//------------------------------// // 1: Old Enemies // Story: Homeworld: Equestria - The Silent Hunters // by hiigaran //------------------------------// Another blast of magic struck the four-legged, insect-like creature square in its chest. Though the lone changeling’s armour absorbed most of the hit, the force had still been enough to knock it through the window of a nearby corner shop. Recovering faster than expected, the black beast emerged, ignoring a large shard of glass embedded in its side and tackling one of several royal guards that had it surrounded. Additional blasts were sent its way. Reacting instantly, the assailant took hold of the guard beneath it, tossing him at an incoming streak of magic. Falling to the side, the guard landed in a crumpled heap, motionless. Whether the attack had been lethal or not, the changeling did not care, instead focusing its attention on subduing the eighteenth guard since the start of the Canterlot invasion. A pair of guards sent volleys of attacks while charging towards their aggressor. Bracing itself for the next move, the changeling ducked low, sidestepping to the right. As one of the guards missed his lunge, the changeling pulled the glass from its side, slashing the pony’s left foreleg and throwing the shard at the other. The wheezing gasp of the unfortunate unicorn told the changeling it had punctured a lung. A second changeling burst out from a nearby second floor window, landing hard on the back of a guard attempting to retrieve one of his bleeding comrades. The guard discharged an involuntary spell, glancing the first changeling’s armour and bouncing off into a crowd of civilians running for cover, many of whom shrieked in terror. The rumbling of a collapsing building could be heard in their direction, with a thick cloud of dust thrown into the sky as it fell. Momentarily examining the rubble near the civilians, the changelings returned their menacing stares towards the last guards standing. The pair prepared to finish off their opposition, when a shock-wave from the nearby castle caught their attention. Seeing the black dots of their kind in distant parts of the city blasted away upon contact, they stood helpless as the oncoming front raced towards them. Obsidian jerked awake with a gasp, catching himself before falling off the bed. Taking some time to steady his breathing, he pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. When he could no longer hear his heart pounding in his head, the tension in his body lessened. “Hey, you alright?” a dry voice spoke up. Obsidian had not noticed the lazy buzzing of wings from his cousin, whose head poked into the bedroom. Despite the near pitch-black darkness, he could see luminescent eyes floating in the doorway. “I’m fine,” he lied, his gravely voice faltering. “What are you doing up at this hour, Void?” The silhouette of Void’s body came into view, as he hovered into the room. “Got a little thirsty. The usual with you?” Feeling around for his bedside lamp, Obsidian added just enough light to make out simple features around him, before sinking back down onto his back. “Yeah. Ever since I got this, however”—he picked up a letter beside the lamp and waved it about—“it’s become a nightly occurrence again.” “I still don’t know why you’re beating yourself up about that day.” “I’m not. I know I couldn’t have helped you, but that doesn’t stop me from reliving that moment, over and over.” Obsidian grew silent, before rolling onto his side and facing Void with a hardened gaze. “Every single event leading up to that point was because of Equestria,” his voice grew increasingly loud. “They put our Queen into that position. They forced us to do something drastic. Now they have the audacity to ask us to work alongside them? After what they did to us? To you?” “I’ve always found it funny how it seems to affect you more than it affects me.” Glancing at the piece of paper near Obsidian, Void continued. “Now, you going to tell me what’s in that letter already? You were so busy yelling about Equestria’s nerve or something, and I couldn’t get you calm enough to tell me before you disappeared for several days.” “I owe you an apology, Void. I just—I just had to be alone and clear my head after all that.” Throwing his blanket off, Obsidian sat upright. “You remember how Equestria got that Navy not too long after the invasion? Well long story short, they are expanding, but need crew. They used to be just a bunch of ponies and griffons, but apparently they’re trying to get zebras and even diamond dogs involved. Take a wild guess at who else they want.” “No way!” Void boomed, his eyes sparkling. “You’re going to go to space?” “Believe me, I was more than vocal about the Queen’s decision.” Obsidian rolled his eyes at Void’s juvenile enthusiasm. “I’m actually surprised she took my comments so well. Never spoken out of line like that before. But the fact of the matter is, she wanted to send her best, so if you’ll pardon my melodramatic sentiment, my gift becomes my curse. Seems we ‘lings have certain special talents.” “You’re. Going. To. Space!” Void squealed. Buzzing his wings in shorter, rapid strokes, he moved closer to Obsidian. “You’ve got to be buzzing mad to turn down an assignment like that, you drama queen!” Obsidian groaned. “I really don’t want to be near ponies, let alone work alongside them. What will the others think? One of their own, working for the very nation that starved us to near death! In any other situation, I’d be calling that treason!” A smirk grew on Void’s face. “Well, look on the bright side. You just said the Queen chose you because she thought you were the best, yeah? So why not show all those ponies how much better you are than them? You’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t enjoy being right.” “Sure, use your psychology on me, you little maggot.” “Hey”—Void shrugged—“it’s what I do.” Obsidian snorted. A moment of silence hung over the two, until a thought popped into his mind. “So what about you then?” “Eh? What about me?” “Well I may be gone for long periods at a time,” Obsidian explained, concern apparent on his face. “What if you need help with anything?” “If you’re referring to my dangly legs”—Void flew in a small circle to emphasise the lifelessness of his hind legs—“I’ve managed without your help for years. Sure, I’d have preferred to walk