• Published 17th Apr 2012
  • 14,075 Views, 904 Comments

Falling Stars - Rokas



A cosmic accident has brought two 31st-century mercenary units to Equestria. Any hope for peace is destroyed as greed flares and battle lines are drawn, and the ponies find themselves thrust into the horrors of war. Will they rise to the challenge?

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Chapter 18 - Battle of Dawn's Ridge

Author's Note:

As usual, some hyperlinks in the text lead to entries at Sarna.net, a BattleTech wiki. Also as usual, the articles need not be read to enjoy the story, they are merely provided for the curious to see how the BattleMechs are supposed to look, and to give additional information about background elements from the BattleTech universe. Reading them is entirely optional.

A few links to songs on YouTube are also provided, but consider this one for all the air-to-air scenes.

Desperadoes Main Column

Sunrise Mountain Range, Equestria

September 27th AD 3070/1023 RC


It was a beautiful day in Equestria. Sunlight poured down through partly-cloudy skies to illuminate a lush countryside of rolling, grass-covered hills, patches of forest, and picturesque streams, through which a column of robotic war machines marched towards combat.

Garth O'Connell frowned as he rode in the cockpit of his Battlemaster, the 85-tonne 'mech secure in the middle of his forces. The sound of dozens of 'mechs tromping through the unspoilt terrain was loud enough to be heard even through the ferroglass cockpit; the constant, dull roar a soft background noise to his own 'mech's footfalls and the rumble of its engine. And that's all I'm hearing, the rogue mercenary thought, as he glanced over the multi-function displays on his control console. Two days. We've been marching two days, and the only fighting we've had was from the griffons skirmishing with that pegasus scout group.

The thought of the small fight the previous day made O'Connell briefly shake his head. They know we're coming; can't really get air superiority over creatures that can just duck down and wait for your fighters to pass, after all. He looked up at the holographic HUD then, and scanned the image that compressed the three-hundred sixty degree surroundings into a one-hundred eighty degree arc a half-meter from his face. Moving in lance groupings around him were the remaining operational 'mechs of his battalion, minus Thompson's Spider, per O'Connell's earlier decision. Also, it doesn't hurt to leave someone behind to keep the locals in line, the major briefly mused, before his thoughts returned to the march. Are they just going to wait and hole up in their capital? That doesn't seem like McKenna, if what we've heard about him is true. Yet you'd think he would have come at us with a hit-and-run by now. O'Connell snorted briefly. Not that it'd do much.

His confidence was, for once, well-placed. The griffons supporting his campaign had suffered during the attack on Canterlot—I hate that name. Stupid ponies and their damned puns—and much of their posturing had faded as a result, leaving them more susceptible to his direction. Although reinforced the very next day, the heavy toll inflicted by the pony defenders and McKenna's forces had knocked the more antagonistic griffon leaders down a peg, leaving toms like Garadan to successfully advocate closer cooperation with the humans. And a damn good thing, too, O'Connell mused, as he cast his eyes upward and saw flights of the predatory beings moving through the air, providing cover against another pegasus dive-bombing attack and scouting ahead, to the sides, and even to the rear of the Desperadoes, just in case the enemy tried to take them off-guard. This let O'Connell concentrate his light and fast medium 'mechs into a tighter formation, which consequently decreased their usual vulnerability to being singled out and taken down one-by-one, as so often happened to scout 'mechs operating in restrictive terrain. And it lets me use them as a fast response force, as well, Garth thought, with a smirk. This is a good set-up; plenty of scouts to screen the main body and give fair warning of incoming attacks, fast-reacting mobile lances for reacting to probes, and a core of slow mediums and heavies to lay the hurt on any serious attempt.

So... where the Hell is McKenna? O'Connell grunted to himself, and his mood darkened. He's up to something, dammit. Either that, or his reputation is completely undeserved. The uncertainty ate at his peace of mind, and the closer they got to their goal the more the mercenary worried. Thus impelled, he reached out to his communication controls and switched channels on his radio. “Desperado Actual to Valkyrie One,” he said, over the air support frequency.

“Valkyrie One here,” the voice of Zachary Carver answered, sounding right into O'Connell's ears.

“Seen anything yet, commander?” O'Connell asked, his tone gruff.

“Nothing yet, Actual,” Carver replied. “The only thing I'm seeing in the sky are clouds and our griffon friends. Haven't had any hits on look-down radar yet, either, though McKenna could be using that ridge you're approaching to keep our sensors from picking him up.”

O'Connell grunted at that, as he couldn't really disagree with the statement. Hell, it's probably even true, the MechWarrior thought. I'd rather just go around, but the damn thing runs for dozens of kilometers and it'd add another day to our march if we took the long way. “Understood, Valkyrie One,” O'Connell said, aloud. “How long until you need to head back for refueling?”

“Actually, I was about to call you about that,” Carver said. “We could be good for another hour, but by then you'll be right in the middle of that ridge. I'd rather head back and top off our tanks before then so we can stay in the air if you hit anything.”

“Very well,” O'Connell replied. “Call Valkyrie Three and Four and have them launch so they can cover us while you land and take care of that.”

“Yes sir,” Carver said. “Valkyrie One out.”

* * * *

James McKenna frowned a bit as he watched the dust plume of O'Connell's 'mechs approach the ridge his own 'mech stood upon. He knew next to nothing about the enemy's exact disposition, as none of his forces were using their active sensors at the moment, and that lack of information concerned him. What if he's dispersed, instead of concentrated? James asked himself, as he shifted uncomfortably in his command couch. What if he's using an unconventional organizational scheme? The intel they had pulled from the downed 'mechs in Ponyville and their captured pilots hadn't shown anything along those lines, but the commander was naturally cautious.

“You look worried,” a voice said, and mildly startled the mechwarrior. Soon enough, however, James remembered the passenger in his cockpit's fold-down seat, and he turned his head—slowly, due to the bulky neurohelmet he wore—to regard Twilight Sparkle sitting there.

“Not so much worried as concerned,” he said, and then turned his head back around to face forward; a much more comfortable position given the weight of his helmet. “All the planning we've done so far has been good, but I can't help to remember the first law of combat: no plan survives first contact with the enemy.”

“So I've read,” Twilight observed.

Although she tried to hide it, James could hear the note of nervousness in her voice. “Having second thoughts?” he asked, albeit without turning his head this time.

Twilight was silent for a moment before she replied. “Not exactly,” she said, softly. “But it is kind of intimidating, knowing that a real battle is almost here. I'd be more worried but...” she paused, and then sighed. “Knowing that Rainbow has already been through something like this and is still mostly herself is somewhat comforting, at least. If she can do it, then so can I.”

James grunted at that, as he glanced over his various MFDs. “Aye, Rainbow Dash has already been in battle,” he said, his tone a bit quieter than usual. “She's seen people die, seen what can happen to her own person.” James briefly paused, and then shook his head. “Her innocence is gone, and nothing can bring it back,” he added, and then glanced over at Twilight again. “You, on the other hand, haven't seen the absolute worst yet, and I worry.”

Twilight found herself blushing again, and she looked down at her front hooves as her forelegs dangled over the edge of the restraining harness that secured her into the seat. “We're not as innocent as you might think, you know,” she said, quietly.

“Probably not,” James quietly agreed. “But you are innocent of things like war, miss Sparkle, and it doesn't make me happy to think that you'll be a different person by the end of the day.” And that I'll be partially responsible for it, he silently added, as a surge of protective feelings washed over him. Confound these ponies and their adorableness.

An uncomfortable silence met his words, and then started to grow awkward as time passed. Eventually, though, Twilight sighed. “Maybe,” she softly said. “But... I had to do something.”

“You could have went with the rest of your friends and help in Canterlot,” James suggested.

“True,” Twilight agreed. “But Pinkie, Rarity, and Fluttershy are much better at that sort of thing than I am. And while I'd love to join with Applejack and help set up that 're-arming point' you spoke of—and trust me, if there's one thing I can do, it's organize,” she added, with a brief smirk. “I just felt like I needed to do more.”

“You've done plenty already,” McKenna observed, and then glanced over to the mare with a raised eyebrow. “Those new spells you helped develop, especially one entirely on your own in a day... I don't think any one person in the Dark Horse could match that sort of skill and dedication. I doubt anyone back home could, either. That's something special.”

Twilight Sparkle blushed at that, and she glanced to the side. “I... thank you,” she said, as she looked back to the human. “But as much as I've done, it doesn't feel like it's enough. Not until I've gone out and faced the same, terrible things others have seen.” Twilight glanced out the canopy at that, and then sighed. “Like Shiny.”

James heard the sad, wistful tone in the mare's voice, and a thought entered his head. “You're really close to your brother, aren't you?” he asked.

Twilight startled a bit at the sudden change of topic, but calmed just as quickly. “I guess it's kind of obvious, isn't it?” she asked, with a sheepish grin.

“Something like that,” James said, with a chuckle. “Trust me, I know what you're going through,” he added, and then sighed. “I feel like that whenever my wife or daughter go into combat, with or without me; that feeling that urges you to do as much as you can, to take as many burdens on yourself as possible, and to be perfect in everything you do just so you won't let them down.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, with some awe coloring her voice. “That's it, exactly,” she added, and then smiled warmly at the human. “It seems you and I think a lot alike. You're also a lot deeper than you get any credit for.”

James smirked at that, as he gave the pony another sidelong look. “Careful now, I am a married man after all,” he said, and then laughed as Twilight furiously blushed. “Sorry, I had to do that,” he explained, tactfully. “You just made it so easy.”

“No wonder Dash likes being around you humans,” Twilight replied, with an odd expression that was a mix of irritation and amusement. “You guys act so much alike it's scary.”

“Well, we've got a saying back home,” James replied, with a grin. “'Great minds think alike'.”

Twilight frowned at that. “Really? Because here I've noticed a lot of smart ponies can have really different views on—”

A wave from James cut the unicorn off. “It's tongue-in-cheek, miss Sparkle,” he explained. “It's a bit of self-conscious boasting; something we say to act as if we're somehow a 'great mind', even though we know that's not really true.”

“Oh,” Twilight said, and blinked her eyes a bit as she understood. Then she smiled and chuckled. “That's pretty clever, actually.”

James opened his mouth to reply, but was preempted by three long beeps that sounded over the specific, old-style AM channel he had his communications console monitoring. Mirth drained from his face and was replaced with serious thoughtfulness as he shifted in his seat and resumed a proper stance for the control of his 'mech. “They're almost at the op point,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily, as Twilight had been there when the plan was laid out to princess Luna. Still, it's good to reiterate things to make sure everyone's on the same page, the MechWarrior thought. “Make sure your belts are fastened, miss Sparkle, because from here on out it's going to get rather interesting.”

* * * *

“You know, it's the waiting that kills me.”

Alexis Shepard sighed at that. “You just had to use that turn of phrase, didn't you?” she asked, with a glance to her Grand Dragon's passenger. “Do you want to jinx us?”

The beige unicorn in the spare seat rolled his blue eyes. “Look, I'm just trying to keep from being bored,” he stated.

“Running that spell isn't keeping you occupied?” Shepard asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Not especially,” the stallion replied, with a shrug, as the sky blue glow around his horn remained steady. “Once it's cast, maintaining it is easy enough.”

“Even against radar?” Shepard pressed.

The stallion frowned at her. “Look, miss Shepard,” he began. “We worked with your people on this back in Ponyville. Haystacks and horseapples, Twilight Sparkle herself pretty much ended up writing the thing after she organized and collated all the information we got from the tests. Trust me, this spell will work.”

Shepard scowled at the unicorn for a moment, but soon sighed. “Yeah, I know, Wash,” she said, and then shook her head. “But sitting here, watching them come... it's nerve-wracking.”

Desert Wash grunted at that, as he turned his head to look out through the canopy. “Well... you have me there,” he allowed, as he watched their quarry approach. “It doesn't seem right to just sit here and wait for them to come right up to us.”

Three tones sounded in the cockpit, and Shepard's face split in a feral grin. “Well, you'll be happy to know that'll end soon,” she said.

Desert Wash gave her a dubious look. “Just how soon?” he asked.

“Don't worry about it,” Shepard replied. “Just be prepared to shift those spells of yours once we break cover. I'll handle the rest.”

The stallion looked a bit uncomfortable at that, but he nodded. “Yes, ma'am,” he said, obediently.

* * * *

A sigh, muted by distance, nevertheless twinged Melissa McKenna's nerves just a bit as she readied herself for her wingmate's inevitable protest. “This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done,” Eddie Rodriguez grumbled, his tone somewhat petulant.

“Will you give it a rest, Eddie?” Melissa called out, as she pulled herself out of the lackadaisical slouch she'd been in while she rested in her Stuka's cockpit. She then turned and cast a tired look across the dozen or so meters that separated the two fighters once she was upright. Both pilots had their canopies open in order to talk without needing to use the radio, and so the conversation was easy enough for them to accomplish. “Just trust my dad's plan, okay?”

“Easy for you to say,” Rodriguez retorted. “It's bad enough we have to sit and wait like big, fat targets,” he said, and then paused as the roar of a fusion rocket passed in the distance. “But sitting here?” he added, with a wave towards the white, fluffy surface their heavy fighters rested upon and were utterly surrounded by, breaking all lines of sight. “Can you consider that it's just a little bit nerve-wracking for me to be sitting in the middle of a freakin' cloud?”

Melissa couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that. “Calm down, Eddie,” she said. “We're fine so long as our friends hold out,” she added, and then glanced back to her fighter's spare seat, wedged in behind her own. Although not a true two-person fighter as it lacked a any control systems for the passenger, there was more than enough room in the 100-ton Stuka for a single rider. “Speaking of which, how are you doing back there, TW?”

Corporal Trade Wind's initial response was just to grunt, as a bead of sweat dripped down his face. “Well enough, miss McKenna,” he replied, after a moment. “Channeling my pegasus magic into this craft is tiring, but I used to do heavier work on the resupply run to the Grainland weather station.”

“Even with just one wing, huh?” Melissa asked, in a concerned tone.

Trade Wind managed to smile up at her. “While wings are needed for control, propulsion, and to focus sufficient energy for flight, any pegasus born can channel enough latent magic through the rest of their bodies to rest on clouds, or pull chariots and carts through the air,” he explained. I'm sure she's already been told this, since we're sitting here, now, the wounded stallion thought. But I recognize a distraction from worry when I see one. Hailbait, I need one myself. “Besides,” he added after a minute, and then let his smile turn into a grin as he raised his voice. “I'll be damned if I don't last longer than Downburst!”

“As if you could, you lazy son of a mule!” the voice of Rodriguez's passenger called out. A yellow-maned, purple stallion poked his head up over the edge of the other Stuka's cockpit at that. “Even missing a wing, I'll still beat you any day of the week!” he added, with a smirk.

Melissa laughed at that, and even Rodriguez managed to crack a smile. Then the warning came over the radio, and both pilots blinked in surprise before they promptly dropped back into their seats. “Get ready to go, TW,” Melissa said, as she pressed the control to close the canopy. “When we get the last signal, all Hell's gonna break loose.”

“I'm ready,” Trade Wind replied, stonily. “Hay, I was born ready.”

“Glad to hear it,” Melissa replied, with a chuckle, as she fastened an oxygen mask to the helmet she wore. “I hope you pegasi can really take the G-forces like Dash said you could.”

“All that, and more,” the guardspony replied. “I just hope your fancy machine doesn't disappoint.”

Melissa paused at that, and then glanced back. “Is that a challenge?” she asked, her voice muffled by her mask.

Trade Wind grinned. “Maybe,” he replied.

“Well then,” Melissa said, as she turned around, and then cracked her knuckles as she began the engine's warm-up procedure. “It will be my pleasure to show you how air support is supposed to work.”

“We'll see,” the stallion allowed.

* * * *

Reikou Ozawa shifted her eyes and used a series of eye-blink commands to switch her battle armor's radio back to normal, and then slowly shifted her arm back to tap a gauntlet-covered hand on the shoulder of her compatriot. “Message sent,” she said, over the external speakers. Her voice barely carried over the thunderous sound of 'mech footfalls, but she saw her fellow Kage trooper nod at her statement. “Time to call targets,” Ozawa added, as she shifted back around so she could lie prone once more upon the ground. Although her armor's stealth systems tended to make it slightly unnecessary to take such additional precautions, the veteran nevertheless had such paranoia drilled into her while fighting against the Clans.

“I've got my eye on a Thunderbolt coming up on our right,” the other soldier, Dale Harrison, replied, without looking back. “Looks like he'll pass right in range.”

Ozawa consulted her suit's HUD, and then nodded to herself. “Sounds good,” she agreed. “I'll take the Starslayer on our left.”

“Roger,” Harrison said, and then sighed. “Pity that bastard O'Connell's too far away,” he muttered, just barely loud enough to be heard. A few moments of silence—at least from the two troopers—passed before he spoke again. “So, how much longer 'til we unmask?”

“Just a little bit more, Dale,” the Combine-born trooper replied. “Remember what the commander said: 'Wait until we can see the whites of their eyes.'”

* * * *

Nothing but breathing and the soft rumble of an idling fusion reactor could be heard in the cockpit of the Stuka. Their radios were silent as all members of the Dark Horse and their allies patiently waited to spring the ambush, and both Melissa and Trade Wind had felt the tension grow until even idle conversation halted. Funny, dad always compared this moment to feeling like a race horse waiting in the gate, Melissa thought, with a smirk. Seems so much more appropriate now, she added, as then went over her fighter's systems on a secondary MFD one more time.

Suddenly, her radio crackled. “Black Eagle One: Execute!”

“Roger wilco,” Melissa replied, as she triggered her radio for the first time that day. A quick flick of a switch on her throttle changed channels, and she spoke next to her wingmate. “Alright, everyone,” she said, knowing that the ponies riding along could hear her through their own headsets. “This is it! Go go go!”

The world seemed to turn inside out at that, as Trade Wind cut off his channeled magic. Gravity took over instantly and the sensation of a sudden freefall made Melissa's stomach want to evacuate her last meal. She had fortunately learned to subdue her body's whims on such matters at the academy, and her conscious mind merely took in data as the Stuka emerged into the clear air beneath the cloud bunker and the ground came into focus two kilometers below. Rodriguez's fighter was alongside, and both were starting to shake with turbulence as their wide wings were not designed for a vertical drop.

