Hard Landing
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Oh, sweet Celestia above this was pure paydirt. Greasy -did- say that there was another project she and her sister were working on along with the cruise missiles - which, I unfortunately only found out after pushing the external launch button could carry passengers... thanks, dad - and as I took to hovering up in the semi-submerged hangar, there wasn't much doubt in guessing this was it. That is one sexy jet...
Static slowly approached it as I wore a stupid grin, hovering around the large craft, looking at that sexy pair of forward-facing cannons and intakes for the hydrogen turbines. Peering inside through the cockpit glass, a pair of seats and a small door at the back caught my attention, along with the access hatch in the floor. Giddly landing beside the sharp forward nose of the craft, Static pulled one of the rolled-up papers from his saddlebags, unfurling it with a crumple as I ran a hoof along the right cheek of the craft.
"R&G Manufacturing, external structural diagrams for the experimental bomber/attacker mark one, codenamed 'Valkyrie'... well, goddesses above, this thing's supposed to be more heavily-armed than the Vertibucks could ever be! Proposed maximum speed of 1500 kilometers per hour, four tesla cannons in two defensive turrets that can be set for offensive purposes, two MWT 40mm machine cannons located either side of the cockpit, five-thousand kilo payload capacity..." Reading off from the blueprints, Static continued intermittently staring up at the craft, myself finally finding the little access panel that held the release for the hatch door. Smirking, a hoof reached in and gave the lever a tug, the small door swinging open with a hiss of pressure and producing a short ladder. From the sudden ruffle of paper, sounded like that earth pony finally noticed, his silver mane bouncing as he readjusted his saddlebags, my forehooves already grabbing the rungs.
"Well, we gotta get this thing back to EQUAD one way or another. I call pilot seat!" Wearing a grin, the sensation of my tails being hastily grabbed in a pony's mouth and tugging me off of the ladder caught me offguard, sending myself tumbling to the concrete floor. Letting off a grunt of pain and giving my wings a flap - good, not broken - I sat myself up, Static passing on a stern look. You learned that from Fringe, didn't you? "Hey, I'm serious, I'll take us back there! I'm mostly confident I can land this thing without plowing it into the ground."
"Aheh, yeah, not happening. You got us into this mess, again, and I'm getting us out, capiche? Besides, who's the one who actually paid for flight training?" Responding with a pout and sticking my tongue out at him in response, I got myself back to my hooves, Static disappearing up the small hatch. Adjusting my duffle bag of stuff, I followed suit, finally getting a good look inside. Well, might not be as spacious as the TOG, but at least it's better than a broom closet. Static had sat himself down in the forward seat, hooves pressed against the floor pedals and wrapped around the control stick, lookng over the array of buttons and dials. Setting my duffel bag down against the back access hatch, and closing the entrance door, a smirk formed on my muzzle.
"Okay, okay, so take us off, then. I'm -so sure- that an earth pony can fly anything better than a pegasus can." Giving an eyeroll to him, Static responded with one of his own, shaking his head. After a few more moments of sitting there looking over stuff, he finally found... the instruction manual. Oh, for pony's sake... I slumped back against the side of the cockpit, looking up through the thick canopy and up at the concave ceiling, and the seemingly solid wall ahead of us. How the hell were we supposed to get this thing out of here, anyways?
"Ah... okay... I think I've got it. Just gotta switch these on, twiddle this thing, push this button and... pray." Oh, and he's the one worrying about -me- killing us... giving my head a shake, he started to go through the process, flicking four switches on a side control panel and pushing the throttle lever forwards a notch, a worried glance being passed my way as he paused. He let off a sigh, eyes moving back to the control panel and a hoof moving to a button hidden behind a safety panel. "Well... here goes..."
The button clicked, and a low hum filled the air behind the cockpit, a low note slowly building up to a high-pitched whine as, assumedly, the engines spooled to full power. Blinking at the sudden noise, Static wore a grin as he stared back up at myself, leaning back in the pilot's seat. "See? Told you I got it. Now, where's the vertical mode at..." Searching around the cockpit for another moment, his hooves grasped the control shaft, looking down at it. As he squeezed the lever situated upon it - and the forward autocannons discharged a pair of WPHE shells into the wall due to the motion - he jumped in the chair, myself lifting a hoof and holding it against my forehead. As the frightened earth pony recovered himself, he shakily and carefully stood up out of the chair, readjusting his saddlebags with a trembling hoof. "Y-yanno, I think you might be more quaified than I am for this, being a pegasus and all."
"Gimmie that..." Letting off a small sigh and shake of the head, I sat myself down at the controls, looking over the array of switches, dials, levers and buttons. Throttle, landing gear, landing gear brake, landing gear lights, flap settings... must do something, I guess. Airbrakes, now those could be useful. Red handle on the control stick fires the forward cannons, pedals move counter to one another, must be for the big tall surface in back. They're called rudders on ships, aren't they? Okay, back to controls; LVL/VTOL toggle switch, huh, so this thing might be able to hover after all. And... autopilot, okay, there's something. Main electronics stuff looks like it's working fine, flicking the switch for the HUD a few times makes the cockpit glass light up with info, okay. 'Automatic Takeoff'... oh, Static's going to be pissed he didn't see this earlier~ "Buckle up, we're lifting off. God, I love pre-war technology~"
Flicking the switch and pulling the straps around, hooking them in, the bright light of day shone through as the ceiling began to part, both Static and myself staring up at it. Right, we get this thing up out of this hole, and I can take us straight back to EQUAD, easy-peasy. The indicator on the screen showed that we were now in VTOL mode, the engines of the Valkyrie whining up to speed and the hangar floor slowly moving away from us. I rested back in the seat, heart thumping from the excitement - oooh, this thing is gonna go -so- fast~ Static stuttered in the back seat, hitting a hoof against the equipment separating us from each other, getting my attention. "U-uh, Ni-Night Strike? You don't happen to be using the, uh, the automatic takeoff routine, are you?"
"Hey, we wanted to take off, and if the thing can do it for us than all the better, right?" Looking behind, I was met with the shrunken-eyed face of the earth pony, his normally blue coat seeming quite whiter in comparison. It's like he was hoping I'd try to take this thing off manually... The Valkyrie crested the edge of the hangar, and we suddenly began tilting backwards, the nose pointing up to the sky. Data scrolled across the windshield at an insane pace before stopping, replaced by the word 'SCRAMBLE' in big, flashing lettering. Okay, starting to realize why he was so worried. "Static?... W-what exactly is the automatic takeoff routine set for this thing?"
"W-well, uh... we'll keep elevating until we reach forty degrees, and then, uh..." The engines whirred up to full blast, myself really wishing I had that diaper on now, hooves hooked white-knuckle on the edge of the seat. Oh, this is not going to be fun at all, is it? There was a sudden burst of acceleration that pinned me against the seat cushion, myself gasping mainly from the shock, before everything slowly started to get fuzzier, the cloud cover drawing near faster than I could've ever thought possible. Eventually, it all faded to black, and it wasn't long before sweet, gentle unconsciousness graced myself, strapped inside a hydrogen-fueled aircraft going Celestia knows how fast to who the fuck knows where.
Nice going, Strikey.
---
Security robots patrolled the halls back at the half-destroyed airbase, a chill winter wind blowing snow in through the wide-open hangar doors. A lone robot halted before the opened doorway of the Valkyrie project development room, scanning the door for a moment before roceeding further inwards, now on alert for an intruder. It reached the end of the hallway, the door entrance to the hangar opening to accomidate it's presence, taking a few thumping heavy hoofsteps inside the vacant, cavernous space, before performing another scan. Subroutines that had been installed in it's maneframe that had laid dormant for two centuries were suddenly coming to life, a signal being broadcast out to the rest of the airbase, as the security robot stood in the vacant hangar.
Shielded radio systems picked up the signal, activating the long-dormant base alarm systems, a salvo of sirens breaking the calm wasteland air as the base's in-built security systems turned on, some fizzling and exploding from centuries of sitting unused as the electricity surged through them once more. From the base command center, another, encrypted signal was broadcasted, this one being recieved by decryption machines at the Equestrian Aerospace Defense center some kilometers south. There, the machines all flickered with warnings, the big board illuminating the Elder's office and drawing the attention of several rangers, displaying a map of the Trotisk-Mooscow area, a large, red trefoil blinking over the icon that was at one point the Sunrise Castle Air Base. Along the top of the big board, in ominous, red letters, a single warning was layed out;
PINNACLE - EMPTY QUIVER
---
Back home again - it was my birthday. With a wide smile I threw the heavy covers off, immediately regretting doing so as the icy chill of the wasteland hit me like a 40mm slug going through a hellhound. Sliding the old jacket on, and making way to the door, odd sounds came from the other side - mechanical humming, intermittent hisses of steam, hooves trotting along a long metal corridor. Timidly, I approached, and much to my shock as the door swung open wide, a soft blue, older mare stood in a Stable's hallway. Her lime-green mane hung thinning and held in a band by the side of her head, eyes passing along a look of surprise, soon replaced by a soft smile.
