"You can't breed soldiers with flash-learning and simulation. They must come face to face with death itself."
―Walon Vau
***
As far as the commandos of Delta Squad were concerned, there were two types of people in the Grand Army of the Republic. There were soldiers, and there were warriors. They considered anyone who was dar’manda, which meant they had no heritage, to be a mere soldier; perhaps they were average, or even extremely skilled, but they were still mere soldiers. But with the Mando culture came a warrior’s instincts, and no warrior would’ve let their skills falter and fade.
By their temporary residence in Sweet Apple Acres, the four commandos sparred and exercised as the sun rose over the farm. Some of their drills were one-on-one sparring, some were two-on-two fights, and others were three-on-one brawls; they mixed up the grouping each time, so that none of them would be in the same scenario twice.
Their armor was removed for the most part, leaving only their black bodysuits and their boots on. That meant that they would feel each other’s attacks completely. Still, they held back to avoid causing anything worse than a bruise. After exercising and training without any protection, they donned their Katarn-class armor and repeated each exercise.
They ignored their hosts as they watched the ritual in curiosity. They weren’t sure whether this was practice, a ceremony, or a genuine fight, but they knew better than to get involved.
Two hours after they woke, Delta Squad had finished their practice. They sauntered casually to the house and knocked on the door, with the intent to ask for some food and water.
“Fierfek,” Sev muttered. With his helmet on, only his brothers could hear him.
“What?” Fixer cocked his head.
“I just realized that we look sorta like these farmers.”
“How so?”
“Colors. There’s an orange one, a red one, a yellow one and a green one.”
“Huh.”
***
A knock came on Twilight Sparkle’s door. “Twili?”
“Come in.” She recognized her brother’s voice, and his pet name for her.
The door creaked open, and Twilight put “Oil the door hinges” on her to-do list. A science-fiction anthology lay open next to her, the table of contents being the exposed part. She was looking for a story she’d thought of the previous night that had seemed relevant to the day’s events.
Oh Celestia. I was thinking of a dream I had. That’s why the submarines were made of Styrofoam. Maybe I should try to find a spell that allows me to project my dreams like a movie. That would be fun to try on Pinkie Pie. Wait, no! No sane pony or mortal could comprehend her thoughts; it’s too dangerous.
“Twili, I need a favor.”
She turned from her book to face her brother. He was in full Royal Guard garb, the golden armor and crested helm indicating he was on duty.
“Sure.” Twilight ambled over to a table and pulled some fresh pancakes off of the griddle. She stacked them on two plates and a platter, with a couple dozen on the platter and three to each plate. A slice of butter topped both stacks and hot syrup poured over them. “Want some?”
“No, I’m here on business,” He answered sternly. He suddenly looked unsure and looked at the floor before looking at his little sister. “And between you and me, this armor’s been a bit tight since the honeymoon. I think I might’ve had a bit too much haycon at that hotel. But being back on duty is helping me get back in shape, so I should be fine.”
“Okay. What do you need?” Twilight levitated a fork and cut out a slice of food. She chewed thoughtfully.
“I need to find that alien from the other day. He said Rainbow Dash could find him, but I don’t know where she is.”
She squinted and stopped chewing, swallowing with exaggerated slowness. “The alien from yesterday, or the alien from the day before yesterday?”
“The first one. By which I mean the second option. The red one.”
“Not green?”
“Green?”
“I thought you said ‘red’?”
Spike grumbled in his sleep about bases and pronouns, rolling over in his bed.
“I did. Who’s the green one?”
“I don’t know, he didn’t want to talk.”
“You must be thinking about the red one, he seemed like the quiet type.”
“I mean ‘green’.”
“No, I mean red.”
“I’m not saying you mean green, I mean green.”
“Who’s on first!” Spike shouted, waking with a start.
Pinkie Pie pressed her face against the window. “No silly, Who’s on first and What’s on second!” She disappeared right after.
“So uh, a little green pony appeared yesterday?” Shining asked, still confused.
“No, it-” Twilight sighed. “I’ll get Rainbow Dash.”
***
“Good fruit,” Boss commented. “What’s it called again?”
“Um, apples?” Applebloom answered. How could anything not know what apples were?
A rainbow projectile shot through a window and landed on the floor of the Apple family kitchen. Sev recognized her as Rainbow Dash, and the other Deltas recognized her as the thing that had torn through their parachutes.
