Forward and upward

by Solntsepek

Life in the capital

The evening crept up unnoticed. When Chkalov opened his eyes, he looked outside the window, seeing the Sun descend over the darkening horizon, slowly filling the sky with glistening stars. Bringing the back of his wrist close to his face, he saw the small arrow at seven and the larger one on three on his watch. So the time has come to explore the city below without the concern of today's blazing heat.

After stretching his cramped and tired muscles with several exercises and stretches, the pilot washed his face in the bathroom and finally removed his sleepy appearance. Placing the cap on his head and buttoning his tunic, he examined his seemingly flawless reflection in the bathroom mirror for a minute.

After making sure that he looked like a commander of the Red Army, Chkalov left the room and went into the corridor. Having locked his room's door with the key and making sure it stayed that way, he moved downstairs, meeting familiar bored soldiers and commanders along the way, who wandered around the castle grounds just like he had a few hours ago.

There were still guards on the porch, not paying attention to the man with exhausted looks. The square in front of the castle was nowhere near as it had been earlier in the day that evening, quite the contrary. There were many times more ponies and people around this time. Joyful foals were having fun playing with each other while the adults discussed some trifles and daily problems. A warm, faint breeze rolled across the air, bringing a copious range of smells with it as it passed by Chkalov.

The pilot walked along the square's edge, trying not to rough his way through the crowd the best he could. Eventually, after bypassing the flocks of rushing children, loving couples, and general passers-by, his sight fixed on the city below. Because of the slop, the man walked at a brisk pace along the stone path, passing the turn to the parking lot and reaching the arch with two stone alicorns. Chkalov's gaze then caught something from the corner of his vision: a few wild daisies growing on the edge of the road. Plucking the largest one, the pilot unbuttoned his breast pocket and gently put a flower in it, having previously tucked the upper part of the pocket inside. Grinning and slanting his cap to the side in a reckless fashion, Chkalov walked under the arch and left the castle grounds, entering the city streets ahead.

Immediately, he ran into a fork in the road pointing in two directions: west and east. Scratching his chin thoughtfully, the test pilot settled with the former direction, the same path he passed on from the train station his first day here. Walking along the edge, the pilot heard the noise of a car behind him. Turning around, he stopped and watched the empty rumbling lowering as it sped by, going further into town. Having missed the vehicle, Chkalov turned right on the road and entered under the shadow of mansions with large pastel-colored balconies. The houses stretched in all directions but were uniquely designed in their own ways. Each owner or hostess clearly did everything to separate their home from the neighbor in color and shape.

“I don't know how: but they don't look out of the blue and fit together pretty well. Amazing.” Chkalov admired under his breath, turning his head in all directions to soak up the environment as he walked. An elderly pair of unicorns passed by, smiling sweetly and sincerely at the man, to which he responded with a half-smile and a short nod.

When he reached the end of the street, the pilot went out to approach a fountain, only stopping in the middle of a small area of crowding foals. They were trying their hardest to get something from the bottom, nearly falling inside as they stretched their hooves into the crystal-clear water. Deciding to help the troubled children, Chkalov passed through the foals and stepped into the fountain, soaking his lower pants and tunic arms as he grabbed a golden coin from the bottom. Smiling at the foals' shocked expression on the foals' faces, he presented the gold coin- held between his thumb and pointer finger -to them. With a cheerful squeal, a foal ran forward and nabbed the coin with their teeth before moving on, closely followed by the others. Several on-looking adult ponies clicked their tongues, gazing at the little brats with displeasure, but said nothing.

After watching the pack of foals run off, Chkalov turned a corner and was met with a view of multiple store signs. On the corner street, there was a well-maintained wooden stall with newspapers covering its front and inner walls. Behind the counter sat a beige earth pony, reading the pages of a book. Looking closer, Chkalov noticed a small stack of brochures with a picture of the city on the cover amongst the daily newspapers, books, and magazines within the stall.

