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// Questions and Introductions 
// Story: A Soldier's Rest 
// by Blazing47s 
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	When a creature goes unconscious, and then wakes up in a strange place and in pain, its first reaction is to play dead. To make itself look as if it is still asleep, in case the predator that dragged it off it still in the vicinity. If it isn’t, the creature will run as far away as possible before the predator gets back. In my case, it wasn’t a predator that dragged me off, but a purple talking pony with pegasus wings and a unicorn horn. But the principal still applies.

Unlike last time I woke up, startled by the orange mare kicking the trees, I slowly come back into the waking world amid a haze of pain. My senses return to me slowly, feeling being the first one to come back into full functionality.

I fight down the urge to gasp in pain as the burning in my chest hits me full force. Unlike before I had blacked out, spitting blood onto the ground, the pain isn’t as sharp a sensation as it had been. It is more spread throughout my chest and stomach, as if someone has repeatedly hit me with an extremely large and heavy hammer. I make sure to keep my breathing steady and my eyes resting closed, despite the pain. This is a technique that, although basic, has helped me a few times in my career.

The smell of blood and concrete invades my nostrils, as apparently no one has cleaned off my armor. The room is extremely dusty as well, as if it is unused, and I want to sneeze. 

I can still feel my MJOLNIR armor on my body, though my helmet seems to be gone. I try to move my arms, but I only hear a clank of metal on metal. I open my eyes, immediately squinting at the bright light. I move my legs, but again hear the same metal on metal sound, and I stay immobile.

By now my eyes have adjusted, and I can look around at the room I am in. It is large, probably a dozen meters across, with a twelve foot ceiling if I were to guess. It is all grey concrete, without a window in sight. Underground then? I am lying in the center of the room, on a slab of metal raised off of the ground.

I look down, and discover the reason I cannot move. Bands of metal, probably a couple of inches wide and fairly thick, strap my legs, arms, and chest down to the table. I struggle again, grunting. There is a groan as the metal straps bend, but do not break. If I am given enough time to recover my strength, I could break these and escape. I rest my head back, sighing and focusing on relaxing and saving my energy. At least my captors were thoughtful enough to get me a pillow.

I am only given a moments peace though, as I soon hear a scraping noise somewhere behind my head, the sounds of metal on concrete. It is confirmed as a door, when I hear numerous hoof beats coming in my direction. I count six creatures, probably ponies.

Almost, Almost. Another minute and I will be out of here. I crane my head upwards as far as it can go, trying to see behind me. It is no use, and I relax once more, sighing. And I wait. The ponies seem content to sit behind the slab, out of my field of vision, and just watch me. I hear breathing and shifting, but that is it.

Then, a voice. The same purple mare from the apple orchard. “Who are you?” She asks. Her voice is hard, trying to project an air of confidence. But underneath is an obvious shiver in her tone, giving away her fear. I smirk.

“Spartan 0343, Lieutenant, serial number: 123A4567J-A127F” I say stiffly, following protocol. Though I am fairly confident the UNSC never thought I would be in this position, rules are rules. I discover that my chest hurts when I talk too much, the throbbing kicking up another notch at even my short sentence. I want to wince, but I keep my face still. 

“What are you doing here?” The mare asks, still behind my head. I think about a response. Say the same thing again, or actually provide some kind of an answer? While I would usually give the textbook answer, which is to say absolutely nothing in a complicated way, it is probably in my best interest to be in the good graces of my “captors”. I can break the metal bands now, I am sure, but I lie still. The rules pounded into me over the years put up a fight, but my logic wins out.

“I am here . . . on accident,” I settle with the short answer. 

“On accident?” Finally, the purple mare trots over into my field of view. Even when the room is dark, except for the single light above me, and though the mare tries to stay in the shadows, my enhanced eyes see her fine. She is looking at me with an air of caution. Probably wise on her part. I flex my hands, feeling the metal bend. “How did you get here on accident?”

“I died,” I clip, not lying at all. But I have a feeling she won’t believe my answer.

“Don’t joke at me,” She answers, narrowing her eyes, again trying to project that feeling that she in is charge. It doesn’t work well, to say the least.

“Take it like you will,” I shrug, before the pain in my chest flares and I dissolve into a bought of painful coughing, my eyes squinted shut. After a few seconds, I open them again with a grimace.

“So you died,” The purple mare says again, sarcastically. Then another voice speaks up, one from behind me.

“Well, he is obviously . . . not from around here, it would explain his numerous injuries, darling,” The voice sounds high class, and oozes female. A long shot from the marine’s I am used to hearing. “Why don’t you read the list again, for all of our benefits,” the unnamed and unseen pony suggests.

The purple mare, I remember the name that the orange pony mentioned, Twilight, nods. An area of light appears, glowing purple around the mare. From . . . her horn? When I had thought unicorn, I didn’t think it was literal. So, “magic”, or something like it. Covenant Engineers have some low level telepathy, is it the same kind of thing here? Just in more advanced ways, and the power is manifested in the color purple? Then a clipboard floats out of nowhere, inside another purple aura, coming to stop at Twilight’s eye level. Great, telekinesis as well. This day is getting better and better.

