“I can’t believe we’re stuck with these…academic fuckups!” one of the blue armored men muttered to another in the dark chamber.
“I thought we were just gonna kick ’em out the back door when we hit three hundred meters,” his comrade replied.
“Stow the chatter, grunts. Whatever you think, these VS boys’re stuck with us. Treat ‘em like you would any of us NC,” Squad Leader Carter McElrich ordered. Even so, he tightened his grip on the Piston when one of the VS Acolytes came back to this area of the Galaxy.
One of the VS grandmasters that they were escorting turned to him in a bow. “Thank you for keeping your men in line. It would prove…unfortunate if there was an accident,” the older man, in his soft voice, said.
“I didn’t do it for you, you weak little fuck. I did it ‘cause the suits think a temporary alliance can help bring down the TR. If I had my druthers, I’d put a shell in your skull and kick the rest of you out the drop door, but the truce says I can’t slaughter all of you. So consider yourself lucky, bitch,” McElrich spat at him.
“Drop zone reached, drop on my mark!” the pilot spoke, speakers crackling as they passed through some kind of field. The back door hissed, then dropped down an inch.
The NC who were nearest the door buckled on their gear and slammed magazines home into receivers, then stood up. Most were equipped with the jump jet backpacks that were standard issue to light assault troopers, but more than a few had specialist gear. Then there was a hydraulic whine, and a tremendous thump. The MAX had come online, and was prepping to drop.
On the other side of the Galaxy’s troop compartment there were twelve men in insectoid, grey carapace armor. These men briefly checked the battery levels in their weapons, then stood in silent, grim attention. The tallest one of their number was their own MAX, who waited behind the troops.
McElrich checked his Piston, then slammed his fist against the drop doors release. With a roar of wind, the door dropped to form a ramp out the back of the Galaxy, and he took a running leap off into the cool night air of Auraxis.
The drop site was an ancient crater, a scar in the swampy growth that was the continent of Hossin. At least we got airdropped ahead of the TR boys, this’ll be a hell of a fight once the main forces reactivate the Warpgates, McElrich thought as the wind whipped by his exposed lower face. He rolled over to survey the twenty-three other rapidly falling men and women behind him, checking that they were managing their descent. Even the most hardened of vets could get cocky and suffer a botched drop. McElrich himself had suffered a couple of those, and getting reconstituted thanks to the Vanu Reanimation Engine was never a pleasant feeling. That, and the psychological leftovers were always a problem.
He realigned himself with the ground, did a last second weapons check, and then heard a scream. A scream from one of his boys. He whipped himself around once more, which probably saved his life. A bolt of plasma from the VS MAX burned through the space his face had been a second ago, and then he opened fire.
The automatic Piston was a powerful, destructive example of Auraxian Firearms ballistic technology. Firing at a rate of two-hundred twenty-five rounds per minute, with a muzzle velocity of three-hundred meters per second, the tightly-clustered group of magnetically accelerated projectiles turned the first VS light assault’s upper body to mincemeat, shredding through the armor and the flesh underneath. As soon as he opened fire, he went onto the squad’s subvocal communications network. “Shields up, boys, these bastards are fixin’ for a killin’,”
All around him his squad racked their guns, turning on the VS troops. A gunfight erupted, the heavy thumping roar of the NC coilguns and the pulsing thrum of the VS plasma-based weaponry splitting the night sky. The two MAXes dueled in the air, trying to get their heavier weapons to bear on the other while the little infantry slugged it out.
Three of the NC troopers had fallen, blood raining from still wounds. Six of the VS had been killed in the opening volley the close-range specialists unleashed upon them. The VS MAX had been killed as well, although the duel had left the friendly MAX in shambles as well. As they descended, suddenly the nanites that followed them out of the Galaxy cut out. The fall went from a controlled, usually safe drop to an uncontrolled free-fall from a hundred and fifty meters up. The light assaults might survive, provided they controlled their use of the jetpacks, but the MAX, the heavy, the engineer, the medic medics, and the lone infiltrator wouldn’t survive the fall period. “Lights, grab the specialists, then controlled descent! Keep ‘em alive!” McElrich hollered, latching on to Michaels, one of the medics.
