May the Stars Fall

by Tetravault

Chapter Three - Dazed

Phillip snapped back to reality, his head jerking up as he looked around in a heavy breathing filled panic. He grunted as his vision blurred, his hearing filled with a painful ringing sound. His hands came up to hold his head, as it felt like it was about to split in half. As the ringing subsided, he was left with a pulsing headache. Pulling his hands back, he saw that his palms were covered in half-dried blood. Tentatively, he gently felt his face, letting out a yelp of pain as his fingers brushed against a broken nose. As his vision cleared up a bit, Phillip could see, to his surprise, the rays of the oncoming afternoon sun shining through the shattered windows of the cockpit.

"Daylight...? How long have I been out...?" he mumbled to himself as he looked to his right, his gut filling with a cold sensation as he saw the battered corpse of his friend. His vision blurred again as he looked back into the rest of the bomber, seeing the legs of Hagerty hanging limply from the top turret seat. Blood slowly dripped from the sole of one of Hagerty's boots. As his vision cleared again, Phillip began to undo the belts that had saved his life. The pilot panted as pain gripped his core, most likely the result of a few broken ribs from the sudden impact. With a groan of pain, Phillip slipped himself out of the restraints and staggered to his feet. Doing his best to ignore Jason's cold stare, he looked down into the bombardier nest. Casings, maps and glass littered the floor, along with the entangled corpses of Wiskowski and O'Hare. With a slight whine, Phillip grimaced as a new sound reached his slightly ringing ears;

Someone was moving. Turning back around, looking past Hagerty's lifted body and into the empty bomb bay, he could see Bush crawling towards him from the radio compartment.

"S-sir..." Bush croaked weakly. Phillip was slow to spring into action, his footing fighting him as he tried to balance himself within the crooked and broken interior. A weak smile tugged at the corner of Bush's lips as he stopped moving, visibly sighing as Phillip got closer.

"Bush...!" he yelled hoarsely as he fell forward, nearly falling through a jagged, gaping hole cause by a flak shell that had punched through the aircraft without detonating. Regaining his balance, he shuffled along the tiny catwalk that crossed the bomb bay. Reaching Bush, Phillip cleared away the operator seat and lifted the young boy up to sit in it. Bush was extremely pale, his eyes wide with pin prick pupils as he visibly shook.

"Sir...?" he asked, meeting Phillip's stare for a moment.

"Hey buddy, I'm here, I'm here!" Phillip assured breathlessly. His hands had begun to pat Bush down, feeling for any injury. "Are you hurt?" he asked. Bush silently shook his head, his chin trembling as he looked away from his Officer towards the rear of the bomber.

"Jefferson is gone...Woods...Edwards..." he trailed off. Phillip followed Bush's gaze aft towards the other gunnery positions. He could see Edwards' body slumped against the wall of his tail gunner seat, as if he was still asleep. Jefferson's ball gun was violently forced back into the bomber, having been crushed and pushed upwards from the force of the impact. Woods was no where to be seen, though. Phillip could only assume the worse.

"Hey, hey, look at me Bush. I'm here, you're here, we're gonna be okay, yeah?" he asked. Bush continued to shake, but gave a weak nod. "You're not hurt?" Phillip asked. Before Bush could respond, the two men could hear voices from outside, although they were at a distance. Phillip's training kicked in, his hand immediately opening the zipper to his jacket and reaching into the armpit holster that held his 1911. As his fingers loosened the holster, Phillip hissed in pain as his sidearm pressed into a tender spot beneath the holster. Withdrawing the sidearm, he chambered a round and looked at Bush.

"Where's your gun?" he asked in a hushed tone. Bush took a moment to regard his person, his hands patting his chest to feel for the holster. Feeling it, he shakily mirrored Phillip's actions and chambered a round once the gun was withdrawn. The voices outside continued to grow louder, drawing closer. They both listened, their bodies tense. Phillip felt confusion trickling into his mind as he listened.

"Are they speaking English...?" he asked, mostly to himself. Bush seemed to have heard the question.

"Maybe we got turned around?" Bush asked softly, his gun aimed towards the hole in the waist position where Olivias-Marin was ejected from the aircraft by a flak burst. Phillip aimed his gun towards the same area as Bush, both men keeping their fingers on their trigger guards for the time being.

"No no we were far into German territory..." Phillip countered. "You stay here, I'm going to take a look outside. Cover me." he ordered. Bush nodded and held his sidearm with both hands, steadying his aim as the pilot slowly staggered towards the massive opening. As he got closer, he pushed himself against the wall, steadying his breathing as he slightly leaned forward to look outside. The noontime sun hung high, brightly illuminating a nearby town with unfamiliar architecture. He could see a few bridges crossing a crystal blue river that cut through the town. Clouds slowly drifted by over rolling green hills that seemed to go on for ages, and he could hear the early cicadas of summer chirping loudly.

