My Little Starcraft: Friendly Fire is Magic

by DuncanR


D07: Have I mentioned how heterosexual I am, today?

Jack finished spackling a layer of hyper-sugar gel over the hole in the command center’s roof. She retracted the high-powered, laser-guided cyber-trowel back into the SCV’s left leg. She activated the construction mech’s thrusters and hovered back into the main bay. She opened the cockpit just in time to watch Gilda fly her giant robotic griffin inside as well: it was three times the size of the SCV, and its stylistic design resembled that of a fighter jet. The wings were articulate frames that supported a pair of giant jet turbines, but they flexed and moved like real wings.
Gilda popped the cockpit and flew to the floor, waving at Jack. “Top it off for me, wouldja? There’s a babe.”
Jack clenched her jaw. “You ain’t my boss, civvy. You don’t get to give me orders.”
Gilda stopped in her tracks. “What did you just call me?”
Jack shrugged, nonchalant. “If you ain’t signed up with the military, you can’t rightly call yourself a soldier. Just sayin’.”
“Have you even seen my ship? It’s got freakin’ missiles on it. I’ve flown more missions than you could even count.”
“Oh, I’m sure you got guns and skills. But you ain’t part of the chain of command. You don’t stand for nuthin’... all you care about is yourself.”
“That’s just crazy talk,” she said. “I also care about sweet, sweet minerals.”
Jack stamped her hoof. “So is that all you are? A selfish, greedy, mercenary? Someone who fights for nuthin’ but profit!?”
They locked eyes for a moment.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Gilda glanced around the command center’s bay. “So where’s the spa? It’s been months since I had a real bubble bath.”
“Spa? Bubble...?” Jack shook her head. “We don’t got room for luxuries like that! This here is a military outpost!”
A side door opened up and Rainbow Dash flew into the bay, waving cheerfully. “Hey, when are you gonna finish stowing that thing?”
“Just finished up now,” said Gilda. “Hey, does this place have a spa?”
“Not officially, but the commander’s quarters comes with a giant jacuzzi. We can totally share!” Dash pointed at Jack and nodded towards the griffon mech. “Top it off for her, wouldja? There’s a babe.”
“Top it off!?” Jack pointed at the mech. “We’re not exactly made of experimental mecha-jet fuel, y’know! How is she gonna pay for all this!?”
“Aww, don’t worry about it! She’s a friend, right? We can help her out just this once.”
“That’s not what I’m—”
Dash waved the remote in her face. “Come on, Jack. Don’t make me use the clicker again.”
“Yes... ma’am.”
Jack watched as they flew off together, hoof-in-talon, singing loudly and off key. She ground her teeth together, but walked over to the refueling station and dragged a giant hose out of a hatch in the wall.
 
 
An hour later Jack stood next to the griffon mech, watching the diagnostic computer as it printed out data. She glanced at the fuel gage every now and then, but focused on the diagnostic. Damage reports, mechanical stats, internal components... nothing particularly unusual.
Come on... there’s gotta be something here I can use. Anything.
A door on the far side of the bay opened and laughter drifted back. Jack straightened up and poked a button on the console, hiding the display. Dash and Gilda landed nearby with fuzzy towels draped around their necks.
“Heyyy!” Jack leaned against the console, obscuring it with her body. “So, what’re you two doin’ back so soon?”
Dash nodded outside. “Gilda and me were gonna go raid the ’rax and plink bottles for awhile.”
Jack stared at the Griffon. “You want us to give you guns.”
Gilda hugged Dash’s neck. “Calm down. Just goin’ on a playdate with my numbah-one playmate.”
Dash shoved her aside with a giggle. “Oh, you!”
Gilda nodded up at the mech. “So is it all gassed up?”
“It’s, uh... not yet.” She shook her head and looked away. “Still needs a little more time.”
“Cool.” Gilda glanced at something behind her. “Hey, is that a diagnostic computer?”
