“C’mon, now. Stay with me.”
“...If I’m your second worst... what’s the worst?”
“The worst is that I lost my job.”
Cold managed a quick, whistling laugh. “Ha. Me too.”
Leaned up against the wall, Cold felt Ripshot’s hooves wrapped around him. The unicorn in question looked up briefly. He checked the hall for others, but nopony had come and gone since Cold had collapsed again.
“If you’re not an officer anymore, then what are you doing here, still?”
“I was being facetious, Captain Cold.”
“You don’t even know what that word means... colt.”
Ripshot snorted. “Alright, you’re talking up a storm. That means you’re good enough to keep walk. Let’s get you up.” With a grunt, Ripshot pulled Cold onto his hooves. “Everypony scattered like breezies, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find ourselves some help.”
“I think it does.”
“Shaddup, cap’n kirin.”
They passed through an unattended security kiosk on their way out of the ‘detention and holding’ block, the turnstile and scanner loose and pointless without power. As far as Cold was concerned, the only pony left in these hollowed ‘roid halls was the Concord security officer by his side. It was no wonder his would-be killer had been able to waltz right in.
Eventually, even the klaxons died out. The only sounds left in the halls were the hum of the red emergency lights, and the anechoic, staccato hoofsteps between them.
While he limped along the dark hallways of Central Command, Cold tried to stay out of the worries in his mind. Instead, he forced himself to look at the walls and entryways of the sections they passed. While his mind had been out of sorts on the way in, he still couldn’t see any signs of administration or bureaucratic faculty. It was more likely, then, that they were in the security wing of the facility. He’d have expected Concord HQ to be more clean and white-washed than it really was; the fact that he could still see parts of the original asteroid was something he definitely couldn’t get over.
“Where are we going?”
“Station Control. Power might be out, but we can try and get backups up. Then we’ll maybe see about calling somepony to find out what’s what.”
Cold very much doubted any of that would happen, but he nodded, and continued along. Right now, it was safer to be with Ripshot than it was to be alone.
He was leaned up against a control panel when the facility roared back online.
Ripshot’s grin beamed around the corner of a steel support beam. “Enjoyed your nap, did you?”
“Like a foal,” Cold replied. He kicked himself up, and stood.
Station Control was a very familiar place to Cold. It wasn’t that he’d ever been in here—civilians like him weren’t meant to be in here, especially not a non-citizen like himself—but everything was built just like the bridge of a large star-faring vessel. The terminals may have been built for watching over, controlling, and tracking every little bit of station infrastructure, but that was hardly any different from monitoring subsystems on a ship. Here, it was just expanded to watch over more than half a million ponies.
Cold wasn’t stupid, though: he was exaggerating for his own amusement. There were multiple command centers dotted around the station to be sure, but at the same time, it didn’t make it any less impressive that the Central Command Center control room was large enough to be its own complex. There were even bulkheads at the entrance to the room, as if the whole place could function only in the vacuum of space.
In fact, it very well could.
With the lights back on, Cold readily got comfortable, and began to sink into his element.
“Did they cut this place out of a colony ship?” Cold asked, chuckling.
Ripshot gave him an odd look. “No? Why?”
He waved a lazy hoof. “Nevermind. You wouldn’t understand.”
The officer shrugged, and went back over to the panel he’d been fiddling with since they’d entered the room. Still, he’d managed to bring power back on.
“Wasn’t too long ago that this room was fully staffed. Coffee over there’s yours if you want it. It’s fresh, if a little cold...” His eyes were on the panel, but he smiled anyway. “You like it that way, I’ll bet.”
Cold snorted. “Clever, officer. Where was that thinking when you pulled me out of skip unprovoked? Earned yourself a nice citation, I’ll bet.”
Ripshot’s smile faded. “Don’t remind me.”
Taking heed of the isolated mug at the hastily abandoned terminal, Cold lifted it to his lips and took a tentative sip. “I don’t usually drink this stuff. Not when I’m flying all the time.” Bladders were a pain, weren’t they?
“Yeah... Sorry about your ship by the way.”
“It’s fine. The Peddler’s needed a break for a while. I’ve been running it ragged through New Griffonia.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“No. I just keep track of the known limits of space and time. If anything, I’m less crazy for it, considering you and I both know magic hates being studied.” He sipped again. “But that’s obvious, at least to any pilot worth their salt, Officer Ripshot.”
Suddenly, a terminal near the front of the oval-shaped room began beeping.
Cold’s ears hiked up, and tweaked toward the noise. “What’s that?”
Ripshot looked up, then back down, totally disinterested. “Eh, that’s the monitoring ring. S’probably just some old alerts from when the power cut out. I’m more surprised we didn’t hear ‘em when I pulled the power.”
Shifting from his hoof to his telekinesis on instinct—mercifully, the use of his horn produced no migraines—Cold hurried up the stairs to the next dais of the control room, and right on over. He smoothed his jacket out with a hoof, placed his pilfered mug down, and sat himself in place.
“Let’s see...” He stared at the screen for a moment, then clicked through the terminal with a few inputs. The text was replaced by proper visuals of the Command Center. “Oh... huh.”
“What? Can’t figure it out? I thought antique tech was your style?”
“No. There’s officers coming up right now.”
“That’s a good thing! If they’re not compromised, that is... How many?”
“...A lot?” Cold squinted, and dialed up a few more camera angles. “A whole lot.”
Cold heard the unicorn scrambling behind him, hooves skidding on tile, and then the pony himself breathing in his ear. “Oh, Tartarus.”
Pulling the viewport up to the wider screen on the wall, they watched as the various camera angles tracked the mares and stallions in uniform. Splitting the display into the complete alert spread showed nine cameras in operation at any give time. All of the apparent Concord officers were in full armor, and armed to the absolute teeth: disabler harnesses and long-rifles were worn by practically every other pony.
In total, there were thirty of them.
“I don’t recognize any of them. So, they’re not out to get me... I don’t believe.”
“That’s your first thought?” Ripshot pulled away, and spun around in a circle. “Uh, uh...”
More amused at his worry than anything, Cold leaned back. “What’s the problem, officer?”
“That’s almost enough ponies to run the control room. They were probably leaving power off for a reason.” He paused. “Oh, Sweet Celestia. That’s exactly why. The system-crashes and intrusions, the security failures... we need to turn the power off and hide.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cold ushered. “Look, close the bulkheads, get on the intercom or something, and make sure they’re not going to kill us. They’re moving, but slow. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“You sound like one of the station operators...”
