Night Skies

by Kanned Panzer

Chapter Two - Memories

Seven hours. Seven hours. They spent seven hours, not just finishing the two Star Wars movies, but he had made the mistake of mentioning Star Trek halfway through the second movie, and she insisted on watching it. Despite some risqué scenes with Captain Kirk, she had enjoyed it, but, as much as Thomas liked the show, spending three hours binge-watching episodes took a lot out of him.

He swiftly stood up and turned off the VHS, earning a protest from the pegacorn lying on his couch. “Sorry, Luna. But I have to get at least some work done today.”

She huffed, but, despite her disappointment, she smiled; her happiness was infectious, and Thomas found himself returning the expression. The pony hopped off the couch and stretched to loosen her joints; she even gave her wings a few flaps.

“Thank you, William. I greatly enjoyed watching those films.”

“Glad you liked it,” he responded as he rubbed his eyes; they were sore from watching television. That was probably the reason he avoided watching it too often—along with the fact that he had watched every movie he owned at least three times. “I hadn’t expected you to get so into it.”

“How could I not; your films were excellent! Star Wars was an especially wonderful adventure; who wouldn’t love to view a valiant creature trek through the stars to save a princess and stop an evil empire. I could see it rivaling even the tales of Daring Do in popularity—if your kind would be willing to distribute it in Equestria. And what of the ‘special effects?’ You told me your kind has no form of magic, and yet, you make a film with swords of light and space-faring vessels the size of cities!”

Thomas chuckled at the pony’s enthusiasm, “Such high praise. I’m sure George Lucas would have been happy to hear that.”

Luna’s eyes locked onto his own, “Is that the maker of the film?” He nodded, and he swore her smile grew wider. “Is he going to continue the film? I would hate it if such a wondrous story ended on such a sour note.”

Thomas’s smile faded. The man was probably dead. With how many nukes hit the west coast, the man was almost certainly gone. If he wasn’t, he would have read something in the news about the man. No. He was dead. The films were just one more item he had to remember the lost.

“William?” Luna called softly. Thomas jumped in his skin; he had forgotten she was there. His mind had wandered off to the past. She no longer had a happy smile; in its place was a concerned frown.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He gave her a smile that he knew didn’t match his eyes, “But, to answer your question, I don’t know. Those movies were made back home...on Earth.”

“... that is what you call your world?” she asked tentatively. “Forgive me if it is too personal, but I heard that your world was dying.”

He chuckled dryly, “Dead is more appropriate. Sure the government is still working on those rescue missions in the Caribbean, but in ten more years, the world’s gonna be iced over.”

“Oh,” she appeared to think something over. “How did your world die?”

His eyes snapped to the pony, and he raised an eyebrow. “Oh boy, that’s a loaded question.”

“I meant no offense!” she quickly amended, “It’s just that I had been able to read some reports during the first crossings, but they were always very general. The ‘Europeans’ had been vague in their answers, and I never had the time to investigate personally.”

“You must have had a pretty high position if you were getting reports from the First Crossing.”

She shifted her gaze to a nearby wall, a frown forming on her face, “You could say that.”

He sighed and crossed his arms, the movement drawing her attention back to him. He didn't say anything for a while, instead choosing to stare at the pony. “Do you really want to know?” She hesitated before nodding her head, mirroring his impassivity. He shook his head, giving a disappointed sigh. “Alright. For starters, we killed our world, along with untold millions of people on it."

To the pony’s credit, she didn’t seem fazed by his statement; most of the innocent peace-loving creatures would probably be horrified at the prospects of that level of destruction, but not her, apparently. Nevertheless, it made him wonder if she had gleaned at least that part. “How did you destroy yourselves?” she asked.

“We dropped what we called atomic bombs all over the world; the bombs had enough power to level entire cities, killing millions each. But the sheer destructive power wasn't the worst part of the bombs. Nope, the worst point was radiation. If you were lucky enough to survive the explosion, you would be graced by a slow, painful death by radiation poisoning.”

Luna’s brow furrowed, “How did you survive? Did you contract this poison?”

He shook his head, “Nope, I lived in a small town in the south. They only nuked our state capital and largest city, so I survived. But, even after that, we were still technically at war, and for the first year, the government gathered people up and had them live in makeshift towns in the least damaged suburban and rural areas. The civilians worked in what remained of factories to produce weapons to fight the ongoing war, and we soldiers were sent to either fight against the Soviets or protect the remaining supply lines.”

