> X-Com Equestria: Apocalypse Unknown
>  by Crimson ONayl
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Human Intervention
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The semi-organic hull was coming apart under the sustained barrage from the human ship. In truth, the Micronoids believed that that they had wiped out the last of the humans; after X-Com came to their dimension and destroyed all that they had built there, they had counter-attacked. Shutting down the dimension gates manually had been a stroke of genius, preventing the elite soldiers and powerful ships of X-Com from defending their planet. Their Uber-Ship had crushed all in its path, swiping aside the puny ships of the local defence forces and brushing off the lasers and missiles thrown at it.

It must have been a majestic sight; a ship the size of a town hovering over the Mega-City, blazing away with dimension lasers and missiles at anything that dared resist. Ultimately, the humans achieved what could be called a pyrrhic victory. They stopped the aliens from taking Earth…

By nuking their last and only city.

The entire Earth was now completely uninhabitable; the rest of the planet polluted by the destruction of an ancient alien colony ship 40 years ago. Humanity had fled into the one city, leaving much behind, but surviving what could have been the apocalypse.

And now this last bastion had been destroyed, denying the Micronoids a new world, their own having been rendered barely inhabitable long ago. Full of anger and spite, the Micronoid Uber-Ship took to space and obliterated the Lunar colony; before moving on to Mars and turning the mining operations there into dust. They then returned to their home dimension, thinking the last of humanity had been crushed.

How wrong they were.

They had still won, humanity was dead with no hope of recovery; but when the Micronoids returned to their home, they found X-Com, the remnants of MegaPol, and various human survivors waiting for them in a capital ship to rival their own.

The moment the aliens appeared, the human ship began firing its main weapon; a bizarre combination of laser and plasma weaponry. The laser shot had burned through the shields immediately and the plasma shots soon melted the emitters permanently; scared and defenceless, the aliens decided to forgo any attempts at returning fire and simply tried to run. The humans pursued, firing relentlessly.


***


Commander Otto Xander leant on the railing that separated the captain’s chair from the rest of the bridge and observed the immense UFO, feeling a rush of vindication as he saw several large chunks flaking off the parts of hull closest to them. His fingers tightened on the railing as the bridge lights dimmed again, a sympathetic response to the power drain of the Zeus Cannon firing. The torn hull of the UFO seemed to melt and shift as the laser hit, then came apart in a spray of atomized metal and organics as the plasma bolt followed the laser home.

“Captain! Dimensional energy surge coming from within that UFO, they’re creating a gate to get away!”

Captain Roderick Blaine nodded his acknowledgement at the ensign and turned to Xander.

“If they’re trying to get away, then they’re going down for sure. I’m telling you this Commander, I’m going after them.”

Xander grimaced and nodded.

“OK, I’ll get a team together, if they crash…”

Blaine didn’t shift his gaze from his console and readouts displayed on it.

“When they crash Commander, you had better do a good job of clearing them out. Don’t fuck up again.”
Xander sighed and commandeered an intercom console.


***


“X-Com and volunteer forces gear up and prepare for Skyranger deployment. UFO is fleeing this dimension and we’re all hungry for blood. Make them pay. Xander out.”

Xander’s voice echoed throughout the spacious hangar, interrupting the hurried movements of troops and civilians as they rushed from place to place, trying to make sense of the chaos that filled the hangar. The hangar was a mess of people, equipment and tents. With several Lightning Interceptors dotted among the sea of people and tents among the chaos; and a single Skyranger, sitting proudly in front of the bay doors, wings folded inward and name displayed in bold white text: Mercury.

Flight-Lieutenant Roderick ‘Crow’ Mkoll was sitting in the cockpit of Mercury, silently going over what had been lost. It couldn’t be put into words or coherent thoughts. Earth was gone, the human race was dead. Mega-Primus was just another ruined and irradiated city sitting on Earth’s surface. Any hope for the Lunar colony and the Mars mining colony surviving had been dashed with the footage of that UFO descending upon the Lunar colony and the obvious lack of any facilities on Mars, all of them having been turned into so much red dust.

But they were getting their revenge. Even with their modern ships destroyed and dimensional weaponry inactive from lack of power, they were going to take the fight to them, and wipe out the aliens once and for all. It was fortunate that the MacArthur had large cargo holds, several of them still filled with 80 year old technology and weaponry; Relics from the first alien war.

Both sides where now in remarkably similar positions. Both in their greatest ships, both extinct save for those on the ships. Mkoll smiled as he opened the Skyranger ramp. Although both sides may be in similar positions, the humans were the ones chasing the aliens to their doom.


***


“Alright then folks, we have fourteen seats in this bird, that’s one-four, I’m going to pick and then it’s first come, first served for those of you that want some revenge.”

Jester stood at the base of the Skyranger ramp and faced the small crowd of armed humans. She could see a variety of weapons and armour; there were a few men in the distinctive flight-suits of MegaPol’s Griffons, each clutching a machine gun to their chest. Some of the volunteers wore the red and blue of Mega-Primus’ finest, Lawpistols buckled around their waists; one volunteer stood out in a suit and dress trousers, red-tinted shades giving the figure an air of mystery.
Ironically enough, the organisation with the most distinctive logo and reputation didn’t have a recognisable uniform; each of Jester’s fellow X-Com comrades wore and wielded what they wanted, and they were going on the Skyranger no matter what.

Slinging the laser rifle over her shoulder, Jester began singling out the X-Com troops from the rest of the rabble.

“Titus, up and at em’ bro.” She pointed at a tall man in thick armour, a tall rectangular shield in his singular hand. The spider-like arms of the servo harness on his back folded neatly into set grooves. The big man grinned as he strode past his sister.

“Still calling me ‘Titus’ Atlanta?”

“Har-dee-har, shut up Tank and get on the damn ship. You! In the red, I didn’t catch your name during the exodus, but you’re insane, and a good shot; so get on board.”

The red-armoured soldier rested the autorifle on his shoulder and smirked.

“Rook O’Nayl; yeah, a rookie called Rook, funny that; and insane? Why I’ll just have to take that as a compliment.” With a chuckle, Rookie O’Nayl followed Tank up the ramp.

“Cheery fellow, alright; AJ, Ryan aaaand… where’s Cameron?” Ryan shifted his grip on the obscenely large anti-tank rifle and shrugged, the woman next to him smiled.

“Oh he’ll be here aaany second now, he had to relive himself.”

Sure enough, the final member of the X-Com team ran up to the crowd panting and clutching his side.

“Sorry Jester, the closest WC was literally a mile away.”

“Whatever.”

Jester walked up the ramp and strapped herself in before shouting:-

“Eight seats left! Come and get em’!”

The bodyguard with the shades, 4 MegaPol officers, one of the Griffons and a Sirian in distinctive green robes claimed 7 of the seats. The eighth seat was taken by another Griffon, but was booted out by a figure in an augmetic frame and trenchcoat.

As the too-slow volunteers tromped off the Skyranger, Otto Xander strapped himself into the seat he’d stolen and turned to the Sirian next to him.

“You guys really fucked up you know that? Bunch of alien worshipping cultists; I hear your temples were razed first.”

The olive skinned Sirian looked Xander dead in the eye as he spoke.

“You know what? I can understand why you feel the need to be hostile, after all; most of the Cult of Sirius were a bunch of alien worshipping madmen. What you don’t know Commander, is that we used to stand for something much, much better than that; when I was initiated, some 15 years ago now; we were looking for signs of the aliens from the frontier wars. We wanted to find them to make peace dammit. Then that fanatic succeeded Roscoe Ulysses Sirius and started worshipping the human-hating buggers.”

The Sirian patted the scabbard at his belt. “You probably know of me outside my activities with the Cult; I’m Dominic Whitlow, champion fencer.”

O’Nayl snorted. “Only fencer now.”

Dominic frowned and opened his mouth to reply but was hushed by Crow over the intercom.

“Alright folks, the UFO has passed through the new gate and is on the other side, Captain Blaine wants us to launch now and try to establish a foothold; that UFO was too heavily damaged to do anything other than crash, so expect ground attack imminently.” There was a long pause.

“Dr Bezial has also asked me to remind you that this could be an entirely new world on the other side of that gate. We might be going to the Ethereal homeworld for all we know; but just remember if you see a native alien race, assume friendly until proven otherwise.”

The dull whirr of the Skyranger’s jets rose to a scream as Mercury lifted off the deck and slid out of the hangar bay doors. The people in the hangar stopped to watch the heavy dropship lift into the air; some observers muttered prayers, others curses; some people shouldered weapons and envied those aboard, and others smiled inwardly, feeling as if they’d been spared for the next hour at least.


***


“Brace for transition nausea.”

The blunt nose of the Skyranger entered the shimmering energy field that formed an orb around the pyramid-shaped gate. There was a sudden sense of serenity. A bizarre lull in the screaming engines and unnerving rattling that accompanied a laden Skyranger in flight. The energy field washed over the outer skin of the aircraft and sent crackling arcs of static through the interior, rookies and volunteers alike yelped as they attempted to dodge the blue arcs.

The veteran X-Com troops attempted to calm them, reassure them that the arcs where normal and harmless.

“Look, just ignore them. Let’s find something else to think about, like…” Jester struggled to find a topic.

Tank cut in. “Half of us don’t know each other and we need to know who’s who when we land; so, introductions, starting with the Griffon, name and title, go!”

The Griffon was pressing himself back into his seat with his eyes shut tight. “Officer William Kronsky, Howling Griffons Air Strike Team.”

“Good work Will, tall dark and sunglasses go!”

“David Fitzpatrick, Ex-President of Mega-Primus.”

Tank was speechless, his mouth struggled to form words as Xander took over.

“War truly is the great equaliser Dave, didn’t recognize you with the glasses. OK, next up, you four.” Xander indicated the 4 MegaPol officers.

“Officer Beth Jones.”

“Police Sergeant Dan Sterling.”

“Officer Victor Kerlav”

“Pilot Brad Vickers.”

“A pilot eh? tick around and don’t die, we could use some more of them. Who’s next? rookie, you’re up.”

“Rook O’Nayl, X-Com Rookie.”

Xander paused for a moment, thrown off by the soldier’s name. “Is that really your name?”

“My parents wanted to call me Isombfiplicity but then decided that a Hybrid name would just be shortened to Felicity and I’d become confused about my sexuality.” Rook deadpanned.

“Crow, Jester, Tank, O’Nayl needs a nickname ASAP; I’m an old man and likely to get confused.”

“You know my rules Otto, I don’t give nicknames until they’ve done something memorable and unique.” Crow stated over the intercom.

“Dammit Roderick look at the camera! He has all red armour and purple hair, that’s pretty damn unique!”

Rook seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. “I was going for the unique look, glad you like it.” He lowered his voice and spoke in a stage whisper. “Don’t tell the engies what I did to the armour, they won’t like it.”

Tank and Jester, who had been debating in hushed whispers; broke and faced the group.

“Crimson.” They said in unison.

“Crimson O’Nayl? I’ll take it.”

Jester nodded enthusiastically. “You damn right you’ll take it, Rook.”

Tank put on a mock frown. “I was all for calling you Felicity but you’re lucky Atlanta has a conscience. She said tha-“

A blinding flash and the screech of stressed metal silenced the trooper. From the outside, the Skyranger appeared to dissolve into nothingness; from the pilot’s cockpit, the world appeared to peel away to reveal a picturesque winter landscape, complete with snowy village in a valley. The sight was marred only by the crash-site of the UFO; a smoking tear in the pristine white blanket of snow.


***


Winter had struck Gold Valley hard this year, as it had every year since the beginning of recorded history. The many large hay farms, whose growing produce gave Gold Valley its hue and name, had finished the last of the harvesting work, and the year’s produce had been safely stored in tall silos. It was about this time of year that the Gold Valley Trade Company came into its own, keeping the town of Harvest and the outlying farms fed during the cold winter months.

The town of Harvest was always busy, even under the blanket of snow. Ponies of all types and colours went to and fro, ducking into the shops and stalls that covered the marketplace in the middle. The farms of Gold Valley had been established long before Harvest, so Harvest had been built with the farms in mind. A large ring of houses formed the outer edge of the town, occupied by salesponies and bean counters that worked in the middle ring of Harvest. The middle ring was full of bulk trading companies and smaller shipping firms. The farms of Gold Valley sent their produce all over Equestria and beyond; from Canterlot to Saddle Arabia, you could always purchase G.V. stamped hay bales.

The centre of Harvest was dominated by a sprawl of market stalls in the circular space of the marketplace. The marketplace was also ringed by several small brick-and-mortar grocers; where the people of harvest would buy their food, and where the farmers would sell their produce.

It was one ordinary winter day in Harvest. Ponies walked, ponies talked and ponies shopped; each one of them wrapped up warm in scarfs and saddles.

As was always the way with such events; it seemed improbable that everyone had gone about their daily business as usual beforehand. It started with the smallest of tells. An almost inaudible hum in the air; pegasi feathers bristled, unicorn horns ached; all appeared to be mere symptoms of the biting cold. By the time it was obvious that what was happening was so much more, there was nothing that could be done.

Pegasi dropped out of the sky as their wings seized up and clouds stopped being tangible to hooves. Earth ponies in the marketplace looked on in confusion and horror as unicorns fell to the ground scratching and pulling at their horns, writhing in agony; soon, the marketplace was littered with the twitching forms of unicorns and pegasi, their racial aspects rebelling without warning.

And as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The relieved ponies had little time for speculation or confusion as a blinding flash lit up the sky; amplified by the snow all around. An immense disc snapped into reality out of nowhere, shattering the sky with a deafening peal of thunder. The ship was plummeting toward the ground, leaving a trail of oily black smoke and shedding debris as it came.

Several large pieces of wreckage fell into Harvest; one chunk dove into the ground on the outskirts of the town and was carried into the outer ring by its momentum, crushing a number of houses as it went. Another piece landed dead centre of the marketplace and stuck fast, embedded in the ground. A third piece of debris came in at a particularly low angle, hit the middle district and bounced back up, cartwheeling through the marketplace and back into the middle ring on the other side of the town.

The main body of the ship crashed into the fields several miles away from Harvest and dug a kilometre-long furrow into the ground behind it. It came to rest scraping against a solitary farmstead, still standing despite the immense quake of the ship impacting the ground at speed.

Unfortunately for Harvest, and the ponies inhabiting it, those chunks of debris weren't empty.


***


Crow’s hands flew over and around the multiple control panels in the cockpit of Mercury in an attempt to bring its systems back online. The transition to another dimension had forced an immense amount of power through some of the more delicate electrical systems of the Skyranger and caused the power plant to cut out. There had been no time to shield the Skyranger against this, and all of the X-Com built ships that were resistant to the energy surge had been annihilated.

2000 feet above ground level; roughly, it was difficult to get accurate readings on an alien world; but they were not particularly high and nose-diving without power. Crow’s deft hands brought the starter motor sputtering to life, and slowly coaxed the main power plant back to life.

1000 feet.

With full control restored, Crow pulled at the controls and angled the wings to tilt them back to a horizontal orientation; kicking the primary jets into full power, the Skyranger appeared to rotate, hover still and shoot forward in a swift example of near-impossible aerial agility. Crow brought Mercury into a wide circle around the town, paying particular attention to the plumes of smoke being sent up by the three chunks of UFO in the town. Squinting out of the canopy, he could make out a number of brightly coloured figures in the wide open area in the centre of the town; all seemingly backing away from a piece of UFO embedded in the dirt.

Without warning, the chunk of debris fell into several pieces, revealing its contents to the humans above. It was a large piece, at three stories tall, and wider than the MacArthur’s hangar; and it was packed full of aliens.

As the shard’s walls crumbled into rubble and dust, a megaspawn strode out into the daylight, crushing several stalls under its wagon-sized feet. It paused to regard the ranks of ponies watching it, fear clearly etched on their faces, even from Crow’s altitude. The megaspawn roared something unintelligible and fired its shoulder mounted weaponry into the helpless crowd.
The ponies, upon seeing some of their number dissolved into their component atoms by the hostile alien; panicked and ran. Running without order or sense, driven by sheer instinct; survival the only thing considered.

More aliens clambered out of the wreckage behind the megaspawn and joined in with the one-sided battle, firing indiscriminately. The ponies were unable to defend themselves against the stranded invaders, and were cut down in droves by the disoriented shapes of Anthropods and Skeletoids; stumbling out of the wreck firing Devastator Cannons with wild abandon.


***


Mercury’s nose lifted as Crow brought it in low over the marketplace and prepared to land; the feeling of tilting and the lurch of deceleration was felt by the passengers as the intercom crackled to life again.

“Consider this a priority one engagement. I’m putting you guys down in a small alien town, there’s snow everywhere and the locals are under attack by the Micronoid aliens. Be advised, the local aliens are all civilians and appear fairly equine in appearance.”

Xander unbuckled and stood up, the servos and pistons supporting his frame locking to keep him steady.

“Copy that Crow, take us down and stay on the ground, I want to use this as a command station.”

Tank pulled himself out of his seat and brandished the mechanical limbs on his back. “I’m ready for some more revenge!”

Kronsky, in his red and gold armour, stood and cocked his weapon. “I second that; but I’m unsure of what an ‘equine’ is."

“Like horses, Kronsky.”
Kronsky whirled to face the suited figure of Fitzpatrick, a confused look on his face. “The fuck is a horse?”

Fitzpatrick laughed. “Horses, Kronsky, are what medieval cavalry ride on; you should know that, I made sure that was part of the curriculum when I was in power.”

Kronsky sighed. “Oh forget it, shoot what looks familiar, and don’t shoot the ‘horses’.”

Jester giggled as she pushed the Griffon toward the ramp. “Now you’re getting it, you’ll be shooting like an X-Com vet in no time!”

The air in the Skyranger was sucked out and replaced with the frigid air of the alien world and the ramp cracked open. With a thump and another lurch, the Skyranger planted its wheels on the alien dirt and the ramp slammed down, revealing a scene of panic and chaos.

They were on the edge of an open area dotted with stalls covered with all sorts of produce. There were few natives in sight, only brightly coloured flashes between stalls as stragglers ran from the emerging aliens. The megaspawn hadn’t moved from its position in the middle of the collapsed wreckage, and was still searching for more things to kill; the blue figures of several squads of Anthropods moved between the stalls and began to enforce a perimeter, killing any natives that came close.
Tank hefted his shield to cover his face, ignited the plasma lance on mechanical one appendage, began charging the pneumatics of the impact hammer on another, and simply brandished the snapping ‘grabbers’ of the others. With a great roar, he charged down the ramp toward the megaspawn, shouting as he went.

“Shit’s about to get biblical! Get the ‘Pods and I’ll deal with Goliath over there!” He bellowed, gesturing toward the megaspawn.

Cameron and Kronsky crunched through the snow underfoot as they dashed behind several stalls and braced their weapons on the wooden tops.

*Zap*

Cameron’s plasma pistol made short work of the first Anthropod to see the hollering Tank running toward their lines. Several more Anthropods turned at the sound of their fellow’s cry, only to bet cut down by beams of plasma and hails of bullets from the duo.

Jester’s metal arm clamped around Rook’s arm like a vice and dragged him down the ramp. “With me Crimson! We’ll go left and get a pincer going!”

“Could ‘a just asked!” Was his reply, freeing his arm and cocking the long autorifle cradled in his arms.

Fitzpatrick pushed his sunglasses up his nose as the glare from the snow forced him to squint. “I’ll stick with you cyclops.”
A short laugh from the woman next to him was his reply as he and AJ started running to the right, taking pot shots at the aliens as they went.

Xander stood at the top of the Skyranger’s ramp, leaning on one of the pistons that controlled said ramp. He experienced eyes surveyed the scene, and a plan quickly began building in his head.

“Sergeant Sterling! Take your men and form a perimeter for Ryan while he sets up! Dominic, I’ll assume you want to use that sword, move up to Cameron and Kronsky and get them to suppress the enemy while you move close. I’m staying on board.” Xander sent his next orders over the squad-net radio.

“If anyone sees an opportunity for psychic intervention, call it out! I can control, stun, read and kill. Now get out there and show them why you don’t fuck with humanity! FOR EARTH!”

“FOR EARTH!” The squad echoed.


***


Fallow Fields was one of the lucky ones.

Lucky in the sense that he was fortunate enough to be nowhere near the first aliens as they started shooting and coming out of their pod-thing; but his luck seemed to have run out as another metallic object landed in front of the store he had dived into.

The object looked vaguely like an airship gondola without the gas envelope above it. Fallow briefly entertained the hope that it was the guard; that they had somehow formed a quick response and arrived to face the monsters in an experimental airship. This hope was dashed as a panel in the gondola-ship fell open and yet more alien creatures stepped out.

These newcomers looked very different to the first aliens Fallow had seen; their faces where more expressive, and they wore armour. They also seemed to lack the physical similarities between the aliens that emerged from the pod, barring the fact that they were all bipedal. Fearing that they were here to help the other creatures, Fallow had flung himself behind the counter and closed his eyes, praying to Celestia that they wouldn’t find him. He was then surprised to hear a number of voices, male in pitch, speaking perfect Equish. He angled his ears to try to catch a snippet of their conversation.

“-on’t fuck with humanity! FOR EARTH!”

“-OR EARTH!”

Humanity? Earth? What were these creatures talking about? Where they ‘humanity’? What was Earth? A pony? A place? Each word prompted a host of new questions. That last part sounded like some kind of war cry; it was certainly echoed by a number of other voices.

Risking a peek over the countertop, Fallow was confused by what he was seeing. There was one of the new aliens charging toward the massive alien in the middle of the marketplace; the charging alien had a large chunk of metal in his grasp, and his other forelimb appeared to be missing; on the alien’s back was what looked like a giant mechanical insect, with one limb glowing, another held back as if about to hit something, and the other two simply being held ready above the alien’s shoulders. As he watched, some of the smaller blue aliens fired their disintegrating weapons at the charging alien, only to have the shots ricochet off of or be absorbed by the metal shield.

Some of the other new arrivals, crouched behind some of the abandoned market stalls, stood up and raised their own weapons. One weapon that looked like an L turned on its side flung incandescent bolts of energy toward the blue aliens, each individual shot striking a different target and taking them down with a shriek of pain and hiss of sizzling flesh. The other weapon  looked like an iron pipe, with two smaller pipes sticking vertically down, and a large cylinder between the two smaller pipes, this weapon bucked and barked in the wielder’s grasp, sending yet more of the blue aliens down jerking and twitching as tiny projectiles slammed into them.

Fallow was no dumb country bumpkin, he knew what these were. The first alien weapon looked like a highly advanced pistol that could be fired multiple times before reloading, the bolts it fired looked almost like magic missiles, and Fallow wondered if this was the case. The other weapon was clearly a miniature cannon, or a rapid fire version of the rifles sometimes used by the guard.

While the two aliens were firing their weapons, another alien in a green cloak augmented with metal plates on the shoulders stood up and vaulted over the stalls; after the alien regained its footing, it drew what was clearly a sword from the scabbard at his hip and sprinted towards the group of blue aliens. The blue aliens were unwilling to stand up to try to stop the sword-wielding alien, so afraid were they of the alien’s deadly accuracy.

There was a group of new aliens all wearing blue and red cloth escorting one other alien carrying a huge rifle, the barrel of this rifle was longer than Fallow was; the red and blues carried small pistols and one had a stocky looking rifle with bulky parts, and was feeding little red cartridges into a receiver underneath it.

As Fallow watched, the group reached one of the shops neighboring the one he was hiding in. The alien with the long rifle slung it over his back and ran at two of the red and blue wearing aliens that were leaning against the wall of the building; these two caught the running alien in their forelimbs and threw him up onto the roof of the one-storey shop and out of Fallow’s sight. The four red and blue aliens then spread out around the building; two the ones with pistols ran down the alley between the buildings, one went into the shop with the alien on the roof; and the one alien with the bulky rifle walked into the shop that Fallow was in.

Motionless with fear, Fallow stared at the alien as it leaned against frontal wall of the storefront. It hadn’t yet seen him. It fed one last cartridge into his rifle then grabbed a sliding piece of metal and pulled it back and forth with a loud series of clicks.

*Cha-chuck*


***


Sergeant Sterling finished loading the shotgun in his hands and paused to look at the alien shop he found himself in. It was remarkably similar to illustrations of human shops built before the world moved into Mega-Primus.

The walls were made out of wood, as was the door. The door was a little shorter than he, and he had to stoop to get in, but the latch was easy enough to open. There was a wooden counter top with several displays of fresh fruit and vegetables, as well as several jars of preserves.

There was also a pair of impossibly large eyes staring at him in total fear.

The native had two large, expressive eyes and two pointed ears; the ears had flattened against the natives head as Sterling saw it.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I’m here to help.”

The brown muzzle and green mane of the alien disappeared under the counter as Sterling spoke, startled by his voice. Sterling heard some mumbled words and started moving closer to the counter, switching his radio on as he went. Dr Bezial would love some samples of the local dialect.

The counter was within arm’s reach now and Sterling could just about make out the words being said…

“-if you’ll just go away. I’ll donate to charity if you just go away. I’ll adopt a foal if you’ll just go away. I’ll see my family if you’ll just go away…”

The mantra continued, the native promising various things as long as Sterling left. He was shocked. What were the chances of that? A brand new world and a brand new sentient species and they spoke perfect English. Buoyed by this new knowledge, Sterling attempted to placate the native.

“Look here, I swear I’m not going to hurt you, I’m here to protect you. My name’s Dan, now I don’t know about your customs, but where I’m from it’s considered rude to not exchange names when you meet someone.”

A hushed response, whimpered more than spoken.

“Pardon?”

“Fallow, F-f-Fallow Fields.”

Sterling smiled as the native’s head appeared above the counter once more. “Well then Fallow, I’m a human. What are you?”

Fallow seemed uneasy with Sterling’s shotgun, and didn't answer until he lowered it carefully and slowly to the floor.

“I’m an Earth Pony.”

Dan’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s ‘earth’ as in ‘soil’ right? Not ‘earth’ as in ‘Planet Earth’?

“Is that where you’re from then? I heard you all shout it.”

“Indeed it is… well, was. Look, I can understand your fear, but would you mind if I hopped over the counter? I’m kind of in the open here.”

Fallow didn’t reply verbally, but after a moment of internal deliberation, nodded his head. Sterling grabbed his shotgun, stood up and dived over the counter before Fallow could change his mind.

“Cheers mate, and not a moment too soon.”

This close to the native, Dan could get a good look at it. Covered head to… hoof? He was pretty sure they were called hooves; in brown fur, with a short mane of green as well as a green tail. There was also a strange patch of multi-coloured fur on the native’s side; when appraised from a distance, the coloured patch looked like a field with a plow next to it.
Fallow was also getting a good look at Sterling. His eyes flickered over the shotgun in his hands before focusing on his hands themselves. Fallow’s eyes then flicked up to Sterling’s face, taking note of the short blonde hair, little nose, flat facial structure and small ears. Then it was Sterling’s clothes being scrutinized; the blue body of his coat and trousers offset by the red shoulder pads and epaulettes.

Both the human and the pony finished their examination at the same time and shared a short laugh about the bizarreness of the situation; before stopping sharply as they realised how eerily similar their two races were.


***


“Mother of God Xander you wouldn’t believe what that Sterling fellow’s found.”

Otto stepped through the hatch separating the cockpit form the troop bay and peered over his friend’s shoulder at one of the small screens on the ‘command console’. A small note tacked above this particular screen told him that this was the helmet cam footage of ‘D. Sterling’. The image was fuzzed with static, but sound was coming through clearly.

“-rth as in ‘Planet Earth’?”

“Who’s he talking to?”

“Just wait sir, hopefully the static will clear up.”

Another voice was picked up by Sterling’s microphone, one that Xander didn’t recognize.

“Is that where you’re from then? I heard you all shout it.”

Otto leaned closer to the screen, as if closer scrutiny would help clear the static fuzzing the image.

“Who’s that talking?”

Mkoll shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The static cleared up as just as Sterling vaulted over the counter-top of the alien shop. The view skewed about wildly for a moment before slowing and focusing on an alien face.

“Mother of God.” Xander breathed. “Is that one of the locals?”

Mkoll nodded in affirmation. “Yup’, call themselves ‘ponies’ and speak perfect English; better than you actually.”

“Har har, it’s not my first language; but really? Ponies?”

Mkoll fiddled with a few more controls and gestured to another, larger screen. “Take a gander at this, Xander,” A smirk, “This is the footage from before the crowds scattered and we landed.”

He pushed a button and the scene came to life; Mkoll waited for a good angle, then slowed the footage down and pointed at some of the finer details.

“You see these fellows here and… here?” He asked.

Xander nodded. “What about them?”

“Look closer.” Mkoll urged.”

Xander leaned forward as far as his servo-frame would allow, before the mechanics ground to a halt with a crunch of metal.
“I’ll give you a clue; think of the legend of the Greek hero, Bellerophon.”

A ten-second silence followed.

“Holy shit, it’s got wings, like Pegasus!” Xander exclaimed.

“Uh huh, and that’s not all; look at this lady over here.” Mkoll pointed to the second pony he had initially indicated.

Xander raised an eyebrow and looked at Mkoll. “Lady?”

“Oh for crying out loud now is not the time! My family kept horses before T’leth exploded, I helped care for them!”

Otto chuckled and turned back to the screen. He stared intently at it for a moment before his eyes widened; he turned back to his friend with a look of shock on his face. “That’s a fucking unicorn Crow.”

Roderick Mkoll nodded and grinned. “Bezial’s going to explode, he’ll be so delighted.


***


*Thok!* *Thok!* *Thok!* 

The 80 year old rifle had been kept in near-perfect condition in the vacuum storage section of the MacArthur’s hold. The large-calibre rounds tore through the tough skin of the Anthropods with ease; realising that they had been flanked, the blue monsters bounded back through several rows of stalls.

O’Nayl knelt down in the ditch that he and Jester had claimed, steam hissing from the water-cooled barrel of his rifle. Jester swore and fiddled with her laser rifle some more; it was bad enough that the cold air sapped some of the power behind each laser bolt impact, but Jester’s rifle had given up after a handful of shots.

