Searing Cold had not properly rested in the last two days. On this second day, he was confined to the bunk of his cell in the detention and holding section of the Cypress Central Command Center. Here, it was quiet. But it was hardly the quiet that enamored him with the desire for peace. No, even though Ripshot had just left him to his lonesome not more than a few hours ago, it wasn’t enough. The dead-silent jail instead promoted an ill and dying atmosphere, and no small amount of contemplation.
Others had little patience for this kind of thing.
Cold heard the heavy door to the cell-block slide open, and a single set of hoofsteps follow. They were trotting at a steady, albeit hurried pace, and it made him sit up straight on his cot.
There was a lull in the sound; the hooves tapped against the status monitor at the end of the hallway with a rapid crescendo.
An alarm buzzed once, burning low.
The mechanism on the inside of the cell, welded close to the door, whirred. The door propped itself open, swinging with a sharp metallic crunch. The opposite cell’s door stopped when his stopped.
The hoofsteps continued on, until Cold was pressed with his back to the wall, and the pony stood outside the doorway.
He didn’t know what to say.
“Searing Cold.”
Cold stared at the pony. They wore a sharp black-and-white suit, the kind corporate executives wore. And that’s just exactly who the stallion before him was.
“Mister Mill?”
Mill glanced back down the hall from the way he’d come, then stepped into the cell, just far enough to be in the doorway.
“You may call me Miller.”
The stallion was far from the highest authority when it came to corporate commerce, but Cold knew his craft. The kirin scrunched his muzzle as the well-smoked draft of a high-profile blend wafted in.
“I won’t be coy with you, captain. You’ve made an absolute mess of things.” He looked down, and brushed a hoof against his immaculate suit. “There’s something to be said about the work you’ve done for me and the company. But I’m afraid ‘renegade’ was the last career path we had in mind for you.”
Cold narrowed his eyes. “I never worked for you in any regard.”
“But you did. All those subtle, yet quite profitable trade routes that kept your—as you used to say, ‘dark runs’—healthy? Those fell into our purview through my intelligence services, but you were the one who brought home the end-sum product every time. Fast. Reliable. And unsuspecting. The only smuggler I ever needed.”
He tapped the cold concrete floor. “What am I supposed to do with a kirin who can no longer fly under the radar of Concord, and clearly has no intentions of peace?”
Cold’s lips moved before he could properly think. “This has all been a misunderstanding.”
Miller ground his hoof against the floor, as if stubbing out the cinders of an invisible cigarette. “No no, everything has been perfectly clear. Because—” he took a heavy breath, “—you’ve even stepped onto the territory of my associates.”
A silence filled out between them.
“I don’t understand. Who?”
Miller sighed. “I suppose your interest can’t be helped. Well, captain, that clinic you delivered quite a package to? You may remember that, while in the midst of your ‘bombing’ activities, you rattled up one of their employees very good. That strapping young colt was pursuing some very interesting leads in the field of biological science. Avenues you appear to have become very knowledgeable in. But that mare who brought you there, and the scientists and research behind her... we won’t talk about her, or the lad you let her beat. I’m here to talk about you, and you alone.”
Miller raised a hoof, and set it against the door. He leaned.
“Your actions put me in a state of jeopardy. It goes without saying that our working relationship is... null and void. But... you still know. You know too much. And I don’t have the time or trust left in you to ensure you don’t go making deals with Concord and the like.”
His hoof curled against the door. For a moment, Miller just stared across the gap between them. “You were always different. You showed me just how much a pony could hide by parading as something they weren’t.”
The kirin stared back.
Finally, Miller sighed, reaching into the breast of his suit. “And so... it pains me to do this, Cold.” The hoof reeled slowly back; he clutched at a small black square, no bigger than his frog. He returned the square to the suit, and used his freed hoof to push himself out of the room. “But I can’t leave you here.”
Cold scrambled to his hooves, but the door slammed with a resounding thud.
Words failed him as he made his way to the door. The viewing slat was shut, and as Miller’s voice grew distant, it was clear Miller wouldn’t let him get one last look at the world beyond the cell.
