Into The Fire

by Jack of a Few Trades

Chapter four: Fatigue

On most days, Commander Nest would be asleep before he hit the mattress. Running the Equestrian Army’s base in the Crystal Empire was not an easy job; the piles of paperwork and countless other tasks around the compound kept him busy every waking second. It was tough, but he was just the pony for the job, always at his best when he barely had any free time.

Even though he enjoyed his position wholeheartedly, it had started wearing on him over time. Some nights of sleep would often be stolen from him by a mountain of paperwork with a fast approaching deadline or a problem in the base that manifested itself in the middle of the night. His saving grace after pulling an all-nighter was the wonderfully strong coffee that only his secretary Aurora knew how to make.

This night, neither of those were the case. All of his files had been dealt with and the base was quiet except for the few nighttime activities that went on as usual. In his quarters, adjacent to his office, he was lying in his bed as he should have been. His alarm was set for five-thirty in the morning, as it should have been. His official uniform was laid out and ready for any situation that may require it, as it should have been. Everything was done and he could now drift off to sleep and dream of the vacation that he so desperately needed. Something, however, was keeping him from sleeping as he should have been.

What if there really is something happening in the Changeling territory? Was he prepared to lead in that fight? His thoughts left him staring at the ceiling, studying its every crack, depression, texturing mark, and occasional pinhole. While he was excited at the prospect of possibly seeing some military action for the first time in his life, he also dreaded what the outcome could be. If he was not up to the task… he didn't even want to consider what would happen if that were the case.

For the longest time, he tried to fall asleep, but only succeeded in tossing and turning. At one point, when he was almost in the wonderful world of dreams, a crash from outside and a few loudly announced choice-words tore him from the sweet embrace of slumber. Finally, after a quick glance at the clock revealed it to be just after five in the morning, he resigned himself to yet another sleepless night and threw himself out of bed.

After he showered, brushed his teeth, and combed a little bit of gel into his bristly mane, a small conundrum presented itself. There was nothing of high importance planned for today, no formal event that would require him to represent the base, so did he really need to put on his uniform? Before he could make the decision, the lovely smell of fresh coffee grabbed his nose and led him out of his quarters. In some way, the smell of Aurora’s brew made the choice for him.

In the main lobby of his office, the secretary was busying herself over a fresh stack of files with one hoof and pressing the plunger down on the French press with the other. Only she could use the machine properly; Every time Nest had tried using the confusingly simple device, he ended up with more grounds than actual coffee.

“Good morning, Commander. How did you sleep?” she asked politely, not even glancing away from her two tasks.

Nest yawned and rubbed his eyes. “That’s just the thing. I didn’t.”

Aurora frowned to herself, ‘Why not? Something bothering you?”

Nest grabbed a cup and started pouring himself some of the brew, “I’d tell you, but you’re not a therapist.”

“Come on now, you can tell me. I didn’t sign up for this job just so I can go through your papers all day!”

Not wanting to talk about what had really kept him up all night, Nest tried deflecting the inquiry with the unrelated statement. “That’s right. You got this job because you can make the joe like nopony’s business.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” she deadpanned before slapping a stack of files down on the counter next to his cup.

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.” It had worked.

Aurora smiled and sat down at her desk, “Here’s something you need to look at. The night patrol hasn’t gotten back yet.”

Nest walked up to the desk, standing just behind the seated mare. A nervous knot was forming in the pit of his stomach, “What? They should have been back two hours ago!”

“It’s probably nothing. Patrols come in several hours late all the time,” Aurora added.

“With these new threats from the Changelings, we’d better be more cautious.” Nervously, Nest picked up the file that Aurora was looking at and slid it over the top of the other one, “They could be just bogged down, though. There was a storm coming in out of the Changeling zone, right?”

“Yeah, I have the weather reports from Cloudsdale right here,” Aurora said, pointing to a sheet of paper lying on the counter behind the desk. Nest picked them up too and skimmed through the latest forecasts, which were unique to this area as they were predictions and not pre-made plans. While Nest was reading the latest reports, Aurora was examining one of her hooves, “Anyways, on a happier note, what are you going to do with those three free hours later today?”

Nest blinked hard and nearly spat out the coffee that he was sipping, “What? I have free time?”

Aurora pointed at the schedule on the wall next to Nest’s office door, “Right there on the schedule in black and white; three blank slots from three to six where you can do whatever you want.”

