> Fallout Equestria: Presumed Lost
>  by CloverClash
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Wakeup Call
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


“If you just keep your head high, do your best, and believe in yourself, anything can happen.”


    My dreams were of home, the wind rustling through long swaying stalks of skygrain, a cloudless blue sky overhead and white puffy clouds stretching beneath my hooves as far as the eye could see. The sun was at its noontime height overhead, the warm embrace of... an armored hoof to my unprotected stomach.
    "Hey! Who-Snoozes-Loses! WAKE UP!" ...oh, horseapples. 
Amid hoof-flailing and gasps for air I came to, falling from my hard metal bunk and onto the equally hard – and far colder – floor.
    A blue pegasus with tan mane - good old Specialist Sturzkampfflugzeug – stood over me wearing her MKII powered armor and standard-issue shit eating grin.
    In my infinite glibness and not-at-all sleep addled state, I managed to snap off a witty retort that didn't at all sound like "herkgurgle" and promptly curled into a ball on the floor.
    "Come on, Dares, get up. Lieutenant Contrail wants us up and at 'em in thirty minutes, and you've rested enough."
    "...Medic!" I wheezed.
    "Oh, don't be a silly-filly! I didn't have my powerbuckers on, so you should still have a spine... Or what passes for one, in your case."
    Yeah. That was my 'friend' Stuka alright. Living alarm clock and all around wonderful pony. I managed to find my hooves and scramble upright, rustling my wings and shooting her a glare, but said nothing. She really didn't intend to come off as jerk, she just liked hanging around the damned wingjocks from 3rd Stormstrike Company too much. They were all like that.
    "Orion Squadron briefing in thirty. Lieutenant Contrail's ordered full combat load and readiness."
    Wait, what? I knew we had something planned for today, but this was pushing things ahead of schedule like nopony's business. I must have looked particularly lost, due to the bemused look on Stuka's face.
    I huffed a sigh. I wasn't about to question orders; not now not ever. 
"You mind?" I drawled, pulling my hooflocker closer and giving Stuka a pointed look as gathered my gear. She took the hint and waited outside my closet-sized bunk room, though I could still hear her tapping her hoof, being the impatient mare she was.
    MKII recon armor, my armor, was far more to my tastes than the body-glove flight suits of yore. It wasn't powered like Stuka's black carapace, and didn't have the menacing scorpion tail stinger for close quarters work, but it had all the same Eyes-Forward-Sparkle gadgetry and radio equipment. Perfect for Security Force Recon operatives like myself. Less than two minutes later I slipped out the door, looking like a proper soldier.

    Activity was at it's standard breakneck pace outside. Everypony from officers to enlisted at a full tilt, taking wing in the vaulted ceilings or crowded along the floor.
"So, what's this about? Something about a briefing? I thought we had a week before we'd start prepping for surface ops, we just transferred here!"

    Stuka sighed, but for once not at me. "You know how it is, 'always behind schedule! Faster! Redouble your efforts and report back only when you've gotten something done!' It's the same here at Neighvarro that we got back in Castellanus. All this for some big plan the Council's cooked up."
    I frowned. S.F.R., specifically 1st Wingshadow Company, had the job of visiting the surface even with the no-fly-order in place. It was an all-volunteer position suited only for those willing to risk contamination, or a horrible death at the hooves of the maddened dirtsiders. And now we were being called into action. Well, I couldn't say that I didn't know what I had gotten myself into...
    I thought back to my first surface op, seeing what the dirtsiders and zebras had done to Equestria, and to themselves. Ponies were adaptable creatures, capable of surviving almost anywhere, so in an environment of magical radiation, cannibalistic mutants, and deranged, twisted raiders they changed accordingly: they all became monsters. It was our job to ensure that they never laid a hoof on the civilians we protected.
    "You okay? You look a little sick." Stuka dropped the attitude, brows furrowed with concern. As rude and mean spirited a prankster as she could be, she did care when the chips were down. I think.
    "Yeah, I just... I dunno, Stukes. The surface don't have much that isn't trying to kill us. Must be something big for the Council to be planning something with it." The last time we'd descended below the cloud layer, we'd run into a band of what were dubbed 'raiders.' They were the average wasteland dweller as far as we could tell. Science Division had requested samples, so we obliged, and found far more than we'd ever wished to. The helmet-cam footage we'd brought back had made everypony short of High Command physically ill. The raiders had cannibalized an entire town, colts, mares, and foals, and used what was left as decoration. The only survivor had been brainwashed into joining them as a mentally broken slave. I'd had to put him down: It was mercy compared to living through that horror.
    Don't think about it, Dares. Just... don't go there.
    Stuka and I made our way out of the barracks and onto the parade ground. A blue shimmering dome stretched out above Neighvarro, projected by the gleaming white tower of the Single Pegasus Project. From this bastion everything was arrayed like the spokes of a wheel. Skyship hangers, barracks, training grounds, it was the both the pride and the beating heart of the Grand Pegasus Enclave's military forces... and it was home. I could only stand in awe at the sight of it all.

    "Never gets old, goes it?" Stuka murmured, barely audible over the literal thunder of engines.
    "Doubt it will," I confessed. “Ask me again when we haven’t been here less than six months though. Maybe the shock will wear off...”
    Stuka, judging by her silence, wasn't listening. I turned to see what was up, nearly bumping nose-first into a set of officer's rank wings affixed to the pressed collar of my commanding officer.    
    I snapped to attention. "Captain Forthright, sir!"
    The captain fixed me with a level look. The old pegasus' mane was lavender, streaked with gray from age, and his brown coat and weathered face bore the marks of a soldier who'd paid the price of his service long ago.
    "At ease," he grumbled, waving off the attention. "Your Lieutenant's been whining like a fillyfooler about surface duty. Wingshadow's re-assignment here was for a damn good reason, and I've been hearing enough of it from the Council. I expect I won't be hearing a peep out of your unit when it comes time to do your duty?"
    Stuka glanced off to one side, remaining silence. Cleaning duty and a reprimand would follow any ‘witty’ remarks she felt like making. I knew way better than to mouth off, especially behind Lieutenant Contrail's back. I respected him far too much.
    "Of course not, sir." I paused, thinking for a moment. The codes "Operation Pathfinder" and "Operation Cauterize" were being thrown around across all channels. We knew it had to do with the surface — that much was obvious — but any questions I had stopped short of lips.
    He had made it clear: no more questions, it was time to stop overthinking my job and actually do it.
    Captain Forthright gave a curt nod and dug out a pack of cigarettes. "Lieutenant Contrail is waiting for you in briefing room oh-eight-seventy-seven. I expect you two to double time it there, our role in the next few weeks will be vital to the integrity and security of the Grand Pegasus Enclave. Dismissed."
    The captain's cold expression told me he had higher concerns than the questions of a Corporal. Stuka and I saluted one last time before we took wing towards the briefing center.
    "I suppose a twelve year career under your barding gives you the right to be cryptic... and dramatic," mused Stuka. I shook my head, opting to leave our C.O. out of it.

