bay’s port deckhead. The past few hours had been a harrowing experience for the Seahawk Loadmaster, as he had been tasked with assisting the Boatswain’s Mates keep an electrical fire under control, and then patching up the damage it caused as best as they could.
The Hangar’s roller-door was wide open, and he could still see wisps of smoke trailing from the ship’s battered starboard side.
He blinked in surprise as he spotted a familiar bandaged-up Pegasus flutter gently down onto the flight deck, glancing around with concern. She was followed shortly afterwards by a second golden-yellow Pegasus, who wore the same expression of uncertainty as his associate.
He sighed in relief, satisfied that at least she was safe and in one piece.
“What happened here?” Daring asked worriedly, “Is everyone alright?”
Martin frowned. If she was back here already, then something must be up. “We were hit pretty hard, but she’ll be right. What are you doing here?”
“I need you do me one last favour, before I go Stateside,” she said, reaching into her shirt and pulling out a small yellow envelope in between her teeth. “Next time you shee Chrish, could you pleashe gi’e thish to ‘im? It’sh very important.”
“What’s in it, if you don’t mind my asking?” Martin murmured, glancing over the envelope as he accepted it, rubbing his fingers over it to try and get a feel for the shape of the contents.
“It’s personal, between family,” she replied somberly, “Keep this on your person at all times, just in case you see him and you don’t have it. I cannot stress enough how vital it is that he gets this as soon as possible, and from someone we both know and trust.”
Martin furrowed his brow into a serious expression, placing the envelope in a pocket on the inside of his shirt. “I understand. Next time I see him, I’ll be sure to give it to him.”
“Thank you,” the mare nodded, “That’s a weight off my shoulders.”
Martin blinked in surprise glanced at Flash. “Is this that ‘Lucas Ferguson’ guy they were talking about?”
“Oh yeah!” Daring grinned and stepped aside. “Martin, meet Flash Sentry. Flash, meet Martin.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Flash nodded.
“A friend of Shef’s is a friend of mine,” Martin shrugged with a smile.
“Where’s Loz?” Daring looked about.
“She’s helping Rodge and Harris in the Med Bay,” Martin gestured towards the general direction of the ship’s bow with his thumb, “It’s chock-a-block in there, so dropping in to say ‘hi’ probably isn’t the best of ideas right now.”
“What are the casualties?” Daring asked quietly.
“So far, we’re looking at at least eight dead and more than a dozen others wounded. Most of the others just have minor injuries that won’t hinder them too much. I myself knocked my head on a bulkhead. It was my own bloody fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Gave me quite the headache.”
“Sounds like you had it rough then,” Flash murmured sympathetically.
“Got that right,” Martin huffed bitterly. He studied the stallion’s appearance for several moments, before leaning into Daring’s ear, talking loudly enough on purpose so that Flash could hear him as well. “Now just so ya know, if this guy gives you any trouble, you just call up your buddy Marty, and I don’t care how far I have to fly; I will come over there and drop-kick his sorry arse into the next week.”
“Nah, there’s no need for that,” Daring grinned, “There’d be nothing left of him worth kicking once I’m done with him, if it comes to that.”
Martin chuckled, as Flash swallowed nervously. “Strangely, I don’t find that hard to believe.”
“So, can I count on you to deliver that letter?” Her gaze returned to one of seriousness.
Martin scratched his chin in thought. “How did that lil’ chant of yours go…? Cross my heart…?”
“... and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” Daring finished for him, showing him the appropriate actions.
“Why a cupcake?” Martin asked in puzzlement.
“It’s My Little Pony,” Daring shrugged, “It sounds a little nicer than putting a knife in your eye or something like that.”
Martin frowned in confusion, before shrugging it off. “I s’pose that makes sense.”
“Anyway, I hate to love you and leave you like this, but this will probably be the last time you see me,” She lamented.
“Aw,” the Loadmaster murmured softly, his expression visibly sagging. They stared at each other for several moments, before he spoke up again. “Well… it was a nice run while it lasted.”
He straightened up and gave her a salute. “It was a pleasure serving alongside you, Shef.”
“Likewise Marty,” She returned the gesture with her free hoof, “Be sure to give Laura my regards, and my thanks, for being my friend. Both of you, actually. I couldn’t have been with a better flight team.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Martin,” Flash nodded, “I promise you that I’ll take good care of her.”
“You bloody well better, mate,” Martin muttered, “Treat hi-- er, her, with the respect she deserves, or she will make you think you were better off in Hell.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Flash smirked dryly as Daring turned around and started back for the hangar door.