“Jester we should move, they’re falling back.” Crimson’s blood was up, and he was out for more aliens.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” Jester hissed in exertion as she struggled to open the rifle’s casing without outright destroying it with her bionic arm.

Crimson peered over the scorched lip of the ditch they were in; the result of a piece of wreckage cartwheeling through the market, and it drew a pocked line through the otherwise-pristine coating of snow.

“Just ditch the thing, it’s 80 years old and a total write off. You've still got that pistol haven't you?”

The rifle was tossed to the ground with a yell of frustration. Jester pulled the laser pistol from her pocket and fired half a dozen shots into the air.

“Fine then, at least this thing works.” Jester checked the situation in the market for herself.

The Anthropods had fallen back through the stalls but were still under fire from Cameron and Kronsky by the Skyranger, plus AJ and Fitzpatrick had added their fire to the fight. Unfortunately, the Anthropods had a free shot at Tank, and he had been knocked to the ground. He now crouched with his back against a fallen stall, his shield protecting him from the Anthropod’s unrelenting fire.

Looking back towards the Skyranger, Jester saw a green-robed figure dashing from stall to stall, sword in hand. As she watched, the sword flared into life, a green field of rippling plasma played around the blade. Dominic, the champion fencer, vaulted the last stall between him and the Anthropods and stuck his hand behind his back. Flourishing his sword, he cut through the pair closest to him, ducked out of the way of a clumsy punch thrown by a third before running the culprit through. With a cry of surprise, Dominic dived to the ground, a bolt of blue energy sizzling over his head, singing his hair.

The Anthropod cautiously stepped closer to the prone man, attempting to find a better angle.

*Crack!*

The sound tore through the air milliseconds after a two-inch bullet tore through the Anthropod. Across the marketplace, atop a short building; Ryan slammed a new round home in his anti-tank rifle and sighted through the scope again. His breathing slowed and his finger tensed before…

*Crack!*

His rifle spoke another deafening word and sent an Anthropod crashing to the ground in two pieces.

“That was too close, thanks sniper.”

Ryan smiled as he pushed another large round into the receiver, there were plenty more targets to hit, and he had a bag and a half full of rounds.


***


Fitzpatrick had to stop firing after the Anthropods had pulled back, unable to get a clear shot, and knowing that the lawpistol he carried wouldn’t pierce more than one wooden stall.

AJ, on the other hand, kept her rifle tucked tightly to her shoulder; firing once or twice every few seconds, a few shots and another Anthropod would slam into the ground. The menacing glow of her mechanical eye bathing her rifle in red light; the advanced optics of her eye allowed her to track the heat-spoors of the fleeing Anthropods right back to their new hiding spots; and her laser rifle could bore through wood in a few shots.

AJ felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Fitzpatrick looking at her with a finger over his mouth.

Silence.
AJ nodded and tilted her head.

Why?

Fitzpatrick pulled her into an open store, leaned out of the window to check the left and right sides of the building, then joined her in the front of the store. He then pointed to the ceiling above and then at his ear.

Listen, up there.

AJ did so, straining her ears; at first she couldn’t hear anything over the cacophony on the on-going firefight; but, after a moment, she could hear something.

*Click-click* *Click-click* *Click-click*

She grabbed Fitzpatrick by the collar and pulled him close to her. Putting her mouth next to his ear, she whispered her realization.

“Skeletoids.”

Fitzpatrick nodded and pushed a new clip into his lawpistol.

Going back to back, the president and the trooper pointed their weapons at the ceiling and fired.


***


Slapping another drum magazine into his machine gun, Kronsky took a moment to glance around to see where he could best lend his aid. The MegaPol officers had split up, two going deeper into the middle ring of the town, one stayed behind to cover Ryan; and one had dived into another shop. Tank still had another 30 metres to go to reach the Megaspawn, and was pinned to a stall by heavy fire coming from… AJ and Fitzpatrick?

No, not them; but the fire was definitely coming from that area. Leaning out further, Kronsky could make out a number of banana-yellow figures clustered on a group of roofs on the East side of the marketplace. As he watched, one of the groups abruptly jumped and scattered, some of their number falling as a number of slugs and laser bolts tore through the roof beneath their feet.

The Skeletoids took to the air unsteadily at first, before calming and steadying themselves; their anti-gravity implants not making for the most stable of flights, unlike Kronsky’s Griffon MkVIII Flying Armour. Turning to the soldier next to him, he pulled at his arm to get Cameron’s attention.

Cameron ducked his head down and started swapping power cells in his plasma pistol.

“What is it?”

“Skeletoids over on the roofs over there, I’m going to jump to Jester and Crimson, then get some height and see what I can do.” Kronsky replied.

Peering over the stall, Cameron acknowledged the Skeletoids and decided to take some pot shots at the ones displaced by AJ and Fitzpatrick’s fire.

“Go now, while I have their attention.”

Kronsky nodded and crept away from the stall they were taking cover behind. Behind him, Cameron continued to fire his exotic pistol, bringing several of the skeletal monsters crashing down into the snow; alerted thusly to the new threat, the Skeletoids sent a hail of disintegrating bolts his way.

While Cameron hunkered down behind the stall, Kronsky took a run up and ignited the thrusters in his armour with a squeeze of his palm. Rocketing into the air in a graceful arc, Kronsky oriented on the red figure he could see in the large trench that bisected the marketplace. Another squeeze of the palm, and his descent was slowed enough to make a stable landing on his feet.

“Crimson! Jester! Look across the marketplace! At the roofs of the shops! Pin them down and I’ll get a flank on them!”

A brief nod was all he got as confirmation before he took off again. The hulking megaspawn took offence at such a bold move, and attempted to blast him out of the sky with its rapid fire Devastator Cannons.

With its attention diverted, the monstrosity didn't notice the X-Com trooper sprinting at it, freed from his hiding place by the suppression of the Skeletoids, and with most of the Anthropods slain, Tank had gotten up and closed the distance between him and the gargantuan alien.

With a desperate bellow Tank swung the impact hammer into the Megaspawn’s leg, shattering the bones within in a series of stomach churning cracks. The alien staggered but remained upright, turning to face the comparably tiny Human. With his impact hammer discharged, Tank wouldn’t be able to get off another strong hit like that for at least another 7 seconds, and there was no way he could dance around the creature for that long. There was a whoosh of jump jets over his head and Tank heard a number of sharp, wet impacts as the Megaspawn was struck by a number of machine gun rounds.

*Crack!*

Ryan’s rifle spoke again and took off the Megaspawn’s shattered leg in a spray of blood and bone shards; the creature toppled backwards, crushing some of the UFO debris behind it, and lay writhing on the ground with its guns pointing uselessly in the air.

Tank clambered over the loose debris and dug his mechanical claws into the fallen beast’s chest; using them for purchase, he pulled himself onto the chest of the Megaspawn and plunged his plasma lance deep into the heart of the alien weapons platform.

The Megaspawn fell silent and still instantly.


***

 
Seeing their great ally fall, the Skeletoids began to scatter and fall back into the dense network of alleys and narrow streets that formed the middle and outer rings of the town. Only to be confronted by an armoured Human in red and gold armour. Speaking in strange chitters out of their bizarre circular mouths, the Skeletoids tried to raise their heavy Devastators at Kronsky, only to start swinging wildly in the air at the sudden change in centre of gravity. An extended burst of machine gun fire cut through all but one, who was spared by a loud click that rang through the cold air. Buoyed by its good fortune, the Skeletoid attempted to fly away, only to be tackled out of the air by the angry Human.

Kronsky shifted his weight around until the Skeletoid was rushing toward the ground with him on top; a brief spurt of thrust and Kronsky’s descent was halted. The same couldn’t be said for the Skeletoid, that continued its descent until it slammed into the snowy ground. The last thing it ever saw was the blue plated boot of a Griffon Jump Jet Trooper.

The marketplace was clear. Crimson and Jester having slain the rest of the fleeing Skeletoids; the few that escaped their fire were cut down by AJ, Fitzpatrick and two of the MegaPol officers; all of them having flanked around to cut off the middle ring as an escape.

Taking Crimson’s hand, Jester pulled herself out of the steep-walled ditch and made her way over to the Skyranger. As she passed between the stalls, the occasional shot rang out as another trooper found a downed alien and finished it off.

Making her way up the Skyranger’s ramp, Jester slid open the sealed door to the cockpit.

“Immediate area’s clear Xander, AJ, Fitzy and the cops are scouting out the next piece of wreckage.”

With a hiss of pneumatic bionics, the 108 year old turned to face her.

“Good work,” a broad smile was on Xander’s face, “Sterling’s made a brand new friend. Come and see.”

The pair made their way off the Skyranger and into a nearby shop. Stepping through the threshold, they were confronted with a shotgun barrel an inch from their faces. A moment later, and the barrel was raised.

“Sorry guys, can’t be too careful with those bloody Bananatoids flying about.” Sterling shouldered his shotgun. “Come and meet Fallow.”

Jester raised an eyebrow and looked at Xander questioningly. Met only with a grin and silence, she followed Sterling into the back room of the store.

“Wow…” Jester breathed.

The brown and green pony looked up at her. “Ummm… Hi?”


***


The crosshairs had settled evenly in the middle of the pony's head; the horizontal bar linking the enormous eyes together. 
Ryan had spent the last minute or so after the Megaspawn went down to scout out the shops lining the marketplace for any alien stragglers or hiding natives. So far, he’d turned an Antropod into green paste, saving a native’s life while he was at it; in addition, he’d found at least 6 shops with more survivors in them, and up 8 more with signs of life. Deciding to be cautious, and not trusting his own quick reflexes, Ryan was holding a shell in his off hand, ready to slot it into the rifle at a moment’s notice; he didn’t want to accidentally shoot one of the natives just because he saw a flash of blue after all. Ryan tensed as he heard the scraping, clanging sound of someone climbing up to his roof; but relaxed when he heard the muffled curses of Brad as he clambered up a rickety drainpipe.

Brad dropped to his belly and crawled alongside Ryan.

“See anything of note?”

Ryan pulled his head away from the scope and pointed at the shops he’d seen the natives in; before pointing at the shop that he’d killed the Anthropod in, and making a slashing motion across his throat. Brad just looked at him blankly.

“Okay, I get you killed something over there, but what’s with the first shops? Can’t you just talk?”

Ryan sighed and pulled away at some of the insulating cloth wrapped around his throat, revealing what looked like a large metallic choker.

“There are natives in the first shops, and I killed an Anthropod in the last shop I indicated.” A small red light in the choker flashed along with Ryan’s grating mechanical voice. Taken aback by the harsh tone, Brad nodded in affirmation. 

Seeing this, Ryan sighed again.

“I wasn’t annoyed, but I can’t change the tone of my voice. It always sounds either sarcastic or mean.” The words seemed to ease Brad a little.

“OK, sorry, I just had no idea. At first I thought you were doing that on purpose-you know-the whole ‘dark and silent sniper’ look?”

Ryan laughed; a truly strange sound, lacking any sense of realism, and sounding almost mocking. “Har, harharhar, har.” Brad raised an eyebrow and looked at Ryan.

“Fuck you.”

Brad laughed and rolled over to get at the radio on his belt.


***


“Hey commander there’s a couple of shops on the far side of the marketplace with locals in them, want me to go and try to persuade them to come out?” Brad’s voice came through the radio cut with static and interference.

“I doubt they’ll come out to another alien with a gun Brad. Also, see if you can’t find what’s causing all this interference, it’s starting to piss me off.” Xander flicked the transmit switch built into his exoskeleton off and turned back to the trio in front of him. Jester had been introduced to Fallow and they were currently just… chatting; Just talking away about recent happenings like two people at a bus stop. Except it was a pony and person in a shop on an alien planet talking about the aliens that they’d just saved them from. Xander shook his head, the lack of a language barrier made the whole affair quite surreal.

He decided that he would send a short summary of the skirmish and his plans back to Captain Blaine and the MacArthur. As he stepped out of the store he paused, something felt… off. Expanding his mind and letting his consciousness free, he psychically searched the immediate area. There was AJ, Fitzpatrick and the cops, they’d found the piece of wreckage and discovered that it was naught but a shield emitter, guarded by one measly Anthropod. Said Anthropod was ducked down behind the solid emitter and spraying blindly over the top to try to keep the Humans at bay.

Xander incinerated his mind with a glancing thought.

Pulling his mind back a little, he became aware of Jester tapping his body on the shoulder. Despite his body’s lack of direction, it remained upright thanks to the supportive exoskeleton. Reeling his mind back, Xander opened his eyes.

“What?”

Jester jumped a little, startled, before replying. “I said Sterling and I are going to go with Fallow to talk to the other ponies hiding in the stores; is there anywhere you want us to send them?”

Xander looked around, taking in the weak-walled shops and shattered stalls; his roaming eyes eventually settled on the silent shape of Mercury.

“Send them to Mkoll and the Skyranger for now, we’ll find a proper defensible location soon; but until then… Well, these shops aren’t going to stop a Disrupter or Devastator.”

Jester rapped on the wall of the store next to them with a robotic hand. A small crater appeared in a shower of splinters and frost. “Very true, OK then; you can go back to your funky mind-stuff.”

Xander snorted. “Oh gee thanks, I was hoping you’d give me permission.”

Jester gave a cheery wave over her shoulder as she walked off to re-join Sterling and Fallow. “Let it never be said that I’m not a kind and considerate tyrant!”

Settling back into his frame and closing his eyes once more; Xander again slipped away from his body and began roaming the town. In his mind’s eye he ‘saw’ Crimson and Kronsky walking along side-by-side, patrolling the first ring road around the marketplace. Deciding to check up, he attempted to descend into Crimson’s mind, only to be blocked by a bizarre sense of nothingness;  concerned, he sank into Kronsky’s mind instead, and sent a thought-message.

*Kronsky, it’s Xander, could you ask Crimson if he’s a Null-Psy please?*

Kronsky jumped a little, then relaxed and spoke to the empty air. “Uh, sure thing.” He turned to the quizzical Crimson, who was observing him jumping at and speaking to nothing.

“Crimson, Xander just asked me to ask you if you’re Null-Psy.”

Crimson’s expression changed from one of confusion into one of sudden realization. “Oh! So that’s what I felt just now; I thought it could have been a Psimorph so I blocked it on instinct.”

*Whatever, I wanted to check how everything was with you two.*

“He wants to check how’s things.”

Crimson shrugged. “Meh, fine, no sightings and no psionic twinges; other than you of course. Has AJ reached that chunk yet?”

*Yes, it’s empty.* A little lie, but one X-Com soldier was easily worth a dozen Anthropods, and this particular one had been outnumbered to begin with.

“They have Rook, he says it’s empty.”

Crimson nodded. “Good good, listen sir, could you do us all a favour and check what’s in the last shard? Kronsky said that it looked less like random debris and more like a jettisoned cargo-pod.”

“I got a pretty good look when I was jumping around.” Kronsky cut in.

*Fair enough. Give me a minute.*

Ascending his thought projection back into the air, Xander searched for the debris/cargo-pod. The trick was to not look for the pod, but to look for the gaps in the buildings; destroyed establishments left a much greater psychic scar than recently added construction; or, indeed, a fallen cargo-pod. He cast his mind out, sensing the thought-presences of several hundred of the native ponies. His mind traced the groove left by the shield emitter wreckage, and slid around the many pockmarked holes in the walls and the dirt; left there by the intense fire-fight. When he eventually found the piece, he could easily make out why Kronsky thought it to be a cargo-pod; the simple answer was: It was a cargo pod. The more pressing issue was: ‘What’s in the cargo pod?’

His mind easily slipped through the negligible psychic barriers of the barely alive hull and into the space within. At first his mind felt nothing, and it seemed as if the pod was either empty of simply full of equipment; then, without warning, the pod seemed to erupt with life and thought processes and instructions and instinct and hunger and anger and psionic capability and-

Xander hurriedly reeled his mind in and wracked his brain to try to think of what could be in there. Something that was dormant but woke to psionic stimuli… Lots of little things… dormant then suddenly awake and hungry…

His face fell and his heart sank as he realised what that cargo-pod was full of.


***


Unbeknownst to the Human soldiers, one of the rulers of the land was already on her way; she had left in the middle of a court function, and would likely have irate nobles to deal with later, but what she had felt construed an emergency and damn any ponies that got in the way of her helping.

It was the one tell of a dimension jump. A sudden loss, then overload of magic; followed by an impossibly bright flash of light and a clap of thunder that seemed to shatter the sky itself. Celestia had felt the dip and swell of magic to the East of Canterlot, and then seen the bright flash on the horizon. She had already taken to the air and was out of the city limits before the thunderclap reached her ears. If anypony were to look up as she passed over, they would see nothing but what appeared to be a blazing ball of fire, rocketing across the sky.

She felt confusion, then curiosity, then purest terror from the East as she travelled. Dreading what could have caused this, and not knowing that it was the result of the alien debris landing, settling, and then splitting open that caused the rush of conflicting emotions. Driven by emphatic fear, she put on another burst of speed. Then the rush of emotions slowed, and for a moment, Celestia began to fear the worst was happening; but it was an unnecessary fear, as the emotions quickly changed to hope and joy, mixed with a hint of apprehension. This confused Celestia for a moment and she slowed; she knew she was still far out of sight.

It had been the Humans arrival and swift actions in cutting down the attacking aliens that caused this rush of positive emotion; but Celestia wouldn’t discover that until later.

Time passed, and Celestia continued to blaze her way across the sky, hoping she would arrive in time. The emotions changed from hope to relief, and from apprehension to thanks. She was much closer to Harvest now, and could feel a strong magical force seething around the town, blasting out emotion with wild abandon. Few knew that Celestia could feel emotions, and there was no way she’d tell anypony after the changeling fiasco at the wedding; but it gave her a drive to be kind and empathetic. The force felt curiosity, then pain, and then a terrible and all-consuming fear began to well out as the force receded to a single point.


***


The little blue foal had ran out of the street with no warning, and had almost been blown away by the twitchy pair of Humans; fortunately for both parties, the foal was quickly recognized for what it was, and was allowed to continue. The foal abruptly stopped and turned to face the two humans; two bipedal titans, one in red and one in blue -a blue so similar to the biped that had been chasing it- the foal’s legs locked in fear and froze at the sight.

The red titan turned to its blue companion and spoke: “Get out of sight Kronsky we’re scaring it.”

The blue titan nodded and shot off in a cacophony of roaring jets and squealing armour; the red titan turned back to the foal and let his weapon swing free.

Crimson approached the foal with his rifle hanging on its strap and his arms out and open, palms out to appear less threatening. He assumed that the stabilising fins and flaps on Kronsky’s armour gave the Griffon a nightmarish silhouette, and sent him off accordingly. The foal remained still as a statue, unwilling to move lest he incur the Human’s wrath; the foal had seen what that weapon was capable of, and even though it hadn’t been used against any ponies, he felt justified in being afraid of it.

With a snarl, his pursuer reappeared, stumbling out of the alley that the foal had dashed out of; sighting its quarry, it raised its Disruptor gun and fired, only to have his target disappear in a flash of red.

Crimson had seen the Anthropod appear and had no intentions of letting the foal die. With his gun hanging limply at his side, he couldn’t shoot the alien in time, and was too far away to tackle the creature directly. The foal, on the other hand, was well within reach and was snatched up in Crimson’s arms as he dive-rolled to move the pony. He felt a warm impact on the back of his armour, and a sudden coolness on his shoulder blade; with little time to ponder before the Anthropod got over its confusion and weapon cycled, he and the foal would be an easy shot. Keeping the small foal tucked in his right arm, Crimson snatched at the rifle dangling at his hip with his left hand; finding purchase, he raised the heavy rifle one-handed and pulled the trigger in the general direction of the alien.

A click greeted him.

The old rifle had been jarred heavily during the roll and the ammunition feed must have been knocked loose; he had barely a split second to react, dropping the foal and pulling a plasma knife from its sheath. Drawing the blade and igniting it with one smooth movement, Crimson drew his right arm back and threw with all his might…

The knife sunk deep into the wall next to the Anthropod and extinguished itself. The Anthropod regained its senses and raised its disruptor to point at Crimson; on natural paternal instinct, he stepped in front of the foal to protect him with his own body and armour. Shot after shot slammed into his breastplate and Crimson staggered back, narrowly avoiding stepping on the poor foal. As the Anthropod adjusted its aim and prepared another volley, it was thrown off balance by a thunderous impact barely 10 metres away. A wave of heat washed down the snowy road, melting the snow as it went; again, Crimson moved again to shield the foal as the heat washed over him and his armour.

When the heat wave had passed, there was a large crater shrouded in atomised dirt and steam to his left, and the Anthropod had dropped its gun in shock. Crimson charged at the blue alien, his head down and his arms forward; the alien saw him and moved to grab his wrists, locking the two in a grapple; each matched by the other. A brief moment of stillness followed before the alien shifted its weight and swung Crimson into the wall of the nearest building. The wooden wall cracked, splintered and bent under the assault but just managed to hold; in retaliation, Crimson pushed off the wall for extra momentum, and pushed the Anthropod onto the hilt of the knife embedded in the wall. The synthetic leather sheathed grip failed to do anything more than enrage the alien and it roared; its foul breath washing over Crimson and coating his face in spittle and flecks of meat.

Crimson pulled the Anthropod off the wall, spun them both 90 degrees to the left and hooked a leg around the alien’s ankle. With a deft flick, he tipped the creature onto its back and followed it down, pinning its arms and legs with his own. Back in a stalemate position, Crimson racked his brain for ideas to subdue the Anthropod before it bucked him off. Crimson closed his eyes and focused, attempting to keep the alien as still as possible, moving only to re-pin the creature’s limbs. For a moment, nothing happened, then a small trickle of blood began running out of Crimson’s nose, and the Anthropod redoubled its efforts to throw him off. This continued for about 4 seconds, before the Anthropod fell still and didn’t move again.

Crimson opened his eyes and rolled off the dead alien; he lay on the ground for a while, simply catching his breath, before sitting up and wiping the blood from his nose. Looking down at his breastplate, he was shocked to see that there was almost nothing left of the red armour, only a web of half melted strands of plate surrounded by holes revealing his undamaged undershirt. Crimson laughed to himself as he unbuckled the plate and pulled it off.

“Typical X-Com, the armour’s just thick enough.” He smirked.

Turning to look at the foal, he was surprised to see that he hadn’t run, nor had he been watching the two aliens beat each other; instead the foal was staring at something else, quaking from head to hoof at the sight. Crimson followed the foal’s gaze and saw what looked like a native pony, only it was as tall as him, had a pair of wings and a long, pointed horn… and its fur and mane was literally ablaze.

Inwardly cursing his nature, Crimson darted forward to scoop up the terrified foal and retrieve his rifle; he struggled to reload the rifle one handed for a moment, before everything clicked into place and he again raised the heavy rifle to point at the newcomer. He would have, and probably should have recognised the newcomer as a native, and not out to kill him, had it not been for the aggressive appearance and terrified foal. The human locked eyes with the tall pony.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you are for that matter, but I know that you’re not going to lay a single finger on this kid without going through me; and I’d like to see you try.”


***


Celestia was astonished.

She had seen the foal running from the blue alien and came in to help, only to see that a new alien, this one covered in red metallic armour, pushing the foal behind it before charging the blue alien. The red alien and the blue alien had grappled for a moment, before the red one pushed the blue one under it and closed its eyes.

What happened next was terrifying and incredible. The red alien seemed to focus, and then magic began draining out of the air at an amazing rate; but it wasn’t being channeled anywhere it was simply being… suppressed. The blue alien sparked with millions of tiny bolts of magic that were channeled at the red alien, and the red one began to bleed from what looked like its nose. Undeterred, the red alien continued focusing, until the blue alien lost all of the magic suffusing its cranial area, and simply… died? Shut down?

The survivor then rolled off of the corpse of the other and lay still, panting heavily. It wiped its faces and examined its holed armour; it then laughed and pulled the plate off. Then it-

“Typical X-Com, armour’s just thick enough.”

It was an odd sight, seeing such a familiar language coming out of an alien mouth in a strange and unequestrian accent; but it was what it was.

Word. Perfect. Equish.

The alien then turned to look at the foal, concern written across its bizarrely familiar features. A frown appeared as it saw the quaking foal, and Celestia was sad to see that the foal was looking right at her. Not running at her, thinking that she was here to save him; but paralyzed in fear of her, it was like a mental slap to the face, such strong fear right in front of her. The alien followed the foal’s gaze to the Celestia’s blazing body. A look of hate crossed its face and it lunged for the foal, scooping it up in its arms and snagging the fallen rifle-like object on the ground.

Ignoring the heat of the metal object, the alien fiddled with it until several slots on it snapped shut with a sharp ‘click’ and pointed the open end at her. It was definitely a rifle.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you are for that matter, but I know that you’re not going to lay a single finger on this kid without going through me; and I’d like to see you try.”

The foal wriggled in the alien’s grasp and attempted to push himself deeper into the alien’s embrace. The rifle barrel didn’t waver. Was the alien trying to protect one of her little ponies? Were they at war with the blue aliens? Did they come alone?

That last question was obvious. No. There was an immense disc trailing smoke that lay at the end of an impact crater that put a halt to that line of investigation; as well as another, smaller ship made of a different material. These must be what brought the different aliens here, but from another dimension? Did they travel here or did somepony summon them? The large ship had crashed, but the smaller one had landed… did one chase the other? That seemed like the most likely answer.
Celestia stamped her hoof and snorted with frustration. So many questions!

“Easy there you prick; I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Now answer me and turn down the heat and I’ll lower my rifle, sound fair?” There it was again; perfect Equish in a totally foreign accent out of an alien’s mouth. Never in all of her many, many years had Celestia expected to see that.

She calmed herself down; maybe this standoff was just a misunderstanding. As her thoughts cooled, so did the flames writhing around Celestia’s body; the alien saw this and relaxed a little, but kept the rifle pointed at her. Steadying herself mentally, Celestia had her first conversation with an alien.

“I think we both want the same thing, alien; I am Princess Celestia, and that is one of my subjects. I mean him no harm; I only feared that you meant him harm.”


***


‘Her voice is so soothing’ was the first thought that came to Crimson’s mind as he held the alien child to his chest. He lowered his rifle slowly before dropping it completely; taking the foal in both hands, he slowly turned him around until he could see Celestia. Celestia had cooled completely, no longer wreathed in fire, her coat had returned to its usual white colour, and her mane and tail had reverted back to their usual colourful state. The foal’s eyes were tightly scrunched shut. Seeing this, Crimson leaned forward and whispered in the foal’s ear. “She says that she’s your Princess, open your eyes and see.”

The foal did so and immediately brightened; seeing a familiar face in Princess Celestia. Crimson relaxed, she was telling the truth; oddly enough, the foal made no move to escape his arms. He suddenly felt very nervous. Was he about to begin speaking with the native’s leader? He wasn’t ready for that! Nor was he trained! This would go down in history as the conversation that started… whatever was to come! What did he do? What should he-

“I can sense you fear, do no harm to me and my subjects and I shall do no harm to you.”

‘Still so soothing’ Crimson laughed nervously.

“It’s not you I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of fucking up and ruining Humanity’s image. I- oh dear.”

‘Well that's a great start.’ he’d just cussed right in front of  their Princess! Was that an executable offense or something-wait, ‘sense my fear’? Crimson narrowed his eyes and focused again, locking out the area immediately around him from psionic powers. Distracted and calmed by maintaining the small null-field; he spoke again.

“My name is Rook O’Nayl, I am a Human from a planet called Earth. I came here with 14 others from another dimension, chasing the last of an alien race that wiped almost all of us out. We came here to stop these aliens from doing the same to you; and we will stop at nothing to protect you.” He had meant to stop at his name, race and home planet but the rest had kind of… slipped out.

Celestia’s face remained neutral. “’Chasing the last of’? Sounds like you wish to exterminate these others after they attempted to do the same to you. Why? What would you gain?”

Rook’s face hardened. “What would we gain? Closure. Assurance that the Micronoids wouldn’t be able to try again. Vengance." The last word came out as little more than a hiss.

“Micronoids?”

“Microscopic sized  creatures capable of powerful psionic influence in large colonies that enslave other races and take over their planets. Or something, ask Dr Bezial.”

“Is he one of the ones that came with you?”

“No he’s-wait, stop that! Bloody word art… Look just… come and meet Xander, he’s probably the best one to talk to. Him or Fitzpatrick.”


***


“Mkoll we have a-“

Oh hey Xander, I think Crimson just foisted off the native’s Princess onto you.”

“What!? Well that’s bad enough and the final piece of wreckage in the town in a cargo-pod full of Brainsucker Pods. But I may have hatched them all with my psionic probing.”

“What!?”

The radio crackles to life between the two.

“I’ll guess that was you that took care of that Anthro, commander. The second piece is clear, do you want us to sweep the third piece?”

Xander cursed and scrabbled for the radio on his frame. “Everything just happens at once-Yes hello AJ. Also. For the love of God don’t go to the third piece of wreckage!”

A confused voice seeps from the hissing radio. “Uh, okay? Don’t go; gotcha… may I ask why?”

“No-Just” a groan of frustration escaped Xander’s lips “It’s full of Brainsuckers! And I mean full to the brim!”

A pair of boots started up the Skyranger’s ramp. “Commander, there’s someone you need to meet!”

Xander turned to look at the seated Mkoll with a pleading look on his face. “Help.”

Mkoll’s answer was to push Xander out of the cockpit and into the troop bay followed by a jovial “Don’t forget to bow!”

> Alien Annihilation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t forget to bow!”

As Xander was pushed out of the cockpit and into the troop bay of the Skyranger, he was confronted by a bruised Crimson with a missing breastplate, and a majestic white figure. With Mkoll’s words ringing in his ears, he attempted a short bow; before his exoskeleton harness locked with a crunch of metal. Before he could make any apologies, a voice, cut through with whispers of power, spoke out.

“Greetings Human, your friend directed me to speak to you with regards to what is going on here; and I for one would like to exactly what is going on here.”