"My, my Twinnie had such a beautiful filly... well, young mare would be a more proper term. You look so much like your father, you know." The older unicorn approached, a stable jacket and pip-buck worn on herself, the number 34 embroidered on the collar. I took a tenative step backwards, the strange mare stopping, letting off a faint chuckle. "Oh, where are my manners, been years since I've seen a new face... I'm Gamma Ray. I used to look after your father, take care of him, ever since he was a little foal." Well, that revelation certainly brought me to a stop. I stood, staring at the unicorn in faint disbelief for a moment longer, it eventually occuring to me to lift my hoof and take ahold of hers, her foreleg giving a shake. The soft smile on her muzzle changed to a frown as a beeping began filling my ears, along with distant screaming. "Oh dear, that doesn't sound good at all... I'll be on my way. You're a strong mare, hopefully we won't be meeting again soon. Don't go climbing into fridges like your father, please." Finishing with a faint chuckle, the door slammed shut in front of me, and my eyes finally broke open to the blurry sight of the Valkyrie's cockpit, ears picking up Static screaming frantically behind me.
"MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP, OH CELESTIA ABOVE PLEASE MAKE IT STO-O-OP!!" Oh, if only I were able to unhook myself from this chair mid-flight... he did have a point, though. Oh, fuck me with a balefire missile, how long was I out for? How long were -we- out for? And where the fuck is the ground!? Hang on Night Strike, calm down, having a heart attack right now would not help our situation in the slightest. Neither is Static's screaming helping me try to not freak out, but that's beside the point. "I DON'T WANNA DIE! CELESTIA AND LUNA ABOVE, I DO NOT WANT TO DIE HERE!!"
"SHUT UP!! Kind of trying to keep us from becoming pancaked!" The earth pony sitting behind me let off a short startled scream, myself taking a deep breath and looking to the controls. Okay, come on, you can do this... maybe... left hoof on the throttle, right on the stick, back control the pedals. Gauges, right, we're going extremely fast south right now, so let's try and fix that, first and foremost. The throttle pulled back, lights on the canopy displaying the autopilot shutting off, myself taking a firmer grasp on the control shaft as the plane began to pitch upwards. C'mon baby, drop that speed... airbrakes, of course! Searching the control panel for just a moment, I finally found the button for them, giving it a whack and promptly being pushed against the straps as we began decelerating - and fast! Oooh, red, blood rushing to my head isn't fun...
The aircraft finally decided to begin pitching down, nose punching through the cloud layer as I tried my damndest to see what was ahead. As we finally broke through, well... the phrase 'zero visibility' comes to mind. Okay, what gauges on this thing tell us how close we are to being a firey wreck on the permmafrost? If we are over permafrost... okay, so that gauge-thingy seems to be showing a dropping number while the speed-thingy is holding steady, guess that's how fast we're falling. Very fast, by the looks of it. Great. I yanked the stick back hard as I could manage, my head starting to feel woozy and vision going black again - passing out now would not be good!
"The fuck is that!?" A ball on the control panel seemed to line up level with another line, the altitude slowing down in it's spin, the ground... still completely unable to be seen. Though, there was something flashing off in the distance, so maybe we were close. As I let the stick move forwards slightly, the nose of the Valkyrie pitching down, a sudden shudder ran through the craft before we jolted hard, my head banging against the metal panel in front of myself, everything going dark again. Fan-fucking-me-with-a-fuel-rod-tastic.
---
"Fuck me, my head..." Slowly making it back to the land of the awake, again, my head felt quite like somepony decided to bludgeon me with a baseball bat... fired from a grenade rifle. At least I was laying down against a soft pillow, in a fairly comfy bed, underneath a warm blanket... wait. Sitting myself up, the lights stung hard in my eyes, a forehoof moving to hold itself against my temple as I tried to adjust. Oh, great, I'm naked... well, at least I've got my legputer still with me. Wish I had Thumper too, that'd be nice, but one step at a time, Strikey. Speaking of that...
"Uh... hello? Any-anyone there? Fuck... Hello?" Sliding off of the bed, my hooves trotted against the hard wood flooring, moving through the room. A bolt of lightning struck outside, myself almost having another heart attack as flashbacks of balefire eggs raced into my head from the sudden bright light. Thunder crackled as I moved over to the doorway, opening it with a creak, a hallway leading to a small dining area on the other side. Slowly I made way down it, glancing out a window as I passed - oh fuck, that's the ocean, isn't it? Where the fuck was I?... where the fuck is Static? "Static Charge? Hello? It's Night Strike, I'm sorry about crashing us... again..."
Finally reaching the end of the hallway, the kitchen area seemed well-lit, myself looking about it before freezing my gaze on a figure sitting at the table against the far wall. Their pink mane hung loosely over a thick, black armored body, the metallic sheen reflecting the lightning strikes and faintly illuminating their grey coat and face for a fraction of a second. A barbed tail hung loosely over the edge of the seat, and metal wing-shaped covers appeared to have ben welded on the back piece. Tenatively, I trotted forth, the floorboards creaking and prompting the figure to take notice, turning to face myself. Oh, what the fuck did I get us into this time...
"Goddesses, you're awake, even after that nasty crash in that flying thing. Could've used somepony like you ten years ago... Private Crash Dive of the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Come, have a seat, I won't bite." The power armored mare gestured to the bench across from her, myself pausing for just a moment before sliding myself in, a flash of lightning and crack of thunder catching my attention out the window. The mare across from me - er, crash Dive, I mean, she let off a small chuckle, watching me readjust myself and sit back. "Heh, jumpy. It's just a little thunderstorm."
"Ah... s-sorry, I'm, uh, we don't get a lot of storms like this where I'm from. Where am I now, exactly?" Waking up in a strange place where the sky sometimes has an uncanny resemblance to balefire explsions, I'm half convinced I died in that crash. The pink-maned mare tapped a panel on her armor a few times, a grimace on her face soon becoming more relaxed, before looking back towards me. "Oh, uh, I'm Night Strike, by the way."
"North of Vanhoover, specifically my humble lighthouse. Good thing your flying... thing landed close to the outer wall, the field always gets muddy this time of year before it freezes over. You hungry?" Leaning back in the chair, I let this information sink in for a little bit, turning and staring out of the window at the angry ocean. Vanhoover... where the fuck was Vanhoover? Well, I mean, it's here, obviously, but where was here? And how the hell am I going to get back home? A sizzling sound came up from the small stove where Crash Dive had moved to, the salty smell of fish being cooked up meeting my nose. "So, where are you from, anyways? Someplace by Stalliongrad, the Crystal Empire area, maybe?"
"Uh... no, no, further north than that. I'm from this town up by Trotisk, called Turnpike, and Static's from Mooscow... oh, fuck me with a fuel rod, where's Static?!" Crash Dive stared at me for a moment, blinking, a metal spatula held in her mouth. She flipped one of the fish over in the pan, before setting the spatula down and rubbing her mouth.
"If Static is that... earth pony, you were in that flying thing with, he's in the closet down the hall, along with all your stuff. Lucky I was able to find some steel cable to tie him up with, those restraints on that flying thing weren't the best for keeping a prisoner held, yanno." Deciding to ask her about that remark later, I hastily slid myself out of the booth, making way back over to the hallway as Crash Dive returned to cooking the fish. Closet in the hallway, alright... well, least the door's not locked. Opening it, I was granted with a muffled remark of pain as it stopped short against something dense in the way, eyes focusing on the four cable-bound hooves of Static before realizing just what that dense thing I hit was.
"Mmfhm... Nifh Frife?" Giving a sympathy grimace, my hooves took to undoing the knot, Static letting his hooves fall to either side of him as he released a muffled sigh of relief. After a moment, he tugged the rag gag out of his mouth, spitting and rubbing his tongue off while I picked up my jacket and duffle bag, sliding the former on and tossing the latter across my back. Static looked first to myself, then to the rest of the room, taking a few steps back. "Okay, waking up bound and gagged in a storage closet after surviving another crash of your doing, great. How far do we have to walk to get back to EQUAD?" Answering him with a blink and open jaw, an empty chuckle escaped myself, the earth pony geting on his saddlebags and picking up his umbrella.
