Those Who Came Before
“Out of the way!” The door opened with a slam, kicking the dust and ushering in a gust of cool night air into the dusty cavern, littered with table-boxes topped with filled mugs and surrounded by clusters of red-armored griffons. At first, the griffons within were taken by surprise, but then started to smile, clap, and cheer when the Ghosts passed by them.
“Ancestors alive!” Leret popped his head up at the far end of the room, still holding his half-finished mug. “We thought you were all dead!”
“We followed you all back,” Talbot said. “We caught you guys by the tail end at the rally point, then you guys headed here. I didn’t know we established another camp. Had to do the usual, obviously, and snuck our way in without being seen.”
“Well, we didn’t,” Bloodfury said, standing up next to Leret. “This camp used to belong to a battalion under Red Talon’s command. The news spread like wildfire: a two-legged being, clad in black as dark as death itself and with eyes of an unliving blue, delivering a killing blow to the general using weapons that they thought—once thought—gave them an advantage.”
“A lot of Strongbeak’s forces had actually been wondering where the weapons came from,” Leret said, smirking at them. “They believe that Strongbeak stole an ancient relic from somewhere on Equis and now its guardians have traveled to our homeland to deliver righteous vengeance upon those who stole it.”
“And it’s not just Red Talon’s legion, either,” Bloodfury added. He nudged his way through the cramped room, bumping wings and shoulders until he came face-to-face with them, and motioned for the door guard to close the rickety wooden door to their cave entrance. “Every legion in the Empire will soon receive word of the defeat, and even those close to Helmguard are beginning to think that it isn’t worth being on the once-winning side when there’s ghosts hunting them down in addition to dealing with loyalists and fighting a war.” The emphasised word raised a roar of whistles and laughs from the crowd behind him.
“We’re becoming the boogeymen for these guys,” Mendoza said, nodding as he looked to each of his teammates approvingly. “I can live with that.”
“It’s good enough to gain us some serious credibility in the coming days,” Bloodfury said. He raised his mug to them, and the room followed. “To you, Ghosts. May your deeds pave the way to our victory, and the return of Emperor Arcus.”
“To the Ghosts,” Leret added, but closer to a whisper than a statement. Talbot looked around to see the griffons muttering their own agreements, realizing again that the wooden door was not the impenetrable barrier to sound that he’d forgotten it wasn’t. Then, every griffon chugged their frothy liquids in unison, and slammed every mug down loud enough to produce an ear-splitting crack before they returned to their cheer and music.
“And with that aside,” Bloodfury said, wiping away the beer from his beak, “Scarclaw wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.”
“Talk to us about what?” Pastor asked.
“I don’t know,” Bloodfury said, looking down a lonely hallway just off of the room, where two Guards stood at attention, ignoring the festivities. “But he was damn serious about all of you speaking with him as soon as possible. He said it was important.” His eyes looked back at them with no joy. “He said it was related to the findings you had in the armory.”
The room was no larger than the modest bunkroom they’d been given back at Kruvem, but it was lined from entrance to end with half a dozen wooden tables, large and wide as they held a plethora—more like a treasure trove—of items of various makes, organized by type. The torches in the room hung at the corners, providing just enough visibility for the Ghosts to stand in awe at the pickings that laid before them.
“Jesus Christ.” Pastor picked up the weapon on the table before him, a suppressed sniper rifle slated in the colors of nighttime camouflage. “It’s an AS-50. But it’s got no ID on it… no markings anywhere at all.”
“And a whole bunch of F2000s here, and a couple of Milana-2s,” Raymond said, picking up the rifle to examine its heat-damaged skin. “More than just a few, it seems. Looks like we might have had more than just a few visitors to this candyland.”
“You might be right,” Scarclaw said, observing the table bearing weapons and equipment neatly laid out for examination, and then the Ghosts as the group perused them. “We found only three corpses in here, with all of this equipment with them. Further questions to the imperial forces that were stationed here brought up no answers… just that this cave was off-limits as per the request of the Institute of Magic and by the orders of Strongbeak himself.”
“For study, most likely,” Talbot said. He picked up a combat helmet, identical to his own in design, and found the visor shattered, the jagged edges stained with the browning of dried blood. “It looks like whoever was here before us didn’t end up in as nice a place as we did. How did you get in here, anyway? I’d imagine if this place was off-limits by the boss himself, there’d be a couple of his powerhouses guarding it.”
“There were,” Scarclaw said. “It wasn’t easy to get rid of them, but the extra help from the regulars that should have been protecting them did a lot to edge things out in our favor.”
“They turned that easily?”