Xander straightened and gave a quick salute. “I can understand why that would be an important detail. In short, my team and I deployed here to chase down that UFO that crashed in the fields over yonder.” He explained, gesturing vaguely toward the smoking wreck on the horizon. He then strode past the pair and down the ramp; taking a deep breath and tasting the chill and ash on the wind, he continued.

“I am Commander Otto Xander, the man standing next to you is Corporal Rook O’Nayl, and the man in the cockpit behind me is Lieutenant Roderick Mkoll; so, with our introductions complete, mind if I ask who you are?”

The figure spread her wings as she stepped down the ramp after him, before inclining her head in a shallow bow before replying.

“I am Princess Celestia Solari, Alicorn of the Sun and Diarch of Equestria. The town we currently stand in is Harvest, in the Gold Valley province.”

“I see, it’s an honour to meet you, and I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me for a moment, this really isn’t the time for a pleasant chat, there are still more aliens around; as well as a problematic situation with the chunk of wreckage over to the North.” Xander sighed and turned to Crimson, still standing at the top of the ramp. “Would you be so kind as to reel in your null-field?”

“Yes sir, already done. Sod’s law at work isn’t it? What with the whole suddenly Princess and suddenly… whatever’s in that cargo pod.”

“Sod’s law indeed Crimson; that pod is full to the brim with Brainsuckers.” The colour drained from Crimson’s face as Xander spoke. “Fortunately, there don’t seem to be any large rents in the hull that they can escape from; AJ has formed a cordon around it and is watching for any of the little orange buggers.” Xander reassured him. With a glance over Xander’s shoulder to the patiently waiting Celestia, Crimson nodded and headed off toward the outskirts of Harvest.

“I’m not much use on patrol without any armour; I’ll go join that cordon. Keep me updated will you? I know how forgetful you get Commander, especially considering I’m a Private.”

Xander paled a little. “You are? Well, consider it a promotion. Keep up the good work; tell no one or I’ll tell Jester to give you a high-five.”

Xander turned back to Celestia and gestured toward a nearby shop.

“Shall we talk inside?”


***


Celestia was intrigued. Xander had introduced himself as their Commander, but seemed to maintain a comfortable level of informality with his troops. Even so, there was a certain air about the Human; one that hinted at age, experience and sheer mental determination.  Her student had once remarked upon a similar air that Celestia carried, and she wondered if Xander was thinking something along the same lines. The Human’s face was very expressive, almost like a flattened version of one of her pony’s faces; even so, the lined face was surprisingly difficult to read, and his body language offered no hint; the metallic frame holding his body as steady as a rock.

“So, Xander, I need to know just what you plan on doing, and what you’ve done so far.” She thought it best to be direct and straight to the point, none of the pointless verbal dancing that some nobles were oh-so-fond of. Xander seemed to share similar sentiments, and there was a general relaxing of his face.

“Well, when we landed, that big pile of rubble over there had just collapsed and some Micronoid aliens were shooting all of the civilians. Our arrival spooked them a little, and most of the… ponies managed to get away and to safety. We swiftly manoeuvred to cut down the aliens and did so; in the meantime one of my men made contact with one of the locals, one ‘Fallow Fields’. With the area cleared I instructed my man and your pony to go and see if they can round up any survivors so we can get them to safer places.”

Celestia nodded. “I see, when you say safer places you mean…”

Xander frowned. “This may be a bit awkward to explain, but at the moment, there still a few Anthropods and Skeletoids running and these buildings provide next-to-no cover from their weaponry. So we’re taking them aboard the either aboard the Skyranger, or into the building behind it, seeing as the Skyranger has enough armour for more than a few hits.”

“I am grateful to you but still not entirely trustful Xander, if you attempt to harm my little ponies in any way, I will destroy you. Know that I will be watching you very closely, and that not much escapes the eye of someone who has lived for as long as I have.” Celestia glared at Xander; she felt as if she could, and probably should trust him, but to let her guard down would be foolish, and would invite destruction. To his credit, Xander took the threat in his stride.

“I can definitely see your point, I give you my assurances that no harm shall come to them, for what little my word is worth to you… I need to go check on the situation at the pod, care to join me? We can probably find a few more hiding ponies along the way.”

Celestia smiled and gestured for Xander to lead the way; the Human was confident and refused to crack under pressure. He reminded her of herself, many, many years ago. With a sound like the soft tinkling of wind chimes, Celestia’s horn lit up and swept away the rubble and wreckage littering the marketplace, sweeping it all into a pile in the centre.

Xander took a step back, shocked. “What the hell? What was that?”

“It’s magic, Xander; I would have thought one as accomplished in the magical arts as you are would be able to recognize it.”

“You mean my psionics? That’s not magic, that’s just natural selection. Magic is a myth… on Earth at least.” Xander growled. “We need to go, but we’ll talk about this later.”


***


The cargo pod lay in the crushed ruins of a small house. The house looked like it had once been quite impressive, made of wood and furnished with pillars of polished marble; but it had been reduced to splinters and rock shards by the alien pod as it dug its way into the town, leaving a trail of upturned dirt and demolished buildings behind it. Hoofprints in the snow around the pod indicated that some of the local ponies had plucked up the courage to move close, before presumably being scared off by the sounds of battle coming from the town centre. 

With her bionic eye whirring, AJ studied the pod. It was made of the same unidentifiable compound of metal and flesh that all of the alien’s tech was made of, and was radiating surprising amounts of heat; the packed Brainsuckers inside moving and wriggling generating immense amounts of it.

After Xander’s radio message, he had gone completely silent. Deciding to take the initiative, AJ took Fitzpatrick, Kerlav and Jones to form a cordon around the pod; intending to stop any curious natives or escaping Brainsuckers. Kronsky had joined them shortly after, as had Ryan and Brad. Brad had joined the cordon and was watching the pod intently, eyes peeled for any sign of movement; while Kronsky took Ryan up and onto one of the nearby roofs. After a few failed attempts at staying stable on the sloped roofs of the houses, Ryan had instead opted to commandeer the top floor of a house overlooking the pod, with Kronsky jumping from roof to roof with his machine gun following his gaze as he scanned the network of streets and alleys for movement.

She hadn’t yet told anyone, but AJ had already crisped a few of the orange, headhugging bastards. There was a small tear in the hull on the top right-hand corner of the side that AJ was facing; the computers of her eye had instantly recognized the creatures and targeted them with a small crosshair; all AJ had to do was follow the crosshair with her laser rifle and let it rip; the near silent weapon incinerating the little beasts with no problem. She was glad that this particular ‘investigation’ had reached the ‘lull point’. The point where a mission stopped being a frantic sweep and clear, and became a calmer waiting game, locking down all exits and simply waiting for the aliens to try to make a break for it.

Lull points were also the most dangerous part of a mission; once everyone had calmed and relaxed, fingers resting off the triggers and weapons hanging low, then that last Popper appears out of a closet, charges at the squad as a little blue thunderbolt, and then detonating like one. AJ shuddered, hand moving to brush the hard outline of her bionic eye; she had been spared a horrible death by a mere centimetre. They had stopped wearing helmets after that, had she been helmetless, she not only would have seen the blue bugger coming, but the resulting detonation would have simply thrown her to the ground, bruised but no worse for wear. Instead, her helmet had buckled, the eyepieces shattered, and her right eye was torn apart in a storm of glass shards and metal fragments. Drawn from her recollections by a mechanical voice over the radio, AJ started.

“AJ, there’s another hole on the East facing side of the pod; a Brainsucker has just made a run for it.”

AJ raised a hand to her headset and transmitted a reply.

“Copy that, who got it?”

“No one, it’s hiding in a small crook between some pieces of rubble. Want me to get it?”

AJ considered this, on one hand; it was the safest and quickest way to eliminate the threat. On the other hand; the report of Ryan’s rifle could probably be heard from the main crash site of the UFO, and that would set everyone on edge. She weighed the options, and made a decision.

“Do it, ah’d rather it died now rather than get away and cause trouble later.”

“Copy.”

A pause.

*Crack!*

The rifle fired for the fourth time that day with its usual deafening report. The large slug turned the small Brainsucker into paste and shattered the blocks of rubble it was hiding behind into mounds of rock dust. Before the last echo of the rifle’s report had been carried off by the breeze, the radio had exploded into life and started bellowing various orders and questions.

“-yone gonna’ answer me?”

“-an someone confirm that sho-“

“Did someone get a confirmed sighti-“

“All clear from up here, what just happened?”

“This is Ryan, target sighted and eliminated, no need to double check; keep your eyes on the pod, there may be more escapees.”

Ryan’s voice silenced the chatter over the radio and calmed the immediate situation, turning minds back to the pod they were supposed to be watching over. Returning his eye to his scope, Ryan scanned over the pod and examined the second tear in the hull. What little he could see of the inside of the pod was obscured by darkness; there was occasional hint of movement, a black shadow against the black background. Confident that AJ had gotten someone to watch that hole-he checked and, just as he thought, the tall MegaPol officer, Kerlav, was watching the hole intently, lawpistol primed and in his hand-Ryan shifted his gaze to the nearby houses that he could see.

After his first quick scan of the windows, Ryan quickly re-oriented on one particular window, alerted by a flash of orange. He remained like this, motionless, for a full minute before daring to quickly sweep the other windows of the house before returning to the first window. After another minute, he saw a brown shape appear in the corner of the window and slowly rise up; training his crosshairs on the shape, Ryan watched as it was raised higher and higher, the rounded shape flattening out into a brim and eventually revealing a pair of green eyes fringed with orange fur and blonde hair. Ryan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and pulled his head away from the scope to observe the window from afar.

The pony stared right back at him; he commended its eyesight, it could clearly see him if the wide eyes and slight quivering were any indication of fear, and Ryan was back from the window, resting the very tip of his rifle’s barrel on the windowsill.  Raising a black-gloved hand, he gave a little wave and smiled at the pony; still shaking, the pony waved a hoof in return. Letting out a few more emotionless ‘har’s, Ryan returned to the scope, scanning constantly.


***


“I mean it! Stay back foul demon, lest thy monstrous forms become but mere dust in the face of my light!”

“Pastor Funkeln they’re here to help! I swear it, just put the sun-icon down and extinguish your horn!”

The crazed unicorn shook his grey maned head. “Neigh! Not you too Fallow! You were always so pious! But fear not my brother, for I shall cleanse thee of the demons in thy head with holy Celestia’s purifying light!”

Jester shook her head in disbelief as she and Sterling cowered outside the shop, backs pressed against the storefront. “This is bloody insane; maybe we should just stun the nutter.”

Sterling slung his shotgun over his shoulder and drew the stun launcher at his belt. “Maybe, but I doubt their leaders would be happy if the first thing we did was attack one of their subjects with a taser.”

Jester sucked on her teeth. “True, true; but this guy’s about 30 seconds away from trying to perform an exorcism on poor Fallow.”

One of the mares behind Funkeln stood up over the counter and added her voice to the argument.

“Can you not see Funkeln? These aliens were helping us, and they killed all the aliens that attacked us in the first place!”
The unicorn, Funkeln, whirled around to face the mare.

“Their evil magicks have clouded your minds and obscured your vision! Only I can see them for what they truly are! They are demons! Agents of Chaos! Followers of The Discordant Master! They must be driven out lest their madness spread across the land!” Funkeln lowered his horn at the mare and growled menacingly.

“And those that defend them are already lost.” He hissed. His horn began to glow with the beginnings of a simple light spell, when he was tackled from behind by Fallow. Funkeln roared and attempted to buck him off, but Fallow held fast and clamped his forelegs around the unicorn’s horn, blocking the flow of magic.

Avaunt thee foul creature! Celestia’s might shall smite thee from the face of Equestria and back to the pits of Tartarus from whence you came! Behold! For Our lady of the Light has arrived! Free me, Princess, and I shall prove my worth! For I am sworn ever to your service when at peace and when at war!”

Fallow struggled to maintain a hold on the wriggling unicorn as he craned his neck over his shoulder to see what had drawn the crazed unicorn’s eye. His mouth dropped open as he saw Princess Celestia, in full regalia with her wings outstretched to their full breadth, standing in the doorway; flanked by Jester and Sterling, with the figure of Xander hobbling along behind them.

“P-princess Celestia! T-this isn’t what he says! He’s… damaged.” Fallow stuttered.

Celestia looked upon the scene, taking in the cloth bandages that had been wrapped around the incensed unicorn’s head; the scorch marks that lined the walls and ringed his horn. The crowd of mares and stallions pressed into the corner, trying to get some distance between them and the injured Pastor.

The concussed pony wasn't capable of much, but was panicked and jumping at non-existant shadows; not wanting to risk somepony getting hurt, she stepped gracefully into the room on long legs, she reached out and pressed a hoof to Fallow’s forehead and closed her eyes. Seeking to appease the madpony, she spoke.

“Fallow Fields the demons in your mind have been cleansed and you are pure, without taint.”

Catching on, Fallow slid off Funkeln’s back and sank to the floor in a flood of crocodile tears.

“Oh thank You you came! The creature got me during the initial battle, and I’ve been a prisoner in my own mind ever since!”

Pastor Funkeln scrambled to his hooves and bowed deeply before Celestia. “My Princess I knew you would hear my prayers and arrive to deliver us from the chaos that has descended upon Harvest! I-“

Celestia cut him off by putting a golden-clad hoof in his mouth. Leaning in, she whispered: “Your duty is done my little pony, you may rest now.” The air tingled with static as Celestia enforced her Will.

“Neigh my… Princess… there is still so… so… so… much to… do…” Funkeln slumped and his head almost hit the wooden floor before its descent was slowed in the gentle cradle of Celestia’s magic.

Fallow stood back up and looked down at the sleeping form of Pastor Funkeln. With no more than a remorseful whinny, he made his way over to the group of ponies in the corner. Celestia felt a hand on her shoulder; turning to face the human, she was greeted by the smiling face of Jester, who offered out her bionic hand to shake. Celestia peered at the hand for a moment, then recognized the gesture and shook it.

Jester’s smile grew. “Hi ma’am, I’m Atlanta Collins, but everyone calls me Jester, thanks for the help there, we were about to try… rougher solutions-not killing! No no, we were going to stun him.”

Xander caught up with Celestia and panted out an introduction.

“Hey Jester, *huff* this is the pony *huff* Princess, *huff* Celestia, Jester; Jester, Celestia. *huff* I-whew- I’m too damn old for this. Excuse me.” Xander turned and put a hand on his chest while he regained his breath. Sterling moved up behind Jester and performed a quick salute.

“Pleasure to meet you Princess, I’m Sergeant Dan Sterling.” Celestia only nodded in response, growing tired of the constant stream of introductions.

The group of ponies in the back of the shop had calmed down and were beginning to file out of the shop. All seemed well until a deafening sound split the air.

*Crack!*

The group of ponies reared and scattered, some running back into the shop, others diving under stalls as the Humans dived behind various pieces of cover.

“AJ! AJ respond dammit! Ryan? Ryan! Is anyone gonna’ answer me?” Xander swore under his breath and closed his eyes, going bodiless and heading for the cargo pod. Celestia took several steps back as the immense magical wave passed over her head and started sweeping between buildings and down alleys. She turned to Jester.

“What is he doing?”

Jester moved next to Xander and pushed on his frame. Xander rocked on his feet and didn’t react to her prodding; nodding, she turned to Celestia. “He’s a powerful psionic, he’s ‘gone bodiless’ as we call it. He basically shuts off his brain to his body and directs all thought to his psionics; allowing him to search areas with just his mind.” Jester leaned forward and continued in a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s probably the most powerful psionic ever, the only person I know that could beat him in a one-on-one fight is Crimson, ‘cause he can just shut down his psionics.”

Celestia mumbled a confirmation, turning facts over in her head. Xander had denied all knowledge of his magical prowess; was he lying all this time? Was he trying to keep his assets from Celestia? But Jester called Xander a powerful psionic, as had Xander himself; was that a Human version of magic? Xander had spoken to Crimson about a ‘null-field’, and Jester said that he could shut down psionics; but from Celestia’s point of view, Crimson could drain or suppress all of the magic in his immediate area. That was how he had dealt with the alien in front of her when she landed. Celestia let out a small grunt of irritation, so many questions and so much to confirm and disprove! This was something much better suited to her student; she would love an opportunity to find out about these Humans. Maybe if Celestia sent a letter asking her to-no; that would be cruel, Twilight had enough to deal with already, what with her friendship studies and-

Wait, what was in the last letter she sent? Celestia wracked her brain and tried to conjure up the image of the brown scrolls that Twilight was so fond of, sorting through the many that she had been sent, Celestia managed to call to mind the latest scroll sent.

Everything is business as usual in Ponyville at the moment, I’m sorry I don’t have a friendship report for you this time, but I felt I should warn you of possible reports coming from my friends. Pinkie is… being Pinkie and doing something bizarre with Rainbow Dash, something about the Everfree forest and the pranks they could pull with Poison Joke (I’m trusting nothing blue for the next week) Rarity is off to Manehatten to attend a major fashion show. Fluttershy isn’t doing anything much, but we’ll find something to get up to I’m sure.
Oh! I almost forgot, Applejack is going to deliver this month’s apple quota to Harvest instead of Big Mac, she said that there was a stallion there she wanted to see there, and that it would be good to have a little break; the farm would be fine as long as Big Mac’s around to keep up the daily chores. She’ll be back by Wednesday.
That’s all for now.
Your Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle

Applejack was somewhere in Harvest.

*What’s going on Ryan?*

Ryan, still watching the still town from his vantage point above the pod, jumped and turned to face the voice out of nowhere. Finding nothing, he fixated on a random point on the wall and spoke.

“Geeze Commander use the radio next time, I jumped a foot in the air!”

*Sorry, your shot spooked all the locals, and I need to know what’s going on.* The psionic thoughts had no inflections or emotions, but Ryan imagined Xander sounded impatient and irked.

“Taking care of a little Brainsucker escapee, sir; the situation’s handled.” Ryan replied, suitably admonished.

Xander mentally sagged with relief. *Good, I’m really not ready to deal with that pod opening, keep me posted.*

“Will-do Commander.”

Xander reeled his mind back in time to hear AJ’s voice come over the radio.

“Sorry ‘bout that sir, Brainsucker almost got away, Ryan had ta’ take him.” AJ’s voice came through faintly, as though she was a continent away, and the signal was cut through with static.

Xander reached for his radio on instinct and had sent a confirmation without even thinking about it; his mind was elsewhere, but not in a literal sense. He was coming to a conclusion about the radio interference. Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face and he turned to look at Jester.

Jester leaned back. “That’s an evil grin there sir, what’cha got?”

Grin never leaving his face, Xander spoke loudly and rapidly. “Jester! Pop quiz 1-2-3-go! List the main tells of an open interdimensional gate or breach.”

“Heat haze, feeling of vertigo or nausea, electronic devices overloading and malfunctioning and a wash of static across all major, and most minor, radio waves.” Jester replied instantly.

“’A wash of static across all major, and most minor, radio waves.’” Xander repeated excitedly, “Isn’t it obvious! The static! There’s still an inter-dimensional breach somewhere that we could force open and get some reinforcements through!” Xander whirled about on his heels and started striding toward the open Skyranger. “Mkoll! Get on the horn to the MacArthur and punch through this static. I want you to send them a message! ‘We need a rumble cannon and AFV.’ Send it! Also, see if you can send the audio and visual logs of the mission so far, Bezial would love to get some pictures of the locals.”

As the suddenly upbeat and sprightly man clomped heavily away in his exoskeleton, Celestia turned to Jester and raised an eyebrow. Jester, who was on her hands and knees encouraging a Pegasus out from underneath a market stall, she smirked and answered the Princess’ unspoken question.

“And that’s why he’s Otto ‘Mind-Like-A-Goldfish Xander.”


***


“We just don’t have the vehicle for it sir, and even if we did, Dr Bezial’s dimension gate projector was never tested, we never had to.”

Captain Blaine ran his fingers through his short black hair. Pacing from one end of the bridge to another, he racked his brain for something, anything that they could do to get Xander a rumble cannon.

He stopped pacing. “What about the civilians? Some of them brought vehicles with them.”

Midshipman Crowley looked his Captain dead in the eye. “Oh sure Captain, let’s ask the civilians if they have an Armoured Fighting Vehicle and then see if we can borrow it and stick a sound gun on top.”

Blain glared at the man. “Stow that attitude Crowley, it’s helping nothing.”

“Captain, Dr Bezial sends his thanks on behalf of the science team for forwarding the mission data.” The comms officer reported.

“He’s very welcome.” Aiming his next question at the entirety of the bridge crew, he asked: “Does anyone have an idea? I don’t care how daft or improbable, just tell me.”

An awkward silence filled the bridge until a junior ensign spoke up. “Well Captain, let’s assume that Bezial’s device is going to work perfectly; we could mount a rumble cannon in the back of an Airtrans. We’d have to put in some beefy power generators, and it would have to land before firing, but I think it would be doable.”

Blaine nodded, deep in thought. “Maybe, what’s your name ensign?”

The ensign clicked his heels and snapped a salute. “Lovell, Captain.”

Blaine strode towards Lovell and spoke in a tone that the rest of the bridge had to strain to hear. “Well then Mister Lovell, go down to the hangar and see if there are any Airtrans’ about.”

“Aye aye sir.”

The comms officer stood and called out another message. “Captain, we've got a disturbance in the main arterial between here and cargo three!”

Blaine frowned, ‘now is not the time for such problems!’ He thought, angrily. Outwardly, he sighed.
“Put it on the viewscreen, comms.”

The man sat back down at his console and tapped a few commands in; moments later, surveillance camera footage of ‘Art B-CIII’ appeared on the large screen at the fore of the bridge. The footage showed a number of people and tents being shoved and shunted around as a group of marines and a young man in the red cloak of a Librarian escorted…

Escorted a Griffin AFV down the arterial towards the bridge.

“What kind of dumb luck is this? And since when did the Guild of Librarians have a tank?”

Blaine’s voice was incredulous. The bridge crew peered at the grainy footage and Midshipman Crowley made an accurate observation.

“Look closer Captain, it doesn’t have a turret, and the troop bay looks modified.”

The longer Captain Blaine looked at the live feed, the more obvious these differences became. The AFV looked oddly stocky without a turret, but there were milled rings and a modified hatch to cover where the turret would go; and the troop bay looked like it had been enlarged, slight differences in height and material betraying the subtle enlargement.

As the AFV moved down the arterial, it crushed an abandoned tent beneath its treads; moments after this, a large man in reflective clothing confronted the Librarian, his gestures and posture making his anger clear to Blaine and the bridge crew, who had to go without sound.

The man, presumably the owner of the crushed tent, was shouting at the stead-faced Librarian, who regarded the man with expressionless eyes until he was shoved backwards into the still-moving AFV.

His young face suddenly twisted with anger, the Librarian got back up before the treads of the AFV rolled over him and thumped twice on its hull. The AFV immediately halted, and the Librarian waved off the marines as he confronted the angered man. In a single swift movement, the Librarian swept away the cloak covering his right side and raised his arm, palm open toward the man. There was a device strapped to the Librarian’s arm, with wires trailing down to something in his palm; a moment of the angered man staring at the Librarian’s palm, before he was picked up and flung off his feet and into the crowd of people behind him by an invisible wave of force.

The crowd dragged the unconscious man away, and redoubled their efforts to get their possessions and bodies out of the way of the AFV and Librarian. Another pair of thumps on the AFV’s hull and it started rolling again. The driver must have said something to the Librarian as he threw his head back in laughter, slowly marching toward the bridge.

Blaine walked over to the comms console and flicked a series of switches; the footage disappeared from the screen and was replaced with the exterior view of volcanic plains and dust of the alien world.

“I’m going to go meet them halfway, XO Mathuin, you have the deck.”


***


*If they just paid attention to what’s going on not 30 metres away then we could just roll on down here with ease.*

The blunt psi-speak was shunted into Kadzie’s mind with the delicacy of a drunken knife-man and he winced at the sudden and sharp headache it caused. He focused his thoughts in such a way that they could be read by Murray in the Data Engine.
*Yeah, but these people are confused enough as it is. That and I think they’re used to the clanking of tracks down the city streets at night.*

*-laugh- Yeah I suppose. Oh, a quick heads up, Captain Blaine is making his way through the crowd. He’s about… 20 feet or so from you.*

Kadzie looked up and scanned the sea of faces; seeing a multitude of colours and races, even spying the solid black insectoid eyes of a Hybrid. Kadzie had never met Captain Blaine personally, but had seen photographs and holo-stills of the man, and could easily pick his face out from the crowd. Blaine didn’t look angry or irritated that they were causing this entire ruckus, in fact, he looked surprised and happy. Kadzie made the same two thump signal on the hull of the Data Engine and Murray put the brakes on and drifted to a halt.

Stepping forward and unconsciously pulling his cloak tighter to himself, Kadzie stepped forward to meet the Captain. The throng of people between the two of them suddenly opened up and Blaine closed the distance. Holding out his left hand, Kadzie introduced himself.

“Greetings Captain Blaine, I’m Librarian Kadzie, it’s an honour to meet you.”

Blaine looked at Kadzie’s preferred hand with a look of confusion. “Charmed I’m sure; let’s skip the pleasantries shall we? One Commander Xander just sent a request for a rumble cannon equipped AFV not five minutes ago, and this is just too coincidental an encounter. Care to explain?”

A sly grin appeared on the Librarian’s face. “Well Captain, Scholar Murray and I were browsing through your cargo manifests-“

“Which are classified…” Blaine interjected; Kadzie carried on, overlooking the Captain’s interruption.

“-and saw that you had a rumble cannon in cargo three, so I decided to come up and see about taking it and offering my assistance to Commander Xander. I then managed to overhear Xander’s message to you-“

“Which was encrypted…” Kadzie stared at the Captain as if he were looking at a child asking a foolish question: with incredulous contempt.

“Captain Blaine we are the Guild of Librarians, your computers and minds are like books on a shelf to us: Displayed proudly for all the world to see.” The smile reappeared on his face; “so after listening to the Commander’s request, I decided to snag the first group of marines I could find wandering around, and request an escort to the bridge.” Kadzie revealed the device strapped to his right arm once more.

“They refused at first, but a swift demonstration of the power of a Librarian’s Word was enough to persuade them.”

Blaine studied the device displayed in front of him. A small wire trailed from the tangle of plastic and metal that encased the Librarian’s forearm to something secreted away underneath the rust-red cloak; presumably some kind of power feed. The device was connected to what looked like a small speaker in Kadzie’s palm; on the main body of the device was a small array of knobs and dials set flush into the plastic. Looking back to the Librarian’s face, he saw that Kadzie was smirking, looking Blaine in the eye with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s basically a tiny rumble cannon.”

“I see… since when did the Guild of Librarians have a tank and access to sonic weaponry?”

“You’ve forgotten the sword at my hip, but we’ve had ‘access’ to such things since our founding in 2038. During the second alien war we were the ones that cleaned up what X-COM couldn’t. We got paid in money, respect, favours and military prototypes. All long before my time, but this is what it distilled into.” Kadzie explained, indicating the tank and ‘Word Cannon’.

“Very impressive.” Blaine commented dryly.

“Ah, I’ve started running my mouth haven’t I? I do that, sorry. Well then, shall we find Dr Bezial and his dimension gate?”

“Don’t you need the cannon?” Blaine sighed as he saw what was being dragged behind the AFV; the Librarian was always several steps ahead of him.

Another madman’s grin from Kadzie. “Yeah we’ve already got that, we’ll plug it all in on site.”

Blaine nodded. “Very well, we’ll take it from here Librarian-you man! Get in that AFV and drive it to Dr Bezial’s lab in cargo two!”

Kadzie frowned and stopped the approaching marine with his off-hand. “I’m afraid that won’t be happening Captain. You see, this Data Engine,” he rapped a knuckle against the AFV, “is a modified Griffin AFV. Instead of a troop bay it has a large collection of databanks and computers. It is literally the most valuable thing on this ship.”

Blaine wasn’t so easily convinced. “Oh really, it cost more than 190,000,000 dollars? I find that hard to believe…”

“Not material value Captain, the databanks hold the entire collective knowledge and history of the Human race, and the entire Guild of Librarians died in an effort to get it on this ship. Murray and I are the last, and we will not be putting this beacon of knowledge in the hands of a soldier who will view it as little more than a tool to be discarded after use.” Kadzie’s eyes were hard and his tone was final. “This is not something to be argued Captain.” The Librarian’s eyes softened and the grin reappeared on his face. “So lead the way!”


***


“So let me see if I have this straight…”

Jester had been explaining the situation to Celestia to the best of her abilities, and while she may not have had a way with words like Dr Bezial and the science team did, she felt that she would be able to give a useful opinion. The honest opinion of a ground-pounder was worth so much more than any well-worded account that someone with a PhD put together.

“So, Brainsuckers are small, orange aliens that typically appear in an unhatched state, in pods. These pods are then either fired out of a launcher, or left in inconspicuous locations as booby-traps; these pods will ‘hatch’ upon sensing the psionic presence of a Human.” Celestia dictated, looking to Jester for confirmation. Seeing a reassuring nod, she continued.

“Brainsuckers attack by leaping upon the head of a Human and forcing a long proboscis down the unfortunate victim’s throat, the Brainsucker then discharges its payload of Micronoids-the microscopic psionic leaders of these aliens-into the victim; these Micronoids then subvert control of the host’s body over to them and have a brand new infiltrator or foot-soldier with which they may wreak havoc.”

Jester nodded grimly. “So now you can see why we’re worried about the fact that there could be in excess of a hundred of the little bastards in that pod, even if you gloss over the facts that we have no helmets-not that they protected us much when we did have them- there’s still hundreds of ponies running around with no knowledge of what they are or how to deal with them. Plus, taking into account your description of their natural… magic, I don’t want flying, weather manipulating aliens, nor do I want strong, resilient aliens; and I most definitely don’t want aliens throwing bolts of… magical energy at us.”

Celestia turned to get a good look at the pod that was causing so much trouble, it didn’t look much by itself, of course not, it was little more than a very large box; but the payload…

“Why not simply incinerate them? I have the power of the sun at my command; I very much doubt that they could withstand that.”

