-Ophelius Docking Ports and Shipyards
-One hour and fifteen minutes before The Spectrum Event.
-Ophelius, Gantoris
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San Uske’s plans have a nasty tendency of blowing up in our faces. They work, but they still blow up.
“No, no,” San protested. “It’s a good plan, I swear.”
Especially when he says that.
“The last time you said that, your ship ended up encased in ice, with you inside, and I got eaten trying to rescue you,” I retorted without a second’s hesitation, rolling my eyes. “The only reason you didn’t freeze to death was because Aaro turned his idiot-laser to the lowest setting – something a gun shouldn’t have as far as I’m concerned – and melted his way in.”
“Ah,” he said wistfully, leaning against a metal beam with a twinkle in his eye. “I really do love Tendus. Their snow is always the best tasting, and their people so friendly.”
“Shut up,” I snapped. “You said it yourself, our whole force is surrounded, we’ve apparently got no contact with the outside at this point, bar a few channels we’ve slipped though, we’re outmatched, and our direct superior is lying unconscious on the ground right here.”
“Um,” Fluttershy um’d suddenly.
“You mean my direct superior. You’re not an admiral, heh,” San shot back, a smug grin stretching across his face.
A new, dry voice spoke, “and not entirely unconscious, either.” Everyone except for Fluttershy, who was already there, turned to face Aaro’s prone body. He leaned upward on his mechanical arm, the other one propped up in a makeshift white sling. Flinching, he added, “but I really wish I wasn’t. You got any BioMend packs on you?”
“In me, sure,” I quipped, holding my hand out to help him, which he accepted gratefully. “But that probably doesn’t help you.”
“Always… always the arm,” he muttered to himself, steadying his feet on the car floor. “I really hate that. I’m going to need a new VALK now, too. Are all my things still safe?”
“Well we tossed your swords over a few minutes ago, and Jackson couldn’t disintegrate your pistol fast enough,” San replied, patting the premier on the back. “Glad to see you’re ninety-percent in one piece, buddy.”
Aaro waved a finger at the pilot-slash-admiral, shaking his head. “And I don’t even want to know how you ended up with us, okay? You do things that make my head really, really hurt.”
“This is really great and all,” Rainbow interrupted, “but can we please hear what this dumb plan is? I’m itching to get off this thing.”
Twilight groaned, rubbing her forehead with one hoof. “What she means, Captain, is that we’re happy the… Premier, right? Premier Castlor? We’re happy he’s okay, but we’re anxious to get to safety.”
Collectively, we backed off from the admiral, and I took a moment to gaze into the mess that made up the city horizon. The car was angled so I could clearly see it, lights twinkling in the distance, even under the heavy rainclouds that threatened to cause a downpour any minute. Smoke mixed in with the clouds, as if the sky was consuming the city building by building. The few towering GOD cannons, their fifty-foot wide barrels pointed to the sky, laid derelict in the chaos. A frown creased into my face, and I turned my attention back to Uske.
“So,” he was saying. “If there’s anything these guys are good at, it’s infantry. Their fighters are second rate, and they can’t even touch our ships one on one. He’s silent right now, but Admiral Ganymede has been gathering troops up in secret, all for the purpose of taking back the two remaining anti-capital ship surface-to-space weapons we have here: the GOD cannons. We take ‘em back, and we can destroy their ships in orbit with the push of a button.”
“That doesn’t really explain what the plan is,” I interrupted.
He growled at me. “I’m getting to it. Right now, do you have contact with the Homebound?”
“No, but last I heard they were running silent where it was docked, waiting for the rest of us to board.”
“Good. Grezz and Zal have, I think, two or three frigates that are in dock, and they’re waiting on Ganymede’s signal to take off and bombard the entrenched ground forces around each cannon base. All our fighters are down or scattered in the area, however, and we’ve only got a Nailgun and LAP frigate – two Nailguns, I think. Big, big problem for them.”
“Why?” Twilight asked, tilting her head. “If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”
“Nah. Nailguns are… well, Jackson invented them, so I’ll let him do the speech.” San nodded my way, stepping back to the car wall. After a moment, he jerked up straight, and slid over to the cadet in the control seat.
I shrugged, taking center stage, and faced the ponies. “Nailgun was a codename we ran with for one of my top-secret ship projects at the time. It was a state of the art bomber frigate capable of adjusting the four heavy plasma launchers it has on either side, to any setting you can imagine. If you want a bunker destroyed, then they can drill through rock. If you need a capital ship taken out, turn it on its side and it’ll do it in ten seconds flat. The big selling point, though, was that it can take out infantry without causing heavy collateral damage to buildings or the ground in general. The problem is that it doesn’t have very good anti-fighter capabilities. They’d shred it to pieces.”
Twilight raised her eyebrow. “Wow. I won’t say I’m impressed by a war machine, I’d really like to study… well, nevermind. What’s the ‘LAP’ frigate, then?”
“Hm? Oh, right.” I scratched the back of my head. “First of the experimental KaidenTech line of ships that I made, and probably the most specialized. It stands for Longshot Assault Phaser, first and last of its kind. It’s basically a giant gun that fires at incredibly long ranges. I think the record shot was… uh... can’t remember it, but it was like a bajillion meters or something. Sometimes it can work as a troop transport, but the mass of the gun is too big for it to work well in atmosphere. San, your plan, please?”
“Hm?” he called from the front, quickly stepping back into the ring. He flashed a grin, performing a mock bow. “And thank you to our guest speaker for tonight, Mister Captain Doctor Amber, everyone!” Sighing, he rubbed his hands together with a massive grin on his face. “Fighters! We’ve got lots of them, and they’re the reason we were originally called the Wing, remember? The second wave is finished, and the third, should we need it, is being mass-fabricated as we speak at the expense of the taxpayers. All my pilots are lined up in one of our hangars, and I was heading over to them when I saw you guys in trouble.”