“Yer’ payin’ fer that,” Applejack said matter-of-factly. She didn’t even raise her voice, she just gave her a disappointed look.
“Okay…” Dash picked herself up and looked at the commandos in front of her. “Hey Sev. Twilight told me to tell you that Shining Armor, the Captain of the Guard, wants you to meet him in town.”
The commandos put their helmets on and left for the nearby settlement.
***
“Oh boy.”
“Oh brother.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Crud.”
“I’m getting’ too old for this shit.”
“Is it Monday already?”
“All is lost!”
“‘Tis the Four Horselessmen of the Apocalypse, come to live among us and rule us for seven years! The end is nigh!”
The guards stationed in Ponyville shared their fear quietly, or in some cases disruptively. Shining Armor stood in stoic silence, hiding his fear of the alien, no, aliens, that were coming.
They finally reached him after what felt like hours. He put on a stern face and looked Sev in the eye. “Somepony high up was interested in you after I sent back a report. The Princesses would like to meet you. Alone.”
***
“Somepony high up was interested in you after I sent back a report. The Princesses would like to meet you. Alone.” Shining Armor looked like he meant what he said.
“You and what army?” Scorch mocked.
Did he really just say that? Sev wondered.
“Knock it off, Scorch!” Boss ordered. He looked Shining Armor dead in the eyes. “I’ll take my squad to see your Princesses.”
“Sev is going, and only him.” Shining Armor didn’t flinch.
Boss grinned under his helmet and continued in an icy tone. “I’m offering you the updated conditions.”
“I’m not changing my position.”
“Listen closely Shining Armor, because I’m only going to say this once. I do not answer to your shabla Princesses, I do not answer to your shabla government, I do not answer to your shabla guards, and I do not answer to you, shabuir. We all meet them, or we don’t meet them at all. Am I clear?”
The stallion winced and nodded.
Within a matter of hours, the Princesses arrived in Ponyville to meet the mysterious new arrivals. The regents were larger than the other ponies and eyed the commandos with suspicion. Compared to the average welcome they received, this was quite friendly. The meeting was relatively low-key and took place inside the small Royal Guard complex that had been established. There had to have been two dozen guards outside the tent they met in, and a dozen elite guards inside.
The commandos were unreadable as always, their helmets giving them anonymity and private lines of communication.
“My name is Princess Celestia. With me are Princesses Luna and Cadence. I was under the impression that this would be between us and Sev,” A white princess with a rainbow mane that flowed without wind stated. The others were a pink mare who stood rather close to Shining Armor, and a midnight blue mare whose mane flowed like the speaker’s but appeared to encompass an image not unlike that of the night sky.
Luna, Lunar; the blue one must be Luna, meaning the pink one is Cadence.
“The lady in blue is Luna, I presume?” Boss spoke.
“Yes,” Luna answered. “Could you explain your intrusion upon our meeting?”
Sev drummed his fingers on his arm until Fixer nudged him.
“RC-1207 is our pod-brother, and I am his commanding officer. We arrived just yesterday to find him alive on this planet. I realized as soon as I heard of this meeting that it would’ve been irresponsible to let the most reckless of our squad meet you all alone. None of us are really diplomatic types, and Oh-Seven is the least so; hence you have the meeting before you.”
***
I can’t get any sense of magic on these things, Luna. What about you? Celestia asked with her telepathy.
None whatsoever, Tia. It’s very curious. Cadence, anything on their emotions? Feelings?
I’m sorry Aunt Luna, but it’s like their psyches are built differently. Perhaps a combination of a strange upbringing and trauma could cause this, but not much else. Perhaps their minds work differently?
This presented a problem. Celestia had brought her sister and niece to try and decipher these aliens, and it was disconcerting to get no results. She needed to gauge the threat her subjects faced, but she couldn’t do that with what they had.
“And you are?” Celestia asked.
“RC-1138. The fellow in yellow is RC-1262, and the lad in green is RC-1140.”
Numbers for names. Curious.
“Well Mister… Three-Eight, is it?” The orange-striped alien nodded. “We came to meet Oh-Seven for two reasons. One was for the purposes of diplomacy, and the other was because we required an expert.”
“What kind of expert, exactly?” Three-Eight inquired. He was wary, although given the circumstances she would be too.
“Oh-Seven’s a dead-body-ologist, if it helps,” Six-Two chirped.
“Not helping,” Four-Oh reproached.
