//------------------------------// // Eyesight to the Blind // Story: Off The Grid // by MajorPaleFace //------------------------------// The Anlace was in a steady low-orbit over the Equestrian peninsula. Through the floor of the observation room, John could see the sparsely-lit settlements and larger cities surrounding a dark hole in the early morning light. “Are we in position above our enemy?” Luna’s voice sounded somewhat tiny and tinny through the ship’s intercom. “We are.” He said. Following the line of darkness with the ships multi-spectrum visual suite. Subsurface scans showed a warren about four-hundred meters below a mountain, set next to a large canyon. But actual surface activity was minimal, and that had John worried. The damage done to the enemy’s lair, while substantial, had mostly been structural. As a subterranean-dominant species, the Changelings could have potentially rebuilt and repaired all the devastation by now. Given what he’d seen whilst inside and from the scans, he could detect a large central silo a kilometre across. It remains the closest point to the surface at around five meters. Nestled inside the silo was another construction, but any Electromagnetic or Radioactivity the scans couldn’t detect through the rocky supporting layer. “I’m coming up.” He said and turned from the terminal. A bright flash lasting a microsecond caused him to draw his Laser side-arm. Its stubby emitter was hastily lowered at the appearance of Princess Luna. Her usually dark blue mane had changed to become almost black, still sparkling with pinpricks of white. John re-holstered his pistol. “What’s with the hair?” She smiled coyly, “do you like it?” He made a face, “It’s alright.” One of her blue ears flicked and her smile vanished. She was still smiling with her eyes, though. “You said we are here.” “Yes.” John turned so she could see the terminal and she stood next to him. “We are sixty kilometres East of the hive, high enough in orbit that we can maintain our position indefinitely.” She took in the information wordlessly. Looking at the screen to see topographic data and surface conditions with estimated enemy numbers. John began explaining what the different images and numbers represented, continuing with a few suggestions for the best method of attack. She squinted, obviously trying to figure out the jumble of new phrases. He planned to modify one or both of the nuclear missiles to be able to puncture into the ground and burrow into the enemy hive. Detonating once inside. “Or we could use a seismic bomb. They’re relatively simple to build, but I would need more time.” “An explosive that is somehow more deadly against underground structures?” She guessed, sounding unsure. “That’s it.” He said, “exactly.” Luna’s wings shuddered and she craned her neck to look between her hooves through the observation deck. She studied the gloomy land below for a while, John returned to the terminal and left her to it. Ship point-defence systems were non-functional. He had a bot’ out on the exterior hull attempting to locate the underlying issue. “In the meantime,” he started suddenly – breaking Luna out of her search, “we can check-in on Midnight.” She smiled at this, a glint in her cerulean eyes, “then it shall be our turn to try on your armour!” He shrugged as they left, “we’ll see.” The previous night had seen the design process become lengthy. The trio using alcohol to fuel them into the early pre-dawn. After retreating for a nap, they had reassembled after brunch and finished the build. The auto-printer was hissing and clunking as it spat out pieces of steel, ceramic and light alloys. Designing a suit for a quadruped had drummed up many roadblocks which John enjoyed overcoming. Firstly, there was the size and physiological difference. The only real way the armour could open was from the bottom, John not able to get computerised models to work as he wanted. As for the size, while shrinking the overall design was possible, it had a power pack appropriately sized for a larger set of powered exoskeletons. Therefore, he had plenty of power left for other systems. The T series armour had built-in microjets and a thrust-control module, combining this with micro-antigravity technology and potentially pegasi magic he could create a suit that could fit a pony, fly and carry on-board weapons. He was thinking about a converted laser-turret design – and still retain technologically enhanced strength and speed. With the addition of energy-shields, the operator would be practically invulnerable. Just like John. Princess Luna had implied they could agree to a manufacturing pact – money and raw materials in exchange for suits of armour and advanced weapons. John didn’t know how he felt about that; on one hand, he’d be rich. On the other, the ponies could always become overly and unduly powerful, creating a rift and/or new conflict against their neighbouring nations. The progress would be slow. The printer on the Anlace could produce about three suits a day. Not nearly fast enough to equip an entire army. But he supposed they could start small-scale. Maybe field-test