//------------------------------// // 18: Braced for Ruin // Story: My Little Halo: Harmony Evolved // by Arcane Howitzer //------------------------------// Dear Princess Celestia. The muffled groans of several marines followed Pinkie Pie as she pranced away from the sparring area. Her fur had taken on a blue sheen, her eyes glowed with a soft white light, and the air seemed to chill around her to the point that frost rimed her hoofprints, but despite all this she seemed as cheerful as ever as she trotted over to her waiting friends. Suddenly her wintery discoloration rippled, pulling away from her body and taking the form of her Windigo friend. If anypony was surprised, they didn’t show it. While we appreciate that you came to us at the first sign of danger, we have no evidence of the incursion you claimed has happened. If this “Nightmare” did indeed arrive on board the Guam, then it has successfully outwitted the most advanced AI and monitoring equipment human engineering can produce. It is rather difficult to believe that anything so capable would bother pursuing a petty grudge, but that is beside the point; we cannot assist you any more than we already have. The magnificent ravine which surrounded the princesses’ old keep was now a barren scar on the Everfree Forest. Gaping holes pocked the cliff face, revealing hangars and turrets, missile batteries and lookout stations. Even the castle itself was being renovated, an array of mass drivers looming where spiraling towers once held watch. What was left of the old road had been cleared and repaired as much as possible, and now led underground to wind through the massive southern command center that had formed around the Tartarus Rune. Please keep in mind that even if we could find enough volunteers willing to risk “Ponification” (as some have dubbed the transformation), it could take months to refit enough warships to repel a directed attack. Add to that having to retrain thousands of personnel and supply them with specialized equipment and the costs of the venture increase dramatically. To make such an effort to enter a field that we will neither reach in time (assuming anything happens at all) nor return to in the foreseeable future is simply not feasible. A griffon smiled wistfully beneath his helmet as his world rocked in a rumble of moving steel. The valley shook to the precise beat of a titanic six-legged gait, soil compressing and stone cracking with each thunderous stomp. The griffon didn’t seem to notice though, his eyes fixed on a grainy photograph in his talons. In the picture, he and a dozen other griffons stood proud in their grease- and blood-stained uniforms. Spaced between them sat nearly as many graves, each bearing a name, two dates, and a single, glittering medal. In the background stretched a field of burning metal hulks, with a single mechanical hexapod towering over them in battered triumph. In spite of all that had happened since, and especially the near-complete overhauls of the past two months, the blackened and scarred name on the photo’s walker remained emblazoned on the cannon-laden leviathan as it patrolled the mountainous griffon homeland. Instead, and to show our trust in your judgment, the UNSC Guam was given top priority for the upgrades your aid has allowed us to issue, and is now on official loan to the Diarchy of Equestria until such a time as it is not needed for your own defense. Though extensive repurposing has diminished its ship-to-ship capabilities, the Guam’s true purpose as one of the few remaining Valiant-class Super-Heavy cruisers is, much like your own, that of a leader. The Valiants are almost exclusively built as flagships and mobile orbiting command centers, and the Guam in particular has been customized to be able to coordinate and support the atmospheric theater of an entire planet with little to no backup. A piercing screech rang through the shining purple corridors of the Crucible, only to fall on ears too terrified or arrogant to care. In the Fleetmaster’s personal quarters, an Unggoy thrashed madly against the char-black aura of Arga’s magic. Off to the side, the Nightmare grinned sadistically as each pulse of its student’s magic made the pathetic creature convulse in more than just agony. Stubby limbs stretched into twisted, claw-tipped twigs as leathery skin split around formations of razor-sharp spines. The pain-ridden face pushed forward to absorb its breathing mask and hide it behind a mouth of gnashing teeth, and a bony shell pushed out over the methane tank, leaving only the refilling port uncovered. Satisfied with his creation, Arga let it fall to the floor where it shuddered briefly before going completely still. The Nightmare studied it for a moment, and then incinerated the mutant corpse in black fire and disappointment. Another of the cannon-fodder race was called in, and the lesson continued before the new test subject could notice the mound of burnt gas-packs in the corner. Furthermore, the shuttles that you ordered should arrive within a week of this message. We apologize for their delay, but no dedicated evacuation ships have been built until now because the abundance of local vessels has almost always been able to accommodate any refugees that reach them, and the widely-varying sizes of your planet’s civilized species demanded modification of what plans we did have. Fortunately a number of trained personnel have volunteered to crew the ships, and will require only minimal acclimation training once they arrive. Hopefully nothing happens before then. Respectfully, Dr. T. Randall, UNSC Board of Allied Concerns P.S. Now that your nation is officially in possession of UNSC property and data, we must insist that you, as well as any subjects of yours with