    We took a shortcut to the briefing center, cutting low between two buildings and setting down lightly on a balcony. The doors hissed open with the touch of an identify friend/foe-tagged hoof to the keypad, leading us into the briefing room itself. My whole squadron filled the inward-sloped room, my brothers and sisters in arms all the way back from basic training. Twin brothers Slim Pickings and High Loper sat close to the front, conspicuously separated by a seat occupied by Second Lieutenant August Shade.
August was an egghead, but she knew how to look out for herself. I’d first met her when I’d first transferred to Neighvarro; a beautiful mare with a bright smile and a friendly demeanor. She was smart, kind, and could fly with the best of us. She’d been my wingmare on a few sorties over the wasteland, and I’d come to trust her pretty well. 
Plus, I could appreciate nice flanks when I saw some.

    Our flight leader, First Lieutenant Contrail, stood at the head of the room, gaze roaming over the assembled unit. His pale silver eyes settled on Stuka and myself as we found our seats near the back, nodding to himself as he cleared his throat.
    "As of oh-one-hundred this morning," Contrail announced, "Operation Pathfinder is now in effect. All Recon teams have been organized into an Enclave-wide mobilization under direct command of Captain Forthright. This comes straight from the Council itself, and is a priority one operation." He let that sink in for a moment, his jade-green eyes surveying the attentive faces of every squadron member. He had our undivided attention.
    "Let me repeat: this mission is absolutely vital. It is our job to mark priority targets for Operation Cauterize, the primary air-to-surface offensive spearheaded by Commander Autumn Leaf's forces.
    "More specifically," he enumerated as he switched on the cloud terminal behind him, the cold blue display lighting up with diagrams and maps. "Wingshadow Company will be locating possible pockets of resistance, and eliminating any weaponry that the surface might have acquired that could pose a threat. Lieutenant August Shade?" He gestured to the seated junior officer, who cleared her throat as she approached the terminal. A few taps of the keys brought up a grainy set of blueprints for a massive spherical object.
    "This is a class-two megaspell weapon developed by the Zebras during the surface war, specifically a 'Cloudbuster' warhead engineered to destroy any cloud-based technology in its radius. Its magical core, infused with necromantic energies, could destroy an entire Enclave city and prevent any reconstruction efforts for decades afterwards."
    Dead silence reigned. Great Leaders, a bomb made to kill pegasi and target our cities? The Zebras had a hell of a time hitting our population centers during the Last Day, due to our cloud cover... I raised my hoof.
    "Corporal Dares. Question?"
    "Yes, ma'am. Why weren't these weapons deployed during the war? Cloudsdale was taken out by a balefire megaspell strike."
    August Shade nodded. "They were in a rushed prototype stage late in the war, the materials were too expensive and the necromantic rituals required the sacrifice of several live pegasi to work correctly. That late in the war, the cost was simply too great, and so they opted to just use their balefire warheads instead."
    I shuddered, curiosity placated.

    "We have reason to believe that forces led by the slaver warlord known as 'Red Eye' have been supplied one such prototype by a Dashite."
    Everypony started talking at once. "Was that even possible? How would a rogue element procure something like that? How had the prototype survived the war?" Questions flew thick and mad, before Contrail silenced the interruption with a stomp of his hoof.
    "Order! Let the Lieutenant speak!"
    Silence fell, Lt. Contrail's glare quelling any further interruption.
    August Shade gave Contrail a nod, continuing. "Thank you, sir. It is... currently unknown how this device fell into the hooves of a Dashite, never mind how or why this renegade sold the weapon to Red Eye's forces, but that is part of what Wingshadow Company has been assigned to find out."
    With a tap of her hoof on the cloud terminal, August Shade brought up a list of bullet points.
    "One: Find the device, and either retrieve it for study or destroy it. Two: Track down the individual who procured the device; detain or destroy. Three: Mark priority targets for Operation Cauterize, as per the directives of Operation Pathfinder."
    I glanced over to Stuka, who caught my gaze and smiled. It will be alright, it seemed to say, but her clenched jaw and a fidget of her wings cast doubt on the sentiment.. Everypony else looked worried too; a full blown offensive against an unknown threat that was planning to strike at us from the shadows was the stuff we lost sleep over.
    "Alright, everypony, grab your gear and rendezvous as the hanger at thirteen-hundred. We will be deploying into sector two-niner, so I want you all prepped for combat and carrying full kit. Understood?"
    "HOOAH!" we all called out in unison.
    "Dismissed!" The room was filled with a clatter as the squadron filed back out onto the balcony and took off, most of us headed to the armory, the rest to their barracks. Stuka and I followed the larger group to gear up.