varieties and prototype the converted tech. “Is it ready?! Is it, is it?!” Midnight seemed far perkier than usual. The half-dozen plastic coffee cups a testament to her energy levels. “Soon,” John said simply. Luna also looking to become more excitable at the sight of the semi-complete quadruped-appropriate exoskeleton. He crouched next to the Mr Handy bot that was setting into place the final pieces, John covered his eyes with a hand as a spark from a welder nearly blinded him. The design was sleek and not as bulky as Johns bipedal set. Without its trademark gunmetal-grey paint, the suit had a scratched-chrome look. He’d sped-up the build process by converting his pre-owned suit, its dented and damaged alloy skin had been recycled and its servo-motors reshaped for a four-legged soldier. A second suit lay in the early stages of construction, it was much larger to accommodate the Lunar monarch. The bot completed its instructions with a bleep. Carrying itself to the other suit to begin construction. The suit had four thick legs, an angular segmented neck part connected to the helmet, which was simply a horse-head-shaped bucket with breathing apparatus, voice module and a visual suite. The ponies didn’t have a cerebral interface, and John didn’t trust himself to be able to operate on the mackerel-coated mare to find out if that blend of pony and tech would work out. The back of the armour where the wings would usually be had the slightly protruding power pack, it added an extra half-meter to the height of the body and ended just in-line with the upper part of the neck, where it connected to the helmet. A small recess at the back acted like a pocket for the tail, allowing the pony inside (hopefully) to remain fairly comfortable. The waste-recycling subsystem was one of the more complex components and he hadn’t been able to fully redesign it. Small bladders in-built into the rear legs could store the waste just the same and then deposit it through the metal hooves. “You’ll need to tie up your hair,” he said, using a finger to coil a lock of Midnights blackish-blue mane. She retreated from him, “I hate styling my mane.” She flicked her head and her messy hair flew around in a display of rebellion. The wind-chime sound he had come to accompany to magic usage tingled in his ears, Midnights hair being magically formed into a tight bun – complete with materialised bobby pins. She hissed and pulled away, pawing at the new style. She grumbled something to herself, John thought a new style suited her much better. Although he’d always preferred tied-back hair to letting it down, probably because of his militaristic upbringing. The activation for this suit was a recess on the chest, Luna had used what she called a rune to tie into Midnight's magical signature and hers alone. This way the suit could only be opened by a single operator. In a crisis, John thought it could be a bit limiting, but they could work out the kinks later. “Stick your leg in here,” he said. “Also, you need to be out of your armour, it might be a bit snug even without it.” She looked a little pensive, quickly untying the straps and harnesses that held her armour to her, and piling it up somewhat neatly near a workbench. She pressed her hoof in the crevice and the suit flowered open. The hidden seams along with the limbs, body and helmet splitting like a shedding insect. The exoskeleton reared onto its hind legs and stood in a vaguely bipedal stance; Midnight inhaled to steady herself, before stepping backward into it. “Now,” John said, “you need to sort-of clench your hoof.” He held out his arms just below his head in an imitation of the Lieutenants pose and flexed his hand at the wrist. She stared at it while sort of pawing her leg, eventually snagging the activation command as the suit closed up around her and dropped her to all-four hooves quickly, she squeaked and the sound reverberated through the helmet speakers. Luna had rushed forward and was staring through the silvery-black reflective eye-slits, “Lieutenant, can you hear us?” The suit flexed as she took a faltering stance, but she didn’t collapse as the suit had an automatic stabiliser to prevent such a misstep. “I –,” She droned in a tinny voice, “think I am fine.” Her head swivelled, testing her physical reach. The design was like the less-advanced suits Johns grandfather had explained he used to fight in sometime in the last century. His grandfather had ‘one hundred per cent iron in his blood,’ according to his father. Both were hardened killers, yes. But they could be loving in their way – if they weren’t chewing him out for something. A youthful John had missed the target altogether with a weapon called an assault rifle. He could hit anything at any distance with a laser weapon. “It’s not my fault! Why do we need to practise with these old things when we can flatten an area with energy fire?” He complained. The steel and wood weapon overly large for the child’s hands. His grandfather grimaced. “The weapons not the problem, squire. You just shoot like my goddamn grandmother. Actually, strike that, my Mrs Maxon was a