0130 hours
Ten (10) days after first contact

Vasilyev dropped onto the soft bed with a sigh, finally able to get some rest. It had been a long night, but his small force had finally been rotated back to the rear, and directed towards a large hotel that the Americans had requisitioned as a barracks.

The Russian was just happy to finally have a decent bed. Moments after his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

0136 hours

With the help of their Changeling guide, Davit and his squad had quickly navigated through a maze of tunnels, until they reached an exit. Looking around them, they could see much of the city suspended above them, along with a narrow path down the size of the mountain from their cave exit.

And now Davit was left trying to connect to the 'Net' systems as they walked down, intent on delivering his report.

"Come on, come on..." He said to himself as his 'Net' set attempted to gain a connection to the rest of the network.

Several seconds later, he finally had a decent, if shaky connection.

"Gerald R. Ford, Gerald R. Ford, this is Sergeant Davit. Do you copy?" Davit said over the radio.

"... We copy, Sergeant Davit. What is your situation?" He heard in reply a little under ten seconds later.

"We are out of the caverns, and into the open. A full debrief can wait, but there are things you must know about our mission. We didn't end it alone..."

0217

Sergeant William of the British Army scanned the street from his position on top of the Russian-made T-80M, watching for anything. So far, he had seen little of the town's inhabitants, both because of the battle that had been fought here mere hours before, and that it was the middle of the night.

As the tank rumbled through the streets, he could still see the occasional pile of shell casings, and in one case a large crater in the ground. It was very clear to him that the battle had been hard-fought, and that although his company had been moved to be used as a reserve, it was still likely that they would see action.

A long burst of gunfire echoed from somewhere to the south, signs that the city itself had not been fully secured.

"Sergeant..." He heard Private White ask. "Sergeant? Are you there, sir?"

William shook his head, sighing. "Not quite, Private."

"It's this land, isn't it?" White asked, and William found himself nodding.

"It's this bloody land, it's always been this bloody land." William said, gesturing with his L128A1 to the building surround them. "If it weren't for the fact that we're fighting bloody ponies, I could almost pretend to be back home... But that will be but a memory soon, will it not? We'll be fighting just to hold on by our teeth, and that's assuming we don't take many more losses. Either we end this quickly, or we will fall into obscurity."

"I doubt we'll fall into obscurity just yet, sir." White said. "We've got thousands of men, a few cities under our belt, and nearly a fortnight after our arrival, we are still holding on."

"I just worry around the 'after' part of the equation." William mused. "With the ponies falling apart, we'll have to form some kind of government. A difficult task at best, what with the war we were fighting only a fortnight ago."

"It will all work out, Sergeant." White said. "At least, I bloody hope it will..."

0242

In the hangar beneath the deck of the Gerald R. Ford, slightly under one hundred aircraft were parked in rows, tightly packed. In one particular corner, several aircraft undergoing maintenance were stored. Only one, however, was due to battle damage, and the five crewmen - and one pilot - swarming around it testified to that.

"Fuck..." First Lieutenant Miller bumped his head against the fuselage of his fighter, frustrated. "This is the second damned time I've taken damage since we've got here. I don't really know if you have the parts to get me up quickly, either."

"Sorry bud." One of the crewmen working on the wing said as he removed a damaged panel. "Whatever did this fucked up your wing, and I don't see much of a way around that. Normally, it would be pretty cut-and-dry. The repairs themselves will take the rest of the night, and in normal times you would be out by this morning.

"But whatever did this fried a shitload of the wiring, and we need to do testing to see if shit even works. We don't want a full ordinance load dropping off of your wing on the flight deck become some idiot crossed a few wires. You'd be best off getting some rest."

"Fuuuuuck..." Miller groaned, turning around and stalking across the hangar deck towards the exit. "At least I can get some fucking rest. Goddamn fucking ponies, fucking shit up. Fuck!"

0338

Captain Volkov stared down at his desk. He had been awoken minutes before by a crewman stating that an 'urgent matter' was at hand. And now he stared at the message with disgust, only tempered by his self-control.