Jester gave Celestia a sideways glance. “And could we? More to the point, you’d be surprised how tanky these little buggers get when they’re all packed together like this. By the time you’ve burnt the first, second and third waves, the fourth, fifth and sixth are bearing down on you.” She made a gesture toward the pod with her bionic arm.

“Every time you think you have them figured out, they go and do something else.”

Xander hadn’t returned after hurrying to the Skyranger shouting about AFVs and rumble cannons, curious, Celestia decided to direct the question at Jester.

“What is Xander planning to do to deal with them? What’s a rumble cannon?”

“I’m really not the person to ask on that particular topic, but the general idea of a rumble cannon is a directed wave of sonic energy. You can adjust the frequencies to shake apart buildings, shred vehicles or pulp flesh; it’s terrifyingly versatile, and very power hungry, you need at least a tank to mount it on.” Jester looked over to the silent Skyranger. “And I’d assume that Xander’s plan involves using that to pulp all the Brainsuckers while they’re still in that pod, it should get them all at once, then we can crack it open and incinerate the remains. With that many Brainsuckers, there will be enough Micronoids to cause trouble even without a host, so we’ll keep Crimson about to deal with that.”

Celestia was impressed and slightly scared. What kind of past did a race need to create such horrific weapons? And what kind of horrors had Jester faced to remark upon such destructive capability so… off-handedly? Celestia was getting frustrated, even more questions for her to ask! She cut off her internal monologue as she saw another Human approaching, this one had a pair of red wraparound shades on his face, as well as a torn, damp suit covered with a coat of rubble-dust. As he a approached, he removed his shades to reveal a pair of warm brown eyes.

The brown-eyed Human approached and held out his hand to shake. Upon closer inspection, Celestia could see that this Human was not suited to such exertions, if the dark rings under his eyes were any tell. He also lacked the myriad of scars and disfigurements that all of the other Humans Celestia had met so far owned, and his eyes betrayed a different kind of weariness. This was not a Human that had been fighting as much as  one such as Jester had.

“Greetings.” The  Human took Celestia’s proffered hoof and shook it before inclining his head in a bow. “I’m David Fitzpatrick, and I’m probably the one you’ll want to talk to after this mess has been sorted; if what Crimson’s told me has any meaning, you and I were once in very similar positions.”

Celestia humoured the man. “Oh really? How so?”

A flicker of a frown crossed David’s face before he could stop it, and he spoke with a tone that spoke of great regret. “I am President Fitzpatrick of Mega-Primus, although I prefer to go by Ex-President now, considering there is no Mega-Primus. We’re in a similar position because Mega-Primus was the last bastion of Humanity, and I was its leader.”

So many of these Humans had scarred pasts and many regrets; Xander had had the look of a Commander, fearful for those under him. Jester’s lack of concern about their weaponry and situation betrayed her denial; Crimson was near insanity, acting with little concern for his own safety; and now Fitzpatrick, a leader who believed that he had lost all and failed his subjects. Yes, Celestia could relate to poor Fitzpatrick, she had felt the same a thousand years ago, as her sister turned to the darkness and betrayed them all.

Deciding to forgo more introductions, Celestia tried to get a feel for the general emotions around her, from the Humans nearby. One Human felt elated, having gotten over a crippling fear and been able to join his fellows in battle; looking over, Celestia saw a Human in blue with a patch in the shape of wings sewn onto his shoulder, standing next to another Human in similar attire, minus the patch. This second Human felt nervous, but gave away no signs of past scarring.

A calm sense of serenity came from a Human in a house not far away, but the calm was marred with a hint of emphatic sorrow. Celestia could not see the Human in question, but assumed that it was the aforementioned Ryan, with the rifle that fired like thunder. Celestia wanted to continue her scanning, but her attention was stolen away by a commotion in a house down the street. The sounds of splintering wood and shattering glass filled the air, along with the sound of hooves on wood, and an animalistic snarl oozed out of the house. A thickly accented voice filtered out between the crashing and growling.

“An’ that’s why ya’ don’t mess with the Apple family!”

There was a wet sound of hooves into flesh and the blue shape of an Anthropod was flung out of the window with great force; before the creature had even hit the road, an orange Earth Pony had leapt out of the window after it, hat flying off in the process.

Applejack landed with a *thump* and nearly slipped on the icy dirt road. Managing to keep her hooves planted firmly on the ground, she stepped up to the creature and began trussing it up with a length of rope. Deft hooves tying knots and wrapping the Anthropod tightly, preventing any and all escape attempts. With the unconscious alien safely subdued, Applejack retrieved her hat, dusted it off and returned it to its rightful place.

A few muted cheers came from the other ponies in the house, and Applejack grinned at faces that Celestia couldn’t see.

“Just givin’ him mah’ honest opinion.”

“Applejack! I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

Applejack whirled to face Celestia, startled. “Princess! Did’ja get em’? Are they all gone?”

“Not quite yet, but soon, the Humans have a plan to deal with the last of them.”

Applejack looked confused for a moment, then something clicked and she brightened.

“Humans? Ya’ mean the fellas who helped us in the marketplace?”

“Quite so, Applejack, them and the ones behind me are the vanguard of an entire race; who have lost much to these aliens, and intend to stop them from doing the same to us.”

Applejack straightened her hat and narrowed her eyes. “Oh really? ‘Cause there’s one I wanna see about scaring the daylights outta me with a big rifle.”

Jester and Fitzpatrick, who had been watching the encounter with bemused looks, both raised a hand to their radios simultaneously as a squeal of static cut through the signal and nearly blew out the eardrums of anyone wearing an earpiece. Applejack, upon hearing the static shrieks, ducked close to Celestia and started looking around anxiously.

*Prepare for imminent dimensional jump. Unknown location, look out for tell-tales.*

As Xander’s psy-message washed over the group, a feeling of nausea welled up while the hair on the backs of their necks rose. Jester was suddenly alert, head snapping this way and that, searching for something; Fitzpatrick looked ill, as if he were about to be sick, as did Applejack.

Celestia suddenly leapt forward, horn ablaze as the pair of Humans and Applejack felt themselves being dragged backwards by Celestia’s powerful telekinesis. Not a moment later, the street disappeared in a flash of light and the sky broke apart with a thunderous sound.

As they blinked the spots out of their eyes, a large red shape began to take shape, outlines gradually forming until, with an anti-climactic *pop*, the AFV snapped into reality. A hatch opened on top of the AFV and another Human raised himself into view. Upon sighting the group, the new-revealed Human smiled apologetically before looking down into the vehicle, talking with someone not yet seen.

The AFV was, at the moment, little more than a large red cuboid, with a bulging rear and large tracks lifting into the air at the fore of the vehicle. The starting of the AFV’s engine was signalled with a small plume of exhaust escaping from the back.

“-so turn off the grav engines! We removed the plates long ago!”

The engine’s tone changed to a smoother, quieter rumble; and the figure stuck his head out of the cupola again.

“Hello! Someone order an AFV? With a rumble cannon garnish and side of paramilitary oraganisation?


***


Fallow Fields and Sterling where sitting against the wall of a house, watching the Librarian dash around the AFV, directing the small team that were fitting the rumble cannon. With Celestia’s help, they had raised the cannon into its dedicated aperture, and the team were connecting power feeds and generally making a meal of the whole ordeal. While the pair watched disinterestedly, a bell in a clock tower outside of the main body of the town chimed once.

With a start, Fallow realised that he had heard the very same bell strike 2 in the afternoon not 5 minutes before the aliens and Humans had arrived; and if the clock had only just tolled half-past… then it had been all of twenty minutes since all of this started. 20 minutes ago, the only thing concerning Fallow was the issue of trying to find someone willing to sell a plough, and now the main thing he was concerned with was merely staying alive. This fact shocked Fallow, and he tried to cast his mind back to the first moments of the attack; alarmingly, he found it difficult to remember exactly what he was doing before the few panicked seconds of pegasi raining from the sky and unicorns falling to the ground.

He remembered haggling with one of the stall-owners over the price of a bushel of… what? Carrots? Spring beans? Any recollection of events from the moments before the alien’s arrival had been seared from his mind as the aliens disintegrated the townsponies.

With a grunt of exasperation, Fallow gave up on the trivial task and decided instead to pull his limbs closer to his barrel. With the heat of battle having since dissipated, the cold was beginning to bite again. Fallow could see that his Human friend was also trying to do the same; pulling his sleeves over his hands and pulling the neck of his coat over his chin. The many similarities in behaviour struck Fallow as funny, and Sterling looked at his Pony companion with look that spoke of bemusement as Fallow chuckled.

“Something funny eh?”

“We’re so alike-races, I mean-, we make the same expressions, the same gestures, right down to the same greetings. Now doesn’t that strike you as at least kind of funny?”

Sterling shrugged. “The universe is weird like that, I stopped questioning it when I saw a Anthropod high-five another.”
Fallow snickered. “That must have been a sight.”

“Hell yeah, it was just a normal day, patrolling the slum quarter, when suddenly- Bang!- there’s an explosion and the wall comes crashing down; as the dust clears, I can see some poor X-COM trooper in crumpled armour on the floor, and these two Anthros step out and look at the guy, then,” Sterling high-fived the air. “Boop! High-fives all round!”

“But what happened to the guy?”

“They’re X-COM, unless it’s overkill, it’s not a kill.” Sterling said wryly.

A mighty cheer went up from the group around the AFV as the turret came to life and swung about, testing its mounting and arc of fire. Celestia said something to the red-cloaked Librarian, who nodded and ducked back into the AFV. The vehicle slowly turned, being careful to not hit anyone, and started to reposition around the pod.

The Brainsuckers inside the pod had been steadily grown more and more agitated, and the sound of Ryan’s rifle had filled the air many times as he executed an escaping alien. The cordon around the pod had swelled to include all the Humans, and even Mkoll had limped his way over, and was standing with a pistol in hand; shifting his weight from his organic leg to his mechanical one.

Sterling got up and grabbed his shotgun, turning to Fallow, he said:

“It’s go time. Stay here, things could get messy.”


***


The interior of the converted AFV was cramped, gloomy and hot; the seat against Kadzie’s back was hot from the engine block situated behind it. A multitude of screens occupied the Librarian’s vision as his hands twitched on the controls, swinging the turret from side to side. Scholar Murray, in the driver’s seat, was marginally more comfortable with the lack of a hot engine block, but was equally cramped and surrounded by various controls. Murray brought the AFV up to the cordon and halted, the troops in front parting to let the red machine through.

As the crowd parted, a sense of anticipation welled up in the group, and a rising hum filled the air, emanating from the shaped barrel of the rumble cannon. Inside, Kadzie tweaked and altered small settings in the turret and the hum changed in pitch, becoming deeper and foreboding. As the hum grew into a steady whirr, the watching ponies started stepping back, while the Humans jostled amongst themselves to get a good view from next to the AFV.

A flash of orange appeared on top of the pod, drawing cries of alarm and orders to ‘Back up, back up!’ from the assembled crowd. Kadzie, oblivious to the escaped creature, pressed his thumbs down on a pair of triggers in the turret.
*Whirr-Thoom!*

The hum and whirr cut out as the rumble cannon fired, sending a rippling shockwave of sound toward, and through the pod. The exposed Brainsucker simply quivered apart under the low-frequency barrage, and a cacophony of alien shrieks filled the air as the occupants of the pod suffered the same fate.

As the screams died down, the engine of the AFV roared and it leapt forward, crashing into the side of the pod with a scream of stressed metal and an unpleasant squelch. As the driver pulled it back, an avalanche of gore and orange flesh slid out of the pod; survivors of the barrage were given away by small twitches in the sea of corpses, and were swiftly executed before they got over their dazed state. Celestia, tired of taking a background role, stepped forward and swung a mighty beam of sunlight through the hole and into the pod. Several ponies retched as the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

When the ghastly deed was done, the rumble cannon pulsed again, sending out a smaller shockwave to check for any hints of movement. When nothing appeared, the engine grumbled to a halt, and Xander relaxed; stepping back from the cordon, he spoke into his radio, safe in the knowledge that the message would be recorded.

“Commander O. Xander, 15 December, 2084; 02:27 Earth-time, mission complete.”


> Micronoid Finale, and the Passing of The Torch
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure she went in this direction Bauxite?”

Bauxite rolled her eyes and pulled back to fly alongside the Pegasus who asked the question.

“Yes, she went in this direction, towards Gold Valley; trust my migration navigational skills would ya!”

Thunder Crash huffed. “It’s just there’s no air displacement, going that fast? Come on, there would be some signs of her passing.”

“Dammit Thunder just trust me on this one, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to follow Celestia after she shoots off on some Alicorn errand.” Bauxite pumped her draconic wings and flew to the head of the pack of armoured pegasi.

The pegasi behind Bauxite shared the same armour, with the typical gold breastplate and helmet, their armour was augmented with the addition of metal runners across their wings, edges sharpened to a fine point. Thunder Crash wore the same armour, but with the addition of a horseshoe shaped emblem, with a lightning bolt placed vertically through the shoe. The emblem singled him out as Captain of the Sky Guard.

Bauxite, however, had very different armour; it was made up of hinged, interlocking plates that covered her chest and stomach, with a single panel that wrapped around her barrel to protect her wings and back; her helmet was also made of similarly hinged plates, with an open front and a plume of phoenix feathers decorating it. The phoenix feather plume, as well as Bauxite’s full name: Bauxite-Shyvern Solari; marked her out as Celestia’s personal bodyguard.

After Celestia’s rapid departure from the court room, Bauxite had left it to Swift Pen to calm the nobles and petitioners while she galloped to the barracks to find Thunder Crash and muster the Sky Guard. Swift Pen had sent a runner to Princess Luna’s chambers to rouse her, and by now she would have taken over Celestia’s court and was awaiting a message from Bauxite explaining where Celestia was and what the trouble was.

Bauxite was happy something exciting was happening, the wedding incident was a welcome break from the decades of boredom, but Bauxite had been deprived of a good fight by the Queens antics, and was stuck fighting a behemoth in Canterlot Caverns. To make matters even worse, changelings had heat-resistant chitin, that didn’t crack or shatter easily; their blood was one of the foulest things in existence-that Bauxite had encountered at least-and they cheat! Looking like a rock while it’s actually taking a chunk out of your hoof. Bauxite growled mid-flight; it had not been a pleasant encounter.

“Captain, I see something on the horizon!”

“What is it Swift?”

“It looks like smoke, but if it was, the fire would have to be huge! The size of one of the palace wings!”

Bauxite and Thunder Crash exchanged worried glances. They both knew what could create an enormous fire, because she was the one who controlled the biggest fire the eye could see. Hoping that Celestia hadn’t set the valley alight, they put on a burst of speed, and the pegasi of the Sky Guard redoubled their efforts to keep up.


***


“Okay people, I thought we’d have more time, but we need to make a move before they do.”

Xander had gathered the team of Humans in what looked to be a small café, judging by the tables that were still in one piece, and the glass-fronted counter with a number of plates inside. The proprietor had been more than happy to provide the Humans with tables and coffee, and the mare hovered behind the counter; anxious to hear what was being planned.

“We just need to wait for the Princess, don’t want to plan anything she wouldn’t agree with.”

As if on cue, Celestia walked in and took a seat; the mare behind the counter gasped and ran out to see if she wanted anything. After settling down into her seat with a cup of tea, Celestia nodded at Xander, urging him to begin.

“Right then. Captain Blaine has informed me that he won’t be jumping in until we can absolutely 100% guarantee that it will be a safe jump. This changes things up as to how we deal with the UFO that’s currently smoking away in those hills; we need to stop the Micronoids here and now, they cannot get away, I won’t allow it.” Xander took a deep draught from the bizarre hoof-friendly mug he’d been given. “So let’s throw a few ideas around, we’ll come up with a plan and point it at Celestia to get the go slash no-go; and then we’ll put it into action.”

An awkward silence filled the café, broken only by the occasional clatter of dishes as the mare behind the counter tried to find something to do other than eavesdrop.

“Well… let’s assume that their ship is the same as the MacArthur; large, dangerous, and equipped with large troop compliments and, more importantly, hangars.” Cameron put in his word, and crossed his arms at the end of his sentence, inviting opinions.

“Maybe, but if they have hangars, why haven’t they just booked it already? They can’t possibly think that they can drag that thing back into the sky, they can only get away from it.” Mkoll countered. “I don’t think that ship was ever designed to even skim an atmosphere, let alone fly through it, it’s a testament to the skill of the pilots that they managed to pancake in rather than die in a glorious explosion of laser and flame.”

“Ignoring the fact you’re complimenting them; think about how the aliens we’ve faced here have behaved. Despite the fact that they know damn well by now that you either have to catch us off guard or outnumber us ten to one, they still stood and fought a shootout; arguably their weakest tactic.” The Librarian spread his arms wide. “Now what does that sound like to you?”

A long pause, before Ryan snapped his fingers, a move that drew curious stares from Celestia and the waitress.

“Ants, a hive mentality. They’re sacrificing their individuality to protect an asset; so that could mean…”

“It could mean that they have an immature queen in that UFO.” Crimson finished darkly.

“So that leaves them with about two options; they can either A: Attempt to secure the UFO and defend it, almost like a fortified emplacement, or B: Move the queen to a smaller UFO and get away with her.”

“Excuse me if I cut in here, but is it truly necessary to exterminate these aliens, wouldn’t that make you just as bad as them?” Celestia interrupted the conversation, frowning.

Xander glared at her. “We are well beyond letting them get away, if they survive and get away, they can just start all over again; I will not let everything we’ve lost die in vain. The Micronoids will not give up on assimilating races and worlds into their wretched crusade unless we stop them, if we don’t do that here, they’ll just come back stronger. This isn’t an invasion Celestia, it’s an infestation that we have to stamp out and stamp out hard, lest this particular breed of interdimensional bacteria come back to fuck us over.” The venom in Xander’s voice took Celestia aback, having seen his capacity for sudden changes in mood, she should have expected it; but Xander had spoken before in a way that showed his capacity for forethought and appreciating the greater picture, but his grief forced him to be heavy-handed and refused to back down.

“I see… very well, continue.” Celestia attempted to reel in her statement, but could not deflect the withering looks sent her way by the rest of the Humans.

Jester tried to steer the conversation away from such an unwelcome topic. “So we have to get inside the UFO and make damn sure we take that queen bitch out. How do we get inside?”

“Really Jester? ‘How do we get inside the crashed and shredded alien UFO’?” Tank mocked.

Kadzie held up a hand for silence. “Actually Tank she has a point, since their hull is partially alive and almost entirely organic, it’ll just regrow and seal any holes. Great defence against things like micrometeors and the like.”

The so-far silent Scholar Murray took the initiative and proposed a solution. “If we can’t find a big enough tear, we can just ram a hole in it with the Data Engine.”

Xander smiled, all traces of previous anger and hostility gone. “Good good, so we have a plan of action, now how do we attack and what does our ammo count look like?”

“A: With overwhelming force and B: Absolutely bloody awful. Solid munitions are scary low, with a handful of 20 round clips for Crimson’s autorifle, about three full drums of machine gun ammo between me and the box I found in Mercury; We’ve got plenty of shells for both Ryan’s AT rifle and Sterling’s pump-gun. Lawpistol clips are a non-issue, ludicrously plentiful; don’t know about the lasers and Cameron’s pistol though.”

Cameron stood and started patting and rummaging through his pockets, he dropped a small collection of grenades onto the table that were quickly snatched up by the other members of the squad. “Damn.” He muttered, as he checked his medical satchel for anything spare. “Well I’m good for about a hundred plasma shots, and I did have a fair few grenades.”

“Sharing is caring Cameron; the lasers are alright, these older models basically never run out, the only things that need changing are the focus crystals, and those are about as common as Bigfoot’s self-portrait. We’ve got one working laser rifle in AJ’s hands, and my laser pistol is working fine, and we’ll assume that the same can be said for Crimson's and Mkoll’s.” Jester said, indicating the two.

“We do have one other weapon to call on.” Dominic added. “Or two.” He grinned as he pulled a heavy revolver out from under his green robes. “I have this and the sword, elerium cells for the sword are good for a month each, and I have three, plus a box of .44 for the hand-cannon.” His grin became wider and smugger. “I’m good.”

“One thing I haven’t got any feel for are you two.” Xander said, concerned. He indicated the Librarian and the Scholar. “I worked with Elder Farrelly long ago, but I have no idea if he still trains initiates in combat.”

The pair took the unspoken question for what it was and pulled back their cloaks covering their right arms. As the red cloak of the Librarian was swept aside, the Sonic Word Cannon could be seen strapped to his forearm; the hilts of two-handed sabres could be seen over the shoulders of the duo. Beneath the beige cloak of the Scholar was an arm wrapped in heat-resistant cloth and wadding, with the scorched barrel of a flame-projector jutting out from the sleeve, with a small pair of tubes running to the flexible fuel tank that was hanging from his back.

“Very impressive, now talk, the whole mystery thing doesn’t work on me, I was there for your founding and fighting.”

Scholar Murray smirked. “Oh alright then; my flamer’ll run dry after about 20 seconds of continuous fire, I used a fair chunk of my fuel incinerating the remains in that pod. After the flamer runs out, I’ve got my blade, I’m not the best swordsman, but I’m alright, and I got some experience during the exodus.”

“Well my Sonic Word will be fine from now until next year, ultra high capacity elerium cells and a low power drain synergize perfectly. I’m a fair swordsman too, but I have the added benefit of being a damn good preacher, if I say so myself.” Kadzie drew a small tablet computer out of a case on his belt. Holding it in the air, he boasted: “This has everything from the Codex Libraria to the Bible, as well as the writings of R.U.Sirius in The Search for Peace. I’ve even compiled a long list of quotes and speeches from history, classic literature, and comedians. What?” The group stared at the Librarian for a moment before bursting out with laughter.

“I can see it now!” Jester snorted between bouts of giggling. “We march into battle, slaying aliens left and right, and Kadzie’s saying stuff like: “ She deepened her voice and put on a British accent. “We shall fight them on the beaches! We shall fight them in the fields! We shall-oops hang on, phone’s ringing.”

“And that’s a perfect description of why I don’t have any of your quotes Jester, because they are, quite simply, shite.” Kadzie poked, retaining some of his dignity. “Anyway, there’s always time for a ‘Cake or Death’ joke.” He joined in Jester’s silliness, doing an impression of the ‘dramatic announcer’. “Any last words, you foolish little man?” He switched back to his conventional accent. “Uh, yeah! Cake or Death?” “What?” “Cake or Death.” “Uh, death-no! Cake! Sorry, cake, cake, sorry, cake!” “I’m afraid I can only accept your first answer.” “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

Tank was unimpressed. “That was awful.”

Kadzie shrugged. “Meh-ow!” Murray swatted him over the head.

“That was so bad, you just made a baby cry; and there are no babies left, that’s how bad that was.”

“That’s just too macabre.”

“Now is not the time for dead baby jokes, raise your right arm Scholar.” Jester growled. Murray complied, warily. With a loud *Slap!* Jester high-fived the man with her bionic arm, with a swift war cry of: “Hiiya!”

Celestia and the waitress were utterly baffled. These mad creatures laughing and joking as they discussed the obliteration of an alien race and poking fun at the destruction of theirs; it was such a foreign concept to the Equestrians.

The sound of a ‘siren’ filtered in from outside, the sound was emanating from the rumble cannon mounted on the Guild Data Engine. The Scholar and Librarian leapt up and ran out to discover the source of the alarm. The Humans and the Princess exchanged wary glances until they heard a cheer from the pair.

Xander cupped his hands to his mouth. “What is it?!” He bellowed.

“There’s a surge of dimension energy coming from a gate about 2 Km up!” Came the ecstatic voice of Kadzie. Murray’s deeper voice followed, laced with concern.

“The surge is coming from the generator in the crashed UFO, they could be trying to get away!”

Mkoll leapt up and ran out of the café with his odd, loping gate, flinging his body forward with powerful strides of his mechanical leg. “Not on my watch! Xander! Radio the MacArthur! Bring her in.” He paused in the doorway. “With your permission Princess.”
Celestia breathed out heavily, weighing up decisions and consequences of either action. Her next sentence would change Equestria forever, for better or for worse. She could refuse, and attempt to deal with the aliens with her army, or she could accept, welcome the Humans into her society and give them asylum in return for aid and technology. Taking a deep breath, she made her decision.


***


“Captain Blaine, I bring excellent news.” A voice rang through the bridge. Turning, Blaine greeted the newcomer.

“Ah, Dr Bezial, a pleasure as always.”

“Such a charmer Captain, we have a gate, the conditions are… acceptable for a jump.”

“What about the gravity?”

“According to our instruments, it’s 1.0 ESG exactly.”

“Wow really? Earth Standard? That’s lucky. How about the magnetic field?

“A little weaker than Earth’s, but still very much capable of supporting all of our skimmers and the MacArthur.”

A cheer rose up from the bridge crew, with Captain Blaine at its head. “So what are we waiting for!? Steersman! Power up the maglev plates! Sensors! Don’t ruin this day by crashing us into a cliff! Ensign Lovel-“

Bezial dashed forward and grabbed a fistful of the Captain’s uniform. “Nono! Wait, we need to let their leadership make the decision otherwise we’ll cause an inter-dimensional incident.”

Blaine whirled around; his mouth still forming silent words as he stopped barking orders.

“No Blaine, wait!”

“But-“

“Wait!” She repeated. “Wait and I’ll reward you later.”

Blaine’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. “Stop doing anything!”

The bridge crew laughed and leaned back from their respective consoles, the hum of the maglev engines began to emanate from all around and there was a feeling of weightlessness before the elerium engines cut out. The MacArthur dropped sharply for a moment, before the alien world’s magnetic field ‘caught’ the ship, bringing it to a steady hover.

Dr Bezial laughed at Blaine’s sudden reaction and revealed her hand that she had behind her back. The fingers were crossed. Blaine’s face fell.

“Oh you’re mean.” Bezial laughed again, before straightening the Captain’s lapels.

“You’re just not neat enough.”

The comms officer took this moment to cut in. “Not wanting to interrupt this… beautiful scene, but we just got a message from Xander, we’re clear to come through!”

Blaine turned away from Bezial and strode back to his console. “I’m assuming control, I want to do this.”

Bezial followed Blaine to his chair and stood by his side, peering over his shoulder at his console’s inbuilt readouts. “Miss Evans, you should find that the Dimensional Wedge is online and slaved to your console.”

Weapons Officer Evans double checked her screens, before nodding her confirmation. Blaine’s hands moved to the control sticks that sat on the arms of his chair; tapping one last command into his console, he leaned back and firmly gripped the sticks. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed the left stick forward and the MacArthur began to glide forward. The dimension gate wasn’t visible to the naked eye, but the Sensors Officer could detect its unique energy signature, and overlaid this onto the live camera feed streaming into the Captain’s console.

Blaine’s face was determined and he set his sights on the writhing ball of energy that his console showed him. He lined up the MacArthur into a collision course, and then held the sticks, ready to make corrections in the aftermath of the jump. Meanwhile, Evans plotted a firing solution for the D. Wedge so that it would fire just as the MacArthur began to brush against the gate. Blaine wiped away the beads of sweat that were congregating on his forehead. Bezial gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, and the MacArthur nosed into the energy signature. The device on the nose of the ship flared and the energy signature doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size until it engulfed the length and breadth of the ship.

With a blinding flash and a sound like thunder, everything went white, and the MacArthur faded from existence.


***


“The MacArthur’s coming through any second now sir, I just got the automated jump confirmation.”

Xander clapped Librarian Kadzie on the shoulder. “Excellent work, we should-“

“Commander you’re going to want to see this, look to the UFO.”

Xander frowned at the interruption but turned to look nonetheless, the UFO’s side was slowly sliding open, with a scraping screech that was audible even kilometres away in Harvest. Xander frantically turned back to Kadzie.

“Message the MacArthur, lock onto the radio signal and tell them to prepare for battle stations, launch the Thunderbolts and warm up the Zeus Cannon!” He was already turning and walking away as he finished his sentence. He scanned the marketplace for the Scholar, upon spying him; he cupped his hands to his mouth and called out:

“Murray! Get to the Data Engine and man the rumble cannon!” A faint *got it* echoed through his head. Murray’s psionic message reminding Xander of his own capabilities, he searched for the formidable mental presence of Celestia; finding her with Applejack still in the café, he sent a thought message.

*They’re up to something, we may need your assistance.*

“Sir, the UFO’s bay door is almost open wide enough for a probe to slip through.”

Not amazingly useful information, but it gave Xander an estimation for how long he had until transports could start getting out; not long. *Copy that Ryan, keep me posted.* A plaintive “Ow, dammit.” Came through the radio, making Xander chuckle despite the occasion; Ryan’s mind just wasn’t built for psionic communication.

“Xander!” Turning at the sound of his name, Xander saw Celestia crossing the marketplace to where he was. “I would ask you to not communicate like that again, if not for Applejack’s affinity to magic, you could have killed her.”

“I-What!?”

“What you call psionics is a form of magic, a type of magic not seen for a long, long while; it used to be affiliated with runic magic, but-“

“No time for babble, save it for the Librarians! The UFO is getting ready to launch some smaller ships.”

Celestia’s eyes bugged out. “What size are we talking here?”

Xander frowned, blowing out of his nose as he thought. “Okay, you see the Skyranger? If you imagine that inside the big UFO, that’s about the size of the smallest probe they have; chances are, they’ll be flying out in the bigger ships, the smallest of which is taller than three of the tallest houses here stacked on top of each other.”

“I see… what do you need my help with?”

“I get the feeling you don’t much approve of it, but your magic is extremely powerful, and I’d like to know if you think you’d be able to take out one of their ships with something similar to the beam you used with the Brainsucker pod.”

“I don’t like fighting Xander but I’m not a helpless fool, I shall offer my assistance where I can. My troops should be nearly here by now as well.” Xander stopped in his tracks.

“Your troops?”

“My bodyguard and the pegasi of the Sky Guard will be here soon, Bauxite is very quick to react to my ‘Alicorn Antics’; and the Sky Guard is made up of some of the fastest pegasi in the land.”

Xander raised his hands in a warding gesture. “Don’t take this as a slight to your people, but I doubt your troops will be much use against a UFO bigger than a house.”

