//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the Boss // Story: New Model Army // by est-hal //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Settling In and Meeting the Boss After a long and uneventful flight around the world, the 22nd Replica Battalion found themselves at their new headquarters, the Baikonur Cosmodrome Space Center in the arid and mountainous region of southern Kazakhstan. As the buyer was supposedly in the country, Armacham decided to acquire the antiquated space launch facility and integrate it with the battalion as part of a package deal, an unprecedented act of astoundingly good customer care. The fleet of transport planes that delivered the battalion to Kazakhstan had set down on a series of sizable airstrips not far off from the Cosmodrome. They began offloading their cargo, Replica soldiers and their vehicles filing out of the planes and onto the dirt runways before regrouping into their respective companies, platoons, and squads. As the rest of the battalion sorted themselves out in the sweltering desert heat, Replica Command, from within their private air-conditioned combination planes and mobile command centers, busied themselves with arranging a probe of their new base of operations. A convoy of light and heavy troop transports assembled and began an approach towards the long-abandoned base. They soon reached its outer perimeter, their high-power engines and titanium bullbars easily breaking through the rusty chainlink fences that purported to protect the restricted stretches of desert that was the Baikonur Cosmodrome. The convoy came to a complete stop as they reached the surface facilities of the base, kicking up clouds of dust as the vehicles simultaneously pulled their brakes. Their passengers disembarked and formed into teams before fanning out into the clusters of concrete and steel buildings, moving meticulously and with surgical precision as they swept the area for threats, finding them mostly in the form of roaches and other assorted vermin. One particular Replica hanged back at the parked vehicles, surveying his surroundings. Clad in green and black camouflage fatigues and body armor and wearing an advanced gas mask and respirator, he would have been largely indistinguishable from the other Replicas if not for the yellow “Ch1” stitched into the left breast and back of his armored vest. He put two gloved fingers to his left ear, activating a radio headset concealed beneath his headgear. “Command, this is Charlie Leader. We’ve reached the base’s surface facilities. We’re securing the area. Over.” he reported. There was a crackle of static before a response came. ”Copy that. Teams are to continue sweep and secure of all surface buildings only, then hold for further orders. Restriction of base’s sublevels upholding. Your team is to locate the central command bunker. Report back when you find it. Command out.” “Will do. Charlie Leader out.” The brief exchange over, Charlie Leader waved over a squad of similarly gas mask-equipped Replicas. Running over to him, they stood ready for whatever he was about to task them with. “We’re going to reconnoiter the area for the base’s central command bunker. According to base schematics, its primary entrance is at the northeastern edge from here.” he briefed them. “Yes sir!” his squad affirmed simultaneously in the same exact voice as each other. Charlie Leader nodded. “Good. Let’s move out!” At his word, they began trekking through the Cosmodrome’s surface facilities towards their objective, weaving between empty warehouses, weathered bunkers, and rusting scaffolding. After a few minutes of walking, they finally reached the command bunker’s main entrance. Charlie Leader stood before the partially open blast doors of the entrance, his automatic shotgun slung on his side and his hands behind his back as he took in the door’s rusted and weathered appearance with a critical eye. His squad stood behind him, their posture guarded and ready with weapons in hand. “I want this thing open, now.” Charlie Leader suddenly announced. His squad jumped at his words, splitting into two even groups, each taking hold of a door. “On three!” instructed a corporal among them. Receiving acknowledgements from each squad member, he began counting down. “One!” “Two!” “THREE!” As one, they began pulling open the blast doors, their combined superhuman strength easily overcoming years of rust buildup. The doors’ gears groaned in protest as they were forced into motion for the first time in a very long while. After some struggle, the blast doors were finally forced open… revealing another set of blast doors, this time fully sealed. The squad stared helplessly at the newly uncovered obstacle for a moment before turning their gaze to Charlie Leader, wordlessly pleading him for direction. The subcommander hadn’t moved an inch, his figure stiff and rigid. Finally, after a lengthy and uncomfortable silence, a single word escaped from the nozzle of his gasmask. “Shiiit…” ---- Night had fallen upon the Cosmodrome a few hours later, the night sky sparkling high above the base’s defunct space rockets and their launch