Millennia: Eye of the Storm

by Thunderblast

50. Semper Fidelis

The sticky mid-summer air transformed the crumbling remains what was formerly a bright city on the pristine northeast coast into essentially a sauna that carried on for miles on end, as far as the eye can see, blanketing the land with a yellowish-grey haze as a result of the thick moisture mixed into the atmosphere.

Beneath the bright sun, I sweltered under my BDUs, and inside my cover every follicle of my sky-blue mane quickly became as damp as a towel fresh out of the washing machine. Strands of my hair clumped together and stuck to my sweat-slicked forehead, not-so-miraculously the only shaded region of my face. I can't tell which was worse—direct sunlight, or dark clothes to 'protect' me from said sunlight.

We are a damn night branch; why for the love of all things good must we suffer in 90-degree heat in black and grey clothing? Yeah, we can roll up our sleeves. So what? It does squat in the long run.

In the days that slowly chugged on by since final contact with GenTech, some rescue efforts turned into simply search and recovery. The chances of discovering somepony still alive dwindled as time passed, though hope could not be given up just yet. Not much of it remained, quite honestly, but some optimism had to be there to control my thinning sanity while it fractured deeply under the heavy weight of stress and fatigue—two things that were eating away at the little ounce of energy keeping me moving.

Elsewhere along the coast, in areas unprotected by forcefields similar to that of the one conjured in lower Manehattan, seawater sloshed a quarter mile to a half mile inland in some lower-elevated parts of east Equestria. While crests did not top out nearly as high as they did in Trotson Bay, a good forty percent of oceanfront property in towns and cities along the Antlertic sustained minor to moderate damage.

The majority of the tsunami's harm affected marine vessels moored in marinas and ports as they were smashed up into docks or carried inland. Word came from Alderneigh that one of the ferries that services small fishing communities—including Anchorage's home town—had washed a block into downtown, but miraculously was still fully functional in the aftermath.

But back on our own turf, the recovery efforts are just the start of the lengthy road ahead. Aid from every corner of the globe began pouring into the harbor in the immediate hours after the first and definite all-clear was given by authorities. One runway at Manehattan International reopened after countless safety inspections and patching efforts to seal potentially dangerous fractures in the surface, subsequently allowing cargo planes to touch down for the first time in a week.

Major carriers such as Equestrian and Everfree Airlines brought in jumbo jets refitted to comfortably transport hundreds of victims at a time to cities willing to take those in need of medical assistance while the remaining Manehattan-area hospitals strive to return to full operational status and lift the 'code black' blanket across the local region.

While I moved around, the faint, gentle taps of a hoof against concrete perked my ears attentively. Immediately I stopped in my search, freezing completely with only the slightest of movements of my head to scan my surroundings. A few others had taken notice and acted similarly, which was protocol for recovery operations.

The noise started and stopped. Started and stopped. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. It wasn't precisely code for SOS, but in this situation, any sound not made by one of us would be considered a cry for help if the victim is too weak to properly scream.

It took a couple of moments to pinpoint the source. When it came to me, I rushed over, minding each and every hasty stride taken in order to avoid shifting the rubble. Starting with smaller pieces, I began moving or even throwing chunks of concrete, some of which with reinforcing rebar mixed in, until an opening appeared and a hoof shakily reached through.

Letting out a soft gasp of realization, I snapped my head up and shouted. "I got one over here!"

With not a second of hesitation, a small group of firefighters hurried to me, bearing heavy tools known widely as the jaws of life, and were designed to bend steel or crumble cement if needed or simple jacks to raise otherwise unmovable objects.

Lighter debris was easily thrown off to the side before we were halted by a heavy slab of concrete by which the trapped victim was tapping against. The hoof, now more visible and shakily waving around, was taken by the gentle fire lieutenant in the base of his own gloved hoof as a gesture of reassurance.

All of this was in the former shadow of a ten-story apartment building, as noted by the bits and pieces of furniture and other household items and decorations strewn about among the wooden planks and severed, twisted pipes. Small pools of water gathered in some spots, created by the broken main and a burst fire hydrant now covered in debris.

Thankfully the mains throughout most of the city, gas included to our relief, had been long shut off to prevent further leaks. Simultaneously, this did not help firefighters combat the last remaining blazes burning since the first quake over a week ago.

Two more firefighters, an earth mare and a pegasus stallion, prepared the jaws of life and placed the claw-like clamps into a narrow gap between the girder and the pile that surrounded the trapped civilian. Taking the rear lever whilst maintaining a sturdy hold on the apparatus' center, the smaller of the duo grunted in effort as she put her might into opening the clamps. For her size, the mare packed far more strength than I would have credited her for—a rather impressive amount, at that.

To our dismay, it was not the right tool for the job. Upon closer inspection of the beam, it connected to another at a ninety-degree angle, with the bisecting side further buried under more rubble, leaving us with no choice but to take the severed end and lift it upward with adequate room to extract the victim.

