1007 hours
Ten (10) days after first contact
South of the Equestrian city of Manehatten

"... Unknown aircraft, this is Mike Overwatch One, respond as soon as you receive this message. Unknown aircraft, this is Mike Overwatch One, respond..."

The Radar Officer aboard the E-2 Hawkeye repeated the stock phrase for what must have been the thirtieth time since the group of contacts had entered radar range. And so far, they seemed to be hauling ass.

Directly towards his aircraft.

And that was why he was quite glad to have a group of Russian fighters three minutes out.

"... this is Mike Overwatch One, respond as soon as you receive this message."

"This is Izulu Flight. Who is speaking?" A heavily accepted voice interrupted.

"This is Mike Overwatch One out of the USS Gerald R. Ford. To whom am I speaking?" The Radar Officer countered.

"That is not for you, American. Prepare for your end." The transmission abruptly cut off.

"Shit..." The RO muttered, turning to the pilot. "Tell those flyboys to move faster. Our time has just been dialed down to zero."

"Copy that." The pilot replied. "I'll alert the squadrons."

"... total of eight contacts, Vikhr-lead. You are cleared to engage and destroy."

"Copy that, Mike Overwatch One." Lieutenant Anisimov replied. He knew he had likely butchered what little English he knew, but the point had gotten across: Those planes, the ones that threatened their only radar aircraft, were going to die.

"All flight elements, spread formation and stay alert." Anisimov said. "We're only fifty kilometers from them, and closing quickly."

"Copy lead. Any idea who these fuckers are?" One of the pilots in formation asked.

"No idea, 1-3. Keep off the radio."

"All flight elements. Bandits appear to be making a beeline for Manehatten." Their controller aboard the Kuznetson said, "They likely believe it to be a target. You are only a short distance from the city. Take them down as soon as possible."

"Copy. Bandits have closed to thirty-five kilometers. Arm missiles and prepare for combat." Anisimov ordered, making sure his own were ready. They could have already fired at their range, but the chance of a missile hitting increased exponentially the closer they were, and thus both sides would close for this engagement.

"Twenty-five kilometers. I'd suggest you prepare to fire." the American in the radar aircraft said, which Lieutenant Anisimov passed along.

"Twenty kilometers. Cleared to fire." Anisimov said, locking onto one of the targets with his tracking radar and letting pair of R-27T infrared missiles off.

Seconds later, a total of eight missiles were outbound, equal to the number of fighters on a course for them.

As they closed to within fifteen kilometers, several events happened within a few short seconds. As one of the enemy fighters triggered its own missile, theirs arrived, swatting three of the fighters - including the one firing - out of the sky with multiple hits, while two more experienced close misses.

Now that they were close enough, Anisimov could see the targets: Five MiG-21 aircraft, obsolete but still in use, all of whom were scattering away from the now-falling wrecks of their friends. Moving his targeting to another one, he fired off another R-27T as his flight broke in two, his wingman sticking to him.

The second missile caught up with it just as the two groups of aircraft mixed, turning the fifth fighter into a flaming ball of fire as Anisimov banked hard to engage another. It was almost like target practice, the pilots of the other craft not as experienced, or so he reflected as he fired off a burst with his 30mm cannon, several rounds blowing apart another one of the MiG-21s as the second group of his flight reported a duo of kills, leaving only one remaining.

The last one proved to be a tougher nut to crack, the old aircraft twisting away and leaving flares behind itself when he had banked into position for another missile shot.

"Bandit broke lock, reengaging." unfortunately for the other pilot, his aircraft could turn better, as the bandit discovered when a single missile blew its tail off, sending it spiraling into the sear below.

"All bandits down. Sky is clear." Lieutenant Anisimov says over the radio in his lackluster English.

"Copy. Thanks, Vikhr flight. We owe you one." the American aboard the EC-3 said, "We'll be sure to send a bottle over for you."

"Make it four, and we will be happy." Anisimov says, chuckling, "We are breaking off now. Good day."