“Your point?” I raised an eyebrow.
“My point is that if we can get the Homebound to escort the frigates with the fighters, we’re pretty much home-bound, baby! Get it? No? Whatever. We get the GOD cannons, we control the orbital situation, we get rid of the fighters and slowly start taking out their VALK points. Bam! Whole city’s under a hundred percent control in a manner of hours. It’s foolproof. Well, as long as we don’t all get killed or something.”
“That sounds simple enough. I don’t see why your plans have such a bad reputation. You’ve got all of the resources you need right now. What’s the issue?” Twilight asked.
“The issue that they’re directing quite a few fighters around the frigates. Nothing can take off until we take them out, including the Homebound, unless it has some good anti-fighter weapons.”
“It’s got a rotating MagRound cannon, medium class, but that wasn’t meant for fighters, even if it would work with a good man at the firing control,” I clarified. “So where do we come in? If I can get to the helm, the Homebound could definitely play its part. As soon as we have a window, too, we can jump out of the system for Equestria.”
Rainbow nudged me in the side. “Excuse me? I thought our plan was to get away from the fighting, and you know, escape?”
“Rainbow,” Applejack said, sighing. “Can you just give the man a break ‘fer a moment? They need the ship to help out. It ain’t your ship, anyway.” The orange mare faced me, tipping her hat with a grin. “I don’t know about anypony else, but I’m fine with it.”
“Erm,” San breathed, scratching the back of his neck.
“Fine, I’m in too.” Dash huffed, narrowing her eyes off to the side. “I’m just sick of this and… well, just mad, I guess. Fluttershy almost got hurt.”
“It’s okay, Rainbow,” the mare in question said, placing a hoof on her friend’s side. “I still trust them. I, um, only really almost got hurt because… it was sort of my fault.”
San made an obnoxious choking noise and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Twilight nodded, filling the gap in the line of ponies. “We’ve had a lot go bad in the past twenty minutes. It’s about time we finally got a plan together and fought back. I’m in, a hundred percent.”
“Wait, do any of you even know how to fly?” San butted in, waving his hands from side to side. “Because, erm, I kind of need Jackson.”
“Everyone seems to,” I grumbled, looking at him with a pursed-lip, impatient blank stare. “What?”
He took a deep breath, his mouth turning into an o shape on the exhale. “Our fighter group is really big right now, since I’ve siphoned off a few more reserve militia pilots that snuck through under the shield dome. But the thing is... I can’t lead it myself. I need a second squadron leader for the other half. Nobody here is capable except Aaro, and for one, he can’t fly to save his life-“
“Excuse me?” the second-in-command of our entire military force snapped.
“-and secondly, nobody can fly with one arm. Except me, probably. I changed our course to the hangars, by the way. Should be there in a few minutes.”
“Brilliant,” I groaned, leaning against the side of the car. “Aaro. I need someone capable to watch of the ponies while I’m flying with San, and that means captaining the Homebound. I assume you’re able to do that?”
“Kid,” he said, placing his arguably good arm on my shoulder. “I have crashed cruisers at light speed with pinpoint accuracy. I can captain.”
“Whatever that was, it wasn’t comforting,” I grumbled, pushing his hand off. I patted at my pants – a hopeless effort, since the fabric was stained by soot and dirt down to the atom. Eyes grazing over the ground for a moment, I picked the borrowed blaster off the ground and slung it over my shoulder. “And I’m like ten years older than you, kid.”
“Really?” Twilight blurted out. “You don’t look that old to me at all. I’m not the best judge, of course, but you and the Admiral look a lot alike, Captain. At least… oh, Celestia, that’s not what I meant to say!”
“You said I look old,” Aaro gasped in mock horror, patting his face like it would fall off any second.
I shrugged. “I was born this way. It’s a common species traitl… that or I’m just lucky. Plus, there’s the part where I don’t think Aaro has ever had to rebuild his own face before. It’s like repainting an old hovercar. Or like… I don’t know, a barn in your case.”
“Gross,” she gagged, sticking her tongue out at the mental imagine I likely gave her. “Point taken, though. I probably shouldn’t have tried to guess your age, being a whole other species. I wouldn’t expect you to get mine right off the bat, either.”
“Nineteen,” I said instantly.
“Twenty three,” Aaro added, smirking.
“Six,” San finished, chewing on some sort of candy bar he’d probably dug out of his pocket. “What?”
“Well, most of you were close, but I think you can wait a bit longer just because you guessed six,” she deadpanned.
There was a pregnant pause as we all glared at the admiral. His eyes shifted, and finally he slurred under his breath, “Erm, I meant six, as in.... ‘we’re here’....”
I rubbed my face with my palm, muttering, “Another brilliant move. Where is ‘here’ anyways, Admiral? The hangar?”
If it were possible – and every brain cell I had screamed it wasn’t – San’s smile, a crossbreed between a smug, sly, and stupid, that he had been wearing since I met the man, grew wider. “I love it when someone asks me that. Ladies, gents... and horse-thingies!”
“Ponies.” Applejack rolled her eyes.
Uske turned around, and I briefly caught a glimpse of the drop point, a steep incline that, if we went down it as we were, would send us all flying out the front. We wouldn’t, of course. The tram car would stay level while the connectors on top extended and swiveled.
