• Published 25th May 2017
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Spectrum - Sledge115



Secrets come to light when a human appears, and the Equestrians learn of a world under siege – by none other than themselves. Caught in a web that binds the great and humble alike, can Lyra find what part she’ll play in the fate of three realms?

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Act II ~ Chapter Eighteen ~ Moonrise Over Boston

Spectrum

The Team

TheIdiot
It’s December 1st, and a hard time to be sure.

DoctorFluffy
“That’s right, the Mascara Snake. Fast and bulbous. Also, a tin... teardrop.”
“Bulbous also tapered?”
“That’s right!”

VoxAdam

Sledge115
Go beyond

RoyalPsycho

TB3

Kizuna Tallis

ProudToBe

Chapter Eighteen
Moonrise Over Boston

* * * * *

I've waited long enough now
For them all to come around
And though the Sun may plead and threaten
The Moon will stand her ground
The Moon Rises, lyrics by Ponyphonic

~ Fenway Kenmore, Boston, USA ~ November 15th 2024 CE ~
Twenty-five minutes earlier

“Lady– sorry, I mean, Princess Cadance,” Major Bauer said hurriedly. “What do you really mean by an ‘other’ Equestria?

Cadance felt warm and cold at the same time, here in their makeshift base-camp, which used to be the platform of a small station, situated below an overpass. Fenway Station, she’d read as they drove across said overpass, following the ambush she’d saved these people from at the inn’s ‘parking’ structure.

Them. Humans. Equestrians amongst their ranks, but mainly humans.

And in their presence, yes, she felt warm and cold at once. Warm, from what permeated the rough, harsh exterior of these soldiers, the love they held. Cold, by whatever came from the North, a tainted, twisted love.

“I meant what I said,” she stated, pacing along the platform’s edge. “Aunt Luna and I, we came from Equestria… we came from an Equestria that didn’t know war. An Equestria that never crossed the divide between worlds and began a war.”

The woman named Alicia piped up. “Makes sense when you think about it, right, Major?” she commented, fingers drumming the crate she sat on. “This is way above our paygrade...”

“Well…” Cadance said hesitantly, “things are a little different back there, and more than just– look, the important thing is, Major, is that Alexander Reiner is alive.”

The Major regarded her with a curious glance, then shrugged.

“Alright… slow down a little,” he said, holding up a hand. “When and how did he arrive?”

Cadance’s eyes drifted over their surroundings. It was harder to tell, under the shade of an overpass illuminated only by the white glare of glowsticks, what the world beyond looked like, but the station sat next to a park and river. Even in the dark of night, Cadance saw the greenery had been stripped bare by the Winter, a light cover of dirty snow on the grounds.

The crude, pale light cast her shadow onto the tracks, making her wings look massive. She could acutely feel what these people saw when they gazed at her.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Two weeks, I think? That was in–”

“Two weeks?” interrupted Starfall, the unicorn dispatcher who’d recognised her Gift of Tongues. “That’s not possible! The Captain disappeared less than three days ago.”

“I don’t know,” said Daniel, from next to Alicia. “Could be time travel.”

“Don’t interrupt,” said Starfall. “Just focus on what you’re doing. How’s poor Canvas, anyway?”

Daniel held up the flask and shook it. “The vinegar should help him pull through,” he said, looking back down to the paint-covered, immobile earthpony. “Guy’s gonna be stiff for weeks, but at least we got to him before that stuff ossified.”

“Praise be the Lyre,” Alicia breathed. “Our little squad can’t go losing good guys on your watch, Stephan.”

Indeed, since Cadance had learned from Bauer that he’d given his Knights the order to spread out as they headed East, it wasn’t so surprising her sharp alicorn eyes had caught him with only four companions – right as they were holing up in a garage with their vehicle, having come close to also getting caught by Imperials.

But then he’d insisted on falling back a few blocks West, with her in tow, so the six of them could converse in a private place.

Bauer tapped a little, tubular device above his armour’s pauldron.

“No idea if my shoulder camera’s still broadcasting anything,” he muttered. “Not while that fucking dome’s above the city. But someone must’ve got a picture of you back to Command, Your Highness…”

“I hope so,” said Cadance. “Major… I didn’t interact much with Captain Reiner, except to tell him the story of how I got my wings, because he was as surprised as you… But that’s not important right now. All I know is that you, Stephan Bauer, are the person we hoped to meet in Boston…”

“Why Boston?” demanded Stephan. “Why not New York? That’s where all the higher-ups are.”

“Because Boston is where Reiner was last seen,” Cadance replied, “and it was our only trail to follow back to where he came from. Now–”

She tensed up.

“Wait, what was that?”

In the darkness beyond the overpass, a screeching wail pierced the night.

~ Manhattan, New York City, USA ~

“No sound, no comms, barely any picture,” grumbled Vinyl, thumping the plasma-screen TV. “What in the world’s going on over there? Why are we seeing another Cadance running around? And who’s this talking to us, using our Bonbon as a puppet?”

The last question was addressed to the glowing-eyed, twitching Bonbon, yet it gave voice to what Cheerilee, and presumably everyone else in the PHL war room, had been thinking.

On the screens, grainy still images of a pink alicorn with her wings resplendent, offered a striking backdrop to the Oracle, but had no answers to provide. For ten whole minutes, Bonbon had been struggling to speak, delivering many of her usual gibberish riddles – and yet in the cracks between, words of unusual coherence had emerged.

“I’d sooner not divulge mine identity,” she said in that voice not her own. She clutched her chest, panting with exertion. “And even if I would, it’d take too long, and mean little to you. Speaking through this vessel is proving harder than I thought. The shock must have… Never you mind. Time... short is.”

The Oracle turned to Lady Cadance.

“Please… on mine behalf speak,” she wheezed. “Voice of the people, the voice of the gods… Echo lost in the wilderness must not… Nymph that runs afoul of jealous wife… Argh...”

“Is it true what she said, Cadance?” Cheerilee asked the frowning pegacorn. “You’ve met… whoever this is, before?”

Cadance dipped her head, looking no-one in the eye.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It was at the JFK Library and Museum. Right before the Imperials captured Zecora… and destroyed our portal-station… and Captain Reiner vanished.”

“What.” Spitfire pushed back her chair, glowering. “Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

The Princess-in-Exile returned her glare. “You should ask Amethyst,” she said. “She swore me to secrecy. I didn’t even see the whole of it. When the Imperials attacked, I was over in the Smith Hall, looking over those refugees who needed my help. Got them out of there too, as you well know. Aren’t we meant to be a humanitarian organisation first?”

Spitfire bristled, yet this part of the story was one Cheerilee and the rest had already heard.

“Amethyst?” said Cheerilee. Her eyes scanned the war room “...And of course. Not only is Amethyst not here, Time Turner’s the only one of us who stayed at the UN…” She eyed Cadance. “You said you and Zecora were taking Bonbon for a day out. So, the attack on the JFK, that wasn’t just the bad luck of the Imperials gunning for Alex, was it?”

Gladmane sniggered. “Congratulations, Your Highness,” he said leerily. “You’re really learning the art of deception… With your own friends, to boot…”

“Friends don’t lie,” Pineapple Nectar commented glibly. “It’s what they say, yes? But it’s all distrust and secrets and lies with you ponies… Such fun this is!”

"Listen here, Pina...” began Vinyl, growling.

A low, soft hum traversed the air. It was small. It should have been unobtrusive. And yet it felt so very at odds with the tensions in the room. Just as it had started, the bickering died down, as everyone stared to the one who hummed.

It was Moondancer. She sat in her chair, eyes closed, back straight, hooves pressed together.

A realisation crossed Cheerilee, the same one which must have caught everyone off-guard. Since the moment the Oracle had spoken, Moondancer hadn’t spoken a word. She’d sat there, in a meditative pose of serene silence, seemingly removed from the mounting worry and doubt.

Moondancer’s eyes fluttered open. They met Cheerilee’s.

“Dancer?” said Cheerilee. “You got something to say?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Moondancer nodded. “That night, three nights ago. In the underground.” She nodded at Cadance. “Where we keep those in your care, Cadance. Including Bonbon. Cheerilee was there. I was there.” One eye glanced at Vinyl. “And so was your cousin, Vinyl... So was Allie. You were sleeping… Trying to sleep.”

Vinyl’s lips tightened. Everyone knew she hated reminders of the nights she spent in the ward.

“Why,” she said, “what happened?”

But it came back to Cheerilee.

“Bonbon… she had a vision,” Cheerilee whispered, remembering. “She said ‘Reiner still stands’. And she mentioned… ‘A Celestia whole and true, as she should have been’.”

Cheerilee stared at the images on the screens behind the Oracle, who was now swaying, the glow in her eyes dimming. She felt relieved to see Gladmane move to support Bonbon.

“I don’t know about Celestia… But Cadance? That looks like a Cadance whole and true…”

A sardonic cough racked the room.

“Ma’am. Don’t mean to make a fuss,” Pina stated, swallowing back another cough, her prosthetic forehoof covering her mouth. “Except Cadance is not what I’m seeing on Major Bauer’s feed. What I see looks more like a big purple dragon. Heading straight towards him. And it doesn’t look friendly. At all.”

~ Charlestown, Boston, USA ~
Now

Scootaloo stared at Rainbow Dash with complete disbelief. Here they stood atop Bunker Hill, in the moonlight shadow of a large obelisk. Many centuries ago, she recalled, a battle did take place here, where invading British had incurred much heavier casualties against the defending colonial rebels. A frontal assault that had resulted in disproportionately heavy losses. A mad plan none too far from what Rainbow had told everyone she intended to do.

“I’m going for Twilight, like I said,” Rainbow said. She adjusted her helmet and flight goggles. “Scoots, you’re on Wing Commander Fleetfoot, Captain Timber, and Captain Plow, alright? Get Whistle and the other cadets safely out. I know I can count on ya.”

“What?” Scootaloo said. “You’re really going back there? This fast?”

“Yeah,” replied Dash. “I am. Gotta get her outta there.” She pointed with a wing across the river. The banks were covered in darkness. “We’ll regroup at Hollow One.”

“That's… That's so far offshore. Is the situation really that desperate, Captain?” asked a piebald unicorn with red-brown patches across her white fur. She wore an Equestria-made assault saddle mounted with two crossbows, and wore a Trailblazers patch on her saddlebags.

Took the words right out of my mouth,’ Scootaloo thought. ‘What was her name… Cinnabar?

Odd name for a unicorn.

“There’s another alicorn running around out there, and a burning hole in Twilight’s ship,” Rainbow said. “So, yeah. It’s that desperate.”

“Captain, wait!” Scootaloo cried out. Her mentor paused before takeoff, but she did not turn to face her. “What if… what if you don’t make it back?”

“Sorry, Scoots. Can’t promise that I will, but I’ll try,” Rainbow said quietly. Then, she saluted, and turned to face the assembled guards. “Good luck, soldier. Let’s get this over with, ‘cause Canterlot's counting on us. Now, move it, ponies!”

“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused, Scootaloo’s affirmative a little less energetic than the others’.

The veterans often talked about something they called Breaking the Yoke. The idea was that on your first deployment, you saw things that training could never really prepare you for, and how it changed you.

Somehow she doubted they’d meant it literally, what with Spike. Academically, she’d known he was on the ship, ready to deploy. But for whatever reason she’d just never been close.

So that’s him now,’ Scootaloo thought. The Solar Empire had pumped enough alchemical concoctions and other things into him, that they probably could’ve made a whole new dragon. ‘He’s as old as me.’

She bit back a shiver.

But he’s so strong now. That’s what the Empire does, isn’t it? They made me strong, and…

She looked over to Timber, to Sprout, to Fleetfoot… to Whistle. Whistle, smaller yet so strong with her natural-born wings, now tended to by the Fillydelphians’ medic and by Salty Breeze, whose blue-shaded feathers and fur hid his own consternation.

She ruffled her wings wistfully.

And I have a duty, and a debt to pay.

“Right then,” Fleetfoot said. “We’re heading towards our lines. Get a sky-boat, and we’re heading to Hollow One after that.”

Scootaloo remembered Hollow One. It was an oceanic outpost that was being used as a resupply depot for the Imperial Navy. Of course, there was just one hole in Fleetfoot’s plan actually getting a sky-boat. Perhaps they could pull a few easy strings.

“They blew up the Tobin Bridge,” Fleetfoot started. “So. We’re heading North. There’s a bridge or two the PHL can’t have destroyed. Push comes to shove, we’ll find a lock and have our unicorns raise a bridge from one end to the other.”

“Where do you propose we head, Wing Commander?” asked Captain Sparks Timber.

“Fellsmere Park Outpost,” said Fleetfoot. “We stick with our original objective.”

“Are you sure?” said Timber. “That’ll take us about an hour by hoof, and lugging a heavy statue! If we encounter hostiles in the no-one’s-land, we’ll be at a disadvantage.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re chugging this much horsepower, isn’t it?” One of the cadets with them, a unicorn, laughed nervously.

“We can send some of our winged troops to give Fellsmere forward notice,” said Fleetfoot. “And maybe they can send a boat to meet us halfway. But not before extensive scouting. We cannot wait here, Captain Timber. The humans and their allies could be on us at any moment.”

“Alright, ma’am,” Timber said crisply. He patted his armour’s lodestone. “15th Fillydelphia's still in Charlestown. I can call for backup.”

Fleetfoot nodded in approval. “Captain Plow?”

Oaken Plow snapped to attention. Scootaloo regarded him closely. His colours clashed with Timber’s, from his dark brown, cropped mane, to his lighter chocolate coat, light yet unassuming in the ways Timber’s pleasant blue colours were prominent. And they too clashed with Fleetfoot’s bright blue coat and white mane.

Plow’s brown eyes, though, spoke of someone far aged beyond his years.

“We’ll need your guys to scout on ahead,” said Fleetfoot, and the Traiblazer nodded.

“Understood, Wing Commander,” he said respectfully.

“Our pegasi will scope out the bridge to make sure it’s not booby-trapped,” Fleetfoot continued. “Starstruck, this one is on you. We don’t need another 8th Seaddle.”

Earlier that week, the PHL or UNAC had left the Tobin Bridge booby-trapped, turning the entire thing into a screaming metal death trap the moment the 8th Seaddle Regiment had tried using it to march to the airport.

“Can I count on you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. You can count on me, anytime,” Scootaloo said, nodding.

She glanced at the crate besides her, in which the statue of Discord was held. Then at the bronze statue of the American Revolutionary before the obelisk, a cutlass in hand. William Prescott’s steely gaze fell upon her, as if beckoning her to act as she promised.

Anytime…

~ Fenway Kenmore, Boston, USA ~

“I can’t… I can’t hold it!” yelled Cadance.

The shield she’d held on for so long was cracking, for the dragonfire burned beyond any fire she could imagine. And she could feel her strength fading with the stream of fire against her shield. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the dragon’s twisted, mangled form, but the sheer malice and eldritch energy poured into its fire told her much.

Behind her, her newfound allies stood motionless, watching in awe and fear both. They counted on her. Amidst the commotion, one yelled out that every other detachment was caught up in the crossfire, leaving them on their own, with a wall of fire trapping them under the overpass.

“Cadance!” Major Bauer yelled. “You have to lower the shield!”

“What?!” Cadance exclaimed. “No! If I do that we’ll all be–”

“Trust me on this!” Bauer replied. “I got it all figured out– Starfall? You ready?”

“Yes, Major!”

Pushing back sweat, Cadance stole a glance at the knight. He was bracing himself, and Starfall’s horn was glowing, his aura around the Major’s ankle.

“Major? What are you doing?” She knew full well what his plan was, but to actually commit to it...

“My best,” Bauer said flatly. His sword was drawn to its full extent, glowing ominously with its runic enhancements, and so did his armour. “Might as well try this, Lady Cadance. Get ready to open the shield!”

“You’ll die,” Cadance yelled back.

“With honour if I must,” the knight said. He adjusted his stance, shield raised and sword held firm. “Do it! You don’t have much time!”

The dragonfire did not falter, not one second. But… Major Bauer wouldn’t have been so confident if he knew it wouldn’t work. Perhaps, Cadance wondered, here she ought to trust his judgement.

“O-Okay!” she strained. “Get ready!”

“Ready! Throw me at his chest.”

“Good luck, Major!” Starfall yelled. They need the timing right. Any second less, and he might be burnt to a crisp.

The cracks spread and grew in width, and Cadance knew she didn’t have long.

Now!

But then it stopped. Just as she was to open the shield, or as it was to shatter – she wasn’t sure if it would give way first – the dragon halted in its attack. Its eyes widened, mouth hanging open.

And before their very eyes, it turned and fled.

“What… was that?” Bauer said.

He was frozen in a pose mid-air, held by her aura. Poised to strike.

“I don’t know...” said Cadance, setting him down, before finally dropping the shield and falling to his side.

A fiery, acrid smell hung in the air. This was a strange day.

“I’m alright, I’m alright,” said Cadance quickly, as the soldiers rushed to assist, human and ponies alike. She glared at the knight, who had taken off his helmet to stare into the night after the fleeing dragon.

She didn’t know much about Stephan Bauer. But Reiner could have told her or Luna more about his sanity.

“All things considered,” Bauer said lightly. “That went well.”

“You were gonna throw yourself at a full-grown dragon, Major,” Cadance said flatly, moving to his side. Granted, she didn’t know if that dragon was full-grown. In the dim light, she couldn’t make out its features very well. “I assume that’s not exactly out of the ordinary.”

A look at Bauer’s sheepish expression elicited a groan.

“Alex didn’t tell me everything about you, I figure,” she stated.

“Well,” the Major said, rubbing the back of his head, avoiding her eyes. “Might as well try, right?”

“Yeah,” Cadance continued, looking up at the dome covering the city, and the smaller yet still vast bubble enveloping the great airship. They were a familiar shade of magic, shimmering in the moonlight.