“You still fought even after facing such devastation?” her face was a mix of shock and anger. “That’s absurd! With such devastation, you were in no shape to fight!”

Thomas shrugged, “I suppose that’s true, but everyone was devastated, even our enemies, so even with our weakened state, we fought on. And I was assigned to protect supply lines.”

“Your people were decimated. From whom would you protect them from!”

“Gangers,” he spat. “Groups of people who decided the best thing to do during the apocalypse was to attack convoys and loot what they could from the remains. My convoy got attacked five times during the first year; I’m happy to say I nailed eight of the shit-heads.” a sadistic grin crept onto his face. He hated killing people; even the Soviets were still people. But the gangers? Not them; they weren’t people. They were animals, filthy rabid animals.

Luna was startled by his sudden shift in attitude, but she recovered. “I see," her eyes betrayed her nonchalance; he could see the concern in her eyes and felt his face heat up in shame. He cleared his throat, wiped the cruel grin off his face, and returned to a neutral expression.

“...Anyway, so after a while, the constant raids started to cripple us, well, cripple us even more than we already were. Then a few of the remaining military leaders decided they knew what was best and, through a coup, they assumed control over the remains of the government. They shifted our war efforts away from fighting the Soviets and back towards home.” He paused for a second, “I have to say, I never really liked the coup, but that was one of the best things they did for us—besides build the portals, of course.”

“And why is that?"

He felt the urge to grin again, but this time he suppressed it, knowing that it would put her off. “Well, they brought the boys home to kill off the gangers, and a mighty fine job they did. We never suffered a single ambush again, and I got to see a few of the animals executed on the firing line.” She gave him a concerned look at that last comment, but he brushed it off. He would hold no compassion for them, not after what they took from him, “Now, this is where the Junta starts getting a little crazy. With our supply lines restored and safe, they decided they needed more, and where better to get resources than from our northern neighbors in Canada?”

“So you invaded this 'Canada?'”

“Not me—I was still on convoy duty—but yeah. We marched an army into Canada and occupied it; wasn't too hard, took a beating, and their population was reduced to only a couple million, but their industries were mostly intact. We used them to supply our troops, and we launched an attack on a Soviet oil rig off the coast of Alaska. That failed. Horribly. It ended up destroying the rig, killing everyone on it.”

She grimaced, “That’s awful.”

“Yeah, but it gets worse. After that, the Soviets counterattacked; having expended their nuclear arsenal, they opted to launch a swarm of rockets at a nearby military base. Too bad, that military base was being used to treat people with severe radiation poisoning. Killed everyone there—I think the casualty count was around ten thousand. With that absolute failure, everyone lost the will to fight, and we turned to internal affairs and avoided fighting the Soviets; they were too busy handling their problems to care about conquering us anyway.”

Her jaw dropped, “... So they killed thousands of innocents...and you did nothing?”

His eyes narrowed, “Didn’t you just say we were in no condition to fight?”

Her shock turned to fury; her mane lost its shape and seemed to drift apart, forming a cloud of stars. A chill ran down his back as he glanced into her eyes; for a brief moment, he thought her pupils contracted into slits, but that couldn’t be. “They killed innocent people! They killed wounded innocent people! Such evil deserves to be paid back in blood! All throughout your tale, your people fight and fight for meaningless reasons, but when they kill thousands of suffering innocents, you do nothing!"

Thomas felt his heart lurch in his chest. He felt an odd mix of overwhelming humor and pain. She thought that a thousand people already doomed to die was bad? What about the millions that not only the Soviets killed, but they had killed. How many families died because of some stupid war between two world powers? Over four billion were killed, and she was worried about a couple thousand! It was funny. No, it wasn’t funny; it was hysterical. And he laughed. An image of one of his best friends passed through his mind’s eye. His face frozen in a smile as a chunk of gore splattered out the side of his head. He collapsed to his knees, barely registering the pain of his clothed flesh hitting the hard floor. An image of his little brother's pained face as he reached for Thomas. He laughed until his throat was sore, and he was regularly interrupted by a painful dry cough. And his father. Oh God, his father.

