Intermission
Stationed in dry dock the UNSC Kabato underwent her repairs, the Griffon engineers hard at work mending her holes and polishing her coat. Adam stood on a catwalk, silently watching the sky and his ship. The UNSC destroyer was a fine piece, though not as powerful as other ships in the fleet. Speed was the destroyer’s power.
That and two MAC cannons.
70mm’s reloaded. ODST pods refilled. Archers reloaded. Looks like everything’s in order Adam mused, going over his datapad. He had the UNSC engineers reload the weapons and pods; the Griffons didn’t have the expertise, and Adam wouldn’t trust them with handling missiles.
They have a dedication to their allies, especially us. They’re really slacking in the aerial offense and defense departments, though, which is where we need the most help. They’re effective ground troops, though.
The first part of Adam’s report to the Office of Naval Intelligence was already taking shape, and would be ready by the end of the week. The only real obstacle was proving to FleetCom that these things actually exist, but Adam already had that figured out with a live video of one.
They might be curious of the Equestrians. Well, what remains of them anyway Adam smirked, still in celebration over their victory against the horse people. Despite minimal losses it had been a crushing victory. The use of nukes had been, as Excalibur put it, overkill, but it got the job done. The destruction wielded by those warheads would have the Equestrians reeling for decades.
All in all, a pretty poor showing on the side of the Equestrians.
There were those dragons, though. Especially Aldurmaax. That was a valid concern, but the dragons had stood down at Celestia’s order. And Aldurmaax was dead, so it was nothing to worry about.
Resting his arms on the railing Captain Kuyaki idly stared out, wondering where the future would take him and his new-found allies.
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Outside the irradiated rubble of Ponyville, where rare survivors gathered to mourn their loss or express utter disbelief, the remainder of the Equestrian Dawnguard tended to the body of Aldurmaax, who lied unmoving on a small hill. The elite soldiers stood about wondering what to do with the dead High Lord, many suggesting they bury him where he lie.
The soil moved and the Dawnguard looked over casually, suspecting it was merely an underground critter that had been unearthed by the dragon’s fall.
Aldurmaax’s claw twitched, and shakily balled into a fist, his right eye breaking free of the dried blood that had caked it shut, the eyeball sluggishly looking back and forth across the faces of the stallions gathered around him.