“Devices like these are very hard to come by.” He carried his voice boldly, speaking as if they were the only two left in the wreckage of the world. “This one took has its own journey to make its way to me, one with all kinds of baggage that makes using it a risk. But given recent developments, I’d wager you know how it goes. And besides, it’s only fair that I get to make my own mess.”
Cold was as far from calm as he could be. “What are you doing? You don’t... you don’t have to do this. I’ve never had anything against you.”
The hoofsteps stopped.
“You were good at evading Concord, Cold. Not fate. Live your last moments as a proud smuggler. Not the kirin you think you are. This is the destiny you chose.”
A new alarm began its looping screech: a wailing klaxon. Just barely within the realm of his hearing, Cold heard that same low alarm from before, and Miller’s tapping hooves.
Cold looked up at the camera. “Please...”
He had no idea if Miller could see through the little access screen in the hallway. But maybe his plea wasn’t meant for the pony with the grudge.
The recording light fizzled, then burst.
It didn’t stop the vent at the roof of the room from continuing to cough up its ceaseless lungfuls of murky, pale gas.
“You can thank Concord for giving you all of this.”
Cold stumbled backwards, practically diving underneath the gaseous flow.
“Really, if they didn’t want to turn their cell-blocks into independent gas chambers, they wouldn’t leave ‘riot suppression’ behind such a measly encryption.”
He curled up against a corner where the gas billowed least.
”I don’t want you to suffer. At least, more than you need to. This will hurt. So please, don’t try and hold your breath.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Goodbye, captain.”
Miller’s hoofsteps receded into the noise, trudging into nothing.
The hiss of gas and the blaring alarm were the last notes in Cold’s ears.
“Cold...”
The kirin rose weakly, the skin below his coat was dead and clammy. He tweaked his ears.
Did he hear something?
The door shuddered as hooves banged against it.
“Cold! COLD!”
Yes. That was his name.
Hoofsteps. Tapping. An angry set of beeps echoed in the hall.
Then, a click.
“Here! Come here!”
The door. He had to move. But his hindlegs refused him.
“Cold! Get out of there!”
The door, and the pony behind it. Crawl to him.
Cold pulled himself forward, coughing his lungs out, and tearing up through his still sealed eyes. He crawled through the blackness, surrounded by the hiss of gas. He heard the door screech open on its metal hinges, but his mind couldn’t properly parse the noise.
But the sound of magic distinctly awoke him.
He was violently slung across the floor in the grip of telekinesis; Cold’s scales whined as he careened out into the open hallway. He thumped up against one wall, and each breath there drew no additional pain. He sputtered and coughed, hacking up lungfuls of bad air in lieu of the fresh. A hoof rested against his withers as he laid there in his attempts to recover.
“O-officer?”
“Hey, space kirin.” The voice of Ripshot carried on the heavy air. “You’re lucky I came back for you, because nopony else did.”
Cold coughed into a hoof, and forced one aching eye open. “T-thanks.”
“Oh, maybe that came out a little harsher than I intended. I’m not kidding, I—”
Cold hacked again, and cut Ripshot off with a loose hoof. “I know.”
“...Sorry. I just couldn’t believe they left you alone. All-too convenient timing, too. Every officer was moving like there’s no tomorrow. Felt like an evacuation.” He paused. “You alright?”
“A pony... just tried... to kill me.”
“Right, well... the gas chamber treatment was kind of a giveaway. Always knew these things were death traps.”
At Ripshot’s total lack of urgency, Cold managed to give his head a quick shake of disbelief.
“But who?”
Cold spat on the concrete floor. “Corpo you wouldn’t know.”
“Right... well, cap. While the attempt on your life is certainly an issue, you’re not gonna believe me when I tell you that it’s only the second worst part of my day.”
The kirin chuckled weakly, but he knew the writing was on the wall.
Dry-heaving one last time, he pushed himself up enough to look at Ripshot. His eyes dribbled with neutral tears as he spoke. “Are we under attack?”
“Depends on who you ask. Us? Well, I didn’t see your friend on the way in, so I’d say we’re in the clear.” He grinned. “Let’s get you on your hooves. And while we’re at it, tell me everything you know.”
He groaned, but complied as Ripshot lifted him up. “I can’t.”