away from the invasion in the literal sense, but hey, I got some serious muscle in these wings now! So how about you stop being a grouchy ’ling looking for excuses not to go, and see this as an opportunity to have some fun. Make a couple of friends, or something. Or, y’know, find the silver lining and meet a cute little griffon.” “Funny,” Obsidian deadpanned. Void shrugged again. “One of us has to be. You’ve got the talent, and I’ve got the charm and good looks! Now go on, get some rest. You’ll probably need it.” Do it for her Several clicks sounded in succession as the locks on a small, black suitcase snapped closed. Its owner, a lemon-yellow unicorn, held a checklist against a set of candles, reading each line against the dim lighting. Running her hoof past each point, she double-checked and triple-checked she had everything needed for the next six weeks. Do it for her Devoid of expression, she took a seat at her small study, failing miserably at an attempt to hold a stoic expression. Because that’s what they do, right? What I’m supposed to do too? Gazing out of her window, she stared off into the distance at a large building, its red cross sign barely visible against the twilight of dawn. Fighting back the tears welling up in her peridot eyes, she repeated the same four words in her mind, as if it were her mantra. Do it for her Sighing, she placed her checklist by an envelope, printed with a monochrome symbol of her future life; a large outline of a circle overlapped by a pair of inverted wings. Positioned between the wings was Princess Celestia’s cutie mark beneath a smaller circle containing Princess Luna’s crescent moon. Brushing it aside with mild disgust, she watched the envelope fall, sliding along the floorboards until it hit the leg of her bed in the corner of the room. Her lip quivered momentarily, before she buried her face in her hooves. A knock came at the open bedroom door. “Glare?” “AAH!” Glare jumped to her hooves, the sudden motion sending her long amber mane into disarray. Wheeling around, she found a maroon figure standing in the doorway. “Dad!” Glare’s father approached, placing a hoof around the shorter unicorn. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was … Have you been crying? Are you alright?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” Glare sniffed, her mellow voice brittle and quivering. Levitating a nearby brush, she draped her mane behind her neck, letting it split evenly to either side of her withers before smoothing it all out. “I was just thinking about … about …” “Your sister is doing fine, Glare. She’s in good hooves.” Glare knew that was a complete lie. She didn’t need two visits per day to confirm that. Her father’s hesitation, the way he avoided eye contact, and his solemn expression were proof enough. Without replying, she moved away, rolling her suitcase out of her room and leaving it beside the entrance door downstairs. With a carriage scheduled to pick her up in the next few minutes, she sat on the couch in the living room and closed her eyes, focusing on anything other than the future. She could still remember the day she came home after another unsuccessful job interview. Her father and little sister, both of whom appeared to have been crying for an extended period, were hugging each other tightly on the couch. When they broke the news to Glare, when she learned a rare, physically crippling illness had struck her sister, she was utterly devastated. Every day since, Glare refused to let her out of sight, remaining by her side as her disease gradually worsened. At least, until the filly’s condition forced her to stay at the hospital. For several weeks, Glare would either spend her time by her sister’s bed, or shut in her room back home. Her father fared no better. With each day, the stallion appeared increasingly exhausted and unkempt—something Glare eventually noticed. After finding her father passed out from fatigue, she snooped through his papers. What she discovered caused her to redouble her efforts in finding a job, finally landing one out of desperation. Before she could relive additional agonising memories, a set of heavy hoofsteps approached. Her father was by no means overweight, but there was some purpose to each step. Opening her eyes, she saw him looming over her. Her father’s tone changed. “Glaring Light,” he began, to the mare’s surprise. She rarely heard him call anypony by their full name, and he knew full well Glare was not overly fond of hers. “What exactly was this job of yours again?” “An archaeological site in Saddle Arabia needed somepony to help with investigating ancient magic for a few months,” Glare parroted a well-rehearsed explanation and scratched her muzzle. “Haven’t I uhh, mentioned this multiple times?” “Hmm, must be my memory going bad. I think my eyesight might also be going as well.” Producing a folded letter, the stallion thrust the paper into Glare’s hooves. Unfolding the letter slowly, the blood drained from her face when she realised what she forgot to pick up off the floor in her room. “Uhh …” was all she managed to say. “Well? Isn’t this the part where you tell me it’s not what it looks like?” her father’s voice rose. “That you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for spitting on our family’s pacifistic values and choosing to go on some—some killing spree in space?” Unable to meet her father’s piercing gaze, Glare hung her head. “It’s … exactly what it looks like. That is a letter of acceptance from the Equestrian Navy.” Glare was on the verge of tears again. Blinking hard, she looked up at her father with glistening eyes. “I had no other option, dad. Nopony is hiring in jobs that could pay for Glint’s treatments.” “How do you—” “I’ve seen the bills, dad. You’re barely able to afford every other expense as it is, even with your second job. Yes, I saw your bank statements as well. You're supporting us, your parents, and mum's. All those expenses will run you dry in four or five months, assuming you don’t burn yourself out first. What then?” “Leave me to worry about the financial state of this family, Glare. You just focus on finding a job. A—a real job. I know you mean well, but this? No, I forbid this.” “Excuse me?” Glare stood, tears forming tracks down her face. “You want to forbid the best chance of keeping my sister alive? This is the best—no, this