“Well, after the hospital refused to take you inside for . . . various reasons,” Twilight rolls her eyes, “I had to bring you here and do it all myself. My scans indicated that you,” She flips a paper on her clipboard, reading off the new page. “Had two cracked rib and one broken one, which was stabbing into your lung, thank goodness I got that fixed, and severe bruising on your chest and right foot, along with approximately,” She pauses. “Four hundred and thirty five recent scars from potentially deadly laceration.”

I blink, surprised. That many? I knew I had some, but not anything close to that number. The parasite is the only reason I can think of. I imagine the scars, spider webbing like broken glass on my chest and foot, and with purple and black bruises covering the skin below them. Okay, that would explain the intense pain real well. But Sparkle isn’t finished yet.

“And your internal magic was so messed up you might as well have been a cabbage, though it has stabilized now. It’s a wonder you only had one broken rib, even after what you are wearing absorbed the blow from my friend.” She flips the paper down, but keeps the clipboard in front of her, looking back at me. “So, that adds some measure of truth to your story. Now,” She goes on to the next question. “How did you end up in Ap- my friend’s orchard?” She catches herself. Another tell of her emotions under her poker face.

“Well, I did not start out there,” I answer. “I was in some woods. I came out of the woods to find your friend’s orchard as well as her,” I am going to say a bit more, but another series of painful hacking stops me. I have enough strength to get free, but beyond that I don’t think I can do much.

“How did you get in Cottontail Woods?” Twilight cocks her head. I add that name to my mental list. A fitting description for what I had seen.

“I died,” I say again.

“Because that is a helpful answer,” The mare says, exasperated. She shakes her head, levitating her clipboard out of my plain of vision.

“It’s the truth,” I shrug. I sniff and try to get more comfortable on my slab of metal. “Can I get out of here now?” I ask.

“No!” Twilight exclaims. “I have more questions!”

“I’m not answering them until I can actually stand,” I say. I make the motion to cross my arms, but the restraints stop me. I shouldn’t break them while these ponies are watching. But if they leave, I will not hesitate to. Then I will need to find the rest of my gear. I don’t know about my Magnum and knife, but I am certain my DMR and helmet are gone.

Despite what I said. Twilight starts to rattle off questions. “What are you wearing? How high tech is it? How did you get it on? What were you carrying?” I stay stubbornly mute. “Why has your DNA been messed with?” Twilight shouts in exasperation.

I speak, interrupting her “How do you know that?” 

I can see the spark of triumph in Twilight’s eyes as she answers my question. “Well, for one, you have advanced bones and muscles, that is easy to find out with a scan,” She seems proud of that fact, “I’m not sure about most other things, but I know the part of your brain for fear has been reduced, among other things.”

Jeez, for an apparent civilian doctor, this Twilight does know what she is doing. I also have enhanced intelligence, reaction time, senses, more pain tolerance, but there would be no way for her to know that when I was unconscious.

Now that I have spoken after I said I wouldn’t, Twilight apparently thinks that I will answer her other question, so she says them all again in the same order. I give back the same response as before. That is to say, nothing.

Finally, she growls and slaps a hoof to her face. I quirk a brow, fighting down a smirk. “All you have to do is let me stand,” I suggest. 

“Fine,” She groans. “Then will you talk?”

“If it is something I can answer,” I say. I’m counting on her to not see my real meaning in the half-truth sentence. If something is classified and she doesn’t need to know it, she won’t get an answer. Even if the UNSC isn’t here, their rules are in my head. I generally make it a point to stick to them, even in the strangest of situations, of which this definitely counts.

The purple glow surrounds the metal band, and they snap one by one, the metal groaning in protest. Finally freed from the constraints, I sit up, immediately wincing as my chest lets me know how it feels about me moving. But I am undeterred, and after a second of breathing, I try to stand.

At which point my foot lets me know how it feels by dropping me back onto my butt. I groan involuntarily, pain pounding through my body. I smash a fist into the panel, denting the metal. I am a Spartan, and yet I can’t stand! This is pathetic.

Twilight had taken a step forward when I was trying to stand, but she moved back when I punched the metal slab. She now eyes me with fear and apprehension, and I feel my face harden. Pain isn’t going to stop me. I stand again, this time blocking out what my body is telling me. Beads of sweat drip down my neck. I keep telling myself I’ve been in worse. As a Spartan, I need to be able to keep functioning, however damaged I may be.

“Where’s my helmet?” I ask, my half glare turning on Twilight. She shrinks back, her ears flattening to her skull. Her horn lights up, and my familiar black and blue ODST style helmet floats into view from the darkness. I snatch it out of the air, quickly attaching it. I am soon staring out of the comforting visor of the helmet, my systems powering on. There is a loud hum and my armor glows yellow as my shields recharge.

I feel better with my entire suit on. Stronger, more complete. The pain fades, more insignificant. I am a Spartan. I grow colder, more efficient. This is what I am. This becomes my mantra. I am a Spartan. I look around the room, my vison tinting barely green as my visor adjusts.

