~~~Main Gate, Canterlot, 2 days and 9 hours after the First Ambush at Equus~~~
After disposing of the Republic pod, Grievous and Rainbow Dash speedily made their way back to Canterlot. With the Inheritor no longer in the vicinity, Grievous decided to bring his STAP into the city with him. As the two of the approached the main gate, they were a bit surprised to see the streets rather full of ponies, some of them guard and most of them civilian.
“What's going on here?” Grievous asked one of the unicorn guards once he had made his way to him.
“The Princesses are sending everypony back to their homes,” the guard explained after curiously looking over Grievous's STAP.
“Are my friends being sent home too?” Rainbow Dash asked the guard.
The guard hesitated, trying to remember. “I don't believe so. I think Celestia is waiting for you in the castle.”
“Oh, best not keep her waiting,” she said. Turning to Grievous, she said, “C'mon Grievous, let's hurry.”
Grievous dismounted his STAP and walked up to the guard. “I'm leaving this with you. No one is to touch it. I'll send one of droids to fetch it once the crowd has cleared.”
The guard looked up fearfully at the looming and glaring cyborg. “Um, yes, sir, understood,” he said shakily, adding a whimper at the end to further show his discomfort.
Saying nothing, Grievous walked into Canterlot. The crowds about him parted to let him pass while Rainbow Dash flew a few paces behind him. They walked for a couple of minutes in silence before Rainbow Dash finally spoke. “You know, scaring that guard like that was kind of mean.”
“It's not my fault he has no courage,” Grievous scoffed. “Though, it's not very surprising that he didn't. So far, the Royal Guard has been a disappointment in every area, not even worthy of their title.”
“Isn't that a little harsh?” she asked, somewhat shocked that Grievous was so willing to bash the Guard.
“Based on what I've observed, not at all. But it shouldn't concern you; you're not a part of the guard, and my droids will fix their errors.”
“I know I'm not a part of the Guard, but with Shining Armor being Twilight's brother, my friends and I get to know most of the going-ons of the Guard,” she reasoned.
Grievous waited for a few seconds for Rainbow Dash to continue. When she did not, Grievous spoke. “And your point is...?”
“Well, I guess, uh, well-” she stuttered, not sure how to put her thoughts into words. Defeated by her vocabulary, Rainbow Dash sighed. “Never mind.” And Grievous didn't, and the two of them continued through the crowds in silence.
Soon enough, Grievous and Dash made their way to the square, which was now occupied by the majority of Grievous's droids and a few Royal Guards. In the center of the square was a large fire, fueled by the many changeling corpses that had accumulated during the day. The air smelled vile, and Rainbow Dash had to cover her muzzle to keep from vomiting. Even with the smell dealt with, just the sight of so much dead stuff was churning her stomach. There had to have been at least one hundred corpses in the fire already, and the number continued to increase as the droids piled more changelings in.
The two of them stopped to watch the activity. “How many are there?” Dash asked quietly, trying not to inhale any fumes.
Grievous contemplated for a second. “Four hundred would not be an unreasonable number.”
“Four hundred!? Your droids killed four hundred changelings? That's so many!” she exclaimed, throwing her hooves up for emphasis. She quickly replaced her hooves after receiving a whiff of the foul stench.
“Hopefully it's enough that changelings will be discouraged from coming here in the future, if any still remain. Come on, let's get going.”
Not five minutes later, Grievous and Rainbow Dash were making their way down one of the castle's many elaborate hallways. Grievous was intent on making it to his room so he could begin repairing his hand. He reflected back on the incident, clenching what he could of his wounded hand in rage at Dash's foolishness and stupidity. He cast her an angry glare while she looked away.
They made it to Grievous's room. “So this is where Celestia put you, huh?” Dash asked. The answer was obvious enough, so Grievous didn't reply. Instead, he just reached out and pulled on the knob.
And pulled on the knob.
And shook the knob violently.
Grievous growled in anger. He was ready to kick the locked door down, but refrained from doing so since he didn't want to make the Princesses mad. Successfully calming himself down, he lowered himself to the knob's level. He took a tool equivalent to a Swiss army knife off of his waist and withdrew a thin metal rod from it. Grievous put the rod in the keyhole and began to attempt to pick the lock.
A minute passed, and he was met with no success. Rainbow Dash fluttered about impatiently. “Do you even know what you're doing?” she finally asked.
“I believe so,” he muttered. “You don't often find hard locks in my galaxy.”
“Ugh, well hurry up. We're probably late for whatever the Princess wants us to do now.”
A click sounded from the door. Grievous tested the knob and found the door to be unlocked. Satisfied, he replaced his tool and walked into his room. Rainbow Dash followed him in, looking at the rather bland adornments and lack of techy stuff.
“Huh, I'm surprised there's no fancy electronic stuff in here, this being your room and all,” Rainbow said. She looked to Grievous, who was frantically pacing around the room, pulling out drawers and sifting through the closet. “Uh, Grievous? What'cha lookin' for?”
“I'm looking for my repair kit,” he said, flinging the made bed sheets up to see if it was there before crouching to check under the bed.
Being distracted, Grievous didn't notice the piece of paper slowly drifting down onto Dash's head. She pulled the paper off her head once it landed and looked at it. “Hey Grievous, this is for you”. He stood and tore the note out of Dash's hooves.
Dear Grievous,
Words cannot describe the gratitude I feel towards you for your actions. As a small and insignificant token of my appreciation, I'm having you relocated to a much more roomy suite. You'll undoubtedly find the new arrangements much more comfortable.
I've had some of my servants move your few belongings to your new room while you were gone.
Once you have read this, please return to the throne room. The others would like to thank you, and once that is done, my sister and I will show you to your new accommodations.
Sincerely,
Princess Celestia
“So...what's it say?” Dashed asked eagerly. These ponies are incredibly aggravating.
“The Princesses want us in the throne room as soon as possible.”
The large doors gave way to Grievous's might as he pushed them aside to let himself into the throne room. Aside from the two alicorn princesses sitting on their thrones, the room was vacant of anyone.
