//------------------------------// // 16: Radiation (Part 2) // Story: Homeworld: Equestria - The Silent Hunters // by hiigaran //------------------------------// “Glare! Glare!” The unicorn could barely hear the muffled voice through the ringing in her ears. Her blurred double vision hadn’t helped either, though she felt herself being dragged momentarily, before the sensation stopped. Despite her disoriented state, she attempted to stand, before being gently pushed back by the black figure above her. “No,” the voice spoke up, slightly clearer than before. “Let’s keep you still until we’re sure you’re okay.” “Obsidian? What—what happened?” Glare coughed, realising the fumes of something burning nearby was irritating her lungs. “You saved our lives, that’s what happened. Your little light glyph spell managed to work just before we hit the ground.” Glare’s vision began to focus. “How did I manage that? I’ve never been able to make it strong enough to withstand much.” “I may have assisted with the potency of your spell.” Wincing, Obsidian moved around and started gently prodding Glare’s neck. “What’s wrong? You okay?” “Well, you know how your spell burned the floor when I, uhh, overcharged it aboard Amarok? I think I got a few second degree burns. The others? Well, you’ll have to see for yourself. Sparky looks like an oversized mole rat with all his fur burned off, but I think his thicker skin saved him from the fate of the others.” While Obsidian continued to inspect the unicorn, Glare tensed up. “Wait, they’re not—” “No, no. Their burns are slightly worse, that’s all. I think they’ve used up all the burn gel and dressings we’ve got. And before you get too worried”—Obsidian quickly added, feeling the tension in Glare increase—“every follicle on your body appears intact. I’m guessing you’re immune, or at least resistant to your own spell.” Glare only tensed up more. “Uhh, Obsidian? I think you might be getting a little too grabby with my horn the—OUCH, oww, what was that for?” Obsidian took a step back and sat on the ground. “Well, the good news is, you don’t appear to have any significant injuries, and your VMUI isn’t showing anything internal. I’m no medic, but I’m pretty sure you just channelled a little too much magic through that horn of yours.” “And the bad news?” “I don’t have any medication that would help alleviate your symptoms. You’ll probably be stuck with a nasty migraine for a few hours. Anyway, the others are holed up nearby. Shadow has already let Amarok know we’re still alive. I’ve also informed them that if I find the genius who gave us this brilliant mission, I’ll make sure they never have foals again. Now, can you move on your own?” “I think so.” Glare got to her hooves shakily, only to fall face-first into the dirt. Spitting out some soil, she mumbled incoherently. “Right, you’re still disoriented. Come on.” Obsidian lifted Glare and draped her across his back, ignoring the stinging of his burns. Moving away from the debris-filled crater still containing a few dying flames, he took the unicorn to the rest of the group sheltered in one of the smaller, more intact buildings across the street. Entering, he found the rest of his team sitting around a small pile of their equipment, salvaging whatever they could from the charred or battered remains, and sorting the usable from the unusable. Swift was the first to look up. “Aww, no fair! Glare did this to us, yet she ends up untouched?” “She saved your life, chicken wings,” Obsidian snapped, depositing the unicorn nearby. “You should be thanking her.” “Easy for you to say”—Shift pointed at the changeling with a featherless wing, bandaged to match the rest of his body—“since you’ve got no fur.” “And therefore I had the least amount of insulation, so stop whining,” Obsidian barked at the pegasi, their attitudes starting to get on his nerves. Ensuring Glare was comfortable, he moved towards the equally bandaged zebra, muttering, “I would have thought mummifying them with the dressings would shut them up. How’s our inventory looking, Shadow?” Shadow hummed, a slight frown on her face. “Could be worse. Most of our rations survived, but the munition and camping crates suffered the most damage. Our Jait looks badly damaged, but I might be able to repair it. We’re down an LR-four-eight and six-eight, though. That leaves us with a six-eight, nine-eight, plus three four-eights. Given our current states though, I’m more concerned about how we will carry everything else. I expect our blistering to be light, but painful enough from chafing to be a hindrance while carrying equipment.” “Here’s hoping the medication is as good as it claims to be. Right, so what’s the plan? What did Amarok have to say?” “Our objectives haven’t changed, so we’ll take a quick rest, monitor our symptoms, and act accordingly.” Looking towards the unicorn, Shadow raised her voice. “Glare, once you’re ready, take your equipment from the crate over there, and see how much extra you can carry, with and without magic. We’ll need to know how to distribute everything else.” “Okay.” Glare rolled onto her back. The world still spun around her, though not as intensely as it did earlier on. “I think I’ll be fine in a bit.” “Obsidian, as you’re now our only flight-capable member, I’ll need you to check the perimeter and confirm it’s