Originally published August 2014

Side story to SgtAnon.

> You are Spitfire.
> Currently facedown in mud, warmed by the early fall sun into a tepid stew.
> It clings to your coat and clumps in your mane, an affront you would have never tolerated a few months ago.
> You do not care.
> Above you, the sky burns. The enemy's rapid-fire guns are sending angry orange-red steams of fire skyward, scything through the remaining pegasi in the air.
> The air shudders with the roar and rumble of guns, the pop-popping of distant explosions, and the sharper crack-rumbles of pegasus-driven lightning strikes.
> You do not care.
> You finally heave your muzzle out of the mud only when your lungs scream for oxygen, a burning need that overrides all other thoughts.
> Immediately collapsing back down to the ground, you stare upwards dully, watching a few armored chariots vainly attempting to break though the anti-air fire and allow the unicorns inside to wield their magic against the enemies.
> Even as you watch, a burning light streaks skyward on a column of smoke, homing in with unnatural accuracy on a chariot.
> The unicorn jumps free to late, and chariot, pegasus, and unicorn alike are all consumed in a flash and puff of smoke.
> You do not care.
> Your mind is elsewhere 
> Eyes may view the carnage around you, but it is not what you see.
> Your vision is locked to a scene not a few minutes prior.
> They are all there beside you.
> The finest of your Wonderbolts.
> Misty Fly on your left, Rapidfire behind her.
> Fleetfoot covering your back, with Blaze on her wing.
> To your right is the only pegasus you would ever trust to be your wing.
> Your glance over and nod to Soarin'; he gives a quick nod back.
> There's no chance to hide the trepidation in his appearance.
> None of you are at peak performance, after all.
> Not after enduring the weeks of siege in Cloudsdale on cut rations.
> But there was no way to avoid this now.
> Supplies, not only of food but of medicine and other basic necessities, had begun to run low.
> You had to open a path for the sky-carts if more was to come.
> Yet even as Soarin' betrays his apprehension, there is an steel-will determination there to succeed at all costs.
> You've seen it before, at the start of every race.
> The only difference is, this time you are racing for more than a medal.
> More than your lives, even.
> This time, you race for victory.
"Break! Break! Go! Go! Go!"
> Your Wonderbolts react perfectly, launching from a cloud as soon as you give the signal.
> Banking over another passing cloud, you dive low.
> Hopefully too low for the enemy's anti-air guns to track with their freakishly unerring accuracy.
> Dodging and weaving back and forth, you make for the nearest battery of long-range weapons.
> If you can break these, the siege will be broken. Supplies can get through to Cloudsdale again.
> You will hit them.
> You have to hit them.
> You cannot bear to have to return back to the once-legendary city of the pegasi, only to see more wretchedly thin bodies and dilapidated cloud-structures.
> Angling towards a patch of trees, you dodge through them barely above the ground.
> Branches and leaves whip around you, but it is nothing you haven't experienced before on a race.
> Indeed, you feel the old rush pumping in your blood even though there will be no cheering fans, no basking in success today.
> The most you can hope for today, is to stave them off the city a while longer.
> You break through a treeline, the enemy anti-air position in the clear before you.
> A eight of their ugly, twisted-looking metal vehicles, surrounded by revetments and soldiers dug in.
> You come in so low over the ground that you can see their shocked faces as you clear the first trenches.
> Misty's warning cry comes to late.
> Two of the enemy's vehicles have seen you with their unblinking eyes, the turreted tops swiveling down to track your 'bolts.
> No!
> You're so close!
> Just another couple seco-
> The vehicles' guns fire with a throaty growl, jets of flame and smoke pouring from their muzzles.
> An agonized screech wrenches your attention to the side.
> Just in time to see Rapidfire, surrounded by a cloud of bursting enemy shells, plow into the ground.
> You don't wait to watch the dust cloud clear.
> Even if the enemy's guns hadn't gotten him, no pegasus could survive an impact with the ground like that.
> Not even a Wonderbolt.
> In the two seconds you have been given, you pass over the cluster of enemy soldiers.
> Without a thought you pull the handle on the side of your suit.
> The saddlebag strapped to your side slips open, disgorging a mist of liquid rainbow across their position.
> You don't hear their cries of shock and surprise, but you know the spicy concoction will have left the alien creatures blinded and distracted - or worse.
> Four seconds.
> The vehicles' turrets are moving again, tracking your remaining 'bolts - but it is to late for them to fire again.
> A quick twist back allows you a perfect four-point sideways landing - slamming into the side of the vehicle evenly on all hooves.
> A ready-made thundercloud is pulled from its special pouch on the opposite saddlebag.
> Bucking it against the vehicles' hull, you let the lightning flow through the metal skin.
> You don't understand how the aliens' machine-weapons work, but you do know that Princess Twilight said a sufficient electrical current can damage or destroy them.
> So current you give them.
> Bursting skyward from the disabled vehicle, you see your remaining four 'bolts taking off from their assigned vehicles as well.
> Up, up, up - you need to gather stormclouds for a proper lightning strike, to finish off the vehicles.
> Soarin' pulls in beside you. "Easy as pie, eh, Spits?"
"When I can have one again, I'll tell you!" you rebut, grabbing a dark-looking nearby cloud and preparing it for a proper thunder.
> "Hah! I'm looking forward to one myself; I'll have a piece in Rapidfire's me-"
> A sharp pop followed by a growing roar drags your attention downwards.
> What you see drops an icy ball into your stomach.
> A spear is rising on flame and smoke from one of the vehicles, right up towards you.
> They were supposed to be disabled!
> Did you screw up?
> Had the aliens found a way around that?
> Was the princess simply wrong?
> No, you're overthinking it. Got to-
"SCATTER, DOWN NOW!"
> Your shout comes to late.
> Even as you all break downwards, you can tell you waited to long.
> The spear is fixated on Fleetfoot.
> Even with her flight goggles hiding her eyes, you can see the terror on her face.
"Come on, Fleet."
> Your voice is soft as you maneuver.
"Don't lock up. Don't lock up, we've trained on this!"
> To late Fleetfoot tries to bank off to the side of the missile's flight.
> It passes her close by and erupts in a blinding flash and deafening thunderclap.
> There is no Flootfoot moments later.
> Another growling cough from the guns below, and your attention is again dragged away to see-
"No."
> Soarin' is trailing out of a cloud of shell bursts, spinning wildly.
> Why is stomach-churningly obvious.
> Where once a wide, strong wing had emerged from his back, is now just a red gash.
"NO!"
> Misty Fly crosses your vision, trying to outmaneuver one of the enemy's rising missiles.
> That is enough to snap you out of it.
> There is nothing you can do for Soarin'.
> He's never going to get back to Cloudsdale on one wing.
> Let alone land safely.
> You tear your eyes away, unable to bear seeing him hit the ground.
> Just in time to see an enemy missile fill your vision, colliding with your head seconds later.