platforms. Despite the late hour, the entirety of the 22nd Replica Battalion was wide awake and active, elements of it moving to and fro around the base. Any Replica not on patrol or guard duty busied themselves with cleaning their new home, scrubbing away dust, rust, and all manner of filth and making sure everything was spic and span. The battalion’s combat support company in the meanwhile worked to restore the base’s utilities and install new equipment to supplement what couldn’t be repaired. Replica Command had set up an impromptu command post just outside the central command bunker, having deemed the interior of it unsuitable for operations, at least until the battalion’s janitorial staff could get around to dealing with it. A number of tents and canopies had been erected to temporarily house their command and control systems, the trunk space of a few SUVs and humvees also being utilized as desk space. Beneath one such canopy were the battalion’s subcommanders, who were currently milling over a table, its surface cluttered with various subdocuments from their mission briefing and a large map depicting an unworldly location. The map was quite unlike the kinds they were trained with, being more appropriate as a decorative office piece that a practical overlay of a locale. It was a large piece of very antiquated parchment, its paper aged a dull yellow hue. On it was a hand-drawn, artistically-rendered map of a country called “Equestria,” the homeland and true location of Lyra Heartstrings. As with their and the rest of the battalion’s reaction that their new commander was a mint unicorn with a picture of a lyre on her butt, the subcommanders didn’t bat an eye at the absurd notion of an entire land populated with such sapient pony beings and presumably other mythological creatures, only concerning themselves with how they were going to get there. Their briefing addressed that particular concern, speaking of an old subterranean rail system built within a large cave system far below the Cosmodrome, made accessible by way of a large freight elevator conveniently located on base. It was from this apparently cross-dimensional hole-in-the-ground that the 22nd Replica Battalion would find their way into Equestria and ultimately to their master. Once more, the subcommanders didn’t at all question the physics-defying premise of a cave with the properties of an Einstein-Rosen bridge deep within the Earth’s crust leading to an entirely new world filled with talking ponies, taking all of it as true. Their briefing printed on official Armacham stationary said so. They continued to examine the map of Equestria, familiarizing themselves with its terrain and locales until they knew them like the back of their hands. Something that jumped out at them about their future theater of operation were the names of many of the cities and towns labeled on the map, being plays on real world locales and modified to pertain to horses. Manehattan, Trottingham, Canterlot, Van Hoover, though some weren’t as subtle, such as “Ponyville,” a small town near the geographic center of the country. Not a chortle or snicker was heard. Ponyville was also notable for the red circle drawn around it and an arrow and the words “Primary Directive’s Location” indicating it. Southeast of Ponyville, past a large forested region labeled the “Everfree Forest,” another more reasonably named town was also circled, Dodge Junction, and was indicated as their “Point of Emergence.” The subcommanders quickly interpreted the extraneous markings as their commander’s exact location in Equestria and the battalion’s point of entry in this new world respectively. They began closely examining the town of Dodge Junction and its surrounding terrain, it very likely being the first piece of pony civilization they would encounter. Apparently situated in a desert, the town seemed like a relatively minor settlement, little more than a glorified stagecoach way station. They likely would have paid little mind to it if not for its close proximity to their point of entry into Equestria. Something about Dodge Junction that did catch their attention was the rail line that ran through it and straight on to Ponyville, a highly attractive feature of the otherwise unimpressive frontier settlement, making a mental note to commandeer it as soon as it was practical. The subcommanders and the rest of the command staff continued to formulate designs upon Equestria, drawing up plans for any contingency that may arise in the country. From Appleloosa to Manehattan, no inch of terrain was discounted in their considerations. Replica Command was thorough like that. CRASH! Their scheming was interrupted by a loud crash just outside the canopy. They all looked over to see an overturned cart, boxes of ammunition split everywhere and a pair of heavies standing off to the side and looking guilty. They all turned their gaze towards one of their fellows, a Replica decked in a blue and white uniform and body armor and wearing a fully-enclosed ballistics helmet, a small red light blinking just beneath its polarized visor. The code “T114” was printed on his armored