is the only opportunity I’ve had to help, and you dare tell me I can’t take it? Do you even love her?” “Watch it, Glare,” he threatened in a low voice. “You watch your mouth.” “I’ll watch nothing! Here I am trying to do anything to help Glint, and you just talk about ‘family values’ and choosing what you think is the safest decision with the least risk.” Glare looked out the window to find her carriage landing nearby, towed by four white pegasi in their trademark golden guard armour. “I know exactly where that decision will take us. What’s the point of family values if there’s no family?” “Damn it Glare, I’ve already lost your mother! I’m not losing you too! Least of all to this ridiculous pursuit of violence!” “I lost mum as well! Have you forgotten that? I was with her when they—” Glare winced at the memory. “No, I refuse to lose Glint, and if that means I need to do something drastic, then so be it. Here’s a newsflash for you, dad; not every Navy role involves harm towards others, and you know full well I detest violence as much as you. Now, you can either accept my choice”—Glare headed for the entrance door—“or not. My mind was made up long ago.” “I can’t. I won’t.” Glare’s father moved between Glare and the door. “Directly or indirectly, it doesn’t matter. You’re still facilitating the horrendous deaths of others!” “If you’re going to use that logic, the taxes you pay are indirectly facilitating those deaths as well.” “That—that’s completely different!” “Hardly! Now get out of my way.” “No.” “Move!” “NO!” “Fine!” Glare placed a hoof atop her suitcase. Her horn sparkled for a moment before both she and her belongings disappeared with an audible ‘poof’. A yellow flash was all that was left behind, before another flash shone through the frosted glass of the door behind her father. Reappearing outside, Glare dragged her suitcase towards the carriage, a determined look upon her face. “Glare! Glare!” her father shouted, as he emerged from the house, attracting the attention of the adjacent neighbours who peeked through the blinds of their bedrooms. “Listen to me carefully! You get into that carriage, and you’ll never be welcome here again!” Glare stopped dead in her tracks. Turning her head back, she looked at her father as if she had been slapped in the face. “What did you just say?” “No daughter of mine will be responsible in any way for the death of another,” Glare’s father continued shouting across the front yard, attracting attention from the occupants of nearby houses. “If that day comes, she will cease to be my daughter.” “So you go from not wanting to lose me, to downright disowning me? If I lose Glint by standing idle, then am I not responsible? By that logic, I won’t be your daughter in a few months anyway!” Turning back, she threw her bag in the back of the large carriage and climbed aboard, finding several other passengers already seated with their eyes fixated on her. Taking the last seat available, she watched her father shouting inaudibly and stomping a hoof in protest, as her home slid from view. Once airborne, her quivering lip gave way to choked sobs. Nearby, one of the other passengers elbowed another beside him. “Hey, check out the waterworks at three o’clock,” he announced, loud enough for every occupant to hear. A single involuntary spark came from Glare’s horn. Silencing herself long enough to make eye contact with the one who spoke, her horn lit up, surrounding herself in a painfully bright golden cylindrical barrier, to the major annoyance of everypony else within. She spent the rest of the flight ignoring several muffled shouts and hooves hammering against her spell. “Remind me again why we are in disguise,” Obsidian whispered beside Queen Chrysalis, both of whom took the forms of brown pegasi as they headed towards the small military spaceport beneath Canterlot. “Seems unnecessary if we were supposedly ‘invited’.” “Our dear Princess Celestia did not wish to cause panic among her little ponies,” Chrysalis explained, mocking the suggestion made in the letter Celestia had sent her. The smaller of the two figures rolled his eyes. “Of course. Stupid question. There’s always panicking ponies involved somehow. I’m guessing that’s also why our meeting with her is at one in the morning then?” “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.” The pair continued in relative silence. While Chrysalis seemed to know where she was going, Obsidian continued darting his eyes around, observing everything that moved, and everything that didn’t. The gentle rustling of leaves in the trees. Corners around buildings. The small tufts of low-flying clouds. These features, among others, were potential points of ambush for the two if this night were to be a trap. A pair of royal guards stood at attention to either side of a security checkpoint with chain-link fencing and barbed wire. As the changelings approached, the guard on the right stated, “This area is off limits to civilians.” Before he had a chance to speak again, Chrysalis presented a letter to the stallion. After reading the letter, his eyes widened, shifting between the disguised pair and the letter. Reading the letter once more, he beckoned a third guard over from the small office nearby and whispered something into his ear. Halfway through their hushed conversation, his eyes widened too. Retrieving a pair of lanyards with red and white ID cards displaying ‘VISITOR’ on them, the guards instructed Chrysalis and Obsidian to wear them while on the premises, before granting access. Continuing deeper into the docks via a path lined with office blocks and industrial buildings, the changelings found the area deserted, save for the occasional guard at his or her post. Obsidian noticed every guard they passed by had not taken their eyes off them for as long as they remained in sight. Feeling uneasy, Obsidian twitched his wings, ensuring he could still feel the throwing knives concealed beneath them. After a brief thought he was rather surprised neither of them were searched for weapons when they entered. Was that arrogance, or carelessness? He whispered once again, “What was that letter you gave to the guards?” “Celestia included it with the other letter she sent me, informing the guards of our true identities and that we’re expected.” “That explains why at least four guards are failing to follow us