The light assaults drifted over to the less-freefall-acclimated troopers and latched on, even the VS following his orders. Their squad lead had fallen in the gunfight, and both sides were more preoccupied with surviving the fall than killing each other. There was a pulsing, throbbing bellow that seared the air, and then a flash as something in the Vanu artifact below activated. A wave of bluish electricity rolled through the squads.
On a hillside about a hundred meters away, a man in a skin-tight suit appeared, as if from thin air. The microfilaments in the suit responsible for the refraction of light whined ever so slightly as they cooled off from the power that had flowed through them. A sniper rifle rested on the rock next to him, and as he picked it up and chambered a fresh round, he spoke under the helmet. “Command, this is Ghost. The rebels and the VS have discovered the artifact. I’m moving in to place a drop beacon.”
“Good work, Alpha-Twelve. Place the beacon, and First Platoon will drop behind. Loyalty until Death,”
“Strength in Unity.”
McElrich would sit on an ill-fitting chair sometime later and wonder if the Vanu really were dead, or if they had just hidden themselves. The events that were to take place were too outlandish to believe were simply the chance malfunction of an ancient weapon system.
Author's Note
So, unless you've actually joined the game, this is a crossover from Planetside 2, also known as Poor Man's Battlefield.
I highly suggest visiting it. Also, no this isn't some "soldier falls into Equestria, is emotional wreck and must heal". No, there while there is a definite theme of healing old wounds at some point down the road, at the very beginning it will be more about getting over differences.
Also, I play the game, and if I let my overarching dislike for the VS come through, it's because they're pajama-wearing cheaters who don't have to worry about bullet drop and are impossible to see at night.
First Contact, or Surviving a 700-Meter Freefall
“Hey, boss, get up. Boss! Can you hear me?”
McElrich groaned as the voice felt like a TR RAMS round to the skull. The impact had not been pretty. Even though whatever had happened had dropped them at only about five meters up, he had still come out on bottom of Michaels, and even though medics didn’t wear heavy armor like a heavy, and didn’t carry as much gear as an engineer, he still was a bulky guy, and the ground had been rather unfriendly to rapid descent.
“Michaels, you sonofabitch, lose some weight, would you?” McElrich swore at the heavier man who stood a few feet away.
“Sorry sir. I’ll be sure to take that into consideration,” the bigger man said. He wasn’t fat, per say, but he was certainly tall and muscular, and dense as a brick outhouse. “’Fore I go dieting, though, you should see this,”
McElrich looked around, by now noticing the only slight major difference in biome. Where Hossin’s filthy, dirty swamp trees were squishy, stringy things, these trees were much more decidedly along the lines of Amerish. The difference was that, where Amerish’s trees were either placed in rows like at Peris Nursery, or stragglers that grew naturally wherever they could, these trees were impossibly dense, too dense to be controlled as the trees in Amerish and on most of Auraxis.
“Sir, we’ve got more casualties,” One of the other men, who only went by Dean, spoke up. He was the lone surviving heavy.
One of the light assaults coughed wetly, and a sliding, slick thump sounded after. Whatever had dropped them here had unfortunately miscalculated and dropped him in the middle of a tree, about waist high, from the chest down. His legs lay severed at strange angles behind. Michaels moved up. “I’ve already looked at him, and I can’t do shit. His molecules have phased together with the tree’s, it’s that…that…”
“Quantum tunneling. I believe the concept you are attempting to describe is colloquially named quantum tunneling, or ‘phasing’,” a VS engineer spoke, voice quiet as he sat with his arms over his head. The three surviving VS were seated against other trees, watching inscrutably behind the black visor shields.
“Did I ask you?” McElrich spat. “Soldier, I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Henry…Henry Carlson…” the light assault wheezed.
“Does it hurt?” McElrich asked, slowly reaching down his thigh for the Commissioner that sat heavily in its holster.
“You’ve…got no idea, sir.” Carlson responded, coughing up blood and something pink.