He looked to the left, slowly raising his arms out as if he were walking on stage to a cheering crowd, one that hung on every movement he made. “You may have seen the Rei’Kah Squadron from the wedgehead glory-days, the bubble-shield fighters from the Psychic Wars, or even the legendary Emperor’s Fleet Guard of the Empirium!” He spun around, whole galaxies swirling in his eyes. “But, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the Gold Squadron!”
The great wall that blurred past our vision as we descended left us. Behind the window was a fighter junkie’s deepest dream. Docking ports, especially the ones converted into fighter hangars, were not infinite, but they had a good go at trying to be. Right in the middle, where yellow strips coated the floor, sat rows upon rows of one of the most technologically efficient fighters ever created.
It was the kind of vehicle that looked like it didn’t fly. Space, in fact, simply parted ways around it and let it pass through out of politeness. Two massive engines sat at the back, the cockpit a large two-seater designed for both comfort and safety, even if the second seat was shoved in the back like an afterthought and not even visible from the cockpit. If any part of the two-inch thick steel-glass even cracked, a hard energy field would be spread out over it to prevent depressurization in a vacuum. Two stubby wings protruded from either side, with roundish vertical correction and takeoff engines placed in the middle. Last but not least, two wire-like tubes ran down the entire craft, ending at the tip, where another larger hole was located in the center.
Each one had a man stationed beside it, either standing at attention or giving his attention to the craft itself. Repair and refuel robots mulled about, either welcomed with open arms to shooed away by each fighter’s pilot. On one side of the hangar, I could even see a dozen or so of them playing a card game.
“Designed by me,” I said, pride choking my throat. Or at least pretending to for the sake of appearances. “The Solis Fighter. Best thing I ever made. Borrowed part of the base design from a hopeful lieutenant commander, which was an absolute garbage bomber, but I made it into something so much better.”
“I give it a four out of five cupholders,” San added.
“Sounds fancy,” Twilight finished.
“Right....” I rolled my eyes, gripping tight on the ceiling rail to steady myself. “I assume that’s what we’re flying. What are the squadron designations?” I didn’t need to ask, of course. I could plainly see the colors displayed on the hull of each craft.
“Gold and Red,” he said absent-mindedly, looking at his datapad with a flick of the wrist. “Callsigns are the same as usual.”
“Not Gold and good ‘ol Blue? Going out of your comfort zone today, I see,” Aaro quipped, shuffling to the side. I leaned with the tram as it turned sharply, finally settling on the ground floor. I could see the glow of the doors ahead, raising above us to unload the tram’s cargo.
San shrugged, stepping off the tram and onto solid ground, and the sound of his boot was silenced by the whining and grumbling of machinery that was the only constant in this place. It was worse than an academy on the rare days I volunteered as a so-called instructor, only all of these people had graduated from an academy and were heading to war, not an obstacle course.
We ferried off of the platform, and San looked over the array of fighters. Judging from the two different colors and the fact he needed another squadron leader, there had to be almost forty of them, lined up in neat, obsessively clean rows a couple of meters apart. Pilots crowded around their respective areas, chatting or simply taking some time alone. Grimaces and laughter abounded.
“Hey, hey! We need a medical kit over here, and, uh, preferably a medic attached to it.” San called into the hangar, spinning to block our way with outstretched hands. He frowned at Aaro, gesturing at the arm haphazardly wrapped in a white - and now turning a slightly sickening shade of dark maroon - cloth sling.
Aaro rolled his eyes. “And I was so looking forward to bleeding out,” he deadpanned, his good arm reaching around and peeling off the white fabric. I flinched at the sight of the burnt, scarred mess underneath. Even Twilight gagged, following her friends’ leads and turning away.
A slim teryn jogged over, white uniform yanked up and down by the heavy pockets that lined it. He took in two sharp breaths, then nodded, stepping toward the premier. “Simple nerve-centered laser-shot, designed to knock a target unconscious while doing minor physical damage. I’ve treated several of them today - you can tell by the veins pulsing like that along the rest of the arm.”
“Minor damage seems a bit inappropriate a term,” Twilight coughed.
“Dectavians have different concepts to what kay-and-pea means. It’s not rare you find their soldiers carrying weapons a law-enforcer would use,” the teryn rattled off in a numb voice, leaning down on one leg to get a closer look at the injury. As if he were holding an infant, he cradled the underside of the appendage and leaned in. “Their enforcers are as sadistic as all the jungles of Rei’Kah IV, though. I saw pics of injuries on the comweb, and I’m glad I don’t have to treat them. Gave me the willies. Er, you’re still bleeding.”
He spat, a thick glob of saliva slathering itself over the blackened skin. “And, um, this is probably not only going to hurt, but take a while. You want a PVPH, amp and redo, or base then cast? Bio comes standard.”
“Base and cast, ASAP,” Aaro hissed through gritted teeth, flinching when the medic spat again. “I hate the tube and I prefer to keep my body parts at the very least near me.”
“Yessir,” the teryn muttered. One hand opened the kit at his side, and he went to work.
I shook my head, following San and the ponies a little ways away, nearer to the mass of cargo and equipment stored at the back of the hangar. Twilight and the girls turned toward me, whilst San fiddled with his datapad, and Twilight sighed.
“That translator ring does work, right? I could barely understand a thing he said.” She perked her nose up, tilting her head to one side to get a quick look at the spindly medic. “And in what universe is spitting on a wound part of a medical treatment? If a doctor in Equestria did that, they’d have their license taken away before they could utter the word ‘malpractice.’”
“Ours,” I said, shrugging. “Teryn saliva has excellent blood clotting qualities and usually carries far less potentially harmful bacteria than other humanoids to the point where they don’t even need to worry about it. They’re valuable in the medical field as first responders, paramedics, and so on. Variant medics like me are actually pretty rare.”
