• Published 11th Jul 2014
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Nearing the Edge - Eagle



Equestria's arrival on Earth threatens to send two superpowers into another World War.

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The Angel's Angels (CptBrony)

August 10th, 2005
1300 Hours
South of Equestria

The sun was low to the sky as Senior Airman Anderson Cobbler and Airman Pedro Mendoza looked out over the deep blue waters of the Pacific, casting an ominous orange glow over the seas. The sun’s reflection in the water was bright and linear, like a spear piercing the eyes. The American airmen knew there was trouble ahead.

“So how about this freaky continent?” Pedro asked. “What do you think it’s like, Andy?”

“Not a clue,” Anderson replied. “I don’t know what this could mean for us, either. And I won’t break my brain trying to figure it out, either.”

“Sounds smart,” Pedro said.

The two men watched silently over the waves toward where they knew there was nothing they knew. They had been called on to act as a potential rescue team, callsign Prancer Two, in case a recon flight over the new land was shot down or experienced technical difficulties and the pilot had to eject. They were trained for every scenario; every scenario except potentially invading an unknown, unallied, complete mystery of a nation or region.

Anderson and Pedro were well experienced, with seven and four years in Combat Rescue respectively. They were both young men, in excellent shape, though maybe not as large as some other guys from other special operations units. Their PJ training had made them quick-witted, adaptable, and capable of overcoming anything in their way so that others may live.

They were told that recon flights were a regular thing over this new land, and they were constantly ready. Sort of. There were two teams of two PJs each, one for morning rescues, and one for afternoon. Midnight to noon, noon to midnight, every day of the week. That’s the way it had been since Vietnam.

“Prancer Two!” a voice shouted over a speaker. “Prancer Two, report to the bridge immediately!”

The men looked at each other and nodded.

“Show time,” Anderson said as they started running.

“Giving our best performance, every minute of every day,” Pedro added.

The pair quickly ran to the bridge, now eager and hyped up for a rescue. Whatever the situation, wherever it is, it’s always exciting to get called on a rescue. They had to run into the ship down narrow halls, barely evading the sailors working on the ship, and climbed several flights of stairs to get to the bridge.

When they arrived at the bridge, the men saluted their current commander, the Captain of the ship, and stood at attention. They remained that way until the Captain returned the salute, and brought his hand down, allowing them to relax. He then began to explain the situation to them.

“When the Admiral said he wanted a couple of you guys here, I wasn’t about to argue,” the ship’s Captain, Williams, said. “And it looks like it was a good decision. We’ll be needing your talents here.”

“What happened, sir?” Pedro asked.

“We appear to have encountered a strange situation,” the Captain said. “The pilot of an F-15 Eagle was flying a mission near the Equestrian coastline. According to satellite imagery, there was some kind of Changeling that was flying farther than it should have been.”

“A Changeling?” Anderson repeated.

“That’s what it looked like. The F-15 pilot was already low on fuel, if the timing of the crash was any indication, and from the images, it looks like the little bugger got sucked into his air intake.”

“Oh, man,” Anderson said.

“Yeah. The plane went down, and we know the it crashed here,” Captain Williams turned to a table to his left, which had a map on it, and pointed at a spot in the coastal waters off the land. “But we know that our pilot didn’t stay inside it. He had an emergency beacon active, but when he hit the land, the signal became weak and spotty.”

“But he’s alive and moving in the forest,” Pedro said.

“Probably, if his training worked. And I’m sure it did,” the Captain said. “Even if he wasn’t, you two would still be going in there anyway.”

“So do we have any idea what the situation is like on the ground?” Anderson asked.

Williams shook his head.

“Not really. Normally, we would send in SEALs and SWCCs to do strategic reconnaissance, but you two need to do this rescue now. So it looks like you’ll be our first real boots on the ground here.”

“Man, these things we do,” Pedro commented.

“When did he go down?” Anderson asked.

“I wouldn’t have called you now if he went down hours ago,” the Captain explained. “He’s moving through some forest right now. You two need to get out there and find him.”

The airmen stood at attention and saluted. “Yes, sir!” After that, they left the bridge and made their way to the helicopter pad.

All their rescue gear was at the helicopter pad, and they brought everything that they might need: medical kits, machetes for cutting through brush, their helmets and visors with HUDs and special optics, their weapon loadouts, small sets of climbing gear, smoke grenades for marking locations, and important navigational equipment and a locator to find the lost pilot’s beacon. They also brought their utility combat knives, good for fighting or rescuing.

When they were all set and ready to go, the helicopter took off from the pad, ascending vertically a short distance, and flew away from the ship. The men looked back at the familiar, shrinking mass of metal, and watched it until it was no longer in sight in the darkness as night fell over the seas. Soon there was nothing but the black Pacific churning under them.

The ride in the HH-60 Pavehawk, Padre One, which had also been assigned to the ship, was going to be short, so the men had to take the time to make sure everything was just right. The helicopter would drop them off as close to the beacon as possible, hover high enough to avoid potential rocket fire or small arms fire, and leave when either the men came back with the downed pilot or fuel ran low and it needed to go back to the ship.