“It’s a bit too late for secrets.” The officer cast his eyes down the corridor, and with Cold leaned up against him, started him on his walk back to freedom. The hallway flashed yellow for a few seconds, and Ripshot laughed bitterly. “Main power’s going to clock out. Don’t let go.”
The alarms screamed above, and the emergency lights pulsed to the beat of distant yells. Cold’s ears rang in asynchronous disharmony, the errant screech like the wheeling machinery of shuttle bay doors.
He lit his horn for light; it sputtered and spat, prompting a worried query from Ripshot. He ignored his savior, and reached a gentle hoof to his earpiece. It didn’t so much as crackle. There was no connection to be made.
“Fokienia...”
The grogginess clouding her mind was remarkably unsettling.
For a moment, Fokienia stayed pressed into Sequoia, her ears pivoting all around. Her bedmate was awake as well: from the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her. His ears tweaked every which way, too.
A deep, bassy thrum rattled through the complex walls.
She crept from the bedspread and into the unassuming cold darkness of the room; the warmth of Sequoia’s body peeled away like slick oil.
His voice carried on behind her. “What’s that sound?” His hooves clattered against the floor: the wooden floorboards creaked.
“Nothing normal,” Fokienia muttered. She stood in place near the door to the room, eyes scanning up along the walls and ceiling. Dust trickled down from the space between the metal plates at the behest of another distant ‘thwoom’. “Let’s move.”
Unlike the first floor, the doors of the second floor were simply hinged. The wood was thick and heavy, but it was infinitely more delicate than the steel of the usual pneumatic station doors. Fokienia undid the latch, and pushed the door out into the hall.
She could feel Sequoia shadowing her as she stepped out. In front of the door, her jumpsuit had been hung on a rack and hook. It was pressed clean and bereft of soot. The black fabric shined in the low-lit hall: the station ‘moonlight’ glittered through a cloudy window. On the floor beside the rack, Cold’s bag sat patiently, and given its apparent bulkiness, more filled than when Fokienia had last seen it.
“What’s all this?”
“Holly. She must’ve just left it.” After glancing back at Sequoia, she lifted the corner of the jumpsuit, feeling the weight in her metal hoof.
A blast of orange suddenly flashed in through the window. Immediately, the room violently shook, and a colossal boom followed.
“Can you—?”
“Of course.”
Moving her legs when necessary, Fokienia allowed Sequoia to place and wrap her back in the confines of her gear.
“Comms are down.”
The two cyborgs looked up to meet the hardened gaze of their former superior. Stood at the top of the stairs, Sundown modeled her combat form: she’d shed the covert cover for her uniform, and the unburied armor plating shimmered with blue. The unconcealed disabler firmly holstered to her front was a refreshing sight to Fokienia: unlike the standard policing disablers, Sundown’s weapon was all but bulky; it was slimmed and refined well enough to fit as snugly as a blade in a sheath.
She shifted her eyes to the window. The fiery colors outside continued to paint the room. “And Tartarus is at our doorstep.”
“Where’s Holly?”
“Still awake.” She waved them on. “She’s waiting for us.” Not stopping for a response, Sundown disappeared back down the stairs.
Sequoia diligently returned to fitting Fokienia. He said nothing, but she could feel the weight behind his hooves. She stood there, watching the window. A final zip and click pulled her away.
“Good to go.” Coming out from behind, Sequoia plucked up Cold’s bag and offered it to her. She bowed her neck out, and he settled it across her withers, pulling it all the way to rest against her flank. The new weight of the bag was readily apparent, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. “You alright?”
Fokienia stretched her foreleg out, and checked where the fabric met metal. “...Now I am. Thank you.” She looked him over. “What happened to your uniform?”
“Control—”
“Sundown.”
His nostrils flared. With his eyes briefly shut, he breathed, then nodded. “She had me leave it when we went rogue. There weren’t any wing covers on it, so I was better off without.”
“I don’t think covert is our MO anymore.”
Sequoia looked at the window with her. “Then let’s keep moving.”
Another boom followed them down the stairs.
Moving between the rest of the living space and back toward the front of the business, the silence overwhelmed all attempts at thought. The tension laid on them heavier than their steel. Fokienia led Sequoia through the last door, and the mechanism whined sharply as it sealed.
They found Sundown and Holly behind the shop counter. The winged ponies said nothing as the pair approached.