“A lot of the forces around here view this cave as cursed. Superstition carries heavy weight in griffonic culture, especially when it comes to desecrating the tombs of supposedly ancient warriors. When bad luck came around, the case was clear-cut when they started looking for scapegoats.”
“So that bit Bloodfury told us on Strongbeak stealing ancient relics from ‘somewhere on Equis’ just so happens to be right here? Ancient relics, my ass,” Mendoza said. He held a pair of rocket pods in his hands, identical to the ones he wore on his shoulders. “This ordnance… these guys weren’t fucking around. There’s enough stuff here to arm two squads with spec-ops grade equipment.”
“What reason would soldiers like these need all this equipment?” Scarclaw said. “It looks like a lot. Makes it easy to get bogged down, get surrounded by the enemy.”
“I’ve no doubt that’s probably what happened here. All of this gear seems to be unmarked and designed for stealth operations, so I think they intended this to be for infiltration and sabotage, using this equipment to cause havoc and delay enemy response for other offensives,” Talbot said. He scrounged through items, finding himself rifling through the smaller objects that came with the group: grenades, pouches, belts… and a journal, leather-wrapped in black with its polish shining in the dim torchlight, none the worse for wear. “Shell… come take a look at this.”
Pastor made his way over, receiving the book as Talbot held it over his shoulder. He flipped through the pages, then checked the front and back. “It’s a journal,” Pastor said. “A journal of… damn, the light’s a bit too dim. It’s in German.”
“Federation, definitely,” Mendoza said. “Like the uniform of that guy we found in the armory showed us. Kessler, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, like him. A lot of it’s hard to make out. Goddamn, I’ve never seen writing this illegible before.” Pastor moved to the table, holding the journal flat against the wood and letting the brightest of the light shine down on the pages. “I see a lot of references to mobilization, troop movements, experiments, and… my God. Portals? Skimming through the first half, he makes mention of Geneva multiple times.”
“Portals, experimentation, Geneva? That might be CERN they’re talking about,” Talbot said. “I think we’ve just figured out where Maynard stole his research from.”
“I thought Switzerland was a neutral party,” Mendoza said.
“They are. Doesn’t stop them from working under the table if they want to. Makes sense since they were already pretty chummy with the Federation before the war started,” Raymond said. He looked at a familiar row of magazines stacked at the end of the table, and moved to pick one up from the end to inspect the brass objects within. “Fifty-cal, mags for the AS-50… I wonder how much of the stuff Strongbeak took.”
“Might have been just the stuff he found on Kessler. Or worst case scenario: he snagged a bunch of these guys and got more than just a couple of rifles to look at.” Mendoza shook his head. “God help us if he found a couple of rocket launchers.”
“Given how the legions seem to be refitting themselves with these new weapons, and how we haven’t found any such thing yet, it’s hopeful to assume that he never got his hands on anything beyond the rifle,” Pastor said. “But forget about that: the European Federation was working on some sort of experimental teleportation device designed to move troops anywhere in the world.”
“One hell of a trump card to have,” Raymond said.
“Yeah. Top secret research stuff. Well, the teleportation worked… just not in the way they thought it did.” He skipped over a chunk of pages and went to the last, where the handwriting devolved into an indecipherable mess of lines and scratches. “Shit. I barely even recognize any of the words on here. Talk about hope, rescue, survival… death. Wait, I’ve got something. There’s a list of them down here, total four for the security detail. Nothing else on whether they had any researchers or persons of interest with them.”
“And Scarclaw and the griffons found three bodies in here,” Talbot said, searching through an unmarked metal case on top of a table in the corner of the room.
“Three corpses, and one MIA.” Pastor sighed and shook his head. “Not looking hopeful here. The trip was a one-way ticket. I hope to hell that isn’t the case for us.”
“Yeah, well, we have a bunch of magical ponies that can help us on that end,” Mendoza said. “I feel for these guys, man. Enemy or not, to die in a shithole far from home and Mother Earth… what a way to go.”
“I don’t have any intention of having us end up like these poor souls. How old were these corpses, Scarclaw?” Talbot asked the griffon, withdrawing a metal plate, sturdy but more thicker than flat, and gazed at it for a second before comparing the item to the joints of his exoskeleton legs. They matched.
Scarclaw shrugged, beak wavering between open and closed as he struggled for words. “Well, I… the corpses were beyond fresh. The decay was done, and what rot hadn’t taken the flesh left nothing but a desiccated husk behind to look at. Their uniforms were beyond distinguishable, torn and burnt to Tartarus and back. One had a lot of slash wounds, thin cuts that resulted in a lot of bleeding. I know the legions used blades made for that effect in past conflicts.”