Shining…

She felt a pang of sympathy for her counterpart. To lose both Twilight and Shining to whatever madness had engulfed the Empire… Cadance didn’t know how she’d have handled it. And there was that other mare. How she had come to his aid as his new, loving, loyal wife.

“Major, sir!” Starfall shouted. “We got inbound transmission from the scouts!”

Major Bauer, come in, Major Bauer, come in!” a voice rang out from the man’s radio, and he reached for it quickly.

“Major Bauer, reporting in,” he said. “What’s the situation at the waterfront, over?”

Admiral Chirkov reported in, Russian naval assets have arrived, they’re within three clicks from Boston Harbour, joining the French. Fire support’s inbound… But… until that dome is down, no air asset will be deployed within Boston airspace, over!

Cadance thought she heard a heavy sigh from the Major.

“Copy that, Shield,” he said grimly. “Hold position at the FOB. And that dragon Ze’ev Squad reported crashing into the John Hancock Tower? Yeah… we just had a close shave... Over.”

There was a troubled silence. “You were very lucky, sir. Others… weren’t. Wait. Hold up. I’ve just received report of a teleportation spike detected in the Charlestown no-man’s-land. Over.

The word ‘teleportation’ caught Cadance’s notice. Bauer must have sensed something, for he locked eyes with her.

Feeling cold, she mouthed the words ‘I don’t know’.

He spoke back into the radio. “What’s our unit closest to that location? Over.”

Ze’ev Squad, as it happens, sir. Currently hanging back at the Boston Public Gardens. They’ve got an APC, recently dropped off Sniper Team Nordlys to take point for what’s going on at Langone Park... where it looks as if the spike was initiated, likely by the Archmage… Over…

Bauer massaged his temples. “Penals… Alright. Relay with Comms Officer Seville Orange. Ze’ev Squad has permission to cross the Paul Revere Chokepoint into no-man’s-land. Objective, capture an officer for interrogation… low casualties if possible…” He sighed. “Over.”

Understood, Major, Silver Shield out.

“Major!” Alicia called out. “Any news?”

He shook his head. “The Russians are waiting near the Harbour. But the dome isn’t going down within three hours, and God knows what the Great Equestrian’s going to do… How’s Canvas doing, Alicia?”

Cadance glanced back at the rest of their group. The scout in question was resting upon the platform, his left foreleg hanging limp.

“Should be fine, Major,” said Alicia. “Yet unless the dome…”

Another sigh, and Bauer smiled a sad little smile. He turned to Starfall. “Tell everyone to hold positions. That dragon’s still out there.”

“Yes, Major,” Starfall replied, moving to join the others.

Cadance, however, looked again towards the shimmering dome, and her mind began to wander. “Major I… I may have something for this.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I’m going to break the dome.”

She looked at the Major, who blinked confusedly.

“I…”

“It’s his shield, isn’t it? Shining Armor’s. I should… I should be able to do it,” Cadance said softly. For emphasis, she presented her wings. “I’m not your Cadance, and it’s not a guarantee, Major Bauer. But I know Shining, and like you said. Might as well try.”

“Might as well,” Bauer agreed. Then, he smirked. “You still need to tell me how’d you speak German, by the way.”

“Another time, Major, another time…”

~ Charlestown, Boston, USA ~

They stuck to alleyways as they traversed Charlestown. There was something eerie to the silence of it all– the open, empty storefronts, the lack of cars, the sense of distance between them and anything sentient.

Gunfire rang out sporadically. It sounded far away, but Scootaloo couldn’t be sure.

There should be something there,’ Scootaloo thought. ‘Ponies, even humans…

Cities were supposed to be full of life. She’d seen the pictures of human cities before. Large, imposing, filled with cars and other vehicles she couldn’t name. They didn’t compare to the bustling Northern metropolis of the Crystal Realm, its towering crystal spires and widespread use of crystal-tech in every corner. Totem-proles filling the air with music and love and joy…

She adjusted her wings, and continued at a brisk pace.

Captain Timber led the group, Discord’s crate levitated by his magic, trailing right behind him. There followed fifteen of his fellow Fillydelphians, many having rendezvoused with them in Charlestown, led by his deputy, the medic Cookie Batch.

Oaken Plow and two of his Trailblazers, meanwhile, were scouting ahead. That left Scootaloo, Whistle, and their three fellow cadets at the group’s centre, with Sprout and Breeze, and another Trailblazer, named Cinnabar, stuck to their group.

The ambience soon gave way to curiosity, and Whistle chose that moment to break the silence.

“So, this can’t be as bad as hunting deserters in Pripyat, right?” Whistle whispered to Sprout, a forced smile on her face. “Heard all about it in the papers.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sprout said, and Scootaloo winced a little at the bitterness in his tone. “Because this is worse in every way. You get ponies lost to the forests here, because they claim what is theirs even in the new settlements. But urban combat is its own kind of Tartarus, rookie. Someone’s lurking behind every corner, with a weapon that can split you in two from a mile away. Of course, the head shed didn’t listen.”

The look on Whistle’s face was less horror and more like a puppy who’d been hurt for the first time and didn’t understand why.

“That was cruel, Sergeant,” Scootaloo said coldly. Whistle glanced at her with renewed hope.

“It’s war,” Sprout retorted. “Rookies need to be broken, otherwise we’ll never be able to put them together.”

She was about to say something when Breeze cleared his throat.

“Might want to pipe it down, Sergeant,” chided Breeze. “Acoustics here ain’t so welcoming for loudmouths.”

Scootaloo silently thanked Breeze for keeping her from losing her temper.

“Besides,” Breeze added, and Scootaloo somehow heard the smirk in his voice. “You’re still pretty green yourself in my books.”

Scootaloo kept the light smile on her face hidden.

“R-right, Doc. Sorry,” Sprout said. His brown eyes weren’t as warm as they should be, and his green coat and lighter green mane, Scootaloo thought, hid his experience.

But something else passed over Timber, for he raised a forehoof.

“Hold,” said Timber. One by one, the haphazard detachment paused, glancing around. They were relatively covered, here in the backyard of some long-forgotten home, but the worry passed over Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Something ain’t right.”

There was a pregnant pause.

Then, right as she moved, just a tiny bit, something whizzed by – and a Wonderbolt cadet’s head exploded. She couldn’t tell who it had been. Another was shot in the shoulder shortly after. He was the resident Vanhooverite.

She couldn’t recall his name…

Her training took over, and they scrambled for cover. The loud, ear-shattering reports of human firearms sounded throughout the ravaged city.

It sounded like they had a machine-gun with them – something very large, a lot heavier than the average human assault rifle.

“Contact!” Fleetfoot yelled. “We’ve got contact!”

“Scatter, take cover, now!” Breeze said hoarsely, grabbing onto Whistle.

Scootaloo followed them behind a short, squat brick building the size of a shed. Beside her, a Fillydelphian pegasus – this one a Newfoal – rocketed up into the air, a look of pure hate on their face.

Die, apes!” she screamed, barrel rolling down the street, firing off her crossbows.

She was quieted by a bullet. Scootaloo stared down the street, looking towards the source of the bang. At one end of the street, a corner near the edge of a small park, she saw a squad of PHL contemplating them from a first-storey window.

A heavy-looking machine-gun with something mounted underbarrel roared and chattered, spraying bullets towards them.

The Vanhooverite cadet lay bleeding in the middle of the street, choking and oozing on the pavement. One of the Fillydelphians, also a Newfoal, broke from cover and rushed towards the unfortunate cadet, a worried look on his face…

Before something ripped through the Newfoal too. There wasn’t even as much left of them as the cadet. Who still lay bleeding, a few inches from death.

“You monster!” Cinnabar yelled. Her horn glowed, and a long, thin package lifted itself from her assault-saddle to just in front of her face.

It was a gun. A human-made M4.

Cinnabar pulled the trigger in her TK. A short burst of gunfire rattled out from the thing.

“You can’t do that!” yelled the sole other remaining cadet, a Baltimarean stallion named Clear Skies. “You’re using a human’s weapon!”

“Equestria can chew me out later, but we’re dying now!” Cinnabar retorted. “Besides, I don’t notice any of you taking them on at range!”

“No!” Clear Skies yelled, and against all logic, rushed towards Cinnabar – and took three bullets through the barrel.

He didn’t get up.

Grimacing, Scootaloo edged back into cover, while next to her, Sprout peeked around the building’s corner to see what had happened.

“Yeah...” Sprout said, voice sounding like it could’ve been coming from another planet. “Those never last too long with us. Crossbows, everyone! Try to– ack!

He fell on his back. A bullet had blown a chunk of brick off the wall, above his eye.

“Sprout!” Scootaloo yelled on instinct. “No!

“I’m f-fine!” Sprout yelled, clutching his face and sounding panicked. “That one just went a bit too close to my face! I think it cut off some mane!”

Scootaloo looked down towards Sergeant Sprout. He did, in fact, look alive – but there was a fine patina of brick dust over his face, near one eye. It was impossible to tell, however, if he’d received a manecut.

She wouldn’t fall for that trap. With a beat of her wings, Scootaloo poked her head above the rooftop, trying to aim one of the crossbows in her assault yoke towards the human emplacement.

Sometimes – she’d never admit it publically – she envied how bipeds were just so much better at aiming ranged weapons.

Case in point, she could see their few hippogriffs – Timber’s Fillydelphians, probably reassigned to fill in gaps left by lost pegasi – reared up on their hind legs, using their foreclaws to aim and fire potion mortars. It was uncomfortable for them, but it also meant they were better shots. Especially launching potion-filled grenades.

Scootaloo fired her crossbow.

A bolt flew straight and true, down the street towards the human machine-gun emplacement. It punched through the window-glass like it wasn’t even there, missing the gun–

So close!

The machine-gun paused a fraction of a second, and therein lay the lightning-rod moment for the combined forces of the Imperial Guard. They rushed West, into the alleyways.

“We need to get to those bridges now!” Fleetfoot yelled. “We–”

But she was drowned out as the machine-gun resumed firing. A Newfoal earthpony, carrying a massive grenade-launcher on his back, was cut down by a short burst of gunfire. It was impossible to tell from where.

Scootaloo fired again. Another bolt went through a window.

Something strange happened. The machine-gun stopped firing, and Scootaloo watched as comrades down in the street ran West.

Then she saw the muzzle pointing at her.

Oh, sh–’

Scootaloo dove off the roof, not even spreading her wings. At almost that second, a spray of machine-gun fire ripped apart the little outcropping where she’d been hiding.

She spread her wings just before she hit the pavement, hooves smarting with pain as she tried to find balance.

“There’s something there!” Scootaloo heard someone yell.

Looking up, she saw–

No.

A human and an Equestrian moving from in between cover. An earthpony with two LMGs on her assault saddle, and a human with a long, thin rifle. Not quite a sniper rifle, but no assault rifle either.

They were deathly silent.

She recalled her training. The machine-gun had been suppressive fire. Surprisingly accurate, but it hadn’t been meant to kill them. Just keep them–

Move!” Fleetfoot yelled, and she didn’t need to tell Scootaloo twice.

Scootaloo bolted across the street, the LMG forgotten. One block down from her, a Newfoal moved out–

The machine-gun cut through them like a hot knife through butter.

She flew like Cerberus itself was at her tail, windows whizzing by her. She passed by Fleetfoot, who stood directing Trailblazers, Wonderbolts, and Fillydelphians alike towards a bridge.

Fleetfoot turned to look at Scootaloo, teeth clenched. She moved, just a little from her cover at her end, as the shooting died down again.

“Starst–argh!

Just an inch out of place, but someone must have seen her move. There was a burst of blood from the side of her body, where the bullet had penetrated the wall, then through to her armour.

She collapsed in a heap, and didn’t move anymore.

“Fleetfoot? Fleetfoot?” Scootaloo whispered, unable to move past the hail of gunfire. The Wing Commander remained unmoving, as she feared, her white mane clashing with the blood that flowed. “No…”

“C-commander?” she heard Whistle behind her. “No, no-no-no-”

A panic attack was imminent. It wasn’t something the cadet was trained to handle.

Scootaloo turned around and gently grabbed Whistle by the shoulder.

“Hey, HEY!” she shouted, catching her attention. “Look at me. This isn’t boot camp anymore! You hear me? I need you to stick with me, Whistle. Stick with Breeze.” She bit back a grimace. “We’re getting out of here alive. Got that?”

Whistle glanced at the inert body of Fleetfoot behind her, then nodded slowly. Her eyes were still wide with fear, but her shoulder had stopped shivering.

“The… the Wing C–”

“She’s gone,” said Scootaloo. “I’m… I’m sorry, but it’s what it is.”

She couldn’t let Whistle see her shed a few tears either, and so tore her glance away. Fleetfoot, so trustworthy, so reliable… gone forever.

Dimly, Scootaloo felt aware of Sprout trotting up to join them.

“Heliotrope!” someone screamed. “It’s Heliotrope! They–gaack!

“We gotta get to Timber,” Scootaloo whispered. Sprout, who heard her, nodded. It wasn’t long before the humans would spot they were here, hidden behind a wooden fence. It wasn’t a risk they should take even in this darkness.

Allegedly, one could get the best over Heliotrope or someone who wore one of the rare invisibility flightsuits she’d pioneered. You could be near liquid. You could wait for the light to catch just right. You could be near snow.

In darkness?

Those were horrendous odds.

The gunfire had died down, and the ambient dread followed. Then, she heard them walk. Her eyes widened. They were going to make sure they stayed dead.

There was a bridge nearby – maybe booby-trapped, but she wasn’t taking that risk. So close, she could walk out and touch it.

“Sprout,” she whispered. “You got a potion?”

The Trailblazer nodded, pulling out something that looked like a beer bottle, tinted purple. Once upon a time, carrying ponification serum in vials or bottles had been enough. But even the poorest and most desperate human fighters wore something that’d protect them from the liquid.

The grenade that Sprout held very gingerly was the solution to that, devised by Shieldwall himself before the Montreal Campaign. A bottle of potion, magically reinforced, with fragments of magically-sharpened metallic fragments floating in the purple liquid. Once it exploded, the potion-saturated fragments would, with luck, find their way to softer parts of the armour, punch through, and start the process.

“Yeah,” he said, rummaging through his saddlebag. “I got two.”

“Two shots at this. Here, give me one,” she whispered. She looked at Whistle, eyes wide, and Breeze, who lay a talon on her shoulder. “Wait until they’re close.”

She peered around a fence. She could see an assortment of figures in cover, likely wearing night-vision goggles.

Sprout quietly handed over a bottle. She nodded. And, both she and Sprout flung their bottles past the wall.

“Scatter!” someone called.

The sound of explosion. The clinking of breaking glass. Metal shards falling onto the asphalt–

Fuck, fuck, I’m hit! I’m, I’m hi– Ah, aha-haha, I’m so hap–

Fokdammit! Kill it! Kill it with fire!

There was a burst of gunfire. The Newfoal, barely a minute fresh, went silent. But with the risk of more potions thrown over at them, so did the gunfire.

“Go!” yelled Scootaloo, nudging Breeze and Sprout. “Go now! Get to Timber!”

In the brief respite they had, Cinnabar and another Fillydelphian ran past the opening where the gunfire had rung out.

“They’re heading for the bridge!”

Technically, Scootaloo and anyone with a functioning pair of wings was heading around the bridge.

“Shield! Cast it now!” yelled Timber from afar. “Get the wounded out!”

Dutifully, two Newfoal unicorns rushed to the right and left sides of the bridge, projecting shields just behind the fleeing ponies.

* * * * *

Around Yael Ze’ev, the world was fire. Ballista bolts, potion grenades, and spells lit up the night like the Fourth of July. Aegis and Kraber laid down covering fire, the massive earthpony feeding ammo boxes to Kraber’s MG2021. Bullets speckled against the pavement.

You!” Kraber yelled. Suddenly Yael was very glad she’d turned down the volume on his comms. “Yeah, you! Shut the fok up!

A purple Newfoal’s throat exploded.

Yael poked her Galil out, letting off three quick shots. One punched through a pony’s leg just before they could get behind the shield.

I’ve flown to the Charlestown Garage and flanked ‘em!Heliotrope yelled. “There’s so bloody many on the bridge!

“Don’t get too close!Yael barked, snapping back into cover. A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wooden storefront, barely a foot away. “Everyone to the South of Alford Street, follow to Heliotrope’s position at the Charlestown Garage!”

Roger that, ma’am!” Aegis yelled.

Kraber just screamed incoherently.

He says yes!

Yael breathed a sigh of relief. And in the space of that moment of decompression, something under an abandoned car exploded. The chassis flew up into the air, turning tail over teakettle, before landing on the pavement roof-first.

“We can’t do anything with those shielders up! Everyone to the East, follow me towards the Schrafft Center!”

“Bet,” Quiette Shy said, looking up at her. “Standard Gallop And Gun, Yeah.”

Yael nodded, then looked to Oscar. “Follow our lead! QS will project a shield, we’re going to make our way towards the river! We can’t do anything from here!”

Lorne poked out from his own piece of cover, shouldering his M32 Grenade Launcher. It looked like a child’s toy in the huge man’s bearlike paws that he insisted were actually hands. “Challenge accepted.”

“Sergeant Hebert, no,” Yael said. “That is an order. We are to retreat to–”

“For what it’s worth, Lieutenant,” Lorne said, “This way, the most I lose is a grenade or two.”

“Lyra’s Luck,” Quiette Shy said.

“We got an alicorn that apparently likes us now, haven’t you heard?” Lorne asked. “That should be something.”

* * * * *

Scootaloo was on the other side of the bridge when she saw it. Something arced down towards one of the shieldbearers, and exploded against the shield.

The shielding Newfoal staggered, eyes widening.

… But the shield looked like it’d hold. Two more hits like that and–

Whistle.

She flew up.

* * * * *

“Fuck!” Lorne yelled. “Missed!”