Better fix that, Melissa thought, even as she pushed her control stick forward and dropped the Stuka's nose until it was pointed straight down. Rodriguez matched her, and they both throttled their engines into life at the same time as their dive continued.

* * * *

“Contact! Valkyrie Three has contact!” Samantha Leblanc shouted over the radio, her tone one of panicked alarm.

“Where the Hell did they come from?” came the voice of her wingmate.

“Details!” O'Connell shouted, even as he brought his Battlemaster to a halt. “What and where are they?” he asked, as the battalion halted around him.

“Two fighters, they're right on top of you heading straight down!” Leblanc replied. “Oh shit, are they going kamikaze?”

“What!” O'Connell shouted, unnerved by the possibility of his foe turning suicidal.

Such ideas left his head immediately as a voice from his ground forces sounded: “I'm being painted!

* * * *

TAG, you're it,” Ozawa said, with a smirk, as the pun tickled her fancy. The Target Acquisition Gear that replaced the support-grade machine gun her suit usually carried under the left arm illuminated the Starslayer she'd targeted with an infrared laser, while it simultaneously transmitted general enemy location information on a secure frequency to any friendly units that could use the data. Like a fighter loaded with laser-guided bombs, the trooper thought, even as she triggered her radio. “Targets are pickled! Drop drop drop!”

* * * *

Melissa heard the call come in, and would have breathed a sigh of relief, had she even a picosecond to spare for anything but her mission and the rapidly approaching ground. The Stuka's battle computer immediately took in the information from the two Kage troopers' TAG systems and marked the painted targets on her HUD with simple identifiers. “I've got 'Alfa',” Melissa snapped, even as she nudged her fighter to the left a bit until the aiming reticule drifted over her target, and then thumbed her bomb release over and over again; ten times in all.

Her fighter shuddered with the release of ten tonnes worth of heavy ordnance, and not a moment too soon for the pilot. She pulled back hard on her stick, throttled her engines to their maximum rating, and then grimaced as the G-forces threatened to pull all the blood from her head. Melissa's flight suit inflated around her legs and waist to prevent a blackout, for which she was grateful as she had no plans in furrowing a crater in Equestria's surface. She instead managed to level her Stuka out at a mere twenty meters above the treetops, and then finally indulged in a brief, relieved sigh. “You still there, TW?” Melissa asked, even as she glanced at her holographic HUD's condensed view to ensure that Rodriguez had followed her out of the dive.

“I'll let you know when my balls drop back out of my body,” the crippled pegasus replied. “Sweet Celestia's teats, I thought we were going to hit the ground!”

“Yeah, dive-bombing is always hairy,” Melissa replied, as she cut her throttle back to a safe setting and then began a turn. Rodriguez followed her movements easily, and she smirked as her HUD painted two targets in the air several kilometers away. Our pals from Canterlot are back, she thought. Pity they'll have to wait their turn. “Hold on to your horseshoes, Windy,” Melissa said, as she finished assuming a reciprocal course. “Because we're going to trim some hedges.”

* * * *

Ozawa winced as every one of the laser-guided bombs slammed into the targeted Starslayer. Each 1000kg bomb blew a sizable chunk out of the BattleMech's hide, and three blasted into the lightly-armored top and back of the enemy war machine to tear at the interior. The shielding around the medium 'mech's fusion reactor was blown away in an instant, and the backlash of escaping plasma sent a tremendous crack ripping through the air before the gutted war machine collapsed into a smoldering ruin.

Another, louder series of explosions sounded behind her, and Ozawa had just enough time to turn around and see the Thunderbolt Harrison had targeted virtually evaporate as one bomb ripped apart the right torso and set off the 'mech's SRM ammunition. A massive orange-white fireball of detonating explosives, missile propellant, and fusion plasma blew apart the heavy 'mech like an over-ripe melon, and its two massive arms flew off to either side, one of them striking a nearby Shadow Hawk in the leg.

She wanted to stare at the spectacle; she wanted to cheer. However, a trio of weapons-grade laser beams cut through the copse of trees the two armored soldiers had used to cover them from being visually spotted, and Ozawa grimaced at how close one came to hitting her suit.

“I think they know we're here,” Harrison spoke over their shared comm circuit, even as he stood. A stream of bullets from a 'mech-grade machine gun punctuated his words as it ripped apart a tree no more than a meter distant.

“No shit, Dale!” Ozawa shouted back, even as she turned and started to run. “Let's get the Hell out of Dodge!”

* * * *

O'Connell cursed as he saw his shots go wide. Damned stealth armor! he mentally railed, even while one of his lancemates—remaining lancemates, he remembered, as the Starslayer was now a burning pyre—turned her attention to the pair of battle armored troopers and fired her Merlin's medium lasers at the foe. Unfortunately for the Desperado MechWarrior, the Kage armor's stealth capabilities kept a BattleMech or tank from gaining a solid lock, and so the shots simply blasted apart a pair of hapless trees. O'Connell wanted to scream at this, and the temptation to do so rose as he saw both suits take to the air on their jump jets and deployed the specialized wings that granted them longer jump distance than most other kinds of battle armor could manage.

So this is his plan? O'Connell thought, as Kilroy quickly performed his executive officer duties and gave out orders to watch the periphery of their column. Bomb us? It can't last, and as powerful as aircraft are, they can't win a war by themselves. The rogue mercenary snorted, even as he reached over to switch channels on his radio. “Valkyrie Three, call Valkyrie One and Two in from the airbase and then engage those fighters,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Leblanc hesitantly replied, as she no doubt remembered that the Stuka outclassed her fighter in every respect save raw maneuverability, and that was only thanks to the Lucifer's lighter mass. “Be advised, they appear to be turning in for strafing run.”

“Understood, Three,” O'Connell replied, and then summarily switched over to the battalion-wide channel. “All units—” he began, but was unable to finish as new alarms triggered in his cockpit when a nearby rock outcropping vanished into thin air.

* * * *

Johannes “Hermes” Schneider winced as he watched two 'mechs disintegrate under the impact of devastatingly accurate dive-bombing. “Damn shame they couldn't get O'Connell,” he muttered, as he spied the enemy commander's Battlemaster a good hundred meters beyond the Kage's TAG range.

“Are we going to get him?” the voice of his passenger asked, and Schneider glanced over to the unicorn mare riding shotgun. The odd contrast between her blue coat and two-toned orange mane made the human blink a bit, and the pony huffed. “We've been sitting here for hours, please tell me we're going to kill the head badguy?”

Schneider looked back out through his cockpit, and then sighed. “Sorry, Firecracker,” he said, evenly. “I'd love to, but he won't be close enough when we break cover,” he explained, and then raised his hand. “Speaking of which, prepare to switch spells on my command.”

“Yes, sir,” Firecracker Burst replied, her tone sullen but otherwise respectful. “Just say when.”

The human nodded absentmindedly, and then triggered his radio. “Hammer group, prepare to drop cover and engage on my mark. Target 'mechs with anti-infantry weapons if you can,” Schneider added, and then began his countdown. “Three, two, one, mark!”

His passenger heard the order as clearly as did the others in the task group, and the orange-ish glow around Firecracker's horn faded briefly, only to reestablished itself an instant later. Schneider didn't bother to watch, however, as he stared out of the cockpit and watched as the carefully crafted illusion spell dissipated and was replaced by a bubble shield that surrounded his 'mech. Great, I trade the fuzzy half-vision of the blind for the effect of looking at the world through purple sunglasses, Schneider mused, as he used Hands-On-Throttle-And-Stick controls to set his sensors to full active. The HUD, already crowded with many passive contacts, now filled with numerous red squares that denoted enemy BattleMechs.

Schneider paid it little heed, however, as he turned his 'mech and aimed its lasers at the backside of an enemy Phoenix Hawk. Worry later, work now, the MechWarrior thought, even as he pulled the weapons triggers for his large lasers. A wave of heat filled the Firestarter's cockpit while both beams speared into the back of the enemy 45-tonner and tore away what little armor it mounted over its right and center rear torsos before they began to work on the enemy machine's insides, slagging support structures and, in the right torso, blasting apart one of the 'mech's jump jets. Schneider attempted to capitalize on this with his medium laser, but the smaller weapon shot low and instead only slagged armor on the foe's left leg.

Not enough to put it down, the intelligence officer realized, even as the waste heat leaking into his cockpit started to become intolerable. Schneider hesitated for a moment as he considered using his rocket launchers, but soon gave a mental shrug. When am I going to have a backside shot again? he asked, as he remorselessly aimed the dumbfire rocket pods, and then pulled their triggers.

Two clouds of unguided missiles streaked out from the Firestarter's torso and slammed into the back of the Phoenix Hawk. A cluster of the rockets smashed into one of the arms, while another blasted the right leg; a third went wide. A smaller, fourth cluster, however, raced in with deadly finality and tore into the center torso, where their warheads set off the enemy's machine gun ammunition, and the Phoenix Hawk died a quick death as its torso was rapidly blasted apart from the inside-out.

Now bereft of an immediate target, Schneider glanced to his HUD and watched as Mendoza and Griffin combined their respective 'mech's lasers and missiles to rip apart a Javelin, while Shepard's Grand Dragon unloaded its ER PPC, LRMs, and medium lasers on the side of another Phoenix Hawk, though none of the fire was able to get through the ablative armor. Still, the guy has to be hurting, Schneider mused, even as he promptly pushed his throttled forward to the stops and turned the Firestarter for a nearby growth of heavy forest. “Next nav point, Hammer group!” he shouted, after he triggered his radio. “Move before they bracket us!”

“Incoming!” Griffin's voice sounded on the radio, and Schneider glanced over his HUD to see several clusters of LRMs arcing through the sky.

Looks like they're faster on the ball than we hoped, Johannes thought, as he glanced to the unicorn panting in the sauna-like cockpit. “Hold on, and don't try to kill yourself,” he said.

“Like Tartarus I will!” Firecracker replied, and then screwed her eyes shut to concentrate on the shield she was generating. “I just hope Sparkle's trick works,” she muttered just before LRMs hit. Fortunately, only eight of the fifteen-missile salvo fired at Schneider's Firestarter actually maintained their lock, and though Firecracker grunted and grimaced in pain, she managed to hold the shield up through the explosions. “Hah! Did it!” she crowed, as she opened her eyes to smirk at the human pilot.

“That's great, kid, but don't get cocky,” Schneider replied, as he juked the 'mech to the left to avoid being speared by a particle cannon.

“Don't worry, I got this,” Firecracker boasted. Then she let out an involuntary scream of pain as several lasers and particle cannons impacted the shield and drained her energy reserves.

Schneider couldn't even spare her a thought, however, as the shield-denuded energy weapons ripped into the Firestarter's arm, leg, and rear torso armor from several different angles. Several hundred kilograms of armor were blasted or melted away, and the resulting shift in mass nearly caused the gyro keeping the 'mech upright to destabilize. Schneider responded as a true veteran MechWarrior, though, and he twisted in his seat and forced his own senses of balance and kinesthetics to shift. The neurohelmet read this in his brainwaves and then fed the correction into the Diagnostic Interpretation computer, which readily broke down the new data into commands to the 'mech's various motive and control systems. The end result that came out of this dance of mind, flesh, metal and electrons was that the Firestarter remained upright, on its feet and moving forward despite having endured a fearful kinetic shock.

All of this occurred in less than five seconds, and during that time Schneider kept his 'mech moving forward at high speed. “You okay, Burst?” he asked, unable to spare a look to the pony as he concentrated solely on his 'mech's displays and handling. Shield's down, hope she's alright, hope we don't die, his mind barely managed to piece together.

“Mmm'kay,” Firecracker Burst replied, hazily. “Wow, even with the cut-out, that took everything out of me.”

A wave of nearby explosions punctuated the mare's words, and Schneider could only scowl as he watched the shield around Shepard's 'mech dissipate. I guess it was too much to hope that single, regular ponies could hold up to modern firepower, even with the new spells, he thought, for the moment completely devoid of the usual incredulity he displayed towards magical jargon. Still, he added, as he ploughed the Firestarter through the outermost trees of his selected refuge, we're back in cover now; time for the next phase to start.

* * * *

Gregory Kilroy felt sweat pour off of his body as his cockpit reached temperatures more suited for an oven than the command center of a modern war machine. Worth it, though, he thought, as he watched the effect of his two PPCs slam into one of the strange, purple energy fields surrounding the Grand Dragon that had blasted almost all the armor off of one of the battalion's Phoenix Hawks. Even now the 60-tonne machine returned fire by twisting its torso, moving its arm back, and firing its PPC straight into the arm of the Desperadoes' single Vulcan, stripping away all armor and withering the internal structure down to a skeletal spur that barely kept the machine gun mounted to the frame.

What the Hell are they using? Kilroy asked himself, as he saw that his particle beams had only a minor effect on the heavy 'mech's armor. They're like the shields the white one used, but those blocked the shots completely. These almost seem to be draining power or some—

He blinked as a memory came to mind. They're copying the Detonator Grid from the Colosseum! Kilroy thought, and then shook his head in silent admiration. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, even as he pressed the throttle of his Marauder to its cruising speed. A few flicked controls soon placed him back on the battalion's radio net. “All units, be advised that the enemy seems to have copied some Star League Lostech,” he announced. “Those of you who watch the Solaris VII feeds ought to recognize it. Make sure to mass fire on them to take them down.”

Scarcely had he finished speaking when large explosions started walking their way across the Desperadoes' formation.

* * * *

Melissa lightly clenched her jaw as she pressed her Stuka ever lower to avoid being detected by the enemy ground forces while she began her approach. Not to mention it keeps those Lucifers from getting a solid lock on us, she thought, as trees and low-lying hills passed beneath, and sometimes to the side, in a blur.

“This is utterly insane,” Trade Wind shakenly observed from the back, his body tensed in fear as he saw the landscape move by at a rate only the fastest of pegasi could even think of attempting.

“Yup,” Melissa replied, evenly, as she saw the battlefield come up. “Don't blink,” she added, and then thumbed her bomb controls for the second half of her load; unguided bombs, colloquially known as “dumb” or “iron” bombs. The HUD projected in front of her painted the limited data her battle computer could piece together about the enemy formation, and Melissa only had a brief moment to adjust her approach so that she could try to hit as many 'mechs as possible.

Then she was upon them, and her thumb jammed hard on the bomb release. Unlike with the laser-guided weapons, though, she only needed to press it once, as the fighter's battle computer was programmed for such occasions and knew to release the remaining ten bombs in sequence. The Stuka shuddered as it passed over the Desperadoes and rapidly dropped the last of its external ordnance. Melissa felt the fighter actually rise in the air as it no longer carried such a heavy load, and she grinned as the controls lost their sluggish behavior.

She glanced to her HUD's aft view at that, and her practiced, trained eyes took in the scene: a trail of black clouds caused by her bombs rose from the enemy formation, and although many of the weapons only hit dirt, a few had blasted large craters in BattleMech armor. Then Rodriguez's Stuka soared over the Desperadoes an instant later, coming in at a slightly different angle than Melissa in order to maximize the number of foes they could hit. His bombs dropped in a perfect string to blast several more 'mechs, and one even landed amidst the formation of ponies who had thrown in their lot with O'Connell.

Melissa winced at the loss of pony life, but quickly returned her mind and attention to her piloting. They picked their side, now they can pay for it, she remorselessly thought, as she rolled her fighter to the right and then began a long, high-speed turn. “Still with me, Windy?” she asked, with a raised voice so she could be heard above the noise of the Stuka's screaming engine and the passage of wind over the hull.

“Well, I'm not curled into a ball and crying,” Trade Wind replied. “Yet,” he added, with a dry chuckle.

Melissa couldn't help but give a brief chuckle of her own at that. “Good, because it's going to get warm in here,” she added, as she switched her HUD from bombing to ground-attack.

* * * *

“Bloody Hell!” O'Connell groused, as the ringing in his ears finally started to fade away. A glance to his 'mech's armor diagram showed that a rather large chunk had been taken out of the left shoulder, and he cursed again. If we stay out in the open, we'll be pecked to death by airstrikes, he thought, even as he switched his radio on. “This is the major to all commands, resume the advance,” he ordered. “Accelerate to forty-five km/h and make for the ridgeline.”

A short chorus of acknowledgments from the various lance commanders came in, though this was followed up by a quick notification light on his communication console. O'Connell grunted as he switched over to the private frequency he shared with Kilroy, even while he pushed the Battlemaster's throttle forward again. “What?” he snapped.

“Boss, the infantry won't be able to keep up,” Kilroy said, immediately. “There's too much thought gone into this damn attack for us to go without—” he said, but was interrupted as a rain of laser fire poured from the heavens. Four solid beams, and two intermittently flashing ones strafed over the middle of the Desperadoes' formation, slashing into more 'mech armor. This occurred in less than a second before the beams ceased and the screeching roar of an aerospace fighter thundered overhead. Then the incident repeated itself as the second Dark Horse fighter made its run, and more 'mechs took damage from the airborne menace.

O'Connell cursed yet again. “Hold that thought, Greg,” the mercenary leader said, and then switched channels. “Valkyrie Three, why the Hell aren't you keeping those fighters off of my back?” he yelled, enraged.

“Working on it,” Leblanc's voice replied in O'Connell's ears. The Lucifer pilot sounded strained as she spoke. “Bastards keep going NOE and breaking lock.”

“Then drop your ass down and get in behind them!” O'Connell heatedly replied. “What the Hell do I pay you for if you can't even be a proper distraction?”

“Apparently, you pay me to auger my fighter into the ground, because that's what's gonna happen if I try engaging those nutjobs,” Leblanc countered.

“Well then, if that's the case,” O'Connell began, his tone almost pleasant. Then it turned hard and venomous as his anger bled through again. “Then when you hit the ground, make sure to plow a trench that'll make the Mariner Valley look like a papercut!” he thundered, while another strafing run passed over the battalion. “Just get those fighters off my ass!

A sigh was the immediate reply. “Understood, major. Moving to engage.”