deadeye.” “Now 50 burpees for being a whining little shit!” He said in a voice that brokered no argument. He’d get his burpee’s. John would hit the target on his next try, he knew. Luna spoke before he could, “Try to walk towards us!” She was clearly excited, and John didn’t tell her to ‘cool it’. Even if he wished to get any diagnostics over with as fast as possible. Midnight stumbled a little with the first few steps, and John advised her on power-armour etiquette, “you need to stop anticipating the suit; don’t fight it. The suit will do most of the work, including replacing your natural centre of gravity. Just try to walk without really thinking about it and relax yourself.” She became very still, her next series of hoof-steps approaching normal. Once at Luna, she paused as if not sure how to turn, but suddenly she did, a little stiffly but she had the hang of it. They spent the next hour practising, a second suit built for Luna awaited smartly for her use after almost another hour. It had a blueish finish to the metal, just a fluke really. Something to do with the metal oxidizer, but it was apt he had to concede. The armour was proportionally larger to accommodate the Lunar rulers bigger frame. A slot in the helmet allowed her horn to protrude a little, so she might still use her magic. She made a sound John thought of as an energised and barely contained scream, coming from inside her throat. She removed her pony-designed armour and decorative trinkets alarmingly fast – mimicking the mackerel Thestral by hopping into her specially-built suit. More time passed while they walked in circles and had a little luck with flying. John hydrated and snacked on an expiration-dateless packet of rehydrated beef jerky. It was chewy but tasty. A protein-rich morsel. A sound from his pip-boy broke the training, and he checked it quickly. “Tis’ wrong, Commander?” Luna’s oddly mechanical yet smoky voice came at him. “Somethings approaching the ship, it will be here soon. We should get to the bridge. Stay in your suits, I reckon your sister would like to see them.” Once at the command deck, he opened and closed the bridge door. His armoured equine escorts struggled to step over the air-lock threshold. Like a dog debating its inevitable journey down a flight of stairs. Once all were inside the two ponies were admired by Celestia, Goldenrod, Moonshot and Starchaser. “My, my, sister. You look all the more a warrior.” The alabaster sister smiled, but it wasn’t a particularly happy expression. The larger of the two power-armoured ponies curtsied. The move an astonishing defiance of the servo-motors limitations, yet she managed it without collapsing. John sat in the command chair, a holographic map of the horseshoe bay area cut Princess Celestia in half and she scurried away from the green-blue light. “There’s a cart inbound. We should meet it in the hangar.” John looked around for agreement, which he got in the form of nodding heads. “Take us there, Maxon,” Luna said. Single file they marched toward the converted storage shed. Once inside the bay doors revealed a greyish morning sky. Mountains on the horizon blurred into the skyline, making it difficult to determine where the earth and the heavens separated. A speck that grew could be easily seen; a pony-built aerial transport. The gold-coloured pony-pulled carriage dipped below the flight deck, seeming to have lost altitude and crashed, but rose again and skipped into the bay, hovering next to the royal sister’s vehicle. Before landing a harshly blue-eyed royal guard stallion glared at them. Constant anger and contempt in his eyes. He jumped the last half-meter to the deck, ignoring the slowly landing craft and coming right for their group. He was a large pony, not particularly tall, but heavyset even so. He had a purple shield at the front of his chest, it pinned a fluttering red cape that had this silky texture to it. On the back was a crest in gold, crossing swords maybe. John wasn’t sure. He wore a heavy gold armoured plate that covered every limb, every seam speckled with chainmail. His hip held a long sabre, an artistically styled handle and guard. Cold wind-blown rain splattered against them; it went ignored by the curious pony. A thinly-built stallion joined him. He was the firsts physical opposite, similar height but wiry-limbed. His armour the simple officer’s chest-plate John had seen other guards wearing. A short-sided helmet covered his identical Royal Guard-standard white fur. The small dagger he clasped at his side a small comfort when facing off against the heavily armed and armoured gathering of ponies and one biped. A pair of unicorns had joined John and the others at a prompt from an armoured Midnight, and they scanned the new ponies with anti-Changeling disguise spells. Or so John assumed. At their certain nod, they could talk. “General Testudo,” Celestia began. “What news preludes your presence?” He had this wild scowl at all times and didn’t blink at Luna or Midnights new mechanised armour. “It’s the Changelings, ma’am. They’ve mobilised for an invasion unprecedented in scale. Their armies