“I don’t sit on my flank when I’m flying. I know what it takes to run a bridge like this.”
“You fly a cargo ship!”
“And I also spent my formative years on a colony-class capital ship housing my entire tribe.” Cold glared at Ripshot. “Get to your station and do your job, officer. That’s an order.”
“You—you’ve got no right to—agh!” Thrown out of his fugue, Ripshot moved off.
Sometimes, Cold missed running on ships with crew.
Slowly but surely, the bulkheads started to grind shut. In the meantime, Cold casually perused the work stations around the room. He eventually found what he was looking for: an actual terminal to monitor the Command Center layout from. The readout and wireframe of the complex’s active structural integrity wasn’t going to be used as intended, but it was a map all the same. He glanced up at the widescreen back at the monitoring station. “They just passed through checkpoint H.” He tapped on the structural terminal. “That’s... by the hangar.”
“Oookay.” Ripshot wrangled a headset over his ears. “Roger, I’ll ring ‘em up.”
Returning to the camera station, Cold watched carefully. “Be nice. I don’t see any cutters, but let’s not make them mad.”
“I am fully...” A few ponies on screen jumped. “Oh. It’s on.”
Cold facehoofed.
“This is Officer Ripshot, broadcasting from Station Control. We have not been compromised.” He paused, then moved to look at the screen above Cold’s station. “There are possible hostile elements in the facility, and... wait, commander, is that you?”
One mare in particular stopped. Cold could immediately tell that she was hardly just another officer: she carried herself in a manner akin to a pride-stricken pegasus, but the lofty horn perched on her head said otherwise. She glared into the camera that was watching her and the two officers by her side.
Ripshot laughed nervously. He covered his headset’s microphone to hiss at Cold. “That’s the base commander!”
“The commander. The proverbial captain of this proverbial ship.” Cold hazarded a guess at their chances of survival, which had just gone from ‘probable’ to ‘Rip-shot’. “So, she’d have access to all the armories?”
“Yes, of course! Including the special operations stockpile!”
“Including CSO,” Cold rephrased in deadpan. “Tell her we’re leaving the control room open. And mention me, like you should have.”
“Uh... Commander, ma’am. I have the kirin Searing Cold with me. I’m sure you were informed of him?”
The mare’s eyes went from a glare to wide shock.
“But he’s not a terrorist! I am not under duress. And uh... we had the doors shut, but... just get here ASAP. I mean, please, ma’am.”
Cold stared at Ripshot as he stowed away the headset, and turned the intercom off. “You are a laugh and a half, officer.”
“If I haven’t lost my job yet, this’ll be my hide for sure...”
The doors took some time to close, but they took a lot longer to wind open.
Standing patiently with a fidgety Ripshot by his side, Cold sipped at his adopted coffee.
The face of the commander slowly unveiled as the door wound open.
At least it was quiet enough to talk. Standing in silence wasn’t an issue for Cold, not by a long shot, but it clearly was for the gabby-mouthed Ripshot.
He was still holding has salute as he spoke. “C-Commander Gale!”
The mare’s flat yet menacing stare brought him down; it was no time for protocol. She looked to Cold in turn. “I am Conifer Gale. Under normal circumstances, base commander. As of now? I am what remains of high command.”
Cold didn’t dare to ask what had become of the others.
“In the Core Worlds, this Concord position would be referred to as ‘hegemon’. But as you may be aware, there is a severe lack of harmony and hegemony in Cypress today.”
Cold winced. She hid the pain well, but he could feel it in her voice, and see it in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, commander.”
She was unnerved by the apology, or perhaps tempered by a slight swell of anger. In any case, she pulled her muzzle back taut before anypony else could see. “The governor filled me in on you and your status not too long ago. Before we lost contact.”
“Lost contact?”
“There’s a station-wide comm blackout in effect. And I believe you may be the right pony we need to break it.” She looked to her left. “Specialist?”
Her escort, another unicorn, stepped up. She had a white coat, and brilliant red eyes that glowed beneath her presumably prescription specs. “Yes, ma’am. Based on the method of interference, it’s possibly system-wide. Now, Cypress Concord isn’t the most... well-traveled force, so we’d appreciate some help from you.”
Cold blinked. “No offense, but you had me in a prison cell.”
“Detention block,” Ripshot corrected. He shied away as no more than thirty-one pairs of eyes landed on him. “...Sorry.”
Shaking his head, Cold continued. “Not only that, but a corporate citizen came by, hijacked your riot suppression systems, and made a wonderful attempt at choking me on gas.”
The commander, to her credit, winced. “The governor made it clear that your circumstances were... misunderstood, but I can assure you that—”
He cut her off with a sharp snap. “Commander. If you’d be so kind, I’m tired of assurances. I want to know what’s going on in Cypress. I can help you with whatever problems you’re having, but I am very nearly reaching my limits when it comes to ponies letting their lives be run by pride. Let me help you.”
Her annoyance gave way to fatigue. “I understand.” On cue, the heavy blast doors finally slacked open, and the mechanism ground into quiet. “You have every right to be upset.”
Cold sighed, and waved them in with a flick of his neck. “Just come inside.” He didn’t idle long on the facet that this room practically belonged to the mare before him.
After a moment, the commander nodded, and the remaining Concord forces began to trickle in.
“Cold, are you alright? You’re... you’re talking to a very important pony, you know?”
He looked over at Ripshot. “No, I’m not alright. Yes, and I expect to run into more. I’m tired of ponies going after each other. I’m tired of ponies going after me. But most of all, I’m tired of running.” He moved to join the commander. “Let’s just get to work.”
By the time the room was re-situated, Cold’s exasperation had only grown.
“We’ve been dealing with hostile forces for the last hour, and you know more about their operations and goals than anypony else. I should have made it a priority to ensure your safety the moment my meeting with the governor concluded.”
The platitudes were ever-so slightly ingratiating. “I’m fine, now. My worry lies with the fate of Cypress. I know things are worse outside. I know I caused it. Just not how your ‘CSO’ team put it.”
She frowned. “We know that, now. In fact, those infiltrators scrapped one of our two available patrol craft with HE charges, and hijacked the other. Last we saw them, they were performing tactical tear gas deployments on our own forces.”
Cold clutched his coffee. “Spirits...”
