There they are, Sabra thought, eyes narrowing behind his helmet as he spotted the telltale red-and-black armor worn by the Order scouts. Just as I thought. They are unused to sneaking around their own city. At least, the two behind the one in the lead were. The one in the lead seemed to have some idea of how to stay out of sight, even clad in his fairly obvious armor. But the two following his lead were simply doing that: Following without the barest idea of why they were ducking behind the sides of buildings or moving along an alley. And while the stallion in front was at least passingly quiet, the pair behind him didn’t have the slightest idea how to move quietly. From the way they moved, it was all too clear that they were used to being in charge, to moving with a threatening swagger rather than a smooth silence. Without his eyes, he could have pinpointed all three of their positions simply based on sound.
He watched as the trio “snuck” forward, moving through a back alley, hooves clopping against the crystal stone that made up much of the ground. If this is to be our foe, then may we hope that all are as obvious as they. Sabra shifted slightly, letting his body move to one side as the trio passed beneath him. Unfortunately, the thought was simply that: A thought. Lieutenant Hunter’s words had already confirmed that there were other threats to deal with that wouldn’t be quite so visible, collaborators and secret enforcers who were likely to be far more skilled at keeping themselves hidden. No doubt one of the crystal citizens their team had met with had already ducked off to report the team’s existence and numbers. In fact, Captain Song had given them orders to act as though it had already happened. “Better to expect it than to be surprised by it,” he’d stated. The trio passing beneath him now simply hadn’t been in the chain of information, or had set out before such information had come in.
And now, they won’t be coming back, Sabra thought, reaching back over his shoulder and drawing his Fimbo from its place across his back. The trio was still moving down the alley, their eyes—especially those of the first—glancing in every possible direction.
Except up.
They are used to dealing with civilians, Sabra thought as he eased himself away from the steep, slick crystal roof. Not soldiers. The thought almost made him pause. Soldier. Rare is the occasion that I have thought of myself as such. The image that came to mind was of the warriors of his homeland, agile and swift or stalwart and immoveable. But he was like neither of those, in weapons, nor in ability.
I am a Dusk Guard, he thought, and dropped. The sudden clop of his hooves striking the paving stones caught the trio by surprise, and they spun, one letting out a cry of surprise even as their horns began to glow.
“Surren—” It was as far as he got before two of them lashed out, magic streaking down the alley toward him. He leaped, the faint swelling of loyalty in his heart barely a thought and more a reflex as he took advantage of his strength mod to fling his body upwards, well past what any reasonable foe would have expected of him. He twisted in the air, bringing his forehooves around and letting his Fimbo fly free even as his rear hooves kicked against the side of one of the homes around them.
His Fimbo made contact first, bouncing off of the crystal stone with a loud ping and rising upward to slam into the chin of the rearmost unicorn, snapping his head back. The grey glow around his horn fizzled out. A second later Sabra’s own forehoof made contact, a third spell from the lead unicorn blowing past him as he brought the full weight of his body down in a single blow to the lone mare of the trio, striking her helm just to the side of the horn. The metal buckled inward, followed by her legs, and she hit the ground hard enough to bounce.
He dropped with her, letting his body flow with his momentum, his hooves spread wide to absorb and redirect his trajectory toward the wall of the alley even as another spell, this one a tight, thin beam that he could feel the heat from even through his armor, scorched by overhead. He continued forward, ears twisting as he tracked his foe, kicking himself up the alley wall and flipping backwards over the beam as it scythed after him. He landed on one rear hoof, the other already lashing out to connect with his Fimbo as it rolled across the ground. The impact sent the long, metal staff flying through the air crosswise, and it collided with the remaining unicorn’s chest, eliciting a slight oof. The stallion’s spell stuttered, beam winking out.
Sabra’s hooves swept the stallion’s out from under him a moment later, and before he could even think of rising, he found the end of Sabra’s Fimbo held against his throat.
