“The Fall brought eternal winter, and when the seasons stopped changing and the sun stopped rising, years didn’t have much of a meaning as a word no more. A pony was a foal when she could only hide, a filly when she could run and hide, and a mare when she grew strong enough to to run, hide, and fight. Older than that... well, nobody lived long enough for that to be a problem.” -Granny Glasses, Memoirs of a War Horse
*****
"Sergeant."
Reese jerked awake, heart hammering as if he'd just run a marathon. He struggled to his hooves, wiping sweat from his brow and fatigue from his eyes. Jiffy was standing before him with an impassive expression, clearly the one who'd waken him from his troubled dreams. He couldn't be sure when he'd dozed off or for how long, but it must have been hours judging by how the other ponies in the tree castle's ground floor were packing up their belongings. The chamber was a hectic scene of organized chaos as soldiers and families made their final preparations for facing the grueling conditions outside. The only two who had yet to join the medley were Reese and the Colonel. He raised his hoof for a salute, but she waved it away.
"I hope you slept well, Sergeant. Cantare's ready for you."
"Yes, ma'am," Reese muttered as he fell in behind the colonel. She led him up a flight of stairs, past pegasi guards wielding thundersticks and earth ponies armed to the teeth with party cannons of calibers that could punch a hole through galvanized steel. Some, like Reese, were dressed in camouflage and thin vests for protection. Occasionally, one or two would be armored much like Jiffy, wearing heavy sets of pre-war platemail--relics of a past age. Riley and a fellow dog awaited them at the final checkpoint, the hounds dutifully sniffing at the hooves of the pony intruders before sitting back, apparently satisfied. As they left the dogs behind, Reese and Jiffy moved into a winding, ascending hallway of magnificent stained glass windows. Through manufacture or magic, time had yet to dull the vibrant colors or even dim its sparkle. Reese stared in awe, his jaw dropping at the kaleidoscope of colors bathing the hallway.
“What is this place?”
“A castle that once belonged to a princess before the Fall.” Reese had slowed to gawk at a scene depicting brilliantly colored ponies of every race caught in moments of heroic deeds. Others were of fantastical beasts or monstrous foes. He tore himself away to trot back to the colonel’s side as she continued her spartan explanation. “She was known to value knowledge, so we came here looking for information.”
“What happened to her?” Reese asked as they came to a stop in front of a simple wooden door. To either side, the windows held dark images of alicorns in flight casting beams of many hues at an insidious figure of shimmering black and neon green while snowflakes decorated the borders.
“Nopony knows.” Jiffy glanced up at the relief of the black and green alicorn and she knocked on the door with a heavy thud of her armored horseshoe. “The last record we have of the princesses is their magical banishing of the Changeling race after the second invasion.”
“Changelings. You mean the bugs, right?”
“Not as such, no.” It wasn’t the colonel who answered, but a new voice who spoke in a rich and soothing baritone as the door opened wide. There stood a stallion, haggard and weary but stocky and solid. His physical features were bland; warm, earth-colored coat and similarly dull mane cut short and brushed back. His face was heavily scarred, with deep gouges in his cheek and scalp, and though he would never be called handsome, he held a rugged confidence that drew others like a magnet. His cutie mark was a microphone, hardly what one might expect from a battle-hardened leader, but the iron look in his ashen eyes put a sudden stop to any doubts of his capability. Don Cantare spoke with an air of wisdom, as if he were sharing the secrets of the universe. “Changelings, dangerous pests though they were, still had emotions. They had empathy, though they chose to ignore it, and thus were sent from the realm.”
He ushered the two inside his sanctum, a small library that would have put entire universities to shame with its accumulated wealth of texts. An ornate desk decorated the center of the room, piled high with tomes, and a fireplace crackled merrily on the far end. Other than the three soldiers, the only soul within was a withered old bespectacled unicorn of deep blue, huddled next to the fire with a gaudy magician’s robe wrapped around his shoulders.
“The princesses kicked those tricksters out by their rumps, exiling them to the far north.” Jiffy continued the story as she took a place by the center table, with the unnamed unicorn moving to sit across from her and the leader of the resistance at the table’s head. “But they didn’t stay exiled. And when they came back, they were... different. Horrible.”
“Whatever they encountered in the Frozen North transformed them into unfeeling predators.” The unicorn stallion spoke up with the monotone drone one might expect from a school math teacher taking roll call. “Unfeeling, but not unthinking, for when they struck it was with sudden and overwhelming force against the only foes who could stand against them.”
“The princesses.” Jiffy touched a hoof to her skull and each shoulderblade. “Canterlot and our allies to the north were turned to blocks of ice overnight. The ponies there never stood a chance, may they rest in peace.”
“But Changelings or not, they’re not unbeatable.” Reese said with a scowl.
“No.” Don gave a fleeting smile. “No, they’re not. We’ve fought them tirelessly, relentlessly, for the sun knows how many years.” He ran a hoof across an unfurled map that lay prominently on the table. Former cities and current shelters dotted the page, with many locations crossed out in red. “We’ve gathered our own into an army and cleansed our cities of their hives with fire and blood.” Don turned away from the table, peering into the hungry light of the fireplace. “And now, at long last, we have a chance to strike at their beating heart.”
“Our scouts report an unusual bug structure in the center of Old Canterlot.” Colonel Jiffy’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If Jargon here’s research is correct, this may be their communication center, what we’ve taken to calling the Skyweb.”
“Imagine, if you would, every drone mind suddenly cut off from the collective,” Jargon said, appraising the Sergeant as if he were grading responses. “No longer could their soldiers move as one. No longer could their workers maintain the hives. Queens would lose control of their hives.”
“It would be the end,” Reese spoke in awe. “One victory would win us the entire war. It... it would be over.”