access to sensitive data or materials, read and follow UNSC Emergency Priority Order 098831A-1 (the Cole Protocol), attached below. Failure to do so through intent or negligence may be seen as a direct threat to Earth and her colonies, and an unforgivable betrayal of the trust we have shown you. * * * * * * * Canterlot Castle February 23, 2012 8:00 P.M. Local Time Canterlot, Equestria Despite the chaos of the past few months, the graceful beauty of the royal palace remained almost intact. It was practically a historical site, after all; the longest-standing seat of power not reduced to mossy ruins by time and disaster. Besides, the nobles had insisted that all of “that obtrusive magic-less garbage,” be kept as far removed from their delicate eyesight as possible. Unfortunately, even the work of Equestria’s best artisans combined with the humans’ masterfully subtle devices looked glaringly out of place to Princess Celestia’s time-trained eyes. Every light switch was like a sore hoof on the wall, and every camera a stalking eye as she walked the familiar corridors. She ignored them as best she could, but they were still there to remind her of how quickly the world had changed, and of how much she had changed with it. Finally, she reached her personal bedchambers, the one room in the palace that she had flatly refused to allow the changes to touch, the last remnant of “old” Equestria in a world of approaching war and encroaching technology. The idea had been that she would unwind here away from her duties, just as she always had, but even after her “bodyguard squad” had relented to staying by outside the door (she was not proud of what she had had to do to get them to back off) it wasn’t enough. She would not be here this early in the night if was. Celestia sighed as she climbed into the silken sheets, remembering the times when she had been able to stay awake for weeks on end before the stress began to hamper her mind. Now she had to sleep almost every night just to keep herself from snapping at everything, and her patience had frayed frighteningly even with her well-honed subconscious working overtime. Sombra had certainly proved that. “I still can’t believe I actually said that,” she admitted to herself as laid her head on her pillow. The cushion was unusually stiff for some reason, but her internal turmoil kept her from actually looking as she fluffed it. It wasn’t until several second later that she noticed something else wrong. It was purring. The princess recoiled with a surprised yelp, looking down to see what had become of her favorite piece of bedding. Instead she found the spot occupied by a pony-sized Discord lying on his back with a lecherous grin plastered across his face. “What?” he asked with poorly-feigned innocence. “You don’t like my cuddles?” In the hallway outside, Omar and Martha jumped to action as an unseen projectile shattered the thick oaken door between them and the even thicker stone wall in front of them. Their anger at being bypassed quickly turned to confusion, however, as their charge brushed roughly past them before ducking through the fresh hole in the masonry, her look of royal indignation enough to make even the two hardened soldiers briefly hesitate to follow. Luckily Princess Luna was still on Reach as the official Ambassador of Equestria, as the blast had breached her room just beside the bed and left a crater in the wall opposite it, with rubble scattered across its path. The chamber itself was being used as a single stationary bludgeon against which Celestia was viciously beating something resembling a large dog while spouting a stream of curses that could glass a small moon. Her new-found stress toy could be heard shouting apologies and declarations of surrender between blows, occasionally mixed with a few curses of his own. “Corporal Simmons, what the hell was that noise?!” the LT shouted over the radio. “Is Celestia under attack?” It took a moment for Martha to wrestle her attention away from the spectacle, and her bewilderment showed in her voice. “I’m… not sure, sir. I think she’s the one doing the attacking.” “…I’m coming up there,” the squad leader declared after his own delay, his tone conveying more curiosity than concern. He probably heard the racket through the radio, the trooper decided before turning back to the orbital collision that was rapidly forming in the Bedchambers of the Night. The thrashing slowed to a stop until, by the time Lieutenant Johnson arrived, the only sound was the princess’s tired panting. No recognizable feature remained whole (aside from the bed, as that was too soft to cause suitable damage), and cracks issued forth from draconequus-shaped indents in the walls. Slowly, Celestia lifted the subject of her rage to dangle by his ankle, mere inches from her face. Discord hung there limply, covered in bruises and comically-oversized bandages. He didn’t blink as he stared off into space. It didn’t look like he was even breathing, for that matter. Contrary to the assumed natural reaction, however, Celestia simply ripped her foe in half and scattered the cottony stuffing which comprised the entirety of his innards before tossing the resulting hollow cloth shell to the floor. “I am not in the mood for your games, Discord. Come out already,” she growled at the room in general. “Oh you’re never any fun, Celestia,” Discord whined as he sauntered out of a dislocated cabinet door, a glass of neon-blue liquid in one claw and a fishbowl full of sawdust in the other. A gold lamé jacket glittered across his chest, bizarrely complemented by a day-glow-orange bowtie and live raccoon hat. “What are you up to this time?” As before, the chaos spirit gave no indication that he noticed her glare. “Why, the last thing you’d ever