Celestia smirked the smirk of one who knows something more than Xander did. “Oh I wouldn’t let that fool you Xander, Bauxite-Shyvern Solari has more than a few tricks up her sleeve.”

“Launch detected sir! Looks to be a bomber!”

“Shit! Not now! Where’s it heading?” Xander panicked.

“Right for us sir, weapon bays are open and it’s coming in for a run.”

“Celestia! Tell everyone to get down and into cover! Tank! You too!”

“Everybody get down! Get in cover! Better yet, get behind me!” Tank’s voice carried throughout Harvest and could be easily heard by Ryan on the outskirts. The voice that followed it could probably be heard from the other dimension.

“Everypony find cover! They are coming back!” Celestia’s voice echoed not only through the town, but the minds and bodies of all those present; the resonating tone didn’t have to be heard, it could be felt.

2,000 meters up, in an insignificant corner of the sky, above the chaos that was Harvest; appeared a small sliver of gunmetal grey plating. This sliver of plate grew into an array of tubes and antennae as a bright light seemed to shine from cracks in the sky itself. The Humans and Ponies of Harvest could see the bright flash in the sky, and watched in awe, as the MacArthur slid into existence. Unlike the UFO and Mercury, the MacArthur couldn’t jump into the Equestrian Dimension, thanks to the lack of a large, stable gate. Instead, the nose of the MacArthur had to be forced through until the Dimensional Wedge that had been mounted on the fore of the ship was entirely in the gap between worlds; the D. Wedge flared into life and the cracks of blinding light, which had so far been hugging the edges of the ship as if trying to force itself shut, suddenly expanded into a rippling tear in reality, through which an apocalyptic landscape could be seen.

Alien ridges and cliffs that were scorched barren, and a sky that was thick with heavy, jet black clouds. The MacArthur was a shining beacon of light in such a dark and desolate landscape, her noble figure pointing the way out.

Another UFO was launched from the main Mothership, and another, then another, until there was a stream of UFOs flying out of the hangar and scattering in different directions. An ear-shattering whine filled the air for miles around, and one of the escaping UFOs began to sag and smoke, before bursting into flame and crashing into the snowy landscape. The MacArthur retched an immense green projectile of volatile plasma that impacted another fleeing UFO, reducing it to its component atoms in a moment of blinding green.

The first bomber came in low over Harvest, tilting to aim its Disrupters at the town; with a series of loud zapping noises, blue lines of energy were flung from the spiked projectors of the Disruptors at the town, turning several houses into little more than flaming piles of wreckage. With a whoosh and puff of steam, the bomber launched an immense torpedo that flew straight up into the air, before it split into dozens of smaller torpedoes that slammed into the town, wreaking havoc.

The Data Engine roared, and a wave of sound shattered windows and ripped the tops off of houses as it travelled through the air; it impacted the green disc and sent it yawing off course, shedding shattered pieces of hull as it went. While this happened, the MacArthur came completely through the tear, and the universe made itself whole again with a teeth-shaking boom, that did nothing more than add to the spectacle. Still firing the mighty Zeus Cannon at the fleeing UFOs, the hangar doors of the MacArthur slid open and three shapes dropped out, freefalling before igniting engines and zooming down toward the besieged town.

The Lightning-II Superiority Fighters flew in a tight formation, before splitting off and engaging the bomber from multiple angles; the bomber turned to flee, launching another multi-torpedo as it went, but the lumbering disc could not escape the agile skimmers, and the torpedo was destroyed by pinpoint-accurate laser fire from the flight. The lead Lightning split off and powered towards the small group of transport UFOs that were attempting to escape to the South of Harvest, while the two wingmen brought the bomber down in a blazing ball of fire and wreckage.

“This is Hurricane, target down and requires clearing, good luck ground team.”

The bomber cut a swath through a copse of snow covered pines as it crumpled into the ground; finding no more fuel, the flames swiftly burnt themselves out, and the UFO lay still, a green pockmark in the white landscape.

“General alert on all bands, Overship class UFO launched from downed Mothership, priority one target. Eliminate at all costs.”

The palace-sized UFO rocketed over the town with a rumble of alien engines that sent eyeballs quivering and teeth chattering. The majestic shape of the MacArthur turned and dropped altitude to bring the Zeus Cannon to bear, abandoning the chase of the group of T-shaped transport UFOs. Reacting to this, the escorts following the transports broke off and began strafing the MacArthur, only to be brought down by the automated laser point-defence systems.

During its turn, the MacArthur fired the Zeus Cannon at the UFOs being chased by the flight of Lightnings and sent them scattering with a laser beam and plasma bolt combo unique to the Cannon. The lead Lightning caught up to the UFOs and began taking one down with high-intensity bursts of laser fire, dodging the retaliatory beams of Disruptor fire from the escort ships with quick bursts of vectored thrust.

As one of the transports started losing altitude and spilling wreckage from the multitude of holes punched in the hull by the laser cannons of the Lightning, the Lightning took a Disruptor bolt to the rear and the engine cut out, the fuel line and cowling melting in an instant.

“This is Spitfire, taking hits and bugging out.”

The Lightning veered off and zipped away, albeit at a slower rate, on its maglev engines as the other two members of the flight caught up. In a smarter move, they dashed the escorts out of the sky before moving on to the lumbering transports.

The Overship blotted out the sun as it flew over Harvest, such was its size, but the MacArthur was above the great ship, and had an easy shot at its flat top. An electric blue barrier flared around the Overship as the Zeus Cannon hit it, and blocked both the laser and plasma bolt. The translucent barrier suddenly flared with so much energy it turned opaque as a beam of fire lanced out from the town. The sun seemed to dim, giving out less lumens than it did before the beam was fired, but the Overship’s shields were down, and the next shot from the Zeus Cannon punched a hole right through the centre of the disc, and a mighty corpse could be seen falling from the hole in the ship.

The khaki shape looked like an immense squid, and behind it there came a rain of pink hail and muddy yellow blobs. The alien Queen and the egg chamber had been killed and shattered by the expert marksmanship of Weapons Officer Natasha Evans, who would later be lauded as the one who hammered the last nail into the Micronoid coffin.


***


“Mustang break off your attack!”

Hurricane veered to the left and rolled end over end to dodge the Disruptor beam launched from one of the fleeing transports, attempting to get revenge for its fallen flight-mate. The group of UFOs had been all but destroyed by Thunderbolt flight, save for one T-shaped transport, and one of the more conventionally shaped, pink-purple transports. Mustang had been going in to blow a few more holes in the T-ship, but was leaving himself an easy target for the flat-transport, which saw its opportunity and sent a hail of beams his way.

Mustang heard Hurricane’s message and kicked his engines into overdrive, shooting forward and manoeuvring so that the T-ship was between him and the flat-transport. Oblivious to its ally, the purple ship continued firing as Mustang disappeared behind the T-ship and its beams sliced deep into the heart of the larger transport, cutting into the engine deck and blowing the ship apart in a spectacular explosion of green and beige, scattering hull and metal everywhere.

Thunderbolts Two and Three lined up on the last transport and were about to fire when…

“Holy shit hold fire! Hold fire!”

Hurricane almost sheared off a wing as he veered off hard. “What?”

“There’s a flight of locals in armour right in the transports path, if we fired, we’d punch right through the UFO and into the locals.” Mustang’s voice came through breathlessly, having pulled a high-gee turn himself.

“Shit, they’re going to get slaughtered. Try to come around and hit the thing from the flank, I’ll go high and try to get him from above.”

“Copy.”

Keeping one eye on the transport and the flight of locals, Hurricane pulled up and into a rapid climb. Realizing with a sense of dread that he wouldn’t be able to line up on the transport in time to stop it from killing the locals; he prayed that Mustang had a better line.

Unfortunately, the transport had ignored the locals and Hurricane, recognizing Mustang as the most immediate threat, and he had been completely zoned off of a good line up on the transport by unrelenting barrages of Disruptor fire.

As the transport and the flight of local troops closed in on each other, the majority of the locals scattered, while the leading mare, wearing a plumed helmet of fiery red; stubbornly continued on a collision course with the transport, playing a game of chicken that she was very much going to lose.

The mare flew a little closer to the transport, then tucked her limbs close to her body for a second, before throwing them out…and out and out as the mare expanded, her hinged armour slipping and sliding as the plates folded out to encompass her new form. Roaring her hot defiance at the transport, Shyvern Solari hooked her claws into the transport and easily tore a hole in the organic hull. Suddenly realising that she was the greater threat, Disruptor beams were fired at the beast, the beams that didn’t simply rebound off her armour were easily absorbed by her scales.

When Shyvern had opened what she believed was a large enough hole, she stuck her head and neck into the open and flooded the interior of the UFO with scorching flame that incinerated the crew and melted the engines, weapons and controls. Weaponless, crewless and powerless, the transport plummeted towards the snow-covered foothills below.
Hurricane took a risk and flew alongside Shyvern, dipping his wings at her in thanks and to signify his alignment. She closed her eyes and focused, steadily beating her wings as Shyvern, the Half-Dragon, shrunk back into Bauxite, the Draconic Pegasus.

Bauxite rolled wing-over-wing and landed on the nose of Thunderbolt Three, smiling as she folded her wings underneath her armour. Her “Lead me to Celestia great steed!” Was snatched away by the wind, but Hurricane saw the mare’s mouth move and smirked anyway. Shedding speed, he tilted the nose of his Lightning slowly as not to upset his passenger as he came in to land alongside Thunderbolt one in the marketplace of Harvest.


***


Mkoll saw Hurricane land in Thunderbolt Three with the mare on his nose; he turned back to Spitfire and raised an eyebrow. Wordlessly, she shrugged and walked back over to Thunderbolt one; the only surviving Lightning from the original Thunderbolt flight, it had once belonged to Mkoll.

Above the town, the silent shape of the MacArthur hovered, hangar doors wide open and allowing a number of maglev transports to ferry people and supplies down to the town below. Celestia and the Scholar oversaw the mass conveyance of supplies and souls and attempted to organise them in such a way to cause minimal disruption to the clearing efforts. A small tent-city had been built just outside of Harvest, and a number of dark green autotrans’ had been secured down and turned into miniature warehouses; the pegasi of the Sky Guard alternated between flying above and patrolling between the tents and vehicles of the refugee camp, eyes open for aliens that had ejected from the many crashed UFOs.

Bauxite trotted up to the group of armoured Humans clustered around the crashed Overship and greeted them cheerily. Before any of them could reply, the red-cloaked Librarian stood and yelled:

“We’ve waited too damn long! We shall drive them out! With Word and Quill!” Kadzie drew the long sabre from his back and held it vertically in his left hand. He leapt forward and ran at the airlock, half-buried in the snow and dirt; a blast from his Word was enough to tear the already-weakened door off of its hinges and he charged inside, cloak flapping madly behind him.

“I like him!” Tank bellowed before following the Librarian’s reckless charge with his shield held high and mechanical limbs brandished. His sister followed him, drawing the white laser pistol and scrunching her bionics into a fist; Crimson made a motion to move forward, but was stopped by Dominic, who drew his sword and said:

“Stay back for now, Crimson, swordsmen first, nutters second.” Crimson laughed and ran after the green cloak of the Sirian swordsman.

“And then the chaingun’s last, of course, makes perfect sense.” Ryan muttered as he hefted the heavy weapon and plodded toward the shredded opening; leaving Bauxite standing outside with her mouth agape, completely befuddled by the Humans’ actions.

The rest of the ground team had congregated around the downed bomber, and were preparing to breach it, albeit in a calmer fashion than the technique used at the Overship.

“So, are we in agreement? I’ll breach the door first, then AJ and Cameron follow up with their heavier weaponry, then you 3 bring up the rear, double check downed enemies and watch the sides and rear.” Sterling brushed away the diagram he’d drawn in the snow and pulled his shotgun off of his shoulder. AJ and Cameron nodded and checked their laser rifle and plasma pistol, respectively. Fitzpatrick, Kerlav and Jones drew their lawpistols, with Kerlav and Jones also drawing the Stun Grapples they used to use to subdue perpetrators of the law. Thunder Crash watched them with a respectful nod, they knew what they were doing, and seemed to know the best way of doing it. He stepped forward.

“Excuse my interruption, but can I offer my assistance? I’m Thunder Crash, Captain of Equestria’s Sky Guard.” He said, puffing his chest out proudly.

Sterling and AJ regarded him with unreadable expressions as they looking the Pegasus up and down; Thunder remained still and posing, having dealt with Griffons, the Human practice seemed remarkably similar. They paid particular attention to Thunder’s armour, wing-blades and, quite impressively, the concealed pistols set into his armoured forelegs. After several more seconds of scrutiny, AJ grinned and spoke.

“Sure thing pony, come on over!” Thunder Crash cantered over.

“Are you sure AJ?” Sterling hissed, just loud enough for Thunder to hear.

“Sure, it’ll be good to start co-operating early, plus we can get a glimpse of their fighting capacity.” She whispered back. Fitzpatrick and the MegaPol officers watched with feigned disinterest.

Thunder Crash took offence as this casual disregard of his abilities. He was Captain of the Tartarus damned Sky Guard for Celestia’s sake! He was a Thunder! From a line of great pegasi that could be traced back to the days of Discord! Right back to Thunder Storm, the Sentient Storm; brought to life by Discord’s twisted magic. Thunder decided to demonstrate why he was called Thunder Crash.

He reared up and slammed his hooves into the ground, sending out a peal of thunder that knocked Sterling and AJ flat and caused the other three to stumble. “Do not disrespect me, my stallions, or my country! Ever!”

Fitzpatrick leapt between Thunder and his downed comrades. “Now look here Captain, we meant no disrespect, but we have little comparison to go on. Just… peace, show us your stuff.” He gestured to the buckled and burnt doors.

With a snort, Thunder positioned himself next to the doors while Fitzpatrick helped up Sterling, AJ waved away his help with a hand and leapt nimbly to her feet; taking up a position in front of the pistol armed Humans in front of the door. Sterling braced his shotgun to his shoulder and mouthed ‘sorry’.

Positioning himself carefully, Thunder leaned forward onto his front legs and bucked with his rear, the crash of twisted metal merged with the familiar crash of thunder as the door simply came apart.

Sterling rushed in and thrust his shotgun into the mouth of the dazed Skeletoid just inside the door, before he scattered the thing’s brains across the wall in a cone of green blood and buckshot. Dashing past Sterling’s legs, Thunder scythed the legs out from under another Skeletoid with his wing-blades and finished the downed alien with a tremendous *Stomp!*. AJ and Cameron leaned in and sent a hail of energy shots down the passageway into the open space in the centre of the UFO; cutting down a so-far-unseen alien down in a spray of flesh and jelly-like blood; the Psimorph shuddered and screamed psionically as it slowly sank to the floor, it’s formidable mind incapable of suspending itself in the air any longer.

There was enough room in the passageway to take wing, and Thunder did so, zooming down the passageway and into the shimmering grav-lift that formed the central column of the UFO. He dove down into the engine compartment, and found that the walls had buckled and torn on impact, and that the room was partially flooded with dirt. As he looked at the damage, he felt a pair of claws grab him from behind and he was brutally yanked out of the air as he was spun around to face the gaping maw of an Anthropod; the blue alien brought the Pegasus to his mouth, as if to bite his head off, only to find that an armoured hoof had been shoved to the back of his throat.

The Anthropod had enough time for a confused gargle before the hammer of the matchlock pistol in Thunder’s hoof slammed into the gunpowder pan, igniting the powder and consequently, the charge in the barrel. The primitive projectile tore through the Anthropod’s tough outer hide on its way out of the monster’s neck.

In the main room above him, Sterling had ran down the passageway and now knelt beside the grav lift, shotgun pointed at the aperture above. There was a grotesque squelching sound, and the bloated shape of a Multiworm appeared, its slug-like body propelling it along with little spurts of slime. Upon spying the Human, the Multiworm opened its immense jaws and hissed, before shuddering and throwing clods of acidic slime toward the human; they missed, and the Multiworm didn’t have time for another shot as the buckshot tore into it, ripping its belly open in a spray of acid and releasing its deadly payload.
Two Hyperworms had survived the deadly spray of Sterling’s shotgun and were powering down the lift towards his, jaws agape, desperate to feed their voracious appetite. Sterling pumped his shotgun and sent a smoking cartridge flying into the dark corners of the UFO as AJ and Cameron stepped up to the mark and turned the worms into ash and goo. Fitzpatrick ran forward and dived into the grav lift’s water-like field. Orienting ‘down’ and kicking his legs, he emerged in the engine compartment in time to see Thunder execute an Anthropod with one of his pistols.

“You alright?”

“Fine.” Was Thunder’s reply as he wiped his bloodied hoof on the Anthropod’s corpse. “Let’s finish the rest eh?”

Thunder stepped into the grav lift and gently flapped his wings though the seemingly-viscous air to take himself up, Fitzpatrick close behind. As the pair emerged in the main chamber, they were pulled out of the lift by Officers Jones and Kerlav; AJ, Sterling and Cameron aiming their weapons at the opening above, waiting to see if any curious aliens would march forward to their doom.

After a minute of waiting, Sterling motioned for Thunder to come with him as he stepped into the grav lift. His shotgun never wavering from the opening several metres up, he kicked his legs as Fitzpatrick had and slowly rose. Thunder pressed his back against Sterling’s and ascended with him, each of them covering half of the opening. The Human and the Pony clambered out of the lift and took up ready positions as they found themselves in another hallway; one passage opened up into a wide open area filled with munitions, and the other led to what looked like some kind of cockpit or bridge, the wall space taken up with several strange devices that could be controls.

“Clear.” Sterling called down the lift. AJ slung her rifle over her back and she powered up the lift with a strong breaststroke, before pulling herself out into the passageway, and positioning herself to cover the large open area. Cameron followed behind her, and started stepping toward the bridge area, plasma pistol raised to cover the hatchway. The other pistol equipped troops came up behind them and covered the area of most danger: The open area.

Cameron lunged into the room and swung around to check the right-hand corner of the room; seeing nothing, he relaxed slightly before turning to check the left-hand side of the room. As he turned, a pink, humanoid shape came into view and he could hear the sound of gurgling and choking. Before he could bring his gun to bear, the Spitter had grabbed his wrists and jammed its funnel shaped maw onto his head, before disgorging the highly-acidic contents of its stomach onto Cameron’s face. Cameron opened his mouth to scream as the acid began dissolving his face and eyes, only to have the foul fluid flow down his neck and begin destroying his insides.

Dr Joseph Cameron, one of the original twelve recruits of Mega-Primus’ X-COM initiative, died in the most horrific way possible, mere feet away from his oblivious comrades and the entirety of the breach team.


***


As Kadzie picked his way through the shattered remains of the airlock, he dodged several bolts of energy from Disruptor-equipped aliens; pulling himself free of the clutches of the door, he leapt over the crumpled decking to separate an Anthropod’s head from its almost non-existent neck.

“We of the Guild of Librarian’s are the ones that you must face!”

The Librarian’s voice rang through the gloomy interior of the UFO as Tank came barrelling through the airlock, Disruptor fire ricocheting off of his shield in all directions; even cutting down one of the Anthropods firing at him. He slammed into the packed group of Anthropods like his namesake, the mechanical claws hanging over his head grabbing two of the aliens and tossing them casually over his shoulders as he pulped another with his impact hammer. His plasma lance was rammed through one Anthropod who remained hanging limply off the lance as the battle progressed. The lance was then shunted through the eye socket of another alien, whose shot was blocked by his dead comrade impaled on said lance.

“For it is us who form the first line of defence!”

A barrage of laser bolts were visible flying down the corridor; each bolt incinerating the millions of microscopic particles in the air, rendering each bolt visible to the naked eye. Such details mattered little to the troop of Skeletoids that were hovering near the ceiling, trying to get a good angle on the Librarian and Tank; as they were cut down with ruthless efficiency. Any that didn’t fall under the sustained laser barrage were violently thrown to the ground with great fountains of blood as Dominic followed Jester in, revolver roaring and bucking in his tight grip.

“And although we must safeguard the past!”

Crimson had abandoned his autorifle in favour of a laser pistol and his plasma knife, and he rushed past Dominic and Jester to join Kadzie and Tank in the melee. Ducking the vicious bladed arms of a swung Boomeroid, Crimson shot the offending Anthropod in the face, and the living proximity mine dropped to the floor, before flinging itself at the nearest moving target and detonating. The pathetic explosion did nothing more than tear the cloth that adorned the trio’s armour and remove Kadzie’s cloak from his shoulder.

“And prepare for an unknown future!”

Ryan strode into the open hallway bellowing “Everybody down!” After waiting a moment for everyone to comply, he pulled the trigger of the autocannon in his hands and swung the rotating barrels from side to side, sweeping the room clean of live aliens with a torrent of armour-piercing rounds. As the smoke cleared, the only sound that could be heard for several seconds was the soft tinkling of casings hitting the floor, and the ticking of the rapidly cooling autocannon.

“It is also we who must secure the present from any and all who seek to harm us!” Kadzie finished, raising his sabre into the air as he scrambled to his feet.

Bauxite-Shyvern entered the UFO in time to see Ryan cut down the aliens with his autocannon and hear Kadzie finish his speech.

“Very impressive.” She said admiringly.

The group turned and brandished their respective weapons at her, her sudden appearance taking them by surprise. The mare laughed, sounding uncannily like Jester, before she bared her teeth at the group; showing their razor sharp points.

“If you did decide to fire, you would be dead before you even hit the ground.” She bragged.

“I highly doubt that.”

Bauxite-Shyvern coughed and cleared her throat, a small tongue of flame escaping from between her lips, before she scraped a hoof, partially shifted into a claw, along the wall, cutting a deep scratch into it. “Care to put your bits where your mouth is?”

“Har har har har, I like her Sergeant, can we keep her?”

Jester holstered her pistol. “Ryan, step away from the deadly dragon-pony.”

*Whirr-thoom!*

Kadzie executed a still wriggling Anthropod with a quick pulse of his Word. “Let that be your judge, jury, executioner and eulogy; beast.”

“Nice preaching Librarian.” Tank said, giving him a light knock with his shield.

“I know it was nice, I said it would be didn’t I!? Now, no more procrastinating, there is still more UFO to cover! Join us, Pony, and you shall fight like never before, and find glory in the furious mix of confusion and fighting that is a UFO clearing mission.”

One of the Skeletoids behind Jester began to stir and get up, shaking its head to clear it; the banana coloured alien set its eyes on Jester and attempted to sneak up on her. Bauxite was about to cry a warning, before Jester swung around and clamped her bionic hand around the Skeletoid’s face.

“Nuh uh you freak, next time, stay dead.” Jester hissed as she slowly closed her vice-like fingers, crushing the Skeletoid’s skull.

Dropping the Skeletoid’s defiled corpse, Jester turned back to Bauxite. “It’s only going to get more violent sweetie, still coming?” She said with false sweetness.

Bauxite nodded, her form bulking out as she shifted into something that wasn’t entirely pony, nor entirely dragon; a form that was the best balance between size and strength in these tight environs, her fiery orange coat blending seamlessly into scales of a similar hue. She opened her lengthened mouth and spoke, her voice sounding rougher and more… bestial.

“Ready when you are.”

Before the group could continue, a distraught voice was unwittingly broadcast over the entire squad-net radio.

“Oh God no! Cameron!” The sound of a laser rifle on full auto distorted the signal and sent short pulses of static over the air. “You fucking son a bitch! We’ve won and you fucking killed him!” The laser shots didn’t stop for a long time. “AJ, stop, it’s dead.” A different voice, presumably Fitzpatrick. The laser rifle stopped firing and all was silent except the hiss of dead air before the sound of muffled sobbing came over the radio.

Jester shook as she raised her radio to her mouth. “Uh, that was just broadcasted across the whole net, is Cameron…?”

“Shit-yeah, yeah he is.” Fitzpatrick replied.

All was silent for a minute. A respectful silence, before AJ’s voice came over the net again, her tone hard and voice breaking.

“I’m going to kill them. Every last fucking one of them.”

“AJ!” Laser fire and alien screeches. “Fuck it! Come on!” The radio clicked off.

Jester looked at her squad, their faces were hard, and there were a few traces of tears.

“This just got really fucking personal.” Ryan’s sentiments were matched by the rest of them, and they got ready to move deeper into the UFO, thoughts of vengeance singing in their ears.


***


The Anthropod that was hiding in the archway where the grav lift corridor met the munitions store had never expected the red-faced Human; her hair, lacking its usual ponytail, flying about her face and obscuring her blue, natural eye, leaving only the demonic red bionics visible. The Anthropod had next-to-no time to acknowledge this as she thrust her laser rifle into its gut. X-COM had never used bayonets, nor had they ever been trained in using them; but AJ’s rage and grief was such that a bayonet would have been overkill. The barrel of the rifle was impaled deep within the Anthropod, and it was cooked from within when AJ pulled the trigger again and again.

A Popper; tiny, front heavy bipeds with a mouthful of needle-like teeth and a body full of volatile chemicals; came running at AJ as she wrenched her rifle out of the dead Anthropod. Seeing the light blue beast charging her, she turned to address it; a shot from her rifle would kill it, but the resulting explosion would kill or maim her too. Not wanting to lose another eye, AJ ran up to the Popper and met it head on with a powerful kick that launched it back across the room. 

AJ sent a grenade chasing after the popper and turned to face the rest of the room. Spying a group of the pink-skinned Spitters, their thin, frail limbs twitching in fear; AJ screamed her grief to them and hosed them with laser shots, scorching pink skin into a charred black, and slaying them where they stood.

As her grenade detonated, the dazed Popper died and it burst apart, the volatile mixtures in its body mixing and reacting violently, causing a secondary explosion that blew apart one of the Disruptors out with a tongue of flame that escaped out through the firing port. Distracted, AJ lowered her guard, and a Hyperworm slithered up to her at dizzying speed and sank its teeth into the leg. AJ cried out and stumbled while the voracious worm thrashed and shook, attempting to tear off a piece of her calf; but its efforts where stopped when it was torn in two by a burst of laser beams.

Before AJ could continue her suicidal charge, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder, and a pair of jaws clamped around the other; Thunder and Sterling dragged her back to the relative safety of the corridor. Before AJ could protest, a gloved hand slammed into her temple, and she was knocked out cold.

“I’m so sorry AJ.” Fitzpatrick’s tone was remorseful, and he winced as he shook his sore hand. Turning to the group he asked:

“Can you finish this while I take her out and to-“ He paused, frowning. “Did Cameron ever train a replacement medic?”

Sterling shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, MegaPol and X-COM are two different organisations.”

“I shall take AJ, Mr President; you should carry out the unfortunate Dr Cameron.” A thickly-accented voice spoke up. The big officer, Victor Kerlav, spoke slowly and deliberately.

Fitzpatrick looked at the mutilated corpse of Cameron, before wincing and nodding.

“It’s not a nice task Fitzpatrick; but if not you, then who? AJ? What would be the most appropriate in this situation? Me? No, not me, nor Jones, nor Sterling, and not the Pony. Your history and seniority makes you the most appropriate Mr President.”
Fitzpatrick carried Cameron carefully and gently, arm behind what little remained of his head and the other under his knees.

“Not a President anymore Victor, just another bloke now.”

Sterling watched the two leave, then waved over Beth Jones and Thunder. “Look, we need to keep our heads here, there can’t be more than about 4 left, but any single one of them can kill us like ‘that’” He said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.
Beth and Thunder nodded silently, faces grim. At some unspoken signal, the trio rose to their hooves and feet, and set about clearing the rest of the UFO.


***


“-and AJ?”

Fitzpatrick swallowed. “I-uh-incapacitated her Xander, she was near-suicidal.”

Xander nodded, his face blank and unreadable; even his mind was shut to Celestia. Only Xander knew what Xander was thinking…

And Xander was pissed.

“Good work Fitzpatrick, you made the right decision. Celestia! Fuck you and your wants, I’m incinerating the rest of the UFOs; and I don’t give a flying fuck about the farmland you’ll lose. There’s a whole lot of world out there, and 400 of us, and I’m not going to be responsible for another death. There’s far too much blood on my hands for that.”

Celestia was silent, acknowledging the Human with but a nod. She was… afraid of this Human. The fire in his eyes and the anger in his heart was astonishing; the tell-tale signs of someone who has lived too long and seen too much.

“Jester, I’m pulling you and your squad out, get the hell out of that UFO before I call in an airstrike on it. I-“ Xander’s voice almost broke, and he took a deep breath the steady himself. “I’m not going to let any more of you die, okay?”

“Yes commander.”

Xander walked off and up the ramp of the Skyranger. It would be the last time anyone but Mkoll saw him alive.


***


Weapons Officer Evans continued her work long after the sun had set over Equestria. Captain Blaine and Dr Bezial never left the bridge either, Blaine steering and Bezial providing the two with company.

“Fish.”

Evans spoke as she pushed what was colloquially known as either ‘the big red un’’ or the ‘pickle button’ and the Zeus Cannon fired again, lights dimming and hull shaking as per usual, and another UFO wreck was wiped from the face of Equestria.

“Hmmm… Scales.”

“This one is appropriate considering the reports that that Scholar has sent after his interviews. Dragon.”

Back around to Evans. She was a lover of mythology and fantasy, and thoughts of dragons brought only authors to mind.

“Alisha Feeny-Langton.”

Captain Blaine’s eyes crossed. “Who?”

Dr Bezial responded. “Famous Fantasy author.”

“Ah… well then, books.”

“The Librarian wouldn’t appreciate you saying that; not a single story of Alisha’s came out in print, it was all digital works, no paper wasted. But I suppose if you say books I’ll have to say-“ Bezial was interrupted by the repeated chirping of something secreted away in one of the many pockets of her white coat. Pulling the offending object out, she frowned at it for a moment before her face fell and her eyes softened as she realized what the alarm was.

“Oh Xander.” She murmured, closing her eyes as she did so. “Rest easy old friend.”

Blain and Evans looked at Bezial quizzically. She didn’t answer, not at first; after muttering some words meant only for her to hear, she addressed her two companions on the bridge.

