Future Tactics - The War Games

by Acheron

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Luna, Changelings, Original Character, Science Fiction, Queen Chrysalis, Profanity, Adventure, Human, Main 6, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe
Length: 26386

In the far future, humanity and alien races combat each other in a great sense of warfare known as the War Games, where Battle Fortresses duke it out in strategic battles for control and territory. What will happen when Equestria joins?

The future is not as bleak as many would have thought. While humanity may have spread amongst the stars, they do not decimate one another in warfare anymore. The main reason that the current state of military technology would render the death toll at near-cataclysmic proportions.

Humanity, however, has not lost the very violent natures that its ancestors once honed in order to create the perfect soldier, one who had full control over mind, body, and spirit. They squirm in their peacetime, wanting, needing to find something to fight. The aliens they coexist with share the exact same need, their warlike tendencies beginning to work against their peace.

Ten years after the declaration of universally accepted peace, the War Games were founded. A single galaxy was designated, where the Interstellar Battle Fortress made its appearance. A mobile fortress that was a cloning facility, factory, and colony, all in one.

Only those who had proven themselves in the military command of their respective factions could be awarded the chance to enter the galaxy of Messier 83, the battleground of the War Games.

Planets would be conquered, lives would be lost, all in the name of galactic entertainment.

But when a far-away planet makes its way into the War Games, a planet filled with a race entirely non-humanoid in nature, will it shift the balance of the Games?

These are the tactics of the future. Welcome, commanders, to the War Games.

"Cover art is used with permission request pending, by artist Einik"
http://einik.deviantart.com/

[[The story will update as I have time.]]

Published 2014-02-17 23:20:11 UTC
Last updated 2022-03-08 01:59:13 UTC

Prologue - Last Flight of the Kepler (Rewrite)

Prologue - Last Flight of the Kepler

2795 AD – Messier-83 Galaxy

The sun had set over the horizon, long shadows cast over the various structures that dotted the terraces, metal plating clearly visible in the dying artificial light. With a shudder, something sprang to life. Many men and women wandered about, not worrying about their days until that fated day that they would come to face another ship, another Fortress. Shops were opening, many preferring to sleep during the day-cycle, and work during the night-cycle. The previous four months had been spent like this, the citizens barely aging due to the manipulation of their genetic clock. Their uniforms shone blue and red in the light of the street lamps, some areas of the various terraces preferring to model themselves after ancient time periods, from an ancient Earth pub, to a stone-built tavern, with matching clothing and everything. For many, it was home. For all, it was the Kepler, a forty-year-old Battle Fortress, one of the original Wyvern-class design variants, for offensive capabilities that other Fortresses did not have.

Her main deck consisted of the colony, the main way such Battle Fortresses would even remain, lest they get picked apart by scavengers wanting to make a quick credit or two on the galactic market with War Games schematics. Her crew made their rounds, finding activities to occupy themselves whilst waiting for the ever exciting call, 'General Quarters.' While to a man of the military it might mean something different, to a member of a Battle Fortress, it meant that the monotony of day-to-day life was about to be broken.

Elevators dotted her main deck, leading to the engineering, bridge, and the battle control suites. When a battle commenced betwixt two Fortresses for either rights to a certain asteroid mine, or for the absolute dominance of a single planet, for the entertainment of humanity, it would be broadcast live. Cameras on the Kepler broadcast day and night, their ever-present signals detailing out their daily lives, and the battalion leaders who would commence the attack, if one such opportunity ever presented itself. On the bridge, emotions were not so joyful.

“What do you mean, we're off-course?! How can we be off-course?!” The commander of the Kepler, an older, rotund sort of man with greying hair and piercing blue eyes, stared down his navigator, a Sentient Integrated Program android, or SIP for short.

“I am deeply apologetic, commander. I was not aware until I checked the calculations one more time. We are coming across a fresh planet, untouched by humanity. Possibly brimming with selenium to strip mine.” The commander stared intently at the SIP, his eyes closing to slits in thought. From a nearby console, a loud beeping occurred. The SIP navigator looked down, its eyes quickly darting from one display to the next, information processing at several million times the speed that a human mind could calculate.

“What is it? What's wrong?” The SIP looked up, an emotion displaying across its flesh-metal features that very few SIPs had activated. It was scared.

“Commander, within eleven galactic day-cycles, we will reach our destination at designation P3X-292. Unfortunately, the Titan-class Fortress, Dawnbreaker, is also on course, and will arrive as we do. I recommend an immediate sounding of General Quarters, and for the Kepler to shift into offensive mode the minute we exit from void-space.” The SIP navigator returned to its station, leaving the commander to contemplate the recommendation of his navigator. He stood, turning to the bridge elevators. His second in command, a rather robust man of Russian descent, stood there, deep in contemplation.

“Commander, I would think we should wait around six of those cycles to run drills to keep every member of the crew on their toes. Also, a lot of the Battle Control suite is still being re-calibrated. Let the engineers know of our timetable, right?” The commander held his head in his hands, still preferring to remain silent. The bridge of the Kepler was eerily quiet after the SIP's statement, every officer concerned over the continued survival of the Kepler. With a start, the commander stood, his hand out, fingers spread.

“Set up the drills as necessary. Unit 3, as you were. Prepare the Battle Control Suites. I will have a chat with our head scientist.” With that, the commander turned to leave, entering the bridge elevator as it sprang into life.

The cloning labs and research centre was a sight to behold. Tubes for the quick-grown clones covered two floors, the third being reserved for the computer equipment necessary to keeping the technology functioning properly. Wires snaked out from the tubes, their ends connecting to various holographic readouts, displaying current status, abnormalities, and the genetic candidate they were cloned from. The head scientist snored in her chair, her head leaned all the way back as she slumbered. As the commander entered, she tumbled backwards out of her chair, coming to a landing in front of him. Eyes shooting open, she sheepishly smiled at him.

“Is there anything you wanted, sir?” The commander held out his hand, lifting the head scientist to her feet. He slowly stepped towards the nearest clone-tube, his hand pressing various holographic keys to initiate a diagnostic.

“Just wanted to know the status of the labs; how they're holding up, anything needing repair, you know, the mundane, mandatory items.” The display flashed green, indicating it was ready for the input of genetic material. Returning his sight to the scientist, he motioned to the tubes. “Will they be ready for the battle?” The scientist nodded, a Personal Data Assistant flashing red in her hand. As she read the message, her face drained of all colour. The commander, sensing something was amiss, snatched it from her slack grip. It was a threat, of some sort. Why it was sent to the cloning labs was beyond him.

“Sir, is that-”

“Someone is planning on attacking us while we are in the match. While I'm not surprised, the fact-” Another message popped up on the PDA, from the War Games Committee, for some bizarre reason. “'Due to allegations that you are utilizing Neuro-atomizer weapons, this next battle will be your last. Your communications have been disabled. Prove us wrong.'” And with that, the PDA went dark. The scientist looked at the commander, worry in her face.

“Sir? What does that mean?” The commander turned to her, fear in his eyes.

“It means that the Committee has deemed us too successful to be in the Games. It happened to the Halcyon, the Osiris, even the Nirrti. All of them destroyed before their time, pretty much. I believe the Nirrti was the oldest, at around 70 years old.” He hurled the PDA at the nearest wall, watching it shatter into shards.

“Sir?”

“Alert the staff. Something is going to happen, and we need Clone Guards up and about soon.” He turned to the still-shocked scientist. “Go now!” The scientist scrambled for the console, the blue screen lighting up with various figures and numbers, attempting to find the correct genome. Several flew past, until the proper selection appeared. With a quick flash of her fingers, the tubes all began to fill, growth acceleration gel, or GAG for short. Cells divided, limbs, organs, bones and skin formed, faster and faster as it continued. Within fourteen seconds, twelve fully-developed soldiers, each without hair or pupils, stepped from their tubes. They lined up, saluting, then standing ramrod stiff. With a nod, the commander turned to leave, the clones marching off to the manufacturing complex for armour and weapons.

In engineering, the chief engineer, a heavy-set Scottish fellow, quite portly and bald, was shouting obscenities at his staff. Wires sparked, bolts were refastened, and the engineering computer was brought up to speed with a software upgrade. The commander, stepping out from the elevator, stared as engineers scurried from one side to the other, machines that were dormant being returned to active status. The commander, sighing, shook his head at the furious pace at which the engineers worked. The chief engineer turned to face him.

“Aye! Commander, 'tis a good time ya showed up! We're wrapping up the wee things now, but we should have our main factories up 'n runnin' for the battle. What? Ya think ya can keep somethin' that big out of me paperwork? Yer dead wrong!” The chief engineer bellowed with laughter, the sound echoing various times throughout the pipes, alcoves, and glass windows.