Without another word, her wings flashed open, and she tore off into the afternoon sky back towards the aircraft carrier, with Flash close behind.
-----
Daring Do glanced out of the glazed window, as the Grumman Greyhound transport slowly taxied towards the launch catapult. Her quadrupedal frame made sitting in the upright seats rather awkward, so to solve this, she simply shifted the armrests up, and took up both seats on her side of the small row, with her duffle bag with all of her stuff tucked neatly under the chair in front of her. Her limited field of view allowed her a glimpse of the aircraft’s starboard side Allison turboprop engine, and a view of the cruiser Vella Gulf.
The aircraft briefly came to a stop, as the deck crew attached a small rod to the nose wheels, a pull-back bar to allow the pilot reach full throttle without prematurely launching the plane off the deck without the catapult’s say-so.
The engines roared as the pilot slammed the throttles forward, and Daring’s spine tingled as the aircraft shuddered violently, desperately pulling and tugging at its restraint.
Without warning, the rod suddenly released, and the aircraft surged forward, dragged along with rapid acceleration by the catapult. Before she knew it, the Greyhound was airborne and climbing for altitude.
Flash giggled like a child. “Not quite the same as from the seat of a Hornet, but I’ll still never get over that!”
Despite herself, Daring couldn’t help but grin, the energy rush of the launch contaigous.
-----
Bagram Airfield, the largest US Military base in Afghanistan, teemed with life and activity, as the unassuming Greyhound touched down on the runway. Very few people paid it any attention as it taxied across the bitumen to a small, unassuming parking bay.
As the ground mechanics went about refuelling the aircraft, the passengers on board discretely dismounted, a technician hurriedly directing them towards another, much larger aircraft across the strip.
A C-17 Globemaster was to be their courier to America, with stops at Ramstein Air Base in Germany, and London, England.
Both Daring and Flash were honestly surprised that they would not be alone for this trip. Already on the plane and waiting for them were several other ponies. Nearly all of them were ones she didn’t recognise, bar from at least one that she was able to identify from the TV show.
A mare with a coat whiter than snow and a light-pink mane with an expression of weary exhaustion on her face was lying down, taking up two seats. Most of her form, much like Daring, was obscured by a last-minute, patchwork uniform. The insignias roughly sewn to her shoulder identified her as a US Navy Hospital Corpsman.
“Lieutenants Sheffield and Ferguson, meet Hospitalman Ruby McCallister,” Wellman gestured, “A.K.A, ‘Nurse Redheart’.”
Redheart spared them little more than a quick glance and a slight nod. She seemed drowsy and unfocused, more than in need of a decent night’s sleep.
“Are you alright?” Daring asked concernedly, placing her bag underneath the seat across from her and sitting down, “You look wrecked.”
“I’ve been up for the last thirty hours,” Redheart mumbled, “Tending to both people and ponies injured amongst all the street violence and riots in the city.”
Daring blinked incredulously as Redheart looked her in the eye. “It’s Hell down there. So many people are doing it tough, and as much as we try to help those who need it most… the line for medical aid just never seems to stop coming.”
“How many other ponies are there?” Flash asked gently, sitting down next to Daring.
“Just all that you see here,” Redheart replied, gesturing towards the other ponies in the cabin with a nod of her head. “Some of these were military personnel, and the rest are the ones that we were able to save.”
“Save? From what?” Daring asked warily.
Redheart took a deep breath, trembling slightly. “There weren’t many ponies at all, but we could see people just... tying them up and making them work slave labor like any other common farm animal! I can’t tell you how many we had to leave behind, due to our abruptly short schedule.”
She shuddered. “T-There was even one pony that we had to take by force; a unicorn.”
Daring frowned, “Why by force? Was she pressed into it against her will?”
“No, not at all,” Redheart shook her head, “The locals wanted to execute her… as a witch. It was a big clusterfuck trying to rescue her from certain death amidst a crowd of angry Arabs trying to stone her to death, lemme tell you that.”
“You said she was a unicorn?” Daring’s eyes dilated, “They must’ve seen her do Magic or something!”
“Either way, she was all too grateful as we hauled her out of there,” the nurse continued, “But there were several other ponies who turned up just as we were driving off for the airport, a few hours ago. The look of forlorn hopelessness on their faces as we abandoned them to an ambiguous fate… It was heartbreaking, and that’ll haunt me as long as I live, knowing that we could have done something, anything, to help them… but didn’t.”
