Too Close to the Sun

by UnweptSchlipps

Prologue: Dead Air

After a brief moment of static, the close-up face of a pony appears on the screen. The picture zooms out, revealing the face of a young, gray-furred stallion. Behind him is a backdrop of dark brown mountains silhouetted against the clear blue sky. The stallion wears a familiar blue and yellow jumpsuit, and his goggles perched clumsily on his wind-blown mane. As he sets up the camera, he begins to whistle a short (and moderately off-key) tune, letting out a few annoyed scoffs as he worked. Finally, placing the device on a table across from his position, he leans back on the railing of the watchtower, unfurling his wings which have been aching for some action.

His whistling soon ceases, and is replaced by a snarky grin. Taking time to try and fix his permanently scruffy mane, the young pegasus begins, “So since I’ve got nothin’ better to do, I figured I might as well record myself on the job. A little shout out to the folks back home, y’know?”

The stallion has a slight Manehatten accent, tinged with boredom and restlessness. He checks something off-screen before continuing, “So today is…June 13….Friday the 13th, actually, if you believe in superstition. Been only a week since I graduated the Academy. Second day on the actual job.” Rolling his eyes and letting out a huge sigh, he adds, “And not surprisingly, I’m stuck with watchtower duty.”

He turns his gaze to the open sky, as though trying to follow through with his assigned post. But after some time, he just shakes his head and turns back to the camera, which is still rolling. “Me an’ my pal Stormspike are the newest recruits ‘round here, so everypony’s been callin’ us the ‘Rookie Blues’,” he iterates, shrugging. “It ain’t so bad, I guess. The Wonderbolts treat their newbies pretty nice, considering the whole military aspect.”

“I asked somepony when was the last time this place has been in any real danger. He said about seven years ago, back when Discord broke loose. Seven years, man!” The pegasus gives a sarcastic chuckle, shaking his head. He soon settles back down, closing his eyes as he leans his head back against a metal post. With his hooves tucked calmly behind his head, he says quietly, “I guess I can see why newbies get stuck with guard duty and all that. But would it kill ‘em to give us some sort of action-?”

Suddenly, a loud crash resounds from off-screen. The stallion shoots up, startled, glancing around the watchtower for the source of the noise. “What was that?” he asks. Calling out to another tower across from him, he says, “Yo, Stormspike! Did you see where that came from?”

Before he could get a response, another metallic crash happens, ending with a deep thud and the sound of snapping wings. “STORM!” the Manehatten stallion cries out fearfully, readying his wings to take off.

But he would never get the chance. A loud explosion is heard coming from the base of the watchtower. The boom rocks the metal structure, forcing the young stallion to stumble to the floor. The camera is shaken off the table, but not before catching a glimpse of dark shapes appearing in the sky. There is a creaking noise, which slowly builds and builds into a crescendo of metal scraping along metal. The camera is able to catch just a second of free-fall, tumbling through the air, blending the sky and earth into a single blur. A scream of terror can be heard falling next to it, the sound of a young pegasus caught in a helpless somersault.

But the yell is cut short. And the picture…static once more…

---

Spitfire held the partially trashed camera loosely in her hooves, the cracked screen showing the face of the young Manehatten stallion smirking into the lens. She had watched the tape, oh by Celestia’s mane how she watched that tape! The commander had viewed it over and over again, looking at the face of the recruit she had sent on his way only a week before. Now, the video was stuck on one single line in particular, being replayed over and over.

“June 13…Friday the 13th.”

Today’s date: June 14.

The base she now stood in was simply called Equestrian Border B. The Wonderbolt had been there many times before. Even now, with all the buildings crumbled to dust and rubble, she could still point out where things once stood. The Mess Hall…the barracks…even the gym…, she thought as she casted her gaze amongst the smoldering rubble. Everything…destroyed.

Whatever had swept through had done its work on the Wonderbolt-run military base. Heaps of broken rubble and ashes littered the ground, thrown everywhere due to the explosion. Twisted metal working lay collapsed, showing signs of where watchtowers once stood. And worst of it all? The sheer amount of body bags laying wherever flat ground could be found. Bare corpses were still scattered throughout the ruined airbase, faces of ponies Spitfire knew.