"W-well, um... yeah, I fucked up big time, this time. Hope you paid attention in geography more than I did... we're in Vanhoover." Yeah, a dumbfounded, silent stare is pretty much the appropriate reaction. Stepping out into the hallway, the smell of cooking fish met our nostrils quite readily, Static's stomach letting off a loud rumble in response. I let off a weak chuckle, heading towards the kitchen. "Hey, Crash Dive? Think you could put another one of those on to cook?"
"Hmmh..." The power armored mare shot Static a glare, looking back to the stove and putting another strip in the pan. Static made his way over to the table, sliding in on the nearest side, myself following suit. Setting the duffle bag down, I turned attention to the legputer, scrolling through the menus. Okay, let's see the world map... and I can't recognize a goddess-damned thing from it. Brilliant. Stuck who knows how far from home with a wrecked aircraft, and taken in by a member of the GPE... yeah, this day couldn't get much worse if it tried.
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I moaned, my mind still swimming as I came to, my muscles aching and head pounding with each beat of my heart. Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick… I tried to put a hoof up to my head, only to find that I couldn’t move my legs. As my mind became a little more clear, I realized that my mouth too had something stuffed into it, some kind of cloth. Shit, what did Strike get us into now? I couldn’t see anything except for the very faint line of light that ran across the floor and up the wall in front of me. I struggled against the binds, but only succeeded in managing to scrape myself on the slightly rusty cable. I stopped as I heard some voices coming from the other side of the door in front of me.
Suddenly my view grew much brighter, my eyes watering slightly at the rapid change in light level, and letting off a muffled grunt as the door opened against my head. I looked up to see Strike standing in the doorway, grimacing a little. “Mmfhm... Nifh Frife?” I mumbled around the cloth gag. She quickly went to work untying my hooves and helping to get the gag out of my mouth, turning attention to our bags of stuff afterwards. I spit a bit as the cloth fell to the floor. Ew... I don't want to know where that thing's been. “Okay, waking up bound and gagged in a storage closet after surviving another crash of your doing, great. How far do we have to walk to get back to EQUAD?" I said snidely. This had not been a good day.
"W-well, um... yeah, I fucked up big time, this time. Hope you paid attention in geography more than I did... we're in Vanhoover." Strike said as I hitched up my saddlebags and picked up my umbrella. Upon registering what I heard, I stood still, staring at her. You… we're in... what?! She gave an embarrassed chuckle before leading me down the hall, towards a small room.
The kitchen was, admittedly, rather cosily sized - while it didn't have much in the way of counter space, all the necessities were there. A pony in power armor stood at the stove, adjusting the heat as she poured a bit of oil into the pan. I half stumbled over to the table, still reeling a bit from what Strike had said as she slid in beside me. Vanhoover? Fuck, isn’t that further south than Canterlot? Or, was it more southern than the Crystal Empire... some important place that started with the letter C.
I couldn’t even try to fathom how far we’d traveled when a light flashed from outside, followed by a loud, rumbling boom. I jumped in surprise, wondering if a bomb had just hit somewhere. “Oh, calm down, will you? It’s a lightning storm, alright?” The pony at the stove snarled, causing my attention to be drawn to her. I watched as she rather unceremoniously dropped the fish onto a plate, before trotting over to us, skillfully balancing three plates on her back and sliding them onto the table. The one which was placed in front of me was clearly prepared with much less care than the other two.
I sighed internally, but I wasn’t given much of a choice, especially with how hungry I realized I was. “So, would either of you mind explaining what exactly you were doing with some flying machine that landed you here?” The armored pony asked before taking a bite of fish. Strike swallowed as I bit into the slightly raw food.
“Um…” Strike glanced about a little nervously. “We were supposed to be making a… delivery. And I guess we weren’t as good of flyers as we’d first suspected.” She took another bite of food as the pony raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Uh… it survived the crash pretty much intact, right?” The pony chewed for a while longer before answering.
“It’s pretty badly beaten up, the nose was crumpled from the impact and the turbines look like they ingested a lot of mud and... other stuff.” My stomach sank as I heard those words, the idea of being able to return to Mooscow speeding away. Oh, this was really, really, -really- not good. The mare across from us took another bite from her fish, swallowing it down. “But, uh, I did see that aparently the craft has in-built repair talismans. Dunno how long they'd work for, or how extensive their abilities are, but it's better than nothing. Later Vertibucks had similar stuff, I can see about getting those things up and running, if you wouldn't mind helping me out around here.”
I looked over to Night Strike, feeling a little skeptical. “What do you need help with?” I asked, my suspicion obvious. “I’m not exactly feeling all that confident with helping somepony that locked me in her closet for no apparent reason.” The pony’s eyes narrowed as she snorted a bit, her expression growing sour. She and I stared at each other for a moment as Strike gave a nervous laugh.
“Either you agree to help, or I don’t think you’re getting home.” The mare said in an unnervingly calm manner. “Vanhoover’s not exactly crawling with ponies with the technical capabilities to restore that thing, let alone willing to fix it. A lot of ponies would just love to get their hooves on something that valuable.” I grumbled to myself, looking down at the table. "Not to mention, who crashed that into whose front yard?"
Strike spoke up. “Yes, fine. We just need to get out of here and get back home.” The mare grew a little more cheerful as she pushed herself away from the table and grabbed our empty plates. She tossed them into a sink, turning on the water and beginning to let them soak. “What do you need?”
“Well, uh... oh, right, when you landed you managed to really tear up the minefield I have set up outside. It's just to discourage scavengers, nopony comes around here but you can't be too safe. There's a weapons company down south, outside Vanhoover.” She trotted over to Strike, grabbing her Pip-Buck and marking a location on her map. “No real rush, I’ll shuffle some of the older ones I have around in the meantime. Still, all things considered it’s probably the best place you two could've landed, anywhere else and you’d have brained yourselves on the rocks or drowned in the north sea.” Ooh, this place sounds so inviting. The mare glanced out of the window, Night Strike looking along with her as another rumble shook the small house. “Storm’s pretty far away already, you should be fine heading out now. I’d get back here quick if there’s another one coming, though. The outcrop’s five feet underwater whenever one hits.”
I followed Strike over to a room where her stuff had been stashed by a comfy-looking bed. “Hmh, well, you certainly got the deluxe treatment.” Night Strike glared at me, clearly getting sick of my attitude. “Sorry.” I mumbled, my ears flopping down. She slipped on her jacket and scooped up her duffel bag, only to pause. Opening up the bag, her face immediately turned pale as my mane. “What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping up to her.
“Oh shit, Thumper’s not in here!” Strike said as she started to frantically look around the room, pulling open drawers and glancing under the bed. “Oh, dad’s going to be -so- pissed if I lost it!” She ran back to kitchen. “Crash Dive, you didn’t find a grenade rifle on us when you dragged us out of the crash, did you?” The power-armored mare - so, her name's Crash Dive - shook her head.
“Nope, but it looked like a pretty hard landing, I just got what I thought you two needed. It might still be inside, that bag was open when I pulled it out.” Strike nodded, taking a deep breath to try to calm down. She muttered a quick ‘thanks’ before trotting towards a large metal door on the opposite side of the kitchen. It swung open, banging against the wall to reveal a short set of stairs heading down, and a much larger one spiraling upwards.
We trotted down the steps and opened another thicker stone door, both of us blinking as we were met by the rising sun. I carefully walked down the last few steps, my hooves meeting something damp and soft. I glanced down to see my hooves sinking slightly into short vegitation - grass? - left quite wet from the passing storm. I paused for a moment, looking around at the landscape.
It was certainly far more verdant than the bitter snow of the Northern Equestrian Wasteland, small fields of grass blowing in the wind on the edge of the rocky cliffs. I stared upwards at the building we’d just exited, discovering it to be a tall lighthouse, the brick walls cracked and the top glass shattered. Celestia, this is almost as if the Megaspells didn’t hit at all…
I began to trot slowly across the outcropping the lighthouse was on, Strike following me in equal stunned silence. The ocean lapped against the stony walls of the land bridge as I slowly came back to my senses, turning to Strike. “So, uh… where are we headed, exactly?” She snapped out of her stupor, glancing down at her Pip-Buck.
“Vanhoover’s a ways south of here, just have to make our way along the coast and we should hit it. Hopefully the bridges to it are still intact…” She said, trotting in front of me and beginning to lead the way. “Well, after we check the crash site for Thumper, at least.” As we climbed up the slowly sloping hill to the cliffs, I noticed a barrier of various metal parts stretching a ways on both sides of the path, much like the makeshift barrier around Mooscow. Once we reached the top of the path, Strike let out a squeak of surprise and ran ahead.
