Fallout Equestria: Alphabet soup

by Doomande

Enclave: Clouds by Salted Pingas

I’d lost track of how many times I’d checked my power armor’s integrated weapons, eyes sweeping across the readouts on my E.F.S. The high-capacity spark batteries were loaded, dump capacitors uncharged, and the manual safeties engaged. Condition three. It would take only a fraction of a second to get the capacitors charged, putting the weapons in condition one. From there, all I’d have to do was disengage the safeties and key a firing sequence.

I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Two power-armored pegasi waited stoically to either side of the door leading to the Cassiopeia’s bridge. I didn’t need my E.F.S. to display their IFF transponders as ‘Chief Air Sergeant Winter Weather’ and ‘Ensign Dewdrop Meadow’ to know who they were.

I stopped in front of them, looking into both goggled faces before speaking, “Ready?”

The two exchanged glances as best they could without being able to see each other’s faces. There was a nervousness in the way they stood, the curve of their backs and how their armored wings were held against their sides.

“If this goes south…” Meadow trailed off after she and Weather turned back to me.

“If this goes south, take me into custody and jump ship the first chance you get,” I answered without pause, “Don’t take brands for my sake.”

“Ready,” Weather’s baritone voice was uncertain.

“Ready,” Meadow gulped and recited a prayer under her breath. For all our sakes, I hoped her gods were listening.

I let out a steadying breath and glanced at my weapon status again. They were still in condition three.

The bridge opened up before us, a shallow V-shape of control seats facing the wide, virtual viewport. Displays created a digital picture of what lay in front of the Cassiopeia, fed by the numerous cameras mounted across the armored hull. Almost two weeks ago they’d have shown endless cloudscapes below. But now that the Lightbringer controlled the weather, it was the mottled brown and gray of the wasteland that took up the bottom portion of the screens.

Colonel Sand Dune stood in the raised commander’s dias centered and behind the control seats. He looked up from a coffee mug that proclaimed: “Skipper #1” as he was taking a quick sip. We approached him at a casual trot.

Out of my peripheral vision I could see that Meadow and Weather had already slid into a ‘combat-L’ to either side of me. Their bodies were perpendicular to each other and their muzzles facing Colonel Dune. If things went to hell, they both had perfect firing lines on him with no risk of catching each other in a crossfire. I wondered briefly if the Colonel had noticed; his casual smile told me no.

“Good morning, Captain Flier,” he greeted me after a satisfied “Ahh,” lowering the mug from his muzzle with a wing, “Roving the decks, I see. How is the security of my ship?”

“Good, sir, I have nothing to report,” I could say smartly, prompting him to give the order to “Carry on,” and I could leave the bridge and that would be the end of it. No need to risk my life or my career.

“What is our current destination, sir?” I asked instead.

I watched his lips start to form the words “Carry on,” but then freeze and drop briefly into a frown, “Oh,” he said, then his thin smile returned and he answered: “Cotton Valley.”

“And our mission, sir?” I prompted.

Colonel Dune’s frown returned again, remaining this time as he said: “To quell the civil uprising there, take back the city and restore order through any means necessary. Has your terminal been down? I should have thought you’d received my email.”

“And it is your intention to follow through with these orders to the letter?”

“I hope you’re not questioning my loyalty to our grand enclave, Captain…” he brought up his wing, taking a careful sip of his coffee. I could almost see him rewind the conversation in his head as he drank, evaluating every word, trying to figure out where this was going.

“Your loyalty isn’t in question, sir. But for the sake of clarity, is that a yes? You do intend to follow through with these orders?” It was too late to stop now.

Colonel Dune took another sip from his coffee, a calculative look behind his eyes.

“Yes, Captain,” he finally lowered the mug again, “But might I ask w—”

“Ensign, note the time,” Colonel Dune’s gaze chilled as I cut him off.

“Time is zero nine five four hours, sir,” Ensign Meadow said from beside me. Colonel Dune almost startled at her voice, turning slowly to her and then Chief Weather as if noticing them for the first time.

Now he saw the position he was in.

“XO, to the bridge!” Colonel Dune barked into a panel on his control dias, his mug clinking as he set it down. Some of the pegasi at the controls glanced back at the spectacle unfolding behind them, whispering to each other.

“Sir,” I started, lending authority to my voice and emboldened by the fact that I had crossed the point of no return, “You have just admitted that you intend to follow illegal orders and partake in an unjust war against our civilian population…”

“Get off my bridge!” Colonel Dune sneered at me, waving a dismissive hoof as I continued.

“...You have done so while of sound mind and judgement, deliberately and seriously…”

“You are relieved of your command, Captain!” He snarled, trying to talk over me.

“...Therefore, under G.P.E. code ten chapter forty-seven, sub-section nine dash two, it is my duty as the security officer of this vessel…”

“I will have you branded a dashite and thrown featherless from the clouds!” Colonel Dune roared. Behind me, the bridge door slid open and our executive officer: Lieutenant Colonel Wire Rack stumbled quickly inside, a rear-facing camera on my helmet displaying her alarmed expression on my E.F.S.

“...to relieve you of duty and take command of this vessel, the Raptor-class cloudship Cassiopeia...”

“Excuse me,” Lieutenant Colonel Rack skittered between Ensign Meadow and me, putting herself next to Colonel Dune as if that might do something. Tactically it was stupid, it put her right in our line of fire. A more sound move would have been to stay somewhere behind us, force us to shift formation to cover all threats. Colonel Dune didn’t seem to notice her, his livid gaze fixed solely on me, a vein throbbing in his scalp as if he were straining to will me out of existence with his mind.

“...until such a time as a proper and just authority can be assigned to replace me,” I finished, hot blood coursing through my ears as adrenaline pumped through my veins. The sensation of getting it all out was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, any sense of doubt wiped clean from my mind.

Silence fell across the bridge.

“What’s happening?” Lieutenant Colonel Rack whispered to Dune, looking between him and me with alarm.

“XO, bear witness,” Dune intoned, “Captain Fleet Flier, you just signed your own dishonorable discharge papers. For gross insubordination against a superior officer of the Grand Pegasus Enclave you are officially relieved of duty!” he growled the last word, standing tall. He cast a look down his nose at Meadow and Weather, “Ensign, Chief. Please take Captain Fleet Flier into custody and lock him in the brig.”

