What Hath Joined Together

Chapter 26

                                                                                 Voir Dire — Part III

With the ear-splitting shriek of the morning trumpets greeting the rise of the fiery inferno, Flash Sentry groaned. Lying on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, his dress uniform damp with sweat, he slammed his eyes shut.

Is this what dying feels like? Uuuurk...

Hammers struck the anvil of his head at the knock on his door. Too pained to move, he muttered, every syllable aggravating his sandpaper throat, "Five more minutes..."

More clamor rang out as the door opened, then closed, thudding hoofsteps following. Each noise was a knife.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sire." Greyhoof may have whispered, but it was all but a shout. He approached the bed, something rattling along the way. "Turn over, please."

With nigh-insurmountable effort, Flash pushed himself to his side. He flinched at the growing sunlight filtering through his window, then looked over at Greyhoof, who held two things in his forehooves. A large glass of water, and...

A bucket.

"I don't have to puke," Flash mumbled, his stomach twisting. Bile rose in the back of his throat—so acidic and sweet and That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it?

Greyhoof set the bucket down on the floor beside the bed and the water on the nightstand. "I won't look," he said, trotting over to the closet.

Groaning again, Flash sat up on his haunches. He coughed, nausea rolling through him in waves. Maybe I can...Another cough. His stomach clenched. Nope!

While Greyhoof opened the wardrobe, Flash buried his muzzle in the bucket.

Each gag and retch sent more of that sweet bile burning through his throat. Pilsner was just as sweet, but not as smooth, on the second taste. Thankfully, none of it dribbled down his sweaty uniform.

Just when he thought he was done, Flash grabbed the bucket again.

A minute later, his stomach still in knots but empty of any conceivable contents, Flash set the bucket down. Panting, he brought his forehooves up and rubbed at his temples. "Gah... Nggg... Ohhh, Celestia..."

"Should have thought about that last night, sire," Greyhoof said as he polished Flash's armor.

"Ugggh... I know..." I didn't think it would get so out of control. Drinking's never been my thing. I guess I see why now.Flash moved down to his hooves, taking care to avoid the bucket. As he started unbuttoning his uniform, he said with a sigh, "Thanks, though... I do feel a little better."

"A shower will help, and a toothbrushing too, Flash." Greyhoof nodded towards the door. "Take care of those first. Then, we'll get everything else ready."

"Thanks, Greyhoof." Flash removed his uniform and laid it down on the bed. As he did so, two envelopes poked out of a pocket—one red, one white.

Greyhoof raised an eyebrow. "What are those?"

Flash picked up the envelopes, both unmarked. A hazy memory of two Wonderbolts and a cloud high above Canterlot flickered through his mind. "Oh, uh... Well, when we were at the bar, Soarin and Spitfire showed up. They wanted me to give these envelopes to, err..."

Greyhoof raised his other eyebrow.

Flash bit his lip. "Um..." Think, think! Let's see... Both were... strange requests. One for the... "stallion I'm guarding"—okay, that's Blueblood—and the other for... my Captain. My Captain? Flash shook his head. Wait a minute! No, Spitfire said not Ironhoof. Or was it Soarin? Either way, there's only one other stallion it could be for. But that would mean...