“Grievous and Rainbow Dash, it's good to see that you've returned safely and unharmed,” Celestia said as they stepped forward.
“Show me to my room,” Grievous commanded. Luna glared at him, but Grievous gave no notice.
Celestia was evidently startled to be addressed as harshly as she was. “And it can't wait?” she said, narrowing her eyes at Grievous.
“It could, but I prefer that it doesn't,” replied Grievous. “I've been wounded and need to fix myself, which I can't do now that you've had my tools and other possessions moved without my consent.” He showed his blackened hand to the Princesses. Celestia went wide-eyed and she grabbed Grievous's hand to inspect the wound.
“Oh, my, I-I'm sorry; I didn't know,” she said concernedly.
“Art thou-” Luna started, then cleared her throat, “-are you hurting?” Luna's glare vanished as she looked at the injury.
“It's nothing mortal,” Grievous grunted, ripping his hand out of Celestia's hooves. “I just need my repair kit.”
“Um, right,” Celestia said. She was at a loss for words.
“I told you we shouldn't have touched his belongings without his consent, sister,” Luna chastised. “We are sorry, Grievous. We'll lead you to your room.” Celestia nodded, and the two Princesses led Grievous and Rainbow Dash out of the throne room.
Grievous's new accommodations were rather impressive, significantly so when compared to his original room. This room was tall enough for Grievous to stand at his maximum height with ample room to spare, and the floor room was sufficient enough to allow Grievous to pace around in large circles without hindrance from walls or other furnishings. A large bed -large for a pony, anyway- occupied one side of the room with a dresser and nightstand adjacent to it, and there was a table with a mirror mounted on it on the other, but other than those, the room was bare of adornments.
Sitting in a small pile in the center of the room were all of Grievous's things, including the repair kit that Grievous was longing for.
“Wow, Princess,” Rainbow Dash admired as she flew around the room's ample air space. “This is like the room you let Rarity use when she visited. Aren't these rooms reserved for, like, super important guests?”
“Are you saying that an advanced cyborg warrior-diplomat from another galaxy isn't a 'super important guest'?” Celestia asked in return.
Dash halted her flying and began rubbing the back of her neck with her hoof. “No, I'm not saying that. I just...didn't think of Grievous that way.”
“So how did you think of Grievous?” Luna asked. Rainbow was saved from answering by a loud metallic creaking sound coming from the opening of the repair kit. Having been caught up in their own conversation, the three mares had zoned Grievous out, therefore not seeing Grievous grab the repair kit from the pile of his things.
The Princesses and Dash gave the General curious glances. Grievous sat cross-legged on the floor with the repair kit in front of him like a filly opening a gift on Hearth's Warming Eve,. “I apologize for the interruption,” Grievous said upon noticing that the conversation between the room's other occupants had ceased, though he didn't look up. “The hinges haven't been oiled recently,” he stated. He looked up to see the three mares continuing to stare at him, Celestia blushing slightly.
“There's a table, you know,” Dash pointed out.
“I know, but it's too small. A table to you is a desk to me.”
“He's kind of cute like that,” Celestia blurted out, silencing herself with a hoof before she could say anymore. Luna and Dash gave her strange stares. Removing her hoof, she said, “He... doesn't he kind of remind you a filly opening gifts when he sits like that?”
“I guess,” Dash agreed, looking back to Grievous. Grievous face palmed, producing a very loud clicking sound. “I don't think he appreciated your comment, though.”
“Speaking of, um, gifts,” Luna started, giving an awkward fake cough, “shouldn't we be going down to the ball room?”
Having regained her composure, Celestia replied. “Of course. Grievous, how long until you're ready?”
“Without you three distracting me, half an hour.”
“I don't think Pinkie Pie would appreciate us stalling for that long,” Celestia said, sighing afterward.
“Is Pinkie doing what I think she's doing?” Dash asked, suddenly giddy.
“Yes, Rainbow Dash,” Luna answered. “Grievous, We're- I'm sure that Twilight would be intrigued to observe you repair yourself...that was weird to say. Perhaps you could do that in the ball room and teach her a little about how...you...work.” Luna bore an unusual expression. “It's weird to talk of another living being as if they weren't.”
“Fine,” Grievous growled, shutting the squeaky lid of the repair kit.
Grievous was expecting a celebration of some kind, not an unusual thing for a party to do after a victory. And when Luna mentioned the 'ball room' in their earlier discussion, he was expecting a more formal and organized celebration. Thus, he was surprised to enter the ballroom and find it decorated as if they were celebrating a five year old's birthday party. The entire atmosphere, despite the presence of notable figures such as Shining Armor, was infantile, and it disgusted Grievous.
Fortunately for him, he had work to do, and that excused him from the celebratory festivities. He sat himself at a large, unoccupied table in the corner of the room and began to diagnose the damages.
Using a specialized tool from his repair kit, he pried the charred armor plate off of the back of his injured hand and inspected the machinery. Grabbing a different tool, this one a thin rod with an electrode on one end, he began probing the various pistons, wires, and servos that formed his hand. His prodding provided mixed results. The good news for him was that the only broken part was the primary servo motor, which rested approximately in his palm. The drawback to this, however, was that almost all of the other circuitry connected to it in one way or another.
Fixing his hand would be precise and tedious work.
The Kaleesh spared a glance around him to see what the party's other attendees were up to. On the opposite side of the room from him was a refreshment table, piled high with pastries of various kinds. A large group of ponies consisting of the Element bearers and their families congregated near it, chatting by the looks of it. There were also three fillies that seemed to be enjoying themselves, each chasing each other about the room in their childish games. Scattered about the room were a few Royal Guards as well. Though they were still clothed in their iconic golden armor, indicating that they were on duty, they nonetheless partook in the festivities. Finally, at a table not far from the Element bearers sat Celestia and Luna, who were caught up in their own conversation.
Grievous returned to his work, quietly picking through the repair kit for any spare primary servos, or at the very least, the components to make one. To his dismay, he had neither the spare part or the components; just a few of the servo's internal mechanisms.