Nopony moved, all eyes pointed at the spectacle taking place on the bridge. Even the crewponies at the bridge control stations had their eyes glued to us. If we had been hurtling towards the ground, nopony would have realized it till we had crashed.

I cued my radio, “Juxtaposition, over.”

There was a faint crackle in my ear bloom, then: “Roger. Out.”

The steady thrum of the Cassiopeia’s engines warbled into silence, the cloudship drifting to a slow hover and resting on its bed of clouds. I saw Meadow’s sides deflate in my peripherals and fought hard to contain a sharp sigh of my own. I had won, the ship belonged to me now.

“What was that!?” Dune scowled at the digital view screens, “What did you do!?” He scowled at me, “Helm!” He glared down at the central crewpony in the V-shape, the mare blinking back at him for a moment, “Helm!” I could almost hear his voice give out as he roared at her.

“A-aye, sir!” She jumped in her seat and scrambled to turn back to her controls, staring at them in confusion for a moment. Clarity came after a short pause and she worked her controls with forehooves and wings, “N-no...no response, sir! Engines are offline.”

“Engineering, respond!” Dune jabbed a pinion into a comms panel. “Engineering!”

“Engineering is with me, sir. Engines remain offline until I say otherwise,” I told him, “Ensign, Chief, take the Colonel into custody.”

“Now wait just a goddamn...” Dune wheeled about, knocking his mug to the deck where it shattered. He hardly noticed as the two power-armored ponies began advancing, “Don’t you dare lay your hooves on me you bastards, you filthy, misbred, dashite pieces of filth not fit to be the shit beneath the hooves of—”

Within the same second that Dune’s yellow dot on my E.F.S. turned red, I fired.

Almost faster than the neurons in my brain could process it, I armed my capacitor, disengaged the safety, and fired my left weapon. Twin darts sprouted from Dune’s frothing jowls and the capacitor discharged with a crackle of electricity. My former CO’s body went rigid, muscles standing tense beneath his hide, and then he toppled over, twitching but alive.

Chief Weather used his muscled mass to pull Dune out of the command dias and pin him to the deck as he came to. The darts of my taser tugged at Dune’s face as Weather pulled them free.

“I’ll have your hides!” Dune snarled as Chief Weather cuffed his left forehoof and wings together against his back, hobbling the livid pegasus, “I’ll peel off your cutie marks myself, you hear me!?” he spat at me, the wad of phlegm landing near my armored hooves, “Brand you with a hot iron!”

I ignored him as Weather pulled the now-hobbled Dune out of the bridge with Meadow in the lead. I turned to where Lieutenant Colonel Rack was cowering on the deck, “Ma’am, as the acting CO of this ship, I’d strongly advise that you stay in your quarters.”

For a moment I thought she might resist, try to take command herself and thwart me. Then I remembered who I was dealing with as I noted the dark stain that had formed in the seat of her trousers. The pants-pissing mare didn’t even bother with a response as she skittered back out of the bridge with a frightened nicker.

I let a large breath fill my lungs, then exhaled loudly.

It was done.

I cued my radio again, “Aurora cherries, over.”

Static danced into my ear again, “Roger, out.” The voice sounded as relieved as I was. I owed Captain Spot Weld and his entire engineering department a few beers for taking my side in this. I’d happily pay for it if we managed to survive what came next.

Focusing back on my current problems, I realized the bridge crew was staring at me with mixed looks of excitement and fear, if there was any resentment or spite it was well hidden. I’d have to watch who I put in positions of control, there were certain to be more enclave loyalists aboard.

I cleared my throat and the whole lot of them flinched, “If any of you wish to leave your stations, you should do so now.” At a few nervous glances, I added in a calm voice: “This is a shit situation the council has put us in. No punitive action will be taken, I promise you. If any of you are uncomfortable taking orders from me, I won’t force you to.”

“Sir…” I turned to the lanky weapons officer, Lieutenant Spectral Prism if memory served.

“Lieutenant?” I asked.

“Are you going to make me shoot civilians, sir?” Her tone was even and measured.

I shook my head, “No.”

Lieutenant Prism nodded and turned back to her station, the other crewponies exchanging glances and following suit.

“Comms,” I stepped up into the commander’s dias.

“Comms, sir,” the Air Sergeant at the communications controls answered.

“Keep our ears open and our mouth shut. Transponder off.”

“Comms copies, sir!” I could hear the grin in his voice as he tapped out a quick command. I saw the external communications and transponder buttons blink out on the command dias. I also started seeing our engines warming back up now that I’d given the all clear.

“Navigation, same to you: put us in EMCON, nav radars off.”

“Sir,” Navigation nodded and more lights on my dias winked out.

“Helm,” I turned to the mare.

“Helm coming back online, sir.”

“Take us bearing three two degrees, maintain altitude, cruising speed. Let’s put some distance between here and our last active transponder signal.”

“Bearing three two degrees, cruising speed, aye.” As engine power returned the digital viewport shifted and the deck rumbled as we began to accelerate on our new heading.

‘Council’s not going to like that,’ I mused, turning to the command dias and finding the switch for the 1MC. When I flicked it and cleared my throat, everyone onboard heard me do so.

“Good morning,” I started, “This is acting CO Captain Fleet Flier speaking. At approximately ten hundred hours I relieved Colonel Sand Dune of duty on the grounds of waging an unjust war against our civilian population.” I paused to let that sink in, thinking over my next words before speaking them, “He was following illegal orders given by the High Council itself, but we will not target defenseless civilians just because they want answers and accountability for the actions taken during the war.

“Henceforth, the Cassiopeia is declared a free vessel of the pegasus race. We will take no further orders from the council or the admiralty until it can be determined that those orders are lawfully given and in the best interest of our people. I can’t imagine that those still loyal to the old ways of the sky will take that lightly and once they discover our treachery they will come after us and they will try to take this cloudship back by force.