Just like I had thought, there is a group of ponies standing behind the metal slab, hiding in the shadows. I take my time and look closely at each one, taking into account the green tint when I see color.

The first one is stark white as far as I can tell, and I am glad she is standing in the shadows. She has dark purple hair that is stylized into curls that fall away from her head and flanks. Her blue eyes are surrounded by a light shade of makeup, and I spot three diamonds on her flank. A unicorn horn spirals its way out of her forehead. Interesting.

The next is so prismatic I am even gladder she isn’t in the full light. Her coat is a light blue, and her magenta eyes are narrowed in silent challenge, one that I dismiss immediately.  Her hair is the thing that stands out, as an entire rainbow seems to be captive in her mane and tail. A pair of wings are held to her sides, obscuring her flanks. I cannot see a mark on them from my position, by I would guess there would be one.

The third is hard to see, mainly because she is hiding behind the blue pegasus. She seems to be a buttery yellow, but all I can see is a patch of pink hair and a large fearful green eye that peeks out from behind the hind legs of the blue pony.

I know the fourth pony, the orange mare from the apple orchard. The fifth is bright pink, from head to hoof, with a mane and tail that are so big and poofy that I am surprised she can balance enough to stand, let alone hop into the air like she is at the moment. A manic grin spits down this mare’s face, and her blue eyes shine. 

I assess the situation. Six potential hostiles, in a confined space. I pat my thigh with a hand, sensing my Magnum still there. One magazine, six kills. It would take less than two seconds.

Pro: I would be able to locate my gear and move freely.

Cons: Too many unknown variables. Where am I? Can I escape? Are there more hostiles nearby?

Conclusion: Find another option.

I turn back to Twilight, asking another question. “Where is the rest of my gear?”

“I can’t let you have it,” She says, stubbornly.

I stare into her eyes, seeing my faceless blue visor reflected in them. “Where?”

“You have to answer my questions! You promised!” Twilight says, exasperated, stamping a hoof onto the ground. 

I incline my head. “No.”

“W- What?” She sputters. Apparently the thought that I would break my promise never occurred to her. I almost laugh.

“Give it to me, or I will find it,” I growl. I am not in the mood for this. My headache is pounding and my body throbs with waves of pain. I will not have these prismatic ponies getting in my way.

When she stares me down in defiance, I turn and survey the room more carefully. I spot a place in the wall different from the rest. A door. I stalk towards it, when I feel myself halted by an invisible force. 

I look down to see one leg incased in a purple aura. I look back and see Twilight, her face determined, her horn aglow with the same color. My instincts flare.

I jerk my leg forward, but Twilight grunts and my leg is pulled back into place. I turn.

“Release me.”

“No,” Twilight replied adamantly. “I won’t let you leave until you answer my questions.” She is sweating, and I can see her legs shaking. Despite her obvious fear, she stands fast. I hear muttering from the group of other ponies.

I take a step towards her, my armor scraping against the floor as Twilight’s aura holds it to the ground. I am only a few feet away now. I loom over the purple pony, my seven foot height dwarfing the creature only half my size. I feel my rage building. How dare she?

I put on a burst of speed, and Twilight shrieks, surprised. I am on her in a flash, and my glove closes around her throat as I easily lift her into the air. She gags, and my foot is free, her aura sputtering and dying.

I turn, holding Twilight in one arm. I am putting enough pressure on her neck for it to be extremely uncomfortable, but not enough to do any serious damage. Each member of the group of ponies has taken a step closer to me, and all but the yellow and pink one are snarling, eyes alight. The pink one looks surprised more than angry, and it seems like her mane has flattened a bit.

“Let her go!” The blue one shouts. All of the other mares shout various things along the same lines, except for the yellow one, who just cowers in the back, and the pink one, who eyes me the same way as before.

“No,” I growl. “Get me the rest of my gear, or she will die.” I do not feel like sugar coating it. It would be easy, and I am in a bad mood.

“Why you little-!” The blue mare shouts, making a gesture to rush at me, her wings flared out. I tighten my grip on Twilight’s neck. She lets out a gag, her eyes popping out as her hooves scrabbling uselessly against my armor. The blue one pauses, snarling at me.

“My gear,” I say again, shaking Twilight a bit for emphasis.

The white one speaks next. “Fluttershy, could you go get the good gentlecolt’s stuff?” She bats her eyelids at me. I am unfazed by the abrupt change in tactics; I’ve seen it all before. Tracey was a master at that strategy. I do not answer, keeping my pressure on Twilights neck, letting her breathe shallowly as she keeps struggling. “Do not even light that horn,” I whisper to her, seeing the thought in her eyes. “I will kill you.” She drops limp, looking into my visor with fear. I don’t care.

The yellow one all but crawls off, opening the door that I had seen in the wall. The room goes silent as it closes with a bang, and the stare off continues. Me versus four tiny horses. I resist the urge to shake my head, tightening my grip. Twilight gags more, and I smile. It feels good.

The yellow mare returns a minute or so later, slinking back in the way she came out. I sneer as she grovels on the floor, slinking near me. My DMR and knife are deposited in front of my boots. Most of the ponies growl and snarl as I move forward, but I don’t care. I am in charge here.

