The Deadlands

by Big Daddy

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Tragedy, Princess Celestia, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 13298

A Long Range Patrol into the wasteland far south of Equestria. Simple enough, everyone knows there's nothing alive in The Deadlands...

A few short weeks after his inexplicable promotion, and three years before the return of Luna, Behemoth sets the final details in motion for the six month trek into the uncharted desert bordering Equestria to the south. His first command assignment. It should be a routine, uneventful LRP, the kind of mission that always goes off without a hitch.

Published 2013-07-27 15:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-09 05:28:05 UTC

1: Outbound Flight

Seven tenths cloud, down to six hundred feet. Twelve knot cross wind from my eight o clock with gusts to twenty. Canterlot was experiencing one of its uncommon rain storms, its cloudless perfection interupted today to give the grand city, invisible well over a mile under my belly, a rare and well needed drink.

I brought my hoof forward and swept it across the lens' of my flight goggles. Even slight a motion as that was, it rattled my trim, the shift in air resistance causing a few degree wobble back and forth before the flow steadied back out. The condensation had thickened again, refracting the world beyond those discs of glass into a thousand dull glowing lights. It was a waste of effort and I knew it, the vapor would re accumulate in less then a minute as we slowly dove through the thick grey cloud layer hanging over the capital.

As we came in at cruising speed, diving in on the last leg of our flight out from Cloudsdale, I was flanked by the three others in my flight. Thunder Roll had my left, wings beating sedately, making most of our gradual decent at a glide.

I'd recruited him straight from the Wonderbolts. Coincidentally, a few months prior to the yearly evaluations of the same I was returning from now. He was thin and compact, the tight, maneuverable physique that was part and parcel with the 'Bolts. Artificially black mane and tail, that he took great lengths to dye on an almost daily basis. Coat a bleached white. No one knew what his natural colors where, but they sure as hell weren't those flat, chemically induced shades, that was for damn sure. He'd met me in Cloudsdale with Solstice and the kid for the flight back, as tradition demanded an officer always flew with an escort. Officer. Heh, I never did get used to that...

He'd volunteered for the Guard back in Canterlot after a minor training accident had left him unfit by that flying side shows standards. The exact nature of that 'accident' he'd not bothered to share, choosing instead to play the 'Brooding Loner' card whenever asked...at least when there were any fillies about to swoon at his cringeingly over done display of stoic angst. I'd seen him run that play over a dozen times since he's joined up, and as mind numbingly juvenile as it was, it never failed to guarantee that he didn't spend that night alone.

Solstice had my right wing. The same grey as the clouds we soared through, a mane and tail the same jet black, reflective darkness as her slightly disturbing eyes. She was...interesting. Wickedly smart, wits as sharp as razors and a tongue to match. In the years I'd served with her, I'd never seen her misstep, never seen her slip up, not once. There was something about her eyes...those liquid pools of black. Looking into them, you could tell the gears were always turning, that mind was always working away at something. You could just never tell what. She was out thirty feet and back the same, the opposite side of the lopsided 'V' made by those following me in, with myself at the point.

The last of our merry little contingent was the rookie, a wiry little colt on his first flight. Long legged and lanky, he was seemingly swallowed up by even the lighter form of our flight armor. In full plate, he bore a striking resemblance to a frightened, emaciated turtle, beady little eyes buried deep in an immovable shell far too big for him. He'd come up with the others, stringy little thing, and proceeded to poorly restrain himself from acting like a complete idiot throughout Cloudsdale. He was quite obviously supremely pleased with himself now that he was an official, uniformed Royal Guard. I couldn't remember his name.

I scanned from over my right shoulder, around to my left with a slow and steady motion of my head, interrupting airflow as little as possible. We were coming in our final approach, and I instinctively set about appraising the position of my flight. They were barely visible through the dense cloud layer, showing as oblong patches a shade darker then the cloud around them.

"We're looking good, chief, about sixteen minutes out. Now would be a great time to test out those new goggles..."

The disembodied voice of Solstice rang out, crisp and clear from the ear bead nestled firmly in place, part of the very same goggle rig she'd designed, tested, and built in the few weeks I was away. As always, her tone was one of confident, self assured professionalism... along with more then the guard issued ration of blatant cockiness.The form of the shape that was hers shifted a bit as she looked over at me.

She was right of course, she almost always was. Sixteen minutes of flight, the last and least eventful leg leading up to a text book landing that even the most naive of foals...like the one flying third with me, shouldn't be capable of screwing up. Now was a good a time as any for trying out her modifications.

The smarmy, pretentious, and yet, still, somehow whiny voice of Thunder Roll chimed in before I could answer. That colt loved to hear himself talk.

"Oh yes. Sir. Try out Sollie's new toys, we're all just a quiver to see how many pointless and-"

She hated that little term of endearment, and of course felt the need to share her disapproval...

"Aren't you late for a mane appointment you-"

"Leave my mane out of thi-"

I was in no mood. Besides, I knew these two well enough to know if I didn't stop this right quick, I'd be listening to this back and forth sniping for hours. Hours that would probably end in a double homicide and me spending some good old quality time in the dungeons. And not the fun ones, either.

"ENOUGH."

It wasn't a shout, it didn't need to be. It was just what I like to call 'Speaking with Authority'. Silence reigned. Blissful, lovely silence. My gaze hadn't left Solstice. It did so now, tracking back to dye boy.

"Corporal."

Roll had stopped talking immediately, the tone of my voice enough to silence him. I could tell he was sulking just by looking at him. It took him a few seconds to find his balls and respond, meekly as it was.

"...yes sir?"

"When I want to hear your opinion, I'll tell you what it is, you get me?"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir..."

There was no genuine remorse in that statement. Then again, not much about him was genuine under any circumstances. I clicked over out of the squad band and into the private link between me and my right wing.

"And Solstice."

Her response was quick, the heat of annoyance plain in her tone.

"Chief?"

"Remember your rank, new as it is, don't let the foal bait you like that."

Her tone softened a bit, some of the heat draining away.

"Yes sir, sorry, won't happen again."

Satisfied that I'd restored some semblance of professionalism to these aerial shenanigans, I switched back over to the squad band.

"Alright, listen up, my comm is going dark for a few minutes while I put this new gear through its paces. You know what we're doing, so do it."

Muted and murmured acknowledgements came across the line. The only one with any pep was the rookie, young and enthusiastic...or just plain stupid enough to not be bothered by recent events. I decided to throw the kid a bone for staying out of the verbal tussle.

"Private, call out the next course change thirty seconds prior with standard intervals, clear?"

It was a little thing, basically making him our official time keeper, but his voice was practically dripping with enthusiasm as he replied.

"Yes sir, thank you sir, I'll do my best sir!"

I drifted back from the lead position, letting Solstice, the next ranking flyer, move up into the point. Our formation drifted into a diamond with me bringing up the rear and her directly ahead. It was time to check out her latest marvel.

And marvel really was the best word for it. She'd taken a standard, run of the mill pair of flight goggles and modified them...how, I can't even begin to imagine. First, she'd managed to wire in a communications system. Gone were the days we had to be face to face to speak. This system let a squad hear and interact with one another out to a range of almost a hundred feet, I know, it sounds impossible without magic, but, somehow, she did it.

The next aspect, and perhaps even the more impressive, were the changes she'd managed to make to the lenses. Activating them, I looked around and saw faint yellow outlines of the other three accompanying me. I couldn't, and to this day can't explain how that worked. My only guess is that she'd modified our full suit flight armor to somehow be visible to these new goggles, even through smoke or fog. Very useful for keeping track of your squad.