“I understand if many of you are uncomfortable with this and no actions will be taken against those not wishing to follow my orders. Should any of you choose to jump ship then you are free to do so and go in peace.

“But,” I bit out the word to make sure ponies were paying attention, “If any deliberate actions are taken that can be deemed detrimental to this ship or its crew, those responsible will be taken into custody and placed in the brig. Acting CO out.” I flicked the switch back off, looking up to see the bridge crew turn quickly back to their controls, smiles on most of their faces.

‘And that is that,’ I thought as I came to terms with what I’d just done.

* * * * *

Three hours later I was peering over charts at the commander’s dias, my power armor packed away in the armory. The bridge crew had all seemed to relax when I’d returned in my haze-gray working uniform, the unreadable goggles and bristling weapons of my power armor having put them on edge. I looked up when Navigation muttered something, then turned back towards me.

“Raptor Vitriolic has changed course, now on approach vector bearing one zero five, just about a hundred twenty nautical miles out,” he reported “She’s accelerated to three hundred knots, fast cruise.”

With a series of wing taps I had the digital charts on the commander’s dias focus back on us and then zoom out until the Vitriolic appeared off towards our starboard less than twenty nautical miles from the horizon. The only reason we could see the Vitriolic on the map was because it still had its transponder turned on, which meant the only reason they’d spotted us was a sharp-eyed crewpony on their scopes.

‘So much for finding a quiet little spot in the clouds to wait all this out…’ I mentally grumbled.

“Helm, maintain course and speed, but be ready to get us moving,” I ordered, the mare responding with an affirmative, “Comms, have they hailed us at all?” A glance at my dias told me we were still running silent.

“No, sir,” Comms shook his head, “If and when they do?”

“Remain silent,” I said and Comms nodded, “Sensors, what do they look like in IR? Their guns hot?”

“Hard to tell for sure at this range, sir,” the mare shook her head, eyes glued to a number of sharp screens, “But it looks like they’re cold.”

“Roger,” I nodded, “keep one of our cameras on them, if anything changes let me know. If they get within fifty nautical miles start saturating their missile hatches with lidar, I want to know if they open.”

“Sir,” the mare got a little tense at that, but everypony would be getting tense at the prospect of fighting another Raptor. The threat to our vessel aside, there were fellow pegasi aboard the Vitriolic, perhaps brothers and sisters.

* * * * *

“Still nothing on comms?” I asked when the Vitriolic got within fifty nautical miles of us. It would be hard for their missiles to miss at this range, our countermeasures losing effectiveness the closer the other vessel got.

“Nothing, sir,” Comms replied with unease, “Should I hail them?”

“Negative.” I turned, “Sensors?”

“Lidar’s coming back, sir,” the mare peered at the odd-looking image, “missile hatches are closed and infrared is showing their weapons are cold. They’re still in a non-threat posture.”

A chilling thought came to me, a report I’d read about the battle over Red Eye’s citadel. Maybe they didn’t need weapons to take us out of the sky.

“No sign of pink clouds coming out of it?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Comms tense and turn his volume knob way down.

“None, sir,” an edge of worry had squeezed its way into the mare’s voice.

“Wait, sir…” I turned back to Comms, watching as the pony squinted at the digital viewport, “Hey, Dew, can you magnify their bridge?”

“Sure,” the sensors mare replied, the viewport magnifying until the Vitriolic’s bridge filled a screen. Now that he’d drawn attention to it, I noticed a glimmer on what should have been a matte-gray, non-reflective surface.

“Sir, they’re...I think they’re hailing us with the old signaling mirror,” his lips moved silently for a moment as he watched the glimmer flashing out a pattern.

“Iron. Vanner. Ergot. Are they spelling out ivy? No,” he translated the flashing pattern into the phonetic alphabet, “Ostler. Luna. Iron. Vanner—”

“Olive?” I frowned for a second before the message clicked, “Comms, prep our signal mirror, message as follows…” I waited for his affirmative nod, a hoof pressed against the signal controls, “Bridle.” His hoof tapped the codes out as I spoke them, “Rodeo. Apple. Neigh. Colt. Hoof.”

The signal mirror on the Vitriolic winked out after a second. Maybe they really just wanted to talk.

Maybe it was a trick.

I tried to cue my power armor’s radio before remembering my power armor was in the armory. Instead, I had to find the right key on my dias.

“Ensign Meadow, Chief Weather, get a repelling and boarding party ready. Full loadout, but keep things calm, this is just a precaution, over.”

“Ensign Meadow copies. Out.” The mare’s uncertain voice crackled back.

“Weapons, arm cannons and one harpoon missile,” I turned back to the bridge.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Prism got out of her seat, turning to me with a cold look, “I’m not going to open fire on another Raptor.”

“What if they shoot first?” I countered and the mare’s look faltered, “I’m not ordering anyone to fire the first shot,” I assured her, letting my gaze move across every face on the bridge, “But I want to be ready if they decide to fight us. Are you willing to defend your life and the life of everypony onboard? If not, let me know now so I can get a replacement ready before things start kicking off.”

Lieutenant Prism’s cold look floundered, her face twisting through a series of thoughts and emotions. After a moment’s struggle, she sat back down at her controls.

“Arming cannons and one harpoon,” she stressed the word, “Turrets locked and missile hatches closed.”

“Load up a disabling firing sequence, prioritize cannons and missile hatches. If they twitch we’re going to make sure they can’t shoot us and get the hell out of dodge.” I paused a moment, and added: “Send the activation key to my station.”

Lieutenant Prism’s hunched shoulders relaxed a bit and she sent the key to my dias. Responsibility for attacking my fellow pegasi was now mine.

“Electronic Warfare, same for you. Prepare to burn out their sensors and blind any missiles they get off, send the key to me if you’d like.”

“Roger, sir.” The pony replied. I didn’t see another activation key, but our jamming suites went from red to yellow on my dias as they were armed, “Ready.”

“All right, then,” I said, watching the Vitriolic grow ever closer on our screens and chart, “Let’s see what they want to talk about.”

* * * * *

The Vitriolic pulled up beside us without incident, our vessels matching an easy fifty knots and pulling close enough to dock clouds together. Once parallel, both vessels increased their lateral cloud production until they touched, locking together on one large cloud. It provided both a stable platform to cart supplies back and forth and kept an errant updraft from knocking the ships into each other.

