//------------------------------// // 3 - A Breach in Scaled Armor // Story: Cypress Zero // by Odd_Sarge //------------------------------// The hull breach alarm was a terrible sound. Cold hated and feared the noise, and for good reason; it was one of the worst possible disasters that could occur aboard a starship. Thankfully, with the ship parked safely in the docking bay, there was no need to fear an instance of explosive decompression. The bulkheads would have sealed any real exposure to vacuum, anyway. Unfortunately, that alarm still meant that somepony was coming in, and without a real breach, the doors would be keeping themselves invitingly open for them. “I need to leave,” Fokienia spat. She spoke with the same tone she had when she’d nearly squashed him. He nodded numbly, and rushed over to get his jacket on. Fokienia stayed by the entrance to the room. “How do you get this door open?” she demanded. “It’s locked to my magic,” Cold explained. The alarm blared in his ear again. He shivered as the ship groaned. “This—this is happening, isn’t it?” Fokienia turned around, and he saw her eyes soften. She was looking at his jacket. “You don’t have to come with me. You’ve shown me enough kindness.” She was right: this was her life, not his. But at the same time, she hadn’t chosen this… and neither had he. He shook his head. “If I stayed here, how would I know that I’d be safe?” Fokienia took a step back. Her ears fell. “I… I can’t guarantee anything. Unless you do come with me.” Her voice was apologetic. “Those ponies breaking in aren’t Concord, are they?” “No,” she answered immediately. The elusive softness to her eyes once again fell away to a superficial edge. That seemed to happen every time she was feeding him information. “One of the other cyborgs is with that unit. Usually when they call for Concord, it’s them and a few different ponies. Never just them and a cyborg.” She blinked, and shook her head. “I can’t believe I thought Concord was just a pony…” “Cyborgs?” “That’s what they call us. Cybernetically augmented ponies. Flesh and metal. Cyborgs.” Her yellow eyes glanced at the floor again, and her neck moved smoothly. It looked as if she were tracking a fly across the room. “I’ve never managed to avoid re-containment for this long, and they brought in one of the ‘good boys’. So, I’d take it they’re mad,” she snorted. Cold froze up. There were more ponies like her. Built like war machines. Flesh and metal, she said. “You said they… trained you, for combat?” She nodded. “Yes. I am—” she cut herself off, and frowned at Cold. “Yes.” “And they’re breaking in—” “Through your elevator.” “—through the elevator.” They both stopped. “I’m not sneaking my way through here, am I?” Metal thunked. “No.” She gave the floor her focus one last time. “Especially not with the cyborg supporting them. He’s almost as augmented as I am.” “Then I’m coming with you.” Fokienia gave him a firm nod. “Then stay behind me.” “But on one condition.” He looked at her augmented hooves. “I don’t want anypony to get hurt.” “What?” He cringed at her outburst. “Why do you—do you know what they’re going to do to me?” Anger and confusion melded together. “No, and quite frankly, I’d rather not think about it.” “I have to fight them, Cold. They’ll be tracking me now that they’re close enough. I can’t just leave them alive.” Cold swallowed thickly. Can’t leave them alive. “I refuse to believe that.” She stomped up to him, her hooves whirring. “Why have you suddenly gotten so stubborn? I… I don’t want to be alone again.” Hurt swept over her. “Please, just let me—” “I don’t want blood on my hooves, Fokienia.” A tremendous crash came through the vents. Yelling voices echoed in from somewhere far-off. Her sides sank. “Do you know what they do with this kind of suit I’m wearing? They hook me up, sedate me, and keep me under. I wake up with different parts of me missing everyday. Maintenance. Upgrades. Replacement. Sometimes it’s in my legs, sometimes it’s in my brain. They don’t tell me, they let me find out. And then I have to grapple with figuring out how to control it all. Then I get rewarded. And then I go back to my chamber. Into the bio-pod. And they start again.” She raised one of her hooves, and pressed it into Cold’s chest. “Let me do what I need to do.” He looked at her. She stared back. Gently, he raised his hoof, and pulled hers away. The metal was cold and clammy. He walked a short distance to the active computer terminal, and tapped a few times. The ship went dark. He trotted to the door, and opened it. The hallway beyond was nearly pitch black, interrupted only by small beams of red that crossed the floor. If Fokienia wanted to fight ponies, Cold didn’t want to see it happen. He turned back to her. She was staring at him still. His lips moved soundlessly. He had to move them again to get the words out. “Let’s go.” Fokienia breathed, and held her head low as she passed. “Stay behind me, and keep your head down.” Cold had a feeling he wouldn’t be sleeping in his own bed anytime soon. The door sealed behind them like a coffin, but stepping into the hallway felt like skipping straight to the grave. On the earpiece, he clicked a music track