Falling Stars

by Rokas

Chapter 6 - Information is Ammunition

Occupied Zone
Manehattan, Equestria
September 15th

O'Connell walked alone outside the Red Skye, taking his habitual morning walk - whenever he was planetside – and using the time to think about the past week. He had done this every day since the landing, though as time passed and the emotions of the moment passed away he found his thoughts clearing on the subject.

In retrospect, he figured that his choice of landing zones was a mistake. A city was fine and good to acquire wealth and resources, and they had indeed found wealth. The creatures who lived here had access to gold, so much so that they still used it to mint coins. Hitting every bank they could find had netted the Desperadoes fantastical amounts of gold-alloy coins, and though it wasn't Germanium, it would do.

I made a mistake, though, the mercenary commander thought as he strode past a Phoenix Hawk standing guard duty. I assumed a level of technology that isn't present, and I had no proof of. Imagine, asking savages with a class B tech level for Germanium? I might as well ask a troglodyte for a trebuchet.

Still, the locals' level of technology wasn't entirely barbaric. Basic electronics and canned food had been recovered, though the former was laughably simple while the latter consisted of entirely vegetarian meals. Questioning of captured locals had confirmed that they didn't eat meat, and the mere act of asking them about it made several come close to vomiting. However, they apparently had farms with cows and pigs in the countryside, apparently just for the company of those animals. O'Connell was considering a small raid to nab some of the livestock, but he was more concerned with the lack of response from whatever passed for a power structure on this world.

That thing said it was a princess, O'Connell mused, remembering back to the initial confrontation. So a feudal society? Did we take out their leader and now they can't function, or are they too busy infighting to come after us? His concern wasn't unwarranted, as despite the one-sided nature of the first battle all of his battalion's mechs had suffered significant armor damage, and several had to be dug up and repaired from their impromptu burying. The air attack alone had nearly crippled several of his light 'mechs and the continuing insurgent resistance, while minor, was still something that waylaid their repairs and movements in the city.

O'Connell knew that another confrontation was coming, and more to the point, he was becoming aware of just how truly necessary it would be to win that battle, and the next, and so on until he had the locals under his thumb. In retrospect, I should have called off the attack as soon as I saw they weren't human, Garth thought morosely. I was stupid, starting a war on a planet with non-humans, who don't have the tech base to support our machines. We only have so many spares and replacement armor, only so much ammunition. Now we either have to crush the locals so completely that even scrapping half our 'mechs for parts – if it comes to that – won't hurt our position, or we have to find a way to get away from here and start dirt farming, because without our tech edge these things outnumber us too much even with our better equipment and tactics.

So his thoughts went as he circled around the park that had become the battalion's bivouac. No mechwarrior ever liked sitting aboard a ship, doubly so when it was parked on the ground, and even memories of the alien leader's fantastic earthquake hadn't stopped his men from camping out, albeit rather close to the openings to the Red Skye's 'mechbays.

And that's another thing, O'Connell thought. How did she do that? How do they fly? I've seen them use stuff that would be called "magic" by lesser men. The odd nature of the world he found him and his unit in was worrying, more so what the natives could do if they started wising up and using their abilities intelligently. So far they don't seem to grasp the idea of attacking an enemy's weak points. That will change; intelligent life always adapts.

Then, of course, there was McKenna and his troupe coming in with the JumpShip and a Mule-class cargo ship owned by the company whose employ the Desperadoes had recently left. Again, the civvies won't do anything, but McKenna... O'Connell had heard things about the obscure Dark Horse Brigade, and his second in command had done some digging while they shared garrison duty on Bluford. Covert ops specialists, deal in the sorts of dirty, suicidal raids that even the Successor States won't spend their troops on. And he's done it for almost thirty years. And he's profited off of it and used those profits to buy the best equipment he can find. All of these facts spoke of him being a superb commander, a man capable of being either a valuable ally or a fierce enemy. If he were loose enough in his morality, he'd be a great help in pacifying these miniature mutant horses, O'Connell thought, and then sighed as he turned back to head for the Skye. Unfortunately, the man has a reputation of affecting some sort of stubborn nobility. Gives mercy to his enemies whenever he can, refuses to take jobs that directly target civilians, despite those paying the best. O'Connell had personal knowledge of such jobs from the FedCom Civil War that had concluded only three short years ago. Pity Kat Steiner got the boot. If she were still running things we'd never have been forced to do security work for Foundation Industries.