In addition, they had a built in flash dampener, darkening the lenses to prevent any damage from bright flashes, lightning, nearby magical discharges or the like. Now, as anypony who's ever flow through a storm could tell you, suddenly finding yourself 'Bolt Blind' is a remarkably unpleasant, and dangerous prospect. It's disorienting, painful, and if it happens at high speed, you might not be able to clear your head before finding the ground in a rather direct fashion. My experience with them told me that the weather patrol would snap these things up in bulk.

As I tested all these fancy new additions, and discovered the new and interesting ways that the goggle rig linked up with her redesigned suit, a faint, mechanical buzzing was a constant. Not loud or strictly unpleasant, it sounded like what you would hear holding a well wound pocket watch up to your ear.

My first mark of concern reared its ugly little head when that quiet, vaguely pleasant whirring changed in pitch, becoming louder and significantly more discordant. It continued to grow louder. The rig started to vibrate, starting off as barely perceptible tremors and quickly gaining in force until the motion was making sight all but impossible. I flicked over to the shared band with Solstice.

"Might have a little problem here, this rig is-"

I was cut off as the heavily modified goggles exploded, detonating against my face and spraying shards of glass and whirring, miniature brass gears off into the clouds. Now, I know it sounds like it'd be great fun, maybe even like it'd be a 'blast', but if you ever have the chance to have an experimental piece of machinery straped to your head explode, I recommend passing on that auspicious honor. It's not nearly as entertaining as it sounds.

"Lieutenant?"

The question was in an odd mixture of humor and concern. The next had done away with the former and doubled down on the latter. I could hear her crystal clear in one ear, the other picking up nothing more then the roar of rushing air.

"Sir, can you hear me?"

The third dropped all pretense, shouting into my ear from the comm bead that was miraculously still working. It was Solstice, her tone as close to voicing genuine worry as I'd ever heard, and I'd seen her snout to snout with a more then slightly annoyed Manticore, so, that's saying something.

"Behemoth, answer me, please!!"

It was that tone of concern, and maybe the use of name instead of rank, that managed to bring me around. My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I noticed was that one seemed to not be working as well as the other. The second thing I noticed was that, not for the first, or the last time, I was in a unconscious free-fall, and had just cleared the bottom side of the cloud layer in a more direct fashion then anticipated. The third thing I noticed was that my head hurt like a son of a bitch.

Realization number two seemed to be the most pressing, as the rain soaked cobbles of Canterlot's western approach were getting mighty close, mighty quick. I unfurled my wings, rolling myself over as I did so. Grunting and clenching my teeth from the sudden G force of my aborted impromptu dive, I felt my weight double, then triple as I regained control a few hundred feet short of the kind of impact that would've significantly abbreviated this little tale.

Just a few feet off my right wing, Solstice, who had apparently maintained wingpony status through the entire event, pulled up as well. She'd stuck right with me. I shook my head and my vision cleared a bit, enough for me to clearly see the worried frown she so rarely wore. Even then, face scrunched in concern, she was beautiful.

"Behemoth? Oh thank Celestia. Are you ok?"

I bit back a pithy response, something about doing fine other then having mechanical equipment just explode all over my face...partly because in retrospect that sounded horrendously suggestive, and partly because she didn't deserve that kind of dickish response.

Instead, I went with the more traditional;

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

We leveled out, turning a few degrees to line up on the majestic spires jutting out of the side of the mountains, regal and proud even under the thick blanket of low hanging cloud and the drizzly skies.

"You sure? I mean, you did just have something explode while strapped to your head, and it did knock you cold for almost a minute..."

As I turned to make eye contact, my attention was drawn away as two black specks emerged from the grey and angled down towards us, maintaining an at least respectable formation as they did so. Thunder Roll and the colt had finally managed to catch up.

"Yeah, I'm good, I'll have the doc check me out when we get dirt side, but I'm sure it's nothing serious, just knocked me for a bit of a loop."

By this time, the new comers had swept back into a much tighter formation then before, close enough that they both heard the last. Roll was, predictably, the first to add his two bits to the discussion.

"Oh yes, lets test the highly experimental and volatile prototype in the middle of a thunderstorm at ten thousand feet, that sounds like a great idea! And whats more, lets have the commanding officer be the one who-"

It seemed the time for subtlety had passed. I cut him off again, in what was becoming an annoyingly common practice.

"Roll. Pick a limb."

"-dangerous and faulty piece of...wait, what? A...a limb?"

"Yes, a limb. You know, front left leg, right wing, pick one."

He was more then a little confused, obvious both by the look on his face and searching tone to his voice.

"Limb? I...left le...but, why?"

"I need you to pick a limb, Roll, because that's the one of yours I'm going to use to beat you to death if you don't stop talking. Right. Bucking. Now."

To his credit, this time it seemed to sink in, and his insipid yammering finally came to a blissful end. He sat there...well, flew there, with his mouth open, frozen mid sentence for a stretch of seconds, staring at me with a wounded look on his face like I'd just eaten his dog and slapped his mother. After a moment, he turned forward and shut his mouth before it caught something.

The rookie chimed in after about a minute of silent flight, as the shadowed bulk of the city started to distinguish itself into individual homes and businesses, and the sprawling, ostentatious palace grounds themselves.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't have a chance to call out the course change...or the timing..."

I couldn't help but smile at this, even after the 'excitement' of recent events, he was still fixed on his duty, concerned with executing the task I'd given him. Maybe he wouldn't be such a bad guard after all. As long as I could keep him from the toxic influence of Roll and the happily scant other ass clowns that were sprinkled throughout my first command. It was then that he started to grow on me. Just a little bit. And then that I finally remembered his name.

"Not a problem Redshirt Diesoon, spontaneous explosions have a tendency to throw off the count. You'll get it next time."

Strange name. I think he was foreign.

The rest of the flight in, the last few minutes of it, passed quickly. Before long the wide stone balcony jutting out of the side of one of the secondary towers came into view. It was this balcony, about a third of the way up the southern wall, that we used as a flight base. Half a dozen tiny figures resolved themselves into an honor guard, standing there, at attention, in the rain, in full ceremonial plate armor and crested helms.

Our landing was without incident, four sets of hooves splashing down into the shallow sheets of water that had formed on the ornately carved stone balcony as a result of the ongoing deluge. A flash of lightning and the harsh crack and drawn out rumble of nearby thunder reverberated back from the gleaming white, polished stone of the rounded tower. Leading this honor guard, not surprisingly, was my one time commander and trainer, and my current Sergeant and friend, Dusk Shield.

Dusk was the very living embodiment of the Celestial Guard. Tall and thin, muscles like steel cables moving under the spotless white sheen of his coat. Pale blue, almost white eyes set deeply in a face that would look as home on the battle fields of yore as it did bawling out marching orders on a parade ground. Mane and tail silver streaked black, cut down to barely a bristle. A dark grey, smokey hued horn topping a face of indeterminate age, he could be just a year or two older, or decades my senior, there was no way to tell. Not as physically imposing as, say, I was, his psychological presence and the confidence and capability which radiated off of him made even me seem diminutive and meek in comparison.

As I approached his stoic form, I noticed first off the poorly concealed frown of bitter distaste that he was doing a poor job of hiding, his face scrunched and lip curled as if he'd just walked past an open latrine. He spoke without preamble, just loud enough that his voice would reach me and not carry on to the rank and file beyond.

"This is ri-sun-butt-damn-diculous, kid, we've got a damn mission with these colts before dawn, an we got them standing out here, in full armor, in the damn rain. Are those morons higher up the chain of failure TRYING to leave us with half our squad sick before we even bucking leave Canterlot?"

It took a hearty portion of my not inconsiderable restraint to avoid bursting into ill timed and inappropriate laughter at that moment. I stifled it with a little more then a faint chuckle, and replied once I was sure I could do so in a least a semi intelligent fashion.