“Good. I will hazard a guess that you know the situation?” The chief engineer nodded.

“Titan-class. Gon' assume that it's the Dawnbreaker. Powerful bugger. They'll right shake us apart if we give 'em a chance. But still! Neuro-atomizer Rays? What kinda blighters do the Committee take us fer?” The commander rubbed his chin, staring up at the clanging pipes, hissing valves, and the generator far above, a seventh-generation Quantum Reactor, designed to rip apart space-time to generate power.

“You're actually right on the dot this time, chief.” He walked to the edge, where a railing prevented one from falling to their deaths on a manufacturing conveyor belt. “But those factories had better be running, or I'll have you committed, you lunatic.” With that comment, the chief engineer bellowed once more, his hearty laugh bringing a smile to the faces of the other engineers.

“Aye! There's the ticket! They'll be up 'n runnin' 'fore the battle!” With another round of cursing and swearing, the chief engineer returned to work, leaving the commander to his own devices. His wrist beeped, an important communique coming through.

“Commander? Oh, finally! I've been trying to reach you for the past twenty minutes!” His science officer, a young woman with a shaved head, spoke, her face just barely visible on the wrist-communicator's screen.

“All right. What's the situation?” She turned, her hand pointing at various systems. They were blinking, which was never good at all. Some were not even online.

“Our internal defenses are offline! We won't be able to repel boarders if they decide to attack while we engage their army! Worse still, the Clone Guards are frozen, unable to respond! It is almost as if someone, or something -  if you remember the aliens – gained control of their neural interface with the computer! I can have them melted quickly, but we won't have guards.” The commander sighed. He had read the reports from the Nirrti. The exact same thing had happened. The last vital system to shut down was the quantum reactor, the life support so integrated into the power grid that once it shut down, backups failed, and the crew choked to death, unable to even speak their last words.

“All right. I'm returning to the bridge. I'll bring the chief up and see if he can make sense of this.” The commander returned to the chief engineer, who was busy himself tightening down the bolts of a boiler with a pneumatic ratchet.

“Ah! Commander! What's the issue-” The look on the commander's face compelled the chief engineer to quiet himself. Whatever had happened left the captain angry, and very, very hard to look at directly. He shuffled nervously, unable to bring his eyes to the captain's out of fear.

“Someone has hacked into our computer systems. The internal defences, along with our Clone Guards, are inoperative. Chief, do you understand what I mean?” The chief placed his hand on his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. Something like that had happened, at least to another ship, but for someone to do so... it was nigh unthinkable. Not only did it mean expulsion from the Games if caught, but one would also be executed if that, instead of a power failure or loss of too many battles, caused a Battle Fortress to lose lives. Very few would be willing to go to such lengths... he would have to look into it.

“Sir, let me check it out. I'm sure ta turn up valuable info that'll be worth a lot to ya.” The commander nodded, nothing more needing to be said at that time. With a quick turn, he returned to the elevator, his face turning more and more into an angry scowl. Enemy commanders with absolutely horrendous tactics, he could deal with that. Clones of the battleforce commanders that refused to follow orders, that was easy as well. Hackers, though, were another matter entirely. One could not simply discover a hacker. A hacker had to reveal themselves and make a mistake, allowing themselves to be caught.

The commander stepped out of the lift, his angry scowl returning to more of an irritated frown. His science officer nodded at him, her fingers flying over various keys and buttons. His second in command nodded, also returning to his duties with silence. The only being on the bridge not fully understanding was Unit 3, his processors unable to determine the unsaid words flying between the humans on the bridge.

“Commander, I do not understand what is happening. Why is there no speech, yet recognition of words? What is unspoken?” The commander did not respond, but merely clenched and unclenched his fist every few seconds. Unit 3 stared until his processors picked up new information. The science officer was waving him over. With a nod, he hurried over, long strides placing him quickly in front of her.

“Unit 3, we've been hacked. You're safe since you're attached to the ship's artificial intelligence unit. I need you to copy the AI into your processors. I know it's beyond your scope to understand why, but we might have a lot of trouble coming soon. I can feel it.” She rubbed the end of the pistol that was strapped against her thigh, her face tightening into an indiscernible emotion. She stared off in a random direction, not entirely caring where her gaze ended. Unit 3 took that as the cue to be quiet and returned to his station. His processors began running the download that the science officer asked of him, his eyes blinking to various colours as it ran.

Seven days. The commander stared at his wall. Seven days they had been running drills. He drew a seventh line next to the other forty-years worth of lines with the new section he had started for the final battle. Fitting that he should use a red permanent marker instead of the black one.

“Seven days. Seven days we've been practicing. Four more days left...” He sighed. Tensions were beginning to run high on the crew. While he had, after that first day, specifically stated that no one aboard was to know about the hacker, someone leaked the information to the rest of the crew, and he had to spend three of the last six defusing arguments and imprisoning quarreling crew members. Sighing once more, he laid down, staring up at the ceiling. The lines extended everywhere, even on his desk where they had started. Back when he was a strapping young commander in his chronological twenties. He would look about seventy-five if he had not had a Rejuvenation treatment, designed to slow biological aging. A beeping at the door to his quarters brought him back to reality. “Come in.” Unit 3 entered, saluting before closing the door.

“Commander, the crew is becoming very anxious. Someone has told them about what the Committee decided for us. Some wish to attack the Dawnbreaker while we fight. I attempted to explain that we need them to defend our ship in the absence of the Clone Guards, but they did not acknowledge my statement.” The commander stood, straightening his uniform.

“All right. Let's get to the bridge. It's time I spoke to everyone for the first time in fifteen years.” Unit 3 nodded, moving to the side to allow the commander through. It scanned the room, counting the lines. It acknowledged the amount of lines and their significance, archiving the data for later.

On the bridge, the situation was no less tense. The second-in-command had begun shouting at the science officer, accusing her of every allegation he could muster. When the commander stomped in, he did not even notice until his arm was grabbed, and he was slammed to the ground.

“I will not have my crew members antagonizing one another! We are tense enough as it is! Do I make myself clear, Number Two?!” Two nodded, his face an angry scowl. He dared not speak, lest the commander make his own emotional state a permanent imprint on his face. He turned to the bridge. “We have four days until we exit voidspace and enter orbit around the planet. I want you all to begin the preparations to shift into offensive mode as we exit. We cannot take any chances, not with the Dawnbreaker. I need every single one of you to be ready for anything. With such a large compliment, and the massive amount of schematics they hold in their database, we have to win! If we defeat them, we could finally elevate ourselves above the grinders who come in almost every day!” With that, the bridge cheered. He raised his hand, frowning.

“Sir?”

“Open ship-wide communications. Those should still be running.” An audible beep alerted him that he was now being broadcast to every member of the crew.

“You're live, commander.” The commander nodded, his face tightening.

“Forty years. That's how long we've been at this. I know you have all heard that the Committee has decided that we should no longer be in the games. For your sakes, this information is true.” Although he could not hear it, he could feel the murmuring of shock and pain amongst the crew. “Will we give up? I sincerely hope not. Though we may not see many more battles, or even one more, I will not sit idly by while my crew is slaughtered by pirates, scavengers, and murderers! We will stand together, and if it must be, we will die together! We are the crew of the Kepler! Never give up! Never surrender!” With that, cheering could be heard throughout the corridors, moods slightly uplifted from the dreariness of anxiety. The commander stepped back from the personal address system, sighing. Two nodded up at him.

“Whatever you must do, sir, go do it. We'll be ready when the time comes.” The commander silently nodded, leaving the bridge to oversee the main deck.

Shells clattered against the ground as soldiers fired at targets, pulse rifles, automatics, and bolt-action weapons pounding away at the concrete targets. Magazines clicked as quickly as ammunition was spent. Some were firing off automatics, while others fed their weapons shell by shell, buckshot and slugs. The commander stood at the end, a single revolver laying within reach. With a swift motion, he lifted it, brought it to eye level, and aimed, squeezing off a shot that hit the target dead center. With another swift motion, he brought the revolver back down onto the table, leaving without a word. The troopers preparing stopped to stare wide-eyed at their commander taking such a precise shot. The commander moved to a large seating area behind the troopers, sitting carefully in one of the many benches. The sergeant in charge of the training placed himself beside the commander, sighing.

“Some of them have never even held a weapon before. It'll be a miracle if we survive a direct assault by whatever the Dawnbreaker throws at us.” He leaned back, the seat he reclined in squeaking in protest. Two of the troopers training set their weapons down, stomping off when they could not hit the target.

“I see what you mean. I think they believe they're entitled to victory.” The commander stood, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Commander, I hope, in all honesty, that these troopers get their act together, and concentrate on protecting what's important, not winning a battle or a match, but making sure we can continue to survive.” The commander nodded in agreement with the sergeant, leaving for the main residential district.