O'Connell shook his head to return his train of thought back on track. So, McKenna's a stuck-up white knight wannabe who thinks that morals have any place in the modern galaxy. We'll see how he thinks when I've got this place under wraps and his only choice is to either join me and keep his unit safe by helping to keep the locals down, or try to free the little ponies and have them turn on him in hatred for sharing a species with me.

He stopped then, realizing that his musings had lead him to the plan of action he had been searching for since the landing. We've got to take the offensive, the initiative, and hammer the locals into submission. We take their capitol and destroy their will to resist, now, before our 'mechs start falling apart, before our numbers drop to the point where we can't overpower another one of those flying super ponies. Without the distraction of a two-front war, we can concentrate on McKenna's unit if he decides to stay on his high horse.

With this thought, O'Connell turned and scanned the area for a moment before his gaze alighted on the makeshift holding pen that held several of the locals. Most of them were larger males, caught and kept to do the grunt work of clearing up the mess around the Desperadoes' bivouac and the routes out of the city that the mercenaries knew they would eventually need. Several of them had been wearing clothes – clothes! - and seemed knowledgeable, or at least smart enough not to resist orders. O'Connell had thus made sure they were fed and kept away from some of the crueler soldiers in his company, knowing that rewarding obedience was a good way to start with governing from a position of power. He knew of some who would enjoy inflicting pain and suffering for its own sake, but O'Connell never understood that. Oh, don't get me wrong, he thought as he started to casually walk towards the holding pen. I love watching my enemies suffer and burn. But these things aren't good enough to be enemies. They're more like tools, and a smart man doesn't abuse a tool for fun, nor does he throw one away or break it because he's upset.

Still, tools can outlive their usefulness, too, O'Connell mused. But for the moment, these little creatures are certainly more useful alive. I suppose if the situation calls for it, living here for the rest of my life won't be too bad. Just so long as I'm the one on top.

With these thoughts, Garth O'Connell starting framing the new questions he wanted answers to.

---

Everfree Forest
3km west of Ponyville, Equestria
September 16th

“Hired?” Twilight Sparkle asked, utterly confused at the turn of events. “I... I don't quite understand.”

“Okay,” the voice from the machine said, sounding a bit unsure. “Do you know what a mercenary is?”

Twilight blinked a bit as her mind raced over definitions. “Isn't that an old word that means a soldier who fights for money?”

“Basically,” the voice replied. “A mercenary is a soldier who offers his training and experience in the art of combat in exchange for pay. As opposed to someone who would offer his service to a country out of a feeling of loyalty.”

“So,” Twilight said as she frowned in consternation. “You're mercenaries? And you're saying I hired you?”

“So to speak,” the voice said. “Look, miss, I think it's time to get introduced personally to one another. I'm going to come down and we can talk face to face. That sound good to you?”

“Uhm...” Twilight temporized, and then glanced behind her towards the woods.

“Your friends can come out, of course,” the voice said.

Twilight snapped her head back around. “How did you know?” She asked.

“That can be amongst the things we discuss,” the man in the the war machine suggested. “I understand that you don't have a favorable view of us if O'Connell's done what you say he's done. I understand that you wouldn't want to take me at my word, but that is all I have to offer now; my word that you and your friends will not be harmed.”