As Yael and Quiette rushed for the Schrafft Center, as spells rushed overhead, Lorne tried to push it all to the background.

“You’re going to catch another bolt!” Yael yelled.

Lorne was dimly aware of that. He moved the launcher up a millimeter or two, aiming it an imperceptible fraction of an inch to the left.

You’re not getting away that easily.

The unicorns weren’t casting bubbles. They were ‘blocks,’ as the PHL often called them. Angled planes that curved back over the head, connected directly to line of sight. He’d already missed once, and if he missed another, they’d get across the bridge. He’d die or worse.

They’ll get away.

The thought of that made Lorne’s blood boil.

Another fraction-of-a-millimeter adjustment-

“Lorne!” Yael screamed.

Lorne fired. The grenade launcher didn’t kick, and Lorne watched the round, fat projectile arc through the air...

* * * * *

Just beside Scootaloo, a purple Newfoal took a heavy rifle round through the throat.

“Starstruck, where are you going!” one of the hippogriffs yelled, but she ignored them.

And there she was, back on the other side, when something else flew above the hastily-cast protective shield – and promptly detonated just behind the flank of one of the unicorns.

There wasn’t much left of him when the dust settled.

* * * * *

“Dead centre!” Lorne yelled.

“What a shot!” Kraber crowed. “Lekker, from here it looked like he had the worst fart ever.

Why are you like this,” Eva sighed from somewhere.

“Because I am coping like a rational goddamn adult!Kraber yelled back.

“Let the edgelord have this one,” Aegis sighed. So, Lieutenant. What’s the plan?

“Keep the pressure on them, and make sure they don’t detonate the bridge,” Yael said.

Cos’ of the Oscar said. Good thinking, Yael.

“Fokkin’ kwaai. Did I ever say jou the best commanding officer I’ve ever had?”

“Four of them tried to kill you,” Yael said. “That’s not saying much.”

* * * * *

“Dammit!” Timber yelled. “Move, move, I’ll do it–”

He laid down the statue’s crate, to cast another, stronger shield. In the dark, Scootaloo saw a few humans scatter, as the shield pushed back debris and cars alike.

“That won’t hold them long, go!” Timber declared, pointing towards the other side of the bridge.

He lifted the crate holding Discord up, physically supported by three troopers, directing his remaining soldiers back. Scootaloo saw Whistle carried on the back of Salty Breeze, and the two exchanged glances. There was an unsure smile on Whistle’s face, and that was enough.

Before she went, however, there was some movement in the corner of her eye.

“You alright there, Starstruck?” said Timber.

“Go ahead, Captain,” said Scootaloo. Something tugged at her.

“Right. Cover our flanks. You come back, you hear me?”

“Aye, Captain.”

With an unsure look, Timber nodded at her, then moved across.

She glanced towards where the others were going – a methodical advance across the bridge – and flew over to the storefront where she saw it first. It was a fair distance away from the bridgehead, just beyond the shield.

There, she saw Plow, leaning against a broken window. And he had been shot in the stomach. When he saw her, though, he only had concern for her.

“Starstruck?” he asked in disbelief. “Why… why did you leave the others?” Plow asked.

“Captain Plow, you’re… you’re hurt.”

“Sure wish someone would do something about that,” Plow said, a wry smile on his face as he looked down at his barrel. The wound was wide open, and it was a miracle he could even talk. “Sorry, I... couldn’t warn you all in time. Damn humans got me good... Took the others out. Sprout and Breeze alright?”

“Yeah… yeah they are.”

“Good, good,” Plow whispered. “Then I can lie down here just fine.”

Scootaloo shook her head.

“Come on,” she said, moving closer with her wing reaching out for him. “We need to go, Captain.”

But Plow simply waved her off.

“Leave me,” he hissed. “I’d slow you down, and your cadet, she’s hurt too, isn’t she? Go. I’ll slow them down if they… if they bother with interrogating me.”

“Captain, please… let me help you.”

Then, Plow reached out with a hoof, grasping at her shoulder.

“Go, damn you,” he said, and his tone left no doubt to its finality. “They’ll be here soon. Leave me here, Cadet. I’ll rejoin you all when all’s said and done. Finish the mission. Make sure you keep a shield up all the way… Keep Sprout safe, too.”

She met his eye, her purple on his brown. And she saw that his conviction was true.

“Okay… okay,” she whispered. Plow’s hoof let go of her. “Good luck, Captain.”

She saluted him, and he did the same.

“Go,” he commanded.

And so she went.

~ West End, Boston, USA ~

Pain. Anger. Grief.

When the emotions flowed, they flowed freely, and none so freely for Twilight as they did now. Her own exhaustion was forgotten, consumed by righteous fury. She screeched incoherently, firing off a jet of superheated air at Luna. The heat ignited the grass and melted the snow, and the alicorn only just avoided it.

“Stand down, Twilight!” Luna yelled. “This is not–”

“Shut up! Shut up!

Luna had forced herself onto her. An intruder in her mind. She’d opened her like a meager book to be discarded.

Twilight clenched her teeth. She fired off another blast of necrotic spell, its sickening green and black energy intertwined. Luna once again evaded it, and the spell proceeded to disintegrate a tree behind her instead.

“Stand still!

Mustering all her strength, she gripped the abandoned yellow Fillydelphian sky-boat in her aura. The craft rumbled, and she strained to hold it telekinetically. Yet just one look at the midnight-blue alicorn, her condescending look of pity landing on her, emboldened her.

With a flick of her head, she threw a single sword shard at Luna – followed by the sky-boat.

The crash was deafening as wood splintered and metal shattered from the violent impact. But it wasn’t enough. It never was enough.

The alicorn reconstituted her form from the mist that crept out from the sky-boat’s wreckage. As she lifted her visor, Twilight saw her frown.

“Is that all?” she said quietly. She was approaching her now, an unrelenting stride.

Twilight couldn’t decide if she could move or not. Could she, or wouldn’t she? Something told her to move. Something else told her not to.

Which was it then?

She glanced right. Her helmet was right there, knocked aside by one of Luna’s blasts, laying on the grass. If she could just reach it…

“Twilight–” Luna interrupted, a forehoof reaching out to touch her.

Touch her. Touch her like she cared. Twilight spat at her.

“Stay away from me,” she hissed, backing off from the alicorn’s forehoof.

Doubt. That was it. She had… doubt now, of all times. There was some sick, twisted humour in the coincidence, she thought bitterly.

And then, it crossed her mind. What she needed to do.

She saw her opening, and seized it. A shard rose behind Luna, moving to strike her neck. And though the orichalcum shard was deflected in time by the alicorn, she’d counted on it.

A concussion blast to stagger Luna. A sword blow to follow. Another parry. A stance exposed.

Then Twilight swiped at the alicorn’s forelegs, tripping her. A new blast from her horn, and Luna was pushed back several paces. Her flurry of assaults were imprecise, yet the weight behind her assaults was slowly tiring Luna. She was winning.

So why didn’t she feel like it?

She was– fooled betrayed manipulated lied to. No, that was Luna’s doing. It had to be her. It always was.

Luna faltered and fell. Finally.

Twilight made for one final swing at her throat. But inexplicably, she stopped. Something wouldn’t let her do it. She didn’t want to. She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

Why was she doing it? Who wanted her to do it? She had to know. She needed to know.

She glared at the alicorn, her sword still frozen mid-swing. Luna looked up at her, panting. She had to do it. She had to. She–

“What did you do to me?” Twilight demanded. “Answer me!”

“Nothing,” Luna replied evenly. “I showed you the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Twilight shook her head. It couldn’t be the truth. Yet it was. It had always been the truth, and they flooded her mind. Memories long repressed. Memories she’d thought’d locked away.

“Then... you’ve seen me,” she replied heatedly. “You saw what I’ve become. What we’ve become.”

“I did,” replied Luna. Her silver longsword lowered to the ground, and now nothing lay between her neck and the blade Twilight wielded. “I will not fight you. Not when you’ve seen things so clearly for the first time. I see that now, Twilight. You can change.”

She wanted to laugh it off. But she couldn’t. It was absurd. Celestia’s truth was the only truth. Everything in Equestria was as it should have been. Wasn’t it?

“It’s too late. She…” Twilight said, just loud enough above crackling embers. “She won’t let me.”

Impossibly, from the charred, ashen park ground, Luna… smiled at her. A sad, forlorn smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“I don’t need her permission,” she said plainly. “Come with me. And just like I promised you, Twilight, we’ll make it right.”

We’ll make it right…

That was what Lyra told her, so long ago. That Equestria didn’t have to stand alone anymore. That an idea they all carried would unite Equus under one prosperous banner.

Slowly, her legs moved of their own accord. Or was it her own will? Whatever it was that drew her to Luna… she couldn’t resist. She had to. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

What was the difference? What was missing–

It was Luna. It all came down to the impossible alicorn before her. Perhaps the answer was there all along.

Twilight wanted to say something. She had to say something. Her words wouldn’t leave her throat, even as she inched closer to the Princess of the Night.

Help me…

* * * * *

Ana felt afraid.

Moments ago, drawn to the sounds of battle at Langone Park, she and Frieda had arrived near the site. What they saw was nothing short of desperation, and a healthy reminder that the Archmage wasn’t one to be trifled with.

She had assaulted the mysterious alicorn, firing off spell blasts that reeked of the deadliest in the Imperial Guard’s arsenal, from necrosis to blue fire, topped off by the impact of a sky-boat on the alicorn.

And here Ana lay prone with her rifle, bipods deployed, with Frieda by her side.

“It’s… it’s her,” she whispered. “The Archmage.”

Frieda had her thermal binoculars out as well. She nodded. Still observing the two combatants, the grey griffon reached for her radio.

“Target confirmed, Starfall,” Frida whispered. “HVT is Lady Twilight Sparkle, permission to engage, over.”

The grudge match between combatants had gone silent, the embers slowly fading away in the Boston air. The thermal signatures of the Archmage and Princess Luna were dim, masked by the fires that surrounded them. But Ana knew where her mark was.

A tense minute passed. The line of sight was blocked by the crashed sky-boat, though Ana saw the Princess, at the mercy of a blade, speak to the Archmage.

She adjusted her fingers, and a shiver went down the spine. They were so, so close now. The chance was slipping away with each second that passed in silence. She couldn’t hear what the Princess said.

Nordlys-Beta, you are cleared to engage,” said Starfall. “Dispatch the HVT, over.

“Cleared to engage, confirmed, Starfall,” Frieda whispered. She glanced at Ana. “You’re clear. Take her out.”

There it was again. The cold wind that blew past her cheek. In the snow-covered battleground, the cold stood out for her

Ana aligned her scope. Just barely visible over the destroyed airship, she saw a head. The Archmage’s. Gone was the cold metal of the helmet, leaving her head exposed in the cold winter air.

She held her breath. It was here and now, that it should end, yet still she hesitated. The Archmage had paused in her assault on the alicorn, standing tall above her foe and Ana couldn’t help but wonder what Twilight and the alicorn spoke of.

Memories of a dignified mare invaded Ana. Someone who had represented the hopes of a unified scientific forum between the best and brightest of both worlds. Someone who represented the future, now long gone. Someone who should have, but had not joined Lyra Heartstrings, when the Solar Tyrant cast her judgement on mankind.

Someone who stood here, ready to put a sword through the alicorn’s neck.

Ana pulled the trigger.

* * * * *

Time slowed down for Princess Luna.

One moment, she was staring up at Twilight, who’d lowered her sword and stretched out a forehoof, with what could have been realisation, lowering her head ever so slightly to speak with her.

Then the moment had passed. Something had flown by and Twilight’s ear burst, followed by a terrible crack that made Luna duck and flinch.

Worse was the screaming.

Twilight recoiled, and her shrill scream pierced the air in a grotesque mix of pain and rage. A tree exploded into splinters and shattered branches at their side. And Twilight, perhaps acting on pure instinct through her pain, raised a great, translucent dome around them.

Luna scrambled to her hooves, just in time to dodge another necrotic spell to her face. She closed her visor.

To her horror, when she set her eyes on where Twilight’s left ear had been, she saw a hole with blood flowing through it.

And when Twilight’s red glare landed upon her, she knew at that very moment that the Lady Archmage had returned.

“I trusted you!” the Archmage screamed, throwing a shard at her face.

* * * * *

“Target hit, target hit!” Frieda exclaimed. “Command, we have a positive hit on the HVT!”

For the first few seconds, the two of them remained where they were, watching the Archmage flail in rage. Another shot had rung out from somewhere, shattering the tree close to them, before the Archmage raised a dome.

“You did it,” Frieda said, patting Ana’s shoulder.

“We did it. Yeah…”

But then something passed Frieda's eye. “Shit,” she whispered. "DRAGON!"

Oh...’ was all Ana could think at that moment.

They scrambled for whatever cover was left. Not two seconds after they’d run a fair distance, a fiery jet annihilated the knoll they’d been positioned on.

Ducking, Ana threw herself on the ground, feeling the heat wash over her. When she raised her head and looked back, she only saw the knoll, set ablaze.

Fuck.

“Ana!” she heard Frieda yell from up ahead. “You okay?! Fuck, don’t be dead, don’t be dead…”

Abruptly, Ana felt her head burning. She scrambled to her feet, tearing off and throwing aside her ushanka, which was aflame.

Dammit, I liked that hat… She slung her rifle, still warm to the touch – then realised she wasn’t wearing her gloves. She rarely did when firing. ‘Wait… how did I…?

Ana raised her hand to her face. The palm which had grasped a flaming hat was pale, always, even in the dying light.

What?’

She heard Frieda yelp, and glanced at her right as the griffon tripped and fell. There she saw her partner, clad in her PHL vest and fatigues. Frieda’s hindquarters were smoking.

“Frieda!” Ana exclaimed, rushing to her side.

“Gaaahh, I’m okay, I’m okay! Fuck, that hurt!” Frieda cried out.

Though Ana reached for her canteen and poured it over the fresh burn, the blackened fur remained as a stain on Frieda’s coat. Ana didn’t know how potent dragonfire was, even with how far they were from the fire’s stream… But convection was a cruel mistress...

“Too damn close... Argh…” Frieda whispered. “Oh, that fucker… lucky he missed… Musta been in a hurry…”

“You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay…”

Yet now, with her burn subdued, Frieda’s attention turned to Ana. “Ana, you hurt? You were… closer than I was.”

Reflexively, Ana reached out to touch her own face. She didn’t feel burnt at all.

“I'm okay,” she said quickly. She grabbed onto Frieda's forearm. “Come on, we need to leave.”

* * * * *

Though she dodged the thrown shard, from the back of her neck, Luna felt the winds change.

She shot up in the air, a split second before the dragon landed where she’d been with a booming noise, overturning the soil and rocks and wooden beams. Luna sped upwards, and when she finally glanced down, she saw Spike stare at her, his teeth bared and fists clenched.

And atop him was the Archmage, her helmet finally restored. From her mouth, a single order echoed in the wind.

Burn her!

They flew. Luna conjured her sword and raised the shield. Spike went right at her, his fist punching the translucent barrier so hard it cracked.

If Spike was here, then…

Cadance… no, no, not Cadance!

She was a fool. She’d left her niece. And where she went, she couldn’t have possibly known.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a shard impacting the shield, shattering it. And in the gaping hole, the dragonfire followed. But Luna had flown up even further, dodging spells wildly cast from the Archmage’s horn.

She glanced down, and saw her mark. A quick lightning bolt at the Archmage, as she flew towards Spike, a forehoof pointed ahead. Obsidian clashed with steel in a deafening screech, their strength matched blow to blow, but it was Spike that had staggered and given way first, leaving Luna free to speed on.

Before the Archmage could adjust her aim, Luna had sped off, away from the park.

The humans had their own agenda, and she was foolish enough to think they could have held their fire, when the same enemy had given the order to cleanse their cities.

Perhaps the chance that had been was no more, lost forever...

Now was not the time for regrets, for another jet of fire streamed past her face, and Luna evaded another cast spell from beneath. In a gust of wind she flew back, in time to avoid the vicious dragon’s grip.

She paused, looking at the Archmage upon her steed. Gone was Twilight, full of regret and repentance. Only the Queen’s enforcer remained.

Luna flew straight, armoured forehoof poised to strike another blow. The Archmage’s deranged rictus grew wider.

“Got you!”

The shard which the Archmage had hidden besides Luna moved to strike. But it was what Luna counted on, for she dropped beneath the shard’s trajectory, then made a hard turn straight up, right at the dragon’s chin.

Upon the impact of a gauntleted forehoof against Spike’s wounded chin, the Archmage cried, the dragon screeched, and Luna saw she was so, so close to knocking her off her steed, as she came to a rest above them both.

The dragon’s breath went ragged and heavy from her blow. His eyes were bloodshot, consumed with rage. But Luna saw no loyalty, no love from him. Only blind, misguided devotion to the one he knew as his dear sister.

Evading the dragonfire, Luna sped further above the city.

The answer became clear. If she couldn’t free the Archmage from the shackles placed upon her mind, then she would do the same to her steed.

There, in the distance, Luna saw the Archmage, once Twilight, stagger on her mount, speeding towards her. From the Archmage’s missing ear, the blood continued to flow steadily past a hasty patch, dripping out her restored helmet. Yet the rider paid it no mind, glaring daggers at Luna, a look Luna had never seen on her Twilight. Sheer, utter malice and contempt.

She wished it hadn’t come to this. That Twilight would accept her forgiveness. That the foul magic which held her had the grace to set her free.

Yet Luna had but one last task to do, and she rose high against the rising moon, returning the look with an equally steely gaze.

Down below, Luna saw the Archmage’s steed – beaten, tortured, faithfully serving her as a blindly loyal attack-dog, his jagged teeth exposed threateningly, but not of his own will. Below them all, covered in a sickening cloud of ash and soot the city, burned with dragonfire, and the battle raged on in a clash of blood and iron. Luna knew what to do. There was no other way. She had to end it.