“Indeed. In scant hours, we will be fighting the most important battle of our lives, perhaps even our species’ existence. Which brings us to you, Sergeant Reese.” Don returned to the table, steepling his hooves. “You are the finest soldier I have in my command. Your record is exemplary, and your dedication second to none. I trust no other pony as implicitly as I do you.”
Reese’s chest puffed out, and he held his head high. “I won’t let you down, sir.”
“I know you won’t. That’s why you won’t be there.”
Reese nearly fell over, hiding his confusion and hurt behind clenched teeth. “Sir? Is there a reason why I won‘t be joining the battle?”
Don’s answer was to slide a book across the table. Reese needed only a single glance. “That’s Cookie’s journal.” He could still taste the blood from the cover, when she’d chosen to save it rather than herself.
“Jargon’s deciphered her notes for us regarding your last scouting mission. It seems the bugs understand their plight and are developing a defense.”
“Ah, yes, you see,” the unicorn cleared his throat, taking a deep breath, “the location and apparatus she describes make it quite clear that the royal sect have taken a great interest in recently rebuilding the Starswirl the Bearded section of the library. These spell matrices here, for exampl-
“Jargon says they’re making a time travel spell.” Jiffy cut off the diatribe, receiving a scathing look from the scholar.
“...Indeed. Though the energy required for such a spell rises exponentially as the volume of the matter displ-”
“And they can only send one drone through it, most likely an infiltrator.”
Reese tapped at his chin, his eyes on the journal but his mind a thousand miles, and years, away. At last, he shook his head in disgust. “Too many variables. We’ve been catching infiltrators for ages now. Three of them just lately. Too early, and the resistance is too small and mobile for them to have any info on where to hit. Too late, and we’re too well experienced. I don’t see how one more would hurt us that badly.”
“Adept at strategy as ever, Sergeant.” Reese tried not to glow too much from Don’s approval. “But tell me, what were those three infiltrators after?”
“Well... you, sir.” Reese snorted. “It don’t take a strategic mind to know you’re the blood and balls, no offense ma’am, of the resistance.”
Jiffy hid her smirk behind a hoof. “None taken, Sergeant. Don’s influence cannot be understated. Even the Old Guard has rallied under his banner.”
“The common ponies, as well.” Jargon pushed his thin-framed lenses back into place. “Cantare is a legend amongst them. The hero of the masses.”
“You built this army with your own two hooves, sir. Of course the bugs are gonna be gunning for you.”
“And what if I were out of the picture?” Don queried, but Reese shook his head.
“Nah, it’s too late. The snowball’s already rolling. If they took you out tonight, we could still end this war. They’d have to...”
Reese trailed off as comprehension hit, leaving Don to finish the thought. “...kill me before I’d begun the resistance. Before the war.”
“If you never fought back... I’d be dead. Most everypony I know could say the same. Can they do that?” It took effort for Reese to keep his voice steady. “Is there any way for them to know when and where to hit?”
“No.” Reese let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, but the resistance leader wasn’t finished just yet. “But they won’t have to. Do you recall the hive we struck back in Las Pegasus?”
“Yeah, they’d holed up in the town hall, up to the thorax in books. We thought they were eating the paper.”
“Those were the records for the city’s pre-war population. The names and descriptions of every pony in the city... including my mother.”
“Her identity is no secret among the resistance,” the colonel admitted. “With Cantare’s popularity, it’s only natural that her legends almost outshine his own.” Jiffy’s armored hooves dropped down onto the table with finality. “We believe the bugs are going to send an infiltrator back to kill Don Cantare’s mother before he’s even been born.”
“And judging by the progress they’ve shown, we’ve scant time before their work on the spell is complete.” Jargon closed his textbook, a severely disapproving frown adding extra wrinkles to his face.
“Which is why our camp, and all others we are in contact with, have already begun to move out, and will be striking at the Skyweb as soon as possible,” Don added, looking at Reese expectantly.
“...drawing their defenses away from the spell chamber, leaving my team free to strike.” The three powers behind the resistance nodded their approval. “What if I can’t stop them from activating the spell in time?”
“The complexities of a fourth-dimensional leap of this magnitude will require considerable casting time.” The scholarly stallion consulted a scroll before launching off into another lecture. “Several minutes, at the very least. Should you feel a dramatic increase in ley energies, I urge you to reach the center of the spell circle and disrupt the focal point.”
“The fokking what?”
“The omphalic mass, of course.” More blank stares. The exasperated magician threw up his hooves. “The time travel bug.”
“Would a grenade disrupt it?” Reese asked, but Jargon shot him down with a barking laugh.
“Not at all. The spell would remain undeterred, though I suppose it might injure the drone.”
“Not enough, if it’s one of the armored versions.” Jiffy chimed in. “If there‘s still enough of it left to move after, it’s too dangerous.”
“Explosives aside, your best option would be to simply increase the mass over their energy capacity. I‘d have to draw up a few estimates, but-”
“Would a pony’s worth of mass do?” Reese asked quietly. Jargon shifted uncomfortably before answering.
“More than likely, yes. Though I feel it prudent to warn you, success would mean either death by magical overload or by being torn apart and scattered across the fabric of reality. Or dragged along the drone’s temporal wake, or-”
“I get it. However it goes down, it’s a one way trip. Back-up plans don’t have to be pretty.”
Colonel Jiffy saluted, peytral ringing as her steel shod hooves clashed against it. “Due to the highly dangerous nature of this mission, I cannot in good conscience order you to do this, Sergeant.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m volunteering, then,” Reese said as he returned the salute before turning to the leader of the resistance, speaking with the conviction of one prepared to die. “You can count on me, sir.”
Don Cantare gave him a cryptic smile, melancholy but accepting.
“I know.”