The lavender unicorn thought hard and fast, her emotions vacillating between surprise, mistrust, and fear. Then suddenly, a raucous bout of laughter sounded, and she glanced over to see Pinkie Pie and the tall armored figure who called himself Ivan sharing in some amusement. The other five armored beings nearby had no exposed faces, and their odd, two-legged bodies had a different language all their own. Or do they? Twilight thought, and she glanced over at Ivan and studied him as he stopped laughing and resumed talking to Pinkie about the last time he found a good restaurant. As the conversation rapidly and randomly turned to sports equipment, Twilight saw that although the figure had different cues, there were enough similarities to understand some basic expressions. The unicorn's sharp mind processed these quickly and then took another assessment of the other figures with Ivan, and Twilight felt she could vaguely detect unease and mistrust... But also a lack of aggression. They weren't tense, waiting to jump into a fight, merely standing back, trying to stay out of the way.

Twilight suddenly realized she'd been silent for a few moments, and she shook her head slightly before looking up at the machine again. “Yes, I think it would be good to talk. Face to face.”

---

James was already unbuckled when the answer came in, and he triggered the speakers again. “All right, I'll be right down,” he said and then turned the Highlander's public address system off. A few commands on the console before him rapidly put the 90-ton battlemech into a low-power mode, and he felt the war machine shift a bit as the limbs locked up.

Before he could finish detaching himself, though, a radio call came in on a private frequency. James didn't even bother to look at the communications console to see who it was; he just pressed the accept button. “Yes, my darling wife?”

“Don't you 'darling' me,” Rebecca's voice sounded in his ears, carrying her crossness. “Jim, I know you don't like scumbags. I don't like scumbags. O'Connell's a scumbag. But these things aren't human.”

“Does that matter?” James asked as he started detaching the medical sensors. “The true distinction of a person isn't form, but function, Rebecca.”

“Could you drop the warrior philosopher bullspit for a minute?” His wife snapped. “It was one thing when it looked like we could expect help from the Inner Sphere sometime, but now? Jim, we're stuck on a forsaken rock talking to freakin' ponies in some alternate reality, and you're getting set to put us up against an opfor more than three times our size based on principle?”

James thought for a moment before he replied. “Yeah,” he said, and then sighed. “Yes Rebecca, I am. And you know why.”

Silence met his statement for a long minute. “Some of the boys won't like it,” his wife finally said, her voice low.

“I know,” James said as he finished putting the neurohelmet on its storage shelf. He had switched the radio to cockpit microphones before replying to his wife's earlier question, and he made sure to keep his voice pitched high enough for the pickups to work. “This will be a volunteer job. Tell 'em that while I'm down there speaking to our new "employers".”

“I will,” Rebecca said, and then chuckled. “You've got two volunteers already.”

James smiled a bit despite the fact his wife couldn't see the expression from her Warhammer. “More like three,” he said as he reached for the radio controls. “I think Ivan's close to mentally fusing with the pink one about now.”

His wife's laugh was a pleasant sound to his ears, and James turned off his radio so it would be the last voice he heard until he was on the ground.

---

Twilight watched the legs and arms of the leader's machine become stiff, and she realized it was locking itself up to stay upright while no one was in control. Such a logical design choice, she thought, and the unicorn realized that this was the first time she had seen any of the curiously powerful war machines up close without being too terrified to observe rationally. The machine she looked at now stood on two legs, just like the pilots who operated them, or so the reports from Manehattan's resistance said. It had two arms similar to other beings that walked on two legs, but while the left did have a hand, the right ended in a large cylinder that had a dark opening at the end, and even Twilight could understand that this was a large, probably powerful weapon. Other openings and ports dotted the blocky chest and rounded arms, and the legs were massively thick for some reason she couldn't fathom at the moment.

Glancing around, Twilight saw that each of the machines was of a different design. Some looked more lifelike than others, but all were designed to intimidate either with aesthetics or with the simple presence that being large and bulky granted them. All of them, though, save the one that had frozen, moved with such fluid motions that the unicorn pony had to marvel at them, despite knowing what they were made to do. How can anypony put so much work, so much effort into designing and building such well-made machines whose purpose is to destroy and kill?

