Skyfall: Treason

by Dusk Quill

Chapter 17: Action

The first sign that he had been at this process for far too long came in the form of blurred words. Sentences began to run on into long, endless blobs of black ink on each page, and it became nearly impossible to focus on anything. Photographs and diagrams made less and less sense over time, until at last, the pony gave in and surrendered to the paperwork.

In the quiet of his office, Shining Armor heaved a sigh and tossed the pile of documents hopelessly down onto his desk. The sheets of paper scattered across the surface. The stallion rubbed at his aching temples, exhausted from the bureaucratic nightmare cleaning up Project: Union was turning out to be. Over the past couple of days, he had redacted so much information, he had run three different markers dry, leaving no word penned to paper unmarred by the endless black bars. Photographs were incinerated to hide any involvement, and anything deemed unnecessary was destroyed. All the rest was being shipped to the Royal Archives, to be placed under maximum security till the end of time.

Shining glanced up at the clock ticking ostensibly loudly on the far wall, just above the door. It was after midnight already. He had lost track of time in his work, far too busy covering Fleethoof’s back from the prying eyes of anypony that could do damage to his—as well as the Royal Family's—reputation. But now the effort was taking its toll on the Captain of the Guard. All he needed was a break, something to end the mundane monotony of rescinding sensitive information.

That interruption came in the form of a soft rapping at his door.

Thank Celestia… he thought with relief. He didn’t even care who it was at this time of night. Anything that would take his attention off his work was a welcome guest in his eyes. He would have taken a hostile invasion if it got him off his flank for a few hours.

“Come in,” Shining called out, rubbing his tired eyes as the door opened, glancing up to see his visitor. “Cadance!”

The princess smiled sweetly as the unicorn shot upright in a heartbeat, feeling a second wind revitalize him almost instantaneously. She strolled up to his desk, noticing the piles of papers strewn haphazardly in front of him.

“Been busy much?” she asked ironically, cocking a brow at the state of the stallion’s workroom.

“Heh, maybe just a little…” Shining admitted sheepishly, suddenly feeling quite abashed at the state his office was in while he timidly rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant to clean it—really, I did. I just wasn’t expecting any visitors at… one forty-eight.”

“Well, I came to see how you were doing, but I think you could use a helping hoof around here.” Cadance smiled as her horn ignited in a pastel blue aura, magically returning some books to their homes in the nearby shelf.

“Thanks, Cadance, but it’s really not necessary. It’s my mess, I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh Shiny, don’t be so modest. I can see you need a little help. Let me take care of you!” said Cadance, a lyrical quality touching her voice while she neatly stacked some fallen papers on the corner of his desk.

“Oh, um… Okay, thanks again.” Shining Armor smiled shyly, trying to put on the best poker face he had.

While Cadance strafed around his desk, sorting out the paperwork and other documents, Shining finished striking out every line regarding Project: Union. Try as he might, it was impossible to ignore the lovely alicorn mare as she worked her way around closer to him, constantly stealing glances up at her from over the edge of his work. His face flushed hot as her head turned in his direction again, and the pony pretended to be enthralled in what he was reading—which at this point was a solid block of black bars from header to footer.

“What’s got you working so late the day before Hearth’s Warming Eve?” Cadance asked casually, leaning over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his work.

“Oh, it’s not really important,” he lied—badly.

“Uh huh… It’s covered in marker.”

“Yeah, I did that.”

“And you’re sure it’s not important?”

Shining gave her a wide, comical grin. “Well, not anymore now that it looks like a foal scribbled over it.”

Try as she might, Cadance couldn’t hold back a light, airy laugh at Shining’s tacky remark. She rolled her eyes and picked up the folder the papers had been housed within. She didn’t recognize anything regarding the assignment, but one emblem on the cover rang several bells in the back of her memory.

“This is Skyfall’s insignia.” It was a statement, not a question. “Is Fleethoof working on this?”

Feeling her prying eyes burning holes into the side of his head, Shining Armor felt trapped. He didn’t know if he should be revealing this sort of information to Cadance, but on the other hoof, there was no way he could lie convincingly to her about it. Chewing on his lip for a moment, he decided to err on the side of honesty than push his luck with any falsehood.