“That’s tough man,” Flash murmured sympathetically, glancing towards the other ponies.
Redheart rested her head against the back of the seat with a yawn. “I just hope that… whatever the FBI, or the CIA, have in store for us will be worth the cost.”
“Oh, it will be,” Wellman sat down next to Flash, “Don’t you worry about that.”
“So… what are we doing?” Redheart asked, “My briefing on this was rather brief indeed.”
“We’re taking you to a research facility, where you’ll help us find out everything there is to know about everything regarding this ‘pony’ thing,” Wellman explained in a nutshell, “It’ll all be discussed in finer detail once we get there.”
A rising whine and a shudder throughout the plane indicated they were moving. The aircraft pitched around at the end of the runway, the pilot jammed the throttle forward, and before too long, the Globemaster was airborne, heading for the States, via Europe.
-----
[Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean]
Daring Do stretched out her stiff limbs, yawning loudly as the bumps and jolts of the aircraft perpetually kept her awake.
A pony who they picked up in England, a bright-pink Pegasus mare with a cerulean-blue mane and two blue lightning bolts for a cutie mark, sat across from them, eyeing Daring with curiosity.
Daring felt a bead of sweat drop down the side of her face at the mare’s unflinching gaze. “... You ’right there, mate?”
“Lance Corporal Sean Montgomery, 3rd Commando Brigade, Royal Marines,” the Pegasus grinned broadly, introducing herself, “Although everyone’s calling me ‘Firefly’ for some reason. You’re Australian, aren’t ya? I must admit, I love the Aussie accent! Heh, ‘Throw another shrimp on the barbie, mate!’”
‘Firefly?’ Daring pondered, ‘Where have I heard that name before…? So you’re one of those who think they can speak Strine, eh? Alright. I can play that game for a bit.’
Flash and Redheart both turned about as her mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Nah mate, we’ll chuck on a nice big bungarra that we nabbed out in the gidgee! It goes real swell with a flagon o’ woobla and some dead horse, too right!”
Everypony stared at her in silence.
“... A bung-whatta?” Firefly blinked.
“Out in the where?” Flash tilted his head.
“A dead horse?” Redheart’s eye twitched.
“Mind giving us an English translation, please?” Wellman asked, deadpan.
Daring’s grin intensified. “A ‘bungarra’ is a slang term for a goanna, a type of lizard; the ‘gidgee’ is a real tough and rugged, typical-Australian outback landscape; a ‘flagon of woobla’ is a cask of cheap Aussie wine, and ‘dead horse’ is rhyming slang for tomato sauce, or 'ketchup' as some of you like to call it.”
“Then why didn’t you just use the terms ‘goanna’, ‘outback’, ‘wine’ and ‘ketchup’?” asked Flash.
“Because it’s amusing to watch you squirm,” She winked in a cheeky fashion.
“Director Wellman,” a soldier spoke up, a little way up towards the nose of the plane, “There’s a call on the line for you.”
Wellman sighed and stood up straight, supporting himself with the overhead railings. “I better go see what they want this time.”
As he briskly walked up towards the front of the plane, Firefly glanced around with a wary whisper. “Who’s ‘they’?”
“Probably the CIA,” Redheart replied offhandedly.
Firefly frowned. “Am I the only one who thinks it’s rather convenient that the President’s daughter is a pony as well?”
“Not at all,” Flash shrugged, “If anything, it’s great that this issue can be brought straight to his attention!”
“I don’t like it that the FBI and the CIA are involved,” Firefly muttered, “Nothing good ever comes of it.”
“What makes you think that?” Flash asked tersely.
“I’m sorry, do you not pay attention to social media?” she huffed, “The former is Federal Police and the latter is a morally-bankrupt spy network! They’re all about secrecy and cover-ups! They’re the biggest bullshitters on the face of the planet!”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Flash murmured.
“Maybe. Who knows?” Daring stood up, stretching her limbs out.
“Where are you going?” asked Flash, as she limped up the aisle.
“To the little girl’s room,” she replied off-handedly.
As Daring wandered through the Globemaster’s interior towards the aircraft's nose, she kept a close eye on Wellman, as he stood some distance away, dialling a number into his mobile phone. Out of the corner of her eye, several ponies stared at her wide-eyed as she passed by them in the main cabin; most likely ponies who were familiar with the show, she reasoned.
Of course, she didn't really need the toilet, but she had to agree with Firefly that neither the FBI nor the CIA were the most trustworthy of people, and so her instincts told her to go do a bit of spywork of her own.