Even though troopers were practicing, and the engineers had their hands full making certain that the factories were producing at a top-notch speed, the residential area was still bustling. Every person went about their business, stopping off at one of the many dine-in shops around. One, in particular, interested the commander: a small Indian restaurant nestled between two bookstores. As he approached, someone bumped into him from behind. He turned around to come face to face with his science officer. She was grinning ear-to-ear, holding the commander's ID card.

“I can still pull one over on you. You're going in? Let's talk.” In silence, they both entered the restaurant, seating themselves nearest one of the walls.

“All right, shoot. What did you want to talk about?” The science officer blushed, looking away as she stammered.

“U-us, c-commander.”

“There's nothing to talk about in that regard. I am the commander of the Kepler, and you're her science officer. There are other fish in the see.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “I also don't have anything in that regard. Down there? Cybernetics. Lost the entire thing in a plasma field burst.”

“Doesn't it hurt to know that you, well, don't have one of the most important parts of your body?” The commander shook his head.

“I can focus on my duties. That's all I care about. And this conversation, over. I don't care what you want to say, but if it is anything that does not directly deal with the safety of this ship, and her crew, then do not waste my time.” The commander stood, leaving the science officer. If he had turned, he would have noticed the malicious grin on her face. The grin... of a traitor.

Four days, ten thousand rounds of ammunition, and sixteen successful manufacturing tasks later, the planet came into view. A spinning, beautiful orb, barely any signs that they had even been detected exiting void-space. As they stared at the orb, the commander sighed. He was nervous, and he knew the entire crew felt the same way about the upcoming battle. Every single member was prepared with the knowledge that they might not survive. Candidates had moved safely to the cloning labs, their generics, basic clones capable of only what was programmed into them, being generated while they prepped their respective equipment. While the databanks of the Kepler were not in any way robust, they did their job well. Mechanized battle-suits, tanks, jeeps, powered armour, suborbital fighters, the list went on. As the clones lined up inside the drop bay where many a man-cannon, a modified magnetic accelerator cannon designed to fire cushioned drop pods directly onto the battlefield, the preferred method of delivery of generics, while troop transports stood by to take down Clone Avatars, the direct copies of candidates, down to the battlefield. Vehicles rolled into their respective bays, loading up into massive dropships, the only transports powerful enough to carry the Mark V Battle Tank. On the Engineering deck, everything was go.

“Fire in the cloning labs! Repair team to the labs!” In the cloning labs, it was not... exactly the same. Three of the tubes, due to wear and tear, had shut down, heat-sinks melting down and causing fires from the excessive amount of heat that was being produced. Repair teams scurried around, spraying fire-suppressant foam all over the deck, keeping the damage to a minimum. The chief scientist  sighed, grabbing a notepad and making her way to the Neural Link Amplifier, the very centre of all ground-based clone operations. Three candidates were already inside, their minds linking to the control modules inside the brains of their respective Avatars. Their vitals were stable, no damage detected.

“Good, perhaps we can avoid unnecessary hospital time this battle.” With a ship-wide alarm, all personnel braced themselves. The Dawnbreaker had arrived, signaling their arrival with a full broadside of their main guns, the archaic field projectors of the Kepler barely protecting her hull. With shouts across the ship, the generics made their way to the man-cannons, while the transports and dropships prepared for atmospheric re-entry, making the calculations for the inevitable orbital drift.

On the planet, however, life was more peaceful than on the ships far above the surface. The day was peaceful as always, the creatures with four legs trotting around, wishing each other a fantastic morning. Market stalls opened, filling out with various creatures of all shapes and sizes, some dealing out provisions to wearied travelers for a pretty penny, while others would offer varying services, from tailors, to identification services for various items, to the simple service of fortune-telling. Two venerable sisters stood above the crowd, a celebration of sorts taking place as labourers bustled to and fro.

“Dear sister, dost thou not seeth the plight of this fair hamlet? Thou must surely have seeneth the strange signs in the sky.” The one sister, a coat as dark as night, her mane seemingly filled with stars, watched the various species bustling to and fro as her sister, older, but not much wiser, concerned herself with the parchments in front of her, a quill writing everything she wished to have delivered to the hamlet's main square, where all manner of business happened.

“Luna, while your nattering does tend to get on my nerves, I will overlook it, for today, we celebrate one hundred years since the defeat of the Lord of Chaos, Discord himself. We are here for our subjects, not for our personal benefit, and-” A large clanging sound could be heard as something entered the air far above them. “What was that sound?” In the sky above, massive pylons bristling with devices of unknown intent began their descent towards the ground, many impacting farther from the hamlet, the resulting shockwave from each impact radiating outwards, increasing in power as they rapidly slammed into their positions in the ground, a strange, pulsating wall generated between every two that dropped, as if they were connected. Creatures began to notice the pylons falling, the tension rising as they realized just what the shockwave would do to their hamlet. Minotaurs, equines, griffons, zebras, every creature under their sun, every single one of them began to panic. Luna, the princess darkest in colour, simply stood still, her mouth agape at the travesty occurring before her. Her sister, the elder one, dropped everything she was currently holding in a telekinetic grip, her subjects staring up at her, as if for guidance. Luna nodded as her sister looked to her for help. With a twin flash of light, a portal to another area of their world was unveiled before their eyes, panicked citizens immediately bowing and delving through to safety.

“Sister, we must leave! If we do not, we shall perish along with this hamlet!” Leaping forth from the stage they had found themselves on, they were transported through the portal, leaving none behind... or so they thought. As the portal closed, a single, hapless soul stared up into the sky as the final pylon fell from the sky. A smile of the most wretched insanity crossed his countenance, as his voiced reached no creature in particular.

“You must construct additional pylo-.” Before his phrase was finished, he met his end as the pylon forced itself into the earth, burrowing deep as the final barriers of energy were erected.

Far above, the Kepler was in a heated contest of power, various bolts of energy dancing across the field projectors. With a forced push, a single rod was dropped, a beacon for the transports and the dropships, as well as the man-cannons. As it slammed into the ground, the crews of both fortresses witnessed as the terrain within the massive forest the pylons had sunk into was almost instantaneously transformed into a wasteland, a perfect battleground for the final flight of the Kepler. As the rod deployed, six structures descended from each fortress, a command hub, two infantry production modules, a vehicle module, a research module, and an experimental module. They deployed in their respective positions as the Clone Avatars reported in.

“This is callsign Red Fist. Reporting in.”

“Call sign, Blue Falcon. Reporting.”

“Call sign, Green Hornet. Sir!” With all three Avatars in sync, the battle was ready to commence. Elsewhere on the ship, boots tramped over every deck, troopers at every entry point, every vent, and every elevator. Rifles aimed as safeties clicked off, rumbling was heard as the various munitions danced over the energy fields. Breathing was quick, shallow, and very quiet as they steeled themselves for the awaited boarding parties.

The transports left the Kepler as her main guns returned fire, rail cannons futilely attempting to breach heavy field projections. Drones were launched, protecting their transports as well as assaulting the enemy's, attempting to prevent a flow of reinforcements. In the command nexus of the cloning labs, candidates not connected to the NLA were commanding from holographic interfaces, their specific companies and battalions marching out onto the field with their specific weapons, from heavy, particle-based weaponry, to light laser repeaters. Clones massed in their areas with the command networks embedded into their skulls.

“Red Fist reporting in. Looks like Drop was a success. Proceeding with capture of Resource Node Alpha.” The commander entered the command nexus, witnessing the various forces entering the theatre of war. He retrieved the radio from the wall, patching it into a headset he snatched from a communications technician.

“Good job, RF-Actual. Be careful. We don't know what the Dawnbreaker is fielding.” He sighed, mentally crossing his fingers. Resource Node Alpha was always the first on any battlefield to be taken. While small arms and armour could be printed from massive devices in the manufacturing nexus,  selenium was required for anything larger than a suit of powered armour. Blue Falcon was on task, placing down defense beacons for the automated turrets that would eventually be set down. Clones took defensive posture, the boulders nearest the command module providing basic cover, but not nearly enough to prevent a catastrophic overwhelming if the enemy were to bombard with any artillery at all.

“Blue Falcon here. Defense beacons online and awaiting drop.” The structure drop interface activated in front of the commander, prompting him to decide which he wanted to send out. He had several options. If they decided to forgo armour and rush him with wave after wave of generics, he could simply construct Gatling Lasers to chew through them. Anti-armour was needed? Throw down a simple Rail Cannon or two. Aircraft becoming a right nuisance? Swarm Launchers were always a blessing. Then there were the Plasma Defenders, the heaviest turret in the Kepler's arsenal, and rightly so; it was for destroying the costly experimental units that one would send down to obliterate an enemy's base structures. Lose the base, lose the battle.