“Don’t. Move,” Sabra said, making each word as clear as possible. “I do not wish to cause you further harm, but I will if you resist.” He leaned on the tip of the Fimbo as the unicorn’s horn began to spark, and with a faint choking sound the magic winked out. The stallion’s eyes, however, spoke of a barely contained fury.
“Nice job, spec.” The words came from the end of the alley, and a moment later Captain Song appeared around the corner, his tread surprisingly quiet for such a large pony. “They play for keeps, don’t they?” Sabra followed the path of his eyes to the long, burned scorch marks the lead unicorn’s spell had carved across the alleyway.
“You are invaders,” the unicorn said. “We will drive yo—” His words cut off in a gurgle as Sabra put a slight amount of pressure against the staff.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Steel said, coming to a stop next to the unicorn. And, Sabra noted, likely purposefully making sure his heavy metal gauntlets were right next to the stallion’s eyes. “But I am curious why you think so. Congratulations scout, you’re going to deliver some intel.” He reached back around to his saddlebags, pulling out a small ring. “Just not to who you thought you were.” The unicorn’s eyes widened as the ring came into view.
“Filthy mud ponies!” he spat, apparently uncaring for the Fimbo at his throat. “You would take away that which you so desperately crave to claim from us?”
“Okay, so you’re a speciest,” Captain Song said, his voice still calm and level. “For the record, I don’t need your magic.” The ground trembled slightly, blue lines glowing across Steel’s undersuit. “Got plenty of my own. But if you want to keep yours, you really only have one choice.” He waggled the horn-ring back and forth.
“Never.” The unicorn tried to spit in the captain’s face but fell short, spittle falling across the paving stones. “My magic is my right. You cannot take away that which makes me a true servant of King Sombra.”
“Right …” Captain Song said, his voice sounding thoroughly unimpressed. The horn-ring sparkled in the light as he returned it to his saddlebags. “Well then, since we can’t count on you not knowing something that might let you escape …” He turned his eyes to Sabra. “Spec, break his horn off.”
The unicorn’s eyes went wide in a panic, horn already starting to glow. Then Sabra brought his hoof down atop it, twisting the unicorn’s head to one side. He felt the stiff keratin flex under the impact as the magic winked out, but it didn’t crack.
Yet.
“Your call,” Captain Song said. “Horn lock, or no horn. We’re not playing around.”
“Horn lock,” the stallion wheezed, tears leaking from his eyes. Sabra waited, keeping his hoof locked in place, the stallion’s head twisted at an awkward angle, letting up the pressure only when the captain was able to slide the horn lock into place. The unicorn let out a quiet whimper as it tightened into the base of his horn.
“Good.” Captain Song rose, gesturing toward the rest of the unconscious party. “Spec, why don’t you guide him back to our impromptu holding area while I take care of these two.” The unicorn’s eyes widened as the captain slid two more horn rings out of his saddlebags.
“You’re … You’re all fools,” he said as Captain Song locked the rings in place. “Our great king—”
“Is being taken care of,” the captain said, lifting both the unconscious Order members onto his back. “The sergeant is going to want to take a look at these two. Looks like you hit them pretty hard, Sabra.”
He didn’t miss the way the Order unicorn’s eyes widened at his name, even as he prodded with his staff for the stallion to stand. “When faced with a foe that would take your life, it is better to show mercy, but not so much that you lose your own.”
“Good call.” The pair of unconscious Order guards on his back, the captain motioned for them to move out of the alley and onto the main street. “Now, let’s get back to Dawn.”
“This is all for nothing,” the unicorn said as Sabra prodded him to move forward. “When King Sombra returns—”
“King Sombra lost.” The captain’s words were laced with steel, like his namesake. “In case you missed it, you’ve been gone over a thousand years.” Sabra didn’t miss the way the Order guard’s hooves stumbled. “Your ‘king’s’ final act was to seal the city away in revenge. Now he’s gone, and we’re here to clean things up.”