Closing the distance between himself and the stall, the pony behind it looked up at him as he stopped before her. "Sorry, ma'am. Can you tell me if you have a city map?" he asked.

The mare smiled as she closed her book, "Yes, of course, there is. We have specially released a trial batch for the new people in Canterlot. And we're giving them to everyone so that you don't get lost, like you. just kidding!" the mare chuckled at her joke, shaking her head slightly.

"Would it be much trouble if I could have one myself? It'd be better than wandering around blindly and missing all the grand sights of your stunning capital."

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” The saleswoman sarcastically said as she reached for a stack of brochures, grabbing one with her teeth. With great dexterity, the mare handled the card into her hoof, leaving no marks or spots on it. “Here you go.”

"Thank you, you helped me out." Chkalov smiled at the mare, grabbing the brochure from the mare.

"You're welcome. I am glad that you like our city." The earth pony replied contentedly.

Saying goodbye, Chkalov followed up by walking ten meters away before unfolding the map, revealing locations of shops, boutiques, bakeries, cafes, and other places displayed on the map. The sights of the city were highlighted with a separate sign, and at the bottom, small notes described the local neighborhoods. Drawing his finger along the detailed road line on the map, the pilot pointed at a seemingly random point.

"So. I'm apparently here now- next to the 'Fountain of Happiness.'. To the right of this street is a street block of clothing and shoe stores called "Old Town". If I go to the left, then in three kilometers, I will enter the "Merchant City". There will be a "New City" right there. Well, I think I figured it out." The pilot mentally listed his directional options to himself.

Deciding that it was better to visit the "New City" now, and leave the rest for later, Chkalov proceeded straight ahead.

Almost everywhere he looked, there were the same taxi carts on the side of the street, with ponies either passing by or sitting in street cafes. The road swerved in different directions, showing that the city was clearly not built according to plan but grew by itself. Soon, Chkalov encountered elegant homes with small adjoining towers. Almost every tower had some form of a crest of the family's estate or a flag with two alicorns, the Sun and the Moon, on a blue canvas hanging from poles attached to the walls.

As the sun finally finished its sink into the horizon, the disappearing sunset did little to interfere with the townspeople in any way. And, as if by magic, lanterns bolted to buildings began to light up simultaneously, bathing the streets with a pale glow. With an impressed grin, the pilot went along on his exploration.

Soon Chkalov reached a paved stone bridge. Standing by the railing with his arms resting on top and supporting his weight, he looked at the surface of a clear, flowing river. After admiring the current for a few minutes, Chkalov suddenly heard the sound of music playing in the distance. Moving towards the sound, he came to an area with another fountain, this time, with three adult ponies standing in front of it: a pegasus, a unicorn, and an earth pony. They reared up on their hind legs and touched each other with their hooves, moving flawlessly in dance. And next to the fountain was a second group of ponies with musical instruments with passion running deep into the notes they played.

The pony and human listeners that had gathered around the performing ponies stomped their hooves or clapped their hands to the beat of the music, accompanied by a few whistling cheers.

Stopping behind the crowd, the pilot stayed to watch the performance of local musicians. After a while, they were suddenly replaced by a circus troupe of ponies in clown get-ups. They deftly and naturally performed complex somersaults, jumps, and juggling with their front hooves while standing on stilts. A noteworthy fact that the pilot noticed was a lack of unicorns with their magic among the speakers, making their act all the more impressive. The crowd clapped loudly and stomped to the artists until the trio faded into the background.

Now remained was a mint-colored unicorn in a hat with a feather and a lyre in her hooves at the center of attention. She sat down on the still-warm stone ground and started with a long, and slightly, sad melody, singing after a few seconds.

"Long ago in centuries remained

Dashing cold —

Rallying all the ponies

A single trouble.

I came to forget my pride

It's the turn of the rulers

And friendship has melted the flame

And their arrogance and ice..."

Her voice, rich and soft, plunged the pilot into the story of a ballad full of snow and ice that melted under the power of the unity of ponies together with the proud rulers of the lands.