“Good,” O'Connell replied, and then switched back to the battalion channel. “All units, press forward. McKenna's main force has to be around here, somewhere. Find them and let's end their little game.”

* * * *

A warning tone sounded in Melissa' ear, and she grunted. “Well, crap,” she muttered, as she pulled her fighter into a turn in order to pass between a pair of hills.

“What is it?” Trade Wind asked, from his seat.

“Those Lucifer pilots finally decided to pull their thumbs out of their asses and move in,” Melissa replied, as her eyes danced over the HUD. Her thumb flicked over a radio control, and she spoke again. “Eddie, switch to air-to-air and form up on me,” she ordered.

“Understood, Hothead,” Rodriguez replied, using Melissa's academy nickname. “Coming in on your right.”

“Roger,” Melissa replied, and then switched channels while she turned her fighter to skim along a ridge line. “This is Black Eagle One, calling Dark Horse Actual.”

“Actual here, report,” the voice of her father sounded in her ears.

“Enemy fighter cover moving to engage us,” Melissa spoke, in clipped tones as she watched Rodriguez nudge his Stuka in a loose trailing position, and further back the Lucifers as they dove ever lower and closer, trading altitude for speed. “I don't know when we'll be able to provide air support again.”

“Understood, Black Eagle,” James McKenna said, his voice terse. “Engage at your discretion.”

“Roger, Actual,” Melissa said, and then switched back to her wingmate's channel. “Get ready, Eddie, here they come.”

* * * *

Samantha Leblanc grimaced as she watched the top of a particularly tall tree come dangerously close to her fighter. Armored wings or not, you hit even a tree at these speeds and it will mess you up, she thought, as she returned her focus to the two Stukas she and her wingmate were now chasing. “Stay close and concentrate on the trailer, John,” she said.

“Copy that,” the other pilot replied, his voice gruff. “Start with LRMs or close to laser range?”

“LRMs,” Leblanc immediately replied. “We gotta get them off the ground-pounders' backs, so fire as soon as we're in range.”

John acknowledged the order, and both he and Leblanc fell silent as the last seconds ticked away, their bare speed advantage evaporating as they reached the same altitude as the Dark Horse fighters. By now the two groups of fighters had moved several kilometers north of the ground battle, and Leblanc figured that the enemy would try to turn back soon. Those fighters are their only way of dealing real damage to—

Her thoughts were cut off as the two Stukas abruptly slowed and then split apart, each of them taking a wide turn to either side. “Dammit,” Leblanc grunted, even as she turned her Lucifer to follow the fighter she'd designated as the main target. The other one will have open season on our asses, she thought, and then prayed that the leader wasn't the better marksman.

* * * *

Melissa's face was a torn mix between a grimace and a feral grin, as she saw the two enemy aerospace fighters turn to move in on Rodriguez. “Looks like you've got some fans there, Eddie,” she teased, although her tone was devoid of mirth.

“I noticed,” Rodriguez replied, even as Long-Range Missiles soared out and blasted into his Stuka's hide. “They're out of my tail guns' range, I could use some help,” he added.

“Already on it,” Melissa replied. Her HUD was already tracking on the closest Lucifer. The hum of a solid lock rang in her ears a moment later, and she wasted no time as she unloaded her entire forward-facing armament upon the medium fighter. The two large lasers in the Stuka's left wing missed low, but the two in the right wing and the LRMs worked to blast and slag armor from the smaller craft. The nose-mounted pulse lasers fired next, their beams flashing on and off like strobes even as their local targeting systems tweaked the lenses to spread the shots over a large area. The 'spray-and-pray' approach worked, and both lasers managed to land multiple solid hits on the Lucifer's tail.

This seemed to unnerve the enemy, and he broke off his pursuit of Rodriguez in order to try to escape Melissa's lock. His leader seemed to be unaware of the move, or at least hadn't ordered it as he continued to pour LRMs into Rodriguez's tail. This made the leader Melissa's next target, and she quickly shifted her attention over and then promptly fired off another volley. This time her LRMs failed their lock and missed low to blast a patch of the ground only a few dozen meters below. Three of her large lasers missed as well, though the pulse lasers and the one remaining large laser seared off large chunks of armor on the Lucifer's wings.

A warning tone suddenly sounded in Melissa's ears, and she barely had time to check her threat receiver before two clouds of LRMs blasted into her Stuka's left wing. The fighter shuddered around her, and it took a few harrowing moments to ensure that they wouldn't crash into the ground before Melissa pulled back and up, swinging her fighter through a high-G Immelmann turn. Her vision threatened to black out for a moment, but soon enough the maneuver was finished and the tone in her ears switched to a beeping noise. Melissa realized she had a moment before she was blasted again and thus checked one of her cockpit's secondary displays. “Ah, screw me with a wrench,” she said, after the battle computer identified the two new threats in the air.

“What? What is it?” Trade Wind asked, his tone a bit strained from the recent maneuver.

“O'Connell's boys have sharp teeth after all,” Melissa replied, her voice grim. She then took a moment to engage her radio. “Eddie, two Rievers inbound, warbook says F-700 model,”

“Shit,” Rodriguez replied. “And this pilot's still on my ass, though that smacking you gave him seems to have rattled his cage; he's been missing with the LRMs and I've got a good enough lead to lose him off my tail.”

“Alright then, let's try to break contact and head west to lead them away from the ground fight,” Melissa ordered.

* * * *

Zachary Carver grimaced as he watched his LRMs slam into the Dark Horse fighter. Why the Hell do things have to work out this way? he asked himself, while he turned his Riever to follow his opponents. The two Stukas hugged the nape of the land almost as if they were ground-effect vehicles and as a result were nearly impossible to target. Nevertheless Carver and his wingmate had managed to achieve a lock-on when the lead fighter had turned to aid his comrade, and thus had launched their first salvo in the war. Now if only that were the only one, the pilot mused, as he watched the Dark Horse fighters twist through the air while the two Desperado Lucifers broke north and moved to regroup.

“Looks like Leblanc and Mattherson got cold feet,” Zach's wingmate, Jurgen Poole, observed.

“Only for the moment,” Carver replied. “Let's give them time to get their nerve back. Follow me and let's keep the Stukas off balance.” And give them a chance to regroup as well. He knew it was a dangerous game to play, trying to fight just enough to satisfy one side without seriously hurting the other, but his conscience gave him little recourse. I hope you're right about your people's forgiveness, Seabreeze, because we're both going to need it after the day is through.

* * * *

I don't like this, Gregory Kilroy though, as he carefully guided his Marauder forward. His lance was leading the column now, as the screening forces of the lightweight third company had shifted to chase the Dark Horse 'mechs that had ambushed and killed two of their number into the woods on the left. The remainder of the Desperadoes were funneling in behind Kilroy's second company, or rather the majority of it; his fast “pursuit” lance was still at the rear of the column to screen against flanking attacks.

We've got a lot of force here, Kilroy reminded himself, as he swiveled his eyes down to look over the tactical display on his command console. But I don't like how fast everything has gone, like it's all planned. I can't help but think we're being herded... but towards what? McKenna has nine 'mechs, and we have over thirty still. He has to know this, yet he's still baiting us forward. Why? The unknown worried him, and Kilroy once again silently cursed O'Connell's decision to leave the small collaborator infantry unit behind. Only fifty or so, and they did take a hit, but any infantry would be better than none at all.

A shadow washed over his canopy and startled Kilroy out of his musing. His hands twitched the weapon joysticks upward, but then relaxed as he recognized the shape of a griffon. At least we have them, but I'm not sure they can be as good on the ground given they got their asses handed to them in the capital.

“Tanaka,” O'Connell's voice suddenly sounded, and a glance told Kilroy it was over the battalion's command frequency. “Have you found those ambushers yet?”

“Not yet, major,” Sara Tanaka, third company's commander, replied. “They've got a Guardian suite on their side and it's playing Hell with our sensors in these woods.”

“You should pull out back to the edge and watch our flank,” Kilroy chimed in. “If they don't want to be found, then they probably won't be so long as they have that ECM working. It'll be better to wait for them to come to us.”

“They killed one of my boys,” Tanaka hotly countered. “I want their heads.”

“And you'll have them,” O'Connell promised. “But Greg's right, you need to cover our asses while we approach the ridge.”

“Yes, sir,” Tanaka replied, heatedly. Despite her clear distaste, the icons of her company's 'mechs began to shift on the tactical map, and Kilroy allowed himself a mental sigh.

His relief didn't last long before the woods on his right erupted with light.


* * * *

The atmosphere was tense to say the least, as the sounds of explosions, firing guns, and discharging lasers echoed through the woods. The scream of fighters overhead made several veterans of Second Canterlot cringe, but otherwise the ponies of the Royal Army held their ground and waited. To say general Stonewall was proud would have been an understatement, but the red pony didn't let any emotion show on his face as he casually walked up and down the line of soldiers waiting for their cue. Most were unicorns, selected as their magic seemed to be Equestria's greatest weapon so far, but a number of earth ponies were mixed in as well, mostly to use and support the five recoilless rifles the detachment had received. And one ballista that, somehow, a team of dedicated and possibly demented engineers had managed to drag with them. The group of ponies from Equestria's deep south insisted that they had a plan to make the ancient siege weapon effective, and in the interest of not wasting time arguing about it Stonewall had relented.

Best worry 'bout that later, the general told himself, as he finished his impromptu tour and then nodded to himself. “Alright,” he said, loud enough to be heard up and down the line. “It's almost time fer us to shine,” Stonewall continued, as he turned around and started to walk back to the center of his formation. “Now you boys are supposed to be the best ponies in the guard, even in all o' Equestria. Frankly, I think that's bullcrap,” he said, and then paused to let the thought sink in. He only gave it a moment, though, before he turned his head to regard the ponies closest to him and smiled. “You're the best damn ponies in the whole bloody world!”

“Hoo-ah!” the soldier before him returned. None smiled, but Stonewall could feel the strength of their conviction through the brief yet emphatic statement.

“That's why I know we're going to win this war!” Stonewall continued. “I ain't ever seen a foe that Equestria can't handle. Griffons, minotaurs, diamond dogs, hydras, dragons, or even the occasional madgod; ain't none of them had the stones so far to end our harmony, and I ain't gonna see it happen on my watch, not when we got you fellas 'round here to stick it to 'em.

“An' that's exactly what we're gonna do!” Stonewall added, with a stomp of his right foreleg. “I don't care if'n the invaders got metal doohickeys forged in Tartarus itself, they ain't gettin' through today, nor tomorrow, nor any ol' day! Not so long as we're here!”

He paused then, as a cheer went up along the line of soldiers. Wish I coulda gave this speech to the guys with McKenna's force, Stonewall thought, as the cheers died down. But they got the big doohickeys to support 'em. “Y'all are the best damn ponies I ever served with. Don't let me down by lettin' them aliens carry us today. When I give the order, I want y'all to unleash the wrath of the heavens on 'em! Can ya do that?”

“Hoo-ah!” came the shouted reply, and Stonewall could only grin and nod back.

“Good,” the general said. “Stand by and be ready for when I give the signal,” he ordered, and then turned and walked back towards his very temporary command post. If you could call it that, Stonewall mused, as the area he strode towards was little more than a small depression in the terrain behind a convenient log. It was rather important, however, as it gave a modicum of cover from the enemy's weapons and, more importantly, concealed Stonewall and his two aides from being spotted at range.

One of the aides looked up from a radio set loaned from the Dark Horse and spoke. “Sir, commander McKenna wished to speak to you.”

“By all means lemme talk to him,” Stonewall replied, as he moved over to the set and then picked up the handset when it was offered to him. He waited for a moment for his aide to work a few controls, and then spoke once he got a nod. “Stonewall here,” he said, into the human-made device.

“Almost time, general,” McKenna's voice sounded back. “Are your troops ready?”

“Ready and waitin' for their chance to kick back,” Stonewall heatedly replied.

“Good, because O'Connell's doing what I thought he would,” McKenna replied. “Remember, stick to the plan and run once they start zeroing in.”

“Don't worry, son, I ain't no idiot,” Stonewall replied, tiredly. “I know what to do.”

“Understood, general,” McKenna replied. “Give 'em Hell.”

“We'll give 'em more than that,” Stonewall promised. “You just make sure you don't leave our plots hanging in the wind.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” McKenna said, with a chuckle. “Take care general. You may fire when ready,” he added, last few words spoken in an odd tone.

Sounded like a Trottingham accent; humans are weird, Stonewall mused, as he passed the handset back to his aide and then turned to the other. “Flash, get up to the assault wing and coordinate; make sure they're ready to cover our redeployment.”

The addressed pegasus gave the general a salute. “Yes sir,” Sentry replied, and then turned to run through the forest towards a nearby clearing.

“Alum Salt,” Stonewall said next, as he turned his head to address his second aide-de-camp. “Get that thing packed up and start moving to the next rendezvous point; when we pull stakes it's gonna be quick.”

“Yes sir,” Salt replied, and then turned to carry out the orders.

Stonewall watched him for a moment, and then shook his head as he turned around and trotted back to the firing line. He picked up the instructions for that doodad pretty quickly, the general mused. Young'uns.

He put such thoughts out of his mind, then, as he could see through the trees and the blind spells ahead that the enemy war machines were coming into range. Stonewall picked up the pace and quickly moved to the center of the line, where his best troops waited. “Stand ready!” he called out, and his voice cut through the background noise like a knife. “Take aim!” he added, and then waited a few moments more as the unicorns not maintaining the blind powered up for the attack. Finally, the entire view of the fields beyond the woods' edge was filled with 'mechs, and Stonewall took in a deep breath. “FIRE!”

A wave of kinetic blasts rippled through the air immediately after Stonewall spoke, and even an earth pony like him could sense the static-like feeling of all the magic being unleashed. The multicolored orbs of concentrated magic soared through the air almost faster than the eye could track, and the effect they had upon hitting the Desperadoes' 'mechs was notable, as armor was scored wherever one such burst impacted. Scarcely had the magic had time to disperse when the echoing blasts of the hoof-made recoilless rifles washed over the scene, and several of the shells fired slammed into the enemy war machines with thrice the destructive force of any one unicorn's blast.

Barely had this salvo ended when a loud yell was heard. “YEEEE-HAAAWW!” sounded somewhere behind Stonewall, and he heard the familiar noise of a ballista being released. A shape flew over the front line before the general could turn around, and he barely had a moment to recognize it as a barrel with a lit lantern tied to it before the Jerry-rigged device reached the end of its arc and slammed into the side of one of the BattleMechs, whereupon the fluid contained in the barrel burst out, and then caught fire as the lantern shattered and its flame was exposed.

A round of cheers went up from behind Stonewall, and he turned his head just long enough to see the engineers working on the ballista celebrating their ingenuity. Why are all o' the ponies who build contraptions completely crazy? the general mused. He soon pushed such thoughts from his head as he returned his attention back to the battle in front of him, and he watched as the squads at his command immediately switched from full offensive to mixed shields—directional, of course— and attack spells.

The shields appeared just in time, as the first of the BattleMechs turned and rained laser fire at the pony lines. Both of the medium-caliber beams were easily dissipated, and their force was doubly returned as another wave of kinetic bursts raced out to hammer the Desperadoes. The recoilless rifles spoke again, albeit after a considerably longer pause; the new weapons were unfamiliar, despite some ponies trained with the Dark Horse spread amongst the weapon crews, and so their firing rates were much lower than a unicorn could maintain with a kinetic spell. Nevertheless, the soldiers were determined, and so another salvo of shells was soon sent downrange to impact upon the enemy.

Stonewall felt his hopes rise as he saw the BattleMechs' armored hides—what once appeared invincible—became more and more pockmarked with holes and craters. Still lotsa layers to go through, though, he reminded himself, as he recalled the very brief lesson the humans had told him about their ablative armors. But at least we're hurting them, and that one those engineers—heavens bless 'em—set on fire ain't gonna be happy.

Any further thoughts froze in his mind, though, as more of the enemy 'mechs turned their torsos and began to return fire. More lasers poured into the area, and they were soon joined by the blue-white beams of PPCs and streams of autocannon and machine gun fire. The additional and heavier weapons took their toll, and while many missed, enough hit to collapse shields and kill ponies. Stonewall himself was nearly deafened as one particle stream blasted into and through a weakening shield segment only a few dozen meters away. He glanced over after the blast and felt his heart wrench as he saw that an entire squad of guardsponies had been vaporized or wounded in the blast.

Time to go, the general thought, even as he took in a breath. “Fall back!” he bellowed, even as he began to back away himself. “Displace and fall back! Move to staging point Baker! Fall back to Baker!”

The ponies nearest to him began to move, even as they repeated the orders down the line. Several times they had to repeat themselves as the terrible noise of modern weaponry filled the air with thunder, but soon the soldiers collected the wounded and began to move back. Pride filled Stonewall's heart as he watched the Equestrian forces begin their withdrawal in good order despite the terrible pounding that they were starting to receive, although it was tempered with a great deal of sadness as he saw the casualties and fatalities mount. Damn it all, was all he could spare time to think, before he turned and ran back towards where he'd left Alum Salt. The silver gray unicorn had just climbed out of the little depression in the ground with the radio on his back when Stonewall came upon him. “Alum, we're falling back,” the general said without preamble. “Signal the assault wing and then help me keep these boys in line.”

“Yes sir!” Alum replied, and then concentrated for a moment. Magic built up around his horn, and then shot skyward in a pulse.

* * * *

“Holy heavens,” Spitfire murmured, as she gazed down upon the battlefield. This is insane, she mused, even as she saw the glittering beams, glowing traces, and missile trails of human weapons, while their horrendous noises and the screech of fighters fill the air.

“Yeah,” her second-in-command, Soarin, quietly chimed in from the side. “I can see why they called us all in for this,” he observed.

Spitfire could only grunt once in agreement. We heard it was bad out here, she thought, as recent memories of anxious days waiting in Cloudsdale for deployment orders came to her. But this... She shook her head in disbelief and sadness as the terrible weapons of the invaders fired deep into the woods where she knew the ground-based forces of Equestria were stationed. More memories came back, this time of the Wonderbolts' brief stop in Canterlot to meet up with the rest of the army, where the paramilitary group got first-hoof experience in viewing the aftereffects of 31st century weaponry.

