2: Veni
War.
War.
Marissa. Thomas.
War.
Are they fucking… horses?
War.
I can’t fucking breathe.
The thoughts come fast and toxic and like hot coals dragging through my brain. I tear away the optic goggles. The lights of the cockpit melt together, swimming with the sweat and pounding in my skull.
“Detecting user arrhythmia,” says the computer cooly. “Engaging defibrillator in three… two--”
“Cancel,” I gasp. “Fucking can--”
A train hits me in the chest. For a moment, I white out from the pain. When I’m back, I’m slouched in my command chair, every muscle trembling.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Normal functions restored,” says the computer. “Please remember: this unit is not designed to replace an approved medi-bot. A report has been filed to your unit commander. Please ensure--”
“Mute, mute, goddamnit! Let me fucking think!” Mercifully, the computer goes silent. I drag shaking hands across my face. They come away slick with sweat.
This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. I’m dead and everything is gone and those are not fucking horses.
I squeeze my eyes shut. In the dark, I listen to the buzzing of the cockpit, the humming of the monitors, and my own shallow breathing. Everything narrows and congeals back into the moment, focused onto a singular point of being. When my eyes open again, the breaths are even and natural. Take back control.
“Ok… From the top, Hayden.”
I wake the computer and play the recording again, hovering on every word. “Bring them war.”
Discord. The name seems almost burned into my skull. The creature from the blast, the creature that said he would send me here. Something about this place would rob him of power; two creatures that would build a kingdom that would collapse his.
I flick my fingers against the armrest in thought.
Chaos. An entity that thrived entirely on chaos had every reason to want a war. And at the same time, it wasn’t a title that earned him a great deal of trustworthiness.
And he hadn’t said anything about… horses.
Something raps on the outside of the combat suit, sending a muted, hollow clank echoing through the cabin. A few muffled voices come from outside, sounding like gibberish. I listen to what sounds like a conversation in an unfamiliar language. I hesitate, then grab the optic goggles. They take a moment to adjust, calibrating as my pupils are tracked and the sides of the goggles clamp against my head. As the bone conductors come to life, the indefinable language turns to words.
“--ear it just looked at us! Look!” The three horse-like creatures are still there. The one that the others had called Sweetie Belle was pointing up towards the suit’s outer cameras, having climbed onto its chest. “It’s doing it again! See how its eyes glow?”
At a glance, they seem like regular horses with strange, softened proportions, like they’d been molded by a child, giving them a wide, bright-eyed look. But regular horses don’t have horns… or wings. Their colors are bright and foreign, at home among the vibrant flowers and vines that wrap around the combat suit. They can’t be more than… three, three and a half feet tall. Are they juveniles or fully grown?
“I dunno,” says the one with wings. “Looks more like a mouth. Maybe it’s trying to talk to us?”
The one on the suit’s chest nods sagely, then pushes her face close to the camera.
“Hello! Can. You. Understand. Uuuuus?” it shouts, exaggerating every syllable.
I rip off the headphones, ears ringing. Definitely juvenile. It reminds me of...
I push the thought away as another bead of sweat rolls down my head.
“Computer,” I say, “re-engage climate control.”
Silence.
“Computer, I said… Oh for fuck’s sake.” I slap the side of the monitor. “Un-mute and re-engage climate control.”
“Climate control offline,” it responds with that familiar matter-of-fact tone. “External ventilation blocked. Air filtration operating at minimum tolerable levels.”
I raise my hands in frustration. “Great. What else is busted?”
“External lights offline. Hydraulics test indicate corrosion on eight out of fifteen combat systems. External speakers not responding.”
“Perfect. Also, why the hell are those… things speaking English?”
“This unit has been updated with translation files for current dominant species,” it explains. “The files were automatically installed in a package from the previously played vocal recording.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh, adding “learn the language” to the growing mental to-do list. I’m not trained for this spook bullshit. “Of course it was. Thanks for just installing that without asking. Mute.”
After a moment, I add, “Wait, did you say ‘dominant’? Hey, computer, unmute! What the hell do you mean by ‘dominant’?”
“Invalid query,” it responds.
Holy fuck. Okay. Horses run the show.
Re-engaging the optic goggles, my fingers slowly find a familiar grip around the arm controls. They lie slack, waiting for my command. I test them, feeling the dormant weight of the machine around me, heavy with the burden of the work to come. I need to be smart about this. It would be easy to start this war here and now, but not with so much unclear.
I have to figure out what the hell is going on, first.
The creatures jump in surprise when the optics come online once again. “It did it again!” cries “Sweetie Belle”. Ridiculous. “It’s definitely trying to tell us something!”