“No armor on them?” Talbot asked. He tossed the plate back into its container with a careless clank and strode across the room to stand with Scarclaw as the rest of Anvil continued to look.
“Oh, no, they definitely had armor. And it was absolutely destroyed by whoever they fought against. My bet is that they went up against Strongbeak’s elites. You know how they are… large and tough to kill. Wouldn’t be surprised if one managed to close the gap on one of them and let loose.” He paced around the room, giving a lingering eye on the equipment as he passed by them. “I’ve no doubt that those soldiers dropped some of the equipment they had with them. The elites must have taken them back to their general.”
“I find it hard to believe that the soldiers managed to get away just like that.” Talbot paused, hearing the faint sound of shuffling coming from the hall outside. The patter of claws tapping against the hard stone floor grew louder until a familiar snow-white griffon peeked his head inside the room.
“Snowfeather!” Mendoza said. “Haven’t seen you around for a while, buddy! How’re you doing?”
“Oh, I’m doing well enough,” the young griffon said. He shuffled inside and looked at the equipment strewn about around him with awe. “Incredible… I thought the findings were just rumors, but… all of this? It’s insane to think that Strongbeak didn’t think to relocate all of these samples immediately.”
“The process was hamstrung by your father,” Scarclaw said. “Bureaucratic annoyances were something that Strongbeak was never interested in dealing with. That made it easy for your father to contest the research conducted by the Institute at this site, and Strongbeak’s soldiers had no love for being posted as guards for an empty cave filled with nothing but a trio of corpses and useless equipment locked away in metal boxes—we had to pry them open before you got here, by the way. This cave went unused for a long time.”
“Yeah, this—” Raymond said, waving the fifty-cal magazine around in the air. “—ain’t useless.”
“I’d never thought my father to have been so embroiled in the intrigue of the court,” Snowfeather said, his voice laden with disbelief. “He never did talk to me much of what his duties entailed. And as I realize now that it involved dealing with such colorful personalities like General Strongbeak, I understand why.”
“An unfortunate consequence of working in such an important position,” Scarclaw said, lowering his head in deference to Snowfeather’s father. “He was a good griffon… and I was a fool to let Strongbeak get as far as he did. From the moment I first met him, I could tell that his ambitions stepped far beyond his station.”
“It’s not beyond fixing,” Talbot said. “But it’s baffling how Strongbeak didn’t decide to just take all of this back to the capital the moment he grabbed power. Research into some of the more lethal tools here would have easily made him factors more powerful than he is now. He could have won the war before it even started.”
“I know as much as you do when it comes to that,” Scarclaw said, shrugging as they watched Mendoza slap away Snowfeather’s curious claw from grabbing a gun and looking at it barrel-first before scolding him. “All that matters is that he didn’t take all of this, and now we have it. From the looks of it, a lot of this stuff will be helpful for you since we can’t resupply you.”
“Oh, trust me,” Talbot said. “All of this equipment here changes everything.” He watched Raymond as the sniper hefted the AS-50 and let loose a wolf whistle while looking down the sight at the barren wall. “And I have a few ideas as to what we can do with all of the extras…”
“That’s incredible.” A number of griffon unit markers were pulled back into the Empire’s own territories by a Night Guard as Shining watched. “We got the information about the same time as they did. They got word that General Red Talon had been killed in the middle of battle and most of the offensive just… fell apart. They didn’t even get into the range of the ballistae.”
“So the attack worked,” Luna said. “Such an insane strategy… I wonder if my medallions had any effect on the outcome.”
“Actually, it did.” Shining rolled out a scroll at the edge of the war map table, dragging his hoof down the body of the correspondence as he eyed through it. “Oh, Captain Talbot engaged Red Talon in combat and won.”
“You mean he actually went fist-to-claw combat against that bastard?” Harvey said, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “I have to buy that man a beer after this is all over. The man’s made of steel to win like that.”
“Well, the actual details say that Talbot used the medallions as an offensive weapon to even out the differences between himself and Red Talon, and when the general was sufficiently weakened in their struggle, he used his weapon to finish the griffon off. In particular, he used the medallions as… wow, an enhancement to his own physical attacks?”
“Yes, the medallion acts as a shield to deflect any incoming physical damage,” Luna said. She levitated the scroll from Shining Armor and brought it over so she could read it herself. Her eyes darted from top to bottom as she took in the story, before saying, “Incredible. He used the shield magic itself to enhance his attacks. Far from my intention for the accessories, but brilliant.”
“And the mention of his appearance to the griffon forces afterwards, and even from the accounts that we’ve been hearing on the frontlines. They think he really is an honest-to-Celestia ghost.”