"And not to come back

Strife never,

To the kingdom of the Alicorns

Called cities

So the two sisters appeared

Take the throne at the call,

But their princess is Platinum

I decided to expel him out..."

Chkalov found himself not listening to the ballad but becoming a part of it. He saw an arrogant unicorn mare in the robes of a monarch and two younger alicorns — Celestia and Luna. With her head held high and without glancing, she said she would rule the lands herself with an iron hoof. The Alicorns only nodded silently and remained behind to watch the pale pink unicorn's reign. But, at one point, the proud mare fell to the bottom without touching the throne, screaming defiantly and in rage as her reign, along with her life, came to an end.

But the man abruptly woke up, the thunderous applause of the crowd snapping him from his imagination as the light green unicorn left the improvised stage. The pilot, albeit belatedly, also clapped his hands to the beautiful bard with a lyre.

“What was that? The magic of unicorns and music?” Chkalov wondered how he had fallen out of reality like that.

After the bard left, no other performer came onto the stage, leaving the crowd to slowly disperse. Chkalov also went, unfolding the map and setting his eyes on the "Unity Square" from where he was walking now and turned right. "If I go a little to the right off the main road, a path will pass through an alley named after Princess Celestia." The pilot mentally said.

Suddenly, three armored cars and two half-tank trucks came around the bend ahead. Some ponies curiously followed the movement of the cars, examining the armored vehicles with turrets and machine gun barrels sticking out of them. They roared past the pilot and onlookers at low speed and drove onto the main road, traveling to, based on the direction, they were going to their unit.

After a couple of blocks, the alley began, narrow enough that a car couldn’t pass through it, and two pony carts would have difficulty fitting in.

Above the alley were towering, well-groomed three-story houses with large windows on the top floor. The trees growing on the towers’ sides were trimmed, all bearing fruit: apples, pears, apricots, and plums. Many fruits were already ripe, filled with juice, practically asking to be ripped from the branch and eaten.

Chkalov looked around, but none of the ponies were picking apples or plums.

So then they would rot since the ponies only admire them. “Why should good food go to waste?” With such thoughts, the pilot plucked one apple from its tree.

Wiping it on his tunic, he took a big bite with a pleasureful hum. The sweet juice flowed down the man's lips, and the pulp melted in his mouth. Several mares with a proud, aristocratic bearing looked askance at the man and snorted, but he ignored them. After eating an apple in one sitting, Chkalov went on, face soaked in the fruity aroma.

Soon, the alley with fruit trees ended, and a street full of cafes and expensive restaurants began. Chkalov's stomach rumbled treacherously: one apple was not enough for him. Opening the map again, he checked the approximate path of his afternoon trip and the location of bakeries and cafes. After a couple of seconds, the pilot spotted the same cafe he found, and the driver pointed out to him that morning.

With his pep in his step, Chkalov reached it in fifteen minutes. As the driver of the emochka said, he went into the alley, seeing a one-story building with a terrace decorated with a large bagel over the entrance. After opening the door, the pilot heard the bell above the door ring as he stepped closer to a small queue of four ponies ahead. Standing at the edge of the queue, the man patiently began to wait, examining the counters with a hungry look. Time flew by unnoticed to the bored piolet, and Chkalov was eventually able to stand before the counter.

"Hello. Please give me two apple pies and one each with blueberries and cherries." He said to the stallion behind the counter.

He nodded in return, disappearing through a door and reemerging minutes later with a pie-stuffed paper bag in his teeth, placing it on the countertop. Chkalov took his wallet out of his pocket to pay the stallion, but that’s when he felt like lightning had struck him. He had forgotten that the Soviet ruble was not in use here, and he didn’t have any local currency on his person.

"Twenty bits." The stallion lazily called the price.

"How could I forget so much..." the pilot whispered and sadly put his money back in his pocket before looking into the seller's eyes, "Sorry, I can't buy."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and was about to leave when one of the mares standing behind him in the queue shouted:

"I'll pay."