I followed her as she made her way to the crashed plane, myself looking back at the long gouge in the dirt that it'd made. Jeez, we actually survived that? Sheesh... the nose was buried in the mud, Night Strike working some of the dirt out of the barrels of the forward cannons. The cockpit’s glass was, actually, surprisingly inact, and the wings looked thoroughly scraped and banged up, but not really worse for wear. Strike trotted up to the cockpit door, opening it with a little grunt as it pushed against the grass and dirt.
Filing in through the small doorway, the actual interior of the cockpit seemed quite intact, nothing on the panels being visibly broken, and the only visible damage being a dent in the top of one panel that suspiciously resembled somepony's forehead. The door at the back was jarred open from the impact, and Night Strike rushed forward upon spotting Thumper lying on the ground further inside, having apparently slid through. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” As she kissed the grenade rifle, I followed in with her and glanced around the small area, not remembering going through it back at Sunrise Castle.
Hanging from the walls, there were four large metal oblong spheres, each emblazoned with a large faded warning symbol and sporting boxy parts made of flat metal at their back ends. My heart stopped for a moment when I recognized the symbol as being the one for powerful magic. Almost against my will, my eyes fell below the symbol to read the text written in small letters; Tactical Self-Contained Megapsell, 500 tons TNT equivalent yield. Highly dangerous, handle with extreme caution! “N-Ni-Night Strike…?” I stuttered, stepping back from the bombs hanging from the walls.
Night Strike looked over to me, still holding Thumper close to her chest. She followed my gaze, her eyes going wide as she spotted the two large pieces of explosive ordinance hanging from the wall, myself catching another two hung from the opposite side. She stepped up beside myself, gaze focused in on the one I had been staring at. “Holy shit, we struck such a fucking gold mine here! Thank Luna these didn’t go off when we crashed... Whoo, dad is gonna be so pissed he missed these the last time he was there.” She said, running a hoof along the smooth metallic surface. She slung Thumper over her back as I gulped. Yeah, standing next to these things without knowing how beaten up they are, isn’t exactly comforting. “You don’t think we could actually get one of these things out through the cockpit and test it, do you?”
“I’d rather not.” I squeaked simply. Four undetonated megaspells? My mind was already racing through various ideas from dropping the bombs into the ocean to selling them to the highest bidder - Dangit, brain, the caps aren’t worth that! Strike headed towards the door, slipping out of the plane as I followed suit. “Um, do you think we should just be leaving this here, though?”
“Uh…” Strike turned around, staring at the machine. “I… don’t really think we can do much. I mean, didn’t sound like Crash Dive gets many visitors, at least. Too bad Twintails isn’t here, I’m pretty sure he’d fix this thing overnight if it meant getting to drop four megapsells.” I shrugged weakly, as she pushed the door back into place, wiping a bit of mud from the body of the craft. “We better just make sure we have this thing fixed up as quickly as possible, I suppose.” She began to hover up along the coastline, winding her way through the various barricades set up by Crash.
I glanced over my shoulder at the crashed plane, still a little worried. As we followed the coastline, we approached a large body of water, several tall twisted trees sitting at the edge. I walked a little closer, curious. The water was extremely dark, the occasional bubble that floated to the surface giving off the impression that the liquid was more slime than actual water. One particularly large bubble rose to the surface, its surface shimmered a little before bursting, releasing a cloud of noxious gas.
Strike gave a groan of disgust, looking around at the collection of trash that had been tossed into the large body of water. As we watched, I heard a low rumble from the center of the body of water. The water began to churn as the rumble grew louder, now clearly the sound of rushing water. “Oh crap,” I said. Strike and I took several steps backwards as the rumble grew even louder. Suddenly part of the land to the left of us gave way, dirt, trees, and garbage all flowing towards the center of the lake. We watched in awe as everything sank below the surface, the swampy muck soon swallowing up even the tops of the trees before the water began to slow its churning. The water flowed back towards the edges slowly before growing silent.
“Well, good to know that the ground could just eat us whole anytime.” Strike rolled her eyes, but still looked a little shaken before she began to head back around the sinkhole along the coast, giving it a bit of a wider berth than she had before. We continued on our way, myself checking my Pip-Buck to see how much further we had to go. “Are you sure we’re going to make it? It looks more than a day’s hike.” I said, trying my best to gauge the distance on my small map.
Strike shrugged. “Well, it’s faster than taking the road. That loops pretty far inland before heading down.” As we made our way through the swampy land, though, I could hear a faint buzzing from off in the distance. I pulled my umbrella out, feeling a little uneasy as the buzzing grew louder. Strike was glancing around as well, drawing Thumper and having it at the ready - oh, don't let this be another deal like Trotisk. Suddenly, several large figures flew in from a thick grove, revealing themselves to be what looked like enormous bloat sprites. However, instead of lazily buzzing back and forth, the large creatures were zig zagging their way towards us, showing off large stingers that hung from a bloated abdomen, festering with pustules.
I screamed and ducked behind Strike, who fired off a grenade, which the things easily dodged. Oh, fuck, can’t I have a few hours where I’m not fearing for my life?! I swung wildly as one approached, managing to beat it back a bit. However, each hit only further proved how durable their carapace was. The thing buzzed angrily, striking out with its stinger. I felt the large needle connect and jab into my foreleg, a burning pain quickly coursing through my veins. I stumbled backwards, still jabbing at the animal. I managed to land the needles into its large eyes, the beast twitching violently before falling to the ground, dead.
I turned to face Strike, my vision starting to blur a bit as the venom made its way through me. Fuck, fuck, ow, fuck. Strike fired Thumper off again, one of the... things tumbling out of the air, thoroughly shredded by that flaming ammo-stuff, and into a pool of muck, it's wings made useless as it began to sink. As I almost drunkenly made my way over to Strike, two more of the things zipped towards us, and I heard a small explosion off to the side. A large metal spear whizzed through the air, impaling one of the beasts and pinning it to a tree.
Both Strike and I looked over for the source of the spear, only to see Crash Dive brandishing a large cannon on her back, another spear loading into it from a metal box on the side. The final sprite turned to face her, buzzing angrily as it flicked its stinger threateningly. The moment it began to zip along the ground, though, Crash let the spear fly, striking the beast squarely in the head. The force of the bar driving through the thing's body sent it skidding backwards, giving off a squeak of pain before rolling over, its legs curling up over it.
Crash Dive ran up to us, my vision making it almost impossible to see what exactly was happening. “Why the hell would you just go walking through the swamps?! Do you not have common sense up in Turnpike!?” I staggered forward a little, Crash looking over to me. “Oh, shit, one of them got you? Uh, here.” She dug around in her armored sadlebags, before shoving a small bottle into my hooves. They shook as I pulled the bottle up to my lips, weakly pulling the cork out before drinking down the liquid.
The bitter drink burned a bit as it flowed through me, and it didn’t take long for me to drop the bottle and vomit onto the muck that made up the ground. As I vomited a second time, though, my vision began to clear, my head feeling less woozy. My legs shook more manageably as I stood straight, trying not to throw up again. “Stop trying to hold it in, you bloody surface-dweller. That’s the whole point of the antivenom.” The power-armored mare said apathetically. I promptly tilted my head forwards and puked again.
I shook my head as I wiped the dregs of stomach acid from my mouth, still feeling ill, but no longer in intense pain. I coughed a bit as Crash turned to Night Strike. “Come on, we’re heading back. You need to get your wounds treated, and no way in tartarus you’re going to make it through the rest of the swamp.” She turned and began to trot back the way we came, Strike and I following, our hearts still in our throats from the attack.
“Welcome to Vanhoover."
-----
"You found WHAT on that thing!?" After heading back to Crash Dive's home for Static's sake, the day had already pulled along on to evening, the sunset illuminating the botoms of the clouds out at sea a brilliant orange hue. As for the power-armored pegasus with welded-down wing covers, she seemed to have taken on a hue of white - well, we had to tell her about the payload on the Valkyrie sooner or later. With Static resting in the guest bedroom, that just left me to handle Crash Dive... really, the way she was acting, you'd think we could die at any moment just because they're sitting out there.
"Four self-contained tactical megaspell warheads, 500 tons TNT equivalent each. They survived the crash pretty intact from the looks of it." Taking an idle sip from one of the few bottles of Sparkle-Cola in my duffel bag, I sat back in the small dining booth, looking out the window. Crash Dive, likewise, was staring out up at the cliff face and crash field, a certain look of terror on her face. Sheesh, it's only tactical megaspell warheads, and they're not even that big! Might level a city block, but not much else... "Trust me, I know a bit about bombs thanks to my dad, those things only activate their fail-deadly circuits if they're armed, and they'll only armed if they're dropped out of the aircraft. Considering the bomb bay doors are buried under mud right now, that's not happening."