“Which works in our favor.” Luna’s smile reached from cheek to cheek, and she handed the scroll back to Shining with approving eyes. “Reputation. And there returns one facet of war that will work heavily in our favor. Perhaps my sister is right, and all we have to do is merely hold the line as we wait for the events in the Empire to run their course.”
“I thought you weren’t going to just wait for this all to blow over?” Harvey asked.
“You’re right. And while my sister may be right, my vigilance will not waver.” She shifted a number of night-blue pieces with the emblem of the moon over to the mountain borders. “The intelligence gathering can be allowed to slow for now. I will dedicate my Night Guard to keeping the mountain approaches safe.”
“Do we have any more information on these griffon airships, Princess?” Shining asked. He watched as an analyst walked over, three papers hanging in the air before her, and moved around several more of the pieces towards the inner cities of the Empire and switched the colors of a number around Fortress Helmguard to denote a change in allegiance. “More numbers for the loyalists. Things have been going great, all things considered.”
“No, there’s no further information on the airships than we do now,” Luna said. “They haven’t even been spotted anywhere near the frontlines. It’s strange… such vehicles of war would be a huge boon to the war effort, able to serve as a mobile outpost for griffon forces and a veritable siege machine.”
“Might be saving it for the worst of the battles to come,” Harvey said. Shining was handed another report, giving a nod to the analyst who gave it to him as the pony saluted and returned to his duties. When Shining’s expression fell from a neutral interest to a discerning scowl, Harvey cleared his throat. “Well, there, Captain… did something happen?”
“Yes.” Shining passed the letter over to Luna, who shared in his sentiment. “According to the Imperial Guard and Scarclaw himself, they’ve found the remains of human forces close to Fortress Helmguard.”
“Other humans? You’re kidding.”
“I would suggest that you read it for yourself,” Luna said, tugging on the letter to hand off the second page to him. “This one comes from Captain Talbot, addressed directly to you.”
Harvey took the letter from Luna’s magical grasp with suspicion, giving a wary look to the other two as he began to read over it. Upon passing his eyes over the first line, he sighed. “The Federation. Of course they’d do something like this.”
“The Federation?” Shining asked.
“The European Federation, to be exact. Like I said last time: it’s one of the three superpowers involved in the current war that mankind is embroiled in. Despite having the smallest in terms of landmass, the Federation boasts the world’s oldest and experienced soldiers, and their forte is centered upon cutting-edge technology, along with urban combat and electronic warfare. As such, the revelation that they were the ones behind the research for the portal that brought us here is no surprise to me.”
“Do you think they might have sent others through?” Shining asked. “This is serious. What if there are humans working for the griffons, too?”
“It says here that there are four humans total known in to them.” Harvey folded the paper in half and set it down in front of him. “Three have been confirmed killed, evidence pointing to the griffon forces, with the uniform of one found locked away in the lower depths of Fortress Helmguard’s armory. The fourth is missing, and assumed to be either dead… or kept somewhere where Strongbeak can keep an eye on him.”
“No doubt that’d be the Lockbox capitol prison close to Tesseraka,” Shining said, looking pointedly at the marked mountain that sat towering over the griffon capital city. “But that’s all that the Ghosts found. What if there are more?”
“Then we’d have to assume that they didn’t fare as well as we did.” He folded his arms, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. Shining and Luna waited for him to finish, the former taking the letter and placing on top of the pile of reports sitting next to him. “Well, that solves one mystery at least: how that madman Maynard got his hands on the information to build a portal.”
“You mean it wasn’t his?”
“No,” Harvey said. “He stole it, utilizing resources—official resources—to obtain the research on the portal technology. He also built up a surprising amount of influence due to selling classified information on the black market, information that our enemies put to good use. Whether by stupidity or arrogance, he ended up overplaying his hand and was caught in a pinch in the beginning of the war when we found who he was.”
“And then he escaped,” Luna said.
“He did. By revealing a small army’s worth of soldiers that single-handedly stemmed our own forces from catching him in the act, and allowed him to escape. He went off the grid shortly after, and only resurfaced after signs of his appearance were confirmed by our own intelligence agencies on a continent distant from the conflict. The Ghosts came to take him in alive, if possible, and rescue all of the scientific personnel that Maynard kidnapped to work on the portal research—me included.”
“And that portal was how you all ended up here,” Shining said, nodding as he looked to Luna. “Well, it’s quite the far-fetched tale, isn’t it? Being visited by aliens from another world?”