Sitting in their seats, the men were checking every last clip and strap on them. They each had their M4 and P226 firmly attached to them, though they weren’t totally sure about actually using them. There were a lot of variables here, and these small items had the potential to make or break the United States’ position here.

The speakers in the helicopter cracked to life.

“Thirty Seconds!”

Anderson and Pedro checked their weapons for safety, made sure their medical gear was secured, and sat tight. Thirty seconds meant they had just been approaching land, and were probably over it by now. The pilot must have seen a decent-sized clearing where he could let the men fast-rope down.

Soon, right at the thirty second mark, the helicopter tilted back and then back forward into a steady hover some distance over the treeline. He came over the speaker and told the men to go. Anderson and Pedro opened the doors of the helicopter, hooked onto the ropes, and slid their way down.

As they went down, they looked around. The forest they were in was incredibly thick, and the presence of this opening was a bit odd. There were others like it as well, all about the same size and scattered randomly throughout the area. The men gave it little thought as they went down to the ground. On the ground, the men disconnected from the ropes and moved away, toward the treeline.

“Padre one, this is Prancer two-one, how copy, over?” Anderson said.

“Prancer two-one, this is Padre one, I read you. Do you have eyes on the pilot?” Padre One asked.

Anderson and Pedro looked around.

“Negative, Padre One, no eyes on. We will begin our search and hit you up when we get new details, over."

“Copy, Padre One is on standby, out,” Padre One finished.

Anderson looked out into the forest. “Welcome to the jungle,” he sang quietly.

“Not much in the way of fun and games,” Pedro said. “How’s the beacon holding up?”

Anderson checked the beacon locator.

“Ah, I got nothing,” he said, only to have it blink into life moments later. “Wait, wait, I got something.”

Anderson pointed the beacon locator toward where it said the pilot was.

“He’s... far.”

“How far?” Pedro asked.

“Pretty freaking far,” Anderson replied. “Several kilometers in that direction.” He pointed out into the forest.

“The helo can’t wait long enough for us to get out there and back,” Pedro said.

“Seems like it’s that way every time,” Anderson said. He clicked his radio to talk to Padre One. “Padre One, this is Prancer two-one, do you copy?”

“Go ahead, Prancer, over,” Padre One replied.

“Pilot is several clicks out, too far for you guys to wait. Recommend you wait back on the Boxer while we go and search, and come back after a while to pick us up, over.”

“Copy that, Prancer two-one, we’re buggin’ out. Good hunting, out,” Padre One said as it turned and left.

“So I guess we’re alone out here,” Pedro said. “Stuck in unfriendly, unknown territory, looking for a guy who might not have long for us to get to him.”

“Looks that way,” Anderson concurred. “Let’s move. The sooner we have him and we’re out of here, the better.”

“I copy that,” Pedro said. “I much prefer the idea of going home after everything is done.”

The pair started quietly walking through the forest in the direction of the beacon, keeping their steps a slight as possible and their weapons’ laser sights off. In the darkness, they were forced to turn on their Night Vision to navigate the forest. Without them, they surely would have hit trees and made all kinds of compromising noise.

They walked a long distance through the forest. The moonlight, as it was now well into the night, failed to penetrate the dense canopy of the forest, and it was near total darkness. Anderson and Pedro kept their eyes open for movement in the green of their Night Vision and their ears open for anything other than themselves.

Anderson, out in front, stopped.

“You hear that?” Pedro asked from behind.

“Yeah,” Anderson whispered back.

In the distance, they could hear a cluster of noise coming from a single location. It almost sounded like voices, but the way they were garbling each other, it was hard to tell from a distance. The men exchanged a glance, noded, and started moving toward the source of the sounds.

It took a few minutes with their further slowed movement, but they reached the source of the noise. What they saw would have struck them silent if they had been talking. There were several ponies in front of them, around a fire, talking in a hushed tones that the men couldn’t catch. Some had jagged horns on their heads, while others had wings on their backs. They all had razor sharp swords, long bows, and metal armor, and neither man was in any mood to lose an arm to these things.

They hid behind a bush, it’s foliage giving only a visual barrier between them and the ponies. If an arrow came flying in their direction, the leaves were not going to stop it. Hopefully, it would not come to that.

“What’s the plan?” Pedro wondered.

Anderson thought a bit before responding.

“Our man is to the northeast of here, past this encampment,” he said. “We’ll go around, and then continue on our way.”

“If they’re hostile?” Pedro asked.

“We can’t start any fights here,” Anderson said. “Can’t risk taking even single guys out. We have to stay hidden at all costs.”

“Damn,” Pedro swore. “Roger that.”

Prancer Two went around the encampment and continued toward the pilot’s beacon. The noises of the encampment still sounded strong from behind, and as they went on, the men noticed noises coming from other areas. They were coming from other clearings, the ones they had seen scattered around, filled with these ponies that must have been curious about the F-15 that went down, and tasked with finding it’s pilot. It was a scary thing to think about, but PJs don’t think about what’s scary; only what needs to be done.