“Argent was right,” the stallion muttered as they walked out of the alley and onto the main street. Several hundred feet to the south, a cluster of crystal ponies were gathered around Dawn as she coached them through loading the medical supplies aboard wagons they’d procured. “Equestrians.” The words came out like a sneer.
“Who’s Argent?” Captain Song asked.
The Order member scowled, the expression barely visible from behind, but written in the slump of his shoulders. “I do not speak with Equestrians. Torture me as you may.”
Sabra raised one eyebrow and glanced in the captain’s direction. Has Equestria ever used torture? He knew the Plainslands had, though the act was distasteful. It had been viewed as a grave practice, with careful obligations and considerations to be made, even during the dark periods following the Breaking when the jackals had fought to the very last. The mental cost of torturing another sapient being was high.
But we learn to kill, an act that is also distasteful, but sometimes necessary. He shook his head. There had been entire schools of thought at the monastery dedicated to the complexities of war and civil defense, with debates that could last hours. At the time, he’d never believed that he would find himself in a situation where such debates would take on startling reality, but now they had.
“We don’t torture,” the captain said. “Not the way you would.”
“I will not speak,” the unicorn said. “I—”
“What you’ll do,” Captain Song replied, cutting him off as they neared the group. “Is enjoy a nice, magic-resistant cell to rest in while we dismantle the rest of your gang. How cooperative you are with our mission determines what—if any—leniency you’ll receive once things here have settled enough for you to get a trial.”
“Burn in the pits of Tartarus, mud pony.”
The captain shrugged, his limp cargo shifting with the movement. “Guess that’s that then.”
“You cannot lock me up,” the stallion said, his voice growing louder as they neared the crystal ponies. “Your airship has already fled! I am a member of the Order! The true king will prevail!” A few of the crystal ponies seemed to shiver at his words, their eyes turning toward the unicorn and, unless it was Sabra’s imagination, their coats growing a bit dimmer. “These interlopers will fail!” the unicorn continued. “And I will remember all of you when the time for punishment comes. Those who believe in their lies and aid the enemies of the king will be—”
Something small and wrapped in an orange glow darted out from the crowd, striking the unicorn right in the neck and cutting off his voice with a cry. Almost as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, only a faint glimmer of orange light suggesting it had ever been there.
“What have you done!?” the unicorn cried, stepping back and rearing up. Then he stumbled to one side as if the ground had pitched beneath him. “What … have … you …” His words were slurred, drawn out, and then as they all watched, he fell to his side, unconscious.
“That’s enough of that,” Dawn said, stepping out of the crowd, an empty syringe held next to her. Her eyes flicked to the pair on Captain Song’s back. “And two more to treat, I see.”
“Low priority.” The captain shifted, dumping the bodies on the ground without any ceremony. A helmet bounced free of one of them, rolling across the ground. Crystal ponies scattered around it as if simply touching it could burn them.
Save one. The local leader that Lieutenant Hunter had spoken to, Garnet, stopped the rolling helmet beneath his hoof. Then, with a glare in the direction of the drugged unicorn, he kicked it, sending it skittering back across the ground toward the downed Order member.
An orange glow seized it halfway. “There will be none of that,” Dawn said, her sharp tone cracking across the street like a whip. Several of the crystal ponies flinched. “We’re here to liberate, not raise a mob.” Her eyes moved to Garnet. “A leader of his people should know better.”
Garnet nodded, the anger in his face vanishing. “I … apologize, Lady Triage. You are correct.” His eyes flitted to several other crystal ponies in the crowd that had also been looking on with incensed expressions. “We are not the Order.” A few of the unhappy faces in the crowd nodded.
“Sergeant,” Captain Song said. “If you’d take charge of these three and either keep them drugged or otherwise restrained until we have somewhere to put them, we’ll see about finding that place.”
Dawn nodded. “We have plenty of rope, and a number of additional horn-locks. I’ll see to it that they’re kept somewhere I or one of the crystal ponies can keep an eye on them.” She didn’t say the word “trustworthy,” but it was implicit anyway. Hunter’s warning had been heeded.