“Given the madness we’ve all been living through in the past weeks, it feels rather at home,” Luna replied with a joking smile. “Though, Doctor Harvey, you do say that the portal was being researched, but what for? I highly doubt that you had the intention of visiting our fair land given your rather… spectacular entrance.”
“Maynard didn’t go into much about it, but if it was taken from the Federation, there’s only one way to interpret it: they were attempting to create a portal system that could deploy their forces anywhere in the world and without being noticed. Imagine if we could do that right now…”
“We could strike straight at Strongbeak himself without worrying about having to fight through his soldiers,” Shining said. “I know you’ve said that you think us ponies and our magic are outlandish, but humans sure aren’t lacking in any outrageousness, either. The things you’ve showed us seem absolutely crazy. Some of it, like that invisibility, takes so much magic to maintain that it’s incredible that humans managed to even do it at all without magic.”
“Ingenuity makes up for the magic, I guess,” Harvey said. The war map shifted again as the bulk of the loyalist forces sat idle at the now-claimed Fortress Helmguard, and a small unit was moved up north, towards the mountainous regions of the Empire. “They’re moving north now, I see. What will they be facing?”
“General Gravelclaw’s forces,” Shining said. His voice was filled with apprehension as he looked at Harvey, with steeled eyes. “The General of the Land Cavalry. He’s in charge of all the battle wagons that the Empire uses, and the mountains are littered with mines used to produce metal for the war effort. Given how the griffons can’t approach this situation conventionally, it’ll all be up to the Ghosts here.”
“Well, they did happen upon the armaments that the dead Federation soldiers brought with them,” Harvey said. “Among them were several explosives and other ranged anti-armor weapons that will serve them well in this case. And last I recalled, Corporal Mendoza still has those rocket pods of his.”
“The city of Brightshard is where they’ll have to face General Gravelclaw. I wonder if he’s related to Scarclaw?” The pieces moved around as griffon forces were moved back to Tesseraka with a few units moving out to the frontlines. The Empire’s commitment to the war was beginning to falter; lesser arms on the field and with more idling in their cities pushed the ball off of their court and into the loyalists’, to sway and persuade.
“Unlikely,” Luna said. “Griffonic naming schemes stray towards common name-ends with militaristic history, the ‘-claw’ ending being the most common as it usually denotes an entire family heritage of noble military service. So, no, they are most likely not related.” She looked over to the wall across from her, where a map of the Griffon Empire hung, tall as it was wide, marked with the red scratches of notes and details proven true and false. “Brightshard. A mining city, if memory serves, a veritable display of the griffons’ endless industrial might. Their forges are ceaseless, always at work to fuel the Empire’s needs.”
“And a veritable nightmare to traverse, I hope,” Harvey said. “A place full of loud noises, clouds of dense smoke, and tons of commotion. The Ghosts will be right at home.”
“Yes.” Luna paused, staring at Harvey for a moment as the doctor returned her soft gaze with a puzzled expression. “It may please you to know, Doctor Harvey, that the research I have done concerning your return to your world has presented some… interesting details.”
“Oh?” Harvey folded his arms, leaning them forward on the table as he drifted his head closer. “Did you learn anything? Have you managed to find a way back for us?”
“Well, yes… but the portal is unstable, much like the one that brought you here. The time dilation I learned early on would not allow me to maintain any strong portal for long, and even if I could, the time dilation itself would make the proposition of returning a difficult affair.” She frowned, looking down at the table. “You have been here for too long.”
Harvey’s hands twiddled with the cloth on his elbows, and he shook his head in acceptance. “I couldn’t say that I didn’t expect that, really… we’ve been here for how long now? Months now?” He chuckled, a tired laugh from a wizened soul. “It was nice to hope, I guess. We already realized that early on that there would be no way to go home, and made peace with it, before the war began.”
“Yes, but…” Luna looked up with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes that to Harvey was the sign of a breakthrough. “There may yet be a way to return. I’ve been tackling that problem, you see: the time dilation, it’s merely the result of improper handling of the portal’s creation. To put it bluntly, our two worlds are like rivers, flowing parallel and in union. What your abductee did was essentially create a portal which damaged your dimension’s temporal energy, altering the flow and making it so that when we attempt to create a bridge, we do not see where you have left off, but where the world has gone without you. The world still passes by normally there, but here, it goes by faster than we can deal with.”
“Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff,” Harvey said with a groan. “Okay, fine. So even if you could theoretically fix this error, wouldn’t the same amount of time still have passed in our world? We would still have been gone for months, which is… well, while it’s not bad, the war was coming to a point really soon. That meant that if we do return, we might end up in a world where our nation is defeated. That would spell terrible things if we were to be found. We would have to resort to living off of the grid, and while I’m sure Raymond would be fine with that, the rest of us probably wouldn’t.”