“Princess Luna is going to visit an area a few dozen miles from Trottingham to perform a ceremony in preparation for Nightmare Night. It is a very significant ceremony, but…”
“But it’s not just routine security detail. You don’t send commandos to guard a VIP doing holiday prep,” Three-Eight observed.
“There have been sightings of strange beings near the site, and the platoon of Royal Guards sent to investigate is missing,” Shining Armor explained. He displayed a mix of emotions about the situation; hope that they were alive, worry for their safety, and anger at his helplessness on the matter.
Luna, how long did the advisors say it was until the first legion is trained? We can’t rely on foreign benevolence to defend ourselves.
They estimated that the closest is the 5th Internal Security, who shall be ready within a week. The mix of magic and technology our soldiers use is impressive; other nations use modern projectile weaponry whilst we’ve relied on the ancient technology of spears and bows, but weaponized magic fused with “blasters” usable by all races could give us the edge we need in the border skirmishes with the Minotaurs. Not to mention the internal problems we send the Elements of Harmony to deal with much too often.
You’ve become obsessive about this project, you need to relax.
Tia, my sole responsibility has been raising the moon since I returned two years ago. You have not only been raising the sun, but also dealing with the countless day-to-day activities of running a country. While I appreciate you including me on the more significant decisions, I need to carry my proverbial weight. Merely waiting for a random event to allow me a brief influence is unacceptably lethargic. Now I have something that can make a lasting and positive impact on our subjects, and I shan’t surrender it.
You’re right. I’m being too protective of you, little sister.
You may be my elder by a mere seventeen months, but you caution is still justified. I understand.
***
“There have been sightings of strange beings near the site, and the platoon of Royal Guards sent to investigate is missing,” Shining Armor explained.
A silence ensued as the Princesses went silent, but snuck glances at each other consistent with a telepathic conversation. The Deltas had worked with telepaths before, but in this case they had their own telepathy. It was called “short-range comms”.
“Why do I get the feeling we’ve done something like this before?” Sev wondered to his squadmates.
“We did. The RAS Prosecutor op, remember?” Fixer reminded him.
“Well, the last two times I remember we split up to operate individually, it didn’t end well. One is an anomaly, two is a trend,” Scorch noted
“Which is why we’ll work in pairs if we have to split up again,” Boss stated, allaying any fears of another eventful separation.
“I am requesting the pleasure of your company, to put it diplomatically,” Luna broke the silence. “To put it bluntly, I need you to come with me to the town of Dragonsbridge to locate and eliminate whatever wretched gathering or entity has wrongfully welcomed itself upon hallowed ground.”
***
Coruscant showered and shaved, washing his black body glove in water to cleanse it of sweat and dead skin. It was nice to be clean. While the bodysuit dried, he stretched.
“Coruscant, I brought you some t-” Octavia began as she opened the door, only to stop when she saw him stark naked. Her eyes went wide and she blushed profusely, covering her mouth with her hoof, and slammed the door shut.
I don’t get why me being naked is such a big deal. Maybe their reproductive organs recede into their bodies whenever the owner wishes? That’d explain a taboo for a species that goes around naked. I wonder if normal people in the galaxy are as averse to nudity…
Coruscant once again pondered what real civilian life was like, not that he’d ever know. He was biologically twenty-four and chronologically twelve, and he’d be old before he could really figure out how civvies worked.
His body glove had dried by then, and he put it on. Next he went downstairs, with the intent to get something to clean his armor with. His field kit provided for maintaining his weapons and armor, but not for physically cleaning their exteriors.
Octavia was drinking tea of some kind, her violet eyes gazing into the hot liquid as she sipped. She glanced up and saw Coruscant in his bodysuit, which added some slight bulk with the padding, and was thicker in areas like the torso, knees, elbows, shoulders, boots, groin, and gloves. She gave a nervous smile.
“I’m terribly sorry about earlier. Was I interrupting private time?”
“No. I was just waiting for my body glove to dry after I washed it.”
Octavia sucked air through her teeth, looking down and to her left. “Um, do all humans have external reproductive organs?”
“Uhhh,” Coruscant squinted, not for any lack of an answer, but rather because even he could sense how awkward this was. “Yes. To my understanding, most species in the galaxy do. And I’m assuming that yours, ah, retract?”
“Yes. Let’s change the subject,” Octavia said rather hurriedly.
He looked up and sighed. “Oh thank you. Um, what was that music coming from your room last night?”