"Yes, it's good to see you, too. That's a very good question Sergeant, who's bright idea was it to have you all standing out here like this?"

A sharp jab of his head, little more then a twitch, really, indicated the general direction of the Guard command tower.

"Let me give you a hint, he's got two starts on his chest, and he's a useless bucking nepotic emplaced waste of space that desperately needs to be drowned in a Manehatten bus station septic tank as quickly as the laws of physics will allow."

Yeah. I wasn't quite as successful this time around in restraining myself. The laughter forced it's way out in a disturbing snort/grumble/whinny that earned me more then a few concerned looks from my guards, and a feeling in my chest like I'd just popped something, probably something at least moderately important that didn't really need to be popping.

"Well, that's certainly good to know, could've done without the mental image however. Well, he's not here, so it's time to undo another of his logical failures."

I turned back to the assembled honor guard. They were, even now, standing stock still, thin streams and drops of water trailing off the polished sheen of their armor, their precision having not wavered a single iota during my talk with Dusk. Even with a task as pointless and superficial as this, they held steady. I was proud of them then, and, truth be told, more then a little annoyed with the bureaucratic clown that'd left them out here.

"Squad, get inside. Get your gear clean and to the armorer, then get yourselves dry an get a hot meal. If you need to finish rigging your LRP bags, get it done. Otherwise, consider yourselves on leave until o four hundred. Fall out!"

They saluted with crisp precision, then dispersed into the waiting warm yellow glow of the tower. After a few seconds, me and Dusk were alone. I turned back to him.

"Are we ready, old stallion?"

"Ready as we can be kid, we still have no idea what the hell we're looking for out there, or even why we're being sent, but the crew is solid, the gear is good, and there's nothing out there...they're called the Deadlands for a reason, after all..."

I suspected all this, he was on the ball, as usual.

"But, you've got one more thing that needs tending to."

We turned, walking side by side until we, too, were finally out of the rain, standing under the flared portico. I waited, letting him finish the declaration that had him...unsettled.

"She asked to see you. Heh, asked. Wanted me to send you up as soon as you got hoof on solid ground."

I could've played dumb, but the sudden sensation of my stomach dropping through my hooves dissuaded me from that. I turned back, watching the arc of a particularly close shot of lightning, glad for its interruption. Even if it was just a few seconds, I took it, waiting to speak until the last rumbling echoes of the powerful thunder clap had faded into the soggy afternoon. I had managed to compose myself by then. Mostly.

"What'd...any idea what She wants with me?"

"Not in the slightest. She's in the upper terrace gardens. Best of luck, Behemoth."

I nodded, and after a second took to the air with a few heavy beats of my still as of then intact wings. No more information was necessary. When She asked for you, you damn well came, regardless of how nicely it came across.

The upper terrace gardens were a quiet marvel, not many down below even knew they existed. They spread across the top levels of three conjoined towers, filling their arched marble splendor with a completely unexpected menagerie of lush, verdant life, hundreds of feet above ground level. Even now, as grey and dreary as the day was outside, this massive open space was full of bright, warm light. It spilled across the one, cavernous room, as all the intervening walls had been removed to turn this place into a single, gigantic chamber, casting sharp and crisp black shadows across the grass covered ground from the thick canopy of foliage dozens of feet over head.

This place was nicely cool, and just humid enough to be pleasant. Off somewhere to my left, invisible through the greenery, I heard the distinct burble of water moving slowly over rocks. That sound mixed with the quiet, overlapping tune of a dozen species of song birds that echoed faintly from the barely visible walls. Brightly colored little blobs of motion bouncing from branch to branch over head.

I stopped a few steps along that narrow sandy path, a meandering space between the boles barely wide enough for a single pony to walk along. I stopped and closed my eyes, letting the...calm, the...tranquility of this place wash over me. A few deep breaths, and I could feel the weight lifting from my shoulders with each.

"Yes, it is quite lovely up here, isn't it?"

Her voice was completely unexpected, the indescribable beauty of it ringing out into the dark silence behind my closed eyes without warning. As sudden and unexpected as she was, her presence kept it from being startling.

You know when she enters a room, when she's close. She emanates a sense of...peace, as if, when near her, nothing bad could ever happen. It put you at ease, calmed all your niggling concerns and petty fears. I didn't rank high enough to be near her very often, so I soaked in this pleasant sensation all that I could. I inhaled, breathing deep the myriad and exotic perfumes of this place, catching just the slightest scent of her in the mix as well. I turned to face her, inclining my head and starting a formal bow.

"Reporting as ordered, Princ-"

She cut me off with the barely there brush of a wingtip against my chest. Just enough to get my attention away from the regal bow I was half way through.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. This isn't an...official visit."

I stood back up, my vision trailing up her tall, regal frame, drinking in the details of her imposingly powerful self. Spotless white, peerless perfection. She was, to put in simply, the single most beautiful mare I'd ever seen. No other, up to that point could even compare. She moved past me, farther down the path. I watched her go, silently appreciating the form that past, while trying not to stare too obviously. She seemed relaxed, more at ease here then I'd ever seen her out and about. Even her mane and tail seemed subdued, both in hue and it there unusual, perpetual motion, which appeared to almost have stopped.

The long, strong stretch of her legs, chest and neck towering overhead filled me with silent awe, and...other sensations. The half smile, and the mischievous twinkle in her eye let me know my thoughts were plain as day, and that she took no offense. Standing there, against the peaceful backdrop of the gardens, she looked just as regal, just as royal as she did in her throne room, even without her usual crown, gorget and boots.

"Walk with me, if you would, Lieutenant."

She waited. She actually turned back and waited for my response before moving along. I couldn't manage much more then a weak nod, my head feeling detached from my body, bobbing loosely like a dash board icon. I'm fairly certain at that point I Iooked like a smitten idiot, but if I did, she called no attention to it. I followed her along the path.

"Again, thank you Behemoth for taking the time to see me, I know you must be very busy preparing for tomorrows departure."

I muttered something about how it was no trouble at all, and that most of the details were taken care of already. At least that's what I hope I said. As far gone as I was, I might've been quoting last weeks hoofball stats to her for all I know.

"Good, good. I knew you would have no trouble with this, I have an eye for competence, you know."

She looked over her shoulder as she walked on, giving me the kind of smile that could buoy any soul.

"I consider myself a good judge of character, and after the...unconventional, yet effective way you handled the situation with young Cadence, I knew you would be up to this task."

Ah, yes. The 'situation' with 'Young Cadence'. That was a few years back, and marked the first time I'd been face to face with the Sun Princess, and the first time she'd had a task for me. I will happily go the rest of my life without dealing with another princess going though her teenage rebel phase...that was an aneurism educing stretch of several months... She was kinda cute with that dyed black streak through her mane though...but, I digress.

We rounded another gentle turn in the path, coming out to a small clearing, several paths identical to ours came together here out of the trees, meeting like the spokes of a wheel. At the very center, the hub of that particular analogy, was a carved stone monolith. It stood maybe twelve feet tall, and was hewn from a single piece of speckled grey stone, granite maybe. It looked organic, as if it hadn't been placed here, but grown. The undulating, smooth surface of it appearing to have pushed up from the ground, flowing and expanding like water, only vertically.

It was ancient, pitted and worn by the wind and rain of untold centuries. It's angles and curvature softened and eroded away by the passage of time. Clinging tendrils of some crawling vine snaked up, enveloping its surface in thin lines and spider webs of green.

I couldn't explain why, and wasn't able to for some years, but this standing stone out of antiquity pulled me in, held my attention riveted like nothing had before. My eyes wandered over it slowly, committing every sweep, every plane, every crack to memory. After a few moments, the amorphous shape of it resolved into something distinct, something specific.