I sweep up my gear, depositing each into their respective places. One part of my mind nags that I have what I want, holding Twilight hostage will do no more good at the present time.

The rest of me ignores it. My rage is so complete that my arm is shaking. I can feel it, almost taste it. The bones breaking, the screams. My vision goes red. I am consumed with a need. The need to kill, consume, grow. I tighten my grip, and I can see I am really hurting Sparkle now. She can’t breathe, and her face is changing to a sickly blue. I revel in it, in her pain.

And then with a snap, it’s gone. The rage, the anger, all disappears as fast as it came. I gasp as it leaves an empty spot in my chest, one that pain rushes to fill. My injuries are back in full force, and my knees buckle, and I nearly fall. I barely keep my balance, my vision swimming.

What am I doing? I was supposed to be getting on their good side, not nearly killing one of them! Where did those feeling come from? This is a civilian for heaven’s sake!

I immediately relax my grip on Twilight. She gasps, and her face fills back into its normal purple color. I need to make up for this, try to show them I have a trace of good will. I mentally pound myself at my loss of control.

I set her down gently, and I can see she is surprised. The other ponies move forward, but don’t dare come any closer while I am still near their friend. I kneel down, so that we are almost at eye level. I see the fear in her eyes, the pure terror. Of me. My heart wrenches.

“Let me see your neck,” I say gently, keeping my hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t move, paralyzed with fear. I tilt her chin upward myself, and I wince. Her neck is ringed with large bruises, quickly becoming blue and purple, showing under her fur. I reach back to my pack, and she tenses, her eyes refilling with terror.

I slowly grab a needle that pops from a section in the backpack. I keep stores of painkillers here for marines or others that get hurt on missions and need them to keep fighting. I wanted to save them, but I need to show that I am still a good guy. More to myself than anything.

I gently lift the needle back to where she can see it. She squeaks, but is still frozen. Her eyes are locked onto the small point. The other ponies gasp, and I hear one start to cry loudly. Probably the yellow one.

“Its painkiller,” I say, keeping my voice as soft as possible. “Would you like some?”

She dimly nods. I can tell she is in shock. Her movements are jerky and her eyes clouded, not registering what is happening. This should help with that. I gently tilt her head farther upward, and slide the small needle into the side of her neck, right below the ring of bruises. She hisses as I push down the plunger, quickly depositing the clear liquid into her neck. I pull it out, and crush it in one hand, throwing the plastic and metal shards behind one shoulder.

“Does that feel better?” I ask. I look her in the eyes, trying to get her to look into mine, but I remember my helmet is on. I take my hand off her shoulder and remove my helmet, the armor hissing as I set it next to my foot. I hear a gagging noise in the background, but I dismiss it. I try to pour as much caring emotion into my eyes as I can, meeting Twilight’s large purple ones with mine. Show her that you are a good guy, Michael.

You are a good guy.

“Does that feel better?” I ask again, and she nods slowly. “Good.” I stand, attaching my helmet, leaving her sitting there on the floor. I take a few steps backwards, nearly hitting the metal slab in the center of the room. 

As soon I am a bit away, the other ponies rush to the sitting Twilight. They crowd around her, all rushing to examine her neck, and the rest of her. She stays there on the floor, but her expression brightens, recovering from the shock.  Probably a combination of the drug and being temporarily out of danger. 

“Darling! Are you alright?” “Sugarcube, are you feeling okay?” “I might have something for those bruises . . . I mean . . . if you want . . .” “I can’t believe this! That freak almost killed you!” This last sentence is accompanied by a chorus of scalding glares from the group, the largest one from the blue pegasus, who is hovering above the rest. “I say we pound him right now!” She snarls at me.

I say nothing. My mind roams over the last minute. Where did the rage come from? All of those feelings? The enjoyment. I shudder. They said that the gene alterations could have adverse effects on some Spartans. They told me I would be fine. I saw some of the broken ones though, sick and mad, raving before being put down, or killing themselves. I hadn’t had any problems before, why now?

I shake my head slightly. Can’t dwell on that now, there is no time for it. I have to focus on the situation on hand. I slowly drop into a sitting position, the back of my shoulders knocking against the metal slab behind me. My foot immediately shows me how grateful it is from my new position, and the pain falls down to more manageable levels.

The fawning continues for a couple minutes, until Twilight seems to be at full capacity again. Her glare has joined the glares of the rest of the group. The pink one’s mane has completely flattened now, and she look at me with a morose expression.

“I see now that you are a violent beast,” Twilight announces, as if she is about to start a speech. “And that you cannot-”

“I’m sorry.”

“Remain-” Twilight pauses, looking at me in surprise when I interrupt the beginning of her apparent presentation. “What?” She asks.

“My flank you’re sorry!” The rainbow pegasus erupts. “I mean, even Applejack can tell that aren’t telling the truth on that one!” The pony glances at the orange one, for support.

“He’s tellin’ the truth, Dash,” Applejack answers. Even with this, her glare doesn’t lessen.