into place, and kept its volume low. He hoped the steady clicking of drums and distant riffs was enough to distract him from what would come next. There was a yell in the vents, but this time it was audible. “Do not split, she’s in here!” Spirits, that pony was loud. “We’re going up,“ Fokienia whispered without looking back. They came upon the first door. It opened with a hiss. There was nopony on the other side. The next door would lead into the passenger cabins. She’d run him through here earlier, and the only thing in here was— Cold’s heart dropped. Don’t look right. Don’t look… The mare did a double-take. “Is that an armory?” He was required to have one by law; it was a large ship. “Yes, but—” The security door opened with but a mere glance of her eyes, and his heart leapt from his breast and straight into his throat. “Fokienia,” he nickered. She disappeared into the depths. He wasn’t going in there. He couldn’t stop her, not when there were potential killers on the ship. But she was one, too. It was so hard to stay calm. He blinked, and suddenly the mare was in front of him again. And she was armed. She’d put on a hoofless-grip shock emitter, one of the many tucked away in electronic lockers. He’d forgotten what exactly they were called; it’d been so long since he’d been in the armory. Regardless, the loose quasi-harness tethering the magical device to her shone with crimson in the emergency lighting of the hall. It downright terrified him to know that she was intending to use it. His breath hitched as something else shone, and it came toward him. He caught the hoofheld emitter with his levitating grasp. “If I start shooting, you start shooting.” Fokienia grunted, adjusting her weapon with a tug of her mouth. The metal arm swung over her withers, and rested beside her neck. “And for somepony against hurting ponies, you’re well-stocked.” She started walking again, crouching low to the wall. Cold had no choice but to follow. He kept his emitter levitated behind him, and pointed at the ceiling. If the ponies that had made her this cold to the concept of murder were hunting them right now, he feared what she was capable of with the weapon platform she’d lifted. The next door opened. Nopony. Relief flooded Cold briefly. It didn’t last; they weren’t even anywhere near freedom. Not yet. Fokienia ushered them up the stairs and to the central access hallway. He looked toward the bridge, and a little bit of pain left him. He was glad that there was no way to spoof the identity on a ship of this size: if he was vacating his ship for what he expected would be a good while, at least it wouldn’t be leaving the station without him. Meanwhile, Fokienia had her eyes on the ship interior’s edges again. “Looks like Sequoia didn’t get his eyes checked like I did, and the others are doing a blind clear. There’s some big energy source in here. Lot of power. Must be what’s scramming their scanners. ” She frowned. “Two of them are moving in on it, though.” It took Cold a moment to understand what she was saying. “That’s the reactor.” “Reactor?” Fokienia blinked. “You have a reactor?” She sounded oddly stupefied. “It’s what powers the ship.” He thought about it, and grimaced. “They might be going to shut it down.” “Well, that’s not good. That reactor is keeping us off their radar.” She stopped to think. Cold looked down the stairs and into the red-lit darkness. “We can’t set an ambush up here, then.” She sighed, appearing more annoyed than anything. “I did a quick survey of your ship’s layout before you showed back up, but I have no idea if we can get past the rest of them and stop those two. I’d like us to stay out of the vents as much as possible.” Cold swallowed thickly. He almost didn’t want to ask, but he needed to. “How many are there?” “Ten. Squad of six, two pairs.” She squinted at the wall and floor again. “The last pair is probably pulling overwatch on their entry point.” Which was the personnel elevator. That wasn’t good at all. That meant the cargo bay was the easiest way off of the ship, and there was still another problem. “But we still have to… fight them all?” “Yes, but we’ll divide and conquer.” He didn’t really know what that meant, but it sounded strong. “That relies on us stopping those two from blowing our cover.” …Wait. “Do you think I could talk to these ponies?” Her voice belayed dominance, “Absolutely out of the question.” “I could distract—” “I said no. I need my eyes on you at all times,” Fokienia growled. “I can’t lose you.” “Okay—okay!” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this mare was crazy. Which, maybe she was… It probably wasn’t the best time to question her. “Then, what do we do?” She squeezed her eyes shut. She was thinking. Each second was precious, now. He thought, too, but the more he thought, the more insurmountable the odds appeared. There were two of them, and ten apparently combat-trained ponies. Cold hardly knew how to pull the trigger on his emitter, and he didn’t know if he even could. “Okay, you’re right. You need to talk to them.” A change of heart? He didn’t think so. “What’s the catch?” “I need you to fire the first shot.” The kirin didn’t want to hurt anypony? That was fine, she could do it herself. He didn’t want her to kill anypony? That made things substantially more complicated, but she could operate under those parameters. The only solid plan she’d come up with in short-order required the kirin to be cool in combat, and actively go against his own wishes? Now that was an impossible feat. He put on a tough façade, but he was the jumpiest pony she’d ever met. They were a team of two, and both of them needed to be combat-aware if they were facing the retrieval unit head-on. They didn’t play nice in the arena, and they certainly weren’t going to play nice out in the field. Experience swam into her skull, and toyed her with the memories. Fokienia wouldn’t admit it to Cold, but she was terrified of the ponies they were up against. They both wouldn’t last in a firefight this large. But there was a way… “You want me to—” “You don’t have to actually hit them.” She didn’t need him panicking again. “But it would definitely help. We need to get the jump on them. Break their formation. If we can’t get to the reactor, then we’ll just take out most of them, and then sweep up the rest.” She hoped she sounded confident. “Fokienia… You’re asking me to pull the trigger on a pony. Pull a weapon on a pony, and shoot them.” He levitated his weapon in front of him, and looked at it. “Yes.” She started back down the stairs; there was no time to argue anymore. She heard him follow after a moment. “Where are you going?” he asked. Voices crept up from behind the main door of the passenger cabin. Fokienia snatched the weapon from Cold’s magic, and skid it across the floor, where it slid to a stop next to the wall. She shoved him into center of the room. He stumbled and fell, but didn’t cry out. She immediately felt horrible, but she soldiered past her emotions, and ordered a command, “Distract, then shoot.” She slunk into the doorway of one of the passenger rooms, and the main doors to the cabin opened. She kept her head tucked out of the way, and her eyes on the waves of moment through the wall. “Freeze!” a stallion shouted. “H-hey! Put that down!” Cold yelled back. “Who are you and what are you doing here?!” “Well, I… I could ask the same of you! I’m the Autumn-blazed captain of this ship! What have you done?” The mixture of fear and nervousness in his voice was falling away. Fokienia kept her eyes on the movement of the unit. Two ponies were serving as a form of rearguard, and one of them was Sequoia; the outline of movement around him was fairly distinct. Three of the other ponies were stacked up behind the stallion doing the talking. None of the ponies were using weapon platforms like her, just small arms held by mouth, the kind drawn from a chest-holster. The leading stallion relaxed his shoulders. “Captain, calm down. We’re Concord Special Operations. You need to come with us. We have reason to believe there’s a highly dangerous criminal aboard your ship.” “A criminal? My ship was secure until somepony gave me a hull breach, and I see those cutting tools!” Cold was inching toward the wall where his weapon had fallen. The stallion side-stepped in the doorway, his weapon swaying as he went. He was clearing the room. “Captain!” He called from behind the grip. “Stay right where you are.” Fokienia leaned until her head was slightly clear of the door frame. Flashing in the emergency lights, she saw the brown muzzle of the unicorn stallion. He was still in the death funnel, checking the first corner. Alone on her own corner, she whispered. “Go for it, Cold.” Her hooves’ manipulators twitched. A stinging sensation filled her veins. The stack of ponies filtered into the room, and the leading stallion looked away from Cold for another brief moment to yell an order. Fokienia sucked in a breath. In a flash of red, Cold’s horn lit. His discarded weapon flew a hoof off the ground. “DISABLER!” Heads turned as a blue bolt soared. The lead stallion turned, his teeth clenching around his grip, caught in a transition to a shooting stance. Behind him, Cold’s bolt splashed against the wall. By Fokienia, three blasts sounded. Three bodies tumbled to the floor. The lead stallion made his own clean shot: Cold went down against the wall. Fokienia was just starting to gallop into the room as she took her next shot. It hit the stallion. He grunted, but stayed standing. She fired again. His head cowled with blue, and he fell, too. She fired two more shots into the open doorway, shining blue light on the other two intruders, and swung her head. The door slammed shut, and two hefty metal clicks followed. It didn’t open again. Her electronic implant assured it. Her heart was racing. The stinging intensified. Fokienia’s hooves slid; she stopped and crowed over Cold’s body. He was groggy, but the exchange of disabler fire hadn’t ended with him out of commission. His hoof was curled around his breast. “I’m so, so sorry.” Smoke filtered out from beneath his jacket. He coughed out a reply. “You didn’t say they were non-lethals…” She’d been relying on experience to tell her they’d be using disablers. Now, she realized, she’d gotten lucky, and risked Cold’s life in the process. “We didn’t have time, I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I