“It was a piece called ‘One Final Effort’, it was composed by Mustang O’Donnell and Micolt Salvatori. Did you like it?” Octavia was quite chipper in her tone.
“Yeah. Better than the half-music playing at that club I went to last night.”
“Oh finally! Somepony who agrees!” She threw her hooves up in the air in a mix of exasperation and celebration.
“I don’t hear much music, actually. Being in a profession like mine, my exposure to civilians has been extremely limited, save for FIBUA.”
The mare squinted as she tried to discern what he meant. “Fib-yoo-ah?”
“An acronym. Fighting In Built-Up Areas. Another term is FISH and CHIPS.”
“Isn’t that a meal omnivores eat?” Octavia queried.
“You know humans are omnivorous, right? Anyway, ‘FISH’ stands for ‘Fighting In Someone’s House’, and CHIPS stands for ‘Causing Havoc In People’s Streets’.” Coruscant chuckled at the acronym combination before straightening up. “Anyway, I came down here for some cleaning supplies and some food.”
Octavia indicated a platter of hot pancakes, so he took a plate and placed a stack on it. He drenched them in hot syrup and began to eat. A glass of cold milk was provided, and used to wash down the flapjacks.
A gray pegasus mare flew through an open window, landing on the counter and landing face-first in the leftover syrup on Coruscant’s plate.
“Uh-jff-dnn-dww-wuw-wew-wowg!” She said, her face still stuck to the plate and muffled by it. She pulled the plate off and licked the syrup from her face with an absurdly large tongue, then reached into a saddlebag and pulled out several envelopes of varying sizes, passing them to Octavia before launching herself clumsily back out the window.
“What in the galaxy was that?” Coruscant asked, visibly confused. His eyes squinted and he held his hands beside his head as he tried to make sense of whatever he had just seen.
“That was Derpy, the mailmare. She’s not a graceful pony, to say the least.” Octavia shuffled through the letters and magazines, reading them aloud. “Bills, bills, Game Informer, Dubstep Digest, Orchestral Enthusiast, bills, Popular Science, Newsweek, Time...” She widened her eyes as she reached the final envelope.
“What is it?”
“It’s from my mother. I haven’t heard from her in ages.” She opened the letter and unfolded the paper inside. “‘Dearest Octavia, I need your help with matters regarding your father’s estate. Please come as soon as you can, preferably alone. Love, Mother.’ That was bloody vague.” The mare cantered towards her room, and Coruscant followed.
“Are you going to check it out?”
“Yes, I am. I’ll leave a note for Vinyl explaining things. Oh, and there are cleaning supplies under every sink, so you’ll be able to clean whatever it was you were going to without too much hassle.”
Coruscant nodded. “Thanks.” He headed back to his room and began cleaning his armor. It wasn’t very dirty, still the silver-white sheen it had always had, but there were a few scuffs and bits of filth he could wash off. After finishing, he put his armor back on and began his exercise routine.
He couldn’t help thinking something about the letter requesting Octavia’s presence was off. His gut had never failed him before, but this was a matter his proverbial colon was unfamiliar with, leaving a significant margin for error. His brain told him it was probably nothing, but he still held suspicions about it.
Out of curiosity, he read one of the magazines that had arrived. It was nice that they had their written language was the same as Galactic Basic, same as their spoken one.
***
By late afternoon, Delta Squad was outside Dragonsbridge.
Luna resided in a small camp just a few dozen meters from the hamlet, protected by her elite Night Guard. Their bat-like features, dark coat and indigo armor were meant to intimidate, and their armor was enchanted to enhance their combat prowess as well as change their appearance to the one the Night Guard was known for.
Boss entered Luna’s tent to talk to her, only to be stopped by an overzealous guard. The sentry expected him to be intimidated, and was slightly interested when he wasn’t. His job got boring when almost everypony he met on the job was subdued by his appearance.
“And where do you think you’re going?” He demanded
Boss, who still wore his helmet for communications purposes, glanced at him without turning his head or slowing, thus giving the outward appearance that he’d ignored him. The bat-pony moved to block his path, glaring menacingly at him.
“Get your ugly shebs out of my way, chakaar,” Boss spat, shoving the guard aside and entering the main room of the tent, which was quite luxurious.
Boss found himself oddly entranced by Princess Luna’s flowing mane, and the starry night sky that seemed to be encompassed inside it. He found himself wishing he could just stick a bare hand into it to see what it felt like.