Jack rolled her eyes. “Yeeeee... nope. It’s a... soda... ball... detector.”
Gilda and Dash stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. Jack shuffled her hooves.
“You got a funny streak after all!” said Gilda.  “Seriously, thanks for giving it a tune-up. It’s been years since I had a really good engineer take a look at it.”
“And she’s the best engineer there is, too!” said Dash. “You’re lucky to have her.”
“Well... shucks.” Jack managed a hesitant smile.
“I really appreciate the help,” Gilda said with a smile, “but if you reverse-engineer any of its internal systems I will kill you. Like... so dead.”
“Yeah, she’d do it, too.” Dash nodded outside. “Want a tour of the barracks?”
“Would I ever!” She followed Dash outside. “Hey, you got any more of those P-22 Sickles lyin’ around? I love shooting two of those at once. Makes me feel like I’m in that one movie.”
“What, seriously? You’d have to be some kinda crazy psychopath to try that!”
“Naaah, I do it all the time. You just gotta install the right recoil modification... they’re gonna make that standard when the P-24 comes out next month.”
“No way! Cool!”
 
 
Jack walked into the mess hall and opened up the refrigerator. She took out a jar of applesauce and set it on the counter. What a day.
“Hey.”
She looked up and saw Gilda rummaging in a nearby cabinet. “Oh... hey.”
Gilda took out a box of breakfast cereal and poured it into a bowl. “Got any milk?”
Jack opened the fridge again and looked inside. “What kind do you prefer? Skim, two percent?”
Gilda put the box away and carried her bowl to the table. “Homo?”
Applejack pushed her head into the fridge and scanned the cartons, looking for homogenized milk, but saw none. “Sorry. No homo.”
“Aww.” Gilda looked down at her bowl. “Two-percent is fine, I guess.”
“No wait! I didn’t mean—” Jack’s head snapped up and banged against the underside of the freezer door. “Aaaugh!!”
Gilda stood halfway out of her chair. “Jeez! You okay there?”
Jack hugged her head and scrunched her eyes shut in pain. She simply waved at her, dismissively.
“Kay.” Gilda sat back in her chair. “What’s the big deal?”
Jack staggered out of the kitchen as quickly as she could, groaning in pain.
Gilda rolled her eyes. “Aw, come on. Don’t make me get the milk myself.”
 
 
Jack put the industrial floor-polisher in park mode and twisted around in her seat. The floor of the command center’s main bay sparkled brightly, and a fresh pine scent filled the air. She drove the polisher into a side garage and took out a portable line-painting machine. She tied the harness around her shoulders and began pulling it across the floor like a plough. She measured out the distance, positioned the sprayer perfectly, and turned it on. She took one step forward just as Dash and Gilda marched past, both covered from head to tail in a thick layer of slimy, filthy mud that tracked on the floor.
Dash laughed. “Man, I can’t believe you did that! I mean, at first I thought you were joking about pushing me in... and then you went and actually did it, and I was all like ‘duuude, no way’!”
Gilda took hold of her wing and wrung it like a sponge, dribbling mud all over the floor. “Aw, that was nothing! Remember when you started climbing back out, and I reached over to help you up? And then you were all like ‘I’m gonna pull you in here too’ and I was all like ‘no way!’ And you said ‘had you going there didn’t I?’ And then... and then...!” she doubled over, laughing.
“And then I actually pulled you in!” Dash said. “Was that priceless or what!?”
“I wish I’d seen the look on my face!”
“Hey, you wanna take another bubblebath together? We’re both pretty dirty after all that sweaty mud wrestling.”
“Sounds like a great idea, you dirty girl you. I’ll grab some snacks while you start the water.”
They walked out of the bay together. Jack stared down at the thick trail of mud and filth they’d left in their wake. She took the harness off and threw it against the ground with a light clatter.