vest. “It’s your turn, Echo Leader.” one of them dully said. A barely perceptible sigh escaped from his helmet as Echo Leader nodded and trudged off towards the cart and heavies, winding himself up for a screaming session. ---- It was a couple days later when the 22nd Replica Battalion was finally settled in their new base of operations, the previously dilapidated Soviet-era facilities now restored to an acceptable level. The clone soldiers made themselves comfortable in the Cosmodrome’s rather spartan personnel facilities while their vehicles and equipment were securely tucked away in the various hangars, warehouses, and storage bunkers that littered the base. A distance away, on the airstrips that serviced the base, a small number of the transport planes that brought the battalion to Kazakhstan sat idle, having been left behind for their use should the need arise. Replica Command had dispatched one of their own to tour the Cosmodrome and perform a full inventory of all the battalion’s assets. Their delegate for the tedious and time-consuming task was Bravo Leader, the subcommander charged with the battalion’s covert and stealth operations. His inspection had unearthed a few pleasant surprises in the outlaying storage areas that would nicely complement what they had brought with them. He discovered in one such storage area a number of Russian-manufactured T-55 main battle tanks, BMP infantry fighting vehicles, and various other armored fighting vehicles. While most of them were beyond repair from years of neglect, a few still seemed serviceable. Pleased to have found something to busy the support company with, he moved on. In another storage area he found a significant volume of construction material and excavation equipment in pristine condition, having been left untouched in their original packaging and shrink wrap for the longest time. They would prove invaluable when they eventually established themselves in Equestria. The end of his base-wide inspection tour found Bravo Leader standing before a large elevator shaft, built in a massive chamber beneath a high-security storage bunker. It was this freight elevator according to the mission briefing that would deliver the battalion into the cave system below the Cosmodrome and ultimately into Equestria. The shaft was somewhat lit surprisingly enough, dim lighting fixtures jutting from its dirtied concrete walls at regular intervals for most of its length. The elevator itself was a large, open metal platform with black and yellow hazard stripes bordering its edges. It could easily carry multiple heavy vehicles, being meant to ferry large volumes of materials at once. Bravo Leader stood at the elevator platform’s edge, a platoon of infantry and crates of lighting equipment behind him. He looked at an elevated booth to the side of the elevator, specifically at the Replica soldier inside manning the elevator’s controls. The subcommander gestured at him, giving the order to start up the elevator’s mechanisms and send them down. Complying, the addressed Replica dutifully pulled a lever. A metallic clanking of gears suddenly resounded in the chamber and echoed down throughout the shaft below. There was a pause before the platform suddenly jerked to life, sending more than a few of its passengers stumbling. With a final groan, the elevator began a steady descent. It would be nearly two hours before it reached the bottom. ---- The Replicas were met with pitch-black darkness upon reaching the bottom of the shaft, only their headlamps and combat lights mounted on their weapons saving them from total blindness. Bravo Leader, however, didn’t share in his subordinates’ visibility problems, the red glow of his night vision goggles piercing into the darkness and showing him all that the darkness concealed. He didn’t find it much to look at. “Set up those flood lamps. I want this place lit up nice and good.” he ordered the platoon. At once, they hastily set up and activated said flood lamps and soon their environment was at least somewhat illuminated, revealing it in all its ruined glory. The soldiers beheld an absolutely cavernous tunnel, its rock surface bearing scorch marks as testament to the explosives used to carve it out. Degraded heavy-duty power and communication cables ran along its walls, broken at various points and splitting off into the other smaller tunnels that comprised the cave system. A pair of train tracks extended along the floor parallel to each other and into the darkness in either direction, far beyond the power of the Replicas’ lighting equipment. “First and second squads, hold here at the elevator. Third squadron, check out that direction and mark with LEDs at fifteen foot intervals. Fourth squadron, on me. We’re doing the same in the other direction.” Bravo Leader directed the platoon. Receiving affirmative replies from all, he set down the main tunnel with his squad in one direction, the other doing the same in the opposite direction. He and his squad moved carefully through the main tunnel, hugging its walls and place LED lamps at regular intervals to mark their path and allow them to find their way