discretely.” Chrysalis hummed. “I only count three. I must be losing my touch.” “The one on the rooftop is painfully obvious, as is the one hiding around corners behind us. Any half-deaf ’ling can hear his hoofsteps when he moves up. Then you have that little cloud changing direction above us. Clearly he or she lacks basic understanding of meteorology, since cirrus is a horrible choice for that size, and at this altitude. Idiot forgot to tuck his tail in, too. The fourth I noticed in the buildings to the left. Third floor. Watches us from window corners, then repositions to maintain visual.” “And this is why you're my favourite bodyguard, Obsidian. I'm going to miss your astute observations. I suppose with you gone, I’ll have to put up with Skitter and Petrichor for a while. Ugh, he always reeks of mushrooms, that one.” Chrysalis scrunched her face at the mere thought. Turning a corner, she sighted a lone figure. “Ah, I believe that would be Celestia off in the distance. Her white coat and oversized posterior are unmistakable, even if she didn’t have that ridiculous mane and tail.” “I heard they’re fake.” “No, she definitely eats enough to—oh, you were referring to—never mind. Yes, I’ve heard that rumour as well, though none of my sources confirmed it. Care to give them a good pull?” “Just say the word, and I’ll wax them right off instead. Would make for an interesting obituary.” “What would you like your epitaph to read, then?” “Just two words: Worth it.” A moment of silence followed, before the two fought to contain their laughter, resulting in a mixture of snickers and restrained wheezes. Continuing their approach, they closed the distance between themselves and the lone Princess, dropping their disguises as they arrived beside a gangway to one of the Navy’s space-faring vessels. “Celestia.” Chrysalis spoke first. “Good morning Queen Chrysalis. I trust you found the docks well enough?” “Wasn’t too difficult”—Chrysalis inspected her own hoof—“I’ve visited Canterlot before.” The unimpressed Princess chose to ignore that comment. “Well, you and I will be taking a trip into orbit with the royal frigate here. We have several important issues to discuss, however I will spare you the details until my sister has finished with her duties aboard her vessel. She will meet us and the others on our flagship shortly after our arrival. Please, after you.” >DOWNLOAD COMPLETE >LOGVWR /HOME/EOH-TWI/DOWNLOADS/LOGS/3RDSOLAR/INTERCEPTOR/SEZ005.LOG > >INITIALISING … > >COCKPIT AUDIO/DATA RECORDER 5 >INTERCEPTOR, BLADE-TYPE >REGISTRATION: SEZ, CALL SIGN: LIGHTNING THREE-ONE >3RD SOLAR FLEET >9631.66257534246 GSY > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Enemy reinforcements emerging from hyperspace! Destroyers, maintain position! Marines nearing completion of colony evac. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Enemy light cruiser destroyed! Destroyers, concentrate fire on the Rancor. Bomber squads Thunder one through eight, engage the Daggers. Interceptor squads Lightning one through six, cover the bombers. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Marine frigs reporting all civilians aboard and heading away from the asteroid colonies. Torpedo frigs, assume wall formation between marines and nearest enemy forces. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Thunder five-four hit! Starboard plasma launcher inop. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Hyperspace signatures detected. Additional forces exiting hyperspace near marines. Stand by for updates: Four Daggers. All bombers, engage. Torpedo frigs, target weapons and provide fire support. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Fleet, Lightning two-two, request permission to break off. Hit and venting atmosphere. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Lightning two-two, permission granted. Dock with supercarrier Arbalest and await further orders. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Thunder one-one reporting hostile frigs are down. Supporting friendlies. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Additional hyperspace signatures detected. Two Vindicators. Situation update: Hostiles attempting to flank us. Bombers, take out their engines before they intercept Arbalest. > >WARNING: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION >LEVEL 2 STATUS REPORT >DISPLAY OFFLINE SYSTEMS … > >ENGINE 1: OFFLINE > >END STATUS REPORT >2 UNREAD WARNING REPORTS >7 UNREAD CAUTION REPORTS > >TRANSMISSION, COCKPIT >Lightning three-one hit. Engine one inop. Engine two peaking at seven-one percent thrust. > >TRANSMISSION, AUDIO >Marines successfully docked. Strike-craft, dock with Arbalest. All destroyers and torpedo frigs to cover their retreat and prepare for hyperspace. > >VOICE, COCKPIT >Perfect timing. Let’s get the hay out of here. You okay back there? > >VOICE, COCKPIT >Yeah bud, I’m good. At least—MISSILE, MISSI— > >UNEXPECTED RECORDER END >CODE 602: MALFUNCTION/DAMAGE Twilight sighed as she closed yet another of the numerous data recorder files downloaded from the battered fleet. Only a few hours ago had she been going over the research goals of a future expedition, when one of Equestria’s fleets emerged from hyperspace above her homeworld. As soon as she became aware of the situation, it took Twilight mere seconds to commence crisis relief efforts for the refugees of a distant race’s colony from the outskirts of Gehenna. Turanic Raiders. Even the name was enough to make Twilight’s blood boil. Back in the early days during the Harmony campaign, they were a dangerous enough race. With the ensuing power vacuum in the aftermath, these pirates went from mostly opportunistic preying on undefended merchant vessels, to regularly taking large fleets and armed installations by surprise. Though their technology hadn’t changed much, revamped tactics and larger fleets rarely left their targets intact. “Twilight dear, you seem rather troubled,” a voice rang out from behind Twilight, jolting her out of her analyses. The sky-blue holographic interfaces surrounding Twilight evaporated into the abyss as she dismissed them, and sought out the source of her friend’s voice. Little else occupied Twilight’s infinite plane of nothingness, conjured by one of the six ancient hyperspace cores she resided in, where she and her friends shared mental connections. A white