How could anypony survive this? Spitfire wondered, as she glanced up to watch the small shapes of distant fightercraft arc and race through the sky. Then her eyes fell down to the ground again as another series of attacks lanced out from the woods to hit the invaders, albeit a smaller salvo this time. How could anypony stay sane after this?

The last thought bid Spitfire to glance over to the unofficial reason the Wonderbolts had been called out: off to the left stood a pony the Wonderbolt captain had the pleasure of having first met over a year ago when she had saved the golden pegasus' life, as well as the lives of part of her team and a unicorn. The same pony who had impressed her at the Grand Galloping Gala and whose application for entering the Wonderbolt Academy had barely crossed Spitfire's desk before the invasion began. Even as she looked, however, Spitfire could tell that the pony standing there was not the same one from before. Something changed her, and I don't mean the new duds.

Almost as if she could tell someone was watching her, Rainbow Dash turned her head to the side and looked to her old heroine. At first Spitfire saw a haunted look in the other pegasus' eyes, but Dash soon blinked it away and replaced the expression with one of determination. Yet at the same time, she produced a small, but sincere smile. “Pretty crazy, isn't it?” she asked, quietly.

“You could say that again,” Spitfire agreed, even as she cast an eye over the other mare. Physically, Dash was much the same as before, save for some scars Spitfire had seen on Rainbow's back when they had met up the previous day. Now, though, the colorful pegasus was decked out in a set of armor the likes of which Spitfire had never seen before. Instead of the platemail of the ground forces, or the chainmail all the other pegasi present wore, Rainbow wore a thick vest made of some kind of material that seemed like a bizarre cross between metal and plastic, and a helmet made of much the same material that had a clear visor over her eyes rather than the faceplate of Equestrian armors. Underneath that and over one eye was an additional, odd eyepiece that seemed to have a slight glow to it, and over Dash's back and side was some sort of harness and an odd protrusion that Spitfire had been assured was a deadly weapon.

Supposedly all of that stuff is from the aliens, Spitfire remembered. The general said something about Dash's unicorn friend helping the humans fit it to her. The Wonderbolt captain shook her head a bit at that, and she wondered just how much effort was going into keeping Rainbow Dash safe. “So,” Spitfire began, after a couple of moments. “I heard you saw some of this in Canterlot?”

The smile disappeared off of Dash's muzzle at that, but her expression remained determined as she nodded. “Yeah, you could say that,” she replied, and then turned her head to look out over the battle below. “It was... pretty bad. And something tells me today's gonna be a lot worse. A lot of ponies are going to die.”

Spitfire blinked at the frank assessment, but before she could even think about it, a brilliant magic flare shot up from the woods below. The silvery blob of energy soared high, and then burst open in a simple display, yet it was enough to set the nerves of every pegasus hidden in the cloud bank on edge.

“There's the signal!” captain Starbuck proclaimed, from his position off to the left. Everypony in range of his voice turned their heads to regard the armored pegasus as he spread his wings. “Assault wing, form up! Wonderbolts, assume escort position! Move!”

The two groups of pegasi reacted to the orders as appropriate, with the guards of the assault wing quickly fanning their wings to start building up a head of steam to lift their heavy burdens. The two-dozen Wonderbolts, meanwhile, mainly glanced to each other, and then towards Spitfire as they fidgeted in their chainmail armor and readied their swords. For her part, the captain simply looked over to Rainbow Dash and raised an eyebrow. “You ready?”

The addressed mare turned her head to Spitfire, a hard look in her eyes. “Honestly, I don't think any of us are ready,” she said, morosely. Then a smirk spread on her face, and some of her usual cockiness melted back into her voice and expression. “But I think I can handle it. Question is, can you?”

Spitfire could only smirk back. “Let's find out,” she said, and then took to the air. Dash and the Wonderbolts followed her a split second later, and they quickly flew out join the slower moving assault wing. Once there the Wonderbolts split into four groups and each took a position forward, behind, and on either side of the heavily-laden guardsponies, with Dash and Spitfire both taking slots in the vanguard.

It looks worse the closer we get, Spitfire mused, as the combined air group moved closer towards the fight. She watched as missiles screamed through the air, leaving behind contrails of smoke, while laser beam trails flashed in the darkened woods as the enemy rained fire towards the positions of the ground-bound guardsponies. I just hope we can actually do something to help.

“Griffons looks like they're distracted by the ground-pounders,” Soarin chimed in, from his wingpony position.

Spitfire nearly startled at that, as she had all but forgotten the stallion's presence as she had focused so much on the changes in Dash and the battle below. Keep it together, 'Fire, she told herself, and then cast a keen eye towards where her second was pointing with a hoof. “The probably think we're all concentrated for a big, decisive battle,” she observed. Like our old doctrine says we're supposed to do, she mused.

“They're gonna be disappointed, then,” Soarin observed, with a grin.

“Just stay frosty,” Spitfire reminded him. “You saw what happened to Canterlot; let's not get the same treatment, okay?”

The grin disappeared off of his face, but a glint remained in Soarin's eyes as he nodded back. “Got it, cap,” he replied.

“Captain Spitfire!”

The voice called from behind, and the amber mare glanced back to see that Starbuck was waving at her. She gave a quick glance to Soarin, who understood the unspoken command to stay in position, and then she pitched her wings up to bring her body up in altitude, which coincidentally cut her speed a bit. She then dove slightly, speeding up and managed to pull even with the stallion leading the air attack. “Starbuck,” she said, conversationally.

“We've picked our targets,” Starbuck spoke quickly, without preamble. “Be ready to follow us down and keep the griffons off our backs; my soldiers won't be maneuverable in the harnesses they're wearing for the new weapons.”

Spitfire glanced back at the others in the assault wing and took in their odd configuration, and then nodded as she looked back to the other captain. “Don't worry, you've got the best fliers in the air on your side.”

* * * *

“Come out and die like the little rats you are,” Jonathan Myers muttered, as he guided the crosshairs of his Valkyrie's medium laser over the area the ponies had attacked from. He saw a bit of movement, and then pulled the trigger on the joystick to send several megajoules of energy downrange. Myers grinned a bit in satisfaction as he watched the figure burst apart when the moisture inside the body was cooked off by the anti-armor energy weapon, and then swept his gaze along the tree line for more targets.

“They look like they're retreating in good order,” one of his lancemates observed via the radio, even as she fired her Griffin's PPC towards the foes.

“Let them,” the lance commander chimed in. “They might be primitive infantry, but I'm not going into woods after them in a fire support 'mech.”

Or any 'mech, for that matter, Myers mused. All sorts of nasty things infantry can do to a 'mech in close quarters. Better to hammer them from range.

“Airborne targets incoming,” a voice sounded, and a glance to the communications panel showed Myers that it was on the battalion frequency. “Looks like a large number of native fliers.”

“More of their dive-bombers,” another voice, whom Myers recognized as O'Connell's, chimed in. “Don't pay them much mind unless you're in a light 'mech; those lead slugs don't do much damage to you.”

Small comfort to those of us who are in light 'mechs, Myers mentally grumbled, even as his lance commander called over the sub-unit's channel and ordered them to move on now that the flank attack had been dealt with. Scarcely had Myers set his Valkyrie into a loping run when he saw, through his holographic HUD, the natives beginning their dives. Odd, he mused, why are there four of them to a slug? They didn't do that before.

It was all the Desperado MechWarrior had time to ponder, as events began to happen very quickly. The first flight of five four-pony teams were already in the midst of their dives, and Myers' trained eye watched one pony in each yank something that caused their harness to fall apart, releasing their payload and allowing the pegasi the chance to maneuver freely. This was fortunate for them as the first of the griffon squads were already charging into the pony attackers, swords and spears held out to pierce and stab the airborne equines. The native fliers corkscrewed through the air and blades clashed, even as the first of the dropped projectiles hit its target; an unfortunate Hunchback medium 'mech. What happened next, though, was utterly unexpected as the instant the slug hit, it exploded with a furious force that shattered the armor over the right side of the 'mech's torso.

Those aren't slugs, Myers realized, even as the other four projectiles from the wave slammed to the ground, two more impacting Desperado BattleMechs and reaving their armor. They gave them bombs, he thought, even as he heard panicked shouts come over the radio. Those drack-lickers actually gave the horses freaking bombs!

* * * *

“—over here and stop them!” the voice of Kilroy sounded, coming from the speaker of the small, portable radio that the griffon forces had been given to keep in communication.

Garadan winced as his pride took a hit. Both from being outmaneuvered and from this apeling's whining, he thought. “We will rip them from the sky,” he assured the human, before he attached the radio set to his belt. He then turned to his daughter who, like himself, had been flying overwatch above the forest the Equestrian army had attacked from, while scores of their number dove below the treetops to find and engage the retreating ponies. “Gilda, keep an eye on our forces here; I shall lead the counterattack.”

The young hen nodded to him. “Be careful, dad,” she said. “The ponies aren't complete wimps.”

Garadan favored his daughter with a smirk—griffon faces were surprisingly flexible to make up for their hard beaks—and then nodded. “We shall,” he said, and then pitched his flapping wings to heel about on a reciprocal course. A well-practiced war screech garnered the attention of his subordinates, and a few gestures with his claws relayed his orders to the sharp-eyed predators. A large number of sub-units broke away from the ground conflict at the calls from their officers, and soon a large force of griffons were heading back to join the small cover force they'd left over the Desperado formation.

They weren't doing well, as Garadan could see: the dive-bombing pegasi were largely unmolested until after they had dropped their weapons, thanks to the efforts of a group of armored fliers bearing the gold and blue of the Wonderbolts. It figures they would finally use Celestia's pet anti-griffon unit against us, Garadan thought, even as he beat his wings faster and angled up for altitude. His bodyguards trailed after him, but only just, and soon they closed in on the evolving furball above the battlefield before their leader's guidance bade them to angle towards one of the incoming flights from the second wave of bomb carriers. “Take them!” Garadan yelled to his cohort, even as he shifted into a hover to better keep an eye on the fight. His unit screeched as one and charged, save for two who remained by the elder tom's side to keep him safe.

* * * *

Spitfire had wanted to cheer as soon as she saw the first of the bombs land on target. Gotta hand it to those assault fliers, she mused, they can fly a decent formation tied up like that in those crazy harnesses and still hit what they aim at most of the time.

Any further thoughts along that line were pushed from her head as she saw the first griffon squads start rising up to meet the incoming pegasi. “Alright Wonderbolts,” Spitfire hollered, as she turned her head back to glance over her flight. “Let's show the royal guard that we're not the lazy show ponies they think we are!” she added, and then dove. The others followed her, as well as Rainbow Dash, who trailed off her right wing while Soarin trailed her left.

For her part, Rainbow Dash felt a tiny thrill at finally being able to fly with her idols in the Wonderbolts. It's too bad it's in the middle of a war, she briefly thought, even as her focus narrowed down to the matter at hoof. The Wonderbolts she flew with had already unsheathed and secured their swords to forelegs with straps, and now these weapons were held out and ready to strike as the two groups of airborne beings streaked towards one another.

Unfortunately for the griffons, they were at a disadvantage from the start, with their numbers denuded by the engagement in the forest on the flank and having to fight uphill from an inferior altitude. Thus when the pegasi and griffons met, the latter were largely ripped to shreds as Equestrian swords cut through leather armor, and the chimeric predators were unable to land any hits on the speedy pegasi. Over half the griffons who rose to meet them were slain, and the Wonderbolts suffered no losses in their first true military engagement in hundreds of years. The griffons, enraged at the outcome, turned and tried to give chase, but the pegasi had already used the momentum gained in their dive to rapidly gain altitude, and so left the enemy in the figurative dust.

Rainbow felt her stomach twist a bit, and it wasn't entirely from the G-forces. I really did not want to see this again, she thought, even as she followed Spitfire through the maneuver. Although she hadn't had a clear target and thus didn't fire the SMG affixed to her side, she still felt guilt creep into her mind as she had watched her idol cleave a chunk out of a hapless griffon. The memories of ponies being torn apart in the royal palace steeled her nerves, though, and Dash gulped as she trailed the two lead Wonderbolts through a turn. War sucks, but as long as I'm here, I better have my head in the game.

“You gonna use that fancy thing?” Spitfire called back, and startled Dash out of her thoughts. The cyan mare looked up to see the captain giving her a look. “Or are you just here for the ride?”

“I need a good target, first,” Dash replied. “This thing only has so much ammunition and I'm not going to waste it.” At least, that's what I was warned about, she recalled the brief instruction she had received the day before. And that's what Hermes was telling the guys he was training back in Ponyville, she added, even as startlingly accurate memories of the lessons the humans gave to the guardsponies rolled through her mind. Funny, I didn't even sit in on those; I just flew over them while I was waiting for McCoy to get something or another done.

Distant screeches broke Rainbow Dash out of her reverie, and she returned her attention to the present to see that she had followed Spitfire and Soarin automatically back up to their initial altitude. Below, her keen eyes made out streaks of blue and gold from the second Wonderbolt flight as they dove to engage the griffon reinforcements and protect the assault wing ponies. The enemy on the ground didn't escape her notice, and she quickly took in the fact that the Desperadoes were disorganized and milling about as they tried to maneuver out of the way of the incoming bombs, a string of which exploded amongst them even as she watched. Dash then glanced up, and saw the glowing trails of weapons fire in the distance as the aerospace fighters engaged one another, while the forest the ground-bound ponies had attacked from was lit up by occasional blasts of unicorn magic or random laser fire thrown in from the enemy BattleMechs for good measure.

“C'mon, rookie,” Spitfire added, and once again brought Dash's attention forward. “You can sight-see later,” she added, and then once again dove down. Soarin followed instantly, as did Rainbow a heartbeat later, and they were followed by the other four ponies in the flight. This time, though, the griffons looked ready for them, as a number had pulled into a hover so they could aim bows and crossbows up at the diving pegasi.

No, Dash thought, as she recalled another clear lesson about armor, this one from Steelshod as he had fitted her for the chainmail she had worn in Manehattan. “Chainmail is about deflecting glancing blows, not standing up to a direct hit. A sword or an arrow will punch right through it, so try not to get hit at all.” Her mind raced into overdrive, and time seemed to slow as she glanced over and took in the painted armor the Wonderbolts wore. That won't stand up to arrows... but the composite stuff I'm wearing will. The familiar fire that she had come to recognize as her sense of loyalty rose in her chest, and Rainbow Dash put on a burst of speed that left the other ponies tasting her slipstream. She heard Spitfire call her name, but Dash ignored it as she turned her head to focus the targeting reticule in her eyepiece over one of the closer griffons, while said equipment displayed the distance—measured by targeting laser—and gave her hit probabilities as percentages, the numbers of which rapidly fluctuated as she closed in on her foes. She absorbed this information without even thinking about it, and she waited until she was in optimal range before she called forth a strong memory. Her neural pattern spiked, and the electronics on her back quickly read the command to fire the modified firearm.

A burst of nine millimeter slugs left the barrel of the sub-machinegun at that and ripped through the head and chest of the griffon Rainbow targeted. She barely noted the splatters of blood as she changed targets and fired again, and then repeated the task when the second griffon fell as well. She repeated this task twice more before her speed carried her through and past the archers, and her slipstream battered her foes even as they focused their attentions on her. Arrows and bolts flew at her, and one even manged to hit, but bounced off of the helmet she wore. Gotta remember to thank Rarity for helping McCoy to fit the headgear to me, Rainbow briefly mused, even as she glanced back and watched the distracted griffons get torn apart by the Wonderbolts who were now trailing her. She quickly headed back up to higher altitude and then waited for the others to catch up.

“What the hay was that?” Spitfire demanded, as Rainbow Dash fell into position with the flight. “Wonderbolts don't break formation like that!”

“Well, I'm not a Wonderbolt!” Rainbow countered. She paused for a moment, as an odd, yet surprisingly good feeling rolled through her chest at that, but she pushed the sentiment aside for later. “I'm working for the Dark Horse, and if I hadn't gone ahead those griffons would've used you all for pincushions.”

“And you'd rather they use you instead?” Spitfire countered.

“Ladies!” Soarin interjected, and both mares turned their heads to give him withering glares. He ignored the harsh looks as any seasoned male could, and kept his face neutral. “Let's stay focused on the guys trying to kill us, yeah?”

Spitfire frowned at him, but didn't reply to Soarin directly. Instead she turned her head to Dash. “You might be working with those aliens, but we're still working for the princesses, and it's my job to keep you alive. So don't make me consider tying you up and stuffing you into a closet somewhere.”

Rainbow Dash frowned at her. “What is it with everypony wanting to put me into a closet?” she muttered. “It's like they all really want me to be in a closet.”

“What was that, rookie?” Spitfire asked, with a glance back.

“Nothing,” Rainbow replied, even as she cleared her head.

“Good,” the amber mare added. “Now that I've seen that weapon at work, I don't want it out of commission, so I need your head clear. Got it?”

“Got it,” Dash replied.

“Alright. Let's head around for another pass.”

* * * *

Gregory Kilroy was not a happy man. “Natori! Get your lance back in formation,” he ordered, as he spoke to one of his company's lance commanders.

“I'm trying, boss, but it's hard when we keep getting pummeled,” she replied, even as another wave of bombs slammed into the ground, and several Desperado 'mechs besides. “Aren't those bird-brains supposed to be doing something about it?”

“You let me worry about them,” Kilroy countered. “You just get your own shit straightened out, or I'll let O'Connell know who's to blame,” he added, and then switched channels. “Garadan, we need those fliers disrupted.”

“And that is what we are trying to do,” the tom retorted. “The ponies were not surprised today, they were ready to fight and it shows. They have their best forces here, and it is taxing us just to keep them from having their way in the air.”

“The gold and yellow ones that keep swooping in?” Kilroy asked.

“The same,” Garadan replied. “They are called the 'Wonderbolts', and they are the ponies' very best fliers, trained in anti-griffon tactics.”

Gregory thought about it for a moment, and then smirked as an idea entered his mind. “In that case, fall back and give them some room,” he ordered. “I'll have a surprise for them.”