Twilight was disturbed from her thoughts as she saw movement coming from behind the legs of the leader's machine, and soon she saw a figure emerge from behind them. She almost gasped at seeing on the the aliens for the first time, so strikingly different it looked from a pony. As the reports said, it stood on two legs and walked with ease that told of a body designed to utilize such locomotion. Its arms swung almost lazily back and forth, providing a counter-balance to its moving legs, and while the head and torso bobbed up and down, the eyes of the creature bore down on the lavender unicorn with a precision that spoke of fine control.

Looking at the eyes, Twilight found that they looked small and beady when compared to a pony's, but at the same time they fit in with the flat, round face and fixed, side-mounted ears. A patch of short but well kept hair topped the head like a pony's mane, but unlike most ponies she knew Twilight saw that the creature's mane was a simple brown, albeit with streaks of gray running through it.

By now the creature was close, and Twilight found herself struck by the sheer height of the alien. He was easily more than twice her height, when comparing shoulders, and her head barely came up to his belly. Part of the unicorn wanted to back away in fear and caution, and in a moment of weakness she glanced around to assess her chances of escape. While looking around, though, she saw Pinkie Pie still chatting it up with the immensely large figure in the armor, and the ease with which the pink pony related to the creature, plus the way the others in armor gave them a wide berth, made Twilight feel a bit more in control of herself, and she turned back to look up at the alien commander's face. “H-hello,” she said cautiously as the being stopped a few paces from her. “My name is Twilight Sparkle.”

The alien raised an eyebrow at that, and Twilight felt a sense of relief in the confirming incredulous tone in his voice. “Really? That's your name?”

Thank goodness, their mannerisms really are like ours, Twilight thought, and she felt a bit more confident as she nodded. “Yes. Are you surprised at that?”

“A bit,” the figure admitted. “It's just odd considering it sounds more like an adjective or an adverb than a name. But hey, if that's how your people like to name yourselves then I can adjust.”

She felt irked at that for some reason, and Twilight drew herself more upright as she replied. “Well, what sort of name do you have, then?”

“I am James Isaac McKenna VII,” he replied. “I am the commander of the mercenary company you see before you.” At this he turned a bit and swung his arm over the assembled war machines. “We're one of the smaller units you can find, but where we lack quantity we more than make up for it in quality.”

“I'll take your word for it,” Twilight said. “What are you the seventh of?”

James stood still for a moment in thought before he smiled. “The seventh man in my family line to be named James McKenna, of course,” he explained. “Myself and the five preceding are all named after my ancestor, the great James McKenna, who formed the Terran Hegemony out of the ashes of the old Alliance. Of course,” James' smiled turned sheepish and he shrugged. “That doesn't mean anything to you, though.”

“Er, no, it doesn't,” Twilight agreed. “But besides that, do I need to use that full name?”

“I'd prefer you don't,” James replied. “You may call me James, Mister McKenna, or commander McKenna.”

“Ah. Likewise, you may call me Twilight,” the unicorn said.

“Twilight. Nice to meet you,” James said and then held out his right hand.

Twilight stared for a moment at the gesture, surprised at its simultaneous familiarity and strangeness; the latter due to the alien's shape. Still, she reached up and offered her right front hoof towards the hand, and James bent his legs so he could reach out and slowly clasp his fingers around it and shake it. Twilight could feel the strength in the hand and fingers, and she found a bit of admiration in that the being restrained himself to a gentle but firm grip.

The hoof/handshake ended after a respectable amount of time, and James stood up to his full height again. “Now that we're introduced, it's probably time to get to exchanging information about each other,” he offered.

“That sounds reasonable,” Twilight said, still feeling a bit cautious. “But perhaps in a more comfortable setting?”

“A good idea,” James agreed with a nod. “Would you like to retire into our ship?” He asked and waved back at the massive spheroid object sitting on top of a scorch mark in the grass. “Or would you prefer to pick a location? Perhaps somewhere away from my soldiers so you won't feel coerced standing under their guns?”

