Broken Skies

"Today is yet another day, where we remember the name of a man who both revolutionized the modern assault rifle, and developed the most produced and used weapon in the world. Rest in peace, Mikhail." said a reporter over his microphone, standing in front of the museum dedicated to Mikhail Kalashnikov.

"24 years this has been going on, I wish it never stops." said a scientist blandly, staring at a rookie. "We should get this armor project started."

"Right away, professor." snapped the recruit.

The camp in the Whitetail Woods was breathing with life, voices, and training filling the area. Researchers from the advance group however, still stood around for some testing and discovered something.

"Kalkin, come over here." ordered the head scientist. "How are the experiments on the metal going?"

"Wonderful, sir. The substance appears to be able to bend and stretch beyond all currently found dimensions, and the weight appears to be substantially little. Kinetic energy tests go beyond expected, it can both stop and penetrate items, the shaped object smashed through the Phyxa plating cleanly, no other damages, only a direct line through. Magnetic abilities appear to have no complications, making it great for Gauss weaponry, and last but not least, it appears to be infused to every pony we have encountered so far. In their horns, wings, hooves, all sorts of silly places. It also appears to be in those little tattoos on their flanks!" reported the researcher.

"Even better, try to gather more, see if we can't find a way to shape this into something more useful, like a tool of some sort?" commented the lead scientist.

"Screech, we need to keep going! We need to be at the marked location in three hours to link up with other task forces!" said Bullet Monkey.

"The pedal is locked up, and the gas is dwindling out! One of those Witches must have shot the gas tank!" said Screech.

"Shift that shit into neutral, we managed to escape those S Dubya's, we can push a humvee to another convoy!" shouted Bullet Monkey.

"Lieutenant, how are things going back there?" asked Screech, over the radio.

"Not too good sir, we have injured troopers and low morale back here. Pretty sure I heard some noises off into those snowy woods to." reported the Lieutenant.

After the short but heavy excursion with the Witches from before, the convoy was pretty weak. Tank treads went out from various explosives, gas tanks were shot, some soldiers were injured, a few died, and the trek to the next link up was about 2 hours away.

"This Christmas don't look to bright sarge." said a trooper.

"Damn right it don't, I have a wife and kids back home, how do you think they are faring after signing up for this?" replied the sergeant.

"Its gonna be a cold winter." simply stated a walking soldier.

"Princess Sparkle, a letter from Princess Celestia!" snapped a guardspony.

A letter by hoof? These don't occur very often....

Twilight pondered on what the special occasion warranted the delivery of a courier with a letter, easily sent through magic. That is, until she looked at the paper. It wasn't normal, it was rough, very crinkly, and had a stain of... blood?

"O-Oh my. Thank you sir." said Twilight taking the rolled up letter.

"Spike!" shouted Twilight.

Watching Spike tumble down the stairs after being awoken in such a groggy state, he walked over to where Twilight stood.

"Whats wrong Twi'?" asked Spike.

"The Princess sent us a letter, personally." Twilight said blandly.

'What for?" replied Spike.

"I have no idea!" Twilight stated back.

Unraveling the scroll with her hoof, she looked down with a face of terror.

"To the residences of Ponyville, these dire times have called for drastic measures. It appears.. that other aliens have made contact.. with bad intentions..." Twilight read with a hint of fear. "We have no idea what to expect, and we must enlist the help of the other nations. Our human allies have also told us of their response, sending a strong fleet to assist in our predicament. The bad part however... is it will take from a few weeks to a month..."

Twilight's hooves were shaking.

No! No more! Make the worry stop! Twilight thought.

Her pupils shook, dilated, and wobbled about, displaying her feelings like a bright, shining star.

"Uh, Twi?" asked Spike. "You alright?"

"Sire, those metal airboats above us have landed!" reported a messenger.

"Good, they looked radically different to those humans anyway, lets see what they want." ordered the King.

The large metal doors leading to the throne room swung open, the hinges creaking and groaning under the weight. Then, a tall, sleek, metallic figure stepped into the room.

"King High Cloud, I am Regrod. I come in favor of you becoming an ally, and we would very much wish to assist you in your war." said the tall Witch, with a hint of a small, but unnoticeable smirk.

"Aha, very good! Well, speak. Any other things you wish to ask?" calmly asked the King.

"Ah, yes, this-" said Regrod, pulling out a glowing red rifle.

She pulled the trigger, letting loose a torrent of destructive, red, solid projectiles at the King. Almost every single one pierced his skull.

"The tech department's gift to you." Regrod finished.

Griffon guards charged at Regrod, but her own bodyguards had rushed in on time, slaughtering the others with ease. Many Shing sounding noises filled the room, alongside a few blasts similar of that to a human firearm, spraying the walls with fresh red blood.

"Alright everyone, lets get to work." ordered Regrod.