I don't know how long I'd been standing there, staring at this rock, or how much longer I would have, if She hadn't spoke. There was...enthusiasm in her voice, tentative excitement, as if the question she asked held great import, as if she was seeking an answer she'd tried for many times, and never received correctly.

"You see it, don't you?"

I did. I did see it. What it was, I had no idea at the time, but it was clear as day now. Two points, connected by two lines, a long armed crescent set in an amorphous field. At the time, it meant nothing to me, I merely felt...drawn to it. I described this to her, in great, and, probably excessive detail, the growing smile on her face was enough to tell me this particular art appraisal had some deeper meaning.

"What is it, Princess, I've never seen this symbol..."

Tearing my eyes away from that unremarkable, yet somehow spell binding hunk of rock, I turned to her just in time to catch a faint shake of her head. It may have been my imagination, but the flowing shimmer of her multi hued mane seemed to be a bit more lively now.

"A sign of things to come."

And that was it. That unnecessarily cryptic response was the closest she came to giving me a real answer. She changed the subject, turning and heading back up one of the other paths, one ninety degrees apart from the one we had arrived down. The sight of her heading away presenting another image, this one just as distracting as the former. I followed it willingly.

"I have another task for you, in addition to the exploratory patrol you already know about. That is where we are going now."

"About that, ma'am, is there anything else you can tell me about this LRP, anything in particular we should be looking for?"

She walked on in silence, taking some time before answering.

"There shouldn't be anything. It should be a dull and uninteresting journey, to be honest. The last time anything was encountered that far south was...many centuries ago. No, there should be nothing alive in the Deadlands."

She didn't sound convinced, and, frankly, I didn't know of she was trying to convince me...or herself. But, if the Princess of the friggin Sun doesn't want to tell you something, she's damn well not going to. Harking back to such a subject is a long wait for a train don't come. So I let it go.

After a few more minutes walking through this essentially mid air jungle paradise, a simple wooden door resolved itself out of the green. It wasn't marked or decorated in any fashion, just plain, dark brown wood set in the wall, barely tall enough that she wouldn't have to duck to enter. It opened with a faint squeak of rarely used hinges, pushed open with the accompanying ozone whiff of magic. I followed her into the much muted light within.

This room was a drastic departure in every way from the one we had just left. Small, hardly big enough to fit a dozen or so ponies, the room was made even smaller by its single primary piece of furniture, a massive, circular plot table dominating the center of the room. The scant, flickering orange light was provided by a series of candles circling the periphery set in simple iron stands, blackened with age. Long stream-lets and frozen rivers of once melted wax reached all the way to the floor, cementing the iron candle stands to the floor in wide, solid puddles. She stepped up to the table, silently beckoning that I should follow.

It appeared, as I came closer, to be little more then an old style guard issue map table, contours and elevation lines of a select area jutting up from its surface in a miniature representation of the world beyond, comprised of sculpted sand. They had been used in antiquity, by Generals or Commanders to plan their advances or troop placements. Currently displayed on its several yard diameter surface, was a desolate stretch of feature less, frozen tundra, marked only sparingly with the occasional crevasse or sharp blade of ice forcing its way out of the ground. A ghost image, indicating a planned structure came in from one edge, accompanied by a miniature rail head.

"No, this isn't right..."

Those words were to herself, pointing out an issue she resolved in short order. With a quick swipe of her wing, the topography changed, the soon to be rail station and fields of ice were flung to the edge, and sank into its surface, replaced with new geographical formations which, just as swiftly retreated across the board, having rose up and sank away making room for more. It took me a moment to realize, that I was watching the transition of dozens, hundreds of miles flowing by at a break neck speed. Miniature mountains rising and falling, valleys sinking in and closing back up, rivers flaring and meandering, all at the pace of a full mile every several seconds.

"That's...amazing..."

To my credit, even that particular nugget of wit was an accomplishment given what I was watching.

"Yes, it's an interesting device, it was old when even I was young...we're getting close now."

As she spoke, her eyes never left the shifting, high speed rendition of the lands she ruled, flickering as fast as the landscape below did. Over a few short moments, ice and snow gave way to vibrant green fields and gently rolling hills, farms, towns, and the occasional city amongst them. The colors of life faded, in a short time, to yellow, and then towards brown. The ground became uneven and rocky, strewn with expanses of shattered stone and the dark gashes of treacherous ravines. The only sign of life now, was the yellowed and shriveled forms of desert scrub, harsh and hardy plant life clinging to the dry, rocky ground with stubborn tenacity.

"Ahh, here we are..."

The motion had ceased, the image coming to rest on a small collection of structures, deep in the southern desert. There were half a dozen buildings, built low and flat to the ground. My admittedly scarce knowledge of desert living suggested that there was more of these structures below the ground then above it.

"What...what are we looking at here, Princess?"

She launched into explanation, focused on this small cluster as intently as I was. As she spoke, I retrieved a worn and dog earned note pad and pencil from the pack I hadn't had a chance to discard, and made myself a crude yet functional map of what I was seeing.

"You see, before we can found a new town in terrain as...inhospitable as this, we send in specialist groups of frontier ponies to prepare the area. They dig wells, carve roads, and clear enough land to support the future town and the crops to support it, as well as the irrigation to help them flourish."

It made sense, and I did recall hearing something about this process in years past, probably in some school room or another where I wasn't paying anything even remotely approaching attention. She continued uninterrupted.

"They do not have names quite yet, that is something saved for the official founding, so they are known by their map coordinates, or Location Vector. This one, Location Vector 426, is made up of about a dozen families. There are forty eight ponies there, and they are in contact with us every three days, at exactly nine am. Their communications expert, a fellow by the name of Morse Pulse, teleports a progress report. He's never missed a report by as little as a few minutes, you could wind a watch by his peerless punctuality..."

She finally looked up from the table. Her eyes, pale, faded red and bottomless, did a damn fine job of concealing any emotion. Still, a glimmer of concern slipped through.

"It has been over a week now since we last heard from them."

She held my gaze for a moment, letting the implications of that statement sink in, before turning her gaze back to the table.

"Now, very likely this is nothing serious, it may be something as simple as he may have caught cold, or some incident may have come up that delayed his report, or damaged their relay. It is even possible that a particularly harsh sand storm could have cut them off."

She smiled a bit, and continued.

"I'm probably worrying about nothing...Luna always used to say that about me, 'Tia,' she'd say, ' you...worry too much...'"

At the mention of that name, her countenance changed. The smile slowly fell away, a happy recollection replaced with sadness and regret. Now, diplomatic tact and empathy had never been my strong suites, but at that point, even I knew that inquiring about that name, which at that point I'd never heard before, would be a bad idea. As such, I filed it away for later, and said not a word.

"Well, never mind that. The point is, we just don't know. I'd like this to be your first stop. If nothing is amiss, have them send a report so that I stop worrying. If something has gone wrong, it should be nothing a masterfully trained and exceptionally equipped squad of the Royal Guard can't handle."

I nodded in silent agreement, and continued to carve as much of the surroundings into my memory as possible, backing that up with the continued scribblings in my worn old notebook. I doubled, then triple checked my work, taking a few minutes to do so. She watched me in silence, I was well aware of her eyes on me, I could feel an almost physical sensation as they roamed over me, a faint prickling wherever her gaze landed. I strove to finish my task, not meeting those unearthly eyes, much as I wanted too. When I was finally satisfied with my work, I broke the silence.