figure appeared, shining like a beacon in the night, as the dark environment parted for the approaching unicorn. Rarity came to a halt in front of her agitated friend, her mane bouncing slightly as she surveyed the all-encompassing void constructed by Twilight’s mind. “You know, you could use a little decor in here,” Rarity began. “Anything unnecessary serves only to distract me,” Twilight stated bluntly, falling on her haunches and rubbing a temple. “I’ve been picking these logs apart, trying to gain some insight into the cause of these Raider attacks. Their ferocity has increased exponentially since the days of Harmony, and despite everything, I’ve failed to find a definitive cause. I’m sure the Vaygr have at least partially joined their ranks, but that still wouldn’t explain this spike in activity. A domino effect from some unknown raid? Collaboration with escaped members of that Gaalsien fleet? Progenitor artefact? It could be anything!” Rarity remained silent as her friend started pacing and mumbling other theories. Closing her eyes, she transported herself and Twilight into a construct of Rarity’s own mental creation; a perfect replica of the spa from her home town of Ponyville. Gesturing towards the water, she continued, “I’ve found that when one has too much on her mind, a session of relaxation works wonders.” Twilight’s pacing ceased. “I appreciate the suggestion, but what I—what we have on our plates can’t be solved with a virtual-reality spa.” “How about the real thing, then?” “Rarity!” “Alright, alright.” Rarity restored Twilight’s environment back to its original state. “Still, I think I speak for all of us when I say we could do with a few days off. I’m quite positive Applejack misses her family, and Fluttershy would surely like to check up on her animals face to face.” “And there’s a Wonderbolts show in a few days I’ve been looking forward to,” Rainbow Dash’s voice echoed from nowhere in particular. “Yeah, the view is great from here, but it doesn’t feel the same as being right there in the stands.” “Rainbow, you are a Wonderbolt,” Twilight called out to the void. “Your point being?” “Ooh! Ooh! And I’ve got a hot date with some hotcakes!” Pinkie Pie’s voice cut in. “It’s gonna involve looooots of maple syrup!” “See, Twilight? We could all benefit from a little break,” Rarity explained. “We’re no good to others if we’re mentally exhausted, after all.” “I suppose you’re right.” Twilight brought up several interfaces and began swiping away several objects on them. “I wasn’t making much progress with these intercepted Gaalsien transmissions filled with insults toward us ‘godless scum’ anyway.” Watching the last of her work vanish into thin air, she heaved another sigh. “I do miss Ponyville. Spike, too. How about we take three or four days after the meeting?” “Sounds like a plan to me. So long as I don’t catch you taking your work with you,” Rarity lectured. Before Twilight could open her mouth, Rarity raised a hoof. “Ah! That includes you learning to speak Hiigaran as well. Now then, shall we?” “Kushan-La,” Twilight corrected with a grumble. Opening her mouth again, she paused. “Which reminds me”—she turned back to one of the interfaces once more—“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up once I’ve sent this data to the Hiigarans. Five minutes.” “I shall time you,” Rarity’s singsong voice echoed as she faded from the virtual plane. Elsewhere, the other four followed suit. True to her word, Twilight finished shortly after and disconnected from her core. Feeling the neural bridge lift from her head and a pair of devices detach from her fore-hooves, Twilight’s eyes opened as her mind returned to the physical world. Warm-white lights brightened at a rate allowing the mare to comfortably adjust with her body’s prolonged exposure to darkness. Her hearing returned soon after, becoming quickly attuned to the intermittent hums, pulses, and groans of the ancient device. Popping at the minor pressure differential, her ears swivelled towards the airtight inner doors as they slid open. When the artificial gravity returned and Twilight made contact with the floor, she stretched whatever muscles she could to relieve the aches her limbs suffered from the lack of movement in a weightless environment. Ducking under the hovering console surrounding her, she made for the elevator past the compartment’s exit, noting the pounding headache and queasiness that ensued after each disconnection from her core. After many cycles of integration and disconnection since her first time aboard the supercarrier Harmony, she had grown accustomed to the somatic effects. As the elevator ascended to the core’s exterior, Twilight recalled Rainbow Dash being the first to try a core, and the copious vomiting that ensued. Whatever the cleaners were paid to return Dash’s core to its former pristine condition was probably not enough, she chuckled halfheartedly. Reaching the top, Twilight stepped off her hyperspace core, crossing a narrow extension bridge connecting it to the main walkway. At the far end, a sizeable spiral staircase led her underneath the densely armoured chamber housing the cores in the mothership’s crested dorsal section, and through a thick pair of blast doors. Outside, four guards snapped to attention on either side as the unicorn passed by. I’ll never get used to that. Don’t know how Shining does it, Twilight shook her head as she descended from a ramp onto a central, enclosed walkway suspended beneath the hangar’s ceiling. Heading towards the fore of the ship, she looked out the windows to either side, gazing upon docked craft spread throughout tiers and hubs in the massive cavern housing eighty strike-craft squadrons. Though many Equestrian fleets still used outdated Blade-type interceptors and Thunderbolt-type bombers based off designs provided by their allies, the Hiigarans, the mothership Aurora’s complement consisted of newer Wraith-type defence fighters. The tiny, spherical vessels inspired by Kadeshi swarmers and old Kushan defenders merely mounted simple manoeuvring thrusters. The craft relied instead on its pilot’s teleportation skills, plus three plasma-lance turrets below and to either side above the hull in a triangular configuration to take down strike-craft with deadly accuracy. Several experimental Shiry type bombers were found docked in one small