“Good,” Captain Song replied. “Sabra, with me.” The large stallion turned toward Garnet. “You’re back, so I’m guessing you were able to find a map for me?”
Garnet nodded, another crystal pony stepping up beside him, a large crystal plaque on his back. “I did,” he said, taking the plaque in his teeth and setting it on the ground. A large, geometric set of lines was spread across it, and with a slight start Sabra realized it was a map of the city. “I do not have something to mark it with, but—” The captain pulled a marker from his bag and uncapped it, the crystal pony’s eyes widening.
“Remarkable,” he said, taking the end in his lips and making an experimental mark along the side of the map before rubbing it away with his hoof. “More than anything, the casual air with which you treat such an astounding device gives credence to your words of the future.”
The captain merely nodded. “So we’re here, correct?” he asked, taping the end furthest from him with one hoof.
“Yes,” Garnet replied as Sabra moved closer, getting a better look at the map. The city was laid out like a wheel, twelve large main “spokes” radiating out from the center. Or, he realized as he looked closer at the side streets that split off, like a snowflake. The design was too clear to make it unintentional. A faint shiver crawled down his back at the thought of the snow. At least the barrier was keeping the weather out. For the time being.
“And the nearest Order offices?”
“Here, here, here, and here.” Garnet drew small circles on the corner of several intersections.
“That one’s gone, though,” the captain said, pointing. “Cross that one.”
Garnet complied, the marker squeaking against the crystal. “The rest are equidistant from what you see here, or as close to it as the Order were able to make it. Some of them may have been wiped out during the battle, however. Which ones, I cannot speak for sure. But I have sent those I trust to find out. They will be discreet.”
“Understood. What about public parks? Or those Royal Guard we spotted on the way in?”
“The park you are referring to, I believe, is here,” Garnet said, outlining a small, raised square on the map. The image of the city, Sabra realized, was etched lightly into the surface of the crystal, like an artisan had chiseled it there. “The Royal Guard I know about. They came in from the north after the Princesses made their strike and tried to take the palace. That was here.” He drew an arrow on the map. “And from what I heard before this ‘bubble’ we were in broke apart, the Order had a very large number of enforcers in that area.”
So we’ll need to be wary of them striking back, Sabra thought as the captain nodded.
“How well would one of the Order’s offices work as a staging ground for medical supplies?”
“For a small number it would be sufficient,” Garnet said. “But to supply something to the city, there are better places. I think an industrial storehouse lies on the northeast side of the city, though there exist others.” He tapped the map with the marker, but lightly enough that it didn’t leave a mark. “It depends on whether or not you want to use existing infrastructure or have the public come seeking you.”
“A question better left to Captain Armor.” Captain Song shifted. “But for what we have, would an Order office work? They have magic-resistant cells, correct?”
“They do,” Garnet replied quickly. “And it could work. It might make some hesitant to come for food or care.”
“Well, we need to tear down the banners in any case. Could you find people to hold an Order office if we took it?”
“I … believe that yes, I could. Many of the old city guard were killed in the mines, but there are a few still out there.”
Captain Song nodded. “Spread the word then. If nothing else, it’ll give us a place to lock up Order members with some security. Are these both the same size?” His hoof tapped the two closest circles on the map.
Garnet shook his head. “The one closest to us is an old civil authority station. The other is repurposed.”
“How many on duty at any given time.”
“Ah … a dozen? Perhaps more? They may be less given recent events.”
Captain Song nodded, then turned his gaze in Sabra’s direction. “A dozen unicorns, spec? What do you think?”
Sabra peered down at the map. Several blocks up, if I read this correctly, and several east. The banner should make identifying it easy. But the captain’s question had been vague. “What do I think?”
“Can a dozen Order unicorns put up much of a fight?”
