Chapter 20 - Recovery
Whitetail Woods, Equestria
September 27th, AD 3070/1023 RC
The first thing Twilight Sparkle became aware of as she began to ascend from unconsciousness was the rhythmic thumping that jostled her body. Once this was understood, her mind quickly began its arduous task of restarting. Soon the unicorn realized that she still felt the cool, almost cold sensation of the cooling vest siphoning heat from her body, and the tug of safety straps that kept her secured within her seat. Then the thumps became more distinct as her ears twitched and heard the now-familiar muted thuds of the Highlander's footfalls, overlaid by the whirring of the cockpit's life support equipment and the soft hum of the command console's electronics.
Memories of the recent past started to filter into Twilight's mind, and she began to stir. Then a powerful pain finally cut through the fog and made itself known. “Ow,” she said, and then brought up a foreleg so she could rub a fetlock against her forehead, just underneath her horn.
“I see you've decided to rejoin the living,” a male voice observed, and for a moment Twilight felt like slipping back asleep as it stirred up a memory of her father tucking her into bed. Nevertheless she forced her mind to keep spinning up, and then opened her eyes.
The interior of the cockpit was entirely as she remembered it, save for the fact that daylight was no longer streaming in from outside. Instead the only light came from the glow of the holographic HUD and various displays on the command console. “How long was I out?” Twilight mumbled, as she squinted her eyes in order to get them to focus better.
“Ten hours,” James McKenna replied. His tone was subdued as he continued. “I was getting worried after the first two and had Stonewall send a medic over. She said you just had some powerful mana drain or something and to let you rest, so we kind of just let you sleep.”
Twilight absorbed the human's words and then pondered on them a bit. “What happened?” she asked, and then shook her head. “Not with me, I mean, but after I passed out. I assume I got us across the river?”
“You did,” James answered. Even as he spoke, though, he kept his eyes focused on the HUD and his sensor readouts. “And thanks to Case Zulu we managed to pull back our forces without further engagement, save for a few griffons trying to harry the army,” he explained, and then fell silent.
A moment of silence passed as Twilight waited for him to continue. When he didn't, however, she shivered a bit. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad,” McKenna admitted. “I don't know all the numbers yet, but your people got hit pretty hard by the Desperadoes, Griffons, and Changelings, and we lost two 'Mechs and the remaining were all battered to Hell and back. We managed to not leave any wounded behind that we know of, but Franz Mendoza, our Commando pilot, is missing. Apparently he had to bug out of his 'Mech mid-battle and we lost track of him in the retreat.”
Twilight frowned at that. “Aren't you going to look for him?” she asked, bemused.
James sighed. “We tried,” he said, quietly. “We've all been scanning the channels for his radio and Dash and the Wonderbolts even did a few sweeps looking for him, but the griffons were pretty hot on our heels and the Desperadoes began crossing the river right after the flood finished, so we couldn’t make a thorough search. Either Franz has gone to ground, or he got killed or captured.”
Silence again fell over the pair, broken only by the constant thumps of 'Mechs tromping through the woods. Now that she had a moment, Twilight could make out several other patterns of the noise, and this made her think. “We lost, didn't we?” she asked, sadly.
Even at the odd angle, she could see McKenna bite his lip before he answered her. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Yeah, we did.” He paused for a few moments, and then took in a breath. “I'm sorry, Twilight,” he added, and then fell silent.
Emotion started to well up in Twilight at that, and she turned her head to look out through the ferroglass canopy. The outside world was dark as she had ever seen it, and it seemed to echo her heart. After a few moments, though, she took in a deep breath, and then turned her head back to look at McKenna. “You did warn us that our chances weren't all that great,” she said, carefully. “And I know you tried your best. I was here in this machine with you, after all,” she added, and then dropped her gaze downward. “I just wish there was more I could have done.”
“We all wish that of ourselves,” James replied, sotto voce. He waited for Twilight to look back up at him before he spoke again. “We do what we can, when we can, and afterwards we kick ourselves for not doing better. I wish I could tell you some great truth or saying that would make it sting less, but the fact is none of us can ever be perfect.”
Once again a silence fell over the pair, broken only by the sounds of machinery on the march. Several long moments passed like this before Twilight finally managed to rouse from her stupor. “So, what happens now?” she asked, as she turned her gaze to the MechWarrior.
“Good question,” James commented, and then took a moment to think. “I can't really say exactly what, other than we get everyone back to Canterlot, lick our wounds, and try to come up with a new plan.”
“Can we even come up with a new plan?” Twilight plaintively asked. “I thought this one was our best chance? What could we even do now that it's failed?”
James sighed again. “I don't know, Twilight,” he replied, evenly. “But either we try to come up with a new course of action, or we surrender to O'Connell and his griffon allies. I'm not sure what you're inclined to do, but my heritage and my experience tell me to keep fighting. Maybe we'll still lose, or maybe the next battle something like the changelings will happen for us and against O'Connell. But we won't know unless we try.”
The conviction in McKenna's voice increased as he spoke, and Twilight felt a small amount of admiration for the human, albeit tempered with the knowledge that the future was going to become very, very hard. Still, James is right, Twilight thought. We can't give up now, not unless we want to just surrender.
But still, a voice piped up inside her head. What else could we do?
Even as she thought of that, Twilight felt a cold realization set in: the Elements, she thought. We might have to use them after all. But, if we do...
She shook her head at that. No. They're a last resort for a reason. At the very least we should wait and see if there's anything that can be done, any planning or idea that might come up that we can use. I may not have absorbed all of human history, but from what I've read humans have faced steep odds before and still come out on top. And anything they can do, ponies can do.
The sound of a tree shattering broke Twilight out of her reverie, and she startled a bit before she recognized the now-familiar sound of snapping wood. Then again, ponies haven't built stuff like this thing, that's for sure, she thought, and then sighed. Still, I can't give up. I won't give up.
* * * *
Royal Palace,
Canterlot, Equis
Princess Luna walked slowly along the ramparts of the tall walls that surrounded the palace. Her hooffalls were not the only sound to be heard, but it was the closest, and solitary in that regard. At least the guards recognize that I require some time alone, she mused, as she simply stared ahead while she walked. Of course, I had to explain my desire rather forcefully to get even this much of a boon. I can understand the need for greater security in light of all that's happened, but a pony must sometimes think without distraction. And right now, company wouldst only weigh heavily upon my back given... given the situation.
The alacorn sighed as she stopped her aimless walk, and then turned her body until she could face towards the city beyond the wall. Much of Canterlot was dark, with only the main thoroughfares and a few squares showing the glow of streetlights. Luna's eyes traced over them, and then looked beyond to the great mass of the unlit city. A few lanterns still dot the night, but verily they are but a pale imitation of the city that once seemed to rival the night sky.
A faint smile crossed Luna's muzzle as she remembered the first time she had seen Canterlot as it existed in modern times. 'Twas amazing, to see the city lit up as if a festival was about, yet it was merely a workday. To see my subjects finally appreciating the value of the night gave me such great hope that, despite everything, despite my fall, that there would be good days ahead.
The smile faded, and Luna sighed as she turned and resumed her walk. But now the city, like our prospects, is quite dark indeed. So many have been evacuated, and those who remain are fearful of too much light lest they make themselves a target for our foes. Hope turns to fear, and despair cannot be far behind when word gets out of the loss we suffered today.
At least the humans’ advances in radio gives us forewarning, she continued to muse, as she paused to toss a glance towards the main gate of the city, where the Dark Horse's DropShip rested. In the days of my youth you did not hear of an army's victory or defeat lest they sent a runner ahead, and even then he would often only arrive at most in time to get the city ready to receive their host. And that is if the city was lucky; the more unfortunate method was when the defeated army itself crawled up to the gates with an enemy force right on their flanks.
A sudden, mild laugh broke free from her lips at that, and Luna ruefully shook her head. And yet is that not what we see here? The advent of the magnificence of such mundane and easy communication over vast ranges is made not a marvel, but a necessity as the machines and weapons the humans also developed mean that foes and friends alike can traverse to your threshold so much faster. 'Tia was right when she told me “the more things change, the more they stay the same”.
Luna sighed at that, and then stopped her rampart walk again, and again turned to look out over the city. Yes, it does seem that everything in this world must run in cycles, and this is the end of one, to be sure. But which cycle is ending? The routine troubles that seem to come and go? The stability and prosperity of modern times? The Pax Harmonia that Celestia and I brought about? Or is this the very end of pony civilization, of Equestria itself? She paused in her musings to shake her head. Maker, what I would give to have Celestia hale and hearty at this time. A thousand more years of experience wouldst be an advantage, and her occasional clairvoyance, random though it be, almost certainly wouldst chime in at least once.
A few moments of morose silence set in at that. Soon enough, however, Luna shook herself and then ruffled her wings a bit. Nay. As much as I love and miss my sister, I must not be rendered immobile with my pining. This war, this cycle is not yet over, and until it is there is still hope. Our subjects—my subjects—are relying on me to forge a path through the wilderness, and I must not let them down. She paused, and then shook her head. Now if only I knew what that path should be...
The sound of running pony entered into Luna's consciousness then, and she tensed as she realized the runner was close and heading straight for her. She willed up energy into her horn and brought up a number of spells into her mind as she spun around, but soon enough relaxed a bit when she recognized one of the palace medical staff. Still, a quiet changeling detection spell to be sure, the princess thought, and then did as she planned. The affirmation of the gray pony's truthful appearance came to her just as the mare stopped in front of her and then bowed. “What is the matter, my little pony?” Luna asked, warily.
“P-princess,” the mare huffed, without looking up. Her chest heaved as she sought to catch her breath, and the as such her speech suffered. “I j-just ran here... It's... Princess... Celestia...”
“What!” Luna half-shouted, and then grasped the mare in her telekinesis. She then brought the shocked pony up to hover in mid-air, face-to-face. “What about my sister?”
The medical pony attempted to flinch, yet Luna's magic held her head steady. “She... I mean... we're not sure...”
“Spit. It. Out,” Luna growled. “Is she under attack? Has a sickness compounded her injuries? What?”
“She's kind of awake,” the mare tremulously replied.
“'Kind of'?” Luna echoed, incredulous. “Explain!”
The mare gulped, and she shifted her blue eyes down in fear. “S-she started talking a few minutes ago, but she won't respond to anypony who tries to talk to her,” the pony explained, and then brought her eyes back up to look into Luna's. “She just keeps asking for you.”
Luna just stared back into the mare's eyes for a moment as she registered the nurse's words. Then a determined expression settled on her features. “Then let us not keep her waiting,” the alacorn said, and the glow around her horn brightened. Then a flash erupted around the pair and when it faded they were standing—or in the mare's case, held in mid-air—in the quarters Celestia had been moved to after the griffons' failed assassination attempt. Servant's quarters may not befit a princess in normal times, Luna mused, as she set the medical mare down and then turned to walk towards the bed that barely contained her sister's sizable body. But ‘tis better than the mess her rooms became.
Several ponies had been in the room when she teleported in, including two guards next to Celestia's bed and a doctor and a nurse. The latter two quickly turned and gave the lunar princess a brief bow, while the former remained stoic and cast hard gazes over everyone, even Luna herself. Good stallions, the dark alacorn thought, as the medical ponies rose from their bow. “My sister speaks?”
“Yes, your majesty,” the doctor, a middle-aged unicorn stallion edging into senior years, replied. “She calls your name every few minutes, but does not respond to outside stimuli at all.”
“There may be a reason for that,” Luna said, as she quickly walked over to stand next to her sister's bed. The elder alacorn was lying on her left side, and was still heavily bandaged to the point that she looked more like a foal's idea of a mummy than a princess. Even her wings were bound and wrapped up, held tightly against her sides. And she looks so different without her long locks of mane and tail, Luna noted, but then pushed such musings from her mind as she moved to hold her head above her sister's. “Celestia,” she said, softly.
A soft murmur came from the larger alacorn's mouth. “Luna,” Celestia said, quietly, though her eyes remained shut and her head continued to lay on the bed. “Luna,” she repeated, sounding almost forlorn.
“I am here, sister,” Luna said, a bit louder than before. She also lowered her head and held it almost up to Celestia's. “What do you need of me?”
The elder pony fell quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, almost mechanically, she began to speak in a strained whisper. “A great bough of the World Tree grows strong, until a lightning bolt splits it in twain.” she said, without preamble. “One half grows rich and green, full of life, but is spindly and weak. The other grows bare, blackened, and ugly, yet is stronger than steel.” Celestia paused then, as her body worked to gather breath, but soon resumed. “An ivory arrow pierces them both, and they entwine around each other. Will they grow towards the light, or be pulled into darkness?”
Luna listened to everything her sister said, and then waited with baited breath as she stopped speaking. After several long moments of silence, though, Luna cast a quick diagnostic spell related to her position as sleep warden. “She rests deep in coma once more,” the younger alacorn announced, as she pulled herself back and then turned to face the other ponies in the room.
The doctor and nurse who had been in the room quickly rushed over to check on the elder princess' vitals at that announcement. The third medical pony, though, simply blinked a bit in confusion. “What happened?” she asked, too incredulous to realize she was speaking so informally to her diarch.
Luna, however, let it pass over her. “She was never really awake,” she explained, and then turned her head to look at her sister again. This also conveniently allowed the two ponies attending the elder mare to listen in more effectively even as they performed their duties. “Mine sister, on occasion, has flashes of vision, and sometimes these come in her sleep. She usually wakes upon having them, but I daresay her current condition prevents that. It seems, however, part of her unconscious mind felt compelled to pass this on despite her incapacitation.”
Silence met this declaration. The ponies attending Celestia focused in more on their work, and even the mare who had notified Luna seemed to be subdued as she simply sat there for a moment. Luna herself noted this, and then walked over to stand in front of her. “What is thy name, subject?” she asked.
The mare looked up and flinched a bit, but replied evenly. “Soothing Mist, princess,” she said, and then bowed her head.
“Soothing Mist,” Luna repeated, both to address the pony and to affirm that she heard the name correctly. She then continued once the smaller mare looked back up. “I thank thee for thine quick action in notifying me. Thee also has my apologies for my brusque demeanor.”
“O-oh it's no problem, your highness,” Mist replied, a bit shakily. “I understand, your sister means so much to you,” she added, and then glanced over to the bandaged pony on the bed. “She means a lot to us, as well.”
Luna couldn't help but smile a bit at that, despite the situation. “Thank you, my little pony,” she said, and then took in and released a deep, slow breath. “I shall leave you all to your duties, then,” she said, and then walked around Soothing Mist and headed for the door.
“Princess,” Mist spoke, just as Luna reached the hallway. Mildly surprised, Luna paused and then turned around to face the pony, whom had stood and turned towards her. “I-if it's not too much to ask, what does Celestia's vision mean?”
The dark alacorn paused to think at this. As she did, her eyes caught the other ponies in the room she had just left paying rapt attention to the conversing pair. Even the guards break their traditional stoicism by leaning forward just a bit, she noted, with wry amusement. The momentary feeling died quickly, however, and soon Luna sighed. “I wish I could tell thee, my subject,” she said, carefully. “But I am at a loss myself. I promise, however,” she added, after a moment to let her words sink in. “That I shall find out.”
* * * *
Equestrian Army
Whitetail Woods, East of Canterlot
September 28th, AD 3070/1023 RC
0214 Hours Lima
Applejack grunted in exertion as the cart she pulled resisted going over a bump in the forest floor. “C'mon, now,” she quietly said, more to herself than anything else, as she put more force into her legs. The additional effort worked, and soon enough the cart was over and rolling along again, pulled by the lone farmer.
Well, lone in that I'm the only one pulling this here cart, Applejack mused, and then glanced around. Plenty o' ponies pulling more than their weight around here, she mused, as her eyes traced over the nearby carts and the various ponies hauling them. She couldn't see very far, though, as the time of day meant there was little light for her eyes to pull in. And them dang clouds the pegasi pulled in ain't helping, Applejack mused, as she glanced upwards briefly to see only the dark underbelly of a low-hanging cloud deck. I know they only did it to keep the griffons from jumping us, but it keeps the moon and starlight from letting us see clearly.
Then again, a voice chimed up in the back of her mind. Do you want to see what's around you?
An involuntary shudder ran through the farmer at that, and she closed her eyes briefly as memories of meeting up with the retreating army came back to her. I thought we had it bad at the camp, but seeing what happened to the boys out there... I hate to sound like a tribalist, but I'm glad that Braeburn and Big Mac ain't unicorns. Or pegasi. ...I hope that don't make me a bad pony. I just don't want to see 'em like I seen them wounded. Images of burned bodies and missing limbs ran through Applejack's mind, and she shook her head. 'Course I wouldn't wish that on anypony, no matter who or what they are.
It was then that a moan came from one of the nearby carts, as if to place emphasis on Applejack's thoughts. Poor guy, she thought, and then had to stifle a yawn. Poor all o' us; I don't know how much longer we can keep carrying on without sleeping. It's bad enough to pull an all-nighter, even worse when you're already plumb tuckered out from running around all day.
Her thoughts were not idle ones, Applejack knew. Years of farm work will let you know a few things about working 'til you're exhausted. And sweet heavens, we are starting to get exhausted. She started to sigh at that, though soon it turned into a yawn.
“Don't do that, AJ,” a worn out voice said above and behind Applejack. The farm mare jolted a bit at that, but soon recognized Rainbow Dash's familiar tone. A second later the rainbow-maned pegasus dropped into view next to Applejack and then landed on the earth pony's right side, whereupon Dash matched her forward speed, despite the fact that she was still weighed down with her armor and weapon setup. “You're gonna make me want to pass out.”
“Can't help it much, Dash,” Applejack replied, tiredly. “Ah've been at it all day, and most o' the night.”
“Yeah, well,” Rainbow said, and then sighed. “You aren't the only one.”
“Hmm,” Applejack agreed, with a hum. A pause fell over their conversation for a bit, but soon enough the farmer spoke up. “So Ah ain't ungrateful for seein' ya again, Dash,” she began, and then hesitated only a moment as she recalled the brief, joyous feeling of meeting her friend after the battle and finding out she was still alive. “But Ah'm guessin' ya ain't here for chit-chat.”
Rainbow Dash ruefully chuckled. “Yeah. But hey, it's good news: general Stonewall is calling for a break, and commander McKenna said we got enough time to stop for a bit. So I'm here to tell you to go ahead and halt your section.”
Applejack sighed at that, but it was matched with a half-smile. “Mighty glad t' hear it,” she said, and then rolled her cart to a stop. The various ponies she had been put in charge of were all around her, and thus pulled to a halt as well when they noticed her stop. “Break time, fellers!” Applejack called out, in a voice honed by communicating with her family across acres of farmland. “Sit a spell an' rest yer legs! But don't any of y'all get too comfy an' fall asleep or yer gettin' a kick to the flank!”
A few ponies chuckled good-naturedly at that, though they all knew that Applejack wasn't making an idle threat. I already had to kick a few awake at the last stop, she mused, and then shook her head. I hate doing that, but we gotta keep going. At least these army fellers know I don't mean anything personal by it.
She was broken from her reverie by the sudden jostling of her body as hooves pulled her harness off and let the pull bars drop to the ground. Applejack blinked at that, and realized that she had started to drift away even as she stood still, and then shook her head a bit to clear it. “Thanks, Dash,” she said, as she turned her head to see that it was Rainbow who had helped her out.
“Heh, no prob, AJ,” the pegasus replied, and then yawned. “'Scuse me. Guess I could use a break, too,” she said, and then promptly dropped to the ground in a controlled manner.
Applejack chuckled a bit, as she was heartened at seeing some familiar behavior from her friend. “Want me ta help ya with your getup?” she asked.
“Nah,” Rainbow said, as she waved a foreleg dismissively. “Takes too much time, and once the break's over I'd have to get in it again. Besides, it's not that bad once you get used to it.”
“Well, Ah'll take yer word fer it,” Applejack replied, and then sat her haunches down on the forest floor. The two friends sat in silence for a few moments, but soon enough Applejack spoke up again. “Today was a pretty bad day, weren’t it?” she asked, quietly.
“Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Rainbow Dash replied, and then sighed. “Heavens above, AJ, it was horrible,” she added, and then shuddered where she lied. “So many ponies died today, and so many griffons, too. And for what?” she asked, and then slowly pushed up onto her haunches so she could look at Applejack, and the farmer saw a hard look on Rainbow’s face. “Because some sick jerks want to treat us like slaves? Rrrg, just thinking about it makes me want to fly back and knock some heads in all over again!”
Applejack felt her jaw drop as she watched her friend fume. “How can ya say that, Dash?” she asked, plaintively. “How can ya… How can ya just go through all o’ that an’ want more?”
“You think I want to do this?” Rainbow asked back, and a haunted look appeared in her eyes. “I want to go back there and fight ‘cuz I want it to stop!”
“Yeah, Ah heard that afore,” Applejack said, and then shook her head. “But how can ya…” She paused at that as her voice hitched. “How can ya…” she repeated, and then dropped her gaze down.
Rainbow Dash blinked at that, and then slowly stood back on all fours. “AJ?” she asked, and then took a step toward her friend.
“How can ya do it, Dash?” Applejack asked, and then looked back up at the pegasus. Dash almost flinched as she saw tears filling the farmer’s eyes. “How can ya do that, see that an’ stay who ya are?”
“Applejack,” Rainbow said, unsure of anything else to say to the mare.