“Remember who you are, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna boomed, her voice echoing throughout the battlefield. The clouds surrounded her, concealing her from the Archmage's view. “Remember who you were. Come with me. It is not too late.”

“The Queen’s word is just and true, and you don’t belong in her world,” the Archmage snarled defiantly, and her voice too was magically enhanced, echoing in the winds. “You can save your pitiful words to yourself. You’ll join your other self and Discord in stone, Nightmare Moon.”

This time, the words hardly staggered Luna. She drew a sharp breath.

“Then, forgive me.”

Her horn glowed as all the strength of the Moon coursed through her body, ready for one final, decisive strike. Never on Equestria had she attempted it, but here lay a world torn asunder, and the architect of it stood before her. She was ready to give it her all.

Throughout her body, her magic flowed free and unburdened. The skies behind her rumbled with thunder and flashed with lightning. Her sister’s last words, just before she crossed the breach, rang true in her mind, and she clenched her teeth.

Do your best, Luna.

Without warning, without any due, and with a beat of her wings and her horn alight, the Night’s Princess surged forwards, the fastest she’d ever been. The winds rushed in her ears as she released a final, determined cry, with the weight of Equestria on her shoulders. Bursting out of the storm clouds, she heard the dragon’s roar, as dragonfire heated her armour and scorched her ethereal mane, and saw a brilliant, blinding beam shine forth from the Archmage. Yet she did not stall in the face of the Archmage and Bearer of Magic, and the Archmage’s last-ditch, desperate attempt missed its mark as Luna found hers, the force of a thousand moons coursing throughout her entire body and channeled in one concentrated blow.

All at once, it ended.

There was a terrible crack that echoed in the nighttime skies, as enchanted obsidian and steel clashed and burned. The impact sent a booming shockwave through the air, shattering any remaining windows below, and Luna felt her gauntlet break, with her beaten and cracked armour, buckle under the surging pressure. But it was not she who screamed.

The Archmage was finally defeated.

So it was, the great dragon who’d once been called brother and faithful assistant screeched, his own armour cracking under the impact. In a split second, Luna had blasted the Archmage off her steed’s back, and the great beast plummeted down towards the flaming city, roaring and bellowing in terrible pain. He disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris, muffled by a loud crash. Luna knew at once that he had impacted the ground. His cries had gone silent.

Dazed and staggered from the blow, with singed mane and cooked armour, but with clarity of mind, Luna heard the Archmage cry out from somewhere in the air, her voice full of fear and anguish. She looked around quickly. If she were just fast enough...

Then Luna saw.

A rainbow streak, flying away at a speed that even Luna would have struggled to catch up to. Before the speeding pegasus disappeared in the dark, far away from her reach, Luna just saw who it was that she held.

She looked down. The silence, so distanced from the battle below, was deafening. There was no sign of Spike, no hint that he was not another casualty. Part of her wished that the Archmage had yielded. That she could have helped them both. Yet fate had forced her, and she had struck what had been a child, pressed into war. She hoped it wasn’t too late, that Spike might know peace, once more...

As she descended back to Earth, to salve yet another broken soul in this forsaken war, Luna closed her eyes.

Goodbye, Twilight.

* * * * *

In the outskirts of Langone Park, Maxine froze where she was. She and her companions had all watched with rapt attention as a different battle waged overhead. It was between the alicorn who might be Princess Luna, and the Archmage bestriding her dragon. She could keep watch thanks to her rifle’s scope. There was no possibility to try and fire a bullet at any of the combatants – they were too high up. And even then, the aerial combat between the alicorn and the dragon made the winds unreliable.

All she and the HLF could do was to keep watch. At least, until the Archmage and her dragon had fallen from the sky. And no doubt the alicorn would follow…

“Jean-Eric,” Tess Jones told the heavyset man beside her. “You know Boston. Any idea where they could’ve landed?”

“My best guess?” said the man. “The ol’ Naval Shipyard. That was just across the river.”

“And across the Chokepoint. Fuck.” Jones scowled, but then turned her glare on Maxine. “Well. Lucky we’ve got our friend here. Radwick? You can use your clout with your PHL buddies at the crossing. I want to see what’s over there.”

“No skin off my nose,” muttered Maxine. “We’re in the same boat here, Jones.”

For Agnes,’ Maxine thought as Jones began barking orders to the HLF to mobilise. To get to the Archmage and apprehend her before the Imperials could recover her. The only thing she wanted was to see the Tyrant’s student suffer for what she’d done. For what they all had done. ‘For Agnes. I will make them pay.

* * * * *

All things considered, Ana’s withdrawal alongside Frieda was uneventful. From the moment the burns had been roughly tended to on the griffon, the pair hadn’t said a word to one another as they made their way East to their closest PHL rendezvous point, the crossing at the Charles River. Nor did they contemplate the magnitude of what they had just done.

Only when they found themselves a block away from their destination did Ana allow herself time to breathe, while Frieda stood guard above her, watching the street corner.

Holy… shit…

Ana’s breathing was unsteady, and she gripped a lamppost for support. She hadn’t decided what to make of it all, not even what she had done.

She’d just shot the Archmage. Merely wounded her, true, yet a hit nonetheless.

But there’d been something in her opponent, the dark alicorn’s stance, just before ‘Princess Luna’ had taken to the skies, before the renewed duel was covered in a torrent of magical forces. Illuminated by the fires surrounding them, Luna hadn’t seemed apprehensive.

No, if any, the alicorn had her guard down… why, exactly?

“Frieda?” Ana asked aloud, and she let go, standing tall. “I… do you feel a bit off?”

Her spotter glanced her temporary perch atop the lamppost. “Something up, Ana?”

Ana rubbed the back of her head. She didn’t feel too good, no. But she shouldn’t tell Frieda that. Not yet, at least.

“It’s just that… well,” she continued. “Do you think… do you think we’ve made a mistake?”

“Ana,” Frieda said, and she swept down to pat her shoulder. The crisp burn on her flank was still clear as day, but she didn't seem to mind. “Relax. You did your job. You crippled the Archmage. And Luna, or whoever that was, is gonna finish it.”

That didn’t really make things better. Ana sighed. “Yeah, but…”

“Hey, now’s not the time to be a downer, you of all people,” Frieda said, nudging her with a fierce smile. “You got your orders, you did it, mission accomplished, eh?”

Ana said nothing at first. Frieda lifted a talon and brushed it against her chin.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Frieda said, gently this time. Ana glanced at her, meeting her magenta eyes with her own. “You did your job. I did mine. Target's dispatched.” She smiled a little. “Is this… you worried about going back to R&D after this?”

That had been what Ana wanted to say, of course. It wasn’t that she hadn’t like her work at R&D. On the contrary, she’d loved it. But moving from combat to support and back again, she had felt increasingly detached. And she feared, one day, that she’d be so entirely removed...

A sudden beam of light glanced off the snow, at the edge of view. Frieda turned to glare towards where it came from.

“We got company,” the griffon whispered.

As Ana put her gas mask on, Frieda brought her rifle up and pointed it at the approaching light. Then they heard the roar of an engine, and the light split into two. And the pair released their held breath, relaxing. Imperial vehicles didn’t exactly use motors.

The APC drew up next to them, another following close behind. A very familiar Englishman came out, covered from head to toe in armour.

Ana waved. “Harwood…”

“That’s her. That’s sniper team Nordlys,” she heard him call out to the driver.

“Cavalry’s arrived,” Ana said, and Frieda nodded. Cavalry, it seemed, simply consisted of Harwood, Henri, and what looked like a dozen others from the Teutonic Knights and units she couldn’t name properly, her adrenaline still pumping.

“You alright, Nordlys?” Henri asked as he stepped out as well, offering a hand.

“I’m alright, ah, Henri,” Ana replied politely. She took off her gas mask, then shook his hand. "You can call me Ana, by the way. How'd things go your end?"

“Well, separated from Ze’ev Squad a while ago,” said Henri. “But we're good. Got word from Major Bauer– yes, he’s alive,” he said to Ana’s relieved expression. “He sent Ze’ev across into Charlestown for a secondary capture mission. We’re to join them.”

“Sarge,” a soldier asked for Harwood. He’d been at the ruined store fight, Ana recalled. “Any updates on the primary target?”

“Dispatched,” Ana said simply. “Fired a round, I hit her.”

“Blew her ear right off,” Frieda grinned. “Now that’s something to put on the record, Henri, hah!”

“But… but, I didn’t… put her down,” Ana added weakly, as Henri scrambled to note down the report. “She went and for the Princess right after.” She paused. “Frieda, you were burnt,” she said suddenly. “Har, can you get her patched up?”

“I’ll be fine, Ana, don’t worry,” said Frieda hurriedly, even as Harwood went over to check on her. The patch of burnt fur and exposed skin was now red, but true to her words, they weren’t weeping. She turned to Harwood. “Your girlfriend here was way closer than I was, and she’s all fine, don’t worry, Har.”

If we’d been closer…’ Ana pondered. But she reached to touch where her face had been close to the dragonfire, and felt nothing but her own, cold skin. ‘That… that doesn’t explain everything…

“Right, we’ll have to get you to a station after this,” said Harwood. “You good, Ana?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” she said, with a thumbs-up, as he helped her into the back of one APC.

With everyone packed, the two vechicles moved as a group, with a pegasus moving ahead to check the nearby alleyway first. Only when the scout returned with an all clear did Harwood motion for them to continue.

He turned in his seat. “Shock and blood loss might take care of the Archmage.”

“If Luna doesn’t get her,” Frieda replied, nudging Ana.

In the driver’s seat, Henri nodded. “Yes. We’ll have to report this back to command.”

Ana felt the APC stop as it drew level to a small booth, much like the one she’d seen in pictures Hanne had shown her of Cold War Berlin and Checkpoint Charlie. This was the Paul Revere Chokepoint. The sentry on duty hailed them as Henri pulled down the window.

“Going up there, chaps?” asked the round-faced man. When Henri answered in the affirmative, he continued. “Funny thing is, you’re not the first to cross in the last ten minutes…”

“Say again?” said Henri. “I’m the comms officer for this squad, and I wasn’t notified.”

“You wouldn’t be, not by these guys. They’re Tess Jones’ lot,” said the sentry darkly. “Had a voucher, though, and she looked more than willing. They were gonna check the Naval Shipyard. Seems that’s where the dragon last landed… Not sure ‘bout the Archmage. You chaps headed there?”

Henri looked at Harwood.

“Nah, I’d say we’ll start by rendezvousing with Ze’ev Squad,” said Harwood. “Kraber has said he was keen on a little dragon-hunting… And we may need all the firepower we can gather...”

Ana remained quiet. She bit her lower lip. ‘Well… no use waiting, I suppose.

“Hey, Ana, love, you alright?” Harwood said, reaching back for her hand, in the gentlest voice he’d mustered for the entire week. Though weary and covered in dust and soot, he had the faintest hint of a smile – one Ana wanly returned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks, Har.”

She gripped his hand a little tighter. He was hurting, Ana knew, and though it might have fooled everyone else, it didn’t fool her.

Arthur Tanner’s loss was fresh in his mind, as it was in hers. Another human to die shortly after being reborn as inhuman… and another friend forever lost. Much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, the barracks would be a lot emptier without the other man’s presence.

“We’ll talk about Tanner later, okay?” she said softly. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll miss him too.”

Harwood’s smile was forlorn. They looked up at the dome. It shimmered, and held on, even under the bombardment from outside the city.

Whatever she’d done with the Archmage, she had to wonder.

Oh, Ana…’ the voice said quietly. ‘What did we do…

* * * * *

Twilight screamed for a long, long time. The wind rushed against her ears, cutting her cheek with its cold. The wound threatened to reopen against the dirty air, though the Bearer of Magic remained secure in her helmet. She was flung far and away above the city, helpless, limbs flailing uselessly as she reached for anyone, anything.

“Spike! Spiiike!”

The Lady Archmage of the Solar Empire mused, even as she screamed, that everything had to come down to her falling like stone unto the unforgiving earth.

This cursed planet...

But in her daze, Twilight remembered. Something had grabbed onto her, a split second after she had been blasted away by the enemy. And when her eyes fluttered open, she saw that she wasn’t falling at at all. No, she was flying, inexplicably.

Barely illuminated by the fires below, she saw the blue coat of the one who had caught her in the air, carrying her with each mighty beat of her wings.

“Rainbow! Rainbow Dash!” Twilight yelled, despite the pain in her ear, or what was left of it. “Slow down! Slow down!”

It was futile, of course. Dash never slowed down for anything. Especially not when her best friends were in danger.

“Not a chance, Twi’!” she cried back, her cropped mane uncovered. “We gotta get back!”

“No! Not without Spike! We can’t lose him!”

Dash shook her head, her teeth clenched. “Sorry,” she said. “Shining’s orders, I’m sorry.” She paused. “I had hang back, Twi’... Watching you fight… Couldn’t do nothing except get you out…”

Twilight looked around them both. Even in the cold, rushing darkness, she could tell that none of the other Wonderbolts flew alongside Dash.

“Rainbow… where are the others? Where’s Starstruck?”

“I don’t know… I told them to get the package to Canterlot. It’s all up to Fleetfoot now.”

She said no more after that. Higher up she flew towards the great airship.

Twilight stared down towards the city. Pillars of smoke rose up high from the fires that had yet to be extinguished. And she knew, this fire would not be extinguished for a long time.

Spike…’ she thought fleetingly. Nightmare Moon – no, Luna’s – impact must have sent him plummeting. ‘I’m sorry…

She closed her eyes, and wept in silence. She didn’t know how long their flight took. How further up they went, from the city below to the airship waiting above. Nor did she know, for sure, if her Spike was safe now.

At last, they crossed the shield, its translucent surface opening a gap just the time for them to pass through. The echoes of battle diminished. Warmth enveloped them as they landed in the cargo hold.

Through blurred eyes, Twilight saw the place looked blackened, and wrecked, yet troops still rushed up to greet her.

A familiar embrace wrapped her.

“My lady,” Ardor said. “You are safe.”

Joining his wife’s side, her brother broke rank from the assembled pegasi and hippogriffs that had met their arrival. He too embraced her.

“Twily!” he said. She hadn’t heard him say it in some time. “I thought you were... oh, your ear…”

The pain came rushing back, and she bit back a grimace.

“Get the Lady Archmage to the infirmary, now!” barked Shining.

From behind him stepped forth Shearwater, her helmet gone and her faded, cropped yellow mane now dirtied with soot, and Corporal Terramar, the youngest bodyguard standing to her as Archmage, with his light yellow fur and turquoise feathers – and his cyan eyes betraying his inexperience. They carried with them a stretcher.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Twilight said weakly, but she offered no struggle as her bodyguards placed her onto the stretcher and hoisted her up.

“M’lady, I’m… I’m sorry,” Shearwater said. “I should have been there.”

“We all should have,” Terramar added quietly. “We’ve failed–”

Twilight waved a forehoof, trying to smile – though the pain twisted it to another grimace. Her head felt like it was about to shatter.

“No, don’t… she was… you couldn’t have, Shearwater, Terramar…”

She looked around, as her bodyguards carried the stretcher. The hangar was blown wide open, with pegasi and hippogriffs alike speeding back and forth, carrying supplies to patch the gigantic hole blown open from the broken steel bay doors.

“Shining, what happened?” she said aloud, her voice strained. She couldn’t turn her head right. “Why’s everything… why’s everything so…”

Ardor approached her first. “The traitor Cadance struck, My Lady,” she said soothingly. “But Captain Armor did his duty.”

Shining lay a forehoof on her shoulder.

“She’s right,” he said simply. “Go take your rest, Twilight, we’ll get that ear fixed up. We’ll talk later, and in the meantime I’ll see if we can salvage this.” He glanced at Shearwater. “Get her to the infirmary, Sergeant.”

Shearwater nodded, and they carefully moved towards the open double-doors.

“No, wait… Spike… save Spike...” Twilight whispered. Dash prepared to follow after her, but Shining shook his head.

“Stay here, Captain,” he said firmly. “Tell me what you know…”

“Don’t you worry, Lady Archmage,” Terramar said reassuringly. “We’ll get you all patched up.”

“Move out the way! Move out the way!” yelled Shearwater. Twilight’s lips quivered and moved, but no words left them.

The metal double-doors closed upon the hangar.

No words would leave her lips, indeed, not even when she was gently placed upon one of the infirmary’s beds. Her vision was watery, her head felt numb, not helped by the painkillers they rapidly started filling her with.

But her thoughts flowed like water, free and unguided. She couldn’t hold onto the shore. She remained there, her eyes fixed upon the ceiling. The pain in what was her ear faded in and out. Try as she could, Twilight could not let go of the image she kept seeing in the corner of her eye. Princess Luna, her mane flowing in the night’s air, reaching out with a gauntleted forehoof, calm, merciful, perhaps even kind.

Luna… why can't things be the way they were…

Drifting into her ragged rest, Twilight imagined a rising moon, blessing Canterlot with its beautiful light.

~ Charlestown, Boston, USA ~

In the dead of Winter, the barren industrial grey of this old shipyard was turned almost crystalline, the snowfall softening the concrete like a light blanket. But Luna could tell that Spike’s landing here could not have been gentle. A cloud of dust swhirled in the air, obstructing her view as she treaded forward on the hard ground, wary of any creatures lurking in the dark. Least of all, the Newfoals that had haunted Alexander Reiner’s dreams.

It didn’t take long for her to find who she sought. And the sight ached her heart.

She climbed down into the jagged, splitting crater the impact had left in the concrete, cautiously moving to lay an armoured forehoof on Spike’s prone form.

Spike…

The great dragon was still, with the dust and snow falling upon his half-armoured form. His eyes were shut. And though he was twisted, grotesque in the many ways the Empire had ‘fixed’ him, Luna only saw the little dragon who followed Twilight around.