“It gets worse.”
Of course it got worse. The commander’s long-rifle sat against the terminal between them. It was all Cold could look at as she continued to break things down. “Go on.”
“All sectors of Cypress Central are in a complete state of anarchy. Looters and mercenaries have been overwhelming isolated patrols and checkpoints. We didn’t tell our ponies to establish them, mind you. We’d have rather called them back to reinforce C.C.C. assets—you see how stretched thin we are, here—but not even station-bounced radio works. There’s one coordinated attacker at the top, and a whole lot of less, or totally uncoordinated organizations taking advantage of it. There’s no doubt in my mind that the primary attacker is using their signal interference and consequential chaos to accomplish their objectives. In summary...”
“It’s a war out there,” Cold finished numbly. “Autumn wept...”
“I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear.”
“Commander Gale, I was just happy to be alive. Now... now I’m upset I wasn’t more aggressive before.”
She was quiet for a moment. “It’s not in your nature, Captain Cold.”
He shook his head. “Respectfully, I know my history. There is a reason our tribe no longer exists peacefully in Equestria.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, captain.”
“You haven’t. I... I apologize. I’m really not myself, currently.”
“Again, I don’t blame you.”
Cold looked past Gale. The specialist shadowing the commander shrank under his gaze. “What do you need from me, specialist? I’ve dealt with skip-drive interdictions... and even done my own jamming...” His eyes flicked to Ripshot on the other side of the control room. “But I’m not sure how can I help you here.”
She blinked. “Those are the perfect requisites, captain. I just want to run by some solutions with you.”
She seemed a smart mare. Combined with Cold’s experience, it should have made for a perfect match.
It was.
The odds just weren’t in their favor.
“Sim results are negative again, captain.”
“Yes.” Cold creaked back away from the terminal. “I can see that, specialist.”
She ground her hoof into her mane, and right at the base of her horn. “There’s... there’s nothing I can think of to reverse this level of fielding. Nothing punches through long enough. It’s like a total storm. Short of mapping out the spell matrix they’re using to assist their tech...”
Magitech. It was the reason ponykind stayed ahead of any other kind. Including their own. “Run the skip drive manipulation test again.”
She obliged.
“...Nothing.” He sighed. “Again, it looks like the frequencies of older dash drives would still be stable, so skipping around the system is a possibility. But warping out on a Sparkle? No chance.” As he reflected on that, he laughed darkly. “Not unless you’ve got a Friendship Drive lying around, and the TC to service it.” As costly as those things were, telecrystal-powered drives couldn’t be stopped: they stayed harmonic, no matter what.
The specialist gave him a look. “Captain...”
He was ready to crack a joke, but he felt the grave sincerity welled-up in her voice. “Yes?”
“Did the commander not tell you already?”
“You were standing there with her. You heard what she told me.”
She shuffled her hooves from where she sat. “One of the main reasons we evacuated the HQ is because a fighter touched off, deployed hardpoints in the starship hangar, and, well... breached the veil.”
“...What?”
“There’s at least one rogue Concord fighter operating within reach of the station’s no-fire zone. We can’t launch fighters to engage, because the docking bay is currently exposed to vacuum, and we have no way to ID who’s who.”
“Sweet Blaze.”
“On top of that, the status of the FTL comm-relay is unknown, but no ships have been coming in.”
“And that’s why you think it’s a system-wide blackout?”
“No.” She lowered her head, eyes glazed by the terminal’s grim readout. “That’s why I don’t think there’s any way we can get help.”
Fokienia’s metal hooves were the first to touch down on the hangar-room floor of Cypress Central Command.
Behind her, Sequoia drove the door to the patrol craft the rest of the way. With a grunt of exertion, he sent the unconscious retrieval unit member; they slumped down against the steel grate of the landing pad. He followed after. His leap made the floor whine.
Holly fluttered down from the hover-craft. Her nervous eyes tracked around the rather cramped landing bay, then back out to the opening leading out over the skies of Cypress Central. “Well... this is it.”
The hum of the projectors died down, and their vehicle touched down with nary a sound. The three ponies turned around. The moment the cockpit door was open, Sundown’s voice welled out. “Just because there wasn’t anypony waiting for us, doesn’t mean this place is empty.”
Fokienia glanced at the entrance to the rest of the complex, and back again. “There’s nopony at all, Sundown.”
Rounding around the corner with their cuffed prisoner, Sundown sighed. “It’s just not right.”
Cascade barely managed to avoid faceplanting when Sundown shoved him out of the vehicle. “H-hey, uh, Fokienia? Could you tell her to—”
“Shut up, CCI.”
“Sundown, be nice. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Only out of his sheer incompetence,” she sneered.
Sequoia nodded. “I can attest to that.”
“Yeah, love you guys, too.” Cascade received a whack on the back of his neck from Sundown. “Ow! Look, I’m not going to try anything, okay? I want to leave as badly as you all do.”
“Leave where?” Holly asked. “Do you realize where we are?”
Cascade stopped on the spot. He spun in a circle, his cuffs rattling as he stared at the plastered white-black colors and Concord insignia decorating the hangar. “Oh, for moon’s sake...”
Sundown chuckled. “Welcome to Concord HQ, oatwagon.”
With that, the five of them started for the doors that would take them to the facility interior.
Sundown pushed Cascade along. “I can let him loose if you really want to.” She nodded back to the unconscious unit pony they’d left behind.
“I agree,” Cascade said, totally unabashed.
In response, Sundown rolled her eyes. “Or just leave him for somepony else to deal with. I’m not against that.”
“Well, I am!”
“Shut it.”
Fokienia’s eyes slanted with a worried gaze. “I’d really rather not. Sequoia, did you find a key for his cuffs?”
“I didn’t bother checking.”
“That’s fine.” Fokienia stomped a metal foreleg as she walked. “I can break those cuffs.”
Sundown quirked a brow at Fokienia. “You sure you want him? I was only asking out of courtesy.”
“The fact you’re asking me for my opinion means a lot, Sundown.” She glanced over. “So, yes. I do want him out.”
The group stopped at the doors, and Fokienia trot over to Cascade.
“Spread ‘em.”
Cascade scrambled to split his hooves open as Fokienia reared up, then stomped down. The chain of the hoof-cuffs snapped like twig. As she pulled away, Cascade shook his forelegs. The bands were still on, but it was better than nothing.
“Thanks,” he breathed. “No hard feelings?”