    "Quartermaster will molt if I give her the full requisition list..." Stuka muttered beneath her breath. 
I snorted, suppressing a giggle. "Yeah. I remember her last time." I put on my best drill instructor voice, scrunching down my eyebrows. "’SPECIALIST Stuka! How in the name of the great and benevolent Council did you MELT your Novasurge carbine?! I will have your HEAD court-martialed and your PLOT branded for this’!"
    Stuka cackled. "Worth every hour of floor scrubbing to see the look on her face.”    
    "Lets just get this over with," I muttered as we swooped into the main room of the armory. Time to suit up, shut up, and get the job done.
Ten minutes later, Stuka and I departed the armory building, our suits laden with the best tech the Enclave's eggheads could dream up. Both of us wore battle saddles, but the configuration was unique to our fireteam roles.
    Stuka's wasteland-camouflaged Mark II Advanced Powered Combat Armor had its integrated scorpion tail plus a full set of power-buckers, and affixed her battle saddle was a magical energy rifle like mine.
I couldn’t help but do a double-take when I noticed the flourescent green calligraphy on the weapon’s barrel, near the gemstone array.
    “You named your rifle ‘Hilarity’?” I asked skeptically.
    Stuka rolled her eyes as if it was obvious. “Well, duh! It makes really big and scary things really dead and not scary! Hilarious!”
Facehoof. I'd forgotten she named all of her weapons. The mare was downright loony as far as I was concerned, but I guess it took loony to do the job we did.    
By comparison, my combat gear was light, unsuited for close-quarters with only a knife strapped to my right foreleg for protection. 
Put me at the back rank and I could work miracles as a designated marksbuck... Front rank I looked like a noodle-legged filly trying to take back her stolen lunch money.

    It didn't take us long to wing over to Hanger B where the squadron was set to assemble. The vast space probably could have held a pair of raptors side-by-side, but right now its walkways and gantries were servicing a fleet of Skytanks.
    Climbing the gantry-way stairs to avoid skyship and engineer traffic, I caught sight of Contrail and August waiting near our unit's skytank, the Arcus. The officers’ glares spoke as much about their mood as their raised voices. I put a wing out in front of Stuka, stopping her. This was their business, and I didn't want to interrupt.
    Instead, I wanted to eavesdrop. A little curiosity never hurt anypony.
    "The intel on the operation is far too patchy to be of any guarantee of success! I mean, launching four Wingshadow Company squadrons blind into the wastes?” August muttered in a low tone, barely audible through the clatter of skyship maintenance.
    "I mean, there is ‘Shadow Before the Storm’ but there reaches a point when we need something to go off—" August's words were cut off by a stomp from Contrail's hoof on the walkway decking. I could see his wings rustle in agitation in their armored wing-sheaths.
    "Second Lieutenant August Shade, if you have a formal complaint to file with Intelligence over the information you were given directly by them, I suggest you bother them instead of me. I lead this unit to the best of my ability with what I am supplied, and I get us back alive. That's it. I do not question the nature or quality of the mission's intel until I write the damned report, because there ain't anything I can do about it!" He snorted, face tinged red with restrained frustration. Some of the mechanics were starting to stare, and he seemed to take the hint, lowering his voice.
    "A possible Dashite, a bomb, and a slaver-lord. We have enough to worry about without leveling accusations at our superiors about leaving out need-to-know information," he bit out.
    August blanched and fell silent; she, like any other soldier, knew when the words 'that's final' were all but voiced by a superior. She had already overstepped her bounds, and it was time to stop overthinking things and do her job. 
Climbing the last set of stairs, I decided it might be best to interrupt. Maybe having Enlisted present would defuse any more pre-op arguments.
    "Sir, Ma'am," I barked as Stuka and I snapped to attention in front of the two officers.
    "...at ease," Contrail sighed, slumping. "We'll continue this discussion after our operation's completion," he snapped to August who wisely remained silent.
    I'd always liked August Shade, even though she carried herself more like a politician than a soldier. I couldn't help but watch after her as she boarded the Skytank, leaving Contrail to greet the other squadron members arriving. There was a keen, bureaucratic mind behind her pretty face, and the honed skill of a soldier beneath the pale white of her coat and dusky autumn shades of her flowing mane-
    Stuka gave me a sharp nudge to the ribs, snapping my attention away from my X.O. "Hey, Dares," she whispered. "You're staring at Shade's flanks. Again."
    I flushed as scarlet as a sunset. Dammit, I wouldn't live this down. 
"I-I w-was just checking my navigational E.F.S.! You know, plotting- er, charting our course and checking weather conditions!"
    "Uh-huh. You just want to go 'harvest the August crops' don't you?" Her grin was infuriating. I wanted to wipe it off her face with a hoof, but I could only sit there and hope my death-glare would dust her.
    "You know the fraternization rules! She outranks me by about eight paygrades plus an officer's commission!" I gritted through clenched teeth.
    Stuka gave a mock gasp of surprise, covering her mouth with a hoof. "I know! How scandalous, unthinkable even!"
    "Great... Leaders! You're the most horrible pony I've ever known!" I hung my head and gave up. She was incorrigible. I'd known her for my entire life; we were raised in the same town, did everything together, from flight school to enlistment, we were practically conjoined by the cutie mark.
    So keep that in mind when I say that once she caught you, she'd never let you live anything down. Ever. Trust me.

    "Orion Squadron, on me!" Contrail's suit-augmented voice boomed out, everypony was ready and accounted for. "Everypony on board, we're moving out. Any final questions?"
    Silence. A grimace crossed Contrail's face.
    "So be it. August Shade, take the harness. Who Dares Wins, you're on navigation. Slim, Loper, gun turrets. The rest of you strap in."
Everypony took their respective positions on board the skytank, the crackling hum of the wingpower conversion engines coming online heralding immanent takeoff.
    Seating myself just behind the flight harness August Shade was strapped into, I switched my comm over to Airspace Control and powered up my console.
    "Neighvarro Airspace Control, this is Orion. Request permission to launch, over." I checked over my shoulder as the hatch sealed.
    "Orion this is Neighvarro Airspace Control, confirm permission to launch, good luck and Leaders guide you, over and out."
    The skytank rocked in the air through a patch if turbulence as we set out for our breach point, the lowest level of cloud cover above the target. Enclave movement was always disguised by using the perpetual cloud cover we had set up, meaning most of view was the vast expanse of slate gray beneath a crisp blue sky.
    At least the ride would be beautiful, but it honestly felt like touring an art gallery on the way to an execution. Beauty marred by the knowledge of what was to come.

    “Hey, Slim,” I called over the Squadron Comm to one of our resident heavy weapons ponies. “This your first time on a surface expedition?”
    Slim’s nicker was audible over the radio. “Hah, nope. I might have less dirt-time than you Corporal, but you weren’t there for the op over Manehattan. I swear we were up to our neck in these big flesh-eating bat things!” 
    “Aw, that’s only because they thought you were tasty, Slim. They go after the fat ones.” his twin Loper chuckled. I couldn’t see them behind me, but I heard the thump of a hoof meeting stomach plating. 
    “Cut the chatter, all of you,” Contrail snapped. 
Yeesh, must be worse than I’d thought if he was clamping down on the in-flight talk; normally Contrail was somewhat lax about that sort of thing for an officer.