secured. See if anything nearby needs to be marked for orbital strike while you’re at it, and figure out which direction we should head in first. Take whatever equipment you need, but I’ll need you mobile.” Obsidian nodded, and immediately rummaged through the crates, donning his helmet and GCU, which had rearranged into grey, urban camouflage patterns. Securing a pulsar carbine, along with his side bags, he grimaced as his equipment caused the uniform to rub against his body with each hoofstep. Once outside, he inspected the immediate surroundings and took flight. Shadow watched until the changeling was out of sight, and turned to the remaining members of her team. “Swift, Shift, since you’re grounded, I’ll need you both carrying extra equipment,” she continued, waiting for the groans of protest to stop. “Sparky, your role for this mission has changed. I’ll need you to work with Obsidian and myself for the scouting team. Glare, you, Swift and Shift will bring up the rear. Move up with us when safe to do so, and keep an eye on our backs.” Obsidian hissed as he pushed through the burning pain in his wings, closing the last few metres between himself and the roof of the building. Perching himself at the corner, the office block provided a decent vantage point that revealed no immediate dangers. Though he did not have the chance to fully analyse his surroundings earlier, he found himself inspecting the finer details beyond the drab, crumbling buildings, all of which lacked intact panes of glass. A perimeter of empty land surrounded each building, with tufts of tan-brown grass dead between patches of mud. Beside some buildings stood the occasional tree, leafless and lifeless. Others had their land bordered with what was once shrubbery. Littered sparsely in random locations were the skeletal remains of the planet’s inhabitants, partially buried in the ground. Their structure seemed similar to many of the bipedal species of the galaxy, though given the Infiltrators were the ones investigating the area, Obsidian assumed this planet was once home to a lesser-known race or faction. As he looked off into the distance, Obsidian could make out places where roads had collapsed into the ground, revealing sewer pipes eaten away by rust, and utility tunnels lined with severed cables. Several contained large puddles of murky rainwater, and one particularly large collapsed section appeared to house an underground transportation stop of some kind. Two distant locations appeared to be smouldering ruins; the result of the Navy’s earlier bombardments. After a combination of taps on his VMUI, Obsidian enabled the radiation sensor, tuned to the frequency of the objective. Displaying the navigational information on his CNS, he eyed the horizon in the direction of the source, reading the distance overlay that displayed ‘182 Km’. On occasion, a powerful wave of interference caused the location of the objective to jump about, before returning to its original position. Inspecting the different possible routes, Obsidian found that a direct approach would suffice, with only a couple of diversions to avoid potential vehicular patrols. Though drizzle reduced visibility to a few kilometres, several buildings along the way had partially hidden objects at the edges of their roofs. Their twin rotary barrels were the identifying features of the defensive emplacements mentioned in the briefing. Another few taps on his device enabled the marking feature Obsidian was meant to use for relaying positioning data to Amarok, and immediately, a targeting reticle appeared on his CNS. It took several attempts for Obsidian to get positive locks on the targets. After his helmet’s optics zoomed in, he moved his head around like an owl listening for its prey, until a positive tone sounded, and a marker surrounded each target. A weak audio signal met Obsidian’s ears shortly after, riddled with static noise. “Recon Alpha, Amarok confirms targeting data. Estimated time until torpedo impact, six minutes.” “Understood Amarok,” Obsidian replied. “Alpha out.” The changeling lied down on his belly, letting his left wing hang over the roof’s edge, while the other spread out beside him. As he waited for the strike, he continued inspecting other possible targets, finding none that could be seen. So far, he detected no movement from any vehicles supposedly lurking about, though he paid particular attention to anything that could have resembled anti-aircraft defences. As the minutes dragged on, Obsidian finally heard something howl overhead. The noise grew louder, until multiple torpedoes pierced the thick grey clouds vertically, hitting their targets with precision. A sphere of blue plasma radiated out from each impact point with a quick flash, and a blast wave gave each explosion the appearance of a second, more transparent shell as it expanded. Obsidian felt the explosions more than he heard them, their shock-waves shaking his body to the core with a single pulse each. As the plasma dispersed into the atmosphere, he watched many of the surrounding offices and warehouses fall, throwing dust into the air and causing the ground to rumble. After several minutes waiting for any additional movement from possible threats, Obsidian rolled over, dropping down and gliding back to the ground to the rest of his team. After