Focus. I’ve got my squad back together, and a VIP is under my protection. I’m thinking like one of those jokers in Omega Squad.
“Ah, Three-Eight. To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” Luna smiled as she greeted him, and it seemed to be genuine. He was good at reading people, and these ponies seemed to have similarly readable features to species he’d worked with before.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the warm welcomes.
“Ma’am, I need maps of the area if I’m to carry out a search-and-destroy mission.”
Luna levitated a trio of scrolls from a bin, a silver aura surrounding them as they hovered over to a table in the center of the room and unrolled themselves neatly upon the flat surface. Boss took quick scans of them with his datapad and transmitted the maps to his squad, then nodded a silent thanks to the Princess. Fixer would be able to convert them into a three-dimensional projection they’d be able to review from their datapads later.
“May I ask you a few questions, Three-Eight?”
Boss sighed quietly and looked straight at Luna, then nodded.
“How is it that you and your brothers can speak without any apparent mouths?”
“These are sealed helmets, part of our armor. I can speak to my squad remotely with it, among other things.”
“Could-” Luna cut herself off and bit her lower lip. “Could you please remove it for a moment, so I could see what you look like?”
Boss reluctantly removed the helmet and held it in his hands. He noticed a pleasant smell in the room without his helmet’s filters blocking it out.
“We’re clones, which is why they’re my ‘brothers’. Every clone in the Grand Army of the Republic looks like me, save for things like scars and surgeries. We’re all different, even if we look the same. My squad and I were bred to be commandos. A few thousand others were too. A few million are regulars, and a few dozen are... Are sort of like one-man commando teams.”
The Princess looked astonished to hear this. “Could you tell me- about- yourself?”
“There’s not much to tell. I uh, need to go prep for this op.”
Three-Eight exited the tent.
***
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Luna facehoofed multiple times after Three-Eight left. She was fortunate that the soles of her shoes were soft, or she would’ve given herself a bruise, or perhaps a bloody nose.
I should’ve expected this. I was always fond of the color orange, not that I ever said anything, and now I might’ve just alienated an extraterrestrial by almost hitting on him! Oh Mother, I’m an idiot.
No. I just found him more interesting because he had that color on his armor. It wasn't anything like that. And it sounds like he was bred for war, so he probably wouldn't have recognized it anyway. Still, that sounds like a grim existence. At least what we're building is a voluntary force.
***
Well that was… Odd.
Boss strode to the tent his squad was in, and Fixer hit a button on a datapad, and ghostly blue projections of the surrounding area winked into being, hovering centimeters above the wooden table they stood around. Locations where disappearances and sightings of the “strange beings” occurred were highlighted in red.
“Thoughts?” Boss requested.
“Terrain’s rough and mountainous. Not many trees either. Still plenty green, but cold this time of year,” Fixer answered.
“That means it’s good sniping terrain. I’ve only used five shots for my sniper since I got here,” Sev stated.
“How many hit? I bet you’ve gone soft from all the cushy civilian food,” Scorch teased.
“All five in their heads, mir’shebs.”
“Good to hear you haven’t gone soft.”
“Cut the chatter, Deltas,” Fixer reprimanded them. He was back to his usual detached self again.
Boss tapped each of the red points on the hologram. A number appeared above each, matching the order they were indicated in. “We check the abandoned shacks first. Then the house, then the farmstead. We’ll make our way uphill from there, and head to another house. Then we’ll finish at the stable. Questions?”
“No, sir,” Fixer answered.
“Nope,” Sev responded.
“Then we’re heading out now.”
Delta Squad exited their tent and headed to leave the royal camp. As they neared the edge of the temporary settlement, Luna approached them, flanked by two of her guards.
“Before you leave, I’d like to inquire if there is a way we could accompany or remain in contact with you, perhaps through your own means?” She requested.
“Yeah,” Scorch answered. “Fixer has two datapads. One for work, and one for playing his little puzzle games.”
Fixer stiffened visibly. “N-no I don’t.” His helmet may have been on, and his squad wore theirs as well, but he could still feel their stares through his armor. “Fine.”
***
It was 3 AM, and a phone was ringing in the white house (with a lavender roof).
Vinyl and Coruscant were awake, watching the entirety of “The Trotting Dead” on EMC as Nightmare Night approached. The television was on half-mute during the commercials when the phone rang.
Vinyl levitated the phone over, not moving from her couch, and answered.
“’Sup?”