As I stood on the quarterdeck, watching the other Raptor disgorge a small team of power-armored pegasi and one in a working uniform, I regretted not being in my armor. My E.F.S. would tell me immediately if they were hostile, a targeting suite giving me the best way to cut them down if it came to that.

“Five yellow dots,” Ensign Meadow spoke up beside me, armed and armored.

“Thanks,” I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. The ponies from the Vitriolic were walking across our shared cloud cover, heads down in the fast winds, before reaching our covered gangway.

“You were getting jittery, sir,” I saw her flash a reassuring smile in my peripherals.

High altitude winds howled briefly as the door to the quarterdeck slid open and I tried not to tense up as the Vitriolic’s pegasi stepped on board. The four power armored pegasi fanned out, looking casually about the room with their mounted weapons pointed down. The fifth stood a head taller than me, though his face was lined with wrinkled skin and his mane was mostly an aged gray. He regarded me curiously for a moment before speaking.

“Colonel Oak Tenet, requesting permission to come aboard,” he raised a wing in casual salute.

“Permission granted, Colonel,” I returned the salute, “I’m Captain Fleet Flier, acting CO of the free cloudship Cassiopeia.”

“That sounds like an interesting story,” the Colonel prompted.

“Colonel Sand Dune, our commanding officer, received illegal orders from the high council to target civilians,” here was where things might get rough. But I had no doubt that Colonel Tenet’s power-armored troops could detect Chief Weather and the eight others he had with them as yellow dots waiting in the next room, “He intended to follow through with these orders while fully aware and cognizant of what he was doing. At about ten hundred local, I took him into custody and assumed command.”

“And now where is he?”

“The brig under guard.”

“Then you’re not pirates, thank goodness,” the Colonel chuckled and his troops visibly relaxed.

“No, sir,” I confirmed, wondering if I’d just dodged a massive plasma blast, “We are acting under the full pretenses of the law, but we are also not acting on nor accepting orders from the high council or the admiralty. We are a free ship of the pegasus race.”

“Hm,” Colonel Tenet gave a sage nod as if I hadn’t just admitted I was essentially a traitor, “And what do you intend to do with this free ship of yours?”

“I certainly don’t intend to participate in this illegal war against the pegasi. I will be taking my ship to safe harbor and keeping my ponies alive.”

“Then perhaps we can assist each other,” Colonel Tenet proposed, “I’m much too old to be a rebel, so I can’t help or harbor you, but I’ve a slight issue to contend with, if you’ll hear me out?”

I nodded.

“I’ve prisoners of war,” the Colonel said simply, “and prisoners not of war, in my brig. My orders are to execute them, the Enclave has no use for enemy mouths to feed with the farmland all but gone.”

“It’s an illegal order, just free them,” I countered, tossing a glance to his ship, “Join us, we could use more horsepower, the enclave is less likely to risk taking down two free Raptors.”

“I’m too old for rebellion,” Colonel Tenet repeated with a tired shake of his head, “I thought I might send them over to you for proper disposal instead.” Which, of course, meant: ‘let them go,’ “We’ve experienced some issues with our weapons and discovered that they’re unsafe to use even in executions.” His tone of voice told me it was bullshit, but bullshit that no one would be able to sniff out or prove to be false.

I resisted the urge to glance at Ensign Meadow or out the hall towards where Chief Weather was still waiting. This was my ship now and that meant this was my decision, I wasn’t going to force anyone else to share the blame.

“We’ll accept your prisoners, sir.” I nodded, earning a small smile, “And sir, would you mind if we left our quarterdecks open for some time before we depart? There may be some among my crew who need to jump ship and I’d appreciate them having someplace safe to go to.”

“I shall make it so,” Colonel Tenet nodded again, “Rest assured, they will be safe with me.”

“And sir, I’m certain the council won’t appreciate us taking one of their Raptors. If you’re ordered to fire on us in the future...”

“The Vitriolic’s and old rust-bucket of a Raptor,” Colonel Tenet assured me with a clever smile, “The only reason we’re flying now is on account that there’s too few Raptors left. I’m sure something will go wrong the second we try to fire our weapons at something that doesn’t warrant shooting, could be the propellers start acting up if we’re asked to chase you down, engines like to overheat and they take a good long while to cool off. Who knows?” The old buck smiled and winked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. It faded instantly when I accepted an offered hoof to shake, replaced by a deadly calm that made me shrink back a bit, “But if someone fires on my ship I won’t hesitate to burn them to the ground.” His hoof gripped mine tightly until I nodded and his smile returned, “I’ll have the prisoners transferred over.” The Colonel issued me a smart salute and I returned it, “Best of luck to you, Captain.”

* * * * *

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect as the Vitriolic’s large hangar door opened and the prisoners were marched across the clouds. While in hindsight it made sense, I hadn’t expected to see that more than half were griffons and the rest pegasi. They’d all been stripped and cuffed, but a pair of crates containing their belongings followed them into our hangar bay.

As promised, our vessels remained docked after the prisoner transfer, something I pointed out over the 1MC to any listening loyalists, before heading down to the hangar bay.

The prisoners were faced up against one bulkhead when I arrived, still cuffed and under the watchful gunsights of our power-armored security detail. If not for the current turn of events, I would have been the one in charge of keeping the prisoners secure. Now, Ensign Meadow was keeping a watchful eye on everyone.

“Sorting out their stuff,” Meadow gestured to the crates the Vitriolic’s ponies had brought over, “Just gonna pull batteries and bullets. We’re giving it all back?”

“We’re not pirates,” I answered.

“Good,” Meadow nodded, then grinned, “though I think you’d look good with an eyepatch, sir.”

I let out a quick snort of laughter and shook my head.

“Talons, by the look of it,” Meadow nodded her head towards the griffons, “Also, some dashites…” the way she said the word sounded strange, like she was only just beginning to understand its true meaning, “the rest all have cutie marks, no idea what’s up with them.”

“I’ll ask,” I said, and started over.

