//------------------------------// // Assault on Mount Talladega-Running with the Reckless // Story: Legends of Equestria: Hesturland // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// Inside the launch control room, neither member of personnel had been expecting anything unusual to happen. Being assigned to launch control duty was just another part of daily life on this base, just as it had been during the Cold War 40 years earlier. Neither of them assumed that anything would happen, so they often brought reading material or other things to do whilst in there, as the shifts were long and they only needed to check a panel every now and then. Indeed, the messy stuff was down to the launch technicians. They were the ones who had to handle the dinitrogren tetroxide and aerozine 50 mix that comprised the fuel load for the missile. That stuff was pretty nasty, so the uniforms they wore usually contained lots of patching to cover holes and gaps where the suits had torn or suffered other forms of damage. Men on the base had occassionally questioned why such an antiquated launch system was in use in this day and age, but the simple reason was protection. This older launch system relied on very basic targeting, telemetry, and tracking systems, unlike more modern bases which could be more affected by EMPs. This kit could continue operating through practically anything, be it hurricane, tornado, or even a nuclear strike. The silos had several missiles, and each could be manually retargeted to strike a different area. But it's not as if anything was going to happen. After all, the entire point of nuclear missiles is that you have them so that your opponent doesn't use them. Mutually Assured Destruction, and all that. So, as you can probably imagine, both men were rather startled when a siren began going off in the room. The door bulkheads slammed shut, and the air filtration system kicked into gear as the doors locked. "Launch procedure!" called the main operator. "They actually ordered it." Seconds later, a series of morse code beeps entered over the radio. The secondary operator noted down the numbers on a piece of paper. "Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven. Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven. Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One. Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three. Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six." The two men then swapped code books. "Check numbers. Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven." "Check." "Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven." "Check." "Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One." "Check." "Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three." "Check." "Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six." "Check. All numbers check." The lead operator pressed another button on his console. "Numbers check. Awaiting target coordinates for launch." The console started beeing again, as a fresh set of morse code signals were fed to them. The secondary operator typed out the numbers and letters as accurately as possible, with no errors as far as he could see. "30.2241° N, 92.0198° W." "Copy." They swapped reference books again. "Check coordinates. 30.2241° N, 92.0198° W." "Check. Coordinates check out." The lead operator pressed another button, this time confirming that the launch coordinates had been received succesfully. "Move to stage 2." On the other side of the room sat a pair of terminals with several extra buttons and key slots in them. These were the most powerful desks in their arsenal, and this statement may sound ridiculous, but there is plenty of truth to it. For these were the launch control tables. The lead operator opened the locker, and handed a launch key to his subordinate. "Take desk 2." "Sir." Both men walked calmly to the desks, and sat down at them. Both desks were positioned in such a way that one man could not turn both sets of keys at once. Furthermore, both keys had to be turned within half a second of each other, to prevent one man turning one key, walking over to the other desk, and turning the other, as this would cause the launch system to lock up. "Insert launch keys." Both men inserted the keys into the holes where they were meant to go. "Rotate on my word. Three, Two, One, rotate." Both keys were turned at the same time. A light illuminated on the console telling them the fuelling valves were open and the silo doors were opening. Seconds later, another light switched on, confirming main engine start. A giant roar started up in the facility as the missile began to lift off. "Launch underway." The lead operator wiped his forehead. "May God be with us all." Whilst all that nonsense was going on (although to call it nonsense is perhaps a little inappropriate given that the consequences of that act were potentially dire), Rockhoof and company were busy trying to figure out what to do in this case. The constant noise blaring over the speakers, which had for some reason been triggered by the staff as noise pollution, didn't massively help. "Mare from off the dresser pranced, found a colt and gaily danced! Ponies neighed and champed their bits, for Emperor Hurricane had lost his wits! Well, cow jumped over, dog barked wild; Panzy lay prone and sweetly smiled! Puddinghead cried 'Play faster, Pat!' Because we all want to dance like that!" "Gambol and totter till you're hotter than a hatter, and you spin all akimbo like a windmill flailing! Whirl with a clatter till you scatter every cotter, and the strings start a-pinging as the world goes sailing!" "Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide! You can clatter with your platter, but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend! Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom With a batter and a clatter you can shatter every platter, But Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!" "I still question how on Earth they got hold of one of my recordings!" Stygian said. "That doesn't matter right now!" Rockhoof shouted. "We need to stop the missile launch!" Just then, the entire facility began to shake. "That doesn't sound good." His radio suddenly flickered into life. "Confirmed fire trails emerging from the launch positions! The missile is currently launching!" "Can't you stop it?" "One second. The missile is still in its docking clamps as the engine gets up to speed, and the warhead is still inactive. If you can disable the clamps, the missile will fall and explode, but the warhead will remain secure at the top!" "Which of these buttons does that!" Rockhoof shouted. "Shoot the panels and destroy them! See if that does the trick!" The Native Guard responded swiftly to the order, loading their weapons and firing quickly as they set about their duty. Panels short curcuited and exploded as bullet holes went through them, and the noise from the speakers continued to echo, now randomly getting louder and quieter. "Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide With a twiddle on the fiddle in the middle by the griddle but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend! Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom! With a batter and a clatter You can shatter every platter but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!" Eventually, there was a loud series of pops and bangs, followed by a broadcast over the speaker. "Alert. Alert. Missile docking clamps destroyed. Missile unable to launch; warhead disabled. Repeat, Alert. Alert. Missile docking clamps destroyed. Missile unable to launch; warhead disabled." "We did it!" the men cried, and started to celebrate. Too early, as the room flooded with enemy soldiers. "Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide With a twiddle on the fiddle in the middle by the griddle but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend! Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom! With a batter and a clatter You can shatter every platter but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!" "Will somebody turn that noise off?" an officer shouted. Suddenly, extra sounds began playing over the speakers. "Three- Seven- Two- Four- One- Five- Seven. Two- Nine- Five- Eight- Nine- Five- Four- Seven. Six- Seven- Six- Eight- Four- Five- One. Five- Two- Four- Nine- Eight- Six- Three. Four- Two- Four- Six- Seven- Eight- Six." As the Native Guard opened fire on their attackers to try and drive them away, Rockhoof headed for another location to try and affect an escape route. They had stopped the missile, yes, but the bigger issue of how to escape still remained. Also, did they leave the base in place, or try to destroy it? The massive facility had no obvious power source or reactor to damage, so that wasn't an option. As he made his way down the hall, swinging enemies out of his way with his shovel, he tried to keep a close eye out for anything that may help him establish where he was inside the facility. He was close to giving up on finding his way out when he was suddenly called out to by a group of warriors, all of whom were carrying axes, were dressed in thick, heavy furs, and wore silver coloured helmets with wing motifs and spikes set into them. "We made it, sir," said the first. "Where do you need us?"