Chapter 30: Pitched Battle
It was bad. Staring out the viewcreen, Kirk saw the robots coming, in a number that was somewhere between a brigade and a horde. It was odd seeing infantry—or the robotic equivalent of it—though a viewcreen, which normally showed a generic vision of space and sometimes a small image of a spacecraft. He supposed this was how the gunship pilots of the mid-twenty-first century felt, except in this case with robots instead of fleeing civilians.
The robots opened fire. Kirk heard the pinging of bullets off she ship’s armor, and then felt the entirety of the vessel shudder and sink as one of the numerous tank-like units fired a missile into one of the power conduits.
“We’re listing!” cried M’ress, grabbing her chair. “We’re listing to port—BELRCH--”
“It’s fine, I expected this,” sighed Rarity. She flicked several improvised switches and the ship began to tilt, nearly knocking Kirk off his feet.
“What are you doing?!”
“The rear deflector is still partially functional. It’s our best chance for defense. I’m using whatever I have left to boot it and to polarize whatever parts of the hull are still intact.”
“That will not leave enough energy to provide for continued flight,” noted Spock.
“I know. So let’s hope Rainbow Dash follows my carefully and beautifully inscribed instructions and finishes quickly.”
“And then?”
Rarity looked at Kirk and shrugged. “The Royal Guard may intercede. If we’re lucky, the Lunar Guard will come. Have you ever met Tempest? I’ve dressed her. She’s stunningly merciless. And remarkably snuggley once you get the armor off her.”
Before Kirk could question what that meant, the ship thudded into the ground. Rarity slid off her chair.
“Well, I suppose that means it’s time for a costume change.” She trotted off. “You’re free to take whatever you need from the armory, but do be careful. Klingon rifles work nicely, but I’d recommend against anything breen unless you like theta radiation to the face.”
Kirk and Spock looked at each other.
“I would rather not, Captain.”
“How did you do in riflelry training back at the Academy?”
“I did not, Captain. The curriculum was devised with the highly reasonable conclusion that a Starfleet officer would never have need to operate a rifle under battlefield conditions.”
“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?”
“Due to your machinations, yes. We are, indeed, here.”
Kirk smiled. “Lieutenant, see if you can get a few shots out of the ship’s phasers, and re-set the sensors for triangulation. As soon as we get a connection to the Enterprise, we can get fire support.”
M'Ress gurgled. “Why so nauseous?! Infernal—gah, it tastes like ME--”
Kirk had elected for a Federation phaser-rifle. Which is to say, someone had taken a badly damaged Type-II rifle and added a stock to it. Someone else had added a third-party battery to it, which in theory would provide it with enough power to punch holes in at least a few of the smaller units without overheating and detonating.
Kirk had, of course, very little training in riflery, because, of course, Spock was right. There was no reason why a Starfleet officer would ever need to use a rifle. There was ostensibly an infantry for that, although they had not really been highly necessary since warfare had moved to space. Which was not to say he had no idea how to use a rifle. He was from Iowa, after all.
The deflector was barely holding, but for the moment was keeping the robots back—which was a strange sight indeed. The energy shields on star ships were meant to block space debris and powerful ranged weapons, and only partially meant to absorb impacts from physical objects. Seeing one up close, though, was indeed a peculiar sight. The robots more or less piled against it, slowly overheating as their bodies were slowly melted—and as some of them began to break through.
Several heavy duranium fragments had broken off of the ship when it had fallen, and one of them was barely large enough to serve as cover. Kirk fell against it, looked down the rifle—it had not been constructed with such an archaic thing as sights—and vaporized the head of one of the nearest robots that had gotten partially through the deflector.
“Ha! Headshot!”
The now-headless robot immediately returned fire, forcing Kirk to duck behind the hull fragment as a hail of bullets ricocheted past it.
“Their central processors are most likely not located in their brains,” said Spock, causing Kirk to cry out and nearly jump out of cover.
“Spock, where did you come from--”
“Captain, I believe we have already established that I am Vulcan, and therefore from--”
“That’s not what I mean!” Kirk poked his head out and fired again, driving back some of the robotic infantry as the deflector began to fail. “Did you at least get a gun? Let me guess, you took the breen, one, didn’t you?”
Kirk fell back into cover.