Before the stunned pilot could say anything, she quickly put the correct amount of coins on the counter with the help of telekinesis. He wanted to say no to the mare's kind gesture, but when he saw her determined look, he held his voice back. "Thank you. I’ll replace the coins when I get paid." the man said gratefully, taking the bag in his grip.

The snow-colored unicorn mare just smiled and shook her head. "Don't. It is necessary to help those who need it whenever possible. It doesn't matter if it's a pony or a human." She said.

"You are very kind and generous. But, if I may, what is your name?" Chkalov asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If you insist more on returning this small amount. My name is Rarity."

"And my name is Valery Pavlovich."

Rarity turned back to the counter, asking the stallion for some muffins, paid for them, and walked out of the queue to the pilot standing a little to one side. They left the bakery together and entered the terrace, sitting at an empty table.

"Let me guess, you arrived in Equestria today, right?" The blue-eyed mare asked a rhetorical question with a grin.

"That's right. How did you find out?" The pilot asked as he pulled the pie from his bag. Chkalov took a piece from the pre-sliced pie and slowly began to chew, thoughtfully examining the unicorn.

"You looked very confused and, of course, the lack of bits." giggled Rarity.

"So, I take it that you're a local, right?" Chkalov asked after swallowing his food.

She smiled and shook her head, "Unfortunately, no. I'm from Ponyville, a small town south of here. You probably haven't even heard of it yet."

Chkalov raised an eyebrow. "I know a little about the place. Isn’t there a fighter brigade stationed there, along with Princess Twilight Sparkle living there?"

"That's right. Twilight is the princess of friendship."

The pilot suppressed a laugh, but a slight smile remained on his face, "The princess of friendship? This is the first time I've heard such a title." He lightly chuckled.

"There's nothing funny here, Valery Pavlovich." The mare frowned at such a frivolous attitude to the princess. "She really solves friendship problems." She huffed offendedly.

"A diplomat?"

"In a way.” Rarity replied evasively.

After eating the remaining pastries, Chkalov wiped the remnants of food from his lips with a napkin."Rarity, are you in a hurry somewhere?" the pilot asked, seeing the mare fidgeting.

"Well, no, just to the castle. I have an early train tomorrow morning and I wanted to sleep."

Chkalov got up from his chair and adjusted his cap. "Then I apologize for delaying you. Mind if I walk you home?" the man offered, holding out a helping hand.

"I don't mind," Rarity smiled. "I've been assigned a room in Princess Celestia's castle." She said, taking the pilot's hand.

***

Chuikov was slowly stirring a spoon in an empty tea glass and reading a newspaper from his native world. The hard day came to an end not too long ago, and the general was about to go to bed when there was a knock on his door. Opening the wooden barrier, a blue unicorn in a formal black suit and a monocle on their left eye held a letter from Princess Celestia in their magic.

Closing the door and walking further into the room, Chuikov broke the sun-shaped wax seal holding it closed, where he then pulled out a piece of folded paper and began to read.

"Dear Vasily Ivanovich,”

“I bring to your attention that the Gryphon ambassadors have agreed to a meeting and are ready to conclude agreements with the Soviet Union. However, they request specific conditions. Firstly, no more than two people you trust may be able to accompany you. And not have a weapon on your person. The meeting will take place in Gryphonstone in two days. If you agree, Vasily Ivanovich, I will ask you to approve this request and start preparing.”

“Signed, Princess Celestia of Equestria."

Chuikov thought over the letter’s contents for a while, factoring in the dangers of this diplomatic mission.

But after weighing the pros and cons, he went to the phone and dialed a number. "Alexey Valentinovich? Hello, this is Comrade Chuikov. I'm sorry it's so late, but there's an urgent matter. Can you please come to my office?" He spoke into the phone's transmitter.

On the other end of the line, heavy breathing was heard for a few seconds until the divisional commissar Sokolov’s voice answered with, "Of course, Vasily Ivanovich. I'll be there in seven minutes." He said before he hung up.