Holly’s demeanor was notably different from the hours prior: her wings were tucked tightly to the new brown jacket she wore, and her eyes carried a steely look not too dissimilar from the bat pony adjacent. Fokienia stopped where she stood and nodded at her, but not even the slightest hint of a smile graced Holly. She only spoke when Sequoia stopped, too.
Holly turned her head to address Sundown. “I know you didn’t want to be right.” Her voice was gruff and over-laden. “But right is all but what the world is right now.”
She took a deep breath, and turned to face her three guests. It was clear by now that they had passed that point, however: Holly spoke to them as comrades.
“The explosions began maybe half an hour ago. From what I can see from the windows, there’s disabler beams everywhere. Firefights happening in complexes all over, mostly the commercial high rises, but some of the apartments, too. Celestia knows how bad the streets are.” She shook her head. “Station services have been down for longer. Of course, Cypress was prepared in the event of a total communications blackout, but...”
Holly paused, then trot over to the counter. She lifted a hoofheld radio from the space below the top, and flicked it on.
She let the screeching hiss of black vibrate on low-volume for just a few moments. She clicked the dial back to zero.
“I don’t know what’s happening out there. All I know is that nopony’s tried to break-in. We’re safe in here.”
As they spoke, the violent symphony of beam weaponry and chaos leaked in from beyond the shop’s walls.
“Somepony’s scramming station comms, then.”
“It’s a little more beyond that,” Holly started. She tapped her jacket, and lifted it with a wing to reveal a snugly fit PDA. “When the fighting first started, we lost power. Not just in the building, in all the other electronics, too.”
“That could be EM warfare,” Sundown mused.
She tilted her head. “EM?”
“Weaponized deployment of an electromagnetic field. Could be that, or the magnetosphere corridors could’ve failed. Hardware failure or deliberate sabotage is up to debate. But given what we’re hearing outside, I’d say it’s the latter. The station would be cooking right now. If anything, atmos techs will be taking care of it, regardless of what’s going on.”
“So, somepony from your organization, or whatever—” the pegasus glanced at all three of her guests, “—would’ve had to perform an attack like that.”
“Not necessarily. EM manipulation is like water and rye for civilians. It’s especially necessary out here in the Cypress system, but it’s still needed back in the core worlds. Anypony smart enough to subvert or create EM devices could easily reduce them from an industrial standard to the same hoofhelds militaries and mercs use. They wouldn’t be smartbombs, but definitely significant enough to knock out power and fry smaller electronics.”
“I’ve dealt with my fair share of signal manipulation while working as a sec officer, but I’ve never heard of anything like that. You’re sure it’d have to be that level of disruption, and not just a power outage?”
“When’s the last time you heard about a power outage in Cypress?” Sundown remarked. “And a simple power outage wouldn’t disrupt off-grid systems like PDAs.” She sighed. “Anyways, if it’s EM warfare we’re dealing with, then there’s going to be more than one party of mercenaries and operatives.”
“Wait,” Fokienia blurted. “Sec officer?” She looked at Holly. “Did you say you were in Concord?”
Holly lazily waved a wing. “A hired wingmare in the private sector, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Sundown snorted. “That must’ve been ten years ago. They teach EM warfare to everypony who needs to know what they’re doing. Let me guess, you were just a ‘security consultant’, weren’t you?”
“I worked these very streets, thank you very much.” Holly puffed up and out, as proud as a pegasus could be. “Back when the regulations for flying were still foaling, and ponies needed to be told to stay off random complex rooftops. Shucking the lost from the malicious was good, honest work, unlike whatever business you’re in.”
The bat pony shrugged the words off with a cool look, but Fokienia could see her withers sag. “Be that as it may, I’m trying to change that. We’re trying to change that.”
“There’s an awful lot talking,” Sequoia interrupted, “and I don’t think we ought to stay inside when there’s work that needs doing.”
“We need to find Cold.”
Fokienia wasn’t surprised to hear Holly’s words. She nodded in agreement. “Yes. Cold before anything else.”
Sundown looked around the room, her mouth propped and ready to argue. But her throat locked up, and she relented. “Luna knows what it’s like up in Central Command,” she bemoaned. “Getting there will be a journey and a half, especially if this fighting is going to stay this hot.”