“No, Captain. In this instance, these weapons are correctly refereed to as rifles, not guns.”
“Did you get one or not?!”
Spock held up a phaser pistol. Not just any pistol. One of the smallest that Kirk had ever seen. To the point that it was more of a small square thing rather than a pistol at all. It looked somewhat Federation, but also alien at the same time in a way that made Kirk distinctly uncomfortable.
“Spock...why?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “It was the most logical choice.”
“Spock, it’s tiny! Go back in and get a real—”
Spock stood up and pointed the ridiculously small weapon at a charging robot. It raised its pistol, and Spock fired. The android was immediately consumed in green light, its insides liquefying and shooting out of its charred skin in an instant—and the green bolt continued backward, arcing through at least twelve more robots still half-immersed in the deflector, vaporizing each one in succession until it struck one of the larger tank-like ones on the far side. The response was for it to immediately vaporize its chest, the explosive charge within it detonating in a plume of ionic fire that tore the smaller robots near it apart.
Spock stood for a moment, surveying the results, and sitting back down.
“The device in question is a antique relic of Suliban origin,” he explained. “A remnant from the Temporal Cold War, if I am not mistaken.”
“So it’s...very old?”
“Yes. Indeed. And also from the distant future.”
There was a sad fizzling sound as the deflector mostly collapsed. More robots had arrived, and Kirk took his position, fighting them back—as the ship’s phasers opened fire, cutting through the horde. The larger robots, though, were shielded themselves, and resistant to the impact—but it slowed them, at least, allowing Kirk to aim for something other than their heads. Their knees, specifically. He doubted he could kill them—to the extent a robot could be killed—but he could at least cripple them.
“The phasers will not hold them for long,” said Spock, over the din of robots being reduced to scrap.
Kirk produced his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise! Kirk to Enterprise!”
Nothing came back except static.
“She’s taking her damn time, isn’t she?”
Spock fired again, barely looking, and did an extreme amount of damage all while remaining totally impassive in expression. Kirk, though, knew that their cover was on the verge of collapsing, and that they were likely going to be forced back into the ship.
And the, passing him, he saw a sudden blur of teal.
The robots concentrated their fire away from Kirk and Spock, instead targeting Lyra, her body surrounded by a dome of orange energy projected from her horn. Screaming, laughing, and possibly either crying or extremely aroused, Lyra ran into the fray, apparently with very little disregard for her own personal well-being. She had no particle weapons of any kind, but seemed quite adept using a sword and her own natural telekinesis—perhaps to a frightening degree.
“Legs! Arms! SKIN! Give me your SKIN! I’m gonna make an ottoman out of ALL OF YOU! And then I’m going to give it to my WIFE! Teeheeheee!”
The laugh was especially chilling as she went for their kneecaps with her blade. “I MADE A FINGER PIZZA, JUST FOR YOU!”
“Captain,” asked Spock, calmly, “ought we to cover the pony? Their weapons seem to be ineffective against her at present. Or more likely less effective. Once the bloodlust wanes, I suspect she will become far more more vulnerable to perforation.”
“Sure, Spock. Sure. Why not.”
They leaned over the cover and began to fire, doing their best to drive back the robots while Lyra ripped and tore. Specifically aiming for the legs and crotches of robots. Which Kirk suspected were their weak points. Or so he hoped, because that was where he was aiming.
One of the tanks approached, and Kirk saw that the Klingon facade was incomplete. That they were no longer being produced with the pretense of being Klingon in origin, or with the level of care as the earlier versions. The surface beneath was white and angular, and marked with numbers. Earth numbers.
He did not have time to consider this. It was faster than the others, and punched Lyra into the ground, shattering her shield and then quickly picking her up.
“GAH!” she cried as it squeezed. “I’ve been grasped!”
Kirk redirected his fire, unloading several full-power shots into the android, to the point that his phaser began to heat enough to burn his hands. It’s shield, however, absorbed each of them.
“Organic acquired,” moaned the machine in a mechanical, deep voice. “Applying crush force...”
Lyra cried out—not entirely in pain—as the hand closed tighter, fully intending to liberate her internal juices from her tiny pony body. Until the juicing process was suddenly interrupted by a deafening boom that tore out the robot’s innards in a single shot, splattering mechanical fragments backward for at least fifty meters.