“Yes, but, that is something that I also plan to investigate further: we can ensure the stability of the portal that we create so that you will return at the exact moment that you left. This, however, is only possible if we can create a mending portal that can repair the damage done, so we figuratively know the rate at which both our rivers flow—the same as each other’s. Through that, we can create a pathway to any point on the other river. This task should be possible with careful application of alicorn magic.”
“That… sounds reasonable, almost a little too much so.” Harvey shook his head again, but this time out of a humorous disbelief than melancholy, and with a flattering smile. “You ponies and your magic… a field of science unto itself, isn’t it?”
Luna bowed her head. “Thank you. Although I would like to take credit for this breakthrough, it was Twilight Sparkle who conducted a great deal of research into this particular topic… amusingly enough, following an incident where she was on a self-imposed monthly deadline for sending a letter to my sister, and forgot to do so only once. She was absolutely manic about it.”
“She’s quite the bright little bug, eh? What happened to that repository of knowledge she was looking for, anyway?” he asked.
“Oh, she found it,” Luna said, with a creep of blush on her face. “It was a gift from my sister to her. She wouldn’t talk about it.”
Captain Blacksword sniffed, rubbing his nose with an icy plated hoof as the dryness of the northwestern air stung his face. The mountaintop view provided a great vantage point, but a nice play to stay it was not. He returned to his tent, a bulky cover of heavy cloth and metal rods, hammered into the ground to prevent the high winds of the peaks from tearing it all apart, nodding to the guards that saluted him as he entered.
The tent was a sparse accommodation, built for utility rather than luxury. Even then, the luxury it provided against the harsh climate was more than enough for him, and the simple cots assigned to their expedition became the valued possession of every Night Guard across the ranges.
Sitting down at his desk—a trio of boxes pushed together and covered with a blue tarp donning Princess Luna’s moon on it—he shuffled the erratic collection of papers on the tabletop into a cohesive stack, and began to flip through them. All were letters from Princess Luna herself, each detailing some new concern she had with the war, or the griffons, or the Night Guard, or their position, or the weather, and so on. Each ended with Luna attempting to rectify whatever perceived problem they had by providing them the tools necessary, which meant that the Night Guard had the privilege of being the most well-armed and well-fed than they had in years.
The candle flickered as the tent flaps parted to reveal a Night Guard, a face that Blacksword had come to know well since his company had been deployed. “Private Indigo Stripe… what brings you here?”
“Uh…” The private swallowed, looking away to focus his attention on the rough cloth of the tent’s walls. He shifted around on his hooves, looking around as his indigo mane appeared as an unkempt mess of tangled hairs through his helmet. “I… uh, I don’t like this, Captain.”
Blacksword sighed, and put down the letters. He gestured to the empty cushion in front of his desk, which Indigo gladly took. “Well, Private… speak your mind. What is it this time?”
“The mountains, really,” Indigo said, his voice trailing off into monotone. Blacksword held his expression, sizing up Indigo as the stallion’s head seemed to dip every few seconds. Perhaps the thinness of the air was getting to him, but batponies had as much of a constitution for heights as pegasi did. It didn’t make sense for Indigo to be so out of it. “They’re… well, ugh, I don’t think I’m taking it too well up here.”
“Get some rest for a while, Private,” Blacksword said. “We only just moved up here, after all, being only stationed in Canterlot. Give your body some time to get used to it.
“I know, I know, it’s just that I really want to—” He raised a hoof and slapped himself across the cheek, sharply gasping and tenderly rubbing the stricken spot afterwards. “Ow! Okay, that… that’s better. Captain, I just got off guard duty. We’re so high up, I don’t think we should spend so much time just standing out there. It’s damn cold.”
“I can see your point.” Indigo nodded, and Blacksword frowned. The captain fidgeted in his seat, readjusting the claws that tapped against his belt. Such weapons were always present in training, but this was the first time in all his years of service that he ever had to use them. He was as jittery as the entire company over their usage, and they’d drilled thoroughly over the techniques in the days leading up to their deployment, when Princess Luna had demanded that they be ready to react on a moment’s notice. “Very well. I’ll see about decreasing the hours per shift, but that’ll be accompanied by an increase of them. We need eyes on the Empire at all times.”
“I know, sir. Thank you for helping on that. It’s not easy to do drills up here, either. We can’t work ourselves too hard or else we end up freezing. At least our defense emplacements still work.”
“Do you think it’ll matter if the griffons decide to try to push through here?” Blacksword snapped. Indigo’s jaw tightened, and his lips thinned into a tense line as he pondered his answer.