After the allotted time went by, another knock came from the door, catching the general's attention. Chuikov then opened the door to see a sleepy man with a receding hairline and glasses in the uniform of a divisional commissar. "I'm sorry again for calling so late, Alexey Valentinovich," Chuikov apologized, moving to the side to let Sokolov into his office.

"It's okay, Vasily Ivanovich. If it's urgent, then it's a serious matter that does not require any delay." Sokolov said as he stepped inside.

Sokolov sat on the sofa and prepared to listen to the general, but he handed the commissar a recently opened letter. Adjusting his glasses, he scanned the paper with his borderline sunken eyes. "So you want to agree to a meeting?" Sokolov asked and put the sheet on the table after finishing.

"Of course, these griffons seem unlikely to wish something stupid to happen in the future. In extreme cases, they already stationed forces on the border, fully provided with equipment and fuel. They will be ready to move out immediately if there is a slight chance of danger. Alexey Valentinovich, I know firsthand how well you are able to work with peace treaties. My request is that I would like to see you on this diplomatic mission."

Sokolov looked closely at Chuikov, assessing his words. He just arrived today and is already being asked to participate in negotiations. "I agree." the commissioner said firmly and nodded. "But who is the third in our group?"

"Let's take one lieutenant."

"I Don't understand, Vasily Ivanovich?" Sokolov was genuinely surprised. "How's a lieutenant beneficial in this situation?"

Chuikov smiled and began to explain.

"We cannot risk all the right people. But while this adventure will approve from above, precious days will be gone, of which we have so few. This world lives in a different time, and griffins are no exception. While we live in the twentieth century, they lag behind in development and sit in the Middle Ages. Even though I didn't have to work with this race, according to the pony diplomats, they have a shortage of personnel, and the griffons are far from sophisticated in discussions. I don't promise that it will be easy, but it's not that difficult either. And the lieutenant will act as a radio operator. Weapons are not allowed, but no one talked about a means of communication."

"Okay. But how will you conclude a peace treaty if you almost don't know a thing about the griffons?" Sokolov voiced his logical question.

"This issue can be resolved in the next twenty-four hours. I ask you to get us copies of all available treaties and pacts of ponies and griffons, as well as their state’s history. Will you, Alexey Valentinovich, be able to work at an accelerated pace?"

"I'll try." the commissar sighed and lowered his shoulders. "Anything else?"

Chuikov shook his head negatively. "No, that's it for now. Tomorrow at seven in the morning, come to study the documents." He said, holding his open hand to the commissar.

Sokolov stood up and shook the major's hand with a thin smile."Goodbye, Vasily Ivanovich."

"Goodbye." Chuikov answered.

As Sokolov shuffled back to his room, Chuikov found that he could not sleep for a while that night. Such unexpected news demanded immediate action, but the general could not do anything now, no matter how much he wanted to. Chuikov used his newfound awakeness to walk around the room and smoke a pipe, thinking over all the details of his initiative. If it fails, then, at best, he will be removed from the post of military attache. At worst, he would be court-martialed for his failure.

Sitting in an armchair, Chuikov took out an ink fountain pen and a blank paper.

***

Having escorted the mare to her room and wished her good night, Chkalov slowly returned to his room. On his way to the castle, he learned a fair bit about the princesses and the ponies themselves. And this knowledge did not give rest, only giving rise to new questions to which there is no answer.

After opening his room, he turned on the light, went into the bathroom, and carefully looked at himself in the mirror. The structure of his body turned out this way because of evolution. But the ponies didn’t seem to be affected by it, as if they immediately became intelligent, without development or change. Although, in building an ideal society, they have advanced further than people in that regard: abandoning mass weapons, and replacing them with solutions with words. Friendship has become a priority. After Rarity's words, he realized how important this princess was in the politics of this world.