    I gave my Squadron C.O a sidelong look to where he was buckled in next to me. His sour-apple-green eyes were fixed on the horizon. He caught my look and tapped the side of his helmet.
    “Corporal. I take it you heard the argument?” He’d lowered his voice and switched to a private channel. No use lying, now.
    “Yes, sir. I apologise if I overstepped—” He cut me off with a shake of his head.
    “While I wouldn’t bring it up if it was classified, I’d trust you to be quiet about it. I figure you’d understand the circumstances.”
    “I... think so, sir. Permission to speak openly?”
    Contrail hesitated a moment before nodding.“Granted.”
I cleared my throat, partially from nerves. “I... Think Intel’s getting jittery, from what you said. I mean, if there really is a rogue element involved, they probably want to keep this under wraps, right? I mean, the less the public knows about enemy pegasi out to kill us, well...”

    “The better off they are. We don’t need panic, we need orderly, focused attention on dealing with any possible threats. If we start getting suspicious of each-other, then we’re clipping our wings as an effective governing body.”
    “And yet, sir, we’re dealing with a situation where we’re probably not being told everything, most likely out of suspicion.” 
    Contrail froze. “That’s probably closer to the truth than I feel comfortable with, Corporal. Just don’t go spreading that around, and I won’t have a problem with somepony worrying about that other than me. Got it?”
    “Loose lips crash skyships, sir,” I confirmed in a deadpan tone, turning back to my console. 
    The minutes crawled past, a silence hanging over the unit like low clouds, interrupted only by the crackle of a message coming in on primary channel. “Arcus this is Overwatch, you’re nearing the designated cloud-breach point. Be warned that you are out of immediate reinforcement range, and that we will be in an advisory position only. How copy, over?”
    Contrail sucked in a breath. This was it. “Solid copy, over.”
    “Sir,” I raised my hoof, tapping my console with the other. “Cloud patterns indicate a storm on surface level, light precipitation and high winds. we’d be best served breaching just east of the objective and coming in under storm cover.”
    Contrail nodded. “You heard the stallion, August. Take us in.”
I glanced back over my shoulder as August Shade took us into a slow, corkscrew decent.
    “This is recon op ponies; we're not here to draw any more attention than we need to. Just get in, find what we can, and leave. No witnesses."


Footnote: Level Up.  
New Perk: Confirmed Coltcuddler -- Bonus damage to the same sex and unique dialogue with certain ponies.


> Discord and Dust
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


“Nervous? Have you spit your bit or something? She was tooting her own horn louder than the brass section of a marching band!“


“Squad, DUST ‘EM!”

The roar of Contrail’s voice, augmented by his armor, drowned out the howling storm. Two multi-gem laser weapons, eight plasma rifles, and two laser rifles brought down a hail of glittering death on the figures below. The ragged ponies didn’t have time to scream, the pair on point reduced to ash instantaneously.

The small group behind them wasn’t as lucky. I watched with cold detachment as a lucky shot severed both of a mare’s hind legs, leaving her to drag cauterized limbs over ash strewn pavement to find cover. A followup shot eliminated that possibility. The slaughter lasted only a few breaths, then the guns fell silent.

My stomach churned. As much as I thought killing didn’t phase me, this was just a slaughter.

“Enemy contacts eliminated,” Slim reported softly as he nudged one of the more intact bodies with a hoof. “Looks like a mix of scavengers and ‘Red Eye’s’ mercs, the guards are wearing his emblem.”

“Wait, civilians?!” I cut in, shooting Contrail an alarmed look.

“Hay no. They with these soldiers, and armed too. That’s the second detachment we’ve ran into in this region... we’re in the right place,” Contrail muttered. “Overwatch, this is Orion squadron. Confirm hostile activity in our sector, proceeding with operation.”

“Roger that, proceed with caution. Be advised, you will be out of immediate support range, closest unit is more than fifteen minutes.”

“Roger and out, Overwatch. Wish us luck.” the officer cut the comm, surveying the broken world around us. “Council knows we’ll need it.”

Breaking the cloud layer, we had found ourselves in the ruins of what had been either a large town or a small city.. Nothing much above the three story mark was intact as far as buildings went, and what wasn’t collapsed looked like it was certainly pondering it.

The crater about a fifteen minute trot south of the settlement certainly explained why. Only the railway leading north across a gorge and west towards Fillydelphia were intact, no other infrastructure seemed to exist anymore.

“Corporal Dares, Specialist Stuka! You’re on point, according to Intel we’re not far from where the megaspell was recovered, and this settlement is on the railroad line. Keep an eye out for clues.”

I nodded, tossed rainwater from my mane, and took point next to the blue pegasus. At least the thunderstorm would mask our activity.

Ten minutes later, the squadron gathered above Mane Street, overlooking a burnt out office structure on the town’s northern edge. Two barrels out front had been turned into camp fires, and the area bore signs of hoof patrols and other activity.
Stuka and I watched the place for several minutes before radioing Contrail and the rest of the squadron. “I can confirm enemy contacts inside, a couple groups of griffons and dirtponies by the look of it. Pretty well armed too, not the little scavenger entourage out front.”
Contrail nodded. “Griffons... complicates things. Dirtsiders expect everything coming at them horizontally - feather dusters not so much. We’ll have to catch them by surprise.”
We gathered around as Contrail sketched up a quick plan in the mud. Whatever we were going to do, we had to do it soon before the bodies and ash from earlier were discovered.