expect, of course,” he responded, taking a bite out of his glass and tossing the remainder into the air. Celestia raised a skeptical eyebrow as he crunched the mouthful like granola, but she, the ODST, and the supposedly-falling piece of drink waited for him to swallow. Instead, he just spoke with his mouth full. “I’m here to help.” Suddenly, the suspended cup let off a blinding flash of dark. The three soldiers shouted as they fell through the gap they had watched through thus far, but could not see well enough to retaliate. By the time the stripes faded from their vision, they found the room completely repaired and redecorated in a surprisingly-pleasing, faux-modern-gothic theme. Celestia and Discord both sat in the middle around a short balsawood Tiki idol, the draconequus intently regarding what looked like a pocket watch. “Well, it seems I’ve used up that last of my reserves for now,” he stated with mild distaste. “You’ve won for now; I’ll get straight t-Ow!” Celestia interrupted him with a blow to the face, still furious at him for more reasons than she could count. The spirit looked like he would retaliate for an instant, but simply gave a defeated sigh. “I suppose I deserved that.” “You deserve the punishment I gave to your plush replacement and then some,” the alicorn snorted derisively, “but I’m willing to let your old pal the Nightmare handle your sentence as long as you cooperate.” “Fair enough,” he admitted. “But for me to do that, I’ll need a bit of a favor first: release me from my prison.” “And what’s to keep you from turning on us the moment you’re out? Or worse, when we need you most?” “Because this is my world too!” Everypony was taken aback by the forcefulness of his rebuttal, but he was not finished. “I’ve been here since the beginning! Helped make it what it is! I’ve got my whole life, billions of years invested in this rock, and I’m not going to let that entropic backstabber wipe it all away!” For a second, Celestia was stunned. Here was Discord, the spirit of chaos and disharmony, claiming responsibility for the world he had done nothing but torment for uncounted millennia! And yet she could not find anything but truth in his outburst. There was just one thing she didn’t understand. “Then why did let it keep happening?” she asked. “If you really care about this world, why were you helping that thing wreak destruction on it over and over and over again?” After a moment of steady regard, he leaned back on his arms and said, “It was fun, and I was bored.” He would have savored the look of fury on Celestia’s face had he not already seen enough of it while she was using his substitute for renovations. Instead, he ducked under another swinging hoof and attempted to clarify his position. “Now to be fair, it was better than when we were constantly fighting each other. It took eons to get anything done around here, and I could never get a moment’s peace without having to start all over because of some mass-extinction event caused by you-know-who. Did you know that before we settled our deal, only three species had ever harnessed fire? Three! All of them hundreds of millions of years apart!” “What are you talking about?” the solar princess asked, her anger having given way to confusion. “My job, Celestia dear.” The spirit’s tone was one of bored responsibility. “The whole ‘chaos’ thing is really more of a hobby, an artistic outlet if you will. Believe it or not I am actually none other than the original spirit of creation, and my sole binding objective is to keep the planet alive and moving. The Nightmare, as the spirit of destruction, gets its kicks from breaking my stuff. Whenever one of us got too far along or had too much spare time on their hands, the Elements of Harmony would kick in and give the other one a major power boost to catch up. The result was a constant draw that left both sides struggling to do anything, and frustrated when it was undone in short order. “About half a million years ago, however, the two of us managed to enter into a bit of a gentleman’s agreement. I would build stable little civilizations specifically for demolition via Nightmare, and it would leave enough behind for me to make more and take enough time for me to have some fun of my own in the interim. The Elements forcibly vetoed that plan by stripping us of most of our power and redistributing it amongst the population, which led to the current system of stabilizers and corruption, but the goal of mutual entertainment was still accomplished. Until now, that is. “So long story short, I am contractually obligated to give up my own life before I let this planet be blasted lifeless and it would be literally impossible for me to betray you to such an end. Now would you please let me out already?” Again silence reigned as Celestia struggled to decide whether to fulfill Discord’s request. Though her unscheduled session with his stuffed likeness had been therapeutic enough for her to not disregard him out of spite, she could not overlook the risk that he was lying or that he might even hinder them unintentionally. On the other hoof, neither could she throw away such a powerful ally with the war looming ever closer. She needed some way to ensure his cooperation and limit his collateral damage if necessary. With gritted teeth, she relented. “Alright, we will release you-“ “Yes!” the draconequus cheered, pumping his arm in victory before breaking into dance. “A-hem.” Discord froze in his tracks when he realized that his freedom was not unconditional. “As I was saying,” the solar alicorn continued once her audience had properly seated himself again, “We will release you when and if the Covenant actually shows up, but your prison and its seals will remain intact so that we can restrain you