---

> Something snaps you out of your memories.
> Looking around, you blink slightly.
> What had done that?
> What had-
"Spitfire! Captain!"
> Misty drops in beside you, looking rattled.
> Her flight suit is torn in several places, blood leaking from some. Shrapnel.
> "Captain, are you wounded?"
> You look dumbly at your forelegs, giving all four of the limbs a few experimental steps.
> They still function, and your wings flap without pain as well.
> The missile.
> Why hadn't the missile...?
> No, no time to ponder that.
> Just accept the luck Celestia has granted you.
> You shake your head, pulling off your shattered flight goggles.
> Thankfully the glass had stayed in its frame, or you would be blind right now.
"Where.... where's Blaze? Where's your wingpony, Misty?"
> She shakes her head. 
> "I don't know, Captain. I lost sight of him and can't find him anywhere."
> Another pause, her voice shakier. 
> "Captain, I saw, Soarin'..."
> You interrupt her.
"I saw as well. Come on. This... this failed. We need to get out of here. This..."
> You look around the battlefield.
> The sky is still full of pegasi - weaving, dancing, forming thunderclouds.
> Some play elegant, deadly duels with the enemies' larger metal aircraft.
> But it is also still full of streams of fire and rising pillars of smoke.
> There will be no breaking the siege on Cloudsdale today.
"This is a disaster. We have to go, Misty."
> "And leave Clo-"
"I know!"
> Your voice cracks.
"I know. I don't want to either, but if we go back there... it's surrender or starve. I can't do either. I have to keep going; I have to keep racing."
> You pause.
"For Soarin's sake."
> Misty stares, then nods.
> You take off together, sticking low and close to obstacles to fool their anti-air weapons.
> For once, you let Misty lead.
> You aren't fully paying attention anyhow.
> Other images fill your mind.
> A light-blue coat and darker mane.
> His laughter, calm and happy as he devoured his way through another pie.
> Green eyes, half-closed in contentment and bliss.
> Rejoicing together after another successful race.
> Limbs curled together on a cloudbed, your muzzle nestled into his wing.
> You shake yourself free of the memories, narrowing your eyes and pushing your aching wings harder.
> In that moment, you would unashamedly admit that the tears in your eyes are not just because of the wind gusting over them.
> You will fight on, though.
> You will see this alien army cast out of Equestria.
> For Soarin's sake.