Applejack shook her head. “Ah saw ponies—people die today,” she softly said, but with a large amount of strain in her voice as she fought against her emotions. “Ah saw changelings die. Ah saw some blow up right in front o’ mah face! Oh heavens, Dash, Ah killed one mahself!” Applejack shook at that, her voice raised and her cheeks stained. “How th’ hay can Ah go home an’ not see that ev’ry time Ah close mah eyes! All the blood an’ the guts an’ the screams…” She finally broke down at that, and lowered her head and began to sob.
Barely a second later, she felt arms encircling her and soon had a shoulder pressed under her chin. Applejack responded by wrapping her arms around the armored pegasus in front of her, hugged her tight, and sobbed louder.
Long minutes passed, how many the farmer didn’t know and would never be able to count. Eventually, though, her self-control and pride finally started to reassert themselves, and slowly she brought her crying under control. When she did, Rainbow spoke again, while still holding her friend. “I had to do this myself,” she began, her voice so low that it was almost a whisper. “After the attack on Canterlot; I felt so awful, so terrified.” Dash paused, and then sighed. “I do know how you feel, AJ, and I know you’ll get better.”
“How can ya do this, Dash?” Applejack repeated her earlier question, even as she kept her head resting on the pegasus’ shoulder. “Ah know ya changed after that, but Ah still saw the same ol’ Rainbow in ya. How can ya see this stuff, even go doin’ it yerself and still be you?”
Rainbow mirthlessly chuckled at that, and then slowly drew back from the hug. Applejack took the hint and shifted back herself, and soon the two were sitting on their haunches in front of each other. “I don’t know,” Dash admitted, with a lopsided smirk. “I think I’m just awesome that way,” she added, with a wink.
Applejack let out a strangled sound that was a close approximation to a chuckle, but said nothing as Rainbow Dash resumed speaking. “But seriously, yeah, I think part of it is I… I’m loyal, you know?” she asked, and then shrugged. “That’s my thing. And loyalty is the basis of duty. I think I’m just the kind of pony who can do this sort of thing and still be me, I guess.”
A frown crossed the farmer’s muzzle at that. “But ya said ya had ta… I mean…” She trailed off as words failed her, and then shook her head.
“Well, I did have help,” Rainbow Dash said, and then sighed. “After Canterlot I felt like crap and I didn’t know why. Then Melissa came by and we talked and, well, I did what you did, and she did what I did,” she admitted, with a blush that could be seen even through her helmet’s visor. “She kinda helped me see that, yeah, this stuff is bad but that’s why they do what they do. And I guess I decided I wanted to do that, too.”
The frown on Applejack’s muzzle slowly shifted into a faint smile. “Ya really are one of a kind, ain’t ya, Dash?” she asked. Then the smile faded, and she closed her eyes as sadness began to well up again. “But you’ll pardon me if Ah can’t say that helps me much.”
“No, I guess it won’t,” Dash said, with another sigh. Then she brought up a hoof and set it on Applejack’s shoulder, and then waited for the farmer to look up. “But don’t you see? This is proof that you’re still you, AJ,” she earnestly said, as she looked into the other mare’s eyes. “You’re not made for this sort of thing, and it shows. Hailbait, I don’t think most ponies are, really,” she added, and then shook her head. “I’m not even sure I’m cut out for it all that much. But we’re here, and we’re doing it. You’re doing it, and you’re doing it the way all of Ponyville would recognize: by kicking flank and getting everypony working at their best.”
Another faded smile found its way onto Applejack’s muzzle at that. “Thanks, Dash,” she said, and then reached up with a hoof to wipe one of her eyes. “Ah appreciate it.”
“Anytime, AJ,” Dash said, and then brought her hoof back and set it on the ground. “And you know, you should find one of our good guy humans to talk to about this; they seem to know what they’re doing.”
Applejack’s expression shifted into one of uncertainty at that. “Ah don’t know,” she temporized, and then shook her head. “Ah saw where that led an’ Ah ain’t sure I want them hands all over me.”
“Pfft,” Dash replied. “You make it sound all dirty. Trust me, it’s a lot better than it looks,” she added. Then an idea entered her head, and she smirked. “Or do you want it to be dirty? Because if so I think Dorian would go there if you ask nicely.”
The blush that erupted on Applejack’s face would have given a tomato a run for its money. “Rainbow Dash!” she nearly shouted, utterly scandalized.
“Bwaa ha ha haa!” Rainbow Dash cackled, as she collapsed to the ground. Her laughter made the blush on Applejack’s face double, and drew attention from nearby ponies, which had up until this time studiously and politely given the two friends privacy. “You should see your face! You look like Big Mac got turned into a mare!”
“Consarnit, Rainbow!” Applejack replied, and then angrily stomped her right foreleg in emphasis. Right after she did, though, something stuck her about the situation, and all anger fled the farmer as she reflected on her thoughts. Dash teasin’, me getting’ a bit irked… “This is almost normal,” she muttered.
Dash’s laughter died away, and the pegasus shifted back to sit on her haunches again. “Yeah,” she agreed, and then smiled at Applejack. “Kinda makes you hopeful that when this is all done, we can go home and just be normal ponies again, huh?”
Applejack smirked slightly at that. “Heh, yeah,” she agreed. Then the smirk faded, and her expression shifted morose. “When this is all over with,” she echoed, and then pointedly looked around.
Rainbow’s good humor disappeared at that, and she sighed. “Don’t worry, AJ,” she said, and then proffered another, friendly smile. “We’re gonna get through this.”
“Mebbie,” Applejack allowed, and then shook her head. “But a lot o’ ponies ain’t; a lot haven’t.”
The smile faded, and was replaced by a fire in Rainbow Dash’s eyes. “And that’s why we’ve got to fight, and win,” she said, evenly. “It’s why we’ve got to remember who we are, because otherwise they died in vain.”
This statement made Applejack pause, and she leaned back to try and look at her friend from a different angle. “Ya know, yer startin’ ta sound like one o’ them humans,” she said, carefully.
Rainbow Dash blinked at that, and then shrugged. “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, though her tone sounded rhetorical.
“Ah don’t rightly know,” Applejack replied, nonetheless. “But, so long as ya stay yourself, too, Ah don’t really care,” she added, with a faint smile.
An equal expression was reflected on the pegasus’ face. “Thanks, AJ,” Dash said. She then froze, and then blinked a bit before she nodded. “Okay, they just used the radio again: it’s time to get going.”
Applejack sighed at that, but also nodded. “Alright,” she said, and then stood up at the same time her friend did. “Hey, Dash?” she added, as the pegasus started to spread her wings. “You take care out there, alright? Ah want ta see if all of us can go back ta bein’ normal ponies after this.”
Rainbow Dash smiled at that, and then nodded. “You too, AJ, you too,” she said, and then sprung up into the air and flew off into the darkness.
Applejack watched her go, and then shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. I needed that, she thought, and then smiled a bit. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how much terror creeps in, we still got friends to lean on, and who lean on us. We’re still ponies, and our enemies can’t take that away.
* * * *
Canterlot City Gates
September 28th
0820h Lima
This is worse than I feared, princess Luna thought, as she watched the Equestrian Army march through the main gates from her position atop said entrance. Even ‘march’ is being generous, she mused, as she looked over the tired faces, the haggard steps, and the dragging tails of the ponies who trudged into the city. They look as if some pony hath finally cracked necromancery and raised an army of the dead. And yet they are virtually pristine when compared to the wounded who arrived before them.
Luna turned her head and neck at that to glance back towards the teaching hospital attached to Canterlot Royal University. The building was not easy to make out, given that it was close to the palace so the usual cityscape broke up its appearance, but the alacorn was able to spy it within a moment. I am glad that general Stonewall arranged for them to be at the front of the column, Luna mused, and then turned her head back to look at the army still marching in. His sense of compassion is equal to that of his duty; a noble spirit if I hath ever seen.
Much as another I know, the princess mused, as she turned her gaze upward and outward. The terrain outside of the gates was essentially a large ramp that led down the mountain. It had been forged that way by earth pony craftsponies and unicorn mages centuries ago to give a steady, traversable grade for ground-bound ponies to reach the capitol, and as such anyone atop the city’s ramparts could see any approaching entities a good, long distance away. Thus Luna had no problem spotting the various Dark Horse BattleMechs as they trailed the end of the army. Still trying to watch over us, even with the damage they have incurred, Luna observed, with a shake of her head. I was right before: they are knights.
A memory surfaced of the time after the meeting when she had made that observation. She had been conversing with Twilight Sparkle before the latter had departed to take up her position in James McKenna’s ‘Mech. She spoke of how close I had come to the truth of how these so-called MechWarriors are viewed in human circles, Luna remembered, and then shook her head. They were seen as knights defending their respective realms, at least throughout their dark age. For beings like those in the Dark Horse, at least, it is a fitting analogy.
Luna was disturbed from her thoughts when a pegasus flew forward from the rear of the formation and headed straight for the gate. The six guards around her—two of each tribe—tensed and readied themselves. The princess, though, waved a hoof. “Be at ease, gentlestallions,” she said, evenly. “Even from here I can recognize one of Stonewall’s aides de camp.”
The various guard relaxed somewhat, but still maintained a vigil, for which Luna felt both mortified and grateful. The events of this war have been traumatizing for our subjects, and they feel the need to be protective of myself. It is somewhat embarrassing, given the fact that I could swat all six of them aside myself if I wanted to. But it warms my heart to see how much they care for me.
She put further thoughts aside at this as the orangish-yellow Pegasus flew to a halt just in front of the rampart upon which the princess stood. “Permission to land, your highness,” he said, with a foreleg salute.
“Granted, Flash Sentry,” Luna replied, and was quietly amused to see the brief flush wash over the pegasus’ face at the mention of his name. Yes, we do remember those who serve well, Luna mused, as the blue-maned pony in chainmail flew forward and then landed on the parapet in front of the princess and her entourage, and then bowed. “What news do ye bring?” Luna sked, once he had paid his respect.
“Compliments from General Stonewall, princess, and that he wishes to arrange a strategy meeting as soon as possible,” Flash Sentry replied, after he stood up from his bow. “He assures me that Commander McKenna, Captain Starbuck, and Captain Spitfire all plan to attend.”
“I am sure they will,” Luna replied, with a nod. “Thank thee for thine service, Sentry. Please return to the general and inform him and the others that we shall meet aboard the humans’ ship in three hours,” she said, and then gestured with a wing to the large, gray-painted bulk that still sat astride the path into the city.
“Yes, your majesty,” Sentry replied, and then briefly bowed again. “By your leave, then?”
“Go,” Luna replied, evenly. At her word the pegasus leapt back into the air and then turned and zipped back the way he had come from. The princess watched him fly for a bit, and then cast her eyes towards his destination. During their brief talk the friendly ‘Mechs had marched closer, and she could now see that, while most pegasi were flying in formation over the end of the column, several were riding on top of the human vehicles. An ingenious solution to the fact that a marching—or flying—army tends to wear themselves out, Luna mused. I can easily see not all of them can fit atop the machines, so I presume they have taken turns. She glanced down again at that, and then sighed. A pity our allies have no other vehicles to assist, for surely a rested army is more likely to win.
Luna stood there for a few moments longer, and then shook her head. Enough of this wishing for things that have not been nor will be; there is work to be done. With that, she turned and started her walk back towards the stairs down to ground level.
* * * *
Rainbow Dash yawned as she lied on top of James McKenna’s Highlander and enjoyed the sensation of a breeze blowing through her mane. The BattleMech’s flat-topped head made an excellent perch despite the swaying that the machine’s walk induced. If anything it makes it almost nap-worthy, she mused, with a faint, brief smirk, as she rested her head on the helmet she cradled between her forelegs.
The pegasus lethargically looked around a bit, and for a moment she felt a thrill. I’m hanging out with the Wonderbolts, how cool is that? she thought, and then almost chuckled at the memory of how she would have reacted before. Around her were, in fact, Spitfire, Soarin, and Fleetfoot, who shared the large space on top of the ‘Mech’s head. At least one other Wonderbolt was riding on the flat shelf that the armor over the Highlander’s chest made, and others were riding on top of the other surviving war machines that were marching in loose formation.
I would’ve done nearly anything to just be near these ponies, before, Rainbow recalled, and then shook her head. Now it all just seems so… pointless. Huh. I wonder when I stopped caring?
Probably about the time you stuffed high explosives on top of some guy’s seat, a voice inside Dash replied, and she sighed. And seeing everypony around me fighting and killing didn’t help. I dunno. I knew the Wonderbolts fought monsters and badguys and stuff, but I guess I never realized that they were kind of the military, too. I mean, sure, I knew about it up in my head, but I guess I just never—
“Something wrong, Rainbow?” a voice asked, and Rainbow Dash had to shake her head a bit to dispel the cobwebs. Once she did this, the blue pegasus turned her head to see that it was Spitfire who’d spoken.
The yellow pony was giving Dash a curious glance, and the latter realized that Spitfire had probably heard her sigh. “Nothing especially, at the moment,” Rainbow answered, and then shrugged her wings. The gesture made her wince a bit, as her muscles were worn out from combat flying and then the long flight home. Not to mention me and the ‘Bolts took the last ride so we could let the assault wing get some rest after the heavy hauling they did, she mused. “I was just… thinking about things.”
“Heh,” Spitfire muttered, with a brief look of amusement on her face. “I bet,” she added, and then sighed herself. “This is all so crazy. I trained for years and years, all the formations and drills, and never once did I think I’d actually have to go and… fight somepony,” she said, and then slightly shook herself.
“Kill, you mean,” Soarin chimed in. Neither of the mares considered it rude, though, considering that while the Highlander’s head was large enough to fit them all, it was still small enough to require that they sat in close proximity of each other. Thus the stallion easily slid into the conversation. “I never thought much about it, either. All this death around us, what we do and the enemy does, it almost feels like a terrible nightmare, doesn’t it?”
“Ever since Manehattan,” Rainbow Dash agreed, and then shook her head. “And I’m not sure if it’s going to get better anytime soon.”
“You shouldn’t talk like that, rook,” Spitfire spoke up, and she gave Dash a measured look. “It could have gone a whole lot worse. In fact, if it wasn’t for your friends we’d probably all be dead by now.”
“Don’t forget Dash, either,” Soarin interjected, and then smirked a bit. “She kicked some flank out there. So much so that I don’t think you ought to call her rookie anymore, Spitfire.”
Rainbow Dash blushed at the stallion’s words. “I just did what I had to,” she said, softly.
“Yeah, and like Soarin said, you did it well,” Spitfire added in, and then smirked a bit when she saw the blue pony blush harder. “I don’t know how all of this will end, but if we’re alive and Equestria’s still around, you’re going to make one heck of a Wonderbolt.”
Dash blinked at that. “Huh?” she uttered, and then seemed to regain control of herself. “How did you know?”
“Your application to the academy crossed my desk just before all this started,” Spitfire answered, that small smirk still on her muzzle.
“Oh, heh, yeah,” Rainbow sheepishly said. Then she reached up a hoof to rub the back of her head. “I guess that would be kind of obvious I was interested.”
The smirk faded from Spitfire’s visage at that. “Was?” she echoed, and then tilted her head. “Did you change your mind?”
A moment of silence met that question as Rainbow considered it. Then she shrugged her wings again. “I really don’t know,” she evenly replied. “When I was growing up, it was all I ever wanted to do. Haystacks, it’s all I’ve been training for since I became an adult. But now…” she trailed off, and then lazily waved a hoof. “I don’t know. Everything’s changed, and now it just doesn’t register on me.” Dash paused again, and then sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I want to do when this is all over with.”
“Well, that’s fair,” Spitfire said, after she took a moment to think on what the polychromatic pegasus said. “And as long as we’re being honest, I’m not even sure if the Wonderbolts will be around after all of this. These weird machines walking and flying around, the crazy weapons, it all makes me wonder if we’re not obsolete.”
“I think there’s always going to be something like the ‘Bolts,” Soarin interjected, with a wing-shrug of his own. “Somepony’s got to be ready to do the things we need to do. Whenever we do do it, I mean.”
Both Spitfire and Rainbow Dash gave the stallion a look, and he gave a goofy grin in return. “Hey, I’m not the captain, so don’t expect poetry from me when I talk, yeah?” he said, cheerfully.
“You’re lucky you got skills and looks, Soarin,” Spitfire retorted. “Because you’re last place in the brains department,” she teased, with a smirk.
“Hey, at least I placed instead of being disqualified,” Soarin shot back, still with his grin.
Rainbow Dash chuckled at that, but any further conversation was preempted by the fourth pegasus on the ‘Mech’s head who had remained quiet until now. “Looks like we’re almost there,” Fleetfoot said, as she raised a foreleg to point forward.
The other ponies turned their heads around and saw that their talk had lasted until the Highlander had reached the area around Canterlot’s main gates. Ahead and below them were the last rows of the army, already marching through the gates, and to the right was the massive bulk of the Heart of Steel. The latter was surrounded somewhat by wagons and various ponies and humans moving boxes around, though one of the main ramps was clear and already had Tania Griffin’s Assassin BattleMech marching up and into the belly of the DropShip. The pegasi riding on top of it took off as the ‘Mech ascended the ramp, and once in the air the ponies flew up high enough to enter a holding pattern.
“Looks like it’s back to work for us,” Spitfire said, and then groaned as she began to stand up. “Oh heavens, that was not nearly long enough of a rest,” she grumbled.
“Tell me about it,” Fleetfoot chimed in, as both she and Soarin stood up as well. “I can’t wait to go have a good, long soak.”
“First things first,” Spitfire said, as the Highlander came to a halt. The change prompted her to look around for a moment, but soon enough she returned her attention to the others around her once it was clear the ‘Mech was merely waiting in line behind the others of the company. “We go to the guard barracks and get our gear turned in for cleaning and maintenance. And then you and I, Soarin,” she added, and pointed a hoof at the stallion for emphasis, “are coming back here for the first debrief and planning session Stonewall’s aid told us about.”
“Great,” Soarin replied, sarcastically. “Straight into the belly of an alien spaceship, I can’t wait.”
“It’s not that bad,” Rainbow Dash chimed in, and the others turned their heads to look down at her, as she remained lying down. “It’s kinda cramped and tight, but it’s got a bunch of cool stuff, too.” And bacon, she thought.
“I guess,” Soarin temporized, as he and the other Wonderbolts stretched their wings to work out cramps. “I just don’t see why we gotta meet up in there.”
“Alright, quit your bellyaching,” Spitfire said, and then launched herself into the air and hovered. “It’s time to get going. Are you coming with us, Dash?” she asked, as she waited for her cohorts to take off as well.
“Nah, I’m kinda working for these guys, so this is where I belong for now,” she said, and then felt a small bit of warmth at that. “I’ll see you guys when you get back.”
The other ponies nodded to her, and then turned and flew off to join the other Wonderbolts who were also leaving behind the Dark Horse ‘Mechs as the latter entered their ship. Rainbow Dash watched them go, and then lowered her head to rest it on her helmet once again. Her thoughts remained silent as she just lied there, simply watching as the various war machines marched into the DropShip one by one, until finally it was the Highlander’s turn.
Rainbow lifted her head back up to maintain her balance as the 90-tonne ‘Mech shifted below her. Yet even as she did the machine leveled off a bit and continued its march up the ramp, and Dash took a moment to appreciate the abilities of man and ‘Mech. Twilight was talking about how they have to train for years just to drive one of these things. And even then you can tell who’s good at it and who sucks, because the Desperadoes don’t move as smoothly as these guys do.
Dash wryly shook her head and smiled. I shouldn’t be appreciating stuff that’s all made to kill things, but then again the Wonderbolts are military and trained to kill things, and I always thought they were so cool. Hailbait, I still think they’re cool and skilled and awesome. But… I dunno, she continued to muse, as the Highlander marched through the sides of the ship and into the lower ‘Mech bay. Her eyes took a bit of time to adjust, and while they did Rainbow kept up her rumination. All this human stuff is starting to grow on me. Haystacks, just watching those fighters flying through the air like that really drives home the point Melissa was making about her flying. These guys don’t have magic or wings or horns or anything, but they work so hard and do so much with what they got.
By now her eyes had adjusted, and Rainbow Dash looked around the ‘Mech bay and then grimaced. Geeze, they all look like a giant Winona got her mouth on them; huge holes, ablated armor, and pulverized protection, she mused, and then smirked at her alliteration. The smirk soon died, though, as the gravity of the situation came roaring back. We got beat; we lost, bad, she thought, with a frown, as McKenna made his ‘Mech maneuver to the front of a service cradle, and then slowly spun it around. Dash saw this, and then quickly stood up and took to the air with her helmet held by her let front hoof. Her wings complained at being used before they could be fully rested, but it was a sensation that Rainbow’s training had prepared her for.
Thus the pegasus found it easy enough to hover in mid-air as the Highlander began to move backwards. The ferroglass canopy soon came into view, and Dash offered a slow wave, despite the fact that she couldn’t see through the mirrored material. I still know they’re there, though, she mused, and then waited and watched. Her eye drank in the entire scene, from the human on the deck waving a pair of lighted sticks in patterns to help guide the MechWarrior, to the technician waiting at the top of the service cradle, his hands on a set of controls that Dash knew from previous viewings to work the various devices built into the cradle.
Machines for machines for machines, Dash mused, as the Highlander finished backing up. Humans really love their machines, she further thought, as the assistant technician—“astech” in 31st Century parlance—on the cradle quickly worked his controls, which then sent several arms out to grapple and then secure the arms, legs, and torso of the Highlander, as well as extend a gantry that shifted out to reach the back of the ‘Mech’s head. Once this was finished, Dash placed her helmet back on her own head, and then flew over to land on the gantry by the main cockpit hatch.