should you give us need, purposefully or otherwise.” Celestia leaned in, and this time Discord shrunk from her glare. “I hope I don’t have to suggest that you not give us need,” she finished with crushing authority. * * * * * * * Ponyville Library February 25, 2012 5:30 P.M. Local Time Ponyville, Equestria “Spike!” Twilight called out as she entered her literary abode. “I’m back from training! And I brought that itch cream you asked for!” Though she didn’t let it show, Twilight was actually very worried for her scaly little assistant; specifically, the fact that he could hardly be called “little” any more. Spike had been growing almost non-stop ever since Princess Celestia was first abducted by the human’s probe. Luckily he wasn’t displaying the hoarding or exponential growth spurts that had caused such a disaster during his Day of Excess episode, but she was keeping a very close eye on him. Nopony wanted to take any chances, particularly now. The mass of its secondary occupant was not the only change to befall the Ponyville Library. Paper cluttered every available surface that was not itself an information display. Maps hung across the shelves, displaying the weapon caches, evacuation tunnels, and most defendable locations across Ponyville. Equipment manuals were piled on some stools, guides on modern combat theory on others, and descriptions of Covenant tactics and weapons on most of the rest. A bulletin board offered a number of notices to think rationally, remain calm, and remember the astounding versatility of the common towel. Subject matter aside, it could easily been mistaken for a particularly heavy case of Twilight Sparkle’s famed “Research Frenzy” were it not for the impressive flow chart occupying the large central table. The laminated maze of boxes and arrows detailed the entire Ponyville militia chain of command, complete with the specializations and (heavily paraphrased) psychological profiles of everypony in it. The bearers of the Elements of Harmony were highlighted with appropriate colors, and lines were traced up the line to the nearest superior all six shared. Aside from that, the only commonality among them was the label of V.I.P. Applejack was a heavy weapons pony, as were a noticeable portion of the town’s earth ponies. In fact, very few non-earth ponies were able to carry the equipment needed to fill that role. Of those who did, the pegasi were usually grouped into “air support.” Rainbow Dash actually had command of a rather unique force composed of the fastest fliers from the Ponyville Weather Patrol, dubbed the Super-Light Aerial Combat and Reconnaissance. It was their job to watch the enemy’s movements and harass them wherever possible. Fluttershy and Rarity both were given rear duties, as medic and technician respectively. In addition, Fluttershy’s special connection to nature put her in charge of any animals that decided to join the fight. Pinkie Pie, with her Windigo companion, was a branch all her own. Dubbed “the closest thing to an Equestrian Spartan since the Archons were disbanded five centuries ago,” she was essentially allowed to do whatever she wanted to as long as it in some way helped to win the battle. Twilight Sparkle was split between logistical oversight and heavy support. Not only could she use pretty much any combat spell ever made (some of them she even wrote herself), but she possessed almost unparalleled magical strength and endurance. Still, it was her nearly obsessive knack for organization that had helped the Ponyville Militia become something akin to an actual army rather than the basic mass of armed ponies that guarded most towns. That, and her connection to Princess Celestia which allowed for a rather higher equipment budget than normally befitted a town of their size. * * * * * * * UNSC Guam 4 March 2552 1633 MST Orbit above Equestria It was strange how little the observation deck had changed since Captain Arnold last left it nearly half a year ago. He simply hadn’t been able to find the time to visit amid the compounding developments since the transformations. It truly was a shame to miss out on the sparkling beauty of space and the absolute solitude of slip-space because of it all, but at least he had the chance now. It’s so strange, he mused. The constellations look similar to Earth’s, but they’re all slightly… What is that? Something caught his attention, something that definitely wasn’t a star. It was pale, vaguely oblong, and in fact looked rather like… How the hell does a bird shit on the windshield of a spaceship? Sure enough, a smear of waste clung to the far side of a plate foot-thick transparent polymer, glistening with frost and paying no heed to the confusion directed its way. Suddenly claxons wailed, warning lights flashed, and a digital voice rang out through every corridor, “All personnel to combat stations. Multiple slip-space ruptures detected two light-minutes from the far side of the planet. Beacons picking up twenty-five Covenant warships total, six capital ships and nineteen others. Forty minutes estimated time to firing range of the planet.” The captain was gone before the announcement was finished. On the planet below, sirens blared in every town and city on every continent, and all who heard them looked to the sky in fear and disbelief. Then, as if by some unspoken signal, they set about tasks none had hoped would be necessary. Weapons were passed out as vehicles rumbled to life. Mass drivers hummed with power, both of raw force and mystic runes, and the evacuation ships opened themselves despite not having been settled in their berths for more than a week. And in one particular town, three particular fillies hid in a barrel with a giggled muttering of “Cutie Mark Crusaders Alien Fighters, go!”