"We're sure as hell not in Kansas anymore..." Phillip muttered to himself. The voices outside were suddenly very clear and extremely close as he heard approaching footfalls. Staggering back to Bush, Phillip could see a group of shadows entering the aircraft just as he raised his 1911 with both hands.

"If they're German, we kill them. If they're English, we warn them." Phillip ordered. Bush nodded just in time as the two heard a footstep clang against the metal floor of the bomber. Within an instant, Phillip's recognition training kicked in.

"Flash!" he yelled, hoping for the return phrase of 'Thunder'. The scrape of a shoe could be heard as Phillip's yell surprised someone outside.

"Sir, there's somepony in there!" yelled a male.

Phillip and Bush exchanged a confused glance as they listened. "Somepony?" Bush hissed. Phillip gave a brief shrug before speaking again.

"You will identify yourself or else we will shoot!" Phillip ordered.

"How about you identify yourself, or else we will be forced to board your craft!" came the response, although this one was a new voice, but was still a male one.

"How many?" Phillip called out.

"I could ask the same of you!" snapped back the male. "Now how are we going to go about this? Are we coming in to get you, or are you coming out here to us?"

"Do we have your word that you won't just kill us on sight?" Phillip asked cautiously.

"Depends on how trusting of strangers you are! But, considering we're able to understand each other just fine, I say we have some common ground there." replied the voice. Phillip and Bush regarded each other again, weighing their options. They didn't need to say much, their current environment was reminder enough that they were in no position to negotiate with whoever was outside.

"We'll go out there, but keep our guns visible." Phillip whispered as he slipped an arm around his friends' core to keep the radio operator steady. Bush nodded as he rested his weight against Phillip as they two made their way to the exit. As they got closer, the noon sunlight temporarily blinded them. Phillip released Bush so that both of them could cover their eyes as their boots touched the scorched earth beneath the wreckage. As their vision cleared, both men would be met with one hell of a surprise.

A half circle of armored, and armed, ponies surrounded them. Spear tips glistened in the sun, aimed straight at the two men. The ponies ranged in color and size, but all of them held an intelligent look in their eyes, although they were currently glaring in caution and uncertainty. In the center of the formation, an orange stallion with a blue mane cleared his throat, a slightly gawking expression on his face as he rustled a pair of wings that were tucked to his sides.

"More of them...?" he said under his breath before speaking up. "My name is Flash Sentry, Lieutenant of the Crystal Royal Guard. Identify yourselves!" he ordered. The two airmen simply stared in befuddled amazement at the fact that a pony just talked to them, let alone demanded that they identify themselves. Phillip's grip briefly tightened on his sidearm before gulping a bit, his mouth going dry. A couple shots will scare them off. That's all it'll take, just a couple shots...

But could we outrun them...?

His grip on the sidearm eased up a bit, his finger returning to the trigger guard. Flash Sentry noticed the muscles twitching in Phillips' arm, his eyes squinting a bit as he squared off his jaw.

"Don't try anything stupid, human. Identities, now." Flash ordered with an even tone.

How the hell...?

"C-Captain Phillip Hutton, United States Army Air Corps." Phillip said with a slight quiver to his voice.

"Corporal Stephen Bush, Uni-" Bush had started, but his posture suddenly slumped, his eyes glazing over. Before anyone could continue speaking, the radio operator collapsed to the ground, and Phillip immediately dropped to his knees to check on his friend, his sidearm hitting the ground with a slightly muffled thump! The guards around them gave sounds of surprise as they shifted into aggressive stances, their spear points following the motions of the two humans. Flash Sentry ordered his troops to stand down in the commotion, his voice raising up to give an order over Phillip calling Bush's name to make him wake up.

"We need a medic!" he yelled. Phillip looked up from his friend towards Flash Sentry, who was staring off at something. Following the pony's gaze, Phillip saw a decently sized tent set up nearby. A couple ponies stood guard outside, while others seemed to mill about on other errands, although some of them had taken notice of Flash's order. Almost ten seconds later, a snow white pony with a fiery orange mane came tearing towards the crash site at full speed. In seconds, the new arrival was kneeling down opposite Phillip.

"Talk to me." ordered the pony. Phillips' brain reeled at the developing situation, surprised that he was being ordered around by farm animals. Not giving an answer immediately, the pony looked up and clapped their hooves together to catch Phillip's attention. He could see a horn protruding from the pony's forehead, and it was wrapped in an orange glow of sorts. Feminine, charcoal grey eyes met his brown ones.