“One side, Miss Dash,” a voice said from behind her, and Rainbow turned her head around to see the astech who had operated the gantry was now walking towards the hatch area, as well. He wore overalls stained with oil and, much to Rainbow’s concern, blood, and carried a large toolkit. “I need to be able to help if the hatch was damaged.”
“Sure, Pierre,” Dash replied, and then walked forward to the end of the gantry. There she turned around and then leaned up against one of the safety rails that lined the edge, and watched with mild interest as the human checked the hatch seals, hinges, and then the computer controls next to it. The latter required he plug in a tester he’d taken out of his pocket, but soon enough Pierre nodded to himself and then pressed a button on the panel.
“Everything’s good, sir,” he said, into a speaker/microphone built into the panel.
“Good to know, we’re coming out,” James McKenna’s voice replied, and then cut off.
“Why do you gotta do that, anyway?” Rainbow asked the astech as the latter disconnected the electronics tester and placed it back in his pocket. “I mean, I saw them open and close the thing in the field a whole bunch of times without checking on it.”
The human shrugged. “Just procedure, Miss Dash,” he answered, evenly. He paused to move to the side as the hatch klunked, and then began to swing outward. “Something could have broken after being used the last time, and the last thing anyone wants is to be stuck in a ‘Mech when they don’t want to be.”
“That is the most fundamental truth I have heard all day,” said the first person who climbed out of the hatch. Said person was actually a pony, and Rainbow Dash smiled as she saw Twilight Sparkle fairly pour out and onto the gantry. “Sweet merciful heavens,” she muttered, as she stretched her legs and back in a catlike manner. The cooling vest she wore restricted her movement a bit, but she managed. “If I go back into that thing again it will be too soon.”
“A common lament,” James McKenna observed, as he poked his head out of the hatch. “Now move aside Sparky, I want out, too.”
Twilight blushed slightly and then moved down the gantry, which was thankfully vacant as Pierre had turned to go to work elsewhere now that he knew he wasn’t needed. James took the opportunity to begin climbing out of the ‘Mech himself. Normally Dash would watch with interest as she found the way humans could contort themselves to be interesting, but instead she gave Twilight a smirk and then chuckled. “Sparky?” she asked, as her smirk stretched into a grin.
The blush on Twilight’s face deepened from the level of mild faux pas to downright embarrassment. “He thinks it’s funny,” she explained, as she jabbed a hoof in McKenna’s direction.
“Oh it is, Sparky, it is,” Rainbow said, with a nod, grin still on her muzzle. In response, Twilight frowned and then loudly razzed her friend.
James laughed at the two ponies’ antics, and then shook his head. “Come on, you two,” he said, and then sighed as mirth drained from his visage. “We’ve got work to get to. Dash,” he added, in a command tone as he looked to the pegasus. “You should go find one of the techs for our power armor to help you get out of that getup,” he said, with a hand wave towards the armor and gun harness Rainbow still wore. “And you and me, Twilight,” James continued, as he turned his head to the unicorn. “We’re going to go hand in our vests.
“Normally, I’d tell you to go take a rest after what we’ve been through, but general Stonewall wants a strategy session with the princess,” McKenna continued, after a beat to gather his thoughts. “Given our last one I think that her majesty will probably want you two and your friends there, as well.”
“A sensible presumption,” Twilight agreed, with a nod of her head. Then her face seemed to become a little bit whiter as she gazed off into space. “Especially given our situation…”
Her voice trailed off, and Rainbow Dash shivered as she realized what the unicorn meant. McKenna, though, simply reached down and patted Twilight on the head. “Don’t worry about that yet,” he said, kindly, as he returned his limb to its normal resting position. “There’re still options to discuss.
“Now come on, let’s get going.”
* * * *
Whitetail Woods
0841h Lima
Garth O’Connell was, for once, at a loss of what to think or feel. We won, he thought, as he stood on the ground, one foot raised and resting on a crate, while he nursed a disposable cup of field ration coffee. But Hell, we paid a price for it.
So did they, he remembered, as he looked around. The Desperadoes and their allies had made camp right where the Dark Horse technicians had tried to set up a re-arming point, and the remaining ‘Mechs of his unit were arrayed around the outside as sentinels against whatever had attacked both sides the day before. But they hit the horses a lot harder, he mused, as his eyes also traced over the piles of dead bodies that had been left behind by his foes. The piles were, fortunately, well outside the bivouac, while inside the ring of ‘Mechs were large masses of griffons and some ponies who had thrown in with the Desperadoes, most of whom were still sleeping or resting under tents and lean-tos.
Greg’s right, these guys get worn out easily from fighting, O’Connell mused. Normally I’d hate to let a fleeing enemy get away, but we’ll need support when we storm their capitol. Besides, after the clusterfuck that was yesterday’s battle we’re going to need some time ourselves to get our shit straightened out.
A predatory smile stretched across the man’s lips at that, as he looked down at the crate he was half standing on. Fortunately, we can do a bit of that thanks to McKenna’s loss, O’Connell thought. Those things the griffons call “Changelings” must’ve really done a number on the horses if McKenna’s men had to leave so much junk behind. We’ve even got a service cradle out here, though it needs to be set up. Fortunately, we’ve got plenty of muscle for that.
Speaking of which… Garth let his thoughts trail away for a moment as he watched a certain blue mare walk towards him from the direction of the pony contingent. I won’t ever admit this, but the properly subservient horses are kind of growing on me, he thought, as he recognized Trixie, the unicorn who had been amongst the first to throw in with the rogue mercenaries. Not that it’ll buy them any favors, but they’ve stopped grating on my nerves with their cutsy bullshit so long as they know their place.
He was roused from his thoughts as Trixie came to a stop a meter away. “Major,” she began, with a bow of her head. “I have the report from the techs you had the griffons fly out last night.”
“Why you?” O’Connell asked, somewhat gruffly. “You might be helping the tech boys but you aren’t a tech.”
“Chief Technician Newman said, and I quote, ‘you want these things fixed, then you’ll let us get some damn sleep,’” Trixie replied, and then squirmed a bit as O’Connell gave her a piercing look. “Those were his exact words, major.”
O’Connell stared at the unicorn for a moment, and then grunted. “Alright, we did call them out late,” he allowed, and then sipped his coffee. “What’s the deal, Trixie?”
“Newman says that the Dark Horse left behind significant armor and ammo reserves,” Trixie began, her voice becoming just a bit haughty as she fell back into old habits. “Several of which were dumped along the trail they took; apparently, they had to cart more wounded away once they joined the main army and needed the space. There is not much else; apparently the more delicate parts were either not here or taken away. They did appear to have left a service gantry, however.”
“Kind of hard to miss that,” Garth observed, with a nod, and then took another sip of his coffee as he thought. “Newman give any estimates?”
“Yes sir,” Trixie replied, with a nod. “He said that he can refit the armor on the remaining ‘Mechs by up to thirty percent, depending on what specific shaped slabs are available,” she recited, and then paused to think. “I believe he mentioned that there seems to be no autocannon ammunition and some of the Short-Range Missiles they recovered are something called a ‘Streak’ and won’t be useful.”
“No, they won’t work with standard launchers,” O’Connell agreed. “Did he give a timeframe?”
“Two days for everything, I believe,” Trixie replied, cautiously, as she had been warned this was possibly the worst part of the news. “The Chief Tech was adamant that a lack of support structure out here in the woods will make it difficult to do all of it even that fast.”
O’Connell’s face did darken at that, but he made no immediate reply. Instead he held still for a moment, and then brought up his coffee and tilted his head back to drain the cup. Once finished, he crushed the Styrofoam article in his hand and then tossed the remains aside. “Go find Gregory and Garadan and have them come meet me here,” he ordered, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “We need to hash some things out.”
“Yes sir,” Trixie said, and then began to turn around. She hesitated for a moment, though, as a thought entered her head. His mood does seem agreeable… she mused, and then turned back to the human. “Major, if I may borrow a moment of your time?”
O’Connell’s face darkened a bit. “I gave you an order,” he said, with a calm demeanor that promised ill tidings.
“Yes sir, and I fully intend to carry it out immediately,” Trixie quickly said, as she worked to keep from shivering in fear. “But, it concerns the griffons and ponies in your forces, sir.”
The human stood still for a moment, and then nodded and waved a hand for Trixie to go on. “The griffons have been, well… scavenging,” the unicorn continued. Her tone took on a clear air of disgust at the last word, and her face started to take on a shade of green under her blue coat. “And it is starting to profoundly disturb the ponies who have aligned themselves with you, to the point that many are questioning that choice.”
Garth’s eyes narrowed at that. “And why would they do that?” he asked, caustically.
Trixie flinched a bit, but remained still otherwise. “Because it shows a distinct lack of respect for the dead,” she said, carefully. “And while most would not care about the guards, the fact is the griffons are also taking from the casualties that bomb did to our group early in the battle.”
A silence fell over the pair and lasted several long moments, during which Trixie felt panic starting to well up within her. Then O’Connell moved, first to take his leg off of the crate he had it on, and then walked up to stand in front of Trixie. The tall human then squatted down until he was eye level with the pony, and Trixie felt his gaze rip into her soul. “Let me make one thing clear to you, so you can tell all your little horse friends,” O’Connell began, his tone cold as ice. “You ponies are at the bottom of the ladder, here. You don’t fight well, you don’t react well to change, you complain and you whine and you’re barely worth your weight as workers,” he added, and then brought up a hand to point a finger in Trixie’s face. “You are probably the most pathetic form of life I have ever seen, and I’ve been around a few planets in my time.
“The griffons, meanwhile, fight hard, work hard, and don’t whine about problems,” O’Connell continued, with a condescending look on his face. “So if they want to satisfy their munchies by chomping on a few dead ponies, they get to do so, because one of them is worth more than five of you. And if none of you like that, well…” O’Connell paused at that to smile in an entirely unwholesome manner. “We can always let the griffons treat you all like they do the regular ponies who didn’t join up.”
Trixie shuddered at this, and she kept on shivering as O’Connell stood back up. “Y-y-yes sir,” she stammered out, as she was well aware of the deal made to gain the northern tribes’ support. “I’ll b-be sure to let everypony know.”
“Good,” O’Connell replied, in a hard tone. “Now go carry out my orders.”
“Yes sir!” Trixie responded, and then spun around and ran off.
Garth watched her go, and then chuckled darkly. So long as they know their place, which is right under my boot, he thought, and then turned to walk back to his tent.
* * * *
Some distance away, Trixie’s run slowed and she came to a stop. She simply stood still and panted, half in exertion, half out of fear, and then closed her eyes and shuddered some more. I knew it was a bad idea, she thought, as she struggled to get her breathing under control. I knew it was a bad idea. Why didn’t I listen to myself?
“Hey, Trixie, you okay?” A voice asked, and the blue unicorn flinched a bit before she recognized the speaker. Slowly Trixie opened her eyes and saw another pony whom she had met during the long march out. “Did you talk to the major?”
“I’m scared out of my wits, so what do you think?” Trixie snapped back, and then paused to breathe deep a few times. “He said the griffons are welcome to keep doing what they’re doing, because they’re worth more than us.”
The golden-furred unicorn snorted at that. “Yeah, right; has he seen any of those featherbrains actually do magic?” she asked, and then tossed her head back to let her red and yellow mane bounce away from her face. “Maybe earth ponies and even pegasi are kind of expendable, but unicorns like us ought to be higher on his list given how badly the guard mangled his fancy machines yesterday.”
“Well, why don’t you go up there and tell him yourself, Shimmer?” Trixie asked. She barely managed to hold back the acid that wanted to well up within her. I like Sunset, but I don’t care for her tribalist tendencies one bit.
Sunset Shimmer frowned at that, and then sighed. “Okay, I get your point,” she evenly replied. Then her face twisted as she considered her next words. “So I guess we’re just going to… let the griffons eat our dead?”
“Either that, or we get to be a living meat locker,” Trixie replied. She threw in the human term for good measure, and took some satisfaction in seeing Shimmer shake a bit at the implication. “And I advise anypony in our group to shut their mouths about it unless they want to become an example.”
“Ugh,” Shimmer muttered, and then shook her head. “The things I have to put up with to get even with Sunbutt.”
“Yes, poor you,” Trixie said, flatly. “Now if there’s nothing else, I have orders to carry out.”
“Yeah, yeah, get going then,” Sunset said, with a wave of her hoof. “I’ll see you later, Trix,” she added, with a smirk, and then turned and strode off.
Trixie frowned at the receding pony, and then shook her head. Sometimes I wonder if her stories about being a candidate for Celestia’s school are true, she mused, and then turned and quickly worked herself into a trot. I can’t imagine a stuck-up brat like her would have gotten very far.
The former entertainer let her thoughts drift away at that, as she approached the griffons’ encampment. A quiet gulp made its way down Trixie’s throat, and she slowed down to a walk as she moved past the single sentry left to watch the no-man’s-land between the ponies and griffons. The tom eyed her warily, but said nothing nor moved from his seat on a small mat he’d set down, and so Trixie continued along the lines of the small, primitive tents the northern warriors had set up.
Most of the griffons were still asleep despite the sun having risen a short time ago, though for this Trixie was grateful. The last thing I need is for these savages to be sneering at me as I pass; I get enough of that from O’Connell and too many of the other humans. But at least they only do it because our two species are still alien to one another. The griffons do it because they’re sizing us up for one reason or another. Another shudder ran down her spine at that. Hopefully he is still asleep, she mused, as she went deeper into the griffon camp.
Sadly, it was not to be as a voice sounded from behind. “Well, hello there, Trixie,” came the deceptively smooth tones of the very griffon Trixie had hoped to avoid. She halted in her tracks, and worked to suppress her anxiety as a tom walked from behind her to stand in front of the unicorn. “What brings such a lovely little pony into our camp so early?”
Certainly not you! Trixie though, but bit back the instant reply. “Delivering a message, Targan,” she replied, evenly, and then began to walk again and angled to move around the griffon in her way. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“What’s the rush?” Targan asked, as he shifted to the side to keep his body in Trixie’s way, and then reached out with a foreleg to set his birdlike claw on the unicorn’s shoulder. Halted, Trixie could only freeze, and then look into the tom’s face and the grin he wore that was just a shade past friendly and into unsettling. “I thought we had all of today to rest up?”
Trixie took a moment to collect her thoughts and control her emotions. “Yes, but—”
“No no,” Targan interrupted, as he shifted his claw from Trixie’s shoulder to lightly run one of the talons along the pony’s cheek. The unicorn shuddered even as the tom continued. “There’s no need for qualifiers, either we do or we don’t,” he stated, and then smirked. “And that means you, too; plenty of time to just relax and have a little fun.”
“That’s enough, Targan,” a new voice spoke up, and both Trixie and Whistler turned their heads to see a female griffon walking toward them with an angry look on her face. “You know she’s off limits, like all the ponies helping here.”
Targan withdrew his claw from Trixie’s personal space, but still wore a faint smirk. “Off limits for certain things, maybe, but there’s more than one way to eat a pony, Gilda,” he cheekily replied.
Gilda rolled her eyes and flared her wings out a bit. “Ugh, think with something other than your balls for a bit and buzz off. If Trixie’s here that means O’Connell has a message or something, so it would be good for your health to leave her be.”
The tom gave a Gallic shrug, and then stood up from his haunches. “Well, I would not want to anger our illustrious leaders, so I shall take my leave,” he said, and then began to walk away. His path, though, took him uncomfortably close to Trixie, and when his head was aside the pony’s, he halted and then turned it and leaned in towards her. “A word to the wise, though,” he said, quietly, almost in a whisper. The smile had disappeared from his face, but Targan’s eyes still held a certain quality that made a Trixie shiver. “You may find the favor that protects you gone someday, and should that happen, remember,” he added, and then brought up a claw again to grab Trixie’s muzzle. Too scared to move, Trixie remained still as Targan ran his thumb talon over the top of her muzzle while he spoke. “That there are worse griffons than myself, worse fates to tie yourself to.” At that, the tom released Trixie, who took several steps to the side to get away from Targan. The griffon, though, simply smiled again and walked off as if nothing had happened.
Both Gilda and Trixie watched Targan leave until he disappeared amongst the disorganized encampment, and as soon as he was out of sight Gilda snorted. “Don’t let him get to you, Trixie,” the griffoness said, and then waved a claw to urge the unicorn forward. “He likes to talk big, but he’s rarely the kind to go out and live up to it.”
“And yet ‘rarely’ does not imply ‘never’,” Trixie dryly observed, as she moved to walk alongside Gilda as the latter started towards the center of the camp. “That’s not very reassuring.”
Gilda shrugged her wings at that. “Yeah, well, it’s better than nothing. You gotta take what you can get in this world, Trixie, because nothing’s going to give it to you for free.”
“Please spare me the platitudes,” Trixie tiredly rebutted. “Let’s just get to your father so I can deliver the message and get out.”
Gilda scoffed at that, but kept her peace as she escorted the unicorn through the camp. More griffons were waking up and giving the pony odd looks, but no others approached and soon enough they were in front of a tent that was only slightly larger than the others. Of course the tent itself was not Trixie’s goal, but rather the elder tom who was standing outside of it, conversing with a pair of younger girffons who looked like they had just come back from a patrol. Full armor kit, bows, and they look winded, Trixie noted, as her and Gilda halted a short distance away, yet close enough to make their presence known.
“You two did very well,” Garadan said, as the two females reached their stopping point. “You will receive extra rations tonight for this,” he added, which caused the expressions on both of the patrollers to brighten considerably. “Now go and get some rest, I will see to the prisoner myself.”
The pair of younger toms saluted in the griffon style—clenched fists pounded against their chests—and then turned and walked off. Once they had, Gilda moved forward with Trixie, even as Garadan turned to them with the first pleasant smile the unicorn had remembered seeing the griffon ever have. “Ah, this is most fortunate timing, Trixie Lulamoon,” he began. “No doubt you have a message from the major, but I have one for you to deliver to him, as well,” Garadan added, and then turned and began to walk towards the edge of camp. “Come, you must see this.”
Trixie gave an unsure look to Gilda, who shrugged her wings again and then gestured forward with a claw. I really should insist on delivering O’Connell’s message first, the unicorn thought. But then again, I’m not eager to bring down Garadan’s mood and make him especially dislike me, she mused, as her and Gilda both fell in behind the latter’s father. “What may I ask are we going to see, sir?” Trixie carefully asked.
“Some good news, for a change,”Garadan mysteriously replied. He then fell silent; a status which the two females trailing after him copied. Soon enough the trio reached the edge of camp, whereupon Trixie’s eyes widened as she beheld what awaited them between two armed and smug-looking guard griffons:
A human was tied up and gagged, and laid prone on the ground. His head was up, though, and he glared daggers at the new arrivals. He was garbed much as the Desperadoes’ MechWarriors were when they entered their ‘Mechs, which is to say in very little at all. A cooling vest, shorts, and a pair of boots were all the clothing that covered him, though he is covered in many other things besides, Trixie noted. Claw marks, bruises, and puncture wounds showed that he had not been captured without a fight, and though the latter were covered with bandages it was clear that the man was badly hurt.
Trixie felt panic well up in her for a moment, fearing that the griffons had decided to turn on O’Connell and the ponies after all. Then she looked at the man’s face and soon realized that he was not any of the surviving MechWarriors who belonged to the Desperadoes. “You caught one of McKenna’s soldiers?” she asked, incredulously.
“Indeed,” Garadan replied, as he figuratively preened a bit. “Given the look of despair on your face when you came up I figured you could use a bit of good news to lighten your day. Not to mention, ward off whatever anger O’Connell has indulged in today.”
Trixie blinked at that, and then managed to smile faintly at the elder griffon as she bowed her head to him. “Thank you, sir; I did need some cheering up,” she said, and then raised her head. “But sadly I do have to tell you that the major wants to see you immediately to discuss new plans.”
“No doubt,” Garadan replied, his tone more sober and flat than before. “I must see to this prisoner and make sure his wounds are properly treated, so go tell O’Connell that I will be there soon. And, of course, this news,” he added, with a smirk.
“Yes sir,” Trixie replied, with a smile and then turned and started off at a trot.
She didn’t even notice, though, that Gilda had stayed behind. “That was a bit nice of you, dad,” she observed to Garadan. “What brought that on?”
Garadan chuckled good-naturedly. “I suppose that after the horrors of yesterday, I just wanted to see someone else light up a bit,” he replied. Then his face twisted in a smirk. “Besides, if we are to one day rule these ponies we will need the help of collaborators like Trixie. So consider it good practice for keeping them appeased and happy.”
Gilda thought for a moment, and then nodded. “I guess I can see that,” she said. “Well, I’d better go make sure no one else bothers her before she leaves our camp. See ya, pops,” she said, and then turned and walked off.
A grunt came from the ground behind Garadan, and he turned to see that the human had been listening in, if the even angrier expression was any indication. “You are not in a position to judge me,” Garadan said, evenly, and then turned his head up to the two guards. “Pick him up and follow me to the doctor’s tent; it won’t do to let him succumb to his injuries before we have a chance to interrogate him.”
* * * *
Union-class DropShip Heart of Steel
Canterlot, Equestria
1100h Lima
Rarity shook her head sadly as she led Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy through the city gates, followed by a guard detachment of four angry-looking stallions. I can’t imagine what they must be feeling to see their comrades come back in such a terrible state, the white unicorn mused, and then shook her head. I’m not even sure what to feel myself. I dislike violence in all forms, and especially detest something that does such terrible things to the survivors. Images of her volunteer work at the hospital earlier in the day came back, and Rarity shuddered and fought back the urge to vomit.
“It wasn’t pretty, was it?”