“Xander asked me to modify his harness several weeks ago. A… shut-down, if you will; that alarm signifies the activation of that shutdown.”

Her words took a moment to sink in, but both Blaine and Evans realized what Bezial had meant.


***


To say that Mkoll was in shock would be a gross understatement.

He was in the cockpit of Mercury, sitting in the pilot’s seat, looking out at the beautiful Equestrian landscape from atop a tall mountain somewhere to the North of Harvest. His heart raced as his mind went through the events of the past hour…



“Mkoll, come to the Mercury would you? We need to talk.”

The voice had emanated from the radio on Mkoll’s hip, and it sounded tired, weary and weak. Mkoll realised with a start that it was Xander. In all the many years that Mkoll had known the Commander, he had never known him to sound anything other than strong, confident and seemingly indefatigable. Mkoll wasn’t some awestruck fool, he knew that some of it had to be an act, but Xander had always put up a very convincing façade.

Without bothering to acknowledge Xander verbally, Mkoll instead made his excuses to the man he was helping unload one of the laden airtrans’; with the man’s jovial scolding following him, Mkoll made his way toward the silent form of his craft.

As Mkoll made his way up the ramp, he noticed how dark the interior was, it was about dusk, and the sun was low in the sky; Mkoll would have turned on the crew compartment lights by now, but Xander had left them conspicuously dark.

“Xander?” He called, slowly limping into the crew compartment. He recived no verbal reply, but the ramp closed behind him with a soft thud, and the engines began whining as they slowly spun up to speed.

“Otto what the hell?”

“The cockpit, Rod.”

There it was again; the voice of a man that sounded every single one of his 104 years. Mkoll strode into the cockpit and sat in the co-pilot’s seat, awkwardly dragging his mechanical leg up and over the stick controls so he could sit comfortably. Xander was sat in the pilot’s seat, and had his hands on the controls. As Mkoll buckled in, Xander pulled on the controls and Mercury lifted into the air.

“What’s the matter Otto? And where are we headed?”

Xander sighed a very long sigh and his breath caught in his throat as he turned to Mkoll. It was clear by the look in the man’s puffy red eyes that he had been crying. Another impossibility, Xander didn’t cry, he never had any need to.

“How long have we been friends, Rod?”

Mkoll thought for a moment, before coming up with a number, a pleasingly high one.

“I’ve known you since 2060 sir, when you took command of the X-COM Interceptor team.”

Xander smiled a small, sad smile. “That’s how long I’ve been your commanding officer. How long have I been your friend?”

Mkoll thought harder, casting his mind back twenty years and then some, searching for the moment that Mkoll had stopped thinking of Xander as a commander, and as more of a peer, an equal. A friend.

“Since June 2061 Otto, when you refused to leave my hospital room after they implanted the leg.”

“That’s more like it.”

Xander continued flying in silence, the town of Harvest far behind them. A mountain range appeared on the horizon and Xander oriented on it, pushing the throttle to maximum.

“Where are we going Otto?”

“As of about 5 seconds ago, we are heading for somewhere in that mountain range, somewhere with a nice view.” Xander’s quirky behaviour showed no signs of letting up, and every so often his chest would hitch as if something was caught in his throat.

As they neared the mountain range, a large-mouthed cave could be seen, with a large cliff, or a plateau, in front of it. Xander pointed Mercury’s nose toward the flat ground and came in to land. The wheels touched down with a bump and a gentle squeak, and the engines throttled down as the wings folded inward, flush to the body of the Skyranger. Without saying a word, Xander sat in the seat for a moment as he turned all of the instruments off, but he left the landing lights on; after doing this, he unbuckled and walked out of the cockpit. Mkoll followed him wordlessly.

Catching up to the old man as he plodded down the deck, Mkoll decided to ask the question he had been wanting to ask for the last 5 minutes.

“Otto, why did you call me? And bring me… here?” Mkoll looked over the edge off the cliff at a glorious landscape, beautiful even in the half-light of dusk. A large, dark green expanse of forest stretched as far as the eye could see in one direction, with a small village just at the outskirts of the foreboding treeline. Off in the distance, beyond the village, lay another mountain range, this one had a city hanging off the side of the mountain, covered with turrets and minarets and all sorts of fantastical architecture, grand enough to be seen even at this great distance.

“I came here to do something I’ve wanted to do for so long, and I brought you so I could explain why; it would be too cold and cruel to simply leave a note.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

Xander exhaled and looked out toward the mountain-city and the far horizon. “Mkoll, you’re my oldest living friend, do you know how long I’ve lived?” It was a rhetorical question, and Xander continued just as Mkoll opened his mouth to answer. “One hundred and four years, Rod; that’s a ridiculously long time to live. I’ve seen so much change and wonder in my time, but I’ve also seen so many horrors and so much darkness.”

“I joined X-COM way back in 1999, an entire age ago, at the delicate age of nineteen; I had little education, having worked on my parents farm in Austria since I was old enough to handle the equipment, but my brother went into the army when I was fifteen. He went through his training and passed with flying colours, an exemplary officer; he was given the chance to join an international team that was being assembled to fight some as-of-then unknown threat.”

“This was the earliest of early days for this organisation, and the name wasn’t even classified: ‘The X-COM Initiative’. I was eighteen when I read that letter with my parents, and it was the last one we ever received from him. The next letter we got regarding him was so heavily censored it looked like the paper had started off black and the white gaps had been painted in afterwards; the only words that actually made sense where: ‘KIA’, ‘On a mission’, ‘A true hero’. At the bottom of the letter was a name, and the half-censored name of the organisation; the name, ‘Roscoe Ulysses Sirius’, and the word ‘Initiative’.”

“By that time I was nineteen and feeling adventurous, I wanted to fight foes, and get vengeance for my brother’s death, and what better way to do it than to fight the same enemy that had killed him. I joined the army, and after mentioning the word ‘X-COM’ to the recruiter as I signed up, I was led into a truck which to me to an airport, which took me to Italy, which took me to the site of the X-COM Initiative. I joined at ground level, and fought in over two hundred UFO clearing missions, dozens of Terror Missions, ten or so base assaults, and a half-dozen defences. By the time the assault on Mars had been planned and was in the process of being executed, I had reached the lofty rank of ‘Commander’. A title that would curse me with a century of hell to come.”

“We won, of course, and we were lauded as heroes. The X-COM Initiative was hailed as the most successful prolonged military taskforce in Human history. All was well until 2040, when the colony ship at the bottom of the sea awoke, and T’Leth became the new Cydonia. By then I was 59, not exactly a spring chicken, so I had a background leadership role, and the only time I ever had to face our aquatic foes was during the one attack on our floating base. That was when I was shredded by that bastard of a Lobsterman, and was crippled for life.”

Xander gestured to the frame that he had worn for half his life. “This thing used to be so primitive compared to what it is today; but it got me around, and I recovered, and led X-COM to another decisive victory. Then, no rest for the wicked! As I’m pulled out of retirement in 2060 to deal with alien attacks on the frontier! I was informed that I would be ‘Thunderbolt Flight’s Commanding Officer.’ And that was when I led you, Alex, and Christine to a victory for Earth and Humanity, at the cost of Alex and Chrissy.” Xander’s eyes started welling with tears.

“And I felt so guilty, I felt like such a failiure, it felt like their lives had been in my hands and I had dropped them to smash on the cold, hard floor of life. So I tried to make it up; I spent some of my fortune on your top-notch leg, and stayed with you for months as you recovered. Of course, that you know.”

The tears in Xander’s eyes were flowing freely now, and the distraught old man continued his monologue.

“Then… Mega-Primus, a terrible, beautiful, deathtrap of an ark; our worst and best hope at survival on our polluted planet. When I hit one hundred and four I thought that I could just sit back and wait for death to claim me, but no!” He angrily kicked a rock off of the cliff, his face wet with tears.

“They called me back! Fitzpatrick, that piece of shit pulled me into the base and gave me a list of people and said ‘we need your help for the X-COM Initiative, Mega-Primus Branch.’ And I just went along with it. The only people that survived the first month that were on that list were Cameron, Atlanta, and Titus. And then, when we thought that we had the edge, that we had won, when we started to relax in the lull-zone of the war, we were outplayed and destroyed.”

“And now we’re here!” Xander’s voice echoed over the village and forest, and rebounded around the mountain range for a long time before it faded.

“I’ve done so much, lost so much, and taken the fall for so much. But Roderick, my friend, consider this my last order: I want a monument here, on this plateau, dedicated to Earth and all those lost. We should bury Cameron here too.” Xander wiped his wet face and dried his eyes before looking Mkoll in the eyes for the first time in 30 minutes. Bloodshot, old, tired eyes looked back at Mkoll’s green orbs and they welled with tears as he watched.

“Bury me here too, I like the view.”

With those final words, Xander closed his eyes and activated the kill-switch built into the ancient harness that was supporting his frail old frame. The 104 year-old legend, the man who never lost, and the most powerful psychic ever; died on a windy plateau as the sun set on an alien world.

> MegaPol's Elite Assault Team, and The Saboteur
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Mega-Primus, seven years before exodus

Mega-Primus was a bustling metropolis at its prime, and the traffic at 11 am reflected that. Brad Vickers chewed his tongue as he dipped and weaved through the packed lines of hovercraft; the siren on top of the Phoenix Hovercar did seemingly little to divert the rows of traffic.

At least, that was until the drivers of the other vehicles noticed the M.E.A.T. insignia stencilled on the sides of the car. It certainly wasn’t the most discreet approach, but discreet was for Special Tactics and Rescue, they were the MegaPol Elite Assault Team.

In the troop compartment of the modified hovercar, a four man team was prepped and ready to leap out and begin the mission. The team was comprised of the brother-sister duo of Atlanta and Titus Collins, the heavily armed and armoured figure of Arthur Williams; and their leader, Maeda Takechi.

“Three minutes out.” Brad leaned into the microphone on the dashboard and held the ‘intercom transmit’ button, keeping one eye on the sky and awkwardly steering with one hand.

A satisfying symphony of clicks and rattling filled the troop compartment as the team cocked their weapons. Maeda leaned over Atlanta’s head to peel off the covering over the window to look outside to get a look at their target, and the other three leaned in around him as he began pointing out details of the building.

“NutriVend’s South-East Offices are above our target. We have delicate information from an informant on the inside that there is a Parasol Industries cell hidden underneath the NutriVend facility; the informant also tells us that the NutriVend guards are on the Parasol payroll, and will confront us as we enter.”

“Step one: We breach the building and eliminate initial resistance. Step two: Locate the informant, consider this an alpha level order; the informant is an extremely valuable asset, and has experience in MI5 from before Mega-Primus. She’s going to be hiding in a cleaning supplies cupboard on the ground floor next to the rec room, with a large amount of weapons and ammunition; her name is Sylvia O’Nayl.”

“Step Three: With the informant in tow, we breach the hidden Parasol facility and begin smashing the place up – technical term that – Arthur, drop the autocannon and take plenty of C5 instead.”

The autocannon was placed back into the weapons crate in the back of the compartment and was followed by drums of ammo. Arthur lifted out a sub-machine gun and a ‘bang-pack’, a backpack full of several pounds of C5 high explosive.
“Good; now then, step four: Penetrate the Parasol computer network and attempt to extract incriminating evidence and if possible, the locations of other Parasol cells within the city.”

Titus bumped the stock of his laser sniper on the metal floor of the compartment and grinned. “Then we walk out as the building explodes, looking like big damn heroes.” Atlanta slugged him in the arm and glared at him.

“A crude way of putting it perhaps, but undoubtedly correct.” Maeda smiled, prompting a smug grin from Titus directed at his sister.

The intercom crackled. “Making my approach now! Get ready!”

The hovercar stayed in the stream of traffic for as long as possible before abruptly rolling over and diving for the lobby of the building. Brad pulled up meters from the ground and the tail bumper tapped the concrete lot gently before the vehicle levelled out and touched down, gull-wing doors snapping open as it did so.

The M.E.A.T. team leapt out of the car and sprinted for the entrance of the building, a 20 metre sprint over open ground. Behind them, Brad lifted off and disappeared back into the rush of traffic hovering above the conventional grav-roads.
The doorman freaked as soon as he saw the four armoured officers sprinting for the door and dived inside the building, locking the door as he went. Titus continued sprinting as the others slowed and he barrelled into the door at top speed and rebounded off, armour barely denting the tough metal doors.

The other three caught up and took up positions on either side of the doors. Maeda rapped an armoured knuckle on the door and bellowed:

“MegaPol! Open up!”

The sounds of muffled but frantic conversation could be heard through the doors.

“Tisa, step away from the door.”

“What’s going on? Why are they here?”

“Markus, we’ve been rumbled, it’s a M.E.A.T. team.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Go inform Dr Irilka, we’ll hold them here.”

“Okay – Tisa step away from the fucking door!”

The sound of a gunshot could be heard, and something heavy hit the floor with a thud inside the double doors. Maeda and Arthur exchanged concerned glances.

“Atlanta, you have the key, open her up.” Maeda ordered, taking a step back from the doors and crouching in front of them, sub-machine gun trained. Atlanta snapped off a salute and shuffled along the wall, back pressed against it; when she reached the door, she raised her right arm, a mechanical replacement, and powered it through the door with a screech of stressed metal.

She withdrew her arm and punched it through the door again, lower this time. Before she could withdraw her arm, several low-calibre rounds pinged off the metal of the door and the armoured mechanisms of her hand. Atlanta hurriedly pulled the arm out and stuck the end of her SMG through the hole she had just made, spraying off a quick burst of rounds that were angled up to hit the ceiling; hitting no-one but forcing their heads down in self-preservation.

Drawing her fist back one more time, Atlanta aimed for the door handle and broke the locking mechanism. Her previous two punches had been aimed at the hinges and the door fell away from the frame and its partner, hitting the carpeted floor of the NutriVend office lobby with a muffled crash.

Maeda could now see inside the building, and saw the body of someone who appeared to be a receptionist lying on the floor several feet from the doors. Opposite the doors, and facing Maeda, was a curved desk with all manner of reception ornaments, with a pair of computer screens, several pots of pens and pencils, as well as a decorative plant. Behind the desk was a tall printer and several shelves, as well as the eyes of the doorman, peering over the desk.

A glint of metal rose above the desk next to the doorman, and Maeda pulled and released the bolt of his SMG so that it clicked menacingly.

“M-E-A-T! Drop it or drop!”

The doorman ignored him and fired his pistol over the desk at the door.

“Have it your way then!” Maeda lined up the SMG’s sights with his eye and aimed at the body of the desk that the doorman was hiding behind; a short burst of fire later, and the desk was shredded into splinters, doorman hitting the ground behind it. With a final, agonized groan, the desk toppled over as two halves in a creak of stressed wood.

The M.E.A.T. filtered in through the door, Titus diving down to check on the woman lying in front of the doors. He checked for a pulse, finding nothing. Atlanta and Arthur went to the side walls of the lobby and stuck their weapons and heads through the doors there; finding nothing but a restroom and a cleaning cupboard, they joined Maeda near the splintered remains of the reception desk.

Maeda pulled a lawpistol from his belt and double-tapped the doorman in the head, before he crouched down and righted one of the computer screens. Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him to a standing position.

“You heard the guys on the inside, the receptionist had no idea what was going on, these computers have nothing; let’s go find the informant.”

To the left of the desk, facing the entrance doors, was a set of double glass doors that led into the offices. Through it, the team could see the employee’s running for the exits as a fire alarm began to sound. Titus kicked the door down with ease, the locks proving pointless on a door comprised mostly of glass; the four of them filed down the corridor, ignoring the doors to office cubicles along the way, looking for any hint as to the location of the rec room.

Coming to the end of the corridor, the team reached a T-junction. On the wall was a column of directions with colour coded stripes running along the walls, apparently leading to the advertised destination. Atlanta identified the rec room as the green stripe, and set off down the left hand corridor, following the stripe on the wall.

Turning another corner, Atlanta dived headfirst into the nearest office cubicle as a hail of bullets came buzzing down the corridor towards her. Titus rolled into the corridor and levelled his laser rifle at the two guards at the end, killing them both with lethally accurate shots. With the spitting zap sound of Titus’ laser ringing in their ears, the team continued along their way at breakneck pace.

The door to the rec room was through a small ‘employees only’ area and four guards had been left there to guard it. Maeda signalled a halt and peered round the corner cautiously this time, spotting the four guards before they could spot him, and ducking back around the corner.

“There are four guards there.” He whispered to the rest of the team.

“Has the informant been rumbled?” Arthur hissed back.

Atlanta shook her head. “Even if she had been captured, she’d have been able to resist interrogation for longer than this, they’re guarding the entrance to the Parasol facility.”

“Heh, in their desperation to guard the place, they’ve sold it out.” Titus grinned.

Maeda pulled a fat black grenade from his armour. “On my go, we’ll smoke em’ and shred em’.” The team nodded their affirmation.

Maeda pulled the pin on the smoke grenade and set the timer to ‘impact’, he held up the grenade in his hand and raised three fingers, dropping them one by one. As he dropped the last finger he tossed the grenade down the hall and held up a fist to halt the team from moving in.

The smoke grenade detonated and the corridor quickly filled with black smoke. The guards panicked and fired their weapons blindly through the smoke until all that came from pulling the triggers was a chorus of clicks. Hearing this, Maeda dropped his arm and ducked around the corner, melting into the cloud of smoke, the team following.

The four guards reloaded their pistols and glared at the smoke, unwilling to move. After a moment of staring into the cloud of black, three of the four dropped dead as the hallway filled with the pops of SMG’s and the zaps of a laser rifle. The fourth guard dropped his pistol and raised his arms into the air, palms out, surrendering. The guard felt a painful impact in his gut and looked down to see a rod of sharpened metal sticking out of him, a moment of dumb comprehension later and the stun dart discharged, knocking the man out.

The smoke in the hallway was quickly whisked away by the fans and the fire alarm, which was still ringing, was silenced, it’s systems fooled by the disappearance of the smoke from anywhere in the building.

Atlanta stopped to cuff the unconscious guard as the other three entered the rec room. The remains of a defensive line greeted the team, and a slew of guards lay dead or unconscious behind the hastily constructed barricade of overturned vending machines. A tall woman with long brown hair stepped out from behind one of the few vending machines still remaining upright and levelled a pistol at the M.E.A.T.. Upon seeing the uniforms, she lowered the pistol, and tossed it to the floor.

Without lowering his SMG, Maeda stepped up to the woman. “Sylvia? Sylvia O’Nayl?”

The woman nodded. “Nayl like ‘nail’, not ‘nall’.” She corrected. “I’m glad you managed to respond this fast.” She added, smiling.

Sylvia turned and began walking toward the kitchen area of the rec room. “I found the facility after my suspicions were aroused by the large number of ‘food’ crates I saw being shipped and hauled into here. So I did some digging…” She stopped in front of a tall fridge and opened the door.

Reaching inside the fridge, ignoring the knocked over cartons of milk, Sylvia reached up and flipped a hidden switch in the lining of the door. Behind them, back behind the barricade of vending machines, a click could be heard from the pile of guards.

“…and discovered the entrance to the Parasol facility, I spent about two days smuggling in some weapons before I contacted you people.” The team followed Sylvia as she started rummageing through the pockets of the guards. After a minute of searching, Sylvia found what she was looking for and stood up, prize held high.

“This.” She began, indicating the small black rectangle she held. “Is a key, disguised as a paperweight. If we just step over here…”

Sylvia led the team into the closet at the back of the rec room and slotted the rectangle into a small recession above the door, just inside the closet. The door swung shut and the back wall of the closet lifted into the ceiling and revealed a sterile white cargo elevator, big enough to fit a Griffon AFV.

The M.E.A.T. team entered the elevator and disabled the cameras that they could see set into the ceiling of the elevator, before they turned back to the door to see Sylvia dragging a metal lockbox into the elevator.

“Does this lead straight to the facility?” Maeda asked.

Sylvia hit a button on the elevator’s control panel and stepped back into the centre of the spacious elevator as it jerked and began to descend, slowly.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. I planted a camera on one of the crates they brought in but they have some kind of jamming device down here, the feed fizzled out before the elevator reached the bottom of the shaft. I heard the guys pushing the crate talking though, and it was most definitely Parasol.”

Sylvia reached down and retrieved what looked like a pistol from the lockbox. She leveled the weapon at the wall of the elevator and squeezed the trigger, firing a piton through the skin of the elevator and embedding it into the wall of the shaft.
“That’s a comms relay, it should boost the signal enough that we can talk to people outside the jamming field. Excuse me.”

The team were confused for a moment before Sylvia pulled her top over her head, reaching back down into the lockbox and retrieving a bulletproof vest; slipping it on, she went on to retrieve a long barreled plasma pistol from the box and clipped a number of plasma pods to the vest.

“What can we expect resistance-wise inside the facility?”

Sylvia scratched her chin, thinking. “Well, it’s fairly extensive, definitely been bringing in supplies to sustain personell that are living here. Other than that, I have no idea; could be research, could be a lab, could be a Parasol bunkhouse; we just know so little.”

“Great, we’re walking into the unknown, I can see this going-“

The elevator rumbled to a halt and the now-five man team levelled their weapons at the doors.

Ten seconds passed. A bead of sweat ran down Maeda’s forehead.

Fifteen seconds. Atlanta took the opportunity to slot a new drum into her SMG.

Twenty seconds. Sylvia crab-walked to the control panel, keeping her pistol trained on the doors, reaching the panel, she glanced away from the doors to look at it; finding the button she wanted, she positioned a hand on it before facing the door again. Weapon levelled, she hit the button with the palm of her hand and the doors hissed open, revealing a pitch-black void.

The lighting within the elevator penetrated some ten metres into the corridor, revealing a gloomy tiled floor, with whitewashed walls. The team waited in the elevator, tense and alert; Slyvia turned on the small but powerful flashlight under the barrel of her plasma pistol on and illuminated the closed and sealed blast door at the end of the corridor.

“Turn that off!” Maeda hissed. Slyvia clicked the torch off, and Maeda pulled a pair of goggles out of a hatch in his armour. “Night-vision goggles on everyone.”

Titus handed his goggles to Sylvia and pulled out a bulky scope for his rifle and attached it, fiddling with the controls on it, he set it to night vision and looked through it, while the others strapped on the goggles and turned them on with a cocophony of electrical whines.

The corridor was revealed to Sylvia and the M.E.A.T. in a sickly green, the walls were blank and the closest he corridor had to any ornamentation was the fluorescent light tubes in the ceiling. Arthur pointed to them.

“There are supposed to be lights here, it’s a trap.”

Sylvia strode past him and inspected the blast door. “Can you see said trap, Officer?”

Arthur shook his head, before realizing the futility of such an action in a dark room while her back was turned. “No ma-am.”
Sylvia pulled the numerical pad out of the wall next to the door and revealed a tangle of wires and circuitry. “What about the best way to find a trap?”

“Enlighten me.”

A spark flickered from the wall as Sylvia connected several wires together, and there was a clunk from the mechanisms inside the door as the lock released. “The best way to find a trap is to spring it. Take off the goggles and turn on torches.”

“What? Listen, I’m in command here-“ Maeda started, angry.

“So you are, I noticed. But, if you knew someone was going to come through a door wearing night-vision goggles, what would you do?”

“Shine a light, disrupt the sen…sors.” A look of realization crossed Maeda’ s face and he pulled of his night-vision goggles. “You heard the lady, off with the goggles.”

Titus ran a hand over the thick metal door. “It’s unlocked, but still too heavy to lift, plus there’s no handholds.” Titus leapt back as Atlanta slammed her metal hand into the door, denting it and tearing the metal a little.

“There’s always a way. Get ready near the bottom to get your fingers underneath.” With  a grunt, Atlanta hefted blast door up enough to create a two centimetre gap between the door and the floor. Titus and Arthur got their hands in the gap and added their strenght to Atlanta’s ,the door was lifted up high enough that Maeda and Sylvia could slip through, feeling their way underneath.

Atlanta let go first and dashed under, before Titus and Arthur whispered a countdown to each other and ran underneath simultaneously, the blast door grinding down slowly on its gears, until the five were sealed in the Parasol facility.

Maeda pulled Sylvia to the ground and lay prone, the sound of his armour scraping the tiles enough to encourage the blind team to do the same. This room was as dark as the previous corridor, save for the lack of light from the elevator to illuminate their way. Maeda pulled another smoke grenade from his webbing and pulled the pin as quietly as he could, he gently set the primed grenade down and pushed on Sylvia’s head until they were both face down.

The grenade triggered with a *whump* and the hiss of escaping smoke followed as the lights all flickered on simultaneously. The room was revealed, sharing the white walls and tiles of the previous corridor, but this room was large and square, with boxes lining the edges of the room, and a barricade of said boxes had been formed opposite the blast door.

Under the cover of the smoke, Sylvia and the M.E.A.T.  ran up to the barricade and engaged the Parasol guards on the other side of it. The Parasol guards were different to the corrupt NutriVend guards in the fashion that they were armoured in modernized versions of the alloy suits built back in 2000; in addition, they were armed with heavier weaponry, namely assualt rifles and shotguns, with the occasion laser or plasma weapon sprinkled in among them.

The squad that the M.E.A.T. faced were more than ten strong, but had been disoriented by the lights and smoke, and were quickly cut down form close range. When the smoke cleared and the bullet casings settled, a voice came over the intercom.

“MegaPol’s Elite Assualt Team? I’ll admit, I’m flattered, and as such, I’ll give you this one warning. Turn back and leave now, we will vacate the premises and allow you to leave. Continue your assualt, and we will unleash a bioweapon upon you, this weapon will kill you, kill the traitor, and kill the occupants of this building.”

Maeda looked around for cameras, opening his mouth to reply to the disembodied voice, but Sylvia cut him off.

“Dr Irilka, I thought so; we regret to inform you that we don’t negotiate with arseholes!” Sylvia raised her plasma pistol and turned the lock on the door leading out of the room into a pile of molten metal and slag.

“Very well. Release them, I will lead the alpha-‘lid.” The second sentence was quiter, as if spoken to someone behind the microphone, but Dr Irilka had clearly intended for the team to here it.

The team and Sylvia entered the next area only to face an impossible situation: The room they had entered was tall, with multiple gantries up above and several large autotrans filling the space below them. On the gantries and taking up positions around the hovercars was a large force of Parasol guards, weapons leveled at the horribly outgunned team.

Sylvia began to raise her arms, but was tackled from the side by Maeda, who dragged her with him into cover behind one of the pillars supporting the roof. The rest of team made similar moves, and were chased into cover by hails of bullets, plasma and laser fire. A firefight broke out, with Sylvia and M.E.A.T. exchanging fire with the massed Parasol guards.

The Officers prioritzed those guards who had taken up positions on the catwalks above, and had the superior position over them. Unfortunately for them, they had exchanged cover for position, and were quickly taken out; but not before Maeda had been knocked down by a bullet grazing his skull.

With Maeda out of the fight, and Sylvia attempting to treat him, the M.E.A.T. fire output had been severly lessened, and they needed something to level the playing field. Arthur thought quickly, and pulled out one of the one-pound blocks of C5 from his backpack. Pulling the block into a more aerodynamic shape, he stuck one of the detonators into the blob and tossed it behind the autotrans that the guards were hiding behind.

The explosion that followed Arthur triggering the explosives was immense and bright, and the heatwave singed off his eyebrows. The gantries nearest the explosion collapsed, and a large cloud of dust filled the room, reducing visibitity to a few feet.

“Regroup! Re-r - *kah* - Regroup!” Maeda’s voice rang out hoarsely, and the other three Officers headed for the origin of the voice. When they found him, they were shocked at the amount of blood that had fallen on the floor, and the ruby red droplets were dulled by the falling dust, turning the liquid into a foul paste.

“Sir?” Atlanta was worried, and crouched down to look at Sylvia’s handiwork and see how sever Maeda’s wound was. Upon closer inspection, it became obvious that Maeda would be fine; his hair was cut and burnt where the bullet had grazed him, and the blood that oozed out of the wound at an alarming rate was nowhere near enough to kill him. Indeed, the wound was already clotting as Atlanta wound a bandage around it.

“I would suspect that that’s the last of the trained security personnel, a facility of this size couldn’t have much more in the way of disposable personnel. Deeper in we’ll find the brains of the operation, and Dr Irilka.” Sylvia hawked and spat, trying to clear her throat and mouth of the foul dust.

“That talk of bioweapons concerns me. We’ve busted Parasol countless times on charges of cruelty and illegal research.” Arthur added.

Atlanta had moved away from the main group, and was looking at a binder of shipping manifests that she had found on top of a crate in the corner of the loading bay. It hadn't been clear when they’d entered the room, but now they had some time to look around, they could see the closed hatches of landing tubes above them. The real question was where did they come out?

“Shit!”

Atlanta’s exclamation snapped the team into action, and weapons were loaded, cocked and raised in one smooth movement, all trained at the direction Atlanta’s voice came from. The dust was beginning to settle, and they could see several metres now, Atlanta was walking back to the group, pale faced and shaking.

“I’ve got a bad feeling I know what the bioweapon is…” Atlanta showed the team one of the manifests clipped into the file. Most of the text had been blacked out and censored, but the words ‘X-COM’, ‘$100,000’ and ‘ten units’ had been left uncovered. Also on the manifest was a picture. A picture of a crablike creature covered in black chitin, several bullet holes were present on the corpse, and it’s claws were coated in red blood.

Sylvia’s mouth dropped open. “Chryssalids…”


***


Present day, aboard the MacArthur, in geosynchronous orbit above Equestria, two weeks after exodus

The hum of the fusion reactor shook Captain Blaine’s teeth as he stood next to the chief engineer, who was halfway through explaining the most recent diagnostics report.

“… So you see, the power output just doesn’t match up with the amount of powerfuel processed; but we’re only seeing this with the fusion reactor, the elerium reactor is still green across the board.”

The sheaf of printouts in Blaine’s hand and the readouts on the reactor console were incomprehensible to the man, and he carelessly tossed the printouts on the nearest surface.

“Well what could this mean? Is someone draining the power off somewhere else and disguising the readouts?”