Ah. He could see the way the captain’s weight was shifting. “They will,” he said, doing his best to mimic the older stallion’s grim smile. “But it will not be enough.” He hefted his Fimbo, snapping back into its folded position with a flick of his hooves. “Shall you take it? Or shall I?”
* * *
The Order guardhouse—or office, or whatever it was; the descriptors used seemed to change regularly when the captain and the others mentioned it—was clearly designed to be noticed, Sabra decided as he moved into position. Noticed, and to remind those around it that they were being watched, with its massive, banner-shrouded watchtower. It was the latter point that they were currently counting on.
Still, its design made the building quite striking. Like those around it, it had originally been built from the same crystalline material as the rest of the city, its surface a soft, glimmering sheen under the distant light of the storm. But at some point, presumably after Sombra had taken over the city, that had been added to. Thick, growths of black crystal had been grafted to the structure—or maybe grown in place, it was hard to tell where magic was concerned—climbing out of the building to form aggressive-looking spikes and thorns as they rose over the surrounding structures. Some of the growths merely ended in wicked-looking points, as if taunting a giant to come and dare to step on them, while others merged together to form the watchtower that rose above the surrounding city. Other growths, he noted as he moved closer, just seemed to be either decorative or to be pulling double duty as an attachment point for the numerous banners hanging across the structure.
Said banners, meanwhile, were clearly designed to remind the populace who was in charge. While straightforward, there was a clear motif on display across the several styles he could see. Each of them was a startling, crimson red, with the only variance being how that red was used. Several of the smaller ones simply held the image of a red, curved slash that was likely a stylized unicorn horn, while the larger ones held a similarly stylized image, but a portrait of a unicorn with a crown, plate armor, and purple magic leaking from his eyes.
Sombra, Sabra thought, flicking his eyes back up to the peak of the watchtower. The very top was dominated by an open platform, a latticework of spiky, black crystal forming a jagged-looking cup over which a unicorn clad in the red-and-black barding of the Order was staring. There had been two on duty in the tower, but one of them had darted down into the structure the moment Captain Song had come into view. And as they’d hoped, the one left was too busy keeping an eye on Steel to notice the other pony slipping closer and closer to the side of the structure.
Hunter was right, Sabra thought as he crossed another gap in the rooftops, bringing him one step closer to the base of the tower. They never look up. They were a force used to the straightforward, to a beaten-down populace. They weren’t prepared for, or anticipating, a dedicated, trained force.
Do not get ahead of yourself. He took the admonishment in stride. His training was that: Training. His experience was limited, and while the three scouts had gone down neatly, he’d held the element of surprise in each case.
There. He was almost at the base of the watchtower now. Two gaps were left between him and the side. He peered around the chimney he’d taken cover behind, glancing down the street. Captain Song was still slowly striding up it, each hoofstep loudly clashing with the pavement. He looked like a pony striding at a full march, but given that he was only halfway up the street thus far …
A simple, straightforward plan. And so far, it seemed to be working.
He took the second-to-last gap with a quick hop, not even bothering to use his mod. He wanted the battery at full power when things got moving, and he’d need enough of it in the moments to come as it was. One more gap to go. He cleared it in a rush, hooves sliding across the slick, crystalline roof of the Order office before the rubbery grip of his suit brought him to a stop. A quick look up showed no evidence of a curious ear or gaze turned his way, and he waved a hoof, Captain Song’s pace picking up shortly thereafter—not that it sounded like it.
So far, so good, he thought, co-opting an Equestrian phrase as he looked up at the watchtower’s structure, eyes tracing the best path up its length. There, he thought, picking out a particularly thick spike that looked as though it could bear his weight plus a little extra push. There … and there. Three of them, with the last one just under the lip. He’d have to use his mod carefully. Too much power and he’d end up too far above his target. Too little, and he ran the risk of wasting energy as well as exposing his position. Not that they’ve noticed so far. But then again, that was the whole point of taking a roundabout approach.