roam in all directions, they are on our collective doorstep.” “We need to discuss a few points,” he continued, “and then pass a bill in the royal court as soon as possible. We need more fresh troops, more supplies. Princess, our very survival hinges on your orders.” Luna and Celestia shared this look. A serious one, a look that conveyed a dozen feelings and thoughts wordlessly. Luna spoke, “very well, General. John, we need somewhere to talk.” “This way, then,” John said, leading them toward a ready room. Survivors of 4th Battalion, 23rd Brigade, Western Everfree, Day three. “Here they come!” Charcoal forms began emerging from the smoke and fire strewed ruins of the Everfree forest. Once a natural biome filled with a diverse range of plant and animal life, it had been obliterated in the last two days of intense and concentrated fighting. Sergeant Bitter-Root had a selection of pre-cast spells at her disposal, she thought about ethereal fire emerging from the depths of her magical ability and that’s exactly what happened. Red napalm bubbled and popped as she sprayed the area fifty meters ahead. A platoon-sized group of Changelings unfortunate to be the first immolated, they writhed and screeched as gold-armoured ponies were encouraged to counter-attack. The strain in her horn spread into a dull throb at the base of her neck, and she cut the spell. The scorched and still-burning area disgorged more Changelings even as they stampeded over their heavily burned comrades. Caustic smoke caught the wind and burned her lungs, the Changelings had been raining down some kind of gas along with the usual artillery and airstrikes. She reached into the small pack at her armoured waist, removed her breather mask and strapped it on, a magical air filled her nose and she could breathe once more. The circular eyeholes made it seem like she was viewing the combat through a tube, narrow and restricting. But at least she was alive. To her sides and behind an overlapping chorus of screams and coughing fits overcame the primal need to flee; grounding her in the here and now and making her blood surge for vengeance. Bitter-Root had trained and lived with these ponies for ten years, she wasn’t about to take this flank-kicking lying down. Several soldiers in her unit had failed to equip their breathers – faces locked in frozen screams. They lay twisted, having died in terrible agony. She clenched her jaw and advanced with the others, she clashed with a large bug-pony-hybrid, her steel held against its serrated chiton short-sword. Her magic blasted the creature, vicious blood-ebbing wounds caused it to howl and semi-collapse. She extracted her blade after burring it into the things back. She turned to check on her unit. The last thing she didn’t see would be a crushing hammer blow to the neck, fatally shattering her chest and skull such was the force. Sergeant Bitter-Root’s sole fortuitous gift was being spared from feeding. Artillery peppered the area between her position and the Everfree salient. A platoon she had just dispatched was somewhere in the hell-fire, trapped under enemy bombardment. “Celestia-dammed things just keep coming!” An out-of-breath stallion announced as he all but tossed a scroll at his superior officer. Captain Ambrosia didn’t acknowledge his griping, instead quickly skimming the update from her forward unit. She’d sent two of her most veteran platoons into the Everfree two days ago to discern if reports of inbound bugs were true. An approximately hundred-thousand-strong force of the bastards had just shown up out of no-where, kilometres from their hive in the west. She turned to another soldier as he scrabbled into the command post, “ma’am!” The trooper said, firing off a quick salute. “How long?” She asked. Referring to the evacuation of Ponyville to the North-West. He shook his head before she had finished asking. “They flanked us! They’re attacking the civilian population centres and there’s a large force of them coming right up our ass!” “We’re fucked, ma’am!” He said as if to summarise his feeling on the matter. “Stow it! Send word to Lieutenant Garrison – tell her to move her troops to the rear and we’ll hold out as long as we can.” “Ma’am?” He asked. “This is our final stand, trooper. Better pray for a miracle.” She said simply, his wide eyes bulged – but together they pushed outside with the others, three dozen ponies assembling for what might be their last moments. “it’s a mess, ma'am.” The General said. Captain Nyx, his administrative staff officer, scattered several black-and-white pictures over the alloy table. “What are we looking at, General?” Celestia said, her head cocked to one side. He spread them out so they could be better seen. Big blurry blobs shifted over what John thought might be mountainous terrain. “Large formations of Changeling troops crossing into our borders.” He paused to look them each in the eye, “three days ago.” He moved some more pictures to the forefront, it looked like the Equestrian capital. The ground just visible below a veil of thick black smoke. “This morning they came out of nowhere, our 1st Army has