“None at all.” She nodded her head toward the door. “You’re going first, though.”
“Oh.”
With a swipe of Sundown’s black-box device on the pneumatic door, they were in.
Sequoia and Sundown trot just after Cascade with their weapons drawn. The hall was thin and short, but at the end, it joined up with what appeared to be the main corridor. “Walk to the end, and take a right,” Sundown ordered.
Holly strode beside Fokienia. Her face was taut with purpose. “Cold’s going to be close, right?”
“We left him in the detention and holding sector,” Sequoia replied.
Fokienia leaned into Holly. It was just a brief touch. “I’m keeping my eyes open for him. Don’t worry.”
Unfortunately, Fokienia knew her words weren’t reassurance enough: Holly’s ears folded flat against her head. She didn’t blame the pegasus.
She just had to protect her for a little longer. Soon, they’d be in good company.
“We’ve got movement!”
The bursting tone of four measured beeps that followed forced Cold to look up from his work.
“Ripshot,” he called over. “What do you see?”
“Five ponies. Armed. They just came in through the flight deck.”
A few ponies immediately stormed out of the room.
“Excuse me, specialist.” Cold stood from the terminal, and joined Ripshot. He was followed by the commander, and several other ponies. “Put the feed up on the widescreen.”
It took the red unicorn a moment, but he managed.
The commander was perplexed. “They came in on a patrol craft... but these aren’t the infiltrators.”
Cold’s heart skipped a beat. “Holly... Fokienia...”
There were three ponies trotting just ahead of the two mares. Two of them were bat ponies that were practically identical in color, and the last was a metal-winged pegasus. He recognized them, too.
Cold rushed out the words. “I know them.”
Commander Gale gauged his reaction. “Are they associated with the enemy?”
“They...” Cold licked his lips. He didn’t want to tell her that he knew the three at the front were Project operatives. “That mare. The pegasus in the coat. She’s... she’s my special somepony.”
Gale raised an eyebrow.
“The bat in the armor is holding a L5 disabler,” a pony by his side threw in. He looked at Cold. “Your marefriend’s working with spec ops.”
The accusation turned Cold’s blood hot. “Officer, you don’t understand.”
“Lieutenant. And I don’t need to understand. I can see perfectly.” Frowning, he turned away. “Commander—”
“You listen to me. Those ponies will absolutely mop the floor with whoever they go up against. But these are not the Project operatives you think they are, they are our best bet at stopping them.” Cold placed a hoof on Ripshot’s withers. “I told Officer Ripshot everything I know about who the traitors in Concord are. Ask him what I told him.”
Stunned by the claim alone, Ripshot wasn’t prepared for the sharp shift in attention from the lieutenant and the Concord officers.
Before Cold could walk away, Gale stopped him.
“Captain, before you take one more step, I need to know—”
He wheeled around. “I am going to stop your ponies from getting themselves hurt. And then, I am going to talk to my mare, and my friend. You will not stop me.”
“I won’t.” The commander moved away from the others, only sparing a simple glance at Ripshot. “But I need to know how you know about the Project.”
The disbelief sent him into shock. Cold stared at her, his mind suddenly a vast void of emptiness.
Gale’s eyes dimmed out. Now, she reminded him of the marshal. “Princesses’ sake. You said you know about the infiltrators. The Project... they’re the ones who coordinated the attack here, aren’t they?”
“They are behind almost everything,” Cold began numbly, “I didn’t think the governor would hold such critical information from you.”
The words seemed to pass right through the commander. “It makes sense, now,” she muttered. “The infiltrators in our ranks are Project operatives.”
Cold’s reply was restricted, and grave. “...Yes.” He turned his back on the paling mare, and left her to sort out the truth.
The commander was a mare of her word: he was able to make his way over to the intercom terminal without interruption.
With his magic, Cold put on the headset. The terminal’s transmission light clicked on with the press of a button.
“To the Concord officers who just left Station Control, you are approaching friendlies. Stand down.” Cold waited a moment, then swallowed thickly. He watched the widescreen as he spoke.
The officers slowed, their faces belying their confusion. Cold’s eyes sank to the other party that had slowed. A pegasus and earth pony were all he needed to feel warmth again.
“Holly. Fokienia. I’m here.”
At the open bulkheads to the control room, four sheepish ponies stood.
When five more ponies followed, the building relief poured into Cold, filling him like a ceaseless basin.
The mare was just as he’d left her. The hairs of her coat and jumpsuit were spotless, and the smile she bore was brighter than anything else in the room.
Cold stood there, rooted to the spot by the sight for sore eyes.
“Cold!” Fokienia yelled. She brushed past the Concord officers, barreling right for him.
He slid backwards a few hooves when she collapsed against him. Her hooves ended up draped over his withers. He just leaned into her hug—she squeezed like there was no tomorrow—and looked at the next mare to run to him.
“Cold,” Holly whispered. Her body jittered with excitement all over, and she could scarcely hold the tears in. Her wings wrapped around him and Fokienia both. “Oh, gosh. I-I...”
He hushed her with a kiss to her wings. “I’ve missed you. Both of you.”
As Fokienia slid back to give them space, he brushed up against Holly’s neck with his own. He breathed through her mane, then looked up. “Fokienia... thank you for keeping her safe.”
She smiled warmly. “You can thank Sequoia and Sundown for helping with that.” At her words, the great steel pegasus and surly looking bat pony stopped at her side.
Cold pulled away from Holly enough to keep her wing tugged to him. They faced the three before them. “Sequoia, I’m glad to see you on our side.” Cold nodded respectfully at Sundown, who he found awfully familiar... beyond name, at least. “And you’d be Periapsis.”
The mare’s stark façade passed in an instant. “How do you...?”
He smiled inwardly; he wasn’t going to spoil the moment by bringing up the governor. “I listen to Fokienia.” Cold was happy to make her smile.
“Hold it,” the gruff lieutenant ordered. “You. Stallion in the back. Step up.”
The final bat pony from the arrivals stepped forward. His eyes flit about nervously. It was then that Cold realized just how minute the differences were between the stallion and Sundown were: his gray coat and blue mane were both lighter in tone. He’d met both of these ponies, under very different circumstances!
The commander glared. “You’re one of the infiltrators.”
The air in the entrance-way of Station Control dramatically changed. Several dozen weapons were raised and aimed.