"Shooter, on us!" the lieutenant barked, throwing his hoof around authoritatively between his subordinates. Four of us repositioned at our own spots on the slab's end while the lieutenant stood by, prepared to make haste in removing the trapped pony.

Should they be stuck further, and we just might need reinforcements to completely remove the debris before anything else can be done.

Alas, doing just that would be even trickier, knowing the slightest of movements might cause a shift in the rubble that can accidentally kill the victim.

"On three, lift! Got it?" the lieutenant instructed, garnering nods of acknowledgement by the four of us, grabbing onto the girder from underneath, two of us on each side. The stocky, older stallion bore his steel axe as a secondary device, just in case. "One, two, three!"

All at once, three firefighters and myself, put every ounce of our own weight into our arm muscles and even doubled it. A symphony of grunts emit from our position, gradually raising our end of the beam up off the ground, shifting smaller pieces of dust-covered wooden planks from destroyed shelves and pebbles that pelted down into the astonishingly small hole our victim became confined in.

Blood as it rushed to my head created a pressure that drowned out most noise around me, prompting me to close my eyes as it felt almost like they were ready to pop out of their sockets, and even a vein across my forehead pulsated, threatening to burst at any given moment.

Our efforts provided an extremely narrow passage for the lieutenant to slip down into the hole, smashing the bottom of his axe's handle into rubble pinning the victim's hinds and even prying open a couple more inches for them to be pulled free.

He looped the stallion's extended arm around his neck, lifting him up against his chest to cling on while he crawled out the other side, all in under forty seconds. At last, the four of us could drop the slab.

My chest heaved the moment it slammed back down, the jolt causing further filling of the tiny space with varying chunks of crumbled cement to replace the living being previously stuck under there for Luna knows how long. Relaxing myself allowed the headrush to diminish, though not without a subsequent and temporary migraine no more than a few seconds after the fact.

Opening my eyes for the first time let me see the victim's face as well. However, I wasn't quite as prepared for something as gruesome as what now sent my gut into a tailspin, and that was his blood-stained muzzle practically split in half at the tip, along with numerous bruises and infected lacerations up and down his torso. Even the lower half of his legs were lacking color, particularly due to lack of blood flow from being pinned for a prolonged period. To my relief and everypony else's, they seemed to be operational for the most part with the victim only reporting a faint numbness.

A couple of minutes were spent to thoroughly check over the patient's body for other unknown injuries while a squadron of pegasus paramedics working in tandem with Navy corpsponies flew in a light stretcher to haul the victim away on. Of the six medical centers in the Manehattan metropolitan area, only two sustained minimal damage and were functioning at some level of efficiency. A grave lack of resources and hooves on deck only made matters worse.

Shortly after the victim was airlifted elsewhere, myself and the firefighters returned to scouring the rubble of this particular building. At this point, the damage was so widespread that it was no longer clear if we were still searching the remains of one structure anymore.

As we sauntered about, minding every step taken, I was approached by a pegasus of a darker blue tone than that of my own coat.

"Corporal," the stallion uttered in order to grab my attention. My head turned first, followed by the rest of me as I spun to face him.

"Yes, Sergeant?" I responded, giving myself only a slight bit of an attention stance before my squad leader.

"How goes it?" he queried neutrally, presumably referring to the search.

My gaze drifted elsewhere to briefly scan our surroundings, inhaling a sharp yet quiet breath before answering. "Decent, I suppose. Three have been pulled so far this morning, who knows how many more are still here."

Sergeant Hardstaff nodded in acknowledgement of the situation, but also shrugged his shoulders. "I can't imagine many. Plenty of ponies got out safely in initial evacuation procedures, along with many more in later orders."

"There was no warning, however," I flapped my lips softly. "Not for the first one."

"Believe me, Corporal, it was the second tremor that did us in," he said, doing so in a moderately reassuring manner. "Sure, nopony anticipated this. There was nothing natural about it, we now know that."

I shook my head, primarily out of disappointment for the unlucky souls still out there, dying, awaiting rescue. "Unfortunately that does not alleviate much, not now."

"Tell me about it. I have quite a load on my plate as it is. An entire unit tasked to medical aid and moving ponies out of the city gave out a final distress call before their staff sergeant's locating beacon went dead. Their last known position is somewhere in this quadrant. Somewhere... under there," he sighed, glancing out over the devastation sparing no inch of city street for five whole blocks encompassing us.

The sergeant's head turned, blinking as he stared at me once more. "You sure you want to be out here any longer than you have been, Shooter? I counted the days myself, you've been up almost three days straight, assuming you even slept during the crisis."

I gawked silently for a couple of moments, puzzled, tilting my head. "Of course I do, Sergeant. I belong out here. This is part of the oath I took."

Hardstaff's expression turned somewhat stern. "I understand that, Corporal, but you must understand this; I cannot have my ponies out here overworking themselves to death, especially after all you have done on your lonesome."