“Maybe we should get a grown-up,” adds the third one, Apple Bloom, who had been silent until now. “Ah don’t think we should be messin’ with this thing.”
“Aw, c’mon, this hunk of junk couldn’t hurt a fly!” says the winged one. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. There’s a clunk. I look down slightly to see a rock bounce off the suit’s chest and roll into the grass.
“See?”
“Scootaloo, you can’t just go around throwing rocks at random critters!”
“What? It doesn’t mind!”
Like hell ‘it’ doesn’t. “Computer, give me hydraulics. Time to meet the locals.”
The mesh sleeves around my arms and legs tighten on command, and the engines purr to life, coughing out the dust of thousands of years. A sudden sense of cold and purpose washes over me like a cloud of soot and ash. The cockpit shifts, clicking and whirring while retracting the seat as the sleeves pull my body. It molds me into the same position as the suit, synchronizing my movement with the machinery. Suspended in a sitting position, I grit my teeth and squeeze the controls. I stand.
From inside, I hear the snapping, ripping, and groaning as the hydraulics are pulled from retirement, tearing roots and vines overgrowing the plated armor. My stomach lurches, falling flat into my gut as all ten feet of alloy and engine plows its metal feet into the earth and brings itself upright. Soil is upturned and trampled by three and a half tons of war engine coming to life. Rocks and dust fall like rain, shrugged off by the machine. With a final hiss and guttural scrape, the world seems to rock into place.
After so long in deep, unwitting darkness, towering among the trees feels right.
The suit groans when it looks down. Far below, the three creatures stare up with wide, frozen stares in terrified awe, shivering like leaves. Like a deer in headlights, the winged one leans over to whisper to the others.
“This is so freaking cool.”
My eyes aren’t on them. I stare at the trees surrounding the clearing I’d been sleeping in for thousands of years. Their leaves shimmer and twinkle in the distortion of the optic lenses, sending slivers of sunshine scattering across the visor. The forms are familiar, but vaguely alien, their curvatures somehow different from the ones I remember from a lifetime ago. I can’t remember the last time I’d seen so many. I press myself to look away.
Beneath the metal legs, the underbrush that concealed me tears easily, clinging to the joints as if reluctant to say goodbye or demanding me to stay. Above, a small hillock, indented with craggy outcrops, rises beyond the treetops. First, to figure out where the hell I am.
“Uhhh, what’s it doing?”
“Climbing, obviously.”
“Yeah, but why? Do ya think we hurt its feelins?”
The rock gives way like dough as the suit tears its way up the face. From the overgrown peak, I get my first glimpse of this world that forgot me.
Sprawling like a black-green spider, the forest below is dark and twisting, a familiar blight on what seems like endless miles of rolling green hills beyond. In the distance, an impossible spire of a mountain rises against the sky, a blade of purple among the spotless blue. It’s like nothing I’d ever seen. A world untouched by blurring smog and hazy skies, uncrowded by buzzing jetcopters or the distant humming of anti-air. It stretches far and clear, fading into the horizon like a dream.
I let myself exhale.
“This definitely isn’t the Hegemony anymore,” I mumble.
I look for signs of civilization, the lenses electronically zooming along the horizon with a slight buzz. If there was any, it was impossible to see beyond the choking clot of trees and vines. No smoke, no skyscrapers. No telling how far along these things were technologically, though the… child nudity didn’t promise a whole lot.
“Computer, any luck on figuring out where the hell I am?” I ask.
The reply is curt. “No satellites detected. Please ensure that local area is clear of electromagnetic interference, or see your unit technician to troubleshoot.”
“Then how am I supposed to figure out where to find some goddamn… horse civilization?”
“In case of technical error, it is advised to consult natural phenomena to determine position and, failing that, consult a local guide or civilian.”
I look down. At the bottom of the hill, the three creatures are still staring up at me. The white one raises an appendage and seems to wave.
Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.
I slide down the hillock, kicking a cloud of dust and pebbles up to a chorus of coughs and sneezes.
I grip the controls in thought, considering my options with the three… things. External speakers were fried, at least until I could fix them or find someone who could. Even then, there was no telling how well translation would go through, or if the computer even could. Getting out of the suit, even if I could speak their tongue, was out of the question. These things didn’t know much about me, and I intended to keep it that way. Meanwhile, I have questions that needed answers.
How the fuck am I gonna do this?
“So… what’s your name?” asks the one with the horn on her head, wiping her snout.
“Are you serious?” I grumble out loud. I point the suit’s hand at the trees, then jab it towards the ground.
They say nothing. “Tree-Dirt?” offers the orange one.