By the way their legs were shaking and the presence of cutie marks, I guessed the last four pegasi in the group were civilians. That, or they were on the verge of pissing themselves, perhaps a little of both.

The second to last of the four, an older and slightly rotund buck, spotted me as I approached. Bolstered by the fact I was in my working uniform and not armed to the teeth looking like a black bug of death, he managed to speak up.

“H-hey! Please, sir, we just want to go back to our home! Won’t you let us please just go!? I can pay you, please! No more cages, we were only on the ground for a little bit!”

“Relax,” I made a calming gesture with a wing, “We’re not going to hurt you. Just as soon as we sort out all the stuff over there,” I gestured to the crates, “We’ll send you on your way, okay?”

The portly buck nodded, but a voice to my left drew my eyes to the first dashite in the lineup, “I know bullshit when I smell it!” he scowled, sending a wad of spit towards the nearest armored guard, “That other bastard didn’t have the balls to put us all down, so now he’s pawned us off to you to do the dirty work. I bet you get off on that, don’t you, cloud-humper!?”

I scowled at the dashite, but didn’t engage, turning back to the portly buck, “How did you come to be prisoners aboard the Vitriolic?” When he looked at me funny, I added, “The other cloudship.”

“Our f-farm, well,” he made an explosive ‘fwoosh’ sound with his mouth in what was a very poor recreation of a sonic rainboom, “and so we went down to try and collect what we could of our fallen crop. Most of it was ruined,” he said with a sorrowful tone, the other three civilians hanging their heads as well, “We tried to come back up, but when we did soldiers took us into custody, said we were contaminated from below! We had to go under surveillance and drink lots of radaway, but my pee wasn’t even rainbow colored! We weren’t contaminated at all!”

“Yeah, numbnuts,” the dashite heckler turned his sneer to the portly buck, the four civilians scooting away at his harsh voice, “That’s because you’re a chump who’s been lied to his whole life! The enclave—”

“That’s enough out of you!” I growled at the heckler, directing his spite back at me.

“Bite me, you featherbrained hack!” His wing-cuffs rattled as he flipped me a rude gesture with one wing, “If I wasn’t in these cuffs—”

“Oh, ‘if you weren’t in those cuffs?’” I spat back over him, trotting over with a scowl. He steeled himself for a strike, but instead I took out a set of keys and undid his restraints. The dumbfounded look on his face told me the action had startled him more than any strike would have, “Is any of the stuff in those crates yours?”

“Yeah…” he said slowly, rubbing at one wing with a hoof.

“Then wait here until we check it all,” not wanting to have to repeat myself more than once, I stepped back to where none of the prisoners would have to strain to look at me, “Listen up! This is not an enclave vessel, we are a free ship of the pegasi! As soon as we clear all the weapons and any explosives, we’ll be returning your confiscated items and you’ll be free to go.”

“You’re not taking my ammo!” A large griffon growled back from the other end of the line.

“You can have it back once you’re off my ship,” I replied, “But until that time, no one but me is armed for your own safety.”

“‘For my own safety!’” The griffon parroted back at me with a laugh, “Sure!” The word dripped with sarcasm.

I ignored her and turned to the civilians, unlocking their restraints.

“Can I get you folks anything? Food? Water? Escort to the head...restrooms?”

“He’s always hungry,” the mare standing next to the portly buck said, though a nervous edge made the jest sound forced. I pegged her as the buck’s wife, then. The other two were younger and shared some characteristics, sons, maybe?

“I think we’re fine, thank you,” the portly buck rubbed the hoof that had been locked to his wings, an uncertainty to his voice, “But you said...you’re not with the enclave? Why wouldn’t you be with the enclave?”

I frowned, “How long have you been in custody? Since the day of sunshine and rainbows?” At his confused look, I added: “Wastelander’s term for the day your farm was destroyed.”

“About then, yes.”

* * * * *

It didn’t take long to fill the farmers in on the current situation above the ground. Civilians rising up against the leaders that had lied to them since their great-grandparents had been in diapers. Military forces being brought in to quell the uprising civilians through force. Even some of the griffons turned their ear holes towards me when I informed them of how I’d taken command of the Cassiopeia. By the time I’d finished, all the weapons had been made safe and my tense security detail was organizing and uncuffing the prisoners for them to take back their gear.

“Please!” The portly buck, now properly introduced as Cumin Seed, pleaded. “You have to take us there, to Cotton Valley! I have relatives that can help my family. We have to make sure they’re safe!”

“I can’t do that, sir,” I said with a sorry shake of my head, “by now, I’m sure the enclave has figured something went awry with the Cassiopeia. They’ll be sending more Raptors there to stop the uprising. I’m not here to start shooting at other pegasi, I need to keep my ponies safe. You’re free to stay on board as long as you like.”

Whatever pleading request Seed was about to make was halted as the large griffon spoke up again.

“I’ve got no problem shooting at pegasi,” she drew our attention to her as she strapped on a set of wolf-gray body armor from beside the crate. Ignoring the weary looks of my power-armored pegasi, she trotted over and the farmers took a collective step back, “Looks like Gwen’s Grayskulls are for hire once again thanks to this ugly buzzard,” she jerked a casual talon towards me, missing my indignant look, “I don’t run a charity; you mentioned paying him to take you aboard this smelly haybale of a sky ship, what’ve you got?”

“Well, we didn’t salvage a whole lot from the farm…” Seed rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he stared up at the griffon’s impassive stare, “We managed to salvage a good number of seeds—”

“Lemme stop you right there, love handles. This beak?” The griffon, who I could only assume was Gwen, jabbed an index talon towards her beak, “It ain’t made for eating seeds.”

Seed gulped.

Gwen turned to me, “Captain bird-breath.”

“Captain Flier,” I corrected her with an annoyed look.

“I can read your name tag,” Gwen retorted without missing a beat, “Are you an asshole or are you gonna pay me to take these poor, sweaty farmers to their home in the clouds?”

“I…” I started, floundering as I realized that as much as I hated to admit it, that wasn’t such a bad idea. I didn’t want to just send these farmers packing into the wild skies for any number of things to go wrong, and I also didn’t want to take them where they wanted to go. The griffon mercenary solved that problem.