“Is this Vinyl Scratch?” An somewhat aged female voice inquired, her accent reminiscent of Octavia’s.
“Yeah.” Vinyl munched on some popcorn, and glanced into the bowl. “Oh, buck me,” She muttered so the phone wouldn’t pick it up. “Hold on, I’m gonna put you on speaker.” The phone beeped and she put it on the table in front of her, ambling to the kitchen to make some more popcorn.
“Listen carefully. My daughter is back with me now, right where she belongs. I’m not trying to extort you, merely protect her from negative influences like you. Right dear?”
A muffled groan came through the phone.
“As I was saying, I’m enjoying a little private time with my daughter, and you’re specifically forbidden to attend. And don’t even think about trying to break in, I have the some of the best security guards money can buy.” The mare cackled madly.
Vinyl put on her sunglasses and responded to her, cold as ice. “I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you're looking for ransom, I can tell you I probably don't have the money, and if I do, I haggle very ineffectively. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a kinda long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for ponies like you. If you let my room-mate go now, that'll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you.”
“Oh. Well I thought it was pretty obvious I’m Octavia’s mother, High Note, and that I just wanted to be left alone with my daughter. Forever. You’re not getting her back, you can take that to the bank.”
“I’ll take you to the bank, Octavia’s mom. To the blood bank. Dun dun dun-dun-dun!” Vinyl hung up and trotted back over to the couch, plopping down on it. The commercials had just ended.
“Aren’t we going to save her?” Coruscant asked, checking the silver-white armor over his bodysuit. He’d kept it on and his weapons and gear nearby out of a professionalized paranoia, which had been increased by the show they watched.
“Eh. We’ve only got a few episodes left; Octy can wait a few more hours.”
***
Sev crawled to the edge of a hill and peered through the scope of his rifle, the waning moon at his back. He silently hoped for a target, though he knew he should instead be worried about the state of any civilians. “Structure 1 looks clear from this angle,” He announced. “No bad guys on thermal.”
“Move up, Deltas,” Boss commanded.
They gathered around the structure, or what was left of it. The wood had been charred in places, and had huge holes in it, seemingly blasted through.
“Looks like somebody got fed up with farming,” Scorch joked, noting that several of the holes were big enough that they could have been thrown through them without touching the edges.
Fixer inspected a side of the shack facing the way they would be heading. Sweeping his vision up and down, he noticed a slight discoloration. On a hunch, he headed to the corresponding inside wall and checked for a matching mark. He found one, and activated his helmet-mounted light, illuminating the wall.
“I think you’ll want to see this,” He said over their comms.
As the other commandos gathered round, he pointed to a scorch mark. “Looks like a stun shot missed. Slavers maybe?”
***
“Looks like a stun shot missed. Slavers maybe?”
So slavery was not unique to Equis. As horrifying as the notion of space enslavers was, with the weapons they likely had to match their technological advancement, Luna wasn’t surprised. In fact, she was a bit relieved to know her world was not the only one with such criminal activities.
“Maybe. This area isn’t technically under Republic control, so perhaps the Seps are allowing slave trade,” Three-Eight concurred. “Alright, let’s move out.”
***
A few minutes later, they came to a quaint homestead, constructed of dark wood that blended in with the night. Sev and Scorch watched the two paths that led to the building, with Fixer keeping a watch on the building. They all had their low-light visors activated, which turned their vision into a monochromatic spectrum of grays.
Boss approached the front door, his blaster rifle lowered but ready. He knocked on it. The sound of hooves on the wood inside began, coming downstairs to the front door. Several locks opened, and a weathered stallion poked his head out.
“What do you want?”
“What do you know about sightings of ‘strange beings’ in this area?”
Hesitation was all over his face, and he clearly had something scaring him, making him uneasy. Perhaps it was just the commando in front of him, but perhaps it was something else.
“I didn’t believe them. I heard the rumors, but I thought they were just that, rumors. Then last night…”
“Go on.”
“The farm was attacked. There was screaming and thunder last night. Something in the fields killed my son.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Boss, I’m reading heat sigs on my scope. Can’t make anything out, but they’re in the farm east of here,” Sev informed them over their comms.
“Carry on, citizen. Deltas, move out!”
They ran to the farmstead, covering the two hundred meters in a minute. Not their best time, but they were conserving energy. A barn door was open, which would allow them into the farm. Sev switched his rifle back to its normal blaster configuration.