Moving to take another sip from my bottle, the few furnishings on the table clattered loudly as a heavy, power-armored hoof slammed down upon it, the pink-maned mare glaring at myself with a certain look in her eye that seemed to convey the message that she really wanted to tear me limb from limb. Swallowing down the glowing soda - oofh, that was rougher than usual - I scooted myself further down the bench, Crash Dive following me with her eyes for a moment before letting off a sigh, turning and trotting back to the kitchen's counters.
"Next time you go out - and you both ARE going out - I'm coming with you. If I see a mushroom cloud pop up anywhere near this place while we're out..." She paused for a moment, drawing in a breath and releasing it through gritted teeth. Okay, yeah, that's a Twintails-certified code brown furious glare. "Let's just say, the fact that your fancy flying machine's vaporized in the blast will be the least of your issues. Understood?" Dryly swallowing, I answered her with a nod, the angry mare moving herself over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of Wild Pegasus whiskey. Undoing the cork, she looked down at the bottle for a moment, letting off a sigh before turning and shutting the door. Her armored hooves creaked the floorboards as she lifted herself up and into the booth across from myself, still just looking down into the bottle.
Timidly taking a sip of my own Sparkle-Cola, Crash Dive set the bottle down on the table between us both, leaning forwards and looking at it intently. "You know, I've lived here for a decade all my own, haven't realized just how close this whiskey resembles the clouds at sunset. Funny how drinks can look like other stuff, isn't it?" The power-armored mare across from myself looked up at me, myself answering her with a faint nod. Huh, it does look like the sky, kinda... A whole decade, all alone...
"Yeah. Heh, my dad Twintails' said that Sparkle-Cola RAD reminds him of the reactor pool back in his Stable. Who'dve thought that radioactive rocks could be used to boil water? Or glow blue, for that matter?" Letting off a light chuckle, Crash Dive's expression softened into a faint smile, still looking at the botle of whiskey. A faint wispy cloud came out of it, water droplets forming on the outside - well, that's different. I took another sip of the cool blue soda, swallowing twice to get the flavor down, the pegasus across from me leaning herself back and looking at myself.
"Your dad, it sounds like he got around a lot, for a surface-dweller. Megaspell expert, fancy weird reactor watcher... what is he? And your mom, what's she?" Blinking a few times, I finished the sip of Sparkle-Cola I had in my mouth, setting the bottle down and giving Crash Dive a confused stare. Oh, right, most foals have a mommy and daddy, not two daddies... ah, screw convention. "I-I mean, if it's not a touchy subject. I didn't think there were any surface-dwellers with pegasus genes."
"U-uhm, well, it's a bit complicated... Twintails, he's, um, he was born and grew up in a Stable, but his mom wasn't. I think they said she abandoned the Tsetse cloudship at some point after she was knocked up by General Titchbreeze... She found Stable 34, managed to get them to open the door and help her give birth to dad, then she crawled herself back out and got her head blown apart by Captain Fringe. Something like that." I'll be first to admit, I never really paid attention to that part of the bedtime story. Balefire bombs and tank guns are just more fun! "As for my other dad Featherweight, and aunt Buzzy, I think they were both surface-born pegasi. Never really asked." Giving Crash Dive a shrug, I went back to sipping down the Sparkle-Cola, the mare across from me wearing a blank stare. "What, something on my face? Are my eyes glowing? Dad said that that can happen sometimes."
"O-ho-kay, let's take it back for a moment, just so I have this clear. Your dad Twintails was born inside a Stable, but his mother lived on a Grand Pegasus Enclave cloudship, so, technically, you're at least part of the Enclave genealogy. But your aunt and... other dad, Featherweight, they're pegasi that were born on the surface." Nodding in response, Crash Dive rubbed at her forehead, the last lights of evening slipping down below the horizon. Staring at the open bottle of whiskey, she raised a hoof, sitting herself back up. "Okay, just answer me this, how in the name of tartarus and the goddesses do you exist, when you didn't and don't have a mom?"
Finishing up the bottle of Sparkle-Cola, I paused for thought for a moment, resting my cheek against my hoof and looking up at the sky through the window. Okay, I know that Paladin Nova said something about how it worked at some point, um... oh, right! "Well, Featherweight and Twintails both gave Paladin Nova samples of their DNA, and I was carried to term by Flash-Bang, Twintails' female doppleganger. They could probably explain the specifics better than I can, medical stuff isn't my thing..." Peering into the bottle of Sparkle-Cola, I lifted it with my jaw to get the last few drops, the bottle of whiskey on the table jumping as Crash Dive let her power armored foreleg fall and slam into it, a slack jaw and vacant stare on her face. "What?"
"Oh, Celestia above I need that drink."
---
"Well, I've got some good news, and I've got some... less-than-good news." Crash Dive struggled her way out of the bomber's cockpit, her armor's broad shoulders scraping against the metal walls of the door slightly. Both myself and Static wore a grimace, the pink-maned pegasus looking back at the craft. "Good news, no major structural damage, from what I can see, and the repair talismans are all in working order. Give it a while, and she'll be ready to get out of here." Static bore a wide grin, resting on top of the engine above the intake. I returned it - home's only a matter of time, now. Crash Dive rubbed at the back of her head, still looking at the cockpit of the plane.
"The, uh, the less-than-good news is, the talismans weren't built for performing a complete overhaul in the case of a crash. The Mark VI was made for repairing battle damage, designed so that it'd function at full while the engines are running. Only had enough battery power left to fix some of the electronic systems... you're gonna need some other power source." ...okay, home's seeming a bit farther away now. Static hopped down from the top of the wing, his umbrella on his back underneath his saddlebags. Ooh, his cutie mark's a lightning bolt, could we plug his butt into it to see if that'd work?
"Er, how big a power source are we talking? I... think I have a few spark batteries in my bags. If they're good enough to power Ivan and Jolts..." He shrugged, looking back to Crash Dive. Well, concentrated lightning does tend to have a lot of power behind it, from my understanding. Suppose it might work, maybe. The power-armored pegasus opted to disagree.
"Bigger. We'd need at least a functional portable generator, one of those pre-war ones they used with the military or construction companies. Spark batteries... unless you've got a million or so of them, no dice." Well, least it wasn't entirely hopeless. Crash Dive thought for a moment, trotting herself past the nose of the craft and looking at the lush wasteland beyond, looking off in the distance. She lingered for a while, Static giving me a slightly confused look - no, it's not just a pegasus thing. "I know that there are some pre-war bases in this area, a couple kilometers away from each other. Jericho Beach, Seahoof Armory, Vanhoover Air Base, et cetera. It's a long walk, but there's probably at least somewhere around there that you can find a military-grade portable generator." She paused for a moment, a certain look coming to her face. "I can show you to the nearest town, but only for you to find a map. I won't go in with you."
"Alright, so, we going to head off, or what? Sooner we get this thing taking off again, the better, right?" Myself trotting over to Crash Dive, she let off a sigh, looking skywards. Thinking for a moment, she gave her head a shake, turning her gaze south and beginning to walk. Well, that's a touch rude... "H-hey, are we going now or not?"
"Too late in the day now, by the time we get back here the land bridge would be flooded over. I need to get some things together, anyways, and check the traps for anything. You two can help carry stuff, if you want, would make it a bit easier." Following behind her by a few trots, I slowed down, looking behind at Static. His eyes met mine, and he gave his shoulders a shrug, catching up with myself as we continued along. Crash Dive glanced over her shoulder at myself, giving a faint nod and letting us both catch up. "Alright then. We'll set off first thing tomorrow, O-500. Either of you aren't moving, I'll wake you up, so be sharp."
"Five AM... last time I woke up then was when Minty and Cross Stitch found that horn ring. Eewuh." The earth pony shuddered, falling back a few steps in the process. "Not the most pleasant of sounds to wake up to." Answering him with an eyeroll - yeah, stay a night at my house, I swear I could make a record of 'unpleasant sounds to wake up to' - we continued on, the barbed tail of Crash Dive's armor flicking about every now and again. Static trotted close on the opposite side of the mare, the barb making a quick jab at him almost reflexively, prompting him to jump back. O... kay then. Yeah, probably is better if you stick on my left side while I stick to hers, ya earth pony. "S-so, er, what happens after we get a map of this place? We going off on our own, or..."
"No, I'm coming along with you two. After Night Strike... informed me, of what exactly was inside the bomb bay of that thing crashed outside my home, I'd really rather not have to get my armor irradiated to pound you both into a pulp. I'm a bit allergic to megaspell detonations." Wow, I didn't know snark was a learnable course in the Enclave. As we passed a small group of faintly withering flowers, the pegasus came to a stop, sniffling a bit before letting off a heavy sneeze. "...and poppies. Damn glad we're going out when we are, storm season means the things are all dying out." Stepping up to the reddish flowers, Crash Dive lifted her forehooves and rather maliciously pounded the things into the mud and dirt. Okay, now that makes dad using the TOG's gun to kill bloatsprites seem reasonable by comparison.