 
 
Gilda walked out of the commander’s private quarters, releasing a wall of hot steam into the corridor. She paused to stretch her wings out with a satisfying crick. When the steam cleared up she saw Jack directly in front of her, dressed in a heavy suit of powered armor and armed with a massive, boxy assault rifle. A pair of headlights on the front lit up, casting bright cones through the remaining mist.
“Hey,” Gilda said with a wave. “You know where they keep the snacks? We’re all out.”
Jack’s voice crackled through the external speakers. “I’ve got a few words for ya.”
There was a savage feline roar, followed quickly by the sound of a steel blade being sharpened. A trio of glowing swipe-marks hung in the air for a moment, and Jack watched as the front third of her rifle slid apart into several neat little slices.
Jack stared at the weapon, then at Gilda. She was already walking away, waving at her from behind.
“I’m so glad we had this talk,” she said.
Jack stared at the smoothly shaved pieces of her rifle scattered about the floor.
“Warning,” said a calm, robotic voice inside her helmet, “internal biowaste collection system is at full capacity. Please visit nearest pastry depot to request standard upkeep and maintenance.”
 
 
Jack crept to the end of a darkened corridor and peered into the command center’s secondary resource bay. The lights were off, but she could hear the faint rustle of feathers and the scrape of talons against metal. She glanced back over her shoulder one last time before sneaking into the room.
Come on... I know yer in here somewhere!
She hid behind a set of shelves and snuck around the edge of the room. She froze when she caught a slight trace of motion. She lifted a video recorder and turned it on: she could make out a bird-like silhouette standing across the room, next to a huge stack of sealed crates. The griffin glanced about casually, then grabbed one of the crates.
“Aha!!” Jack switched the lights on and leapt between the shelves. “I caught ya dead to rights, ya no good mineral-rustler!”
Gilda gave her a bored look. “D’you mind? I’m kinda busy here.”
“You don’t fool me,” she said, “I worked as a sheriff for six years before I joined the army and I know the law like the bottom of my own hoof! That there crate is full of refined, military-grade hyper-sugar, and it’s the property of the Confettirate space-navy!” She patted her video recorder. “And if I show this to the Commander, she’ll have no choice but to throw you in prison forever!”
Gilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. Whatever will I do now?”
Jack stepped towards her. “Look, I know you’n Dash go back a ways, but ever since you showed up discipline has been thrown out the window. You’re a security risk and a liability, and we can’t afford to have you around anymore.”
“And what’re you gonna do about it? Have you seen my mech?”
Jack shook the camera at her. “If you agree to go away and leave us alone, I promise not to show this to Dash.”
Gilda stared at her, shocked. “You’re... blackmailing me? You used to be a sheriff, and now you’re blackmailing someone?”
“Well, ah... I mean...” Jack pawed at the floor. “It sounds bad when you say it like that.”
Gilda darted forward and put her in a headlock. “Aww, that is so adorable! You’ve never done this before, have you? I can kinda tell when it’s a mare’s first time.”
Jack struggled against her iron grip. “It’s not...! Let go of me, dag-nabbit!”
The door flew open with a clang and they both froze in place.
Rainbow Dash stormed in. “What’s goin’ on in here!?”
Gilda dropped Jack on the floor with a thump. “Nuthin’. What’s it look like?”
Jack shot upright and held out the video recorder. “I caught her stealin’ from us! She’s a no-good, low-down-dirty thief and a smuggler!”
“Yeah, so?”
Jack stamped her hoof. “You’re the commander aren’t you? So do something about it!”
“Fine, fine.” Dash marched over to Gilda and swatted her with a rolled up newspaper. “Bad griffin! Bad, evil, wicked griffin! You’re lucky I don’t give you a spankin’ for this.”
Gilda frowned at her. “A spanking? Seriously?”
“With a whip and everything, you naughty, naughty griffon! I’ll take you down to the brig and tie you up myself if I have to!”
Gilda stared off into space, blankly.
Dash swatted her on the beak. “Well? Whaddya have to say for yourself?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. What were we talking about? I was totally thinking of something else.”