Eventually, her ears picked up Wellman's indistinct muttering, and she listened in carefully.
“How’s the project coming along?” Wellman asked the person on the other end in a murmur, “... Well, if you guys were actually helping us, then we’d be coming along a lot smoother! But once we get there, we might be finally able to start making some decent progress.”
Daring inched a little closer and sat back on her haunches, resting her back against the interior wall. She kept her gaze levelled at the cabin window in front of her, and subtly pivoted her right ear about for a better hearing angle as the Director continued his conversation.
“The problem is that these ponies are a little more difficult to track down than we anticipated. A lack of data means we have to place ground teams everywhere to find them ourselves, and searching for a brightly-colored horse who’s hiding in the middle of a large city such as LA for example is like finding a needle in a haystack. And don’t get me started on trying to find them in Canada…”
“... I s’pose what we’ve got will have to be sufficient for now. This little group will bring the total up to around sixty subjects, but we will have to start proceeding with the research. We needed that information yesterday. I don’t care what we have to do to find it.”
“... Oh, we’ll find other uses for them after we’re done, don’t you worry about that… Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make another call. Wellman out.”
Daring continued her trek towards the forward cabin, stewing in her mind over what she had just heard. It didn’t initially seem like there was anything to make a fuss about, but his comment about ‘finding use for them once they were done’ didn’t quite sit well with her.
‘I have a feeling that there is an ulterior motive behind this,’ She mused, ‘They must be planning to use the research as a guise, and hide something big behind it! I don’t have anything solid to work with, but I’m going to be keeping a close eye on these guys in the future.’
She briefly glanced at the agent as they passed by each other. His expression was neutral, with no indicative emotion, typical for a person in his line of work.
‘Only time will tell.’
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Humanity proves unworthy of this trust...
Allies must be chosen with great care. Best of fortune be with them all!
Awaiting further releases.
Run, Daring, just run.
Awesome! You finally updated! And it was a great chapter too!
I will be waiting for more...
That was a good note about the stray bullets from the CIWS. Something like that happened back in Desert Storm. A lot of people don't think about where the rounds go when you get done with them.
I should mention, In my story; London and England has become under embargo. The guy in charge blows up even a shipful of refugees! So i doubt that a military excort ship would go through (Without being raided of the ponies first)
Wait, they went to England, but didn't pick up David Tenant/Time Turner? Guess the Doctor Who film crew wanted him for another multi-Doctor/alt-timeline episode before he shipped out.
I'm guessing the ponies left behind weren't important enough to save?
Discord is probably sitting back right now, drinking a glass of chocolate milk (the glass, not the milk) as he watches the start of world war three.
A chapter that gives more questions than answers. I hate it when that happens, but it's just how the story process works. Suspense 'n stuff.
Come out with the next one quick, please!
Oh my
Jeez, things got DARK.
Did you really have to remind us how broken humanity is in that part of the world?
3716731
Yep.
3716731
I take slight offense to that statement. While there are not many exemplars of humanities virtue there, that mainly applies to the government. The American people a a nice bunch, messy, but they mean well, like an incontinent Labrador.
3718054 That is probably the best analogy to describe Americans that I've heard so far.
3718054 Yes, I realize that, and probably put that a bit too bluntly, but the mention of people enslaving these ponies, and killing them is just so...
woot ulterior motives are a go. make sure all thoughts of them go to their missions to find out and eliminate the cause!
Humanity! Treating other species like dirt since their discovery
3718177 i'm holding onto the thought that there are no confirmed pony deaths.
and hoping that doesn't change anytime soon.
>>zeusdemigod131
Well, of course! How else do you stay on top when every other race has flight, superior strength/speed/smarts, and/or magical powers?
3715707
And?
There isn't really a tightly-controlled canon for Five Score, beyond the original and perhaps The Last Crusade. And your story is (based on the description) further from the core than most. StrayanPhoenix isn't obligated to read your story and make sure there are no inconsistencies with what you've written.
Also: an embargo is strictly an economic sanction placed upon a specific country by one or more other countries. If someone put England under an embargo, they would be restricting (or cutting off completely) commerce and trade with the brits. Nobody involved in an embargo would destroy a ship of refugees, even if those refugees were bringing trade to England; embargoes are enforced through legal means, not through military action -- in other words, preforming trade with an embargoed nation results in fines and/or lawsuits, not exploding boats. (If you're enforcing such a sanction with military action, that's a blockade, and is considered an act of war.)
If ingress and egress to and from England is being blocked in general, rather than to stop trade specifically, that's a closed border, not an embargo.