A loud crash from the street below heralded the opening of the guardhouse door, followed by a cascade of hoofsteps funneling out into the street. That’s my cue. He crouched, purple lines flaring and then mixing with red as his mod became active. He leapt, the motion nearly effortless under the strength-enhancing effects of the mod, his body sailing upwards and reaching its peak just past the top side of the first spike. He landed lightly across its base, his hooves finding purchase against the crystal, and turned, already eyeing the next one even as below, the cascade of hooves came to a stop.
Six, maybe seven ponies, he thought as he jumped again, magic-infused muscles propelling him upward and atop the second spike with ease. A glance back confirmed his guess. Seven Order unicorns were standing in front of the building, fanning out as they pointed their horns at Captain Song.
He leapt again, the needle in the corner of his helmet dropping once more. Only about a third of the battery’s charge was left. Hopefully it would be enough. He was just under the cupola at the top of the tower now. Voices echoed up from the street below.
“You there! Halt!” The lone sound of the captain’s hoofsteps echoed to a halt … but not before taking a few more steps. Sabra took another glance down. Captain Song had come to a stop a bare twenty feet at most from the fanned semi-circle of Order. “Identify yourself!”
“I am Captain Steel Song of the Equestrian Dusk Guard.” Sabra readied himself for a final, lighter leap, this one without the mod. “I hereby request your surrender in the face of overwhelming force.”
There was a smattering of laughter from below. Sabra leaped a final time, curling his hoof over the edge of the tower railing and pulling his body up and over the top, tucking his head to his chin in a tight roll. He came up with his hooves at the ready, but the lone guard left atop the tower hadn’t even flicked an ear in his direction. His attention was fixated on the tableau below, his horn faintly aglow with a spell at the ready.
“I have never heard any voice speak of this ‘Dusk Guard’ you claim to be,” echoed a reply from below as Sabra moved toward his target. “But I see no sign of this ‘overwhelming force’ either. Perhaps both are lies?”
Sabra’s Fimbo, still in its compacted state, snapped out and around the stallion’s neck, pulling him back from the edge before the unicorn could utter more than a faint choking noise. His horn was the next target, the chin of Sabra’s helmet thumping into it and sending a shudder of pain down the guard’s body even as Sabra rolled onto his back, the stallion’s legs kicking at the air.
Rest, Sabra thought, pulling the Fimbo in tighter. He had practiced the maneuver dozens of times in combat exercises, but there was always a risk to pulling it off in a real situation, even if they’d worked to make their exercises as real as possible. Rest.
“You can think that if you’d like,” Captain Song said, his voice echoing up from down below. “But I’d advise against it. Again, I’ll make my request. Surrender, or you’re all going to regret it.” Sabra could feel the unicorn’s struggles growing weaker and weaker atop him, the hooves going leaden. Then, with a final slump, the body went limp.
He didn’t let go. A very thoughtful Night Guard sergeant had shown him that before. Seconds later, the unicorn began kicking in earnest once more, but it was already too late. The body stilled at last, unconscious.
“Your arrogance is overwhelming, Equestrian.” Sabra slid the body off, already reaching for his saddlebags. “You are one to our seven. You are a mud pony from your appearance, and therefore lacking in magic, a gift each of us possesses. You are at our mercy. Bow, and we may ease our punishment at your insolence.”
He tightened the horn-lock into place, working quickly, then went to work with the unicorn’s hooves. Dawn would have used rope, but his skill with knots was … not the best. He’d opted for something else instead, something Sky had given him after the briefing: a collection of heavy duty industrial devices made of thick plastic she had called “zip ties.”
They were far easier to use than rope. Within a few seconds, he’d tied the stallion’s hooves together, both left and right to one another, and then front to rear. He wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“Last chance,” Captain Song said as Sabra moved to take the former guard’s overwatch position. The Order unicorns had fanned around him now, bodies lowered in clear-but-sloppy combat stances. Captain Song didn’t look up, but Sabra was sure he’d seen him all the same. “Surrender, or it’s going to hurt.”
