Nox Aeterna: Rebirth

We are borne of the eternal darkness; it will be the eternal darkness to which we ultimately return.

--Unknown

Equestria was made all but obsolete after a few centuries of war between The New Lunar Republic and The Solar Empire over who would rule more of the universe. Another main factor that this war was over was a machine built by Canterlot unicorns that allowed for extremely long distance teleportation between two of the same machine.Ponies took sides in the war, developing battle armor and weapons, which were originally devised by Lyra, a unicorn mare who seemed convinced that the tools were used by a different species for the same reason; war. These tools sped up the feud betweenthe princesses, and this war spread into space as they colonized surrounding planets and mined for resources to help them during the war.It was uncommon for the other side to attack such frigates in hopes of gaintheir resources as their own. As the war raged on, it looked as if Luna was going to defeat her sister. Eventually though, The Solar Empire gained the upper hoof on TNLR, causing Luna to flee through a wormhole with the rest of her remaining army.

In the start, there were only two factions, led by both Princesses. Of those that lasted, four were to rise up and become the major empires that, between them, hold the balance of power. Today, they are known as the Amarr Empire, the Gallente Federation, the Caldari State, and the Minmatar Republic. New factions started growing stronger, while previously unknown ponies rose to power, forming three new factions. In the end, after Luna fled through the wormhole, two others emerged, led by a descendant of Chrysalis, who formed the Amarr faction and became allies with Celestia's Caldari faction. The Minmatar had been existent for tens of centuries, but had been re-discovered by Luna's mining teams as they invaded their home planet in order for resources, and had formed an alliance with Luna’s Gallente faction that gave them protection in exchange for them working as miners and mercenaries.

These factions knew war was inevitable, and prepared for the meeting of the two sides once again. Luna received a message from Celestia, asking for a war council. During said council, they decided to use mercenaries and slaves to fight the ground wars for them, while they used their ships for space combat. These slaves were raised from birth to either specialize in one of four classes; assault, scout, logistics, or heavy, and then choose to become a pilot as well, or could be a jack-of-all-trades, and be whatever they so chose to be. Each merc was assigned to his or her own quarters depending on their race. Caldari had the best quarters, and the most money, while Minmatar had the worst quarters and the least amount of money. The wealthy, or even middle class mercs could become capsuleers, who are elite starship pilots made immortal using cloning technology and consciousness transfers. Ground combat takes place on the various planets found in New Equestria, and planets are divided into several large districts, which hold resources and installations that the mercs must fight for control over. The natural landscape of each planet is riddled with installations and resource centers, which mercenaries fight over for their factions.

For much of New Equestria history, only capsuleers were immortal because the technology required to download consciousness was linked to a capsule that encloses them and leaves them in suspended animation. The capsule was designed specifically as an interface for pilots to control the ship that they were placed within. However, the discovery of a special implant made it possible to achieve a transfer of consciousness without the use of a capsule, so it became possible to make immortals that were not pilots. The four factions have the mercenaries take the role of immortal ground-based soldiers which were created by the military shortly after the implant was discovered. The lower-class ponies were not so lucky, and weren't wealthy enough to buy their own capsules from the leaders of each faction. If the ponies were lower-class, mainly Minmatars, they were forced to fight for their lives in the battlefield, given only twenty clones to use from their factions. If the mercenaries could join a high level corporation and earn one billion ISK (currency) from service, they could be set free. The ones with capsules sometimes never leave, absorbed in the fun of firefights. Through fights and service time, each soldier is awarded with skill points, that they could spend for implants in order to obtain new weapons, armor, modules, augments, and vehicles. Each soldier is gifted militia-class items to start their career in the mercenary job, the lowest level items. From these, they work their hooves to the bone in order to get better equipment, and are sent into a battle every time they're needed, whether or not they want to. This story follows the tale of Prognatus Plagus, a.k.a Red, as he attempts to fight to the top from Minmatar status, and earn the support of the Minmatar leader in order to escape mercenary lifestyle.

The battle I was in seemed impossible to win. They pit me and ten others against an Amarr corporation team that was leagues better than my own random team. Bullets rained across the barren ground as the two teams on the battlefield fought for the objective points that were located within low buildings splayed across the area. All of us wanted one thing; to make it to the top, earn enough money, and get out of New Equestria alive. We were all born into this life of being a mercenary to fight other companies’ wars, and we had no choice if we wanted to fight or not. My thoughts were interrupted by the treads of the dreaded Soma roared behind me as my hooves dug softly into the ground and propelled me forward, around a corner. My breath coming in short, rapid gasps, while my dropsuit’s armor repair unit slowly kicked in, repairing the damage that dreaded tank had done to my assault suit. I scanned the ash-filled, acidic air with my visor, letting my HUD use its scanner to find any potential threats, which the HUD signaled as red dots. The circular meter at the bottom left of my visor showed me that the armor repair was almost complete, as I held my breath. I knew what was coming, and I clenched my militia assault rifle’s trigger switch in the mouth of my visor as the armor-tanked Soma came around the corner, the small turrets on top and front swiveling to find target. The blue dots on my HUD told me my teammates were all rushing away from the tank while it was occupied with me. I could see my team mates rolling in with Light Attack Vehicles, three of them complete with a driver, passenger, and a gunner. I watched in horror as one was blown to bits by a forge gun, scrap metal joining the ash in the air.