"Alright, ma'am, I believe I have everything I need here. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

As an interesting change of pace, it was her now who seemed lost in her thoughts. She was staring at me, but the look in her eyes told me she was miles...centuries away. Longing and sadness darkened her usually bright, smiling face. I wanted to reach out, to comfort her...to do something to ease the pain she so clearly felt. I resisted that urge. It was, simply, not my place. I gave her time, waiting patiently for her to respond. Finally, with a little shake of her head she came back. From where...or when, I'll never know.

"No. No, lieutenant, that was all. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I'm sure you'll want to get some rest now, tomorrow is swiftly approaching."

I took her subtle hint for what it was. I inclined my head slightly, a half bow of respect, before turning and walking out of the small stone chamber via it's single door. Her voice caught me once more as I was just about to let the simple wood swing shut behind me.

"Behemoth."

I met her eye once more over my shoulder.

"Be careful out there."

Almost an hour later, after depositing my own gear with the bleary eyed quarter master, who shot me a dirty look but said nothing, and having to ask directions from a porter, a maid, and a two toned, blue maned guard with a shield mark whom I'd seen around but didn't know by name, I finally found the way to my own, new quarters. A shiny new brass plaque next to the door bore the inscription, Lt. Behemoth, REG. I smiled a bit at the unexpected sight of it, and pushed my way in, a little surprised to find the door unlocked.

The lights were on, and the smell of humidity in the air was strong. Sprawled across my new bed, in my new quarters, still loosely wrapped in a towel, was Solstice. I was looking at the top of her head, her jet black mane still wet, hanging about her head in a cascade of darkness. A second towel, stained and smudged with machine oil and grease had her attention, it's surface, laid out in front of her on the bed, was be-speckled with mechanical components I was only passingly familiar with.

"About time you got here, I was about to go to bed without you."

I crossed to her, leaning down as she leaned up. The kiss was brief, subtle. The faint, shower damp scent of her and the brush of her lips bringing me back to life just a little bit. Chasing a bit of the fatigue away.

"Yeah, had a little trouble finding the place..."

Closer now, I recognized the bits which held her attention.

"...Those the goggles?"

"Yeah. I wanted to find what went wrong. Seems the vapor proofing wasn't strong enough. Water got in, threw off the gears, then..."

She met my eyes, the look in those dark orbs saying as much as the words that followed. She reached up, gingerly touching the singed coat above my right eye.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about that, it was a dumb mistake. A rookie mistake, I should've-"

"Hey."

The quiet insistence in my voice cutting her self depreciation short.

"I'm fine. One hundred percent. This sort of thing happens with tech like this."

I brushed her mane back from her forehead, kissing it softly. I knew this almost brotherly show of affection annoyed the hell out of her, but it succeeded in bring a smile back to her face.

"I am exhausted though, a quick shower an then bed sounds damn good about now, we've got a busy six months starting tomorrow."

I moved towards the door to the adjoining room, following the humid air. I heard her weight shift off the bed.

"Hmm, yeah, that sounds like a good idea, I'll join you."

I couldn't help but smile as she caught up, my eyebrow cocking as she discarded her towel.

"Didn't you just get out?"

"Yeah, but this time it'll be more fun."

Author's Note

Tried something new here. Different style, different perspective. Let me know what you think. Just as clarification, this is 6 years before The Beast, The Princess and The Derpy, and 2-3 weeks after Evaluation.

2: Trouble on the Horizon

LV-426 was a graveyard.

No, that's not the right word. Graveyard implies bodies, corpses, the buried or unburied dead. That wasn't the case.

It might've actually been better. Easier to process if there had been bodies, damage, some blatantly overt sign of a struggle. But the place was...peaceful. As peaceful as anywhere currently under the largest sand storm in recorded history could be, at any rate. Six and eight wheeled heavy cargo wagons parked in a neat little row, some of the larger standing shoulder high at the wheel hub, massive, imposing transports used to move the tons of supplies a setup like this consumed so ravenously. A wall of grit roaring and sheeting against them in a horizontal blitz.

We'd seen the wall of dust from miles off. It stretched from horizon to horizon before us, and reached in whorls and spinning eddies of mustard yellow and pale brown several thousand feet into the air. Moving almost like a living thing, thousands of tons of fine grit must've been airborne, abrading and polishing smooth anything it touched. Sanding wood smooth, polishing metal to a mirror sheen. Flaying unprotected skin as surely and swiftly as any blade.

We were spared the worst of its effects. Solstice, in yet another display of laudable foresight, had recommended changing out our standard guard issue armor for layers of long, loose fitting robes, cleverly designed to keep the worst of the sand out, and yet breathable enough not to bake us. She had similarly advised trading in the heavy steel of our ceremonial helms for tight fitting shielded sun/sand goggles. She'd taken the time to read the patrol reports from the last several Guard contingents to head this way, some of those reports being several centuries old. She done this on her own, a decision I can say without too much shame hadn't even occurred to me. Her diligence was a testament to her ability and wisdom.

Once it had become apparent that there was no external signs of life, the squad split up into pairs and swept into town, using the billowing sand to mask their approach as they fanned out to preform a detailed search. The ear pieces, which Solstice had dubbed communication, or com links, buzzed and clicked in our ears, occasionally letting loose unsettling moans and drawn out warbles of unnatural noise.

According to her, this interference was probably caused by the storm. Knowing the cause of the ululating howls, pops and hisses didn't make them any less disconcerting, or make the hair on the back of my neck stand up any less whenever one of the more voluminous shrieks came forth. Still, they provided an effective means of coordination, as the traditional shouted orders or hoof gestures weren't exactly applicable in this situation.

Tradition dictated that I, as the senior field officer, waited at the edge of town with my primary NCO, until we received an all clear from the search pairs. Less then a week into my promotion, and already it rankled. I wanted nothing more then to BE one of those search pairs, the concept of 'Lead from Behind', was anathema to me, smacking of command failure and general incompetent cowardice. Still, this was back when I still respected the, 'Proud, Ceremonial Traditions', so I compromised by setting up shop in the center of town, in the lee of the well assembly as the rest of the area was swept.

Say what you will about the general lack of professionalism of some of the miscreants I had command of, but this, at least, they executed with skill and aplomb. With little more then faint, muttered words and directions, they had fanned out. From my position in the center of the small cluster of buildings, I occasionally glimpsed their dark shapes moving spectrally through the airborne grit, barely there silhouettes just visible beyond the striated brown and yellow wall, the sounds of their movement drowned out by the ceaseless howl of the roaring wind that tugged and buffeted against us.

"Sir, we ---- met up at the ma-- ----ance."

A warbling howl distorted this report, to the extent that even now, I'm not entirely certain who it was that called it in. The hissing, shrieking tumult robbing it of any identification. The voice sounded drained and dried, as if even it had been robbed by the moisture stealing sand.

Me and Dusk Shield turned to each other and nodded, even at such a close distance we were little more then heavily swaddled, blurry shapes to one another. The urge to be out of the wind hastened our hoof falls, the anticipation of an end to the roar and the opportunity to shake out at least a bit of the several pounds of grit now working its way into every crease, crack and crevice, as well as the neigh mystical chance at something cool to drink urging us on perhaps a little quicker then decorum dictated.

Any such hopes were quickly dispelled.

Now, in order to portray this correctly, I'll need to explain a bit about these habitats. Fully enclosed, self sufficient hexagons twenty feet wide across the mouth, and a good six or seven times as long. They were modular, each carved from a single, glassy smooth chunk of basalt. Chosen specifically because apparently basalt is magically inert. Completely non responsive to even the most powerful of spike heads. The complex consisted of more then a dozen of these, stacked two high and elevated off the desert floor by a combination of a bit of natural stone and a complex grid of supporting girder work. There was a single entrance, the door facing out towards the well, sheds, and parked wagons.