"Yeah, but—"

"Go home, Corporal. Get some rest. You earned it long ago." His ice-blue cores narrowed scrutinizingly, failing to remove them from their lock on my own even as he began to turn away. "That is a direct order."

My brows lowered, ears swiveling sideways and slightly pinning back as his command dealt a soft, figurative blow. I strongly despised walking away in times of need as much as the next pony, though it just pulled up short of my disliking for insubordination.

Deep down, I recognized his concerns. Hardstaff ran a tight ship, and it was still his duty to care for those under his command; that was something I could easily respect about him, among other smaller details.

With some hesitation in my first steps, the sluggish nature of my movements coerced me into further agreement with the sergeant as I started off out of the area to find a place to crash, whether it be a nearby command tent, or I somehow muster the strength to haul my sagging ass over to base; something I have not laid eyes on in weeks.

***

Arc's lifeless form landed on the metallic table with a heavy clunk of his armor, eyes shut, mouth closed. Two Navy corpsponies surrounded the stallion, his hooves limply hanging off the edges, clueless at first on where to begin. Off to the side, a lone Marine with a tablet held in a blue magical aura, focused on the screen as his hoof swirled across it.

Minutes after his arrival, the doors into the moderately-sized, windowless operation chamber burst open as a greenish-grey earth stallion ranking at captain rushed in. The sudden entrance startled both corpsponies, as well as prompting them to respectfully greet the commanding officer that he ultimately dismissed.

His distressed brown cores carried over the motionless pony he considered to be one of his closest friends. It had been days since the explosion, and after bailing from the falling ship, nothing of Arc Nobis was seen since—until now. "Is he alive?" Shadow huffed out, the run from halfway across base now having caught up with him.

"The Coast Guard fished him out of the river just this morning, sir," began one of the corpsponies. "They detected a weak pulse but nothing more, not even slight respiratory activity. Strangely enough, the patch of water he floated in was discovered to be radioactive in nature. Nonlethal levels for a short exposure, mind you, but no one truly knows how long Nobis was subject to it."

"So... regardless, he's done for?" Shadow uttered, blinking in order to wave off the tears that gathered in his eyes. He did well enough to mask the hurt in him, he was not about to let it show now.

"Not necessarily," chimed Javelin to his right, approaching with the tablet still his primary focus until he pulled up short. "Somehow, what ever alloys his armor plating was made out of, it absorbed most if not all of the radiation, transforming it into energy, which appears to be what kept his life support active for as long as it did. He is completely clean, Captain."

The captain grunted softly, scanning his eyes over the futuristic battlesuit his presumably deceased friend had been forcibly encased in. It left him furious to merely think about what Armet Mace did to him prior to involuntary reconditioning.

"I wonder what he thinks they're going to do to him? Because I want to do something worse." He sighed shakily, closing his eyes and pressing a hoof to his forehead in discernible pain, sitting back onto a small stool with a groan. "All... is lost."

Javelin's eyes narrowed some, lips curling downward. "Captain, the second lieutenant isn't fully brain dead to be considered so—"

Shadow lifted his head some, flicking an exhausted glare over at the maroon unicorn. "Oh, come on, Specialist, don't give me that technical shit. They have him wired to the hippocampus for Celestia's sake! How can't he be brain dead?"

"If you would have listened, Captain, you would have heard me say he is merely dormant in the mind," replied Javelin curtly, disregarding respect for just that moment.

The captain rose from the stool, eyeballing the unicorn questionably. "Spill it, Techie. What do you mean he's 'dormant'?"

"He is still very much alive, but he does not have a conscience in his body. The one Armet controlled him with was erased when the mainframe rebooted and disconnected, causing the ship to go down. But, theoretically, it is possible to bring him back."

"How?" Shadow blinked, perplexed by these claims. "The GenTech servers were destroyed in Vengeance's crash, not to mention the ones in the building when it collapsed."

In almost immediate response, the maroon unicorn raised his hoof with a smile. In it sat a flash drive much alike the one he sent up with them. "That may be so, but in the hack I also copied what I could, and guess what? When I went through the files on my personal computer, I picked up an SOS in the form of binary code. It was Nobis. His old conscience is right here, and he is calling for help."

At that, the naval captain leaped up off of his bed onto all fours with eyes as large as an insect's. "Can we do anything about it?" Shadow's query was immediately responded to by a nod of the tech officer's head. "W-well... let's get him back, right this second!"

The smile on Javelin's muzzle could only widen. "Aye, sir. But I will need your help getting what we need."

Shadow nodded once, heart pounding away at the walls of his chest. "Of course. Name it, and I'll get it done."

***

"I'm..." Night paused, looking up at the ceiling and drawing in a deep breath. "...out of commission for a while, Star."

I blinked, feeling my heart skip a beat out of concern. "How long is, 'a while'?"

"At least thirty more days. They want to make sure anything jutted out of place when the beam struck me heals on its own, and as little movement as possible to prevent accidentally causing more damage to my spine."

My ears lost their attentive perk. I spoke softly, "Will... you be able to walk again?"