She’s gone, too.

But it had to be done.

Luna lifted her visor, to see him more clearly. He was at peace, now. Gently, she touched her horn against his bleeding snout, and closed her eyes.

Before she could pay her respects, however, she felt air flow past.

He was breathing. Luna’s eyes widened, and she drew a gasp.

“Spike…” she whispered aloud. Another breath taken by him, though he remained quiet. Luna moved to embrace his snout. “I’m so sorry.”

She had struck him hard. Luna shuddered to think what might have happened if she’d truly gone beyond and dropped every restraint she had. The finishing blow she’d struck was as far as she could go without breaking the last of her restraint. But she’s already made a promise to Twilight, that she’d take care of him. And… whatever passed, she’d make it right.

Luna heard something move behind her. Several things, in fact, moving quietly, their steps a muffled sound upon the snow-cased concrete.

“Hold it right there,” one of them spoke aloud. A woman. “You got some explaining to do.”

Her sword was ready to be conjured, just in case, and that was enough. Taking a deep breath, Luna turned to face her welcoming party.

There stood a small group of human soldiers. She remembered flashes from Reiner’s memories. She knew what they looked like.

They weren’t PHL. There was a more hard-bitten look to them, and they wore armour – potion-protective gear, definitely – that very definitely did not look like Reiner’s. It was scarred, rough, dented, and hastily repaired.

The one common trait all the armour shared were the letters ‘HLF’, either stamped or branded. The mousy-haired woman who’d spoken came to the front. She wore no helmet, but out of all of them, her armour looked almost pristine, coloured in dark greys. Oddly, she wore it covered by a more primitive-looking piece of protective casing.

“Gladly,” Luna said evenly.

“You’re being far too calm about this,” the woman said. “I'm not sure I like it.”

She held a strange-looking firearm in her arms. It was a short, stubby, fat rounded thing, with a lens instead of a hollowed barrel.

Luna tried to remember what Reiner had said about the HLF.

Hard to work with. Untrustworthy. Humans that started fighting the Solar Empire before the Barrier, before the Imperial Army, before anything. Unpredictable.

“I know how strange this may seem,” Luna said, “But I am not your enemy.”

“You’ll pardon me,” said a heavyset man standing, “If we’re not in the mood to trust alicorns. ‘Specially one that’s dressed like you.”

“Jean is right,” the woman said. Her accent was like a Trottingham native’s. “I’m Teresa Jones. And you claimed to be Princess Luna.”

“I am,“ Luna said.

“Princess Luna is petrified,” the woman said. “Queen Celestia ate the magic from her after tormenting her into inaction, then turned her to stone and took her back to Equestria.”

“Yet here I stand,” said Luna. “Whole and unblemished. Pray tell, what purpose would Queen Celestia serve by restoring her rebellious sister to full power?”

“Then what is your game?” Jones asked. “You wouldn’t be here for no reason. And no alicorn would care enough to come to help us.”

“I have no stakes here, Teresa Jones,” Luna said gravely. “I hold no one dear in this world, no allies, no friends, no lovers. I failed in my duty to protect Lord Discord. And may have failed in protecting my own niece, wherever she is now.” She placed a forehoof on Spike’s snout. “Now I only see a tortured soul cast in chains, fighting for the enemy. And the enemy is us.”

Her horn’s light grew dimmer, and gentler. She took her helmet off, and placed it on the ground between them. Her mane flowed in the nonexistent wind. Jones looked at it curiously.

“Please,” Luna said, quieter. “Let us do our duty as Dreamwalker, and we shall explain when the time is right.”

“I’d prefer some explanations now,” Jones said. “I know it doesn’t make any sense at all that you’d be allied with the Tyrant. Especially when everyone in the city can see you fighting the Archmage. A blind man could tell that you’d been fighting for us.”

“Aye,” Luna said firmly. “We are here to aid your cause, Teresa Jones.”

And Luna told Jones the story thus far. How Alexander Reiner had appeared in Equestria, an Equestria that was the past to him. How he’d tried to kill Celestia. How he’d failed, not getting very far. How the false Redheart had infiltrated Equestria and only barely been neutralised.

She did it quickly enough, but all was covered. And when she was done, she paused to contemplate Jones.

“That,” Jones said, “is utterly ridiculous. But…”

Luna looked at the human woman. “Is it?” she remarked. “Perhaps. But you said it yourself. It makes little sense otherwise.”

A moment passed. Then, finally, Jones nodded. “Very well. I believe it.”

Then someone emerged from the back of their group. Someone in PHL gear but a blue helmet that read ‘UN’, Luna realised. A young, blonde woman with cold green eyes. She glared at her.

“Yeah,” the other woman said. “I don’t buy it.”

“And why would that be, Radwick?” asked Jean-Eric, the heavyset man.

“The part where Alex tried to kill Celestia is believable enough,” she said, “but I can’t believe he’d let himself stay out of commission so long, or even that he’d be willing to enlist help. And a Celestia that isn’t a genocidal monster is just… it’s just absurd.”

Luna’s eyes met hers. They seemed very familiar... She took a step forward, and the HLF did not say anything.

“You called Captain Reiner by his first name,” said Luna. “You speak of him with familiarity… And your name. You’re Maxine Radwick, are you not? You’re his sister.”

Reiner’s sister wasn’t someone he’d spoken of much, only agreeing to do with Lyra present. Their mother had favoured her, and it didn’t sit well with him. If there was some sort of a bond between the two siblings, it certainly hadn’t led her to serve with the PHL. That, Luna mused, was something she ought to decipher later.

The woman paused. She shook her head.

“What does it matter to you?” she said vehemently.

“He has shown us his pain as he wills it, and further beyond. All the answers you seek are with me. And in time I will tell you all, if you so wish.”

“That’s a lot of waiting, I say,” Radwick retorted. “How do we know you’re not… leading us on?”

“Let me tell you this, then,” Luna said. “On Equestria, a spy trailed Alexander Reiner. She was bested, and yet, before we could begin to grasp the depths of the Imperial machinations, the Queen cast her spell, crossing the void between the worlds… and Redheart was dead. There lies something in their minds, something deep within. And now I know how to break it. How to break this switch that prevents them from seeing the light. But you need to give me time, lest it be a waste that this dragon lies here.”

“He belongs to the Archmage,” Radwick scowled. “Looks like he’s a weapon and nothing more. There’s not much that can be done for him.”

“He belongs to no-one,” Luna said. “You know not of the path I tread.”

“And you know mine and Alex’s? Bullshit.”

Jones stepped between them, arms outstretched.

“Alright, cool it. Right. Here's the deal, Princess,” said Jones sternly. “We’ll let you do your thing, and you answer a couple questions we've still got later. Sound good?” She glanced at Radwick. “Does that sound good to you, Radwick?”

For the longest minute, none spoke. Then...

“Yeah,” said Radwick coldly. “Fine by me.”

“I promise the answers will come, Maxine Radwick.”

Luna paused, and let out a hacking cough. Though internally, she counted on her regeneration process, her magical resources lay low, and the wounds weren’t healed as fast as they should have been. She spat some blood on the ground, still coughing. And when it settled, she looked up to see Jones. The woman appeared strangely concerned.

“You don’t seem alright there,” said Jones quietly. Even Radwick looked perturbed. Luna followed their gaze, to her pair of wings.

They've never seen an alicorn bleed before… have they?

“I suppose,” Luna said. “Perhaps I have overexerted my own capabilities.”

“Alicorns can do that?” asked Jean-Eric.

“Everyone has their limit,” Luna answered, “And they have pushed him far beyond his. I dearly hope it is not too late to find whatever is left of the drake that was.”

“And yet you're going to… do whatever it is that you were going to do to that dragon.”

Luna held her head up a little higher.

“If need be, Teresa Jones," said Luna. “For it is my duty. As it is yours to stand by humanity.”

She paused, briefly.

“He has a name, like all those who fought.”

Just as she was to cross the threshold and delve into her realm once more, Luna threw a contemplative glare at Jones and Radwick both.

“And his name is Spike.”

* * * * *

The last unicorn on the bridge lay dead, riddled with bullet holes. They’d only just whittled down his shield. There’d been a fraction of a moment where the shield was down, and he stood, covered in blood. Kraber had cut him to pieces with five shots from the MG2021. Two of the Afrikaner’s shots had hit the unicorn… Compared to one round from seemingly everyone else.

Heliotrope came swooping back, alighting on top of a road sign.

“Clear,” she reported. “No spells cast at the other end, no damage, no lookouts covering it, no bombs. Whatever they wanted back into Imperial territory, it’s important enough they’re heading straight for their base.”

“Right,” Yael said. “Just received orders from Major Bauer. Our next order of business is to hold this bridge until reinforcements get here. Quiette Shy, your orders are to hold the bridge with magic, and make sure everyone can cross.”

The white unicorn mare nodded.

“Kraber, Aegis, Oscar,” Yael said, “You’re on the North end of the bridge.”

“That’s crawling with Imperials,” Oscar said. “Need to wait.”

“Not for long. We got friendly company,” said Heliotrope.

Another team arrived. They stepped out of two APCs, around a dozen of them in total, and at the head of them were a sniper, an armoured medic, and a griffon.

* * * * *

“Well… looks like we’re safe,” said Ana.

Frieda nodded as Harwood walked to meet Ze’ev.

“You boys look alright,” said the Lieutenant.

“Fine as we'll ever be,” Harwood agreed. “Come on. Let’s set up a perimeter…”

“Hold it,” said Yael. Her eye turned to Ana. “Sniper, what happened to the Archmage?”

“Target hit,” said Frieda, before Ana could answer. “Wounded, but that’ll take care of itself.”

Ana, however, saw something to the side. “Wait up,” she said. “I think we got a live one here.”

All eyes turned towards to where pointed. An old convenience store. Where an Imperial lay at the storefront.

“He’s not dead?” Heliotrope sounded disappointed.

They approached him, forming a half-circle around their adversary, wounded as he was. The earthpony in question was slumped, a gaping wound on his barrel. He was brown all over, from coat to mane to barely-open eyes.

“Trailblazer officer,” Harwood said clinically. The light armour told them much. "Captain, too. Must’'ve been hit by one of yours.”

Ze’ev stared at Viktor Kraber, who just shrugged. “Well,” she said. “Our new orders were to capture an officer…”

“He’s still breathing,” Ana said, looking at his chest. None of them were willing to step forwards, but Harwood looked like he ached to do so. “Can we request medevac?”

The large earthpony named Aegis, Viktor Kraber’s inseparable companion, looked up to his friend, distinctly uncomfortable.

“Alright,” said Kraber, “anyone willing to mourn officer thinks-we're-all-barely-sentient-vermin, raise a forearm or foreleg or wing or whatever the fok.”

There was a pause.

“No? Right then, back to work.”

Of course, Ana had heard stories about the Trailblazers. With Equestrians and others leaving for Earth all the time, the Trailblazers’ benign recon-and-rescue had become much, much darker. Stories of how their presence always precipitated a massed Imperial assault, of how Trailblazers persistently pursued those who’d gone off to the distant forests of Earth, all to drag them back to the Empire.

Frieda had almost been one of them. She’d told Ana time and time again how grateful she’d been, to join the PHL...

“That’s cruel,” Harwood said, looking to Kraber, frowning.

“And this concerns me… how?”

“Yeah,” said Frieda.” Don't care about ‘em.”

“Viktor’s right,” Aegis said, not sounding entirely happy with it, forcing himself in the direction of that decision. “Rivet said one of those Trailblazers who came to take him back, that one time in Littleton, told him if I really cared, I wouldn’t have taken my kids to Earth. And Amber came back with a black eye.”

“Did I kill that poesgesig?” Kraber asked. “It seems like something I would’ve done.”

“It probably would’ve been one of us,” Aegis agreed.

Harwood didn't seem too thrilled. Then Kraber’s eyes caught Ana. “You don’t like it,” he said. She nodded stiffly. “That’s fine. Be much more worried if anyone did like it.”

“You’re just talking like… Like we can just let someone die,” Harwood said. “So close to us.”

“One, Trailblazer,” Aegis and Frieda said in unison. “Two–”

Kraber sighed theatrically. “Alright. Fok with this.”

He turned and stalked back towards the earthpony. As he did so, he reached into his satchel, pulling out a very large hypodermic needle.

“Easy, Kraber!” Harwood said, alarmed. “Let me handle it.”

“You’re going to execute him?” Ana asked. She cringed at her own dismayed, venomous tone. “Just like that?”

Kraber looked at her, head cocked slightly in his helmet. “What? No. If I was doing that, I would’ve just shot him. See, this–”

He walked up to the earthpony, staring at him intently.

“Don’t…” the earthpony whispered. “Not… going to poison me…”

“In this quantity,” Kraber said, “the morphine is probably not going to kill you.”

He bent down, looking at the earthpony’s ankles, just above the hooves. Or whatever the horse equivalent to ankles were.

He was still. Shrugged. Then jammed it into the earthpony’s leg.

“I told you,” Kraber said. “Morphine.”

“Why?” the earthpony asked, as Kraber checked their uniform. “Why are you…”

“Let’s just say there’s no point in blikseming people when they’re down,” Kraber said. “Dad always told me, don’t fight to win, fight to make sure they never fight you again. Far as I can tell, you are long past that point.”

He grabbed a pair of scissors, and started cutting the earthpony’s uniform. Unbuckling it, too.

“What’re the scissors for?” Oscar Mikkelsen asked.

Kraber glanced at the hulking armoured man. “Well, can’t just ask him to move his foreleg and take it off. You don’t know what the condition of the muscles are, so...”

He actually sounded like he enjoyed explaining it. Which was interesting, except the idea of Kraber as a teacher was… worrying. To say the least.

There was a pause.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake," Harwood said, marching up past Kraber, his sword strapped to his back. He knelt down, glancing at the wounded Trailblazer. “Some bedside manner you have. I shall take over.”

“No, you’re not, you’re working with me,” Kraber said, pulling out a roll of gauze, snipping it, then wrapping it around a particularly bad foreleg wound. “I swear, it’s like everyone forgets I was a trauma–”

The sharp glare which Harwood shot Kraber quieted him, and everyone else's murmurs. Ana held her breath.

“Then why do you have a gun?” Harwood asked. “I don’t see a red cross on you either. I’m sure that you’ve got some insanely fucked-up backstory, Kraber, but there’s a doctor’s humour, and then there’s you. Why should I trust you not to overdose him as some sick joke? God knows you do plenty of needlessly cruel things for laughs-”

“Aegis,” Kraber said, almost conversationally, voice cold as ice, “I’m going to need you to do me a solid and hold me back.”

“That’s difficult with forelegs,” the heavyset earthpony said.

Then get Oscar to fokking do it,” Kraber said, almost snarling.

The big man walked up to Kraber, a slight uncertainty to his march. Ana couldn’t see anything under his opaque faceplate.

“For someone looking to make up for the shit you pulled with the HLF,” Harwood said, the words flowing forth like water, “you sure love the shiny toys the PHL can provide you, even in your p–”

Harwood stopped just before he said ‘penal’ squad, Ana noticed. But so did someone else.

“First of all. Harwood. Stop provoking him,” Ze’ev said wearily. “You’re not making my job any easier, being the ringmaster for a circus of criminals. After Montreal, when we broke that guy’s jaw and captured Shieldwall, they had to give him a plea deal that was either prison or PHL service.”

Ana vaguely recalled what Ze’ev was talking about. She’d seen it on the news in the wake of the Battle of Montreal, where the Solar Empire had made their first landfall in Canada since the Blackdog Raids. Up until Barrierfall, this had been the closest North America came to falling to the Solar Empire. Ana remembered a barrage of stories of how Kraber had distinguished himself admirably there, surprising everyone.

“What about me?” Oscar asked, looking over to Kraber and Aegis, confused.

“Well, you’re probably not a criminal,” Ze’ev said, amending that. “I don’t think we’ve written that law yet.”

Ana wondered just what this could possibly mean. ‘I swear, it’s like that squad speaks another language sometimes.

She considered that Kraber apparently spoke somewhere in the neighbourhood of eight languages.

Sometimes literally.’

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Kraber said sarcastically. “As for why… well, nobody here’d like it. I mean, we’d probably say we would, but… would we? Really?”

“I’m the licensed medic, have you forgotten?” Harwood said, his voice dangerously low. “So, let me take care of the bloody Trailblazer properly, while the rest of you sod off and do your own damn jobs.”

Ana took a step closer, grasping Harwood's shoulder. “Okay, okay, if everyone can please just… cool off. We'll be golden, yeah? Does that sound good?”

Harwood and Kraber looked at each other.

“We still have… well, everything, to handle,” Ana continued. "So. Just, well… just let the medic handle it. Everyone cool with that?"

The tension in the air was running high. Ze’ev cleared her throat.

“I applaud that you’re willing to rescue a prisoner, but I don’t care that you’re arguing. I notice,” Ze’ev said casually, “A conspicuous lack of patrolling.”

“We were preparing the barricade," said Aegis. “Could use a hand or two.”

“You heard him. Get to work.”

The tension gradually evaporated, and no fuss was raised as the joint group assembled to their respective positions. Ana saw Henri find his corner to deal with Ze’ev’s communications officer. Though Harwood still glared after Kraber as the other man went to join his squad members, before turning back to deal with the wounded Trailblazer.

Ana rested her rifle against the window. She looked to her side, and Frieda's eyes met hers.

“Right,” Frieda said. “I’ll join the others. Take care.”

She went off. Ana sighed, considering Harwood. His red cross was proudly emblazoned across his back. Before she could say anything, Harwood raised a hand.

“Ana, here. Put some pressure there.”

She knelt down by his side, and did just that. The earthpony groaned.

