Four minutes until detonation.
Mossy could do nothing about the timer, just as she could do nothing about a great deal of things in her life. But in this case, it was a decision she'd made—either she would succeed in this mission, or they wouldn't bring her in alive. There would be no switching off the bomb.
Before her was the municipal adjunct relay—a structure so vast and complex that she could imagine no creature from Equestria building it. And indeed, none had.
A construction of vast metal spires stretched up into the sky, trailing from several times thicker than the largest structure here in Manehattan to something that looked finer than a hair.
She didn't look like much with the crowd of other creatures thronging around her. Most were other slaves, wearing very little beyond threadbare clothes and occasional bags of whatever gear they needed to accomplish their dreary work.
Hold on a little longer, everypony. Manehattan's day has come.
Mossy had done everything she could to keep from being noticeable—she'd rubbed grease into her mane, tucked her tail into her jacket, and covered up her hooves. Deer weren't uncommon down in Equestria anymore, not since the Day of Shattered Skies—but they were rare enough to attract a second glance. Those precious seconds might be just enough to keep a watchful sentry from noticing the unusual energy-density of the pack she carried.
Of course, such a critically-important relay wasn't left completely undefended, waiting for a creature with nothing to sabotage the grind of Equestria's second-largest city. Those of Elsewhere relied on secrecy to keep their relay station working.
Unfortunately for them, Mossy's friend Galae had pierced their secure network, and spilled its guts all over her private terminal. She knew.
Yet even disguised as an insignificant installation, the facility was not unguarded. Those of Elsewhere had loyalist servants now—unicorns in black uniforms with mirrored visors, and strange weapons in the air beside them at all times. Mossy passed between several, practically holding her breath with each step.
That would do nothing to keep her hidden, of course. But she had to do something. She filed into the back of the line, rocking nervously back and forth as she followed a few of the local slave-workers in their gray uniforms.
She had an outer jumpsuit that matched theirs almost exactly, though there were a few minor differences. She covered her face with a dark bandanna, keeping her ears tucked into a cap. With the thick layer of smog settling on Manehattan like an oppressive blanket, she wasn't the only one to make subtle adaptations.
Three minutes until detonation.
"Keep your head down, sweetheart," said a voice from beside her. Still Water wasn't there—the space beyond a line of dark cones was empty other than the watching Loyalists. But that didn't make his voice any less real. "They adore conformity. Simply give them what they want, and they will let us live in peace."
Like so many other creatures, she had believed that, for a while. Fighting was hard, and victories were few. Maybe the smart creatures were the ones who just kept their heads down and mouths shut.
I tried your way, Dad. Now I'm trying my way.
She was only one deer, with only a handful of friends. Mossy couldn't change the whole world on her own. But she could sure as buck not curl up and wait for someone else to do it.
She continued forward, head down and eyes looking anywhere else. She almost made it to the relay entrance before the sirens started.
Spotlights switched on, a pair of harsh white blasts from either side of the barren courtyard. They panned across a terrified crowd, towards her.
There were only a few steps more to the building walls. Mossy bolted, galloping ahead as quickly as her hooves could carry her. A security guard in thin plastic armor stepped up to block her path, spreading himself sideways across the entrance. But this was a pegasus, with gnarled wings emerging from his back.
She kicked at his right foreleg, sending him tumbling onto the floor. In that same moment she continued over him, leaping into the building proper.
Two minutes until detonation.
There was nothing particularly impressive inside, just a blank gray elevator, and utility doors leading off to either side. Mossy took a single second to decide, then dashed to the left. Even that was long enough for the glass behind her to shatter, spraying into the room.
Creatures fled screaming. Hopefully the Loyalists wouldn't kill too many of their own slaves tonight.
She made it to the elevator, scattering more slaves before ramming her shoulder straight into the side of another security guard. His baton smacked against her side a few times, but futilely. He fell, and she was only bruised.
Mossy smacked her hoof against the "basement" button, then pressed the string of several symbols that made for a control override.
The doors slammed closed, right into the face of a dozen charging Loyalist guards.
While the elevator descended, Mossy stripped off the jumpsuit, tearing off the clothes and shaking it off her hooves. The alarms blaring through the building around her meant an end to stealth, no matter how careful she was. She wore saddlebags underneath, wrapped tight to her body. On the left side was the bomb, still counting down.
She reached into the right, yanking a disruptor into her mouth. The weapon had been mostly disassembled, with its genetic key overridden with a mess of gnarled circuits covered in epoxy. It smelled like fire between her lips, and felt like trying to hold lightning. But it didn't blow up.
As the elevator came to a stop, she smacked herself against the side wall, pressing as flat as she could. Sure enough, a few soldiers came rushing into the opening, firing into the place she'd been standing moments before.
They barely even twitched as she blasted them with the disruptor, turning Loyalists into thoroughly scorched meat.
Then she stepped out, and turned to aim the disruptor upward at the elevator’s roof. Metal turned to liquid, raining down. More importantly, the elevator jolted another meter, smacking against the floor of the shaft. Nopony else would be taking the express way down.
One minute left.