The brown draft stallion offered a gentle smile. "Of course. They have assured me some of the best in this field are keeping a close eye on me. I trust their word."

At that, I gave a small, singular nod. "Then I do, too," I said with a simper. "It is a shame, though. I was going to gather the guys in a couple of days to make an announcement, and... I wanted you to be there."

Night's lips curled wider some. "Sorry, man. Doctor's orders."

I nodded again, this time in acknowledgement. "I know, I know. The last thing I want is for you to prematurely leave bedrest."

"Oh, believe me, I would just get my ass right up out of this sorry excuse of a bed if it didn't mean risking paralyzing myself," he joked, bringing a soft mutual chuckle out of me. He sighed afterward. "I miss normal food, too."

"What do they have you on in here?" I questioned. "Not ice cubes and cherries, I hope?"

Night shook his head gently, so as to not disturb his spinal cord. "Year-old, stale-ass apple cornbread and tuna MREs."

The thought of tuna made my stomach churn uncomfortably and caused me to audibly gag in my throat. I hated tuna with a passion. Poor Nightpath for having to put up with it, especially in MREs, where everyday tasty meals take a trip to the sewage plant.

"Alas, resources are low, so they've gotta feed us the low-demand shit while it is abundant," he groaned. "Sucks ass, but we have to live with it for now."

I could only nod in concurrence. "But you get the luxury of staying in bed all day long," I quipped, smirking.

Night rolled his eyes, a wily grin on his muzzle. "Yeah, where it stays a steady ninety-two degrees from ten 'til eight and nothing but tower fans to keep us from burning alive."

I snorted. "Hey, that's better than standing out under the beating sun in full gear, shoving shit around to get it off of ponies that are under your very hooves."

"Touche," he exhaled softly. He rested his head back, closing his eyes. "So, what are you going to do now?"

My sights lifted from the bed toward the tent's only open walkway to the outside. "Find a way back into the city, I have to look for somepony and give them something I have long owed them."

Night opened his eyes, turning his head just a little to look at me. "Oh yeah? What would that be?"

***

Heartbreak. It was the only feeling permeating the otherwise emptiness of the light tan unicorn's essence. Her world had come crashing down in a matter of hours, leaving her to futilely pick up the pieces of her previously stress-free life.

She gazed out sorrowfully over her life's work, years of stressful classes and countless dead end loans in the making, reduced to nothing but a massive pile of rubble beneath an unstable structure threatening to topple over further and add to the destruction around her.

"Doctor Pastel?" my voice called from some feet behind her. The frizzled mare turned over her shoulder, blinking in mild surprise as she caught me on approach.

"Star Shooter," she said, sniffling heavily and parting a strand of her mane out of her eye. "What a... pleasant surprise. I am relieved to see you are okay."

"Likewise, Doc," I nodded once, briefly darting my eyes behind her and acknowledging the loss of her establishment. "I'm sorry about your office."

Pastel let off a shaky sigh, dipping her head. "It is alright, we had a... decent run," she remarked with evident undisclosed information in mind.

That made my heart stop. I knew precisely what she meant, though I thought of it as courteous to seem clueless. "What are you talking about? Aren't you staying in business?"

The fawn-coated unicorn choked up some. She hurt deep down, I could discern that from a mile away. Face to face, she seemed like a total emotional wreck; and it made sense why.

"I'm afraid... doing that just is not possible. Rent skyrocketed thanks to a rise of land value because of GenTech, little advertisement brought in too few clients, not to mention my absolutely stupid decision to try and reason with the insurance companies with veterans under their wings!" She stomped her hoof into a wooden plank beneath her, snapping it in half. "Just... so stupid of me."

Singular tears dripped onto the ground at her hooves, damply matting down the fur on her cheeks. "I am terribly sorry f-for the inconveniences, Star. I truly am. I wish things worked out much differently than they have in recent months, and it is no one's fault but my own—"

She ultimately froze in speech at my outreached hoof, offering a simple white envelope. Her bloodshot, tear-glazed orange cores shakily met my steady crimson stare.

"It isn't a lot, probably not enough to get your office back, but I hope it can keep you afloat long enough to get back on your hooves," I said softly, a warm smile pursing my lips. "I trust that you shall do well with this money, and that what happened will not again. I want you to stay in business. Your word is what is keeping me from offing myself, Pastel. I cannot afford to lose your expertise."

Shifting her attention back to the envelope, she politely took it in her hoof, making use of her magic to gently undo the seam and slide out the rectangular banknote, written out personally by the Commandant of the Lunar Marine Corps, for five-thousand bits. Reading this quite nearly made the poor mare faint on the spot.

"St-Star, I..." she gasped out sharply, at a total loss for words for a few seconds. "I-I cannot accept this!"

My face turned smug at her retort, just as I would have expected. "Of course you can."

"W-well... e-even if I wanted to, it's not written to me!" squeaked Pastel.

I nodded in acknowledgement. "You are correct, which is why once the banks reopen, I will cash it myself and turn over the money to you."