“He should be alright. I guess,” she said. "You’ve got this handled, um. You okay there?” Ana patted his elbow, and smiled. He wasn’t looking at her, still frowning as he looked over the earthpony's wound. “Hey, I… I think you got this medical knight thing down just right, Thomas. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” Harwood said quietly. “And they handed me a sword too.”

He sighed.

"It's not your job to keep me in line," he continued. "Never has been, love. I fucked up there, let it go to my head..."

"Yeah?" Ana said, nudging him. "Try and stop me."

She glanced around the desolate streets, then up at the massive dome still covering the entire city.

Of course, she mused, every little thing counted, in the end.

“We’ll make it,” said Ana. “If that's what you’re concerned about.”

Harwood said nothing. But his shoulders relaxed, just a little, and that was enough.

~ Fellsmere Park, Malden, USA ~

By the time the ten left among them arrived at Fellsmere Park Outpost, they were at the breaking point. Breeze was wheezing now, having carried Whistle from all the way from Charlestown. Even Timber seemed on edge, still bearing the statue’s crate he’d been carrying for so long, and with limited support from his surviving troopers. Cinnabar, their only other remaining unicorn, was pouring her all into their protective bubble.

When the lakeside outpost came into view, with its shield-dome, barbed wire and guard towers, Scootaloo could have leapt for joy. It had been a relaxing park, once, for those who wished to relax by nature’s edge.

But their fight wasn’t over yet.

“Lieutenant!” she heard someone call out.

Up ahead, beneath the dim glow of crystalline torches, there was an earthen palisade fortified with barbs, overturned cars lain in staggered rows in front of it.

“It’s the Captain!” she heard the Guard atop the gate exclaim. “Raise the shield, let them in!

He descended down the small post, and the translucent dome around it, generated by either a head unicorn or a crystal generator, allowed a small opening for them to go through. There, the main gate, a modular design created by their crystalpony allies, swung open smoothly. Under the careful watch of the two unicorns standing guard above it, Scootaloo and her comrades moved in. She took in the sight of Fellsmere Park. The park had been converted into a hastily-fortified outpost, though perhaps hasty wasn’t the right word.

No, the new earthworks was anything but hasty. A feat of engineering, hammered into shape by both earthponies and unicorns working in tandem, creating a crisscrossing network of trenches overgrown with magically-accelerated plant growth and temporary rock walls. At each end of the trenches stood tents with different symbols on their white fabric – purple vial for potion supplies, grey arrow for munitions, and pillow-marked ones for the barracks.

Scootaloo’s eyes followed one lone pathway, past all the dozens of earthponies, pegasi, unicorns, hippogriffs and zebras that populated the base, leading into a restored tree-grove by the lakeside, where a sizable pier had been created for sky-boats coming in to ferry supplies. Surrounding the entire park was a palisade, made from the earth, replacing the metal fence the humans had put in place, dotted with wooden watchtowers built into the earthen wall.

And at the centre of it all, atop a single pillar, was a totem-prole. Even if Heliotrope or someone else invisible had followed, they’d be hidden no more.

The Guards here were armed, much more than her ragtag squad had been. Not only crossbows, but potion-mortars, heavy Hardbucker cannons, even a Celestia’s Spear – or, as Dash told her, a Sunspear. Mounted atop the well, the massive, spear-like device designed to channel a unicorn’s magic was an imposing sight. From the size of this one, a full twenty paces in length, Scootaloo reckoned, it’d be strong enough to penetrate even the strongest human-made armoured ship.

Only once all of them were inside the walls, Whistle tended to by a second and third medic, did Scootaloo allow herself a brief respite, sharing a glance with Sprout. She watched the base commander trot up to Timber and salute.

“Lieutenant Fire Flare,” Timber said triumphantly. “Glad to see you’re still kicking.”

Fire Flare was a tall, pale-yellow unicorn mare with a fiery orange-and-red mane, clad in an officer’s armour with a Fillydelphia patch. Scootaloo had heard of her before, part of a unicorn troupe famed for their Summer Sun Celebration performances. Flare had quit the group, joined the Guard like so many had since the post-Crystal War expansion.

Guess I found where she went…

“Likewise, Captain,” said Flare, smiling pleasantly.

Resting the crate upon the grass, Timber looked around. “What’s the sitrep here in Fellsmere? Do we still have Spot Pond?”

“5th Fillydelphia is holding the sky-boat base in Spot Pond,” Fire Flare replied. “Got stragglers from 12th Fillydelphia, mixed with the rest of us 15th still here. Give or take… three-hundred ponies, griffs and zebras total. What happened, Captain?”

“Ambush. Ze’ev, Kraber and their thugs,” said Timber bitterly. His accent slipped to something that sounded like it was from Trottingham. Not the time to ponder it, Scootaloo thought. “Lucky to have made it out alive.”

He gestured to all of ten them. Herself, Sprout, Whistle, Breeze, Cinnabar, his deputy Cookie Batch, and two hippogriffs among them.

“This is all that’s left from the squad. Wonderbolts, Trailblazers,” he said. “Rest of us, gone, including all the Newfoals. Corporal Red Shift didn’t make it either.”

Fire Flare shook her head, sighing.

“The important thing is you’re all safe,” she said. “Can’t rest for long though, Captain. Scouts picked up a few UNAC squads, at least one penal, patrolling the suburbs.”

“Well, I trust we’ll be able to handle them easy?”

“That’s the problem,” said Flare. “They’ve got armour.”

Scootaloo shared a worried glance with Sprout. But as fate would have it, it was at that moment that something impacted the shield, quieting them. Something explosively loud.

“Get everyone in to safety, Cadet!” yelled Timber. Left and right, Guards scrambled to their positions. “Batch, take the rest into the barracks. Flare, with me.”

Another impact on the shield, and it flickered dangerously red. A third impact, a fourth, and a fifth, and Scootaloo wasn’t sure how long it would last.

Tank!” yelled Flare, back atop the gates. “Tank! Take cover, now!

Now the impact’s explosion was heard, loud as anything could ever be, and Scootaloo looked right at Whistle, placing a forehoof on her own. Her hazel eyes were wide with worry, but she nodded, and that was all Scootaloo needed.

As the impacts and explosions intensified, Scootaloo flew to the gate, and came face to face with Timber.

“I told you to stick with the others!” shouted Timber.

She shook her head. “You need me more than they need me, Captain,” she said smoothly. “More horsepower up on the walls.”

Flare heard this. “They’ve got a tank, Wonderbolt,” she stated. “British one, Challenger 2. We can’t get a clear shot.”

Through a peephole, Scootaloo looked down the street.

There, turning around a corner, was the tank. Large, lumbering, yet swift when needed, they all followed the same general model. But each was as deadly as the other, especially against Imperial Guards in the early days. And this one, a boxy-looking one, with its tracks covered, was no different. Around it, a few human soldiers, clad in suits that protected them from the serum, rushed from cover to cover, their guns pointed right at the gate. The tank’s cannon, meanwhile, was pointed right at the palisade, and Scootaloo ducked and winced when another round impacted the shield.

Timber glared at Flare.

“We’ll get that shot. We’ll send in the Newcalves. We still have those, don’t we? I know we left a few in one of the buildings here.”

“Say again?”

"Newcalves, Lieutenant,” repeated Timber. “I’ll handle the palisade here. Get them out now. That's an order."

“But–”

“Are you some morphic leodite or what?! Send them in or we all die! That’s an order, Flare.”

Scootaloo had never seen Newcalves in action, but from what she’d heard of them, large and twisted and grotesque, she wondered if they were right for the job. As Timber turned to gaze on the darkened battlefield, and Flare disappeared into the trenches, well, any answer would have to come soon enough.

Another salvo fired. In the darkness, the shadows moved, ever closer. The flashlights they carried went out one by one, and soon the tank disappeared as well.

“Captain?” Scootaloo whispered, but Timber shushed her.

“Wait for it, Cadet,” he said sternly. “Wait for it…”

Scootaloo gulped. They were getting close. Her hooves ached to grab onto Timber and drag him along with her, fleeing into the trenches.

But she didn’t need to, as something burst out of a nearby home in the street in front of her. There was a crackle from behind her. Scootaloo whipped her head around, in time to see Fire Flare, true to her name, cast a single bolt and shoot it up high in the sky. And when it detonated, the crystal lamps’ dim lighting was overwhelmed by the brightest flare she’d seen thus far.

“Look!” cried a hippogriff Guard, and Scootaloo turned to look at the thing that had come onto the street. Now the street was as clear as day.

Whoa.

The great creature, halfway between pony and rhinoceros, upscaled to tower over the armoured vehicle at the end of the street. Its true form was concealed behind layers of thick, grey steel plate armour, and the asphalt cracked with each stomp.

It roared, and the air became filled with gunfire and yells.

“Captain!” Fire Flare shouted. “The Spear is ready!”

“Raise the shield on my command!” yelled Timber.

Scootaloo, meanwhile, couldn’t tear her gaze away from the scene that unfolded.

The Newcalf charged forwards, its pace unimpeded by the meager gunfire that clattered against its armour. Though the rounds did penetrate some of the steel, the creature soon reached the human lines. Scootaloo actually shuddered to see two enemy soldiers crushed under its bulk.

“Ready to fire!”

“Hold, raise the shield!”

The translucent shield began to dissipate. The tank turned its cannon towards the Newcalf, the beast still charging ahead and throwing or crushing soldiers underfoot. And fired.

It was a direct hit.

But the Newcalf, though it staggered, was not easily stopped. With its last strength, it swiped at the tank, turning it on its side in a screech of metal, before collapsing in a heap.

Now! Fire the Sunspear!

From one end of the spear, the unicorn that operated it – Scootaloo couldn’t tell if he was natural-born or Newfoal – charged up a spell, channeling it into the crystalline device. Futilely, the tank’s treads rolled, unable to move. And then the spear fired off its brilliant, shining golden beam, straight at its exposed underbelly.

At first, the beam merely penetrated the tank, although the vehicle recoiled under the stress. Then, the spear moved ever so slightly, onto a strategic point on the tank. It detonated in a shower of munitions.

The humans who weren’t blown away staggered to their feet. They took one look at the burning wreck and turned tail, as the flare burnt up and the battlefield was shrouded in darkness again. A wise move, Scootaloo thought, for another Newcalf had emerged, fresh and unharmed.

“Good job, Lieutenant. Minimum casualties,” Timber said gruffly. “We’ll pick up the stragglers there, feed them some potion, and we’re a little bit stronger then. Come along.”

He patted Scootaloo, and she turned to look at him. He wore a calm smirk. Something that clashed wildly with the frown on the hippogriffs in the watchtower next to them.

She followed him down. The gates were open now, and a few Guards streamed out, potion bottles clinking in their saddlebags. She followed Timber, and joined Whistle, Sprout, and Breeze, standing at the ready.

“Don’t take it any other way, Cadet,” he said, when she passed by. “When push comes to shove, we can hold our own just fine. And don’t ever let the humans think otherwise.”

She nervously returned his smile. Fire Flare, however, did not.

“With all due respect… what in Tartarus were you thinking, Captain?” she hissed. “Newcalves this close to the hippogriffs and zebras? That’s against protocol.”

“For Celestia’s sake, Flare,“ Timber retorted heatedly. “They were about to breach the perimeter. What would you have done?”

He stomped a hoof, and Scootaloo winced.

“We’ll handle the fallout later, and eventually they’ll have to deal with the Newfoal soldiers daily. We can't keep them on garrison duty all the time, and this is just the start. I’ll deal with the War Office. Right now, this here statue’s our only concern.”

His horn lit up, lifting the crate’s lid. Flare's eyes, and those of some passing Guards, widened.

“What the… is that Discord?”

“One and only,” affirmed Timber. “You can write a report to Canterlot, Lieutenant. But so long as we got this statue out of their dirty hands, nothing else matters. You can ask the Lady Archmage yourself. We get this statue back to Canterlot, we’re closer to winning this war. You get me?”

Flare's eyes darted from the statue to Timber. She nodded.

“I got you, Captain,” she said. “What do you need?”

“I need you to get those Newfoals back in here safely,” he said, gesturing towards the street. The Newcalf stood vigil, guarding the earthponies in the distance as they began converting the wounded humans left behind. “Armor them up, give ‘em the rundown. We need all the hooves we can get on the field.”

“Right. Anything else?”

Timber, instead, looked at Scootaloo expectantly. She took a deep breath.

“A sky-boat, Lieutenant. We're heading to Hollow One.”

Flare nodded. Timber cleared his throat.

“Needs to be a medical one,” he added.

“Captain, wait,” said Scootaloo. “Is that… ethical?”

“We need to get past the naval blockade,” Timber replied. “We got wounded, don't we? Plus, this draconequus doesn’t look too healthy either. If things look ugly, we can always count on the boat’s shield-emitter, Cadet. Those things are still tougher than your run-of-the mill human fighter jet. Besides, the enemy has rules. So do we.”

~ The Tabletop of The Assistant’s Mind ~

The nightmares never stop. They come, they flourish, they’re here to stay.

They all tell him the same, sad story. He is good. He is loyal. He’s stronger than anything else. A miracle of science and magic twined together. He’ll protect her better than anything.

And he’ll always be good. Won’t he now? Can anyone ask for more?

But it didn’t feel right. It still doesn’t. It shouldn’t. He clutches his head. He has grown so much. And it isn’t right.

The stories tell him differently, and he does not like it.

Rarity was good. Twilight was good. That was all he needed. But they were at fault.

“Spike, we have to go. Now. I can’t do this. They’re planning something bad. I’ve spent so long tending to the wounded, bringing back beauty and helping to rebuild, that they haven’t gotten to me yet.”

Rarity. She was good. She was kind.

“What happened to Twilight? To Pinkie? They’d never consider thi–”

”But somehow, they are. I don’t know, but I need to leave. We can stop this. We have to stop this, but we can’t do it from here.”

His memories crash all at once. Pain in his chest grows.

“You can’t do this! This… this is sick! Wrong! Evil! And you’ll never make me into…”

“Oh, Rarity. Spike. You’ve made your choices.”

They fled together. They fell together.

He shielded her. And he lay broken where he fell. Rarity was broken, too. Only in her mind. He remembers Twilight. The Bearer of Magic.

Sister and teacher both. She didn’t mean it. Did she?

Don’t… worry, We’ll fix him, you’ll see. We’ll make him better. We’ll have to–”

He was weak. They bent him as they willed. They fixed him. They broke him. They made him better and worse and perfect and–

He hears her arrive. A presence in the dark. He turns away. He doesn’t want her to see him. Her walk is unimpeded. But he wants to tell her to stop. He’s too far gone.

The Princess of the Night lays a forehoof. He looks up, and she wears a smile. It is a kind, motherly smile.

He tries to return it. But something pulls at him. He curls up. The Sun tells him not to speak.

He whimpers. He closes his eyes.

Remain where you are, and you will be alright.he hears the Sun speak.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wr

The Moon passes by. He looks up.

There she stands before a lock. A large, heavy, intricate lock. It covers the door to the Golden Oaks basement.

She breaks the lock with a mighty blast. The voices fade. And a weight has been lifted. Not all, though. He feels weak. Yet unbound.

‘My work is not done. You can sleep now, dear Spike. We have much to work with, I fear...’

She wraps a wing around him. He feels ashamed. He was weak. He couldn’t break free all on his own. But the Night Princess’’s voice is calm and gentle and kind in every way Celestia is not.

“We’ll make it right. Equestria welcomes you, always…”

~ Charlestown, Boston, USA ~

In the shadow of the fallen dragon, Maxine stood with a watchful eye, keeping a tight vigilance on Luna. While the shock of seeing an alicorn cough up blood was surprising, it wasn’t enough to last that long. And even now…

If it bleeds, it can die.’ a stray thought whispered in her ear.

She glanced at the spot, behind where the alicorn now sat, where Luna had spat out blood. And the temptation to possibly end a betrayal before it could happen was--

“Surreal, ain’t it?”

Maxine glanced aside to see Tess standing there, arms crossed.

“That’s one word for it.” Maxine said icily, “you’d think we’d be used to something like another alicorn after everything that’s happened.”

“Yeah, but it’s still pretty weird.” Tess pointed out, glancing at Luna and the dragon. “A Luna who knows where your brother is. All we’re missing is something like the dead rising from the grave, and then we’ll have the apocalypse on our hands.”

“Hmph.” Maxine responded non-verbally, returning her gaze back to Luna.

Going inside to find… to find Agnes–

“I’ve always found it funny, Radwick,” Tess said, unbidden. “Why aren’t you with the HLF?”

Maxine stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“The Equestrians,” Tess clarified, giving Maxine a curious glance. “You don’t like them.”

It’s going to be alright, Maxine. Just take the serum and you can come with us. With me and Aggie. You’ll be happier there and away from the war.

“Because it’s a lure, all of it,” said Maxine. “The colours, the faces, the ‘cutie marks’, it was just an elaborate deception to fool us. They’ve shown their true nature before, and they’ll do it again.” She gave Tess a frigid gaze. “And when they betray us again, we’ll see what’s true.”

“I know a lot of people who’d agree with you.” Tess sighed. “So why didn’t you join?”

“I’m not a violent maniac, Jones.”

“The HLF have hardly got a monopoly on violent maniacs,” Tess said coolly. “Haven’t you heard? Viktor Kraber switched teams.”

“Well, I’m not him,” Maxine said indifferently. “Making them pay is one thing, doesn’t mean I’m looking to get a kick out of it.”

“And neither am I,” said Tess. “But are you sure that’s what it is? Or could it be because of who your brother is, and his rather… troubled reputation amongst the HLF?”

Maxine gave her a hard stare. “Defiance was after my time. Spare me. I’ve got my own reasons to have issues with the Equestrians.”

Before Tess could respond, there was a change in the air. A shift in the atmosphere that pulled their attention back to Luna. The alicorn had stirred and seemed to have emerged from her trance-like state.

She turned her head towards them, her ethereal mane billowing in the unseen wind, and it reminded Maxine all too much of her royal sister.