3718161
Thank you, I base it on my extensive experience being an American.
I have one problem with this chapter. Just one. The C-17 Globemaster is a Cargo/Troop transport aircraft, so most of the aircraft is open. The section of the Aircraft in which the ponies are sitting in is open from the cargo ramp at the tail of the aircraft all the way to the wall of the forward compartment which contains little more than the cockpit, toilet, bunks for the crew, avionics, and other necessary equipment. Also, the only toilet located on the C-17 Globemaster is located just aft of the cockpit on the lower level of the forward compartment.
3719323
There, fixed.
3718997
Good point in both senses. Although my guys do appear in the official story (like many others) so i wouldn't want too many clashes between the two
It's more on my part the whole situation as I would have to find a way in my story that the jet would go through London without being boarded by the ponies or *redacted for spoilers* or being shot out of the sky.
I could think of some possible ways that it could work. Although it would be tricky and take time. So I was suggesting that the ship should avoid London altogether. ( 3717129
Unless there is a significant plot point that happens there in yours; then I'd be willing to find a way to do it (Possibly with a large distraction.))
Thanks for the Closed Boarders definition! That'll help me in later stages. (I had a rough idea about what an embargo meant, as in, denial of trade, I just thought that it expanded to denying all ships access to the country.)
Plus, the guy pulling the stops (*redacted*) in my one is a nutter, he wouldn't care of the legal ramifications. (or if it causes war; he loves that.)
Oh, and Strayan; sorry if I misunderstood on the whole jet thing. Total brain fart on my account!
3719956
I just have to ask, what do you mean by 'the ship'?
If you were paying attention, the characters in this chapter travel to England on a military jet.
3715504 You're relating the CIA to humanity in general? Plus, it looks bad, but in all honesty, it probably isn't as bad as it sounds.
3720092
We did. That's because such organizations are powerful.
*waits for Daring to rip open an emergency exit hatch in flight and jump out*
Ooh could you write a minichapter on the video she sent her bro?
3719674 Not quite... the part that bothered me was Daring Do trying to listen through doors and walls as she walked aimlessly around the aircraft. It bothers me because there aren't many interior doors and walls in the C-17 Globemaster. Here is a diagram of the C-17 Globemaster that will explain better.
C-17 Globemaster
3722555
Oops.
Oh well. Thanks for the info!
Hopefully it'll be a bit more tolerable for you to read this time.
I only caught one error. "I’m sorry, do you not watch pay attention to social media?" should be "I'm sorry, do you not watch or pay attention to social media?"
Also, I'm having trouble remembering what other "Five Score" story had Nurse Redheart appear in it. Anyone remember?
3722981
Oops.
3723040 "Once again"? When did you say anything previously about Nurse Redheart? And I'm not accusing you of (or simply just saying that you did) referencing another Five Score story. I'm just casually wondering which other story it was that I read where Nurse Redheart was mentioned.
3723126
It's just annoying me how nearly every time I've brought in a new character, or mentioned another pony somewhere else, someone's asked which story I'm referring to.
My first thought upon reading your comment was that you were asking about this Redheart, not Redheart in general.
My apologies.
3723152 Sneaky edit detected...
Damn, I was kinda hoping for actual reasonable authority figures instead of the usual cliche...
Hopefully it isn't as bad as that somewhat ominous discussion made it sound, and that the governments of the world actually want to help their citizens (just because they turned into/back into ponies doesn't make them any less citizens).
Because I really want to see the government actually trying to help instead of being the stereotypical "evil government experiments!" style antagonist.
Huzzah! The plot thickens!
Good chapter, and I look forward to the next one.
~ Super-Brony12
3724567 Then it all comes down to whether the writer is an optimist or a realist... I get the sick feeling it's the latter... Hesitation us due to the possibilities of a plot twist; it's a fiction
3722788 No problem. I only criticize the stories I like, because I want to help the author improve. If you ever need any information about aircraft, feel free to ask. If I don't know it I will gladly research it for you and I usually reply within 24 hours.
3725082
Optimist, realist, or pessimist, I'd say.
The way I see it, there are three different ways it could go:
Optimist: People in government legitimately want to help and are willing to cooperate, listen and learn what the real issue is and take the appropriate steps to deal with it. Everything turns out pretty damn well.
Realist: People in government legitimately want to help but disagree with each other and the victims as to how best to go about doing so. Most people involved are well-meaning but miscommunication and misunderstandings result in less-than-ideal outcome. Everything turns out pretty okay in the end, with a few hiccups and such along the way.