The mare's head lowered again, ears pinned fully back. "I-I... Star..." she sputtered quietly. "I can't... ask you to do this for me."

"No, Pastel," I stepped forward once. "I need to do this for you. For the progress we have made after just a few visits, it has made an impact on my life and my career. I don't know where I would be if Haywalker didn't refer me to you."

She stood there in total silence, respirating moderately heavy breaths, the sun reflecting off of her glassy eyes while they remained locked with mine. Her form took on a faint tremble, and it was evident the amount of effort she was putting in to prevent collapsing into an emotional fit.

Without a second of hesitation, she leaped forward, grasping both hooves tightly around the back of my neck in a firm embrace. "Th-thank you, thank you, thank you..." she repeated.

"No, thank you," I said, looping a hoof back around the mare as she sobbed uncontrollably into my shoulder. My smile grew, holding her out in the open. The few ponies who happened to be passing by took notice, pausing to observe with questionable looks on each of their faces.

For all they knew, she broke down due to losing her home. It was between us two that knew the truth, that these were happy tears of hers. She could push on for just a little bit longer.

My good deed was done here, and it only elevated my spirits to do so.

***

"The attacks by the Constitution, the blackouts in March, it was all Armet; not to mention the summit meeting sniper was a brainwashed Arc Nobis."

A small chunk of the information explained by the tech-savvy unicorn Marine, the captain had been up to speed on. Though it should not have been much surprise at that point, what he wasn't previously aware of brought a small grunt out of Shadow. "He probably doesn't even remember it. If he does, it wasn't him that shot the ambassador. He wouldn't do that."

Javelin gave the high-ranking naval officer a somewhat questionable look at that, only to swivel his chair back around to face his laptop. "There's much to decipher in their plans. So far, it seems like the earthquakes and the launch of Vengeance were just the start of a much larger operation."

Shadow had been a couple steps ahead of the unicorn for once, though he recognized that it would not contribute much. The deed was done. This battle had been fought and won by the right side.

However, he was on a more personal mission other than for the reason Javelin requested his presence here in this particular instance. "How is he holding up?"

"Nobis?" Javelin blinked, peeking over his shoulder to catch Shadow's nod. He sat there, pondering for a moment. "Assuming nothing went awry overnight, and I would have been made aware of it by now, he should be waking from his coma this afternoon."

The greenish-grey earth stallion let off a small, contented sigh, feeling a weight drop off of his shoulders. "Any complications we might need to worry about?"

"Other than a temporary case of amnesia and likely also a blank period spanning his time under, not a whole lot," Javelin began, enlarging a second window to present medical pictures of the second lieutenant consisting primarily of numerous internal scans of his head.

"The puncture points in both of his temples will take time to heal, but they pose no risk to his brain's overall health," he added, circling his hoof around the focus points in the highly detailed black and white image. "X-rays showed minor to moderate swelling in the temporal lobes, where the neural arms built into the helmet connected to, but a stimulant injection was administered yesterday evening to reduce it gradually."

Shadow nodded in acknowledgement. "I will take all of this as good news. If possible, I would like to be there when he comes to."

Javelin returned a bob of his head. "Of course, sir. Mind you, patience is a virtue at this time; you must have it with you until his memories come back." He rose from his chair. "I will accompany you on the walk over to the infirmary."

"Thank you, Specialist. Shall we?" Shadow turned, starting out of the small relief tent ahead of Javelin, who trotted out after and soon took the lead.

Following the duo's departure, a lurking figure circled near Javelin's tent, waiting for the prime opportunity to slip in undetected. He stood nearby, doing so in disciplined manner, observing the two march off. Knowing the tent occupied at least one other pony in Snow Storm's squadron, he could not determine how much time he had to accomplish his goal.

The figure, dressed in full Marine BDUs, sauntered up to the makeshift work station belonging to Javelin, consisting of a blue cot and a milk crate in which his laptop was set up on. He checked over his shoulder once more to make sure no one was watching before hunching over to use the computer.

He scrolled through the seemingly endless list of decrypted files transformed into simple images or documents for easy access, coming to a halt roughly a quarter through the entire drive's capacity when he reached his target.

"Time for us to pick up the pieces for you, Armet," he mumbled with a thick eastern timbre, followed by a low, dark chuckle.

With a few simple clicks of a button, it was done. Every last classified file belonging to the crumbling company, copied and forwarded to an anonymous mailbox while simultaneously covering its own tracks to avoid raising alarm by the computer's owner upon return.

***

First thing the morning on Tuesday, the 18th, I ventured to one of base's many administrative facilities. Along with me, a closed folder, meant for the eyes of Sergeant Hardstaff. In the year since enlisting, technically speaking, I have gone without a consistent job; bouncing between a base watchpony to the periodic radarpony aboard the Eclipse, to a helping hoof at the geology center.

No two days were the same routine, and I couldn't despise it more. I wanted change, and at long last, I was on my way to make it happen.