Jack glowered at them both, grinding her teeth. “You can’t just let her off the hook for this. She broke the law! I’ve shot ponies for less than this!”
Dash put the newspaper away. “Yeah, well, I’m sure she’s learned her lesson.”
“What? No I haven’t! I’m naughty!”
“Awww, you!” Dash reached up and ruffled her feathers.
Jack cleared her throat. “If’n y'all will excuse me, I gotta get back to work now. At least somepony here has to keep an honest day.”
“Yeah yeah,” said Gilda. “Good luck with that.”
“I’ll be in the main storage gay of the command center if y’need me. Try not to cause any more trouble.” She turned to the exit, but spun around at the last second. “Bay! I said bay!”
Dash and Gilda watched her for a moment. “Yeah, we heard you. So?”
“Nevermind I gotta go now s’cuse me!”
Jack bolted out of the room, but stopped in the hallway. She went back to the door and peered inside: Rainbow Dash was hauling the discarded crate off the floor and putting it back on the stack.
Maybe I’m wrong about her... maybe it’s just me.
Dash kicked the stack of crates with her hind leg. “Oopsie!” she said as one of the crates tumbled to the floor next to Gilda.
Gilda cracked her knuckles and tapped the crate. “Well, lookie what I found!”
Jack bolted off down the corridor. I knew it.
 
 
Jack turned to the micro-engineering bay’s only table and unfurled a massive sheet of shiny paper, then set a mug of hot cider on one of the corners to keep it from curling up. She stroked her hoof over the detailed blueprints and scanned the densely packed lines. She stroked her other hoof against her chin.
A deep tremor shook the room. Bits of dust fell from the ceiling, and the hanging lights swung back and forth. Jack slammed a hoof on the table, then stormed out of the room. Alarms and klaxons blared over the intercom, and the calm, robotic voice began reading off damage reports. She grabbed a heavy shotgun with a massive drum-magazine and stormed outside muttering to herself.
A shadow flitted across the ground and a massive spray of fiery explosions wracked the clearing: a few stray missiles smashed into the domed roof of the command center, raining hot shrapnel everywhere. A sleek space-fighter zoomed overhead, transformed into a griffon-shaped robot, and flew low over the ground: the mech hovered in place, wobbling slightly, and strafed an empty patch of ground with a pair of heavy assault autocannons. Several of the shells went wide and spattered the wall of the barracks with giant searing holes.
Jack threw her hat on the ground and marched down the ramp, firing her shotgun at the giant mech. “This is the very last straw! You come down here this instant!”
The mech turned towards her, wobbly, and dropped to the ground with a shuddering quake. Jack ignored the impact and continued marching towards it, still firing her shotgun. The solid metal slugs pinged off the armor plating with a spray of sparks.
“I don’t wanna hear a single word out of you! You may be Dash’s best friend since forever, but I think you're the most irresponsible, untrustworthy griffon I’ve ever met in my entire life! We’re trying to fight a war of survival, and all you can think about is bubble baths and stealin’ minerals! If I were the commander, I wouldn’t even bother to bring you back to prison: I’d jest drag you out to the wastelands and put a slug in your head, right then and there, because that’s all you’d deserve!”
The mech reared up slightly. Its missile launchers shifted position.
Applejack tossed her shotgun aside and waved at her. “Go ahead and gun me down, all helpless like! See if I care! Maybe then Dash will finally realize what a horrible, selfish varmint you are! Maybe after she learns the truth about you, she’ll get back to her real job... saving the whole dang galaxy! She might even be able to do it, too, even if it cost her her life... but I wouldn’t expect you to understand that sort of honor!”
The front of the cockpit opened up, and Rainbow Dash looked down at her.
Jack worked her jaw back and forth a few times.
“I asked if I could play with it,” Dash said, quietly. “She was thinking of giving us the blueprints so we could make our own anti-air dudes”
She swallowed a lump in her throat.  “I didn’t... I mean... aw, shoot.”
