I felt sad, real sad. I knew that I would probably never see my friends again. We’d been through a lot, as friends, as rivals…as family. We were always there for each other, always loyal…
The humans have a phrase for that. Semper fidelis. I have no idea what it means.
But I moved on. That’s not disloyal, is it?
I mean, I wasn’t the only one.
When word got around Equestria that the portal spells had finally been released from the Canterlot Archives, people went crazy. I remember Twilight going nuts about it. She went on for days and days, so much so that even Pinkie Pie started to get annoyed with her, and that’s saying something. Princess Luna had convinced her sister to open the archives, and all sorts of magic got out. Spells that could make you live longer, spells that could turn you into animals…and, eventually, spells that could open portals to another world.
At first, this whole portal thing was really weird and complicated. Some ponies went through and never came back. Some lost their sanity. A few came back fine, but they lived a lot shorter than they should have had. Princess Celestia was considering pulling the plug on the whole thing.
Then Twilight did it. I mean, she did it. She fixed the whole thing. I thought that was pretty awesome, but for an egghead like Twilight Sparkle, I guess it was to be expected.
So what happened next, you might wonder?
We found the human world.
At first we were shocked. It was like a whole different world, but with humans. The ponies in this world were huge, and they didn’t even talk. The biggest stallion I knew was Big Macintosh, and even he was dwarfed by human ponies. They were shocked by us, too, but everything turned out pretty good. Princess Celestia called it “cordial relations between races of polar worlds,” whatever that meant.
As time went on, all of us found out more and more about the human world. Even now, after thirteen years of living with humans, I still think they’re kinda ugly. I mean, they don’t have hooves or tails or wings or even cutie marks. There were no manticores, no minotaurs, no dragons, no pegasi, and no unicorns. The clouds moved all by themselves. It was so weird, living like that.
I gave living with humans a shot, but I hafta admit, it was pretty bad for a while. Humans are a messed-up species. They like to kill and hurt each other for no reason. Equestria had its wars, but they were like playground brawls compared to the humans. A lot of them didn’t want ponies there. Some threatened us. One got so serious that he scared Fluttershy into never coming back.
I almost gave up.
But then I found something in the human world that changed me, changed who I am. I found that, even though they had no wings, humans could fly. They flew in metal birds that roared and spat fire like dragons. I saw a couple of them, what they called “airplanes,” a few years ago. On the ground, airplanes looked intimidating, but bulky. In the air, it was like watching the Wonderbolts. The planes dipped, ducked, and danced in the sky. It was one of the coolest things I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen some pretty cool things.
Things went uphill from there. After ten years of human-pony contact, more and more mares and stallions were coming to the human world to seek new lives.
I was one of them. I liked Ponyville, but when I saw those planes, those metal birds that roared in the sky, it was like love at first sight.
I did everything I could. I found a human that knew about the planes, and one thing led to another.
The human newspapers ran this article the following day:
PEGASUS JOINS AIR FORCE
New arrival from “Otherworld E” to fly over Tajikistan
It has been over ten years since the first talking pony arrived on Earth, and since then their lives and actions have become embroiled in our own. Nowhere does this ring truer than in the story of Rainbow Dash, a pegasus from Otherworld E (known to natives as “Equestria”). Miss Dash has been inducted into the United States Air Force, and is scheduled to deploy within the month to aid in the growing conflict in Tajikistan. Twilight Sparkle, the unicorn ambassador of Otherworld E, spoke Tuesday from her seat at the United Nations, praising Miss Dash’s decision, stating that it will “no doubt facilitate relations between human and ponykind.” Skeptics disagree with the unicorn, among them former presidential candidate Rick Santorum, who criticized Miss Dash and Miss Sparkle for “dragging their kind into a war where they have no business.” President Joel Mitchell, in a statement from the White House the other day, agreed with Sparkle’s point. Staunch support for human-pony relations has grown since the USAF’s announcement, with supporters like Stephen Colbert, former President Barack Obama, and Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg participating in pro-pony events.
I didn’t know what to think when I read it. Human news was news to me (no pun intended.) But I like said, humans are messed up. They’ll find something bad in everybody. And everypony.
But from then on, I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I was going to what my pal and squadmate, Forrest Starr, called “a veritable dunghole.” I didn’t care that I might never see my friends again. I didn’t care about anything or anyone or anypony.
I didn’t care about anything. Except for myself.
Sounds like me, doesn’t it? C’mon, I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably thinking that I’m gonna say something like, I dunno, my whole world changed or my life was changed forever.