corner. A stark contrast to Wraiths, Shirys were considerably streamlined, with narrow, pointed hulls and two short, anhedral wings, each fitted with an anti-frigate missile underneath, instead of plasma bomb launchers. Their powerful engines and thrusters, combined with hit-and-run tactics, made Shirys effective first-strike units. ’Fun to fly, easy to die’ was one test pilot’s description after a few too many ciders off-duty, referring to their manoeuvrability and lack of armour. The hangar had a distinct lack of corvette-type ships docked. The unique abilities of Equestrian pilots led to the phasing-out of the bulkier vessels, pushing former shielding crew over to larger, more valuable assets, while pilots bolstered the more effective fighter complement. Nearing the front of the hangar, Twilight took one final look at a larger ship that seemed out of place; a marine frigate. The elongated vessel sported a pair of vertical communications and sensor arrays to either side of the engine block, and a bridge just ahead of the starboard array. The frigate's most prominent feature was a pair of cargo containers with bevelled corners, normally housing marines and operations equipment. While the original design commandeered hostile ships by positioning its underbelly against a hull to insert teams of soldiers, this particular frigate was special. Painted white and emblazoned with a sun and crescent moon marking, was the royal frigate. Stripped of weapons and with a refurbished interior, it served a peaceful role as an ambassador’s vessel. Twilight hadn’t even bothered to inspect the frigate when it approached from Princess Luna’s flagship. She knew the royal sisters were to meet with the mares of the cores and several Equestrian Navy officers. With the seemingly unending list of tasks to oversee or complete in her core, however, Twilight still felt mildly annoyed at the request of her physical presence, despite its stated importance. After another short pair of corridors guarded by additional security crew, Twilight entered the top deck of the bridge. Her presence was immediately responded to, with the first crew member sighting her to call out, "Element on the bridge!" Those moving about or performing non-critical tasks at their stations to snapped to attention to acknowledge Twilight's presence in the hollowed-out, U-shaped command deck, including the mothership’s Captain one deck below. Twilight nodded back at the Captain, who resumed whatever task he was busy with at a nearby navigation table. Leaning on the railing, the mare’s eyes drifted to the nearby vessel Princess Luna commanded, framed by the large observation window. Kupaart Rozt. The Kushan-La name used by Princess Luna for her vessel roughly translated to Moon Ship. Shortly after the formation of fleets dedicated to planetary defence, Luna’s vessel became the flagship of the First Lunar Fleet, much like Aurora with the First Solar Fleet. While Aurora and the Solar Fleets frequently left the confines of their solar system, Kupaart Rozt and the Lunar Fleets remained nearby, ever watchful for threats against their world. Luna’s flagship represented both her love for Equestria, and the wrath against those who would threaten it. The vessel resembled a compass rose from above, though with flattened extremities. Even as Twilight remained fixated on the vessel, four artillery turrets on the dorsal ends of the longer arms rotated occasionally. Their gunners never took any chances at the slightest blip on sensors, ready to fire shells able to tear a clean hole through a frigate. Four smaller sets of rapid-fire suppression cannons mounted on the underside behaved similarly, swivelling around in blurs, and able to unleash a dense hailstorm that no strike-craft would emerge from unscathed. Only two turrets remained motionless. Centrally mounted above and below were Kadeshi-derived heavy ion cannons a sane aggressor would never dare to approach. Princess Luna does not mess around, Twilight thought. Between Luna’s flagship and using her moon as a celestial wrecking ball, Twilight’s view on the Princess was certainly an understatement. Invasion scenario drills and war games typically ended with Kupaart Rozt and her escorts performing a short-jump manoeuvre into the heart of approaching fleets; an unexpectedly aggressive tactic for the defensive fleet. Applejack appeared behind Twilight. “Hiya Twi.” Turning around, Twilight found the rest of her friends filing in through the door. “And here I thought I was the one who would be running late.” “We needed to … freshen up, as it were,” Rarity remarked. “I take it the Princesses have arrived then?” “They’re in one of the briefing rooms downstairs,” Twilight answered, motioning the others to follow as she headed down a nearby flight of stairs. “Apparently they’ve got some important information they’d like to share with us. Though honestly, I don’t see why we need to be present physically.” “It would simply be more polite, dear. It’s not quite the same to speak to others in the manner we have grown accustomed to,” Rarity explained, sighting six royal guards at attention to either side of a briefing room. “What’s with all the guards?” Pinkie pointed. “Ooh! Are we reforming another baddie? Is that why they’re there?” “Ugh, if it is, send me back to my core. I’ve performed enough of those miracles to last me a lifetime,” Rainbow Dash grumbled, slouching in mock exhaustion and practically hanging from her wings as she remained airborne. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Twilight knocked against the door. Sliding open, another guard stood facing her. After a quick nod, he stepped aside and allowed the six to enter, greeting them to the sight of a multicultural meeting. Their eyes quickly landed upon Princess Celestia at the far end of the round table, before widening at the sight of the one who sat beside her. “You!” Twilight growled at the guest. “What in th’ hay is she doin’ here?” Applejack stomped a hoof. Hovering above the other five, Rainbow Dash decided to add her two bits, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t—” “Enough!” Princess Luna silenced the newcomers. “I am no happier than anypony else to have the Queen of changelings aboard this vessel, let alone anywhere near my subjects. However, galactic events have not given us much choice in the matter.” “Well, well. This is certainly a most wonderful start to our little tea party,” Queen Chrysalis commented with unrestrained sarcasm. “Oh stick an apple in it!” Applejack spat. Chrysalis leaned towards Celestia. “Does the apple pony always speak in apples?” “Please have a seat,” Princess Celestia requested, her calm tone contrasting with her sister’s authoritative voice. Ignoring Chrysalis, and the tension in the air, she resumed. “Now that all are present, let us begin with a round of introductions. To my left, as my sister pointed out, is the ruler of the old changeling hive, Queen Chrysalis, plus King Goraidh the Second of the Griffon Kingdom, and Queen Zakiya of the zebra tribes. Beside my sister is Argos, Alpha of the diamond dogs. My guests, these are Twilight, Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy; the Elements of Harmony, and custodians of the ancient hyperspace cores. Joining us as well are Admiral Foxtrot and Commander Quasar.” Taking a moment to admire the white uniforms she had designed, Rarity quickly deduced that the platinum-grey pegasus with three blue stripes sewn around his sleeves was the Commander. The adjacent earth pony of a lighter shade wearing an additional star and thicker stripe was the Admiral. “This is an … interesting collection of guests,” she remarked, taking a seat beside the Admiral. “And no doubt you have many questions,” Celestia responded. “All of which will be answered in time. The galaxy is an undeniably dangerous place, and from the ever-growing reports we have received, things will only get worse. We have therefore spent the past year revising our space-faring military structure in response. However, despite our expected results leading us to believe we can create a more effective Navy, we have run into some problems.” “Primarily one large problem,” Luna continued. “While we intend on continuing fleet expansions, a major issue is of crew. Despite improving strike-craft crew distribution efficiency, the combined crew count of ponies and griffons has our numbers stretched thin, limiting our effectiveness and placing unnecessary risk upon the rest of our crew. For this reason, and that our Navy is here to defend our entire planet, we have decided to open our Navy to additional nations.” Zakiya was the first to speak up, her copious amounts of jewellery dancing as she moved. “To my understanding, your Navy has existed for over five of these ‘galactic standard years’, which I believe is approximately seven of ours, correct?” she paused, waiting for a small nod from Celestia. “If you truly believed the notion that we should all have a right to be a part of this Navy for the reasons you mentioned, why was this offer not brought up sooner? Why were the griffons your only allies?” “When your predecessor and other national leaders at that time became aware of our Navy’s existence, we participated in lengthy discussions to address the power imbalance concerns weighted in Equestria’s favour. Significant emphasis was placed on abuse of technology for espionage, or worse.” Celestia levitated a transcript of the relevant meeting over to the zebra. “To alleviate concerns and supply ample crew, we allowed the griffons to serve alongside us. Whilst we have maintained transparency, the offer was exclusive to the griffons to simplify communications and logistics. Of course, we must now deal with the complexity of involving several nations for the sake of providing an effective force.” Applejack raised a hoof, “So, guess I’m gonna have to say it then. Why changelings and diamond dogs? No offence to the diamond dogs,” she quickly added, maintaining eye contact with Chrysalis the entire time. “Tactics employed in space have bared far too many similarities to outdated ground-based methods,” the officer known as Commander Quasar explained. “While using the right types of units against the right adversaries provided an advantage, the outcome typically favours unit quantity, or results in significant losses to the victor regardless. Losses we have deemed unacceptable. Back in the early days of this Navy, the cloak generator technology Harmony’s fleet relied on became a primary factor in securing victory for the fleet with … minimal losses. Naturally, much research has gone into perfecting the technology.” Commander Quasar stood, delivering a small folder to each participant before returning to his seat. “In the last few months, the research division aboard this vessel achieved just that; a device able to sustain itself indefinitely while powered. Major efficiency enhancements have eliminated the heating issue of outdated models, and miniaturisation advances permit destroyer-class mountings. While our researchers were unable to overcome the psychological effects of small-scale fighter devices, single-burn devices in larger ordnance allow improved combat effectiveness.” “I recall that destroyer,” Twilight spoke up while flipping through the pages she received. “We classed it as a stealth destroyer and had the prototype constructed on the Aurora. ‘Amarok’ was the designated name if I remember correctly. Still, this doesn’t answer Applejack’s question.” “I’m leading up to that.” Quasar poured himself a glass of water before proceeding. “As mentioned, our tactics are outdated. This new destroyer will change that. The ability to remain undetected against forces many times one’s size allows us to secure more territory and keep crew safer. Plus if they can remain undetected indefinitely, they can sneak into the heart of an unsuspecting fleet, deploying troops into targets to capture or sabotage, the same way marine frigates operate. If the final trials of our prototype are successful, these destroyers will render marines obsolete, further simplifying crew training, distribution and fleet composition when combined with a multinational crew.” Pausing, Quasar took a drink, surveying his audience. “Regarding the acceptance of changelings, if we are to send a team to infiltrate an enemy vessel, it must be small, agile and discrete; a role perfectly suited to changelings. As for diamond dogs, you need only take one look at them to realise how effective they would be in scenarios involving significant physical activity. One diamond dog can perform the physical work of at least five earth ponies in engineering, or as part of a repair team. This usefulness