“Did she just say ‘translator ring’?” San asked, quirking an eyebrow. “That explains the bad lip-sync I’m getting on my end. Let me guess… magnetism?”
Twilight blinked, narrowing her eyebrows at the admiral. “Actually, that’s not too far-”
“Wait, did you just say you’re a medic?” Rainbow butted in, flying in front of me and crossing her hooves. “Where did that come from?”
“Nineteen years ago, Omega Station recruiting office A-Eleven,” I deadpanned. “I was the assistant medical personnel on one of the greatest ships in the Wing at the time, the Legend.”
“You never told us that,” Rainbow said, now flying backwards as we approached the mass of cargo crates and miscellaneous devices. San led the way to a small panel sitting in the middle of it all, a window-like frame around where you’d think a screen would be.
“I don’t normally tell strangers my life story. Do you?” I joked, smirking.
“Well… not always,” she replied, rubbing a hoof behind her neck. Something sparked behind her eyes, and an instant later she smirked at me. “But my life story is pretty awesome, so yeah, I guess I have done it a few times.”
I stopped at the panel, turning to look at her. You could’ve connected a thread between our pupils without an angle on it, and the thread would’ve caught fire going off of how much I was putting into my glare.
“Well mine’s not as awesome, and it’s three times as long as yours, probably,” I said, as if the words were unstable explosives.
Sighing, I looked at the grey floor for a split second, turning to San before she could offer a rebuttal. “This what I think it is?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” I scratched my head for a moment. “Have you managed to get any proper channels to the outside, yet?”
He winked. “Actually, yes. One or two. I can get you set up, if you wanted. As for the Homebound, all we need is the ship’s channel code and somebody to pick up,” he replied, beaming. A holographic keyboard blipped into existence above the panel and he tapped away. “What is it, again?”
I looked at him for a moment, flipping through the metaphorical pages of my memory before answering, “Kay dash one nine six space twenty-three twelve eleven.”
“What’s this supposed to do?” Twilight asked, taking a place beside me. Rainbow finally moved off, likely staring indignantly at the back of my head, while Applejack and Fluttershy pulled up the rear. “Communication, right? Like what you showed me in that ships holo-room?”
“You betcha,” I muttered, carefully watching San’s fingers’ movements. “Just a lot more basic. He’s going to call the Homebound and see how your friends are doing.”
Twilight breathed a sigh of relief, an action her friends happily mirrored. “That’s good. I really hope they’re okay.”
“They’re picking up,” San muttered, stepping aside to let me stand directly in front of the screen. It flickered, and a muted blue image drew itself between the wire frame. In it, I could clearly see the bridge of the Homebound. The only person there was Evo, and Spike, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie stood on either side of him, with Spike clinging to Rarity’s leg.
“Sir!” Evo said, smiling and letting his shoulders droop. He opened his mouth before Pinkie’s face smashed itself against the screen.
“Ohmygoshweweresoworried!” she yelled in a single syllable.
“Pinkie, dear, please stop rubbing your face against that,” a muted voice in the background said. The pink mare’s face twisted into a frown, but she nevertheless pulled away with an audible pop.
“Er, right then,” I said, rubbing my face with my hand. “Listen, Evo, how are you holding up over there?”
He paused, taking a deep breath and glancing back at the door. “Barely, sir. The soldiers… they are patrolling our area, they break into ships and take the crew when they can. We are powered down, to hide, and the others are in the hangar waiting for you or the soldiers. Whoever comes first, yes?”
“Well we’re nowhere near the ship, unfortunately.” I shook my head. “Listen, as soon as he’s ready, Admiral Castlor is going to VALK over to the ship along with the rest of the ponies. I’m staying to help Admiral Uske with a counterattack, and I’ll meet up with you after it’s done, if I can’t.” I paused, licking my lips and taking a moment to think. “And… listen, if I can’t make it, then you’ll follow Aaro’s orders from then on and get out of the system as fast as possible, and that means as soon as the shield-dome even flickers. Your best bet might be at Han Wavel, and I’ll try to meet you there. If you can’t even get there, go straight back to Equestria and stay there.”
“Yessir, of… erm, why would we stay at the pony planet?” he asked, tilting his head.
“Because if you can’t make it to Han Wavel, then everyone there probably dead,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Right. Just hold out for now. I think it’s best to give the ponies some alone time” Spinning around, I nodded. “Thanks for being patient, girls.”
Twilight and Applejack smiled up at me, the other two crowding around the screen. “Rarity, Pinkie Pie… Spike! I’m so glad to see you’re all okay,” Twilight said, putting both hooves up on the panel and hoisting herself up to eye level.
“We’re okay? Darling, what happened to you? You look simply dreadful!” Rarity titted from the screen, holding a hoof to her forehead. “Oh, I can’t imagine what you poor ponies have been through. How is Fluttershy holding up?”
A low breath escaped through my lips, and my chest extended, freed from a tightness that had been constricting it since the attack began. For a second, I let my eyes close and stepped back. It didn’t matter if the air in here was stale and smelled of fuel and the machines of war; it smelled so much fresher now.
“Job well done,” I said to myself, opening my eyes. “So far, at least.”
I walked back over to the chattering group, laying a hand on Twilight’s shoulder when I arrived. “Girls, and, er, Spike. How are you all holding up?”
“Well besides those meanie-pants soldiers from earlier, we’re doing super-duper over here!” Pinkie exclaimed, waving to the camera.
“I suppose my complaints over leaving my luggage behind are all irrelevant,” Rarity said, looking off to the side. “Even if you can’t do it at the moment, I really would appreciate some effort to get them back, Captain.”