“What?” the blue one sputters. “How can you say-”

“’Cause it’s true, he really is sorry,” Applejack answered. The blue one looks crestfallen, but perks up at the orange mare’s next sentence. “But that does not excuse what you did to my friend!”

All of the mares nod. I see that the pink one’s mane has fluffed up a bit, and she looks at me with only hostility now instead of sadness.

“This armor is . . .” I pause, searching for what to say. “Very important to me.” All of the ponies look to Applejack, who nods. They treat her like an organic lie detector. I keep that in mind.

“Does that warrant choking poor Twilight nearly to death?” The white one asks, with a toss of her mane.

“No,” I answer truthfully. Applejack nods again.

“Then why’d you do it?” The pink one asks this time. Her eyes stare dead into mine, even with my visor in the way, as if she can see right through it.

“I-” my formulated response flies away under that stare. “I don’t know.” Even when Applejack nods, the blue one is outraged. She flies to only a foot away, her eyes alight with anger.

“That’s a bull crap excuse if I ever heard one!” She jabs a hoof at my chest accusingly. 

“Ask your friend if you don’t believe me,” I point back to the group. The blue pegasus opens her mouth as if to respond, but she closes it when she can’t make a comeback. With an angry huff, she flies backwards to the group, her glare not lessening. “I feel like I owe you some recompense for my actions,” I say, and the blue one snorts. Ignoring it, I look at Twilight. “I will answer your questions.”

“Really?” Twilight beams. It seems her injury at my hand is already forgotten, though I can’t say the same of her group of friends. She looks like a little kid presented with a million credits when I answer in the affirmative. It’s a bit creepy. The blue one throws up her hooves a storms off near the back wall.

Twilight plops down a couple yards away, and her clipboard and notepad come back from where they hand been lying on the floor, held in her purple aura. She leans forward with her question. “What are you wearing?”

“MJOLNIR Generation Two Armor.” I answer. Twilight scribbles the answer down.

“What’s it made of?” She launches at me.

“Cerematic-metallic alloy,” I tap one of my shoulder guards. The under suit is made of a combination of a bunch of other things, and I don’t care to list them all, so I just don’t mention it. I don’t have to, as Sparkle asks another question.

“Tell me more about it,” She says.

“Well, it weighs a little over a ton,” I begin, but she interrupts me.

“A ton?” She exclaims. “How do you move with that much weight on you?”

“Mechanical assistance,” I answer. “Thousands of parts and electronics that help me move.”

“What powers it?” Her eyes are shining as she scribbles furiously on her paper.

My helmet helpfully pulls of the schematics. “A fusion plasma hybrid power system,” I tap my backpack with a fist. “Housed in here.” 
I spend another half hour or so answering questions about my armor. I can see I lose her on ninety nine percent of the technical stuff, but she doesn’t seem to care at all, jotting down every answer I give. Another plus of the questioning in that I can see the group of ponies warming up, if not to me, than to the situation. The pink one is back smiling and happy, and the yellow one is no longer crying, though she eyes me fearfully. The blue one and Applejack are still the most wary, sticking to the back of the group and whispering quietly to each other.

I’m not sure what to think of the white one. She just keep s staring at my armor, her facial expressions ranging from disgust to intrigue. I honestly don’t know what she is thinking. 

We finally move away from my armor, and Twilight asks a question that perks my attention. “What happened to your skin? Was that a chemical reaction or something else?” She leans forward more. I don’t know how she can stay in that position without falling over.

“My skin?” I look at my hands, a mental blank, as I end up staring at my armor. I look up. “What about it?”

“Well, it was when-” A large yawn interrupts Twilight. I look to the left to see the white pony blushing a bit and holding a hoof over her mouth.

“So sorry to interrupt darling, but it is getting a bit late,” She apologizes with another small yawn.

“If I may ask, what time is it?” I interject.

“Around 10:30, if I were to guess,” The white one muses, eyeing me warily as I speak to her. I reset my helmet clock to 2230 hours, nodding my thanks. “Anyway, I feel like, now that we have,” She looks at me again, “Come to somewhat of an understanding, that it is safe to retire for the night.”

“But I have more questions!” Twilight protests, but she can’t stop a yawn from escaping. “But maybe they can wait until tomorrow,” She says sheepishly.

“We can’t just leave it here with you!” The blue one points at me.

“Why not?” Twilight asks. “As long as he promises not to hurt me or try to escape.” I take the hint.

“I promise not to hurt anyone or try to escape tonight,” I answer. Applejack nods, and sends the blue one into a rage. I smile under my visor at the last word in my sentence. Insurance of a sort.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Small flicks of spit fly into my visor. “But if you think you can just come in here, hurt my friend, and get off scot free, you got another thing coming buster!” She lashes a hoof at my face. My armor glows yellow, and I don’t flinch as my shields absorb the impact. 

“Please,” I say gently, holding up my hands in a placating gesture. “I realize I did you wrong, but this is not necessary,” The only answer I get is another wild strike. 

Finally, after a minute of the blue pegasus punching at me, Twilight intervenes. The blue pony is pulled back by her tail, which Twilight has grasped in her purple aura. “Rainbow Dash, that’s enough!” Twilight stamps a hoof on the ground. 