“Hmmmm,” he muttered, tapping a hoof on his chin, “Maybe I’ll take a three hour nap.”

“Aren’t you exciting,” the secretary muttered under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” she shot back, realizing she had said it out loud, “Drink your coffee!”

Nest chuckled to himself and took another gulp of the caffeine-enriched liquid while he walked toward his office door. Outside the windows, a faint orange glow was growing around the eastern horizon, though still not enough to provide any illumination to the world. He walked around the two chairs in front of his desk, taking a moment to straighten one of them, and stole one last glance out to the still-peaceful base before turning his back and sitting down.

A fresh stack of files to sort through adorned his desk. To his trained eye, most appeared to be meaningless debrief files from patrols that turned up with absolutely nothing to report but endless snow-covered tundra with the occasional humorous note over some of Jackshot’s frequent antics mixed in. The stack would have to wait, however.

Though it usually worked quickly, the caffeine from the coffee had still not kicked in. The commander, known for his steel resolve and quick wit, found his eyelids drooping and his head starting to nod. He knew he needed to stay awake, but his clouded brain and bloodshot eyes told him otherwise. Seconds after he had nodded off, his head fell down to the desk. The impact was just enough to startle him awake, alongside the rapping of a hoof on the doorframe.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Aurora shouted like a mother trying to get her foal ready for school.

“Huh,” Nest grumbled as he half-consciously rubbed the spot where his nose had smacked the desktop.

“Commander, the shield control center just brought in a notification.”

“Huh?” Nest asked again, only slightly more awake than the moment before. “What’s it say?”

“It says there’s been one entrance to the shield. There aren’t supposed to be any civilian entrances until dawn.”

Nest’s head shot upright, “That must be the patrol, but just one entrance?”

“That’s it.” Aurora’s face was beginning to show signs of worry.

A knot formed deep inside the commander’s gut. A flash of concern crossed his eyes but quickly faded. “Get a party together to investi-”

Before he could finish, Aurora bolted to the office’s front door. “On it!” she yelled over her shoulder as she exited the office.

---

The blizzard outside was still showing no signs of relenting three hours after Coal Dust had left with the gravely wounded Gust carried on his back. If anything, it had gotten even worse since then. The entire cabin groaned and creaked unnaturally with the winds. The fire in the stove was slowly dying out, leaving a bed of hot coals behind. Other than the constant roar of the wind, the cabin was still.

Jackshot was sitting in a rocking chair next to the north-facing window, a mug of coffee in one hoof and an old, tattered paperback in the other. He had long ago given up on reading the book as he was too tired to comprehend the words, and instead chose to watch the flakes of snow and pellets of sleet hit the window and either stick or fall to the ground below. The coffee had gone cold, but he didn’t seem to care. His attention was focused on the window, on what he could see in the short view into the dark it offered.

Every few minutes, he would nod off for a few seconds before his head fell and he woke up again. His body cried for sleep, but his brain was too abuzz to allow it. Coal Dust had said that Changelings were responsible for the wounds the other stallion had sustained and why the other three were absent. The Changelings were invading just like they had done when he was called to fight all of those years ago. And they were coming straight for him.

After dozing off a few times, the old Earth pony realized that he was going to fall asleep and stay asleep if he didn’t do something. Grunting, he stood up. His knees, stiff from sitting still for hours, creaked almost as much as the old chair as they straightened. Finally on his hooves, Jackshot hobbled over to the stove and examined the dying fire. The tinderbox only had three pieces of wood left in it, besides a small stack of pine needles that were used as fire starter. Cursing his shortsightedness for not bringing in extra wood earlier, he pitched the last of the firewood into the stove and closed the door.

Still trying to avoid sitting down, Jackshot decided that some food was what he needed. The pantry was running just as low as the tinderbox was; the only food remaining in it were a few boxes of cereal, some cans of green beans and corn, a bag of onions, some corn chips, and a large sack of flour. He grumbled under his breath and grabbed a can of corn. Simply heating the food didn’t deserve using a pot on the stove. Instead, he poured the corn into a ceramic bowl and placed it on the stovetop.

While he waited for the food to heat up, Jackshot searched for something else to do. The cabin was in order, nothing needed washing, and there were no household repairs to keep him busy. Finally, his eyes settled on the empty tinderbox. Again grumbling, he walked to the closet. The inside of it was a jumbled mess, but he was able to find a scarf easily enough. He would have dressed more heavily, but he only intended to be outside for a minute or two so a scarf was all he needed.