Rarity startled slightly as the question intruded upon her reverie. “No, it was not,” she replied as she turned her head to the side to regard Pinkie Pie. The normally perky mare was uncharacteristically subdued, and instead of her idiomatic bounce Pinkie simply walked alongside her friends with an unreadable expression set on her face and a noticeable droop in her mane and tail. “Fortunately medical potions can save the lives of those who aren’t killed outright, but they certainly will bear some marks for many years.”
“And not just physically, either,” a quiet voice sounded from behind the two conversing mares, and they both turned their heads back to regard Fluttershy with mild surprise. The normally reserved mare still looked unsure of herself, but she continued to speak anyway. “I think a lot of them are going to need Princess Luna’s help at night.”
“Most likely,” Rarity agreed. Although her face remained somber, she felt a slight spark of happiness in her chest. Ever since she had that talk with Ivan she’s been trying to be more open and interactive with everypony; I suppose some good can come out of even the worst events.
“They won’t be the only ones,” Pinkie quietly observed, as the group of friends and guards approached the end of the Steel’s embarkation ramp. “I was helping with the field kitchen they set up to keep the army fed, and everypony there looked like the world was about to end.” The party mare paused, and then sighed and ducked her head a bit as the group moved onto the ramp and started up it. “I’ve never seen ponies so empty before, not even at funerals.”
“Well, to be fair, dear,” Rarity said, haltingly. “Most ponies at funerals tend not to actually witness the actual death. I imagine it would be… traumatic. More so if it’s somepony they knew personally.”
Pinkie Pie had nothing to say to that, and so simply walked onwards, as did her friends. The trio and their guards halted at the top of the ramp and then paused to let their eyes adjust to the darker interior of the ship, though when they did Rarity almost wished they hadn’t. I may detest these brutish machines, but even I can tell when they’ve been roughly handled, she thought, as she cast her critical gaze around the various war machines. The extent of the damage became clear after only a few seconds, and Rarity felt her mind start to boggle at the force needed to cause such horrendous destruction.
She was saved from her reverie by Pinkie Pie, who lightened up slightly and then bounded forward. “Ivan!” she yelled, as she had spied the burly infantryman. The large human had apparently been waiting for them, as he was standing nearby in what Rarity assumed were his casual clothes—an idea that fascinated Rarity greatly, even if the plaid and jeans combo made her want to shudder—facing towards the ramp portal, along with a pegasus who had a military bearing about him. Thus the human was unsurprised when Pinkie jumped up and at him, and Ivan easily caught the pink earth pony in a hug. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” the former said as she hugged the latter’s neck.
Ivan chuckled lightly. “Ivan is happy too, little pink lady,” he said, as he squeezed the pony in his arms. “But now is not for happy times,” he added, and then knelt down to set Pinkie Pie back on the deck. “Ivan and Flash need to bring nice ladies to briefing,” he said as he stood, and then waved a hand to indicate the pegasus standing next to him.
The gold-coated, blue-maned pony stepped forward at. “Hello my ladies, I’m lieutenant Flash Sentry, general Stonewall’s aide-de-camp,” he said, and then offered a short bow of his head. He then turned to face the guards who had escorted the trio of friends. “We’ll take it from here, gentlestallions; they’re safe as can be on this ship.”
“Sir,” the unicorn in the lead said, and then saluted with a foreleg. Flash returned the salute, and the four guardsponies quickly turned around and walked back out of the ship.
“Alright, let us be going,” Ivan said, and then turned and started to walk off. The ponies quickly fell in behind him as he walked over to the elevator that had started to become familiar to them all. Once there, he pressed the call button and then stood to wait.
“Uhm, excuse me, Ivan?” a quiet voice interjected. All recognized it as Fluttershy, and the broad-faced man turned to offer a friendly smile to the unsure-looking pegasus. “But where are the rest of our friends?”
“Ah, they are all in room already,” Ivan replied, with a knowing grin. “Come, you see,” he added, and then opened the elevator door as the cab had arrived while he was speaking.
Although a bit perplexed by his reply, the ponies around Ivan nevertheless crowded into the cab, save for Flash. “I’ll meet you up there,” he said, and then unfurled his wings and lifted off to fly through the ‘Mech bay.
“Ivan never thought he’d be seeing so many things flying through ship,” the human mused, as he pressed the controls to send the cab upward. “At least, things that were not bullets. Or grenades. Or capital-grade gauss slugs.”
Pinkie Pie managed a slight giggle at that, though her heart didn’t seem in it. “Careful, Ivan, Rarity doesn’t like slugs,” she lightly teased.
“Ivan no like slugs when they come at him, either,” Ivan replied, and then looked down at the ponies with a grin. “Better to give than receive, da?”
“A yah yah yah,” Pinkie replied, stretching the words out with a strange accent.
Rarity shook her head at the two friends' odd discourse. “You two are incorrigible,” she mused aloud, as the cab rose into the decks above the 'Mech bays.
“Well, somepony needs to be,” Pinkie replied, with a wink.
The seemingly incongruous response almost made Rarity think that Pinkie had lost her perspective. That is, until the unicorn saw the slight tinge of sadness around the edges of her expression. She's trying to distract herself, Rarity realized, as the cab reached the specified deck; easy to tell as Flash Sentry was waiting for them. And though I don't know him as well, I'd bet that Ivan is, too, she continued to muse, as the large human opened the gate and then led their group down the narrow corridors. I suppose we all must struggle to adapt to the terrible things we see in our own ways; is it so surprising that Pinkie tries to find the lighter side of life, as she always has?
“We're here,” a voice spoke, and Rarity blinked her eyes clear of her reverie to see that Ivan had opened a large door and then stood to the side and waved the ponies behind him through. Flash took the other side and also waved the mares forward, with a charming smile. “Ladies first,” he said, and then gestured with a hoof towards the open door. Rarity smiled at him—such a gentlestallion!—walked into the meeting room, and then paused to take stock of it.
The compartment was much as she remembered it from only a few days ago, only this time there were fewer humans and more ponies. James and Rebecca McKenna were both there, along with Johannes Schneider, and all three of them looked as if they had recently bathed, though their haggard expressions kept them from appearing fresh or rested. They sat around the head of the table, along with Twilight Sparkle, who also looked as if she had recently groomed herself to minimalist standards, though any expression she could have had was instead replaced with the closed eyes of a being asleep; her head lied upon the table, and her chest was pressed against the edge as she lightly snored.
Further down was general Stonewall, whose red coat and gray mane made him stand out, and he looked the most exhausted out of any being in the room. Yet he kept his back straight and head high as he sat on his haunches in the human chair provided to him. Alongside him in another chair was captain Starbuck, and after that were two ponies that Rarity had heard of, but never formally met: Spitfire and Soarin of the Wonderbolts. Like the others in the room they had that mixed look that Rarity was beginning to realize typified return from a combat zone, though both of their attentions were drawn towards the end of the table; or rather, to the man sitting on the floor who had three ponies next to him.
Dorian Carmine looked up and then winked at the newcomers as he gently rubbed his hands through the manes of Applejack and Rainbow Dash, both of whom looked to be half-asleep and unaware of the new arrivals to the meeting room. The normally brash and proud mares were both curled up, with their backs pressed against Carmine's sides and their heads resting on their hooves, and their eyes were so lidded that they didn’t seem to recognize that their friends had walked in. The third pony in the group was none other than Lyra Heartstrings, who was awake and sitting on her haunches by Carmine’s legs. One of the human’s boots had been removed, and the free foot was rubbing up and down the minty-colored mare’s back, while Lyra herself simply had her eyes closed and a dopey grin on her muzzle.
Rarity found that, despite everything that had and was occurring around her, that moment of heartwarming companionship between two different species struck a chord deep within her. It looks so natural, as if we’re supposed to be working together, she mused, and then shook her head a bit as she walked over to one of the empty chairs on the near side of the room’s table. Ah, but I must be waxing poetic; how could a species from another reality ever be so compatible?
“Ladies,” James McKenna said from his chair, as Rarity and Fluttershy settled into their seats. Pinkie Pie, meanwhile, simply waved a hoof at the commander, and then turned and dropped her body by bending her legs until she was a few inches off of the deck. Then she sneaked forward, towards where Carmine sat watching her with silent, merry eyes. “Glad you could join us,” the human commander said, even though his gaze was drawn towards the curious behavior of the pink earth pony.
“Commander,” Rarity replied, with a nod of her head. She then leaned forward a bit and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “Please don’t mind Pinkie, she has her own way of dealing with things.”
The humans at the table all managed smiles at that. “So we’ve seen and heard,” James said, with a faint chuckle. All mirth died, though, as he took a breath and then spoke again. “How is the city doing?” he asked, earnestly.
“It’s… quiet,” Rarity replied, after a moment to think. “Most have already been evacuated, and the trains are running as fast as they can to get everypony else out. Where it isn’t empty, the mood is rather somber.”
“No riots, then?” Johannes Schneider asked, curious. “Or looting?”
Both Rarity and Fluttershy sat back a bit at that. “No, of course not!” Rarity replied.
“Well then Canterlot is doing a lot better than Manehattan,” Stonewall chimed in, with his methodical accent. “There was a lot of looting and other lawless behavior when I left. McKenna and I were worried about the same happening here.”
“Oh no, ponies have been very polite and understanding,” Fluttershy spoke up; relatively so, as her voice was still on the low side. Then she paused as if to think a moment, and then looked over toward the humans at the table. “Although, I do think your ship here helped by reminding them we aren’t alone.”
“In more ways than one,” Schneider wryly observed, with a sad grin on his face.
Any further conversation halted then, as the door opened again, held open by Ivan, who had remained outside with Flash Sentry to guard the door. It seemed a judicious choice, as princess Luna walked in, bedecked in her typical regalia. “Thank ye, ser Rogov, Lieutenant Sentry,” she said to the tall infantryman, and then turned her head to take stock of the room. She paused as she saw the cluster of ponies around Carmine—Pinkie Pie had subtly taken up a position next to Lyra, after having removed Dorian’s other boot and was now enjoying her backrub—and then wisely decided to ignore the situation. Pinkie Pie is involved, question it not, the alacorn thought, and then nodded in turn to Spitfire, Stonewall, Starbuck, and James. “I am glad to see all of you hath returned, despite the dire news ye bring.”
“Princess,” Stonewall said for the group, as the ponies at the table bowed from their seats, while the humans stood and bowed. “You have my profoundest apologies at this loss—” he began, but was soon interrupted.
“If anything it was our fault,” James McKenna chimed in. “We just didn’t—”
“Enough,” Luna stated, in an imperious tone, and raised her left wing up and out to add emphasis. “Both of you warned me that success was neither guaranteed nor likely before you marched out,” she continued, in a warmer tone, as she folded her wing back to her side. “And that was before the changelings decided to sabotage our efforts. Now is not the time for recriminations or blame, but to set plans for our next moves and attempt to salvage the situation.”
James and Stonewall both glanced at each other for a moment, and then nodded their heads before they returned their attentions to Luna. “Yes, your highness,” Stonewall replied for them both, as the humans sat down.
Luna had to suppress a wince, though, as she saw James attempting to favor his still-wounded arm in its sling. Thou suffered that in defense of mine sister, she thought, as she turned and walked towards the other end of the table, where a vacant seat waited for her. It will not be forgotten. She then focused on sitting in the human-made chair, and once properly seated nodded to James McKenna. “Perhaps we should start with more specific details on the battle?” she half-ordered, half-suggested.
James nodded, and then turned his head towards Schneider. “Hermes?”
Schneider nodded, and then pressed a few controls on the small noteputer he held in his hands. The room lights dimmed slightly at that, and a holographic projection phased into life over the center of the table to show a map of the battle site, with models in blue and red tones denoting various units at the start of the engagement. Small gasps of surprise came from the two Wonderbolts in the room, as they had not been exposed to the technology before, but they soon took it in stride as Schneider began to talk, and soon were studying the projection intensely.
“As you can see, our initial attacks went off without a hitch,” Schneider was saying, as he pressed another control, and the various models began to move. Abstract representations of weapons fire and vectors showing incoming attacks from airborne units also appeared at relevant points. “We managed to inflict heavy casualties on the Desperadoes’ ‘Mech forces and their accompanying infantry.
“Unfortunately they did not break as we’d hoped they would, and managed to rally,” Johannes continued, and then pointed at the map. “We started to withdraw in good order as planned when they managed to push our flank, but then those changelings we’ve heard so much about cropped up.” Even as he said this, various icons of a sickly green color suddenly appeared amongst the allied forces. “They completely disrupted our infantry, and kept us pinned in place long enough for the Desperadoes to regroup and make a hard push with their still-superior numbers.
“Worse still, they made simultaneous attacks on the airborne groups and our support area, devastating the latter,” Schneider added, and then paused to take a breath. “We lost fifty percent of our support staff, and had to abandon almost all of the supplies brought to the field in order to accommodate a rapid withdraw brought on by the Desperadoes’ push without abandoning any of the wounded.
“Once they had the initiative, the enemy ‘Mech forces kept up the pressure, forcing us to flood the river in order to get us enough time to disengage.” Johannes paused and let the animation catch up and also to consider his next words. “Given the lack of adequate defensive positions suitable for the force balance, we retreated back here.”
Luna watched and listened as this all played out in holograms. Once Schneider was finished, she thought for a moment and then looked over to her commanders. “Stonewall, Starbuck, Spitfire, do you concur with this?”
The three addressed ponies shared a look, and then the two pegasi nodded to the earth pony. Stonewall nodded back, and then turned to his liege. “Yes, your highness,” he evenly replied. “The only thing I would like to add is that the sheer level of changeling infiltration is disturbing.”
“Indeed,” Luna agreed, and then pursed her lips. “I made an inquiry immediately, and discovered to my immense dissatisfaction that many of the garrisons we tapped, and the recruiting stations in various settlements have failed to provide proper scanning for infiltration on the outbound trains. Apparently the original pre-war plan was to have the scans conducted here in Canterlot as they arrived so that any discovered changelings could be detained properly, but the griffons’ attack and the chaos of having to organize an immediate counter-assault left that area woefully understaffed. Supposedly orders were sent out to the various towns and forts to do their own scanning to compensate, but there is some question as to whether those orders actually went out.”
A moment of silence met that. “Do you suppose the changelings could have infiltrated and intercepted those orders?” Starbuck asked.
“It is possible, but unconfirmed,” Luna replied, and then sighed. “Too many were killed in the griffon attack. It is possible some were replaced in the chaos, but ‘tis equally possible that said chaos alone was enough to disrupt communication. It will take time and investigation to determine the truth of the matter.”
“And we don’t exactly have a lot of time,” James McKenna spoke up, in a low voice. He then brought up his healthy hand and stroked his chin. “This is very concerning. They were able to throw a giant actuator wrench into our plan at the right moment before, and it looks like they might do it again.”
“Well, we do have an advantage now, Jim,” Rebecca McKenna chimed in. “We do know that our Beagle Probes can find these things.”
“Wait wait wait,” Spitfire finally spoke up, and everyone at the table turned their heads to her as she gave an exasperated look. “Are you saying you have something that can tell who’s a changeling or not?” she asked, and her expression shifted to indignant once she got nods from the humans. “Well why the hay didn’t you do that before?”
Slight blushes could be seen on all three human faces at that, and Schneider cleared his throat and spoke up. “While I don’t want to play the blame game, the reason is that we were assured that your people had the scanning taken care of, given that our trooper caught one at the train station. Supposedly that should have set up protocols to start looking for infiltrators.”
“And that is precisely what should have happened,” Luna agreed, and then shook her head. “But as mentioned, we seem to have suffered a breakdown of communication.”
“And intelligence,” Schneider added, and then sat back in his chair and rubbed his face with a hand. “This is a classic case of screw-ups on all sides, with the enemy intentions and dispositions unknown and all of us assuming the other had it covered.”
A brief silence fell over the group, though it ended quickly as Spitfire sighed. “Alright, I guess I can see that,” she allowed. “But whatever you have you’d better start using it.”
“We have,” James replied, and then nodded to Schneider. “I had Hermes keep his BAP on while we marched up the mountain, and both Ivan and Miss Lewis made sure to sweep through any part of the ranks that the BAP on the Firestarter couldn’t reach.”
“And I had my boys fire up their own spells and double check everypony we could,” Stonewall chimed in. “I’ve also made sure that standing orders are in place to keep up a regular scanning regimen. We won’t get caught out like that again.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Luna stated, evenly. She then calmly shifted her gaze up and down the table. “Where do our forces stand now? General Stonewall?”
The addressed pony turned to Starbuck, who shifted to sit a bit straighter in his chair. “In total we suffered forty percent casualties, half of which were fatal, giving us a total of around three hundred dead. The wounded are all unlikely to see action again soon, giving us approximately two regiments of ground troops.” He then turned and looked towards Starbuck.
“The Assault Wing took some heavy losses again, and we’re down to roughly forty-five percent effectives,” the royal guard explained, as he took the lead-in from Stonewall. “We already lost many experienced fliers in the initial attack on Manehattan, and even more over Dawn’s Ridge,” Starbuck added, and then sighed. “The pony damage is bad enough, but two serious maulings have weakened morale.”
“My Wonderbolts fared a bit better, but we still took a hard hit,” Spitfire chimed in, and then sighed as she sat back in her chair. “We suffered thirty-two percent casualties, almost all of which were fatal due to the nature of airborne fighting.”
Luna absorbed all of this, and then turned her head to the male McKenna. “And where do your forces stand, commander?” She asked, politely.
James took a moment to think, and then took a deep breath before he began to speak. “We lost two BattleMechs; our Atlas and Commando designs. As you can see Dorian managed to escape with his rider,” James added, as he pointed down the table and to where the mentioned human was still maintaining his ministrations to the four mares around him, though by now both Lyra and Pinkie had curled up on the floor to join Applejack and Rainbow Dash in dozing. “Sadly, though, Franz Mendoza, our Commando pilot, hasn’t been seen since the battle, and we presume he may have been killed or captured.
“In addition, our remaining ‘Mechs have suffered extensive armor and internal damage, which when combined with our loss of support staff and war material means that our abilities will be severely curtailed in any future engagement,” James continued, pensively. “We also lost one of our fightercraft to enemy action, and the remaining one is also heavily damaged, and likely will not be combat effective for some time.”
Luna felt a twinge of concern at that. I know their daughter is one of their fighter pilots. Was she…? She mused, and then dismissed the thought a moment later. Nay, those are not the faces of parents who’ve lost a child, though they are not far off. “I see,” Luna replied, and then sighed. “It does not seem that we are in a good position, does it?”
“It could be better,” James allowed, with a nod of his head. “We managed to give the Desperadoes a thorough drubbing thanks to our better positioning, weapons, tactics, and training and experience. Unfortunately, though, their numbers do count for a lot, and once the surprise wore off and their officers took charge they managed to drive us back, and that drive became a near rout after the changelings intervened.
“As of this moment, we have no air cover, only minimal ability to rearm and repair, and our enemy still outnumbers us three-to-one in ‘Mechs. The only good news is that O’Connell and his forces will need time to repair their damage, so we’ll either have some breathing room, or they’ll march up quick on our heels and be as bad off as we are.”
The room fell silent at that, as every being at the table considered the situation. Then a new voice spoke up: “That really doesn’t sound like good news,” Twilight Sparkle said, to some surprise as she had seemingly remained napping. Now, though, she opened her eyes and then quickly shifted herself up right to sit properly in her chair.
“Glad to have you rejoin the land of the living,” James McKenna sardonically observed. Several small chuckles could be heard at this, and Twilight blushed.
“How long hath thee been awake?” Luna asked, mildly.
“Long enough to hear how bad it is, princess,” Twilight replied, as she rubbed her eyes with a hoof. “Oh, hello Rarity, Fluttershy.”
“Darling,” Rarity replied, from where she had been silently absorbing the meeting so far. “Are you alright? You look like three-day-old cat food.”
Twilight winced at the comparison, and then wryly smiled. “I’ve been better,” she replied, and then looked around the table. “Sorry I wasn’t—uhm,” she halted as her eyes alighted on the knot of ponies around Carmine. “I guess I missed more than I thought.”
“Yeah, about that,” Spitfire chimed in, with a baffled glance towards the human/pony cluster. “What is he doing, and why is he doing it here?”
The sigh of James McKenna brought every head around to the other end of the table, though it was Rebecca who spoke up next. “Dorian is on medical leave, so he offered to help Rainbow Dash and Miss Applejack to ‘de-stress’ as he put it,” she explained, with a tickled expression. “And Miss Heartstrings has been following him around out of concern since they got back. As for Pinkie…” She waved a hand helplessly.
“Pinkie is Pinkie,” Twilight said, knowingly. “But, why is Dorian on medical leave?”
“Indeed,” Luna chimed in, with a raised eyebrow. “He looks very much intact.”
All four humans suddenly looked uncomfortable, with the degrees running from embarrassed on Schneider to nearly depressed on Carmine. “My ‘Mech suffered two big internal explosions while I was getting my ass kicked,” the latter began, slowly. “Both caused a significant amount of neural feedback, potentially causing brain damage. My sense of balance has been affected, and though I can get along fine for the most part, sometimes I get vertigo or have other problems with said balance.”
The various ponies in the room who were still awake all took on shocked expressions to one degree or another. “Is it permanent?” Luna asked, carefully.
“We don’t know yet,” James McKenna answered for Carmine, to the latter’s look of relief. “Sadly we don’t have the necessary medical equipment to do a full brain scan, so the best we can do for now is to give Dorian some time to recover and hope that it’s a temporary effect.”
“I see,” Luna replied, and then turned her head to nod at the afflicted MechWarrior. “My apologies, ser Carmine; I did not realize this was a possibility.”