My brow furrowed in frustration, and my mouth opened to utter a poorly worded criticism. I gulped it down, and instead nodded. “Alright. Baggage will be retrieved, don’t worry about it in the slightest.”
“Well we’re fine too, by the way,” Rainbow said, still hovering next to the communication panel.
“Hush, Rainbow,” Applejack shot, looking back up at me. “We’ve been over this, Jackson. Y’all did what you needed to and you kept yer’ promise to keep us safe, even if Fluttershy did come a bit close there.”
“I’m fine, really,” the aforementioned pony muttered. “It was just scary… and it still is, but at least that part is over.”
I bit my lowered lip, and backed up a step, nodding. “Okay then. I just wanted to know where we all stood, because it’s almost over.” I paused to wink at Applejack. “And what did I say? I always get the job done, and I never break a promise. You girls have nothing to worry about, as long as you stay sharp and do what we say.”
Something horrible bubbled in my throat for a moment, like an insect digging its legs into my insides. I sputtered, hunching over where I stood and hacking, each cough marked by an exaggerated bob of the head. Fluttershy stepped forward, but it was over as soon as it started and I blinked blearily at the ground, my inflamed arms holding my knees. “I’m fine. I’m… Admiral Uske, do you have another one of these comm-stations?”
“Hm?” He raised an eyebrow, having stood off to the side with an amused expression the entire time. “Oh, yeah. It’s in the corner over there,” he said, pointing off in the direction behind him. “You can use it if you want. Password’s standard. Hey, and while you’re over there, I’m going to go brief a few of the pilots and set up the squadrons. And you know… go to the bathroom and stuff. You guys probably need to at this point.”
“Thanks,” I said, straightening up. Each step felt like my feet were lead weights, and the hangar had gained an odd red tint in the corners of my vision, arcing to every side like bloody spiderwebs. I blinked once, and it faded. Twice, and it was a memory. A memory that nevertheless reminded me of how badly I needed my medication. With heavy steps, I made for the panel in the distance.
Twilight’s voice called out to me, and I stopped to make a half-turn toward her. “Jackson?” she asked, trotting up behind me. A joyful wetness has gathered around the edges of her eyes, alongside a wide grin. I simply nodded in response, anything I could’ve answered with bolted away from her hard gaze. “So what are you going to do now?
“Talk privately. Why?” I responded, taking a step to face her completely.
“I… I wanted to thank you,” said Twilight, taking another step forward. I took up the silent cue and kneeled down - it just felt right to look her in the eyes without it seeming like her neck was going to snap off from looking up. “For what you’ve done for us. It can’t be easy to have to drag us everywhere and I don’t want for any of us to be a burden. I just wanted you to know that, when this is all over and you drop us off in Canterlot, we’ll be rooting for you until you get back, and that you’ll always be our friend.”
“Until I get back…” I muttered, wetting my lips for even the most miniscule of distractions. I looked down. “Twilight… you know this is a war, right?”
“Of course it is, I-I know what a war is, and I know how much more awful and different it is out here than it is in Equestria.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She’d said her own brother was an important figure in her own country’s army, so I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking right then. “But you’ve been through so much, there’s no way you can’t win this. I know you.”
“You’ve known me for six days,” I countered, a weak grin the most I could produce. “You don’t know me in the slightest. You don’t know war, and I’m trying to keep it that way. I’m not saying I’m going to die, because I don’t plan on it. I plan on being a Captain of the Wing, because that is my duty. I plan on protecting innocent people and ponies, because that is what I am compelled to do as a good person.” I shut my eyes, and did something I likely wouldn’t have done in any other circumstance, especially not to an alien being I had known less than a week. I brought her into a hug.
“And I’ll do an infinite amount more than that… for what I believe in.”
“Jackson…?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s highly improbable. Infinity is really, really big.”
“Don’t ruin the moment, miss purple horse thing.”
“Sorry, but it would’ve bugged me if I didn’t tell you.”
I pulled away, my smirk far more genuine this time. “In any case, did I ever tell you I’m the tenth luckiest man in the galaxy? There’s no way I won’t be coming back to Equestria for you girls, I promise. I’ll expect a party and stuff, alright? No cake, though. I don’t do cake.”
Returning the smile, she scoffed. “Pinkie will throw a tantrum probably, but alright. It’s a deal.”
We shook on it.
~=V=~
“Good choice. The last thing I want is any casualties,” I said. In my own little corner, hunched over my communication station, I was finally invisible for a moment. The pressure of the world could be lifted up from my shoulders and put onto some other poor sod’s for a little while.
The pressure of the galaxy was a lot lighter anyways, believe it or not. There was a quote in an old book I read, once: “Those whose eyes observe the larger picture are compelled to gloss over the brush-strokes used to paint it.”
A heavily bearded, short little man on the screen grinned into the camera. “Naturally, sir. We have forty or so minutes, now, and so far we’re not detecting any signatures around the anomaly, so it’s likely the Dectavians don’t even know about it yet.”
“But they do know about our guests, and apparently have prioritized taking them alive. This is more proof they don’t know the location just yet, but it’s best to be prepared. Do the rest of the captains know to engage stealth tactics upon arrival?”
“Aye, sir. They were informed as soon as you told me.”
“Excellent. Everything else is up to you. Commander Boyo is in charge of the operation on the ground, by the way. The Noble Martha should be prioritized over the others due to the sensitive nature of its cargo, as you know. I just want to make that clear.”
“As draxian glasswork, sir. Ah, er… are you sure you do not wish for us to divert course and attend to the significantly large invasion force surrounding Gantoris?”