“I don’t like this plan,” muttered Slim as he gave the target structure a dubious look. Standing on the adjacent building’s rooftop, we had a clear line of sight to the uppermost windows. “I mean, you volunteered to go first and all, Stukes, but y’all’s crazy if you ask me.”
Stuka grinned, adjusting her goggles. “That’s why I volunteered, Slim. You have to be a little crazy sometimes.” The blue pegasus reared, dashing towards the rooftop’s edge. “Shock and Awe, dirtsiders!”
She cleared the gap with a mighty leap, the rest of us following close behind. Filthy glass, wood, and drywall flew in every direction as we literally breached the building, dust rising in a choking cloud that obscured everything.
Well, almost everything. The griffon’s look of shock was priceless before he turned into a fine powder.
I took the room at a glance; four ponies sat around a table, cards in their hooves, wide-eyed in surprise, a unicorn in a tattered robe stood next to a scarred griffon in full Talon Company armor, and by the stairs two more brought their weapons to bear.
Bring it on.

Slim broke the ice with the crackling thunder of his multigem beam rifle, sweeping over the gambling table and the unlucky four. The rest of us picked targets and got to work.
I had to give the dirtsiders credit, for ponies taken by surprise the slavers sure reacted fast. Immediately I came under fire as the griffon officer drew a cut down assault rifle and the robed unicorn levitated out a pair of light pistols.
My light recon armor wouldn’t last a second against rifle rounds, so a support column would have to do for cover. Pale dust and chips of concrete scattered as the pair opened fire, splitting off in opposite directions. Bastards were smart; I’d be flanked if I stayed here... But like them, I had friends with me.

Unlike them, my friends had power armor.

Stuka collided with the robed pony like a bolt from the blue, raining down blow after blow on his unarmored body even before they’d slid to a stop. The unicorn wrapped her tail in a telekinetic field in an attempt to pull her off, but she was too fast. Strong hooves gripped his head by the jaw and the nape of his neck; the wet sound of rending flesh and the crack of bone was accompanied by a red bar vanishing from my E.F.S.
I turned around in cover, darting out to snap off a couple shots at the griffon, hitting nothing but wall.
“Loper! I can’t get a clear shot!” I called out over the comm, tapping my hoof twice against the floor.
High Loper gave me a firm nod from his firing position, snagging a green-banded throwing apple from his harness. “Apple out!”

I watched the fruit-shaped explosive arc towards the griffon’s position and I ducked. The green flash and the resounding *thud* of the explosion was loud... But it was the screaming that got me. That horrid, mortal scream of someone being melted into an unrecognizable pile of glowing green ooze.
“Breaching team in Sir,” I reported, scanning my E.F.S. for contacts.
“Roger that Corporal. Assault team, hit ‘em!” Contrail replied. He, August Shade, and the other six began their assault on the ground floor even as we heard the clatter of hooves on the stairwell. The enemy would have to split their forces, and in the close-quarters without radios, good luck keeping a coordinated defense.
“What in the hay is go-” I heard a panicked voice cry out from the stairwell before his head became so much paste stuck to Stuka’s power-buckers. She’d been waiting by the door.
The mare cleaned her hooves on the tattered carpet. “Surprise!” She grinned, glancing to me for an update. “Next?”
“Search the room; we’re here to look for clues. Anything about weapons, pegasi, or enemy strong points we need to pass on to Intel.”
The four of us fanned out, searching high and low. The corpse of the robed unicorn drew my attention almost immediately, the clothing looked out of place for a wastelander. Muted red cloth over black barding, with a badly defaced emblem of gears and wings on the shoulder.

Rifling through the robes I recovered a small book and a set of quills, along with what looked like a weather beaten tape deck. “Jackpot,” I breathed as I dusted off the recorder with a wing.
“Well? Play it!” I nearly jumped out of my skin as Stuka half-shouted in my ear. I shot her an irked glare, which was met by a sheepish grin.

“Heh... sorry, I’ll uh... just go search over here...”
Waiting until she was distracted, I attached the earpiece of my radio to the recording, and hit ‘play’.

*click beep-beep*

“Sprocket Spring, I know the project was assigned to you personally, but I cannot help but note as chief advisor to this undertaking that you have quite blatantly been avoiding your weekly reports,”
The voice was female, matronly and calm, but the soft tone was marked by a fiery determination. She reminded me of a council pony in tone.

“The demands thrust upon us are surmountable if we work together. The information you stole from the Steel Rangers on your departure garnered you favor, yes, but I judge ponies on their actions *after* their initiation. You have yet to prove yourself beyond this initial offering.”
The mare sighed, the sound of shuffling papers faint but audible.
“That’s why I assigned you to the expedition. You’re a technical expert, untested but... capable enough for this undertaking, but be warned that this is not some petty retrieval mission. Time is of the essence here, and if they discover what you’re up to... Then may the Goddesses help you.”
The recording was washed with static, the mare’s voice becoming faint.
“I’m sorry that I can’t help you more. Good luck, I look forward to seeing you ag-”

*kzzzzcht*

“Well *that* was vague...” I muttered under my breath, hooking up my radio again. “Anypony else find anything?” I glanced over to Slim and Loper, who had gathered the gear found on the other bodies off to the side. Orders forbade us from taking anything unless it was evidence, but this was mostly junk anyway. Except...

“Rad drugs. Lots of it, too. More than Science Division mandates us to carry on sorties,” Slim noted, pointing to the small glass bottles filled with pills, and sacks of acrid orange Radaway.

I stared at the stockpile. My wings started to itch something fierce as I started to piece together the information. I opened a comm channel as I scooped the drugs into my saddlebags and let my inventory sorter spell do it’s job.

“Lt. August, Lt. Contrail; this is Dares. We got an abnormally high concentration of rad-drugs on the top floor. Looks like the garrison here was expecting lots of exposure to something, and I doubt it was just the rain.”

“Roger, Corporal. Everypony, until confirmed otherwise, we are assuming that we have a class-two megaspell on site. Proceed with caution.”

The squadron sounded off, and the three ponies with me readied themselves to move on.

I kicked my battle saddle into a reload cycle. “Next floor, work your way down and meet up with the assault team.”

The stairs were tight quarters, barely enough room for two ponies to pass by each-other going opposite directions... Which was why we took the elevator shaft. Plus this way, who would expect an assault from an elevator that’s been out of service for two hundred years?

A bullet bounced off my faceplate with the force of a sledgehammer as soon as the doors opened, a second bullet took a bit of my mane. My head throbbed as everypony else returned fire on the motherbucker unfortunate enough to be on the other side of the doors.