Hardstaff's new office, come to find out, was situated on the second floor of the C Building in a cluster of offices designated A through F. Easy to navigate, being one of the smaller administrative facilities on base, and remarkably close to me and Night's barrack room.

Almost the precise moment I stepped into view in the doorway, Hardstaff spoke up with his gaze instantly meeting mine. "Ah, Shooter. Just the pony I wanted to see."

I blinked thrice, caught somewhat off guard by that. "You... you did?"

The sergeant returned a bob of his head, waving me at ease. I relaxed my posture, taking a few more steps into his little office. "How are you doing, Corporal?"

Once more, his abnormally benevolent demeanor mixed with his neutral countenance took me by surprise. I opted not to pry. "I'm... well. Decently happy, actually, which has me just a little bit concerned considering all that's happened and what is going on right now."

"Oh, you meet somepony finally?"

A small shock ran through my system at his rather sudden query. "What gave you that impression, Sergeant?"

Hardstaff scoffed lowly. "I have yet to stumble across somepony who is 'doing well' that did not just find themselves a special other."

I blinked in silence again, before a smile grew across my muzzle. I nodded once, beaming as warm as the feeling in my heart. "I have, actually."

The surprised look on the sergeant's countenance spoke a few words about what he quite possibly thinks about me and my relationship status. "Well, good for you. What's the sitrep?" he prodded.

"The... sitrep?" My head cocked left slightly, bewildered as to what he meant.

Hardstaff's blue eyes rolled. "Your special somepony!"

I blinked twice another time. "Oh, I met him a while back, actu—"

My breath caught, realizing I had slipped in front of one of the most important ponies in my career. He and I just stared at each other in total silence, except I looked exponentially more shocked than he did by it.

But rather than prying further, he carried on with his reason for speaking to me. "Oh yeah? I have some news for you, too, Corporal," he said, digging into a pocket on his blouse and producing an envelope.

Lifting a shaky hoof to take the basic white slip, I tore into it politely and withdrew the note within, and from a first glance I could tell just how formal it was.

What really put me in a state of utter disbelief was what it read, and that's when Hardstaff chimed in to make things more clear to me. "Word caught of your services to our country and the Vengeance's defeat and, well, OS is interested in bringing you back to make up for your first impression."

Slowly, my gaze steadily lifted from the letter. "You mean... I've been re-accepted into Officer School?"

The midnight pegasus gave a shrug with his nod. "To put it plainly, yes. Congratulations, Corporal. In the meantime, I am up for promotion to make sure you don't one day outrank me on the battlefield," he remarked with some arrogance in his demeanor.

A smile gradually worked its way onto my muzzle, and every ounce in me went to ensuring the waterworks remained closed off in front of the sergeant. Oh, right, but I was happy for him, too. "Likewise. Thank you, Sergeant."

Hardstaff waved his hoof and gave a small shake of his head. "Don't be thanking me, I had nothing to do with any of this. Though I will gladly take your appreciation anyways. Now, get out of my office, unless you have something you have to say to me first."

I blinked twice. "Actually, I do have something for you, as well. That is why I came here this morning." I replied, lifting up and sliding over a plain folder with some paperwork inside. "I have done a bit of research in my free time over the months, Sergeant, and this has piqued my interest."

He took the file and opened the cover to examine the contents within. The first thing that caught his eye was an unsigned approval slip for a change of Military Occupations Speciality, or MOS for short. Seeing this prompted him to snap his head right up.

"What is this for?" he grunted out in an apparent annoyance that seemingly always hovered around him. Sliding the form aside, he proceeded to read the next paper beneath it. With as many words it contained from top to bottom, I couldn't blame him for skipping around a bit while still gathering an idea of what I came here for. "METOC?"

I gave a single nod. "Yes, Sergeant. And it was brought to my attention that there is such a division in Canterlot, where I reside." METOC stood for Meteorology and Oceanography, two things that have interested me since my colt years. Being somepony that often deploys on a ship, this was just the right thing for me.

Had I been made aware of this prior to enlisting, I could have chosen my specialty at MEPS, and it just might have saved me some trouble along the line. That said, if I had gone through with that, there is a chance I would not have made the friends I did from the start of this career.

"Why, was my squadron not good enough for you?" snarled Hardstaff, which made me tense up even more in front of him. That changed when a smirk crossed his muzzle and he waved his hoof, revealing his demeanor to be joking rather than hostile, much to my relief.

"Not at all, Sergeant. In fact I don't think I could have asked for a better squad leader than yourself," I responded with some pride in my tone.

"Flattery won't get you very far, Shooter," he remarked, spreading out each paper within the folder across his tidied desk. Thankfully it was not a lot, no more than four pieces including the request form, which he had placed farthest to the side.

He spent a good minute or two, thoroughly examining each paper, darting his eyes between the MOS information and the request slip near his right hoof.