Cold’s smile fell, but he kept his hoof curled close to Holly’s wing. “...Fokienia? What’s Commander Gale talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid, kirin,” the lieutenant spat, turning his disabler on Cold instead. “You—”
“Lieutenant.” The unicorn’s hoof rested right on the barrel of the lieutenant’s disabler. “Your anger is misplaced. And you are out of line.” With the lieutenant’s energy sapped, Gale went back to staring down the unidentified bat pony. “Captain Cold, I’ve been more than willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I need this explained. Now.”
Again, Cold looked to Fokienia. And she was all too ready to speak in his defense. “My name is Fokienia. Our unit assaulted and acquired our transportation from the opposing retrieval unit. We found this member being held prisoner.”
“Prisoner,” Gale restated calmly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
Fokienia shifted on her hooves, and her voice grew a hair softer. “I want to help my friends, ma’am. I want to work with you, and them, to save Cypress.”
The commander studied Fokienia’s muzzle with an alarming degree of fire.
Fokienia responded with her steel-nerved resolve.
And the commander breathed.
“...Miss Fokienia. I am Commander Gale.” A few officers lowered their weapons as she replied. “That craft was hijacked by that cell. They were using it to attack Concord forces. That... is a great weight off of my withers.”
Fokienia nodded in acknowledgment. “And mine too, commander. Following our action, we interrogated Cascade. He informed us that he’d betrayed his teammates, and they caught him before he could escape.”
Cascade blinked. “What? I—”
Sundown smacked him with the point of her wing. “Yes. So we took him with us. We can’t trust him either, but he’s a chance to get an inside look at the enemy’s goals.”
“And what about you? What organization do you belong to?”
“They are mercenaries,” Cold replied. The lie came as if it were the easiest thing in the world: he could hardly believe what he was doing. “Obviously cut from the same cloth as Fokienia,” he named for all of the room to hear, “who I owe my life to, for protecting me from the Project operatives attempting to recover classified technology I found myself associated with.” He gave her a meaningful glance, then continued. “Hence, the ‘retrieval unit’ moniker she used.”
The rest of the disablers in the room went down. The ponies looked to Cold, completely enraptured.
Gale waved him on. The interest in her eyes was just as overwhelming. “Continue, captain. I’m listening.”
He breathed in deep. He had one shot at this. But history was his calling. “Three days ago, I entered Cypress Station. I am a trader and contracted courier, and I came here with my starship the Waste Peddler. I was delivering a priority package from Opinicus Anchorage, which—for those who are unaware—is a station located on the edge of the of the New Griffonia conflict zone. This package was slated to be delivered to a private corporation in Cypress.”
He steeled himself, and prepared to shift away from the truth. “I was unaware of the package’s contents. When I run courier contracts—as I often do to supplement my trading—I only have a few rules, and I only ask for enough information to ensure that what I’m dealing with is safe, and system legal.” That was as far as he could go; the story he needed to tell had to be built for this broader audience. He couldn’t give away too much: it would totally incriminate the ponies he was standing up for. “The manifest addressed the package as fragile mechanical cargo, and that is how I respected it. Evidently, this cargo was attached to some developmental prototype. I delivered my package, but ponies still came for me. I wasn’t ready for such a hostile intercept, but I managed to get away, meet Fokienia, and continued running.”
He breathed again, and easily sank back to honesty. “The Project operators are relentless, but I made my way to the offices in Cypress Central to clear my name through the IFB. Evidently, Governor Graham felt it appropriate to place me in custody until the situation was in calmer waters. At that point in time, I sent Fokienia to ensure my Holly—” he squeezed at the mare by his side, “—would be safe. While in detention, the founder of the very same corporation I delivered that package to, forced their way into this complex, and personally made an attempt on my life. They felt that I’d somehow enact revenge for the struggles I’ve faced, which I am far from wishful for. Officer Ripshot saved me, and gave me the second wind I needed. Now, I stand before you with several ponies, several good ponies, ill-treated by fate, but willing to sacrifice their destinies as I have to give the ponies of Cypress the peace they deserve. I can attest that they all wish to help put an end to this conflict as much as I.”
For a time, the world was still.
He met the eyes of Sundown and Sequoia. They were quiet, and he could hardly read the looks on their faces. All he could do was hope that what he’d said would be enough to protect them.
Commander Gale, having given Cold an incredulous look for the vast majority of his explanation, finally spoke. “When the governor informed me that you were a part of a misunderstanding, I didn’t expect you to have such a story to tell. I especially didn’t expect how much experience you’d have with the remnants of the Cypress Projects.” Several of the officers around her seemed unnerved at that last note.
The Project had been a label, Cold realized, but with the name provided in full, the homely origin of the officers’ adversary was revealed.
Cold fell back on his natural monotone as his nerves swelled. “There are many things I wish to forget, commander. But so long as there is war, I will remember it all, and show that there is a better way forward.” He paused, and against his better judgment, finished darkly: “I know the temptation to pursue violence is strong, but so long as I stand here, I expect you to heed my words.”
His words had their intended effect: most of the ponies in the room knew exactly what he meant, and the fear he saw sent sweat beading down his scales. But the admiration in Fokienia’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Cold made sure to show his appreciation one last time by bowing his head to her.
“We can’t do much about this... attempted assassination, captain. Not now. But what we do have available to us is a complement of clearly capable ponies.” The unicorn commander looked around the room. “The governor told me little. But I can tell you in confidence what I do know.”
Cold leaned back. His work here—for the moment—was complete.
“Some of you are aware of the midnight raids that were to occur. The threat we face, the Project, as the governor has called them, are the holdouts and their followers who did not stop working when the Cypress Projects came to an end. These ponies alone are not dangerous, but they have many resources at their disposal, the least of which being their minds.” She stomped her hoof and it clanged against the floor with a resounding hum. “We are Cypress. These ponies seek to destroy us. We are Concord. Ponies need us. We will stop this. Our work begins now, and swiftly.” Her ears tweaked forward with the loosening of her withers. “Set up a perimeter. We needed this facility secured yesterday. We can’t trust our own systems, but they’ll come to us on our terms. And I have no doubt now that they’ll be coming.”
Several firm salutes and affirmatives flew her way as ponies moved to pass the newcomers still stood in the doorway.
Gale tilted her head. “Specialist, take who you need, and give us a way forward.” She cocked her head slightly to glance at Cold. “A kirin way.”
