//------------------------------//
// Chapter 11: Trident Liberation 
// Story: MLP: ODST - Hazardous Venture 
// by JO3 
//------------------------------//

	Dirt-side, the Equestrian Coalition was on an armored march across the grassy planes that divided Canterlot from Ponyville. The buffalo had responded to Celestia's request for help, but were stuck moving supplies in Canterlot for other assault teams like this one.
“All Abrams, push the line. Deathstalkers, we have reports of hostiles making themselves known in the Everfree, investigate it. T-99s, stay on course,” Moose, this column's commander, said.
The Sheridan “Deathstalkers” broke to the right, the Abrams broke left, and the T-99s moved onward to liberate the besieged Ponyville.
“All tank crews, stay buttoned up. The dragons have been doing some strafing around here recently,” Moose advised the column.
Moose's T-99 charged ahead, spearheading the liberating assault of the town. Moose switched to the T-99s coaxial 12.7 mm MG. “Try to keep the damage to the town at a minimum,” Moose radioed to the other tanks.
The hostile defectors had dug-in at the town, and the T-99 Moose was in was greeted with anti-tank trenches.
Without warning, the T-99 slipped into the trench with no hope of escaping.
“We're stuck. Pop the hatch and get ready to hoof it,” Moose ordered to the rest of the tank crew in his T-99.
Rifle at the ready, the ODST cautiously left the immobile vehicle. He peeked over the edge of the trench, and a bolt of blue magic forced him to withdraw. Moose was a little too slow this time, and the blue slime hardened over his visor, blinding him. Stripping his helmet off, the angered goliath withdrew to the tank once more. He manned the periscope, and spotted the attacker. Moose grabbed the tank's radio, and broadcast on the air support channels, “Pilots local to objective X-ray, we are pinned in an AT trench to the north of town square. We would very much appreciate any help you can give us,” Moose requested.
“Unmanned AH-6 inbound, be there soon,” came the response.
The three tankers waited patiently in the trap, waiting for the drone to arrive. Rotors were heard, and the AH-6 appeared. The egg-shaped helicopter sped ahead, guns spinning up.
A hail of bullets pursued the retreating ambushers. “Position clear,” the drone pilot reported. An unfriendly rocket streaked through the sky, impacting against the small helicopter. In a horrendous explosion, the chopper started an uncontrolled descent. “Hostile anti-air located, Hellfire out,” the drone pilot spoke.
The missile streaked through the sky overhead, followed by its distant explosion. “Okay, let's move!” Moose said to his tankers. The trio charged out of the trench, and quickly entered a nearby building. Inside, they found a fully-occupied enemy command post.
The Changelings hastened for their guards, only to be cut down by Moose's M16A3. A few got through however, “Crap. Guys, get ready,” Moose said as he flipped a table over for some additional cover.

Elsewhere
The drone pilot reported the successful hit on the hostile AA emplacement. Switching back to his 30 mm rotary cannon, the drone pilot returned to his priorities. “Pilot, we've got hostile air inbound!” he said, looking at his radarscope.
The unicorn being yelled at responded, “You do realize these mics are on, right?”
“It won't matter if you don't move it!” the gunner responded.
The pilot, realizing his disregard for the enemy, took an immediate bank to the left. The Apache responded without complaint as a red dragon shot past, fire singeing the helicopter. The pilot then countered his maneuver to level off the aircraft, and the chopper responded coolly. “Hostiles, on our tail. Punch it!” the panicked gunner said.
The pilot kicked the throttle forward. The Apache launched itself forward with surprising speed, but the dragons were maintaining their pursuit. “Hang on!” the pilot yelled, as he pulled with all his might back on the stick. The helicopter started whining in protest, but stayed in the maneuver.
Now upside down, the unicorn gunner finally had a clear shot. He stared straight at the hostile, and the cannon synced to his HMD. He pulled the trigger, just as the helicopter stalled. The pilot did a half roll to level the falling bird off. The dragon was thoroughly wounded from the short burst, and the helicopter barely recovered.
At treetop level now, the Apache started kicking up leaves as it continued to charge ahead toward Ponyville, in support of the T-99s. En route, though, a pack of Timber Wolves launched themselves at the foreign aircraft. The Apache was toppled almost immediately upon impact with the Timber Wolves. The burning wreckage in the Everfree was 10 minutes away from any friendlies, and the Wolves owned this territory.