Kirk turned slowly to see where the shot had come from, and saw Rarity stepping from the ship. Immediately, he understood what the symbiotic had meant when it said it preferred to make an entrance. She was dressed in an elaborate and stunning costume that evoked the idea of a pirate queen, complete with a dashing hat and elegant boots. In addition, she had affixed handles to the projectile cannon Spock had taken from the last android’s arm and was consequently levitating a cannon somewhat larger than her own body, the super-heated barrel still steaming. Kirk found himself distinctly aroused.
Rarity was followed by M’Ress, who was wearing an ornate set of freshly manufactured armor. As she stepped out, several bullets pinged into her shoulder, forcing her back, and she raised a rifle and shot down the robots that had shot her.
“Armor?! Why’d you give HER armor?!”
“Because I like her,” snapped Rarity over the din of the battle. She pointed her cannon at another heavy tank and the cooling system spun up before another shot fired, tearing through its target with ease. “I am also very much enjoying this weapon.”
“I can’t get a signal to the—oop!”
A bullet whizzed past.
Rarity sighed, sending another deafening blast somewhere. “Yes, for the fastest pony in Equestria, she isn’t really all that quick, is she? I suppose we can work for a few more—hold a moment...” She fired again. “Minutes, perhaps?”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Lyra, who was in the process of freeing herself from the clutches of a robotic hand. She pointed. “Look!”
Each of them looked, and their hearts simultaneously sunk—except Spock, whose heart never sunk, and Lyra, who was becoming increasingly aroused herself. Striding over the battlefield was a new kind of robot, one that towered over the rest. This one bore absolutely no pretense of being Klingon, although it did appear somewhat different in structure from the others. Mainly in the fact that it was well over one hundred feet tall.
“Oh my,” said Rarity. She pointed her cannon at it and fired, only for the projectile to rebound harmless off its shields. “That is a bit of a conundrum.”
“You know what big hands mean, right?” said Lyra, smiling. “Big fingerrrrrsssss….”
“Lyra, kindly stop that, it’s getting stale.”
“It's been stale the whole time!Make me!”
“I don’t need to. He’s about to.”
Kirk turned to Spock. “Spock, shoot it!”
“I cannot, Captain.”
“Why not?!”
Spock held up his weapon. “It appears that it has run out of ammunition.”
“Well, can it be reloaded?!”
“Yes. It can. In seven hundred years, once the appropriate ammunition is invented.”
Kirk found himself at a loss of what, exactly, to do. He supposed it was up to Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, was facing what appeared to be hundreds of switches, buttons, dials, and the occasional knob.
“What—what am I supposed to do with ANY of this?!”
“I recommend the knobs,” said the hologram, who was now standing partially inside her, projected from a small hovering drone. “Turn the knobs, rainbow horse. Turn them sooooo slowwwwwly...”
“Eew, get away from me!” Rainbow Dash shoved the hologram, only to pass through and fall on her face. “Stop being intangible, so I can give you a beating!”
“I’m not actually intangible. I just can’t move my actual body right now. Nor do I feel any need to. But you could move yours. Why don’t you dance a little bit, little organic?”
Rainbow Dash stood up and looked out over the battlefield below. There were even more robots, and one of them was big. Dangerously big.
“Dang it, dang it, dang it,” she swore, tapping her hooves on the ground nervously. “Okay, calm down, Rainbow Dash, you’re awesome, remember? It can’t be that different from a rocket, and I’m literally a rocket scientist. Sort of.”
“You’re actually a glorified crash-test dummy.”
“Shut your pie-hole, I’m trying to think!”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m immortal. I’ll be here for a while.”
Rainbow Dash continued to panic, and then screamed in exasperation. “BUCK THIS!” she cried, kicking the machine. Then an idea occurred to her. “No...wait...buck THIS!”
She turned around and, with all the force she could summon, kicked the machine as hard as she could. This being sensitive electronic equipment being built by the lowest bidder, it of course shattered—and administered a sizable shock to Rainbow Dash’s body.
The discharge was shockingly intense, but she had gotten used to being struck by lightning many times in her youth for various reasons relating to incompetence and laziness. This had led to an unusual tolerance for voltage.
She sat up, slightly charged and frizzed. “Did I do it? Did I do the thing?”