Dash’s lower lip trembled. “Well tell me how you really feel, why don’t you?”
“Look, I didn’t mean it that way!”
Dash flew out of the cockpit and landed next to her. “You really believe all that, don’t you? You really meant it.”
Jack looked at the ground. “This wasn’t how I wanted it to go down.”
Gilda flew out of the command center and landed nearby, holding up a laser target designator. “Hey, wanna try calling down an air-strike? It’s just like launching a nuke!”
Dash looked away. “I dunno.”
Gilda glanced between them. “What’s goin’ on? Something wrong?”
“Well... y’see...”
Dash stepped forward. “Jack thinks you might be... a bad influence.”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re the one that taught me how to smuggle stuff through blockades and sabotage thingies with homemade bombs.”
“Yeah, and that’s cool and all, but... you’re also distracting me from my duties as a commander.”
“So? We haven’t seen each other in years.”
Dash scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, I know, but we’re kinda... fighting a war. Sort of.”
Gidla spread her arms to each side. “You’re always fighting a war! You think that’s ever gonna change?”
“But this one’s different! A whole planet got blow’d up, and now there’s aliens everywhere. That’s never happened before, and if we don’t win... well...”
“Yeah? What?”
Dash pawed at the dirt. “Well, I don’t know what’ll happen if we don’t win. But I don’t think we’ll get a second chance.”
Gilda stared at her, silent.
“Look, we’re still friends... right?”
Gilda nodded. “For sure. I didn’t know things were so heavy right now, and I didn’t mean to distract you or anything. It’s just been so long since we got to hang out, and... I really missed you. I guess I got a little carried away.”
“Aww!” Dash chucked her chin, gently. “Why don’t you call me up when we’re done with the mission? We can hang out then!”
“That’d be great.” Gilda glanced at Jack. “I mean, if I’m still welcome here.”
“Aw, shucks. Yer welcome back anytime.” Jack picked her hat off the ground and dusted it off. “I think I misjudged you somethin’ fierce... I’ve met a lot of low-down dirty rascals before, and I guess I thought you were just more of the same. Sorry I judged ya like that.”
“Nah, it’s cool. I know I act all hard and stuff, and I’ve done some things in my life...” She grabbed Dash and put her in friendly headlock. “...But I never forget my friends!”
 
 
Half an hour later, Gilda set out in her vehicle’s mecha-mode and walked across the island. Jack followed along in her SCV, and Rainbow Dash circled overhead at a leisurely pace.
“Gotta say, that’s a mighty fine ride you got there,” Jack said over the intercom. “Were you kiddin’ about giving us the schematics?”
“Ha! Are you serious? This old thing is a total junker. It’s nowhere near as good as what the pegasus air force was using ten years ago.”
“Maybe so, but it’s better than nothing.” Jack grinned. “Besides, it’s not the vehicle that matters... it’s the pilot.”
“You got a point. Hey, how about I give you the schematics for just the missile launchers? You can design your own vehicle, then slap ’em right on. They’re great for anti-air.”
“Anti-air, huh?” Jack stroked her chin. “Vehicles are cool... but I bet it’d look even better on a turret. Maybe throw some advanced sensors in there, just fer good measure.”
“There’s the butte,” Dash said. “That means we’re halfway across the island.”
“I’ve got a dropship parked up there,” Gilda said. “Just gimme a few minutes to load up my mech, and I’ll be out of your hair for good.”
Dash waved at the SCV. “Hey, can that thing fly?”
“Naw. I’ll wait down here while you finish up.”
Gilda’s mech extended a pair of thrusters and hovered in the air while it transformed. The space fighter flew up and landed on top of the mountain, right next to a heavily modified dropship. There was a camp set up around the glowing green tree: little more than a portable communications tower surrounded by sealed barrels and fold-up work tables. Dash landed nearby and wandered through the makeshift camp while she waited, poking at the various tools and bits of equipment.
Gilda came over, wiping her talons with a rag. “Hey.”