"Focus. What's wrong?" asked the pony, her eyes gesturing to the unconscious Bush. Phillip blinked a moment and cleared his throat again before speaking up.

"U-uh, he was shaking and extremely pale when I found him." Phillip explained. The mare nodded, rolling their hoof for Phillip to continue. "H-his eyes were wide, almost glazed over at points. I think he's in shock?" Phillip suggested, trying to remember his first-aid training. The unicorn gave a slightly bemused chuckle, her horn flaring up as an orange aura surrounded Bush's eyes, the lids opening on their own. The pony leaned forward, briefly examining Bush's ocular response as she spoke.

"Given what you two just crawled out of, that's a very good assumption. Oh, right, introductions. I'm Suture, and I'll be your nurse today." she said cheerfully for a moment as she looked up, her cheeks turning into cute dimples with a radiant smile before she dropped the cheery greeting and kicked into full medical professional mode. Her horn flared up once again, removing the sidearm from Bush's limp grip as his jacket zipper was enveloped in the same glow, which had began to pull down on its own. Phillip watched in stunned amazement as the mare worked her literal magic on Bush.

This has to be some sort of dream...

On instinct, Phillip gathered the two discarded sidearms, keeping a tight grip on them.

"He's breathing, which is a good sign. No external signs of injury, though I can't be certain about inside. I need a stretcher!" Suture called over her shoulder. Almost immediately two guards brought what she had requested and her horn flared again. Suture grunted as she attempted to lift Bush onto the stretcher. Phillip figured he should help anyway he could, so he wrapped his arms under Bush's arms and lifted his upper body. Suture noticed this and transferred her magic to Bush's legs as the two carried the unconscious human up and onto the stretcher.

"Where to, ma'am?" asked the guards.

"Take him to Ponyville General. He's going to need a full look over and that can't be done here." Suture ordered. Immediately the guards ran off in the direction of the nearby tent as another pony approached, drawing a cart behind them to rendezvous with the stretcher bearers. Loading Bush into the cart, the pony leading the cart reared back and took off away from the tent.

"You're going to need to go there too." Suture said, and Phillip jumped a bit as he realized that the mare was regarding him again.

"Huh?" Phillip asked dumbly.

"I can see you're struggling to stand as it is, I can only imagine how beat up you are. You're coming with me to the hospital to get looked over too." Suture said, taking the lead at a quick pace. Phillip simply stared after the mare, but immediately felt a shoving push at the small of his back.

"Get moving!" ordered one of the guards. Phillip jumped slightly again as he turned to regard the guard behind him, but his legs began to move him away from the crash site. Looking up from the guard behind him, Phillip saw the corpse of his beloved Holly-Marie. The old girl was a beaten, battered, broken mess of an aircraft. Phillip stopped a moment as he turned on his heel, the guard bumping into him with a grunt. He wanted to run back to the wreck. He wanted to double check for survivors, to see Jason and the others crawling out in equally battered conditions. He couldn't quite believe his family was dead, with the Holly-Marie acting as their collective casket. The guard in front of him growled and pushed Phillip again.

"I said, get moving!" he ordered. Phillip gave a strangled whine as he turned on his heel, but his head was still turned back, his eyes on the wreck. Flash Sentry fell in line beside Phillip before clearing his throat to catch the human's attention.

"You will be under guard while you're at the hospital. We're going to want answers out of you and your friend, but your recovery comes first. If there's anything you need, ask. Wherever you go, we will go. You will have two guards posted outside of your rooms at all time. If we suspect any foul play, we are authorized to use force to subdue you. Am I making myself clear?" Flash asked, looking at the 1911s in Phillip's grip.

"Also, we will be relieving you of your weapons. Polearm!" Flash called. Another guard trotted over, this one a unicorn, and Phillip could feel his grip being joined by an invisible force. Looking down a moment, the pilot saw the guns enveloped in a cyan glow and could feel an oddly pleasant sensation around his hand. Without warning, his only form of defense was whisked away with Polearm as the guard trotted away towards the tent. Flash took this moment to continue speaking.

"So, care repeating back what I had told you?" he asked as the two males approached the tent. For a moment, Phillip could see inside as he walked past, and saw a group of guards gathered around a table of sorts, deep into a discussion. A few of them looked up and out towards Flash and Phillip, but didn't give any signs of shock or surprise at the human's presence.

Why are they not afraid of me?

Flash cleared his throat to keep Phillip's attention.

"You're keeping me and Bush under guard at all times, and we will be expected to answer your questions." he surmised softly. Have Bush and I seriously become prisoner to talking horses? This has to be some form of twisted purgatory...

"Ah, good to see you've been paying attention." Flash said with slightly sarcastic bemusement.