1210 hours

The nap SPC Olivia Hall had taken had lasted a couple hours, and she had woken up to the most god awful headache she had experienced in years. It wasn't as if it were a problem for her. Really.

'Take another nap' the voice in her head suggested, and she was heavily inclined towards doing so. However, her duty took over first, and it was in a moment of panic that she realized she hadn't notified her superior. Olivia quickly stood up and grabbed her gear, jogging - because she certainly was not running - towards where her 'Net' display showed the LT was waiting. She raced past surprised soldiers on patrol, and only narrowly dodges ramming straight into a Captain, shooting him a hasty salute as she continued.

Several minutes later, she arrived at the throne room, where the Command Post had apparently been set up, judging by the banks of set-up computer terminals and officers moving around. Straightening herself and slowing down, she walked up to the LT and saluted once she had gained his attention, "SPC Hall reporting, sir!"

"Where have you been? You dropped off the 'Net' hours ago!" the LT said sternly as he looked away from a 'Net'-connected iPad and towards her.

"I... Was derelict in my duty, sir." Olivia replied.

"Damned right you were. I don't have time to deal with you now, but we will be having a personal discussion later." the LT said, focusing on his tablet again, "Rejoin the rest of your unit in setting up equipment and get the hell out of my sight."

'Kill him' a part of her mind said, making her subconsciously grip her rifle tighter before she caught herself and relaxed, "Yes, sir!"

She quickly moved off and continued through the halls towards the rest of her squad, slightly disturbed by the strange thoughts running through her head. She sped up her walking, hoping to bury herself in mindless labor.

As he walked through the forest, Davit silently fumed. At first, he had been happy that they had the support of a species of evil-looking insect ponies. That had steadily degraded, as the one sent with them would not stop asking questions, straining both his English and his patience. Even the sight of an entire section of the castle blowing up did not help his mood.

"... which does not make any sense, because a rule by everyling would probably end in chaos." the changeling said, smugly looking at him as if it had the winning argument against forming a republic... Which it did not.

"So? Whom would care if there was a bit of chaos? It works out." Davit replied, shrugging, his impatience growing.

The changeling sputtered for a moment before replying, "When is chaos GOOD?"

"When I stopped listening to you." Davit replied, while Aleksandre snickered.

"Fine, fine..." the changeling muttered, turning back to the path, or lack thereof, ahead of them as Davit forged onward.

"When do we reach the vehicle, Sergeant?" Aleksandre asked in Georgian after a moment.

"A few minutes. Marker's up head." Davit says, glancing at his 'Net' display.

"Good, good..."

The rest of the trip was made in silence, the other two privates in his squad not speaking a word, which Davit was fine with. It lasted until they broke through the forest and into the area surrounding the road, the changeling looking in curiosity at the American-made HMMWV sitting on the grass by the side.

"There's our ride." Aleksandre said as he sprinted towards it, followed by the three other Georgian operatives and one confused changeling. The private opened the driver's side door and slid in while the other four crawled inside, the changeling sitting in the rear seats in the middle.

With practiced movements, Aleksandre started the Humvee, the engine roaring to life and startling their equine-like 'guest'. He quickly put the large vehicle into a U-turn and started roaring down the road at well over eighty kilometers an hour, Davit looking resigned to his fate, while the changeling looked terrified.

"What is this thing?!" their diminutive companion asked.

"Half a ton of armor and weaponry!" Aleksandre said, laughing maniacally as he sped down the narrow, forest-enclosed, twisting dirt road at a speed that Davit would hesitate to drive on a straight and paved one on an open field.

"You're all crazy!" the changeling said, and for once, Davit actually agreed with it.

"Sir!"

Captain Henderson turned around and eyed the ensign curiously, "Yes?"

"There's been a major engagement between a company of the National Guard troops and Equestrian forces." the ensign says, "We're trying to bring it up on the screens now."

Henderson mentally sighs as he nods, 'Let's see what happened now...'

Author's Note

It lives!

Sorry for the wait: BronyCAN was a hell of a lot of fun, and I've been quite busy since. School and everything else have come together to haunt me.

I can promise you that I will never let a length of time pass like that again between updates.