My part had been done, with every blank required having been filled neatly in my own hoofwriting. It mainly asked of personal information, such as name, platoon, residence, and so on. All that anxiously remained was the sergeant's signature, which he could have simply refused to by putting everything back in the folder and sliding it back.

With a soft grumble, the sergeant plucked a pen from a glass pencil cup and clicked the head out. My eyes widened slightly as the ink first engraved on the paper in his name, curling every which way in formal cursive. As slow as time seemed to roll by, watching his name appear on the final line of the form, the process was over in no more than a couple of seconds as indicated by the slapping of his pen against his desk top.

"I will have to send this through to our platoon lieutenant for him to take a gander as soon as he returns from medical leave," he said, sliding the papers back together into a neat pile, tapping them twice against the desk upright before setting them down in the folder. "My approval matters most here. Without mine, he will or will not, either. Your hoof is in the door, Corporal."

He glanced up from his desk to look me dead in the eye. For once, he dropped the scowl he constantly donned. "But you must acknowledge that, should the time call for it, you are to return to this squadron. A change of job does not mean much in terms of your combat capability. It is required of all Lunar Marines, whether in a combat role or not, to deploy in times of emergency should we be called to action."

That wasn't all what I wished to hear. I couldn't say no, though. It was my own will that signed the enlistment papers, and this is something I should expect by now. Sometimes it makes me wish I had gone Navy instead, not that it would be much different bullshit. "I understand, Sergeant."

Hardstaff nodded once, easing down into his office chair. "On the plus side to all of this, Officer School will help you further getting into METOC. It will be about nine months of classes at the Meteorology and Oceanography primary school in Canterlot. Better yet, a branch of OS, albeit small, is situated there, too. You will be killing two birds with one stone."

"Yeah, but, how much of a workload will that be?" I queried, cocking my head a little to the side. "It will be two conflicting schedules from what I understand, Sergeant."

He gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Debatable. But of course, they have informed me that they are willing to be flexible to you as a bit of recompense for your poor first impression of the school. It may still leave you without much free time, but, admittedly, it is preferable to having to divide your time to two separate entities."

That did offer a bit of relief to ease my nerves. I gave a single nod of acknowledgement. "Yes, sir. That sounds wonderful."

The sergeant nodded back. "You, Corporal, have made out quite an interesting career in just thirteen months if we count basic. Shit, you keep it up, it might be you behind this desk or one of your own not very long from now. At this rate you will be a commissioned officer within another year with one hell of a story to tell your future subordinates."

A mix of emotions permeated my soul. Between a giddy feeling of being my own stallion and the twisting of my stomach knowing it would be me giving orders rather than taking them, I didn't know truly how to feel about that. "Perhaps my story would be best kept between acquaintances that already know, Sergeant." What the hell did I mean?

Hardstaff stared in mild bewilderment. "Speaking of, I have noticed a select few recognize your actions up there that day. Why is that?"

I gave a small shrug of my shoulders. "Don't need the fame following me. Besides, it wasn't just me, so boasting would be completely unwarranted either way."

The dark blue pegasus snorted. "Unwarranted, my ass! If it were up to me, I would put you up for one of the highest honors, colt! Going above and beyond the call of duty, literally." He glared, albeit in a stern manner and less furious. "You saved Manehattan from further destruction. You put an end to Armet Mace's heinous acts of terrorism. And you did it with only one other pony by your side."

"I am humbled, but I would not have had Captain Shadow not volunteered to go up there first, Sergeant. It was not my idea to begin with. Give credit where it is due, please," I responded respectfully, stiffening my posture.

The sergeant relaxed into his chair, groaning out a deep sigh and rubbing his hoof over his eyes. "You are a hero, whether or not you agree, with or without public knowledge. But if that is what you desire, I must respect it."

I nodded firmly. "Thank you, Sergeant."

He flicked a brief glance at me before leaning forward, shifting his attention and reverting the topic back to my request.

"Just be aware that me approving this to send off for a secondary approval does not mean you are going anywhere just yet. We still need all hooves pitching in on recovery until we know for sure when operations can revert to some level of normal."

"Normal? What is normal anymore?" I joked, chuckling afterwards. It managed to bring a curt laugh out of the pegasus sergeant to my surprise.

"You know, it's hard not to agree with you there," he smirked. "Now, do you have anything else to declare, Corporal?"

I thought hard for a moment. Anything that should have been said was irrelevant in the moment or was stuff meant for one of my buddies to hear instead. "No, Sergeant. That is all."

"Then you are dismissed," he affirmed, closing the folder and swiveling his chair to file it in one of his metal cabinets surrounding the only window in the office. "Have yourself a pleasant day, Corporal."

***

Even after two weeks, the wreckage of Vengeance continued to smolder along the riverbanks, where most of the debris washed up. While radiation from the twin cores that powered the massive ship posed no threat to life in the area, ponies were advised to avoid coming in contact with any pieces they may stumble across on their return into the city.

Something else intriguing that was brought to my attention was the fact that both quakes respectively and temporarily shifted our planet's axis two inches due north, and the tectonic plate much of the Equestrian continent rests on had been shoved west by four feet.