After fidgeting with the scarf for a few minutes and retrieving the wood carrying sling, the old stallion looked at the sheath propped in the corner behind the door. The old sword he had been issued back in his days in the military; the sword that had saved his life so many times and ended the life of others who intended to take it. He held it carefully, examining the blade that had tarnished to a dull gray from the mirror-like shine it had worn when it was new. There were a few little dents and cuts along the edges of the blade and traces of rust that occasionally graced the metal. The blade had lost its luster, been put through the rigors of battle and of corrosion, and yet it still held strong. The blade was still tightly attached to the handle and still kept razor sharp. The handle was also showing its wear; nearly all of the original paint was gone. A small smile found its way to his mouth as he remembered what he and this sword had been through

Once the moment of nostalgia faded, Jackshot placed the sword back in its sheath and secured it to his hip. Going outside was foolish enough, but going outside unarmed was even more so. Prepared both mentally and physically, he pulled the door open. A flood of cold air and snowflakes rushed in, and he quickly stepped out and shut the door behind himself.

The air was crisp and frigid, befitting a winter storm. The porch was covered in a thick blanket of snow. A shiver ran the course of his spine and out through his hooves. Without further ado, he walked down the steps and around the corner to the woodpile. The pile was on the north side of the cabin, the windward side. Due to the wind forcing its way around the cabin, there was little accumulation up against the side of the building. The resulting snowbank dropped from nearly two feet thick to barely enough to cover the grass as it neared the cabin as the wind accelerated to go around.

Fighting the wind, Jackshot laid the leather carrier flat on the ground and pinned it in place with a log. He didn’t need anything small, so he stuck to piling the larger pieces of wood onto the carrier.

As he was picking out the firewood, something in the back of his head told him that he was being watched. The premonition kept nagging him the entire span of the trip, though frequent checks over his shoulder revealed nothing but snow. A nervous twinge in his stomach developed as he gathered the ends of the carrier and picked it up to haul back inside.

The heavy and unwieldy carrier hurt his teeth as he carried it. He only managed to fill the woodbox up partially with what he brought in, so after offloading the firewood, he went to go back out for a second trip. The cold had started burning his skin, and he considered putting on a coat. He only needed to make one more trip and he would have enough to keep the fire going for the rest of the night, so he chose to forego the coat and plunge back into the storm once again. As he rounded the corner to the pile, his gut threw up another alarm. Something didn’t feel right; someone was watching him, he just knew it.

This trip, he focused on gathering medium to small pieces. There were plenty of little chips left over from splitting logs, perfectly sized to keep a roaring fire up. It took quite a few more pieces of wood to fill the carrier, but it was quickly becoming stacked high with smaller kindling.

Just as Jackshot was about to call it quits and take his haul inside, the area lit up with an unholy shade of green light. The sharp crack of an explosion rocked the cabin and sent the old pony stumbling until he tripped and fell over. His ears rang and his brain was in overdrive as adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. A shower of debris from the nearby blast pelted him as he fell. A smaller flash of green illuminated the side of the cabin as a small beam of Changeling magic slammed into the side of the cabin and splintered the outer wall where it hit.

Jackshot tried to scramble to his hooves, but when he put weight on his front leg, stabbing pain shot up through the limb, forcing him back to the ground again. A few more small beams flew in and impacted around him. A shower of snow and burned earth fell on him immediately following the shots. Wincing, he looked at the porch which seemed a lot further away than it had been moments ago. If he could manage to crawl to the porch, he would be able to hold out inside and stand a better chance.

Again, he tried to get back on his hooves. The pain only seemed worse with each attempt. Crawling across the ground had the same effect, the intense burning pain he felt keeping him from moving. A quick glance at his right knee and the sickly shade of crimson it was turning under the skin guaranteed the fact that he was not going to be able to move.

”At least it barely hurts when I keep still,” one part of his brain added, still trying to stay positive.

He could hear some hoofsteps crunching in the snowbank a short distance behind him; the Changelings were coming in to inspect their kill. ”They think they got me… His good leg instinctually slid down to the sheath, wrapping a pastern around the sword handle. The words that he had heard from his old General before heading into battle rang through his head.

"Don’t give them the satisfaction of an easy kill."