“No, you stupid fucking…” I bite my lip. I repeat the motion, more irritated this time. “Where the fuck am I?”
“Well,” says the one with the red mop of a mane, “Ah’ve heard stranger names. Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with it!”
I swipe the suit’s arms in an ‘X’, swearing under my breath.
“I don’t think that’s its name, guys,” says the orange one. “Maybe he’s trying to ask us something.”
The red mane one frowns. “Do ya think he doesn’t remember his name? Not at all?”
I look around for something to articulate with. They stare, waiting curiously. I try something. Drawing up my shoulders in the suit, I attempt a universal signal, working for humanity since time immemorial to deflect blame, feign ignorance, or show complete apathy. A shrug. The suit sputters and clangs, then finally hoists its arms in the closest approximation of one.
Amazingly, it works. The one with neither horn nor wings nods. “It must got amnesia! Applejack had it once, said she bonked her head super hard. It’s why she missed my recorder solo at school.”
“Ohhh,” squeals the white one. “We can give you a new name!”
What.
Their eyes light up.
“Yeah! Like King Metal Pants!”
“Jebediah! No, Jebediah the Third!”
“Giant Clock-o-tron 9000!”
“Voltra Prime!”
I stare blankly while the creatures hop up fire off ridiculous names left and right.
“How about Clunk?” says the orange one.
“Clunk, that’s perfect! Like the sound he makes!” squeals the white one again. “Do you like that name? Clunk!”
There’s an awkward pause as the creatures stare expectantly at the camera. I raise an eyebrow. This is never gonna end if I don’t say something. Slowly, the colossal war machine bobs its torso in a crude imitation of a nod. Better than Voltra Prime, at least.
“It’s perfect,” says the one with wings confidently. “Clunk! I’m Scootaloo, this is Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom! It’s awesome to meet you… whatever you are.”
I take a brief moment to wipe the sweat away from my dripping brow. Thousands of pinging thoughts and questions bounce around my mind like ricochets. I need a plan. I need information. I make the suit point at the trees again.
“So… where’re ya from, Clunk?” asks the yellow one, ignoring the motion. I shake my head. This is getting absurd. Fine, “Apple Bloom”. I shrug again, determined to not tell them more than I could get them to tell me before pointing again. She frowns. “Definitely amnesia, alright. Can ya remember how ya got here then?”
I shake the torso of the war machine. It whines in protest. This is definitely not what this thing was made for. The winged one, Scootaloo, pipes up immediately.
“Do you know how long you’ve been asleep? Must’ve been a long time. You look pretty gross.” She gets a sharp jab on the shoulder from Sweetie Belle and rubs the spot furiously.
“Sorry about our friend, she’s a little… Scootaloo-ish.” Sweetie Belle clears her throat. “Look, I don’t think he or she or ‘it’ can talk. Ya gotta ask it yes or no questions.”
“Oh, oh! Ah got it!” Apple Bloom hops side to side. “Nod if you’re a boy, and shake if you’re a girl! And uhhh… do nuthin’ if you’re somethin’ else.”
I roll my eyes behind the visor and give a nod. They squeal.
“Omigosh, this is working!” gasps Sweetie Belle. “Ok, quick, more questions! Uhhh… are you an alien?”
I don’t respond. Better they don’t know too much.
“Maybe he’s cursed by an evil wizard who stole his voice! Nod if that’s it!” adds Scootaloo.
This is ridiculous. I shake the suit again and give another frustrated jab at the treeline. Where am I?
Sweetie Belle’s eyes go wide. “I think he’s trying to ask us a question! Do you eat trees? Maybe he’s hungry!”
“What? No!” I say out loud inside the cockpit.
“Maybe he doesn’t know what it is,” says Scootaloo. “That’s called a tree! A tree.” She exaggerates the last word with a wave of her hoof.
Apple Bloom rolls her eyes. “Ah’m sure he knows what a tree is.”
“I think we should revisit the whole ‘tree-eating’ thing,” adds Sweetie Belle. “Do you eat trees?”
There’s a throb in my forehead that wasn’t there before. I jab the suit’s hands at the sky, then the ground, and then sweep its hands in the best imitation of a globe as possible.
They puzzle over it for a while. I stare, sweat pouring off my face and stinging my eyes even through the goggles.
Please. Please just tell me where I am.
“Ya want to know what season we’re in! Oh no, wait, do ya want to tell us you’re a disco machine?”
No.
“You come from space! Totally an alien, guys, I was right!”
Stop it.