“Green Hornet checking in. Sir, should I conduct a recon assessment and reveal their early troop deployment, or should I hold back and keep an eye out for any clones that get the smart idea to flank us?” The commander frowned. He knew this would not be an easy battle, especially if he sent out his scout Avatar. On one hand, he would know their troop deployments, and possible defenses. The downside of that was they would probably detect the Scout Avatar, and eliminate him immediately. On the other hand, he could have the scout hang back- Blue Falcon was decent at her job. She could handle  the defense of the base if need be.

“GH-Actual, I want you to scout the enemy base. Find any place you can where they might not detect you. Use everything you can to get that satellite data for us. We're flying blind until we know exactly what we are up against.” Another button press, and the vehicle module activated, the light beside it blinking to alert that it was online. Basic Mechanized Suits and Tanks were available, pending any research from the appropriate module.

On the ground, such things were not so simple. Red Fist was planting a minefield near Node Alpha, preparing for an enemy assault.

“Resource Node Gamma is under the Dawnbreaker's control.” He cursed himself under his breath. They were sneaky, he had to give them that, but Gamma? Alpha provided the largest resource flow, allowing for more options in a battle. Glancing at his wrist, he gawked at just how large the flow was on that particular planet.

“Commander, something about this planet is incredibly odd. Node Alpha is producing at a rate around fifty percent higher than any other world we have encountered! I hope this is figured out soon. I do not want to get the equivalent of a verbal lashing from the Committee if we win.” He sighed, staring at the ground. While he was the engineer of the group, his specialty was offensive applications, mainly traps, such as the minefield he had laid out. Blue was more defensive, while Green was simply a forward scout. He chuckled. Green tended to lose five or six Avatars a battle, but that was low for a Scout Avatar. The usual average for Scout-types was around twenty or thirty.

“RF-Actual, your concern is noted. Exercise extreme caution. We do not know exactly what they are fielding, but whatever it is, it cannot be good.” The radio clicked off, leaving Red leaning against the node, watching as the capture mark slid over to the red, the arbitrary colour given to the Kepler almost every single match.

“'Your concern is noted,' my ass! I'm probably going to lose an Avatar this time, and Green's probably going to hit every single shot! Who knows?! Maybe the moron will hit a tank's fuel reserves and detonate it!”

“Red, your radio's still on.”

“Oh shut up, Blue.” The radio clicked on, meaning Green was listening in.

“I do have the lowest average for being a Scout, Red. Think about that.” Red grumbled, clicking his radio off. As an after-thought, he turned it back on, voicing his grievances with Green.

“Stupid 'Wonder Boy.' I hope he chokes on brass this time.” Blue's voice came through his radio again, although this time he was expecting it.

“Your radio-”

“Yeah, it's still on, and you know what? This time it was intentional. I hope you heard, Green.” Red whistled as he lifted his rifle to his shoulder. The telescopic scope zoomed in, identifying various troops. “What the... Green, do you copy?”

“What is it, asshole?” Red gritted his teeth. He hated when Green decided to be a jerk and stop being the laid-back Scout that Red was used to.

“First, don't ever call me that. Only Blue can call me that. Second, do you have a positive ID on those enemy forces? I've got some incoming on my position, but I can't ID them without help from your friendly neighborhood Scout!” He increased the magnification. In his ear, strumming was heard. Ignoring it, he locked onto three of the seven troops he could see. Basic infantry, from the looks of it, and barely armed with even the most essential combat-related gear. They seemed to be- he zoomed in closer. His hands began to sweat, the strumming increasing in his ears. He let his rifle down for a second.

“Red?”

“Sonuva- they're sending in suicide clones!” Green swallowed, as was clear by the message from his mic.

“And what's the problem?”

“I set up a minefield, you idiot!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Keep an eye out. There's seven here, but there might be more.” With a quick pull of the trigger, he sent six Smart-Rounds downwind, severing the necks of the three he targeted. A second later, four more rounds were dispatched, wiping three more from existence. As he targeted the last suicide clone, it disappeared. “Hey, Blue?”

“Yeah, Red?”

“I think one of the enemy clones just fell down a hole. Sonuva- Blue, are you playing a guitar?” Blue's strumming was beginning to get on Red's nerves.

“Yeah. You're at Alpha, usually the most contested point, and nothing's happening, so yeah, I have a guitar.” She continued to strum, her undisturbed air beginning to piss off Red. Turning his rifle, he reloaded with a simple 50cal BMG round, aiming directly at the neck of Blue's guitar. With a single shot, he missed slightly, but the sheer wind force following the round ripped the guitar from her hands, scattering it onto the conveyor belt with a clatter. As Blue watched in horror, her precious guitar was mulched up and turned into resources to be used in construction.

“I didn't know I could do that! Damn, I'm good.” Red continued to chuckle at the fact he could turn things into resources, something he had not known before, much to the horror of his teammates. “I know what I'm doing on Friday!”

“Red, don't you even dare.”

“Guys, I need radio silence!”

“Green, this isn't about you!” Blue's eyes had begun to twitch, her anger getting the best of her.

“So, it's always about you, isn't it, Green? 'Oh look at me, I'm Green Hornet! I can't do a real job, so I became a peeping Tom!'” Red could literally feel the redness of Green's face as he sputtered.

“That was only once, Red, and you know it! Oh God, I think they see me.” Green stared through his binoculars, targeting each vehicle he saw produced. He counted one, two, three vehicle production modules, one infantry, and one experimental- they had eight structures, two more than the allowed maximum. Two research modules adorned the command hub of the enemy like gilded statues, statues that needed to be annihilated. “Looks like it will be mainly a vehicle force, supported by basic infantry. Beware, though. Their experimental module came online.”

The commander, upon receiving information from Green, tapped the anti-tank turrets to the front and flanks of the base wherever he could effectively place them, filling gaps in with walls and Defenders for against the experimental units. Whatever they had in store for the Kepler, it was nothing short of whatever they were ready to do to win, the commander had surmised. With his attention fixed on the ground, he listened in once more on the riveting conversation of the three Avatars below.

“You ever wonder why we're here?” Red could hear the facepalm from Blue, and the groan from Green as he started the age-old debate he had brought up before. Green was about to respond when Blue beat him to the punch.

“Red, you are not starting it this time!”

“Isn't it one of life's greatest mysteries?”

“Not you too, Green! This is no time to be philosophical!” The combined sound of 'Oooh' from her headset made the other two sound like police sirens. Sighing, she slapped her forehead once more.

“Is it that time of the month- oh, crap! Sorry, got incoming!” Blue sighed, turning off her mic. At least Red was being serious. Now if only-

“Blue, I mean, why are we not in the shade?” Blue grumbled. She hated whenever he made her interrupt him by accident.

“Because I'm on defense.”

“You have an umbrella, and you're not doing anything.” Green grumbled. Blue could hear footsteps as Green came up behind her, positively livid.

“What?”

“There's no one even here!”

“You're welcome!”

For Red, it was a completely different story. Yes, they had vehicles, and yes, every single one of them were heavily armoured bullet eaters, the monsters called 'tanks.' Their main gun could rip through his armour easily, if they were not so much stuck in holes. One had apparently accidentally run over the suicide clone, but he took credit for the kill, painting the mark on his rifle's stock. The others had fun attempting to traverse a mine field that had absolutely no indication of where the explosives were hidden... which had the unfortunate problem of the fact that he did not remember where they were either.

“Hey, Blue? Remind the commander not to send any vehicles my way for a while?” His radio crackled to life, Blue's sarcastic voice coming in loud and clear.

“Why's that?”

“I forgot where I buried my mines.”

“And where are you now?”

“On top of Node Alpha.” Red and Blue were about to continue their tirade when Green began to sing. It was the one song they had forbade him from ever singing if he valued his continued existence.

“'All covered with cheese! I forgot where my mines were, they might blow up me!'” Green fell over laughing at his own joke, much to the chagrin of Blue and Red, the latter becoming extremely pissed-off. He dropped his rifle by accident, watching it dance across the minefield in a fireworks display of explosions. In a panic, he stared across the field as the mines began to detonate, one after the other. While he would have been content usually, there were at least eight or nine tanks advancing across the field, and to say he was happy was an understatement. He was positively overjoyed. Not only had his accidental blunder destroyed nine tanks, and probably slaughtered a good number of the enemy forces, but his rifle was near the bottom of the node! He snorted at the stroke of luck, clambering down to retrieve his rifle... only to step on one of his mines, blowing bits of Avatar all over.

“Dagnabbit! Well, first one down-”

“Woohoo! I'm not the first one to die this time! Yes!” Green could hear the muffled swearing of Red as he connected to another clone Avatar, albeit with a different loadout.