know you’re not used to—” “Fokienia.” She froze, and he sighed. “It’s fine, just… get me up.” She lifted him to his hooves. “Did you stop them all?” “There’s two more. I locked the door.” Cold nodded, eyes half-shut. “I missed.” A smoking yellow square fell out of his jacket, and crashed against the floor into pieces of PCB and polymer. His head fell weakly to look, and he laughed. “There goes my PDA.” Whatever the PDA was, it had acted as a conductive shield. He really was lucky to be conscious. “Here,” Fokienia offered, lifting his jacket, and pressing her metal hoof to his side. Her rapid-delivery hypo-spray hissed. The injection went in cleanly. Cold groaned: was it from pain, or did he enjoy the stinging now stirring through his veins? Fokienia couldn’t tell, having long grown numb to the injections. “Another painkiller?” he asked. “Meldonium derivative. A combat stimulant.” He mumbled something, and leaned against the wall, his cloven hoof holding him upright. “Keep standing. You’ll be good to move in a minute or so.” He would be fine. She looked back at the door to the cabin. She wasn’t sure how long it would hold against the banging on the other side: both the ponies were at the door, but Sequoia’s partner had pulled something block-shaped from their body. He appeared to be speaking into it. By the elevator, the two figures began galloping toward the conflict. Not good. Fokienia took a breath to steady herself, and looked over to the unconscious ponies. The disabler was an almost guaranteed knockout if the charge hit anywhere from the neck up. Plus, it would be a while before they woke up. The retrieval unit was typically an all-wing team, and barring the unicorn, the three pegasi slumped on the floor were just that. They all wore sharp gray jumpsuits and sling bags. Digging through the bag of the lead unicorn, she found one of the scanners. It was a small white device, with a simple screen and switch on the side. She flicked it on—the screen lit with static—and shut it off again. It tracked cybernetic implants, a fact she could use to her advantage. She looked again to the decidedly angry cyborg. “You always were an idiot, Sequoia!” she called. The banging stallion paused slightly, then roared. Cold came up behind her, shaking a limp from his leg. He looked to the door. “Do you think teasing them is a smart thing to do?” “Only him,” she quipped. She placed the scanner back into the bag and tossed it. Cold caught it in his magic. “Keep the bag, their gear is our gear, now.” She pulled the scanners from the other three bags, and smashed them with her front hooves. It wouldn’t stop them from chasing her later, but it meant that they had to double back and resupply. Cold had slung on the bag, and was picking through the rest of the supplies. “What about the guns?” “Disablers,” Fokienia corrected. “If they were guns, you would be dead.” She frowned: it was a bit too close to the truth. “So we’re taking the uh, disablers?” “Yes. There’s only so much charge in ours.” Cold gathered the disabler pistols with his magic, and began stuffing them into his new bag. Fokienia checked on the door again: the elevator guards were getting closer, and Sequoia was arguing with the pony. She rolled her eyes. “Get down,” Fokienia said calmly. Cold did so immediately. Fokienia dropped the door lock. On the other side? A bat pony and a cyborg. The cyborg’s bulky wings put a shame to the others. His back was turned to the door as it shot open. He had enough time to flare his wings, and received a disabler shot for it. The bat pony fumbled for their holstered pistol, and Fokienia strafed. Another shot put them down. The cybernetic wings fell limp as Sequoia finished turning. Rage filled the pegasus’ features, his anger unimpeded by the disabling shot. “You little—” Fwump. In the teeth! The floor shook. “You can get up, now.” Cold stood, uncovering his eyes. He stared at the bodies that were piling up. She pointed at the collapsed cyborg. “That’s Sequoia, by the way. Bit hard to miss.” Fokienia pushed her disabler out of the way. The metal arm swung over her back, and stayed there. She gave Cold a grin. “Why don’t you stay here and clean up? Get the other two bags and break the scanners—those little white boxes—take what you can, and destroy what you can’t. I’m going to go sweep up the rest of the unit.” The motion sensors implanted in her optical nerves had let her escape capture for this long, and she was only beginning to realize how powerful a tool it was. It felt good to be powerful. She paused. “On second thought… I’m going to just wait for them.” She checked through the walls again. “The other two aren’t going to the reactor anymore.” Cold blinked. “You still want me to break these… things?” “Please do. And when you’re done with that, grab a disabler and come on over.” She stepped through the doorway, over the bodies of the cyborg and bat pony, and gave the next door a hard look. The deadbolts within fired off with a ringing crack. She turned away from the door. “It would do you some good to work on your aim.” Cold shook his head and returned to the unconscious intruders. “You ponies and your violence.”