The hologram looked at the ruined air-handling unit that the filthy organic had just kicked, then rolled her eyes. Her surface shimmered slightly, and the communications blocking manifold shut down with an audible groan.
“Yup. Looks like you did.”
“HA! Who’s awesome NOW? That’s right, it’s Rainbow Dash! ME!” She ran to the edge of the tower, and her spirit immediately fell. The giant robot was still there. “But that didn’t actually solve anything! It’s still there!”
“Did you...seriously not think that part through? Yeah. They’re still going to be creamed. By a robot. In the bad way.”
“What do I look like, some sort of egghead? I don’t think thoughts! I just DO THINGS!” She backed up to where the air conditioner was still sparking.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m doing a thing! I’M GONNA DO A THING!”
She then proceeded to do a thing. Which, in her case, involved running forward and taking a sprinting leap off the top of a hundred-story tower.
The effect of gravity was immediate, and could be best described as sudden plummeting. Rainbow Dash had indeed not considered this far ahead, mostly with regard to the fact that she could not fly.
Except she could. She was sure of it. If only she could remember how.
She stabilized. That was the first step, at least. Then she proceeded toward her target—and time seemed to slow as she felt the wind pass over her and the pain recede. She understood—although perhaps not consciously—that a glide would not be enough. It was big and it was probably shielded, and she had thrown away her shield-penetrator, having not considered the possibility of giant robots.
She was sure, though, that she could do it. Because at this point there was no other option, and because they were counting on her. Just like they had been before. Before the coma and the surgeries and the endless rehabilitation that never seemed to do anything but increase her cider consumption.
A direct impact would be required, and at speed. To have enough kinetic energy to punch through she shield. This was not a logical conclusion, and was largely based on Rainbow Dash’s own ignorance on how shields operated; she only knew that it needed to be broken, and that a projectile would be required. She was the projectile, and surely she would be uninjured if only she had enough speed. In her Pegasus mind, that line of reasoning was quite sound.
She flapped. And almost screamed. Ignoring it, she flapped again. And again. Until, for the first time in so long, she felt her wings moving—and she felt herself accelerating under her own power.
The pain did not leave her—but the pain did not matter. The wing functioned. It moved like her normal wing did, working exactly like it, so long as she could tolerate the immense pain of its every motion. She quickly found that she could. In the face of the joy of flight, the pain meant nothing.
The flapping resulted in acceleration. Slowly, at first, but then more quickly. Descending, Rainbow Dash assumed flight conformation, targeting the monstrous robot’s neck. She could see it charging a head-mounted cannon, and immediately knew that this was going to be supremely awesome.
Her speed topped out at twelve feet form her target. She saw the cables, the mechanisms, even the bolts and tool-marks in exquisite detail. She adjusted just slightly and pulled her organic wing back against her body, entering a roll and extending her mithril one.
From the ground, Kirk looked up and saw the head of the machine accumulating radiation and beginning to supreheat. That probably meant it was a large-output particle cannon of some sort, which would probably not be a bad way to go. Instant atomization.
Then the neck of the robot seemed to explode, torn apart as a heavy projectile moving at incredible speed tore through it, almost completely severing the head of the massive robot. The force was so great that, with its body suddenly torqued, the robot took a step to the side. It almost seemed momentarily confused as the feedback from its cannon suddenly overloaded, detonating the cannon and most of the robot’s torso along with it. The result was a massive explosion just as Rainbow Dash slammed into the ground, landing on her hooves and slowly standing, not even looking back at the explosion behind her.
Kirk, to his dismay, once again found himself aroused.
Rainbow Dash smiled, folding her wings wings out to their full width, now with the full grace and dexterity of her newfound flighted self. One wing silver, the other blue and feathery. “Yeah. That’s right. I really am that awesome.”
What she did not see was, at a distance, one of the smaller humanoid robots suddenly vibrate as if in pain, as its accent lights switching to violet as direct control was assumed. She did not see it raise its rifle, or hear the slight giggle from its audio projector--and she never even saw the bullet. What she did see was a sudden puff of blue feathers and some unknown red liquid, and she felt a strange twinge of pain. Then she could not fathom why she was falling on her side, finding herself suddenly unbalanced on the side of her metal wing.
Kirk saw her fall. He heard the sound of the bullet, followed by a quiet, feathery thud—and then the sound of Rainbow Dash landing on the ground, crying out and flailing like a wounded bird as the robots made their push.