“No, sir,” he said. “But they’ll be prepared for the conditions—as are we. With all due respect, I don’t think it’s a wise decision for us to get winded before we even run into combat, even if we do have clothing to weather the cold. They’re better at this business than we are.”
“And we train because we need to level the playing field.” Blacksword head the ruffling of a cloak blowing in the wind, and the crunching of heavy boots approaching around his tent. There was the faint murmur of discussion outside, and then another Night Guard stormed in, this one a mare from the next mountaintop over.
“Captain!” she said, saluting snappily before she fell over on her rear. “T-the…” Her voice shook and she inhaled sharply, scooting over to the stove next to his desk and held out her hooves to accept the precious warmth. “W-we… we saw s-something… grif-griffon movement on th-the plains. Airships.”
“Airships?”
“Yes, sir. C-Captain Meteor demanded that I r-return to you immediately. He’s already s-sent out the call to arms to the other c-companies. We’re expecting an attack v-very shortly.” She pulled her cloak tighter around her and accepted a cup of hot cocoa from Private Indigo, pull from the nearby stove and steaming as she took a sip and let out a blissful sigh. “That was ten minutes ago.”
“From Meteor’s encampment? You did yourself proud today, Private,” Blacksword said. He looked to Indigo. “Notify all of my officers, and prepare for battle.”
“Sir? We’re going to fight against their airships?” Indigo asked.
“Yes.” He looked at the mare. “Stay here until you’ve recovered, and return to Captain Meteor if you’re able to. If not, then you’ll help us here. Princess Luna has entrusted us with stopping those airships from getting through, and by her name, we will.” Indigo was on his hooves and out the tent before he could react. He exited his tent, ordering his guards to keep a watch on the mare as he made his way down the hill to his company’s main encampment.
Indigo hollered as he entered, and every Guard in his sight began to scramble, assembling in formation in the middle of their cramped parade ground, while others left for the cliffs to main the ballistae that they’d hauled up the mountain with great effort. And Meteor was right—the vista revealed much of the Empire through holes in the clouds, and from where his camp was, he could see the bulbous shape of the airships rising up to meet them.
There was no doubt that they would be escorted by griffon air wings. And if that was the case, then it was up to the Night Guard to stop them. He patted his chest down of snow and proceeded downhill. There would be much fighting to be done before Luna’s peaceful night fell upon them.
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3549616 Call of Duty?
Sir this is the Tom Clancy verse!!
We have higher standards here.
I like this, accidental psychological warfare! Can't wait to see the showdowns with the rest of the generals.
Yes! A new update and love the no punctuation profile pic that guy is utterly hilarious xD
I just realised that Talbot performed something called a "pinpoint barrier punch" also known as Daedalus/Macross Attack.
Utilising kinetic barriers to amplify the impact of a kinetic strike resulting in high penetration forces.
The following video serves as an example (and also as a reference to the namesake).
Im sure that this attack is also used in different other Sci-Fys (Mass Effect 3s Biotik melee strike is similar) but thats the one I first thought about.
Also, looking forward to meeting our EU POW. I think its going to be an awekward moment.
And their infamy is spreading! Nice!
cdn.buzznet.com/assets/imgx/2/1/2/9/5/5/6/0/orig-21295560.jpg
3854635
Good sir, who are these people?
Make me proud Norway!
well, more fun is about to happen!
YUS! UPDATE!
WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
3947749 Pretty sure they're Helghast soldiers from the Killzone games.
3947749 3953304 They're Kerberos Corps soldiers from the anime Jin-Roh: The Wolf Brigade.
3946237 "OH how true how true. Do you what a cup of tea sir?" Said the classy man siting next to Sneaky Breeze. (
)
3956764 Ahhh sorry, the picture must have come down. and i cant remember what it was
YES! A new chapter! Oh, I've been looking forward to this since... well.. the last one!
Just gotta say man, i love this fic.
4188044 Thanks, I'm glad you enjoy it.
add romance and this will be better not saying it bad
4285203 Romance would be terribly out of place in a story like this, and I can't think of any plausible reason to include it aside for the sake of it.
I dont want to sound like one of THOSE commenters but when is the next chapter going to be? (Soon, later, in a while...)
4483563 From one of the three given: later. It won't be any time soon, that's for certain.
Quick question to the author about the stolen cloaking suits used by the griffons, did the ghosts ever get the chance retrieve them as they are very valuable assets? They could be used as a spare suit if one if theirs ever gets broken or they could be used by a high risk VIP for added protection and so on.