“Are you done?” Tess asked.

“I believe that should do it for now,” Luna replied calmly, holding back a cough. “But the work is far from over. In time, the chains binding him will be released entirely, but not here.”

“Where, exactly?” said Tess.

Luna stood up, and smiled serenely.

“Equestria,” she said, and stood a little straighter. “My Equestria.”

“You still owe us some answers,” Maxine pointed out. “Besides, we’re not going anywhere till that blasted dome is down.”

Hearing this, the alicorn said nothing in return. Her eyes were fixed towards the sky, the moonlight reflected in her tranquil blue eyes.

“Something wrong?” Tess said, alarmed. “Jean-Eric, go check the perimeter–”

“Fear not, Teresa Jones,” said Luna cryptically. “For I feel that the end is near…”

And there was a thunderous crack, loud and distant and near and quiet all at once. Maxine’s eyes, and all others, followed Luna’s gaze, and there they saw a single magical bolt among many, crossing the moonlit sky.

* * * * *

It started as a shining light emerging from the suburbs, near what had been Fenway Park.

The single bolt flew through the air, tiny, yet it brilliantly gleamed a crystalline blue. The colours of the Crystal Realm, like the alicorn who cast it. No eyes fell upon it then, for it was one of many such projectiles and magical bolts crisscrossing the Boston skies. Yet, in a moment, where it landed drew all eyes in the city.

A unicorn’s shield spell, from the smallest of personal shields, to the city-wide dome that covered Boston, had a complex, criss-crossing blueprint to the smallest detail. It gave them the endurance to withstand, for a time, the strongest of human munitions.

Yet if one were to find the junction where the spell matrix met, one could shatter it entirely. And the bolt, indeed, found its mark, guided by the unyielding love of the mare it came from.

A crack spread from the impact, quiet as it was. Silent at first, the shield it touched creaked, and more cracks spread through the gigantic dome. And when it reached the very top, above where the Great Equestrian was, those below waited with bated breath.

The cracks faded. And the shield, piece by piece, collapsed. The translucent purple, barely illuminated by the fading fires below, disintegrated into purple dust over the city.

Next came the storm.

It had taken only a short while for news to spread. Within distance of Boston Harbour lay the UNAC fleet, a mix of Russian, French, and whatever other naval forces that had been within the North Atlantic area.

And when the translucent dome disappeared, the missiles flew, and the planes took to the skies.

There had only been three aircraft carriers lying in wait, but they were enough. One by one, long-designated targets on the North side of the city from Winthrop to Wellington were struck by airforce. It would be the first of many waves, and from the South of the city, UNAC’s ground forces would move in soon enough to relieve their beleaguered comrades.

Above the city, missiles coursed through the air, impacting targets where the Empire had set foot in the South side. And some, of course, went for the Great Equestrian’s shields. For now it held firm, though less could be said about the Imperial troops below.

In the next few hours, the battle would wind down as it had before. But none could know yet what the future held.

For Archmage Twilight, lying on the infirmary bed, unable to sleep away the ringing in her head, her only connection to the outside world had been the zebra doctor and her assistant working hard to properly close her wound.

And then the doors burst open, she heard. Her brother loomed over her, and Shearwater and Terramar flanked him on either side. Rainbow Dash followed, as did Ardor.

“The shield has fallen. Send word out to Canterlot,” Shining told Rainbow. “The Boston situation is being handled. I will remain here with Ardor.”

“Captain, with all due respect,” answered Rainbow. “Dontcha think this war has enough dead heroes already?”

“She is right,” Ardor said soothingly. “Dear Shining, are you sure?”

“I’ve got just enough left in me to protect the ship alone, long enough to reach the Barrier. We have neither the stocks needed for the bombardment or the firepower to take on the entire fleet. We’ll cover the retreat.”

Her visitors looked at one another. His gaze turned to the zebra doctor. Twilight couldn’t catch her name tag.

“Doctor,” Shining said sternly. “Her life is on you. Keep her safe.”

"Yes, Captain," she said simply.

“Stay with us, Lady Archmage,” Shearwater said reassuringly, laying his talon on her bedside, yet Twilight, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to fade away.

“Brace yourselves,” said Shining. “Commencing teleportation in three, two, one...”

She said nothing, the headache continuing to torment her. A purple glow did appear around them all – herself, Rainbow Dash, Shearwater and Terramar, and the doctor and her nurse. Then Shining’s horn sparked, filling each crack in the wooden floor and spreading to the walls.

“Shining…” Twilight whispered. But her words faded under a deafening noise.

And then the lines shone bright, bright as Celestia’s Sun, forcing her eyes to close.

When they opened once again, they were in the Atlantic, she knew. Hollow One, the gigantic platform from which they’d set out hours ago. The others staggered and collapsed from exhaustion, even as the base staff gathered around them, shouting orders left and right.

Twilight remained motionless. Even when they levitated her from the bed to a gurney, and wheeled her out of the base’s own infirmary, she kept quiet.

Only when she felt the ocean air did Twilight glance at the ocean, dark and illuminated only by the crystal lamps and the moon above them.

Far, far away from Boston, far and safe behind the Barrier’s protection. Far and away from Luna, once again, as she had always been.

* * * * *

In the streets of Boston, Princess Cadance stood, breathing heavily. That spell had been the work of the better part of an hour. Around her, her new if unsure comrades looked up in awe. Some, like Alicia and Starfall, took the time to finally lean against the nearest wall, total relief in their hearts.

Cadance, however, hadn’t felt this drained since her own shield held back the Dark King Sombra, and she staggered.

“Whoa, hey,” Stephan said, holding onto Cadance quickly. “You okay?”

She’d flown a short distance up, firing the spell of hers into the dome above. Such a spell required her utmost concentration and exertion, and she found herself quite spent.

“Yeah,” Cadance said shortly. The exhaustion would give away soon, she thought. “I’m okay… I’m okay.”

It was a partial lie, obviously. But one look at Stephan’s relieved face validated her entirely

“Major!” Starfall called out, trotting over from where he and the others had rested. “High Command wants a situation update. We may have… we may have someone coming over from New York. What should I tell them?”

Stephan sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

“That someone,” he lamented, “is usually a few. Lady Cadance, I don’t know if this is the right time to ask you, but... mind explaining a few things to the higher-ups?”

Cadance let out a laugh, more out of relief than anything.

“Of course, it’s only fair,” she said, though sighing. “I’ll just have to find Aunt Luna first. I’m certain she’ll… she’ll explain… she’ll help explain everything.”

Well, it's been a long night, anyway. What’s another hour without sleep, really…

~ The North Atlantic ~

“Starstruck! The rudder's jammed, help me with it!” Sprout shouted.

This far out, just off the North American coast, and the Barrier within range, and their accursed sky-boat was already falling apart. Their anchor was cast off, and in the dead of night there was no telling if any human scouts were waiting for them.

“Go on, Cadet, I’ve got Whistle,” said Salty Breeze. “Best get the boat moving again.”

Gruff as he was, Scootaloo felt thankful for his presence, his and Sparks Timber’s. There were only the five of them on board, a paltry group fleeing the battlefield. But it would suffice.

She gave both him and Whistle a nod, before exiting the wheelhouse. She followed the Trailblazer. He acknowledged her quietly, and with his hooves full, he began his work.

Holding onto the jammed rudder, Scootaloo quietly regarded the young stallion, precariously perched with a harness. Green as his name, his colours were various verdant shades, from his light-green fur to his vibrant green mane, save for his brown eyes. Much like hers, his mane was cropped short to fit into their streamlined Guard helmet.

At last, the rudder unjammed. She held back a quiet cheer as Sprout let out a cry of relief.

“Thanks, Starstruck,” said Sprout, flashing her a smile.

Scootaloo simply nodded as she hoisted him back on board. Back on their four hooves, she took a moment to take the sight of him in, and sighed.

“Green Sprout, wasn’t it?” Scootaloo asked. It was rhetorical, but she had to be sure. Sprout, who’d just taken off his harness, looked at her all puzzled. She held out a forehoof. “Scootaloo.”

The earthpony smiled. This was the first time she’d seen him smile. Privately, she was thankful he had enough levity to smile at all.

“Yeah, it’s Green Sprout, one and only,” he said. He accepted the hoofshake, before withdrawing to wipe the sweat off his brow. “Celestia’s sake… probably should’ve taken that engineering course. Not sure how well the rudder’ll hold.”

Scootaloo chuckled. “Yeah, well,” she said, tapping a hoof. “Gotta make the best of it, dontcha? This isn’t one of those human-made planes so, if need be, I’ll just give the old girl a push on the flank to get it back on course.”

As if on reflex, she stretched out one of her wings. Sprout whistled, smirking.

“Some fancy gear you got there,” he said. “Must’ve taken a lotta time getting used to.”

Scootaloo paused in her stretch, then took a glance at her wings. She’d had them for some time now, enough time that it felt truly natural to use.

“Sure did,” she replied plainly.

Another awkward pause. His smirk quivered, but Scootaloo found his attempts to maintain a facade amusing. Eventually, he relented, and released a long sigh.

“Look, uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. He’d taken his helmet off sometime before, Almost on reflex, Scootaloo wanted to tell him to find where he’d put it. “Sorry ‘bout, you know. What happened back there. Didn’t mean to be so harsh or too pushy, on you or your partner."

“You’re good,” Scootaloo said. “Things got a little tense. Guess we got caught up in the heat of the moment. Don’t worry, Whistle’ll forgive ya. Little ray of sunshine right there. As long as you keep the actual salt to the Manehattenites.”

She paused.

“Yeah, uh, forget I said that,” she said, even as he chuckled. “Don’t exactly like the Guards from big towns.”

“And Fillydelphia isn’t one?”

“Close enough. There’s a reason you guys aren’t uptight Vanhoover types,” she replied, poking him with a wing. “You Fillydelphia colts are fine by me. Least you’re not the Loyalty Guard.”

Loyal though she was, and him too at a guess, the Loyalty Guard’s intrusive surveillance operations didn’t escape the regular Guards’ notice. Still, the ones assigned to guard the Imperial nobility, like Shearwater and Terramar, weren’t half bad either, in the short time she’d known the pair aboard their shared post, and she did enjoy listening to Terramar’s stories about his beloved sister back at Mount Aris, or Shearwater’s longtime service by Twilight’s side.

“I’m touched,” Sprout said, nodding. “You Ponyvillians ain’t so bad either.” He paused. “I know I met one of you before, he was on… a temporary assignment with us last year. Featherweight was his name– photographer, you know him? Got a keen eye.”

Remembering a time long ago when a certain lanky pegasus had helped them make the news, Scootaloo couldn’t help but laugh.

“Keen eye’s one way to put it! I should try to get back in touch and all. Thanks for the heads-up,” Scootaloo replied heartily. She paused, looking him up and down, and scrounged her thoughts. “You seemed kind of out of it back there. You new to Boston?”

“Yeah, me and the Captain, and Salty Breeze over there,” said Sprout lightly. “Guess it was time for me to join the rest of the Fillydelphians up in North America. My old detachment’s back on the farms in the Italic Colonies, and I guess I’ll be rejoining them when this is all over. This is the first time the three of us were reassigned, been with him and the other guys since last year. Coast to coast, forest to forest, heh...”

His quick glance at her wings didn’t escape her notice, nor his awestruck remark a minute ago. But for now, Scootaloo took comfort in the fact that for all appearances, he remained an honour-bound Guard who’d follow his orders to the letter before he’d try anything with a mare.

Sprout tapped his badge.

In the darkest of forests, in the deepest of seas” he recited. We seek what is lost, and return what is found. Let us tread the sacred path–

Now and always, your forever faithful,” Scootaloo finished, allowing herself a little smile. “I know the Trailblazers’ pledge. Read about it in passing. You did miss the first part, though.”

Blessed Queen, protect our mind and soul…” He groaned. “Right. Captain Plow isn’t going to let me live that one down.”

“Don’t think he’s got ears over here,” Scootaloo said wryly. She leaned against the railing, casually, and pointed a wing at the wheelhouse. “Unless you count ol’ Salty.”

“He’s cool, don’t worry. Besides, we know all about ears in the dark. The woods here, they stick with ya, but enough time passes, and it all gets easier,” Sprout said, more to reassure himself than it was to reassure her. He shook his head. “About you and… Captain Dash. Is there–”

She held up a wing.

“No, she didn’t give me a shortcut,” Scootaloo replied, in a line she’d long since recited over and over again. “I joined the Guard three years ago, and I’m still a Cadet.”

That was only half true. During her time in the Wonderbolts Academy, she still remembered, Rainbow Dash just couldn’t resist giving her a few well-hidden tips among her drills.

“Really?” Sprout said. “Huh, I’d have figured… yeah.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Scootaloo said. She motioned her wings a gingerly. “With this kind of untested tech, they really wanted to be sure it didn’t give me the edge over the other recruits. ‘Course, I do wonder if I did… earn my wings, or if I somehow turned a promotion away without knowing. At least I got to know Whistle out of it.” She shrugged. “Anyways, time passes, I get by, perform a few missions to test the waters, Whistle trips every once in a while, I pick her up, and now we’re here. It’s a rough first rodeo for her, since usually we’re a little more on the PR side of things than what you guys do. But hey, we all play our part, right?”

“Right…” Sprout said, bobbing his head along. “Sounds like you had a pretty bumpy ride.”

“Yeah, bumpy. But it breaks the routine, so... I guess I can live with it.”

She couldn’t shake the haunting feeling that coursed through her. How Twilight, the Lady Archmage, had stood tall and yet looked very small, against the all-encompassing darkness. How the alicorn had emerged from the dark. How Twilight had, at that moment, told them everything would be alright...

“So, Scootaloo,” said Sprout, breaking her thoughts. “You up for drinks on the side, back in Canterlot? The other Trailblazers, I know they’d love to hear your stories, and couple new friends can’t hurt, eh?”

His smile was, dare she say it, charming in that goofy way. But what he spoke of struck a nerve.

“Whaddaya say?”

She looked to the ocean, biting her lower lip. An impossible wonder of their new realm, and she hadn’t been happier than when she’d soared through with her crystal wings in front of Applebloom and Sweetie Belle’s disbelieving eyes. Even joining the Wonderbolts next to her mentor’s side at last didn’t quite measure up to that, being free to fly as she pleased.

Then came the war. Applebloom had been too young to end up so old, running everything at Sweet Apple Acres that Mac couldn’t solve with raw strength. While they would both agree it was for the good of Equestria, Applebloom would seem a little too tired and take a little too long to answer him in the affirmative. The less said about Babs Seed, that traitor, the better. And no-one seemed to know which corner of Equestria Sweetie Belle had vanished to.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing away. “I don’t do friends anymore. Haven’t in a while.”

She didn’t feel compelled to spill it out to him right then and there. But nevertheless, the earthpony nodded.

“That’s fair enough,” he said evenly. Thankfully, he didn’t sound disappointed. “Still, it’d be nice to help around if we cross paths again.”

“Yeah… yeah that’s fine,” she said quietly, walking towards the wheelhouse.

He didn’t see her hardened gaze, the same gaze she wore when Sweetie told her that one step out the door, out to answer the call reactivating the Wonderbolts for full military service, and they were friends no more.

In silence, she pushed open the door to the wheelhouse. Sparks Timber stood, helmet off, and his blue fur matted with dust. At the other end of the room, Whistle lay on her stomach, her wing being tended to by Breeze.

Though her wing was still awkwardly angled, the white pegasus’ hazel eyes brightened up considerably when she saw Scootaloo walk in.

“Starstruck, ma’am!” she said eagerly spreading out a bandaged wing. She winced, and Salty Breeze groaned. “Ow! Sorry, sir.”

“Keep doing that and you’ll be grounded for months,” said Breeze. He glanced at Scootaloo. “You got yourself a pretty jumped-up little-sidekick here, Starstruck.”

Scootaloo let herself chuckle. “Easy, Whistle,” she said gently, moving to pat her on the head. “Can’t let you get hurt like that too often.”

“Yes, ma’am!” said Whistle eagerly. She prepared to salute with a wing, but then thought the better of it, and settled for an awkward smile.

Timber gazed wistfully. “Good to see some of us are still spirited after all.” He harrumphed. “Five whole years of this struggle… Right. Roll call, I suppose, for formality’s sake.”

He cleared his throat. Scootaloo stood at attention, and so did Breeze, and Sprout who’d followed her in and even Whistle tensed up in her corner.

“Sparks Timber, Captain,” Timber recited. “15th Fillydelphian Regiment.”

“Starstruck, Cadet, 1st Wonderbolts, Ponyville Group.”

“Salty Breeze, Medical Officer, 9th Trailblazers Company, Recovery Division.”

“Whistle Stop, Cadet, 1st Wonderbolts, Baltimare Group.”

“Green Sprout, Sergeant, 9th Trailblazers Company, Recovery Division.”

When all was said and done and they’d unwound, Timber sighed tiredly. Scootaloo’s gaze followed his to the floor. He wasn’t downcast. She knew he was thinking how, in the deck underneath, there rested the crate, and inside, Discord’s statue which they’d gone through all this trouble for.

“Two Trailblazers, two Wonderbolts, and one Fillydelphia Guard. How about that for a report.”

“Need me to write it down, sir?” Whistle offered.

“At ease, cadet,” Timber said gently. “Might as well do this after… leaving my regiment behind.”

“Wasn’t your fault, Captain,” Sprout said, and Scootaloo nodded in agreement. “They know their task. They’ll carry it out, and we have ours here. And we’ll get it done.”

“Right, right,” Timber conceded. “I should put more faith in Flare and Batch after all. In any case, I shall be writing the report once we get to Hollow One. Breeze, you and Whistle stay here. Starstruck and Sprout, take turns watching outside. Make sure we’re at a safe distance away from any scout. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” chorused the four before him, and Timber nodded.