“Damn it! Lyra, shield! Rarity, cover me!”
Lyra, brought slightly back to sanity from the sound of Rainbow Dash’s confused cries, ran forward, casting a wall of light as Kirk leapt over his cover. Rarity and M’Ress opened fire, trying to give him as much cover as they could. Kirk managed to reach Rainbow Dash and lift her under his arm, finding her astoundingly light. She was shaking and confused, trying to escape, but he held on and got her back to cover, sliding once again behind the pitted fragment of duranium.
“I need a medkit!” M’Ress threw him one, and Kirk opened it, trying to find a tourniquet. “Spock, help me with this! Hold her down!”
Spock did as was suggested, and Kirk did his best to administer first aid. He was by no means a doctor, but his best friend most certainly was—and Bones would have had his head if he had not learned at least basic first aid during the time they had spent together.
Rainbow Dash had begun to come back to her senses. “Is it bad? Is it bad? I can’t—I can’t feel it--”
“That’s just the tourniquet. It’s not that bad. You’ll be fine!”
“My wing, I can’t feel my wing--”
“You’ll be FINE. Hold on!”
Kirk shot Spock a look, and Spock, not normally one to understand the emotional content of a situation—or at least one who pretended not to understand—stayed silent, even though he obviously knew the truth.
“Um, dearie, I think we have a problem,” said Rarity.
“I can see that, Rarity, I’m working on it!”
“No, darling. A bigger problem.”
Kirk looked to where she was pointing, and realized that she was, in fact, correct.
Several large alcoves had opened in the tower, and new machines had stepped out. These were vastly larger than the previous robot, but not human shaped. They were hollow, squarish arches powered by numerous legs. They did not appear to be weapons or tanks, and at first Kirk was not sure what they might be—until they extended millions of robotic arms. Then, in a flash of light, they began to assemble things within their cores.
In a matter of seconds, a new robot identical to the one that Rainbow Dash had destroyed had been manufactured—and then another, and another four. The factories immediately went to work on more—as well as other things. A horde of small robots came marching out in formation, their bodies assembled as they sprinted—and then new forms began to spring forth. Deformed, partially humanoid things that sprinted at incredible speed on all-fours, and machines where humanoids had been strung together into hideous centipede-like monstrosities. All came spewing forth in an unstoppable wave.
Rarity switched her weapon to automatic mode and began pouring rounds into the oncoming force, but there were too many. Lyra looked back at Kirk, smiled, and charged into the fray.
“Lyra, stop!”
She met the first group head-on. They lacked weapons, being mutants of various sorts, many of them sewn together from scavenged parts of other robots. Lyra struck at them with her sword and with her magic, driving back or at least blunting the charge—but they overcame her, crushing through her shields and grabbing her.
“Damn it Lyra!”
Kirk jumped over his cover, Rarity suddenly at his side, projecting her own shield. Hers was far weaker than Lyra’s, but she also had a much larger gun.
Kirk managed to grab Lyra’s hoof as she was pulled into the writing mass of androids, and he tried to pull on her as Rarity did her best to cover him.
“Hold on, I’ve got you! I’ve got you!”
The androids seemed to have little interest in him—and he realized that Lyra was holding them back. Using the last of her power to keep them stationary, but not leaving enough to save herself.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Just let go. This is how I’ve always wished I would go.” A sad expression came over her eyes, although the smile remained. "I'll get to see Bon Bon again...and I can tell her...I'm sorry for...for killing her..."
“Just hold on--”
She laughed, and slid her hoof out of his grasp—and was immediately covered by hundreds upon hundreds of mechanical hands, drawn into the heap of metal and plastic as her armor and clothing was torn from her body.
Kirk was pulled back as Rarity fired directly into the mass.
“Stop being an idiot or you’re next! We need to get back to the ship, NOW!” Her eyes met his. “The communication relay is down! Call your ship! Take Rainbow Dash and beam up!”
“But you--”
“I’ll be fine,” she lied. “We’re broadcasting as we speak.” She blasted a centipede through its middle, causing it to separate into two smaller centipedes, which were then partially vaporized by M’Ress at range. “And let me say, this will make an excellent show!”
Kirk stared at her, and drew his communicator.