extends to infiltration ops warranting a need for heavy weapons or excessive equipment. The fewer members a team comprises, the lower the likelihood of being compromised.” This time, it was Admiral Foxtrot’s turn to speak. The bulky stallion, adorned with multiple ribbons accumulated over his career, rose. “Stealth destroyers are obviously new for us. Each would require a squad of capable individuals designated ‘Infiltrators’, working similarly to marines. Our plan is to trial a squad aboard Amarok, comprised of a diamond dog, changeling, zebra, unicorn, and two pegasi, using each one’s strengths to form a more effective unit through diversity. While promising in theory and under controlled testing conditions, the real results of the squad’s effectiveness will ultimately come from the field. As such, future stealth destroyers will have varying team compositions our experts believe would form effective squads.” “I suppose if anything, this might improve relations with the other changelings,” Fluttershy commented. “I hope so, for everyone’s sake, but you need not worry about the political side of this matter,” Celestia reassured. “Now, before we take a quick break, I believe we should introduce our first Infiltrator.” Princess Celestia nodded to a nearby guard standing by the door, who promptly left the room. Escorting a brown pegasus into the room shortly after, the guard returned to his position. In a flash of green, the newcomer dropped his disguise and Obsidian revealed himself, to the shock of half the occupants. “It’s a darn infestation,” Applejack mumbled to herself. “Allow me to present Obsidian,” Celestia announced. “He will serve aboard Amarok upon completion of his training. Commander Quasar, as Amarok’s Captain, I will leave it to you or your subordinates to select the remainder of your future Infiltrator squad.” Quasar nodded. “I have a couple of additional trials to oversee in the near future, but I should be able to manage it myself, Princess.” “Wonderful.” With a smile, Celestia turned to the changeling. “Now, Obsidian, if you’ll kindly take a seat and remain here with Admiral Foxtrot, he will provide you with additional information pertaining to your new role. As for everyone else, shall we meet back here in about twenty minutes?” After a murmur of agreement, the majority of the room’s occupants rose and exited, leaving the Admiral and Obsidian alone. The Admiral’s piercing gaze on Obsidian continued until the door shut itself. “I have to admit, when I first joked about changelings serving in the Navy, I never expected others to give it any serious thought”—the stallion shook his head—“yet here we are. Right, I’ll stick to the point. Considering this is a unique situation we’ve never had policies for, my fellow officers and I had to discuss your future, taking your skills into account. The consensus is that the equivalent of a senior commissioned officer of Chrysalis’s hive can’t be trusted with a commissioned or warrant officer rank in the Navy. The decision has therefore been made to provide you with our highest non-commissioned rank of Chief Petty Officer upon completion of your training, along with a special operations rating.” “What exactly does this rank involve, as far as responsibilities?” “For you, the rank will mean nothing more than a pay grade. You’ve got about as much responsibility as a junior enlisted.” Obsidian remained silent. The admiral removed a piece of paper from a nearby stack of folders and slid it across to the changeling. On it was a table showing activities for different days over the course of several months. “Your basic training will be on an accelerated schedule, giving you only three weeks in which you’ll be expected to pass all theoretical and practical assessments with a score of ninety-eight percent. Fail any assessment, and you’ll be placed on a standard training schedule. Physical training will also be significantly reduced in favour of weapons training. If everything goes according to plan, your advanced training will also be on an accelerated schedule, at about four fifths of the full schedule’s length. Questions?” “Nothing relevant to what we are discussing.” “Well what exactly were you wondering about then?” “Mostly about what your Navy’s plan is for future changelings. I’m also curious about whether changelings will serve from the … other hive.” “I assume you mean Thorax’s one? Believe me, they were the first we tried to contact. They declined our offer on the grounds that their new ideals of peace and whatnot conflict with the Navy. The offer is always open for them though. As for our plans with you or any future changelings from Chrysalis’ hive, I can only tell you that for the time being, only a few will serve.” “Your way of monitoring us, I assume?” “Partly. Equestrians need to get used to the idea of working with changelings. A sudden influx of your kind will not help. Cultural clashes, bad history, we dealt with that when we started working with the griffons as well. Now for your training, I suggest taking on a regular disguise to avoid issues with recruits. Your instructors and key points of contact will know you by name. I also suggest using the time leading up to your starting date to absorb as much information as you can about the Navy. Once the others have finished their talks, you and your Queen will return home via the royal frigate. You’ll find reading material, along with your GCU, BPS, VMUI—” “Am I supposed to know what those abbreviations are?” Obsidian cut in. “Right. General combat uniform would be your standard camo. Doubt it’s of much use for you, but it serves as a mounting for the rest of your gear. BPS, or basic pressure suit, replaces the GCU when required. Due to Amarok’s design, its crew will use it frequently, so get used to that one. Their mag boots need some practise, too. You’ll also have the hoof-mounted VMUI, or vitals monitor and universal interface. First half of the name is obvious enough. The second refers to the device’s ability to interact with ship systems you’re cleared to use. You’ll find these with the frigate’s Captain,” the Admiral paused, sliding another sheet of paper over. “Here’s a list of all items with him. Bring everything on your first day. Any other questions?” “Not for now.” “Good. Now wait outside. In disguise. We’ll call you once our meeting has concluded.”