Although nopony could see past her thick aviator sunglasses, Spitfire’s eyes began to glisten as sadness overtook her mind. Both sadness, and evidenced by the grinding of her teeth, anger.

She was so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed the pegasus touching down behind her. The landing pegasus slipped off her goggles and rubbed her eyes sadly. Tentatively approaching the fiery-maned commander, the mare said, “Hey, Spits?”

Spitfire slowly turned around, her brows raised in surprise. “Wha—oh. It’s you, Fleet.”

The two longtime members stood amidst the rubble in silence. The attack had hit both pegasi hard, and neither veteran knew exactly how to respond. Fleetfoot noticed the device dangling from Spitfire’s back, and she muttered, “So, you saw that video too, huh?”

Spitfire responded with a nod, keeping her features hardened despite the boiling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Fleet continued, “That’s one of the only videos we’ve got of this…massacre.” The last word shot off her tongue as though it were a poison. It was an unspeakable word, unthinkable, impossible. And yet here they were, the proof laying all around them in over a hundred body bags.

“Most of the video cameras were completely destroyed except the two in the back lot, which only caught a few pieces of flying rubble,” Fleetfoot relayed, faltering a bit as she spoke. “Whoever…or whatever did this, they knew what they were doing.”

Spitfire gave another slow nod, turning her head towards a large hole in a concrete wall. Her mind kept going back to the camera hanging off her back. “Poor kid. Had no idea what he was getting into.”

“What?” Fleet asked.

Still facing away, Spitfire continued, “These were our friends, Fleet. Man…I sent most of them here myself. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything so…devastating. And we don’t even know who the hay came in and killed them!”

Fleetfoot tilted her to the side. “Spits, that’s the other thing I need to tell you. The attack--”

But Spitfire either didn’t hear or didn’t care, and the fiery mare continued to speak. She turned her head slightly towards her companion, the noon sun reflecting sharply off her sunglasses. And frankly, she had know Spitfire for so long, Fleetfoot didn’t need to see her face to know that she was fuming. And the vet also knew that when Spitfire got riled up, nopony was safe.

With narrowed eyes and a voice sharp enough to cut steel, the Wonderbolt leader said, “But whoever did this…whoever killed my team…they’re going to pay. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure of that.”

“Then I think you’re going to want to see this,” Fleetfoot stated, pulling out a small package from a pouch in her uniform. “Found it in the middle of the landing pad, on top of a crate. Almost like…they wanted us to find it.”

She handed the package over the Spitfire, who gingerly held the box in her hooves. It was a tiny, seemingly innocent little black box, the kind might hold jewelry. But needless to say, when Spitfire flipped the lid open, she wasn’t greeted by a shimmering jewel. What she did see, however, was enough to make her jaw drop in shock. She slammed the lid shut, squeezing the box tightly as she grinded her teeth.

“Get me a messenger,” she commanded urgently.

“Who should I send?” was Fleetfoot’s answer.

“The fastest you can get.”

Giving a self-assured chuckle, Fleet saluted and replying, “Just tell me where to go, ma’am.”

“Ponyville. You know who.”

“Then it looks like I’m off.” With that, Fleetfoot shot off into the sky, living up to her name. Within seconds, the pegasus was but a speck on the horizon, leaving Spitfire in the ruins of Border B. So this is what the world’s come to, huh?, she thought, slowly flourishing her wings. She gave a short flap before slowly ascending into the air, away from the smoke and the commotion, to a place where she could clearly think.

As the commander flew up to the very same spot where the young stallion had stood a day earlier, she looked out at the horizon. And to her surprise, the picturesque backdrop remained the same, perhaps the only thing that hadn’t changed that day.

Author's Note:

First of all...I'm digging this here "Author's Notes" box. Makes me feel important, y'know?

Second...what's up readers? What's there to say? It's the start of a new story, and along with that, a whole new adventure! All in all, it's pretty exciting. Don't forget to comment and review down below, and I hope you folks enjoy the ride (and stick around long enough to do so).

Comments

[The Princess Luna]

Im liking, and tracking!