“Very well, but I hope for your sake it is quick,” Garadan replied.

Kilroy ignored the comment, and instead fiddled with his comm panel even as he piloted his Marauder to push forward. “Major, I need to borrow your fire support lance for a bit.”

“What the Hell for?” O'Connell asked, in a hostile tone. “We're kind of busy trying not to be hit by those bombs. Damn McKenna, for trusting the locals with high explosives!”

Seems to be working out fine for him, Kilroy thought, but had the good presence of mind to not speak it. “I need Shang in his Rifleman to target the fast-movers in the gold and blue.”

“Fine,” O'Connell replied, even as another bomb landed near his position. “I'll give the order myself. As for you, get that left flank in order before those idiots make themselves a target for that lance running around.”

“Understood, major,” Kilroy replied, and then switched the comms back to his company's channel. “Alright, boys, let's shore up the left and give 'em some backbone,” he ordered, even as he steered the Marauder in the indicated direction. A chorus of replies came back to him, but his attention was elsewhere as he watched the battalion's lone Rifleman raise its arms and aim the autocannons at the next incoming group of fast-moving pegasi.

Designed as a specialized fire-support and anti-air BattleMech, the Rifleman's targeting computer was unique, as was the ammunition for its cannons. Even as the third flight of Wonderbolts dove in to strike at the griffons ahead of another wave of bombers, the Garret D2j tracking system quickly adjusted the MechWarrior's aim just as he fired, and streams of autocannon shells raced upwards to detonate amidst the Wonderbolt squad. The air was filled with flak and shockwaves, and the pegasi were killed almost to a pony. Not content with this, the Desperado MechWarrior turned his attention to the incoming bombing wave and subsequently slaughtered a flight by prematurely detonating their payload.

About time something started to go our way, Kilroy mused. Then his stomach knotted up as his HUD suddenly tracked additional new targets, and he glanced up at the ridgeline the battalion had been moving towards. You son of a bitch...

* * * *

Twilight Sparkle watched the battle unfold with mixed feelings as she sat in the Highlander's cockpit. On one hoof, our side seems to be doing well, she mused. But on the other... there's just so much death... She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head as emotion overtook her.

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” James McKenna somberly chimed in, and the unicorn opened her eyes to look over at the human. The MechWarrior had only shifted a bit to look at her in his peripheral vision—what little his old-style neurohelmet allowed him—before he settled back into a normal position. “You just want to upchuck, don't ya?”

“Something like that,” Twilight allowed, and then sighed as she turned her vision back out and through the ferroglass. “It all seems so... tragic and wasteful,” she added, with a distinct tone of disgust at the last word.

“It is,” James allowed. He didn't say anything more for a moment, but soon enough shifted in his seat a bit. “Is that...?” he asked, seemingly of himself as his voice trailed off.

“What?” Twilight asked, with a glance over to the human.

James didn't reply to her, but instead reached out and flicked a control on his comms. “It's time to add in our weight, people,” he said, as he spoke over the company's common channel. “Anvil Group, prepare to drop the blind and lay into them them. Hammer Group, wait until we're engaged and then come out of hiding and hit their flank. Captain Sharp Sword, keep your troops at ready in case they rush us, but feel free to engage at your discretion should you find a target of opportunity.”

Two replies were heard, one from Schneider, and one from the commander of the royal guardspony detachment who were entrenched alongside the Dark Horse's heavier 'mechs. James absentmindedly nodded at that, and then looked over to his passenger. “Are you ready, Twilight?” he asked, solemnly.

Twilight Sparkle took in a deep breath to steel her nerves, and then nodded. “As much as I can be,” she replied, steadily.

“That's all I can ask,” James added, with a faint but encouraging smile. It was brief, though, and his face quickly turned back into the stoney visage of an experienced soldier at war. “Drop the blind and switch to shield on my mark,” he ordered.

The sudden change in tone jarred Twilight a bit, but she soon recognized it. He spoke the same way in Ponyville and Canterlot during the fighting there, she thought, even as she nodded a reply to the commander's order. “Ready, commander,” she said.

James merely nodded back, the movement barely visible in his helmet. His next words were presaged by a hand movement to flick a switch on his communication console. “Earl, you and David take out that Rifleman engaging the air forces,” he ordered. “Dorian, you and me are going to concentrate on that Archer. Everyone else pick your targets and remember to cause as much mayhem as possible. Anvil group, engage!”

Twilight immediately dropped the camouflaging blind spell and replaced it with her specialized shield in less than a second. The actions barely needed any attention from the magic savant, and she thus could pay attention to the HUD as the Highlander's active sensors went online. The holographic display lit up with multiple red targets, but the unicorn could see that McKenna quickly focused through the flood of information and jiggled the crosshairs of his weapons over the fire-support BattleMech he'd picked out as his first target. His movements were a bit jerky as he had to do all of this with only one arm, but soon enough he gained a target lock and then fired.

The first human weapon Twilight heard at close range were the long-range missiles as they launched from the twenty-tube rack in the assault 'mech's left torso. The immense roar of the rocket motors was muted by the thick layers of armor, but still filled the pony's ears with booming, rushing noise. This was nothing, however, to the sound that came after the immense Gauss Rifle in the Highlander's right arm discharged its coils and accelerated a nickel-ferrous slug by several mach numbers. Although the rifle itself was rather quiet as it was electric in nature, the supersonic slug was not as it streaked through the air; the shockwave of its passing was enough to blast apart the small shrubs that had helped hide the BattleMech's lower legs, and the air itself ignited in a line behind the projectile to create an elongated fireball that reached across the no-man's-land between the two 'mech forces.

All of this happened in less than two seconds, and the sheer barrage of sensory data nearly caused Twilight to lose control of her spell. She nevertheless held on, and watched in silent awe as the gauss slug blasted a sizable crater in the torso armor of the hunched-over Archer. This was immediately followed by the LRMs as the semi-ballistic weapons fell upon the enemy in waves to blast entire sheets of armor off. Then the entire process repeated a split second later as Carmine's Atlas chimed in with its own long-ranged weapons; another LRM-20 and Gauss Rifle. The Atlas' slug blasted into the weakened armor on the Archer's right arm to crush the internal mechanisms and laser located there, while the additional LRMs continued the sandblasting of armor and denuded much of the formidable protection on the famous design.

Twilight did not even have a split second to comprehend this as Delacroix's Catapult and Silva's Centurion laid into the Rifleman that had just torn into the diving pegasi. LRMs ripped the infamously thin armor of the Rifleman to pieces, and several warheads blasted apart the large-class laser in the 'mech's right arm. The worst damage by far, though, came from the Centurion's particle projection cannon, whose stream of charged particles tore into the now-naked chest of the enemy 'mech and gutted the shielding around the fusion reactor. A wavefront of superheated air blasted back out through the entry wound a picosecond later, and the 60-tonne war machine lifelessly collapsed to the ground while its pilot was auto-ejected to safety.

The fifth and final 'mech in the oversized lance waited a second longer to aim before its pilot fired. Rebecca McKenna was no slouch when it came to marksmanship, and the dual extended-range PPCs of her Warhammer reached out to touch someone; a Trebuchet, lancemate to the hapless Rifleman. The medium-weight 'mech was built for missile support, and so the scathing streams of supercharged plasma had no problems in ripping apart the armor over its right arm and center torso, though the enemy MechWarrior was lucky as the blast failed to do any permanent damage to the components in the arm exposed this way.

The entire salvo lasted barely five seconds, yet Twilight felt her head swim as the waste heat from the Highlander's heavy weapons filled the cockpit. These things are so powerful, she thought, as she considered that the Dark Horse had done more damage to the Desperadoes in that one salvo than all the non-alacorn Equestrian forces had done up to the point the Heart of Steel had landed. She was even more astounded when the four 'mechs of the Dark Horse's second lance emerged from the woods they had taken shelter in, and then added their not inconsiderable firepower to the mix to engage the heavier 'mechs who had moved to that side of the fight.

“Hah! We caught 'em with their pants down!” Carmine's voice sounded over the radio.

“Clear comms,” James ordered, even as he adjusted his aim. “Dorian, with me on the Archer again, everyone else fire at will!” And with that another blistering wave of deadly force rained down on their foes.

* * * *

“Shit!” Garth O'Connell shouted, to himself as he had not bothered to trigger his radio for the simple word. His reaction was almost automatic, as he watched his battalion's sole Archer succumb to the combined firepower of two assault-class BattleMechs and fall to the ground as a twisted wreck, while a Wolverine a hundred meters ahead of him took a beating from the enemy's Catapult. He quickly yanked his throttle back and set the Battlemaster into reverse, which allowed him to avoid the PPC and LRMs from the Centurion on the ridge, though his lancemate in the Merlin had his 'mech's arm amputated as dual PPC fire from the Dark Horse Warhammer wreaked unholy amounts of damage upon it.

Normal PPCs shouldn't have done that, O'Connell mentally grumbled as he threw his 'mech back into a forward trot. Bastard McKenna, it figures he'd refit his wife's 'mech with Clan-tech. He put the thought aside and engaged his radio. “Anyone with LRMs had better be counter-firing those bastards on the ridge or so help me I will rape you with a cactus!”

His disorganized and demoralized forces took the order to heart, and the 'mechs with the aforementioned missiles quickly loosed hastily-aimed salvoes. Most of them missed, given the range, the speed of the engagement, and the Desperadoes' own lack of experience, but some flights did manage to hit their targets, though the odd shields around each of the enemy 'mechs detonated half of them before they could even reach the armor.

Why the Hell did no one tell us about those things before? O'Connell silently griped, as he made a mental note to make personal visits to each of his informants, preferably with a crowbar. The brief thought evaporated as he juked the Battlemaster to the left and took in the incredulous sight of Kilroy's two heavy lances being beaten back by a force one half its size and weight class composition. “Greg, what the Hell are you doing?”

* * * *

Kilroy silently snarled, both at his commander's sudden question, and also from the dual large lasers that ripped into his Marauder's leg and torso armor. “Trying to keep the idiots from pissing themselves!” he countered, even as he aimed back at the Firestarter and loosed both of his PPCs. The downgraded model he drove lacked the heat sinks to fully compensate for the weapons, and so the cockpit immediately turned into a sauna as waste heat flooded the 'mech, but he judged the effort worth it as one beam managed to get past the shield and burn a significant chunk of armor from his foe's left arm. “They blasted my Archer and my company's chickening out.” It was a rather unfair assessment, he knew, as the MechWarriors under his command were still reeling from the sudden, multi-angle attack and were trying to mentally recover, but Kilroy's frustration at the situation left no room for compassion.

His anger could only increase as he watched the Dark Horse Assassin dance across the battlefield, its pilot using the 'mech's jump jets to make sudden course changes that by rights should have been impossible, even for the agile design. Because of this every shot fired at it missed, but the pilot's own pulse laser spewed enough beams of coherent light out to slag armor off of the Panther to Kilroy's left. The enemy Commando followed up on this, as it dodged out of the forest cover once again to unleash a barrage of lasers and short-range missiles onto the Kurita design, battering it further and causing its green pilot to lose control of the machine's balance, whereupon it fell to the ground. Although not permanently out, a 'mech lying face down on the battlefield was of little use to its allies and even less a threat to its foes, and Gregory winced at the temporary loss.

It was all he had time to consider as the Dark Horse's Grand Dragon opened up on one of the Griffins in his fire-support lance. The ER PPC scored entire sheets of armor composite from the torso, while the dual medium lasers mounted on the front slagged armor from both of the medium 'mech's arms. The only consolation for the Desperado MechWarrior was that the range had decreased too much for the enemy to use his LRMs, but conversely this meant that the Griffin's own weapons—LRMs and an old-style PPC—were also ineffective. The pilot didn't bother with his missiles either, and his PPC missed as it had trouble focusing its stream at such a close-range target.

Fortunately for Kilroy's soldiers—and his blood pressure—the other 'mechs in the two present lances of his company finally started to gain the presence of mind to return fire. The Valkyrie in his fire-support lance speared the Grand Dragon with its medium laser, while the other two Griffins, slightly more distant, fired their PPCs at the heavy 'mech as well, both scoring hits, though only one did any damage as the shield around the Grand Dragon managed to deflect the other. Armor was scored off of its leg and the enemy MechWarrior had to make the machine jig a bit, though managed to keep it upright.

Meanwhile, the Enforcer that filled out Kilroy's command lance joined the fray, and fired its large laser towards the Firestarter. The shield around the 'mech flickered and then faded, and the beam managed to deal heavy damage to the center torso armor. This would have made Kilroy happy, but the Dark Horse MechWarriors seemed to sense their luck turning, and so quickly used their superior speed and maneuverability to fall back into the woods as both sides' weapons recharged and reloaded, though the Assassin pilot managed to get a cheeky LRM barrage off to chip away at the Valkyrie.

This is bad, Kilroy thought, even as he turned his somewhat overheated 'mech to face its heavier front armor towards the ridge. The timing was fortuitous as the enemy Centurion had switched to him and lashed away at the Marauder's armor with its LRMs, though the PPC missed and only burned a line of dirty glass into the grassy dirt. They're not focus-firing, which is what they should be doing... unless their goal is to disrupt our forces. A glance at the tactical display on one of the cockpit's MFDs showed that the battalion had lost its formation, as 'mech lances had run back and forth to respond to different threats, and dispersed from the multiple air attacks. I gotta hand it to McKenna, he knows he can't win a straight fight, so he's trying to break our morale, Greg thought, while he aimed a single arm-mounted PPC and fired back up towards the enemies on the ridge. And he might just do it. He switched his radio on, and then spoke to O'Connell. “Garth, those guys on the ridge need to be distracted if we want to get anywhere.”

“Agreed,” O'Connell affirmed, and a moment of silence met Kilroy's ears until: “Tanaka!” O'Connell's voice sounded, this time on the battalion-wide channel. “We need time to reorganize the main force, take your company and try to get into a close flanking position on the ridge.”

“Are you nuts?” the commander of Third Company asked. “Our lights and mediums against those heavies and assaults?”

“Would you rather stay here and be pecked to death at range?” Kilroy chimed in. “You just need to keep them off us for a few minutes, and then we can press them with our superior weight.” While we still have it, he silently added.

A growling groan was Tanaka's only response, but soon enough the icons representing her company shifted on the map displayed on an MFD in Kilroy's cockpit and started to rush forward and to the side. Already denuded by the loss of Thompson's lance, two of the 'mechs felled in the battle so far had been from her lance, and so Tanaka only had six 'mechs to push forward with. And they're out-massed, Kilroy mused. But we just need time, and they can buy it. I just hope they won't get too badly chewed up in the meantime.

* * * *

Twilight Sparkle winced as she felt the impact of several missile clusters, but suffered little from the strain of her shielding. I'm just glad they're not concentrating on any one of us, she thought, even as the heat rose a bit as McKenna pounded a distant Blackjack, which had tried to imitate its fallen lancemate and fire up towards the pegasi, who were now primarily clashing with the griffons in the air above the battle. The medium-weight 'mech took severe damage to its armor and then fell over, but not before he returned fire and slammed some shells into Twilight's shield.

“How're you holding up?” James asked. The question startled Twilight a bit, as she hadn't been expecting him to talk save to give orders, and she took a moment to think.

“Alright,” she replied. “It's not especially taxing so far. But then, we haven't been attacked much.”

“That might change soon,” McKenna observed, and then took a moment to gesture with his good hand. “They're sending their faster 'mechs to hit our flank, which means they'll be trying for a push up the ridge soon.”

The unicorn looked over the HUD, and then glanced down to a tactical display on one of the MFDs. “Isn't that why you had Stonewall's fall back position over there?”

“Him, or Hammer Group if they were going to try for the other flank,” James replied, with a smirk. “There's a lesson there, Twilight; if you disrupt your foe and push him too fast to let him think, he'll panic and make very predictable moves.”

Not exactly a lesson I thought I'd ever learn, Twilight mused, as she watched six BattleMechs push into high speed in order to brave the gauntlet of fire from the Dark Horse 'mechs on the ridge. But at least I'm learning it from this side. I just hope I never have to apply it, she thought, as McKenna started to give new orders over the radio.

* * * *

“—You in position, general?”

Stonewall grunted as he pulled one of the supply wagons that had been turned into a makeshift litter, as the wheels took some effort to pull over the tangled roots of the old growth forest the Equestrian army was using to cover their movements. Walking at his side was Alum Salt, who levitated the radio handset next to the earth pony's ears as they walked along. “Almost,” the general growled out. “We're at the place now, just settin' up.”

“I don't mean to be a bother, but try to hurry it up,” McKenna added. “They're pushing their mediums up like I thought they would, and they're heading up your flank. Sharp Sword's forces can delay them, but if your troops add in then we can slaughter 'em.”

Stonewall grimaced at the word choice, as his recent experience with the wounded made him sensitive to the concept. Still, I get the idea, he mused. “We'll do what we can, just give us two shakes.”

“Understood,” James replied, and then the radio clicked as he closed the channel.

Stonewall gestured to Alum Salt with his head, and the unicorn took the hint to put the radio back into one of the saddlebags he wore. “Go spread the word that we need to be ready to hit the enemy immediately,” the general ordered, even as he slowed the wagon to a stop. “And get the medics over here for these boys.”

Alum Salt nodded at the order, even as he applied his silvery magic to help Stonewall shimmy out of the harness. “Yes sir,” he replied, and then glanced back to the pile of wounded ponies. There were five of them in all, three badly hurt with burns and at least one had his leg burned right off. They had all been given powerful painkilling potions and immediate first-aid, but still needed much work done. The gray unicorn suppressed a shudder at the view, and then quickly turned and galloped off.

For his part, Stonewall turned to keep an eye on the wounded. He had picked a nice, shady spot under a large tree to keep them out of the sun and hopefully let them rest. Alas this was not to be for one stallion, and he moaned in pain as he awoke. “Sweet heavens, it hurts,” the unicorn with the missing limb grated out.