The specialist spoke up quickly before too many could leave. “If you have any experience with field modulation, join me.”
None stayed for her. There were a few faces of concern, but those were quickly out the door. There was work to be done elsewhere. The specialist heaved a great sigh.
Commander Gale’s lament was deep and foreboding. “There is not much more I can do to help you here, specialist.”
“Commander, I...”
“These ponies will serve you well.” Gale turned away. “Will I regret allowing all of this, Captain Cold?”
“You are doing the peaceable thing. To strive for peace is to trot the right path.”
“Then I suppose I will have to trust in the good of kirins.” The commander gave Cold’s companions a wary side-eyed look. “I will be clear. There is a compulsion... I feel it. In my mark. In my heart. When I have them, I do not act lightly on my instincts.” Her eyes went to Sequoia, glazing over his Concord armor in passing. “But this is no indication of complete amnesty. I can see it in your wings...” to Fokienia, “your legs...” and finally, to Sundown, “and the uniforms you bring with you. You are no mere mercenaries. Yet, you are undoubtedly Cypressean. So long as you assist us in Cypress’ interests, I will treat you as one of my own, and be glad to have you beside us in our fight for Cypress.”
Fokienia was the only one to reply. Her voice came soft, but determined. “Thank you, commander.”
Nodding, Gale’s horn flickered to life. She hefted her long-rifle back up from its sling. Then, she stepped past them, out the bulkhead, and into the halls of her complex.
Cold took stock of the room. Ten officers remained, but their guard duties were more external than internal; evidently, the commotion at the door was no longer an urgent calling. Most were occupied with the terminals: Ripshot was hard at work on the monitoring station, evidently having picked up a bit of a streak in unraveling the access he now had.
The specialist moved before anypony else could: Cascade yelped as the telekinetic yank sent him flying to a stop before his irate interrogator. “You’re a Project operative?”
“F-formerly!”
The specialist looked to the others while the bat squeaked.
“Yes,” Sundown said flatly. “You’re not going to get anything useful out of him.”
Cold blew a puff of air through his nostrils. “Specialist—”
“Ravenwatch.” She pushed her glasses up with a hoof, and casually tugged on Cascade a little more.
“Specialist Ravenwatch. It would do us well to take a moment before we continue.” Cold broached his flat-lipped look into a genuine, if sad, smile. “I would like to spend some time with these ponies. It has been a long time since I’ve seen them,” as he spoke, he squeezed Holly, who was still glued to his side, “and they are very dear to me.”
Ravenwatch was parsed to argue, but relented. Her magic unclasped Cascade’s heart. She stepped back, and in turn, the bat pony stumbled back to hide behind Sundown. “I understand, captain.” Her nerves broke through as she turned to step away. “Please, don’t take long.”
“We won’t. Thank you, specialist.”
Once more, Cold looked over the ponies. One way or another, they had all come for him. He almost felt it wrong to relish in the feeling, but in the end, it was a good thing they’d come for him: with the unique perspective he held, he could properly guide these ponies away from the violence. A control room was the perfect place to plan for their next actions.
But right now, he just wanted to see his friends, and meet new allies.
Fokienia could not express the fullness of her happiness in any meaningful way.
“You kirins carry yourself so... weirdly.” Sundown leered over. “You’re loose one moment, then all business the next.”
“You are just an ungrateful, miserable sort, aren’t you?” Cold deadpanned.
Sundown’s sharp ‘kee’ laughter sent ripples down Fokienia’s spine. It was a tingly, but assuredly heartwarming sound. “You’d make for a good op...” The word lodged in her throat. She coughed. “A good merc, captain. You learned everything there is to know about him with just a couple words out of his mouth.”
“He’s better at reading ponies than you think.” As Holly spoke, Fokienia watched her lean into Cold.
The cybernetic mare was surprised by the pang of jealousy she felt. In a semi-active response, she sidled up close to Sequoia. A shudder ran through her when Sequoia settled a wing over her. It was truly wonderful to have her closest foalhood friend back after so many years... It didn’t make her any less wanting of Cold’s affections, however. He’d taught her and given her a lifetime of experiences to study.
And with all the thinking she was doing, she was missing another lesson in motion.
“But not as well as I’d like.” Cold’s deadpan turned bright: he leaned over to Holly, and pressed a kiss right to her muzzle. The mare blushed while he went on. “I’m Captain Searing Cold. Unfortunately, my name precedes me. Sundown, Sequoia, it’s a pleasure to meet under more... appealing circumstances.”
Sundown’s laughter died slow. “Yeah. I’m sorry about the suppressor. You looked terrible.” She paused, then stepped back. She shoved Cascade forward.
“W-what...?” He squirmed about in a slight panic. “Oh um, yeah. Sorry.”
Cold’s look was unreadable. “I cannot speak to the length of your history, but your incompetence seems to stem more from your luck than anything else.” He leaned back. “We may have more in common than you think.”
Sundown—and even Sequoia—were ensnared by a pair of bewildered looks. But they didn’t interrupt.
Fokienia had never worked with any other operators; she had always worked alone. There wasn’t much she could say about Cascade: he had assisted the retrieval unit, acting as Sequoia’s ‘partner’, but to little success in both her encounters with him. Given her own experiences with failure, she honestly felt more bound to be kind as opposed to chastising him.
“But you’re a kirin!” Cascade blurted suddenly. He stepped back, his metal-banded forelegs clanging against one another. His ears folded while he cringed. “I-I’m just the pony you call for dirty work. That’s not what you guys do. You don’t have marks, but you have your own place...”
“I have my own colored history, Cascade.” Cold’s eyes were full of life, but Holly and Fokienia were the only ones who could see the darkness pervading within the recess of his mind. “One full of tragedy. A tragedy not at my hooves, but trailing me in my wake. Chasing me. And I abused it. As I’ve done with you and many others, I exploited your defenses by opting to not correct you. I allowed my appearance and natural inclinations lead me to opportunity. I let ponies trust that I’d do good, and used it to place myself in advantageous situations where I could operate independent of the normal Equestrian laws and authority that others are beholden to follow.”
Sequoia murmured, his voice low. “I knew you were more than you seemed.”
“The same can be said for all creatures,” Cold said simply. He extended a hoof out to Cascade.
The bat pony flinched, then stared at the cloven appendage. “W-what’s this?”
“I am offering you my friendship.”
Cascade’s tufted ears fell back. “Friendship?”