“Weeeell… yes and no,” he began, trying to think of the best way to explain it to Cadance without worrying her. “He’s not really involved directly… well, he is now. I mean... Okay, let me start again. It wasn’t his project, but he’s handling it now. Some things went wrong, and he’s making them right again. Cleaning up the flak, so to speak.”

Cadance’s stony expression didn’t shift at all, much to the stallion’s dismay. “Is he in danger?”

“Aw, c’mon, Cadance, he’s a pro! He can handle himself just fine,” said Shining Armor confidently, hoping to reassure her fears with a characteristic wide, earnest smile. “I’m not worried. He’ll be fine, like always.”

“I suppose you’re right. I just worry. He puts himself in such outrageous risks sometimes…” the princess murmured with a sigh, her eyes dropping to the printed insignia on the folder, tracing the outline with her hoof. “But you’re right. He’s a big colt. He’ll be all right. It’s a shame he has to miss Hearth’s Warming though…”

With a warm, affectionate smile, Princess Cadance turned her violet eyes towards the Captain of the Guard. “And you shouldn’t be missing it either! I’m sure your family is waiting for you. When was the last time you stepped hoof outside of this stuffy office anyway?”

“Uh, that would be… yesterday, technically…” Shining grinned embarrassedly, fighting the rush of blood to his face while his ears folded back against his head. “I’ve been at this for a couple days. I had to get this finished though. This is a matter of national security!”

Taking all the papers out of Shining’s grasp with her magic, Cadance tucked them safely away in the folder before setting it on the other side of his desk. Brow wrinkled, the unicorn locked gazes with his princess, who was all but giggling at his expression of befuddlement.

“It can wait till after the holidays,” Cadance said adamantly, yet gentle as ever. It was clear this was not up for debate. “Your loved ones can’t. Now come on, Captain. Get up. We’re getting you some food and home for Hearth’s Warming.”

Knowing it would be a waste of time to even consider refuting Cadance’s wishes, Shining Armor chuckled and shrugged in defeat. He stretched out his back and legs. The tired muscles ached in protest, but the feeling was too good to be bad.

“Yes, your majesty,” he replied in a teasing tone. “I think Donut Joe’s might still be open. Up for a snack and a cup of coffee? My treat.”

Shining made a display of slicking his mane back, and holding his hoof out to her with a puff of his chest. It was all too much for the mare to handle, and Cadance burst into a bout of laughter.

“Oooh, such a gentlecolt. How could I ever refuse?” she swooned dramatically, making the stallion's face warm beneath his skin. “It would be a pleasure, Shining.”

The two ponies made their way to the door, Shining Armor keeping to his courtly namesake and holding it open for the princess.

“Do you really think Fleethoof will be all right?” Cadance asked once more, her eyes searching pleadingly into his for comfort.

“Come on, this is Fleet we're talking about! I’ll tell you what, I’m so sure of it, I’ll take all three of us out for dinner when he gets back. Consider it my Hearth’s Warming gift to you two.”

The stallion’s words, coupled with his characteristically large smile and confident eyes assuaged Cadance’s dread. Nuzzling him gratefully, she slid past him out into the hall. Shining Armor hesitated a moment, letting the feeling return to his legs and the heat drain from his cheeks before following her out.

“That, and the donuts, of course…”

Fleethoof listened to the distant ringing of bells and chimes from the clock tower looming above Nadira. The warmth of the evening felt alien against his skin, which had grown used to the chilly air of wintry Equestria. Being so far away from home on the holidays felt wrong—but at the same time, it felt strangely like where he was supposed to be. He was never destined to stay home year round. He would probably never settle down, never grow old in a lifetime home, never make friends with lifelong neighbors while watching his foals grow, or pass away peacefully surrounded by loved ones. He was always destined to be fighting, and he'd most likely go down swinging evermore.

He was strangely comfortable with this circumstance.

Standing quietly alone on the balcony of the palace’s luxurious lounge, staring up at the endless sea of stars above his head, provided the perfect atmosphere for the pony to reflect upon himself and the events that had led to this moment. Skyfall Team had arrived in Saddle Arabia’s capital earlier in the afternoon, but were apprehended almost immediately. It turned out the Arabian guards didn’t take too kindly to strange ponies disembarking a train with weaponry. For the second time in his life, Fleethoof had been unpleasantly detained by the police force.