a few flaps to slow his descent, he landed a few metres from his team. “Area secured, Shadow. I’ve identified our initial heading and took out multiple turrets.” “Thank you Obsidian. We’re ready to move out. I think I got the Jait operational, too.” Emerging from their shelter, the six split in half, with Obsidian, Sparky and Shadow leading the way, while the others trailed behind. Though Obsidian was reasonably confident there were no identifiable threats for at least one or two kilometres, he and the others stuck to the uneven footpath adjacent to the street. Beside him, he could see Shadow looking multiple times at the ground. When the two made eye contact, Shadow explained, “Curious. These paths are made with slabs of stone. The street as well. That’s why they’re all smooth from erosion. I’m guessing from frequent rain, if these clouds are anything to go by.” “Is that something worth noting?” “No, just a random observation. Everything seems to be made primarily of stone. Not even Canterlot has this much of it, and it’s situated on a mountain.” “Uh huh …” Hugging the walls of any buildings they passed by, the group frequently stopped to scan their surroundings before proceeding. Turning to the rear group, they signalled for them to move up when satisfied it was safe to do so, before proceeding past the next building, or significant location of cover. After the first half hour, they slowed their pace, paying more attention to their environment. Dead silence, had it not been for the wind whistling through door and window frames of nearby buildings. The lack of flowing water, leaves rustling, or birds and insects calling had given the place an eerie, ominous feel. For Obsidian, being able to hear the faint echoes of their hoofsteps simply added to that. Deciding it was too quiet, the twins began to hum to no tune in particular. After a few minutes, the eldest started to sing, making rhymes up as he went along. Gonna go find me some radiation In this … uh, ugly little nation But if this is a pointless operation I’ll be filled with, umm … frustration? “Fillies and gentlecolts, I present to you your next Coloratura!” The other pegasus smacked Shift upside the head with his wing. “Shift, you suck.” “Piss off, bandage butt. I don’t see you doing any better!” Kookaburra sat on the comm line wire Someone made a call, set his ass on fire— “Something original, numb-nuts!” “Whatever. I know I can’t sing to save my life. I’m an excellent listener though, and my ears are telling me you sound like a minotaur giving birth to farm equipment.” A few metres ahead with the only two intact crates levitating to either side of her, Glare sighed and shook her head. Checking her VMUI, she selected a sensor screen on the interface. Rotating her hoof with a quick flick, she scrolled to a section labelled ‘O2 Density Altitude’, and read a value of ‘5887 m’. Well, it’s a little high, but I can’t attribute that to hypoxia. And they’re pegasi, anyway. They’re more adapted to it than any of us. Ahead, Obsidian stopped dead in his tracks, his ears twitching and swivelling towards the corner of a building across the street. He could just make out a high-pitched whining noise that drew nearer. Before Shadow could ask what was wrong, the changeling quickly glanced around, sighting no usable cover, with the closest building to them filled with rubble from the inside. Pushing the others towards the nearest corner, he signalled the other three to hide, before joining up with Shadow and Sparky. Peering past the corner, Obsidian waited for whatever approached to become visible. While he and Shadow charged their carbines, Sparky tightened his grip on the J8. As the front of a vehicle came into view, he could identify two parallel barrels, seven or eight metres in length, while a domed cylinder protruded from the forward left and right corners at an angle. Coming to a halt in the middle of the street intersection, the changeling could see the rear half of the vehicle; a semicircular band or ring surrounding what Obsidian guessed might have been a third cylinder facing backwards. At the base of the barrels, a vertical structure with small windows extended upwards. Most notably, the tattered red and black vehicle hovered a couple of metres off the ground, causing a down-burst that sent dust into the surrounding air. As the vehicle turned on the spot and accelerated down the street towards the six, Obsidian pulled himself away from the corner, crouching low with his carbine ready. Shadow followed suit beside Obsidian, while Sparky simply waited. After it came into view, the vehicle slowed rapidly and began to turn towards Shadow’s group, as if sensing their presence. Without hesitation, Sparky fired two rounds, a fizzing pulse accompanying each. Each ball of plasma soared in an arc, leaving behind a small trail. The first round landed at the barrels’ base, melting the metal and causing the weapon to fall off with a loud clang against the ground. The second round struck the vehicle’s forward-right cylinder, which ruptured and erupted with black smoke and streaks of electricity. Listing towards the damaged side, the vehicle side-slipped. Seeing this, Obsidian and Shadow fired multiple times at the left cylinder, tearing up the chassis’ forward half in the ensuing explosion. The remainder of