back. The squad had bumped into their commanding officer more than a few times, his incredibly quiet footsteps and grey light-absorbing photochemical fatigues and body armor making him nearly invisible in the darkness that permeated the tunnel. They eventually reached what appeared to be a service depot for the rail system, complete with a turntable station and enclosed train car lot. Tucked away between some servicing platforms was a pair of old diesel engines, their machinery exposed and yellow paintjobs chipping. Beyond them was the enclosed lot, a large warehouse-like structure built within a massive chamber, a multitude of boxcars and flatcars stored within it. Bravo Leader proceeded with his squad onto an elevated platform and surveyed the depot in its entirety from the heightened vantage point, noting the rusting machinery and piping and decayed bits of carpentry and other organic debris that cluttered the area. The various pieces of machinery were in particularly bad shape, their gears and paneling rusted into dysfunction or missing completely and their wiring exposed from their conduits and strewn about. The depot overall was afflicted with all manner of messiness that would certainly keep whatever poor unit of the battalion that was delegated the task of cleaning it up busy for quite some time. Wondering if the depot and any of its contents were still salvageable and not really wanting to have to deal with it himself, Bravo Leader directed his squad back towards the elevator, intending to send for an inspection crew from the support company and pass the mess onto them. ---- The next day found a small convoy of armored SUVs, humvees, and armored trucks refitted and repurposed as personnel carriers traveling through the tunnels below the Cosmodrome. Trailing them were two M1075 heavy-load cargo transport vehicles, their huge flatbeds carrying two Hind D helicopter gunships. Not far behind the convoy was the entirety of the battalion’s combat support company, working feverishly to restore the rail lines back to working order. Deciding they had delayed long enough, Replica Command organized a taskforce to traverse the tunnels and breach the dimensions into Equestria. Two platoons strong, the force was tasked with reconnoitering the battalion’s entry point in the pony-populated land and establishing an initial outpost there. From there, they would fly out to Ponyville and finally make contact with the commander and start receiving their orders. The convoy moved at a snail’s pace, the darkness of the main tunnel severely hampering their visibility and thus their speed. Their only source of illumination their own headlights and mounted floodlights, the vehicles inched carefully along the train tracks, paying great mind to each other’s position so as to not rear-end one another. They had been moving through the tunnel for almost three hours, their necessarily slow speed greatly contributing to their lengthy travel time. In the passenger seat of a humvee near the rear of the convoy sat Alfa Leader, the head of the battalion’s force reconnaissance unit. Having been bestowed the honor of leading the contact team into Equestria and being the first member of Replica Command to meet the commander, he was absolutely determined to not have any cock-ups during this operation. In his lap was a scanned image of the map of Equestria, the color of the original noticeably absent in the grayscale reproduction. Picking it up, he mentally plotted a course that would take the contact team past Dodge Junction and over the Everfree Forest and straight onto Ponyville. He carefully looked over the terrain his decided path would take them over, making note of any landmarks that would aid in their navigation. His musings over the map was interrupted by a crackle of static from the humvee’s radio. ”Sir, lead vehicle. We’re seeing what looks like daylight up ahead, about twelve meters out. I believe we’re about to hit the surface. Over.” Alfa Leader nodded before grabbing the radio piece to respond. “Roger. All convoy elements, full stop. Alright, here’s how we’re going to do this. One vehicle will move through the light at a time and give an all-clear over the radio before the next one can proceed. Keep your speed slow and steady. Acknowledged?” Receiving affirmative replies from every vehicle, he gave the lead vehicle the distinct honor of going first. Up at the front of the convoy, a tan humvee slowly started towards the literal light at the end of the tunnel, its all-terrain wheels grounding against the tunnel’s dirt floor. It soon disappeared behind the light, its blinding white glare completely engulfing it. Moments pass without any response from it, the only sounds in the tunnel the rumble of the vehicles’ engines. Just as Alfa Leader began fearing the worst, the radio emitted a beeping tone. ”Sir! We’ve emerged from the tunnel. We’re alright. We appear to be at the foot of a mountain. Terrain is suitable for light and heavy vehicles. We’re moving clear of the tunnel’s entrance, you can start sending the rest of the convoy through. Over.” Holding back a relieved sigh, Alfa Leader