//------------------------------// // Six months later, part I // Story: The Legionnaire and the unicorn // by twillale //------------------------------// “...see, the Royal Guard isn’t really a military force as much as a special police unit. Much closer to your Foreign Legion than to the Terran Expeditionary Marines, to use a human analogy.” “Mm-h,” I mutter, trying to walk, shoo off the over-excited dog jumping at me, leaf through the maintenance log, and listen to Twilight at the same time. “We don’t really have enough conflict which would involve actual bloodshed to warrant a standing military. I’m curious, though, how you manage such vast amounts of hard force. Don’t the faraway units ever just... decide to do what they want?” I give up on trying to decipher the terrible spelling of the log, dropping the data pad in a pocket as we round the final corner before the hangar. I crouch to scratch Niyoosha behind the ears as I formulate an answer. “Well, it does happen. Usually command is just decentralised enough that no single organisation on scene has enough power to overthrow the whole colony in one go.” “But what about you? You’re the only human force on the ground here, aren’t you?” “Well, there’s reputation to consider. I’ve served the Legion for almost all of my life, so I guess the brass thinks I can be trusted with the lives of thousands of civilians.” I chuckle and continue into the hangar. “Naser.” I turn around and notice Twilight has stopped in the doorway. She avoids my gaze, as if afraid of my reaction to her next question. Niyoosha tilts her head questioningly and happily wags her tail. “Have you ever... killed another person?” Even though she’s looking away, I’m careful to keep my face neutral. Well, I knew this question would come sooner or later. Options cycle through my mind. Lie? I have before, when the task has demanded it, and without compunctions. I coolly examine my own hesitation, surprised at its very existence. Doing anything, anything at all, to endanger both the relations to the royal Representative and the mining negotiations goes against every code that binds me: UMFL protocol, my mission orders, and common sense. Looking down at the fidgeting unicorn, I realise that it doesn’t really matter to me. “I have.” Twilight jerks her eyes to mine, and I can see the conflicting emotions, clear as written words. She would make a terrible politician. I sigh heavily and rub my eyes. “I’m... a soldier, Twilight.” I look to her wearily. “It’s the only thing I know how to do. And sometimes being what I am involves doing things that I would rather not.” The blunt answer seems to drain the happiness from my friend, and it hurts me to the core. Even Niyoosha senses something is wrong, whining as she tries to lick the pony’s face. This is why this job has been so heavy on me, I realise in a flash of insight. We are robbing this whole world of some of its innocence, with our colonies, our petty wars and our unending quest for ever more resources. And ponies like Twilight are the collateral. It reminds me of home. I look away, taken by a sudden shame. I open my mouth to explain, to offer an apology of some kind. Niyoosha sharply perks her ears, and bares her teeth in a deep growl. That’s all the warning I need. Twilight squeaks in surprise as I sweep her into my arms and bodily heave her back into the corridor. The shockwave rolls into the hangar at the same second that we make cover, the roar of an explosion clapping over my ears like a physical blow. Dazed and with ringing ears I peek around the corner. One hangar door is lying on the ground, thrown off its hinge, and some crates are scattered around the entrance but the building itself seems unharmed. The same can’t be said of the warehouse across the street, where a black plume of smoke rises from the burning ruins. “What— What’s going on?” Twilight’s voice is confused, and full of fear. A pang of sympathy flashes across my mind before cold, calculating combat experience asserts itself. Priorities: protect the Representative. Find out what’s going on. React as necessary. I peer back into the hangar. The sounds of several more explosions echo through the walls. Screams and shouts waft from far away, underscored by the chatter of weapons. Shit. I whirl on Twilight, grabbing her face with both hands. “Listen to me, Twilight. I know this is scary, but we don’t have time to panic. Stay calm. Can you do that for me?” Determination flickers. She grits her teeth and nods. “Good. Follow me.” I draw my sidearm and click my tongue at Niyoosha. She faithfully stalks to my side, fangs bared. Hugging the wall, we slip back into the hangar and quickly traverse the few dozens of meters to our goal. Sheathing my pistol I heave myself onto the first rung of the stepladder, quickly scaling the maintenance scaffold around my Chub. The