Inside the barn were two Royal Guards, their armor bent and stained with blood. They were hung from meat hooks that had punctured the insides of their helmets. While there was nothing penetrating their craniums, the straps of their helmets held them above ground.
“If Princess Luna can hear this, we’ve got casualties. Two of the missing guards, both KIA.” Boss inspected their bodies, patting them down for any notes, scrolls, any sort of clues.
“I can hear, but I cannot see you.”
“Fierfek, I must’ve forgotten to give her a vid feed,” Fixer muttered. He pulled out his datapad and punched in a few commands. “There. A 2-D projection should be coming out on her end, onto a tent wall.”
“Ah, I see now…”
A photograph fell from one of them, depicting the former owner alive, with a mare and a filly. The other side of the picture indicated his name was Gem Lance.
“Positive ID on one of the bodies. One ‘Gem Lance’. Looks like he was clawed and bled out,” Boss announced.
Scorch peered out the other side of the barn through a crack in the door, his rifle ready. He quickly retracted his head and arm back inside, and pulled an EC detonator from his belt.
“Tangos, my count twelve. Ten slavers, two SBDs,” Scorch informed his squad. “Too spread out to use my anti-armor.”
“Line abreast!” Boss ordered. The four of them formed a line from shoulder-to-shoulder facing the barn door and raised their blasters. “On my mark, kick-breach, fire, and advance. Three, two, one, mark!”
Together, Delta squad kicked open the barn doors, Scorch threw an EC detonator at the two super battle droids, and they all opened fire.
The grenade exploded, releasing an electronic pulse. Both of the massive metallic monstrosities began to quiver as their internal systems overloaded. A salvo of blaster fire from Fixer finished the job.
Moving to cover, the warriors fired a series of bursts at their quarry. A pair of slavers dropped from the roof and onto Boss, knocking him over and leaving him cut off from the others.
One of the lizards looked into his visor and sprayed spittle onto it, while the other grabbed his legs. He gave the one on top a right hook, and then shanked its throat with the vibroblade in his left gauntlet. Green blood sprayed off as the hypersonic vibrations flung the liquid from the blade.
Boss pushed its corpse off and fired a burst into the chest of the slaver holding his legs, before pushing himself up. His scuffle had only lasted a few seconds, and he was back in the fight.
Scorch threw a thermal detonator to flush out a slaver behind cover, and the device exploded before the lizard could react. A second one ran towards him, literally on fire from the heat of the grenade; he kicked it in the chest and curb stomped its head.
Fixer and Sev finished off the last three with a torrent of blue light that washed over the Trandoshans and sent them face-first into the dirt.
“Never seen that combo before. Specifically, slavers with SBDs. Trandoshans and droids are becoming the new normal,” Sev noted.
***
“Calm down everypony, just a routine inspection,” The conductor yelled.
Coruscant and Vinyl Scratch had bought tickets for a train to Canterlot, intending to rescue Octavia. Vinyl mentioned that she had a few friends who could hook her up with prototype weapons in the city, made by the apparently prestigious Target Enterprises, but she didn’t go any further than that.
Now, it seemed their train was being inspected. What they were searching for he didn’t know, although he presumed that the white and gold Royal Guards were simply searching for anything dangerous.
While Coruscant was easily the most dangerous thing on the train, and proud of it, he presently hoped he would be perceived as nothing more than an oddity. If it came to that, he could still incapacitate them non-lethally with hand-to-hand combat or his pistol’s stun setting.
So he rested his right hand on the sidearm and flicked it to “stun”. He left the appendage there in case he needed to draw the weapon.
Slowly but surely, the guards advanced towards their end of the cabin. With each step, the commando’s grip grew tighter on his sidearm.
The guard and his partner finally reached them.
“ID and tick-”
Vinyl smiled at him comfortably. The stallion stared at her with ever-increasing intensity, and her mirrored glasses returned it two-fold.
“Problem?” Vinyl asked almost mockingly.
The guard looked at his partner, who nodded.
“Let’s get the buck out of here,” The other guard muttered. “Shift’s over.”
The constables left the carriage, and the train resumed travelling to the station on the other side of the city via an elevated track.
“That was close,” Vinyl grunted. “Hey Cory, you can let go of your piece now.”
Coruscant realized he’d been clenching his pistol since the guards had arrived, and kept gripping it after they left. His fingers had small indentations from gripping it, and his hand felt numb. He shook his wrist to get the blood flowing and waited the rest of the trip.