        “Great. Thanks, guys,” I mumbled to myself as I readied myself for the tank as the main railgun turret turned itself to face me. “This could be it, Red. This could be it”, my thoughts raced frantically as the turret finally found me and I saw it charging the shot that would end my life, and taking any chance of me getting out of this hellish life alive with it. Without warning, the small blaster turrets on the tank suddenly turned and also started firing at me, creating Swiss cheese of the ground around my hooves and coming dangerously close to  delivering a fatal wound to my chest. I took the chance to sidestep the rain of bullets and jump onto the front of the tank. My vision went blurry as a blaster round took me in the back leg, causing me to slump over for a second. “I have to push forward, I cannot die here”. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything. I tried and tried again to no avail, as I watched the small blaster of the Soma aim straight at my face, as I heard the click of the automatic hammer fall, and the flash of the barrel and then,

“Mission failed, friendly Mobile Control Center destroyed”, the automated voice rang through my quarters from unseen speakers. We had lost, and my rank in the system had dropped again. I was one step farther from my goal of escape from hell. I was already at a disadvantage, being a Minmatar, the poorest of the four pony factions. When I joined, I wasn't even offered a place in one of the default corporations, which would at least help get me jump started. The other three factions were Amarr, Caldari, and Gallente, all exponentially more wealthy than my own faction. I trotted over to my dropsuit fitter, which contained a single dropsuit, a militia-class assault type-1. The worst of the assault dropsuits, the shield and armor on it was minimal. The other mercenaries I usually faced were equipped with armor that was at least three tiers higher than my own, which put me at a severe disadvantage.

        “Of course they’d make me fight ZionTCD with a squad of randoms,” I thought venomously while staring at the mercenary ranking board. “We were facing four of the top ten mercenaries in the entire galaxy, I should’ve just hid the entire match. If I would’ve done that, though, they would’ve forced me to go onto the battlefield”

        For once in my life, I wished I would’ve been a sniper instead of going for the assault/enforcer. The sleek snipers seemed to fare much better sitting in the mountains with their mounted weapons and cloaked dropsuits. “They always pick me off within five seconds of sighting me. No exceptions”, I sighed, and trotted over to the large touch-screen panel on one wall, tapping it and bringing up a simple message; “hello”. I swiped a hoof across the storefront, browsing through the dropsuit and weapon deals the royal tyrants were offering today. The current offers were advertising HC-103 Gunnlogi tanks, MH-82 HMGs, and Anti-Vehicle grenades. Me, being Minmatar, I didn’t have enough money for any of these.

“I need ten billion ISK to get out of here, and I only have one million...this is hopeless”, I said out of sheer frustration, throwing myself upon the plain cot in my quarters. “Wait, I have over three-hundred SP to spend...I haven’t upgraded anything in the past few days...better late than never!” My mood instantly shifted from frustration to excitement as I hopped out of bed, and happily bounced to the marketplace and tapped quickly on the screen with my hooves, sending the screen to the “assault dropsuit” section. The assault type-2 was on sale for ninety-eight thousand skill points, bringing me down to two hundred and two thousand skill points. “I could have some fun with this....” I giggled as I started on my spending spree.

After ten minutes, I was decked out with a new dropsuit type that doubled my shield, and an all-new assault rifle, the GEK-38 assault rifle. Not to mention, my ISK had run as dry as the Minmatar bank, so to speak.

“Prognatus, you are summoned to the field again, to fight for the glory of the Gallente Federation!”

“Damn the Gallente, damn the Amarr, damn the Caldari, and most of all, damn the accursed princesses and their bucking war!” I swore out loud, and jumped back into the teleporter. While I was in there, I chose my selection of the dropsuit I was to use in battle, my new type-2 assault suit.

I was instantly deployed into our Mobile Control Center, right above the battlefield. As my team-mates spawned next to me, and the countdown message started in front of all of us, I could see I was paired with two of The Imperfects, another high ranking squad. The giveaway was their metallic black armor, complete with orange eyes, and top-tier weapons. “Wealthy, spoiled scum”, I got comfort thinking that to myself. They weren’t in a fight for their lives. On my team, I saw two Logistic users, three snipers, two assault, and five heavies. The heavies were grouped together, and I could tell they were the designated assault squad. As these thoughts were running through my head, the countdown hit zero and my team jumped through the gate in the floor and plummeted to the ground.