“Good, it’ll be a long way ahead to Hollow One,” he said sternly, but not unkindly. “Now, you know where to go. Dismissed.”

Not a second later, after Scootaloo had turned to leave with Sprout, did Whistle speak up earnestly.

“Sir, permission to speak?” she said.

“Granted.”

“Can… can I be with Cadet Starstruck and Sergeant Sprout?” she said tentatively. “I… I know I’m still injured and all but, I’ll be more of use outside. More pairs of eyes, right?”

Scootaloo saw Breeze nod at Timber, then back at his charge.

“You keep that wing tight around your barrel, or I won’t patch it up so easily next time, cadet,” Breeze said clinically, but there was an odd kind of warmth to it. “You got that?”

“You got it, doc,” Whistle said, managing to salute.

“And don’t do anything funny, Starstruck,” Breeze added, eyeing Scootaloo warily. “Daredevils, the whole lot of you…”

If only we still were, you old bird…

“I’ll keep her safe, doc, no worries.”

Beaming, Whistle staggered up on her hooves, and trotted up to Scootaloo’s side.

“Come on, Whistle,” Scootaloo said, smiling. “Let’s take a walk.”

With a few more nods exchanged between all of them, Scootaloo, Sprout, and Whistle exited the wheelhouse. Cold winter air blew a chill along their feathers and hide, but their winter armour kept them mostly warm. Most except for Sprout, who despite being clad entirely in scout armour, bit back his chattering teeth.

“Got cold feet there, Sprout?” Scootaloo said teasingly. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

After his exertion at unjamming the rudder, he must have cooled down and felt it.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Wonderbolt,” Sprout deadpanned, and Whistle giggled. “Y-y-you try handling the Atlantic without those feathers of yours.”

“Heh, yeah…”

Soon, their brisk trot came to a halt at the bow, and the three of them paused to contemplate the early morning ocean.

“How’d humans do it anyway…” said Sprout, clamping down on his teeth. “You’d think that they’d get a little colder from this w-w-weather, s-s-stupid hairless monkeys–”

Whistle gave him a nudge. “They’re actually apes, you know. Still primates, so, um. Sorry.”

“Yeah w-well, either way, not for long!” Sprout replied. Both Whistle and Scootaloo had to laugh.

“Okay, you two,” said Scootaloo, ruffling Whistle's mane. She shot Sprout a cheeky smile. “See, Sprout, it helps to read from time to time.”

“Oh, s-s-shut it,” said Sprout with a huff, though half-smiling. “I’m not seeing you fixing the weather anytime soon.”

“Everfree climate all over the place,” said Scootaloo. “So, haven’t bothered.”

“Maybe you’ll do it someday, Starstruck!” Whistle said cheerfully. “I mean… I think you could.”

Scootaloo regarded her with a fond gaze. Sometimes, she mused, the codename ‘Starstruck’ fit her own protegée more than it did her.

The cheerful, reliable pegasus had latched onto her at the Wonderbolts Academy, enchanted by both her wings and her proficiency with them, but also how she’d spent a lifetime working with what she had. She wasn’t even that much younger than her, Scootaloo thought, yet Whistle looked up to her much like she had to Rainbow, a long time ago.

Of course, Scootaloo hadn’t mentioned the brief falling-out she’d had with Rainbow Dash. All involving how one way or another, she’d felt held back, and yet at the same time, hoof-held throughout boot camp. But at least, they’d made up by the time Rainbow introduced her to Whistle, and all was well.

Rainbow Dash…’ she remembered with a jolt. The Captain had gone back in, defying all common sense. ‘Hope you’re safe, wherever you are–

“So!” Whistle said brightly. “What’s the plan?”

Scootaloo blinked.

“Sorry?”

“The plan, y’know,” Whistle continued, and leaned closer for a whisper. “Getting back to the city? I mean, I know you’ll get Captain Timber to turn us around, right?”

Scootaloo shared an unsure look with Sprout.

“Whistle,” she said gently. “We’re not turning back.”

Her protégée’s ears drooped. “What?”

“Captain’s orders,” confirmed Sprout. “We can’t turn back now.”

“But the others!” her protégée protested. “What about them? Captain Dash, Captain Plow, everyone...”

“Rainbow Dash, you know her, Whistle,” Scootaloo said, patting her back. “She’ll be back. They’re not breaking through the Great Equestrian that easily.”

She avoided mentioning Fleetfoot. It wasn’t a loss to be taken lightly, and Whistle had seen enough for a lifetime.

“Oaken Plow will be f-f-fine, too,” Sprout interjected, teeth still chattering in the Winter air. “I’ve been with him for a year or two, and from coast to coast, we went through it all. We’re Trailblazers, Whistle. T-t-they’ll be fine. I know they will.”

Scootaloo flinched.

He doesn't know…

Sprout looked past her, to the turbulent ocean that lay below them.

“If push comes to shove, we… w-we... could drop the statue,” he said contemplatively. “Maybe the waves will take Discord. They’ll never find him.”

“No, Sprout,” Scootaloo said gruffly. “We’ll bring this back to Canterlot, you said it yourself. Whatever it takes.”

The Trailblazer, though he opened his mouth for a retort, looked at her and Whistle.

“Right, better make sure it’s secure down below,” he said. “Take care, you two.”

And he was off, disappearing into the hatch that led to the lower deck. Silently, Scootaloo hoped he wasn’t planning on throwing it overboard anyway. That left her with Whistle.

Whistle looked forlorn. Scootaloo, gently, placed a crystalline wing on her barrel.

“Hey,” she said. “It’ll be alright.”

“I hope it does,” said Whistle. “I just…”

Scootaloo looked away from the ocean and back at Whistle. The young mare was resting upon the railing. Scootaloo thought that, fatigue aside, she too was running on the adrenaline rush that had followed them from the city.

“I’m sorry, Whistle,” she said softly. “But… it’s like Lady Twilight said.”

She followed Whistle’s gaze. The statue creaked from somewhere beneath them. The coast had long since disappeared into darkness and early morning mist. Moonlight shone from above, an eerie reminder of the enemy that had come so close to claiming them all in nightmare. Wherever her comrades were, whatever sacrifices they’ve made in Boston…

“Nothing else matters.”

~ A Lonesome Manor, North of the Crystal Realm ~
Shortly after Night has left Evening’s Shelves

A deathly figure shuddered in his bed. His eyes slowly opened, to see a familiar ceiling he’d viewed time and again. With gritted teeth, he bit back an old pain. He pulled himself to a sitting position on his bed – a crystal bed filled with clear water. Despite a damp body and head of thinned greyed hair, the figure rose. He shivered from the cold, before relaxing.

For a moment, he let out a breath and just sat there.

The figure’s eyes, a tired pair, glanced elsewhere. He glanced at the only other thing in the crystalline bed-chamber. A mirror, itself made of crystal.

A full-body mirror at first glance, but a special one. One whose frame had been greatly modified. All for the purpose of travel and solutions.

An effort for a great hope…

A tear shed because, for a moment, he’d believed that she was there. For a moment, he’d believed that after so long… he’d found her. That he had managed to accomplish such a long-held dream. That the key to their salvation would be at hand–

“No.” He whispered, almost hissed, in denial while facing the mirror. “I heard her… She spoke... She was there!”

There was silence.

The figure shed further tears, the cold increasing. He should have pulled harder, he should have intervened, damn the consequences! She would have been here. She would have–

He recoiled, beginning to seethe in pain. He needed to– needed to–

“Sir,” a voice interrupted.

“Go away,” the figure hissed, not facing the source. “I haven’t anything for you.”

“Yet, sir. Anything yet, sir,” the voice corrected, “you’re not yet finished. The dream is not dead.”

“Yes, it is!” he snapped, “it wasn’t her! I failed! I couldn’t shield her from…” The figure blanched, his anger melting into regret. “I couldn’t help her from that sword. I’ve failed again.”

“You haven’t, sir. You know where she’s from. And you know what this calls for.”

“A Crossing.”

“It shouldn’t take you too long. Just a brief trip to see the sights and meet the locals. It should be educational, Headmaster, sir.”

The figure turned to the voice’s source, ignoring his bleeding nose. Standing not far was an earthpony stallion whose red coat contrasted against the obsidian-coloured armour, onyx gem brestplate, and helm they wore. Glassy eyes met a striking aquamarine.

“Correct, Corporal.”

He pulled himself out of bed with some effort. He stood naked, before, at a gesture, nearby folded clothes came and wrapped around him. The Headmaster stood in his attire of choice – a three-piece suit with a tie-pin depicting a spell matrix.

Securing his shoes – buckles a better choice than laces – the Headmaster summoned to him his two tools. His third leg, a symbol of wisdom that was more than what it seemed to be, and finally, a silver amulet. A lovingly-crafted piece of a winged pattern at its sides and a cobalt gem cut in the shape of the tie-pin’s image.

Fixing the amulet around his neck, the latch closing soon after, he turned to the Corporal.

“Your orders are to inform the others where I’ve gone,” the Headmaster said with authority. “Tell them I’ll be back soon and we will make preparations.”

“Yessir,” the Corporal said with a bow, “as you command.”

The Headmaster acknowledged this, before turning to the Crystal Mirror. He approached it and laid his hand upon its frame, allowing the magic to fill him…

“Show me the way…” he whispered, as the image rippled to show a grand hall that once stood before it fell to Hegemony.

May the dream live on, ‘til it comes true.

~ Downtown Boston, Boston, USA ~
One hour later

As the sounds of battle died down, Cadance walked by Stephan Bauer’s side. All around them, the Major had gathered his fellow Knights to augment his numbers. It had been a long and trying night, the loss of Discord just one of several tragedies. Hopefully there wouldn't be any other surprises.

Major Bauer had said it best, an hour ago. The current phase of the battle was over, finished in a series of air strikes and the Great Equestrian’s retreat. Now, time was something much too precious to lose, as the frontlines resettled.

“Are you sure she’s around here, Major?” Cadance whispered. Bauer glanced around the empty streets before them.

“One of the UN blue-helmet snipers, she contacted us,” said Bauer. “Said she’s dealing with HLF and the Princess. Heh, and they say peacekeepers aren’t what they used to be...”

Something rang a bell in Cadance.

“HLF… aren’t they against ponies?” she said worriedly. “Did something happen?”

Bauer shook his head.

“Not these ones. We’re talking about the Carter girl’s HLF,” he said. “Still… I’m not so sure about it, so we’ll have to see, Princess.”

Despite being another confusing element, it was just reconfirmation of what was established at this point. This conflict, and Earth at large, wasn’t as simple as she’d thought, and would present further facets that kept it from being a black-and-white affair. At some point, she’d have to sit down and get a flow-chart or something to keep track of… well, everything.

She shook her head. She was thinking like Twilight now, and that made her grin wryly. She wondered what Aunt Luna had learned so far, if she even got the chance to sit down.

This is… one way to start everything.

She adjusted her armour as they walked. It had protected her well… but next time around, she’d have to ask Shining how to fit it properly.

Eventually, they entered the HLF’s area and began to pass by various tents. There were some people standing guard, some inside of their tents, and others in hushed conversation. What was clear was that they were being watched. And their presence wasn’t entirely welcome, either, from the glares she felt on her back.

Despite that, Cadance kept her focus on the path, and tried her best not to acknowledge the paranoia whispering in her ear. A quiet warning that these HLF wouldn’t be against committing violence at the slightest hint of provocation.

Perhaps that was just it. Paranoia.

“Major Bauer, sir,” a voice spoke. Cadance looked around for the speaker.

Standing nearby, with a rifle slung over her shoulder, was a woman who had a rather familiar look to her and–

’Those… eyes.’ Cadance thought to herself, suppressing a shudder at their coldness. It was close to the looks of disdain Alexander Reiner had for Twilight and Celestia. But beyond that, there was something about this woman…

“Radwick.” Bauer said in return, regarding the woman. “We got your message. Where is she?”

“Follow me,” Radwick said, giving Cadance another hard look before turning and walking towards the largest tent.

Bauer followed suit, leaving Cadance standing there a moment before she followed as well. They were greeted by another woman outside the tent, who stood straight as they approached.

“Stephan Bauer,” she said. “The Knight of Germania. Welcome.”

Cadance saw the Major wince a little. She’d have thought it an honourable title.

“Miss Jones,” replied Bauer. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The woman’s gaze went by them one by one, and fell upon Cadance.

“So, it’s true then, there are two alicorns in Boston,” said Jones, staring at Cadance. “She did come from another world.”

“We did,” agreed Cadance. “Is she here?”

“Not so fast, now,” said Jones. “We got a few questions of our own.”

Then came a second, very much familiar, very much welcome voice.

“That won’t be necessary yet, Teresa Jones.”

There, Cadance saw her, emerging from the tent.

Though her armour was cracked, her wounds many, the Princess of the Night stood tall, her midnight-blue mane flowing in the cold winds.

“The night is over.”

Author's Note:

Spectrum 2.1 - Autumn 2021

VoxAdam:

  • Removal of concept and character; Samantha Yarrow and the Reavers.
  • Removal of a mention by name of Commodore Daniel Romero.

Spectrum 2.0 - December 01st 2019

Sledge115: Apparently, saving Spike involves punching him really, really hard. 

Surprise! A combination of no exams has lent us some time to complete this chapter rather quickly. :twilightsmile: However, as the final weeks of 2019 looms with final exams to do, I believe this might be the last chapter of 2019, marking the end of our most productive year yet.

There’s so much to decipher here that, well, I'll keep the exposition here to a minimum.

Scootaloo’s story in the Wonderbolts Academy is a story for another day. I wished to convey the feeling of a protagonist whose traditional journey story is done, and is currently in that post-arc storyline.

Even in the reboot, Ana still messes up even when she’s doing everything right and by what she’s told to do. That’s just being human, in the end.

The Loyalty Guard, just to clarify, is basically the Schutzstaffel/Gestapo. Part of them are assigned as the secret police in Imperial Equestria, while a smaller number are designated as the personal guard for the Imperial nobility and leadership.

Shearwater is one of the background hippogriffs shown in Season 8, Episode 6. And you should know who Fire Flare is her design is underrated.

Writing the Imperial POV has been quite the experience, too. Fleshing out how they work and how they perform in the face of adversity… well. We’ll let you judge how well that worked out. At the end of the day, likable or not, sympathetic or petty, they’re people.

Part of me wishes Cadance had more to do, but some factors had to be considered as to where she is and what she plausibly would do. And I think, personally, single-hoofedly breaking a city-wide dome with one shot is an equally impressive achievement as defeating a powerful enemy in single combat :twilightsmile:

In any case, I hope you all do enjoy the longest action chapter in Spectrum 2.0 (so far - you never know), and the climax of Act Two. I hope it's worth the wait and build up!

By the way, Act One, or the Prologue up to Chapter Thirteen, is titled From Earth to Equestria. Ironically, this is longer than just calling it Act One, so call it as you wish :twilightsheepish:

One last push, ladies and gentlemen, for the finale of Moonrise. Stay tuned, and happy holidays!

– Sledge

VoxAdam: In practical terms, I actually did even less writing for this chapter than for the previous one. But in terms of sequencing and continuity lookout, ooh boy... If it doesn’t feel like it while reading, then it’s a sign of a good job, and we’ll gladly take it yet this was probably the hardest chapter since the Redheart’s locket quest in ‘An Opening’ and ‘The Heart Goes Last’ when it came to keeping straight where everyone was and how they connected to one another. Maybe even harder, considering how we were trying to remain faithful to geographical accuracy in the real-life City of Boston. :applejackconfused:

And we know a lot of similar preparation has gone into the Act’s upcoming final chapter...

On the other hand, ‘Moonrise Over Boston’, for me, is one of the more triumphant examples of how co-writing can go a long way, even when you yourself aren’t as directly involved. :pinkiesmile: I’ll let Sledge and the gang elaborate if they wish, but several of the Imperial characters featured here were characters I’d quickly introduced in ‘Two Faces’ and ‘An Angel’s Wings’ to add flavour to the Imperial perspective, the thus-nicknamed Cadet Startruck being the foremost. Other Imperial characters are from a story concept developed by Sledge and DoctorFluffy, which I don’t know will ever be published on Fimfiction, but it’s already nice to see them feature here.

Just like it’s also nice to see Startruck take on a life of her own. :twilightsmile: Bonus points to whoever can spot which series that nickname’s a reference to.

I think my only regret for this chapter is that Cadance doesn’t appear more, after the grand entrance she made and her role in ‘An Angel’s Wings’. Yet the chapter’s long as it is, and we felt it better to make Cadance pivotal in another way. I can promise that in the next and final chapter, Cadance shall once again be appearing at the forefront, to make her presence on Earth very useful…

Cheers,
~Vox

TheIdiot: This has been a difficult move to get this chapter done. Plus, to be blunt, we’re kinda swamped this time of year in real life related matters since the end of the year is nigh. And the stress can kinda drive one nutty with something needing to give.

In the case of Chapter 18, consider this to be our gift to you, our fair readers, that way we can attend to more pressing matters. Plus, it’s the first of December and you consider this chapter to be our gift to you and the fact that we updated the story in about a month. So, I think this will tide you over while we all focus on the things going on in our lives.

This was one explosive chapter with the climax of the Moonrise arc with plenty of fighting and character moments throughout. However, if you’ve kept keen eyes, you may figure out the small details regarding what comes next. Or perhaps discern possible identities for the future. Either way, should give you time to try and figure something out between this and the previous chapter.

Between everything, we hope you’ve enjoyed Chapter 18 and will look forward to our next update which will more than likely be next year due to what we’re all immediately faced with. At the very least, we are grateful to have your continued support and interest into the new year and new decade.

Until next time, fair readers.

Carpe diem, everyone.

(P.S. Go see Knives Out, it’s a funny movie with great actors and some awesome twists and turns. If not for that, then please see it for the fact that Chris Evans plays a complete and utter scumbag in the film.)

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