“Exactly!” The engineer hurried over to another console and typed in dozens of line commands at incredible speed. The screen flashed and displayed footage from the security cameras in the corners of the room.

“This footage is from two days ago, and as you can see, it’s at about midnight Equestria time; there’s a… glitch here.” He pointed to an area in the corner of the screen and paused the footage using his off hand. He then continued the footage frame by frame by tapping a button on the console. The footage showed nothing but an empty room, and nothing but the timer moved, the room was still; then, as the frame ticked over…

“Holy shit! Who’s that!?”

The engineer nodded, and removed his hand from the console. In the corner he had indicated, the corner of a man’s face was visible, but disappeared in the next frame. “I suspect that man has edited the footage and readouts to disguise… well that’s just the thing, the trail ends there.”

Blaine took over and changed the footage to the camera outside the reactor, in the corridor that was the only way in or out of the reactor room. Following the same timeframe, he scanned the footage, but the mystery man didn’t make another appearance.

“I’ve already checked that, the man doesn’t reappear, and the footage hasn’t been edited. But there’s a grate between blind spots in the cameras that I’ve found with stripped screws securing it over a vent.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow and looked at the engineer incredulously. “He got away in the vents?”

The engineer nodded, and was about to speak before a voice came over the inter-ship radio and cut him off.
“Captain, this is Private Washburne, we have a major situation in cargo-10.”

Captain Blaine put his hand on his earpiece and turned away from the engineer, who looked on with concern.
“Details, Washburne?”

“I’m not going into details over the open net, I can tell you that there’s two high security crates, both broken open, and both marked with Parasol logos.”

Blaine removed his hand from his earpiece and turned back to the chief engineer. “Sorry, but this is priority one.”

The engineer nodded. “Call it an old man’s crazy twitches, but I got a feeling these are connected.”

Blaine saluted and ran out of the reactor control room, sprinting for the arterial that would lead him straight to the bridge. Chief Engineer Fergus sighed and turned back to the central console, attempting to track down the wayward power.
Something cold and hard was pressed into the back of his bald head.

“Hello Chief, here’s what you’re going to do…”


***


“Evans!” Blaine roared as he strode into the bridge.

Weapons Officer Natasha Evans leapt out of her seat and saluted the Captain, face a mask of calm. “Sir, I heard the transmission and pulled up the live feeds of all marines on-board.”

The main screen behind Evans was spilt into dozens of different video feeds, all from different marines spread all over the ship. Evans turned and sat back down into her seat as Blaine walked next to her and leaned on her shoulder to look; typing a command into the console, Evans expanded one of the video feeds to fill the screen.

The footage was augmented with several feeds that were also present on the marine’s HUD: A heartbeat monitor, a name – H. Washburne – and a graphic silhouette of the ship with the location of the marine highlighted on the graphic.

Blaine leaned over Evans and typed in his own command into the console. “Washburne, this channel is 100% private and we’re monitoring your feed, show us.”

“All due respect sir, who’s with you?”

“Is this really ne-“

“This is Evans, Hoban, go ahead.” Natasha cut in.

The footage bobbed up and down as Washburne nodded, apparently satisfied. The footage blurred as he whirled around to face the broken crates in cargo-10.

“Oh shit…”

“Uh huh.”

The crates were at least three times as tall as Washburne was, one of them was extra-reinforced with solid bars of alloy, and both were made of thick reinforced steel. The one without the extra-reinforcement was torn apart as if someone had gone mad with a can opener; and the other, extra-reinforced one looked as if it had been penetrated by an armour-piercing anti-tank shell… several dozen times, enough to create one enormous hole in the crate.

Washburne clambered over the pieces of crate that littered the floor to get a look at the gloomy insides of the crate. He flicked on his helmet lamp to reveal the inside, and all three who saw the inside gasped.

The crate was full of disgusting fluid, clear and viscous in nature; this fluid coated the floor totally, there were patches of it on the walls and even some dripping down from the ceiling. Feeling his gorge rise, Washburne dropped back to the floor and looked in the extra-reinforced crate. Upon seeing a very similar sight, he stayed looking for as long as he could to give the bridge a good look, before he turned and took a few steps back, the contents of his stomach spewing from his mouth.

“Are you alright Private?”

“It smells fucking disgusting.”

Another voice cut over the radio link. “Did you see the black objects submerged in the fluid?” The voice was slightly accented, ‘the’ sounding very slightly like ‘zee’.

Blaine swore under his breath. “Dr Bezial? What the fuck!? This is a secure channel!”

“Not as secure as you thought. I’m here to prove a point and to help. The black objects Private, would you be so kind as to get another look at them? Pinch your nose if you must.”

A faint groan could be heard over the radio feed as Washburne complied. Now that Dr Bezial had mentioned it, the patches of black that Evans and Blaine had wrongly-assumed were patches of shadow were actually piles of something. Shiny black objects lying in the viscous goo.

The feed abruptly snapped off as the door to the bridge hissed open and an armoured figure walked in. Blaine and Evans whirled, anxious, but relaxed when they saw the sheen of red on the figure.

“Rook, completely forgot you were coming aboard. Are you showing…?”

Rook nodded, and beckoned into the corridor behind him. Six ponies, in the armour of the Sky Guards, walked in; taking in everything with looks of wonder on their faces. Blaine took on the position of ‘tour guide’, a position he was all too familiar with from the days when the MacArthur was little more than a floating museum.

“Welcome aboard the MPSS MacArthur, pride and only ship of the fleet. I’m Captain Blaine and this is my XO, Officer Evans.”
“Captain, ‘Tash, meet the six recruits of X-COM’s Equestria Division: Corporal Bellerophon, Corporal Zephyr Hood, Privates Windrunner, Cloudbreaker, Stormchaser and Private Edgedancer.” Rook indicated the stallions and mare in order, and they exchanged hand/hoofshakes.

“Captain? Evans? What happened?” Bezial’s confused voice filtered out of the console Evans was sitting at, and she hurried to mute it, but the game was up.

“What was the good doctor talking about? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, we’re jus-“ Blaine began.

“We have a possibly dangerous situation down in cargo-10. Washburne’s there investigating and-“

“What the hell Evans? I thought I was trying to keep this quiet!”

Natasha slammed her fist down on the console. “Sir! I’ve known Rook longer than I’ve known how to walk, if we can trust anyone, we can trust him.”

Rook and the Equestrian recruits looked at each other in various stages of befuddlement. Blaine groaned loudly and angrily thumped in a command to bring the footage back on the main screen. Rook and the recruits stared at the footage for a moment, the recruits in wonder and Rook with curiosity, before Rook swore and put a hand over his gut.

“Code black, lock down the ship, seal all compartments.” He ordered.

Blaine uncrossed his arms and stared at Rook like he had gone mad. “What!? Do you have anything to do with this Rook? What the fuck is happening on my damn ship!?”

The radio crackled again. “I think Rook has come to the same conclusion that I have, and I concur with his assessment of the situation. Tell me Rook, how familiar are you on the topic of Chryssalids?”

Wincing and clutching at his gut, Rook grimaced. “Intimately.”


***


Parasol facility, Mega-Primus, seven years before exodus

The sound of hissing began to echo around the dust room, and M.E.A.T. backed themselves into a corner, Sylvia dragging Maeda along the floor. The dust had still not settled, but they could now see about a third of the way into the room, and the ominous brown silhouettes of the wrecked autotrans could be made out.

“S-s-so, hows about we th-theorize hmmm?” Sylvia stuttered. “P-parasol bought up Chryssalid corpses off the black m-market back in 2000. The manifest made that much c-clear. Maybe there were unhatched eggs in their bodies?”

Arthur looked sheepish. “Sorry to sound like an idiot, but what’s a Chryssalid?”

“No need to apologize, if anything I envy you.” Atlanta replied. “Chryssalid’s are aliens from the first alien war, in 2000. They would be used by the Snakemen to terrorize civillians and guard their bases. That photo I showed you is what they look like.”

Titus frowned. “They’re quite simply horrors. Fuck lovecraftian, these things are on a whole other level of fucked-up. They get close to you, stab you and slice open the skin with their claws; then they inject you with a toxic, hallocinogenic venom that basically turns you into a zombie. While their doing that, they implant an egg inside the body. Said egg rapidly pupates inside the ‘zombified’ host and eats its way out about ten to fifteen minutes after implantation.”

Arthur paled. “I wish I didn’t ask…”

The relentless cacophony of hissing reached a deafening crescendo and suddenly died down. The silence that followed was even more intimidating and terrifying than the hissing, and served to gnaw away M.E.A.T.’s nerves. Suddenly, the sound of skittering feet could be heard, chitin clicking on concrete. It sounded as if an army of bugs had suddenly filled the room, and the clicking slowly got closer and closer; approaching the team from the far end of the room, behind the wrecked autotrans.
A rattle of metal rang out as something stood on one of the many pieces scattered around the room, and the pitch of the clicks increased in pitch as whatever was approaching began to climb up on the wreckage that separated one half of the room from the other. Then, as soon as it had started, the sound of clicking footsteps stopped.

“Steady.” Maeda ordered, propping his SMG against his chest. Titus reached for the scope in his hip pouch and fumbled around, feeling for it without lowering his rifle; retrieving it, he clipped it to his rifle, peered through it and switched the settings to heat-sensing.

“I’m getting nothing on thermal…”

Sylvia crouched with her pistol pointed outward, tightly gripped with both hands. “Chryssalids are cold-blooded, and even then, their chitin is thick and insulating.”

Arthur dropped his the drum in his SGM to the floor with a clatter and reloaded with a series of clicks. “This just gets better and better.”

The dust had now receded enough the the muddy green hulls of the wrecked autotrans were visible, stained with brown dust and chunks of fallen plaster. Also visible were the terrifying black figures of a dozen Chryssalids, and standing in a half circle on top of the wreckage; simply standing there, watching the M.E.A.T..

“What are they waiting for?” Arthur whispered. “Do they normally behave like this?”

One of the nearest Chryssalids spread its mandibles and hissed at his voice; Arthur gulped and tried to ignore it.
“No.” Atlanta answered him grimly. “These’re different, see the weird metal helmet things?”

Upon closer inspection, the metal helmets could be made out. Less of a ‘helmet’ and more of a ‘head-frame’, the twists and twirls of wire fitted each Chryssalid’s head like a second skin.

“Who cares if they’re wearing funny hats, they’re Chryssalids!” Sylvia cried. The Chyrssalid that hissed before did so again, before its head vanished in a spray of green plasma and molten black chitin.

Sylvia’s shot and the death of the Chryssalid seemed to flick the kill switch in the heads of both sides, and the Chyrassalids charged at the team, just as they of them opened up with SMG’s and the laser rifle. For the first few seconds of fire, it seemed as if the horde was simply shrugging off the shots and continuing on, only falling to Sylvia’s powerful plasma pistol. In desperation, the M.E.A.T. turned to autopilot and began to focus all their fire on the same target; no words were spoken, they simply focused on the target lit up by the flashes of Titus’ laser rifle, each beam made more visible by the dust particles in the air.

One by one, the horde of Chryssalids began to fall, each riddled with holes and scored from laser shots. Only three made it within five meters of the corner in which the Humans cowered. The closest Chryssalid was dissolved by Sylvia’s plasma, and the molten spray from its death blinded the one behind it and the second Chryssalid stumbled, blindly flailing at its face.

The third was focussed on by the Officers, and chunks of it were blasted off as it got closer and closer until Titus roared something incomprehensible and swung his rifle like a club, the stock hitting the charging creature in the head and tearing it from its neck; the weight of fire and chunks missing from it taking its toll, and the creature dropped to the floor, dead.

The second Chryssalid, the one blinded by Sylvia’s fire, had cleared its vision and was now back up, charging at them yet again. It lost a claw to a plasma bolt, but the loss of its claw protected its face and it survived to get close enough to barrel into Sylvia with enough force to knock her off her feet and she cracked her skull on the wall.

As Sylvia hit the ground unconscious, the team opened up with their SMG’s as Titus scrambled for his lawpistol, laser rifle falling to the ground with a useless, bent body. The Chryssalid advanced on Titus and swung at him, narrowly missing his left arm with it’s snapping claw. Titus stumbled back, but regained his footing and added the high-caliber fire from his lawpistol to the fusillade.

As if realizing it would soon die, the Chryssalid lurched for the closest, most vulnerable target: Maeda, still sitting with his back propped against the wall. He screamed as the creature’s claw punched into his chest, and began to mumble incoherently as the cocktail of poisons entered his body. Maeda was lifted into the air on the end of the Chryssalid’s claw and he roared his last as he defiantly resisted the venom that was coursing through his veins, beginning its vile work. 
Keeping the trigger of his SMG pulled tight, he forced the wavering barrel to remain on target; finally, the Chryssalid’s head burst with a spray of blue blood and showered shards of chitin all over the team.

Maeda slid off the creature’s claw as it slid to the groud and he hit the floor hard, slumping over on his side. His mind numb and his body aching, Maeda summoned up the willpower to check on all his comrade; before he hefted up his SMG, which felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds all of a sudden; with the last of this strength, he positioned the barrel under his chin, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The conical spray of blood travelled several metres up the wall and spattered the white wall with thousands of glistening droplets. Titus stepped over the Chryssalid corpses to stand over Maeda’s sad corpse, while Atlanta and Arthur picked up Sylvia between them and laid her down in a clear space several metres from the pile of corpses and Titus.

Titus wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and checked his pistol. Something squirmed in Maeda’s open wound and his gut flexed and shifted. Titus muttered a quite prayer, pointed his pistol at his dead friend’s corpse, closed his eyes and looked away before he emptied his clip in the general vicinity of Maeda’s guts. Blood, both red and blue, spurted from the wound as each bullet hit; betraying the presence of a Chryssalid pupa.

Atlanta closed her eyes and winced at each gunshot, while Arthur tuned it out and pried open Sylvia’s eyes before checking her pupils with a small light. Sylvia’s pupils reacted to the light, and Arthur tucked the torch away, satisfied. Atlanta pulled out her radio and checked the M.E.A.T. frequency and looked for any recent activity; while she was still scrolling through the display, it chirped and she almost dropped it in surprise.

“God fucking dammit, is anyone receiving me? There’s a big fucking situation up here!”

Brad’s voice exploded out of the radio the moment Atlanta toggled the switch on the casing and Titus looked over.
“Can we reach him?” Arthur asked from over her shoulder.

“Lemme try… Brad Brad Brad this is Atlanta, do you copy over?” A steady hiss of static followed Atlanta’s transmission and the trio of Officers waited anxiously for a response. Atlanta’s heart leapt as Brad’s voice came through again, but sank just as quickly.

“If you can hear me, you've got about three minutes to signal me before I blow this entire building open to get you.”

“Dammit!” Titus yelled, booting one of the Chryssalid corpses. He ran his fingers through the stubble of his hair and yelled out in frustration.

“Urgh, ow; open the tubes.” Sylvia’s voice whispered up as she slowly rolled over, body aching and head throbbing. She tried to get to her feet but fell back to her knees and threw up on the floor.

“What?”

Sylvia finally struggled to her feet and pointed upwards. “Open up the landing tubes, one of those consoles must control them.” She gestured vaguely behind Atlanta as she spoke.

Arthur followed Sylvia’s pointing finger upward and then across, taking in the closed tubes and rows of consoles on the gantry by the wall. Before looking back at the group and grinning. “Seems like I can do this; gimme thirty seconds.”

Arthur jogged over to the far wall, vaulting over the wrecked hovercars and carefully stepping around the corpses. He took a running leap at the ladder that led up to the appropriate gantry and all but flew up it in his haste. Skidding to a halt in front of the console, he began frantically typing in commands and searching through different menus. He bypassed the simplistic and helpful user interface to type commands directly into the computers, allowing him to bypass the user-locked security systems. It took less than a minute to unlock the tubes, and they ground open with a long drawn out screech.

Dirt rained down on the team and the daylight filtered down the long tube to illuminate the landing garage with shafts of yellow light. Atlanta raised the radio to her mouth again.

“Brad Brad Brad, this is Atlanta, come in! Over.”

“This is Brad, I read you Atlanta, ‘bout damn time!”

“Brad, we’ve opened up several landing tubes that leads right down into the Parasol facility, we need you to come down immediately!”

“Copy that, I see them… You’ve kinda opened up a trio of trees; just… some random trees in the office plot.”

One of the shafts of light was blocked as Brad came to a halt above it and cast a shadow down into the garage. The shadow grew bigger and bigger as Brad descended the landing tube, and Atlanta’s teeth began to vibrate to the fluctuations of the hovercar’s grav-engine as the car finally exited the landign tube and entered the main body of the garage.

“Fuck a duck! What happened in here?” The Phoenix Hovercar teetered on it’s grav-engine as Brad looked for a clear enough area to land in, and he eventually settled down in the only clear area available: The area that the remainder of the team was standing in; Sylvia stumbled out of the way as Brad pulled up overhead and landed with a thump that travelled through the concrete floor.

Brad all but leapt out as the pilot side door flew open and he grabbed the nearest person by the shoulders.

“I don’t know who you are but we have a serious situation involving rockets or some shit being launched from this place to multiple areas of the city!” He yelled, shaking Sylvia as he did so.

“What do you mean ‘rockets or some shit’? Are they guided? Explosive? What?” Sylvia remained as calm as someone who is being shaken while walking off theeffects of a minor concussion could be.

“I can’t be sure yet, but Officers near the impact zones have reported… well… Chryssalid sightings of all things, it could be a halloucinogen…” Brad’s voice petered out as he got a good look at the the bodies  that filled the room. The mangled remains of the security guards as well as the perforated and melted corpses of the Chryssalids, and in the corner, the sad body of Maeda.

“Goddamn Parasol.” Brad shook his head. “Want me to get some more support?”

Atlanta shook her head. “Nah, if they’ve launched Chryssalids all the city, then MegaPol’s gonna need all of her Officers on the streets, just make sure that Chief Steel is aware that I recommend the heaviest of weaponry to deal with this.”

Brad nodded eagerly, happy to get out of the abbotoir that the room had become. “Got it! I’ll be back ASAP!” And with that, he climbed back into the Phoenix and lifted off, disappearing up the landing tube.


***


Aboard the MacArthur Equestria Orbit

“Rook…” Evans began, slowly backing out of her seat. “When you say ‘intimately’ you mean…”

Rook frowned and nodded. “The events of seven years ago, yes. The Chryssalid that got MegaPol Chief Steel got me too, I was the luckiest bastard alive that day; the ‘Lid had ran out of its ‘zombie juice’ so all I got was implanted. Last thing Chief Steel ever did was to slug me hard enough in the gut that I nearly threw up what felt like my entire stomach, and hard enough to kill the delicate embryo.”

Natasha sagged with relief. “Oh thank god, it sounds dumb but I thought you were going to tell some convoluted tale about how the damn embryo’s still in you!”

“Excuse me sir, but we’re a little out of the loop here, care to fill us in?” Bellerophon asked.

Blaine sighed again and tapped in a series of commands on one of the unattended consoles. “This is the data-file containing basically everything we know about Chryssalids, read it.” The group of six clustered around the monitor and began to real the file carefully.

Back on the main screen, Washburne’s helmet footage showed him looking down and feeding shells into his shotgun. Blaine cursed and scrabbled for the microphone.

“What’s going on marine?”

Washburne sounded stressed and out of breath, and every few seconds the helmet cam would be jerked up and glance all around the room, before returning to feeding shells into the shotgun.

“I don’t know if you can hear it, bridge.” He paused as he checked his surroundings again. “But I can hear hissing from all around.”

“Code black Captain, enact it, now!”

Blaine waved Rook off and turned to Evans. “See if you can boost the audio stream.”

“Aye.”

As Washburne pumped the loaded shotgun with a now-deafening two-click sound, an ominous, animalistic hiss emanated from the speakers; the camera footage backed up until it halted with a jerk as Washburne pressed his back against the nearest solid object.

“Be ready to pull out Washburne, we’re going to initiate code black.” Rook barked into his own radio.

“Like hell we are! This could still be some arsehole fucking around with the signal for all we know!”

“And what if it’s not?” The voice hadn’t previously spoken, and came from within the group of Ponies. A mare stepped forward, tugging off her helm as she did so. “Do we really want to risk something like…” She shuddered. “… Those running around the MacArthur?”

Rook placed a gauntleted hand on Blaine’s shoulder and tried to be calm and sincere. “Edgedancer has a damn good point Captain.”

Blaine’s face contorted with anger for a moment before cooling; his shoulders slumping, Blaine turned and nodded. “Okay, we’ll do it.”

“Captain! Something’s happening to K. Jenkins’ footage!”

Rook and Blaine looked back at the main monitor. Evans had refocused the screen on one of the other marines, and this footage showed a dark corridor on its side; the small graphic in the corner of the HUD placing Jenkins somewhere near the lowest spinal arterial.

Nothing moved in the footage but the heartbeat monitor, which kept beating at a steady rate. The occupants of the bridge stared at the footage for what seemed like an age, before Rook cried out and pointed at one of the shadows in the corridor, underneath a particularly low-hanging pipe.

The barest hint of movement. Black on black. A shadow swimming in a shadow. The barest glint of light reflecting off chitin confirmed Rook’s worst suspicions. There were Chryssalids loose about the ship.

Blaine leaned forward and hurriedly typed in a command on the console, pausing only to place his palm on the reader next to it. The screen flashed black, and the door to the bridge made a loud clunking noise as it locked; the ever present sound of whirring fans gently wound down until the bridge was completely silent.

Then, all of a sudden, the lights went out.

The only sound that could be heard was the breathing of nine beings, before Evans started blindly scraping her hand along the sides of the console she was sat at, searching for something. With a small peep of happiness, she found what she was looking for and pried off a plastic panel from the console and let it clatter the floor.

A quiet whirring noise slowly built up from the direction of Evans and she grunted with exertion as she wound a handle affixed to the console round and round until her efforts were rewarded with the console flickering to life.

“… And that’s why you’re my XO Evans, I could kiss you.” Blaine walked over to her, arms outstretched to stop himself from hitting anything in the dark.

“It’s because I’m fabulous sir. Hold on, lemme access damage control reports…” Evans chewed her lip anxiously as the hand-cranked console chugged through her request. “Okay, says that the fusion reactor’s severed all power lines to the rest of the ship… it’s still running, just not supplying power to us. The elerium reactor’s fine, and the Zeus cannon is online.”

Blaine’s face was ghostly pale in the wan light of the console, and his gaunt cheeks stood out, making him look like death leaning over Natasha’s shoulder to peer at her console. “Can we divert power from the elerium reactor to the internal systems?”

Natasha tapped in the last few characters of a code string with hard, dramatic pokes of the keyboard and hit enter with a flourish. The bridge lights flickered on and glowed at about half usual power; the unseen fans in the vents that riddled the ship began their eternal duty once more, and air began to flow through the vents again.

“I can hear hissing and the lights are out! Captain! Open the fucking doors!” Washburne’s voice exploded out of the speakers loud enough to create a buzz from the mechanics within them and Blaine lunged for the main console attached to the bridge screen, but found his seat already occupied.

Rook was no data-jockey, and had little experience with piloting a ship; he was however, a quick study, and his navigated through the very bare systems of the MacArthur to open the doors to cargo ten.

The footage from Washburne’s helmet cam was back on the main screen, and was almost completely black save for the HUD and occasional flash of reflected light bouncing off one of the crates from the record light on his helmet. The tall metal door into cargo-10 began to grind open with a horrific screech that spoke of worn motors in need of replacement; Washburne blindly made his way over to the sound and pushed his back up against the slowly raising slab of metal.

The hissing in cargo-10, which had remained at a steady background level for the longest time, suddenly grew into a sound akin to rushing water that seemed to emanate from everywhere in the room, and nothing Washburne could do would quiet it. Panicked, he blindly fired his shotgun several times into the dark, and was rewarded with nothing but the hollow sound of the shotgun hulls hitting the deck.

“Crouch down and go through! Now!”

Washburne did so, but found he was still too tall on his hands and knees; he lay belly-down on the deck and slid his shotgun through the slowly expanding gap between door and floor, before he rolled under the door, kicking at the control panel that he knew to be on the other side. Hitting something vital, the panel burst with a bang and shower of sparks, and the door ground to a halt, before slipping off its motors and crashing shut, sealing the hissing within cargo-10.

“Steady on Washburne, diverting power…”

The lights in the corridor flickered on and Washburne relaxed, happy to see that he had escaped from the terrifying hissing and the monsters in the crates. The bridge was a different story however, and the three Humans and six Ponies watched in silent horror as the camera footage of K. Jenkins began to get up and move around, shuffling its feet and groaning in pain as it did so.

Evans split the main screen in two and placed the two feeds, one from Jenkins and the other from Washburne, next to each other and compared the locational indicators. Before she could transmit a warning, Washburne swung into view on Jenkins’ camera, and the shuffling, shambling form of Jenkins stumbled around the corner from Washburne’s point of view.

“Kyle? Kyle!? Shit…” Washburne’s voice went from curious to distraught to angry as he backed away from his comrade’s shambling corpse. He brought his shotgun to bear and half-racked the slide to check the load, satisfied, he clicked it shut and aimed it at Jenkins.

“Can I get a go-slash-no-go here?”

In the bridge, Blaine sighed heavily, before he leant on the transmit switch with a heavy heart. “Confirm, put him down.”

“Aye-aye sir.” Washburne reluctantly raised the shotgun and waited for Jenkins to come a little closer, with a few metres to spare, he pulled the trigger and the spray of buckshot tore into Jenkins’ midriff; the ex-marine staggered back, belly torn wide open. As Jenkins’ regained his balance, Washburne pulled the trigger again, tearing into the zombie’s gut again.

Jenkins’ slid to the floor in two distinct pieces, with a gory chunk of spine the only connector between his top and bottom halves. Washburne slid a few shells into his shotgun and walked up to the corpse; he shook his head and crouched down to get a closer look at the body. In the bridge, Evans made her excuses and stepped outside, while the recruits of X-COM Equestria turned pale and either looked away or gagged.

Up close, the mangled remains of a Chryssalid pupa could be seen in Jenkins’ chest cavity; in the short time between Jenkins’ being infected and his encounter with Washburne, the creature had grown from an egg the size of a baby’s fist, to a creature the size of a small dog in a matter of minutes.

“I’m going to head to the lab and uh… guard the good doctor.” Washburne said, standing up and wiping his hands on his flak jacket.

“That would be most appreciated.” Bezial was sitting in the corner of her lab, alone, jumping at every small sound that echoed through the empty corridors of the ship.

> Valkyrie, the Sectopod, and the Defender
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Two SMGs, three if you count Maeda’s in the corner; one plasma pistol, four lawpistols between us and a dwindling amount of ammo for everything. All that… and you still don’t think it pertinent to ask Brad for ammo? You’re bloody nuts!”

“Titus, I don’t have time to argue with you about this, it was a mistake and I spoke too soon; besides, for all we know, the people above need that ammo to deal with the Chryssalids above ground.” Jester racked the slide of her SMG and tossed her lawpistol over to Titus.

“There, now you have two pistols, happy?”

The small lawpistol looked like a toy in Titus’ hand, and he frowned down at it. “What about Maeda’s SMG?”

“If you want to clean it off and strip his body for ammo, sure! Go ahead! Excuse me if I don’t feel like patting down a dead friend.”

Titus looked at the wreckage and corpses in the corner of the garage and frowned again. “Fair enough.” He looked to Arthur and Sylvia, who were watching them bicker, a smile on Arthur’s face and a look of concern on Sylvia’s.

“You two ready to go?”

“Assuming you’re not about to kill each other, yes.” Arthur grinned as he racked the slide of his SMG, sending a casing clattering to the floor.

“Yeah well, this is going to be awkward.” Atlanta’s voice drifted over from the direction of the door that led further into the facility.

A red light bathed the door in an eerie crimson glow, and a small box and slit to the side of the door requested an ID card to unlock the door. Atlanta took a knee and looked at the box, wondering if she could bypass it somehow, until the answer came to her in the form of Titus shoving her out the way and firing his pistol into the device.

“That’s my damn ID card! Open up!”

Atlanta was moments from laughing at her brother when, to everybody’s surprise, the door slid open with a squeal of stressed metal.

A figure stepped out of the doorway, hands raised in the air; she spotted the team and turned her back to them, slowly falling to her knees. Snapping out of her confused stupor, Atlanta snapped her gun up and aimed it at the woman, taking note of the white coat and holstered weapon.

Titus and Arthur moved to flank the woman, each aiming their weapons at her, while Sylvia crouched in the doorway the scientist had entered from, watching the shady corridor beyond.

“Ma’am, take the weapon out of its holster and lay it on the floor.” Atlanta ordered, slowly inching her way towards the woman.

The scientist swept aside the long lab coat and pulled a strange, long-barreled weapon from a holster at her hip, she lay it gently on the floor, where it was swiftly snapped up by Titus. The scientist looked up at Arthur and blinked, twin eyelids flicking across her alien eyes.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it sooner rather than later, I’d rather not dwell on what I've done.” The hybrid’s voice bore traces of a Germanic accent, rarely seen in a city of one language, but not unheard of.

“Why? What have you done?” Atlanta asked, all the while keeping the barrel of her SMG trained on the back of the scientist’s head.

The hybrid took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “I created the psionic helmets those beasts wear, the only thing keeping them under control.”

“You mean those tin-foil hats?” Titus asked, examining the strange weapon he had acquired.

The hybrid snapped her head around to glare at the big man. “That’s a crude way of putting it, but yes.” She sighed again. 

“Look, all I wanted was a lab, I wanted a lab so I could do something greater with my life than being remembered as the person who created the most destructive weapon in human history.”

Arthur’s mouth dropped open, and he slowly lowered his gun as he took a step closer to the hybrid. “You’re Dr Bezial? Inventor of the Nova bomb?”

“You’ve just proved my point.” Bezial laughed bitterly, lowering her hands and rubbing her sore shoulders.

A flash of green and a shriek of pain drew the team’s attention to the doorway that Sylvia stood in, the barrel of her exotic weapon glowing red with heat. Without looking away, she spoke.

“Chryssalid, there’s still a few of them somewhere down this corridor.”