I’m not one for melodrama, and I’m sure you just rolled your eyes when you read that. However, you’re spot on.
My life did change when I flew with Stag Squadron, mostly because it almost ended.
Then I began to regret leaving Ponyville…
I remember that night. The sky was dark and cloudless, but fire streaming across the horizon signaled the presence of our target. I had no regrets. I was point for my squad, Stag Squadron. They had faith in me. I had faith in them.
By the night’s end, I would be in tears, watching my human friends burn. I would be alone, injured, frightened. Me, Rainbow Dash, the bravest pegasus in Equestria, frightened.
But not yet. Not at that moment. In that moment, I was one with the sky, and I didn’t anticipate the fiery chaos that lay ahead…
“All wings, be advised, bogeys far at 11 o’clock. Check in, all callsigns.”
One by one, the flyers in my squadron signed off.
“Dancer Two Eight, standing by.”
“Prancer Three Eight, awaiting orders.”
“This is Vixen Half Eight. I’ve got the six.”
“Comet Five Eight on call.”
“Cupid Six Eight standing by.”
“Donner Seven Eight standing by.”
“Blitzen Full Eight, locked and loaded.”
The enemy appeared as black dots on the midnight-blue sky, a scout flight of fighter jets that belonged to the People’s Liberation Army of Tajikistan. I never really understood what the beef between these guys was; they seemed alright to me. And yet they killed and killed and didn’t care who or what got in their way.
The Tajikistanis didn’t seem to like ponies, either.
I knew they would kill me if I didn’t kill them. I hated killing. Death was not something we ponies were familiar with. Sure, elder folks who had gotten long in the tooth would have passed, but we had no real concept of murder.
But on Earth, people killed each other all the time.
“All signs, this is Dasher One Eight. Bogeys closing in, 11 o’clock high. Clear to engage.”
I had learned all this jargon from Forrest Starr, Vixen Half Eight, one of my best wingmen. He had taught me everything; how to fly a human fighter jet, how to fire the weapons, how to…
“Dasher! Incoming, nine o’clock high!”
I saw the missile tracks as they screamed through the sky, tracing fire across the stars. I jammed the throttle, just barely avoiding the rockets as they sped past. We were only about 20,000 feet in the air, and already I could feel sweat running down my brow. My mane was compacted in a heavy helmet, and my face was almost completely covered by an oxygen mask. I couldn’t feel my wings, not with the USAF-issue jumpsuit that made me feel like I was wearing a straitjacket…
“DASHER!”
Lost in thought again, I hadn’t realized how close the enemies had gotten. The Tajikistanis flew like the Blackbolts back home, during the Great Raid of Canterlot. Dawdle out in the open for a bit, then come crashing down (sometimes literally) onto your head. The Blackbolts were a pain in the wing, especially when they attacked Ponyville, but they were nothing compared to the ten-plus enemy planes whose guns trained on our own jets.
“Stag Squadron, double E!” Double E. Evade and engage.
“Fuck! Here they come!”
Sure enough, the enemy jets swooped down on us like falcons, and even the deadening mufflers in my helmet couldn’t keep out the sound of roaring engines. One got too close, and when I looked around I saw the first casualty: Prancer Three Eight, Donavan Aidus, the remnants of his plane spiraling to earth.
“Motherfucker! Three took a MiG! Fucking rammed him! He’s down! Prancer’s down!”
“Does anyp…anyone see a chute?!” I yelled over the radio.
“Negative, Dasher One. No chute. No fuckin’ chute.”
“Break formation! Engage all hostiles!”
With an angry fervor fueled by the loss of their wingmate, Stag Squadron broke from their standard V-flight and engaged the enemy. I pulled back on the throttle and felt gravity pull my body, but then my canopy brightened, and the sky filled with explosions as my ears filled with comms chatter.
“Vixen Half! Fox Two!”
“Hostile on your six, Dancer!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Fox Two!”
“Deploying countermeasures!”
“This is turning into a real GoFu!”
“What the buck is a GoFu?”
“A goat fuck, ma’am.”
“I’M HIT!”
I turned my head around to see an eruption of fire to my right. Donner Seven Eight, Jackson Mayhew. Father of three. He looked a lot like Big Macintosh, except his skin was white, not red.
His plane had taken a direct hit from an enemy missile. But then I saw the battered canopy snap away from the flaming hulk of metal, and seconds later, a dark form burst from the plane and rocketed away. I knew Mayhew’s parachute would deploy. We’d deal with him later.