Green, and his Sheridan crew, saw the Apache get brought down by the jumping Timber Wolves. “Guys, we need to move on that downed bird. There may be survivors,” Green ordered. Green and three other Sheridans broke from the column and started their own rescue mission.
Green followed Moose's order, and kept everyone under their hatches. Green got on the squad comms with the other three tanks, “Box formation. Keep your guns aimed at your side of the box, we don't want to get jumped.” The tanks' barrels moved to match the orders, their treads did the same. “Load canister shells,” Green added.
During the shell swap, a large Timber Wolf jumped onto one of the tanks. Green pulled the tread control levers in opposite directions, spinning his tank. Gun facing the boarded tank, the gunner bore-sighted the canister shot. The Wolf was blasted apart, with steel ball bearings and splinters headed in all directions. Green spun the tank back into formation, and continued the mission. For the rest of the journey the tankers were on their toes, but no more resistance greeted them.
Green eased up on the throttle once they got to the Apache wreckage, and started circling the destroyed helicopter. Once he got out of the Sheridan “Deathstalker”, he moved in to investigate, pistol at the ready. He reached the cockpit, but no crewmen were found. There was a lot of blood though. “Mission failure, Apache crew is either dead or captured,” Green said with a sigh, “Let's meet up with the other Deathstalkers.”

The gunner and pilot regained consciousness only to find themselves being dragged through the forest. They tried to struggle free of their captors, but found their limbs bound together. The Timber Wolf carrying them tossed them out infront. The two aviators found themselves in the heart of the swarm: Changelings, dragons, defected griffons, defected ponies, and a captured Guns-a-Go-Go Chinook.
The pilots started wondering how the enemy captured the heavily-armed cargo helicopter, only for their questions to be answered when two ODSTs with aviator wings stepped out from the crowd. Visors down, it was easy to see that they were not all there.
The gunner felt his stomach turn as the two seemingly-possessed ODSTs walked toward them. “If they didn't kill us, they probably have something they want us to do,” the gunner whispered to the pilot.
“If they wanted us for our unique skills, they would've grabbed us at the base. I would say that they just needed two pilots, and we were the most convenient choice for them,” the pilot spoke wise words. One of the ODSTs bent over to the pilot, and pulled out a small pack from an ammo pouch. The pilot's eyes widened, until he saw the item the ODST carried: a large bandage. The other ODST did the same with the gunner. Both of their wounds had been patched, and the bleeding stopped shortly later. The ODSTs backed away, but always faced the two captives in the clearing.
This time, the pilot felt his stomach turn over. The shadows started to move towards the two captives.

Moose fired at the last armored Changeling, dropping him in a short burst. “That's all of them, let's go liberate the rest of the town,” he said, inspiring the other tankers.
Once they stepped outside, the T-99s were already past the trenches and rolling through the town streets. Moose turned to his left as one of the armored hulks rolled by. He saw a team of both ponies and ODSTs raising the Equestrian flag, seemingly reminiscent of the Iwo Jima flagraising.
A BMP pulled up next to the three tankers. The hatch opened to reveal an orange earth pony who bore the Oak Leaves of a Major. “Son, I think we've got this town cleared. Hop in,” the Major said.
“Yessir. I think we should head over and see if the Abrams need any help. I also think that the Sheridan crews can more than handle themselves, seeing how I put Green in charge of them,” Moose responded.
“Alright, let's go help the Abrams!” the aged Major responded.