Tears and mucus streamed down his face, and he found himself curling into a fetal position as he begged his own mind to stop showing him the memories. He attempted to dig his nails into his skin in a vain effort to distract his mind.
Luna stood by helpless as she watched the human suffering; her anger had disappeared, replaced by guilt and fear. She had done that to him. It was her fault, and she needed to fix it. But she didn’t know how. What if what she did just made it worse. Then, she had an idea; the alicorn concentrated and readied her horn.

And cast a sleeping spell.

Thankfully, it worked. She had no idea how humans interacted with magic, being from another world and all. But, she was relieved when he stopped whimpering, and his breathing slowed. She used her magic to gently lift him and turned to bring him to his room. She walked to the hall that housed his and her rooms.

At the very end was her room; her eyes glanced towards the ornate door marked with a symbol of the moon. The human government had gone out of its way to make her comfortable, and while she was flattered, it only served to remind her of home. She frowned and shook her head to clear her thoughts. It wasn’t the time to think about her mistakes.

Across from her room was the bathroom; she never had to use it due to having her own private bathroom, customized to fit an alicorn. Near the start of the hall was William’s room marked by a plain white door. She magicked the door open and entered with the human held aloft in her magical aura. His room was rather spartan in comparison to her own. The walls were painted the same white as his door, with only a singular window covered by blinds letting light into the dark room. It was furnished with a bed in the corner of the room, and across from it was a dresser, presumably filled with human clothes. And, in another corner, a desk with what looked like a small television screen with a typewriter keyboard, a boxy device with a horizontal slit, along with a tray of thin plastic devices—she made a mental note to ask him about those later—and finally, a black lockbox that came up to her knees. The only true color came from the blue carpet floor. She laid him carefully on the bed. While he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, she didn’t want to take chances.

She closed her eyes and focused on entering into the Realm of Sleep. She opened her eyes to see the ground beneath her gone, in its place a sea of swirling night. Stars and clouds moved and shifted as if liquid, making navigation through the realm difficult. Or it would, if not for Luna's millenniums of experience. Nevertheless, she flapped her wings out of habit and flew through the starscape for the human’s dream.

To her relief, she was able to find his dream; she had tried searching for one a few times on the humans during her stay with their Central Intelligence Agency, and, to her shock, she had not been able to find one during her stay. Not even a nightmare. It had concerned her greatly and had put her under the impression that humans could not dream.

She tried entering into his dream to check on his wellbeing but found herself unable to. Every time she attempted to enter, it seemed as if he unconsciously pushed back. She had never experienced that before, and while she could try and enter through brute strength, she didn’t want to take the risks of damaging him. So she settled on trying to catch mere glimpses of the dream.

She circled the bubble that constituted the human’s dream, and while she couldn’t get a proper view of his dream, she was able to catch impressions, and after circling it for a while longer, she concluded that it was not a nightmare. No, indeed, it was the opposite; he seemed to have great joy.

“I can’t believe my little boy is joining the army,” Thomas’s mother wiped away a tear that had formed in her eye; it tugged at Thomas's heartstrings, and he was compelled to give her a comforting hug.

“Don’t worry, mom, I plan on getting a job in intelligence, so I won't even be in any danger," he hugged her tighter. “I’ll be fine.”

"Besides, it's not like the Reds would actually try anything," walking up from behind them, his father gave Thomas a pat on the back. A big smile adorned the man’s clean-shaven face. The man had dark chocolate brown hair, styled into a mullet, and deep hazel eyes that contrasted with his mother's seafoam green eyes and blonde hair. He had been born with his mother’s eyes and his father’s hair. “The best of both worlds,” his father often said. "And if they do, I'm sure our son will give them what for!"

"Nathan!" his mother cried, "I don't want our son fighting! What if we go to war? Do you want him to march off to his grave!"

His father's smile faded, and he looked at his wife gravely. "Anna, our boy will be fine." His mom opened her mouth to protest, but his father cut her off, "I know that he'll be safe. He's too smart to have his potential wasted on the frontlines. He’s a smart boy. They aren’t going to waste such a talented boy."

"What makes you so sure?" his mom’s voice wavered.