McElrich drew the Commissioner and levelled it at Carlson’s head, ignoring the sudden calls to stop from McCoy, the engineer. “Son, this’ll only hurt for a second, and we’ll grab you at the nearest respawn chamber,”
BANG.
A heavy, sharp report echoed throughout the forest, and Henry Carlson’s head deformed under the big .454 Casull bullet. And then McElrich turned away, not even waiting to confirm that the body would dissolve into the green nanites that signaled the dead’s resurrection.
“C’mon, Blank Flank, are you too chicken to go in there?” Diamond Tiara taunted as she stood with Silver Spoon at the mouth of the Everfree Forest. Ahead of them stood Scootaloo, who as strong as she tried to be, was still shivering slightly.
“I’m not afraid, I just…don’t think this is necessarily a good idea!” She supplied. Normally she was the one who wanted to go into the Everfree, but that was with Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. Applebloom was off in Manehattan with Applejack for some kind of huge farmer’s market, and Sweetie Belle was with her parents in Canterlot for the weekend. That left Scootaloo the lone Crusader in Ponyville, for reasons she would never tell.
“Only a Blank Flank would be too scared to go into the Forest. I mean, we’ve been in there soooo many times we’ve lost track, right Spoon?” Tiara sneered.
“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah we have!” Silver Spoon started. She herself trembled at the thought of the Everfree; the only reason she was even here was Diamond Tiara, and she was starting to get her own doubts as to the merits of continued association.
“So, then, Blank Flank, you gonna just stand there like a coward, or are you going to go in? Maybe we’ll tell Rainbow Dash that you were too chicken to go, right Silver Spoon?”
“Yeah. Then, uh, Rainbow Dash won’t even like you!” Spoon was just improvising now, as her mind strayed ever deeper into the Everfree Forest than she would have liked.
That lit the fire under Scootaloo’s flanks. “Fine, nobody is going to tell Rainbow Dash that I’m a chicken. Everfree Forest, here I come!” She hissed.
“And remember, chicken, you can’t come back until tomorrow, otherwise we tell Rainbow Dash!” Tiara called after the retreating form of the little pegasus.
“It’s okay, Scoots, all you gotta do is find Zecora’s hut and stay there the night, that’s all you gotta do. It’s gonna be okay, there aren’t going to be any manticores or…cockatrices…please, no cockatrices…” Scootaloo murmured to herself, trying to keep calm in the forest. If she could just find Zecora’s hut, then everything would be fine. Problem was, Applebloom had always led them to the hut in the Forest, and Scootaloo had never truly paid attention to the directions. Night was falling, and she was deeper into the untamed wood than she would have ever liked.
BANG.
“Oh Celestia what was that?!” Scoots jumped at the sharp retort, then got a look at the trees surrounding her. Hideous faces glared down at her, and a whisper started to hiss in her ears. You will never fly. You will never live up to Rainbow Dash. You will never know love. You will die here, pony, and we shall feast upon your soul. Strength….Unity…Loyalty…Death…
Scootaloo never ran faster in her short life. Wings buzzing, instinctively trying to fly, hooves pounding, she raced in any direction, away from the whispers that spoke of her worst fears. She didn’t even notice the manticore as she raced past it, tears falling from dilated eyes.
“Sergeant, what the hell?! I told you to wait!” McCoy shouted at his squad leader.
“Like I said, we’ll pick him up at the nearest respawn facility. What’s the big deal?” McElrich said as he placed a new bullet in the cylinder, placed the brass in his pocket, and holstered the gun.
“I told you, there aren’t any respawn facilities! I can’t get any vanu-tech, NS, or NC signatures on my ACE! When we die here, we DIE!” McCoy screamed, voice hoarse.
McElrich stopped, then stared. No resupply, no VRE, nothing? That couldn’t be, they were just probably warped to a not-relinked continent. He pulled his map up on the helmet visor.
NO DATA. NO DATA. NO DATA. NO DATA.
LINK TO NC DATABASE: LOST
LINK TO NS DATABASE: LOST
LINK TO TR DATABASE: LOST
“VS maggots, I want you to tell me one thing and one thing truthfully. Can you pick up any allied tech signatures?” McElrich turned to the VS soldiers. As one, their faces twisted into grimaces of fear.