“I have several other Liberty Fleet ships preparing to launch as reinforcements alongside Alpha Strike and Defense One. We get that shield taken out, and the Dectavians will be dusted in seconds. Even our current ships are holding their own against them… for now. So no, stay on course. Everything here will be handled.”
“Of course. Sir, I do not wish to speak rudely here, but what if it isn’t?”
I paused, licking my lips. “Then… stay there. Follow procedure. If you can, organize a resistance or help with the Exodus Operation if it happens. Worst case scenario, I recommend you stay on Earth… indefinitely. The crews of the ships I sent to escort the Noble Martha have a highly varied alien crew. Enough for… at least some sort of fresh start. For hope at the very least. The galaxy will need it if E really has a Derelict up and running.”
The dwarfish linnae’s eyes widened in understanding, and he solemnly looked at one of the controls at his chair. “That was clever, sir.”
“I prepare for everything, commander. Even the unthinkable and impossible.”
A wry smile grew on his face, and he bobbed his head in what he likely thought constituted as a nod. “Reputations are always earned, I hear. In any case, ship power must be rationed, sir, so are there any other orders before I cut off the call?”
I paused, wracking my mind. “Hm… yes. Make sure the crew of all ships in the fleet know not to mention that they’re on Earth to the ponies. They don’t know what Earth means to us, and I’d rather I be the one to break it to them. Humans are included in the list of sensitive topics. We can’t seem like we have an ulterior motive to this.”
“Will do, Captain. Commander Freyas, signing off.”
“Godspeed.” The hologram warped into nothingness.
My corner was drowned in darkness, and I breathed it in like a drug. Only the overhead light could penetrate my isolated station, and even that seemed to be choked. A fragile glass wall had been briefly erected.
The sound of hoofsteps, a repetitive noise that would likely be ingrained in my memory for years to come, shattered it.
“Yes?” I said, wincing at the thought of turning around. My brief respite from the war was over. I don’t mean the one with the invasion.
“I- I… uh… I’ll leave, if I’m bothering you,” Fluttershy muttered.
I turned to face her, the pained look on my face washing off. There wasn’t any harm in listening to what she had to say, so I put on my most disarming smile - or at least, the emotionally disarming kind. When facing a slew of ill-prepared gangsters, you’d be surprised what an assault rifle, nineteen years of military training, and an award-winning grin can do. That’s a story for a different day, though.
So I answer, “No, no. Not a whole lot could bother me right now. I’ve reached my sodding zen point. Everything’s pink flowers now.”
Smiling, ten out of ten. Improvised dialogue, not so much.
“Oh, that’s good to hear,” she said, obliviously continuing her approach. I stooped down to look her in the eye. “You seemed very stressed earlier.”
I shrugged. “So did you. Fighting does that. All that matters to me is that you girls are okay.” I paused, looking her straight in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
It took a second too long for her to answer. “Sort of…. It’s all really scary, almost as bad as the changeling invasion or Discord.” Again with that name. Celestia had mentioned fighting him in the far past, not recently, I thought, but I nodded anyways. “It’s kind of… hard to describe, I think. Maybe once we’re safe and back in Equestria, but… I’m just scared right now. For us, for you, for all of those poor soldiers out there. Twilight really isn’t happy.”
I failed to suppress a scoff, and patted at the air. “Ah, ha ha. Right. When I find a war that made everyone happy, then I’ll be surprised.”
“She, um, said she’ll need to talk with you after this.”
I froze.
“Jackson?” she asked, tilting her head.
“It’s... nothing. We can talk when we get to Equestria. It’s our priority at the moment,” I sputtered, shuffling into a more comfortable crouching position. “But, uh….” I looked at the ground for a moment, my voice softening. “Did she say what she was mad about?”
Fluttershy looked away for a split second, ears swiveling. “I, um, don’t really know. She probably just wants to know more. Twilight always gets mad when she doesn’t know everything about a certain subject, and, well, this whole galaxy is something she knows nothing about. And I think she’s bottled that feeling up….”
“... and all the fighting has probably made her stress levels rise monumentally. The Gantoris Halls was probably a release, but not much,” I finished for her, standing up. “I think I get it.”
The pegasus stepped aside, and we started making tracks toward the rest of the group still at the panel. Uske jerked up, nodded, and said something to the girls.
“She’s also worried about you,” I heard her say, her pillow-like voice barely audible over the mechanical buzzing and clanking of the hangar.
“Everyone seems to be worried about me all the time,” I joked, shrugging. “I’m fine, and she knows it. I’ve been through, much, much worse. You’ve seen the scars.”
“That’s part of the reason….” I barely heard her say, right as we arrived at the panel.
I waved at Uske, who was uncharacteristically silent. Aaro, I noted, was a few meters off and chatting it up with the friendly medic, his arm in a less patchwork looking sling this time. Somehow, that made the mechanical one look all the more deadly.
“Is that them now?” Spike said from the screen. I wasn’t at an angle to see it, but I could practically feel the loss in his voice.
“Aww, but I was having so much fun with the crazy talky-window!” Pinkie exclaimed.
“Really,” Applejack deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow. “Couldn’t tell in the slightest, Pinkie.”
I finally managed to walk behind the group, getting a full view of Rarity magically pulling Pinkie’s face out of the camera lens. “It was fun talking with you all using this rather fantastic technology,” she said, dropping the pink monster off beside her. “But I’d much rather talk to you in pony. See you all in a few minutes!”
“Bye!” they all chorused. It was a pure sound, like a wind-chime or wedding bells. Innocent. Hopeful.
The mission had not failed.