“Yeah, I can see those tiny little gears turning up there,” Gwen grinned to herself, poking a talon at my head, “This turkey’s got a good idea, yeah?”

“Don’t suppose you take pegasus currency?” I allowed.

“Not even a billion buzzardbucks,” Gwen replied, continuing before I could point out that’s not what our currency was called, “I won’t lead you on, I know what I want,” then she turned and screeched out, “Buzzard!”

“Buzz, buzz!” One of the dashites called out, making me frown as he cantered over in barding with the same gray color scheme as the griffons, the same white skull design on the shoulder pads. The bits of his hide I could see were covered in scars that had been made with sharp talons, “Yo! You need a dick to suck, boss? It ain’t much, but I’ve got mine!”

“Choke on my taint and die,” Gwen countered, jabbing him lightly in the side.

“Every time you fly in front of me, boss,” Buzzard and Gwen both turned back to us outsiders, their strange ritual complete. I looked between the two of them, stopping on Gwen who shrugged at my unasked question about a non-griffon talon.

“Followed me home one day,” was the only explanation she gave, then got back to business, “like any good pet owner, I want to accessorize. Give him some of your fancy power armor and it’s a deal. We fly your farmers to wherever they want and cut down any suckers that get in our way.”

“No need for the fancy shooters,” Buzzard patted the empty machine guns attached to his battle saddle, “I like mine.”

The me that had woken up this morning started going over lists of inventory and trying to figure out how I could possibly justify turning over top-of-the-line power armor to a dashite. The ponies in supply would faint at the mere mention of it. It was unthinkable to give up valuable enclave assets!

But that part of me had died, I now realized, the second I’d taken command of this ship. We were a free vessel of the pegasi and right now, four pegasi needed our help.

I matched Gwen’s cocky grin, “Let me see if I have anything that comes in scrawny.”

* * * * *

The Vitriolic was the first to leave, flashing a quick farewell message that wouldn’t be detectable on the airwaves. They took off in an easterly direction. A quick muster from all of our divisions showed me that it’d taken on twenty-one loyalists from the Cassiopeia, including the XO. That left us with just over sixty crew left, plenty to keep us airborne with some minor changes to the schedules.

Tentatively, the non-talon dashites departed after that, dropping quickly away from the Cassiopeia as if staying any longer was hazardous to their health. The heckler from before flipped me another rude gesture before his dive.

It felt weird seeing Buzzard prancing around the hangar in his new power armor as Gwen talked with the farmers. The scarred dashite had taken it upon himself to paint the armor a haze gray with paint provided by our supply closets. At the very least it would make him stand out as not being one of our own...but ‘our own’ was a strange term now.

Less than eight hours ago I’d been the security officer aboard the enclave Raptor Cassiopeia but now I was the CO of the free pegasus ship Cassiopeia. I’d taken on prisoners of war that had been slated for execution and given them back their weapons and armor before sending them on their merry way.

Not weird, I suddenly realized.

It felt good.

“CO to the bridge, CO to the bridge,” it took my brain a second to process that the call that came over the 1MC meant me.

It took another to process the alarm in the voice.

The alarm was still there when the doors slid open, the bridge crew turning their uncertain gazes to me. Somewhere deep down I was happy to see that none of them had jumped ship.

“You missed it, sir, but I got a recording,” Comms told me, a hoof hovering over a ‘Play’ button until I nodded, “They’re talking about us, sir, the Cassiopeia,” he prompted and started the recording.

“...was destroyed today by a dashite uprising in the city of Cotton Valley. It is unknown at this time how the terrorists managed to—” the radio broadcaster stopped mid sentence as I motioned for Comms to pause the recording.

“They’re saying that we were destroyed!?” I asked, Comms nodded.

“It gets worse, sir,” he hit ‘Play’ again after I motioned for the recording to continue.

“...bring the Raptor down, or what the casualties are at this time, but it is believed that everypony on board went down fighting for our proud enclave…”

“They’re lying,” I mumbled as the recording kept going, waving off Comms’ silent offer to pause it again.

“...A travel ban remains in effect for Cotton Valley and more Raptors are being sent to quell the unrest. For those of you just now tuning in, we’d like to remind you that earlier today dashite terrorists took the town hall and hung the local governor after wiping out the local troop garrison to a pony. It is believed that the civilian population is now being subjugated and branded by the terrorists or taken below the clouds for reasons unknown…” I stopped listening as the broadcaster went on to reach out to the victims with all of her heart and so on and so forth.

“Sir, should I turn the transponder back on?” Comms asked, killing the recording when he realized I’d stopped listening, “Let them know we’re still alive?”

“What? No. No, they’re baiting us, or that’s part of it at least. They have no idea what happened to us except that our transponder went off. But someone, somewhere wants a narrative where dashites in Cotton Valley killed a Raptor and are pillaging the town...” But still, what did that get them? They hardly needed justification to send more Raptors in.

“But if we turn the transponder on, the narrative dies, right? People realize that it’s all bullshit!” It took me a moment to realize that the pony had tears welling in his eyes, fear shaking his voice.

“If we turn the transponder back on, they send a ship to come figure out what really happened with guns hot and missiles ready. What they find is a bunch of dashite mutineers. It’s too late now, they’ll just sew it into the narrative. Maybe the Cassiopeia was actually captured, or they could just say we mutineed after some lawful order.

“But why bother with the narrative? If they were lying about the Cassiopeia were they lying about the terrorists as well?” None of my questions had answers.

“Show him the other recording, Drum,” Lieutenant Prism said. When I looked about the room, the same look of fright was on everyone’s face.

Comms, or Air Sergeant Drum, nodded quietly, “We got this a little bit after…” something caught in his throat as he gestured at the recording, switching tapes, “It’s from the Vitriolic.”

“...is Vitriolic,” I heard Colonel Tenet’s steady voice, “Our encrypted comms are down for the moment, but we confirm new orders to rendezvous at Cotton Valley. Can you please confirm shattered hoof status? Over.”

The room went silent and I could feel everypony’s eyes on me. There was a pause in the recording, but background static told me that someone was talking to the Vitriolic on an encrypted line, a conversation we weren’t privy to.