“Maybe,” said Sweetie Belle, eyes scrunched, “he ate so many trees that he got a really big tummy ache and slept it off! That’s what he’s been doing here! One time I ate fifteen cinnamon buns and I fell asleep and when I woke up Rarity was super--”
I rip the headset away from my eyes. The voices cease. After a while, I hear what sounds like muted disappointment and confusion from outside. This is getting me nowhere. How the hell am I supposed to get a word in edgewise without being able to say one? An old heat rises in my chest, tightening my muscles and grinding my teeth.
I force myself to exhale. You’re in a giant combat suit, and they’re three undersized horses. Take control. I slip the goggles back on.
“He’s back! Clunk, are you ok?” asks Sweetie Belle, her voice laden with sincere concern.
It stops me for a moment. Just a moment, though. I push the suit to reach out. The fillies watch in awe as the suit’s clawed arm rises out over them, covering them in its shadow. The fingers close.
The horses scream in panic as I lift Apple Bloom into the air.
She struggles, panicking as I hold her in front of my visor. I study her carefully, her wide, glistening eyes bathed in the red glow.
She’s practically weightless, barely noticable on the suit’s haptic feedback. It’s like holding a baby bird in a hydraulic press. The slightest twitch of my fingers, and the flailing would stop, the first of a new statistic. It fills me with cold assurance.
I push the thought away for the moment. Beneath me, the two other horses kick at the suits legs weakly.
“Leave her alone, Clunk!” Scootaloo’s kicks don’t even register as trauma to the suit. “Put her down!”
“Wait, wait!” Apple Bloom stops her thrashing to wave down at the others. “He’s not hurting me!” They look at each other and stop their piddling assault. “He’s just… looking at me. Ah think he’s scared.”
“Scared?”
Scared?
She stares through the visor at me. “You don’t know what’s goin’ on, do ya?”
My eyes widen. Enthusiastically, I made the suit shake side to side, causing Apple Bloom to tense in the suit’s grip.
She nods steadily. “Do ya want us to help you?”
I nod the suit again, more carefully this time.
“Ah promise we’re gonna do our best, okay? Ah’m really sorry if we were bein’ too much, but we’re just as scared and confused as you. But ya gotta let me down first, because you’re scaring everyone, too. And friends don’t make friends scared.”
Her voice struggles to find courage, trembling under the weight of the fear behind it. I study her for a while longer, then slowly lower her down to the grass, as if she might break, and uncage the metal fingers clamped around her chest. Friends. Sure.
The others quickly surround her and pull her away from me. They’re not sure if they trust me, and I need them to tell me more. I’ve got to be more careful next time.
After much shoulder touching and muted whispering, Apple Bloom steps forward again. “Ok so… Ah don’t really know where to begin. We’re right next to the Everfree Forest. It’s kinda this dark and creepy place when you get really deep into it, but we’re not too far from the path. It’s pretty safe. After all, you didn’t manage to get into any trouble so far.” She turns to look at her friends.
Scootaloo rubs a hoof under her chin. “Let’s see… We’re in Equestria, obviously. We’re all from Ponyville. It’s a town, kinda boring, but not too bad. Canterlot’s pretty close too. That’s a big city. Any of those places mean anything to you?”
I stare emptily. Canterlot? Ponyville? Equestri-what? The names sound like fantasy. Whatever these things are, they’ve formed a society, a country, and towns and cities… nothing tribal at all like I might’ve expected. I make the suit shake its torso again.
They look at each other, worried. “Well, have you ever seen a pony before? Like a pegasus or a unicorn or an earth pony” asks Sweetie Belle, pointing to her friends in turn.
Pony? Isn’t that the same thing as a horse? And pegasus, unicorns, earth ponies gave the impression of subraces of some kind. Maybe a caste system, or was it just surface differences. Too many questions. I shake the suit.
Scootaloo raises her eyebrows and blows air forcefully out her pursed lips. “Oh geez, this is gonna be harder than I thought. We should probably just give him a history textbook or something. Maybe Miss Cheerilee can help?”
Apple Bloom nods. The three fillies pause for a moment, then their faces contort into panic.
“The field trip!” they shriek in unison.
“We totally forgot!” squealed Sweetie Belle. “We gotta get back before Miss Cheerilee notices we snuck off!”
“She’s gonna flip if she sees Clunk!” says Scootaloo, pacing in a nervous circle. “What do we do?”
“Everypony just calm down! We ain’t gonna just leave him here.” Apple Bloom puts a hoof on the suit’s leg in what seems like an attempt to ‘calm’ me before looking up into the visor. “Listen Clunk, we’ve gotta get back to our class, alright? Or we’re gonna get in big trouble. But don’t you worry, Miss Cheerilee’s a friend, promise. She can definitely help you out but we gotta--”
“We gotta keep you a secret until we figure out more about you!” pipes Sweetie Belle.