“Dares! You alright?” Stuka shook my shoulder as I fumbled to find my hooves on the top of the elevator cart. My ears rang, and my vision was filled with bursts of light. The image of the room seemed to be burned into the corners of my sight. Everything else swam with a nauseating rhythm that pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

Dimly, I realized my perspective had changed from peering between open doors, to staring up the elevator shaft.

“Y-yeah! Just caught me by surprise is all... Horse apples, he didn’t even show up on E.F.S.!” I raised my goggles to wipe sweat from my eyes, then quickly replaced them. That had been too close, any lower and I would’ve eaten a pistol round to the muzzle, armor or no armor.
I tried to still my trembling hooves as I took the edge off with a healing potion. My headache started to fade immediately.

Head clear, I tapped my radio earpiece. “Corporal Dares to Lieutenant Shade, do you copy, over? Advise that something’s having an effect on E.F.S. readings, could be the storm. Over.”

“Or magical interference... Solid copy, Corporal,” August Shade replied. “Bottom floor’s clear, we’re working our way to the back. Looks like there’s some sort of train depot build underneath this structure.”

“Solid copy, we’re on our way.”
“C’mon Dares, just this floor to go by the sound of it.” Stuka was right; near-death experiences were just a part of a job that still needed doing.

I once again took point, peering into the empty office space the elevator opened up into.    Well, almost empty. A red bar belatedly popped into being, just ahead near the singed corpse of our ambusher. Oh sure, now the thing works... Bucking useless piece of magically engineered trash...

I glanced back to the others, jerking my head towards the space just to the right of the desk. As they moved to flank, I took the other side.

“Come out with your hooves up!” I ordered.

From beneath the metal desk I could hear... crying? It was scarcely audible beneath the pounding of the rain on the building and the muffled crack of gunfire from below. I rounded the corner, the ruby-tipped barrel of my beam rifle pointed squarely at the space beneath the desk.

It was a lone dirt-stained earth pony. Couldn’t have gotten her cutie mark more than a few years ago. “You... Monsters!” she shrieked at the sight of us.

“Hooves where I can see them! Surrender or you will be fired upon!” The dead unicorn’s pistol was still in the mare’s reach, and I inched forward to secure it. Council help me, I didn’t want to dust her... We could take prisoners, right?

Loper and Slim charged their beam weapons, Stuka’s powerbuckers gave an ominous pneumatic hiss as they covered me.

“What in Equestria did we do to you? Why can’t you just leave us alone? Who gave you the right?!” Her eyes were wide with grief and bloodshot with rage. She didn’t break eye contact with me as she reached out a hoof towards the fallen gun.

I took another step forward, trigger bit cold between my teeth. “I said HOOVES UP!”
Don’t do it, please...

Her hoof touched the metal of the gun. My beam rifle flashed, the smell of ozone filling my nostrils.
I stared down at the mare’s body between my hooves. She had rushed me, I hadn’t had time to think! It was an accident, I didn’t mean to kill her!
Goddesses... She couldn’t have been too much older than a foal... What the hell was I doing?
“Dares?”
My brain didn’t register the voice. It sounded small, meek. Unfamiliar. My flank hit the dusty carpet, legs unable to support me.
“Dares, please, just talk to me...”
I felt tears brim inside my goggles. I had just killed a mare, gunned her down without a second thought. I felt a heavy hoof touch my shoulder, and I jumped. I tore my gaze from the body between my hooves, meeting Stuka’s gaze.
“Dares... We have to keep moving.”

I glanced around. Loper and Slim averted their gaze. I couldn’t bear to look them in the eye, either. Fly steady, I reminded myself. Lives were counting on us. I couldn’t stop now.
“I’m alright,” I whispered. My voice was hoarse as I uttered a bold-faced lie to my best friend.
I didn’t give the dead filly a backwards glance as we left. I don’t think I could have. It had been self defense, hadn’t it? She’d had a gun and intent to use it, and while our armor was good it wasn’t bulletproof... It was part of the job; ponies died... Right?
I shook myself, my fire team still had to meet up with Contrail on the ground floor, there still was a job to do.

We pried the elevator doors open on the ground floor. I counted somewhere between thirteen and fourteen corpses strewn about the open lobby, all in various states of ash.
Everypony was gathered near a large door near the back, a couple of them downing healing potions to clear superficial injuries.

August Shade was holding some sort of scientific instrumentation near a set of ornate stairs leading down, while Contrail paced.

“Overwatch, this is Orion-two. We’re picking up some bizarre readings here, looks like elevated levels of magical radiation,” August reported.

“Copy, Orion. Proceed with caution; surveillance teams are reporting increasing activity south of your current position. Support teams are still a ways out.”

Contrail swore under his breath. “Solid copy Overwatch. Squadron, listen up! The megaspell Intel’s caught wind of is potentially still here. Everypony on guard, we don’t know what to expect. Stuka, you’re on point. Slim, Loper, and Rook, you’re on guard posting here. We’re expecting company, so dust anything that don’t have wings.”

We split up, our heavy weapons ponies hunkering down as best they could in the blasted out lobby, the rest of us downing rad-x and stacking up by the large metal door.
I checked my E.F.S., I could see a few red bars, moving on the other side of the wall. Odds are, they knew we were here, our entrance had been damn loud... But I couldn’t tell how far away or even what the hostile contacts were. For all I knew, it was just another scavenger, caught in the crossfire and scared out of her mind...
Who gave you the right?
I shuddered. No. I couldn’t think like that. Shit happens; this was warfare, and I was just doing my job. Fly steady.

“Everpony ready?” Contrail’s voice was tense. “Three...”

The bars continued to shift, dancing in and out of my peripheral vision.

“Two...”

I bit down gently on my trigger bit, tensing.

“Breach! Go go go!”