“Roger that, read you Luna Colt.” I jumped when the Colonel’s voice returned, “Vitriolic confirms: shattered hoof.”

“Oh, fuck,” I realized. Shattered hoof was the code phrase for: all friendly forces destroyed, blast the targeted area into oblivion.

They’d needed a justification to burn the city out of the sky. That’s what the narrative was about.

And it was all possible because I’d killed our transponder and given the enclave the ammunition they’d needed.

“Helm, plot a course to Cotton Valley. Full speed ahead,” even as I said it, I was turning to the door.

“Cotton Valley, full speed ahead, aye,” Helm said, the deck shifting beneath me as we were brought up to full speed. The bridge doors slid shut behind me on her last word.

I galloped back down to the hangar, nearly colliding with Ensign Meadow as she was coming back up. A scowling Gwen was thankfully just behind her.

“Sir, what’s going on!?” Ensign Meadow exclaimed at the same time that Gwen growled, “We can’t get off your stinking sky ship at this speed!”

I took a moment to catch my breath as the two fixed me with different looks.

“New course set,” I told Ensign Meadow, then turned to Gwen, “How would you like a ride?”

* * * * *

“Some of you may be wondering what’s going on,” when I spoke, my voice carried through the corridors of the Cassiopeia, “We have received word that the enclave intends to burn the cloud city of Cotton Valley out of the sky.” I could imagine the effects that was having on everyone onboard. Indifference from Gwen, terror from the farmers, alarm and sorrow and confusion from my crew. I didn’t care to think what Sand Dune thought of it as he sat in the brig, “We’re going to do our best to get there before them and…” I hesitated and hated myself for it, “and do whatever it takes to stop that from happening.

“We will be evacuating the city. It will require a large amount of time and horsepower to do, but if we can let the enclave burn an empty city then we’ll have won.” ‘The enclave’ I spoke the words with bitterness now, “However, the enclave is sending in more Raptors and we may not have the time to evacuate Cotton Valley. If this is the case, we may need to hold out on our own and cover their retreat. If we can draw the Raptors away without having to fire then all the better. If not, we’ll be defending a civilian population against armed intruders.” It was a hard pill to swallow, but I did it all the same, “We will do everything in our power to prevent that from happening, and should it come to that I will assume full responsibility no matter what happens.

“My offer of leniency still stands for any who do not wish to partake in armed conflict against the enclave. When we reach Cotton Valley, I will hold none of you against your will. You may go in peace. Acting CO Captain Fleet Flier out.”

* * * * *

We overtook the Vitriolic that evening.

“They’re signaling something,” Air Sergeant Drum squinted at the flashing mirror on the viewscreen. The rest of us were listening to the open channel the vessel was broadcasting on.

“This is the Raptor Vitriolic,” Colonel Tenet’s calm voice said, as the Raptor slowed to a halt behind us, “Our encrypted line is still down and now we’re having trouble with our engines, we’re dead in the air and adrift. No vessels in sight to assist and minor leak in our cloud generators. Requesting Cotton Valley rendezvous be changed to our location, we could really use some help with these repairs, over.”

Silence filled the airwaves.

“Raptor Vitriolic copies. Thanks for the assist, you guys, see you when you get here. Out.” Everyone on the bridge breathed a sigh of relief, the old pony had bought us some time.

“Got their signal mirror message,” Air Sergeant Drum turned a grin to the rest of us, “‘Good luck.’”

* * * * *

The moon was rising when we arrived, engines overheating and cloud-generators sucking on vapor. The two other Raptors were set to rendezvous with the Vitriolic some time in the next few hours based on their transponder locations. I hoped Colonel Tenet could keep them busy long enough to evacuate the city.

Cotton Valley got its name from the cottony mass of clouds it was built atop of, cloud homes rising up from the bottom of a parabolic divot in the cloudscape. It looked a little worse for wear, but nothing like the anarchist nightmare the media hounds on the airwaves were making it out to be.

I finally allowed our external communications to come back online once we were close enough, the power output low enough that any broadcasts would be unintelligible outside of a few dozen nautical miles.

It took some convincing to get folks in the city to respond, disbelief that the Raptor they’d allegedly destroyed was the one hailing them. Things started to become clear after we were given landing permission at the small airbase and two ponies came out to meet me.

The first was Major Pollen, a short, squat buck who assured me none of his troops had been killed. Their complement of ten skytanks and bombing chariots plus fifty power-armored troopers were all doing quite well. They’d stood down pretty much the exact second they’d received orders to fire on civilians.

The second was a tall, airy mare named Mellowdew who assured me that she had just been an administrative clerk but was now the acting governor. The previous governor had most certainly not been dragged out into the streets and lynched (at least outside of a few effigies), she’d taken her own life in her office as the people ranted outside.

It cost me valuable hours of sitting down and reiterating what felt like the same point over and over again until it was driving me mad. But thankfully both ponies conceded to my evacuation plan in the end with one, simple condition: they needed a place to go.

I took a sip from my third cup of coffee that night (or was this my fourth?), trying to keep the liquid from sloshing up the sides of the mug on account of my jittery wings. Eventually I had to set the cup down next to Ensign Meadow’s on the old charts we had laid out. Chief Weather was hunched over his own mug, possibly asleep. I couldn’t blame him if he was.

We’d been poring over the charts for hours now, trying to find a suitable spot to move the denizens. Each had numerous dark circles where our mugs had been placed, picked up, and set down again in our search for someplace suitable. It didn’t help that the charts were probably decades out of date, if not centuries.

To make things worse, we now had a deadline; the Vitriolic was back underway with two other Raptors.

“They can all go to hell for all I’m starting to care,” Meadow grumbled crankily, pushing her coffee back and forth across the table. She stopped after a moment, bleary eyes showing shame with her helmet removed, “No, that’s an awful thing to say, I’m sorry.”

“I smell coffee,” I was too tired to be startled when Gwen marched into the small conference room like she was meant to be there. But I wasn’t too tired to scowl as she marched over and started pouring herself a cup. When she caught my look she didn’t stop pouring, “You said you’d feed us for the duration of the contract.”