Jackshot steeled himself. He only had one chance to get this right, and then it would all be over. Butterflies in his stomach were smashing themselves against its walls in a desperate bid to escape. Behind him, he heard the hoofsteps clumsily slide down the drift and into the lightly covered ground below. The Changeling was mere moments away. He slid the sword out of the sheath ever so slightly, to make the surprise slice go more smoothly. The Changeling didn’t seem to notice. As he waited the last few moments for the attack, he thought of his wife. He pictured her face, smiling at him sweetly. A small smile crept across his face as the Changeling closed in.

The hoofsteps crossed the ground, growing louder. The tension built in Jackshot as he fought to stay perfectly still. The crunching snow was almost on him. Now he held his breath, keeping as still as a corpse.

The hoofsteps stopped next to him. A few seconds passed in miserable silence, Jackshot fighting the urge to attack hastily with everything he had. Finally, a cold, chitinous hoof tapped his back and the steps retreated a few feet. A few more seconds passed, dragging along like nails on a chalkboard. The hooves behind him again started forward, this time more confidently. The time had come. In one swift motion, he closed his eyes, ripped the sword from its sheath, rolled over, and swung.

---

Pulling gate guard duty was considered on par with patrols on the agony scale. It may not have been physically strenuous, but having to spend several long hours keeping watch over a few uninterested civilians on the outside of the fence made it mentally so. Boredom was the constant and nagging enemy of the unfortunate soldiers who were selected to take up those positions. The night shift was especially bad, when there were even fewer civilians to keep an eye on and darkness made sleep much more enticing.

“Hey Full Pass,” one guard whispered to the other in a desperate attempt to stay awake.

“Huh? What do you want, Blister?” Full Pass said as he was startled from the thin sleep he was falling into.

“How much longer do we have on this shift?”

Full Pass craned his neck to get a glimpse at the clock just down the road outside of the compound, the low light making it even harder to see the timepiece. “About two more hours.”

Blister groaned melodramatically and stamped a hoof on the ground. A few more moments of silence passed before he broke in again, “How long do you think this snow is going to last?”

Full Pass glanced up at the streams of snow that were running down the shield above in light white ribbons, “I don’t know. Those Changeling storms usually don’t get this far down.”

“I wonder if that has something to do with this extra security we have to do.”

Full Pass grunted, “Probably not. I doubt those little plotholes would even try to come down here.”

“Well, remember what Nest said. They have tried it before.”

Behind them, Aurora came running out of the headquarters. In her haste, she nearly plowed into a worker hauling a cart.

“Hey, you two!” she yelled as she approached, but received no response from the guards. As she got closer, she recognized one of them. “Hey Blister!”

Blister and Full Pass turned around in unison, the former with a bit more enthusiasm. “Yes ma’am?”

“You know that patrol that didn’t come in last night?”

“Yeah, are they back?”

“Maybe.” She pointed down the road, toward the center of the city. “There’s been an entrance to the shield at the northwest gate - unidentified.”

“What do you mean, unidentified? Who else would it be?” A constrained sense of excitement was building inside of both guards.

“There was just one entrance, so for all we know it could be anything. Nest wants you two down there lickety-split and check out what’s going on.”

“We’ll get it done.” Full Pass acknowledged with a salute. Blister and Aurora copied the motion. “Let’s go, Blister.”

The two stallions galloped off, passing the gate and turning to cut through the center of town on their way to the northwestern tip of the star-shaped road grid. As they went, Blister snuck a few glances over his shoulder at the mare as she walked back into the command building. When he started drifting toward the side of the road in his observation campaign, a heavy hoof connected with the back of his head.

“Ow! What?” Blister yelled with a small hint of surprise in his voice.

“Think about flanks on your own time, Rumpo,” Full Pass deadpanned like a disappointed father scolding his son.

“Hey dude, it’s called natural selection! What if everypony was a stiff like you and never looked at mares? Our whole race would die out!”

“Oh I’m so worried about that- let me go home and hug my marefriend because I’m so scared!” Full Pass pointed a look at Blister, whose ears flattened against his head and he shrunk away. “Don’t screw around when we’re on duty, you idiot.”

Blister rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath as he ran along. They passed through the city the rest of the way in a brisk trot, eyes forward and silent. As the buildings began to get smaller towards the edge of the city, they readied themselves. Up ahead, off to the side of the road near the gateway arch, lay what looked to be a crystal pony on its side.

Full Pass had been keeping an aura wrapped around the sword handle on his hip, but let it fade as he approached. The stallion did not move as they approached.