Carmine shrugged, which caused the two mares at his sides to finally start to stir. “It’s no problem your highness. I understand I look a bit like a slacker at the moment, no matter how demanding it is to see to the needs of four lovely ladies at once,” he said, and then winked.
Soarin snerked at that, and then suffered a wing to the back of his head from Spitfire for it. It was Luna, though, who spoke next. “Verily, thine service never ends,” she said, sardonically, though the corner of her mouth turned up a bit in amusement. It died soon enough, however. “But now I bid thee to wake up the ladies Rainbow Dash and Applejack, for the time hath come to discuss the future.”
Dorian’s expression became serious at that, and he nodded. Then he shifted his hands from stroking through the two mentioned ponies’ manes to grab their shoulders, and then gently shook them. “Alright you two, it’s closing time. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” he said, with a bit of mirth.
Although he focused on Applejack and Rainbow Dash, his movements and speech also stirred Pinkie Pie and Lyra from their naps, and soon all four ponies were opening their eyes. Then three of them saw where they were and who was in the room, and then promptly jumped to their hooves and kneeled towards Luna. “Sorry ‘bout that, princess,” Applejack said for herself, Dash, and Lyra.
Pinkie Pie, though, simply rolled on the floor until she was on her back and all four of her legs splayed, though she covered up anything indecent with her tail. “Hiya Lulu,” she said, cheerfully, as she waved a hoof at the alacorn. “You should really try this sometime, it’s reeealllly relaxing.”
Every other pony in the room looked mortified at this, save Luna, who simply raised a single eyebrow towards the pink earth pony. “Mayhap an idea to consider at another time,” she said, and then waved a wing for the three kneeling mares to stand up. “There are more pressing matters at the moment.”
“Which means we should go,” Carmine said, as he started to get to his feet. He had slipped his boots on after rousing the mares at his sides, and now pointedly looked towards Lyra. “You and I need to let the bigwigs get their powwow on,” he added, and then began to walk towards the door leading out of the meeting room.
“Bigwigs? Powwow?” Lyra asked, confused, as she followed him out.
“I’ll explain later,” Carmine said, and then paused at the door to turn around and nod to the others in the room. “Ladies, gentlemen, Hermes,” he added, with a straight face towards Schneider, who offered a middle-finger rejoinder. “See you when we see you,” Dorian said, and then turned, opened the door, and left, with Lyra right behind him.
“Such an odd being,” Luna remarked, as she gazed at the door after it had closed.
“That he is,” James said, and then waited as Applejack and Rainbow Dash both took up empty seats. “But I think we should be on to more pressing matters, if I may be so bold.”
“Aye,” Luna agreed, and then turned her head back around to look over the beings at the table. “What options do we have at this juncture?”
The heads of every force at the table turned to each other at that, and after a moment a silent decision was made on who would go first: “Unfortunately, your majesty, those are limited,” Stonewall spoke, in a drudging tone. “At least from the Army’s point of view; we suffered fairly heavy losses, or at least heavier than we’ve had to absorb in centuries. Morale is shaken, though holding for the moment, and we might be able to help that with some reorganization and, hopefully, some rest.
“The good news is Miss Sparkle’s new shields worked well,” Stonewall continued, even as Twilight blushed. “And the new tactics the Dark Horse worked out with us allowed our forces to buck above our weight.” Stonewall paused, and then frowned and shook his head. “However, we tapped nearly every unicorn in the guard and army in order to get a force as large as we had at Dawn’s Ridge, and filling the holes in our ranks likely won’t be possible unless we consider conscription.”
Luna’s face twisted in disgust at that. “As much as I’d like additional forces, conscription hath never sat right with me,” she observed.
“A wise sensibility, if I may say so,” James McKenna observed, and then continued after Luna gave him a brief nod. “Historically, conscripted armies perform terribly and often have problems with morale, discipline, and desertion, and on the battlefield the conscripts are little better than cannon fodder, even when equipped with better technology than their opponents.”
“My own experiences in the past echo this,” Luna noted, and then sighed before she turned to Stonewall. “I am sorry, general, but there will be no conscription. We will, of course, step up recruitment efforts with Canterlot’s remaining citizens, but I cannot promise you more than that.”
Stonewall nodded slowly at that. “I understand, princess,” he said, gravely. “It’s against my personal preference, as well, but I wanted to make sure you knew of the option.”
“Understood, general,” Luna replied, evenly. “You have mine thanks.”
The general nodded at the gratitude, and then shifted in his seat. “Well, getting back on topic, we will reorganize, as I’ve noted, and though our numbers are lower, the remaining troops have seen battle, so they should perform better in the next one. Whatever decision is made, your highness, the army’s unicorns will be able to perform.”
“Duly noted,” Luna said, and then shifted her sight across the other beings at the table. “Starbuck? Spitfire?”
The two mentioned pegasi glanced at each other, and like earlier a silent decision was made. “At the moment, the assault wing is basically inoperable,” Starbuck began, with a hint of pain in his voice. “Like Stonewall, I’m going to reorganize, but likely I’ll simply reassign the combat capable ponies into support groups for the army; I don’t think we’ll have the numbers or the stomach to make another massed attack anytime soon.
“On the plus side, I intend to take a page from our human allies and their history and make the pegasus support ‘organic’”, Starbuck added. He paused to nod towards the far end of the table, and then returned his attention to Luna. “That is, they will be integrated with the army units so that smaller groups will have nearby support rather than the old blanket system that we can’t provide at this juncture, anyway.”
“I appreciate it,” Stonewall chimed in, and offered his own nod towards Starbuck. “It sounds like a good idea, and my boys will appreciate not having to worry about whether a pegasus is there to cover him from a griffon.”
“Excellent,” Luna said, and then turned to Spitfire. “And the Wonderbolts?”
Spitfire bit her lip for a moment, and then shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure what we can do, princess,” she began, thoughtfully. “We don’t have the magic or special weapons to fight those machines, and with the guard covering the army like that, I don’t think we’d be much help there, either.”
The sound of a throat being cleared caught everyone’s attention, and heads turned towards the source. “If I may interject?” Schneider asked, and then waited for a nodded acknowledgment. “I can see two roles for your force: firstly, you can split up the efforts between yourselves and the guard detachments, with your Wonderbolts providing air superiority while the guard concentrates on local actions and ground support.
“Secondly, you could move as a united force and make flanking attacks on the griffons and the ground infantry marching up with the Desperadoes,” Schneider added, and then started to tap a finger on the table as he thought aloud. “They need infantry to keep your infantry off of their ‘Mechs, and if you can deny them that then they may reconsider approaching Canterlot, or any other city or contested zone where there’s cover for your foot—er, hoof infantry to get in close.”
“I am not sure how that would help,” Luna observed, after a moment of thought. “Our unicorns fight better at range where they can use their shields, and while I don’t disparage the strength or dedication of earth ponies, I find it hard to imagine how they can damage these mechanized forces without your fantastic weapons.”
“Actually, there’s something else that McCoy and Steelshod cooked up,” Schneider said, and then pressed a few keys on his noteputer. The holographic maps disappeared, and were replaced with an image of a set of narrow saddlebags. “The same chemicals that can propel a recoilless rifle round are also strong enough to make a decent satchel charge,” the human explained, as the image of the bags figuratively exploded to provide a schematic view of the device. “One of these planted in the joint of a BattleMech’s leg will cripple it, making it nearly immobile and interfering with its ability to balance.”
“And an immobile ‘Mech is a dead ‘Mech,” James McKenna chimed in. “Infantry can then assault other weak points on a machine, such as ammo hatches or coolant feed ports, or even attack the cockpit directly. The BattleMech may be ‘King of the Battlefield’ as some have called it, but infantry remains the so-called ‘queen’.” He paused, and then winced as he shifted in his seat. “So ‘Mechs need infantry support to keep anti-BattleMech infantry attacks from happening, amongst other reasons.”
The room fell silent for a moment as the ponies absorbed the information, but soon enough the quiet was broken. “Uhm, excuse me,” sounded the tiny voice of Fluttershy, who then shrunk in on herself as everyone turned their attention to her. Despite her normally timid nature, though, she continued to press on. “But, uhm, wouldn’t that mean that ponies would have to run up to those machines and then climb them? Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked, voice full of concern.
James sighed at that, but it was Rebecca who answered. “Unfortunately,” she said, quietly, with a nod of her head to the gentle pony. “Anti-BattleMech infantry rely on massed attacks, chiefly due to the fact that a ‘Mech can simply smash them with physical force. They tend to be a move of desperate or insanely devoted forces.”
“Which is why we didn’t mention this before,” James added. “We wanted to at least try a straight battle before offering an option like this.”
“I see,” Luna said, pensively. She then thought in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “Dost thou think this is the only way for our earth pony infantry to be effective in combat against the enemy's 'Mechs?”
“No, actually,” James replied. The ponies around the table expressed surprise in various forms, from facial expressions to murmurs, but the human continued regardless. “Anti-BattleMech swarming attacks will be the most destructive, but it always results in large casualties. As such I leave it up to you, highness, to decide whether or not to implement the tactic.
“The earth ponies, however, have the advantage of tremendous strength, the likes of which astound us even now,” James continued, and then paused to gather his breath and let his words sink in. “I've seen them able to do feats that humans would need exoskeletons or even IndustrialMechs to accomplish. Their critical flaw in open field combat is a lack of range, which as mentioned in a city environment or other close-combat area, isn't a drawback.”
“With all due respect, I’m not sure how that could help,” Stonewall chipped in. “I’m an earth pony myself, but I’ll be a chicken’s uncle if I can figure out how being able to carry large things can allow somepony to hurt one of those machines.”
“You give yourself far too little credit, sir,” Schneider replied, evenly. “I recall hearing about your resistance tactics in Manehattan; you had the right idea, just, perhaps, not the right execution,” he added, diplomatically. “All our slug-throwers do, after all, is just to launch a projectile fast enough and with enough mass to damage the target. And those of us who spent even a little time observing Miss Applejack’s farm in Ponyville can tell you that earth ponies have enough strength in their legs to launch some pretty hefty projectiles at some good speeds.”
All heads in the room turned towards the orange Apple at that, and Applejack blushed slightly under the praise and attention. “Ah don’t rightly know if’n my applebuckin’ is a good model fer whatever y’all have planned,” she said, modestly. “And Ah know Ah can kick stuff out pretty fast, but Ah’m not sure if that’s enough ta hurt them big ol’ machines.”
“That depends,” James McKenna spoke up, “on what you kick outward. The muscle strength earth ponies have is amazing, and I’m sure if you kicked out something far harder than apples and did it en masse then even earth ponies could be a real threat.”
“The problem, of course, is that you’d still have to get pretty close to do something like that,” Rebecca McKenna added in, with a careful tone. “Even with such amazing strength, any object earth ponies kick would lose velocity, and therefore damage potential at range.”
“That’s true,” Stonewall admitted, and then sighed. “I know we did some damage to the Desperadoes, but when we did it had to be close-in, which is why they’d get back with their damnably effective weapons and cut down a large swath of volunteers.”
The room fell quiet for a moment as everyone contemplated those words. “Are there any ways to mitigate the loss of life these tactics entail?” Princess Luna eventually asked, as she looked over towards the humans.
“A few,” James replied. “’Mechs working in conjunction with infantry can dramatically reduce the casualties of both forces, as a BattleMech is a more attention-grabbing target for the enemy, and the infantry can help a ‘Mech take down an enemy faster, so I plan to have our surviving ‘Mechs right in the thick of it.
“Surprise is also important,” James continued. “Ambushing the enemy is the key to such tactics, which is why they’re best used in urban, jungle, or mountainous environments, and any other place where line of sight is broken up and blind spots exist right up to the enemy’s feet.”
“So let me get this straight,” Spitfire chimed in, and then waited until she had everyone’s attention. “Are you actually suggesting that the next battle should take place within Canterlot, not outside?”
James sighed after a moment of silence. “If her highness wishes to fight the Desperadoes, then it would be the best course of action to give us a chance at victory,” he explained, slowly. “Our ‘Mechs and your infantry suffered a large amount of losses and a hit to morale, the likes of which make an open field engagement like the battle we just had an extremely iffy proposition.”
“But you’re talking about unleashing all of that destruction I saw yesterday onto the city itself,” Spitfire pressed, with a mixture of disbelief and anger. “What good is winning a battle if you level a town to do it?”
“Because towns can be rebuilt,” James countered, with steel in his voice. “Buildings can be repaired or reconstructed. But last I checked even ponies can’t bring people back from the dead,” he added, heatedly, and then stared Spitfire down. The pegasus only lasted a moment before she blushed and turned her head away. “And given the stories of what O’Connell and his men have been doing, treating civilian lives as if they mean nothing, then leveling a city is a small price to pay to keep innocents from being killed.”
“Innocents might be killed anyway,” Spitfire replied, as she returned her gaze to the human. “The city isn’t fully evacuated, and it might not be when the enemy comes. How is getting them stuck in the middle going to keep them safe?”
James stared at the mare for a moment, and then sighed. “It’s not,” he admitted, and then reached up to rub his forehead with his good hand. “That was the whole reason we marched out to fight them at Dawn’s Ridge, to try and keep a city fight from developing.
“But our options grow limited, and the plain fact is that as destructive and costly and terrible urban fighting is, it remains one of the better options for a numerically inferior force to win a defensive action against an invader.” James paused, and then looked over to Luna. “That is, if the political leadership so desires.”
The dark alacorn frowned as the figurative ball was passed to her. “And what dost thou mean by that?” she asked, neutrally.
“What my husband means, princess,” Rebecca began. “Is that while we are presenting this option, it’s not a decision that we can make.”
“The military is a servant to the needs of the state, and the people the state is supposed to represent,” James stated, earnestly. “As such political decisions should be made by the politicians, not the military. We can give you options, your highness, but an action such as an urban battle is something that should not be decided by military expediency alone.”
“Not to mention it’s kind of violating the Ares Conventions,” Schneider muttered from the side. When he realized he’d spoken that aloud and garnered everyone’s attention, he sighed. “Not that anyone’s really paid them much attention since the Reunification War, but technically it’s still frowned upon.”
“Well, we did not sign those conventions,” Luna replied, dismissively. She then paused and thought for a moment. “Are there any other options besides this city fighting that anypony can think of?” she asked, as she swept her gaze around the room.
The four commanders all sat in silence, with brief glances to one another. Eventually, Stonewall grumbled. “None that won’t let O’Connell’s soldiers chew us up like they did while we were retreating yesterday,” he admitted, and then nodded towards James. “McKenna’s troops took the brunt of that, but if they go down then all o’ that nastiness will come down on us like an out-of-control tornado ripping through a town.”
“And the numbers disadvantage in ‘Mechs is as bad as it ever was,” Twilight Sparkle chimed in. She paused for a moment as the room turned towards her in mild surprise at the interjection, and she took in a breath to steel her nerves. “After riding in one, and seeing how they fight and how all the pieces of a human mechanized battle works, I can say that an open fight would be the end of the Dark Horse, and any hope for Equestria’s freedom.”
“Twilight Sparkle,” Luna said, quietly. “Am I to take it that thee agrees to the idea that we should fight within Canterlot’s confines?”
A moment of hesitation hit Twilight, but she soon squared her shoulders and then nodded. “Yes, princess,” she replied, evenly. “James and Stonewall are right: the lack of numbers in terms of war machines means that we can’t fight them straight on. Using the city is the only way to give us a chance to fight back with any hope of winning.”
“Are you even listening to what you’re saying?” Spitfire asked, incredulously. “Don’t you realize what’s going to happen if the fight takes place here?”
“I am well aware, captain,” Twilight countered, as she laid a bevy of scorn on the pegasus’ rank. “Canterlot was my home; it was the place I grew up in, and I’ve always loved the ponies and the architecture and the culture. But what we’re risking, what we’re set to lose is so much greater than one city. We are looking at the defeat of all Equestria and the destruction of our way of life. Even if we come back from a loss and fight a guerrilla war to take back our country, the effort and time under constant tyranny and fighting will irrevocably change the nature of our people for all time.
“Against that, I’d gladly burn Canterlot to the ground myself if it means we win and keep the rest of Equestria the way it is,” Twilight declared, and then took a moment to regain her thoughts as the beings around the table all looked at her with various degrees of shock on their faces. “If we can’t win here, now, then what makes us who we are, what makes us Equestrians will be lost, and all those who’ve died already will have done so in vain.”
Silence met the end of Twilight Sparkle’s mini-speech, and she started to feel self-conscious as everyone kept their eyes on her. Maybe I laid it on a bit thick, she thought, as she squirmed slightly and sat back in her chair. She then looked over at her Ponyville friends, and the surprise on Rarity and Fluttershy’s faces only added to her growing doubt. Yet when she looked over to Applejack she saw a look of determination, and Rainbow Dash’s expression was one of respectful deference. Pinkie Pie, though, was inscrutable as she stared off to the side, seemingly focused on some random point on a wall.
“That was a stirring advocacy,” Luna said, as she finally broke the silence, and then mentally shook her head. Twilight has certainly learned how to apply leadership to war, she mused, as she gathered her thoughts. ‘Tia’s going to kill me when she recovers. “Unless anypony has an alternate plan that can give the same chances of success, I will have this plan implemented.”
Another, brief silence fell over the room, though it was soon broken as Soarin raised a wing, and then spoke when Luna nodded to him. “Uh,” he temporized, and then shook his head to clear it. “Okay, look, I’m not the smartest pony in the room by far, but I just want to ask: can’t we like, negotiate with this O’Connell guy or something?”
At the far end of the table from where the light blue stallion sat, Schneider started to stir and opened his mouth to speak. Yet the moment he moved Luna brought up her own wing and held it towards the human, who took the hint and remained silent. “Lieutenant Soarin,” the princess began, evenly, as she folded her wing back against her side. “You no doubt know that I am the warden of dreams, yes?”
“Wait, what?” Schneider asked, quietly.
“Shh,” James hushed him, equally quietly. “We can ask later.”
The ponies, meanwhile, politely ignored the humans for now. “Uh, yes ma’am,” Soarin replied to Luna’s question.
“Then thou should know that beings often have two kinds of dreams: one where it is a fiction made up by their slumbering brains, and another that is a replay of a past event. There is a subtle difference, and lately I have seen quite a few of the latter from ponies I can only presume are associating with O’Connell’s forces given the subject matter.
“And I can say without any doubt that what I’ve seen would turn the stomachs of all those around this table,” Luna stated, heavily. She then turned her head slowly to regard all the eyes focused on her and continued. “O’Connell is a monster, full of avarice and hate and a disdain for life. And after the fighting of my early years, I know that there are only two outcomes when one fights with genuine monsters,” Luna added, and then looked deeply into Soarin’s eyes. “You either kill them, or they kill you.”
The Wonderbolt stallion blinked as his liege regarded him, and then nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said, meekly. “I just… wanted to be sure.”
“I understand,” Luna replied, evenly, as her stern countenance softened. “Rest assured that diplomacy would have been pursued, had O’Connell not rebuffed first my sister, and then the two envoys we sent into Manehattan afterward.”
“And by ‘rebuffed’ she means one got his leg’s flesh sandblasted off by one of the invaders’ guns,” Stonewall chimed in, grimly. “Not to mention what they did to Princess Celestia.”
Heavy silence fell over the group then, and remained so for a few moments. Eventually, though, Luna sighed, and then looked around. “Now that it is decided, what plans shall we make for the upcoming battle?”
* * * *
Ponyville, Equestria
September 28th
1329h Lima
Pain.
The thought was the first and only one on the stallion’s mind as he felt consciousness slowly start to return. Eventually, though, his senses started to return, and he realized that he was lying on his back on a soft bed, with sheets pulled up to cover his body right up to just under his forelegs. Said legs rested on top of the sheets, and in one he felt a tightness that he was unfortunately familiar with: it’s an IV, he realized. But I wouldn’t need one unless I was in a hospital. Why would I be in a hospital? What was I doing—?
Shining Armor snapped fully awake with a start as memories came back. His eyes opened and he quickly sat up in his bed and took stock of the room he found himself in. Monitors, IV stand, chairs, bland décor, yup, this is a hospital alright, Shining observed, even as his ears reported the rapid beeping of the heart monitor. Guess I should calm down a bit, he mused, upon noticing the rapid pulses. Then he winced as the adrenalin wore off and the pain returned. Ugh, what hit me?
Just then a door on the left wall opened up, and Shining saw a white corridor beyond it in the brief glimpse he had before a brown unicorn stepped through. “Oh, good, that wasn’t a malfunction I heard, then,” he said, with a smile, as he walked forward and up to the bed. “Good afternoon, Captain Armor, I’m Doctor Stable. No doubt you’re probably a bit confused, but please let me give you a quick checkup before you start in on your questions.”
Shining frowned a bit as the doctor preempted his next action, but then nodded. “Alright, doc,” he said, and then relaxed and lied back on the bed as the other unicorn lit up his horn and started to pull some examining equipment from the panniers he wore. “Can you at least tell me where I am, though?” Shining Armor asked, as a stethoscope floated up to rest in the doctor’s ears.
“Ponyville General Hospital,” Stable replied, as he put the business end of the stethoscope over Shining’s chest, and then moved it around at periodic intervals. “You were brought here after being evacuated from the Royal Palace during the griffon attack on Canterlot.”
“Ponyville?” Shining muttered, but then shook his head. “What about the princesses? Or Canterlot?”