He was in position. Beneath him, he could see the top of the largest of the banners, strung between two smaller spikes. That will work perfectly. He stepped up onto the railing, balancing on the edge. There was a bit of a lip between the base of the tower and the edge of the office, but that was fine. Less distance to drop.
“I have heard enough. Seize him!”
A chorus of bright flashes filled the air, magic streaking out at the captain even as Sabra tipped forward over the edge. A whitish dome snapped into being above Captain Song, the barrage of spells cracking against its edge and dissapaiting with bright flashes. Cries of dismay reached Sabra’s ears even as his hooves met the top of the banner and tore it free with a jerk. He spun, twisting himself around the banner so that he would land first as he drug it down, strength mod coming to life just before he hit.
The force of his impact had to have rattled the roof, he knew. It wasn’t enough to crack the crystal outright, but it was enough to reduce the charge in his mod to nearly zero. It didn’t matter, though. He could make the next jump without a mod.
Below on the street, the Order unicorns were letting out cries of shock and surprise at the appearance of the shield. “Focus fire!” the leader called, her voice echoing across the street as Sabra jumped once more. “Bring that shield down! Look for the—!” Whatever she was about to say was cut off as Sabra landed beside her and the two ponies flanking her, trailing the long banner in one hoof. Before her startled shout had even begun to echo across the street he was around her and her aides and back where he had started, tugging back on the banner and wrapping it neatly around the trio.
“Nova special,” he said, jumping toward the nearest unicorn and extending his Fimbo. The unicorn had barely started to react to Sabra’s sudden appearance before the staff caught him across the side of the head, sending him flying, body limp.
The second unicorn managed to fire off a single spell, which he sidestepped before bringing his Fimbo up and striking them in the chest. He dropped the staff, letting its own momentum carry it back down as he rained a quick set of strikes on the pony’s head and face. A quick kick of his rear hoof brought his Fimbo up once more, and he gave the unicorn a final blow that sent him sprawling to the pavement.
Across the street, Captain Song had gone into action as well, leaving the protection of the bubble to assault the surprised Order. One member was already down, and as Sabra watched, the captain bucked the second hard enough to lift them free of the ground and send them crashing into the front wall of the station. They didn’t get up.
Beams of light and fire began to tear through the banner, an angry snarl ripping free alongside the three unicorns it had covered. Sabra was already moving, however, and brought his Fimbo down neatly atop one unicorn’s head, clipping his horn and eliciting a howl of pain that cut off a split-second later as his head met the paving stones. Something hot and heavy slammed into his side, a sudden heat spiking through his armor and making his muscles dance as it threw him back. The electrical bolt cut out in mid-air however, Captain Song meeting the two unicorns from the other side and crashing into them with the force of a runaway train. Both went down. Hard.
Sabra was already running to meet the captain when the front door to the station burst open, several more unicorns starting to run out of it. Steel spun, ignoring the spells that flashed past him, and delivered a buck to the gut of the downed leader. She flew back through the air, her pained cries matching those of her compatriots as slammed into them, crashing them back through the doorway. Sabra was on them a second later, spinning and flipping as he lashed out at every target, the captain moving to cover him.
A minute of violence later, and the building was theirs. The orderly offices and waiting areas were trashed, battered stallions and mares lying across furniture, the few still conscious moaning as they clutched at bruised or in some cases broken limbs.
“You should have surrendered,” Captain Song said to their leader as he secured a lock around her horn. “I gave you a chance.” She said nothing in return, merely rolling her head back and letting out a faint moan at the sight of the ring cutting off her magic.
“Check the cells,” Steel said, pulling a set of crystalline keys from behind one of the desks and pointing at a wide set of stairs that headed down into the ground. “I’ll gather up the Order.”
“Yes, captain.”
“Steel will do,” Captain Song said, tossing him the keys. “Unless needed.”
He nodded. “Understood.” It wasn’t the first time the captain had reminded him otherwise, but Plainsland honorifics were different from those of Equestria. Keys in hoof, he headed down the stairs.