As soon as they reached the downed stallion, Full Pass dropped down and felt for a pulse. “He’s still alive. Do you know who it is?”

“That’s one of the boys in my barracks; Coal Powder, I think.”

Full Pass continued checking over the wounded soldier, taking note of the many cuts and scrapes, shallow and labored breathing, and swelling hooves and nose. “He’s in bad shape,” he simply stated.

Blister looked over to what appeared to be a wadded up blanket in the gulley, “What’s that over in the ditch?”

“I don’t know. It looks like it came here with him. Would you go see what it is?” Full Pass asked as he stepped back to look for a way to move the downed stallion. Blister stepped down cautiously, his hooves sinking lightly into the moist soil at the bottom of the ditch. Nervously, he grabbed a corner of the blanket with his teeth and pulled back carefully. The bundle unwound and revealed its contents. At the first sight of it, Blister’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks and his face lost a significant amount of color.

“Well, what is it?” Full Pass asked impatiently.

Blister, all of his usual immature hype drained from him, looked up at his fellow soldier wide-eyed. “Get the medics…”

---

“All opposed?” the tall gray unicorn asked the group of ponies sitting around a crescent-shaped table. Of the dozen sitting at the table, only two hooves raised. “In favor?” This time, eight hooves shot up into the air, all with more enthusiasm than those against. “Motion passes. On to proposal three.”

Before addressing the group again, the moderator flipped through a stack of papers and wrote down a few notes along the way. When his task was completed, he stepped back and looked to the group once again.

“Proposal three,” he began, his deep voice echoing quietly off of the room’s walls, “is tax related. In relation to the decision made to cut taxes last quarter, we saw the expected three percent decline in revenue plus two more. Our measures to make up for the cuts did not pan out as much as we expected. Currently we are at a four percent loss, with even higher total losses anticipated as we move forward into spring.” The presenter paused, and a few of the board members whispered amongst one another.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “If we continue losing money at this rate, we can expect bankruptcy within two to three years. I want to correct the problem now so we don’t flirt with disaster later on. Does anypony have anything they would like to contribute before we vote?”

Two members stood up at once, one backed off and sat back down. The mare that remained standing held up a stack of notes, being well prepared for this exact proposal. “King Sombra, it comes to my attention that this question is more than just a yes or no issue. Whether or not we keep the cuts, we cannot leave them be.” She adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath, “I, personally, am in favor of keeping the tax cuts, based on the extra commerce they have been appearing to generate. Should we vote to keep them, we will need to engineer a plan to fix the budgeting problem.”

Sombra ran a hoof over his jet black mane, “I agree, though that point may be completely unnecessary if we vote to remove the cuts. Does anyone else have anything to contribute before we vote?” No one stood up. “Alright then, shall we-” A rapid knock at the door cut him off. “Hold that thought everyone, I’ll be right back.” He turned around and rolled his eyes at the door, This had better be important.

“Sir!” The door opened to reveal a soldier from the base, out of breath and sweating profusely while holding a rigid salute. Sombra returned the salute while the soldier reached into his saddlebag and produced a crumpled piece of paper. Before Sombra even had the chance to angrily ask the rhetorical question he had in mind, the wad of paper was being presented to him.

Hesitantly, Sombra snatched it from the soldier’s outstretched hoof. “This had better be important,” he reiterated, this time aloud.

“Sorry about…” the soldier choked out between breaths, “..the wadded note, your Highness.” To Sombra, the pony standing before him looked like he was ready to collapse. It wasn’t very far from the base to the castle, so there must have been a large amount of running back and forth before he had made it to the castle.

“Thank you, son,” Sombra smiled, hiding his annoyance with ease. It took some work, but he finally managed to unravel the paper and smooth it out to where it was legible.

Sombra,

I’m in a big hurry as I write this, so I’ll cut right to the chase. There’s been some very hectic events down at the base this morning. Last night’s patrol came in two hours late and three stallions short this morning. The two that made it back were battered and one was in critical condition. Currently, we are prepping search and rescue teams to go out and begin a search for the three M.I.A’s. We assume the worst. I need to hear back immediately from you with what you make of it and we can discuss how to handle this.

Commander Falcon Nest

Equestrian National Army

During the course reading the note, Sombra’s expression evolved from one of annoyance, to concern, and finally to one of deep thought. A few moments of silence passed before he asked, “Can you tell me anything else not contained in this note?”