the vehicle tilted forward, coming into contact with the street and emitting a loud screech, like a griffon’s talons on a blackboard, before the rear half dropped. Shadow’s group quickly retreated from the corner of the building, as the vehicle collided nearby at low speed and came to a halt. “Damn, fellas,” Shift called out, as he and the others moved up and reunited. “Nice aim!” “Do you think more will come, Shadow?” Glare asked, dropping her crates nearby. The zebra stared at the remains of the machine. “Not sure. We were told the behaviour of these machines are unknown. I say we take a break nearby and see what happens. We’ll need to know how these vehicles will respond, if the science team encounters one we miss.” “That building looks accessible,” Obsidian suggested, pointing to the one the vehicle originally appeared around. “Looks like a skyway on the third floor that could get us into the building across the street, too.” “Good visibility, and keeps our options open,” Shadow stated. Nodding, she faced the changeling. “Obsidian, head there now and keep an eye out for anything that might approach our position. The rest of you, set up mines in the middle of the street, twenty-five and fifty metres from the intersection at all sides. I’ll plant a few remote demolitions ten metres out each way.” After a five-minute rush, the group ascended the stairs of the building they would rest in. As the last of the six arrived at the edge of the skyway, they removed their gear, stretching and lying across the cold stone floor, its surface littered with the remnants of carpeting. Obsidian and Sparky positioned themselves at either corner of the skyway at one building’s end, while Shadow and Glare were at another. Swift and Shift decided to explore the floor in both buildings, rummaging through debris comprised of collapsed furniture in what appeared to be an office firm. “Hey Sparky,” Obsidian began, loud enough just for the diamond dog to hear. “I want to apologise about before, with the whole emotion reading thing. I never meant to invade your privacy. It’s an involuntary thing we ‘lings can’t block out. Whatever your reasons, I respect that.” Eyeing the changeling over, Sparky merely shrugged and returned his gaze to the distant streets. Deciding not to push it, Obsidian remained quiet. At the opposite end of the skyway, Shadow looked away from the street underneath them, and towards the unicorn. “How are you holding up, Glare? Still have the headache?” “Hmm? Oh, uhh, just a little. Obsidian said it would go away after a few hours, but I think the worst passed already. The strange thing is that I’ve cast that spell before, without any ill effects. Perhaps I cast several in one go while I was panicking? That could explain it.” “It would seem your capacity for magic is higher than you think, then. Anyway, I know I didn’t mention this earlier on, but thanks. For the save.” Glare looked down at the floor. “I … had some help with that.” Looking over at the changeling twenty metres away, she turned back to Glare. “Obsidian’s magic?” Glare looked up in shock. “You know?” Glancing at the changeling, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “How do you know about that?” “Why are you wh—” “He has very good hearing.” “Oh,” Shadow whispered as well. “Well, it’s not exactly a secret among the crew.” Glare’s eyes went wide. “I uhh, don’t think we should mention that to him. I don’t exactly know why myself, but I think it’s an embarrassing thing for him.” “Oi Shadow, you got a sec?” Shift called out from behind the pair. Facing the pegasus, Shadow gave Shift an unimpressed look when she saw him wearing several thin gold bangles on his ears. “Take those things off, you look like a fool.” “Aww, you’re no fun.” Shift threw the jewellery behind him into a collapsed pile of eroded furniture. He then reached into one of his side bags and presented a small, plastic device with buttons to the zebra. “Righty, are you able to look at this thing I found? Was in a bunch of bones back there. Thing still seems to have some power in it. There, try the second button.” Taking the black device, Shadow looked it over with curiosity. Pressing the button Shift pointed to, she could hear faint audio coming from a built-in speaker. Placing the device to her ear, a hysteric voice spoke in an alien language, stuttering and yelling. At one point, the voice cut off, replaced by the sound of distant rumbling, before the speaker screamed over the sound of a whooshing noise. Shortly after, the audio cut off. “Whaddaya make of that?” “Not sure. Though if this is some kind of voice recorder, perhaps translating the language might give insight into what happened here.” Shadow continued to look over the device. On the back, she could make out an embossed design. Possibly a logo. Otherwise, the seamless device lacked any interesting features. “Keep this with you. We’ll send it to Aurora.” Several more minutes passed. Deciding the group had stayed long enough, Shadow ordered the others to pack up and leave, disarming the demolitions and mines. When the last one had returned to its crate, the six split into their groups again and continued their journey. Street by street, block by block, the group meticulously scanned every detail of the dilapidated region, peering around corners, looking through