handle on the emergency hatch screams murder under the gentle ministrations of my boot, and I curse lazy engineers to the deepest pits of hell as I struggle to pull the hatch open. Wriggling through the emergency tunnel takes only a few seconds, but I’m drenched in sweat and painfully bruised when I finally flop into the embrace of the pilot’s seat. My anxiety level drops immediately, the familiar contours of the controls like old lovers under my fingers. I grin as the hefty ignition pangs of the impulse reactor ring through the cockpit, rhythmic like clockwork—at least the maintenance crew didn’t slack on everything. The displays flicker at the surge of power, and the muscle cylinders flex and strain against the scaffolding. The engineering lift slowly begins descending to ground level at my command, and I quickly run through the most critical systems while Twilight and Niyoosha ride the elevator up. I notice with a sideways glance that Twilight stands glued to the canine, her eyes nervously darting around. I don’t blame her for feeling out of her depth. I pop the cockpit for the few seconds it takes for the pair to scramble inside the Chub, furry legs and tails slapping my head and shoulders as the passengers try to squeeze into the narrow space behind the pilot’s seat. I flip around in my seat, clicking Niyoosha into her harness and tightening a simple cargo strap around Twilight’s midsection. I grin at her obvious discomfort. “Safety first.” I wink, more levity in my voice than in my mind. Twilight smiles back weakly. Strapping myself in with a free hand, I flex my hands on the controls and kick the emergency release switch with my foot. The scaffolds eject to the sides with a loud pop, and the Chub lurches into the center of the hangar with heavy, stumbling steps. I raise the barrel of my assault cannon to attack level and swivel it to cover the doors. The command array flickers to life on demand, and familiar voices crackle over the aether. “—ltiple fires in grids echo seven through echo nine. Cyan one, please move to location, over.” “This is cyan one, copy that.” “Your priority is to protect on-site personnel, disaster recovery is en route with fire-fighting equipment. Cyan one, confirm.” “Cyan one confirms: protect personnel. Pulsar shows multiple unknowns in area, going in weapons hot, over.” “Roger, cyan one. MC out.” I flick the transmission key with my thumb. “Come in, mission control. This is deep blue. Give me the situation, Laura.” “Mission control reads. It’s good to hear your voice, commander.” The tactical uplink spews my console full of data as mission control confirms my authorisation. I breathe out in relief as status indicators flash green across the board. That means at least the majority of the company’s mobile frames are still operational. “We’re not sure, sir,” Laura’s voice continues over the static, its tense edge now well-hidden under her usual ice-cool veneer, “a couple of our hangars and warehouses just went sky-high, and it appears the base is under attack by unknown hostiles.” “Frames?” “And infantry, sir. They aren’t many, and from what we’ve seen they aren’t too well-organised, but they took us by surprise.” I stop to think. Indirect-fire weapons would’ve registered pre-strike, and the frames would’ve taken the rest out after the first shell landed. Besides, Laura is too much of a pro not to mention that. Bombs? “Terrorists?” I mutter, mostly to myself. I almost jump out of my skin as Twilight flops against my shoulder. “What?” Her shrill scream cuts into my ear like a knife. “Easy! Stay back there, and don’t flail around!” Twilight jerks back, probably surprised by the harsh tone of my voice. She quickly recovers, though. I can see her worried eyes reflected in the empty screen on my left. “Sorry. Are you... going to fight?” “If I have to,” I grunt as I carefully edge the massive bipedal machine towards the door. A warm hoof presses against my shoulder, gently this time. “Naser... can you try,” she swallows audibly, “not to... kill anypony?” She almost stumbles on the terrible word. I pause as I extend a camera arm outside and rotate it around. Several seconds pass in silence. “I will try.” I see her nod with closed eyes, and lean back. I clear my throat and flick the radio key. “Mission control, this is deep blue. I have Representative Sparkle on board. Give me a link-up location, and assume combat command until I get there.” “Roger, sir. Navy three will meet you at the mess hall in an estimated seven minutes. Confirm, navy three.” “Navy three confirms: rendezvous at mess hall. Stay whole, boss. The Legion protects.” “The Legion protects,” I confirm with a smile. The reactor screams as I push the cylinders to full power. The acceleration pushes me back into my seat, and the massive bulk of the Chub dances through the hangar doors, weapon primed.