I clapped my hands together right as the hologram blinked off. “Right then. Uske, do you have their VALKs coordinated?”
He shrugged, waving a hand at a far-off technician checking a few crates. “I know the codes and told that bloke. He’ll be around in a moment to plug in the numbers and stuff.” Even as he started talking, the blue-uniformed tech jogged over.
One hand reached up to scratch his balding head, while the other adjusted his glasses and took out a holographic datacard - effectively a holographic piece of paper - to gloss over. “These horse things won’t mind it, boss?”
“Ponies,” Twilight corrected without a moment’s hesitation. “And we’ll be fine, sir.” Pursing his lips, the man resolved to step back and merely quirk an eyebrow.
“Are the squadrons ready?” I asked, turning to the Admiral. He had been fiddling with his datapad the entire time, but finally lowered his arm to look at me.
He just beamed. “We’ve got thirty-six fighters revving to go, Jackson. I’ll be in a raptor, by the way. I evem showed Rainbow Dash here the fighter you’ll be using.” Crossing his arms, he turned his smug gaze to the rainbow pony in question. “And I think she was impressed.”
Dash hovered, going muzzle to nose with him on a dime. “I was not!” She huffed, crossing her forelegs and backing off a bit. “It’s just a giant hunk of metal. You can’t beat natural wings, buddy.”
San winked. “You totally were, and I’m not your buddy, lady.”
“And I’m not your lady, buddy!”
A red face stepped in, and Aaro raised a hand to interrupt them. “You’re both pretty, okay? Admiral, what’s the ETA on Ganymede and the others’ go-ahead?”
“Five minutes ago,” San’s face fell, and he looked at the two of us with a rare straight face. “But seriously, the Dectavians apparently already have boots on the ground outside of Zalthice and Grezz’s hangars and are trying to barge their way in without knocking politely. They’re holding them off as best they can, but without air support they’re as good as doomed. Probably twenty minutes more they can hold out. We can get there before then, though.”
The three of us shared a look, and I finally said, “Show me my fighter, and then let’s shoot some hatships.”
A metal hand met two flesh ones in a glorious trio of high-fives. Sometimes we needed to do silly stuff.
Twilight coughed. “Hatships?
“It’s an office joke,” San quipped, tapping something on his datapad for a moment. “One time, when we were planning an engagement against a few Dectavian patrols, Aaro stuck a hat in a blender and used it as a physical example of what their fighters looked like.”
“The scary thing was that he was spot on,” I added.
She rolled her eyes. “You guys are so weird.”
“Trained killers have to be,” San muttered under his breath, clicking off his datapad. “Speaking of trained, er, pilots. Captain Amber, here’s our wingmen.” With that announcement he stepped aside, just as two wiry pilots in jumpsuits approached.
I nodded in greeting. “It’s a pleasure.”
“All ours, cap’n,” the first of the two, a teryn, quipped. Both gave a quick salute, and the one that had spoke said. “I’m Lieutenant Sharpe, Gold Two, callsign NotSo.”
The other, a thin ur’luk woman, stepped forward, extending a hand that I accepted. “And I’m Lieutenant King, Red Two, callsign Witch Doctor. I’ll be your wing-woman for today.”
“She’s actually the highest ranking of the Gantoris Militia that slipped through,” San explained, pointing at Lt. King. “Best on the planet, probably. Well, at least the best native.”
“You’re too kind, sir.” She blushed, looking back to me. “I can take you through and introduce you to the boys, if you’d like -” she took a deep breath, and put a hand on one hip “- because it isn’t every day you fly with one of the best, Captain. They’re excited,” she said huskily, waving me forward.
I glanced over to Aaro, quirking an eyebrow. “Is everything set up with you? While I was contacting the Fleet I sent you some basic codes and whatnot for the Homebound.”
He nodded. “I’ll return it back to you in one piece, I promise. Won’t even scratch the paint.”
Barely glossing over the girls - I couldn’t look at them for too long, knowing they were going to be in the Homebound during all of this and that I couldn’t be there to help them - I gave a quick salute and a soft, “See you later,” to the bunch. Specifically the purple one. Not Spike.
Okay, it was Twilight.
I’ve already stated what I thought of the fighters. They were powerful machines. Bulky and ugly compared to the sleek design of the Raptor, the old fighter class the Wing was known for, but it had some of the most advanced in ship shielding technology available. At least fighter shielding technology. Solis fighters were built to withstand and dish out a ton of pain. Probably the thing I enjoyed designing and flying the most. It was almost perfect.
Humble is the Captain Amber, am I right?
“Your comset’s in the fighter, by the way, sir,” Witch Doctor said, sauntering her way into the lines of war machines.
Giving one last little wave to the motley group behind us, I turned to look at her. “I’d be disappointed if that weren’t the case. Were you told how many of them we’re really going up against?”
“Seventy-five brown-nosers and ninety-something squatters, or at least that’s what we heard dropped. Someone told me our first two squadrons managed to down half of them and our AAA took out a good bit before the ground assaults,” she rattled off, taking a sharp turn at what looked like the halfway mark of the hangar. Around a dozen or so jumpsuited pilots sat in a clearing, positioning themselves on top of the engine or nose of a fighter in ways that would give the engineers a headache if they knew about it. “We won’t know for sure until we get our combat computers pointed at them. Someone else probably has, but communication’s so broken right now we haven’t got wind of it. Have you gone to the loo, by the way?”
“I went five minutes ago. So... thirty-six of us in all against, what, thirty-something fighters and forty-something bombers?” I smirked. “I love an even fight.”