The Abrams stormed across the grassy planes, taking heavy fire from the front all the while. A massive impact caused the lead Abrams tank to spin out, treads a pile of twisted metal. “Pizza, get that turret forward!” the commander yelled at the gunner to is left.
“Gun, ready,” Pizza responded.
“Fire, fire sabot!” the commander yelled, tapping Pizza's shoulder. As the 68 ton war machine rocked to its explosive drums, the radio crackled to life.
“This is Major Cromwell, reinforcements inbound.”
“What happened to that gunship?” Pizza asked, after acknowledging the Major, “I thought it was giving us support for this flank.”
“It's on the moon. The shells registered good hits, but we thought we would have pushed to the old castle by now. This resistance is definitely unexpected,” the driver reported.
“Get back to the guns,” the earth pony commander ordered the two ODST crewmen. The other Abrams pushed past the disabled tank, and started taking most of the hostile fire in turn.
“Load HEAT,” the commander ordered.
“We're out of HEAT rounds, sir,” Pizza informed.
“Any sabot left?” the commander asked.
“Last one sent,” Pizza said, pulling the trigger.
“The load smoke and cover our allies.”
“Smoke loaded.”
“Commence fire. Snafu, get out there and see if you can get us moving. I'll cover you,” the commander said, turning to the driver.
The earth pony left the tank first, followed closely by Snafu. Pizza continued to lay down smoke. “Everfree treeline two miles away,” the commander told Pizza, relaying lead information.
Pizza continued to fire, but realized his limitations when he reached for the last shell. He loaded it, then fired. With the tank being almost useless, Pizza climbed out to join the other two.
Atop the tank, Pizza dismounted the secondary MG from its mount. Carrying the 12.7 mm Browning, Pizza was having issues overcoming the impressive weight of the weapon system.
A BMP came alongside the three soldiers. “You guys need a lift?” the familiar voice of the Major echoed through the vehicle's external speakers.
“You know it,” the tank commander said. The troops hastily boarded the BMP as the T-99s started to link up with the Abrams.
“Glad to see some friendly faces,” Moose commented as the tankers got into the BMP, “A few T-99s were diverted here to help break through the Eastern flank. The rest are gearing up for the push straight up the middle. The Sheridans are already breaking through the Western flank, they said something about receiving gunship support. They plan in meeting up with the Abrams before the big push.”
The troopers sat down on the three remaining seats. A tech officer turned away from his radio. Facing the Major, he said, “Sir, it looks like the last AA emplacement has been neutralized. A-10s are being scrambled to help, where should I send them?”
I'd say the other T-99s could use them. We've got everything under control here,” the Major said. The officer quickly relayed the directions. Just after he let off the radio, the mouth piece was shot out of his hand by a round that penetrated the BMP. The radio continued to receive and play other transmissions, though.
“Gold Leader, pushing up,” one broadcast played.
“Blue, check your front,” came another.
“Red, to your right!” Gold yelled.
“Gold, What is that?” asked Red.
“Its IFF is off,” reported Blue.
“An unknown aircraft has entered the battlefield?” Red inquired.
“Gold, I think that's a Chinook,” Blue said.
“Gold? ...Gold respond, that's an order!” demanded Red. The smoke cleared, revealing the burning hulks that were the Abrams of Gold team. “We've lost Gold. All Abrams call signs, fire at the Chinook, it ain't friendly!” Red ordered, the sound of explosions nearing the broadcaster.

The Chinook gracefully traversed the skies above the Eastern flank, unloading its weapons on the tanks below. The Apache pilot fought against the invader in his mind with every pull of the trigger, but this was a losing bout. The Apache gunner, however, was holding together a bit better against Sombra's indoctrination. What do you want?!, he asked the invader.
I want everything under my control, including you!, Sombra responded.
You will be disappointed, you cannot have me!
Sombra's control wavered slightly as a canister shell impacted the Chinook, and the gunner burst free from the oppressive control he was forced to endure.
With his newfound freedom, the gunner decided to make the most of it before he lost it again. Repossessing his limbs, he staggered away from the gunnery station and toward the cockpit. His hopes were dashed, however; the door was sealed tight.
The screech of jet engines could be heard in the distance, followed by the roar of the Avenger cannon. Realizing his last shot at saving those below, the gunner stumbled back to his position, with Sombra still trying to regain control. Taking control of the twin 25 mm guns, the soldier took aim one last time. Losing feeling in his legs, he knew Sombra was regaining control.
Using what strength was left, the gunner hit his emergency transponder, and took aim at the distant Warthogs. Firing far ahead of the ground attack aircraft, the first burst missed. The miss was what the veteran gunner was going for; it caught the eye of the A-10 pilots.
The A-10s turned to face the Chinook, moving in to investigate. Their curious approach was greeted with more of the 25 mm gunfire. One A-10 got too close, and took a beating from the other  guns of the Guns-a-Go-Go Chinook. The aircraft had an engine burst into flame, and had a large section of its fuselage torn clean off. The bird stayed airborne though, and the others turned to attack.
The gunner collapsed as the last of his control was overpowered by Sombra. Sombra took control far too late for him to pursue his own evil endeavors, though.
A volley of 30 mm cannon fire pierced the ACH-47 at 4,000 rounds per minute. One of the two main rotors started belching smoke, and the bird started to destabilize. The second A-10 came next, this one carried a JDAM (Joint Direct Attack Munition). The 2,000 lbs bomb was released as the first A-10 designated the Chinook. In a single massive fireball, the captured vessel had vanished. It looked like Sombra lost that battle.
The Eastern flank would be breached within the day, according to 105th logistics. Despite this, the lunar landscape was still under siege.