“Kirk to Enterprise!”
“Captain,” said Uhura, sounding gravely concerned. “What’s going on down there? The signals we’re getting--”
“Fifty meters north of my position! I need you to fire photon torpedoes, NOW!”
“WHAT?!” said both Uhura and Rarity at once.
“Captain, we can’t fire photon torpedoes at an inhabited planet—at that range, you’d be--”
“Disarm the warheads and fire them straight down! That’s a direct order!”
Kirk of course had no idea if Uhura was insane enough to actually make the attempt—but received his answer moments later.
The torpedoes rained down, their onboard impulse engines driving them through the atmosphere at several times the speed of sound. Although the warheads inside were disabled, the effect was dramatic. With their speed and size, they impacted with so much force that Kirk felt the ground shake and heard the explosions of the sheer impacts. Robots were sent flying, and one of the factories was struck through its surface, igniting as it fell, only to be consumed by its brethren to make new robots.
“Spock and M’Ress, take her and get off the planet. I’m staying.”
“Captain,” said Spock, totally unperturbed by his surroundings, “I believe that is the least logical thing you’ve ever said.”
“You don’t have much time,” snapped Rarity. Her gun had been fired too much and was starting to melt. “I’m mostly sure that they’re regrouping as we speak.”
M’Ress grabbed Rainbow Dash, producing her own communicator. “This is M’Ress. Two to beam up. Priority two medical emergency on a pony, non-unicorn type.”
“Pritority two?” Rainbow Dash sat up. “I’m not even injured, put me back in, coach, I can still--”
She was cut off as she and M’Ress beamed out. At the very least someone could follow orders.
Kirk was about to argue with Spock when he suddenly stopped. Something felt strange, and he did not know why. It was a profound fear, one drawn from a deeper part of himself that he had forgotten he even had. A kind of distant and terrible instinctual terror that he had not felt in a long, long time. As if some predator of profound and terrible force where bearing down on him, its jaws about to tear into the back of his neck before he could even think to run. A sudden realization in his unconscious mind that death had come, and that when his thinking brain finally understood it, it would surely be to late.
Then he heard the crack of the explosion, and felt the searing heat.
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Whoa.
All the action!
Wow so many things happened in this chapters
...and Rainbow Dash looses her other wing now...
And Twiggles... what about poor Twiggles ?!
Also, nice work with the inspiring flight sequence with Rainbow !
To fly again...
I know someone suggested that Twilight’s horn is what powers that hologram, which casts a ray of hope that her horn can be recovered.
”I’m not actually intangible. I just can’t move my actual body right now.”
Hmm... the hologram also reacted when Twilight woke up....
Damn, Kirk got nerfed hard.
Or is it just that in this story he lacks his usual cowboy luck of the Star Trek serie?
Wait, what?!
Cool guys don't look at explosions.
Well, that pretty much does away with the "Klingons sent down robots as a feint" idea.
Now Kirk has them right where he wants them to be?
Klingons don't use robots, that's not honorable.
"Their heads, Spock. The central processors are their brains."
"You are a living counterargument to that assertion, Captain, as Princess Celestia can no doubt attest."
Huh. Surprisingly charitable of her. I wonder what prompted that.
The human numerals of the robots raises concerning questions. How Kirk plans on surviving raises more of them. We'll see where this goes from here.
Never a good thing to be on site when the best course of action turns into "nuke the site from orbit".
11154494
makes things a little easier since its either bolt another one on there or grow 2 new ones
so gonna make robotwilight into a toaster when everything's said and done.
• “Gunner, sabot, identify!”
• “TC, identified, multiple robots, close-in!”
• “TC, sabot, breech up, set!”
• “Gunner, acquire!”
• “TC, acquired, set!”
• “Gunner, send it”
• “TC, on the way!”
Then again, why capital starships don't have DPICMs is beyond me ...
This chapter is just cheesy and the running gags are getting old.
I mean... Tempest is pretty much the single deadliest Pony that isn't an Alicorn so... yeah, get her in here and she takes the base on her own.
But damn things are getting kind of needlessly dark.. yeah the Bon Bon thing had been hinted at for a while, but give RD a triumph just for that?
Want to lecture more about how Equestria can just bury its head in the sand Rarity?
Hopefully they freak with the holographic but they is so something more going on bitch soon