“Last I checked, even that’s not balanced odds for us. This will be a cakewalk,” she shot back, returning the grin. The sultry -and I have no idea how it’s possible to look sultry in one of those bulky flight-suits, but she did, I swear - ur’luk clapped her hands together, calling out, “Oi! Big boss is here, so get ready to suit up and shoot out!”
The lot stared at me for a split second, before one of militiamen dropped his hand. Before they hit the ground he was already up and saluting. “Holy sh-... I mean, you’re Amber, right? The Amber?”
“There’s anyone else?” I joked, reaching out to shake a hand or two when they cropped up. “Because I’ll probably need to beat the crap out of him for impersonating me.”
“I heard you were in the Battle of Omega, back in the Orion War. I heard you flew back then but nobody believed me,” one of the younger ones said, a brown-haired human variant that had a suit two sizes large. He scratched his head with a glove. “Even when I told them my dad fought with you, too. You ever know an, er, Tom Arcem?”
We shook hands, and I replied, “You’re the kid he kept blabbing about? Guy was my best friend during the war. Met him on the Legend and served with him up until the siege of Ophelius.”
Nodding, he waved over a few of the others. “Yeah, I guess I’m him, heh. It’s so awesome to finally meet you in person. I’m Corporal Arcem, by the way. Red Four on this mission, but the callsign’s Dock. This here’s….” And so it went.
I met a Red Three, Action; Red Seven, Fish. A whole slew of names got thrown at me and I memorized them in quick succession. Hype, Barf, Action, Quirky, Sweat. None of them were particularly interesting, but each one had their own callsign specifically tailored to them, and it was something they earned. Sometimes it was because of a funny mishap, a personality quirk, or just bad luck, but each one was special and it was earned. Mine, for the curious listeners, was “Hero.”
I’ve learned to hate it.
The cockpits in Solis fighters were designed to be comfortable, since the vehicles themselves were meant for system jumps and long fights. Being that the introductions were over and done with, finally, I listened to the whirr of thirty-six engines capable of faster-than-light speed firing up in what was once an infinite space and was now a cramped room full of antsy pilots. A dazzling display of diodes, switches, and holographic interfaces blipped to life before me. Like a far-off echo, I could hear the others calling in and confirming a connection to the squadron channel.
“... and we’re all set for engines. Kinetic barrier is online, as are inertial dampeners. Green dots on weapon power and the reactor is functioning in the blue. San, what callsign are you using, again?”
“Callsigns are for wusses. Find me a cool one and then we’ll talk,” came the sugar-fueled reply on the other end, and I could easily imagine the admiral bouncing in his seat. “Also, everyone’s called in. All lights are blue, green, whatever. Let’s go blow up some bad guys.”
Above us, a blinding ray of light sliced through the moving hangar doors, baptizing the craft below in gold. My squadron, a group of eighteen ships piloted by what some of the more picky Wing members would call academy dropouts, bore the red stripes, while San’s bore the gold ones. I’d never admit they were gold, though. They always looked more like plain yellow to me.
“All craft are a-go, designated drivers, please prep the upward planar throttle and have your barf bags at the ready,” I called into the mic, scooting deeper into my seat. “Fangs out, folks. We’re flying into hell itself out there. Remember, their fighters can and will lean into you to slice your hull up with their blade-wings, and their plasma-based weapons are killer if they get through your shields. If the bleeders stop working, pull out and act as support or just grab a new fighter.”
“What’s the standard formation, sir?” The lieutenant asked, and I jerked my head to the side to see her giving me a funny look from the fighter beside me.
I shrugged. “Narrow V-Wing, as usual and unless I tell you otherwise. We’re supporting Gold on this op so don’t go rushing in once the fighting starts. It’s probably going to be a knife-fight once we get to the city proper. Prep liftoff, everyone.”
“Aye, sir.”
Gripping the joystick-like maneuvering rod with one hand, and the other manipulating the throttle direction, I took a deep breath and pushed down. San said, “Sync.”
Our engines roared, and the Wing pilots rose out of the metallic prison block. Blue ethereal flames burst from the ends of each ship, and a gaseous warping of the air fluttered into place beneath us. I looked to my right on instinct, watching Uske lead his squadron away and into formation. I sighed, flicking at one of the panel screens until the last fighter had cleared out airspace.
“Alright, Red Squadron form up on me. Our first action is to free up the frigates a little bit south of here,” I called out to the rest of them, pushing on the stick and throttle. My ship glided away from the rest of the group, the very air burning behind it, and the rest lined up behind me. I don’t remember what it was, but something made me call out, “Hey, San?”
“Hay is for horse-things. What’s up?”
Something blue and hoof-like wrapped itself around the end of my seat, barely visible in the corner of my eye. “For Celestia’s sake! It’s ponies!” Rainbow Dash called from behind me, in what would normally be either the co-pilot’s seat or “extra cargo” bay.
Whatever I had wanted to say shattered in mid-air.
“I hate everything,” I muttered dejectedly, turning in my seat to give a verbal lashing for the ages.
~=V=~
-SABOTAGE COMPLETE 5-1-18-20-8 9-19
-HAIL THE EMPEROR 1 12-9-5
-
-EARTH COORDINATES SENT - END PROGRAM
“If you’re listening to this, know that I tried my best. I didn’t waver, and I did what I needed to do.”
“You can argue with my methods all you want, but you don’t have…. What’s done is done. There’s no use trying to change what happened.”
“There is, however, the matter of a few unfinished promises: my last mission. We had a good run, and it might seem like there’s no hope if you get this message, but… if you do get this, just know two things.”
“Firstly, I never break a promise.”
“Secondly, I’m dead.”
“You’d be surprised, Princess, but I start a lot of messages like this.”