“There are too many ponies out there. It’s not advantageous... or safe, to fight in the open.” Sequoia paused to collect himself, then continued. “But the layout of the city isn’t made for covert ops. We didn’t exactly sneak our way here.”
“And on top of that, comms being down means I don’t have access to my informants or fresh feeds. We’re absolutely in the dark, and not in a good way.” Sundown looked at Holly. “As it stands, you know more about this area than anypony else in this room.” She paused, then nodded firmly. “With all of that in mind, that makes you the most qualified to lead ops in this zone.”
Stunned, Holly took a step back. “So wait, you’re saying...?”
“We are a task force. We have a mutual mission. You have knowledge—and allegedly—training. You set the parameters, and we follow.” Sundown looked at Sequoia. “Do you understand that, C1? You operate under her from this moment forward.”
“Sequoia. My name is Sequoia.” He’d been facing Holly, but as the bulked-up pegasus turned, his stoic look was joined by a stern nod. “I’ll fight alongside you, Sundown. But I’ll fight for what I want.”
“...Understood, Sequoia.”
He turned to Holly again. “What do you want with the kirin? I want to help him to freedom. He helped me see that,” he glanced at Fokienia, “and I want to return the favor.”
“I want him, because I love him.” She smiled lightly, then shook her head. “He’ll know what to do,” Holly answered. “Cold’s always had a way out. Always knew the right words to say to make everything turn out in his favor. If—when we get to him, he’ll know what to say. Know what to do to make things right.”
Sundown leaned forward. “And how do you know that?”
“Because he’s a peacemaker.” Fokienia’s words drew in the rest of the room. “He’s not just a pony. He’s a kirin. And a kirin is exactly who can put an end to the fighting, bring the shadows to light, and give Cypress peace.”
For a moment, the room was silent. And for a second time, the war outside lulled to peace.
The stallion nodded in tempo. “The peacemaker...”
“Cold,” Fokienia added. “Searing Cold.”
Sequoia grinned. “I’m ready to fight for him. And for peace.”
“Thank you, Fokienia,” Holly replied tenderly. “But minimal fighting if you would, Sequoia. War’s done enough for ponykind as it is.”
The attention shifted to Sundown. The bat pony was staring deep into the lacquered wood floor, trying her damnedest to set it ablaze.
“Sundown?” Fokienia tried softly. “Are you still going to help us?”
Sundown finally rose. Her slitted eyes betrayed the pain she further failed to mask in her voice. “I already said this was Holly’s force, now. I’ll work for your cause.”
“Work with us.” Fokienia shifted. “I... I still love you, Sundown. No matter what you think you did to hurt me and Sequoia. Regardless of your history, it made us strong, and now you’ve given us a way out of the cycle. And I want you to be with us on the other side.”
“What would you know about history, Fokienia? I held you and Sequoia both back from your past. Held you for so long that even I’ve forgotten what it was like before.”
“What matters is now. A pony can change. And to do that, you need to stick with us.” Fokienia straightened out, but her voice stayed soft. “Please, Sundown. After this is all said and done, we can finally start our new lives. Together.”
Sundown looked left and right. To her left, the door leading to the city beyond. To her right, the two ponies she’d practically reared for war. Then, in front of her, a pegasus mare she’d relegated command of her operatives to. A mare who knew and loved a peacekeeper of the universe, and wanted nothing more than to give him the chance to serve his purpose.
And for as much as she fought it, this was a mare not unlike herself.
“You’d doing the right thing,” Holly said quietly.
“It’s been so long since I have,” Sundown replied weakly. Her nostrils flared as she breathed, and she lifted her head high to look at the ceiling. After a moment of stretched solace, she sank back down. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Thank you.”
Suddenly, Fokienia was on her. Sundown leaned into the larger mare’s hug. She didn’t allow it to last, but it was more than enough for Fokienia.
“Five minutes,” Holly said. “I need to dig out the rest of my old gear.” She ducked her radio back under the counter. “You all look the part, but I’d advise you do the same. With all that exchange we’ve been hearing, Cypress Central isn’t going to be walk in the grove. But we can get through without fighting.”
Fokienia wanted to believe that. They all wanted to believe that.
But before peace, there would be war.