engaged them stretched along a 40km front.” He handed a copy of a report to each Princess, John studied their sour expressions. Celestia looked hurt and sad. Looking up with wet eyes. Luna's expression hidden beneath her power armour, “art these accurate?” Her voice was tinged nasally. The paper file flopped in her magical grasp as she gestured at the General. He looked down, “they are. As of about an hour ago, the enemy is almost inside the capital.” Luna huffed angrily, “how have they managed to conceal their numbers? To invade and ensnare us so completely.” Her head shook slightly. “How far have they gotten, General?” John asked. The older stallion regarded John as one might view a stray dog. Cautiously curious. “For three days and nights they’ve marched, no army in history can claim that rate of movement. Intelligence thinks they used underground tunnels to move into a position for attack. They are stretched west from the sands outside Las Pegasus and have overrun the 1st Lunar Guard division stationed in Appleloosa, chasing them south into the Mackintosh hills. Lieutenant Colonel Kodiak and Colonel Amethyst have gone there to help lead them out.” Captain Nyx set out a map over the reconnaissance photos and the General kept talking, “the Changelings have bypassed I-corps who are now defending Las Pegasus-proper, pushing north and splitting into two groups, one heading for Vanhoover and the other flanking toward Ponyville.” He looked up, “probably intending to march up the Canterlot pass and into the city itself. And although evacuation of the area was almost complete before they even arrived, the civilian casualties remain high. We’ve massed what reserves that remain in the area near the Whitetail woods, and I recommend urging our neighbouring nations to help.” He carried on at Johns prodding. I-corps was the west coast of Equestrias major most formation of military forces command. Comprised of the 8th Marina Guard Division, (naval assault specialists,) 3rd combat mountain unit, (Mountainous troops,) and the 10th and 15th Royal Guard divisions. All-in-all about sixty-thousand guards garrisoned near Las Pegasus. By Whitetail Woods the 8th Army Group had four mixed division from the less experienced territorial echelons in the Royal Guards, with another forty-thousand to add to the fight. The 1st Lunar Guard Division south of Appleloosa in the Mackintosh hills had between twenty-five to thirty-thousand battle-hardened troops. And what they lacked in number they could make up for in skill, tenacity and experience. In the east, a pair of Guard and Thestral Divisions were butting heads but ready to blockade the Changelings from marching toward Baltimare and Horse-Shoe bay. John studied the maps, markers for each unit were added as the General described the situation. Some two-hundred thousand Equestrian troops from a military of maybe half a million had been called on, rapidly mobilising but they had already lost tens of thousands over the last two weeks. “What about Vanhoover?” The General huffed, “Elk share that territory with us and they’ll be dammed if they’re gonna let a bunch of black-bastard cheese-leg assholes ruin their day. We’ll reinforce them if we can but right now our priority has to be Canterlot and the surrounding area. It’s the beating heart of Equestria, our cultural heritage. It must not fall.” They all had this rallying shaking sensation at his words. Tactically whoever controlled Canterlot controlled one of the highest peaks in the area. But even so, throwing soldiers lives away for a piece of land had always baffled John. “Cities and homes can be rebuilt, General Testudo. Lives cannot be replaced.” “Of course, but Canterlot is too important. And they haven’t reached the city yet. The troops stationed at the crash site from the are halting the enemy advance, but they won't last long. With your help, I intend to route the enemy and send em running” "What units are still stationed within the city itself?” Celestia asked. "Palace Guards and Legionaries, Princess. A division of each. Already the enemy siege machines are within reach and have begun their barrage. I’ve dispatched pegasi air wings to seek out, strike and destroy them – and they’ve been making some progress but not nearly enough.” Princess Celestia studied the maps, forming a response. “Can we do this alone – with the help of the Commander I mean?” A question meant for John as much as anyone else. Testudo spoke before John could, “it’s a simple matter of numbers, Princess; they have more. Our military analysts at Pendragon Research and Development tell me it might be in the range of 9:1. We have the edge pound for pound, but that doesn’t matter when you’re talking about five-million bugs swarming the nation.” There wasn’t much that could be said to that. “John – Might we have a word?” Luna asked. Her voice tinted nasally with her power armour. “Sure,” he said easily. For despite the deteriorating situation on the ground he was safe at high altitude, he reasoned. At a gesture from Lunas metal-encased leg, her larger sibling joined them outside. He sealed the door at