“At least now I have mine-detection equipment. Green, how is it over on your end-” A laser blast resounding in his headset answered his question. “Dammit Green.” He sighed. He absolutely hated having to replace a minefield, but he hoped- he was wrong. On his wrist, the bar for the capture status of Node Alpha was steadily decreasing, with a 'x3' beside the bar in blue. “Dammit! Commander, I need some powered armour. Drop it half a click west of my position!” A thruster on Red's back activated, his speed increased while the battery lasted. As he sped forwards, his direction connecting with Node Alpha, he saw the pod containing his power armour drop nearby. With a burst of speed, he zipped right through it, rolling as the armour secured itself onto his thruster armour. Hissing escaped as the hermetic seals activated, the internal generator powering up as the helmet's Heads Up Display, or HUD, flickered into life, red diamonds springing in to designate enemy signatures.

“Power Armour, Dragon-class Mark Five, online. Beginning combat operations.” With a single jump, gyroscopic stabilizers were calibrated, using all of five minutes. The thruster, now augmented by the armour, blazed brighter than normal, speeding towards the Node to recapture it.

Blue was having just as much of an issue as Red. SPIDRs, or Self-Propelled Infiltration Drone Recon, were swarming all over the wall and defenses, her flamethrower barely holding them at bay. A suit of Powered Armour, Nephilim-class Mark Three, dropped from orbit near her position. The bulky melee suit had been outfitted with a special field projector that was its most potent weapon. She smiled, rolling through the archway from the pod, the armour clamping onto her as she walked away. Two arm-mounted flamethrowers test-fired, scorching several SPIDR units off the walls.

“Thanks for the present, Commander. Let's send these assholes back to hell!”

The commander shook his head. Super-heavy tanks supplemented by light attack drones? It would seem like a beginner's tactic to many, but to him, he could see. Green had been issued a phantom suit, unfortunately leaving him unarmed, but able to phase out of the visible spectrum. The Dawnbreaker's experimental module was online, which worried him. Generics were being completed, the waves of infantry finally arriving on the battlefield as Blue was beginning to be pushed back. Shock troopers forced their way in, shotguns and electro-rifles removing SPIDRs as fast as humanly possible, while assault forces funneled out, spreading into their various companies before advancing.

“Damn, how many tanks can one force have? Apparently, not enough!” Tank after tank was heading at Node Alpha, attempting to protect the silent Avatar that sat on top, aiming a rifle at the armoured Red, now pissed-off as he zigzagged towards the Node, a rocket turret on his shoulder spitting missiles out like no tomorrow as tanks continued to explode, although there was not much of a dent on their forces. As one tank detonated, three more took its place. The Avatar with a rifle,  clad in yellow armour, aimed at him, firing a single shot. When it missed, he smiled, frowning when he heard the detonation behind him.

“Heard you needed some help. Callsign Yellowjacket, at your service. I'll cover you while you get that minefield up!” Her rifle spat out rounds as fast as she pulled the trigger, infantry forces that decided to mingle with the tanks suddenly finding their heads missing. A winking emoticon appeared over her visor, floating in the air. Red sighed, tapping his wrist device. A minefield hologram was visible in his HUD, covering the area tanks were detonating in. With a bright flash, mines dropped in mini-pods, digging into the ground and leaving no trace.

“Yellowjacket, we're golden here, we're-” He turned to the Node. Yellowjacket was nowhere to be found, not even a single trace that she had been there. Sighing, he patched in his radio to Blue. “Blue, have the generics finally landed?” The only response was a grunt as communications went dark. A shadow fell over him as his entire HUD was taken up by one massive red diamond. The threat level was beyond what his suit could handle. Turning, he came face to face with an Experimental, the six-legged Tick Tank, not named for size, but shape. “Well, fu-” And with a single step, his Avatar was no more.

Onboard the Kepler, the situation was not much better than on the ground. The security forces were hard-pressed by the incoming Special Operations troopers forcing their wave through the hull where there was no access point. Hull integrity was falling fast, although the field projectors remained online. The Russian, second in command, held his ground with the forces he commanded aboard the fortress.

“For everyone one of us that falls, ten more will take his place!” Brass littered the floor as automatic rifles chewed through armour, blood spraying across the far walls as many enemy troopers found themselves to be missing a limb very quickly under the bullet storm that rages overhead. The science officer, having prepared herself, stood with the Russian, smiling. Confused, the Russian turned, inquiring about her mental state. “Are you all right? Is everything okay?” In her hand, a laser pistol sat, the overcharge mode activated. “Wait! You are a trai-” His words were silenced as his head was no more. Kicking him to the side, she quietly eliminated the remaining defense forces, waving to the SpecOps at the end of the hall. Her smile began to shift, turning from innocent, to the very definition of sinister. With a flurry, her Kepler uniform was abandoned, a black SpecOps suit underneath.

“All hands, repel boarders! Repeat, repel boarders!” The commander's voice echoed in the empty halls as various other traitors joined up with their SpecOps units. The Cargo Bay, the main area of defense on the Kepler, belonged to the forces of the Dawnbreaker.

Red's Avatar, the third one out of eight, dropped into a base that was almost overrun by the tanks the enemy was still able to pump out faster than humanly possible. Given the clearance to field a Paladin-type Mechanized Battlesuit, he decided against a standard dropship, preferring to insert from orbit as fighters zipped around. As he streaked in, flames dancing across the hull as shards of debris sped past, he could see Blue pointing at him, then at... the mountain he was heading straight for.

Blue could only shake her head as Red's screaming came through her headset. She had never expected the idiot to actually attempt an orbital insertion, but after witnessing a flaming, charred mess of a Paladin slam headfirst, of all things, into a mountain, she was less skeptical.

“Dammit, Red. Those things are not cheap.” With a start, she sprinted off, Green following close behind with a plasma drill to retrieve their friend.

The Kepler was not faring well. Every single skirmish fought against the invaders met with disaster, troopers dead amongst the piles of brass. SpecOps troopers from the Dawnbreaker entered every room, eliminating all crew and civilians within. No single person was spared from the room-to-room slaughter. Even those attempting to utilize the ventilation ducts discovered soon that they had a few more breathing holes than normal. The walls were splashed with red, the screams of panic dying quickly before the quick report of silenced weapons. The traitors smiled as they murdered their former friends, watching them die without even a single shred of pity. The commander stood beside those amongst his command crew that had not turned traitor, waiting on the bridge for any attacks. Something slammed into the door, leaving an imprint. The door had been locked a short while before, no one outside when it had been welded shut. Now, the welds were breaking loose.

“Hold steady. Ready, aim- Hold your fire!” Unit 3 broke through the door, carrying various individuals with him.

“Commander, I have located several of the traitors. I assumed you would wish to... 'speak' with them personally.” It tossed all five individuals it was carrying into the middle of the room, two stirring. One was the science officer. The commander, anger overtaking him, lifted her above him.

“And the resonance- holy! Commander, what's going on?” Unit 3 shook its head, notifying the commander of her lying nature.

“I will not allow you to continue your behaviour. You were compatriots with everyone aboard this ship! How can you simply leave your duty?!” The science officer stopped her confusing speech and smiled as she stared down at him.

“Poor old Commander Jax. Too stupid to realize when the pay is much better from a better Fortress-” Jax threw her across the room, his pistol in his hand in a mere moment. Two shots rang out, but not from him. Unit 3 stood ramrod stiff, a handgun in its hands. Two holes were through the Science Officer, black blood oozing out onto the floor. It lowered its arm, staring at the doorway.

“The download of the shipboard artificial intelligence is complete as ordered, commander. I will activate the Emergency Evacuation Teleport system, and disengage all Neural Link Amplifier activity.” The commander nodded, pointing towards the door. He understood the Kepler was truly losing the battle, and the long life she had been granted.

“Do it. Save our crew, Unit 3.” Unit 3 nodded, sprinting through the hallways.

On the ground, the base was barely holding back the tide of enemies. Blue had, with Green's help, and a large plasma drill, removed Red's Paladin-type from the mountain he found himself in. Generics swarmed in, many more than should have been possible.

“Damn it! These assholes just don't give up, do they?” Blue kept quiet, as did Green. As the base was overrun, their world turned black...

For them to wake up inside the NLA pods they had been assigned. Red was the first one out, already confused as to what was going on. Dead troopers littered the ground, along with SpecOps from the Dawnbreaker, something that deeply disturbed him. The fortunate thing, however, was the copius amounts of weapons lying on the ground. Blue kicked the lid off her pod, her bones popping from inactivity, while Green's head was stuck to the ceiling, his helmet suddenly magnetized. With a click and slide, two assault rifles were readied and strapped to Red.