With his work now about doubled, Grievous split his arms, giving himself three hands with which to work as opposed to just one. He immediately sent to work loosening the wrist that had the broken hand, and eventually, he was able to pull the hand completely out of the wrist. Doing so allowed the hand to be manipulated more easily, giving him easy access to bolts and other fasteners that would otherwise have been nearly impossible to reach before. Holding his removed hand still with its mirrored counterpart, Grievous diligently went about removing the wrecked servo.
“...We turned around, and that was when the guy fired. And he would have gotten me, too, but Grievous pushed me out of the way, taking the hit for me.”
“Wow, Dash, that's quite the story,” Twilight admired.
“Indeed. Putting himself in harm's way for your sake was quite the honorable move,” agreed Rarity. “Perhaps he's not as brutish as he originally came across as.”
“The guy sure knows how to make a heroic impression,” admitted Shining Armor, who was now out of uniform.
“But if he's injured, why is he here and not in the infirmary of something?” Twilight queried.
“Um, I'm not too keen on the details, but he said something about a his hand simply being broken. It looked pretty bad when I saw it; the entire back of his hand was all burnt and stuff. Grievous said that all he needed was his repair kit and then he'd be fine.”
“Oh, right, 'cause his body is metal, not flesh. It's just such a weird concept, so weird that that fact seems to slip my mind,” Twilight reasoned.
“Ya know, Dash,” interjected Applejack, “Ah think ya'll owe the guy 'n apology.”
“Uh, for what?”
“Well, for one thing, ya followed 'im when he told ya ta stay here. Then ya got'churself involved in his fight when ya shouldn't've, since he does know more about these 'clones' than we do. And then, because ya got'churself mixed up in his fight, he had to get injured to save ya. And now look at 'im; he's gotta sit there all alone fixin' himself up instead'a enjoying the party. His party.”
Dash sighed heavily. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Ugh, I know,” Pinkie said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “Nopony should be forced to sit out at their own party. And while I'm completely fine with throwing another party for him to make up for this one, I don't know if he'd like it or not.”
“You do know that Grievous doesn't have to be sitting alone, right?” Twilight asked. The others agreed. “So then, why don't we go over and talk with him; Dash, you could apologize to him, and Pinkie, you could ask him whether or not he'd like another party.”
Dash glanced over towards Grievous. “It looks like he's already got company,” she snickered, and the others looked to him as well. They watched as three blank flank fillies disrupted the injured general's delicate repairs.
“Why don't we go help him before they break him more,” suggested Rarity. “Or vice versa,” she added after catching a glimpse of Grievous's hate filled eyes and one of his arms struggling to refrain itself from drawing one of his weapons. Her other friends agreed, and, leaving Shining Armor and Big Mac to their own one-sided conversation, they made towards Grievous, with Fluttershy lagging behind a couple of paces.
With surgeon-like precision, Grievous had managed to extract the primary servo from his hand. All that remained to do was disassemble the servo and replace anything in it that was broken, then replace the servo and reattach everything.
Grievous put his hand and the fasteners he had removed from it in a pile to the side before focusing on the servo. He meticulously brought his tools to the small contraption and began to disassemble it. After a few minutes, he finally found the issue: melted wires. Fortunately, he had replacement wires in his kit. Keeping his eyes on the servo, he reached out towards the kit to retrieve the spare wires. His hand swiped the empty air a few times before he looked up to find his kit not where he had put it.
“Um, Scoots?” said a light yellow filly to the orange one with the purple mane that was rummaging through the repair kit. “Ah, uh, Ah think he needs that back.”
The orange one looked up to Grievous on the receiving end of a deathly glare. “Oh, uh, sorry,” she said, pushing the kit towards the General. Surprisingly, she showed little fear.
He took the kit and peered inside. The inside was a mess; the organized chaos that it once was was now simply pure chaos. He sighed in irritation.
“So you're Grievous?” the orange one continued. “I'm Scootaloo. Rainbow Dash was telling us about how awesome you were, and how you saved her life...twice...in one day.” Grievous gave no response. “She thinks that you're an awesome friend, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine!” Scootaloo exclaimed happily while Grievous continued to ignore her.
“And Ah'm Apple Bloom,” the yellow one introduced herself as. “Applejack's also been sayin' good things 'bout you.”
“I'm Sweetie Belle,” said the white unicorn, speaking up for the first time. “My sister seems to like you as well. You've made quite the impression.”
But Grievous ignored them too, to engrossed in repairing himself to care about what they were saying, though he managed to catch their names. “What're you doin'?” Scootaloo asked curiously. The three fillies diverted their attention to what Grievous was doing.
“Oh dear Celestia, your hand!” Sweetie Belle yelped once she noticed the arm that had no hand.
Celestia, having heard her name, looked to the source of it, and chuckled when she saw Grievous sitting with the fillies.
Sweetie Belle bounded across the table to get a closer look at the wound, scattering Grievous's precariously placed parts about the tabletop. If the fillies didn't have his attention before, they certainly did now.
“Dude, you alright?” Scootaloo asked, picking up and inspecting Grievous's detached hand. “Why is your hand metal?”
“You're not bleeding? Or anything?” Sweetie Belle thought aloud, now grasping his incomplete arm.
Grievous couldn't find words to respond. He was seething, and in his rage, found himself unable to speak...or at least say something not insulting. He knew that harming these fillies in any way would tarnish the good reputation that the CIS had garnered so far, and so he tried his best to calm himself down. Regardless, one of his arms still twitched towards the weapons at his waist.
“Girls, you should probably leave him alone for a bit.” The three fillies turned to see the newcomer. Rarity and her friends approached the table. “You appear to have annoyed him.”
“We're sorry,” Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo told Grievous in unison. They walked away, giving the adults room to occupy the other seats at Grievous's table.
Grievous quickly reattached his arms and looked to the mess that the fillies had made. He proceeded to sort the mess, disregarding the six mares' presence.
“I apologize if my sister disturbed you,” apologized Rarity. “She and her friends are quite destructive if left to their own devices.”
Again, Grievous ignored his companions. “What are you doing?” Twilight asked after a few awkward seconds. The General sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he'd not be left alone for a while.