“They’ll keep coming, there’s hundreds of them in cryo-stasis, and that doesn’t include the ones launched into the city. But, there’s a way you can stop this.” Bezial cautiously got to her feet.

“That ‘gun’ you’re holding is a modified psionic amp. When activated, it should act as a null ray, preventing the use of psionic abilities in the target.”

Titus pointed his lawpistol at Bezial until she sank to her knees again. “So this thing is like a portable untouchable?”

“Is that what you wanted to make?” Atlanta asked, as she backed up to the doorway to join Sylvia in watching the hallway.

“No, I made a nano-medkit that should work at triple the efficiency of those nanotech models, it’s in my quarters.”

“Why would you tell us this?” Arthur asked, puzzled.

“Because I don’t want to look like a complete monster.”

“Then you had better fucking book it.”

All heads in the room turned to Sylvia, who kept scanning the corridor, ignoring the looks she was given. “I mean it, get up, get out of here and take your design to Nanotech.”

“But I…”

Titus grabbed Bezial by the arm and pulled her to her feet, before he pushed her in the direction of a hoverbike rack in the corner that had somehow survived the battle. “Tell no-one we found you, tell no-one you worked here, and for the love of god tell no-one we let you go.”

Bezial looked at the man in a daze for a moment, before she ran to the hoverbike rack, leaping aboard the nearest one and activating the engines. As she rose above the floor, she looked at the team again.

“Find Irilka, hit him with that gun and shut down the psionic network guiding the creatures.” With those final words said, she took off and up the landing tube, zipping out the building and out of danger.

In the silence that followed Bezial’s departure, the clatter and clank of ventilation systems filled the air and set the team’s nerves on edge. Without a word, they clustered around the now-open doorway and set off, Arthur and Titus checking the open doors down the corridor.

“That’s either going to come around and bite us in the ass, or it’s going to be one of those things where if we hadn’t done it we’d be dead.” Arthur muttered, flicking the torch on his shoulder on and sweeping a small dorm with shattered lights.

“If it does come round and bite us, just remember it was a spur of the moment thing; besides, I don’t have any cuffs left and I’m not going to just shoot her.” Atlanta replied.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions…” Sylvia added.

Titus opened his mouth to add to the conversation, but was interrupted by the ceiling above him collapsing in a rain of tiles and mortar. Atlanta, on reflex, leant away from the sudden barrage of rubble and collapsed backwards onto Sylvia.

Arthur turned to look at the source of the chaos and was pounced upon from behind, Chryssalid hissing as it flailed at him.
Pinned under Atlanta, Sylvia lay on her back and awkwardly raised her plasma pistol at Arthur. A flash of green followed and the bolt of volatile energy scored a trench into Arthur’s cheek before it splashed across the Chryssalid’s face.

Titus pushed the rubble off of him and tried to get up, only to have another Chryssalid clamber out of the ventilation shaft in the wrecked ceiling and leap down, straddling his body and brandishing its claws menacingly.

Titus immediately raised his lawpistol and unloaded the clip. The Chryssalid’s mandibles opened in a freakish imitation of a grin as the shots ricocheted off of its chitin. Titus raised the weapon he had taken from Bezial and pulled the trigger, hoping it would work.

There was no immediate response to the firing of the weapon, just a small light on the device lighting up; but the Chryssalid paused and stood still, shaking its head and clawing at the wire-frame helmet wrapped around its head. Atlanta tore into the dazed creature with her SMG until it fell in two parts, the barrage of shots enough to tear the creature’s thorax from its legs.

Scrambling to a ready position the team trained their weapons on every possible angle of assault and froze, waiting.

One minute passed, the ‘tick-ticking’ sound of claws on metal could be heard in the ceiling.

Two minutes, the ‘ticking’ could still be heard, this time rapidly moving away from the corridor through the vents.

Three minutes, silence.

“Okay, go! Move to the next door!” Atlanta’s words spurred the team into immediate action, and all four of them sprinted down to corridor, ignoring the dorms and labs on either side.

Arthur and Titus stopped several feet from the door and turned to face the corridor, dropping to one knee and raising their weapons in practiced synchronicity. Atlanta and Sylvia pressed up against the door and checked their weapons.

One hand on her pistol, Sylvia hovered a finger over the door control and caught Atlanta’s eye; she nodded a go and Sylvia hit the switch, the pair slipping smoothly into the room with their weapons raised.

The room they now stood in was tall and dark, a wall of screens filled with static covered the far wall, and several rows of computers lay between the screens and the door. Arthur and Titus backed through the door and closed it as they stepped inside.

Sylvia made a beeline for one of the computers and tapped at the keyboard, waking it up.

“What is this room?”

“Some kind of control room, I guess.”

“Spot on Titus, this isn’t the first Parasol facility I’ve infiltrated; they always build them with the same layout. Below us and accessed by that elevator way back at the other end of the facility will be the main storage areas, as well as generators and an armoury.”

With practiced hands, Sylvia tore through layers of security and brought up several camera feeds. The first she pulled up showed a pair of elevator doors from behind a barricade of crates, lines of men with weapons trained behind them. Sylvia cycled through several more that covered an immense cavern of man-sized cylinders; each one with a twitching Chryssalid sleeping inside.

The last camera she cycled through before the feed flicked back to the first set of elevator doors showed a room with a single large cryo-tube inside; a single man stood next to a wrong-looking Chryssalid with his eyes closed, wearing a helmet that resembled those attached to the Chryssalids.

“Found you.” Sylvia muttered triumphantly, pulling a microphone towards her and activating the intercom systems.

“Dr Irilka, I find your security to be a little lacking.” Sylvia’s voice boomed through the facility, drawing eyes upwards and snapping Dr Irilka out of his meditative state.

“I mean, it’s touching and all that you’ve got your family members as passwords, but it’s a fairly rookie mistake.”

Sylvia’s face broke into a wicked grin as she accessed one system on the computer.

“And… well, if you’re going to put a system like this onto this system, then you really should protect it better.”

Sylvia hit one final command and a timer appeared on the screen in front of her, counting down from five minutes. All of the lights in the facility turned on and were soon accompanied by the red glow of emergency lights as each door slid open. All throughout the facility, spinning yellow lights deployed from the ceilings began to flash, and an alarm began to buzz.

“Sylvia what did you-“

“Warning! Warning! The self-destruct sequence has been activated! This sequence cannot be averted! This facility will self-destruct sequentially in T-minus five minutes!”

In the camera feed, Dr Irilka silently roared at the camera, the monstrous Chryssalid by his side mimicking his actions. In the control room, the door shuddered in its hinges as something slammed into it from the other side.

Titus calmly toggled the door control and pointed Bezial’s weapon at the Chryssalid it revealed, stunning it in the same manner as before. He pressed his lawpistol in between the creatures mandibles and sent a bullet through the roof of its mouth and into its brainpan.

Sylvia shattered the computer screen with an elbow and got to her feet. “Wish my son was here… could use his abilities right now.”

“Eh?”

“He’s null-psy, plus he works for the Krimson Guard; I taught him well.”

Titus glanced over his shoulder at the trio standing by the computers and whistled. “Oi! Come on, that’s touching and all but we’ve got to leave!”

The team of four ran out of the room and sprinted back down the long corridor back towards the garage while the mechanical voice of the intercom counted down the self-destruct clock.

“Sylvia! Is there any way that Irilka can get away?”

“I don’t believe so!”

“Good!”

Atlanta cut ahead of her brother and ran out into the hangar, dashing for the radio console Arthur had used earlier. She all but skidded on the floor as she grabbed a hold of it and started transmitting.

“Brad Brad Brad! This is Collins! We need an immediate pickup!”

She released the transmit button and waited for a response.

Static hissed out of the console.

“Brad Brad Brad! This is Collins! We need immediate pickup! The facility is…”

“T-minus two minutes to detonation.”

“… two minutes from detonation!”

More static.

“Jesus Christ! Anyone on this frequency! Pick us the fuck up!”

The door leading to the cargo elevator burst open and a Chryssalid leapt out, only to walk into a solid wall of bullets and plasma, where it swiftly met its end.

The whine of grav engines could be heard from one of the landing tubes and slowly grew in intensity as something descended.

The wall around the door to the elevator shuddered and cracked as something large slammed into it. Atlanta grabbed her weapon and leveled it at the door, spying the black legs of something moving rapidly through the door.

The wall shuddered and cracked further, a large hand with monstrous claws bursting through. With a feral scream of victory, the enormous Chryssalid from the camera feed knocked down the wall and stooped into the hangar.

It was different from the other Chryssalids, larger and stronger. It walked on four scythe-like limbs and its head moved in liquid motions on the end of a snake-like neck. The Alpha-Chryssalid spread its five-fingered hands and roared at the ceiling, before it snapped its attention to the nearest human and started to break into a run.

As bullets and plasma alike were brushed off by the Alpha-Chryssalid, the engine noise grew to a crescendo and the source made itself visible. The vast shape of a Valkyrie fighter, painted red and covered with markings not seen for twenty years.

The Alpha-Chryssalid stopped in its tracks, confused by the sudden appearance of the colourful craft. The pilot of the Valkyrie wasted no time in opening up on it, the laser cannons slung under the wings pumping shot after shot at the creature, driving it back by sheer force of fire. The barrage stopped when the Alpha-Chryssalid was pressed up against the wall by the hail of laser shots and the laser cannons slid smoothly upwards into their housing, before a single missile dropped out of the belly of the craft and ignited mere feet from the floor, slamming into the creature and blasting it out of view.

The Valkyrie turned to face away from the team and started backing towards them, a ramp in its back opening to reveal a tall man in a servo harness beckoning towards them. The Assault Team piled on and Sylvia followed, grabbing the man’s arm to keep her balance as the Valkyrie flared its thrusters.

The man hit a control on his harness and the ramp closed, he hit another switch and spoke aloud.

“Get us out of here Mkoll.”

Unseen by the team in the sealed troop compartment, the Valkyrie turned and entered the boarding tube, the smooth metal walls sliding by before the Valkyrie leapt into the open air above Mega-Primus.

Atlanta paused a moment to catch her breath, before she walked up to the man and grabbed his hand. “Hey, thanks, that was pretty damn close.”

The old man smiled. “You’re telling me! Collins right?”

“Yeah.”

“Otto Xander, XCOM initiative.”

Titus leaned forward. “XCOM? You guys are still around?”

Xander smiled. “Aren’t you glad we are? We’re not much, but we’re still about. Hold on.”

Xander turned away and activated the radio on his harness again. “What’s the situation on the ground, Steel?”

The tinny voice of Chief Steel came out of the intercom of the ship as Xander quickly shunted the receiving channel to the intercom frequency.

“It’s looking good for the moment, we’ve got most areas cleaned up. It was looking hairy around Dublin Block for a while, but there’s a library and a PMC nearby… uh, the Krimson Guard. I’ve pushed up to the block with them and we’re about to clear the pod that landed in it. Over.”

“I picked up your assault team, and new orders for them?”

“Get home, get safe, I’ll see them back at the precinct.”

“Copy that, Xander out.” Xander turned back to the team. “Well, you heard your boss, we-“

An immense explosion shook the Valkyrie, and the fighter was picked up and thrown about by the overpressure wave as the NutriVend offices and the hidden Parasol facility vanished in the a small nuclear explosion.

“EMP’s knocked out stabilisers… the Pegasus is sputtering… thrusters cut out… ailerons gone… Hold on, I’m going to try to pancake us in.” The voice of the pilot came over the intercom, breathing heavy as he fought the controls of his fighter.
Each person in the troop compartment found a seat and pulled the restraints down over themselves as the Valkyrie smashed through an advertising billboard on its downward spiral towards the ground.


***


The first Chryssalid that wandered into Rook’s line of sight was wounded and limping, its claws stained with fresh blood.  Conscious of his lack of actual weaponry, Rook pushed himself into the tangle of pipes and wires that lined this particular maintenance corridor; a quick glance around him indicated the ponies he was with had done the same.

Slowly. Ever so slowly; the Chryssalid wandered past, feet clicking on the metal decking as it went off on its own agenda. Up close, and without the distortion of a fuzzy helmet camera, Rook could see that the creature was wearing something odd on its head; like a helmet made of wire wrapped around its head.

As it walked past him, Rook looked up above the Chryssalid to see Edgedancer directly above it, straddling two pipes with her wings out for balance. She looked to him and gestured towards the creature, as if she wanted to go in and go for it. 

Rook held up a single finger and slowly drew his plasma knife, closing his eyes and biting his lip at the subtle scrape of metal on metal. The knife came out of its sheath with a tiny ring of metal and he raised three fingers, dropping them one by one.

Three.

Two.

One.

Rook pumped his fist and Edgedancer dropped down directly onto the Chryssalid, taking it by surprise and knocking it off balance. Rook used the cables he was pressed against like a springboard in the low gravity and flung himself at the creature, knife held straight out.

The un-energized blade did little more than score the chitin, but now Rook was close enough that he was sure he wouldn’t hit Edgedancer. He ran his thumb over the hilt and toggled the hilt. The knife exploded into life with a bright green flash, and he quickly plunged it into the Chryssalid’s chest. It sank in up to the haft, and Rook twisted it with all his might, throwing his body weight backwards to avoid a desperate slash from the creature’s claws.

Something else hit the Chryssalid from the side, and Stormchaser shoved his hoof into the mouth of the creature. Confused, the Chryssalid closed its mandibles around Stormchaser’s hoof, only to have the back of its head burst open as he fired the pistol mounted on his foreleg.

The shot came out of the back of the creature’s head with enough force to crack one of the coolant pipes behind it, and the broken vessel began oozing fluorescent green fluid. Edgedancer fluttered her wings and lightly leapt off the Chryssalid’s corpse as Rook pulled his plasma knife from its chest. Grimacing, Stormchaser wiped his hoof on the floor and shook it, trying to get rid of the foul-smelling goo from its mouth.

“Good work, we’ll make XCOM troops out of you yet.” Rook said, wiping his blade off as he pulled a radio out of his pocket.
“Rook to all aboard, we’ve got one, repeat one Chryssalid down.”

The radio hissed and spat static for a moment before Washburn’s voice came out of the radio, broken by an occasional clang of metal and shriek of fear. “We’ve got one outside the lab, I don’t think it can get in, but it’s doing a real number on the door.”

“Copy that, think you’ll be alright long enough for us to swing by the hangar first?” Rook asked, pulling a small data pad out of a pouch on his thigh; he pulled up ship schematics. “We’re in… maintenance 31b.”

“Err… 31b… 31b… ah; sure, I might be able to get it if it breaks in anyhow.”

“Copy that, over and out.” Rook slipped the radio back into his pocket and turned back to the corridor, watching with pride as his team slipped into view from their hiding places. Grinning, he jerked his head backwards as he started to jog backwards.

“Alright, let’s go find us some Thunderbolts.”


***


Spitfire narrowed her eyes at the open space beyond the hangar doors and raised her pistol, scanning the darkness for what she thought she saw.

‘Was that a Chryssalid? Or just a trick of the light? Rook’s team?’

“Hey Lancaster, look alive, I think I’ve got something here.” She said, calling to her wingman.

Lancaster sat up sharply, clambering off the box of ammo he had decided to take a nap on and groggily stumbling over to Spitfire. “Ssup?”

Spitfire glared at Lancaster until he stood up straight and drew his pistol. “Right ma’am, sorry.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed because you didn’t have your coffee in the morning, it ain’t worth it.”

Spitfire’s radio chirped and she pulled it out, fumbling with her off hand as she attempted to keep her pistol trained on the open doorway.

“Spitfire? Hurricane here, Mustang thinks he’s seen something coming from the maintenance corridor. Want me to join him?”
“No, you need to stay on the arterial doors, see if you can get one of the civilian combatants to check it.”

“Sure; hey Spanner! Got a job for ya…” Hurricane’s voice faded as he turned away from his radio to call out at his end of the hangar.

Spitfire glanced over her shoulder at where the rest of her flight was posted. If she squinted she could just about make out the silhouette of Hurricane, hand cupped to his mouth and calling to someone.

“Shit! Spitfire!”

Lancaster’s panicked voice made her snap her head back round to the entrance she was guarding. She saw nothing, and was about ask Lancaster what he was on about when she heard it too: The clicking sound of something walking on the metal decking.

If sounded like multiple sets of feet, as if something was walking down the corridor on four legs. Remembering the horrors of the Parasol Chryssalids, Spitfire tightened her grip on her pistol and swallowed.

The sound got louder and closer and Spitfire’s nerves began to fray, her hand shaking on the trigger and beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.

*Bang!*

“Fuck!”

Rook fell to one knee, the narrow hole in his shoulder leaking blood at a steady rate. Bellerophon and Cloudbreaker leapt in front of him and raised their weapons at the offender, who quickly lowered her pistol and ran over.

“Shit! Rook! I thought you were a-“

“Oh yeah, no worries, I get that all the time.” Rook groaned, clutching at the wound. “Are you colour-blind or something? Last I saw Chryssalids weren’t wearing red.”

“Sorry, I-“

“Spitfire! What’s going on down there?” Spitfire’s radio shouted; Hurricane’s concerned voice audible to all.

Windrunner snapped around, glaring at the darkness behind them. “What was that?”

“Spitfire, give me your gun.” Rook spat, holding out his hand and looking over his shoulder.

Spitfire handed the red-armoured soldier her lawpistol and stepped back, pulling Rook into the relative safety of the hangar, illuminated by the powerful spotlights of the ships that still occupied the cavernous room.

The deck shook as something large took a heavy step towards them, and Rook raised the gun higher, aiming at a height comparable to a Megaspawn. Another heavy step, this time accompanied by a whine that spoke of machinery whirring.
“Please don’t be a robo-‘nid.” Lancaster muttered.

“Hurricane! I need you!” Spitfire called out across the hangar, running towards the cluster of people and ships.
“I’m on my way!” Hurricane’s voice came out of the radio at Spitfire’s hip as she took a running jump at her Lightning, grabbing onto the handholds outside the cockpit with the tips of her fingers.

Another thunderous step echoed through the hangar before the rhythm broke, the steady footsteps coming to a halt. Rook ushered his squad into the hangar and slowly limped over to the small pile of boxes set up by the ships.

In the corridor, a light flickered on. Then another. The two more, until four blazing white eyes were surveying the humans and the ponies from the height of a tank. The four lights lifted and dropped with a jolt with the sound of another thunderous footstep. A long white leg came into view, made of exotic metal; large metal toes glinted in the glow of the spotlights before they slammed into the deck, denting it.

Rook snapped off a shot, aiming for a spot between the lights, only to see a flash of sparks as the shot bounced off something metallic hidden between the bright lights. The machine took another step forward and its other leg, along with its nose came into view.

Tall and hunched, standing on two legs with a beaklike hull suspended between them; the four lights lit up with a red glow and spat a slew of lasers at the people and ponies opposing it. Rook dived for cover as the crate of ammunition he was hiding behind exploded in a flash of red and green, the plasma cells inside no match for the high-yield lasers.

Looking up at the device, Rook could see that a crude cockpit had been attached to the hull, and behind the plastic and glass, a scarred and burnt hybrid sat in the seat, hands flying over the controls. The pilot thumbed a button on a control stick in the cockpit and the lights spat lasers again, this time aiming for Edgedancer, who had taken to the air and was dive-bombing the machine, scoring its armour with her wing-blades.

The four bolts missed and sailed off into the distance, a hiss of hot metal from somewhere above indicating they’d hit the ceiling. Windrunner lived up to his name, running towards one of the stationary ships and leaping onto its wing, using it like a diving board to leap onto the machine. Pressing a hoof against the cockpit, Windrunner fired his pistol, only to have the shot zip away with a flash of sparks; the pilot inside raised a compact laser pistol and fired, the bolt travelling through the transparent cockpit with ease and striking the pegasus in the face.

As Windrunner limply slid off the machine, a Lightning on the other side of the hangar lit up and lifted off the deck with a roar of engines. This distracted the pilot long enough for Rook to dash underneath the machine and duck between its legs, scooping up Windrunner as he went, wincing as the strain tugged on his shoulder.

Looking up at the belly of the machine, Rook saw the remains of old chalk and pen markings on the underside of the hull: ‘Sectopod 05, recovered from Ethereal Battleship, January 21st, 2002.’

“It’s a bloody Sectopod!” Rook called out, looking at Lancaster and ignoring the blank looks the Equestrians gave him.

“What? That’s impossible! They’re machines!”

Rook stayed on his toes behind the machine, ready to move either way if it turned for him. “The cockpit’s basically welded on! Look at it! A sneeze would dislodge it!”

“That’s as well as may be, but it’s more than enough to kill you all.” The deafening voice boomed out of the Sectopod as it spat another flurry of lasers, this time aiming for the rapidly approaching Lightning.

“Alright listen up! My name is Commander O’Nayl of the Equestrian XCOM Initiative! This is your only chance! Power down and surrender now! Or die!”

“O’Nayl? Sylvia’s boy? Oh this is going to be good.” A rapid series of clicks announced the arrival of a pair of Chryssalids behind Rook. “I hope you all play nice!” The hybrid cackled madly before firing at the Lightning again.

Rook got to his feet and stood over the prone form of Windrunner, pulling his knife from its sheath and aiming the pistol at the approaching Chryssalids. “Come on then, come and have a go!”

The first Chryssalid to take him up on the offer was driven back by a series of light shots from Spitfire’s pistol, while the second received a flurry of curses and the empty pistol hurled at it. The Chryssalids paused for a moment, until they both advanced as if under unspoken command.

“Yaaaaaah!”

Out of the black, leaping from the shadows of the corridor, Washburne clocked one of the Chryssalids with the butt of his shotgun, before blasting the other off its feet with a powerful spray of buckshot.

With the first Chryssalid reeling, Edgedancer saw an opening, and after looping upwards to build some speed, she swooped past at in a flash of blue and white.

The Chryssalid’s head fell to the deck with a thud.

As its companion’s body crumpled in front of it, the other Chryssalid scrambled and scrabbled to get away on all fours. Washburne chased it down and planted his boot in the small of its back, forcing its face into the deck. He lowered his shotgun and pressed it against the back of the creature’s head.

As the sound of Washburne’s second shot faded, the Lightning engaged the hybrid in the modified Sectopod in the most unlikely of ground attacks. Exchanging laser bolts, the Lightning managed to turn one of the Sectopod’s knee joints into a solid block of molten metal.

Then the Lightning’s wing flew off in a storm of metal and flame.

Spiralling out of control, Spitfire fought with the control stick desperately, before she saw the grey expanse of the exterior hangar doors fill her vision and she hit the eject button.

The sealed cockpit was flung up and away, smashing into the ceiling with crushing force as the Lightning tore through the hangar bay doors. Blast shields in the ceiling began to lower to cover the hole, but air was rushing out of the hangar at a terrifying rate. Crates and smaller ships were lifted off the deck and hurled into space as the powerless MacArthur began to list.

The Sectopod’s ‘toes’ dug into the deck and held it in place as it pushed its hull around to face Rook, Windrunner and Washburne. Rook stood determinedly in front of Windrunner, shielding him as Washburne began to feel his feet slipping across the deck.

Rook stared at the hybrid in the cockpit as the four lights began to light up with a red glow. He glanced back at Windrunner’s motionless body and watched his barrel lift up and down, just alive. Rook stubbornly held his ground and turned to face the towering Sectopod.

The barrage of lasers hit Rook like a thousand sledgehammers, and he screamed in pain as the scorching bolts burrowed through his red armour and melted his skin. His armour fell apart and slipped off him like a funeral shroud, and he heard someone yell his name as his hair set on fire.

“No!” Bezial cried as she ran into the hangar, seeing the chaos that was still unfolding. The blast doors had finally covered the gaping hole in the hangar bay doors, but not before a few unfortunate souls were sucked out and into the black.

Bezial’s eyes fell upon the Sectopod, and the hybrid in the cockpit met her eyes with his own. “You.” She hissed, glaring at Dr Irilka.

Dr Irilka opened his scarred slit of a mouth to reply but suddenly found himself immobilised. He tried to fire his weapons, but his hands were as stiff as his mouth, even his eyes were stuck, locked with the deep pools of black of his fellow hybrid.

“Washburne, climb up onto the machine and kill that sonofabitch.” Bezial ground out, blood running from her nose as she focussed her psionics to keep Irilka from killing her.

Washburne leapt into action as Lancaster’s radio began to chirp shrilly.

“Lancaster, you can’t help here but you have to get to the reactor! We need engines or we’re going to crash headfirst into the surface!”

“Evans? But what if-“

“Fucking hell! Man up you spineless twat!”

Lancaster cursed and looked over the rim of the crates he was hiding behind, looking at the slumped form of Rook in the shadow of the immobilised Sectopod. He got up and vaulted the stack, legs pumping and boots clattering against the deck as he ran past the duel into the darkness beyond.

Washburne took a running jump and managed to grab the rim of the added-on cockpit; using the melted knee joint as a foothold, he pulled himself up and level with Irilka. Washburne pressed the barrel of his shotgun against the glass of the cockpit in the same manner that Windrunner had…

But his shotgun beat Windrunner’s pistol.

The glass of the cockpit shattered and fell inward on the paralyzed Irilka, and the determined marine fired his shotgun again, the spray of metal tearing into the hybrid. Frozen and helpless, unable to even scream, Dr Irilka bled out in the cockpit of his own wretched machine.


***


“Oh my god!”

“I see it Lancaster, the hell is that thing?”

A monstrous armoured form lay still in the reactor room, a wire-frame helm wrapped around its head, and several metal plates bolted to its body in places not covered by chitin. Under one of its razor sharp legs lay the unfortunate form of Chief Engineer Fergus, chest pierced and heart shredded by the creature.

A sudden change in gravity began to pull Lancaster away from the reactor and towards the door. Realising they were falling into the influence of Equestria’s gravity, Lancaster pushed himself forwards, arms outstretched and reaching for the reactor console. He reached it and clung onto it like a man clutching to a life raft.

“Ok, I’m at the console, what now?”

Evans guided him through the reboot sequence with an edge of panic in her voice.

“Find the main console, then press and hold the x key on the keyboard for ten seconds, it’s a hardwired sequence on every system, reboots the computers.”

“Okay…” Lancaster found the most likely keyboard and followed Evans’ instructions. After what seemed like a minute of holding the key, the reactor groaned and grumbled as powerfuel began to flow into the fusion chamber.

“Perfect! Sorry I called you a twat.”

“All personnel grab onto something! Engines igniting in three! Two! One!”

The entire ship lurched and shook as the heavy engine cowlings at the rear of the ship spouted fire and force, brutally halting the MacArthur’s terminal plummet in atmosphere. With artificial gravity conflicting with Equestrian gravity, it felt like Lancaster’s legs were going to be torn off; but as the MacArthur levelled out into horizontal flight, the pressure eased and he could stand normally.

Lancaster took one last look at the still forms of the Chryssalid and the Chief Engineer before he ran out of the room and towards the med lab.


***


“Rook! Rook! Can you hear me?”

Rook was on his knees, facing the dead form of the pilotable Sectopod with his head slumped and arms limp. At the sound of Washburne’s voice he looked up, the burnt skin on his neck cracking and splitting.

“Rook you mad bastard! Why’d you do that?”

Rook coughed, and sucked in a wheezing breath. “Seven years *gasp* in a Private Millitary Corporation, *gasp the Krimson Guard *gasp* with a ‘K’ coz’ we were *gasp* hip and trendy; hehe. *gasp* I’m a goddamn defender.”

As the last of the adrenaline in Rook’s system wore off, his eyes rolled upwards into his head and he fell forwards, Washburne catching him before his face slammed into the deck.

The sound of rapid footsteps announced the arrival of Lancaster with a medkit in each hand; he skidded to a halt next to Rook and handed one medkit to Bezial before running off to check on Spitfire’s escape pod, lying in a pile of wreckage that was once a autotrans.

The heavy blast door slowly lifted back up as the outer doors slid open, letting in the bulky shape of the Skyranger, Mercury. Behind the great dropship flew the forms of Celestia and Bauxite, who were flanked by several members of the Sky Guard.
The Skyranger swung round and dropped its ramp. Face a picture of rage, Jester leapt off the ramp before it even graced the deck. “What in the blue hell happened up here!?”


***


“I’ll give you this Mkoll, that was a deceptively smooth landing; kudos to you.” Xander said calmly as he lifted his friend out of the crushed cockpit.

Mkoll’s mechanical leg dropped to the ground with a loud clang that was suddenly mirrored by Atlanta as she dragged her way out of the troop compartment. Titus hefted Arthur onto his shoulders and hefted him out of the Valkyrie; while Sylvia lay against the edge of the rood they had landed on, holding her head and trying to regain her senses.

“Look down there.” Sylvia said, pointing off the edge of the roof at the street below.

Xander peered over the lip and looked at the apocalyptic scene: Crashed cars and corpses, both human and Chryssalid lined the street. The only sign of life in the street below was a ring of Chryssalid corpses that was growing every second, as two cloaked figures standing back-to-back held off a horde of Chryssalids with a two-handed sabre and a longsword.

“Ha! Librarians at work! Keep it up fellas!” Xander called over the edge, waving a hand.

The sabre-armed Librarian looked up at him and gave him a cheery salute, casually decapitating a Chryssalid with a backswing.

“I’m cringing at every Krimson Guard body I see… I need to get home.” Sylvia sighed, anxiously scanning the streets.

Atlanta stepped up to Sylvia and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, keeping her lifeless mechanical one behind her back. “Well, we’ve got to get off this rood first; where are we Commander?”

“Err…”

“We’re on top of the Dublin Block, see, there’s the sensovision tower across the street.” Mkoll answered.

“What!?” Sylvia cried, leaping to her feet and looking at the indicated tower. “Oh my god, I need to get to my apartment!”
Sylvia sprinted towards the stairwell to get down into the block as the survivors of the M.E.A.T. got to their feet and slowly followed her. Xander and Mkoll shared a look, then shrugged and followed them.

Behind them, the Valkyrie slowly burned, a pillar of smoke reaching into the polluted sky. A beacon of flame among the dozens of others that slowly turned the sky into an expanse of brown and black.