“But Twilight!” The pegasus looks at Twilight, a pleading. “How can you be like this? After what it did to you?!”

“I know, and it was wrong,” Twilight answers patiently. “But he has apologized honestly, and he has promised not to try and escape. That’s good enough for me for the moment.”

“But it isn’t for me!” The newly dubbed Rainbow Dash exclaims. “Come on Applejack? Rarity?” The white pony shakes her head slowly. “Pinkie?” The pink pony just look up at her with a hint of sadness. “Fluttershy?” The yellow pony shrinks back, but does not reply.

“Fine!” Rainbow shouts, tears running down her cheeks. “I can tell when I’m not wanted!” The door slams as the pegasus speeds out of the room.

“I’ll go talk to her . . . um . . .” The yellow pony, Fluttershy, stutters, giving me one last look before walking to the door and exiting.

“Oh dear,” the white unicorn, Rarity, holds a hoof to her face. “I will go as well, Twilight,” she looks apologetically at the purple alicorn. “I will see you tomorrow, alright?” With that and a final sigh, Rarity exits as well.

The pink pony bounces over to me, beaming. “What is your name?” She chirps.

“Michael,” I answer slowly, a bit put off.

“Ooooh, I’m so excited! Your party is going to rock!” She shouts, jumping into the air, before sprinting out of the room, leaving me and Twilight alone. I look at her, pointing to the door.

“Yes, she’s always like that,” The purple mare sighs, before straightening. “Anyway, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Twilight Sparkle,” She holds out a hoof to me.

“Michael,” I answer, gently shaking her hoof. She flinches at the contact, but doesn’t waver. “Nice to meet you, Miss Sparkle.”

“Will you be okay down here tonight?” She bites her lip and look around. “I can try and make a room, but I don’t know if there’s anything suited to your size and weight but I can-”

I interrupt her. “I will be fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? It’s not the most comfortable of bedrooms,” She looks around. “At least let me get you some blankets or something.”

I wave her concerns away. “I have slept on worse. Anyway, I have given you too much grief already today. “

“If you say so,” She replies. “Just remember your promise.” Her gaze is rock steady.

“Of course,” I incline my head politely. “Good night Miss Sparkle.”

“Good night, Michael.” And with that, and one final slam of the concrete door, I am left alone. The light above me flickers out, and I am left in pitch blackness. I blink off the night vision on my visor, laying down on the hard concrete. My chest and foot are throbbing, but I ignore it.

After a few minutes, I fall into a fitful sleep.

----- 3 Years Ago

“Alright ODST, gather round!” The shout rings above the makeshift camp. The black clad soldiers stand, brushing sand off armor and weapons. The landing on the beach was only about an hour ago, so everyone in the camp is ready to go at the drop of a hat.

I stand with Daniel and Tracey, joining the flow towards the center of operations. A large crowd gathers around a single place. Tracey and Daniel elbow their way to the front, while I hang in the back, content to watch over the heads of my fellow ODSTs.

A single ODST has stood up on top of an ammo crate, his helmet removed. He has a long and chiseled face, with tired but alert eyes and a three o’clock shadow dusting his chin. His suit has a light grey highlight on the visor and helmet. As he speaks, his voice booms over the group, and it goes silent.

“My name is Jacob Hislar, and I am the commanding officer for this mission,” His eyes roam over the crowd. “Do not think that just because I am of higher rank, that I cannot fight. I can, and will, fight by your side when the time comes. On the battle field, I am just another soldier, but until then, you take orders from me,” There is a murmur of approval from the gathered soldiers. No one likes a stuck up commander. Those kinds are more likely to get you killed saving their own butt than to do anything.

“Commander Keyes has given me direct orders,” Hislar continues. “The Spartan, Johnson and another detachment of ODSTs have landed six klicks west of here,” Whispers start up at the announcement. 

“The Spartan?” A man whispers to my right. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard he’s like the devil himself on the battlefield,” Another answers. “A killing machine.”

Hislar holds up his hands to silence the crowd. “They got chewed up pretty badly,” He said, a trace of sadness in his tone. “And they want three ODSTs to serve as a guard for Keyes and Johnson with a few marines. Where is Delta squad?”

I start when I remember that that is my new squad. “Here sir!” I shout, and Daniel and Tracey do the same.

Hislar nods in our direction. “Since you three are new together, and, although I hate to say it,” He runs a hand through is short hair. “You are going to be benching this one. You leave in five, to fly to their position.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a Pelican that is starting up its four Thrust Vectoring engines, a dull roar in the background.

I a crestfallen. My first mission as an ODST, and I don’t get to see any more action? I can see Daniel and Tracey feel the same by the glances they are giving each other.

“Alright,” Hislar claps. “The rest of us will be staying here for another few hours before we move out to our next objective.”

I walk from the back of the crowd, circling around to meet Daniel and Tracey near the Pelican. Daniel claps me on the shoulder. “We’ll get them next time,” He rumbles. I nod, stepping onto the ramp of the pelican with a thump. Daniel and Tracey follow.