They made their way to a road or path in the forest and stopped next to it, behind the trees. Anderson looked out to the right, Pedro to the left. Down the path, Pedro saw a group of ponies coming toward them. Luckily, they did not see the Jumpers just yet.

“Down!” he whispered.

Both men dropped to the ground and lay completely still. Minutes later, along the path, more of the Guards walked by, mumbling and talking to each-other in a semi-quiet fashion. They held torches and were armed with swords, spears, and a single crossbow. Anderson and Pedro looked up when the patrol was well beyond them and watched it from behind until it disappeared into the dark.

“I guess they have patrols,” Pedro observed.

“They do,” Anderson said. “They are, without a doubt, a lot more intelligent than I took them for a few years back.”

The two rose from their hiding spot and continued on their way. The forest was once again quiet except for the random noises of critters and far-off ponies. It remained that way for a short time until Pedro spoke up again.

“Do you think the Changelings purposely took down our jet?” Pedro asked.

“As menacing as they physically appear to be, I won’t let that make me judge them,” Anderson remarked. “That said, they might have. And given how it happened, they might not be our biggest fans right now.”

“Greeeat,” Pedro moaned. “How far to find our fighter friend?”

Anderson checked the locator.

“He’s about half a click further north through the forest.”

They continued on, but throughout the rest of the forest, they encountered other patrols searching in the darkness. The men couldn’t take any chances; if they were searching in this kind of dark, they must have had good night sight, and so the men took cover behind trees any time they heard a patrol. Some of the patrols didn’t carry torches and were much quieter than the one they saw on the path, so they had to listen hard.

The duo crept slowly through the brush, listening, when a bit of rustling to their side attracted their attention. Both men stopped dead in their tracks and stared intently in the direction of the new noise, weapons up and ready if everything went wrong. The rustling became louder and more intense, and even in the dark, they could see movement. Anderson took a knee and lined up his sights on the bush, and Pedro slowly moved sideways to get a second angle of fire.

A moment later, the location of the rustling exploded with motion and a small badger came sprinting out. Anderson and Pedro tensed up for a brief moment, but didn’t fire, and as the animal ran off, both men felt a wave of relief wash over them. The two relaxed and lowered their weapons.

“We’re good,” Pedro whispered.

“I think I heard it over this way!” a voice in the distance shouted.

Pedro dove backwards into a bush and Anderson fell flat against the ground and rolled, thinking, “Crap crap crap crap!”

After a few tense seconds, a patrol came rushing through, carrying a torch to illuminate the way. Their razor sharp blades glowed ominously in the orange light of the flame and their armor shone a bright hue of gold. From where Anderson rolled to, he could just see some of his reflection in the blade.

“That direction, I still hear it!” one of the patrol ponies said.

With that, they kept on running after what the men knew to be a rodent, thankfully not noticing anything odd in the area they just exited. When they were all gone, both men moved away from their hiding spots in the bushes and regrouped. They were not sure what the patrol was chasing, them or the pilot, or maybe they had heard the animal.

“Let’s keep moving. I don’t think it would be very good if those guys were to find us, if those swords were anything to go off of,” Pedro said.

“You’re telling me,” Anderson said.

As they came up on the location of the beacon, the PJs were forced to crawl through brush to avoid being seen by hostile patrols not too far away. Thanks to them being quiet, and the patrols being far noisier, they were able to sneak up to see where exactly the beacon was. Slowly, and carefully, they crept inch by inch towards their target.

Just before they got there, there was a loud rustle, some more shouting, and then silence. Both men, at the first noise, once more dropped and took cover; but there was nothing else around them. Once they were sure there was no patrol in their vicinity, they regrouped and headed in the direction of the ruckus. It took only a minute to get there, and through the trees they observed what had happened.

They did not like what they saw. Ahead of them, they saw the man whom they could easily guess to be their Airman lying on the ground with a blindfold and bound hands behind his back; the beacon was laying on the ground behind him. The ponies around him were celebrating their capture with little nods and bumps of hooves, and once finished, they started pulling him off into the forest to bring him to God knows where.

“Padre One, Prancer two-one,” Anderson reported.

The radio crackled to life after it’s long silence.

“How copy, over?” the response came.

Anderson silently cursed to himself before returning to the radio.

“Target is in someone else’s nest. No rescue imminent. We’re moving extract back to the Boxer, over.”

“Copy, Prancer two-one,” Padre One acknowledged.

“Dammit,” Pedro said, looking on.

“Let’s get out of here. We need to report this to Captain Williams,” Anderson said shaking his head.

As the capturing force escaped into the darkness, curious about what had fallen from the skies, they were left untouched by the two men who had silently watched from the side. It killed the PJs to leave their man behind, but in the face of such a massive force, they had no other option. It is better to live and fight another day when a rescue is possible than foolishly attempt an assault on an enemy army.

Author's Note:

Eagle: Sorry it's taken so long; I've been busy, but hopefully I can get some stuff done over the break. I also had to rush my usual editing process, so if you see a mix-up or something out of place, let me know and I'll fix it ASAP.

Thanks for reading, and please leave some feedback; its appreciated by me and the guest authors.

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