“Haven’t you got Mr. Seed and his family back home already?” I grumbled back, too tired to care about the pilfered coffee.

“Wanted to drop a deuce in a real toilet before I headed back down to the wasteland,” the griffon shrugged, grabbing a talon-full of sweeteners and stuffing them into a pouch on her armor, “Normally I just follow my nose to find a toilet, but your vegetarian diets don’t really leave a scent trail to follow.”

“Ew,” Meadow didn’t bother turning around, her shoulders heaving with the weight of the word.

“That’s poop for you,” Gwen leaned against the coffee table, sipping from her mug and making a face, “Oh, geez, no wonder you buzzards tried to climb down from the sky; can’t brew a decent cup of coffee.”

“You have a wasteland coffee shop you recommend!?” I glowered at the griffon, “Because the ponies here won’t evacuate until we find them a new place to live!”

“Good one,” Gwen let out a snort of laughter, sipping at her cup and grimacing at the taste.

“How the hell is that funny!?” I snapped back.

The griffon gave me an odd look.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she held up an index talon, “the ponies here won’t evacuate because they want a new place to live? You’re serious right now?”

“I am not joking,” I growled out, hiding a yawn in another sip of coffee, “Do you know someplace where I can bring some six hundred pegasus refugees who’ve never set foot on solid ground before? Ponies down there are just as likely to shoot them as to enslave them or eat them.”

“You’re right, there isn’t anywhere below the clouds to take them…” she trailed off like that was supposed to mean something. When I didn’t catch it, she groaned and pulled out a chair, setting her mug on the table.

“Wake up, dickless!” Gwen announced, slapping Chief Weather on his armored back, “I think I’m about to blow your minds!”

“Bite me, turkey,” he growled, not moving from his hunched position.

“Not without some roasties and paprika,” she grinned savagely, looking at each of us in turn before turning back to me, “You’re thinking like a stupid pegasus that’s lived with the cloud cover all his life.”

“Oh, that’s the problem,” I grumbled, sipping my coffee.

“You’re stuck in your ways like a hard bowel movement,” Gwen said.

“Ew,” Ensign Meadow muttered again.

“Yep, poop, what an idea!” Gwen waved a pair of jazzy talons in front of herself.

“You’re just filled with crude...not alliteration, that’s not the word,” my thoughts went tumbling away from me.

“Metaphors,” Gwen answered, frowning around at our tired faces, “You ponies should really learn to catnap, been doing that all day and I feel great.”

“Are you going to get to a point any time soon?” I scrubbed my face, sitting upright in an effort to keep myself from falling asleep at the table.

“Move the city,” Gwen said.

“What?”

“Move. The. City,” she sounded the words out, “Take your big old fancy ship,” she tapped a talon on the table, “Take all your fancy wings,” she tugged at one of Chief Weather’s armored wings, which he angrily jerked back to his side, “And move the city. The answer’s been under you the entire day, your shit literally flies around on clouds! But you’ve been stuck in the mindset of a solid cloud cover for all your life, of thinking that the thing you walk on and screw on being something more than a big freakin’ cloud.

“I’ve got news for you: clouds move! If you’re afraid some big old mean pegasi are going to come by in some big old mean cloud ships and turn this place into vapor trails, then move the city somewhere else!”

It took me a second to get it.

Then I started to giggle.

And the giggle turned into a chuckle.

And the chuckle turned into a laugh.

There was no time to lose.

* * * * *

Colonel Oak Tenet frowned over his tea, soft breath cooling the scalding liquid as his old eyes watched the horizon. They should have been able to see it by now. After another minute of only scattered clouds as far as the eye could see, he opened a channel to his compatriots.

“This is the Vitriolic,” he started. He smiled as he could almost hear their collective groans, “our encryption is still acting up,” he said to anyone from here to the horizon with a ham radio and a pair of ears, “I hate to sound like a squabbling foal, but are we there yet? My charts seem to indicate the city should be very visible by now. Well within thirty NMI from here. Over.”

There was a long moment of silence and he wondered if the other two Raptors had decided that they were just going to ignore him from now on.

“This is the Serendipity on a secure channel, uhh, we’re seeing what you’re seeing. We should definitely see the city by now. Over.”

“Yeah, Screamin’ Firehawk here, we concur,” the accented voice paused, “What do y’all make of that? Over.”

As he watched the endless wisps of clouds too small to be the city, the corners of the Colonel’s wrinkly lips curled up in a sudden smile. He shook his head and hailed the other Raptors, “Well, colts, I don’t know about you, but it looks to me like our job here is done. The city has been reduced to ash and steam. I can handle the report, all vessels acted admirably in culling the dashite threat! Vitriolic out.” He clicked off the transmitter and laughed.

“What’s so funny, sir?” His XO inquired from his side.

“Clouds,” he grinned and took a sip of his tea.

Author's Note:

Topic Enclave. By Salted Pingas

Comments

[Salted Pingas]

Initially this was going to be called "Civil War" and have a darker ending with the Cassiopeia having to fire on the Serendipity to defend the city (Colonel Tenet was going to fake a severe engine malfunction and convince the Screamin' Firehawk to assist them back to port). The Cassiopeia was going to win, but with a severe blow to their consciences. Ultimately, I cut it due to word length and I honestly think that this is a better ending. Everyone expects a big triumphant battle of good and evil, but sometimes you win the battle by never fighting in the first place.

This was a blast to write. Helped get me out of a rut and get back on track for my other story, and I might even continue the story of Captain Flier and the Cassiopeia in a future story covering the Enclave civil war.

[platogkrone]

10401911

I might even continue the story of Captain Flier and the Cassiopeia in a future story covering the Enclave civil war.

Do it.

...

Please.

[Vic the Tricky Unicorn]

10401911
This was great! After just reading the Thunderhead arc of Project Horizons a couple days ago with the Raptors, this was a cool little taste of what could have happened after Sunshine and what the Enclave and Pegasi were up to then. Definitely love Captain Flier's character, and will keep a look out for the Cassiopeia in the future!

[Vic the Tricky Unicorn]

10402406
Ditto!