The door was circular, flat bottomed and built to withstand anything, natural or not that could be thrown at them. They were double beveled, inside and out, and roughly two feet thick through the center. Id heard it said that even if something managed to crush the entire unit, a dragon, for example, the door would be unscathed. Now, I can't speak to the accuracy of that bit of hyperbole, but they were massive, buttressed with reinforced steel and inscribed with archaic runes that were supposedly capable of absorbing any magical energy not deflected by the null black crystal.

The door, all three and a half tons of it, had been knocked clean off its mountings and left lying fifteen feet into the main hallway. The center had been buckled almost to the point of being smashed clean through by a series of half a dozen or so impacts that had hit with force enough to imprint each individual blow into the supposedly impermeable surface. It'd be three months or so before we'd encounter what had caused this damage, but that's a story for another day.

As we stepped in, the wind howling mournfully across the mouth of the main hall, we trudged though drifts of wind blown sand, fine grit that had made it's way inside during the days since this place had been breached. The flows and ebbs of sand looked for all the world like waves frozen in mid swell, the drifts softening all the edges and corners, lending the place a sort of organic feel, as though we were walking through a natural cave...or strolling into somethings digestive tract.

Through the drifts of blown sand, channels had been carved by Duke and Priestess, the two point ponies. Massive and heavily armored, they were the only two in full armor, in full Dreadnaught plate no less. Now, keep in mind, this was before the rise of Discord, the Changeling assault, or even the return of Princess Luna. For close to a thousand years, the Royal Guard had been little more then ceremonial decoration, the closest we'd come to conflict this century being the occasional border spat with the Gryphon Kingdoms, or dealing with the odd resurgence of disgruntled wildlife.

The Tactical Dreadnaught Plate, however, was from a different time. Massive, crenelated like a fortress wall and about as mobile, it was built for the sole purpose of conflict so terrible and all consuming that, at that point, we couldn't even imagine it. The secrets of its construction had been lost over the intervening centuries, and now the few remaining intact suits were handed down from generation to generation, only entrusted to those rare few who showed themselves worthy of its peerless antiquity.

I'd heard, through the random unverifiable appeal of barracks chatter, that the suit currently worn by Duke had, a stretch of centuries before, been pounded flat into the ground under the claw of a rampaging dragon. From which the wearer promptly pulled himself clear of the crater and went on his way. Now, I can't vouch one way or the other about that particular yarn, but following two of those suits in, striding through the furrows they carved as they took up seemingly the entire passage, advancing shoulder to shoulder in perfect tandem, their massive double headed stave's swinging to bear against each wailing murmur or trickle of falling sand, I had to wonder...

My musings were interrupted by the wailing feedback crackle as a comm line opened up. The interference was still bad, but no where near the spontaneous ear bleed inducing bad that it had been outside.

"Sir, we've found...something."

That incredibly useful call in was from the pretty boy who was overly fond of mane dye.

"'Something' is a rather nebulous and vague bit of terminology, Private, try actually describing it."

"I uh...cant. I don't know what it is, but it is...something."

As we worked our way farther into the facility, towards the centrally located medical suite, the constant, scouring rush of the wind slowly faded, the only sign of the turmoil outside the occasional whispering moan which still came to us, accompanied by the rattling and banging metal of the ventilation system. It's distress obvious by the thin, but constant vertical streams of sand that trickled from every third or so of the air ducts we passed under.

Duke stopped for a moment, his massive glaive bisecting one of those vertical streams, fascinated by the way the sand flowed and ran over the oiled metal, running like granulated water. He shook himself out of it, and moved on, with me a few steps in his wake.

"Something", as vaguely annoying as that particular description was, in this case, turned out to be an apt one. What he'd found was unlike anything encountered in over eight centuries of recorded history. It was basically equine in shape, maybe a little smaller then a full grown adult. Its body was covered in a chitinous shell, a resin exoskeleton that was originally a glossy back and green. Clean bore holes of various sizes went clean through the legs and the dagger shaped horn jutting from its forehead. Scaled, insectile wings, or what was left of them at any rate, sprouted from under protective casings on its back. An entire half of its body had been deformed and cracked, ran into globs and streaks where it's exoskeleton had melted and reformed. The buckled and scorched wall and floor panels nearby implied some sort of explosive had been the cause.

"What the hell is this...Solstice, you ever seen anything like this?"

I leaned down over the corpse, inspecting it carefully. I shied away from any physical contact, as, at this point, I hadn't the slightest idea what we were dealing with. That wouldn't last long.

"No. Never even heard of anything matching this description...we might be dealing with a first contact scenario here, sir."

The wonder and excitement in her voice was plain, this kind of situation, being the first to make contact with a whole new species, I knew that the chance for something like this, some world alteringly massive discovery was a big part of the reason she'd enlisted. She met my eyes, the darkness of hers gleaming in the dim light, a huge smile barely restrained.

"Behemoth, this is huge, this may be the first new species discovered in over a century, and if they're intelligent...by Celestia, this could change our entire world!"

Little did I know at the time just how prophetic that statement would turn out to be, and at the time, I'd be lying if I said I didn't share in her enthusiasm, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up at the thought of such a monumental discovery. Still, as the officer, I had to force myself to keep the situation in perspective.

"Maybe, but whatever they are, they've made contact by disappearing several dozen Equestrian citizens, lets keep that in mind. Lets keep moving, we haven't cleared the facility-"

I was cut off by the distinctive fizz-crack of offensive magic being discharged and the sizzling thud of its impact from around the next corner. This is back when I was younger, and a little faster on my hooves, so I was up and half way around that corner before the bawling, air vibrating bass measure roar of Duke reverberated through out the structure.

"CONTACT! CONTACT OUTSIDE THE MED LAB!!"

As I came up on them, moving at the high speed run-hop-flight maneuver that looked ridiculous but ate distance in record time, I saw the tectonic forms of Duke and Priestess, shoulder to shoulder, their heavy glaives down and leveled, pointing at a small, pitch black square opening low in the wall. A two foot square ventilation duct that had been pried open, its bent cover laid a few feet away, having been there long enough to have a hearty coating of the ever present sand.

The sand was cratered and turned to bubbled glass in several spots from the impact of magic, the ozone stink of which wasn't fading in the still air, and a sizzling, blackened spot in the wall marked where another blast had hit, a solid foot or so clear of the opening in question.

"Report."

I took a moment to appraise the situation, long enough for Solstice and the rookie to arrive, then snapped my wing blades back closed with a practiced muscle twitch.

"I came into this corridor sir, and something attacked me. It was massive, a huge dark shape, bigger then Duke, I barely escaped with my life!! I scared it off, and it retreated into this vent!!"

"Duke, did you see what he described?"

Duke was as calm and steady as ever, the sonorous, booming bass of his voice that was such a boon to the Royal Guard choir, came forth as sedately as a rolling tide.

"No, sir. I was in the lab, the corridor was empty and magic had been discharged before I arrived."

His response was what I expected. I looked to the unicorn responsible for the new perforations, the stallion the squad had affectionately come to refer to as 'Twitchy'. That particular nomenclature made perfect sense in the depressingly common situations such as this one. It was Solstice, with her traditional lack of respect for blatant stupidity, that was the first to speak, beating me to the punch by a fraction of a second.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hang on juuuust a second, how big did you say this thing was?"

Twitchy, completely misreading here incredulity, grinned and nodded enthusiastically, pointing to the motionless steel boulder of Duke in silent confirmation.

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said...ok, let me see if I can help you with this..."

"Solstice-"

Having a decent idea what was coming, I was ready to step in and see if I could cut off the savage verbal beating looming on the horizon. A restraining hoof across my shoulder distracted me from continuing.

"Now, hang on a minute, sir, I think we should hear her out."