“Hey there!” A green clad marine pilot greets us as we step on board. “Forgive the mess,” She waves at the piles of crates that sit in the bay of the ship, where the marines usually would sit. “I’m running resupply as well.”

I shrug, and find a place to sit wedged in between two ammo boxes. “If I were you,” The pilot goes rummaging through a bag on top of a crate. “I would be glad to fly out, do a bit of body guarding than be here.” With a smile, she pulls out a pilot style helmet, plopping it on top of her short hair and fastening the chin straps. The dark visor covers most of her face, but we can see her smile still.

“Not us,” Tracey speaks up. “We’re ODST. We belong here, not watching the back of some higher up.”

“Suit yourself,” The pilot shrugs, stepping into the cockpit. The engine roar increases tenfold, and the pilot’s voice comes out of my helmet next. “This’ll be a short ride, more of a hop than anything. Don’t get to comfortable back there.”

And with that, the Pelican rises off the ground and begins to turn to the west. Behind me, I can feel more than see the camp disappearing, along with all of my comrades in arms besides my squad. I stifle a sigh. Next time, Daniel said.

Next time.

----- Present

I jerk upright in my suit, breathing hard. Shaking my head, I look around, only to see nothing in the pitch blackness. I groan, popping my back as I stretch. Sleeping in armor on hard concrete is not the most pleasant thing in the world. I blink on my night vision, and the room is bathed green. I also check my helmet clock.

It’s 0400 hours. I doubt that Sparkle (I find myself using her last name, like she is a soldier in the UNSC. Force of habit, I suppose) is awake yet, seeing how she isn’t here pestering me with questions. I take the time to do a quick body check. My chest still throbs, but much less so than last night, thanks to my rest. My foot is in a similar situation, but it still hurts.

I stand, stretching again. I jog in place a bit, feeling out how tired and hurt I am. Content that I can now run and walk, I do a couple laps of the large concrete room to warm up my muscles. It’s only 0415 now. I sigh, pondering what to do for the probable hour or so until Sparkle and her friends arrive again.

I made a promise to stay here, and that Applejack seemed to be a living lie detector, so I was telling the truth, according to her. But if I leave, that means I was lying, so therefore not telling the truth, but if I wasn’t telling the truth she would have said so. . . I shake my head, banishing the paradoxical train of thought. I can’t leave. If Sparkle arrives and I am still gone, I will be at another setback to gaining their trust. 

I blink on my objective list, planning to add a few keep me steered in the right direction, but something catches my eye, and I stop. On the list on the inside of my visor, all of the objective slots are empty except for the top one. This one is filled with strange symbols, ones that I recognize as Forerunner letters. What is that doing there?

I blink it on, and start as a blue arrow pops up on the bottom of my vision, pointing south west from where I am, according to my compass. My helmet also informs me that it is about five miles from my current position. I wrack my brain.

The only explanation is that whatever saved me and brought me here put this objective here as well, though how it figured out how to do that is beyond me. There is no noticeable UNSC or Covenant trace that I have seen, with no communication on any bandwidth for either. What does it lead to? My bored speculation continues for another hour or so, when, around 0530, the door to my room is cracked open, and light spills in. 

Sparkle is the first to enter, her horn glowing, lighting the light in the center of the room. I blink off my night vision. She is followed by Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, Pinkie, and finally Rainbow, who flies inside, glaring tiredly at me, apparently not used to waking up at this early time. She seats herself in the back with an angry thump and a yawn, as the rest of the ponies come farther forward.

“Good morning, Michael! Sorry for the early start,” Sparkle smiles, pulling out the same notepad as yesterday. We are getting right into it, it seems.

I incline my head. “I’ve been awake for a while.”

“Good!” Sparkle chirps. “You can answer my questions better, in that case.”

“I suppose,” I hedge, but she doesn’t notice, like I expected. Just like yesterday, the group of ponies sits down a few feet behind Sparkle, far enough away to not appear threatening, but close enough to show their support for the purple mare on the floor. It’s a surprisingly human gesture.

“So, we have already asked about your armor,” Sparkle begins. I sigh, sensing where this is going. “Now, I need to ask what you do with it. What is your occupation?” She asks eagerly.

“I am a soldier,” I answer curtly.

Sparkle scribbles an answer down. “I had supposed as much.”

Applejack interrupts from behind Sparkle. “What do you fight?” She is watching me with that suspicious glance again.

I mull this over. They would not know who the Covenant are, though I don’t technically fight them anymore, so I settle with a more vague answer. “Creatures that would harm my species.” True enough.

“And what species is that, your species?” Sparkle asks, shooting Applejack a glance for interrupting.

“Homo Sapien, or human,” I answer.

“Fascinating,” Sparkle says giddily. “I thought you were only myths!” He pen is scribbling madly on her paper.

“Same thing here,” I mumble, but, unfortunately, Sparkle hears me.

“Really?” Her eyes grow wide. “We are myths to you?”

“Yes,” I point at Rarity. “Unicorns,” then to Rainbow. “Pegasi,” then to her. “Alicorns. We have numerous myths and legends about you.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Sparkle whispers to herself, and I am inclined to agree. It is quite the parallel. “So,” The purple mare continues. “How old are you?”