Pessimist: Government is stereotypically evil for the lulz, full on experimentation, exploitation, and miscellaneous cruelty for little or no real reason (besides the standard "for POWER!"). Everything immediately goes to shit.
3715537 Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Nice chapter.
3725301 I lean towards the bottom end of realist to pessamistic.
Odds are, I have no doubt this will end up Humanity being the natural assholes, with the ponies being the only ones to save the day in the end.
And I have yet to see a story in this verse take on the human perspective.
If I were a human native that was a friend of the human form of one of these ponies, I would be most highly peturbed and cynical about the whole affair.
After all, why would they even want to continue down with their human life? Considering whatever made them their human selves in the first place is now permanently altered, I see no reason why they should maintain their focus with humanity once all is said and done, especially in the cases of Royalty such as Princess Luna, Princess Celestia, the Mane 6, and so forth.
To me, it would appear that the average human here is mere cannon fodder for the plotline.
Here one moment, gone the next after being eviscerated by some abomination made from Discord.
3730786
But... the ponies are humans. I thought that was kinda the whole point? Humans vs. ponies doesn't really make sense in this context.
I sure as hell would remain their friend, it kinda boggles my mind that anyone wouldn't.
Because it is still their life. If it happened to me, I would have no intention of giving up my own "human life". I... don't really understand this bit at all, especially how you seem to act like it is an obvious conclusion to make while in my eyes it is straight up crazy-talk.
What made them their human selves is NOT permanently altered, or at least not really gone. They are still themselves, just... more themselves. Their time spent as humans was not "a lie", it wasn't meaningless. It was just as important as their time as ponies (actually more so in the case of most of those involved in this story, since most of them don't really remember their time as ponies). Admittedly the princesses and the Mane 6 do have important duties and all that, but that's no reason to just throw away 25 years of friends and family and hopes and dreams and life and love and all that. Furthermore, as I already noted, most of them don't even really remember their time as a pony (yet). At this point, they are (mentally) more themselves as humans than themselves as ponies. And if (when) they get their memories back, I still don't see why they'd just... throw away the last 25 years of their life.
I guess maybe some people on this site are depressed or just think that their lives (or life in general) just sucks, but... well, I like my life. I like the people in my life. Again, if it happened to me I know I sure as hell wouldn't want to just throw away my "human life" and all that came with it. I'd want BOTH lives, I'd want to be ALL of myself.
That's kinda what I'm afraid of: The ponyhumans will be all that matters and the rest of humanity will become antagonists, pawns, fodder for the Big Bad or all three. I... really don't want to see it go that route, especially since 1. Ponies vs. humans is a bit of a tired cliché in my opinion and 2. It kinda seems contrary to the entire rest of the work up until this point.
Also, even though it never really came up in the main fic, I really want to see more interactions between the ponies and their fellow humans (especially their friends and families). Ironically enough, so far it seems like Chrysalis (from A New Hive) has been handling the whole situation the best.
What date would the plane be crossing England?
3761755
During the night of the 15th/16th of May, give or take a few hours for changing time zones.
3762148
Thank you!
3762148
For the time zone thing; note that if you were flying from Australian waters to England, the clocks would go back for you. So if you were travelling fast enough; you could leave at 5 at night; and arrive at 5 at night. Although I doubt the plane will go that fast.
3779261 is that so? Then I'd like to apologize to GFB. I had no idea.
3779108
What? If you are insinuating I have not read the original Five Score, then you are terribly mistaken. In fact, the original is why I said that. In the original, it took RD quite a while to be able to walk and fly properly, even though she did eventually do it. It seems to me that much of the abilities, like Twi and Shining's magic, have to be 're-unlocked' and learnt from scratch.
3780349 I don't know what the original text in this story said, but I read the edited version and it seemed fine to me. Without the context of the original text to go by, it appeared as if you had indeed not read the main fic, and didn't realise that the ponies were indeed ponies before, and therefore, would find that they were recovering their "abilities" far too quickly.
The "dramatic irony" bit was due to the fact that the reader, having read Five Score Divided by Four, already knows that the character was a pony before they were human, which the character still has yet to realise.
I know what you're saying, but regardless, does it really matter why she recovered so quickly? Perhaps as an adventurer, her body had better instincts than most? I'm just making stuff up here, first and foremost it's a plot vehicle (moves it along a lot faster than in Five Score).
Also, you'll note in my earlier comment, replying to the author, that I already apologized to you. So don't blow this too much out of proportion.