“I'm repairing my hand,” he said simply.
“Yeah, about that,” Rainbow started. “I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you in the first place, and that you got hurt because of me.”
Grievous grunted in acknowledgment, then continued to reorganize the table top. After several seconds of awkward silence, Twilight spoke up. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
“No,” Grievous snapped, but after a second of consideration, he changed his mind. “Actually, if you're insistent on helping, you can help me sort the repair kit.” He shoved the disorganized container towards her. “Just make a pile for each type of part.”
“Okay,” she said. Using her magic, she emptied the kit's contents on the table and began sorting. Rarity and Fluttershy moved to her side to help her out.
“So, Grievous, are you enjoying the party?” Pinkie Pie asked excitedly.
Stalling for a couple of seconds, Grievous allowed himself to finish fixing up the mess the fillies had made before replying. “Not particularly.” Pinkie seemed to literally deflate. “I've never actually attended a party, but if all one does at a party is talk, it seems like a pointless endeavor to me.”
“Oh, but you do soooo much more than just talk,” Pinkie began to elaborate. “You play games like pin the tail on the donkey and spin the bottle and truth or dare and other board games, and you also dance and listen to music, and you eat delicious cake and cupcakes and muffins and drink punch and-”
“Ah think he gets the point, Pinkie,” Applejack interrupted.
“How have you never been to a party, though?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Do you even party in your galaxy?”
“Some do, but I've never had the opportunity. My time has been spent fighting.”
“If you haven't been to a party, then that means that you haven't had cupcakes! And of you haven't had cupcakes, then you need to have some! Stay right there, I'll go get you some,” rambled Pinkie.
“Don't bother,” Grievous said before Pinkie could run off to get him some cupcakes. “I can't eat.”
“What do you mean 'you can't eat'?”
“I have no mouth,” he said, bemused. Isn't it obvious?
Pinkie chuckled. “Oh, silly, of course you have a mouth. You can't speak without a mouth, I know from experience. You also can't speak when your tongue is all huge and blue spotted and makes you sound like 'plllltt', but since you can speak, that means that you do have a mouth!”
“From...experience?” Grievous stuttered, slightly bewildered. “Even if I did have a mouth, I wouldn't be interested in eating a cupcake.”
Pinkie was shocked.
“In any case,” he continued, “Kaleesh are mostly carnivorous; I doubt pastries would go with our digestive systems well.”
“What's a 'Kaleesh'?” Twilight asked from directly beside him, her attention to the assortment of parts on the table. “And if you're carnivorous but have no mouth, how do you get nourishment? And-”
“Twilight,” Applejack interrupted, “Ah know that ya want'a learn every little detail 'bout Grievous, but don'cha think that should wait 'til after we finish this up?”
“I'll get to your questions after I'm done with my hand,” agreed Grievous. “But your distractions are significantly drawing the process out.”
“Oh, okay,” Fluttershy said meekly. “If you need privacy to finish, I think it's best that we let you have it.” Without waiting for any response, Fluttershy retreated from the table.
“Uh,” sighed Rarity. “I suppose I'll follow her and see if she's alright.” She followed after Fluttershy.
Applejack looked her remaining friends. “It's prob'ly best to let 'im finish up uninterrupted. C'mon Dash, Pinkie, Twi.” With that, Applejack got up and went elsewhere, seconded by Rainbow Dash who was quickly followed by Pinkie Pie.
Twilight looked up to Grievous, who had resumed his work. “Um, would it be alright with you if just sat here and observed? I find what you're doing extremely fascinating, and it something that-”
“Yes, fine, just be quite while you 'observe',” Grievous groaned. Confound these ponies; if I had a mouth, they'd drive me to drink.
She and Grievous sat silently at the table until Grievous had repaired his hand, which took no more than twenty minutes. All the while, Twilight had been generating questions for the alien to answer, and as soon as he was in working order, the torrent of inquiries was unleashed upon the general. For around two hours he sat answering questions about his species, the galaxy's technological advance advancement, and other trivial factoids to the best of his ability and patience.
“Sister, may We -I- ask you of your opinions about Grievous?” asked Luna as she sipped from her cup of delicious purple punch known simply as 'Gummy's favorite'. “You seem to have taken a quick liking to him, and have been not-too-subtle about it.”
“Ah, gossip,” Celestia said with a relaxed sigh. “Such a dirty indulgence that we rarely get to indulge in.”
“I ask not out of a want for juicy gossip, sister,” clarified Luna. “We ask out of fear of what the confirmation of our suspicions may possibly lead too.”
The solar princess' mood immediately soured. “I don't believe I understand what you mean.”
Luna allowed herself a few seconds to gather her thoughts before speaking. “You've made it apparent that you are infatuated with Grievous. And while I'll not criticize you for your choice, We do have our -excuse me, I do have my- concerns. He is brash, disrespectful, reckless, and violent.”
Celestia gave her sister a questioning look. “And your concerns are?”
“I fear what might happen if his presence brings chaos upon us; he certainly has the attributes to do so. But even more that that, I fear that he may be deceiving you or using your affections to blind you to his true purpose here.” Luna's expression grew sad, and with pleading eyes, she said to her sister, “The well-being and prosperity of our subjects comes before us. I just don't want you to forget that like I once have.”
With watery eyes, Celestia reached a hoof over to her sister's shoulder and laid it there comfortingly. “I will not forget.”
Luna returned the gesture, “Thank you,” she said as their reassurance somehow turned into an embrace.
Breaking the contact, Celestia resumed the conversation. “To answer your first question, I sympathize with him. He has had a troubled past. Many who have gone through the suffering that he has would have given up on their lives, but he has remained determined to overcome all challenges placed before him. The sad truth from what he told us is that he has none who cares for him.
“He is like Discord in the way that both are alone. But while Discord hadn't known of the magic of friendship until recently, Grievous once knew it and had it was stripped from him. The Kaleesh he once was or could have been has been laid in a coffin of hate and grief secured shut by nails of loneliness.