buildings, and ensuring nothing would surprise them as the hours dragged on. If the waning light was any indication, the sun had started to set. The scouting group stood at the corner of a warehouse, the contents of which included large machinery and production lines, half-buried beneath the collapsed metal roof. Just across the street was one final office building, and beyond was a bridge spanning a riverbed containing a mere trickle in it. Listening for signs of activity, the three heard naught but the wind, and occasional distant explosions from turrets and missile silos marked for orbital strikes earlier on. Shadow gave the trailing group several hoof gestures, signalling them to move up, while she crossed the wide street with the others. A fissure zigzagged through its entire length in the second closest lane. “Look at this place,” Shadow commented to Obsidian, as she jumped over the crevice. As soon as Obsidian was across, she continued. “How did an entire planet become uninhabitable like this? Not even a single sign of pest—” The three froze in place, as a high-pitched whirr behind and above them caught their attention. Turning around, they found another turret emerging from a window on the upper portion of the warehouse, turning to face them. “MOVE!” Obsidian yelled pushing the other two towards the next building. The group had been no more than ten metres from the entrance when the turret spun up its weapons and unleashed a fiery metal hailstorm at the ground near them. Ripping up the street closer and closer to the group, Obsidian raced ahead, firing his pulsar multiple times at the doors and crashing through the remains, with the others not far behind. Shadow dived past the door frame. Rolling, she returned to her hooves effortlessly and glanced back. As Sparky reached the entrance, several golden orbs followed behind, each creating individual barriers just behind the diamond dog that broke up after a few hits from the turret. Looking behind him as he joined up with Obsidian and Shadow, he could see Glare across the street, clutching her head as her spells quickly drained her. Losing track of the three, the relentless turret continued pummelling through the stone, rapidly chipping away at the structure and flinging shrapnel in random directions. With no time to rest, Obsidian, Shadow and Sparky scrambled deeper into the building, seeking shelter further within. “Keep moving through!” Shadow shouted, approaching the skeletal remains of another entrance door on the opposite end, though losing a race with a crack snaking across the ceiling. “Heads up!” Obsidian tackled the zebra out of the way of falling debris. Pulling Shadow away and towards the rumble of the turret behind them, they watched as the ceiling caved in, blocking their only exit. Frantically scanning the area, Obsidian pointed to a door with a familiar sign. “Stairs!” Shadow burst through the fire stairs’ door, scrambling up the cracking stairwell, while Sparky bounded up multiple steps at a time, and Obsidian flew directly up the empty space in the centre. Crumbling could be heard a few floors below, as the group made their way out from the collapsing stairwell on the sixth floor. Moving through the rooms, they split up and made their way towards the turret, which at this point seemed to be demolishing random parts of the building. Obsidian peeked around the corner of a large concrete support column, and sighted the turret. “There it is.” He raised his pulsar, the size of the turret allowing him to get a clear shot. A flash of bright blue streaked out of his carbine, impacting the central assembly of the turret and scattering the deadly beam in multiple directions. The turret ceased firing. Facing Obsidian, it spun up once more. “Oh buzz me!” The changeling whipped back behind the column, seeking refuge as the turret unleashed another furious barrage at his cover. Keeping the column between him and certain death, he vaulted over desks and cubicles, retreating to Shadow’s position. Sparky remained hidden behind another column, but so far had not gained the turret’s attention. “Obsidian!” Glare was shouting through their comms channel. “Are you guys alright?” “We’re pinned down on the sixth floor. Can't get to a safe window and lower escape routes blocked. Continuing to higher floors.” “Anything we can do?” The changeling dived behind another column. “Our pulsars have no noticeable effect on the turret. Are you able to reposition across the street and try the nine-eight?” “We’re going now. Hold o—” Glare’s voice was no longer audible, cut off by the sound of multiple pulses, and an explosion that shook the building. As the rumble died down and the echoes faded, the zebra and changeling poked their heads out from the remains of their cover. Silhouetted against brightly burning flames in place of where the turret once was, Sparky stood with his J8 venting at his side. He turned around, nodding to the other two. The group headed to the edge of the building and inspected the warped remains of the turret. Below, Glare, Swift, and Shift also poked their heads out from around the corner, flinching as the turret fell to the ground. The impact boomed throughout the street, and several of the turret’s barrels detached. The six watched as the barrels rolled away, jumping into the air