Miss Cheerilee. Sounds like some sort of teacher, so they’re definitely not mature in any sense of the word. An adult to talk to sounds ideal, but on the other hand there’s no telling if she’ll be as gullible or forthcoming as the children. Best to see how it plays out.
“Then what do we do?” presses Scootaloo, grabbing Apple Bloom’s shoulders. “We can’t end up in summer school again! I’m not going back, Apple Bloom! I can’t go back!”
“Nopony’s goin’ to summer school!” Apple Bloom shouts loud enough stun her friends into silence. “Let me think!”
After a few paces back and forth she stops and pivots sharply to face Sweetie Belle. “Have ya still got that daffodil sandwich?”
“Yeah… why?”
As far as any grunt was concerned, the MC-23, called “Independence”, was top of the line for the Hegemony’s Mobile Armor corps. Anti-infantry, armor, and pretty much anti-everything that moved, and bearing 450mm composite armor that shrugged off anything short of specialized ammo. Invincible, right?
Truth was far less glamorous, obviously. The Independence was an outdated, overpriced machine bought by lobbyists rather than generals that was specialised for one role, chambered for proprietary rounds, heavy as all get-out, and front-loaded with bulky AI software that made the whole thing operate with an agonising delay and take a fucking eternity to start up.
The one upside? You could bury the thing on power-save for eight hundred thousand years and the thing would still carry a charge and work like new. Even if “like new” meant “sort-of”.
Mid-thought, I misjudge the suit’s clearance and smash down yet another tree, tearing it from the soil. I panic and lunge the suit to grab it. The trunk splinters beneath the claws, but the tree stops just short of slamming against the forest floor.
From the scratchy long-range receptors, a voice muffled by panicked birds asks “Did anyone else hear that?”
“Nope!” comes the over-eager tripartite answer.
Furthermore, the damn thing was as stealthy as a fart in a church.
I slowly lower the tree to the ground, much to the frustrated screeching and scattering of the local critters. Squirrels, birds, owls… almost entirely reminiscent of life as it was all those years ago. Freaky how that had barely changed. I squat the suit and scan the forest floor. There, tucked behind a fallen twig, I find it. Another bread crumb.
This was such a dumb idea.
Taking as much care as was possible in an Independence, I lumber through the forest, this time more mindful of the suit’s broad shoulders. From up ahead, far enough that even the suit’s long range sensor’s strained to pick up the voices, the chatter of young “ponies” was just about audible.
“Stay close… still very... to… Everfree forest.” I hear the voice of, I assume, Miss Cheerilee.
Any information was of value, reserves be damned. “Computer,” I order, “extra power to long-range sensor.”
There’s a series of chirps as the computer complies. “Corporal Sparks,” it adds, “this unit detects that it has been longer than the approved time since you have have had contact with another human. In order to prevent psychological trauma leading to hallucination, withdrawal from contact, and non-compliance leading to mission risk, this unit is capable of providing a responsive personality simulator to abate these effects. Would you like to engage this function?”
“I don’t need a shrink, computer,” I answer. “I need to follow the breadcrumbs those ponies left behind.”
“Now,” says the voice over the sensors, clearer this time, “did everyone find a plant for the presentation next week?” There’s a chorus of assent from the students. “Excellent, then I’m sure you won’t all mind showing it… and what you found read about it in the guidebook during the lunch break.” There’s a pause. “Right, Scootaloo?”
“Uhhh…”
Stepping over another breadcrumb, I climb the suit out of an overgrown gully. Ponies. Shit. I quickly pull the suit back into hiding. The lot of them had come to a stop in a clearing beside a stream pouring over smoothed stones. Fifteen or so, all of them differing colors, with or without wings or horns. The ponies that found me stood at the center of their attention.
“I found uhh… this!” blurted Scootaloo.
Cheerilee sounded unimpressed. “I see. And would you happen to know what it is?”
“It’s…”
“Alliaria petiolata!” Another voice blurts. Sweetie Belle. “What? I read the field guide. Like we all did, I mean!”
I can’t help but shake my head. For a moment, I’m in another time, another place, listening to someone else scolding a child with their head hanging and a bad grade between their fingers. A drop of sweat rolls off my nose.
“And can anypony here tell me why this plant… also called ‘garlic mustard’... is so interesting?”
“It’s not garlic or mustard?” suggests Apple Bloom.
“It’s not from the Everfree!” shouts an unfamiliar voice.
“Precisely,” says Cheerilee. “It’s what ecologists refer to as an invasive species.” She says these last words with the cartoonish glee of a mad scientist. I slowly allow the suit to tilt forward, allowing a leaf-netted glimpse of the assembly. The ponies stare in rapt attention at their teacher who holds up a sprig of barbed leaves with small white blossoms.