"Uh, when you say 'storm season', d'you mean more of the stuff we saw the night we came in? With the lightning and heavy rain, and stuff?" Static's voice sounded a bit uneasy, and for good reason. I try taking the Valkyrie off in that kind of weather... yeah, no promises we wouldn't just wind back up in the dirt later while heading home. Zero visibility sucks like the vaccuum wave from a megaspell detonation... goddesses, I gotta come up with better comparisons. My dad says that, for pony's sake! Crash Dive looked over at him - or, maybe at me - before peering about the area, coming to a stop and turning herself left.
"No, not quite. Vanhoover gets some nasty weather coming in from the sea sometimes, occasionally ground born pegasi handle it when it gets especially bad and drifts inland, but this time of year it starts getting to be more than they can deal with. Not that anypony wants to be flying when it's below zero - I know I certainly didn't enjoy that all that much." The pegasus came to a stop by a couple odd-shaped rocks, and a rusted, seemingly miniaturized bear trap. It was triggered, but empty, by some miracle. She grimaced, her hooves moving to re-arm it, the metal groaning as it was pushed back into an unsprung state. "In-built heaters can only do so much. Already starting to get a bit chilly."
Now that got her a look of confusion from the both of us. I dunno where she's coming from, but I'd call the temperature right now pleasant, just like being under a blanket back home - this is cold for them? Whew, thank Celestia we didn't come a few months earlier... I'd rather not be a puddle-pony. Both myself and Static minding the re-armed trap, we moved further along to another small set of rocks, this one surrounded by taller grass, concealing a metal cage. The power armored mare knelt down, peering inside the metal box for a moment before returning to her hooves. She let off a sigh, trotting back along. "Starting to get sick of fish..."
"Don't you do any trading? There's gotta be someone somewhere who does hunting around here." Scratching at my head, I watched as Crash Dive came to a stop, facing away from the both of us, before continuing forwards. O... kay then. Yeah, maybe I should've remembered who I was talking to. We continued along to another grassy patch, the power armored pegasus again kneeling down to look inside, giving a glance back at us.
"Yanno, I think I can handle it from here. You two head on back to the house, listen to the radio or something. I've got an old games system in the basement of the lighthouse, if you're into that." The pegasus picked herself up - er, was it something I said? - looking over the both of us with a certain gaze that seemed to make her drill her point across clearer. Okay, okay, we'll go back, don't steal my soul or something. With a nod of compliance, we both turned about, heading for the small cliffside path and land bridge. As we trotted off, I turned and looked back, catching a glimpse of Crash Dive procuring a small tin container from the trap, pulling something from it and feeding it into her armor. Huh...
---
"Welcome back, you're listening to Radio K A O S, KAOS in Vanhoover. Our top story today is the continuing slew of reports of a strange flying craft that crash-landed just inside the perimeter of the haunted lighthouse. Witnesses to the crash describe the craft as being roughly triangle-shaped with a massive fin on its back, and jets of blue flame shooting from it's back side. They also describe it as making a low rumbling sound, as well as a deafening blast on par with a balefire bomb explosion; a family of ghoul witnesses have been admitted to the MASH Triage outside of Hopeville for psychiatric counseling following the appearance of the craft. Due to the nature of the no-go zone between safe roads and the lighthouse perimeter, nobody has yet confirmed if the craft is in one piece, but speculation from some have argued that, and I quote; 'if it's a piece of Equestrian technology, it was built to last.' I'm inclined to believe them, considering I'm talking to you from a pre-war battleship that's sat moored outside for two centuries and is still afloat, eheh.
"Anyways, again, you're listening to Radio KAOS, and we have all those classic songs of the war lined up for you, so sit back, relax, and try to not be our next news segment going after that flying thing."
"You and I in a little toy shop,
buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got.
Set them free at the break of dawn,
til one by one, they're all gone.
Back at base, bugs in the software
flash the message, 'Something's out there!'
Floating in the summer sky,
Ninety-nine red balloons go by..."
---
"Uh, Night Strike? I think I found that game thing Crash Dive was talking about." Static grunted slightly, setting a metal box of various parts down and peering into the hole it left behind. Shoving another box out of the way, it revealed a small metal terminal, two buttons located where a keyboard would be on a regular one, and one large switch on the side. Sheesh, looks like something even oldder than the TOG... hooking his hooves around the back, Static hauled the thing out, it scraping rather loudly against the stone floor. Ouch. "Goddesses above, what'd they make this thing out of? Lead?"
"Considering the state of Equestria before the war, I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case." He steadied it on his back, myself moving alongside him to keep it level as we moved to the spiral staircase on the wall. It's just one flight, c'mon ya big baby. One hoof kept on the thing to keep it steady, the door to the small house connected to the tower soon approached, myself getting the door as Static strained under the weight. The floorboards creaked loudly as we trotted through, the earth pony being quite relieved when we reached teh kitchen and shuffled the 'game system' onto the table by the window. He slumped into the bench on one side, myself walking the thing back along it until we both could comfortably see the screen. Static sat recovering for a moment, myself looking over the thing. "So... uh, I think the on switch is on your side."
"Oh... alright..." The thing resounded with a loud clack, followed by the whine of a small fan spinning to speed and the hum of the screen. We both watched as a pair of thick white boxes popped up, along with a smaller white box in the center. The image stuck on the screen for a while, both of us a bit afraid to touch anything. "Um... is it, like a targeting reticle or something? Haven't a clue." He scratched at his head, myself reaching forwards and looking at the two buttons on the console. Pushing one upwards, I think we both jumped a little as the square in the center began moving around, hitting one side and making the console beep before disappearing off the left side. O... kay then.
"I don't get it."
---
"Alright... Sparkle-Cola, check, bottlecaps, check, Thumper... heh, check. What ammunition have I got left..." Settling in for the night after a while of trying to figure out how that game-thing worked - took until Crash Dive came back and showed us that the buttons were also knobs that moved the rectangle things - I took the time to go through my duffel bag, get ready for tomorrow. The large case of ammunition clattered against itself as I set it on the floor, Thumper resting up on the bed with a dragon's breath shell in the chamber. Opening up the box, the sight of the brass casings prompted a smile on my face. Oh, the lovely sight of lots and lots of grenades, slugs, and shells just waiting to be used...
Belt by belt I began to pull them out, the radio on my legputer playing, looking over each strip of seven for any dents or other things. Good thing the primer needs to be fired to activate the fuse, I don't think a cockpit filled with explosions and shrapnel would've been as survivable. Standard HE rounds, twenty, check. Incendiary HE rounds, fourteen, check. Dragon's breath shells, twelve, check. Slug shells, six... wait a second, grenades usually aren't plastic. Pulling the last strip comprised of the solid slug shells out of the grenade box, I worked the odd one free of it's latch, a note coming free from it. Weird...
"'Dear Strikey'... fuck..." Great, Dad added it on. Oh, if we weren't Celestia knows how far south right now he'd probably have a smug look on his face when he saw I'd found this. Hm... we've been gone three days now, he's probably getting worried. Probably was worried by the time we didn't come back to EQUAD... oh... "'Dear Strikey, if you're reading this, you took Thumper and the grenades again, and probably worked through enough of them to have reason to use the Slug rounds. Yes, I expect you to pay for replacing all of the ones that you used.'" Classic Dad, snarky even in writing... "'Inside the fake capsule that this note's around is a gift for you I got from Cross Stitch. I hope that you'll remember it next time you go out on another one of your crazy adventures. I love you, my little megaspell. -Twintails.'"
Setting the note down, I quieted the radio slightly, my attention turned back to the plastic casing, my forehooves gripping around it. Okay, so how does this thing open... tugging on it? Eh, nope. Bending? Hm... well, it kinda did something. Twisti- a-ha! Smiling for a moment, the top of the case came off, and I let the contents empty out into my forehoof. I blunk a few times, not entirely sure what it was for a moment, before... before those two lime-green buttons on the golden felt face stared up at me, hidden behind a bit of black mane. The plastic case fell to the floor with a small clatter, my vision starting to become a little blurry as I carefully brushed the dark green overcoat back, revealing the black, bulletproof vest, faded blue pants, and pair of brown and gold tails. I leaned back against the bed, staring into the eyes of the plushie for a moment, before hugging it tightly against my chest and letting the waterworks run. Celestia, I missed home...
"You're tuned in to Radio KAOS, bringing you the songs of yesteryear and other pleasantries for your listening ears. Here's one from a beautiful mare I once met, a long, long time ago; Vera Lynn, and she's reminding us all that no matter what, we'll always meet again, some sunny day."