“Could you guys... uh... help me down?” Red was not paying attention, Blue stretching as she gained her bearings.

“The ship is under attack, Blue. Help Green down, I'll check the hallway. Keep your guard up. We don't know who they are, but they very well might be from the Dawnbreaker.” Red held his assault rifle up, aiming around at the doorway. Bodies littered the hall, many of them his fellow shipmates. Green, after being removed from the ceiling, brushed himself off, proceeding to pick up what appeared to be a sniper rifle. The ship shuddered, shells bouncing off of the outside. Blue examined one of the combat zone monitoring stations, watching as their base was defeated easily. The battle did not end, though. Something was wrong.

“Red, we need to get up to the bridge, and find out what's really going on. These are Special Ops troopers. Whatever is going on, we're right in the middle of it.” Green waltzed out humming as Blue prodded him with a shotgun.

“Blue, no matter what, we cannot let them get us. Come on.”

Unit 3, staring around,  kept checking the portable scanner that itheld in his hand. The reactor had a breach, and the coolant was leaking out. Sending the data to Jax, it sprinted down the hallway, SpecOps troops unable to pierce its exterior with the rounds they used. One of them hefted a rocket launcher, his compatriots waving their hands to attempt to get him to put it down. Without stopping, the rocket sped away, hitting the side of the hallway, breaching the hull. Unit 3 magnetized its feet, holding fast to the floor while the SpecOps troopers were sucked out into space.

“Unit 3 in observation corridor. Moving to main habitation area-” It turned the corridor to come face-to-face with Red, Blue and Green, the three members of the eponymous Fireteam Alpha, or, as the crew had come to call them, Fireteam Asshole. Red lowered his weapon, nodding at Unit 3.

“We'll go with you. It's probably for the best.” Unit 3 shook its head, pointing at his scanner.

“The radiation in this area is too high for sapient life to function. You will die a horrible, agonizing death. I must go alone.” Red nodded, leading Fireteam Alpha towards the fighting. “Godspeed, soldiers.”

The Quantum Reactor was sparking, significant damage inflicted to it. SpecOps troopers lay on the ground, their corpses evident of agonizing death. Approaching the console, it could see the parameters entered. If the Kepler were to continue fighting, the reactor would overload, creating a singularity that could wipe out the nearby planet. That was simply unacceptable. Opening up communications with the bridge, Unit 3 relayed his findings.

“Commander, the Dawnbreaker's forces have rigged our reactor. If we continue fighting, everyone will die. The reactor will detonate, and a quantum singularity will form. While I cannot stress the problems that will cause for us, it will strip the planet of its atmosphere, destroying all life in a catastrophic Armageddon Event. We cannot allow that to happen.” Unit 3 stood still, staring at his communicator. Emotions. He was... feeling anger at the Dawnbreaker. He wanted them to pay for what they were planning to do.

“Shut the reactor down.” Unit 3 was shocked. It had not expected such a response so quickly.

“As you wish, Commander.” It began the calculations for shut down, enabling the proper parameters for coolant flush. As the reactor began to shut down, a message displayed across the screen in front of it. 'Activate Emergency Evacuation Teleport Y/N.' Without a second thought, it hit 'Y', activating the EET to save the crew. The reactor, humming quite loudly before, was silenced, a whooshing of air from around signifying the extricating of the crew.

Red, Blue and Green were fighting back the SpecOps troopers in the main common area, barely  staying alive, when their bodies began to glow. Dropping their weapons, they sprinted away, their bodies dissipating into thin air as the EET shifted them to a distant station.

Jax blasted several of the SpecOps that had burst through the door into the bridge, sending them flying back with every shot.

“Keep fighting! We need to buy Unit 3 more time!” Almost all at once, every member of the crew that stood in defense on that bridge began to glow. Jax smiled, dropping his weapon and waving at the SpecOps troopers that were attempting to get through the pile of bodies that stood in front of the door. With an electricity-like sound and a whoosh of air, the defenders aboard the Kepler's bridge were evacuated.

The screen in front of Unit 3 shifted, the text changing. 'All living crew members evacuated.' It smiled, turning to come face to face with one of the traitors.

“You saved the crew, huh? I guess I should have stayed loyal. I'll give you some help getting to the bridge. Name's Carter, by the way.” He handed a pistol to Unit 3, pointing to the hall.

“You do not wish to harm the crew?” Carter shook his head, a single tear falling from his eye.

“It was not about money, but keeping my family safe. The Dawnbreaker... their commander said that he would kill my family if I did not betray Jax. I should have been stronger.” Unit 3 put its hand on his shoulder, pointing to the door. Before leaving, Carter lifted a vacuum-seal helmet, placing it on his head. His radio on, he relayed info to Unit 3. “I acted more as a saboteur amongst the enemy's ranks. There are charges placed at strategic areas. They detonate, and the forces sent here by the Dawnbreaker  will be sucked out into space. So will I, but that's the price I pay for being a traitor, I guess.” Rounding the corner, they came across piles of dead bodies, from both vessels.

“This is not normal. Both sides are dead, with no entry or exit wounds. Curious.” Carter moved forward, stopping at a certain spot.

“Radiation. They were cooked from the inside out.” Staring at the vents, Carter smiled. “We can use the vents to get to the bridge. They won't know what hit them.” Unit 3 wrestled the vent covering from the wall, tossing it aside.

“After you, Agent Carter.” Carter nodded, entering. The vent was large enough for himself and Unit 3 to enter and move around, albeit with some modicum of difficulty, Carter's visor lighting up with a navigation line.

The trip through the vents was uneventful, although many a time Carter stared out of a vent cover to see more bodies, although those ones were riddled with burns and holes. The bridge itself was no different, but there were no dead members of the crew of the Kepler there. Carter approached the weapons console, cross-referencing munitions stores for what he was looking for.

“Agent Carter, this plan of yours, what does it entail?” Carter pointed to the screen, a single weapon shown: a thermobaric nuclear missile.

“We launch the last nuke we have into the space between the ships. Once it is far enough away that it will not harm the ship, I will detonate it and the charges I placed, effectively displaying our supposed 'destruction'. When that happens, steer the Kepler towards the planet. No one aboard will survive except you, Unit 3.” Unit 3 stared at the weapon until it occurred to him.

“Use the nuclear device to generate an electromagnetic pulse, thereby blocking the Dawnbreaker's sensors! Ingenious, for a human.” Carter smirked, typing out the calculations as best as he could. The weapon was primed, Unit 3 standing at the ready in front of the manual steering of the helm.

“Okay... firing... now!” The missile was away, speeding towards the Dawnbreaker. Carter whispered a countdown, trying to keep himself from appearing frightened. “Five, four, three, two, detonating!” He pressed two switches. A bright flash spread in the vacuum of space, the Dawnbreaker drifting from the blast. The Kepler shuddered as the charges detonated, screams filling the halls as troopers were sucked out into space.

“Steering towards the planet! Brace for impact!” There was no indication that the Kepler's ruse had been discovered. The desert of the battle loomed before them, the field created by the pylons having since deactivated. Carter held his pistol in his hands, staring at Unit 3.

“I'm going to die anyways, Unit 3.” With that, he held the pistol to his head, pulling the trigger. The shot rang out, jerking Unit 3's concentration away from flying the Kepler. While normally it would have respected the death and sent the body out an airlock, the last flight of the Kepler was upon it. The desert came up to meet them quickly.

“Initiating physical and digital lockdowns. Hibernation mode activated.” Unit 3's eyes deactivated as the Kepler rammed into the planet. Smoke trailed high as fires were suppressed by the automatic systems that still ran. Emergency backup power activated, deploying defense drones to protect the wreck until such a time when it was ready to be discovered.

The wreck, however, was discovered, not by nobles, nor soldiers. It was not even discovered by magi or simple alchemists. The lowly farmers that entered were scared witless, the sights they witnessed of the utmost horror. Their home had been destroyed, and they had witnessed the great hulk of an unknown creation crash into what was once a great forest, but was now a desert. There was no indication of what it was, at least, in their eyes. As they explored, something followed them. Two were unlucky enough to be left outside as the ones who explored inside rushed out, many with multiple wounds and burns.

“This being, it is evil! Something in the dark!” The darkness had, indeed, attacked them, floating creatures spitting death at their compatriots who had not escaped. The reports reached the ears of the highest authority, the area cordoned off until such a time it was relegated to those that were deemed important enough.

2802 AD – The Planet Equus

Seven years had passed for the princesses as they refused request after request to allow search parties to retrieve the corpses of those who had gone off and never returned from exploring what was now known as a wreck of celestial origins. Princess Luna, the eponymous Princess of the Night, was tasked with entering the wreck to discern the secrets it might contain.

