0925 Hours
Admiral Kuznetson
Eight (8) days after first contact

"Attention on deck!"

The eight aviators in the briefing room of the New Russian Federation aircraft carrier Admiral Kuznetson stood up and saluted as Senior Lieutenant Vorobyov, who commanded the fighter wing aboard Russia's only carrier, walked into the room. Vorobyov quickly walked to a large screen at the front of the room, stopping in front of it.

"At ease." He said, prompting the aviators to sit down in their chairs. "As you most certainly know by now, the ponies will not stop sending attacks at us at any point in the future. Case in point? Last night, an American Triton UAV found massive troop concentrations at four points, all of them just outside of the large forest."

The screen quickly divided into four parts, each showing a feed of a large camp, all of them with 'LIVE FEED' stamped in the upper-left corner. Each camp was spread over almost a kilometer of land, and consisted of almost a hundred tents, intermixed with large numbers of gold dots: More of the ponies.

"Sir, how will the attack be carried out?" One of the airmen asked.

"Good question. There will be four groups of two. Each group will have one fighter dedicated to defending against possible attack, while the other will be carrying a single Kh-59L, armed with a thermobaric warhead. You will launch at a distance of ten kilometers, and we shall guide it the rest of the way. Any other questions?"

Receiving none, Vorobyov shut down the display. "Launch is at 0935. Dismissed."

Lieutenant Anisimov pushed the throttle forward rapidly, pushing him back into the seat as his Su-33 blasted forward, climbing rapidly as it left the sloped ramp. The blasted missile attached to his left wing did not help matters. To counterbalance it, a large fuel tank had been attached to the right wing, leaving his formerly maneuverable fighter sluggish by comparison.

His wingman quickly caught up with him as all four elements of the attack force circled the carrier, waiting for the signal. After two minutes, a voice finally came on over the radio.

"All strike units, proceed with attack. Your targets and vectors have been put into your 'Net' display."

Immediately, Anisimov's helmet display was crowded with various bits of information, from the status of his armament to the path he had to take to his target. The pilot put his aircraft in a bank, quickly setting it on a course towards his target. His wingman fluidly matched his movements, ending up fifty feet to the left of him.

"Two, we are ten kilometers from the release point." He told his wingman over the radio as they crossed the coastline. "Arm weapons."

Anisimov quickly flipped the switch on his cockpit display, arming the massive Kh-59L missile on his left wing. Originally designed as an anti-shipping missile, it was equally as effective against land targets. While it normally required the aircraft to carry a targeting pod, knowing the precise location of the camp eliminated the need for the cumbersome device.

"Twenty seconds." He warned as their flight of two shot across the landscape.

Anisimov hovered his finger over the small, metal switch that would launch it, waiting for the release point.

"Five... Four... Three... Two... One... Release." Anisimov slowly chanted, pushing the switch forward when he finished.

The aircraft shuddered slightly as missile dropped away, its rocket motor igniting moments later. It blasted forward as the Su-33 banked away, headed back towards the carrier.

"All four missiles are on target. ETA for the closest one is five seconds." The technician controlling the Triton UAV said to the airmen aboard the Gerald R. Ford that had gathered to watch the strike.

The camera switched to a view of a large field. In the center of it, an estimated three hundred ponies wandered around an identical number of tents. The large rocket flashed into view, many of the ponies inside of the camp peering up to look at it. Suddenly, a large, flat disk of fuel vapor erupted from where the missile was, stretching out a hundred feet in all directions.

Half a second later, it flashed white.

The entire disk exploded outward in a massive ball of fire, obscuring the view of the camp as everything within a kilometer was thrown outwards with the force of the explosion. Three seconds later, the pressure wave reached the drone, throwing it up almost twenty meters before it could recover.

The technician switched to the thermal view, looking down at the site of the former camp. Aside from dozens of small fires and hundreds of prone forms, nothing was visible where it once was.

"All strikes successful: The camps have been destroyed." Volkov heard over the ship radio as he stood on the bridge, a small round of cheers erupting moments later. The Russian captain, however, was all business.

"Recover all strike groups, and tell the Americans to call off their UAVs." He ordered. "The immediate threat is destroyed, but that does not mean it is gone forever."

The crew of the ship quickly sprung into action, communicating with all the vessels of the fleet in the daily task of keeping the ships organized.