began sending the convoy through the tunnel’s end one vehicle at a time. ---- The tunnel had inexplicably ejected the convoy out onto the surface despite originally starting out deep underground and having never gone on an upward incline even once. The contact team found themselves at the foot of a mountain, just as the lead vehicle had reported. Before them was a vast desert, its expansive terrain occasionally marked by a mesa or mountain. A small town that was presumably Dodge Junction was not far off from their location, the only locale of civilization they could see for miles around. The vehicles fanned out and created something of a perimeter around the tunnel’s entrance. Their passengers dismounted from them and under the direction of the platoon leaders began taking up sentry positions while others were ordered to sort themselves into patrols before moving out to sweep the surrounding area. Alfa Leader’s humvee drove out from the tunnel and parked nearby its entrance, the shadow of the mountain sheltering the vehicle and its passengers from the blazing midday sun. Stepping out of his vehicle, he looked around before waving over the platoon leaders, who had just finished sorting out the first watch. “Start setting up the outpost. I want it up and running by the time I get back. And send someone back through the tunnel to inform Command that we’ve reached Equestria and are proceeding with the mission as planned.” he instructed them. “Yes sir!” they both replied at the same time before running off to delegate the tasks to some other lower-ranking Replicas. Replicas not posted as lookouts or on patrol relegated themselves to manual labor, unloading containers of equipment and materials from their vehicles and setting up a number of tents and camouflage canopies that would comprise the battalion’s initial outpost in Equestria. The M1075s finally emerged from the tunnel and drove into the center of the perimeter, their speed slow and steady as to not upset their cargo. Slowing to a stop, they began the arduous process of offloading the massive gunships from their flatbeds. The trucks’ mechanized loaders whirred to life, the flatbeds upon which the helicopters currently sat strapped to beginning to slowly slide out of place. Hydraulic stabilizers unfolded and extended from beneath them to hold up the weights of the Hinds. After a slight pause, the flatbeds began descending, their mechanisms whirring in slight strain. Soon after, the Hinds were finally offloaded, their extended landing gear resting on the desert floor. Their pilots circled them, closely inspecting every square inch of their fuselage and propellers to ensure not a single bolt was out of place. They soon declared both aircraft airworthy and took their places in the cockpits. Two eight-man teams boarded the Hinds along with one REV6 powered armor unit. Alfa Leader waved over a small team of Tactical troopers, their blue and white uniforms contrasting greatly with the digital forest camouflage fatigues and body armor of himself and the rest of his unit. Boarding the helicopter, he signaled the pilots to take off. The helicopters’ propellers began making motion, their rotations becoming faster and faster until the Hinds were airborne and en route. ---- Cherry Jubilee stood out on the back porch of her ranch home, taking in the fresh morning air. She looked out at the cherry trees of her orchard, smiling as a light wind blew some of the trees’ pink leaves off and caused them to dance about in the breeze. It was fast approaching noon and she had left her office to call the field workers to lunch. Just as she was about to holler out at them, a sudden and powerful gust of wind nearly blew her off her hooves. Her workers began panicking at something in the sky, taking cover beneath carts and behind the cherry trees. Looking up, the orchard boss caught sight of two very big and very mean looking aircraft. Their overall shape was vaguely reptilian, reminiscent of a crocodile’s head. Their hulls were of a grey and black coloration and camouflage patterning, making for a rather bewildering and menacing sight. The method of their flight was most unusual, relying on massive propellers for lift and control, a loud and rapid chopping emitting from their rotations. As quickly as they appeared, the Hinds had already zoomed past the orchard in the direction of the Everfree Forest far beyond Dodge Junction. Cherry Jubilee could only gawk at the retreating helicopter gunships as they flew off into the distance, leaving behind frightened and confused ponies in their wake. “What in blazes…” ---- The Hinds’ flight had seen them and their passengers over desert and curiously a cherry orchard before the thick forest they presumed was the Everfree that now stretched far and wide beneath them. Alfa Leader looked out at the forested expanse, unable to see the forest floor through the thick canopy of trees. As the forest flowed past his vision, a break in the monotonous greenery below caught his attention. The ruins of a large stone structure, perhaps a castle or fortress of some kind, sat in a large clearing, overgrowth from the