The look of barely restrained mirth on Dusk Shields face convinced me to withhold my objections. After-all, this did promise to be more then a wee bit amusing.

"Okay Twitchy-"

"Don't call me that, I hate that-"

"Shut up. Now, look at Duke."

Begrudgingly, his enthusiasm wearing off in record time, he complied.

"Good. Now, to the vent. Excellent. Now, back to Duke. The vent. Now, do you see the problem with what you're saying here?"

He continued, looking back and forth between the ponderous mountain of pony flesh and the dark opening Duke would be hard pressed to fit his head, much less the rest of himself into.

"Yeah...but...what're you saying, Solstice, that I made it up? That I...I..."

"That you're a undisciplined, panicky, rookie idiot? No, I'd never say something like that...I'm thinking it really, REALLY loudly, but I'd never come right out and say it..."

"Solstice..."

The warning tone in my voice was enough to pull her attention back around to me.

"See if you can't be a little more...political, eh?"

"Political, yes sir...lets see..."

She cleared her throat, turning back to the now blushed with anger stallion near on twice her size.

"Ok, political. Your obvious lack of self control and well documented penchant for exaggeration calls into doubt the validity of your claims in regards to this situation, as do the laws of physics, which, although they can be vindictive bitches, preclude significant aspects of the incident as you report it."

Silence met her verbose display, first interrupted by the creak of metal as Duke's triple XL head turned to look at me, and the desperate attempts by Dusk Shield to keep his composure. Given the nature of the gurgling and squeaking noises issuing from him, I was worried the stress of containing his mirth might pop one of his various internal organs.

"How was that, sir?"

It was with considerable effort, that I managed to keep a smile off my face.

"That'll do, Corporal. Private."

Flushed beet red with embarrassment, Twitchy nonetheless snapped to a reasonable approximation of attention.

"Go guard the main entrance. Duke, go with him, make sure he doesn't blow any more superfluous holes in this already structurally compromised facility."

They both saluted and moved off. When I turned back, Solstice was already halfway through disrobing, layers of heavy cloth piling up at her hooves. Once she'd finished, she again met my gaze, and answered the silent question it presented.

"Someone's gonna have to go in there sir, makes sense that it'd be me."

"Now, hold on just a minute, as commander, it's my job to-"

"I can't let you go in there corporal, this is clearly a job for an NCO-"

Me and Dusk verbally tripped over each other voicing our objections, which, in traditional Solstice fashion, she completely ignored.

"Same issue as before, sirs, look at the hole, then yourselves. Neither of you are small enough to fit in there. I am. Besides,"

The look she gave me was a subtle recognition that she knew that my objection wasn't merely on the grounds of protocol...and that she appreciated my concern.

"-You are the commander, so even if you could fit in there, which you can't, we couldn't have you risk yourself."

With a sigh, I nodded my acquiescence, she was right, on both counts. An occurrence common enough that a lesser stallion would be infuriated by it.

"Alright, but be careful in there, the only other Guard small enough to get in there is Redshirt, and I'm sure you'd rather not owe your rescue to him."

A quiet, timid and jittery voice rang out from the back of the room, from the scrawny stallion half eclipsed by the form of Priestess, who hadn't moved as much as an inch through these entire proceedings.

"S-sir, I would be alright to...I mean, I could...probably..."

"Just a joke, kid. I'm sure you'd do fine, but anyways Solstice, be careful."

She smiled, and shot me the kind of wink that smacked of inter squad fraternization.

"Of course sir, I'll be back before you know it."

I watched until she had slipped out of sight. I knew she was competent, and more then capable of taking care of herself, but...silently, I couldn't help but worry. Oh, the myriad and glorious joys of being the lord and master of all pessimism. I turned to Dusk to distract myself from my own dark imaginings and at least make a passing attempt at the whole leadership thing.

"Anything to report from the rest of the facility so far?"

"Not a thing, chief, and I mean that exactly how it sounds. There's nothing here. No sign of the crew, no sign of any more of those...whatever the hell they were. There were a few areas of blast damage and scorch marks, I'd say from the use of mining charges and defensive magic, but they're too worn down, too old to be read with any kind of certainty. "

"Blast damage...that implies that the colonists tried to put up a fight, at least. No bodies though?"

"No sir, not a one."

"Then we have exactly forty eight missing ponies here, and no sign of what might've happened to them, besides a single dessicated and heat ravaged corpse of a here too unknown species, which may or may not have anything to do with the disappearance, and some scorch marks, which may or may not be evidence of a fight."

"Yessir, that's about the gist of it."

A wave of uneasiness swept through me. I held my tongue, waiting to speak until the others who'd been drawn by the commotion had left, returning to their respective investigations. When me and the Sergeant were alone, I voiced my concerns.

"I don't like this, Dusk. I don't like this at all. Something is...wrong here. Very wrong. It feels...like we're standing at a crossroads. That we're playing witness to an event we can't comprehend...mark my words old friend, something dark is coming. Something the likes of which we've never seen."

I turned back to him, and for the first, and only time in our long association, I saw a look of trepidation flash across his weather beaten face. A look that was almost...fear.

"Hmph...yeah, I know what you mean, kid. This mission, the colonists, that damn...whatever the hell it is. I get the sinking suspicion we've been sent down a one way road, an those who sent us down it knew that from the get go."

"So...what do we do?"

He laughed, and when I turned back, the roguish, devil may care look I knew so well was back in his eyes.

"We do what we've always done, our damn jobs."

How simple and direct. How brashly brave that short sentence. If I'd known then what we were walking into, I'd have turned this whole patrol around, gone right back to Canterlot and resigned my commission. I'd have gone home, picked up the shattered remnants of my family, and disappeared to some place where the Equestrian Empire had never even been heard of...but this story is about what DID happen, not what could've. What I DID do, not what I should've.

Any further philosophic musings were preempted by a warbling crackle as a com line opened, and the accompanying distorted yet easily recognizable voice of Solstice.

"I've got something here, I'm coming out."

The tone in her voice is hard to describe. It was equal parts concern and excitement, with just a little anticipation thrown in for good measure. It was the tone she used when she'd unearthed some new, unexpected issue. When she'd found a new problem or encountered a new question that'd give her brilliant mind a bit of a work out. It was a fitting tone given the nature of her latest discovery.

Scurrying and scratching could be heard from within the dark duct as the good Sergeant and I rejoined Priestess, who hadn't so much as twitched from her post nearby during the intervening moments. Faintly, from within, I heard Solstices voice, speaking in low, reassuring tones.

"It's okay, it's alright, you don't have to be afraid. Come on, just a little farther..."

It was a little odd to hear her speak in that tone, it just didn't quite fit with the brash young mechanical genius I'd come to know. And love. I suppose even she had a protective, matriarchal quality.

She emerged first, covered in stains and blotches of the unidentifiable filth that accumulated over the years in crawl spaces and ventilation ducts, streaks of it trailing down the length of her frame and mussing her usually orderly mane. Somehow, she always did seem more beautiful smudged with a bit of grease.

The...creature, as we saw it then, which timidly came out in her wake, doing its best to cower behind her, was another matter all together. Jet black, a dull, sheen-less form void of light, it, or, he, as we'd soon discover, was visible only as a silhouette, as a crisp and clean carved equine outline. Imagine a shadow, moving on its own, where its hooves are tied to no living soul, and that will give you a faint idea of what we were looking at here.