“All fine at the moment,” Stable replied, as he swapped the stethoscope for a small device that looked like a tiny inverted funnel with a light at the end. The doctor then shifted up further to put his head to the left of Shining’s, and then stuck the device in the younger stallion’s ear, which made Armor yelp slightly. “The attack was driven off, and both Celestia and Luna are safe, so rest assured, captain, you don’t need to worry at the moment.”
A frown crossed the captain’s muzzle at that. “You said that twice, now, ‘at the moment’,” he observed, with a hard look at the doctor’s face once Stable had finished checking his ear. “What’s the matter? What’s going on with the war?”
Doctor Stable hesitated at that, and then turned his head to look at the heart monitor. “I’m not sure I should say much,” he replied, tentatively. “I’m a doctor, not a soldier, so I’m not exactly in the know on every detail.”
“But you’ve got to know something if you’re talking like that,” Shining pressed. He even sat up again to lend emphasis to his inquiry. “So what’s going on?”
Stable turned his head back to regard Shining, and then raised an eyebrow. “You know, most ponies who wake up from a five-day coma usually are more interested in what happened to them than what’s going on in the world, at least at first.”
Shining blinked at that. “Uh, well, I’m awake, and in a lot of pain, but I can’t be too bad off if you’re not in here with a bunch of crazy specialists, right?” he asked. When Stable just gave him an inscrutable look, Shining gulped. “Right?” he echoed.
“Captain Armor,” Doctor Stable began, slowly. “You were hit by an arrow tipped with a high concentration of Tatzlwurm venom,” he explained, with only a brief pause as Shining’s eyes widened in recognition and fear. “It should have been a fatal dose, but fortunately your sister asked the help of the humans and they transported you to their ship, where they gave you something called a ‘pan-spectrum antivenin’. I’m not sure how it works, and their doctor wasn’t sure it would work, but it did. Barely.”
“B-barely?” Shining asked, quietly. “What does that mean?”
The doctor paused for a moment, and the silence ate at Shining’s emotional state. Eventually, though, the brown unicorn sighed and then shook his head. “We performed scanning spells while you were recovering, and I’m sorry to say that there appears to be damage to your thaumic cortex. We’re not sure how serious it is, given how Tatzlwurm venom is usually fatal, but there’s a good chance that your ability to use unicorn magic will be severely impaired, with a possibility of complete loss.”
Shining Armor felt as if a hammer had slammed into his stomach at that, and he quickly had to lie back down on the bed as he contemplated the news. Stable seemed to understand his need to digest the information, and so the two remained still and quiet for several moments. Eventually, though, Shining took in a deep, calming breath, and then turned his head to face the doctor. “How bad?” he asked, and then shook his head a bit. “I mean, if it’s not a… a complete loss, then how bad?”
Stable took in a breath of his own before he replied. “At the very least your thaumic output would be down to one-tenth, if not lower. I’m sorry, captain,” he added, after a moment as the white stallion turned his head to the side in response. “I know this must be hard on you; heavens know I’m not sure how I would handle losing my magic.”
“It’s not that,” Shining replied, and then sighed. “At least, it’s not all of it. My magic is what lets me protect ponies,” he said, and then looked back to the doctor. “How can I do that without my spells?”
“I’m not sure if I’m the right pony to ask about that,” Stable replied, softly. “I’ve always been determined to heal, than to protect.” A moment passed as both stallions paused for thought, though Stable broke the silence again. “But, given how the humans seem to be able to do amazing things without a bit of magic at all, I’d say that there’s probably a lot you can do, even if neither of us can think of something right now.”
“Heh,” Shining lightly chuckled. “Whatever the aliens have been doing, it must have made an impression,” he observed, with a ghost of a smile on his muzzle.
“You watch a giant ball of metal fly through the air balanced on a pillar of silver flame, and maybe you’d be impressed, as well,” Stable replied, and then chuckled. “Not to mention, seeing their medicine work wonders on Rainbow Dash, and then you. Granted there seems to be some sort of effect from pony magic that makes it more potent, but it wouldn’t happen if it wasn’t for them.”
Shining mulled over this for a moment, but was saved from making an immediate reply when the door opened again and a familiar figure walked through. Tall, pink, and alacorn, Princess Cadance was hard to miss, even more so when she looked over to the bed and let loose a cry of joy before she propelled herself forward with a flap of her wings. “Shining Armor!” she squealed, as she landed on the bed, impacted the stallion, and wrapped her forelegs around his neck to hug him mercilessly.
“C-Cadance” Shining muttered, though a tightly-clenched neck. “Can’t breathe.”
“Oh!” the alacorn said, and then quickly relaxed her hold, though she did not relinquish it. Instead she leaned back a bit so she could look into her husband’s face, and the broad, joyous smile she wore soothed all of Shining’s aches for a moment. “Sorry, but I’m just so happy to see you awake!” Cadance said, and then leaned in to deepen her embrace by placing her head and neck next to Shining’s. “I was so worried,” she added, as her voice began to break.
The stallion felt a pang of hurt stab through his chest as he realized the suffering his wife went through. “Hey,” he said, as he finally returned the embrace and held onto Cadance with all of his strength. “Hey, it’s alright,” he added, encouragingly, as his eyes clenched shut from the emotions he was feeling. “I’m okay now, Cady, don’t be sad.”
“No,” Cadance sobbed, without moving from her position one millimeter. “I’m going to cry and you’re going to sit there and hold me, mister,” she ordered, and then proceeded to cry softly.
Still somewhat in shock, Shining just sighed as he resolved himself to give in to his mare’s needs. He opened his eyes to look around the room again, and saw that Doctor Stable had quietly slipped out and closed the door behind him some indeterminate time after Cadance’s arrival. Good stallion; he’s getting a gift for that, once I figure out what doctors like, Shining mused. His thoughts fell silent then, as he simply held his distraught wife while she poured out her pain and uncertainty in the form of tears.
Time passed at an indeterminate rate for the two ponies as they simply lied on the bed, but eventually Cadance’s sobs settled into whimpers, and then stopped. “Feel better?” Shining quietly asked, as he gently ran a hoof through his wife’s mane.
“Uh-huh,” Cadance replied, in a soft mutter. She then sniffed again and then shifted so she could pull her head back and face Shining Armor properly. Her face was a study of what not to do to enhance beauty; what makeup she had worn had smudged and run from being pressed up against the stallion and exposed to tears, her eyes were puffy and red from her release, and her mane was in complete disarray from her brief flight and Shining’s stroking.
Despite this, Shining Armor smiled broadly. “You are the most beautiful mare in all of Equestria, you know that?” he asked, warmly.
Cadance blushed and then demurely turned her head to the side. “You are the worst liar in the world, you know that?” she asked back, with her eyes downcast and a small, yet genuine grin on her muzzle.
“I’d have to be lying for that to be true,” Shining replied, and then chuckled slightly at the wordplay. His face then grew serious, and he leaned his head forward to give his wife a chaste peck on the side of her mouth. “I’m sorry, Cadance, I didn’t mean to make you worry so much.”
“I know,” Cadance replied, as she turned her head back to her husband and gave him a slightly wider smile. “You were just doing your duty, after all. That’s part of what makes me love you so much,” she added, and then sighed as she leaned forward and nestled her head against Shining’s neck, just below his chin. “I just wish this stupid war hadn’t come to make you do it.”
“I know,” Shining echoed. The two lied in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Speaking of which…”
Cadance sighed again, and then pulled her head back to once again face Shining properly. “I should have known that’d be the next thing on our mind,” she said, sadly.
“I’m sorry,” Shining repeated. “But I am a soldier, and a guard captain; I need to know what’s going on.”
Another moment of silence passed before Cadance nodded her head. “The griffon attack on Canterlot was an attempt to assassinate Celestia and Luna,” she said, slowly, and then squeezed her husband a bit when he tensed up. “Don’t worry, though; according to the reports the nice aliens helped fend them off and saved Celestia’s life.”
“Thank heavens,” Shining breathed, as he willed his muscles to relax.
“I wouldn’t be thanking them yet,” Cadance said, and then shifted her face into a pensive mien. “The invaders in Manehattan moved out after that, and the friendly aliens and the army went out and fought them yesterday. They lost.”
Shining Armor blinked, and then frowned. “Do you know how bad it is?” he asked, quietly.
“Auntie Luna sent me a letter only an hour ago about it,” Cadance replied, with a nod. “There were heavy casualties, and the Guard and Army are in bad shape. Our friendly aliens aren’t doing much better, from what Luna wrote; their machines are all beaten up and they lost a lot of the people that know how to fix them.
“And now Luna says they’re going to have to fight in the city itself,” Cadance added, and then shook her head. “It all seems so mad, how quickly everything had changed. First alien invaders, then alien allies, then defeat, victory, and defeat again, and now auntie says Canterlot might get flattened and… And I don’t even know what to do anymore,” Cadance confessed, and then leaned forward to set her head against Shining’s neck. “I want to help, but I was so worried for you I couldn’t even think of being anywhere but Ponyville. And even if I did, Luna’s forbidden me from going anywhere near the war because she’s worried about Equestria needing a princess if something happens to her or Celestia.” Her voice cracked at that, and she shuddered as she tried to suppress a sob.
Shining tightened his hold on Cadance at that. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, comfortingly. “That’s a good idea of hers, real forward thinking.” And it keeps you safe; heavens bless you, Luna.
“I don’t want forward thinking!” Cadance retorted, as she moved back to look Shining in the face again. “I want this stupid war to be over!”
“We all do,” Shining replied. “We all do,” he repeated, and then leaned forward to hold her tight once again, their heads next to each other and over their lover’s shoulder. Even as he did this, though, Shining kept his eyes open and stared forward as his mind began to work.
* * * *
DropShip Heart of Steel
Canterlot, Equestria
1338h Lima
Twilight Sparkle sat on her haunches in the lower ‘Mech bay of the Heart of Steel, well off to the side and amidst an odd rack set against a bulkhead. She had asked, once, what the strange-looking devices were for, and the explanation of securing objects for maneuvering and microgravity still stuck in her head.
Yet it was not this equipment that held her attention, but the imposing bulk of James McKenna’s Highlander in its cradle across the bay. It stood there, alone and unmolested, as it had taken no significant damage, other than armor being worn away, and the other surviving ‘Mechs needed more attention. Its surface, though, seemed to belie this assessment, as gashes from lasers, craters from missiles, and a large, gnarled scar from a PPC made it look like it had been through Tartarus and back.
And I was in it the whole time, Twilight thought, as she looked up at the distinctive, flat-sided head and the mirrored ferroglass canopy that made up its front. Right there alongside James. I was there when terrible weapons spat destruction and death back and forth. I shielded us, and I watched as ponies—as people died. She paused, and then took in a deep, calming breath and closed her eyes as an emotion, familiar and yet unwelcome, arose in her chest. No, she thought, as she shook her head and sent her purple and pink mane jostling back and forth. I can’t be feeling that, not for this, Twilight thought, and then opened her eyes again to gaze at the 90-tonne war machine.
A few minutes later she heard the sound of footfalls approaching her, and for a moment Twilight marveled at the oddity of determining someone’s species simply by the way they walk. She turned her head around and up, expecting to see one of the technicians, but instead was mildly surprised to see “Missus McKenna?”
Rebecca McKenna smiled lopsidedly as she walked up. “Do I really look so old that you need to be formal about it?” she asked, as she turned and sat down on the deck. She sat next to Twilight, but with enough distance to not crowd the pony.
Twilight Sparkle blushed at that. “Er, sorry,” she said, contritely. “I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just we’ve not really spoken that much.”
Rebecca waved a hand at her. “Relax, I’m not offended. It’s just my way of trying to get you to call me by my first name,” she explained, with a grin still on her face.
“Oh, right… Rebecca,” Twilight managed, sheepishly. “Uhm, so if it’s not rude to ask, why are you here?”
“I came down to check on my ride, and I saw you sitting here by your lonesome,” Rebecca explained, evenly. “Something tells me you’ve got something on your mind, and I’m curious to hear about it.”
“Oh,” Twilight uttered, and then bit her lip for a moment. “It’s nothing, I’m sure,” she added, with a hollow smile.
McKenna raised an eyebrow at that. “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” she observed. “If anything it seems like you might need someone to talk to.”
Twilight frowned a bit. “And what makes you think that?” she asked, with the slightest hint of irritation in her voice.
“The experience of raising three children,” Rebecca replied. Then the grin dropped from her face and she looked into Twilight’s eyes. “I know the look of someone who’s a bit over their head, but doesn’t know what to do about it,” she said, calmly. “You’ve got that look, or something like it. So I decided to come by and see if I could help.”
A brief moment of thought held Twilight’s tongue, but soon enough she blushed a bit and ducked her head down. “I’m not sure if it can be helped,” she said, quietly.
“Well, you won’t find out unless you try,” Rebecca gently countered. “So, what’s bugging you?”
The unicorn bit her lip again, and then came to a decision. She brought up her head and looked Rebecca in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the battle,” she said, with a little trepidation in her tone. “And what I did in it.”
“Ah,” Rebecca said, with a nod. “So, you’re kind of freaked out about all the death?”
“No, actually,” Twilight replied, and then sighed as Rebecca again raised an eyebrow at her. “I mean, it’s a terrible thing, and horrible to watch and I hate seeing it… but for some reason, it’s not bothering me,” Sparkle admitted, and then shook her head. “And that’s disturbing enough, but now whenever I look over at that,” she added, and then glanced to the Highlander to make her point, “I feel not fear or terror or sorrow, but pride.
“I’m proud of what I did,” Twilight continued, after a moment to gather her thoughts. “But I shouldn’t be. I helped fight a battle that resulted in death and suffering, how could anypony be proud of that?” she asked, plaintively, as she looked up and into the human’s eyes.
Rebecca’s expression shifted into one of sympathy then, and she reached out to set a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Oh sweetie, is that all that’s bothering you?” she asked, and then smiled a bit. “For a minute there I thought it was something serious.”
Twilight Sparkle frowned, and then shook her shoulder a bit to slough off the hand. “I am serious,” she declared, sullenly. “This isn’t normal. Most ponies can barely stand the idea of killing, even in self-defense. Yet here I am and I watched beings die in the most horrifying ways possible, and the idea of it doesn’t make me want to curl up in a ball and cry.”
“But you aren’t happy about it, are you?” Rebecca casually probed. “It’s not like you enjoyed seeing ponies die, was it? Or do you simply have no empathy for them?”
“I…” Twilight began, and then shook her head. “No, I would never want to watch somepony die!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes. “And it hurt, it really hurt seeing all the pain and death,” she added, and then stomped a hoof on the deck. “So why aren’t I in shock, or depressed, or even the slightest bit mopey? Why am I proud of what I did?”
Rebecca chuckled a bit, and the look she got from Twilight would have made a lesser being’s blood freeze. Experienced as she was, though, the lady McKenna simply gazed back with an open, friendly mien. “I would think it’s obvious,” she observed, and then shrugged. “But I suppose not having wars as constantly as us means you’re not up to date with all the ideas about it, so I’ll just tell you: you’ve got the heart of a warrior.”
Twilight stared for a moment at that statement, her mouth slowly dropping open. Her stun was brief, however, and she shook her head again. “No, that’s not right,” she protested, and then frowned at Rebecca. “I don’t enjoy fighting.”
“So who says you have to enjoy it?” Rebecca asked, and then waited as she watched Twilight’s brain grind to a halt again. “Plenty of warriors and soldiers train all their lives to be the best killing machines possible, but also pray they’ll never have to actually do anything with it.”
Another shake of a unicorn’s head replied to that. “But I’m a librarian! A scholar!” Twilight rejoined, with a look of despair etching onto her face. “I want to study books and magic, not how to stomp somepony into paste!”
Rebecca chuckled again, much to Twilight’s chagrin. “Then you’re a reluctant warrior,” the human replied, with mild—but still surprising—joviality. “There’s all kinds of warriors, Twilight,” Rebecca continued, as she saw the unicorn simply stare at her in confusion. “You got some that are pretty axe-crazy, who love the killing and don’t care much about anything else. You won’t find any of them in our unit, and they’re pretty rare, but they’re on one end of the spectrum.
“And on the other we have people like you,” Rebecca added, with a hand gesture towards Twilight. “You don’t like it one bit, you hate it to pieces, but you’ll still do what you need to, and be perfectly capable of doing it. You might hate every minute of it, but you don’t see any reason to fret or freak out about it; you know what war entails, and you just want it over with as soon as possible.
“And it turns out that ‘as soon as possible’ often means stomping someone into paste,” Rebecca concluded, with a nod of her head. “You know that, you recognize it on some level, even if you’re not quite aware of it yet. From what I’ve seen you’ve got a genius mind, and I’m sure a mind that sharp understands exactly what’s going on, and why fighting, and even killing is sometimes necessary.”
A pause entered the conversation at that, as Twilight worked to fight against the growing understanding that Rebecca’s words engendered. The mare glanced down to the deck and stared as her thoughts roiled. She’s right, you know, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. You know that fighting is necessary at times, otherwise you wouldn’t have blasted so many changelings during the wedding attack.
But I didn’t kill them! Twilight mentally shot back at the part of her that was warming up to the warrior idea. I just zapped them with… with…
With enough magical energy to light up Canterlot, the other part of her countered, and her mind as a whole realized the sheer violence of that day not long past. Maybe you weren’t deliberately trying to kill them, but you certainly weren’t concerned with their well-being enough to really modulate your thaumic output, now were you? And what was that you said to about burning Canterlot to the ground, if it won the war sooner?
Twilight screwed her eyes shut at that, and she took in a shuddering breath to try and steady her nerves. Then she took another, and then another, until finally she calmed down and her mind shifted to wordless thoughts as the two arguing sides of her psyche boiled away. “Let’s say you’re right,” Twilight said, slowly and softly, before she opened her eyes and turned her head up to look back at Rebecca again. “What does it mean?”
Rebecca sighed at first. “It means that you, Twilight Sparkle, are a person that can handle war,” she replied, evenly. “Nothing more and nothing less. It means that you have the mental fortitude and acuity to do what needs to be done to fight and win battles, and that you have the stomach to endure it with your sanity intact. You might even be good at it, but nowhere does it imply you like it one bit.”
A few moments passed as Twilight absorbed Rebecca’s words, until something clicked in her head. “You… I mean, your people’s history has examples of po—people like me, doesn’t it?” she asked, quietly.
“Yeah,” Rebecca replied, with a nod. “Jim was always the big historian, but he likes to talk about it so I’ve picked up on a few things. The idea of the reluctant warrior is something that pops up a lot, because it turns out that some of the things that make a person a good leader and a kind individual also can make them exceptionally good at war and fighting, even if they personally hate it. That weird contrast and the angst it makes just sticks in people’s minds, so it’s not unheard of by any means.” Rebecca paused at that, and then tilted her head to look at the unicorn with a different angle. “But again, you guys don’t do war a lot, so I guess that doesn’t come up in your history, does it?”
“No,” Twilight replied, with a shake of her head. “No, it doesn’t,” she added, and then sighed. “But, how can I be feeling pride if I hate it so much?”
“Well, that’s simple,” Rebecca answered, with another friendly smile. “You came up with not one, but two new ways of using your magic to fight battles with more effectiveness and safety for your side. And one of those ‘spells’ was based off of a technology you’d only heard and read about, that even humans have forgotten how to build, in one night, and then used it to stand up to some of the most terrible pounding anyone can go through on a modern battlefield.
“Twilight Sparkle, if anyone has a right to feel prideful over what they’ve done, it’s you,” Rebecca stated. “Just don’t let it go to your head, alright?” she asked, and then reached over to nudge Twilight’s shoulder with a lightly-closed fist. “The last thing we need is another big ego running around here; Dorian’s already got that position, and your friend Rainbow Dash looks ready to compete with him.”
The last comment seemed to trigger some odd feeling in Twilight, and despite herself she let loose a giggle. “She’s always been really competitive, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” Sparkle said, and then released another chuckle, though this was quick and humorless. A moment of silence passed over the two, though it was brief. “I don’t know what to say,” Twilight spoke, and then turned her head to regard the Highlander once again. “I know that I kept us from taking too much damage, and I know my spells helped save lives and give us a fighting chance, even now.
“But at the same time, I feel like I’m somehow dishonoring those who’ve died,” Twilight continued, even as she turned her head back towards the human next to her. “Like my pride was bought with their blood and lives.”
Rebecca McKenna nodded at that, and then took a moment to think. “Well, that’s bullshit,” she flatly stated. Twilight’s ears flicked back at the sudden expletive, but Rebecca pressed on. “Like you said, what you did helped save lives and gave us a real chance at victory. If anything, your pride is rooted in the fact that you kept the battle from being a slaughter. And besides,” she added, as she reached out with her right arm again and laid her hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “You saved my husband’s life not once, but twice, by doing something so incredible even your princess praised it.”
Twilight blushed as the memory of the end of the earlier meeting came to mind, but Rebecca continued to speak. “You are an exceptional person, and while humility is a good thing, there’s an old saying about having too much of a good thing can make it bad.” The human removed her hand at that, and then shifted on the floor until she was leaning back against one of the nearby equipment racks to let her long legs stretch out. “Too much pride and you’ll get yourself into trouble. Too much humility and you’ll be too afraid of doing anything to make a difference. They key, as always, is balance.”
“To keep opposing forces in harmony,” Twilight observed, distantly, as her mind worked. Then she blinked several times, and then turned her head to give Rebecca a wan smile. “I think I understand now,” she said, and then sighed again. “It still doesn’t feel right, but… I guess what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t hate myself or try to stifle my sense of accomplishment.”
“Something like that,” Rebecca agreed, with a nod. “I know it’s not easy; it never is. But you’ve either got to make peace with your role in everything, or you’ll end up self-destructing faster than a fusion reactor with a failing mag-bottle.”