That one is easy. “21.”

“And when did you begin military service?” These questions are getting a bit personal, but I keep answering for the sake of courtesy.

“I was drafted at 16.”

“What?” Her head whips up. “That young?”

“Yes,” I answer. I see the question on her mind, so I answer it before she can ask. “I was needed.”

“To be forced into military service so young?” Rarity gasps, a bit dramatically. “What could have possibly forced your people to do such a thing?” Sparkle nods, looking back to me.

I go for an unorthodox approach to answer this question. “How many people live on this planet?” I ask Sparkle. She hums a bit.

“Probably around 8 billion,” She guesses. “If you count everyone.”

I nod. A good sized planet, for what technology I have seen so far. “Have you ever had extraterrestrial contact?” I ask, and Sparkle tilts her head in confusion.

“No, why?” Her face lights up. “Were you attacked by aliens?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I come up with a simple answer to a complicated question. “They believed that we, meaning all humans, were a scourge on the galaxy, infidels to their religion, and they were bent on our total destruction.” I clip. Pretty much. 

“What?” Sparkle gasps, and it is echoed by all of the other ponies, including Rainbow, who is now listening contently. “What kind of religion would teach such a thing?” She asks, horrified.

“Theirs,” I shrug. “We were at war for over twenty five years.”

“How many humans were killed in this war?” Rarity asks, again from behind Sparkle, her face a bit green. Pinkie’s hair has dropped again, and she looks on with the air of extreme sadness. Strange how she can flip so fast.

“23 Billion.” I answer sadly.

“What?” Sparkle blusters. “That many fit on one planet?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Numerous planets, almost too many to count, rendered uninhabitable by our enemies attacks,” My voice softens. “They killed every man, woman, and child on each of those planets before the war ended. Including my entire family.” I feel a pang of grief, but I push it down.

Rarity faints, and Applejack looks on with a sad expression. Fluttershy is crying silently, but now it seems it is for me, not from fear. She looks at me with eyes full of sympathy. Rainbow, in the back, has floated forward a bit, her eyes wide. I continue, even though she hasn’t asked a question.

“I was born nine years after the war started. Humanity was running out of men. They needed me. I answered the call.” I feel a surge of pride at this.

“That’s,” Sparkle struggles to come up with words. “That’s . . . horrible! So much death, it’s . . .” She can’t come up with another word. She doesn’t need to.

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes it is.”

Sparkle shakes her head, composing herself. She takes a deep breath and draws herself upwards, and I can tell more questions are coming. Behind her, Applejack is trying to wake the unconscious Rarity, while Rainbow, apparently over her anger towards me, comforts the sobbing Fluttershy. Pinkie looks on, with the same expression as before. It seems her pink color has been de-saturated, more of a grey now.

To my surprise, Sparkle does not ask a question. Instead, she turns to her friends. “I feel as if I have all I need to know, to justify Michael’s actions yesterday. All in favor of letting him be free?” To my surprise, every pony votes in the affirmative, even Rainbow. “That settles it.” She turns back to me. “You will need to be accompanied by one of us at all times, but I feel it is safe for you to now roam around outside this dungeon.”

I nod my thanks, eyeing the small blue objective arrow. “Thank you.” All of the ponies stand, and I follow suit. 
“Let’s go upstairs, I need a cup of tea or something,” Sparkle announces.

“I am in the mood for one of Spike’s teas as well,” Rarity, who is now awake, though still a bit woozy, says. The ponies walk towards the door set into the wall, and I follow, my boots clunking on the concrete floor. I am stopped by a wall of pink that fills up my entire visor. Sobbing fills my ears, and I can tell that someone has wrapped something around my neck and chest, and it is gripping there.

I push my head above the pink, and look down, my eyes widening. Fluttershy is hugging me, sobbing into my shoulder. “I feel so . . . so sorry for you! I can’t imagine-” Her eyes are shut tight, and tears trace down her cheeks. I am surprised, but I don’t let it show. I slowly drop to the ground, settling into a kneeling position.

I gently lift her head away from my shoulder with one hand, taking off my helmet with the other. “Hey,” I say gently, wiping a tear off of her cheek. My hand looks gigantic next to her head, almost as if I could palm it like a ball. I give her a smile, which she doesn’t return. “There is a happy ending,” I murmur softly.

“How?” She asks, and the innocence in her eyes wrenches my heart.

“We won,” I answer simply. “We beat back the evil three years ago. Yes the war was awful, but it’s over now.”

Fluttershy nods, and she takes a stop back, wiping at her face with her hoof. “S- sorry,” She stammers. “I didn’t mean to. . .  I mean. . . ”

I chuckle, standing and reattaching my helmet. I pat her mane with a hand. “It’s no problem,” I gesture to the door, where all of the ponies are watching us. “Your friends are waiting.”

Fluttershy smiles a bit, walking over to join the group of ponies. I go after them, holding the concrete door open with a hand for a moment. The light flickers out behind me, leaving darkness at my back. With one final tug, I seal the room.