Chkalov went to the window and opened it, letting in fresh air into the room. There was a full moon in the sky, according to Rarity, controlled by her namesake, Princess Luna. It is difficult to believe her claim, but it is impossible for a Soviet person to accept it. So the blue alicorn also knows how to walk through dreams and influence them? The transcendent power and immortality of the monarchs became a sign of the weak technical development of the country. Why do we need cars, machines, and airplanes if there are native wings and magic? They can’t look at the world from a different point of view because it is easier to live by old foundations and traditions.

“No, I’m thinking about it too much. We are different: it is difficult for us and the natives of this land to understand each other. It's better to go to bed. Otherwise, I’ll waste an hour of the night on philosophy and comparisons.” The pilot thought, closing and leaving the window, turning off the light.

Darkness enveloped the room, cut only by the light of the planet's moon that leaked a cold light into his room. Throwing a blanket over himself, the man closed his eyes, the soothing silence calmed the raging wave of thoughts, and Chkalov sank into sleep.

Eventually, the morning Sun crept through the window to Chkalov's face, baking and tormenting the sleeping man. Chkalov tried to hide from the bright rays for several minutes with a pillow, but he reluctantly admitted defeat to the shining orb in the sky. Opening his eyes, he shut his eyes sharply from the light hitting his face, before blinking the sleep from his eyes and leaving his bed to do stretches. Taking the watch from the bedside table and looking at the dial after the fact, he was surprised to find it was already eight o'clock.

Washing with cool water and putting himself in order, the pilot went to the dining room the way the maid had escorted him down yesterday. Already a few meters away, he smelled buckwheat with stew. Opening the door, the man entered the dining room full of people, the tables all nearly occupied, flooding the room with the sound of talk. Chkalov sighed heavily and, taking the tray, got in line. In front of him stood two young- twenty-something -gunner men dressed to the nines. Their smiles shone with pure joy mixed with delight at the new world.

They didn't have to wait long for their turn, quickly filling their trays and running off to the end of the dining hall. The pilot turned to the food distributor and recognized him as yesterday's, still wearing a chef's hat and an apron that was slightly stained.

The man smiled, "Hello, Comrade Brigade Commander. Today we have buckwheat with stew."

"Put it on." Chkalov nodded.

Taking a full tray of food with him, the pilot now faced the problem of where to sit in the dining hall- all the good seats were occupied. Walking to the end, he noticed one empty seat, the other seats holding four ponies.

Approaching them, Chkalov asked if it was possible to sit down. Seeing a nod and a short "yes" from one of the tables' occupants, he put the food down and sat in the empty chair. Looking at those who already sat at the table, he saw, sitting opposite, among the guards, the familiar pegasus guard, Blueberries. She silently lowered her gaze at the sight of Chkalov and began to pick at her vegetable salad with a spoon.

Chkalov wasn’t the most well-versed in the ponies’ behavioral patterns, but it was impossible not to notice the obvious shyness held in her expressive eyes.

However, he didn’t have time to say anything before Blueberry spoke. "I'm sorry that I so unconsciously snapped at you yesterday. I didn't think we were very different, and we need to listen to other people's opinions, even about princesses." the pegasus said a bit haltingly before falling silent, looking down at her plate again.

Chkalov smiled encouragingly, but the mare did not notice it. "It's okay. I understand where you’re coming from. I did not exactly behaving politely myself when I began to criticize your conceptual views of the world and life."

She looked at the man hopefully while the other guards at the table looked at the two speakers in surprise but were silent.

A kind smile appeared on her face. "Thank you." She answered shortly.

For the remainder of the time, Blueberry and the pilot ate without further word to each other, enjoying their breakfast in silence. Soon, Blueberry had finished her food and stood from the table, turning to look at Chkalov with a smile.

"Well, see you later. I have to go." She said softly to Chkalov and trotted to the exit.