"Daddy..."
-----
“Come on, you two, revellrie, get your flanks in gear!” Crash Dive pounded on the door to the guest room, jolting me out of my sleep. Aw, that was such a nice dream about overstuffed diapers, and balloon ponies, and... what the heck is up with my brain? I flopped over the side of the futon she had provided for me, groaning as I tried to wake myself up. “If you aren’t out here in two minutes I’m gonna give you a taste of my days back in boot camp. Gunny's favorite way of waking stragglers up was chucking a plasma grenade in the barracks!” Well that was certainly enough motivation. I quickly slipped on my coat and hitched up my saddlebags, double checking my umbrella was secure under the strap before throwing myself out the door. Crash Dive was standing on the other side, idly tossing a grenade with a hoof, looking impatient. Holy crap, I didn’t think she was really serious about that!
Night Strike quickly followed, stuffing a few things into her duffle bag as she darted through the door. Crash Dive stowed the grenade in a box on her armor, before turning and making her way towards the door, swinging a fishing pole over her back. “Maple Creek is a little less than half a day’s hike from here, and then we’ll need to head back here before the tide comes in again.” The door to the lighthouse's cabin swung open, the sun not even having risen yet. We began to make our way up the peninsula, the ground still slightly wet from the high tides, the waves down below providing a sort of background noise for the trek inland. As we made our way past the crash of the Valkyrie, the smell of rotting flesh reached my nose, making me gag. Okay, that takes the cake for unpleasant smells you don't want to deal with in the morning...
Crash Dive trotted over to where one of her buried mine spots was, the area around the small crater now dotted with body parts. “Looks like some idiot surface-dweller tried to get a closer look at the wreck,” she said, pushing the meat off of the nearby cliff edge. Ew. “We need to move quickly before somepony with some actual experience gets here.” Night Strike and I nodded as Crash Dive pulled a sensor module and roll of duct tape out of tin boxes on her armor, taping the module around a grenade as a makeshift mine. I checked my Pip-Buck, following the small road inland as it curved through the landscape. Huh, we were a long way from much of note... that somepony must've walked for the better part of a day, too. Oh, I hope we don't run into their relatives...
We were soon trekking through the overgrown hills again, soon finding a cracked stone road and taking it eastwardly. My stomach rumbled as we walked down the road, the sun peeking over the distant mountains and meeting our eyes. “Uh, you didn’t happen to grab a bag of oats or something on the way out, did you?” Crash Dive passed along a rather annoyed glare - a simple 'no' would've sufficed, yikes...
“If you wanted food, you should’ve packed it yourself. You can get something to eat when we get to the town, anyways.” My ears flopped down, stomach letting off another loud grumble, as I regretted not setting an alarm on my Pip-Buck. The road dipped into a small valley, a river flowing alongside it. As we walked beside the rushing water, Night Strike spoke up.
“Hey, so, uh, why is it you said you weren’t coming into town with us, anyways?” The power armored pegasus didn’t answer for a long moment, simply walking forward as we followed along. The old road turned southwards slightly, coming to a small crumbling rock bridge. Oh yeah, I definitely trust my life with that. She headed over the bridge first, as Night Strike and I followed behind. I peered over a hole in the short wall on the side, hopping back as I saw the water flowing underneath - I don’t care how slow it is, I’d sooner be able to fly than swim.
“If you needed a reminder, I'm not exactly a sociable person.” She left it at that, as we finally crossed over the bridge. Neither Strike nor I pressed her to continue; it was rather obvious it would go nowhere and probably end with one of us wanting a diaper... probably me more than Night Strike, memory serving. It wasn’t much longer until we turned a corner, a small town coming into view, nestled into the valley alongside the flowing river. Huh, knd of looks like one of those old postcards, very scenic. “Alright, you two head on. Get back here by thirteen-hundred or you’re going to be swimming back to the lighthouse, earth pony. I won't wait for you.” She sat down by the banks of the river, hooking a piece of meat to her pole before casting out. “And pray I get something other than salmon here.”
We continued down the road, leaving Crash Dive to her fishing. “So, what exactly’s with her and ‘surface dwellers’?” I asked once we were out of earshot. Strike grimaced a little as we trotted towards the village, a few ponies attempting to tear out a few weeds that were spitting some sort of acid at them near some crops.
“You did notice she’s Enclave, right?” I gave her a deadpan look. No, Night Strike, I didn’t notice the advanced power armor she was wearing, or her military attitude. She rolled her eyes. “The Grand Pegasus Enclave don’t... didn't, didn't like non-pegasi, to put it lightly.” I raised an eyebrow. Fringe, Flash-Bang and Sugar Rush from back home didn’t seem to hold any grudges. Well, besides other pegasi, if Dad's stories were true. “Well, most didn’t,” she added, reading my expression.
We soon reached the edge of the small town, ponies milling this way and that, all surprisingly naked. Buh, warmer climate, of course... “I’m surprised Fringe didn’t tell you at some point. That was kind of their whole thing before that stable dweller/lightbringer-whatever took them down.” Well, we were usually selling favors to each other and talking tech. I’m not that into philosophical discussions, Strikey... Night Strike blew out her nose, looking around. “Crap, just thought, where the hell are we going to find someone selling a map?”
“Uh... maybe there’s some kind of tourist attraction. They’d probably have something,” I suggested. “Of course… the trouble would be finding something worth showing off.” Strike gave a nod as we made our way through town. As we headed down the street, Night Strike suddenly gave a little squeal, walking over to a slightly cracked window with several large guns and explosives on display. I glanced up, the sign above the door reading ‘Sulfur’s Stockpile’. Night Strike made her way towards the door. “Um, we still need that map, yanno...”
“Oh, we won’t be spending all day in here. Besides, you can't prove they don't have one!” She smiled rather smugly, giddily stepping herself into the shop. I rolled my eyes but followed her in, getting a whiff of the powder charges and other things - Gun Runner's, Sulfur's Stockpile, these powder weapons stores all are the same to me... A pony stood at a display counter, marking off items and checking their condition. She turned her head as we trotted in, smiling and levitating the clipboard aside.
“Welcome to Sulfur’s Stockpile, the best place for things that go boom!” The mare said cheerily, Night Strike seeming to make her grin grow wider. I chuckled a little - I beg to differ on where to find the best explosions. “Anything I can get for you two?” Strike looked around at the various grenades and sticks of dynamite on display, checking her saddlebags for her caps. I checked my own bag of caps, then moved to looking over the various items. As Night Strike and the owner discussed the price of a few grenades for Thumper, I spotted a few hoof grenades that were much thinner than the others, almost seeming to glow a little in the dim light.
I caught the attention of the owner as Strike passed her some caps, a smile on her muzzle and another big tin of grenades under her foreleg. “Oh, these are some flash-bangs. Highly concentrated specialized light spell, they won’t do much besides blind, deafen, and disorient somepony for a while.” Night Strike moved herself back over, myself glancing down at the glowing canisters again, the owner picking up one and tossing it in her hooves idly. “I'll admit they’re not too popular... been trying to get rid of them for a while, actually. 20 caps apiece sound good?” I answered her with a grin and nod, scooping up five and tossing them into my saddle bags as I poured out half of my caps into the mare’s satchel. She wore a bright grin as we moved for the exit, waving us goodbye. “Thanks for the business, guys! Come back anytime!”
As we made to head back out into the street, I paused and turned back to the owner, halfway through the door. “Oh, hey, do you know where we might be able to find a map of the area? Any sort of tourist-y places nearby?” The mare thought for a moment, leaning against one of the tables with a large minigun on display.
“There really isn’t much in the way of tourist attractions, at least, not up around this area. You could always try heading to Vanhoover tomorrow, of course.” She looked over the minigun as her horn began to glow, the clipboard hovering back over to her as she made a few marks. “There’s an old earth pony who used to do a few river tours before his boat broke down, he might have something for you. Check down by the town pub by the docks, he should be around there somewhere. Name’s Ripple, if I remember right.” I thanked her and we headed out the door, following a few rusted signs pointing towards the river peers.
“What on Earth did you get those things for?” Strike asked, motioning towards a flash bang poking out of my saddlebags. “A grenade isn’t a grenade if it isn’t going to kill a pony if you stuff it in their shirt, or, at least separate them from their legs.” She smirked as we rounded a corner, coming up to the banks of the river, a few wooden docks standing in the water, the posts covered in some grayish algae. A few fillies were playing near the river’s edge, building sand castles and splashing water at each other.