"Tell me, Seaman Boytsov, how would you react if one of your subordinates, if you had any, had secretly requisitioned five twenty kiloton nuclear weapons?" Volkov asked, a bit of rage tainting his calm voice.

"Sir, I would likely, ah, have them shot." The young crewmen stuttered out.

"Which is precisely what I wish to do to Colonel Degtyarev after this latest messages, in which I have just been informed that he had stolen five nuclear weapons without my knowledge!" Volkov barked out. "That damned political appointee has crossed the line yet again, and I have paid for his mistakes and blunders for the last time."

Volkov quickly turned the message over and scrawled something on the back, handing it to the Seaman. "Here, take this to the bridge. I want a group of Naval Infantrymen on the helicopter deck in four minutes, as well as a helicopter prepared. We are going to do something that has long been needed to be done.

"We are going to arrest Colonel Degtyarev."

Colonel Degtyarev smiled. For the first time since he had arrived in this accursed world, things were actually going as planned. A dozen Russian Army soldiers, loyal to him and him alone, were easily able to forge the required documents to transfer the weapons of destruction to his command tent.

Degtyarev knew fully how much Captain Volkov and that American disapproved of him, but now he would be taking action himself. The ponies would certainly give in after a few of their cities disappeared. And thus, the conflict would be over, and Volkov would be unable to hinder his plans.

"How much longer?" He asked impatiently.

"A few hours more." A technician, one loyal to him, said as he fiddled with the weapon. "These things are American, and I am not familiar with them. They will certainly not go off if I do something wrong, but they would most definitely be unusable."

"Do the best you can." Degtyarev said impatiently. "I have a man aboard the Admiral Kuznetson willing to use these for us, but his next sortie is in five hours. They need to be ready and on board before then."

"I am doing this as fast as I can." The technician replied calmly. "If I go any faster, harm may come upon the weapon. It is a precision-engineered marvel of science and technology: If even the sphere of explosives is dented, or a wire out of place, it will fail to work."

"Be sure you do not fail." Degtyarev said. "Remember, you do not get paid unless this-"

He was cut off by shouting outside of the tent, as well as a brief burst of gunfire. Startled, Degtyarev was just beginning to pull a revolver he kept in a holster out when four men burst into the tent through the entrance. He was not able to get even one shot off before one of them tackled him to the ground, using a quick blow to his hand to knock his gun away. The other three covered the room with their rifles, aiming them at the half dozen other people in there, most of whom had not even reached for their weapons.

"Drop your guns." One of the men standing over him said calmly, and the four men supposedly loyal to him dropped their rifle and raised their hands.

'Damn it!' Degtyarev raged into of his head. 'When these thugs get off of me, I will have their heads! And then those of my supposedly 'loyal' guards! How dare they!'

"Colonel Degtyarev, you are under arrest for the theft of weapons of mass destruction, theft of military property, conspiracy, disobeying a lawful order, and treason." The man holding him down said as he was forcefully turned on his stomach, before his wrists were handcuffed behind him. "Let's get this bastard to the ship."

"You have no right to do this!" Degtyarev yelled as the man practically picked him up and shoved him forward. "I will have you shot for this!"

"Doubtful, considering it was an officer higher in rank than you who gave me the order." The man said smugly as half a dozen more people, in the uniforms of the Naval Infantry, rushed into the tent. "Now, are you going to come with us willingly, or will I have to drag you?"

"Fuck you!" Degtyarev yelled, lashing out behind him with his foot and stunning the man holding him. He rushed towards the exit, heedless of the risks. The next thing he saw was the stock of a rifle headed towards him. Then, blackness.

"The target has been apprehended." Volkov heard one of the Naval Infantrymen say over the radio.

"Copy. Bring him to the helicopter." Another said. "Let's wrap this up, people. Detain everyone with him, and decide where they belong."

"Copy. Moving." The first replied.

"At least that is done." Volkov murmured. "It's too early in the morning for me to be dealing with this shit."

Author's Note

End of Act VI.