“Garlic mustard doesn’t come from this forest. It was brought here a long time ago from very far away and started growing very quickly here because there was nothing quite like it.” She gestures grandly, and the ponies follow her hoof with intense stares. “You see, things in the forest balance each other out. Everything has to be in harmony with everything else.”
“Like the elements!” pipes a green, horned pony from the back.
Elements? No clue what that could be about. The amount of information pouring into my brain is overwhelming, with something new every second, yet all of it tainted by an unshakeable sense of familiarity. It was dangerous.
“Yes! But since garlic mustard doesn’t come from here, the thing that normally keeps it in harmony isn’t around, so it grows and grows and nothing can stop it because nothing really knows how! Once upon a time, the outskirts of the Everfree had flowers like trilliums and trout lilies… but look around right now. What do you see?”
“Garlic mustard,” they answer after a moment of thought.
“Exactly,” she says. “That’s why it’s important to look out for these plants, and when you see them, dispose of them properly. Invasive species can be pretty, but they keep other things from growing, too.”
“But it’s everywhere!” calls out one of the ponies.
Miss Cheerilee smiles sadly. “Just because things seem overwhelming doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to put things back on the right path.”
“Wow, thanks, Miss Cheerilee! That’s really interesting,” says Scootaloo overzealously, hugging her sprig closely.
She nods. “Yes. Now throw that away and pick another plant. I’m not writing your paper for you.”
The ponies giggle as Scootaloo groans and tosses the flower over her shoulder. The group follows their teacher further into the forest, calling behind for them to keep up. “Miss Fluttershy has a busy schedule and was already kind enough to agree to give us a lecture on edible plants, so let’s hurry along!”
Lingering behind, Sweetie Belle glances over her shoulder before tearing a piece of bread from her sandwich and leaving it behind before following the others.
I wait a while before following myself. Without control of the situation, things risk rapidly spiralling out of control. I need a plan, I need to take into account what I have to work with, and I need to figure out how the hell one man is supposed to start a war devastating enough to appease that… thing. More importantly, I need to fix the goddamn climate control before this suit steams me alive. And that meant finding a safe haven where I could hop out of the thing without being spotted.
Things just keep getting more complicated.
Bring them war. A simple phrase, but so far the only simple thing about it so far was how fragile that pony had felt in the suit’s metal claw.
The suit strides over the trail of crumbs, crushing garlic mustard as it goes.
The trail ends with the edge of the woods, final, large chunk of bread sitting alone among the mushrooms and overgrowing flowers. I creep close to the break in the forest, keeping the suit hidden within the speckled shade of the trees.
A narrow, scenic path borders the Everfree, winding and twisting through the dips and rolls of river running alongside it. At its end a cottage, like from old pictures and documentaries of Europa before the fourth war, sits surrounded by narrow rows of flowers and birdhouses. The whole scene could’ve been a postcard if there wasn’t a twenty-foot tall winged reptile sitting on the front lawn with its eyes closed.
I gingerly undo the straps of the headset and let it rest on its hook. For a long time, I stare blankly through the blinking lights of the dashboard.
“Computer,” I ask, “what’s background radiation look like right now?”
A whirr of calculations. “Readings indicate nominal ionization.”
“Then why the fuck is there what I can only explain as… God help me, a goddamn giant lizard, sitting over there?”
“Invalid query.”
I pull the goggles back on. “Right. This is fucking insane.”
The sight was apparently not the norm to the ponies, but in the same way as seeing a neon green car driving down the road was. The group of students, spearheaded by their teacher, approached it with a mixture of upwards neck-craning and ducking behind each other. Yet they came closer to it than I ever would in my right mind.
Sitting beside the kneeling lizard was another adult pony, this one pale yellow with a mane pinker than the flowers blooming beneath her hooves. Like the monster, her eyes were shut. Wing-like structures were tucked against her chest. Could these things fly, too?
“Good… morning, Fluttershy!” says Cheerilee after an anxious look between the giant lizard and new pony.
Her eyes opened and she blinked in surprise. “Oh, hello, Cheerilee,” she says. Or so I think. I generously adjust the volume of the headset to catch the voice. “Is it three already? Time flies so quickly when you’re at peace, doesn’t it?”
Surely she’s not talking to the fucking lizard.
The thing grumbles or purrs with voice that sounds like a bomber drone taking off. His scaly eyelids twitch. The pony, Fluttershy, seems satisfied by the answer.
“I’m so sorry, our anger management session started a bit late,” murmurs Fluttershy. “I’ll just be a moment while we wrap this up.”