forest having overtaken much of it. He made a mental note of it as a potential hardpoint should the battalion ever find itself operating in the forest. The helicopters continued above the forest for the next hour, the monotone of endless trees and assorted greenery unceasing. At long last, the forest began to rescind and give way to civilization, a small town that was presumably Ponyville, given its close proximity to the Everfree Forest as depicted on the map. As they drew closer to the town, Alfa Leader and the rest of the team began feeling a strange psychic compulsion, an inexplicable draw towards what looked like a park. Overwhelmed by the unknown feeling, he directed the pilots to adjust the Hinds’ flight path towards the park, intending to investigate it thoroughly. Said compulsion didn’t include a desire to be discreet about it. ---- Lyra stared up at the blue sky above, spying the occasional cloud that was left unattended by the town’s weather team. She was currently laying prostrated upon her back on a park bench, her forelegs folded behind her head and her hind legs crossed. Waiting for her superhuman to arrive was becoming a tedious affair, over four weeks having passed already. With no obligations to attend to that day, she decided to whittle the remaining hours of the day away with a session of cloud watching in the park. Already she had spotted a number of clouds that didn’t resemble anything other than a cloud and her excitement was only rising. “Ugh! Sooo boooooored…” Lyra groaned, beginning to flick her horn in a half-hearted attempt to alleviate her boredom that laid upon her head like a big head-mounted pancake. Her idle horn-flicking was interrupted by the sound of propellers loudly chopping through the air, the noise coming from the direction of the Everfree Forest. Sitting up, she looked over the bench and was met with a bewildering and utterly terrifying sight. Two large alien aircraft were approaching from over the forest with great speed. They quickly overtook the park, their rapid appearance, imposing size, and unknown but likely hostile intentions being more than reason enough for the few park goers at the time to flee in abject terror, screaming at the top of their lungs. Lyra, however, didn’t join them, instead remaining rooted in her seat on the bench, wide-eyed at the flying machines hovering above. Their sides suddenly folded up before coils of rope unfurled from them, their length reaching the ground. The strangest looking humanoid beings emerged from the openings and began sliding down the ropes one by one, their numbers on the ground eventually reaching nearly two dozen. The beings were clad in what appeared to be camouflage and armor, denoting a militaristic nature on their part. They wore futuristic looking helmets with polarized visors over a full-face mask, their faces completely hidden by them. They began fanning out into the park, assuming defensive positions and firing a few warning shots into the air with their weapons to encourage the few remaining ponies to overcome their sudden weakness of knees and heart conditions and clear out of the park. A group of them turned their attention to Lyra, who had yet to move from her spot on the bench, and began walking towards her. Their approach nearly caused the unicorn’s heart to seize up in sheer terror, her mind racing with myriads of theories as to their possible intentions towards her, none of them friendly or pleasant. As they drew closer, she noticed a few of them were decked in solid blue and white uniforms and armor as opposed to the camouflage patterning of the others, their sharp appearance giving an air of authority and command. They encircled her completely, leaving no room for escape. Time seemed to slow for the mint unicorn as the alien beings stood in an enclosed circle around her. Her life began flashing before her eyes, every milestone and notable moment of her life being replayed in her mind in vivid detail… Her early childhood in Canterlot… Moving to Ponyville… Pinkie Pie nearly giving her a heart attack at her welcoming party… Meeting Bon Bon at her welcoming party… An encounter of an explicit nature with Bon Bon the night of her welcoming party… Lyra’s flashback was interrupted mid-blush when one of the aliens in forest camouflage walked up to her, undoubtedly to finish her off. She dropped to her stomach and covered her head with her forelegs, waiting for the killing blow. Moments passed, her expectations of doom going unfulfilled. Curiosity overtaking her fear, she peaked out from her forelegs to find the alien being holding out a booklet of some sort towards her. She stared dumbly at it and the one presenting it to her, utterly confused at the unexpected and markedly non-hostile action. She tentatively reached out and took the booklet into her hooves. They all suddenly stood at attention, their posture straight and rigid. “Ma’am, Alfa Leader, battalion subcommander and head of Alfa Company, reporting for duty.” the one who gave her the booklet suddenly spoke, his voice filtered by an electronic voice changer. Lyra could only say one thing in response. “Huh?”