Fortunately, instead of going straight to jail without passing Go, the ponies had been fortunate enough to arouse suspicion with the soldiers, who brought them to the highest level of authority: Crown Prince Malik himself. Although Fleethoof’s intended plan was to leave the monarch out of the loop, he was very grateful when Malik went off the handle on his soldiers, chastising them for arresting ‘the pride of Equestria’s might’ and friends of the crown. They were released without question.

However, with liberty came a price, and that accrued spending the night in the prince’s care. Not that he had a lot to complain about. The Arabians treated Skyfall like royalty. They pampered and served them with any request, and they had dined with Malik that evening in a small banquet in their honor. It all made Fleethoof feel very undeserving, but humbled as well. Malik had not forgotten the captain’s efforts to stop the attack on his palace—even if the attack had not been intended for him.

Now, as the clock struck midnight, all of Skyfall lay slumbering in the lavishness of the palace’s guest chambers. All save for Captain Fleethoof. He leaned further against the balustrade, staring blankly down at the untouched copper tumbler of coffee in his hoof. The sound of hoofsteps behind him called attention to the Arabian that had joined him out in the fresh air. Fleethoof knew who it was without even a passing glance.

“From the legends I recall, ponies enjoyed sleeping through the night,” Prince Malik said with passive humor in his regal voice. “You, Captain, seem to favor its company.”

“I always did like the night. It gives me time to think,” he admitted, a pensive, stoic look across his face as he stood blinking up at the canvas of starlight overhead.

“Does the life of somepony as youthful as yourself require much critical thought?”

Fleethoof scoffed, and chuckled to himself. “You have no idea, your grace.”

Malik stepped up alongside the pony, placing his hooves over the railing and looking over the panorama of his kingdom. From the balcony, almost all of Nadira was visible. The city at night was a beautiful scene of shadowed buldings and mixed lights, warmth spilling from homes out into the night. A mild breeze bathed the metropolis in the scents of wildflowers and exotic seasonal fruits. In the security of the capital, it was almost impossible to tell the nation was actively at war.

“You have so much life ahead of you, young captain. Do not hasten it with unnecessary burdens of the world,” Malik said, turning to glance at his esteemed guest. “I am glad to see you again, lord of war—but I must inquire. What brings you back to my lands at such a time? Is it not a celebration of love and friendship back in your homeland?”

“Yeah, it is. It just turned Hearth’s Warming Eve now, actually. The actual holiday is tomorrow,” said Fleethoof in response, nodding his head sadly. “Unfortunately, those burdens of the world you mentioned are what brought us here.”

“You are speaking of the war with Re'em, yes? You needn’t concern yourself with our matters of redemption, my friend. We are handling those barbarians very well.”

Fleethoof hesitated, and then replied, “Actually, Prince Malik, it isn’t the war that brought us here… It’s a matter of Equestrian security.”

Malik’s brow narrowed in confusion. “La afham. If you do not refer to the war, what other matter could trouble Equestria so much they felt the compulsion to send you to handle it so urgently?”

Well, it’s unavoidable now… Fleethoof thought, surrendering with a soft sigh.

“A group of our soldiers went rogue, and attacked our settlements,” Fleethoof tried to explain, taking a sip of the bitter brown liquid in his cup, and flinching while he fought his gag reflex from spewing it out immediately. “Dear Celestia, that’s awful. How can you drink this stuff?”

“It is an acquired taste. Please, continue your story.”

“Anyway, these soldiers are being led on hoof by a traitor, and they’re headed for FOB Sierra Alpha, here in your lands. We’re here to intercept them before they arrive, and clean up this mess quietly. With all due respect, your grace, you weren’t supposed to find out about this. We were supposed to handle this surreptitiously and get in and out without an incident being made.”

Malik made a soft humming sound as he considered Fleethoof’s story. “And you avoided taking the train directly to your base to avoid arousing my suspicions?” Fleethoof nodded his head. “Then why send a garrison of troops regardless?”

“Say what?” Fleethoof was taken by surprise by this new development.