1023 hours

Sergeant Davit Meskhi, leader of a team of Georgian Special Forces, looked down from his perch on the group of ponies slowly making their way through the trees of the forest. He almost smiled at their stupidity: They weren't even scanning the area around them, much less looking up.

After his team had given the Americans the video logs they had gathered several days ago, they had been given virtual autonomy, with a open line to the Gerald R. Ford that they could access at any time. So far, they had used it to keep track of what was happening, from the multiple attacks on the firebase to the taking of the city.

Half an hour earlier, they had been informed through the link of the multiple strikes on the camps, and of several groups of ponies that had been spotted fleeing from the destruction. The official purpose of telling them was to gather prisoners.

The secondary purpose was to deny them to the 'enemy', as the hostile ponies were now officially classified.

They had been provided with a vehicle: A single Humvee, capable of seating all six of them. He hoped it would be enough to take them far away if things got too hot for the team.

"Everyone, we drop in ten seconds." Davit whispered over the radio link, followed by several quiet acknowledgments.

Davit looked down at the ground, all of twelve feet below him. The branches of the trees were thick enough to support his weight and sprout plenty of foliage, but they were widely spaced, giving him an easy path down. He slowly counted down the time in his head, watching as the number of ponies that he saw increased from eight to ten.

Finally, the time ran out. "Now."

Davit hopped off of the branch, bring his suppressed SAR-21 up and aiming it at the nearest target: A unicorn clad in dented golden armor. The surprise on its face was easily visible before two subsonic 5.56mm rounds punched through its skull, killing it.

Dull thumps came from all around as the other five members of his team jumped down, launching their own surprise attacks. A shout of alarm from his left prompted Davit to spin around, noticing a pair of pegasi running for him, ten feet away. He squeezed the trigger, sending a trio of rounds into the first one, before sidestepping the second, lashing out with the stock of his rifle as it tore past. The pegasus was sent crashing into a tree, out cold.

Davit looked around himself for more targets, finding none. "Clear." He said a moment later. A series of voices repeated the same message over the radio.

"Casualties?" Davit asked.

"No friendlies." One of the privates replied. "Counting one dead pony here."

"Three over here, all dead."

"One knocked out."

"Negative, nothing in my area."

"Four dead."

"Two down over here, one out." Davit finished. "Alek, you carry the one near you. I'll carry the one I hit. Leave the bodies, and get moving to the vehicle."

The team quickly complied, making their way towards the vehicle, the Humvee parked on one of the scattered roads that went through the area. Davit slung his rifle and knelt down, putting the pony over his shoulder and behind his head in a 'fireman's carry'. He didn't know why a priority was set on prisoners: He assumed it was for questioning, but he had long since gotten used to orders that made no sense. He started his jog back towards the vehicle, arriving two minutes later, the last one to do so.

"Put the other prisoner in the back. Alek, you're the designated driver. Get us to the firebase." Davit ordered as he dropped the pony he was carrying, one of the normal ones, in the back area. A moment later, one of the men set the other in the back. Davit reached up and slammed the back cover down, locking it in place before running around to take the seat next to the driver. All five others quickly got inside, two of them watching the back area in the event that the ponies managed to 'wake up'.

Aleksandre strapped himself in before setting his foot on the accelerator. The Humvee quickly went from a standstill to racing down the road in mere seconds as the corporal drove it towards the firebase.

"When I said to drive us to the firebase, I didn't mean for you to do so at a hundred kilometers per hour on a winding forest road!" Davit yelled over the sound of the engine, grinning fiercely.

"I've got this, sir." Aleksandre said in a calm voice as he took a sharp forty-five degree turn, not once slowing down. "I'm getting us there quickly."

"I can understand doing this quickly, but you have a damn death wish!"

The laughing of the group was quickly swallowed up by the forest as they drove along.

Written by Merchent343
Edited by The Rainbow Brony

Author's Note

Sorry for the long delays. I am taking care of my father, who is down with a severe lung infection (Pneumonia, for those of you who care), and I am spending much of my time helping him. The next chapter might come out in a week, or it might come out in a few days. I really don't know.

Expect more action in the next few chapters. The pieces have been placed, the lines have been drawn, and the leaders of all sides are reacting to what they can see. Full-scale war is the inevitable result.

Also, Fuel-Air Munitions (Thermobaric weapons) are very, very deadly. I am not exaggerating in this chapter when I state their power.

In the meantime, tell me what you think in the comments. Criticism, as always, is very welcome.