To say that myself and Dusk were a little startled would be an impressive feat of understatement, Priestess, however, reacted in a fashion completely belied by her imposing stature. In a series of motions that would've been impressively swift even for a mare not built like the result of a night of angry sex between a field bunker and a locomotive, she'd set aside her weapon, knelt down and un bolted and removed the thirty some odd pound helmet that so often was the only visage she presented. Her coat was the deep, shadowy green of a thick pine forest at dusk. Her face, set upon a tower of muscle and sinew as broad as some trees, was set in a look of gentle compassion that even her shaved head and brutish figure couldn't conceal. She spoke quietly, reassuringly, her voice flowing like a slow moving brook, even as rivulets formed by hours of sweat baking inside her helmet ran down her cheeks and neck. She made slow, ushering motions with a fore hoof, urging him to her chest.

"It's alright, little one, you're alright. Come here, no ones going to hurt you."

The dark figure, still cowering behind Solstice peeked out at this gentle coaxing. It was then that we saw the only bit of him that caught any light. Two dark, featureless pools, reflecting light with a wet sheen. The only parts of him not to seemingly drink in any and all luminescence, were his eyes. He moved slowly at first, then flew out from behind Solstice like a shot, careening into Priestess' armored chest with enough speed to send a slight, tectonic motion through her. She snuggled around him, wrapping him up protectively, still speaking in her low, reassuring tone.

"There you are, there you are. You're okay now, you're safe now..."

She looked up at myself and Dusk Shield, her eyes full of a kindness, a tenderness I'd not see again in any for more then half a decade. Her eyes sharpened a bit, changing slightly.

"Sirs...would you mind pointing those somewhere else."

Although phrased like one, this was anything but a question, and it was at this point, that the good Sergeant and I both noticed that our weapons had instictually tracked our new guest. The subtle shift to the look on Priestess' face let us know that she didn't quite approve, as well as giving us a silent guarantee that if we were foolish enough to move against the colt, she'd, regardless of rank, find new and remarkably unpleasant places to insert our respective weapons. As a silent agreement that we weren't exactly looking forward to being turned into large and oddly shaped popsicles, we lowered our blades.

Several hours and a monotonous string of negative reports later, I found myself alone in the office space that had once been reserved for the doctor of this frontier outpost. Now, like the rest of the place, it's only denizens were the ever present and everywhere dust, and piles and sheaf's of papers, yellowed and brittle from days or maybe weeks without a functioning climate control system.

The storm had blown itself out shortly after dusk, it's background roar fading so quickly our ears were left ringing by the sudden silence. Sitting there alone, my own breath seemed an obscene roar in the tomb like still that had descended. With ticks, pops, and metallic pings, the structure settled itself after the sustained assault it had survived. Now and again, a faintly heard hissing rush could be heard as one accumulated pocket of wind blown sand or another found its way to vertical freedom.

Stretching and sitting back, I winced as long sedentary muscles protested the sudden movement with a frankly impressive series of creaks and pops. I had just finished the after action report for the day, somewhat over dramatically named in this instance, as there was precious little action to report. If you happen to have a lust for bureaucrat-ese or are a rampaging masochist, you can access the full text of that report...assuming your clearance level is high enough. Last I checked, every last detail, report, and even mention of that mission was classified so highly secret, that there are maybe...a dozen folks in the Empire that have access to it. So good luck.

It'd been a hell of a day, so when Solstice walked through the door, my initial reaction was...well, suffice to say I was glad to see her. If anyone could ease the mental burden of the last twenty four hours, it'd be her. I'm not too proud to admit, but the fact that I knew she was examining the body we'd found, and that I also knew that task was likely to take another hour to ninety minutes, coupled with the fact that she'd staggered in side on and, in retrospect, slightly stumbling, didn't send up any red flags. Any of those things should've been enough to trigger warning bells in my head, but I was young, weary, and not exactly thinking with the appropriate segment of my anatomy when I rose to greet her, no doubt grinning like an idiot.

"Hey there beautiful, wasn't expecting you so soo-"

My cheery greeting was cut short as she stepped into the pool of light cast by one of the few remaining functional overhead lights, and I finally got a good look at...her.

At first glance, it was Solstice, down to the twisted curl of sweat streaked mane on her cheek and the matted patches of her coat where it had been flattened by her armor. Then you saw the jagged, shimmering line of green essentially cutting her body in half. The segmented black carapace, the holed and jagged wings, the dull, multifaceted green eye, starkly contrasted with the storm cloud gray coat, long wings and deep, sheening black eye that occupied the other socket. 'She' appeared frozen in time, half the brilliant mare I'd known for most of the last decade, half...something else.

I was dumbfounded, struck stupid by the shock of such an unexpected visage. Then, with an almost serpentine hiss, it came at me. For something we'd been certain was dead just a few hours earlier, this thing moved like lightning. I didn't even have a chance to cry out before it'd hit me, the sheer force of its impact belied by it's comparatively diminutive frame. I'm not exactly a small fellow, and at the time of this event, was in my prime, fit and powerful as I ever was. Even so, this creature that I had almost a foot of height and a clear hundred pounds on, bowled me over the desk and onto the floor behind it.

Amidst the explosion of accumulated detritus that dominates the surface of your average medical practitioners desk, those items now raining down, clanking off the floor around me, I finally managed to recover enough to get a protective fore leg across this things neck, halting it's mouthful of translucent, needle like teeth a scant few inches from opening my throat.

It snapped and hissed, lunging at my face with buzzing and clicking sounds that were unmistakably insectile. It's form quaked and shuddered, the green line running down the center of its face, marking the boundary between mare and beast, jumped and twitched, like a damaged movie reel. With each lunging snap, thick ropes of inky black drool cascaded from it's maw, splashing against my neck and the side of my face.

It was at this point I may or may not have let loose with a series of descriptive expletives that'd make a sailor blush, and manage to leverage myself off the floor. Using every bit of my training and every ounce of my not inconsiderable strength, I managed to throw the bastard thing off me, sending it crashing back over the desk, the heavy oaken bulk of which went smashing over, adding it's own cacophony to the tumult. I stood quickly, unsteadily, casting around for something to use as a weapon.

It recovered quickly, scrambling back to its hooves and letting loose with a high pitched chittering roar, it came at me again, just as I raised the closest thing to a weapon I could find on such short notice, an ornate, engraved fountain pen. I squared myself, and set to take on this hideous monstrosity with nothing more then a gold leafed writing implement.

As it skittered and stood, pulling it's legs back under it's emaciated frame and coiling to launch itself at me a second time...it stopped.

Suddenly, as quick as a switch being flicked, the hissing, gurgling, clacking, ceased, and it froze, just short of unleashing a pounce that, in all honesty, probably would've been the end of me. It was strange, inexplicable that it would suddenly stop...until something under it's divided chin caught my attention as it reflected the light, gleaming brightly.

A little triangle of metal, a thin sheaf of brightness barely an inch in length had transfixed the creatures neck, just under it's chin. That subtle, almost fragile appearing visual cue became just a bit more pronounced as, with a jerk, it exited the side of the changelings neck, spraying the wall of this room with a viscous, stinking black fluid, more akin to crude oil then blood. It collapsed into a heap, and in its place, there in the doorway, back-lit by the bright lights of the surgical suite, was the true and genuine Solstice. Standing in profile, wing out and it's mounted blade steady and level with her unblinking eyes. It was a toss up what was sharper, the eyes or the blade.

It was an interesting moment as we stood there, eyes locked. Her masterfully crafted and peerlessly lethal blade...against my pen. The corner of her mouth pulled up into a smirk, and she stepped over to the limp form, taking no chances this time, she made sure it was truly dead, as with another quick slash she finished the task of removing it's head. She looked back to me from her task, that smirk still there, holding me transfixed. Her gaze fell to the pen, which had tracked with her as she moved across the office. That smirk grew into a full blown smile.

"No autographs, please."

Author's Note

Took much longer then I anticipated. Six months much longer. I'll see if I can narrow that stretch down a bit for chapter 3.