Twilight felt another run of surprise at that offer, and again she found herself contrasting the entirely different approach these aliens had versus O'Connell and his group. I wonder if he's genuine, or is he merely trying to get my guard down? Twilight thought in silence for a while, but finally she nodded her head. “If you don't mind, I'd prefer we go back to our town. Without your men following, of course.”

“Of course,” James replied with a nod. “Although, as a precaution, I would insist that I be accompanied by two others, and that we retain our personal firearms,” he said, and then patted an oddly-shaped bag or container of some sort attached to his body by a harness. “Trust is a valuable commodity after all, and only a dumb merc gives it away for free.”

The unicorn frowned at the odd word. “What are "firearms"?” She asked.

James blinked at the question. “Your people have ranged weapons, right?” He asked.

“Well, some,” Twilight replied. “Catapults, arrows, I think.” She blushed at that. “It's not really my field of study.”

“I see,” James said, and Twilight suppressed a shiver as the gloomy tone in his voice. “So you don't have something like this?” He slowly and openly reached up to the bag, and then undid a flap on it. Twilight watched him pull out a strangely shaped metal object that was shaped to fit a hand like his own. He laid it out across a palm and lowered the hand so she could see it clearly. Twilight inspected it visually, deciding now was not the time to try and take something from this large creature, and she noted the object was made of several parts that looked like they would move against one another when used. A lever inside a guard positioned right where the hand of a holder would allow a single finger to slip in was the obvious trigger, and the long top of the device ended in another circular hole that marked it as a weapon.

“No,” Twilight finally said, shaking her head a bit as she pulled her mind back from her observations. “We have no weapons like that.”

“Then it's no wonder O'Connell decided to attack,” James said as he returned the device to its holding place. “It's called a firearm, a pistol to be exact. We have different versions now, but the one I carry is based on the original concept of using a small amount of chemical explosives to propel a small piece of metal towards someone you wish to harm.”

“How awful,” Twilight said, feeling a bit uneasy.

“It's no worse than using a bow and arrow,” James replied evenly. “Just more efficient.”

“Why would you want to be more efficient at hurting others?” The unicorn asked in confusion and disgust.

James looked at her for a moment before he shrugged. “That's a long story,” he said. “But the simple matter is, humans like myself are not so strong, individually. We make up for it by fashioning weapons and machines to help us.”

“But to hurt or kill?” Twilight asked, still bewildered. “Why?”

Now the human looked confused. “Don't you have any crime here?” He asked.

“Well, yes,” Twilight answered, blushing a bit at the admission. “Nopony's perfect, so some make mistakes.”

“Yes, nobody is perfect,” James said, and Twilight took note of his version of the all inclusive pronoun. “Where I come from, that means that some people decide that they don't want to behave properly. Worse, they refuse to listen to others, and get violent so they don't have to obey the law, forcing good people to become violent to stop them. Humans are stubborn when we set our minds to something, and that goes for making bad choices as well, so some people escalate the violence up until it becomes kill or be killed.”

Twilight took a step back at that as she felt her fear returning. “You kill each other so readily?” She asked.

James scowled at that. “Sometimes. It's not something most of us want. In fact I'd go so far as to say that ninety-nine point nine percent of humans don't want to kill anyone unless forced into it. But it's that point one percent that ruins it for everyone else.” He paused, and then sighed. “Unfortunately, governments are run by people, too, and that means that wars happen as well for much the same reasons.

“Which is, of course, where mercenaries like my soldiers and I come in,” James added, deciding to try and move the conversation back on track. “No, no one is perfect. But some of us at least try to aim for it. Which is why I'm here, offering my help to correct the wrongs O'Connell's perpetrated. To make up for my imperfections that allowed such terrible things to happen.”

A silence fell between them as Twilight considered the human's words. Part of her simply wanted to reject the human and his words, to turn and run and leave their twisted ideas behind. Yet even as she thought this, her mind went back to the last two years of her life, and she admitted that sometimes it took force to make some ponies to see reason. Never death, though, the other part of her consciousness protested. You never killed anypony. Even of the two worst, you redeemed Nightmare Moon back into Luna, and Discord was simply imprisoned again in stone.