“Take it easy, son,” Stonewall said, as he walked up and laid a gentle hoof on the stallion's uninjured shoulder. It was a testament to his will that he made eye contact with the unicorn and not stare at the charred stump and burned flesh that marked a near-miss with a particle cannon. “You're gonna be just fine. We'll get ya to th' docs and they'll make ya right as rain.”

The stallion shook his head. “But, the war,” he groaned out.

“It's over for you, son, just relax,” Stonewall answered, with a soothing tone. “You'll be goin' home soon, ya earned that much.”

“But...” the young pony—lad is barely out of his teens, Stonewall guessed—“I gotta help. If I don't we might lose, and if we do...” he seemed to lose what little energy he had, as his head settled back on the field jacket made up as a makeshift pillow. “...There won't be a home to go to.”

Stonewall felt a wave of conflicting emotions at this. Pity for the poor stallion's injury, pride at his determination to continue, and a sense of fear that the unicorn might be right. He squashed them all, though, as he sighed. “What's your name, son?”

“Private Lime Pop, sir,” the appropriately-colored pony replied, and then winced as another round of human weaponry sounded in the distance. “F-from Vanhoover.”

“Well Lime, Ah promise ya, we're gonna win,” Stonewall said, conviction filling his voice. “An' you're part o' that, son, you were there to land th' first shots. Trust me, boy, there ain't anythin' ya need to worry about now 'cept getting' better. That's an order, ya hear?”

Lime Pop's eyes were drifting closed, but he managed a faint smile at that. “U-understood, sir,” he whispered, and then passed out.

Stonewall quickly pressed a hoof against the pony's throat, and then sighed in relief as he felt a pulse. We lost enough ponies today, he thought, as he took a step back. Gonna lose more, but I'll be damned if we don't try an' save as many as we can.

It was then that the medics arrived. The two earth pony mares looked haggard as they trotted up, but nevertheless went to work on the wounded stallions without hesitation, or even a glance towards the general. Stonewall didn't mind, and in fact found their quiet professionalism a welcome respite from the madness his world had fallen into, and he decided to take advantage of their silence to slip away to head for the new line.

Not that I would say it's especially silent, Stonewall mused, as the thunderous boom of a gauss rifle sounded in the distance, followed by many other weapon noises. He hastened his pace and soon ascended a rise in the terrain that lead to a small hill where his surviving forces had hastily dug in. A break in the trees allowed the general to look out over the battlefield, and despite his experience both old and new, he had to stop and gape.

In the fields and scrub below were several burning or blasted wrecks that marked the defeat or destruction of a Desperado BattleMech, while the surviving machines milled about, haphazardly retuning fire and engaging in evasive maneuvers to avoid being hit by incoming fire. Most of that came from the ridge to Stonewall's right, where the bulk of the Dark Horse's 'mechs were raining death upon the enemy. Missiles corkscrewed through the sky between the two forces, leaving trails of dirty-looking smoke hanging in the air, which were then illuminated by the beam trails of various lasers and PPC bolts. From the Desperadoes came bursts of autocannon fire, while the gauss rifles of the Dark Horse speared the air itself with thunderous fireballs. A glance above showed both griffon and pegasus alike engaged in a hard, close-quarters fight the likes of which hadn't been seen on Equis in centuries, while in the distance Stonewall could hear the continuing mix of screeching and thunder that marked the fight between the two sides' aerospace forces. “By the heavens,” the earth pony breathed.

“Sir!” Alum Salt spoke up from where he stood near some unit commanders, and Stonewall shook his head clear and then turned to walk up to his aide. “Six 'mechs approaching the ridge's left flank,” Salt added, and then pointed with a hoof.

Stonewall turned his head to see the faster medium and light 'mechs pushing up the ridge, using the sparse trees in the area to try and cover their approach. A moment of observation made him smile as he realized something. They're in that area McKenna and Schneider thought up. What'd he call them? “Kill zones”, that's it. “Everypony, setup and get ready!” Stonewall ordered. “We wait until the boys on the ridge hit 'em and then we let loose with everything we got!”

* * * *

“Hold your fire!” Sharp Sword ordered. “We get only one chance to surprise them!”

The order echoed down the line, and the numerous unicorns and pockets of earth ponies steeled their nerves and waited. Amongst them was Starchaser, and the mottled unicorn felt the odd mix of fear and anticipation that had been with her since leaving Canterlot had grown to the point where her knees were almost trembling. And yet I don't want to be anywhere else, she thought, even as gazed at the fearsome image of giant, bipedal war machines running forward at an incredible pace.

“You ready?” a voice beside her asked. Starchaser glanced to the right and saw her gray earth pony friend, Irlo, where he was balancing a recoilless rifle over the back of one of the other earth ponies assigned to his fire team; a necessary task given the ponies' normal quadrupedal stance. At the moment, though, he was looking at Starchaser with a concerned expression. “You look like you're ready to eat a dragonfire pepper.”

Starchaser winced at the reference to the insanely spicy pepper. “You're never going to let me live that down, are ya?” she grumbled. “And shouldn't you be aiming?”

“Eh,” Irlo replied, with a shrug. The movement shifted him and his weapon on the back of the private below him, who shot an angry glance at the other pony in reply, but Irlo ignored it. “It can't be that hard to hit something that big, right?”

Starchaser and the two earth ponies in Irlo's team—the third being a loader—all gave him incredulous looks, but had no time to say anything about his nonchalant attitude as a particle stream blasted closer to them than any human weapons had done yet so far. A glance over towards the Dark Horse 'mechs showed that they were starting to aim towards the oncoming Desperado force, but the ridgeline that had proven so effective a position was now starting to hinder them, as a rise in the terrain kept them from getting clear shots. The Desperadoes had seen this as they moved in and had changed their line of approach to take advantage of it.

Right into where we can hit them, Starchaser thought, as she saw the 'mechs clear as day, without the interference of trees or terrain. A grin graced her muzzle at that, and she felt a new thrill that graced her mind only in training exercises.

“Ut-oh, she's got that look again,” Irlo observed, with a worried visage.

“Uh, should we be worried?” the loader on his team asked. “She's kinda scaring me.”

Irlo opened his mouth to reply, but was preempted by Sharp Sword, who picked that moment to shout: “Ready!”

“Showtime,” Irlo muttered, as he turned and rapidly aimed the recoilless rifle as he'd been taught to do two days before.

“Aim!”

“This is gonna be fun,” Starchaser muttered.

“Fire!”


* * * *

Sara Tanaka, commander of the Desperadoes' third company, was not having a good day, or even a good month. First Thompson gets his lance shot up and his butt tied to base, she mused, even as she pushed her modified PXH-1D Phoenix Hawk forward, despite the PPC fire that streamed by. Then they ambush us and bomb us and ambush us again and I'm sick of it! Her mouth was twisted into a snarl as she lead the survivors of her company up the backside of a spur off the main ridge. And now we're used as flank bait. Well, so long as it gets us closer to winning, I might as well enjoy it, she thought, and then smirked as she saw that her unit was getting close to the top of the ridge. “Alright everyone,” she said, after triggering her radio. “Make sure to hit and run, and use the terrain to keep them from getting good shots. Engage as we crest.”

A chorus of confirmations sounded back, and Tanaka returned her attention to the direction of her 'mech. Tricky bit of terrain here, more rocks as we get towards the top, she thought. Good thing they don't have infantry up here, otherwise they'd have great cover. The errant thought passed through her mind, yet refused to leave, and the captain narrowed her eyes. But, what if they do? They've used that hiding trick before... A moment of realization hit her, and she triggered her radio again. “Hold!”

It was too late, though, as the air up near the ridge shimmered and a line of hundreds of ponies appeared where none had been before. Shields popped into existence in front of them a split second later, even as multicolored orbs of magic streaked towards the oncoming BattleMechs. Tanaka felt her Phoenix Hawk shudder as she took the brunt of the first volley, and a glance to her cockpit's status display showed that she was quickly losing armor. Not that the rest of her team escaped attention, as recoilless rifles blasted shells into several of the other 'mechs, and a few squads of unicorns tossed bolts at them as well.

Tanaka wasted no time to counterattack, and she pulled the triggers on her control joysticks immediately after aligning the targeting cursor on her HUD over the image of the native infantry. Three lasers, one large and two medium, poured kilojoules of energy into the shields of one squad, and managed to overload and drop them instantly. For a moment she wished she had a standard model Phoenix Hawk and its machine guns so she could follow up on the opening, but the immense spike of heat that flooded her cockpit made her glad for the additional heat sinks.

Another positive fact for her was that the other MechWarriors of the company were on the ball as well, and their 'mechs—three standard Phoenix Hawks, a Stinger and the damaged Vulcan—added their own lasers and machine guns—and in the case of the Vulcan, an autocannon—into the fight, all to tear into the enemy shields through them in some cases to hit the infantry behind. Bodies were flash burned or torn apart in a brutal display of mechanized warfare, and Tanaka felt her spirits rise a bit.

It was then that she felt the first impacts hitting her rear armor, and her HUD suddenly showed a new stream of energy projectiles flowing in from a hilltop to the northeast. The other infantry force! Tanaka realized, even as she threw her 'mech into a series of evasive maneuvers. How did they reposition so quickly? This second thought only lasted a moment before she winced and then turned the Phoenix Hawk's torso to fire her large laser towards the hill. They run everyone on all fours, that makes them faster than normal foot infantry. Damn!

More hits impacted her armor, and Tanaka watched through the compressed view of her holographic HUD as the rest of her unit started to lose what little protection the lighter, faster 'mechs had. “Everyone, fall back,” she ordered, via the company's command channel.

“Don't you dare!” O'Connell's voice chimed in. “We're finally organized down here and we're starting to push! Don't you let up on that flank!”

Figures the asshole was listening in, Tanaka thought, while she once again spun her 'mech around and speared some pony shields with her lasers. “Dammit, major! They've got us in a crossfire and those horses are sandblasting our armor!”

“Your 'mechs are all anti-infantry designs,” O'Connel growled. “So go and hit them! Either that or you run away and I get to kill you myself.”

Tanaka bit off her first reply, and then made sure to align her 'mech with the ridge. “Fine, but I'd better get one Hell of a bonus for this,” she growled back. “Third company, take to your jets and press the ridge!” With that, she stamped her feet down on one of the sets of pedals down by her feet, and a thunderous roar filled the cockpit as silvery jets of ion flame blasted out of the back of the Phoenix Hawk's torso. Thousands upon thousands of kilograms of force shoved the 45-tonne machine into the air, and with some work with the foot pedals and shifting of the 'mech's mass, Tanaka guided the machine through a ballistic arc to land well within point-blank range of the enemy infantry. The rest of her company followed, but she paid them little attention as she charged the line with weapons blazing.

* * * *

“By Luna's glorious plot!” Irlo shouted, with fear and surprise upon witnessing the enemy 'mechs fly through the air.

Part of Starchaser's mind made a note to smack Irlo later, but by far the majority of her attention was in holding up a shield as the enemy 'mechs charged forward. Machine guns joined in with the laser fire, and hot lead began to rip into ponies as the Desperado machines moved amidst the infantry, rendering the directional shields far less capable as now the individual ponies couldn't reinforce each other's spell. One 'mech even poured literal fire from one of its arms and set several unicorns ablaze, while several machines made sure to use their weight and height to their advantage to step on several hapless soldiers.

Irlo, meanwhile, recovered and managed to fire his recently-reloaded recoilless rifle. The shell flew up and forward to smack into the side of one of the 'mechs' heads, and it seemed to pause to steady itself. Aha! Starchaser thought, even as she dropped her spell. “Everypony! Target the head!” she shouted, hoping to garner the attention of other unicorns. She didn't know if anyone heard her, but found herself suddenly uncaring as she charged up her offensive kinetic burst, and then lined her horn with the head of the Phoenix Hawk. Then she released the spell, and her head actually moved back from the force of it.

She was rewarded with a direct hit on the machine's cockpit, and Starchaser savagely grinned as the 'mech hesitated for a moment. The grin faded, however, as she saw the machine turn in her direction and brought its arms up to point the deadly weapons within at her. “I'm dead,” she muttered.

“Not yet!” Irlo shouted, as he grabbed the unicorn's tail in his mouth, and then yanked hard as he turned to run. Taken by surprise, Starchaser yelped and fell to the ground before she was painfully dragged at a surprisingly fast speed by the earth pony, just ahead of the other members of his fire team. The move was fortuitous, as the Phoenix Hawk's machine guns and lasers ripped through the area they had been. Then the fire traced further on, and Starchaser felt her heart sink as she watched a squad of ponies get obliterated by the furiously destructive weapons.

Scarcely had this been finished when another wave of fire from unicorns and earth pony recoilless rifles alike focused in on this particular 'mech. Holes opened up in its armor, and especially over its chest to reveal the inner structure and mechanisms. Starchaser saw this, and her mind clicked into overdrive. It's vulnerable now! She thought, even a she kicked out with a back leg and made Irlo trip. The two fell to the ground in a heap, and the earth pony shouted a curse at her, but Starchaser ignored it as she stood and then charged another kinetic burst. This time, however, she kept charging past the normal 'safe' limits that training had drilled into her, and she kept the magic building until her horn felt like it was going to split open. Then she fired, and the blast promptly knocked her backwards and onto her back.

The effect on the enemy machine was worse, though, as the kinetic burst slammed into the exterior shielding around the Phoenix Hawk's fusion engine. Already damaged from the various blasts that had ripped away the last of the armor protecting it, the shielding buckled under the impact and crushed one of the field generators underneath it, and the magnetic bottle it supported failed. A picosecond later the searing plasma of the fusion reaction slammed into the reactor's interior shielding and vaporized it, which sent a shockwave throughout the entire engine and blasted a hole out through the weakest point; where the shielding had been hit from the outside. Air raced into the hole and into the vacuum-sealed inner reaction chamber to mix with the remaining plasma, which promptly redistributed all the thermal energy and killed the last of the fusion reaction, while every material object capable of it was immediately oxidized. Of course, the now superheated air expanded rapidly and blasted back out of the hole in the shielding in a fantastic display of light and sound.

All of this occurred in but a fraction of a second, and for all intents and purposes it looked as if the engine had exploded. A fireball of brilliant, ionized air blazed in front of the 'mech while whole chunks of its internal components were shredded and flung out at tremendous velocity, even as the Phoenix Hawk fell to the ground with an earth-shaking thump.

For her part Starchaser blinked hard to clear her vision, and then stared at the fallen war machine for a few, long moments. Then her face was split by a maniacal grin, and she laughed. “Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! BOOM! Ahahahaha!” she cackled.

A short distance away, Irlo and his team were setting up again, this time behind a rock that would give them cover from the now much closer Desperadoes. “Hey, Rock Breaker?” Irlo said to his loader, who glanced at the gray pony. “She scares me, too.”

* * * *

“Dammit,” James McKenna muttered, as he watched the enemy push further than he had anticipated. “I thought they'd fall back.”

“Is that a problem? Twilight Sparkle asked, as she craned her neck to try and get a good look at was was happening via the tactical display.

“Maybe,” James replied, and then triggered his radio. “Rebecca, shore up the left flank,” he ordered, and only paused for a moment for her simple confirmation before he turned his attention back to his gunnery. “They're green, but they're still pushing hard,” he explained to Twilight, the shift in his tone letting the pony know he was speaking to her again. “I didn't think they had it in them,” James added, as he fired his weapons again. The LRM-20 spat out a rain of semi-ballistic missiles that arched down to hammer into one of the well-armored Griffins, but his gauss rifle unfortunately missed and buried its slug into the ground between a Shadow Hawk and the enemy's damaged Merlin.

“But, you accounted for this, right?” Twilight asked, even as she winced as particle cannon fire impacted her shield. Being as strong as she was, the beams were deflected or denuded, and the Highlander only took a slight amount of armor damage on the left arm.

“Unfortunately,” James grumbled out. “Damn, I really wanted them to break and run and end this quicker...” He let his voice trail off, and then sighed. “But this is war, after all,” he added, and then had his 'mech move backwards a few paces to put more of the ridgeline between him and the enemy. He then reached out with his good arm and triggered the radio. “General Stonewall, please come in.”

A moment of silence came back, but soon a voice was heard. “This is corporal Alum Salt, the general is a bit busy,” he said. “How can I help?”

McKenna absentmindedly nodded to himself as he recognized the other pony's voice. “Tell the general we need to enact plan Antietam and he is to move his forces immediately. We'll hold on the ridge until the royal army can begin withdrawal and then cover you all as we fall back.”

“Understood, I'll tell the general,” Alum Salt replied.

“Excellent, and out,” James said, and then switched channels. “Hermes?”

“I think I know what you're going to say,” Schneider said. “I've already got a bug-out path picked.”

“Good, get going,” James replied, and then switched the radio to his lance's channel. “Anvil group, we're enacting Antietam. Get ready to fall back on my order.”

A chorus of confirmations came back, and James switched the radio to standby. “Well, looks like this will be a longer fight than I hoped,” he observed, for his passenger. “I'm glad we set up that re-arming point on the other side of the river.”

“Do we really need to fall back?” Twilight asked, with a bit of confusion in her voice. “You took out a bunch of their machines already.”

“Yeah, but they still have the numbers, and though your shields have helped, we've lost armor on our 'mechs as well,” James replied. “Look, you can see them already forming up to press us,” he added, and then gestured to the HUD. Twilight looked, and then nodded as she saw the Desperado 'mechs moving into an arrowhead formation as they pushed forward. “I wanted a nice, quick victory, but looks like we still have to earn it the hard way.”

“I see,” Twilight Sparkle said, and then sighed herself. “At least we haven't lost yet.”

“There is that,” James agreed, as he shifted his aim for one last barrage.

* * * *

Some distance away, on a hilltop obscured by trees, a set of reptilian eyes gazed over the smoke-choked, explosion-wracked battlefield with a calculating expression set on their owners' visage. “It seems they are going to fall back,” a voice beside the being said, and she glanced to the side to see one of her generals watching the fight with interest.

“Indeed,” Chrysalis, queen of the changelings, replied. “This would be the right time to enact our plan, then,” she added, as she turned to gaze at the battle once again.

The soldier-caste changeling waited a few moments before he spoke up. “Yes. I'll send the order,” he said.