as they each hit the kerb, before hitting the front of another building. “Obsidian,” Shadow spoke up, leaning over the window frame. “Are you able to fly us down?” “Should be able to. Might not be a smooth landing for you though, Sparky.” As the final sliver of daylight slipped past the horizon, the team found themselves crossing the wide, bascule bridge. Travelling past the small bridge control building on the other side, Shadow glanced around. “It’s getting too dark”—she shuddered, feeling the effects of the sudden drop in temperature—“and cold. We should probably stay here for the night.” Breaking down the door with a hard push of his paw, Sparky entered first and propped the remains back up onto the frame after the others entered. Looking around, the team found a small office, a storage room, and the control room of the tiny single-level building. “Looks good enough to me,” Obsidian concluded. “I’d suggest we hole up in the storage room. No windows. Better concealment. That, and it won’t be as cold.” “Agreed. Let’s unpack then. Glare, please take the crates into the storage room,” Shadow ordered, placing her bags in the room’s corner, just opposite to the door. “Who’s on first watch with me?” Sparky volunteered, clearing a small space beside the window in the office. Placing his weapon down near the window, he dragged a chair into position. Pulling out a flip lighter and cigar from a sealed container, he lit it before sitting down and leaning back. “Hey, where’d you get those?” Glare raised an eyebrow, as Sparky pointed in the direction they had been come from. “Have—have you been looting along the way?” The diamond dog replied with a sheepish grin and a shrug. Returning his gaze to the window, he took a puff, and watched the exhaled smoke fly up into the cloudy sky. “I suppose if it’s been abandoned, it won’t be missed,” Obsidian reasoned. “Guess I’ll take second watch, so long as you’re with me, Glare.” “Huh? Why?” Obsidian turned his head towards the twins at the other end of the room, who had not heard anything. Facing Glare again, he replied, “I think you know why.” “Ah. Of course.” Glare started rummaging through the crates. A confused expression soon grew on her face. “Uhh, Shadow? I count only two sleeping bags. Where are the others?” “The other four were burned beyond use.” “I bags Glare’s bag!” Shift blurted out. “Nuh uh, I’m pulling seniority here, little bro,” Swift proclaimed. “As the eldest, I say that bag is mine!” “Stop calling me little!” Shift ripped one of his brother’s burn dressings off, tearing a small blister with it and eliciting a feminine shriek from Swift. Swift retaliates by ripping one of Shift’s bandages off, to no effect. Shift smirked. “Ha, suck it Swift! Guess I didn’t get burned enough to have any blist—AAAAAAAAAA!” he shrieked, as another bandage tore off with the intended effect. “What the buzz are you two doing?” Obsidian hissed. “You idiots are going to give our position away to every machine in a hundred klick radius! Shut the buzz up and share your own damn bag.” “Hey, he started—” “Unless you’re announcing a threat or passing on mission-related information, I don’t want to hear anything else from either of you.” “Humph,” Swift and Shift replied in unison, wiggling into their bags as the changeling headed away. “They’re like foals, aren’t they?” Glare whispered, moving to the side of her bag to make room for Obsidian. The changeling rolled his eyes. “Worse. I’m tempted to swap with one of them so you can I could supervise each one, but after today, I just want to get some rest.” Seeing Glare move, he stopped her. “Keep the bag for yourself. I’ll be fine on the floor.” “Are you sure? I don’t have any problems sharing with a—with you.” “It’s fine.” Curling up in a corner, Obsidian took a final glance at Glare. “Night.” “Hey. Obsidian. You awake?” a voice whispered. A brief pause and a tap of a hoof against the changeling later, “Wake up. Your turn for watch.” Obsidian groaned, bringing himself upright with about as much grace as a stallion after a late night pub crawl. Rubbing his eyes, he focused on the zebra in front of him. “Sitrep?” “Not a sound since. Saw a couple of lights moving off in the distance over there, but nothing I think we should be concerned about from here. Oh, and last contact with Amarok was three hours ago. Give it an hour, then report in.” Obsidian stretched. “Got it. Sleep well.” The changeling made his way out of the storage room, finding Glare already seated beside the window. He nodded as Glare turned towards the newcomer. Without a word, he took a seat beside the unicorn, pulling out a honey and nut bar from the nearest bag and offering a second one to Glare. “Thanks,” she mumbled, still tired. The sound of packaging being torn open filled the room, as the pair took their respective bites. After the initial sounds of crunching ceased, the pair sat in silence, staring out the window. Several of the lower clouds raced past, as the wind howled around them. The bridge swayed ever so slightly, while a few dead trees arched, resisting the weather. Obsidian was the first to speak. “So. Anything to talk about?” “Not sure,” Glare replied, idly chewing. After another moment of silence, she spoke up, “Guess I could ask you a few more changeling-related questions if you’re okay with it. They … might be a little offensive though.” “I’ve been verbally abused enough that I’m practically immune to it. Doubt any question you have would offend me.” “Well, I’ve been wondering,” Glare paused, unsure how to word her question. Giving up, she decided to ask directly, “Are changelings actually related to insects?” “That’s what you were afraid of asking?” Obsidian almost burst out laughing. “What? It’s a legitimate question. It’s not like there are many reliable biological sources to learn from.” Obsidian wiped a tear from his eye. “Alright, you’ve got a point there. To answer your question, no. Though we share several similarities, we’re from completely different phyla. Insects are arthropods, meaning they have an exoskeleton, but we, like you, are chordates. The most prominent feature of this phylum is a dorsal nerve, which in our case is a spinal cord. So already we are closer to ponies than insects.” “Wait, so you don’t have an exoskeleton?” “Nope. If we did, we’d be shedding them frequently to grow to our size. What we have are plates of cartilage, underneath a thin layer of taught, elastic skin”—Obsidian knocked on his chest—“though without any diagrams, trying to explain how it all works together with the joints, connecting tissue, and the actual endoskeleton would be rather difficult. Simply put, it’s like having lightweight armour in your body.” “Huh. That must feel weird when you’re moving around.” “I wouldn’t notice it any more than you’d notice the joints in your legs. Which is to say, not at all. One drawback is that we are prone to dislocations from hard impacts.” “Like what happened after the seeding mission?” “Yep. Usually, the dislocation isn’t particularly painful, but getting it back into place? Well, you saw how that went.” “Wouldn’t you have been better off going to the infirmary afterwards?” “Not really. Even if that Doctor knew anything about changeling anatomy, he’d have done something similar to realign my plates. Anyway, going back to changeling and pony taxonomy, we share everything down to the amniota classification, and split off from each other in one of the later sub-orders.” “I … am honestly surprised by that information. How do you know all this, anyway?” “When you’re called an insect your entire life, you tend to want to carry out a little research to see if there’s any merit of truth to those comments.” “Oh, right. Sorry, silly question. But then at what point in changeling evolution were those holes deemed necessary”—Glare pointed, before inspecting her own hoof—“and what purpose do they have? I mean, hooves with holes don’t appear to be structurally superior to completely solid ones.” “Ah, that’s where things get fuzzy. We don’t have a complete picture of our ancestry. Still, our hooves are durable. More so than yours, anyway. They flex a little as well, so they help to break falls, or put a spring in one’s step to gallop faster. However, our day-to-day life sees a different use for them, and that’s identification.” “You recognise each other by the holes?” “Uh huh. While ponies can tell each other apart with manes, tails, cutie marks and colours, ‘lings are generally identical in that sense, so the primary method of differentiating between each other are the holes.” “That must get a little difficult to discern between several changelings. Doubt I’d be able to pick you out from a crowd. I mean, you all look the same. No offence.” “None taken.” A brief silence followed, before Glare giggled. Obsidian looked at her quizzically. “What?” “Oh nothing. Just got a cute little mental image of you robbing a bank in a set of striped socks. No mask or cutie mark concealment. Just the socks.” “Considering we can see through the illusions of other ‘lings, you’re not too far off from what we would do if we needed to disguise ourselves from others. That said, we also have a few distinctive markings in ultraviolet visible to us, so the combination of—” Obsidian cut himself off, his ears swivelling towards a sound. “You hear that?” Glare frowned, listening. When she finally heard it, she straightened up. “Yeah, what is that?” Off in the distance, the noise of a large, old engine approached, chugging in triplets. A second one was heard soon after. From over the distant hills, a pair of lights rose and descended towards the squad, bouncing up and down in a slow and shallow oscillation. Obsidian estimated the objects were less than half a kilometre away when he felt a tug. “Get down, they will see us,” Glare hissed, pressed against the wall underneath the window sill. Dropping beside the unicorn, Obsidian glanced at the J8 resting in the corner of the room. A shake of Glare’s head discouraged him from reaching for the weapon. As the noise of the vehicles intensified rapidly, the pair deduced that they intended to cross the bridge. Reaching its peak, the noise began to fade away. Obsidian and Glare took a cautious peek from their respective corners of the window, squinting at the crude machines. Heading away from them at a moderate pace were two blocky, floating gun platforms, slightly narrower than the street they skimmed over, spewing out thick black gas from their exhausts underneath. A thin mast stood at the top of the rusty machines, the tips of which came the source of light, and a single autocannon was mounted to their right