//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 // Story: An Alloyed Hope // by computerneek //------------------------------// She rockets across the sky.  Her destination is many miles ahead- but the spells on her Royal Armor- thank Celestia she hadn’t had to ditch it!- are helping her with navigation.  Thus, she’s certain she’s flying straight towards Canterlot. Something appears in her visual field- something she realizes is part of her new helmet, which had closed as she left.  A projection, much like a unicorn one. It shows her a nondescript pony- clearly a placeholder, given its non-expression and non-motion- using the weapons she’d stuck on. All the long black things- each and every one.  It uses interesting symbols to show range- for example, with the big giant one she plans on unleashing against Canterlot’s attackers, it shows a snow-capped mountain… No, an entire snow-capped mountain range, with the arrow trajectory- drawn in a dotted line- curving smoothly overtop. That thing’s got some range.  Accuracy, however…  Well, presumably it’s acceptable at over-the-range distances, so it ought to be at least decent at a couple dozen kilometers, whenever Canterlot comes into view. Then, it changes pattern.  At one side of the projection, it shows the pegasus figure, wings raised- and is pointing out the various pointy new cylinders.  Perhaps now she’ll find out what they are? She watches its quick demonstration of how to use them- and then, what will happen when she does.  It shows the pegasus banking away while the spear twists off on another heading, to locate a crowd of…  nondescript objects, where a fireball is shown. Then, that pegasus shows up again, wings outstretched- and it starts telling apart the four sizes, linking them not to different distances but to differently-sized fireballs…  Probably relative. The ones on the back, link not to a fireball, but to a mushroom-shaped cloud evidently many times larger than the largest of the fireballs. So, they’re some kind of explosive weapon, huh?  Like the black powder used to fire a cannonball, somehow embedded within the cannonball itself?  That won’t be hard to use- and should be convenient, for taking down enemies she doesn’t want to bother pointing a different weapon at; apparently, she doesn’t even have to point these at anything- they’ll maneuver themselves into attack position! Canterlot, here I come. General accelerates rapidly to maximum velocity.  I had suspected earlier that her existing armor has some magical acceleration to it; back in the Concordiat, even a sprinter can rarely outrun a power-armored Marine, yet she outpaced Sergeant by almost double.  Now, I am virtually certain her armor contains some accelerative function; the motions she is making, according to simulations, should have her flying at only Mach 1.39, but she’s easily outpacing my drones at Mach 5.13.  I send them both following her at maximum velocity; I will maintain signal as long as possible, in case extra missile support is required. She may have 100-ton weapons, but she only has two; I have almost twenty. That’s not even counting my smaller missiles (down to 5-ton), or my bigger missiles (up to 35-kton fission warheads). I have not yet manufactured anything for my Heavy VLS; unfortunately, I do not have the resources to do so just yet.  Fusion 11 may allow me to transmute materials, but it is slow; I have only been able to manufacture so many missiles so quickly because of their high iron content- and the iron vein I spotted a week ago, fully replenishing my stocks of that particular resource.  I am now running low on this as well; the mineral-depleted soil I took aboard is also depleting, though only slowly, through Fusion 11. I have the plant operating at capacity. 1.439 hours after launch, General crosses the horizon from my furthest drone, officially dropping out of range. How long had she been flying?  She doesn’t know- but apparently, it was too long.  Canterlot has finally come into view- but her strangely zooming vision offers her images not of fighting, but of defeat.  Canterlot has already fallen. She watches as the last few ponies in the city die. Hopefully, the palace guards have managed to keep them out for long enough- and her sister is still alive.  If so… She adjusts her own trajectory with finicky precision, even at this velocity, to smash in for a landing, right through the throne room window. Then, as she looks, her still zooming vision allows her to find the throne room as completely empty.  No marks of a battle- no ponies. Celestia is not there. So she shifts her search- and trajectory- to the balcony on Celestia’s bedroom.  Here… Too late for simple thinking- it’s time to start braking for the landing, and her vision is no longer zooming.  It takes her two seconds, then she smashes straight through the door, landing hard on the floor. Two minotaurs and a centaur look at her for a moment too long.  They’re close enough- and she’s angry enough- she doesn’t even bother going for her weapons.  A couple quick blows and they’re all flying out the new hole in the wall. Now, a brief glance shows the rest of the room devoid of opponents- and she searches for Celestia. She doesn’t have to search for long. The bloodstained sheets tell a tale all their own. So do the chopped-off feathers scattered across them and the floor. And the sword and armor, still resting calmly on their pedestals, tells the story of how it happened. Princess Celestia, her beloved sister, is dead. She hadn’t even tried to fight. Luna collapses to the floor, armor and all, and cries. “Is…  Is she okay…?” Her normally fluffy mane hangs straighter than a ruler.  She can’t even bring herself to look. “We…  We’ve done all we can.” She can’t even blink the tears out of her eyes.  She could still see her. “Will she survive?” She could still see the mare she had lost.  The friend. “I…  I don’t know.” The one that had been knocked out of the teleport stream midway. “Is there anything I can…?” The one with the wild mane. “She’s lost the will to live.” The one that had inadvertently given her her cutie mark before they’d even met. “Why…?” The one that she had enjoyed so many parties with. “She lost something, but we don’t know what.” And so many non-parties. “Her sister.” Yes, her sister, in many ways. “...  That would do it.” In every way that matters. “Could Cadence help?” In every way she never could be again. “She’s in shock.  The Princesses are lost.” Oh, and there’s that one, too. “What the-!?” She could never hold a party again. “What’s wrong?” She could never laugh again. “That wasn’t your fault, you know.” She could never even smile again. “Are…  Oh no!” She has lost her reason to live.