"I can see that our son will move on to do great things, and God won’t let him die before his time has come," his father said as he wrapped his arms around the two of them and pulled them to his chest. Thomas felt embarrassed by what his father said. Both of his parents saw something great in him, but he never could see it himself. They knew that, and while they always pushed him to be his best, they never forced him into anything he hated.

His mother whispered something, but Thomas couldn’t quite catch it. He knew his mother would worry about him, but he wanted to serve his country. To keep his country and family safe from the Reds. He had hoped that he could serve behind a desk, making sure all the supplies got to the frontlines and that the injured could get out and receive medical attention, but he was willing to serve on the front lines if he had to.

“Mom! I’m home,” came a voice from the living room. They broke their hug as Thomas’s younger brother Gabriel entered the room. “What’s going on in here?” asked the sixteen-year-old.

“Your brother signed up,” his mother replied. The younger boy turned to Thomas, his eyes wide.

“You're really gonna do it, Will?” Thomas nodded. “Geez, did you call Olive?”

“Not yet, I called to tell her earlier, but she didn’t pick up,” his older sister, Olivia, had moved to New York City to pursue her dream of becoming a fashion designer. She had been pretty successful, but her job kept her working late. “I’ll try to call her before I ship out to Basic.”

“When do you leave?”

Thomas smiled cheekily and leaned down a bit to look his brother in the eyes, “Why? You trying to get rid of me? Even if I leave, you’re not getting my room.” His father chuckled behind him.

His brother just rolled his eyes, “No, I’m not trying to get rid of you. But I want to know how long we have to spend together before you ship off. I still want to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark, and I’m pretty sure that this’ll be your last chance.”

“Gabe’s right, Will,” his father chimed in. “Did they tell you when you leave?”

Thomas nodded, “Next week, Tuesday.”

His mother clapped her hands together, “That gives us six days. And you know what? Why don’t we go off to the theaters, Nathan?”

“Sounds fine to me,” He said. “Why don’t you and Gabe go get changed? I need to talk to William.”

Gabriel had already sprinted upstairs. Thomas’s mother cast a worried glance towards the two before going upstairs as well. Then, after waiting a few moments to make sure they were out of earshot, Thomas’s father turned to him, his gaze as strong as steel. “Will,” he called, motioning for him to get closer. When he did, his father laid his hands on his shoulders. “I want you to know you’ve made a big decision.”

“I kno-”

“No. You don’t know. I may not have served, but your grandpa did. And he came back with scars. And not just on his body, but his mind too. He didn’t talk about what he saw much, but when he did…” His father’s voice cracked, and Thomas wrapped him in a hug. “Please, don’t get careless, I couldn’t bear it if I lost my-”

“I won’t, Dad, I promise I won’t,” he cut him off. His father hugged him as if he was going to lose him if he didn’t hold on. They hugged until his father regained his composure, then he pulled away and reached into his shirt.

“I want to give you this. Your grandpa gave it to me when he came back from the war,” his father drew his hand back and pulled a necklace out from under his shirt. He took Thomas’s hand and placed it in it. When his father released his hand, Thomas inspected it. It was a beautiful golden cross on a silver chain. A pearl sat in its center, and ornate engravings inlaid with silver decorated its body; his mouth hung open as he moved it in his hand. “I want you to have it now, and I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. Nothing on Earth can stop me from helping my son.” Thomas glanced up at his father before he put on the necklace.

“Alright, we’re ready!” called his mother before she and Gabriel walked down the stairs.

“Alrighty then,” his father responded, regaining his cheerful tone, “You ready, Will?”

“Yeah.”

The theater wasn’t that far, so they walked instead of drove. Thomas’s father and mother walked in front of their sons, holding each other’s hands. His mother glanced back and saw the cross adorning his neck. “Where’d you get that, William?”

“Dad.”

She turned to her husband, “Where’d you get that, Nate? It’s so pretty!”

“Dad said it was a gift from a woman he helped in France.”

“During the war?”

“Yep.”

“You must tell me,” she playfully demanded.

His father shook his head, a grin on his face, “Alright, so it was July 4th, 1944. My dad had been on patrol in a French town, just south of Normandy, that’s when-”

Author's Note:

As of 6/4/2021 this chapter has been reworked and partially rewritten.

Comments

[Winter Eclipse]

I'm surprised someone knows of and remembers David Duke.

[shining paladin]

awesome chapter mate keep it up cant wait for the next chapter