A plane was on my tail. Then it wasn’t. A burst of machine gun fire from one of my wingmen dispatched the enemy, who careened to the ground.
“Thanks, whoever that was,” I breathed, distracted. “I really…”
“DASHER! HOSTILE HAS LOCK ON YOUR SIX!”
“WHAT?!”
“EVADE, DASH! EVADE, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”
Forrest Starr’s voice was enough to make me flip into a barrel roll, but it was not enough to save me from the enemy jet. A light flashed on my dashboard. I was done for.
“It’s gonna hit, squad. I’ve got no flares. It’s been good serving with you guys.”
“NO!”
Connection.
I didn’t even feel the pain. There was no pain. Only bright light. And sound. So much sound.
I came to my senses a few seconds later, realizing that I wasn’t dead, realizing that I was on a collision course with the ground, encased in a fiery tomb. The glass canopy was shattered. Alarms were going off. Flames licked at the back of my suit.
I had no choice. I bailed.
Nighttime at 20,000 feet is peaceful, except for the roaring wind ripping at your body. Such was it that I found myself strapped to my rocket chair, spiraling away from the flaming plane, anticipating the chute release.
A low thunk and a sudden pain in my back told me that the chute had been deployed. I felt like my wings had been torn from my body, but that was the least of my problems.
The explosion had rendered me near-deaf, but not blind. I could see the flaming carcass of one of my squadmates barreling towards me. I didn’t know who it was, but whoever it was, I don’t think he survived.
But his plane was heading right for me.
For the first time in my life, I was actually scared. Nothing had prepared me for this.
Being stuck in a gulch with nothing but a tortoise for company…that wasn’t scary.
Having to fly in front of hundreds of ponies at Cloudsdale…not scary.
Fighting a dragon…pssh, I could do that in my sleep.
But there I was, thousands of feet above the world, strapped to a chair that was slowly gliding down to the earth, and a fiery mass of metal that was once a fighter jet was falling in my direction, ready to crush me dead, to knock me out of the sky.
It was no small miracle that the flaming wreckage missed me. With my eyes closed, I had no idea by how much, but close enough to sever the parachute cords above my head.
The ejection seat flipped over with a sudden jerk as the parachute was torn away. It was a good thing I was still wearing my helmet or the violence of the spin would have cracked my head against the metal seat frame.
Suddenly deciding that I was going to have to fight for my life after all, I looked around, trying to figure out my orientation in relation to the ground. Everything was spinning. I saw the moon flash by in my peripheral vision, but in the darkness couldn’t make out how close I was to the ground.
What was that expression my fellow pilot had used? Oh yeah, GoFu. That’s exactly what this was.
I knew there was no auxiliary parachute installed on the ejection seat. I fumbled with the seatbelts. Every millisecond that crawled by felt like an eternity. I had to get out!
One of the shoulder straps released and then the other. I kicked out of the leg restraints and pushed away from the seat. Below, I could finally see something. Tall dark trees were rushing up to meet me.
But, I got my first lucky break all night. Back when I was getting fitted for my first flight suit all those years ago when I joined the Air Force, someone had thought to include slits in the back for my wings.
I tried to slow my descent at much as possible. The muscles in my back protested at the huge effort, and I lost a couple of feathers. I was falling too fast to stop, and the heavy flight gear I wore wasn’t helping. The best I could hope for was a slightly softer landing.
As I plunged into the trees, my helmet and flight suit kept me from being scratched and bruised by the clawing branches. I bounced off a couple of larger limbs that knocked the wind out of me, but slowed my fall a little.
I never saw the ground coming until I slammed into it. Every ounce of breath was pushed out of my lungs, and I lay stunned for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened.
Slowly, I managed to draw a painful gasp of air. I rolled over on my back because it hurt less. Still moving carefully, I managed to sit up and take stock of my body.
My wings, while not broken, were definitely strained with the effort I had just gone to. When you’re trying not to die, you don’t worry about the fatigue you’ll experience later. An experimental flap produced muscle pain, and I knew that trying to fly was going to be difficult.
My legs, surprisingly, had taken just enough impact to be sore, but not enough to be broken. Pegasi bones are light for better flying ability, but the tradeoff is a drop in strength. I was lucky that I didn’t seem to have any fractures. The sudden meeting with the ground hadn’t broken any ribs, but my entire torso was probably going to develop one huge bruise. It hurt to breathe.