A few minutes later, the pilot finished clanking with a tin spoon and left the dining room. It was already half past eight on his watch— time to visit the major. Straightening his tunic and now well-fed, he cheerfully walked several corridors, a flight of stairs, and found himself at the door with a newly appeared sign "Major Bondarev P.M.". After knocking several times, Chkalov entered the office.

The first table was empty this time. The second one, on the contrary, is occupied by a new secretary for the pilot: a well-built senior political officer with a head of fiery red hair typing rapidly on a typewriter. He stopped and stood up abruptly at the sight of the senior officer and saluted.

"I wish you good health, Comrade Brigade Commander." he barked loudly.

Waving his hand, Chkalov asked where Comrade Major was now. The senior political officer pointed to the door to his right. Having overcome these few meters with long strides, he knocked again. Hearing "Come in" from behind the door, he opened the door.

The major stood by a window with a glass of hot tea and a saucer in his hands, sipping from the cup slowly. He turned around, clearly forcing a smile to spread across his tired face. "Good morning, Valery Pavlovich." The NKVD major greeted hoarsely.

"Good morning, Pyotr Mikhailovich." Chkalov replied in the same spirit.

The major walked over and placed the tea on the table, now putting his attention on the pilot. "I assume you’re probably on the issue of your distribution?" The major asked. Seeing an affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, you have to command a fighter brigade in Ponyville. I think you've already heard about this town." Dismissing the surprise on the pilot's face.

Chkalov digested what he heard for a few seconds before letting out a disappointed sigh. That wasn't what he was hoping for. He really liked the metropolitan life.

Noticing the pilot's dissatisfaction, the major offered to send a telegram for transfer to Canterlot, but Chkalov refused. "If they sent us there, that's where we are needed." Chkalov reasoned, pulling a fake smile.

He didn't like the idea of being Stalin's favorite and had no right to show it. What kind of Stalinist falcon is he after that? They were overcome with pride, the pride of being strong and independent, like a bird in a clear sky.

The major sat down on a chair and picked up the glass again. After blowing on it, he took a sip, "Don't worry too much, Valery Pavlovich. There will be weekends or free days, and you can come back to the capital since the village isn’t far from here." he chuckled.

"What is, is." Chkalov also laughed.

The major got up and went to the drawers on the desk. He sorted through several papers, pulled out a sheet with an appointment, and put it on the table. "Here. Brigade Commander Valery Pavlovich Chkalov is appointed commander of the two hundred and forty-third brigade in Ponyville.” He summarized. Raising his eyes to the pilot, he added: “The town is good. Get acquainted with the local heroes of Equestria, The Elements of Harmony, and Princess Twilight Sparkle, in particular. I've heard they are good girls, even with their oddities."

Picking up the sheet, Chkalov quickly ran his eyes over the text and nodded to himself.

“So, Ponyville. Maybe it's not bad at first glance.” The pilot thought.

"You can stay in the city until three o'clock in the afternoon. Then all those who arrived yesterday will be given assignment sheets to their new units and sent by train. Or go by car now. According to your rank, you are supposed to travel in a personally provided transport with all amenities." The major told the pilot.

At least like the idea of getting carried to Ponyville by car, Chkalov stood and gave a smile. "I'll go now." Chkalov gave a short answer.

"Then you can pack your things, Valery Pavlovich. The car will wait for us in the parking lot in ten minutes."The NKVD major stood up and shook hands with Chkalov.
"Have a nice day." He said in a casual tone.

"And the same to you, Pyotr Mikhailovich." the test pilot replied.

That's where they parted. Chkalov quickly reached his room and, in a few minutes, packed all his personal belongings in a brown suitcase. Looking around the room once more to check if he had taken everything and found nothing missing, Chkalov took the suitcase in his right hand, walked out into the corridor, and looked for the maid.

Seeing a filly in the form of castle staff in the distance, the pilot shouted: "Miss, come here, please.” In just one evening with Rarity, he, a citizen of the USSR, learned how to address the local pony etiquette.

She turned around and trotted up to Chkalov. After looking questioningly at his face and not finding any answers, she lowered her gaze, noticing the suitcase.