The soldier shook his head, “No, I’m not supposed to even know what the note says. All I know is that there’s a lot of talk at the base about Changelings and that the officers are running around a lot more than usual…” The soldier realized that he was starting to drone on and let his voice trail off. The king didn’t seem to notice.

Sombra skimmed over the note a few times, looking for any details he might have missed. Finally satisfied that he had not overlooked anything, he looked at the soldier. “Do you have something to write with by chance?” The soldier nodded and reached back into his saddlebag, producing a pen.

“Thank you.” For lack of a better place to write, he pushed the paper flat against the wall and hastily scribbled down his reply on the back side.

“Here,” he finally said, floating the scrap back into the saddlebag. “Take this straight to Nest, no stops, no talking, nothing outside of delivering this note.”

The solder bowed and turned to gallop away. Sombra watched him sprint down the hall and nearly bulldoze an accountant in the process. He turned the corner at the end of the passage that led out into the main atrium at full speed, disappearing from view while nearly losing his balance to make the turn..

With the guard sent on his way with the message, Sombra slowly turned back to face the door. His mind was racing, already working to formulate a plan for how to deal with the situation at hand. Beyond the door, there was destined to be at least one curious pony with a question about the interruption. High profile meetings like this one were almost never delayed; any sort of hiccup was often met with questions.

A part of him wanted to abandon the meeting and to go find out as much as he possibly could on the subject. However, that would be a very foolish move; if he didn’t return to the meeting, more than simple curiosity would be roused. The meeting wouldn’t last much longer anyway. Taking a deep breath, Sombra raised his hoof to the door. He put a warm smile onto his face and blinked the worry out of his eyes, a tactic learned long ago and honed to a science through years of practice. With the look of concern purged from his features, he pushed the heavy wooden door open.

“Now, where were we?”

---

For some strange reason that he couldn’t place, Gust wasn’t in the snow covered field being shot at by Changelings anymore. Instead of the adrenaline rush he was feeling just moments ago, his entire body now felt weak, limp, and immobile. In addition to weakness, his entire face and most of his front side stung dully. His eyes felt strange, not quite in pain but definitely not normal. Above all of that, though, he noticed the darkness. It was so dark that he couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed.

One thing he could tell about his surroundings was that he was in a bed. The mattress underneath him felt like a cloud, but the sheet over his lower body felt like sandpaper. Another thing was the sterile smell of strong disinfectants. Putting two and two together, Gust was able to guess that he was in a hospital bed. He now understood the aches and pains, but not the darkness. Hospitals were usually very bright from his past experience. Slowly and with some measure of effort, he lifted his hoof from the bed. It felt like it was attached to a bag of cement. Carefully, he brought the hoof to his face.

Well that isn’t good… Instead of feeling hide and hair like normal, his hoof was met with cloth. Even though he touched it gingerly, the light pressure went through the cloth and into the skin underneath. The dull ache in his face amplified and he felt his eyes start to water under the bandage. That explains the darkness.

Once the pain started to subside, Gust let his hoof slump back to the mattress. As soon as it made contact with the bed, a smoothly feminine voice broke the agonizing silence. “Oh good, you're waking up!” A few hoofsteps sounded out and he could tell that she was by the bedside.

“H-hello…” Gust sighed, his voice echoing the weakness felt in the rest of his body.

“Honey, can you hear me alright?” Her voice was directly over him now.

“Yes,” he said weakly.

“Good. I’m Dew Tinkle, your nurse. Is there anyth-”

“Where…” Gust interrupted and then trailed off, his own though escaping him for a moment. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the recovery room in the hospital, sweetie. You had surgery.” Her voice was curt, straight to the point and still soothing at the same time.

“Thanks…” Gust voice trailed off again, and this time his body relaxed with it. He had passed out again. Dew Tinkle smiled when she noticed he had gone to sleep. As quietly as she could, she gathered up the charts hanging on the bed and backed out of the room to let the stallion recover.

“Oh, Dew! Glad I caught you!” Just as Dew Tinkle exited the room and pulled the curtain closed, the doctor who had done Gust’s operation came walking up. He was still wearing surgeon’s garb, complete with a few smudges of dried blood on the front. He was holding a clipboard in his aura; it too was stained with the occasional smudge of blood.

“Doctor Thistle, good to see you!” She smiled warmly and tucked the clipboard under her wing. “What brings you down to the ICU?”

“Came to do a quick follow up on a patient by the name of…” he brought the clipboard to his face and scanned across the sheet of paper, “Gust Front. Says here he’s been put in bed seventeen.”