“I'm ranting aren't I? I apologize; these things get me started. I suppose, to sum up, I want him to feel appreciated, not just for his actions, but for what he is and could be.”
Throughout Celestia's short speech, Luna listened with a neutral expression. When she was done, Luna carefully considered what she had said and formulated her response. “Sister, your goal is a noble one. I will remain wary of Grievous, for he still does not have our -my- full trust. On the other hand, It pains me to see one's life so tragic. Please help him, but always be safe and remain cautious until his trustworthiness is gleaned.”
Celestia gave her sister a wide and warm smile. “It pleases me to know that the cold of the moon did not numb your heart.”
Luna smiled at the joke and compliment, which grew into a contagious giggle. It jumped to Celestia, and few several seconds, the two alicorns were in a quiet fit of hysterics.
~~~San Palomino Desert, Equestria, 2 days, 10 hours and 30 minutes after the Ambush at US-01~~~
All around the small group of clones rolled seemingly endless ranges of sand dunes. The descending sun caused any exposed sand to give an amber glow, sharply contrasting with the unlit shaded sides of the dunes. Combined with the pink, orange, and yellow sky, the scene was picturesque.
For the last hour and a half, Victor squad had been making steady progress through the desert, slowed only by the consistent breaks that R8 needed to cool down his boosters. Currently, they were on one such break. They had tucked themselves in between two high dunes, using them as cover while waiting for the droid.
“Hey, boss man,” Spy wearily said through their private comms. “I know we're in a hurry, but have we determined when we'll get to eat? I mean, it's been a long day since breakfast.”
“Quiet your infantile banter,” Gore barked.
“Hey, calm down, I was only asking,” Spy replied.
“Stop it, both of you,” Moon ordered. “We'll eat once we've finished traveling for the time being; that's how these things work.”
“Speaking of which,” Viktor started, “Shy, how much farther do you think we should go?” He looked up to Shy, who was laying on one of the dunes surrounding them, peering through his scope.
Predictably, he took his time in answering. “If the time taken to get from the LZ to the river is any indication of scale, then we should be about two hours away from the point at which we should head north. We should stop for the night around there.”
“Very good,” replied Viktor. “R8, you ready to get moving?” The droid beeped in confirmation. “Right then. Shy, get down here and let's get going.” Shy made his way down the dune, and when he was back with the group, they mounted their speeders and again made their way east.
The minutes wore into an hour and then some in uneventful silence, except for Spy's occasional request for nourishment. He was ignored, and the clones trudged on. The sun had now descended, dying their surroundings an eerie shade of blue.
The dunes had given way to dry, cracked earth like that of their old camp and its neighboring areas. Unlike the unchanging dunes, their current environment featured natural formations, including a small plateau with a convenient cave in the side.
“Spy,” Viktor said upon noticing the cave. “Over there; we'll see if it's safe to camp there for the night.”
“Right away Boss man.”
The two clones swerved towards the entrance, stopping once they got the mouth of it. “Spy, Gore, you're with me to check out the cave. Shy, Moon, R8, stay with the speeders,” commanded Viktor. Spy and Gore dismounted and, with Viktor with them, made their way inside the cave.
It was dark, so the three of them switched to low-light mode on their visors. Spy entered first, putting his stealth training to good use. He made no sound as he ventured forth, sweeping his weapon around the cavern. Behind him, Viktor followed, his DC-17 copying Spy's motions. Taking up the rear was Gore, his pistol readied and aimed behind them in case something decided to ambush them from there.
Surprisingly, the cave was quite clean, as if someone took care to get the dust out of it. It only took about a minute for the group of clones to find themselves in an extremely large open area which was the farthest they could go. Piled in the center was a moderately large pile of gems and other treasure.
“Peculiar,” Viktor noted, speaking over an internal private channel.
The three clones had lowered their weapons, having not seen any threats in the chamber. Spy walked towards the pile. “Who just leaves valuables like this in a pile on the floor?”
Some clicking sounds were heard from above them, and they shifted their attention and weapons towards the ceiling. Movement was seen going behind one of the many stalactites that hung from the ceiling.
“Circle it,” Viktor ordered. Spy crept to his right while Gore took the left, withdrawing his chain gun. Before they could completely encircle the thing, it dropped from the ceiling. It unfolded it wings, catching itself and gliding -or more accurately, barreling,- towards Viktor. He rolled out of the way as the creature sped by him, unleashing a stream of purple flames from what was presumably its mouth.
The creature pivoted once it reached the entrance of the room, and the flames had lit two wooden torches placed at either side of it. With the torches burning brightly, the clones could see the creature that now stood to block their way out.
It was a reptilian creature, standing about a foot shorter than one of the clones, covered in golden scales save for black spines that ran from the top of its head to the tip of its tail and its claws. It stood on all four of its legs, and it also had a pair of large, membranous wings, which were currently flared out in an aggressive stance. The irises of its eyes were a deep purple, and the eyes themselves were very large relative to the other parts of its head. And its brow was furrowed in anger.
“Who dares intrude in my home?” it bellowed in a distinctly feminine voice. For emphasis, the creature snorted, letting loose puffs of purple smoke.
Not expecting the thing to speak, let alone in Basic, the clones looked amongst each other in confusion. After a few seconds, Viktor cautiously responded. “People in need of a place to spend the night.”
Like the clones were a second ago, the fact that the clones spoke its language took the creature by surprise. “You speak?” it said, all previous aggression replaced with confusion and curiosity. “I've not seen anything like you before,” it said as it approached the clones. Its wings were no longer splayed out, and Viktor took that as a sign that it was no longer hostile. “Tell me, what are you?”
“Humans,” Gore replied instantly. However, the creature looked between the three of them, clearly at a loss as to which of them had spoken. Putting his chain gun back on his back, Gore followed up his answer with, “And you're a dragon?”
The movement caught the dragon's attention. “Yes,” it answered, now looking at Gore.
Wanting to end the conversation before Gore divulged too much information, Viktor said, “We apologize for intruding, dragon. But this cave is obviously occupied, so we'll just leave you alone and find somewhere else to stay.”