I was the last one out of the ship on my team, and once everypony was off, I jumped off, into the acrid and sulfurous air of the battlefield. In the split seconds of my fall, I saw Abaddon ships in the air engaging in dog-fights with each other, dropships bringing in vehicles, and the enemy team dropping in at the same time my team was. I was too lost in my thoughts to realize the ground rushing up to meet me unexpectedly, and I hit the ground with a bone-shattering crack

“Prognatus fell and died”

The announcers voice shouted across the field, undoubtedly inducing laughs in everyone’s teamchats and comm systems. When I respawned into the MCC, I sat inside the ship with my head in my hooves. When I finally regained the courage to go back into the field and swallow my dishonor. I dropped into the ashen battlefield once more, remembering to activate my inertial dampener in order to survive the fall. I reached over and tapped the control on my foreleg that extended my trigger control into my mouth. I was now ready to rush into war for “the glory of the Gallente”.

I took a deep breath of filtered air through my visor and galloped towards objective A, which my HUD showed was a good 500 meters away. I dodged rockets and forge guns as I continued galloping to the objective through a hellstorm of firefights going on all around me. My teammates died, and I witnessed a Light Attack Vehicle go flying past like a flaming meteor, crashing into a wall near me and showering me with metal. My shield was half broken, and I took cover behind a corner, as the group of friendly heavies rounded the corner, saw me hiding, shook their heads, and trotted on, their side-mounted miniguns ablaze, devastating the enemy.

Out of nowhere, my shield and armor dropped to almost non-existent, and I was blown sideways by a shot to my side. The only thing that caused me not to die by that sniper show was my new armor. Another shot grazed by me, whistling through the air and striking fear into my heart. I was trapped, I had nowhere to go. I was going to die here.

“What are you *bzt* doing? MOVE!” The archaic comms device in my ear exploded on, a voice roaring through it.

“W-what?” I stammered, as I took out an enemy scout that was dumb enough to traverse in front of me.

“That sniper is gunning for you. He’s too far behind-” a shot rang through from his side

“Nevermind, got the little shit. Now move, unless you want to be next!”

        “Why should I trust you?” My voice came back and I kept low to the ground and slid underneath a ramp as an enemy tank rolled by, its treads urging me to give it a wide berth

        “Why would I betray you? Watch out, small enemy patrol heading to your *BLAM*

“...” I went silent and started crawling along the ground, scanning the area in front of me for enemies. Objective A was now eighty meters in front of me, and plainly visible. I tapped my left foreleg with my hoof a few times to switch to teamspeak and barked into the comms. “Cover me! I’m going into A!”, then switched comms off as I galloped towards A, rolling in front of an enemy heavy. I knocked a grenade from my back with a hoof, and watched in savory delight as the heavy was blown to bits.

“You got this, Prog”, I spoke softly as I hooked up my hacking tool on my foreleg to the objective’s computer, scanning to the right and left of me. If I took this objective, we would win this match and gain control of this planetary sector. The hacking was 25% complete when I saw an enemy logistics come in, grenade in hoof, and then get sniped by a teammate. The hack was now at 50%. A few assault rifle bullets struck the back of my dropsuit, but I kept my hoof on the computer and waited for backup, which came rather suddenly. The same sniper was now running into the room, now armed with a submachine gun strapped to his hoof. He proceeded to shred the enemy enforcers to pieces, spraying a dozen bullets into each one, dropping them to the floor.

“I got this...Almost....done....GOT IT!” as the computer beeped to signal the finishing of the virus upload, the resource center became ours and I saw my dropsuit de-materializing. Mission success; Resources captured. You’ve done the Gallente Federation a great favor, Prognatus Plagus. For this, we reward you with ninety million ISK, as a thank you motion for what you have done to support Luna.

For once, my jaw dropped to my hooves. The musty smell of my room seemed insufficient as I forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. I had been....rewarded? Another surprise came right after; a beep from my mailbox from a merc named...Dominus Fatali? “Master of Fate”, my system automatically translated from Latin. “Seems a bit...egotistical”, I chuckled to myself. The contents of the mail surprised me even further, as it was an invitation to a corporation by the name of Nox Aeterna Security, inviting me to join their ranks in order to boost my way up to the top.

        I accepted gladly, finding solace in the fact that I just made another friend. As I slipped out of my dropsuit, I swore that from this day on, I swore to myself that I would not be fighting for Luna or Gallente, but for Nox Aeterna Security.