Although she hadn’t had as much time to study human literature as she wished, Twilight’s normally rapacious thirst for knowledge had allowed her to pick up on a few things, and thus she easily recognized both the idiom and the foundation upon which it was built. Thus she smiled a little wider, and then stood up. “Thank you, Rebecca,” she said, warmly, while the human stood up as well.
“No need to thank me, Twilight,” Rebecca insisted, even as she shifted back into a crouch to give the pony a gaze of potent intensity. “Like I said, you saved Jim; I owe you, Twilight Sparkle, and I always pay my debts.”
“Oh, well,” Twilight temporized, even as she took a half step back from the strongly intent woman. “You’re already fighting for my homeland, and you helped me here, and it was my tail on the line too,” she added, hastily, and then grinned sheepishly. “So, call it even?”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow at her again, and now that she was not so emotionally distracted Twilight felt a chill at how uncannily it resembled Applejack’s own expression of disbelief. The human, though, remained ignorant of this realization and crouched in silent contemplation. Then, abruptly, she stood and shook her head with a scoff. “Nope, not nearly enough,” she stated, friendlily but with a current of steel. She then crossed her arms under her bust and continued. “Sorry, dear, but you’re going to have to deal with my Moore stubbornness on this one.”
Twilight’s lidded her eyes in exasperation at Rebecca’s statement. “You don’t happen to be related to any apple farmers, are you?” she asked, tiredly.
“Just regular farmers,” Rebecca replied, with a nod. “But that was centuries ago; family’s been MechWarriors and soldiers since the Age of War,” she explained. “But then they say the Irish blood never does thin out so much that we’ll ever stop being stubborn.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Twilight spoke wryly, and then shook her head. “Still, thank you for helping me,” she added, in a warmer, friendlier tone and with a smile.
“You’re welcome,” Rebecca responded, a smile of her own upon her face. “Now, we’ve both got work to do, so why don’t we put ourselves to the task, eh?”
* * * *
A deck above and near a railing, James McKenna smiled as he watched his wife comfort Twilight Sparkle. I love it when my little fireplug shows off her soft side, he mused, and then shook his head. They had both been talking about organizational tasks when they’d spied the pony in the lower ‘Mech bay, and initially James had wanted to go see what the problem was. Rebecca recognized something about the situation, though, he thought, as he watched the two females walk off, and she pulled rank and told me ‘you’re too close, go take a break’.
James chuckled at that, and then shook his head. Women, he mused, gotta love ‘em, even when you don’t understand a damn thing that goes through their heads. At that he turned around and started to walk off himself, but then froze in place as he saw a significant group of his employees approaching, led by the other MechWarriors, minus Schneider. “Gentlemen,” James found himself saying, almost without thought as his mental hackles rose. “Was there a party and I wasn’t invited?”
The mild jest had some of the intended effect, as a few faces briefly cracked in minor amusement, though such traces soon disappeared. “Something like that,” Earl Delacroix said, as the dozen or so others stopped behind him; the apparent leader. “We’ve heard a few things from Hermes about the plans you all made.”
McKenna’s face turned to stone at that. “Really, now?” he asked, calmly. “And is that why you’re all here?”
“Yeah,” Delacroix said, and then took in a deep breath. “We just want to have a little chat…”
* * * *
White Tail Woods
Equestria, Equis
September 29th AD3070/1023 RC
0550h Lima
“He’s not going to talk, you know.”
“I don’t expect him to,” O’Connell observed to Kilroy, as the two walked away from the tent that housed their bound captive. “But it’s not important even if he would; we already know McKenna’s force composition, and he’s smart enough not to use the same tricks twice in a row, so whatever tactics he was told about won’t apply in the next fight.”
Gregory Kilroy shook his head. “So why keep him around?” he asked, impatiently; an attitude he could claim when O’Connell was in a good mood.
“I got my reasons,” Garth replied, mysteriously. “Which reminds me: we need to find Garadan and make a few new plans.”
Kilroy shot his superior a questioning look, but it was not answered as both men were drawn up short by the brilliant silvery glow that appeared along the western horizon in the pre-dawn gloom. Within seconds it shrunk and resolved itself into the torch of a fusion-powered ship. Though they could not make out the vessel against the glare from its drive, they knew there was only one other on the planet, and thus kept a keen eye on their opponents’ DropShip as it raced high, and then arced as it rose, until finally it was a slow-moving dot in the sky.
“What are they doing?” Kilroy muttered. “That was an orbital burn.”
“They’re running,” O’Connell declared, with a mad grin. “Hah! I knew that spineless Terran wouldn’t have the guts for a real fight!”
“They fought hard enough two days ago,” Gregory observed. His protest was half-hearted, though, as he watched the dot of the ship’s engines blink out when its drives were cut.
“And we hammered them,” Garth reminded his subordinate, and then laughed again. “Go wake up Newman and have him get the techs running full speed; I want to be mobile by the end of the day.”
Gregory turned to face O’Connell fully, with a worried look. “Isn’t that a bit rash, boss?” he asked. “We have no idea if they’re actually running or if they’re trying some gambit.”
“What else could it be?” O’Connell pressed back, with a bit of anger in his voice. “Our LZ isn’t far enough away to need an orbital drop, and Grimes will see them coming from a mile away if they try to get fancy, and seven ‘Mechs aren’t enough to nail a fully operational Overlord.”
“Alright,” Kilroy allowed. “But why the rush if they’re actually running?”
“Because,” O’Connell replied, with a wild grin, “The sooner we move on them, the harder the hit to the horses’ morale when we level their capitol.
“And then, once and for all, we’ll crush these aliens right under our boots.”
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Another new chapter, another trip to the feature box
Go straight to the feature box.
I'm calling it now. That ship's empty. It may be bait, or it may be carrying a message back to the Jumpship, but none of McKenna's mercs are on board.
Riveting stuff. Read it in one go, at 4:00 a.m., while dehydrated. I simply couldn’t take my eyes off the screen.
it
subordinate
7421027
Eh. Skeleton crew.
I so hope that the changelings get a proper crushing eventually, I really do want to see some just desserts being served...with a side order of hot lasers.
Still nice chapter and I am always glad to see this story update, it is one of my favorites. Might be why I faved it XD
7421115
Thank you, I hurried at the last part and forgot to check it.
7421164 *cough*
Drop their dropship on O’Connel & his forces, then steal his.
Nice to see it back, though I guess you haven't had time to edit yet. The one thing that really stood out was "alacorn" instead of "alicorn". Stray thought: while having another Luna-class combatant would be even better, I think the friendlies would be more than happy if they could deploy an Alacorn in the battle for Canterlot. With those triple Gauss rifles, a couple of strong unicorns inside for bubble shielding, and infantry support, an ambushing Alacorn could probably rip through an entire lance of Desperadoes.
This was a very good chapter, although there were definitely some details that slipped my memory since it has been so long since some of the referenced events happened.
The situation is definitely looking bad overall, although McKenna's superior tactics, pilots, and equipment should let him scrape out a messy win at the end of the day. Those 3:1 odds would be a good fight for my experienced Ghost Bear forces is a straight fight, so he has no chance of winning without playing dirty like this.
I am also curious to see how this ends since I doubt McKenna will be able to reconstitute his forces after this bloodbath. He won't have many machines left standing at the end of the day, and he is probably also going to loose a few more people as well. Rebuilding a unit from that is probably going to prove to be impossible unless he can somehow replace the losses with salvage, but even that is going to seriously weaken his forces since he is going to be salvaging lighter and less sophisticated machines here. When you combine that with the strong relationships he and his people are developing with the ponies and the value of their technical knowledge, it is entirely possible that they could decide to settle down in Equestria when it is all said and done.
Also, there was one little bit of in-character stupidity I noticed. After discussing anti-'Mech infantry and their explosive satchel charges, you moved onto earth ponies kicking rocks at 'Mechs but ignored the possibility of kicking explosive charges for increased damage. Given the way infantry tactics tend to work and how quickly losses start to mount once they engage the enemy, it would probably make the most sense to only give them one charge each, but that one salvo could do quite a bit of damage up front and give them a major tactical advantage.
Finally, I noticed a few minor editing issues as I was reading this with the most regular being the use of the word "lied" instead of "lay" which I noticed a few times, although I didn't note individual instances. I also got a good laugh out of this typo:
Luna's motivational speech was going so well, and then she took a break to munch on some tasty foliage.
7421027 Yeah, definitely. They needed to get it out of the combat zone anyways to keep it from getting overrun and destroyed anyways, and sending it to orbit not only accomplishes that but also baits O'Connell into launching a reckless attack which will leave his forces vulnerable to ambushes. That is especially true because McKenna is the only one with BAPs, so he can use them to stalk and jump 'Mechs with a roving hit squad. All he needs to do is shadow a target from behind a row of buildings, and then pop a lance out behind it to gut it with a single heavy salvo to the thin rear armor while a squad of ponies distract the pilot. That will let him safely pick off opponents one at a time while keeping a warning from going out because the enemy won't realize he is there until it is too late.
Man that sucks they could really use Shining's Shield abilites.
7422498
That’s deliberate.
7422774 I always thought that objects "lay" while people "lie" on something. At least that's how I remember English classes going.
And bloody Hell, I could have sworn I wrote "forge". MS Word must've done it's annoying autocorrect
when I was using the work computerswhen I wasn't looking.7422774 Also, didn't really discuss kicking explosives because it'd be hard to ensure that a shaped-charge would actually arrive properly aligned when kicked, as opposed to delivered by guided missile or tube-launched projectiles. And general high-explosives wouldn't really do much to angled, thick, composite armor that can stand up to a PPC or Gauss Rifle. Just seems less than effective to me, hence why it wasn't really considered.
But that does remind me about oil, though. Fortunately the scene with the meeting ended before everything was set in stone; funny how that works out, eh?
Yeah, it's been a while since we heard his name. Good to know I'm not the only one needing a reminder.
7421772 I love the smell of burning changelings in the morning.
7423857 I literally changed that a couple of hours ago, how are you still seeing it?
And in my defense he's not a major character.
I shudder to think of what could happen if the last-ditch defensive measure is enacted. Would Celestia take the chance and have Discord un-sealed?
7423924 Celestia's still in a coma at the moment.
7423921 It took me a loooong time to read the whole chapter. I opened it on my phone last night before work but didn't finish reading until after I got home... and went to bed.
7421855
That would be outstanding!
7423103 I'm fairly certain that is wrong, although it is entirely possible your idiot English teacher said that because English teachers rarely know what they are talking about and refuse to change their ways even when you provide them with concrete proof they are wrong. It would probably be smart to look it up and go back and check because I definitely remember at least a few of them seeming off which usually means something is wrong, but I'm not an expert on this kind of thing.
7423494 Fair enough, although fins could probably stabilize the package well enough to make a decent attempt at delivering a shaped charge effectively. Failing that, a simple explosive charge would still be more effective than a rock so the concept is still worth pursuing, although I am definitely liking your improvised (and less effective) inferno idea.
Also, I just realized one thing I forgot to comment on earlier. I am very curious to see more of Carmine and Lyra's interactions since they seem to be much closer than they were before. The way she is following him around makes it seem like she has appointed herself as his nurse, and given their previous interactions that should have some amusing (and adorable) results.
7424662
Fins? Somehow I don't see that working too well. When you kick something you don't always get to kick it just right, unless it's been pre-positioned (like a football in one of those kickoff stands), and the nature of the upcoming fight would preclude that kind of setup; quick, dirty, and close.
As for a simple HE charge, I don't think it would be as effective as a more focused force. The armor that Battletech describes is a reinforced composite set down in layers, and is made strong enough that 'Mechs can punch through buildings, trees, and other obstacles that when impacted would deliver a similar, blunt force as a simple HE charge, and yet they don't take damage from that. It takes a significant, focused energy to break armor, such as lasers, high-speed kinetic projectiles, or shaped charges. To me the idea that a simple, unfocused HE charge would do very little unless it was in a significant size, large enough to deliver a thoroughly powerful overpressure wave that would deliver enough force to overcome BT armor's ability to redirect impact energy. Yanno, like with a 1000kg bomb or artillery shell. A small, kick-deliverable charge seems to me about as useful against a BattleMech as a hand grenade against an MBT.
The satchel charges would work because they are, in fact, shaped charges. If I haven't made that clear then I suppose I should write something to that effect in the next chapter, but that is why they tend to be effective despite their small size.
Now, as for how kick-delivered rocks or other solid projectiles being effective, well, again I see I wasn't descriptive enough. Hopefully I will satisfy more in the next chapter, but the idea is that earth ponies use magic as part of their kicking, which kind of helps maintain the integrity of what they're kicking even as they hit it hard enough that it normally would shatter. At least, that's how I explain how Applebucking doesn't hurt the trees on the Applepone's farm. So the Earth ponies actually kind of create this structural integrity field (that keeps houses from falling apart when pulled, for instance) and it lets them kick solid objects much, much, much harder without pulverizing it, allowing it to be accelerated by their fantastic strength. Of course they can only generate this field when in contact with something, so no adamantine projectiles that go flying through a 'Mech here.
If I haven't been clear, well... haven't really thought it all out with words before.
This is just the sort of thing that just seems apparent to me and so I didn't really think about it, so I didn't realize I'd need to explain. Only when I get comments like this that my brain actually goes "wait, why am I thinking this way?" and I have to actually take these presumptions from my subconscious and shake them out.
Hopefully I can explain these better next chapter, much in the way of the techno-thriller when what's happening is described in detail so I can demystify the characters' choices. I'm sorry for not being more clear; this is what happens when I say "it's good enough" and try to get things done faster. I'm getting rather impatient myself at trying to get this story moving along.
7423098
It doesn't match with the style of earlier chapters.
7425477 I changed my mind.
7425179 Ok, that's quite a post so I'm going to need to break it down into quotes.
Fins can be surprisingly effective even in less than ideal circumstances, and you don't need perfect orientation for a shaped charge to be effective. Also, it's really not hard to set up a simple stand, especially when you remember that most of these ambushes will be from inside buildings to cover their setup no matter what. Besides, finding suitable objects to kick takes time as well and aligning a buck is not instant either so it's really not much slower to use a guide stand, especially if you don't plan on recovering it.
Believe me, I know how BT works quite well, and I never said a simple HE charge would be as effective as a shaped charge. What I said was that I would expect it to be more effective than throwing a rock of equivalent size which is a stance I still stand by. I think you are also seriously underestimating the power of explosives (not surprising since all forms of media vastly undersell their power) because an easily kickable 10kg charge can utterly annihilate a normal vehicle or small structure and will do substantial damage to even heavy armor in a contact detonation.
Also, you cannot compare the performance of BT armor to modern armor because the two are very different. Modern armor is generally built with design thresholds so it will completely defeat small attacks with no ill effect, but once you exceed the threshold it is completely useless and the vehicle is destroyed. BattleTech armor on the other hand is ablative which makes it nearly impossible to penetrate with a single big hit, but the tradeoff for this ability to absorb a much bigger hit is that it can be worn down with a lot of small hits. Thus while modern tanks are completely immune to hand grenades and light weapons and can take a basically infinite number of hits from them, BattleMech armor can be worn down and penetrated by them in a matter of minutes or even seconds. You might want to compare the difference in effect between the canon Cluster Bomb and High-Explosive Bomb because they clearly illustrate the superior performance of multiple small explosive charges over one big one (3.5 times more damage from the same payload, and I guarantee the cluster bomb has less total explosive weight). Based on that and other infantry weapons, I would expect each 10kg explosive charge to do about .5 AE damage with 1 hex of range which is perfectly respectable for an infantry force (although point blank use would be suicidal), although it's not all that inspiring when you have weapons like the Mauser IIC (the standard infantry rifle of the Clans) doing almost double that at 9 hexes.
Yeah, I'm fairly sure you forgot to mention that one in the chapter. It didn't throw me because I know BT, but that is definitely not the kind of assumption you can make around here for obvious reasons.
Yeah, that was kinda what I figured, but objects at such low speeds need a lot more mass to seriously threaten 'Mechs. Your best comparison point there is 'Mech physical attacks since I don't think there are any non-explosive weapons with subsonic projectiles, although even that is rough. The least bad approximations are probably the Wrecking Ball and maybe the Flail, although a linear approximation from them would give .02 damage per 10 kg rock which seems low considering the way BT armor is worn down by repeated attacks. Doing a bit of squinting and guessing, I would put the damage from a 10 kg rock at no more than .1 per rock with something in the .05 to .07 range being much more likely.
Fair enough, and it might be a good idea to try to hammer these kinds of details out with me via PM in the future to avoid doing this in the comments again. After all, if we can reconcile the ponies into BT numbers ahead of time, it will be much easier to see how things will play out and what makes sense to keep everything consistent.
I'm guessing the rest of the pilots didn't like McKenna's plan if having the most damaged Mechs bug out with the Drop ship. Hey, emplaced weapons are still effective enough -especially if earth ponies are helping stabilize a solid rock wall they're peeking out from behind.
7425682 I just do not see fins as working on a kicked projectile. Thrown, maybe, since darts of the taproom and lawn variety work, but kicking is an altogether different action, and is far less controlled. Yes, the ponies no doubt have a much finer degree of aim and control given their circumstances, but in the end all I can think of is not a single sports ball that is kicked has fins on it to control direction, and I can't help but see the idea as ridiculous.
For the armor, I'm assuming that the ablative effect has to have a lower bound, otherwise BattleTech vehicles and 'Mechs would need their armor replaced after a hard rain. This also assumes that the effects of weapons are more pinpoint to trigger this ablative effect, whereas a more distributed force would not, thus allowing 'Mechs to do some of the things they do without losing large percentages of their protection every time they ran into a moderate-sized tree or stepped on a car or whatnot. It's seen in canon that 'Mechs do a lot of physical work without suffering significant damage to their armor (running into/through buildings, absorbing the shock of jumping from a roof, et al.) so I'm just going with the idea that general HE charges will need to be of a sufficient size to exceed the ablative effect and actually damage the armor. I just don't see a small, kickable object as doing that by HE alone given the suggested size.
There's also the fact that pony industry had a hard time producing simple recoilless rifle shells; I don't see them able to produce enough explosives fast enough to make a significant ammunition stockpile, so better in my mind to use what explosives you can make into specific and more damaging vectors.
As for cluster bombs, they seem rather silly to have that much more destructive force than a conventional bomb. This is why I am not following the canon rules with religious fervor; all war games are abstractions trying to simulate reality through a series of rules that, by their nature, are only trying to emulate effects. But they all break down at some point. This seems like one of them.
And solid projectiles... who says they're only going to be kicking 10kg around? Besides, it was only one idea to help the earth ponies contribute; it's by no means the only one. The rest I plan on showing than telling.
Basically I just don't really see the need to change things as they stand. Maybe, maybe, I might consider adding in more explosives, but in the end it's not essential to the plot.
7427076 You do know that sports balls are designed to be inaccurate, right? If they are inaccurate then it is harder to make them go exactly where you want which makes it harder to play the game. They are also generally descended from simple objects and a time when precision manufacturing didn't exist so they couldn't have stabilizing fins or other advanced features like that, and are intended to roll at least as much as fly which is not something fins will do. Also, you can always increase the effectiveness of fins by making them bigger so it is absolutely possible to effectively fin-stabilize a kicked projectile like I suggested.
Moving on to armor, I think you need to go take another look at the BT rules, especially as they relate to infantry weapons and Area Effect damage (that is the AE tag in all the BT literature and my previous comment). 'Mech armor can be damaged by all kinds of very low powered weapons which have a lot less impact than a contact detonated 10 kg HE charge (that is roughly the same charge as a modern 155mm artillery shell). Yes it shrugs off low speed collisions, but HE is a very long way from a low speed collision and hits BT armor with a strong shockwave that will absolutely ablate it as seen all over the place in relation to AE weapons which don't have to hit the target to do full damage.
As for manufacturing explosives, what does that have to do with anything? They have plenty of modern BT explosives lying around that they can cannibalize for various purposes.
For cluster bombs, you really need to take the rules more seriously on that one. That is very much consistent with the performance of other weapons of all types. 'Mechs consistently suffer more damage from lots of smaller hits than one big hit, weather it is lasers, autocannons/machine guns, or missiles (Thunderbolt vs. normal cluster launchers) as would be expected from something protected by ablative armor so you absolutely cannot claim this is some kind of mistake. This is a very fundamental part of the setting and ignoring it invalidates basically everything about the way combat happens.
Uh, you are aware that 10 kg is 22 pounds, right? That was a generous kick weight estimate on my part even with their magic to help. A more realistic estimate is probably more along the lines of 4 to 7 kg, but 10 is a nice round number and the ponies do tend to get more power out of nowhere as the show progresses and the stupidity gets worse.
Just because something isn't essential to the plot doesn't mean you shouldn't consider it. Failure to consider these kinds of things is how you break immersion by forcing the readers to question the stupidity of what they are reading and seriously weakens the whole story. That is especially true in a crossover like this where you can expect to have quite a few people like me who are intimately familiar with both sides reading and will know when you screw up the interface.
"baited breath"
You are looking for "bated"
There is also an "alacorn" in there.
7428139 So you're basically asking me to rewrite this chapter and completely alter the story planned to come based on a few niggling technical details?
Because that's basically what you're telling me to do.
Rokas, you're here! You're back! You're still alive! XD Thank you for the latest chapter!