“A day ago, a train bearing fresh soldiers arrived at your base to the west. We simply assumed it was Equestria buffering their defenses should the war turn bloody,” Malik told the pony beside him. “Now I understand. It is to intercept these defective soldiers.”

Shining Armor must have sent reinforcements to the base, thought Fleethoof. That would have been helpful to know before we took the train here… Thanks, Shiny…

“Very well, then Saddle Arabia will pledge troops to help quell this threat,” the prince said resolutely. “You shall not fight this battle on our lands alone.”

“That is very kind of you, your grace, but we can’t accept it. We’re more than a match for this band of renegades, and taking any amount of strength from your force risks jeopardizing your war. We can’t have you do that to yourself.”

Malik’s face turned to an unreadable expression, sagacious eyes boring into Fleethoof’s. “But you will accept aid from Re'em. Is this so?”

The pony’s mouth dropped and his eyes widened. How did Malik know of Adira and Chaim’s involvement? Before he could ask, the Arabian pointed a hoof at the stallion’s leg.

“Your armguard. A product of Re'em I recognize well.”

“Oh.” Fleethoof bit his lip sheepishly. “There were extenuating circumstances. They aren’t giving us aid, and there are certainly no Re'emians following us through your kingdom, your grace. We wouldn’t risk harming our alliance like that.”

“I know you wouldn’t do something so foolish, Captain. But please, if you will not accept a pledge of force, what may we do to assist your endeavor? Re'em has offered their support—allow us to offer the same in return.”

Racking his brain as swiftly as possible, Fleethoof scrutinized his thoughts for any answer that would pacify the prince. “Transport to FOB Sierra Alpha would be greatly appreciated, and wouldn’t detract from your battles.”

A slow smile spread across Prince Malik’s lips, and a knowing gleam lightened his eyes.

“This, we can do for you. Tomorrow at dawn, come to the courtyard, and we shall send you on your way. Bettawfeeq, Captain Fleethoof, and a happy holiday to you.”

The sovereign lifted his cup in the air. With a half smile, Fleethoof raised his as well and tapped it gently against the side of his companion’s. Both ponies took a swallow of their drinks. Again, Fleethoof fought another spit-take.

“Thank you, Prince Malik. Happy holiday to you too.”

“Your grace, this is far too much,” Fleethoof protested as politely as he possibly could.

Malik looked genuinely confused. “Whatever do you mean, Captain? You asked for expeditious transport, and I gave you the best in Saddle Arabia—apart from the train, of course.”

“Yes, but… your royal carriage?!”

Fleethoof, along with the rest of his team, stared with wide eyes and slack jaws at the beautiful, pristine white carriage waiting idly in the courtyard for them. A team of six strong Arabian soldiers were tethered to the front, ready to ride at a moment’s notice. The carriage itself was decorated with ornate symbols and golden trim. The inside was veiled behind rich, vibrant purple silk screens, protecting it from the elements and sunlight.

“It’s… beautiful,” said Sharp Shot with an overemotional sniffle.

“You are going to be crying now?” Cupcake asked, teasing the sniper.

“Prince Malik, I really must protest—” Fleethoof began once more.

“And I really must insist in response,” Malik intervened, smiling proudly. “In fact, I make it a royal order that you and your team make use of my personal carriage. You would not dare disregard an order from your superior, would you, Captain?”

Fleethoof was speechless. Sharp Shot, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualm with using the extravagant mode of transport, made obvious as the unicorn eagerly hopped inside and began inspecting every last inch of the car. Cupcake joined him shortly after, and it was only a matter of time from there that all of Skyfall had piled inside the spacious interior.

“Well, Captain? Your companions seem to find it favorable.” Malik exchanged an insistent look with Fleethoof. “Please, make yourself comfortable, and enjoy your trip.”

With great reluctance, Fleethoof plodded up to the carriage. Climbing inside felt like walking on clouds, the interior was that plush and comfortable. Before he had even sat down, the door shut behind him. Malik peered in through the window, smiling at the six stallions within.

“Take care, dark soldiers of Equestria, and fight well,” he said, bidding them a fond farewell. “I shall see you again in the future, lord of war. Ma’a salama!”