Chrysalis heard the hesitation in his voice, and then turned fully to face the male. “Do you have an issue with my command?” she asked, her voice silky soft—for her kind, at least—yet promising punishment if she felt like it was warranted.

“Not as such, my queen,” the general said, even as he turned to face his liege. “But the motivation for this move escapes me. I know the ponies are not exactly our friends, but to strike them when they're already being pushed back seems wasteful.”

The queen nodded at his words. “I suppose it seems that way from one who lacks the big picture,” she said, somewhat condescendingly, as she turned to face towards the battlefield in the distance once again. “But I shan't hold it against you, Shale, as it's not in your breeding.”

General Shale held his expression perfectly neutral, even as he grimaced internally at the overbearing monarch's attitude. If only her daughter would finally get the stones to launch a coup... he thought, and then forced himself back to the present. “I beg your indulgence then, my queen,” he said. “If you would; it would help my command ability if I knew what the end goal will be.”

Chrysalis glanced over to Shale again, and then nodded her head. “Yes, I suppose it would help to know what your aim is,” she admitted, and then turned her head back to the fight. “As you know, general, we feed on love. To get that, we must impersonate ponies and any other race of similar size to siphon the love they have for one another.”

“As every hatchling has been taught since the First Mother,” shale added. Although his tone was even and respectful, his very words were a subtle chastisement.

His liege noticed this, and she shot him a poisonous look, but let it go at that. “My point being, general, is that our proud and strong race must constantly hide from the others, just to keep the flow of life-giving energy going into our settlements.” Chrysalis' face twisted into a sneer at this, and she scoffed. “We, who are some of the greatest warriors this planet has seen. We, who take the energy of other races and bend it to our will, are forced to live underground—figuratively and literally—just to avoid having our food cut off.

“Not that it has been enough lately, anyway,” Chrysalis continued, and she began to pace a bit. “Every year our population grows, and every year there's less and less to go around as we can place only so many infiltrators before ponies start to notice their towns' populations swelling. Our race, our entire species is held down by our need to trick love from others.” She paused, and then smirked at the general. “But if we didn't have to trick it out of them, then we could take our place at the top as we so truly deserve!”

Shale let her proclamation stand for a moment before he chimed in. “But our invasion of Canterlot didn't work out so well, your highness,” he observed.

The smirk vaporized off of Chrysalis' muzzle, but she nodded. “Yes. We—no, I underestimated the ponies' strength,” she admitted, with a glance to the side. Shale was impressed at the brief moment of humility, but he pushed his musings aside as the queen once again turned to him and regained her haughty posture. “Which is why we will use their strengths against them.”

If Shale could raise an eyebrow, he would have. Instead, he simply fluttered his insect-like wings a bit. “And how will aiding these coarse invaders accomplish that?” he asked, curious. “How is it even using the ponies' strength against them?”

Chrysalis sighed and shook her head. “Oh soldiers, you of such little imagination,” she said, and then resumed her pacing. “The ponies' strength has now and always been their belief. Belief in themselves, belief in their friends, and most of all, belief in their princesses,” she explained, even as she stopped to gaze out at the distant battle. “Even now, when faced with weapons and foes so powerful that they are killed by the dozens, by scores and bushels, they continue to fight. And though I am not a soldier myself, general, even I can see they are holding their own despite their disadvantages.

“But belief is a double-edged sword,” Chrysalis continued, and then grinned. “I used that to my advantage in Canterlot, and fooled every one of those foals.” She paused again, and her face fell into an expression of anger. “Save one. Oh, how I long to get my hooves wrapped around her scrawny little little neck and then squeeze it until—”

“A double-edged sword?” Shale asked. The interruption disturbed Chrysalis from her growing rant, and she nodded.

“Yes. Belief can make them blind to things they'd rather not witness, but more importantly, belief can be shattered,” she added, and the grin returned. “These invaders are their match, but only their match; not their superiors. The ponies will fight, and likely win with their queer allies, just as they believe they can.”

“Until we step in,” Shale said, his tone laced with his growing understanding.

Chrysalis nodded. “You begin to see, then. If we aid the enemy, even if only a bit, we will ensure Equestria's defeat. And when that happens, the ponies' faith in themselves, in their 'friendship' and their princesses will be broken; they will be broken.” The grin widened, and Chrysalis' fangs glinted in the midday light. “Their society will crumble, and we will rebuild it in our image.”

Shale frowned at that, and he glanced over towards the battle. “Pardon my lack of imagination, your majesty,” he carefully spoke, as to not sound as if he were criticizing his queen. “But I do not see how this plan gains us love, nor do I see how helping a third party conquer Equestria will give us a chance to claim it for ourselves.”

Chrysalis scoffed again. “Of course you don't, general,” she said. “Your kind lacks the long view, but I shall try to explain it:

“When Equestria is conquered, the ponies will be broken, their fear and hopelessness will drain the fight from them, and they will be easy to manipulate,” she began, her tone growing eager as she explained her vision. “Love will become less shared, harder to find between strangers, but what love that is shared will be ten times as potent, as the more love is hoarded the more precious it is to those who feel it. As changelings, we can take the shape of loved ones that were believed lost in the war, or even just the usual temporary replacements, and that empowered love will dramatically increase our energy stores and ease the rationing, perhaps even to make us stronger than before.

“And then we will begin our work,” Chrysalis continued, and her eyes seemed to glaze over as she looked deep into her mind's eye. “With their princesses dead—and our intelligence tells us that O'Connell has every intention of slaying them—the ponies will be leaderless, hopeless, and yearning for direction. It is then we will start to approach them quietly, in back alleys, pubs, anywhere their new overlords won't always be able to watch. We will fight their oppressors, aid them, and in return they will start to love us as we are, and not as who we pretend to be.”

Shale grumbled slightly. “How will they come to love us? Will they not remember Canterlot, or the aid we will give to these invaders?”

Chrysalis laughed. “Oh, general, you forget how short-sighted the ponies are,” she replied. “At their lowest, when they are pushed into the mud, they will take any hoof given to them. And to rationalize accepting help from a former enemy, they will start to make excuses for us. We will tell them the new truth, and they will willingly accept it lest they condemn themselves for consorting with us.

“But most of all, general, we will give them what the oppressors never can: hope.” The queen paused at that, and then smiled as a confused look washed over the soldier. “Hope is a powerful emotion, one that can motivate any being into doing just about anything they set their minds to. But as with belief, hope is double-edged, and when it is lost it can destroy a being's motivation to live. What we will do, Shale, is we will let the invaders take away that hope. The ponies will cower and lose their belief, and the world will be dark to them. Then we will come, defeat the invaders with our subterfuge and fighting skill and give them the hope to live a better life, free from the chains the invaders will put on them, and for that they will love and accept us, first as allies, then as rulers. And then,” she added, as she raised a hoof up in a megalomaniac gesture. “We will control Equestria, and the love of the ponies, once kept to themselves, will feed our species and make us the mighty and indomitable force we were destined to be!”

Shale let the echoes of his queen's triumphant shout fade before he cleared his throat. “While I yield to your experience in the realm of manipulating ponies, your highness,” he began, as Chrysalis gave him an irritated look. “I must ask you, how do you intend we defeat the invaders if they can beat the ponies who defeated us?”

“Please, general, do you need me to tell you your job?” Chrysalis asked, with a roll of her eyes; a gesture that made Shale envious. “Our aid to the invaders will be fleeting, only tipping the scale when necessary. For the most part we will sit back and conserve our strength while our enemies pound each other into greasy paste,” she added, and then looked to the distant battle yet again. “Even now both sides are suffering, are wearing each other down. The ponies once beat us with their power, but only just, and that was after a mere day of fighting. When we begin to make our moves, both they and the invaders who conquer them will have destroyed each other's strength, leaving us to move in with our signature tactics and disrupt them from within until all order is replaced with chaos.”

“And we will step into that chaos as the only viable power with any coherence,” Shale added in, and then waited for Chrysalis to nod. “I do believe I see now, my queen,” he said, and then bowed to her.

“I am glad,” she dryly replied. “Now, see to my orders and have our infiltrated soldiers begin their mission.”

“At once, your highness.”

* * * *

“Fall back, dammit!”

Captain Sharp Sword's voice cut through the mind-numbing din of battle, and Starchaser glanced over to see most of the line starting to disengage, even as Rebecca McKenna's Warhammer poured devastating fire from its pulse lasers, Streak SRM-6, and one PPC into the Vulcan. The latter 'mech virtually disintegrated under the barrage, and its pilot ejected as the machine collapsed to join the two Phoenix Hawks that had also been felled by the combination of unicorn spellfire, earth pony crewed recoilless rifles, and BattleMech support. Starchaser absorbed all of this in a heartbeat, and she quickly used what little magic she had left to tweak Irlo's ear. The earth pony glanced over to her, and then nodded when she gestured with a hoof. “Alright, let's go you two!” he said, as he turned back to his weapons crew.

The two ponies nodded back, and they began the breakdown procedure they had learned back in Canterlot, while Irlo helped. The latter and the private who had braced most of his shots would slit the weight of the weapon between them, while the loader would carry the remaining ammunition. For her part, Starchaser had stayed with the group after Irlo had saved her life, as her squad was nowhere to be found, and she dared not think about what might have happened to them. Instead, she concentrated her magic back into a shield as the remaining Desperado 'mechs fired towards the ponies on the ridge, even as they rapidly fell back themselves under the guns of the Warhammer.

I'm exhausted, my magic's drained, and a lot of ponies are dead, Starchaser thought, as she waited for the weapons team to finish stowing their recoilless rifle. But we held, we held and we gave as good as we got, she added, with a bit of pride filtering through the terror and sorrow. Now, all we need to do is get away, find a new spot, and then do it all over again. Most of her wanted to cry at the idea of another battle, the sheer violence and death inflicting fear and weariness upon her soul, but she remained resolute. It's this or surrender, and we won't surrender. Not while we can still fight, and not when we still have a chance to win!

Just then a glint in the air caught her eyes, and Starchaser looked up to see a green flare of magic rising up from somewhere in the distance. Even as she watched, several more rose high into the air from various positions around the outskirts of the battlefield, and she frowned. “Look,” she said to the weapons team, and then pointed a hoof towards the nearest flare when they gave her their attention. “What the hay is that?” she asked, of no one in particular.

Unfortunately, someone answered. “Your doom,” the loader said, and before anypony could react he was engulfed in green flames. Scarcely had the magic dropped away when the changeling charged forward and slammed Starchaser in the face with a flying kick with his rear hooves and sent her flying and onto her back.

Starchaser yelled in pain as she rolled on the ground, but she managed to regain her senses after a moment and quickly climbed to her hooves. She then looked over and saw Irlo desperately fighting the changeling, while his loader lay unmoving on the ground, blood pouring from a large, fatal gash torn out of his neck. Irlo looked to be holding his own as he reared on his hind legs and boxed the changeling away from his own vital arteries, but Starchaser decided not to leave it to chance, and she reached out with her magic to yank the changeling to the ground. Caught off balance, the shapeshifter fell, and Irlo took the opportunity to land on the being's neck with both of his forelegs. The crunch of cracking chitin and bone was heard over the din of war, and both Starchaser and Irlo took a moment to catch their breaths. “What the hay was that?” Irlo finally asked.

“Changeling, like the one they caught in Canterlot,” Starchaser said, and then looked around. To her horror she saw that the orderly withdrawal the royal army had been engaged in was now a cluster of brawls and no mercy fighting as numerous changeling infiltrators did their best to kill or disable as many ponies as possible. “Sweet merciful heavens,” she muttered.

“C'mon,” Irlo said, with a nudge to her shoulder. “We need to go help the others.”

Starchaser nodded at that, and then ran after Irlo when he turned to head for the nearest fight.

* * * *

Another burst of sub-machinegun fire ripped apart a griffon, and Rainbow Dash followed through on the attack to race out the other side of the furball. To her side and rear came the Wonderbolt squad she was assigned to—or assigned to her, as the case actually was—their swords tainted with red once again. How long are they going to fight? Dash mentally asked, as she felt her stomach churn. We're outperforming them, can't they see that? Why do they keep pressing in? Why do they act like their own lives don't matter?

Rainbow pushed the thoughts from her mind as she turned to once again head for the nearest group of griffons and assault wing pegasi engaged in hoof-to-claw fighting. The trained pegasi of the royal guard moved through the air with a precision that belied their heavy armor, while the griffons pushed in with relentless energy and near berserker focus. Even as she approached, her eyes took in the fight below, and she saw that the Desperadoes were pushing up the ridge despite the fire they were taking, yet she put this out of her mind as she focused on what she could do to try and end the fight more quickly.

When the green flares started to appear, though, she had to slow down and consider them, which let Spitfire and Soarin pull up with her. “Are those your friends' signals?” the former asked.

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “No, there isn't any part of the plan for green flares,” she replied.

Spitfire frowned, but didn't have time to reply before large flashes of green came from the furball, and both she and Dash looked towards these new sources of light. Both mares were shocked when they saw changelings appear and start to attack the guardsponies with reckless abandon, even as the griffons pushed in, nonplussed at the sudden appearance of the new beings. Of course, they disliked the changelings as much, if not more so than the ponies did, and so the fight quickly degenerated into a massive three-way free-for-all.

“What in Tartarus is going on!” Spitfire shouted, confused at the appearance of the new/old enemy.

“This is bad,” Soarin chimed in. “Everypony's losing unit cohesion.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Rainbow Dash asked, as she glanced over the other ponies around her. “They need our help!”

“Agreed,” Spitfire said. “But we can't dive and slash with all of them mixed with our troops. Everypony, split up into elements,” she added, with the order being given to the squad behind her while she glanced back at them. “Lead ponies go for the changelings, wing ponies watch their backs,” she added, and then turned to Dash once she got confirming nods. “You're with me and Soarin.”

“Understood,” Rainbow replied, with a nod.

Spitfire nodded back, and then turned to dive back into the furball, with Soarin and Dash right behind her, while the other ponies of the squad peeled off in pairs. Unlike before the trio slowed as they approached, and this made them easier targets for griffon archers, who sent arrows their way. The nimble, acrobatic pegasi dodged them easily, but the shots delayed their approach and served to distract them. One griffon took advantage of this and flew in close while the trio were dodging arrows, and nearly took Soarin's head off with a battleaxe. The stallion managed to move to the side at the last second, though, and Rainbow Dash moves in to buck the griffon right in the back with both of her rear legs. She put everything she had into the kick, and she winced as she heard and felt the griffon's spine crack under her hooves since the leather armor he wore offered little protection against blunt force trauma. Heavens, I'm so sorry, she thought, even as she turned around and watched the griffon fall from the sky. She started to nose over in a dive to catch him, but an armored, yellow hoof caught her shoulder and made her look up.

To her surprise, Spitfire gave her a sympathetic look. “I know,” she said, quietly. “But we look after our own, first, then see to the others,” she added, in a voice filled with iron.

Rainbow frowned, but nodded. “Yeah,” she said, the one word loaded with all the emotion she could heft onto it.

Spitfire nodded back, and then turned to head off towards the nearest cluster of fighters. Soarin gave Dash a smile and a quiet 'thanks' before he followed, and Dash herself quickly moved to join them. They arrived just as the two changelings that had been fighting the pegasi ducked and weaved through the Equestrian fliers, shapeshifting into pony disguises as they did so. The move was well timed, as a passel of griffon raiders soared in and immediately distracted the ponies from the infiltrators in their midst, who soon lost track of the disguised enemies.

Dash, however, let her keen eye track them, and when one of the changelings turned and raised his blade to stab a pony in the back, she shifted her gunsight over him, and then fired. A trio of slugs ripped into the faux pegasus, and the disguise faded away even as the now-dead changeling dropped from the sky.

Firing on the enemy had drawn some of her focus away from the other changeling, however, and he took advantage of this to drop his own disguise and charge towards Rainbow Dash at full speed. Years of training in stunt flying gave Dash an edge, though, and she managed to do a quick backwards somersault to get out of her foe's flight path. Once he was past, she rolled through the rest of her backflip and quickly aligned her front with the changeling while he used the natural agility of his insect-like wings to make a very quick turn back towards her. He hissed a battlecry as he closed in on the pegasus, and his fangs were bared to rip into her flesh.

Not gonna happen, Rainbow thought, as her eyes narrowed and she triggered the firearm at her side again. The weapon spat out three more rounds, and then clicked as its magazine ran dry. The final bullets were enough, however, as they smashed apart the chitin on the changeling's head and turned his brain into paste, and the dead body fell towards the ground.

Rainbow Dash watched it fall, and she felt her stomach twist again. Never had to watch my own killing so close and personal before, she thought, as most of the griffons she had killed had been in the middle of a quick flyby. Seeing it like that... oh heavens, what am I doing out here?

Her ruminations were interrupted by a sharp pain against her side, and Dash yelped in pain as she was sent hurtling sideways through the sky. A few flaps of her wings steadied her, however, and she turned to see a griffon with a warhammer had gotten the drop on her. Yet to both of their surprise, she remained relatively uninjured. Though my ribs are going to hurt in the morning, Dash thought, even as she narrowed her eyes at the other flier. Good thing I have this armor.

The griffon recovered from his surprise right after her, and then charged towards Dash, his wings flapping hard as he brought the warhammer up high. His movements were sluggish when compared to the athletic pony, though, and Dash was able to maneuver around him in a spiral as his powerful charge took him right past the pony's position.

I wish this gun was loaded, Dash thought, even as she briefly remembered the instruction on how to reload the SMG from the spare magazines she carried in a pouch on her waist. But I don't have the time for that. Guess I'd better use the 'gift' McCoy got me. After Dash's participation in the fight was confirmed, the armorer had studied how the pegasi had their swords fastened to their limbs, and he had quickly adapted one such accoutrement to hold something a bit different from the typical Equestrian blade. Dash reached down and took the proffered weapon from a holster strapped to one of her rear legs, and then quickly set it into position.

The griffon warrior, meanwhile, had already used his momentum to swing into an orbit around the pegasus, who watched him with wary eyes. Rainbow Dash also kept her attention on the area around her, and so wasn't surprised when another griffon charged in with a spear when he thought her back was to him. She had seen the twitch of his muscles as he prepared to charge, and thus was already moving in a rolling, ascending turn as the warrior raced through where she had been.