“It's not often -or at all, really,- that I get visitors, and you've piqued my curiosity,” the dragon said. “If you need shelter, you may stay here, so long as you do not harm me nor steal from me.”
Gore looked to Viktor. “It's probably best to take the offer. This dragon might have knowledge that we might find useful as well.”
“It's our best option,” conceded Viktor. “We'll accept your hospitality.”
The dragon sniffed the speeders curiously as the clones sat in a half circle elsewhere, eating some of the few bland rations that they had. With their helmets off, the dragon was able to see which of the humans was speaking, but it stayed out of their conversation while they ate, so as to not be rude.
“Gore?” Spy asked with his mouth full. “How did you know that that thing was a...what's you call it? A dragon?”
“Dragons are a mythological creature from several of the galaxy's cultures,” he explained, with Shy nodding in agreement. “It just so happens that I'm a bit of a mythology buff, and that dragon looks like how most myths I know say dragons look like. So I guessed, and I was right.”
“Okay, but how have you learned about other culture's myths? I mean, where did you find the spare time to do that?”
“I didn't,” Gore smirked. “Part of initial training is learning about some of the galaxy's more prevalent cultures so that we can act in acceptable ways around them. It's basically day one stuff. Did you forget it all?”
“Um, yes,” Spy replied. “I suppose I hadn't planned on running into mythological creatures in my lifetime.”
“You mean to say that my kind doesn't exist to yours?” the dragon asked from across the chamber.
“Yes, that's correct,” Gore responded. “Hey, why don't you come over here so we can get acquainted?” he suggested.
The dragon slowly made its way to where the five sitting clones were and rested itself on its belly in the large gap between Gore and Shy.
“I'll start,” said Gore. “My name is Gore, and I'm a heavy infantry unit from the Grand Army of the Republic.”
“Name's Spy,” followed Spy, though he gave no further information.
“Moon,” said Moon simply.
“I'm Viktor,” started Viktor. “I'm the leader of the group. The brown droid over there by our speeders is R8, and this one next to me is Shy.” Shy extended a hand for a shake, which the dragon surprisingly returned. “As the name implies, he's shy, and I doubt he'd've said anything to introduce himself.”
“Well, I welcome you all to my home. Company is something hard to come by when you're a dragon like me, so it's nice that...interesting creatures like you have stopped by. You've certainly livened my evening.”
“So, um, do you have a name?” asked Spy.
“Yes,” replied the dragon. “I have two, in fact. My first name in the language of dragons is Ku'Shaag'Worr. It's a little unusual for those who aren't dragons to pronounce, so I go by the translated version of it. It literally translates to 'of clouded vision', but I've further simplified it to Haze. Haze the dragoness.”
“Simply starting with 'Haze' would've been fine; we don't need the language lesson,” complained Spy.
Haze narrowed her eyes at him. “There's no need to be rude; considering that you're not from around here, I figured that you'd like to know some facts.”
“Actually, if you could do that for us, that'd be much appreciated,” requested Viktor. “I can't give you all of the details, but we're on a mission and we need some rather specific information to maximize our chances of success.”
“Sadly, I know not of recent happenings, for I am isolated. I can give you some information about how pony civilization works and how dragon society operates, but not much else,” Haze replied apologetically.
Having finished his meal, Gore turned his full attention to Haze. “Dragon society, huh? I'd be interested in hearing about that, if you're willing to share.”
“Certainly,” Haze happily replied. “What would you like to know?”
“What's with the gems and stuff?” Spy asked offhandedly, beginning to reach the end of his ration.
“Well,” Haze began, “a dragon's success in dragon society is based off of the amount of treasure that they accumulate, usually be raiding the villages of the various kingdoms here on Equus or by attacking other dragons.”
“Equus?” asked Viktor.
“The name of the planet. Anyways, looting does more than simply improving a dragon's standing; a dragon's physical size and strength are directly related to their greed, which is directly related to the amount of things they've accumulated,” elaborated Haze.
Gore looked to the pile of things in the center of the room, then back to Haze. “I'm going to assume that you're not...particularly high on the social ladder?”
Haze chuckled, confusing Gore. “Yes, that's true.” She laughed a little harder, confusing Gore and the others even more. Isn't low standing a bad thing?
Noticing their confused glances, she collected herself. “You know, it's surprising how easy to read you're feelings are, despite the fact that we're different species,” she noted before explaining her previous behavior. “Right, well, where to begin? Dragon society is brutal, basically a 'survival of the fittest' social system. Most dragons are okay with that, but others have looked at pony society and have seen how much better off everydragon -excuse me, everypony- is with a less chaotic kind of social structure. Ponies try to be good; they help others when they can, and they look down upon betrayal, theft, lying, greed, and other such evil practices that are common in dragon society. Thus, some dragons, such as myself, have shunned our old ways.
“Our goal is to assimilate into pony civilization. It seems like a difficult task, but it is possible; one dragon is known to have made his way into pony society. However, except for that dragon, we have a bad reputation as thieves and destroyers, and thus, dragons are pushed away whenever we get near. We dragons who have shunned the old ways are prime targets for other dragons looking for easy loot, so we have mostly resigned ourselves to isolated caves for protection.”
“Interesting,” Viktor thought aloud. “Say Moon, if these ponies are trying to run a peace based government, would you suppose that that reduces the possibility of them allying with the Seps?”
“I feel that the Seps being more likely to have occupied the land is a more appropriate wording.”
“What are the 'Seps'?” asked Haze.
“They are our enemy,” responded Viktor. “'Seps' is short for the Separatists, a political force that opposes the Republic. They mean to unify all known systems under their banner, but they wish to do so by villainous means: cheating, lying, assassinating politicians who oppose them...It's a bit complex, for there's more than just the Seps and the Republic involved and I can't tell you everything. I suppose the closest analogy would be that they are dragons who abide by the old way while the Republic are dragons who have shunned those ways...only, we're not dragons.”
“So it appears that we have similar ideals, then,” Haze said with a smile. “Wonderful. Maybe if you ever find yourselves around the ponies, you could put in a good word for me.”