Finally, Mossy's target stood before her. The Omicron Anchor drove deep into the earth, strange fibers of the black alien weave that no creature in Equestria could spin. Standing beside it, she felt the constant hum of energy passing through it, spreading down into the huge contact before her.
There were other, redundant contacts spread throughout the city. Mossy's work here would not completely cripple Those of Elsewhere in Manehattan. But it would be a spark. Others would have to spread the flame.
Thirty seconds until detonation.
Hooftsteps pounded in the hallway behind her, a flood now. The longer she waited, the thicker resistance would become. She couldn't fail when she was so close.
She clambered up beside the weight, as high as she could go. Then she heaved, tossing the satchel off her shoulders and onto the Omicron Anchor.
The leather bag began to char and blacken on contact, as energy vaster than that required to fly an aircraft passed through it. A cloud of thick smoke rose from around it, choking the air in front of her.
Yet the explosive was made of sterner stuff. As the bag burned away, she could see its block outline appear from within the ash, crowned by a single blinking display.
Fifteen seconds until detonation.
Mossy retreated, leaping backwards off the maintenance walkway, then down beside a dozen flashing control-panels. Too bad the Loyalists who worked down here had evacuated. She would've loved to give them an up-close and personal view of the detonation.
"She's down here!" yelled a voice from the open doorway, gesturing in her direction. "This way!"
The detonator began to beep audibly, loud enough that she could hear it even from across the room.
Mossy moved to duck, but those motions came sluggishly. She heaved herself sideways behind a heavy steel control panel, maybe a dozen meters back from the blast.
A green-furred figure appeared beside the Omicron Anchor, a towering stag dressed in threadbare slave-clothing.
"Mossy, no!" He reached towards her, and she reached back, trying to drag him away.
She was too slow this time, too.
An explosion shook the floor under her hooves, blasting her back against the wall in a sudden flash of light and deafening sound. She smashed up against a desk, collapsing sideways behind it as flames licked the air above her. Her foreleg burned, though only for an instant before the agony of it faded.
For the city of Manehattan, the pain had only just begun. The passage to her left collapsed in a shower of rock, burying the soldiers massing near the entrance with muffled screams of protest.
She could see nothing directly, hear nothing other than the ring of the explosives in her ears. Yet blinded and deafened as she was, Mossy saw a figure approach. He dodged chunks of rubble as they fell from the ceiling, stepping over melted and burning control panels.
Finally the stag stopped over her. His expression was obscured by the smoke, so she couldn't tell for sure. But his shoulders weren't slumped this time—he wasn’t bowing to Those of Elsewhere anymore.
Through the serenade of alarms and emergency notifications, Mossy heard his voice, as clear as any memory—even if the words were new. "You did it, Moss. I'm proud of you."
Then he was gone, vanished into the fire and the flames.
Mossy wasn't sure how long she lay there in the ash and smoke, surrounded by flashing lights and occasional bursts of magical discharge. Laying limp on the floor probably saved her from the smoke, and maybe sweeps by Loyalist marines, determined to capture the one who defied Those of Elsewhere so violently and successfully.
But eventually, the sirens stopped sounding—the fires went out, and the constant flash of emergency lights became a dull glow of red pointing to a secondary exit.
Then she heard a voice—somepony familiar and real, and just beside her. Unlike her father's memory, Galae's voice was distorted and washed out. Probably from those blown-out eardrums.
"Flew a little close to the sun, Mossy? Looks like you got burned."
She twitched, turning just her head towards the speaker. Even that hurt, with aches that traveled along her spine, down to where her legs had smacked up against the floor. But her foreleg was still numb. That wasn't good.
"Y-yeah," she squeaked. "H-how... how are you down here? Didn't expect a rescue."
"Turns out the Sol Confederacy has a little more on their hooves now that a certain doe kicked them in the balls. Security drones went down all over Manehattan, protection fields aren't working, observation posts are black... it's a party out there."
She tried to sit up. She made it a few inches, but could practically feel herself coming apart with every inch. She slumped back onto the floor. "Am I invited?"
She looked up at Galae. He was wearing a stolen loyalist uniform, though he'd removed the helmet. A heavy satchel of tools hung beside him, instead of the usual 'innocent beating stick' that came standard issue with these guys.
"We'll see," he said. "Got some good news and bad news on that front. Which do you want first?"
She answered with a muffled groan, flopping onto her back and closing her eyes. The effort of sitting up was too much for her. It was probably some kind of miracle she hadn't burned to death already.
"Okay, good news. Without security, the Underground got our hooves on some sweet implants. Bad news. You're gonna need at least two."
He levitated something towards her—a bright blue canister, with an oversized mouthpiece on the end and alien symbols on its back.
"Deep breath. Gotta keep you stable until we get there."
She glanced to the side, expecting to find a ghostly deer beside her. Maybe her father would tell her that she should be strong enough without alien technology. She could make it on her own.
There was no ghost, no memory. Just a control-room full of melted plastic and scorched metal.
She reached out with her good foreleg, took the mask, and pulled it over her mouth. Then she took a breath, and sweet oblivion finally washed the pain away.
For now.