Its eyes still screwed shut, the dragon rumbles. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“Now, what did we say about assuming meaning from other ponies’ words?” asks Fluttershy.
The dragon’s fan-like ears quiver ominously. Its entire body seems to ripple, sending blades of red light shimmering across the assembled ponies. “You only hear what you’re afraid of…” He pauses for a long time and shakes his head violently. “Hearing. Stop that.”
The ponies look around. “Stop… what?” asks Fluttershy.
“That noise. It’s too loud.” Its massive whip-like tail thuds against the ground, the spines on it tilling soil.
There’s a murmur of concern among the crowded ponies. Fluttershy gets to her feet, laughing with a forced tone. “Well, Mr. Bismuth, that looks like all the time we have today! Don’t forget the appointment next--”
“Enough!” The creature’s eyes snap open, revealing fire-red eyes that burn accusingly at each of the ponies. “Where is it?” he rages. “That noise, it’s insufferable! It’s like claws on a chalkboard! Where?”
“Ea-easy now! Remember your exercises!” Fluttershy takes exaggerated breaths, sweating as her attempt to placate the dragon seems only to rile it. Cheerilee swiftly ushers the children away.
The beast spreads its leathery wings, bathing the grass in the fleshy-red sunlight glowing through it. Good God, it’s twice the size of an Independence. His eyes blaze, scanning the forest behind me. “Stop it! Stop that infernal noise or I swear, I’ll lose it!” He punctuates this last point with a furious beat of his wings, whipping a cyclone through the treeline.
Bracing herself against the gust, Fluttershy shouts above the roaring wind. “Please, Mr. Bismuth! Just… stay calm! Don’t let all that training go to waste!”
In the moment of silence that follows, I feel my ears prickle. The echo of the monster’s voice in my skull subsides. Then, the familiar low buzz of the cockpit’s electronics. The hum of stabilizers and whirr of gyroscopes and hydraulics. And the whine of the screens.
Oh. Oh shit.
The creature roars and tears across the grass, ripping up earth and stone as it barrells towards the tree I’ve hidden behind.
I hear Scootaloo scream. “Clunk, run!”
The controls dig into my hands, fighting my attempt to haul the machine into a hasty retreat. It claws up the earth and uproots trees, but I hardly get it to turn around before the thing is on me. The machine lurches.
Alarms blare. “Upset warning,” insists the computer in a trilling tone. The goggles flood with the golden fire of the creature’s eyes, like staring into the wrong end of a flamethrower or the blaze of nuclear fire.
“It's you! You!” Its claws squeeze the suit, triggering a wave of pressure warnings that blare through the cockpit. This thing was strong, stronger than anything I’d ever seen, the composite plate straining under its grip. The hydraulics whine under the pressure. How in the fuck did ponies live with things like this around?
Its nostrils flare in rage. “Stop it! Stop it right now or I’ll… lose… my… temper!”
I hear a shout from somewhere outside. It’s drowned as the whines crescendo. I pull back my arm, and the suit burps and steams, breaking free. A moment of shock on the monster’s face.
“Get the fuck--” I hear myself shout.
Then I crumple it with a metal fist.
The world trembles as the suit hits the ground, then quakes from the dragon collapsing, plowing through the grass. I wait until the ringing in my ears stops before pushing the suit back to its feet.
“Damage report: armor--”
“Save it,” I say. Clutching its swollen maw, the creature somehow slithers back to its feet despite taking a punch that could buckle steel. Its eyes snap open, burning with rage. This was not good.
“Mr. Bismuth!” protests Fluttershy, grinding to a halt at the monster’s feet. “Your breathing exercises! Please don’t forget what we prac-- mmpphh!” Her voice muffles behind the dragon’s claw as he pushes her aside, lumbering towards me.
Not happening.
“Computer, give me some fucking thunder. Two-ten mills.”
The suit complies all too readily. The sliding and slamming of the armored plates rings like a familiar battle hymn, cannons glistening as they punch through the suits forearms. They slam and click into place, training their rifled barrels and linking to sophisticated targeting systems.
Forty meters out, I level enough firepower on the monster to put three times its weight in steel out of commission. So much for subtlety. I jam my fingers down on the fire controls and brace for the kick, the acrid smell of cordite, and the spray of viscera.
“Warning, ammunition depleted.”
“What. What?” I slam the buttons harder, and the message loops. “How can I be out of fucking-- Oh.” The spark of a memory plays in my head. “Oh no.”
The monster plants its forelegs into the earth and roars, its gullet glowing white hot.
In the seconds before the flames engulf the visor, reality seems to collapse on itself at once, congealing into a singular thought.