“Internal power, online. Systems, online. Visual sensors reactivated.” Unit 3 stood still, staring around. The viewport of the Kepler had been utterly destroyed, debris and sand everywhere. “Lockdown is still active. Backup power nearly depleted.” It began a scan, detecting many corpses of unknown origin within its halls. The new information disturbed it, as the readings were clear; whatever inhabited the planet, it was intelligent, a fact that should have blocked the Committee from using such a planet as a battleground.

“'Dear Luna, I really do hope you are well. Star Swirl has agreed to accompany you to the wreck of this strange object, and a company of our finest Royal Guards. Be cautious, my sister. The stories of what happens inside the wreck are grave indeed, stories of floating creatures that spit death. Hope to see you soon, Celestia.'” Luna tucked away the scroll, staring out at the research camp that spread around the front of the wreck. The scale of it was beyond anything that Celestia nor Luna had ever encountered. The mechanics of it, everything, it was all beyond their understanding.  A greyish-blue unicorn with a long, flowing white beard approached Luna, bowing before her.

“Dear Princess, we have not yet been able to decipher the markings on the side of the wreck. It appears to be some form of alien language.” Star Swirl the Bearded stood behind her, shifting uncomfortably. His robe was slightly stained red on one shoulder. With her magic, Luna lifted his robe to reveal a wound, exactly the same as the other wounds that others had come out with, the ones who had come back from exploring the wreck. Luna bowed her head, looking over at the Royal Guards.

“Star Swirl, dear friend. We shall explore this wreck, and we shall bring back the bodies of the fallen.” Star Swirl shook his head.

“Princess, I must insist I come with you. It is dangerous inside of there. I would also request the unicorns that came with the company of guards. You will see what I mean.” Luna nodded, Star Swirl galloping away to begin preparations. Luna stared up at the wreck, her eyes dark.

“What secrets do you hold?”

The exploration had gone swimmingly, Princess Luna spearheading the effort to discern the secrets inside of the wreck. So far, the strange creatures had assaulted them twice, and both times, they had dispatched them accordingly, their magic blasts revealing incredibly complex machinery. The fact of that alone disturbed Luna, as did the corpses in the corridor she entered. Strange, bipedal corpses, most decayed to bones, others still decaying, some almost perfectly preserved. A guard approached Luna and Star Swirl, bowing before them.

“My lord, your Majesty, we are nearly into what appears to be a central area. There seems to be some strange device in the centre, a large cylinder with magnetically charged blocks. Our compasses keep pointing towards them.” Luna nodded, pointing forward. Star Swirl mused to himself, unsure about the wreck.

“This is stranger and stranger. Something appears to be wanting us in that central area... but that's impossible... unless- Princess, be warned! It may be a trap in there-” Luna was already through the door, Star Swirl diving through before the door hissed, two slabs of metal slamming together and closing off their escape. They all watched as the room was illuminated from above, corpses stretching out far in what once was a beautiful garden, stained by blood and craters from devices unknown. The bipedal beings... they had fought each other, resulting in their untimely demise. A single tear escaped Luna's eye.

“Such death... such destruction. The pain, it must have been insurmountable.” Luna allowed the guards with them to examine the bodies, in a futile way, to discern what exactly transpired.

“You will not find any alive, I am afraid.” Clanking was heard behind them as something approached. The voice seemed... alien, the steps mechanical in pattern. Luna flipped around, her eyes burdened with sorrow. Before her stood a pony, although it seemed... strange. Where she would have had a tail, it had a long metal rod that was flexible, yet solid.

“What happened to them?” The pony shook its head, sadness in its voice.

“They fought each other. Someone deemed them traitors, and used pawns to kill those they did not agree with. I am designated as Unit 3, although it might be prudent for a more fitting name to be bestowed upon me. Equine species are the dominant lifeforms on this planet, correct?” Luna, in silence, merely nodded, her deep sorrow clear. Unit 3 approached her, patting her shoulder. “There will be time for funerals. However-” Unit 3 pointed at Star Swirl “-he is of the proper intelligence. I must request to interface with the individual standing there.” Luna looked at Star Swirl, then back to Unit 3.

“How do I know you do not wish the Court Magician harmed? He is but one pony, and there are so many more-” Unit 3 held up its hoof, irritation displayed clearly across its face, which appeared to be a strange combination of metal and flesh.

“There is only one of the proper intelligence and understanding. Your chronological age is sufficient, but your maturity level is low. That facet alone would interrupt the interface process.” Luna shook her head.

“No! I will not allow-” Star Swirl held up his hoof, silencing Luna. He stepped forward, nodding towards Unit 3.

“What would we gain should I... 'interface' with you?” Unit 3 pointed at the wreck around him.

“There is a major systems lockdown, but through such an interface, I will be able to rectify the physical lockdown, but only certain portions of the digital-”

“Digital?” Luna was just as confused as the rest who stood with her. Star Swirl shook his head, clearing it from any confusion he may have felt.

“I suppose that will suffice. We will learn more if I interface, correct?” Unit 3 nodded, pointing at a chair near the end of the room. There was a strange port at the back where four small appendages were docked.

“Implantation will begin shortly, with your permission, ma'am.” Luna nodded, leaving Star Swirl in the care of Unit 3. The chair near the end shifted in shape to encompass the form of an equine, ready for whatever 'implantation' exactly meant. Luna would have been ready if she had been properly warned, but as it stood, she was never ready for the screams that came. Star Swirl, the greatest of the Court Magi, was screaming like a small filly who was afraid of the dark. The process only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to unnerve the entire group who stood with Luna, herself extremely unnerved at the sight. Star Swirl stood up, his eyes flashing with strange lights. Turning around, his neck had a metal plate with various holes and connections.

“Luna, you would not believe everything I can see! I can see stars, planets, whole galaxies, history of entire races!” Star Swirl seemed to be in his own little world, Unit 3 standing by.

“Implantation of access module is complete. This will allow the one known as Star Swirl the Bearded access to the areas of the digital library contained within this vessel not held behind firewalls by the lockdown, and complete access to the vessel.” Star Swirl stared at Unit 3.

“This... this is a ship? Wait...” His eyes flashed, widening in surprise as he discovered exactly what Unit 3 meant. “This it- but- that's impossible! Incredibly impossible! The discoveries we could make! Princess Luna, the advancements we could provide the world!” Luna nodded, staring up at the ceiling. A large star chart had appeared, displaying various pieces of information in a language that she did not understand.

“Star Swirl, what did you discover about this vessel?” Star Swirl concentrated, the information apparently flashing across his vision.

“Constructed in 2665 AD, a part of a fleet of colony ships to an abandoned colony. The Kepler was a Wyvern-class variant, designed to transport military forces instead of colonists. Hmm? Data about the assignment it was one before it crashed on this planet seems to be behind a firewall. But we do understand now, Princess. This... this wreck, it is a vessel from beyond the stars. Far beyond the stars, might I add?” Luna nodded, smiling.

“Equestria will know of your sacrifice, Star Swirl.” Star Swirl frowned, staring at Luna. He did not understand of what she spoke.

“Sacrifice, Princess?”

“We will have to create a story of your disappearance. Any knowledge of you still living will have to be kept under the strictest confidence. You will remain aboard the Kepler, and make advancements for the betterment of our species. I shall alert my sister to these developments. As for anything else, just submit your request directly to me. I shall oversee this project myself.” Luna thought  to herself about the project, and everything entailed within. It could mean either another war, or simply the golden age of Equestria. Either way, she was excited to witness the project she had so carefully constructed. And for five hundred years, no knowledge of the project would ever leak out.

Chapter 1 - The Price Of Containment

3302 AD  – Kepler/Town of Cradle

War, war never changes.

Five hundred years had passed since the initial discovery of the Kepler, although the Equestrian government attempted to keep it under wraps, the data under strict supervision due to the nature of the research. Some advancements were shared with other countries throughout Equus, while most were kept on site. Star Swirl, now over six hundred years old, looked over his data, double-checking authentication techniques. Every new section of data that came from the partially unlocked database of a race of creatures known as 'Humans', every new discovery, all of it was checked for feasibility with the level of science that Equestria was at. A tap on his shoulder alerted him to a guard. The guard wore a simple, tight-fitting combat suit, wearing a gas mask. His weapon harness was one of the newer designs, a Hurricane Industries AR-5 semi-automatic rifle harness.

“Ah, Sergeant Point. I was wondering when you would return. I need these schematics sent down to the engineers. We might be able to bring some of the Kepler's systems online if we link one of our generators to it.” Point lifted the papers that Star Swirl motioned to, nodding before leaving. Unit 3 entered the room, various implements floating beside it.

“Star Swirl, you requested adjustment to your implants?” He nodded, pointing at his eye. The normally blue lights were blinking red, signifying an issue. Unit 3 shrugged, and went to work on the offending piece of machinery. Star Swirl leaned back, letting the chair he sat in lean back to accommodate Unit 3's adjustments.