Also I'm really loving this story kudos to you the writer. I can't wait for more
Please update more often good sir
So the EF screwed up a experiment and seemingly stopped them after Maynard's little 'borrowing' spree.
At least they didn't try sending a entire battalion..that would've been embarrassing
4483795 you've played endwar i used to love that game
Me gusta
simply awesome, I sincerely hope you can continue this good sir
MOAR
So…uhhh…are you dead? or just procrastinating? or do you actually have a legit reason?
Not to sound mean or anything…I procrastinated o one of my stories for a whole year once, so I won't blame you.
Hard to believe that on fimfic, a ghost recon fic is one of the best crossovers out there that got above a thousand views.
I believe in the ghosts good sir!
i hate to be the guy to yell more but someone has to do it. . . . . . . . MOOOORRRRREEEE!!!!
5586184 I agree with you, my good man. Thank you for your contribution.
How many out of the 39 people disliked this does everyone think did it just to be a dick? Same goes for a lot of stories.
This is.... This is neither good nore bad. It is just... Neutral. In the worst meaning. On the one hand - writing style and chapters size are ok. But, on other hand - your characters are not ghost operatives. They act, mostly, like coward teenager idiots. If you write a crossover story - it is not enough just to watch some advertisement videos and early previews. You could read a GR wiki. You could play a game ("torrent edition", "walkthrough on youtube", licensed copy - it doesn't matter). But you didn't. And your characters aren't even close to the ghosts. For example - most likely they won't try diplomacy if they need a person alive and it shows hostility. They'll just neutralize it with non-lethal equipment. Or, another example - they surrendered to the royal guards (who are actually useless against modern human soldiers, especially if we talk about smb like a ghost operatives) to easy. Or, another one example - one of the operatives was really feared about being executed. Of course, it is ok for a man to be afraid of death. But first - if it is a professional soldier, he should be SO afraid. Second - it is a motherf*YAY*cking ghost operative. Special ops of this class are not afraid of anything. Or, even if afraid, succesfully fight this fear. And another one example - they simply told all the targets of their operation.
5735934 Uhh, even though theyre these super special Black Ops SF soldiers, theyre STILL soldiers, you ever hand out with soldiers, we're fucking children, I get called cornbread by half the damn company, our E7 motor Sgt took us to a go-kart track for lunch one day(no he didnt pay fo us all, the whole motorpool went). Spilling the information about the mission, it was a pretty FUBAR situation and the results of that scenario will VARY from CO to CO. Then stunning a hostile contact, let me tell you a simple ROE we USUALY go by, if it attacks at you, its hostile, if its hostile, you shoot it, now of course we distinguish certain threats but diplomicy is NOT part of a soldiers MOS. Surrendering, lets see, yes the ponies looked non threatening, but look at it from their view, VERY limited equipment, ZERO hope of ANY kind of resupply, against UNKNOWN numbers of said ponies. Just cause something isnt as advanced, doesnt mean its not a threat, take the Russians in WWII for example, the Germans equipment, with the sole exception of sloped armor, was FAR superior to the Russian forces. but one cold ass winter and a few MILLION troops later, and we have the history we know today. And I dont give a damn WHAT SF branch they work for, a fear is a fear and even though they overcome it, doesnt mean theyre not gonna say SOMETHING about it. I dont know what kind of crack pipe you smoke out of, but just cause he wanted them to be REALISTIC, in the way PEOPLE act, doesnt mean he fucked up. I'm honored you think us soldiers are these un-fearing drones that always make perfect fucking decisions. So he made his Ghosts more like real soldiers, and you called them cowardly teenagers. guess who makes up a good portion of the lower enlisted, FUCKING TEENAGERS. We're not unthinking machines, we ALL act and react in different ways. Im sorry that your view of SF is flawed, maybe DUE to all the games that picture military so, but it just aint true.
6461332
Neat. So we can blame the canuck frenchies at Ubisoft for spreading ignorance.
It's not surprising considering how stupid they've made Assassin's Creed over the years, their turning of the Splinter Cell series into the Bourne franchise, and how they were stupid enough to say in the Jerusalem level of Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow that Jerusalem was the birthplace of Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, when in fact, it's neither for the last two and probably not even the birthplace of Judaism despite the importance of that city to Judaism in particular.
6465702 yes
...halooooo? You alive mr. Author man?
6484398 He's dead jim.
6637220
6637612 I blame Google Search.
Someone should continue this.
But WHO?,
dun dun dun,dun dun dun, i thinck i have retard idess
7049147
Wow... late to party, much?
Is this story dead?
Never mind I figured it out... 62 weeks and not a peep...
Is this story dead?
8244601
She's been dead for three years, man.