Stuka hit the door with all four hooves, the rusted metal flying off it’s hinges and exploding into shards. Her momentum carried her forward onto a large platform. She rolled to a stop and came up with her rifle glowing, scanning the depot below.
The gunfire broke out immediately.
“Contact! Talon mercs!” I heard somepony shout, the squad immediately seeking cover.
Two hundred years ago, this train station had been beautiful. Now, it was ruin. Pillars and kiosks were nothing but shattered remains scattered about in heaps, benches piled off to one side blocking the westbound train tunnel.
And it was guarded by griffons who had some serious firepower in their talons. The chatter of machine guns met the crackle of energy weapons as we engaged, those near the door providing covering fire as the others advanced.
Then it was my turn to rush into the dimly lit room filled with mercs out for our blood. With a masculine and confident battle cry I rounded the doorframe and dove for the protection of the balcony railing.
I heard the boom of an anti-machine rifle over the chatter of automatic weaponry, and the world became a haze of pain. I dimly realized I was now on my stomach, not far from where the solid concrete railing had been. Smoke and the smell of burned feathers reached my nose, and somepony started to shake my shoulder.
“Corporal! Can you move? Come on!” It was Crosswind, the squadron medic. I tried to respond, but the burning agony froze the words in my throat, burying them beneath a scream.
The medic started dragging me to cover. “Hold on; they blew your arcane spark packs...” I choked as he forced a healing potion into my mouth and tilted my head upright, sputtering on the purple liquid.
However, it did dull the pain enough for me to think... and speak. “How...argh! How bad is it, doc?” I asked weakly, trying to flex my wings. I felt nothing, no movement.
Crosswind’s ashen expression caused a knot to form in the pit of my stomach. “You’ll fly... eventually. Hold still, you’ll make it worse...”

I lay in cover, helpless while my squad fought for their lives. “Two down! Team one, base of fire on the left flank! Team two, grenades!”
Contrail, loud as he was, sounded completely calm as he called out orders. Stuka, August, and two others comprising team two weren’t far from my position, and I could see them pop up to pitch grenades.

Time seemed to freeze in place as I watched in horror. From below, I could see a streak of smoke crest the rail with a mighty *woosh!* of exhaust.
The rocket detonated right in the midst of my comrades. Lieutenant August Shade didn’t even have the breath to scream, her severed foreleg landing a body’s-length away from the rest of her.
I choked out a cry, dragging myself to where she lay. The mare was bleeding horribly, streaks of crimson staining her mane and coat. Her gaze met mine, wide eyed and terrified as I clutched her attached forehoof. Crosswind forced a healing potion after healing potion down her throat, trying his best to staunch the bleeding with bandages.
It wasn’t good enough. She was going into shock, body trembling.

Great leaders... she was missing half a wing, too...

“Oh, Goddesses... ‘Cross, please! do something!”

“I... I’m trying!” the stallion snarled, applying a tourniquet to the shorn-off leg stump, just above the joint. “We don’t carry enough healing potions to fix this, she needs evac!”

I glanced around. Stuka was in the process of finding her balance, looking dazed and battered but mostly uninjured. The other two, Lock Stock and Tin Whistle, had smoking dents in their armor, but were bleeding only from superficial wounds. They had all been lucky.

Contrail’s voice broke through the ongoing din. “Overwatch, Lt. August is down! We need medical support immediately!”

The was a brief pause. “We’re scrambling a medevac team but they’re fifteen minutes out. You are on your own, Orion!”

The room shook as another salvo of grenades went arcing over the rail at the griffons, and the room at long last fell silent.

Contrail set his jaw. “Crosswind, Whistle, get the Lt back out to the lobby and ready to move.” The officer’s gaze drifted to where I sat, and to my tattered wings.

“Dares... Can you fly?”
I grimaced, trying to flex my wings again. Nothing. The pit in my stomach grew with an uncertain shake of my head.
“Dammit... Don’t worry son, we’ll get you out of here. Squad! We have five minutes before this place is swarmed with mercs! We are leaving!”

Stuka interrupted over the comm. “Sir... You need to see this.”
Limping, I followed Contrail to the railing as we peered over at the train tracks below. A single box car sat on the tracks, a hellish green light emanating from cracks in the plating and the open door.
Inside sat what looked like a sphere of scintillating light, contained in a framework of black metal and sooty glass. My mane stood on end. The zebra script on the framework was unmistakable.
The Lt. pressed a hoof to his ear. “Overwatch... We have a code black. Repeat: Megaspell on site.”
“But that’s... uh, confirmed Orion. An ordinance crew is inbound but they’re out of support range! You have enemy reinforcements closing on you, surveillance has been forced to fall back!”
Contrail snorted in frustration, then took a deep breath. “Confirmed, Overwatch.”
The pegasus hopped off the rail, gliding down to the floor below to get a better look at the warhead, with me following behind on the steps.

With August Shade on the verge of death, only stabilized by Crosswind’s constant attention and a drip feed of healing potion, Stuka was the closest thing we had to an expert on megaspells. That is to say, she knew how to blow things up really well... But this took arcane know-how.

Stuka tapped the cracked glass casing of the megaspell; Contrail and I winced. Anything could set it off, to our knowledge. “The thing’s definitely intact, but I think it’s only partially functional. Look, this enchanted glass? It’s designed to seal the energy inside. By the looks of it... it’s been slowly, er, ‘leaking’ for the last two-hundred years,” Stuka mused. “Sort of like a cracked spark battery, really. It’s probably lost over half it’s juice.”
Contrail shook his head. “I don’t see how that’s helpful. That also means it’s too unstable to move, right? We don’t have time to re-stabilize it, and defusing it is out of the question with our timeframe...” he again pressed a hoof to his earpiece.
“Status update: Megaspell is too unstable to move and we don’t have the technical expertise on-hoof to disarm. Please advise.”

I felt the gnawing pit of dread creep into my stomach as a thought struck me like a lightning bolt. “Sir...” I rasped.

“Acknowledged, Orion-actual, you’re out of Enclave standard operation range! E.O.D. and medical is thirteen minutes out and closing, enemy reinforcements three minutes and closing!”   
“Sir!”
“Dammit! Aren’t there any Raptors in the vicinity? Anypony at all?!”
“SIR!” I found the strength to shout, cutting off Overwatch’s reply, wincing as I did.
Contrails shoulders tensed, and he turned to face me. Beneath the orange flight goggles, I couldn’t see his eyes, but I know they were aflame with frustration.
“You need to get out of here, and we need that thing gone or countless pegasi could die.”
The officer gritted his teeth with barely suppressed rage “Thank you for stating the ob-!” I held up a hoof, cutting off a superior officer for the second time in the same minute.
“You need to get out of here. I’m going to slow y’all down like this sir... Go. If that thing’s so unstable, I should be able to set it off.” I closed my eyes. I could feel blood trickling down the inside of my armor around my wing joints. “I’ll blow it as soon as the squadron’s at minimum safe distance. Worst case scenario? We damage the cloud cover a bit... But it’s better to set it off at half-power than let Red Eye’s forces get their hooves on something like this.”