a nod from Luna. Celestia looking as confused as John. He had his back to the entrance and felt a little claustrophobic in with the pair of princesses within touching distance. He waited for her to speak. “Celestia, we need to come to terms with the situation and rally the ponies if any of us are to survive this. We have a plan that we think the good Commander can help with.” “Okay,” Celestia said, “do share.” After telling them, the trio re-entered the ready-room. John had to admit a small amount of surprise. He could tell from the looks on Celestia, Testudo and Nyx’ faces that they were as equally unprepared. Luna finished by finally asking for his input. In short – she wanted to use the manufacturing infrastructure in a place called Fillydelphia to mass-produce the ponified power armour, as well as human energy weapons. At the same time, to amass an enormous armed force. To match and meet the Changeling threat. “I mean… can that be done?” He asked. He was all for the eventual re-armament of pony-kind. But so rapidly? “Indeed, we believe it can. For we have one critical advantage.” “Magic?” He guessed. “Correct,” she said. “We would like to trial something. Lieutenant, please remain steady. We do not know if this will work.” The power-armoured officer turned to face the Princess, and both moved against the far wall. Luna exited her armour with greater ease and fluidity than John would have thought. She lifted it telekinetically and relocated it to the opposite wall. Luna inhaled sharply. Her eyes were closed with her lips parted a fraction, when her eyes opened again, they were a deep black, puddles of darkness. Her horn flashed a cerulean blue and energy poured out of it into the smaller armoured Equestrian. A ghostly apparition of the armour formed and phased to stand next to the Lieutenant. Slowly at first, it began to fill in – blank sections replaced with swirling darker blues and oranges that became solid metal. With a small shockwave that blasted the papers from the steel table and tousled the other Equines fur and manes, a third complete suit stood. A clap. John began clapping slowly, marvelling at the display. “That’s awesome.” He said genuinely, having never seen anything like it. She exhaled slowly through her mouth, tipping her chin in a nod. ‘My pleasure,’ it said. “Twas’ not as taxing as we had thought. We should be able to make several of them, but we cannot copy a copy – we should use the original to make them from.” “Alright. Midnight – get out and try the copy out.” Midnight pawed at her chest, eventually striking her release and stepping out of the human-produced suit after it had flowered open. Midnight began entering the new suit, and John studied it critically. He inspected every nook. “I’ll need one as well, for my own analysis.” “Very well, we should incline to return to the weapons room.” She looked at her sister, “will you lend us your power, sister? You have far greater energy reserves than I.” Celestia smiled a tiny smile, obviously the conflict and situation in needing more soldiers – and the possibility that she would have to plunge her nation into war both troubled and scared her. Yet she was able to put that aside to bond with her younger Lunar counterpart. “Verily,” she said in imitation of the way her sister sometimes lapsed into old-world speak. “In the meantime, General Testudo – we are very safe here. If you could return to the capital, rally the ponies. Myself and my sister are agreed,” as she spoke, she summoned a quill and some parchment to scribe her speech. “We are preparing for a swift end to this war. In this solemn hour, it is a consolation to recall our repeated efforts for peace. All have been ill-starred, but all have been faithful and sincere. The cooperation of scores of millions of mares and stallions and whose comradeship is indispensable, is the only foundation upon which the trial and tribulation of modern war can be endured and surmounted. “This mortal conviction alone affords us that ever-fresh resilience which renews the strength of ponies in long, dark days. Outside, the storms of war may blow and the lands may be lashed with its gales. But in our own hearts there is peace. Our hooves may be active, but our consciences are at rest.” The black ink swirled in an admittedly pretty scripture, again John was reminded that written Equestrian was unlike English literature. Two more quill-ended pens sprung into being, one with a white-edged gold feather and the other a dark black with blue spots. Celestia levitated the letter to her shorter sister, her blue head raised and eyes narrowed as she read. Luna signed in blue ink, Celestia in gold and a wax mark of each mare was printed into the bottom. Little ribbons trailed from them, the entire thing rolled and slotted into a decorative tube. It passed to General Testudo. “Read this to the court, we have the infrastructure in place for such a calamity. See to it that the nobles don’t attempt anything oafish.” “Yes, Princess,” he said in his gravelly voice. He wasn’t a small pony, but he was fairly diminutive compared to the white ruler. As Nyx and