All in all, it far less injuries than I expected to receive when I lost my parachute thousands of feet in the air. I slowly stood up and began discarding flight gear. I had a lot of traveling ahead of me to stay ahead of any pursuers, and I didn’t need the extra weight.
The helmet and g-suit were the first to go. I also left most of the survival kit. I had no need for things like fishing lures and wire snares.
The rescue radio and beacon had turned on automatically upon ejection. I checked to make sure they were working. When I was ready to set off, I checked the survival compass carefully. One direction would take me back to safety, and the other would lead me straight into the hands of the Tajik Army. I glanced at the moon to confirm the compass wasn’t lying, and set off.
The cloudless night gave me some moonlight, at least. The going was still pretty slow. I checked constantly to make sure I was alone and wouldn’t be spotted. For the first time in my life, I was unhappy with my Celestia-given cyan coat and rainbow striped mane. The Nomex flight suit was uncomfortable, but at least it was dark green.
Time crawled by slowly. The continuous effort of scanning the terrain around me was taking its toll. How did Rarity put so much attention into noticing the small details? I saw the faint glow of the rising sun appear on the horizon. The coming dawn would make me easier to spot.
I came upon a small stream just before sunrise. I had a welcome drink and used some mud to dull my coat and mane. I knew the coating would eventually get dry and start to itch, but it was better than the alternative.
While I was there, I had a few bites of grass. I hadn’t eaten anything “in the wild” for years. It made me wish for one of Applejack’s nice juicy apples or a delicious cupcake made by Pinkie.
I knew I couldn’t afford to let my mind wander, but keeping my thoughts so focused was hard to do. My fellow pilots certainly deserved my concern. And the battle—had we won? I had no way of knowing how things went after I was shot down.
My thoughts drifted further back, all the way to the time before the portal spells were released from the Canterlot Archives. Life had been…simpler. I was on the Ponyville weather patrol. I hung out with my friends every day. I was never happier.
I’d gained a lot, and accomplished much during the years I’d lived on Earth. I had never really thought about what I’d lost, however. My friends were—
The radio crackled with static, snapping me out of my thoughts. It wasn’t turned up very loudly, but in the still forest, it sounded as earsplitting as thunder. I dropped to the dirt, fumbling with the radio, struggling to turn it down. It wasn’t so easy, and I was sure any Tajiks in the area had heard me. Why couldn’t they have made the stupid thing hoof-compliant?
Faintly, a voice came through the radio. It was an authentication code. They wanted to be sure they were talking to me, and only me.
I clicked the button and spoke the reply code that I had been given before taking off on the mission. Several seconds passed.
“Rainbow Dash?” asked the voice on the other end.
“Affirmative.”
“Glad to see you’re alive. Stay put. We’ll come to you.” I nearly breathed a sigh of relief when I heard that. Only the long training that had been drilled into me kept me alert and looking for danger. It wouldn’t do if the rescuers were ambushed.
Long minutes passed. I kept my eyes moving, looking for any sign of trouble. I wanted to get the buck out of Tajikistan, and I was going to do everything I could to make that happen.
I looked for any sign of a camouflage uniform or the muzzle of AK-47 pointed at me. For the first time in my life, I wished I’d been born a unicorn. Twilight may have been a bookworm, but she had enough raw magical power to be dangerous. Right now, I wouldn’t mind having a better way to defend myself.
My luck held, and soon I heard the welcome noise of an incoming helicopter. I stood up and waved a hoof. The trees prevented a landing, but Air Force Pararescue men didn’t let a little thing like that stop them.
One Airman went over the side of the helicopter on a winch and was lowered to the ground. He did a quick sweep with his rifle to make sure the area was all clear before focusing his attention on me.
“Good to see you, ma’am. Can I give you a lift?” he joked. I had no idea who he was. We’d never met before. I knew he wouldn’t have been doing the job if he didn’t care passionately about rescuing those who needed it. In a way, it reminded me of Fluttershy’s kindness for those less fortunate.
The man showed me a nylon harness attached to the winch cable and helped me get secured in it. Raising his arm, he gave a signal to the helicopter crew chief, who activated the winch and hauled us up. Inside the helo, they treated my wounds with field dressings. My wings were still in pain, but only rest could fix that. As the helicopter headed back to base, I leaned tiredly against the bulkhead and closed my eyes.
I was probably going to get some time off to recover. That was standard procedure for a shot-down pilot. It was only after wandering around Tajikistan for a while that I’d realized what was most important in my life and how silly I’d been to ignore it.
I decided I was going to use the rest to visit my friends in Ponyville. It had been far too long.