Stuka landed next to me, raising her flight goggles. “Dares! What in Tartarus are you talking about! You can’t do that!”

I slapped her hooves away from me as she tried to touch my shoulder. “Dammit, Stuka! We can’t defuse it, and we can’t carry me, August, and fight off a flight of griffons on retreat!”

I glanced over to my C.O. I couldn’t read his expression, but his wings sagged. He was silent for what felt like an eternity.

“He’s right.”

I felt my heart sink. It was set, then. “Then go, sir. Get out of here before we lose everypony for nothing.”

I felt the bone-crushing strength of Stuka hugging me.

Her shoulders were shaking. “Dares... please... Stop talking silly, and we’ll get out of here! Back home! We can-”

“Stuka, please...” I watched as Contrail rallied the rest of the squad at double-time, securing what they could. “This is how it has to be. We don’t have a choice, there isn’t any time...”

Stuka’s embrace finally broke, and she straightened her back. “Then I’m staying too. Nopony fights alone, nopony gets left behind!”

“Not an option, you’ve got to carry the Lt. and fly the skytank, remember?”

For the first time in my life, I saw Stuka succumb to defeat. Tears ran down her faceplate. With a yank, she ripped her beam rifle from her battle saddle, pressing in into my hooves, and pulling me into one last hug. “Dares... I swear it, I’ll come back. I’ll bring you home, you’ll see your mom and dad again... And if you have the guts to die on me... I’m flying to Tartarus to kick your scrawny rump.”

Contrail’s voice came over the comm. “Squad... We’re leaving... Rally at the street, we’re rendezvousing with medical and support teams at the Arcus.”

I heard the squadron sound off their confirmation as the Lt. assigned the retreat coordinates. Once again, I heard his voice crackle in my ear. “Dares... I’m sorry it had to happen this way, son...”
I did my best to calm my breathing as I pushed Stuka away, replacing my ruined rifle with Hilarity. A slow smile crept across my face. “I’m not. It’s been an honor serving with you, sir... With all of you.”
I started limping towards the glowing megaspell. I heard Stuka’s hooves on the concrete, she was the last to leave.

I waited alone in the ruin of the old train depot, watching red bars circle around the building, a few breaking off to chase my comrades. I had removed the anti-radiation drugs we’d taken earlier from my saddlebags; four tablets of rad-x, some radaway, and even some med-x and a couple old healing potions.
I wasn’t so proud as to not use tools when presented with them; I dosed myself to a level probably dangerous in of itself, but even still it did nothing to dull the pain in my wings.

Faintly, gunfire was audible, muted inside the tunnel. Doubtless the Talons were harrying my comrades... I had to act fast.  “Overwatch, this is Orion actual! We’re en-route to the skytank and are evacuating the area! Code black, megaspell detonation imminent!”
This was it.

I only had to remove the gemstones from the framework that held the destructive magic in containment. Without the metal armor that protected the bomb’s vulnerable guts, or the runed glass around the necromantic core, it would fail catastrophically.

Emerald cores, inlaid with zebra runes. Eight of them, one-by-one pried out of their sockets with my combat knife. Each of the fine-cut gemstones shattered to dust as they tumbled to the floor.
The megaspell began to hum, the air around it vibrating. It started with a tingle in my teeth, something I could dismiss as the same nerves that caused my hooves to tremble, but it continued to build.
I attacked the last gemstone, knife between my teeth. The sharpened steel made short work of the gem’s socket, and the green mineral dimmed as it bounced once off the floor.
I heard the sound of fracturing glass before I saw the spider-web of cracks starting to spread. Eldritch energies strained against their bounds. I grimaced, the radiation now bathing the chamber was probably off the charts.

No time to waste. The faint smell of rain water hit my nostrils, coming from the train tunnel. I ran as fast as my hooves would carry me, orienting my compass north and galloping down the tracks. I before me, I could make out the opening of the tunnel, a murky light leading to the stormy wastes. I only had a few precious moments before the entire settlement would be obliterated... I wasn’t planning on going down quietly.

The train tunnel exited onto an old bridge, spanning the gorge north of town. My hooves clattered against weatherbeaten wood. The megaspell hadn’t yet detonated, but I could still feel the hum in my teeth, growing louder by the second. I didn’t have much time. Behind me, the ruin was in chaos as the slavers tried to rally in vain, their forces too scattered and too late.

My hooves touched the muddy soil of the wasteland just as the hum reached its crescendo. The world went silent, bathed in a baleful green flame. I never heard the explosion, just felt the rush of burning air sweep over me.
The world fell away, agony replaced by a cold darkness. I couldn’t see or hear, my limbs scarcely moved.
Run, a voice in my head screamed.

I tried.
I tried to stand, to fly, to move... anything... but I could only crawl, dragging myself over rain-soaked sand, blindly.
I don’t know how long I crawled for. Seconds? Minutes? It felt like days, dragging myself by my forehooves, with nothing but the feeling of burned flesh scraping against sand, rock, and broken rubble.

“Mom... Dad...” a tiny voice whispered. “I tried... I tried so hard... I just wanted to be like grandpa, do the right thing... to make things better. Instead I...”

I felt myself shudder, unable to drag myself further, curling up in the rain soaked sand.

“Mom...?” Nothing.

“Dad...?” Silence met my ears, an abyss stretching out around me in all directions.

I lay alone in the wasteland, a cold weightlessness finally settling over me.

Who gave you the right?

“I’m sorry.”

WARNING: CRITICAL RADIATION LEVELS DETECTED. CRIPPLING INJURIES DETECTED. SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION.
Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: In Shining Armor -- Beams reflect off the mirror-like finish of your gleaming armor! You gain an additional +5 Damage Reduction against energy weapons while wearing any metal armor, +2 while wearing reflective eyewear.