7429632 ...No, what I was talking about is changing some technical details in how the fight plays out to make it fit BT lore better. The plot won't be affected and there is certainly no need for a full rewrite, just a few little tuneups in material you (presumably) haven't written yet. The only tiny change you could make to this chapter if you wanted to is changing the last line line of that meeting a bit to indicate that they went back to talking about the nuts and bolts of everything rather than just the force distribution, but the way you ended it is absolutely open ended enough that it can be assumed if we see other weapons and tactics used in the actual battle.
Also, you really need to stop making these kinds of accusations. You have accused me of trying to force you to rewrite something when I am very clearly talking about material that hasn't been written yet before, and it is very frustrating because I am trying to help you work out the nuts and bolts of future chapters to make this story the best it can be. I'm trying to take the worst of the technical planning load off you by doing the research and number crunching required to reconcile ponies with BT in an accurate way so all you have to do is write it, and you attack me for it with these kinds of senseless accusations. It is extremely frustrating, and every time you do it you make me wonder more and more why I am still bothering to engage with you if this is the response I get for spending hours trying to help you.
Thank you for writing this very good story, i especially like the different mentalities, and the resulting interplay between those. Even if the "marveling" about human tech gets a bit repetitive after 20 chapters
But i have to ask, why is it that most Mechs in this story are one of the 'human body' like shaped ones, while there are so many more unique or interesting shapes and designs available? I would have at least expected a Timber Wolf/MadCat, or some other iconic oddballs
7430076
Have you ever noticed that many stories sometimes sacrifice 'lore accuracy' for the sake of more interesting scenarious or other benefits? It can simply be because an engaging and interesting conflict design is more imporatant than keeping in line with a number based system, which was designed to work with a table top platform to simulate a basic representation of fictional conflicts, and by no means owns any claim to being realistic or scientifically accurate.
But that aside, have you ever asked if he is interested in what you are offering?
Or if you even share the same view on the importance of being accurate to the table top rules?
Your 'number crunching' and table top accuracy could actually be nothing more than an annoyance and literary limitation to him, or simply be of lesser importance.
So please, before you get angry and/or he annoyed, ask.
The tactician in me approves of McKenna's plan. By moving the dropship, he uses his enemy's arrogance against him.
Again. :)
If the Desperados had taken the time to repair and restore their Mechs, the next battle would be significantly more difficult. Even if all they had done was re-armor the mech's legs, it would help against the coming close quarters infantry work. Now they will come in as damaged were, and the battle will be much more even.
I wonder if they might use the dropship in a final move, sacrificing it at the end of the engagement when the Desperados finally attempt to flee and regroup, bringing the dropship back down to block the Desperado's escape?
7430076
It would require rewriting because of two reasons:
First, the way I write is somewhat Markovian, in that what comes before dictates what characters do and keeps them in-character. I'm not sure if that's how other authors do it, but I've had entire scenes I had planned in my head that never got written because when I was actually writing the actual flow of the words and character interactions cause that scene to become incongruent. Likewise, making these changes would require significant changes to make it fit into the rest of the chapter, which, yes, would require a lot of re-writing, especially if I want to make sure I'm not doing too much of an asspull later on. There's only so much you can spring on a reader at the last moment, the rest has to be set up first.
Secondly, the feeling I'm going for here is taught desperation in the face of challenging, even overwhelming odds. BattleMechs are supposed to be these supremely powerful weapons—not without their weaknesses, but still, massive force multipliers. This is ridiculous in real life, but I think I'm being rather true to BattleTech's entire premise by having the 'Mechs be front and center in the fighting, and making the infantry have a valuable, but still only supporting role. Neither of which is possible if the infantry can kick around fin-stabilized artillery rounds.
Basically, this would completely change the balance and end up completely altering the forces at work, requiring a large change to the story as I have it planned.
I have tried to provide some "in-universe" reasons, but if you're going to be pressing on this, then no. I will not be changing significant portions of what's currently written and altering future events because of the rulebook. I love BattleTech, I love that it has so many rules for these kinds of things, but a story is not a game, they are two different forms of media and have different rules about how to construct them in a way that is entertaining to most.
I'm sorry, sir, but this time I believe you are in the wrong. I was willing to make a concession for more use of kicked explosives but you want me to basically change the entire character of the engagement by making infantry borderline overpowered by turning them all into artillery batteries that can fire point-blank and en masse. If you feel this is an overreaction on my part, then I regret you feel that way. If you feel you must break off relations, I will deeply regret that as well, for as contentious as some of our conversations have been, you have been a friend to me and I value and appreciate your input, even if I don't always agree with you. Whatever you decide, I wish you well.
7431128 This isn't a trivial detail. This is a very fundamental foundation of the entire universe. To put this in MLP terms for you, changing this is is equivalent to saying there is no such thing as pegasi or something similarly drastic. Everything in BT is built on a handful of major underlying assumptions, and this is one of them.
Also, most authors that write BT fiction, both official and fanfics, do literally play out battles on the tabletop (or MegaMek) because most people writing and reading fiction about a universe care about it and want to represent it accurately. Now, it's entirely possible that you don't actually care, but that's a terrible general assumption to make.
7433551 I have never said anything about the characters at all. What I have discussed here is purely technical details of what the most sensible way for them to fight is and how to interpret that in terms of BT rules. It is also important to note that the numbers I have proposed for those infantry attacks are not even remotely overpowered and in fact leave the ponies with both less damage and less range than just about any canon infantry unit so your claims there are complete and total bullshit. Even the more effective fin-stabilized shaped charge weapons would be less powerful than a number of canon infantry weapons even before you factor in the pitiful range and one-shot limitations. I think you need to take some time to read through TechManual to see what canon infantry can actually do before you start making claims about balance because this post makes it very clear to me that you are not even remotely familiar with it.
7433906
I honestly would never call a games ruleset its universes fundamental foundation. Without it you wouldnt have a playable tabletop game ofc, but without the background stories, timeline, tech descriptions and what not, in short mostly just called "lore", i would only have a ruleset with nothing to fill it. And thats the funny point, you need both to make a complex game interesting and to fill it with content due to it being a dynamic medium, but you dont need both for a story which is a fixed medium.
Now dont get me wrong, those rules can give you an understanding of what an object, say a Mech, should or would be capable of. But at the same time you are restricting your options, and the closer you follow a set of rules designed to work in the limitations of a tabletop games medium, the more your story will read/feel just like that. Its a question of personal preference if you want to subject yourself to those restrictions, or want your story to feel like a game session, if youd ask me i would rather read a story that puts more importance in the characters and scenario, rather than how some number compare.
Well that most people want stories to follow a games rules is a terrible assumption too. Ive only read two BT Novels, and honestly i cant even remember their names because nothing exceptional happened in them. But i do remember what two BT players once told me, "Dont bother with the Novels if you know the game, they arent like WH40Ks novels, they read like a sessions AAR with dialog."
So quiet honestly, yes i actually dont care about the tabletops rules, same as i dont care for the tabletop rules in a WH40k novel. If i did, i would have to bitch about some Imperial Basilisks lobing shells over reasonable artillery ranges instead of the tabletop rules few hundret meters.
7434372
I believe what D48 is saying is that the ablative armor is more than just numbers for the gameplay. It's been accepted as an integral component of the combat system to the point that its behavior designates entire schools of behavior from mech engineering, to battlefield movement tactics.
To throw it out and ignore it because it's 'game rules' or some other excuse just because you want to write differently is like picking up a Tolkien book and deciding to rewrite how magic works, because you want to see wizards have a tennis match with fireballs instead of using cunning and subtle spells. Changing how magic works then completely rewrites how everything else works, and how combat mage practice would evolve, changing everything about how war is waged until logic is decimated and you have plot holes the size of Sagittarius A.
The biggest casualty of the mindset of 'all for the sake of the story' is internal consistency. Too much attention to making the story happen no matter what kills the story because everyone is too busy being disgusted at how dumb the characters are behaving. When you sacrifice logic, sanity, intelligence, and sometimes even reach the point where you're making physics contort itself to force events and behavior a certain way, you lose control. At that point, the story is just a parody of itself.
You've got to understand that sometimes you HAVE to follow a rule. Not because it's a rule everyone follows and will be upset, but because that rule keeps the logic of everything else from collapsing. Battletech is a special case since the lore is based around the tabletop rules. Backstory, characters, politics, engineering. They depend on the structure created from those rules.
The mechs are usable BECAUSE their armor is the way it is. You change that armor, and you BROKE what makes mechs a viable weapon. Break what makes mechs a viable weapon, and the face of warfare has to change, or everyone is a complete idiot. Change warfare, and you change politics. Change politics and the interaction of everyone in the galaxy changes. Change that, and you alter your characters backstories and thus, their personality. Change that and you KILL the STORY.
Thus, you've destroyed the story while attempting to save it.
There's leeway quite a bit in many places. But sometimes, you have to watch out for the cornerstone of some kind of lore. It's a cornerstone for a reason. Just imagine how 40K would be if you decided that the Warp didn't mess with people's minds.
"Alright! Everyone on the Warp-bus! We're going to Cadia"
7433906
I happen to have the Tech Manual right here. And while I agree, infantry with modern weapons pose a threat, en masse, not so much with limited numbers of advanced weapons.
But let's say I listen to you about explosives and the rules for Infantry Combat. Then we get into the "Overpowered" aspect I was worried about. To wit: a Grenade Launcher—an infantry support weapon—deals .57 points of armor damage to armored targets (special rules against unarmored infantry). The shell for this weighs .45kg (Tech Manual, pg. 351, "Conventional Infantry Weapons", it lists 4.5kg of ammo as giving 10 rounds available). Multiplying this by 10kg, the proposed shell size, we get roughly 22 points of damage per 10kg charge.
It gets worse if you use the specifics for the Battle Armor version, the shells of which weigh .25kg (ibid, pg. 346, "Inner Sphere Battle Armor Equipment Table"), and do 1 full point of armor damage per shot. That would give us a whopping 40 points of damage per 10kg charge.
And you cannot say these are shaped-charge warheads, as those special infantry rules for grenades pretty much has the weapon do damage as if it were a burst weapon (Total Warfare pg. 217, "Burst-Fire Weapon Damage Vs. Conventional Infantry Table") even though the Automatic Grenade Launcher is listed separately, implying that the standard grenade launcher is not automatic and the "burst" damage is done by blast/fragmentation.
Looking deeper, in MechWarrior 3rd Edition (pg.173, Equipment), grenades are described pretty much as you would expect from a hand-held anti-personnel explosive, and do in fact deal area of effect damage as a result (ibid, pg.118, "Combat"). From this we can presume that grenades are representative of non-directed high explosive charges in BattleTech.
So, going by the rules, we are talking about 22-40 points of damage, per kicked explosive. And of course, it comes to question, which value should be used, since we have contradicting rules within the very same book?
BattleTech is a great setting and if I were playing the game, I would gladly adhere to the rules, as odd—and contradictory—as they can be on occasion. Because it is a game and those are the rules. But this is a story, and constructing stories requires a different approach than constructing rules to simulate fictional combat with giant two-legged combat robots (which themselves are entirely ridiculous as a front-line unit in real life, but hey, rule of cool). I understand part of the appeal of BattleTech fiction from many authors is the fact that they play games to determine the outcome. But I am not those authors.
I have not been strictly following the rules for the entire time I've been writing this story. I use the rules as a guide and to determine when I'm going too far out of line, and I admit at times I have made mistakes nonetheless. (I believe someone has mentioned I've been having too many reactor takedowns, and gyros are also a major critical slot, so I need to balance that more.) This time, though, while I can agree that the use of explosives should be used more than I have laid out previously (you did convince me of that much), I cannot and will not alter the entire mood and character of the upcoming battle—and many parts of the upcoming story—to fit a rules lawyer interpretation of how I should write this piece of fiction.
I could apply slavish devotion to formal rituals, or I can follow a lot of the writing advice I've looked at over the years, which amounts to "don't let the niggling details get in the way of the story". (Yes I know Stephan King said that, but the man makes a sh*tload of money, are you really going to say he's wrong? By what objective measure is he wrong? He is winning.* )
In the end, stories are stories. They have their own mechanisms and rules. I may not always apply them perfectly, but in this case, I definitely feel that I am in the right for not being too attached to exact interpretations of what are clearly abstract game rules built upon BattleTech's shaky foundation. (It was a "beer and pretzels game", with rules chosen to make gameplay simplified and quick, weapon ranges chosen to allow a decent-sized match to be played on a single or double mapsheet, not because of any real-life limitations.)
If this causes you to stop reading, then I will be saddened. But in the end this is my story, and while I do greatly appreciate input, I am under no obligation to accept any and all changes suggested, and what changes I will take to heart I will apply my own twist to it. I will write as I see fit, which is what I started out doing, and what made writing this story fun to begin with.
* = That was a joke. Mostly.
7434540 Mostly those explanations were off-the-cuff responses to explain away style choices, but I am not really interested in throwing away all the rules entirely. Rather I use them as a guide on what to write, and what is going too far. In this case, however, if you want to read the rest of this post, I've shown the rules on this are actually quite inconsistent and clearly were made not for internal cohesion but simply to render a simplified version of combat so as to allow for faster and streamlined gameplay. As such, ignoring or modifying it is not really the same as untying a sweater by pulling the thread.
So no, I am not dramatically throwing away everything BattleTech is based on.
7435760
I'm not saying you are. But it did need to be said to Vinx and said in a manner that makes it clear that the argument logic of 'story above everything' is clumsy and lazy.
People often forget that stories are more than just stories. They are events happening to characters in settings. You can't just ignore the rules of a setting and expect the story to be good because... STORY!
More to Vinx than to you, the setting, including rules, helps give the story depth. It lends credibility to the mental immersion. It makes characters feel real. To ignore it so you can 'do things your way for the sake of the story' breaks that credibility. It breaks causality. Characters become less believable. Common sense becomes questioned.
Imagine the classic mystery murder story. The lights go out, someone dies, the lights come on. Who done did it?
Fill the mansion with battery-backed night vision cameras. Well, video evidence showing the butler lashing out with a shiv... No mystery there.
Remove the cameras? Is the story in a modern setting? Now you have to present twenty million reasons why they aren't there. Or maybe the rich person never cared. But now the rich person's a moron when they're supposed to be at least decently intelligent. Never mind you won't have some pipe-puffing Sherlock Holms copy wandering around with intimidating accusations and questions, but a forensics team who's going to lock EVERYONE down and make Sherlock look like a trainee.
Suddenly you've gone from classic mystery novel to an episode of NCIS. The tone is completely rewritten. You don't have that classic mystery novel suspense. It's nowhere NEAR the story you wanted.
The setting, and the details that go into, are the foundation for which your story is set. Characters become load bearing walls. The story becomes the roof, completing the structure of entertainment and quality. It is ALL important, but you must remember that a bad foundation will bring even the nicest building down.
As a writer, my method for writing often involves wrestling with 'how can I get event X to occur around the constraints of technical detail Y, and personality Z?' It's not easy. Sometimes its downright grueling. But the payoff is spectacular. And sometimes, that really good idea that just wouldn't work? You just have to trash it. Good writing isn't easy, and it isn't quick at times. I understand how 'this is how I'm'a write it, and that's the end of the argument' goes. But it's always good to acknowledge a concern, review what you're doing, and make sure to find a way to address it without breaking stride. I've had long arguments with my closest readers over technical details, with compromise being wrestled from me after DAYS of back and forth. And all of us smiling at the result being better than before. Sometimes, the best of my writing execution has come only AFTER I've all but gotten into an internet shouting match.
Food for thought. Don't mind me chiming in. I came to see what D48 was going on about. He's a highly educated engineer and his mind tends to outright refuse to acknowledge technical wrongs. A creative personality clashing with an engineering personality like that always results in sparks. Luckily, I kind of straddle the middle ground between engineering and creative personalities.
7434540
I honestly don't know what his true intentions are, but it looks a bit pushy towards the author.
But that aside, after reading one of your stories, i was expecting you to be a bit more than the average self righteous internet crusader.
Honestly that was pretty much a waste of your time, as all your examples are exaggerated to a point of silliness, and don't compare the the scale of the previous discussion. But that's what you get when you only go on about extremes while ignoring the in between.
The previous discussion was about the importance of the following Tabletop Rule set vs ignoring them for the sake of the story or other reasons. I never claimed that he should throw out all sense of logic, or disregard an objects purpose, heck i would rather him follow logic and physics more closely.
That rule is called logic, unless you write something that is supposed to be silly and not taken seriously.
And on our beloved example of Ablative Armor, its name presents a rather good idea of what its supposed to do. I wont go into the details of ablative armor concepts vs threshold armor, as quiet frankly neither BT nor this story pay the physics or engineering challenges much regards. Nor will I go on about why mechs would be a rather bad locomotive choice IRL even with nearly perfect ablative armor, since we actually want to read a story with said mechs running around.
Now, he followed the rules dictated by logic, but he apparently didn't follow the Tabletops Rules Numbers. And considering BT's inconsistent numbers, im quiet happy for that, as those numbers are not based on any scientific calculations or reasoning, but are based on providing a balanced and engaging gameplay in the limitations of a tabletop medium. This gameplay is not existing in a text based story as you don't play it, you read it.
I personally rather read about how weapon X deals damage to mech Y's armor based on logic, in a graphical but rather vague description, leaving me in tension.
Instead of reading about weapon X dealing 100 damage to mech Y's armor 'CUZ THE TABLETOPS WEAPON SHEET SAYS SO'. Especially when the Tabletop Rules numbers often disregard logic for the sake of gameplay, or introduce fishy explanations to gameplay related factors.
Now D48 seems to not like them numbers very much, and claims that most BT authors run sessions with the Tabletop Rules for their novels fights, and apparently wants the author to do the same. Cuz the sheet says so.
That is most likely the reason why those two BT Novels ive read were so boring for me, with just a bit background knowledge about the tabletops rules i could see that this one whole fight was predictable because of Mech trading damage numbers, the only way it could have been won was by either violating the tabletop rules numbers, suddenly making the pilots aces with luck reincarnated, or by introducing some form of reinforcments with enough numbers. Welp, the reinforcements came as predicted, so the whole tension of the fight was for nothing, it was like reading an After Action Report.
I honestly see that as a good example of being to consistent and predictable, narrowing yourself by following to close to rules that were developed for a different kind of media. Or you could say its a good example why „the argument logic of 'consistency above everything' is clumsy and lazy.“
So yeah, i personally would have rather read about some other way to turn the battle, something that could not have been predictable by just knowing the tabletops limitations and number crunching...
7436128 I understand, and as I've said to D48 I do appreciate his concerns, even if I don't agree with them. I evidently did not handle them well and clearly I need to stop trying to make up stuff in story all the time to explain my choices, so perhaps I wasn't clear to him.
I also understand the setting. That's one reason I love writing in the BattleTech universe, because it does have rules for a whole lot of things. But as I've note, they can be a bit inconsistent, due to the game writers having to balance things for gameplay. That's not necessarily always good for story. Nevertheless, if anyone just ignores the rules to do whatever they want, that's also extremely silly. I use the rules to know what's possible and plausible, and follow them as much as possible and only bend them when appropriate, but they do need to be bent sometimes as they were not made with reality in mind. That might make me an apostate of the BattleTech fanfic community or something, but it's not like I've been greeted with open arms, either, so no skin off my nose.
I always do appreciate constructive criticism, even if I don't always react favorably to it; I have a personality flaw that I am working to correct. As such as I noted earlier, D48 did get me to think more about explosives and this argument did make me look up the infantry rules, so I will have a better understanding on how to apply the damage done by ponies kicking things (somewhat like the rules for ballistic rifles). But sometimes an author needs to put his foot down and stick to his guns.
And I figured you would have to come over from a link on spacebattles.com or something; I would've noted if the author of one of my favorite stories on this site had faved or commented on this story before.
Thank you for another great chapter. I thoroughly enjoy reading your fanfic and I will keep reading on.
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7480571
Thank you for the kind words. It's comments like these that keep me writing.
The only thing that annoyed me in this chapter was that everybody seems to have forgotten that they're sitting in a massive fortification on the side of a mountain, a nigh unassailable (if not impregnable) fortress that could likely hold a siege well until the Derparadoes had to call reinforcements and that's without taking into account the walking weapons emplacements that are 'Mechs.
Even without the several-metre-tall walking tanks, the pony's position gives them such a strategic advantage that if the Derp-troop didn't have air support they could probably hold the city until their supplies ran out and with the addition of the Dark Horse's 'Mechs and the firepower they can bring to bear O'Connell's merc's could be ground down to nothing before they even reach the summit.
Apart from this glaring oversight, which I can easily put down to the fact that McKenna is a MechWarrior and therefore probably not accustomed to holding large fortified positions (although the fact that Stonewall didn't consider it is a bit worrying for his tactical expertise and/or mental health), I enjoyed the chapter and continue to look forward to the next one.
I find it a little hard to believe that mercenaries could be this altruistic.
So, are they going to drop the 'drop ship' on O’Connells head? Because that is one of the quick and dirty ways I can see them ending his advance. Teleporting a reactor into the middle of his encampment just before it blows it's top is another. Oh sure it's no bomb, but the several hundred times lethal levels of radiation that it would dump on their heads would see them incapacitated in short order. You know, cause they would all be sick and dieing, quickly.
But yeah, dropping the ship on them when it's coming in at reentry speeds, because remember if it's crashing there is no need to slow down, would turn the larger part of that camp into a crater. So what if they can't leave after that? They get to live after all. Better than if O’Connell gets his hands on them.
7666738
Check the publish date; this was before the episode aired.
Also, that was an alternate timeline; it's entirely possible such armor was developed to fight Sombra.
7666981
You clearly don't understand that Applejack was using that particular word choice specifically to get Rarity's attention.
You're not very good at this, are you?