Iron Grey

Denial

"How lucky can one guy be?...
'Ain't that a kick in the head?' "

Ruined. My life's work was a menagerie of ruin. There were reports coming in from all over the base. So close. I was so close to controlling the Single Pegasus Project. The Single Pegasus Project. It allowed one pony to control the weather around Equestria through spire-like towers dotting the landscape and piercing the sky. The Enclave had hacked the individual towers to make clouds thick enough to grow food, but their meager efforts didn't even scratch the surface. What I would tell those foals in the council one week from now would send them reeling. Not only did I now know how to control the project, I had a way into the control center. An impenetrable alicorn shield had protected it for two hundred years, and I had a way inside. The direction of the enclave was on the verge of changing forever, and I would be its cause. Their puny minds were obsessed with isolating themselves from the surface. I was going to give them the power to rule it. Or at least I would have.

Now, none of that mattered. I was watching explosions tear out banks of cloud interface I had spent years crafting. A dragon, not a horde of enemies, but a single dragon, was carelessly hurling years of metal artistry into raptor-class cloudships. It was those raptors, so-called dragon killers if the moniker could be believed, that were supposed to take care of the dragon, and they were failing. I couldn't believe it. I didn't believe it.

Monitor after monitor displayed death blossoming all around me. How could such a small contingent be responsible for so much damage? This base was the most well-armed installation in the entire enclave. Not to mention the stock of elite weaponry and power cells the elite guard had access to. All of it, apparently worthless at protecting my facilities. Worse yet, I was unable to save the lives of the ponies I had sought to guide.

It was all wrong. The numbers were asymmetric: Neighvarro was a military base superior in numbers, in training, in raw horsepower, but all that was worthless. One canvas of blood caught my eye in the detention block as a crazed hellhound was tearing through an entire flight wing of pegasi. A mare's throat was being slashed open. "Shouldn't have brought a shock baton to a death claw fight," I whispered.

A gruff whinny snapped my attention from the monitor. I spun round to face, and then salute, an armored pegasus. His tight jaw displayed no emotion as he returned the salute and approached my monitor bank. "Just great," he spat, "Pegasi are dying and the only thing worthless scum like yourself can do is joke about it. Still, I'm afraid you're right. Be sure to use that pointy head of yours in the assault." My throat choked with how much I hated addressing him as a superior.

"Sir, assault, sir? The dragon and the hellhound are the only two assailants I have detected. I see no other enemies inside the base itself. What is there to assault?"

"That's because they're on the run. That monster," he motioned at the monitor I had been looking at, "is about to be dealt with by Neighvarro's shock wing. Good thing, too, those useless security wash-outs couldn't handle peeling potatoes, let alone dealing with an escaped prisoner." My back shuddered, trying to shut out the horror playing out just behind me. "The dragon is in full retreat with his allies. We are to pursue and destroy them. Simple assault mission. These foals think they can perform a hit-and-run without retaliation? Tsk!"

"Sir, we don't know their base of operation," I offered in weak protest.

"Of course we do. That's Spike. We've known what cave he's been slinking around in for years. The fact that he's sided with those terrorists means he's sealed both their fate and his." Although I rarely saw Wild Wing display any emotion, his muzzle had twisted into a cold sneer.

"With all due respect, sir, those terrorists destroyed an entire detachment in Splendid Valley, brought down a Thunderhead, and have hit this base hard, without taking casualties. We need to regroup, rebuild. The council needs more intelligence before an assault can be carried out."

"I might agree. But the situation has changed. Those terrorists have started removing cloud cover. The enclave has ordered us to put an end to this rebellion, once and for all. I don't need to tell you what this means. Without the clouds blanketing the Equestrian wasteland, there's no Enclave. Without the enclave we'll all be killed. This murderous scum must either be destroyed today or there won't be an Enclave tomorrow. The situation is no longer strategic plan of action, it is survival. It is kill or be killed. Gear up. I expect you on deck in twenty. Your know-how will be part of the first wave."

"Captain Wild Wing, sir. Those tiny patches earlier and today are not what's causing the clouds to dissipate. On what little equipment is working, I can definitively tell you the cloud cover is being removed from the central hub of the SPP. That is the source of the signal telling the towers to power down. That's where we need to focus our efforts. As a matter of fact, I have a-"

Wild Wing either ignored me or didn't care. He had turned and started to leave as I had still been talking. As he left the command center, the blast doors seemed to shut out what little celestial light was streaming in from the windows outside.