“No, sir. We are unable to detect any trace of allied or enemy technological signatures. The only Nanite Systems technology we can find are the Repair and Healing tools that the Engineers and Medic have, respectively.” The VS Engineer replied, voice tight with an emotion that McElrich had never heard a VS feel: fear.
“So, we’re on our own here? No chance of more ammo, certainly no chance of redeploy?” McElrich repeated.
“Well, my batter - ammunition pack still works, I hope. However, we should save it for a dire situation,” the VS engineer spoke.
There came a scream from what appeared to be west on the HUD map. A little girl’s scream. McElrich’s heart wrenched as he remembered the terrified scream his own daughter made in her night terrors; this was hauntingly similar. “Marks, get up in the trees and cover me. I want crosshairs on whatever made that scream,” he barked to the lone infiltrator, who nodded behind his highly reflective visor. He scampered up the gnarled tree, vanishing in the thick canopy growth. “McCoy, Michaels, on me. We’re gonna FRAG that sonofabitch!” the grizzled sergeant snarled as he drew his shotgun again and reloaded the depleted magazine, feeling the ratcheting of the charging handle with feral satisfaction.
The three sprinted through the undergrowth, but McElrich led the little trio. His rocket-assisted movement began to quickly outstrip the other two ground-bound troopers, much to their dismay. Several times they had called out to him, but he had tunnel vision; another scream had echoed through the forest, this one not of fear but of pain and pure TERROR.
He emerged into a small clearing where the first thing he saw was a huge…thing with claws and a stinger poised over another figure. The downed figure laid in a puddle of its own blood, eyes that too large for its head filled with sheer terror, panting as more blood oozed from a trio of parallel gashes along its side. McElrich wasted no time; he was not a man given to waiting for enemies to be established before shooting. Ferrous pellets tore through the air as the Piston roared, slamming with several kilojoules of force into the beast’s back. It howled in pain as the shot severed the stinger that looked to be the biggest threat. He jumped up, jetpack pushing him left as he dodged a swipe from the right claw. The left claw clipped his armor plating, which he was intensely grateful for now as the impact alone rang out with the wet thud-crunch-crack of breaking ribs and pulverized flesh. He slammed into a tree, Piston skittering along a tree root. He reached for his pistol as the creature loomed over him now, when a tremendous BANG shattered the now-quiet air. Blood splashed over McElrich as a huge hole appeared in the beast’s thoracic cavity, a crack of blue lightning from the trees revealing the sniper. Marks chambered a fresh round and over the sub-vocals remarked, “Sarge, you’d think you like getting’ your ass saved by yours truly.”
Scootaloo trembled in fear, heart racing as blood seeped from the painful gashes the manticore’s claws had dealt. Hot blood pooled around her, and her left wing fluttered weakly; the right wouldn’t respond. The manticore loomed over her, and she stared into her death as the paw lifted for the final blow.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in the woods behind the manticore, and then a flash of blue lightning seared into being, followed by a deafening roar. The manticore howled as something slammed into its back, and the stinger flew off in an arc of red blood and sickly-green venom. What had caused such brutal damage was another strange creature, who ran on the ground on two legs. Something held in its…paws? Claws?...made the roar and the flash. Then it leaped into the air and actually began to fly! It dodged the first swipe of the manticore, but the second connected with a disgusting crunch and flung her savior into a tree. Just as the creature reached for the bright platinum thing at its side, there was a deeper, louder crack that sprayed blood all over her savior.
It slowly, and seemingly painfully stood up, picking up the thing it had dropped on impact with the tree. Then it walked over to the manticore’s body and levelled the thing at it; there was a last flash-roar, and the manticore’s head…ceased to be….
At that Scootaloo finally vomited up what little she had in her stomach. The sound attracted the monster that….killed…the manticore, and it turned to face her.