“Yeah. Are you gonna be okay?”
“Don’t worry about me, babe. I can take care of myself. Though you might wanna have a talk with that engineer of yours... she’s pretty overprotective of you.” Gilda leaned close and whispered. “I think she might be a little gay, too. Are you cool with that?”
Dash nodded. “Of course I am. I just don’t think she’s figured it out herself, yet. I’ll try to let her down easy.”
“Hope it doesn’t come to that. She’s got some serious self-confidence issues.” Gilda set a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “You take care of her, alright? It’s rough crushing on somepony who just isn’t into you.”
“True, dat.” Dash smiled at her. A moment later, she looked away. “Hey. That mission you’re doing. I know you can’t talk about it, but—”
Gilda smirked. “It had nothing to do with you. Don’t worry: I promise I won’t come gunning for you.”
“Cool. I didn’t want there to be any bad blood, y’know?” Dash glanced at a nearby barrel. “Hey, what are you doing up here?”
“Just grabbing some vespene.” Gilda opened the barrel, revealing a bubbling mass of glowing green syrup.”
Dash set her hoof on the edge of the barrel and peered inside. “Freaky. Hey, should we be wearing masks or something?”
“Yeah, probably.”
Dash nodded down. “What’s it do, anyways?”
“It’s good for all sorts of super high-tech stuff. Advanced vehicles, upgraded weapons and armor, high-powered fuel... there nothing in the galaxy that can’t be improved with a little vespene.”
“Whoa... how much you got here?”
Gilda wiped her nose. “About a hundred units. It packs up pretty tight after you refine it.”
“Huh.” Dash stared into the liquid. A rippling wave of green light lit her face from below.
“Anyways, I gotta get going.” Gilda took hold of the barrel and tried to pick it up, but Dash’s hooves stayed on the edge. “Like. Soon.”
“Right, right. Sorry.”
Gilda gave the barrel another tug. Dash’s grip held.
“Dash?”
The pegasus looked up, slightly dazed.
 
 
Jack sat bolt upright as an alert sounded through the SCV’s cockpit. “Whoa! What’s goin on out there? We under attack or somethin’?”
She turned towards the sheer rock walls of the butte behind her. She saw Rainbow Dash dive off the edge of the cliff at full speed, struggling under the weight of a chemical barrel.
“Whoooo-whoop-whoop-whoop!”
Jack activated the external speakers. “...Commander?”
“Get back to base! Go-go-go now-now-now!”
A long chain of red-hot bullets streamed down from the top of the cliff and tore divots out of the ground. Jack adjusted her camera view and zoomed in on Gilda, armed with with a massive assault cannon. She had a black eye and appeared to be swearing profusely.
“What’d ya do!?”
“No time!” Dash shouted. She ran over, balancing a giant barrel on her back. Bright green liquid sloshed out of the top and splattered on the ground, sizzling. “We gotta get back to base as soon as possible!”
Jack swung the SCV’s vice-grip around and loaded the barrel onto her cargo deck. Dash landed on the SCV’s head and pointed forward. She reared up and shook her hoof defiantly as assault shells peppered the ground around them. “Yeah, that’s right! Who’s the boss now, bird-brain!?”
“You stole from her!? After all that, you stole from her!”
Dash leaned back on the SV’s head, resting comfortably. “Naw, s’cool. We prank each other all the time. She’ll get over it.”
“You call this a prank!?”
Dash shrugged. “Who cares? It’s not like there’s anything she can do about—”
“Sweet merciful Celestia tap-dancin’ on the tea-table!”
“What?” Dash looked back just as a sleek, metal shape lifted off from the butte and streaked towards them. “Oh, yeah... forgot about that.”
“You forgot? You forgot!?”
“Ooh... missile pods.” She kicked the top of the SCV’s head. ‘Yeah, you’re gonna wanna speed up pretty soon, Jack.”
“This is as fast as it goes! You can’t expect me to out-race a freakin’ space fighter!”