I don't want to do this, Dash thought, as she rolled back and dove to catch up to the spear-carrying griffon. But heavens help me, I have to. She felt tears in her eyes and told herself it was just the wind, conveniently ignoring the fact that she had a face shield to protect her from said wind. Instead, Dash just kept her focus on the spear-carrying foe as he realized he was being chased, and followed him through all of his twists and turns while she steadily closed the distance with her speed and maneuverability. Finally, the griffon spun around and attempted to slam Rainbow with the long shaft of his weapon, but the pony dodged it easily and brought up the weapon lashed to her right foreleg. A jerk of her leg set the vibroblade to active, and the metal composite blade suddenly glowed white-hot as it was vibrated to an insanely high frequency.

The oscillations acted much as sawing would have done, only at incredibly fast speeds, and when combined with the heat and the already sharp, advanced metal of the blade, the weapon easily sliced through the griffon's spear and armor without even slowing down. Dash had a split second to see the look of surprise on the other flier's face before the blade continued on and sliced through the side of his neck. Then she was past the griffon, and a glance back showed her that he was dropping from the sky.

A screech came from off to her left, and Dash snapped her wings shut and dropped through the air as the warhammer wielding griffon charged at her, apparently enraged at the death of his comrade. Once again, however, Dash used her incredible speed and agility to quickly catch up to the griffon, and he barely had time to turn around and hold up his warhammer in a guard position before Dash flew in and sliced clear through the hardened metal like butter. Split in half, the weight of the warhammer's two pieces pulled themselves out of the griffon's claws and he could only gape in shock as he was bereft of any defense.

Rainbow Dash brought up her right hoof to strike, but then paused as she saw the haunted look in the griffon's eyes. She hovered there for a moment, and then lowered her blade. “I'll do you a favor and let you live,” she growled out. “But only if you run right now and don't come back. I see you again, I won't hesitate to cut you in half.”

The griffon nodded at that, and then turned and flew towards the north, diving as he did so. Rainbow Dash watched him go, and then jerked her leg again to turn the vibroblade off. McCoy said the battery's limited, so I'll try and save it, she thought.

“You let him live?”

The calm voice asked from next to her, and Rainbow jerked her body around to face the speaker. To her surprise, she found captain Starbuck hovering next to her, his armor bloodied but otherwise fine. Dash could only stare at him for a moment before she collected her wits, and then nodded. “I'm getting real sick of killing,” she said, her voice a bit gravelly from strain, both emotional and physical.

Starbuck nodded back. “We all are,” he added, and then looked around. Rainbow did as well, and she saw the reason they could have their brief chat was the fact that her fight with the two griffons had taken her a ways from the furball. She could tell it was dying, though, as both griffons and ponies were disengaging and dealing with changeling infiltrators. Then Starbuck spoke again, and she focused her attention on him. “Come on, rejoin your group and let's fall back.”

“Right,” Rainbow replied, and then turned to fly off to join Spitfire and Soarin, who were already approaching. First aliens, then griffons, now changelings. Can this mess get any worse?

“'Bout time you showed back up, rook,” Spitfire called out as Rainbow joined their formation. “The fight's fading in the sky, so we're pulling back to help the ground-pounders with this changeling problem.”

“Understood, captain,” Dash replied. My duty's not over yet. “Lead on.”

* * * *

“What the Hell is going on!” James McKenna asked, as the infantry units around his Highlander fell into utter chaos and no-holds-barred brawls.

“Changelings,” Twilight breathed. “Those green flashes, those are changeling infiltrators. But how? Why?”

James heard the shock in her voice, but he could spare the unicorn no attention as he tried to keep from stepping on any of the soldier ponies at his 'mech's feet. They were retreating in good order, too, he thought, even as he turned his ride's torso to take in more of the field near him. He had just fallen back from the ridge top after trading another series of shots with the oncoming and increasingly determined Desperado force, and his unit had intended to cover the infantry's retreat even as they themselves made a fighting withdrawal, per the plan. Now it's all going to Hell at just the wrong time!

“Boss, we've got serious problems here,” Dorian Carmine's voice came, via the radio. “I've got multiple attackers striking the infantry every time they try to organize and I can't get a clear shot.”

“Confirmed,” Rebecca McKenna chimed in. “They drop their disguise, kill a few, then try to disappear only to do it again whenever someone tries to get his comrades straightened out.”

James frowned, even as he swept his guns over the various clusters of fighting infantry. Ninety tonnes of weapons and armor, and I'm impotent to help. “Are they targeting the officers?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” Rebecca replied.

A new voice suddenly cropped up on the channel. “McKenna!” general Stonewall called. “We're bein' hit hard from within. Any help ya can give would be mighty appreciated!”

“BattleMechs ain't exactly made to sort out infantry melees, general,” James replied, while his eyes desperately scanned his HUD and cockpit displays for any bit of information to help with the situation. “We can't fire on them without killing a bunch of your own people.”

“We might be able to help,” another voice spoke up, which McKenna immediately recognized as belonging to captain Starbuck. “They didn't seem to infiltrate the air units so bad, so we've managed to clear them out, and the griffons are falling back to lick their wounds. I've already called the assault wing and the Wonderbolts back to assist the ground forces; we'll be there in a moment.”

“Damn good to hear it,” Stonewall chimed in.

“Starbuck, can you route some forces to my position?” James asked. “Our 'mechs are stuck because the fights spilled out of the travel lanes and they're all around our feet.”

“I'll send the 'bolts to you, the assault wing will assist Stonewall's brigade,” Starbuck replied.

“You'd best be quick,” James added. “The Desperadoes are going to have our balls in a vice if we're still here when they crest that ridge.”

“Then we'll move like lightning,” Starbuck promised. Then the channel clicked as he turned his set to standby.

“I'd rather they move faster than that,” Carmine chimed in.

“Stow it, Dorian,” James countered. “Everyone, turn to face the ridge, but be ready to bug out the instant the infantry's sorted.”

* * * *

Rainbow Dash pushed herself nearly to sonic rainboom speeds as she barreled through the sky ahead of the Wonderbolts. This time she had asked to go forward, and Spitfire had relented when it was clear how urgent the situation was. Thus the chromatic pegasus was already heading for the opposite side of the ridge that had until recently served so well as an ambush point, and her eyes took in the scene as soon as she passed it.

The five slower 'mechs of the Dark Horse were stuck fast in a quagmire made of bodies and brawls than of quicksand, as the Equestrian army attempted to fight back against the numerically inferior, but utterly vicious and unfettered infiltrators within their own ranks. Rainbow easily picked out several changelings as they dropped disguises and attacked ponies with fangs, or in some cases shifted into the image of a pony who was in the middle of fighting one of their uncloaked brethren, and then sowed confusion by attacking the pony soldiers in the guise of an ally.

They're working together, Dash realized, as she saw several groups of changelings, usually two or three, and none larger than four, perform the same maneuvers again and again. One gets their attention and the others kill when a pony's back is turned. Our guys are being slaughtered and they don't even know how! Her eyes narrowed at that, and she gave a brief prayer of thanks that she had taken a moment to reload the SMG. Rainbow slowed as she approached, and then dove in at the closest group of changelings amidst the ponies they had betrayed. You can hide from ponies who can't see around them, but I know exactly where and who you are, she thought, as she could see every changeling when they revealed themselves, and her mind easily tracked them even after they took up another disguise.

It was a thus an almost literal bolt from the blue as Rainbow Dash slowed down almost to her stalling speed and fired the SMG at her first target. The disguised changeling had been about to plunge a sword into the back of an earth pony when the bullets tore apart his cranium and revealed the deception to everypony around as the body collapsed to the ground. Rainbow didn't even bother to watch, though, as she had already switched to her next target and fired again to stitch holes through the side of another disguised foe. This changeling didn't die immediately, but he lost control over his disguise and, reeling from the pain, was unable to defend himself as the soldiers he had tormented fell upon him with vengeful fury.

Rainbow repeated this act numerous times over the following minutes. She would use her superior position to mark her targets, and then swoop in on them like a bird of prey. Her SMG spat out round after round of lead, and any changeling she didn't outright kill was rendered an easy mark for the ground forces. She had gotten so used to the actions that she didn't even notice Spitfire approach her until the latter was already flying position off her left wing. “Hey!”

“Bwuh?” Dash uttered, as she snapped her head up. “Captain, what is it?”

Spitfire gave the younger mare a curious look. “You do realize you got them all, right?” she dryly asked.

Rainbow frowned, and then looked down again. Much to her surprise she saw no signs of any further changeling activity, and the infantry was finally sorting itself out and retreating, albeit slowly as they sought to recover the wounded. “When did that happen?”

“About two minutes ago,” Spitfire replied, with a tone of admiration. “You've been kinda stuck in repeat mode since then.”

Rainbow felt a blush run up her cheeks, while her stomach twisted into a new knot. “Sorry. I just wanted to protect our guys,” she said, lamely.

“That you did, Rainbow,” Spitfire said, with a nod. “Now c'mon, let's keep a watch on them as they fall back.”

Dash nodded back to her idol. “Yes ma'am.”

* * * *

Twilight Sparkle sighed in relief as the royal army finally began to pull into the forests on the backside of the ridge. “Thank heavens that's over with,” she said, even as the Highlander she rode in swayed with movement.

“The hard part ain't over yet,” James McKenna observed to her. The steel in his voice brought the unicorn's attention from the cockpit displays and over to him, and Twilight saw his face hardened into a mask of concern. She didn't have a moment to ask James about his comment before warning alarms blared in the cockpit and red icons popped into existence on the HUD. “Shields up, if you would.”

Twilight didn't bother to reply, but instead quickly threw up her defensive shield once again. A glance through the distorted view of the holographic HUD showed the unicorns in the other Dark Horse 'mechs doing the same, which was fortunate as long-range missiles started to rain down on their positions. Twilight herself winced as the shield sent feedback into her brain when it detonated a score of the incoming weapons. “I see what you mean,” she wryly commented.

“Just hold on,” James replied, and then switched on his radio as he stopped his 'mech and spun it around to face towards the enemy. The superior training and experience of the other MechWarriors in his command showed through as they mirrored the action without hesitation or command, though James triggered the radio anyway. “Trade a salvo to give the infantry time, and then fade into the woods,” he ordered, and then fired at the first target he could see; an upgraded Centurion. A gauss slug ripped the air apart as it blasted into the as yet untouched 'mech's torso armor, though his LRMs lost all lock in mid-flight and furrowed into the ground to blast dirt and rocks into the air.

Had the range been as it had been through most of the fight, that would have been it. But the distance to the ridge was not so great as it had been from the ridge top to the ambush zone, and so McKenna threw in his shorter-ranged weapons as well, and three medium lasers mounted in the Highlander's chest slagged armor off of the Centurion's legs and left arm, while the SRM rack in the assault 'mech's left arm managed to land four out of six missiles around the enemy machine, battering even more protection from it.

It was a credit to the Centurion's pilot that the 'mech did not lose its balance; no mean feat after being struck by such a heavy attack. He not only kept the medium-weight design upright and moving forward, but returned fire as well as his LB-10X autocannon spat a stream of shells into the Highlander's chest, half of which were detonated by Twilight's shield before the instability of the hastily-designed spell allowed the rest through to blast armor away. Artemis-guided LRMs came next, and while they all either missed or blasted themselves into smithereens on the magical defense, the laser that followed them up poured the entirety of its firepower into the left arm of McKenna's 'mech.

The exchange finished quickly, but it was not the end of troubles for the two riding in the Highlander, as more missiles poured in from the other 'mechs cresting the ridge, followed by lasers and PPCs. The feedback from the spell ripped hard into Twilight's mind, and she had to bite down on her lip hard enough to draw blood just to keep from screaming in pain, while the 'mech shook around her from the impacts of the weaponry that got through her shield. A swaying motion different from the feeling of the 'mech's footfalls started to make her queasy as well, and Sparkle opened her eyes to see the world outside shifting radically, while James twisted madly in his seat to correct and guide the war machine's computers as they struggled to keep it upright. Sadly, it was not enough, and the ground appeared to rise up towards the cockpit as the 90-tonne BattleMech fell.

The impact shook Twilight like a ragdoll, and only the extensive harness that kept her in place kept her from slamming her head into one of the cockpit's consoles. She was still knocked for a loop, though, and the shield around the 'mech dropped as she briefly faded in and out of consciousness. But soon enough a voice sounded over the radio and snapped her out of her daze.

“—All targeting you! Dammit, Jim, get that hunk of slag up and get going!” Rebecca's voice sounded. No reply was forthcoming, however, and Twilight glanced over to see that James had also taken the fall hard, and was still trying to shake his head clear. The sounds of impacts on the Highlander's vulnerable rear armor started to sound even more alarms in the cockpit, and mortal fear spiked through the pony as she realized that they didn't have time for McKenna to regain his wits.

No, Twilight Sparkle thought, as her mind seemed to work without conscious direction. Not here, not now, was the last thought as a surge of energy she had only felt once before raced through her body and into her horn, while her eyes started to glow white.

The light show snapped James out of his stupor, and he glanced over to see this frightening visage just before a flash of light blinded him.

* * * *

Garth O'Connell sneered as he fired his Battlemaster's PPC and medium lasers towards McKenna's Highlander, his fire joining the others from his battalion as he had ordered the enemy commander a priority target. “Die! Die you mother fucking son of a bitch!” he screamed, nearly incoherent with rage. How dare you ambush me! How dare you stand against me!

A brilliant light enveloped the Highlander just as some of the first shots of the latest salvoes started to land and quickly and temporarily blinded everyone looking in its direction. O'Connell, though, grinned savagely as his eyes recovered. Hah! We must've gotten his reactor or an ammo... rack... His thoughts trailed to nothing, as that was exactly what he saw when he looked at the former location of McKenna's ride, and found it empty of any indication the 'mech was ever there, save for the small depression where it had fallen and the shards of blasted armor lying around the area. “What the fuck? Where the Hell did he go!”

* * * *

James felt his head swim in a surprisingly familiar manner as the world around him reformed from the shards of insanity he had glimpsed after his brief blinding. He shook his head yet again in an effort to clear it, and then checked his HUD, only to be shocked as he saw that his cockpit's computers had apparently all been sent into simultaneous shutdown. Even as he looked over them, though, the first flickers of electronic life began to return, and James decided to let them reboot as he turned his head to check on his passenger.

Twilight Sparkle was still in her seat and looked unhurt, as far as the MechWarrior could tell. Her limbs dangled freely from the harness as gravity pulled them towards the cockpit's viewscreen, but she was breathing regularly. For a moment she looked unconscious, but soon enough an eyelid slowly opened to reveal the purple iris and black pupil beneath. “Ow,” she muttered.

“Are you okay?” James asked. “What the Hell was that?”

“I... think I teleported us,” Twilight replied, as she started to stir. “We were on the ground, and they were all shooting at us, and I...” She shook her head as a powerful ache raged behind her horn. “I kinda just reacted on instinct.”

“Teleport?” James asked, warily. “That's what your teleports are like?”

“Well, no,” Twilight replied, as she again tried to clear her head with a shake. “But then, I've never took so much mass with me on a teleport before. I... Honestly, I'm surprised I could do it at all.”

A silence fell over the pair then, as Twilight waited for her body to recover a bit, and James contemplated the event. “Teleport,” Hell, he thought, as he turned his attention to the control computers and went through the manual portion of the reboot process. I've been to far too many star systems to not recognize a Jump when I go through one. But... how? He glanced over to the pony and gave her a brief, pensive look as she tried to shift into a more comfortable position. You're supposed to need a JumpShip at a Lagrange point if you want to Jump this close to a star. Sure, HPGs do it all the time, but all they do is send nearly massless photons through their hyperspace gates.

The HUD came back up just then, and James decided to push the mystery off for later. Gotta make sure we're not about to get slaughtered, first, he thought. His musings were cut short, however, as he saw that, instead of lying on a rocky, sparsely forested ridge wracked by war, the Highlander was now face down in an untouched, picturesque wood on flat ground. “Twilight,” he said, slowly, and then waited patiently for the unicorn to give him her full attention before he continued. “Where the Hell did you send us?”

Twilight Sparkle blinked her eyes a bit as she, too, was surprised at the outcome. “I... I think we're deeper into Whitetail Woods,” she cautiously replied. “I don't know where. Sweet heavens, how did I move us so far?”

“A question for later,” James promised. “Now, hold on while I get us back up,” he added, and then started to manipulate the controls at his disposal as he started the process of putting the Highlander back on its feet. It was slow, awkward going as he still only had the one arm to work the joysticks and hit commands on the DI computer console, but eventually he managed to get the machine upright once again.

“Ugh,” Twilight muttered, after the process was complete. “Swinging back and forth while this thing stands is not the best thing after overexerting your mana pool,” she said, tiredly.

“I'll take your word for it,” James evenly replied, and then reached out for his radio console. “This is Dark horse Actual to any person on this commnet, can anyone read me?”

“Jim!” Rebecca's voice sounded a moment later. “What the Hell happened? Where are you?”

“Long story, and I don't know,” James replied, with a wince as the after effects of the teleport/Jump still had his mind slightly rattled. “How's the unit?”

“We managed to fall back into the woods after your disappearing act,” Rebecca began. “I think the Desperadoes were more surprised then we were. We're moving to the fall back point beyond the Glitterfalls river as fast as we can, but the infantry are moving a bit slow with all the wounded.”

James took a moment to consider the brief report before he spoke again. “Good work. If you've got a moment, I'd like you to coordinate with Hermes and get a triangulation on me.”

“Already on it, Jim,” Schneider's voice chimed in. “The Beagle's chewing on it... and done,” he added, and then paused for a moment. “I don't know how it happened, but you're now approximately twelve kilometers south-southwest from your former position.”

James blinked in surprise, and then gave Twilight a look of admiration, to which she blushed. “Well, glad to know that,” the human said, and then sighed. “Alright, we'll head towards the rally point as well. Make sure our allies are kept appraised, and try to keep O'Connell's boys from catching up to you. This battle ain't over yet.”