Eyes that were two small gleamed with feral delight and pure killing intent. Blood coated its body and what was presumably a face. She shrank back, whimpering as the movement tore the gashes open further, and the sound seemed to have an effect on the monster. It began to move towards her, but placed a claw on its chest and made a grunt like that of pain.
Three more monsters appeared, one with the addition of white on its body and a little diamond at its forehead. The second was fairly unremarkable, excluding the blocky glove it wore on one claw, and the third one was the only major variation. It seemed to be much, much thinner and carried a much, much longer thing than any of the other monsters. At first they spoke in a growling, guttural language amongst themselves, pointing at her. The one with the white on its body gestured with something shaped like the thing that made the lightning, and the blood seeping from her savior’s ribcage ceased. Then it started towards her, but the other stopped it.
“It’s gonna bleed out unless I patch it up!” Michaels sputtered after McCoy stopped him.
“I know, but think; we can’t find any other nanite tech. It’s not acclimated to nanites, we are. Remember when you first got registered in the VRE, the first time someone rezzed you,” McCoy said, voice tight.
McElrich strode over now that he could breathe without fear of shattered ribs punching through his lungs. He crouched over the little downed creature, then tore off his left sleeve. With his mag-cutter he sliced the sleeve into long strips of tough, canvas cloth. Taking the strips, he tightly bound the little creatures torso to try and stop the bleeding, at which point he noticed two very little wings. Were these things engineered? There’s no way this can actually fly, he thought as he picked the creature up. It was surprisingly light, and standing probably came up only to his thigh. Hefting it up against his chest and now-exposed shoulder, he turned to Michaels and Marks. “Alright, there’s a trail here. We’ll follow it east and see if we can get this thing patched up,” he said matter-of-factly, turning to follow the beaten path.
“I still think that I should just heal it. Sir, what do we want the rest of the boys to do?” Michaels asked.
“Tell ‘em to find shelter and stay there. We’ll be going ahead to scout out whoever’s here.”
Scootaloo winced as the creature’s strange stride jostled her wounds again. While the bleeding was significantly slowed, she still felt blood leaking out. It was getting bad enough where crimson stains were starting to seep through the makeshift bandages. The thing looked down at her, and through a clear, likely glass visor, small eyes that were like little flints peered around. Every step, while clearly hurried, was also careful, as if it were waiting for something to come of out of the woods and attack it. While the sentiment wasn’t too ill-thought considering their location, it did bring up worries. How would the other ponies react to this, this very posture of killing intent?
Why does it move like an animal? She asked herself as it vaulted a fallen log that had tipped over the path. Already she could see the trees that made up the entrance to the forest, and when she turned her head, she saw two unwelcome sights; a gray earth pony with glasses, and a pink earth pony with a silver, gem-studded tiara. They both snickered as they waited for the little pegasus filly to return. They knew which of the Blank Flanks was the courageous one when it came to the forest, and it wasn’t Scootaloo.
Then they got a look of the creature that was carrying her, her, and more importantly, the blood that was staining the rough fabric. Spoon visibly tinted green, where Tiara’s eyes dilated to pinpricks. They stood for a few seconds, then Spoon slumped and retched, while Tiara dashed away, breathing violent and rattling.
McElrich stopped at the opening in the trees that marked the edge of the accursed forest as he watched the other little creature emptying whatever it had for its last meal. He gazed about quickly, feeling the wounded one in his arms shiver. Finally, he caught sight of something helpful: a little cottage just on the outskirts of the woods.
The door was short, only coming up to his shoulder, and it had some kind of small cut out in the center. With an ease granted from centuries of urban combat, he leaned back and planted his booted foot in the door. It crashed inward, lock and hinges snapping under the tremendous force placed upon it. The door itself flew a good meter before landing in a dust cloud. And inside was a much larger, pale yellow version of the creature he was carrying, staring from behind its pink hair with large, pale blue eyes at him.
Author's Note
Alright, before you ask, yes, McElrich is around 350 years old (in terms of psyche). In terms of his current body, he's only 29. And yes, they have no idea what horses are, they're from an alien planet several hundred years in the future after a cataclysmic war. Horses are extinct on Earth, and Auraxis has no horses.