“We're not going to be interacting with these ponies,” Moon said. “I apologize for any issues it causes, but it cannot be helped.”
With a sigh, Haze said, “I see. But if your plans change, keep me in mind.”
“Of course,” said Gore, putting the issue to rest.
The clones and the dragon sat in awkward silence for a few seconds. They were all finished eating, so Viktor replaced his helmet to check the time. “Alright men, I want us moving out in fifteen hours. Three hours, then we'll begin resting, two hour watch shifts, and that'll give us two hours to pack and make ready to leave.”
“Copy that,” said Spy.
“Roger,” acknowledged Gore.
“Yes, sir,” answered Moon.
“...” responded Shy.
With three hours until the clones decided they would start sleeping, Haze took the opportunity to observe how they acted on their own. The one known as Shy sat alone with his helmet on as far away from anyone as possible. Viktor was doing something with the stubby thing identified as R8; she knew not what, but whatever he was doing was causing sand to come out of R8. Spy and Gore were sparring with each other near the speeders, while Moon watched from one of the vehicle's seats.
“Hey Vikky,” Spy said after easily pushing Gore to the ground.
Viktor groaned. “What do you want, Spy?”
“You know how I said that I believed myself to have to most superior hand-to-hand combat skills out of the four of us?” he asked.
“Yeah...”
“Well, care to try to prove me wrong?”
Viktor looked up from his position on the ground to Spy. “I'm getting the sand out of R8 right now, which is a bit more important than fighting you. But once I finish, I'd gladly shut you up.”
Haze chortled. “You humans are amusing; like a group of hatchlings, you are.”
Looking to Haze, Spy asked, “Where have I heard that broken grammar before?”
“General Yoda, you idiot,” answered Gore.
“Can you say something that doesn't question my intelligence?” Spy retorted.
“Um...no.”
Spy smirked. “You just did.”
“...Shut up.”
Once again, Haze laughed.
After a few minutes, Viktor had finished dusting out R8 and had begun to spar with Spy. Surprisingly, Spy was able to hold his own quite well against the commando; his unpredictability and unorthodox methods countered the commando's methodical and precise techniques. Gore had let Viktor take on Spy alone after having been beaten terribly, and he sat himself next to Haze, who was watching the spar while munching on a large chunk of quartz.
However, the fight soon ended when Spy, slightly worn from sparring with Gore, was unable to avoid a roundhouse kick to the head. Severely dazed and with a growing headache, he called it quits, but declared a rematch at a time at which both of them were equally ready.
With the fun at a close, each clone headed off to do their own thing. Gore and Haze engaged in some small talk while Spy headed to a wall to get some rest early. Viktor made his way to where Shy was and hadn't moved in well over an hour.
“Shy?” Viktor asked concernedly. Shy stirred, but didn't look to up to him. Viktor removed his helmet and sat down next to Shy. “Shy, you alright?” The clone shrugged slightly, continuing to stare at the ground a few feet in front of him. “What're you doing under that helmet?” Viktor finally asked.
“Research,” Shy answered, his voice coming out quiet and raspy from a lack of use and probably hydration.
“Researching what, exactly?”
Shy flinched; whatever he was doing, he didn't want to share. However, he succumbed to his superior, and Shy displayed the item of his research on the floor in front of him via his science module.
It was one of the pictures that they had scanned from Appleloosa. The projection was in full color, and it was obviously a family photo, featuring three ponies on it. One had a green coat and a long straight white mane, and on its flank was an image of a mandolin. Opposite that one was a pale blue pony with a dark short dark blue mane. This one had a horn and an image of a guitar on its flank. In between the two was a small pony, likely a child of the two, that was mint green and had a medium length teal mane with a white stripe on the side. This one had a short horn and golden eyes.
Some words were written on the bottom of the image, specifically under each of the ponies. Under the green hornless one read 'Mandy Heartstrings'. Under the pale blue one read 'Les Paul Heartstrings', and under the mint green one were the words 'Lyra Heartstrings'.
“Something about this image sticks out to you, Shy,” observed Viktor.
“It, um, shows family dynamic in pony society...”
Viktor looked at Shy. “There's more to it than that. I'm not going to press it now, but I will want an explanation soon; about this and the magna guard.”
“Yes, sir.”
With nothing more to say, Viktor stood up and headed towards Haze, ready to get some information from her. Now alone, Shy turned off the projection. His mind went numb as unpleasant memories slowly poured into his mind, memories of a past filled with loss and despair. And through the flood of recollections, one word permeated them: Lyra.
It was late; really late. Gore's shift had hardly begun, and there were only six hours until Victor squad resumed their journey. He was supposed to be watching the entrance for any droids who may wander in, but he wound himself completely distracted by the dragon who was awake with him.
She was sitting next to her small pile of treasures, staring at them distantly, though every once in a while she'd shake her head to snap back to reality. And Gore couldn't help but stare at her as often as he could. Noises from outside only captured Gore's attention for a second or two before he'd dismiss it and revert to admiring the dragon.
Sometimes, before zoning out again, she would catch Gore staring at her with admiration in his uncovered eyes. She was both discomforted yet flattered that he couldn't keep his eyes off her. After almost half an hour of being watched, however, she decided it was time to tease him about it.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked playfully, unfurling her wings and batting her eyes.
“I can't deny that you are much more beautiful and gracious than the myths said you'd be,” he admitted, fully serious.
Detecting no hint of sarcasm, Haze blushed slightly. “Um, I'm really nothing special,” she said, unsure of how she felt of this revelation.
Gore picked up on her discomfort, and after replaying the past few seconds in his mind, he found his error. “I'm sorry. I probably should have used 'dragons' in place of 'you' in my last remark. Though, to be fair, since you're the first dragon I've met, you set the standard, and it's my personal opinion that that standard would be hard to beat. Gold can be a nice color.”
Haze blushed harder.
“Especially with a little red.”