The brash, harsh light was what caught his eyes first. It was bright, so bright it was almost painful even through his visor, and a vivid red. It spilled over him as soon as he reached the bottom of the steps, visor tinting. For a moment he paused, confused, and then his mind reached a cause.
Psychological, he thought as he let his gaze wander across the short hallway in front of him. Six cells greeted his eyes, each carved from crystal. Or grown, maybe. He still wasn’t sure. But each had clear, crystal doors that allowed him to see what was inside.
Each was occupied by crystal ponies in what looked like various states of shock, fear, or surprise. In one cell a family was clustered around a crying foal, in another, a lone, aged crystal stallion was curled up on the cell floor, face to the back wall. The cells had a small trough in the back for taking care of what he guessed was personal business, but it was clear that none of them had been cleaned in some time. He could smell the faint rank scent of filth through his helmet.
It made him sick.
He strode over to the first cell in line, the one with the crying foal. Its parents looked up at him, their expressions broken. “Please,” one of them said, her voice cracking, barely audible. “We need water. We—” Only then did her eyes seem to register that he wasn’t one of the Order, and she shrank back slightly.
“Who are you?” her companion asked, his own voice just as dry.
“I am Specialist Sabra of the Equestrian Dusk Guard,” Sabra said, coming to a halt by the cell door. “And we’re here to liberate this city.” The pair’s eyes widened as he slipped the key into the lock, faint hope coming into their faces. The cell door opened with a heavy thunk, sliding to one side. “We would ask that you stay upstairs. Medical care will arrive shortly.”
The pair looked at the door warily but didn’t move. “How do we know you’re what you say you are?”
He nodded. They believe me to be a test. An Order game. “Simple,” he said, releasing the clasp on his helmet and sliding up over his head. “Mimi si mmoja wao. I am not one of them.” He stepped into the cell, squinting under the bright lights, just far enough that they could see who he was, see the black-and-white stripes of his coat.
“A zebra?” the stallion asked, his eyes going wide. “But …? How?”
“All will be explained,” he said, sliding the helmet back down over his head and tightening it into place. “But that can wait. For now, please go up the stairs and wait for Sergeant Triage to arrive. We need these cells.”
“For what?” The mare’s eyes still held suspicion, the foal clutched tightly in her forehooves.
“For the Order,” Sabra said, surprised at the sense of satisfaction in his words as he moved to the next cell in line. “These cells are magic resistant, correct?”
The stallion nodded. “They cut you off, soak up any excess. Drain you to power the lights. And those never shut off. Unless you’re dead.” There was a heavy sense of finality to his words. Sabra had no doubt he was speaking from first-hoof experience.
“Good.” He could feel a coal of rage burning in his chest as he opened the next cell. “Then it will be a perfect prison for them.” The three fillies in the next cell looked up at him with hopeful wide eyes, then moved past, heading for their stairs, their tails drooping.
A perfect prison, he thought as the stench of the next cell assailed his nostrils. The occupant in it had been sick and was lying on the floor, clearly malnourished. He was forced to help the stallion out with his hoof, the crystal pony too weak to walk. The fillies from the cell before it were still there, and they each took up positions around him, helping the elderly stallion down the hall and up the stairs. Captain Song—Steel—was just on his way down, a load of three Order members on him back and a grin displeasure in his eyes as he saw the state of the cells.
“Dawn’s at the end of the street,” he said as he tossed the first three into an empty cell. “She’ll be here soon. Once she gets the crystal ponies established, we’ll need to move fast. That lightning bolt do any damage?”
He shook his head. “The armor protected me.”
“Sky Bolt does good work, but have Dawn check you before you move out. Our next move is going to be a tough one.”
“Cut the head from the snake?”
“No.” Steel shook his head as Sabra opened another cell. “No, not yet. Harder, but more important. The head can wait. We need to cut the axe from their hooves …” His words echoed down the cells.
“And their limbs from the core.”