“Huh.”
The space fighter bored down on them and unleashed a swarm of missiles: bright white contrails curved through the air, and a barrage of explosions devastated the area all around them. Dash pointed both of her P-22 ‘Sickle’ machine pistol at the sky and sent out two streams of low-caliber bullets. Sparks ricocheted off the ship’s lower hull and several tiny fragments of armor fell through the air.
“Yeah, you like that? Well do ya? I didn’t think so! Try that again and we’ll see what happens!”
One of the missiles slammed into the SCV directly, blasting its midsection apart in a fiery explosion and sending all four legs flying through the air. Dash landed on the ground, then grunted in pain as Jack landed on top of her. They rolled onto their backs, covered in ash and gasping for breath.
“Y’owe me a new hat,” said Jack. “So what’s the plan now?”
“Okay... yeah, I can still fix this. All I need is a flashlight, a boomerang, a bag of flour, and two ballpoint pens.”
They both winced as the barrel of vespene gas slammed to the ground nearby, spinning slightly before settling into an upright position.
“New plan,” said Dash.
 
 
For the next fifteen minutes the two ponies carried the barrel between them, moving as quickly as they dared. The barrel wobbled back and forth and the contents sloshed about wildly, leaving a splattery trail of radioactive bio-chemical sludge. Gilda’s space fighter wheeled overhead and its thrusters howled like a hound come hot from hell.
“Left! Left!” Jack screamed.
Two rows of explosions bombarded the ground to either side of them, filling the air with shrapnel and smoke. The barrel leaned to one side, threatening to tip.
“Other left!!”
“Stop complaining!” Dash shouted back, “we’re almost there! Besides, she’s almost outta missiles!”
A storm of metal spikes tore apart the ground ahead of them.
“And when’s she gonna run outta bullets, huh!? Answer that one!”
“Just keep going! We’re almost there! Just a little more!”
They ran up the ramp of the command center, and a streak of ricochets followed their heels. They leaped inside and collapsed in a heap. The barrel tumbled forward and fell on its side, clanging like a bell. The remaining vespene splashed across the floor in a large pool of sticky, hissing sludge.
Dash leaped outside and dove into a nearby bunker: she grabbed the handles of a gigantic minigun bolted to the window, and a steady stream of fire blasted out of the muzzle. She swept the weapon across the sky several times and Gilda’s starfighter swerved back and forth slightly. A segment of its starboard wing exploded violently, and the ship flew away from the outpost trailing smoke.
Dash climbed onto the roof of the damaged bunker and reared up high. “Wooooo!”
“Ahem.”
She looked down at Jack, standing at the base of the bunker. She was staring up at her, sternly, and most of her face and neck were covered in glowing green goo.
Dash glanced around, and her smile faded slightly. She climbed off the bunker and stood next to Jack for awhile. She looked at the barracks across the way, then pawed at the ground. When she looked back at Jack, she was still glaring at her, waiting for a response.
Dash cleared her throat. “I feel so irrational.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“So confrontational,” she said, nodding her head. “To tell the truth I am... gettin’ away with murder!”
Jack stood perfectly still, glaring straight ahead, while Dash hopped around her in a little circle.
“It isn’t possible! To never tell the truth! But the ree-ality is I’m gettin’ away with murder!”
Jack turned to the command center and trudged up the ramp without a word. Dash continued to follow alongside her, simultaneously head-banging and moonwalking.
“Nah na-na-nah na-nah! Nah na-na-nah na-naaah! Gettin’ away with mur! Dur!”
Jack threw a mop at her stomach hard enough to knock her onto her floor with a grunt, then dumped an empty bucket on her head.
“What the...? Hey! What’s the big...” She nudged the bucket up and looked around the bay. The floor of the command center was covered with a gooey pool of bright green slime. She lifted her hoof up and wiped it against her side, smearing herself even further.
“Aww fudge,” she said. “Now I’m radioactive or something. That can’t be good.”