Cold was unmoved.
“But... I’m nopony. You’re somepony. You just... you just faced down Cypress Concord, and laid down your law in their own home!”
“I laid down nothing,” he replied calmly. “And I adhere to the natural laws we are all right to follow. The ways of harmony. But, we all make choices. Many mistakes. I know these mistakes. I make no self-righteous claims, save that I try to help others make the choices that lead them to both collective, and independent harmony.”
Cascade looked at Cold’s hoof, just as antsy as before. “I’ve never had a friend...”
“You live a life of fighting. Subterfuge. You are terrible at it.” As Cold spoke, Fokienia bore witness to Cascade as his mind and body slowly caved in. “I have seen that side. Lived those moments. To be good at what you seek is its own kind of terribleness. It is not a place I wish upon anypony.”
Finally, with a dim flap of his wings, Cascade clasped Cold’s hoof in his own. He shook, silent. His slitted eyes glimmered with some kind of morose emotion.
No, Fokienia realized, it was admiration.
“It is good to meet you, Cascade.”
“L-likewise... sir.”
When the two separated, Holly giggled. She brushed at Cold’s mane, all while her stallion managed to impassively stand there. “You always make the colts go starry-eyed.”
“It is the unerring work of a starship captain to lead ponies into the unknown.” For a few more moments, he allowed his words to sift through the air. The contemplation in his thoughts was clear. Then, like hucking raindrops from his back, he burst out of his harmonic fugue. “I’m glad to be among good ponies.”
“I’m glad to have you back,” Fokienia quietly admitted.
“I am beyond the Stream to see you safe, and with friends, Fokienia.” He breathed a long-awaited sigh of relief. “When I sent you to Holly, I didn’t expect you to return for me.”
“She was always going to, Cold.” He turned to Holly, and she continued. “You always had such a large impact on ponies. Not just because of your tribe, but because of just how good you are. I’m glad you’re starting to see that, now.”
“I’m sorry, Holly.”
“Don’t be.” She gave him a sullen sort of smile. “You always listened to me. You just refused to believe in yourself. I think all it takes to bring out the best in you is to have you help other ponies.”
He breathed slowly. “Then, in that case, there are many ponies in desperate need of our help. The situation has hardly been explained to me in full, but given what Fokienia and I have experienced...” He trailed off gently, and looked right at Fokienia.
She looked right back. “I led you. Then, you led me.” When he smiled in reply, Fokienia’s heart swelled. After the restless hours without him, the affirmation was all she needed to feel right. Together, they could overcome anything, and achieve peace.
“Now, we can lead together. Specialist Ravenwatch is waiting for us, and I believe we may have enough laying around to stitch together a better picture of our situation...”
The specialist was looking much brighter and pleasant. Gone were the streaks of worry and sweat gleaming on her brow. Her glasses were properly straightened out, and the lenses reflecting the fluorescent ceiling light may well have been bouncing the arcing rainbows of a rainy sunrise in Equestria. The pure-lit visage on the mare’s face just left Fokienia happy.
“I’ll admit, captain, I was apprehensive about our chances. But seeing you with these friends of yours, I am confident we can work out a solution.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know that I think the same.”
The sunny disposition in the air somehow stretched across the rest of the assembly: Sundown, Cascade, and Sequoia, while bearing the darkest coats in the room, were brimming with energy. Cold and Holly were practically a single twined sun; Fokienia swore she could see flares of sun rays bouncing along Holly’s twitchy wings and up along the twists of Cold’s unique red horn. It was a moment like no other, and from a scattered sect of ponies who had once stood on opposing sides.
They had gathered around a clean set of desk-space between some of the room’s center-most terminals. There were no chairs or cushions pulled up, but nopony seemed to mind. All the focus here was being put into their thoughts. The only distractions around were the officers moving about—the understaffed control room left most officers running three or more stations—and the few nearby officers working close by.
“Does anypony here have experience with field modulation? Magical or otherwise?”
“Nothing you would find useful,” Sundown said. “Fokienia and I both share experience in manipulating nearby electronics. Between us, I have practical knowledge of jammers and other devices, but she has a more intimate understanding. A feel for it, you could say.”
“Nothing large,” Fokienia added on. “I’ve only worked on small things.”
Ravenwatch nodded. “And I’d be right to assume that anypony else seated here is... less so?”
“I’m sorry.” Holly ran her hoof along their cleared space. “I really don’t have much to add.”
“It’s alright. We’re in murky waters. Every little bit helps.”
“What exactly are we facing, if I might ask?”
For a second, the unicorn specialist didn’t react. Her reply was followed by an abrupt hoof tap. “Well, I wish I could go into length about it, but I’ve barely made a dent in understanding our problem. Cypress is currently undergoing a total communications blackout, and it’s probably system-wide. The interference has been holding at the same frequency since it’s gone up. In fact, it matches any attempts at other signals to ‘be louder’, so to speak. It’s almost like it’s alive.”
Fokienia’s ears tweaked. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t mean anything literal, but there’s somepony clearly quite good at this exact kind of thing. The destructive interference is perfect. There is an almost zero error margin, so breaking through the signal requires alternative solutions that you just wouldn’t typically employ. It’s a frustratingly perfect setup that counteracts all the solutions me and Captain Cold could come up with.”
“Could you track down the source?” Sundown asked.
Disappointingly, Ravenwatch was quick to shake her head. “No. On top of being buried in the absolute cacophony that is the Cypress magnetosphere, narrowing down the right signal would be almost impossible. Like I said, it’s constantly changing and morphing. Matching everything. It’s blending right in, hiding in plain sight.”
Cold sighed. “We mostly tried brute-force solutions in our simulations. Sudden signal punch-throughs, decoys, noise generators, anything to discombobulate or catch the apparent algorithm monitoring everything off-guard. It’s the perfect jammer. There just seems to be no weakness to it.”
Cascade’s voice was softer now, but the small slips of his hooliganism were still there. “I have an idea of what exactly might be going on.”
Ravenwatch narrowed her eyes. “Elaborate.”
“...It might not be a setup at all.” He paused. “You said it was almost like it was alive?”
“Lightning quick reaction times. Even the best jammers have blind-zones where you can slip in.” Ravenwatch tilted her head. “Are you going to try and tell me that the jammer actually is alive? It’s highly advanced.”