The dragon's blush instantly disappeared. “Oh, you tease!” she chuckled heartily, and Gore joined in shortly after. After their fit, Gore continued. “I was teasing about the red part, but I was completely serious about what I said before. You're probably the most glorious thing I've laid eyes on. And one of the kindest begins I've met as well. It's a shame that these ponies judge you based on stereotypes and not on who you are as a pers -er, dragon.”
Haze sighed. “I would agree with that, but there's no need for you to worry about me. We hardly know each other; my concerns should not be yours.”
“And with that, I'd have to disagree,” Gore said. Haze looked up to him as he completely disregarded his watch duties and walked over to where Haze was sitting. “The Republic's goal is to unify all known systems so as to resolve all issues with diplomacy. And while that's not feasible yet, they instill the beliefs that all sentient beings are equal and that all have a chance at redemption into all of its soldiers.
“However, despite that, there are some very harsh stereotypes that are placed on clones like me, the worst of them being that we're nothing more than fleshy droids, and are expendable as such. Even amongst some of the leading members of the Republic, this stereotype prevails. It's wrong that we can be classified in such a manner and furthermore treated in a certain way based on that stereotype alone as opposed to who we are as a person...or dragon.
“I...I suppose I should get to the point. My purpose is to fix wrongs such as those being forced upon you. I have to put my mission first, but should the opportunity arise, I'll try my best to get you seen as something beyond the stereotype.”
Haze looked to Gore with misty eyes. “You...you'd do that? For a dragon that you hardly know?”
“I'd do it for anyone being treated unjustly except for Spy, especially for a dragon like you; it's the least I could do to thank you for your gracious hospitality.” He then gave Haze a light punch on the shoulder. With a chuckle, he said, “Now, toughen up. Dragons aren't supposed to cry.”
She wiped her eyes dry. “Ugh, stop teasing,” she teased, pushing Gore over and chuckling as well.
Morning broke as Shy finished off his shift, the final one before Victor squad began packing. He had spent his shift in the mouth of the cave, just far enough back so that he couldn't be seen by any prying eyes outside. But, with his job complete, it was time for the squad to get moving.
He entered the cavern where the rest of the squad was sound asleep on the hard rock surface. The second task for him was to wake his team, so he headed to the nearest clone to do so.
Incidentally, the nearest clone was Spy, the heaviest sleeper of all of them. Shy's quiet voice was easily ignored by the unconscious Spy, and shaking him was ineffective as well.
“Good morning,” he heard Haze say from behind him as she woke. He could hear several bones pop as she stretched, and she let herself rumble in content.
The dragon glanced over to Shy, who was still struggling to wake Spy. She came to Shy's side to watch him. Shy persisted for a couple of minutes before Haze felt the obligation to help.
“May I?” she asked, to which Shy vigorously nodded yes. “You may want to cover your ears,” she warned. He cut the input volume of his helmet to very low as Haze drew a large breath, releasing a deafening roar that, when further amplified by the resonant nature of the chamber, immediately brought the four sleeping clones to their feet. She smiled bashfully as the four clones gave her irritated looks. “I was only helping Shy wake you,” she defended, backing a couple of steps.
Suddenly, Spy burst out into laughter. “Shy, you're a genius. Getting a dragon wake us up for you? Never saw that coming. I never thought you'd have the balls to do something like that. Kudos to you.”
No one else said anything as Spy's laughter died down to awkward 'he he's. He coughed to signify that he had finished, at which point Viktor resumed talking. “Right. Shy, how bright out was it?”
“Pretty bright, but it's still early morning. It's best to leave sooner rather than later. If we leave in half an hour, we should be able to make it to the bog by nightfall with time enough to prepare camp suited for that environment.”
“Sorry, Haze, but I'd have to agree with him,” Viktor said to the dragon. “While I'd like to stay longer and hear more of what you have to say, we've got priorities and orders.”
“I understand,” she said. “I'll not bother you while you prepare, but let me know when you're about to leave. I'd like to say good-bye to each of you personally.”
Viktor nodded. “Will do. Victor squad, pack up and be ready for departure as soon as possible.”
“Haze, we're ready to leave. Please keep it brief, we've got to go soon.”
“I will, I will,” she said, rolling he eyes. She extended a claw towards the commando, and they engaged in a firm handshake. “I wish you the best of fortunes on your mission. You five seem adept enough to get any job done.”
“Thank you, ma'am.”
Making her way to Moon, who sat in the side car of one the speeders, she shook his uninjured arm. “I wish you luck as well, and I hope that your injury recovers in a timely manner.”
“Thank you, ma'am.”
Spy was next in line. Once again, she offered her hand for a shake, and the clone obliged. “I wish you success; enjoy life, and don't take everything too seriously.”
“You know me too well.”
Next was Shy. Her expression was sad when she looked to him, but nevertheless, the offered her claw with the same enthusiasm as the others. “It's a shame that we were not able to get better acquainted, but please, try to be happy.” Shy gave no response, verbal or nonverbal.
Finally, she reached Gore. Unlike the others, Gore's helmet was off and he was giving Haze a warm smile. She raised her claw a few inches, then hesitated for a second before deciding to go straight to a hug. She lunged towards Gore, wrapping her front legs around his torso and her head on his shoulder.
Being a clone, he didn't know quite how to respond. At first, he kept his arms up from the initial response of trying to pull away, but his arms slowly found their way around Haze's neck, though the contact was awkward and his eyes jumped around, clearly showing his discomfort.
“Gore, you're the kindest individual I've met in many many years,” she started.
“Gore? Kind? What's I miss last night?” Spy whispered to Viktor.
“Be safe, maintain your integrity, and don't forget me,” she continued. Haze let go of Gore and looked up to him. “There is something I'd like to give you, if you'd have it.”
“Sure.”
Haze lifted a wing and, using her long tail, fetched a triangular shaped gem with a golden sheen. She placed the small gem in Gore's open palm, where he admired it for a few seconds. “I hope you still think gold can be a nice color.”
He put the gem on his chest atop his decals. Gore strained to see it for a few seconds, but once he caught a glimpse of it, he smiled and said, “Especially with a little red.”
There was a final exchange of thanks and farewells, and then the clones mounted their speeders and made for north.