This may be harder than I thought.
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what the what
Holy fuck what
MY GOD, THE STORY LIVES?!
time to go back and read chapter 1
After rereading the first chapter, this is so far a much better outcome than I was anticipating.
... Are we going to get to complete this Latin phrase? I'm scared
Um, ok then, wasn't expecting this to ever come back.
Holy shit! I loved this story!
Holy shit it's back.
What the actual goddamn is happening
Nice now another six years, can't wait for the next instalment.
Kept us waiting, huh?
...alrighty then!
Hwoah...
I never expected to see this ever get an update again. And holy crap am I still interested.
Clunk. The sounds of one thousand jaws dropping at once.
i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/facebook/000/927/325/9b0.png
Hell, it's about time. =)
What in the world
Holy what, I thought this was a one chapter deal
Oh, hey. This updated.
...And just like that it’s moved to my following list again.
Dreams really can come true guys!
Please have him straight up murder one of the main cast. Too many of these stories give the ponies plot armor, which, while not in and of itself a bad thing, gets kind of boring after a while.
Having him succeed in causing a war by, say, slicing twilight's throat, and then blaming it on griffons would be fun. Or Maybe, just popping a cap in Flutter's head right when Twilight is monologing about how Discord can't win when they have a mech on their side would be hilariously grimdark.
There are so many ways you could go with this. I cannot wait to see where this goes!
9039813
Oh god, yes, war! It's so cool! All the blood and suffering, and children being crushed and mothers weeping for their families! And innocent creatures clutching at the agony of their ruined eye sockets! And even the aftermath, where entire societies weep in hopeless starvation and pain because everything is destroyed! War and pain and death is just so dreamy!
What are you, nine? Twelve? Have your testicles even dropped yet? Jesus. Jesus fucking christ. You've got a boner for suffering. Fucking jesus.
9038247
You monster, how could you do this to me?
How could you make me see that with my own eyes?
9039873
No need to be rude.
9040280
You are right, I apologize. I just get weary, sometimes, of death, murder, blood and slaughter in pony fiction. Because... fuck. You know?
9040391
Fair enough. Thank you for apologizing. I apologize for my needless edginess.
Senseless violence does tend to crop up a lot on this site. However, I often find it irritating that in almost every story with graphic violence, the main cast never dies. Sure, a side character might die, but the main cast never does. While this makes sense from a storytelling perspective, it does get irritating after a while.
Oh...
WHAT YEAR IS IT?!?
Well... be seeing you all again in 2024 then.
9040399
I love this obscure British science fiction series called Blake's Seven. It's very old, like thirty years ago old. It can best be summed as 'Robin Hood in space' to the extent that you have a plucky crew trying to overthrow a totalitarian galactic regime with only one alien ship and a computer that can make predictions. And snark. There is a metric ton of snark.
But, the deal is, at the end of the series? Everybody dies. Everybody. All the plucky heroes end up in a single room, the Big Bad has tricked the two best friends into shooting each other down like dogs, and then they come in with space troopers and gun down literally everybody else. The last scene in the show is a fade to black with blast after blast of pulse rifle fire dumping endless loads of ordnance into the dead bodies of the heroes of the entire series. The end.
When that ran on the BBC the first time, there were riots. People threw rocks through the windows, they burned a car. In London. Just went shit-ass nuts angry over it all.
It was fabulous.
I recommend it.
Totally loving this story!
But why have six years gone by when this updated? Seemed like a very popular story back then.
9038162
Hopefully Chapter 4 won't actually be released in 2030
And now we play the waiting game.
Six years later and it remains glorious
Will we need to wait another six years for chapter three? I only ask because... well, I mean... I’d be willing to, if that’s what it took to get more.
Honestly, I thought this was a oneshot when I first read this. Turns out I’m wrong.
9040391
You trick transgendered people into refusing to see doctors and be diagnosed, preventing them from receiving treatments and cause them to self-medicate and eventually kill themselves from depression, you have no room to talk.
9711863
What are you even talking about? I constantly, consistently, and always tell all trans-questioning people to take things slow, to be sure of their choices, and to seek medical help and support if it is at all safe and possible for them to do so. I go on endlessly about how transition is irreversible in any meaningful way, and should be taken life-or-death seriously. I tell horror stories of what happens when people rush into transition.
I support trans people, and I support their right to save their own life, but I definitely am very clear that such a thing cannot ever be taken lightly.
You are massively wrong, so much so that I have to assume you have me confused with someone else entirely. Please get your facts straight. That was needlessly insulting and false.
You can has review!
Could there be another chapter possibly
10271737
same this is a great story
9041418
You may actually be right on that lol