As it turns out, the pulse device Armet used to trigger the first tremor when it exploded and caused the second had also given birth to a massive vent where the fault split in two. Combined with the thermonuclear detonation upon the machine's instruction, the jettisoned steam from ice-cold seawater rushing into the mile-deep fissure meeting a layer of magma triggered that massive tidal wave that could have wiped us all off the map.

Changes were noticeable back home, too, and I am not talking about the devastation and loss of life. Water flow patterns had been reshaped; most creeks in the region feeding into the Manehattan River or the ocean now streamed in the opposite direction. Adaptable alterations to the ecological system at most, and unforgettable ones at that. Everything about our lives—ponies and creatures alike—have now changed forever.

Unable to get back home due to most transportation services being still out of commission, Ray was forced to spend his days at the massive relief camp set up on Joint Base Manehattan; not that I was complaining in the slightest. In my free time, it presented the opportunity to spend more of it with him in person, without the loneliness of sitting behind a computer screen to interact with one another. This was one of the few good things to come out of this entire fiasco.

One evening, after completing my duties for the day, I gathered the golden pegasus to head up to the flight deck of the Eclipse. Guarded as it always was to prevent unsolicited civilians from sneaking on board, getting inside was not particularly tough, giving the sentries my word that Ray was with me.

Granted, still being an active vessel in the fleet, it was made clear that no tours were to be given apart from what might be seen along the jaunt to the upper levels.

I led him up the stairwell in the island to the hatch that led out to the flight deck, twisting the lever to unlock and opening it for him. Ray smiled warmly, giving a nod of thanks and trotting through, where the sight cradled him with awe.

The eight o'clock sunset lit up the sky in an aurora of oranges, yellows, and pinks that glistened off what skyline and windows remained of the city. In spite of the haunting reminder of what transpired here, the view served as a beautiful reminder of how precious life was and left a lingering sense of consolation that we were still here to witness it.

I strolled up to the pegasus' side, a gentle smile creeping across my muzzle as I watched his head slowly turn from one way to the other with twinkling, awestruck emerald cores. He turned to me, giving my cheek a little nuzzle, one I happily returned with a contented sigh.

"Ray, we've only spent a little bit of time together, but I cherish it all the same. You were there when I needed somepony the most, and I appreciate that with all that's left of my soul and sanity."

A faint blush appeared on his cheeks, the light pink a stark contrast to his golden coat. "You are an amazing stallion, Star. That first night we hung out at your apartment, when I noticed you beginning to have a panic attack, I was worried my solution might weird you out. I'm happy to know that it rather sparked something inside you towards me. I think I lucked out."

I chuckled softly at that. "You helped me figure out who I am. I'm grateful for that." I reached over to touch my hoof against his. "I want to spend more time with you. No, I want to spend my life with you. I love you."

Ray's blush adorably grew deeper in shade. "I love you, too, Star."

Leaning into one another, I pecked his lips as he did in simultaneous return. The feathers on my wings fluffed slightly, and a small chill ran up my spine; one of good meaning.

Together, we stood on the center of the flight deck in silence, leaning our bodies into one another. If I didn't know it before, this is what love felt like, and it was the greatest feelings in the world.

My ear swiveled, catching on to the collective clicks of hooves on the asphalt deck surface approaching from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to see Anchorage, Ashfall, and Silver Edge strolling side by side toward the two of us, right on time as I had requested.

I turned myself to face the three directly, as did Ray, keeping a little bit behind me as I stepped forth. "Hey, guys. Glad you could come."

Silver tipped his chin in a nod. "Of course. I'm just still a little surprised they let us up here right now."

I nodded in agreement with a grin. "Right? How lucky are we?"

The four of us chuckled. Ray continued to linger back a couple feet behind me, nervous somewhat but holding it together. He did it better than me, that's for damn sure.

"So, who is this, Star? He seems special to you," asked Anchorage with a curious smile.

At that moment, I felt myself lock up. But then, a soft touch came to my hoof. I glanced slowly over my shoulder, gaze drifting to those beautiful emerald cores, and the kindest smile you can possibly conceive.

With him at my side, I drew in a deep breath to clear my mind and ease off the tension throughout my body. When all inhibition vanished, I looked forward to my friends, coworkers, and battle buddies in general with confidence in myself.

"Guys, I would like to formally introduce you to Ray Blitz. He is my coltfriend."

---

SEMPER FIDELIS - ALWAYS FAITHFUL

Author's Note:

And there it is, the conclusion of Eye of the Storm. It's been a long and frustrating road, and I could not be more pleased with myself for finishing it at last. Not exactly an epic ending and does bounce around quite a bit, but there were some loose ends in need of tying up.

Star Shooter will return in Millennia: Starfall...

Comments

[Skyfire Storm]

A great conclusion to a very well-written and hugely engrossing story. I, for one, really loved it and can’t wait to see more of Star Shooter’s adventures in Starfall.