Testudo started to leave, Luna nearly barrelled into the smaller officer to cut-off his escape, “Captain Nyx, inside Canterlot castle are a single battalion of my most elite Thestral Guards. We art hereby activating them. We want you to send eighty-per cent of them to establish a camp atop foal mountain. The rest are to find us here, understood?” “Yes, Princess.” He straightened. “Good, take this. Fly swiftly.” She handed him a small scroll holder. They escorted the General back to the hanger. John watching coldly as he and his aide officer boarded, the pony-towed transport lifting soundlessly and drifting into the open-air as the bay doors opened. Howling rain threatened to flood the bay and blast the cart onto its back. The pulling team coped well, moving into the sky and fading from sight at vast speed. John turned, “Princess Luna, take your sister to the weapons bay – and kindly take all three sets of armour. And you can begin making more copies.” “Yes, sir!” Luna said, half-rudely, half-jokingly. Midnight exited her magic copy power armour, and both of them departed, taking the suit. Luna was now familiar enough with the ship that he trusted her to make it back okay. That left him alone with a technically naked Midnight. “You owe me a drink,” she said suddenly. Do I? Probably. “Aright – but we have to make it quick.” The kitchen – or ‘cook-nook,’ was a fire-proof and fully sealed space that allowed for non-automated catering. The much larger robotic kitchen was in an armoured cell that could be jettisoned if needed, the food exited via a small air-lock. Because in space, fire is a crew’s greatest fear. Among many others. He sat in the cramped four-seat table, tapping away at a small series of buttons in the middle of the table. The Thestral sat – albeit uncomfortably. Looking to regret the request for a drink. He drummed both palms on the table, “what’s on the menu?” She asked. “Nuka-Cola Dark,” he explained. “Cola with rum.” The pair of black-labelled bottle appeared soon after, already opened. The fizz and alcohol felt like sand against his teeth, but he drank half in one go after clinking glass with the Equestrian. “So, I’ve been thinking,” she began. “we have a lot in common, and you know we could be dead any day. Would you mind if I took you out?” The query came out of the left field and completely caught him off-guard. He scanned her features, trying to discern if this was a prank. He smiled despite the unease he felt, “like on a date? Or with a high-powered rifle?” She laughed a bit, her yellow eyes flashing brightly, fangs protruding in her own smirk, “on a date. I know I’m probably not what you’d usually go for,” she looked down and frowned. “But maybe we could try it – see what we both think? This is new for me too, and definitely not what I expected to find myself asking.” “But –” she said at length, “think about it?” His eyes unfocused, he thought back to earth, and the women he knew. Even Cassandra, the woman he feared he may have loved – didn’t evoke anything relating to shame, or of taboo. Midnight wasn’t an animal, she was a thinking, feeling person. Even so – when he’d thought about settling in with a soft woman on a tropical beach, this wasn’t what he had meant at all. But you need to adapt, he reasoned. He’d think about it. He realised he’d been quiet for a while, and Midnight was starting to look worried. The patterned M on her forehead scrunched in a frown. “Okay, when there’s time, when this is all over.” He gestured between them, “I’ll think about it.” Her face lit up before she got her emotions in check. “Great! I mean, that’s good. Good.” The dopey smile was hidden as she polished off her drink, John copying. He led them back into the hallway, banishing the conversation from his thoughts and thinking again about the best course of action. The wandered down to the weapons bay, underneath the armour facility – where even now, they could see the royal sisters making clones of the pony power-armour. The rear section required a code to enter, the quality killing devices locked away. They stepped through, and John unclasped a laser rifle from the wall. The Anlace had maybe three-hundred pre-assembled shooters, with the supplies to make about a thousand more. He may need to modify the design a bit for the ponies, but no matter – a weapon was a weapon, it didn’t have to be elegant. He handed it to the furry Thestral, Midnight sitting to take it across both front legs. She held it awkwardly, before the memory of him teaching her in its usage at the fighting near Blackwater resurfaced and she shifted it into a firing position. John tapped the end toward the floor – to prevent any mishaps. She looked up a little unsure, “whoever said the pen is mightier than the word has never encountered automatic weapons.” He gestured at the rows of laser and plasma ejectors, “I’ll be the armourer of an under-equipped military. Weapons, my dear. You and the others aboard are going to have to learn quickly their usage, and help me to teach the rest of your military.” She gulped, and her snake-eyes widened. “So let's get to work,” he said.