“That’s this one right here,” Dew Tinkle answered, pointing a hoof at the curtain she had just come out of. “He’s just starting to come out of the anesthesia now, but he’s still asleep.”

“Thanks, Dew.” Doctor Thistle pushed the curtain aside and entered Gust’s room. With him gone, the nurse walked back to the main desk down the hall. Another nurse was sitting there, filling out paperwork.

“Slow morning, huh?” the other nurse quipped as Dew Tinkle sat down in the chair next to hers.

“You got it, sister,” Dew Tinkle returned, punctuating her words with a breath blown into her bangs.

The other nurse scooted back from the desk and arched her back in a stretch. “Whew! Two hours of charting, glad that’s done!” Her back gave a loud pop, and she stood up with a satisfied look on her face. She refilled her large cup with a generous amount of coffee from the pot on the counter behind the desk. “So, what do you make of this?”

Dew looked up from her own chart, “Make of what, exactly?”

“Your patient, the one they refuse to tell us anything about and keep sending others in for checkups?”

“Mr. Front?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I asked what happened to him and some stallion from the base nearly bit my head off,” the other nurse remarked.

“I don’t know, June. I really don’t know. He’s barely conscious as it is and they won’t tell me anything either. Whatever it is it must have been something they don’t want anypony knowing about.”

“Well of course, what else?" June took a long pull from her coffee, wrinkling her nose at it when she finished. “Lukewarm and stale. Not bad,” she stated before taking another swig.

“Yeah, this whole thing bothers me. Hopefully it’s nothing too serious.” Dew shrugged, turning back to desk.

June downed the rest of her mug and gathered up her chart work. “Well, I gotta run and file these. Be back in a few!” With that, she exited the nook that held the nurses’ desk.

“Have fun!” Dew called, her nose still buried in her own charts. In reality, she was a lot more worried than she was letting on. Rumors had been going around all morning, all along the lines that something had attacked some of the stallions from the base. She was in charge of taking care of a critically wounded soldier. It couldn’t just be a coincidence.

No matter though, she had work to do and there simply wasn’t room for worry at the moment. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, gulped some of the lukewarm coffee, and set about her task.

Author's Note:

Well, that was an ordeal.

Yes, I know, it's been six months. Six long months of nail biting, heart pounding suspense as you all waited so desperately for that new update to come out. Six months of obsessively checking back to the story page in desperate hope that it may have updated. Half a year of delayed gratification.

Maybe not so much. I'm sure at least one of you looked at the story, noticed the long time between updates, and just shrugged and figured i was one of those people who start a story and then just give up on it after a little while.

In truth, I've been busting my ass, if not in real life with work, then on getting this thing in order. I started out with this thing like a typical amateur and figured i could just write it on the fly and it would come out okay. I should have just moved on and allowed this story to be a record of my youth as a writer. Let it die and pursue other ideas. Well, i didn't. I'm a stubborn bastard, and i am vowing to finish this story even if i am not a part of this fandom any more. So i promise you that it will come to a close eventually.

So this whole summer was spent planning, prepping, outlining, practicing, and that sort of stuff. All of that is done, and now i should be getting updates out in a more timely manner. You can give me internet kisses for that in the comments, but ladies first!

I felt that this chapter was a lot less action-packed than the previous three, but there is still a bit of excitement. I will tell you, things are going to get quite interesting here pretty soon, but that's all i will say.

Anyway, what do you think? Was everything properly addressed? Was there anything I missed? Was it surprising that Coal Dust was absent for this chapter and that we now have our first canon character from the show in here?

Let me know! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, LET ME KNOW! I desperately await feedback, so please throw me a bone here and say what's on your mind! Even a little token gesture such as "Nice work!" or "You suck!" is appreciated, though the former is preferred.

So that's that. See you at the next chapter!

Comments

[Xhoral1865]

You know I'm not one for chapter stories at the moment, but I'll try to keep up with this one (if only because you and me regularly talk on Skype). Good job on the chapter!

[IceHammer82]

Love the story so far. Still wondering what happened to Jackshot though.

[Dusty Sage]

Even the most obsessively action-oriented story contains moments when nothing is being splattered. No need to apologize.

[Ice Star]

Yes, finally the best boy shows up! And he’s a big grouch! 🖤

[Jack of a Few Trades]

10300333
Does blocking people remove their ability to read my stories? Asking for a friend