Yet how is that not alike in killing? Twilight fought hard to suppress a shudder as she felt a wave of uncomfortable truth cresting over her mind. Luna became a new pony, Nightmare Moon, the same way any one of us would change over time. She became angry and powerful and wanted to enforce her will on all of us, and we refused, and we fought. Maybe not with physical violence, but we did attack who she had become, and turned back the clock on her personality, essentially destroying the one that called itself Nightmare Moon.

And Discord? He was imprisoned in stone for over a thousand years. And then when he got loose we put him back against his will. Is Celestia ever going to let him go, or will he be forced to spend eternity bound in stone? And if so, how is that any better than death, being unable to do anything? Just sitting there while the world goes by ignoring you... It would be enough to drive a pony mad. Death would almost be a mercy at that point.

Twilight couldn't suppress the shudder this time as her own honesty forced her to admit that ponies weren't exactly perfect either. We don't kill, but destroying a personality to replace it with one we prefer? Eternal imprisonment? Are we any better than O'Connell, willing to do whatever is necessary just to get what we want?

“Twilight?” A voice asked behind her, and the unicorn turned around to see both Applejack and Rainbow Dash cautiously approaching her. “Are you alright, sugarcube?” The orange earth pony asked in concern.

The lavender unicorn paused for a moment, and then nodded. “I am,” she said, and then turned around to face the human again. “I'm sorry, commander,” she said, suddenly feeling that the title alone would suffice for now. “I just needed to think. I suppose you might be just whom we need after all.”

James nodded at her words. “Then I hope my provisos for traveling to your town are acceptable? Just myself and two men, but we must be allowed to at least have our sidearms.”

“Yes, that will be fine,” Twilight agreed with a nod.

“Now wait a minute darlin',” Applejack interjected. “We kinda heard everything from the woods. You sure you want to let some big ugly things like them into Ponyville carrying any sort of weapon?”

“Yeah, how do we know we can trust 'em?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“How can we trust ourselves?” Twilight asked quietly. The confused looks her friends gave her caused the unicorn to shake her head. “I think it's only fair, considering that they're going to be surrounded by ponies. Especially ponies of the new army that the princess is sending and should be there any time now.”

Both of her friends continued to give the lavender unicorn a befuddled look, but after a moment of thought Applejack nodded. “Alright Twi. I hope you know what you're doing.”

“So do I,” Twilight admitted, and then turned to nod to James. “Alright, mister McKenna, we can go whenever you are ready.”

James nodded solemnly to her. “Of course, miss Twilight,” he said, new found respect in his voice. “Just let me and the two men I plan to take with change our clothes into something more fitting and we'll be on our way.”

Comments

[Neratur]

There is no real reason except there is no comment for this chapter why I'm writing this. And beware I'm watching your story.
5e.img.v4.skyrock.net/5e6/gristricote/pics/3037209479_1_3_w5Ohjdzz.jpg

[Nammi-namm]

I like making comments on uncommented chapters too, but I'm apparently too late for that now

[phantom360]

Information is ammunition... I see what you did there .

[Dances With Unicorns]

“Now wait a minute darlin',” Applejack interjected.

http://mlp.wikia.com/wiki/Applejack

Mannerisms

Applejack speaks with a Southern American accent, a thick southern drawl, similar to the accent of the southwestern Missouri and Oklahoma Ozarks, where there is a great number of apple orchards. In numerous episodes, she refers to members of her friends and family as "sugarcube" as a sign of affection.

http://mlp.wikia.com/wiki/Rarity

Development and design

Lauren Faust was inspired to create Rarity by her childhood toy G1 poniesGlory and Sparkler.[2] Rarity uses Glory's color scheme, Sparkler's cutie mark and appearance, and some mannerisms of G3 Rainbow Dash, like the Trans-Atlantic English accent and a tendency to flip her mane and say "darling".

The cannon Applejack would say, “Now wait a minute sugarcube,” Applejack interjected.