“Pardon me if I’d rather just end up blind for a moment if I get myself caught in the blast.” Shooting her a look, she immediately responded with an eyeroll. Well, sorry for having a sense of self preservation. I looked around the docks, but couldn’t really see any particularly old ponies anywhere. “You think you see him?” Night Strike shook her head, but pointed out at a small building sitting a few feet from the edge of the riverbank. We headed through the doors, myself admiring the two rifles that hung below the words ‘Winchester Pub’.
The doors squeaked as they swung shut behind us, the smell of alcohol hitting us both. The pub was full of ponies chatting, drinking, a few tossing darts or playing pool in the corner. I looked around, spotting a particularly old blue stallion sitting at the bar. He took a swig of cider as we approached, covering his mouth as he belched, his greying mane underneath a worn old hat. “Uh, Ripple?”
He spun on his stool to face us, looking slightly confused. “Ah, aye? Do I know you two?” Strike and I sat up on the stools beside him, the old stallion taking a moment to think, looking over us. Before we could answer, though, he hit himself in the head with his hoof. “Oh, you probably 'eard about the tours, didn’t you? I’m sorry, but poor ol' Trout’s not going anywhere anymore.” He took another sip of his cider, gulping it down with a faint sniffle.
“Ehm, what exactly happened to it?” The bartender trotted up to us, both Strike and I ordering a Sparkle Cola each. She shot a surprised look at myself, another mug of cider setting itself down in front of Ripple. Hey, just because my dad’s obsessed with Sunrise Sarsaparilla doesn’t mean I have to be, yanno! We tossed a few caps on the counter as he trotted off to retrieve the sodas.
“Poor girl, time wasn't kind to 'er. Couldn't keep up with keeping her parts in shape like I used to be... not to mention her bottom kept getting holes from the Celestia-damned monster sea ponies.” Both Night Strike and I looked a little shocked, before Ripple gave a raspy laugh, rubbing at his eyes. “Ah, I’m just messing with you, old mare's tale, that. I just, uh, tended to hit a few too many rocks, is all... But if Lugnut asks what I told you, say it’s the monsters.” He pointed out a large pony attempting to throw darts at a board hanging on the wall, though he had clearly had a few too many mugs of cider. “He’s been going on about seeing sea monsters all week. Ask me, he's been drinking more for the loss of Trout than I 'ave, and I was the one who owned that crate.”
The bartender returned with our sodas, Night Strike and I popping the cap off and taking a sip. “Actually, we heard you might have a map of the area, seeing how you gave tours, and such,” I said, pocketing the bottle cap. Ripple finished off his first cider, the barkeep quickly swooping in to remove it and wipe down his part of the counter.
“Aye, should have something back at my house. Haven't had a reason to use it in years, might get some cider spilled on it but I've got the only map I need up here." Letting off a chuckle, the old stallion tapped a hoof against the side of his head, turning himself about. He slid off of the stool and began to head towards the door, Strike and I following as we quickly finished our sodas, the bartender looking at the untouched mug of cider before shrugging and taking a gulp of it himself. We followed Ripple along the river, coming to a small shack with a boat moored at a short dock behind it. The stallion pushed open the door with a creak, lighting a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. The shack had clearly been used as an office not long ago, a desk shoved in the corner with a collection of maritime items hanging from the walls.
Ripple dug around in the desk below a sign marked with boat touring prices, retrieving a weathered piece of paper and unrolling it on a table. “So, d'you need the map, or just some directions?” Strike and I leaned over the table, looking over the yellowing paper. It showed a slightly smaller area than the maps on our Pip-Bucks, but Ripple has scrawled down several landmarks and cities onto the parchment.
“Ah, we really just need to punch in some stuff on these. Not from around these parts really, eheh...” Night Strike said, drawing his attention to our Pip-Bucks. Ripple let off a quiet sigh, nodding and moving himself over to a cot in the corner, as we began to mark various locations on our map. Let’s see, so we’ve got Maple Creek and Crash’s Lighthouse, there’s a river heading south to Vanhoover, a waterfall upstream, a few small towns here and there... Hopeville, boy, that sounds like a place from one of those old films... a couple military bases around, one due north of the town, and a small train junction just below the far northern mountainous region.
“Ah, right, the map don’t show it, but there’s also a hiking trail near that waterfall just upstream, it’ll take you to near the ridge. It’s a pretty view, but I don’t think a lot of ponies bother going anymore.” We finished marking the locations on our map, and Ripple rolled it back up, stashing it into his desk. “Heck, if you two could fix up Trout’s engine, I’d be happy to take you there sometime. The valley’s pretty rocky along the river there, it’s a hard road to walk. I think the engine just needs some scrap parts, but there’s just no good merchant in town for the ones I need. Probably'd be able to show you how to fix it if you got some.”
“Heh, we’re actually looking for some parts for our own-oof... Er, we’ll see if we can find something for your boat. Thanks for showing us the map, though.” Ripple nodded and held the door open for us as we trotted out, myself rubbing at my side where Night Strike had hit me. I didn't know you could use your wings like that! The sun was starting to move from its position directly overhead as we headed down the streets, moving back west. We were soon back at the edge of town, trotting down the road heading back towards Crash’s Lighthouse.
Crash Dive looked up from the water as we trotted up to her. “Well, I didn’t expect you two to be back so quickly. Still, gives me more time to cook these once we get back.” She patted two full cloth saddlebags, which were jumping around a bit as some fish flopped around inside. She stood herself up and swung her fishing pole over her back. “You did actually find a map, right?”
Night Strike nodded. “It didn’t go any further south than Vanhoover, but it pointed out enough towns and old bases close by that we should be able to find some kind of gennie for fixing the Valkyrie.” We all began to walk back down the road, Night Strike flipping on her radio as we did.
“Welcome back, this is Radio KAOS with all your Pre-War favorites. No confirmed reports on the mysterious crashed object, though we have got a rumor of it saying it’s, um…” There was a rustle of paper, the announcer letting off a quiet groan. “Zebra ghosts that don’t know they’re dead. Apparently tried to build a rocket to the moon to paint it pink and draw Discord’s face on it. You've gotta be kidding me...” The announcer snorted as he tried to hold back a laugh. “Heh, well, we’ll hopefully find out sooner or later whether we should be aiming any megaspells we’ve got left skywards for you, dear listener. I'd suggest heading for Hopeville in the meantime, they've got a great shrink there. For the more sensible, here’s some classics...” There was a pause, and the scratch of a needle falling onto a record as a jazzy drum beat began, soon joined by a chorus of trumpets and saxxes.
“Ooh, I love this song!” I said, swinging my rump to the tune as Night Strike tried to bite back a laugh, and Crash placed her hoof to her forehead.
---
We soon arrived back at Crash Dive’s lighthouse, having carefully wound our way past the various traps she’d laid out. The water was lapping at the rocks just a few feet below us now, the tide starting to come in. We headed into the small living quarters, Crash flicking on a light as Night Strike and I sat ourselves down at the table. Her stomach growled loudly. “Jeez, eheh, I guess I forgot how hungry I am.”
Crash Dive pulled the fish out of her saddlebags, dropping them onto the counter before digging around in her cupboards for a pan. She flipped on the stove and placed a pan onto the warming metal. “Alright, we’ll be heading out at oh-five hundred again, or we’re not making it to Seahoof Armory before nightfall.” Both Night Strike and myself groaned, Crash Dive shooting us a glare. “Well, unless you’d rather try to fight those poisonous bloatsprites in the dark, of course.” I grumbled to myself, but didn’t protest any further.
We ate in silence once the fish was complete, all of us heading to bed early to get enough sleep for tomorrow. Bluh, I better set an alarm so I’m not stuck eating nothing but a half cooked fish again... I settled onto the cot as Strike slipped into the bed beside it, turning the light off. Light flashed from outside as a storm began to roll in, the rain pattering against the window. I rolled myself over in bed, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep as a low rumble filled the air. Thunder, right, it's just a rainstorm. Lightning flashed again, and the boom was much louder this time, making myself jump up from the cushions, catching my breath.
Goddess-damnit, why did nature have to sound like imminent death!?
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It's good that everypony is dead, because we mustn't let those damn dirty stripes take pictures of the big board!
Crash Dive is a neat character so far, I'm interested in figuring out why she's such a loner.
Really enjoyed the button mash reference. x3 Well placed and well done.
And in finishing this chapter, I'm so freakin excited! So much to explore, to learn! It's like when Twinny and Minty were exploring the snowy wastes all over again! Can't wait for more!
This is great so far, I really don't like Crash Dive too much though, mostly just the Enclave racism stuff that puts me off. Still liking the story though.
Huh so We got a mare who's just like Dakka loving pop, and I don't really have much of an opinion on Static yet. I guess I need to read more to Garner one
I would like to report the use of Neun und Neun Luftballons has not happened. Du insult me by using the Englisch version over the Deutsch version.