“Your grace, I really must object.” Fleethoof still hadn’t given up, drawing a groan from everypony else. “Your carriage could be damaged, or destroyed! There must be some other—”

“To the Equestrian base,” Malik ordered the horses pulling the carriage. “And make haste! Begone!”

The six horses whinnied and reared up, and then they tore out of the palace courtyard so fast it tumbled Skyfall Team about. Prince Malik stood in place, waving farewell to the ponies, rapidly vanishing from sight as the carriage pulled out onto the streets of Nadira.

In the early morning light, the horses ran as fast as their legs would carry them through the labyrinth of streets and roads. The sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon, painting the dark blue sky with rippling strokes of purples. Sharp Shot and Valiant cheered and laughed in excitement as the cart moved fast—much faster than anypony had expected. Fleethoof was still trying to get back up again.

“This is the best Hearth’s Warming Eve ever!” Sharp Shot said in gleeful declaration, sticking his head out the window just in time to watch the gates of Nadira pass over them. The stone arches spanned high overhead, and then there was nothing but desert around them.

“If this is the day before, think of how exciting Hearth’s Warming will be,” said Valiant, getting an excited squee from the sniper seated beside him.

Pulling himself up into the nearest seat, Fleethoof tried to get his orientation back. He would definitely have to make this up to Prince Malik somehow. All he hoped now was that they got there in time. Left with nothing else to do, Fleethoof slumped back against the padded seat and stared out at the rising sun through the open window.

Somewhere between enjoying the sight and relaxing for the first time in weeks, the stallion slipped off into an uneasy slumber.

Saddle Arabia was not what Fire Wave had been expecting.

When the Marines had boarded the train back in Canterlot, they had been under the guise that they were going into direct combat. So far, the only conflict he had was trying to keep the sand out of his eyes, something that sunglasses remedied. The desert was as calm and peaceful as Equestria itself. The war he had expected to be a part of was being waged on the other side of the country, and they were sitting out on the sidelines, just watching over mostly empty buildings.

The small assemblage of soldiers that had remained behind to hold down the fort had been very welcoming, happy to see the fresh company of warriors arrive at the station. For the eager Marines, it was the biggest letdown they could have received.

“This is fucking ridiculous…” one of Fire Wave’s friends muttered as they, along with four other Marines, sat out in front of one of the barracks, basking in the late afternoon sun, like they had been doing all day. “We’re sitting around on our flanks doing nothing! At least back in Canterlot we were being worked. Hell, we might even be on leave right now! It is Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not,” Fire Wave said in response, taking a long swig from the water bottle in his hoof. “We’re out here, whether we like it or not. No use in whining about it.”

“But surely Captain Armor would have a reason for sending us here,” another Marine said amidst inspecting his weapon’s ejection port.

“If he did, I sure as hell can’t see what it is…”

Two of the Marines on the barracks porch were staring blankly down at a checkerboard, killing time with a less than friendly game that had already come to fisticuffs twice already in a move legality debate. Fire Wave had heard of a pseudo poker tournament being held in the mess hall this evening. Perhaps he’d go check it out, and try to forget about being stuck in the middle of the damn desert on Hearth’s Warming.

“Maybe they’ll send us to do some actual work somewhere else if nothin’ happens here,” a Marine the others had come to know as Spitter, coined from his favor of chewing tobacco, chimed in after a few moments. “Hell, we’d be more useful sittin’ ‘round Canterlot than bakin’ like a pie out here in this damned place.”

“Fuck this… I’m gonna go see if the range is open…” one of the soldiers muttered, grabbing his helmet and plodding off across the sandy, rocky ground in the direction of the firing range.

Despite maintaining his cool, indifferent demeanor, Corporal Fire Wave empathized with his fellow Marines’ plights. They were bred to fight and serve, not sit dormant on the porch of a sunbaked barracks in the middle of nowhere. The waiting made him anxious for something to happen; his spring was wound so tight, ready to launch at a moment’s notice.

But first, something had to happen—an action that demanded a reaction.