sides. To the left, a small cockpit hung underneath, open and exposed, though Obsidian saw both were unoccupied. “Strange,” Glare remarked. “They look completely different to the one we encountered earlier on. Different colour schemes. Definitely inferior technology. Or is it just a coincidence?” As the vehicles turned into a side street, Obsidian and Glare relaxed, settling back into their seats. While the unicorn reached for another snack, Obsidian recorded the path of each vehicle and transmitted the information to Amarok. “Copied,” Eclipse’s garbled voice replied. “We’ll forward this information on to the science team.” A yawn caught Obsidian’s attention, and he turned to find Glare covering her mouth. Catching sight of the changeling, she quickly shook her head and blinked hard. “Sorry. Still trying to wake up.” “Hey, if you want to go back to sleep, it’s fine by me.” “I don’t need asking twice.” Yawning again, Glare rolled back and onto her side. Clumping her mane into a makeshift pillow, she curled into a ball and closed her eyes. “Glare,” Obsidian whispered, poking the unicorn. “Come on, our watch will end shortly.” Righting herself, Glare rubbed the back of her neck. “Ugh, I think I slept funny.” “Yeah, I don’t exactly know what you did, but I doubt it’s normal for ponies to twist like that when they sleep,” Obsidian commented, as he made his way towards the storage room. “I’ll go wake the idiots up.” Entering the room, he crept past Sparky and Shadow’s bag, noting the latter seemed to be practically enveloped by the former, with the diamond dog’s arm serving as an additional blanket for the zebra. Continuing to the other occupied bag, Obsidian stopped beside the twins, giving the nearest one a soft kick. “Hey, assholes, your turn for watch.” “Mmmmrgh, buck you, bug pony,” a muffled voice came from within. “Just for that, the next time we’re home, I’m paying an animal trainer to send you an escort of incontinent geese. Now hurry up.” “Alright, alright, we’re up, we’re going,” the other grumbled, dragging himself out. “Hard-flank.” Obsidian watched the pegasi lumber out of the room, before making his way back to his original sleeping corner. Looking down at Sparky and Shadow, he shivered, glancing between them, his corner, and the now empty bag for Glare. Ahh, buzz it. Turning around, he made his way back, worming into the sleeping bag. Glare entered shortly after, wiggling in beside Obsidian. “So I’m guessing the corner was not as comfortable as you made it look earlier on?” “It was alright before, when I couldn’t see myself breathing out, but I’ve got my limits.” Glare continued adjusting herself. As she did, she bumped into Obsidian, flinching. “Wow, you’re freezing,” she commented, placing a hoof on Obsidian’s side. “Thin skin, and thick cartilage, remember? Not much blood flowing near the surface. Good for delaying hypothermia, but the nerves are still there, so I feel the cold regardless. Any excuse for you to touch me though, huh?” “Oh shut up.” Glare withdrew her hoof while Obsidian chuckled deeply. “Huh, so that’s what you sound like when you laugh. Don’t think I’ve noticed you laughing before. Genuinely, that is.” “Guess I don’t find many reasons to in this job.” Obsidian looked down and fell silent. After a length of time, he opened his mouth again, “So anyway, I’m still convinced there’s something odd about this mission.” “Hmm?” “How significant must these readings be if after what happened to us in this first day, they still want us to move forward as if nothing happened? What could possibly be worth an investigation in a dangerous and unpredictable region outside any existing faction’s territory? In the heart of the Karos Graveyard, no less. From what I’ve heard, everyone avoids the Graveyard.” “Not sure. Judging by the structures here, I’m guessing this place has been abandoned for a few millennia, so unless someone has made their home here again, it has to be some sort of natural phenomenon.” “How can you tell the age?” “I studied archaeology. Most of the buildings back there that still stand, whether partially or wholly, seem to be made primarily with reinforced stone. The construction method is unfamiliar to me, but I know of similar structures back home that are just as old. Hard to tell on this scale, considering this place seemed like a more modern society and might have had better maintenance methods than our own ancient buildings. If I were to guess based on the erosion patterns, though”—Glare looked up at the ceiling as she thought—“I’d say these buildings must have been around for at least three thousand years.” Obsidian hummed. “Well, Eclipse specifically mentioned the readings appeared artificial. Too regular to be natural. Guess there has to be someone around. Or something.” “No idea,” Glare paused, unable to come up with an explanation. “Mad scientist in a cave fortress of solitude?” “Heh, funny. Right then. Don’t know how awake you are, but I think I’m going to call it a night.” Glare lowered her head and turned away from the changeling. “Yeah, good idea. Night.” … “What the buzz?” “What?” Obsidian fidgeted, before replying. “I think this wet spot I’m touching is from Swift’s or Shift’s ripped blister.” “Oh, I did not need to know that.” “Remind me to murder them tomorrow. I’ll make it look like an accident.”