“That, we can agree on,” Cascade nodded, tapping his hooves together. “But... what if I told you I know ponies who are uh, dangerously good with tech. Like, integrated with it.”
The roll of Sundown’s eyes practically shook the room. “Cascade, you—”
He cut in quick. “There are more than just a couple cyborgs in the Project. I’ve met them. Worked with them. You haven’t.”
The hairs on the back of Fokienia’s neck rose. Not because she didn’t know this—of course she knew there were more cyborgs, she was surprised they hadn’t run into any—but the fact that Cascade knew them...
“Cyborgs?” Ravenwatch’s muzzle curled in confusion. “What the hay is a cyborg?” From what Fokienia could tell, she wasn’t going to get an answer. And for her own part, she was too caught up in Cascade’s words to respond.
“It was a totally different department. Nothing like our section. The one the retrieval unit was based in? Exclusively yours. And Fokienia’s.” He turned from addressing Sundown. “Those ponies... they had a worse fate than you, Sequoia. You were almost one of them.”
Sequoia turned to the bat pony, a deep grimace set into his features. “What are you talking about?”
“...You know each other?” Ravenwatch asked quietly. Again, she went unheard.
“You weren’t always an idiot, Sequoia. The fact you actually have your brain back is a miracle. Just the other day, you could barely hold your end of a conversation.” Totally ignorant of the bulky pegasus’ grit teeth, Cascade looked to their proverbial round table. His voice rose, wavering slightly, but it did not give out. “They were like pneumatic doors. The door opened, closed, and the work was done. Built for one purpose, and one they were designed and machined perfectly for. You could see they were ponies. They weren’t a mesh or blend of flesh and steel. But they were all action. No talk. No hesitation. Only cold indifference, and an unstoppable drive to achieve their objectives. They didn’t train like you. It’s clear they were the way they were from the day they were inducted into the Project. Like... like a cyborg without the pony. A machine wearing a pony’s body.”
Fokienia felt sick.
“You’re speaking from when you worked with them?” Sundown butt in. “I knew there were other cyborgs in the Project. I never had the clearance or access for them, but...”
“It wasn’t cross-training or anything like that. And I never really worked with them. I was... I was basically practice. Like a live hostage in your standard interrogation demo. There were others like me who were there for the same purpose. And... I almost enjoyed it as much as they did. It was fascinating in an awful way, Sundown. Those ponies walked and looked like us, but there was no drama or haywash to them. They just worked, and at the end of their pattern-pressing, returned to stay close to their special machines. Not quite bio-pods like in our department, but... they had to go there every now and then. It was all magitech. I got a peek one time, and it was like all of the magic just went right into their head. That’s the only thing you could see on those giant things, just... the viewing window, and a pony’s head.”
“What were they training them for, if not subterfuge?” Fokienia asked. “Cascade, I don’t like where you’re going with this.” Her worries had irreparably scaled into a full-blown sickness.
“Combat. Logistics. All kinds of technical stuff that I couldn’t wrap my head around. It was almost always electronics. And while they work with normal tools that you or I might have, they do it... perfectly. All the training was for was to build new patterns, never reinforcing. And they learned a lot. They were built for any situation. The perfect engineer corps. The perfect EM specialists. The perfect soldiers. But... they never had the element you had. They were always only loud ops. They may not have said a word, but they had no way to hold back like you or Sequoia. They had no way to question and disobey orders, they just received, and followed.”
The silence settled uncomfortably.
But Fokienia had heard enough, and she didn’t waste a moment to share with her companions. She knew what the element the other cyborgs were missing. “And all it took... was stripping the pony from them.”
“Stars...” Sundown whispered. “I... I didn’t think they would do it.”
“Do what?” Sequoia and Fokienia asked in near-perfect unison.
Sundown’s voice was heavy, dark, and so very small. “Do you recall your lethal force training, Fokienia?”
She swallowed, looked to the ponies watching—by now, Ravenwatch’s worried stare was joined by the nearby Concord officers, and a slack-jawed Officer Ripshot—then replied, “Yes.”
“You’ve never had to use any of it. They cut out further tactical training. I never knew why.”
“They replaced us,” Sequoia said slowly.
“No. They made a different kind of cyborg.”
They all turned to Cold.
“Fokienia. You were never destined to be a war machine.”
Sundown closed her eyes at those simple words. “He’s... right. You never were. It looked like you would be. You and Sequoia. You were the test bed. You were the first cyborgs. The first results of the Project. The first experiments. That’s why they always iterated, always prototyped new equipment for you. Forced you away from the more equine aspects, and to things beyond ponykind, beyond the tribes... Then, one day they stopped caring so much. Got loose with our regulations. And slowly, you returned to being that filly I raised.”
When Sundown’s voice could give no more, Cold finished for her. “The question, now, is if these ponies have no augmentations like you or Sequoia, and practically act as shells for their training, what mental augmentations do they have?”
Cascade looked meaningfully at Sequoia.
“Inhibitors,” Sequoia responded. “I have neural inhibitors.”
“They weren’t inhibited at all,” Cascade corrected in a weary chide. “Not when it comes to their dead-to-rights efficiency. They were enhanced. They worked like machines, and with them. And they didn’t have to lose as much as you did to accomplish that.”
Once more, Cold was the one to bring their thoughts together. “These ponies could be in the subsystems of Cypress. And the very ones maintaining an interference array wide enough to cover the entire station.”
Ravenwatch shuddered. “Like...” She stumbled on her false-start, licked her lips, and tried again. “It’s possible that it’s magic. Not a purely mechanical or electrical jammer. Not even quite magitech. A spell matrix could do it, because a spell is only limited by the amount of magic available. An array is the only way the signal could be so encompassing in a local space, and one such array could only be so precisely controlled by a watchful pony... or many.”
“It’s no normal magic,” Cold said. “I’ve seen what the Project has produced. It is a blend of magic and technology on a scale no creature in this galaxy has ever seen.”
“There’s no other way around it...” Ravenwatch was on shaky legs as she tried to stand taller. “What we’re facing is a spell matrix array powered by the minds of ponies who understand the intricacy of every signal in this star system, and right down to every cut of the wavelength.”
A thunderous crack reamed through the control room. The room plunged briefly into darkness. The terminals all around tumbled offline, and when they returned, each one resounded with its own wailing klaxon alarm. Even the most stoic ponies were shaken by the shocks.
Fokienia could hear the words before Cold’s lips began moving.
“They’re here.”