“Well, if nothin’ else, we can look forward to a quiet Hearth’s Warmin’…” Spitter said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Fire Wave nodded slowly, hearing the accompanying murmurs of agreeance from his teammates. Across the arid terrain, the Earth pony watched the sun go down into the realm of dusk. The more he thought about it, the more a peaceful holiday didn’t sound so bad after months of rigorous, intensive training. Perhaps the tranquility would do them all a world of good.

In the dark of Hearth’s Warming Eve night, nopony expected any endangerment. Most of the soldiers slept soundly in their bunks, dreaming of home, of families and loved ones distant, and of the next time they’d be reunited with both again. Still running on minimal staff, Forward Operating Base Sierra Alpha sat in an odd state of limbo between high alert and lax watch.

Even still, the approach of two ponies— pegasi, for that matter—well after midnight was enough to attract the attention of the guards at the front gate. They watched as the ponies stepped into the light, only stopping once the two soldiers walked out of the guard post and motioned for them to stay.

“Whoa, who are you two?” one of the guards asked brusquely. “This area is off limits to any non-military personnel.”

One of the pegasi, a brown stallion with matching green eyes and mane, flashed a cocky, arrogant smile at the trooper. “Oh, but we are military. Here, see for yourself.”

The two stallions flashed their ID badges to the guards.

“Specialist Glider and Sergeant Lightning Strike. We’d like to come inside.”

The two guards exchanged puzzled, distrusting glances, and faced off with the two newcomers again. One of the stallions began to scrutinize the ID cards, checking every little detail to verify the information. The other took the opportunity to get to know the two strangers a little better.

“I don’t recognize your unit name, Specialist,” the guard said suspiciously.

Glider brushed him off with a flick of his tail. “We’re a Special Forces unit. You probably wouldn’t have heard of us.”

“Uh huh…” The soldier did not look convinced. “So what brings two Special Forces soldiers this far out in Saddle Arabia?”

“I’m afraid that’s need to know. You wouldn't want to be responsible for hindering our vital mission, would you, soldier?”

“Well, I need to know to let you in.”

“We're running routine drills out here, you know, in case we need to be called in to actually do something productive.”

The two ponies held each other’s gazes for a long moment. Neither side spoke. Finally, the second soldier returned, handing their IDs back to the respective ponies.

“They check out,” he informed his partner. “Very sorry to hold you colts up. Go right ahead.”

Without another word, the two pegasi took to the air and floated smoothly over the wall surrounding the base. Glider cast a wicked grin to Lightning Strike's bitter scowl, and as soon as their hooves touched the dusty earth again, the two stallions set to work.

Author's Note:

La afham: I do not understand
Bettawfeeq: Good luck
Ma'a salama: Goodbye

Comments

[FenrisianBrony]

I honestly thought that the soldiers he mentioned were actually going to be changelings. Glad I was wrong.

[Ser_Galahad]

2715738
For the longest time I could not kick the idea that Cadence was a changeling trying to get info from Shining.

[Treilacl]

2715304 Yeah, but the mood music has sorta... passed the mood sometimes. We've usually finished the chapter when we get there! So the music is more of an epilogue to the chapter... only with music.

[Treilacl]

Hu, interesting... alright so this is a good little bit of world building. I'd just started wondering how fast messages could get from point A to point B and this kinda answered that.
It was nice to see Cadance even though it was only for a few moments. I still want her to meet Best Pony.

[Silverstein]

Uh-oh...

Silver out!

[MariusIoannesP]

Cadence! Yay! I really missed her. I was afraid she wouldn't show up at all since she's not tagged. Anyway, it was nice to see her again. And it was fun to see that Shining Armor is totally in love with her. Yeah I've been there. Never ends well. But if this hews to the show's canon enough, it should end well for him. But still it's clear she really cares about Fleethoof. It's like Twilight (the horrid book, not the best unicorn), except I actually care.

[Dances With Unicorns]

In the image gallery to the episode, “On the Road to Friendship”, I saw that Hoo'Far the Saddle Arabian unicorn is about as tall as Princess Celestia when compared to the adult ponies. That means that Crown Prince Malik would be the about same size as Princess Celestia. I would like two or three sentences describing how Crown Prince Malik looks down at the smaller Fleethoof, and how Malik’s casual clothing made of silks and shining gemstones far outshined Fleethoof’s guest bathrobe.