Joe finally tore the last of the defected griffons off of the AC-130, at the loss of two engines. The copilot managed to reconfigure the power distribution adequately enough to keep the gunship airborne. Joe crawled back through the same window he shot out earlier, and turned to the copilot. “You ever think about what war will put you through?” Joe asked.
“When I volunteered for this, I questioned what I would have to go through,” the unicorn responded.
“Well, war will ask a lot of you, but there is no way to know what it will ask for until it does. Personally, I never thought I would have to crawl through broken glass, onto the wing of a 600 year old gunship, and engage in close quarters combat all in a no-atmosphere environment for a bunch of people I met not even two weeks ago. It's kind of funny like that, huh?” Joe jokingly said.
“Heh, yeah. Guess it is kind of funny,” the copilot responded.
“Long ago I realized something about what war demands from someone. That is: if it can be done, expect to do it; if it has been done before, then it's a guarantee; if it has never been done before, it's a possibility; if it's impossible, you must try. To be honest with you, I wasn't too sure if this bird would hold together as we left the atmosphere, it had never been done before,” Joe stated.
“Either way, I'm glad that you're here. I don't think I would've lasted too long in combat without a veteran as decorated as yourself flying with me,” the copilot said.
“Decorations don't mean anything in combat, but common sense means everything. Anybody can be well-decorated, yet not have any battle experience. Hey, there are five guys in Baker Company, my outfit, alone that have more ribbons and medals than I do. Not one of them has seen combat, so their squads don't tend to trust them as much. In peace-time they are great leaders, but they still need to undergo their baptism of fire before the rest of their squads start respecting them. For my squad, they saw me in action for the first time, I think on Madrigal. I held the line as the rest of those sorry guys got off planet. Then Lieutenant, now Captain, Billiam came to my rescue in the last evac Pelican. We also picked up some Spartans after they detonated a HAVOK under a museum that the Covenant were using as a base there. Long story short, until you have proven yourself in a trial by fire, most soldiers will have a tough time trusting you. Take that into consideration, along with me choosing you to be my copilot,” Joe recounted one of his old war stories.
An awe-struck copilot responded, “So you wanted me to undergo my own baptism of fire under your supervision. Ingenious! You choose me as the copilot so that later I would get immediate respect from any future aircrews, but so that you could still call the shots. I don't mean to make you sound evil or anything, just... I'm not that good with words. You wanted to make sure I was safe, while still putting me through the combat that I would later need under my belt. Thanks!”
“Don't mention it,” Joe replied.
A red light started flashing across one of the screens, closely accommodated by a buzzing alarm. Joe quickly reacted, pulling on the countermeasures switch. Nothing happened. “Missile lock! The ECM and flares aren't responding. I think one of those griffons got to the countermeasure pods,” Joe said. The buzzing got notably more rapid.
“Missile away!” the copilot said.
“Evacuate!” Joe yelled across the crew channels, as he threw a reentry pack to the unicorn copilot.
Before the back ramp could even budge open, the missile impacted the hulking gunship. The explosive warhead blasted the plane apart. The cockpit, tail, wings, and fuselage all made separate landings. All was black for Joe has his limp body impacted the dusty surface.