"Are you leaving already?" the mare decided to test her guess.

"Yes. Here's the key." From Chkalov's outstretched hand, the key quickly enveloped in white magic, flew into the maid's pocket. After saying goodbye, the pilot went down and left through the front doors.

It was hot outside again.

“It's just like sitting at home.” Chkalov thought.

Pulling his cap over his eyes to protect them from the sunlight, Chkalov strode to the parking lot packed with cars. In a small, shaded area, under a canopy, there were emochki and one-and-a-half trucks, mechanics examining them and swirling around like bees. Nearby, drivers were sitting in the shade and discussing something loudly. There was already a wound-up black emochka on the landing, sunlight reflecting dimly off its dark hull.

Touching the heated black metal handle of the emochka back door, he opened the door, throwing the suitcase on the next seat, and sat beside it, slamming the door on his way in.

Without turning around, the Caucasian-looking driver spoke in a deep voice with a Southern accent. "Good morning, Comrade Brigade Commander. You should take off your tunic. The sun, oh, how hot it is today."

"I see." Chkalov answered sarcastically, "Let's go." he ordered.

The driver shrugged off Chkalov's irate disposition and pressed his foot on the gas peddle, backing out and turning the car onto the road. So, at low speed, the emochka left the castle’s ground and entered the city’s streets; the driver looked out for pedestrians as he turned his head in all directions. Soon, the car drove out of the city border and found itself on a smooth dirt road that winded among the hills of wheat and rye. In the distance, several carts with ponies dragging them could be seen slowly crawling toward the turn.

A passenger car in a clear expanse began to gain speed quickly, the engine growling loudly like an unruly beast; a large cloud of dust rose behind her as they sped down the road. The air flowing through the wide-open windows pleasantly cooled Chkalov's face, which was soaked by sweat droplets running down his head. The black car quickly caught up with two carts loaded with closed boxes. And, without slowing down, steeply laid to the left. After skipping the turn, the car began to climb the steep hill before quickly rising to its peak. Here the road stopped winding, and there was not a single turn visible for a couple of kilometers.

Suddenly, a violent rocking motion shook the entire vehicle, causing it to veer side to side across the road uncontrollably. Only through the driver’s efforts that the car didn’t fly into the ditch, only stopping at the very edge. There was silence for several seconds, interrupted by Chkalov, who hissed in pain. It happened so quickly that the pilot did not have time to be scared; the back of his head hurt, electing a pained groan.

"Are you alive, Comrade Brigade Commander?" The driver asked, turning around to face Chkalov.

In appearance, he turned out to be a middle-aged Armenian. His sincere brown eyes were intently examining the commander for severe bruises. "I’m alive, I’m alive." the pilot belatedly replied. "What was that just now?"

"I don't know, Comrade Brigade Commander. Maybe a pit." The Armenian said vaguely.

Chkalov sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. The driver did not sit idly, getting out of the car to start inspecting it for damage.

After climbing for a few minutes, he returned to Chkalov with a guilty face."We need to fix it, Comrade Brigade Commander. The elastic bands of the stabilizer fell out. We need to put new ones." the driver of the emochka reported.

Chkalov nodded, "Come on. Let’s fix it."

The driver immediately ran away to work on the malfunction, and the pilot went out on the road. Taking out his cigarettes, only to find out that they were already running out, he struck a match and lit one. Taking a deep drag, he blew out the bitter smoke and breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's not as bad as it seems at first glance. It could have been much worse.” Chkalov said, putting the smoldering cigarette to his lips again.

Comments

[OP Omni God-Emperor Doom]

1938 huh?

Oh dear, after that is the beginning of a certain second world war!

[Solntsepek]

11440327
The Second World War will not affect Equestria in any way. And the Second World War is still far away. In July 1938, heavy battles of the Red Army against Japanese troops at Lake Hassan will take place. If I don't change the plot, then one of the minor characters will be affected and affected by it.