“It's been five hundred years. I mean, I hope my sister's descendants are doing well for themselves. I never talked to her much. Did you ever meet her? Vanilla Swirl... sweetest mare you would ever meet. She had a love of cream and vanilla. She invented ice cream here on Equus, you know.” Unit 3 removed a small shard of metal lodged in between two circuits, allowing nano-machines to repair the eye.

“Your body seems to be taking to the implants very well.  The exchange of your skeletal structure from bone to enhanced metallic structures, that would have normally been allotted seven hours, but for you, we were completed with the replacement in four.” Star Swirl's ear began to beep loudly, signaling that Princess Luna was contacting him. In his vision, a holographic display of Luna appearing.

“You wanted to speak with me, Star Swirl?” A camera drone floated in front of him, keeping his face in view. Star Swirl pushed it back, lifting up a set of schematics. They appeared to detail out a primitive gasoline-driven machine, a piloted mechanized suit. Luna's eyes grew wide as she studied the designs.

“What manner of machine is this? We have seen your other designs, and while they are incorporated into our already robust scientific advancements, I do not know if this one is really such a good idea.” Luna shifted nervously, continuing to study the schematics.

“Dear Princess, the machine itself would more likely be used in construction than combat. It is an early construction mechanized suit. We could arm it, if need be, but for now, we could construct them for assistance in constructing the Cradle.” Luna cocked her head to the side, confusion setting in. She had not heard of the 'Cradle' before.

“What is this 'Cradle?'” Star Swirl smiled, allowing the camera drone to float towards a camera feed from the outside of the Kepler. A small town had begun to take shape, ponies of all manners wandering to-and-fro as they continued construction. Most of the construction was designated factories to produce the more advanced machines that the Cradle would be privy to.

“The city that is springing up around the Kepler. Advanced technology has its allure, and ponies from all over wanting to make a fresh start where they can be whatever they want are arriving.” The video feed ended as Luna nodded, terminating the call from her end. “Unit 3, remind me again why you are a pony, instead of looking like the humans you arrived with?” Unit 3 stood still, a little unsure of how to proceed.

“... your species is the dominant species of the planet... and I locked myself out of manufacturing after I built this platform.” Unit 3’s right hoof split open and retracted partway into his foreleg, a mechanical hand now in its place. Star Swirl shuddered at the sight of the mechanical appendage as Unit 3 withdrew a syringe from a container.

“Another dose? I guess it's necessary if I have to continue my work.” The black liquid inside began to move, as if with its own will.

“Different. These will reconstitute organs into appropriate mechanical equivalents. You will be almost immortal, but not invincible.” Star Swirl nodded, rolling onto his stomach. Unit 3 injected the liquid through a port in the implants on the back of Star Swirl's neck. Star Swirl nodded, leaving his work alone.

“I guess I should lie down, wait for the machines to finish their work, yes?” Unit 3 nodded, allowing the wearied pony to return to a cot he had set up five hundred years ago.

--------====||====--------

The town of Cradle was bustling. Ponies from all walks of life were either part of a construction detail working on a metal scaffolding that was beginning to surround the Kepler on all sides, or were a part of the industry below, smelters and smithies working non-stop to produce the metal and materials to keep up the construction. Iron Hoof stepped outside of his forge, staring up at the desert sun. Five hundred years, and Cradle was still being constructed. Five hundred years, and they had only begun to reclaim a small portion of the desert.

“Star Swirl's got it even rougher, I hear. Stuck inside that giant tin can. Can't be good for the old codger's health.” Iron turned to see a strange pony wearing the usual uniform of the Cradle military outpost, sand-coloured khakis with a tan combat vest, face-covering gas mask, and a helmet.

“Yeah, pretty bad for him. I hear he gets more mechanical every ten years or something like that.” The military pony turned, looking at Iron.

“Name's Private Long Shot. I don't think we've met.” Iron held out his hoof in a gesture of goodwill.

“Iron Hoof. I'm a smithy tasked with making parts for scaffolding. I can't believe they're actually planning on trying to rebuild that monstrous vessel.” He whistled, returning to his forge. Private Shot stood outside, staring up. Another military pony trotted by, alerting him to stand at the ready.

“Hold! Let me check your bags.” The military pony did not stop. Something was off. The way they were trotting... it was too stiff, like an imitation. It was... odd, to say the least. “Oi! Stop right there!” The pony stopped, turning back.

“I'm Sergeant Hollow Point, Private. I've been ordered to have my cargo sent directly to Princess Luna for decryption immediately.” Private Shot saluted, allowing Point to move on. When he was out of earshot, Point ducked into an alleyway, stripping off his uniform. At the end of the alleyway, he stopped, uncovering a tied-up pony, the real Hollow Point. He smiled as he removed the plans from the bags to examine them.

“Yeah, I saw him go over- no, he said he was Hollow Point. Why he would need to go into an alleyway is- all right. Send back-up. Whoever it is might be dangerous.” 'Point' frowned. If his plan was detected, he would be discovered very quickly, and the plans taken away. His tribe needed resources, and if they could replicate the device displayed in the plans, they could sell a copy of the blueprints for a major amount of gold bullion. His mouth watered. Gold was the best part about the Cradle.  He heard hooves charging down the alleyway. With a quick flash, he disappeared, hiding Hollow Point once more.

“You said he came over this way? Private, are you absolutely sure?” Private Shot nodded, scratching his head. The other soldier with him lifted a radio, irritation in his voice. “Yeah, it's me. Listen, somepony pretending to be Hollow Point just made off with some blueprints from Star Swirl's lab- no, I don't know what's on them. Not in the alleyway, no sir. They can't have just- all right, I'll send my report to Luna directly.” Shot and his compatriot galloped away, their holstered weapons clanking as they moved. 'Point' breathed deep, dispelling the shadows he had cast over himself. His body was black, holes dotting his legs. A single, sickeningly sharp horn, like a scimitar, jutted from his forehead. Leaning over, he removed the gag from Hollow Point, who stared up at him.

“What are you? Disguises like that? What are-”

“My name is Mystique, and before you keep thinking I'm male, I am not. Why I ever decided on a male is horrific.” She wiggled her rump in front of Point's face, eliciting an embarrassed look from him.

“You're... a mare? But... you look like a bug-” She stuck her hoof in Point's mouth, quieting him.

“Now, we can't have you speaking anything of this, so I'll just wipe your memory of the last few days. The perfect alibi.” A single flash, and she was gone, Hollow Point unconscious in the alleyway, untied and unharmed. Mystique stood on the roof above him as soldiers arrived to investigate the sudden flash. She smiled, her magic flaring as she disappeared once more. Her hooves clattered on the clay tile roof. One began to come loose, forcing her to stop. It started to slide. “No... don't you dare...” The tile slid off the roof, crashing into the hard ground right beside Private Shot. Mystique silently cursed herself for being such a careless fool, galloping away. Private Shot's rifle was quickly readied, a scope sliding in front of his eye. Training his rifle, he aimed right where sliding tiles were coming from. Squeezing off a shot, he accidentally blew off more tiles. Mystique jumped, her concentration broken. Her spells dissipated, revealing her to the ponies below.

“Stop right there criminal scum!” Shot and two soldiers clambered up onto the roof after her. Shots sped past, slamming into tiles in front of her until a large mass detached, dragging her along with them. As she fell, a pony from the crowd galloped up, retrieving the bag from her. He wore a jacket, one that appeared much too large for him.

“My lady. I do apologize for this, but you know the penalty for revealing yourself.” A harness sprung from underneath the jacket, aiming a small pistol at her head. With a single shot, Mystique's grey matter was blown across the ground, the pony who shot her nowhere to be seen. Shot galloped up to the body, shaking his head.

“We're too late. Somepony got to her first. Whatever she was carrying, it most certainly came from inside the Kepler. We need to call this in to Luna. Whatever that was, it seemed to know what it was doing.” The other soldiers with him nodded, one lifting his radio to speak.

“Red-Actual, this is Red-1. The package is not secure, repeat, the package is not secure. Cover all exits and passages. We cannot allow this package to leave the Cradle.”

--------====||====--------

The pony that had escaped with the plans ducked into an alleyway, stripping off his clothing as fast as he could. Underneath the jacket was a harness and standard desert survival gear, a water vest to survive the hot sun, a loose robe to allow for good ventilation, and a scarf that he immediately wrapped around his head. Removing the plans from the bag, he slid them inside his robe, making sure they were secure. Lifting a radio to his ear, he smiled.

“This is Forcystus. I have the package. I am moving to the rendesvous point.” Forcystus smiled.  Normally, if he had been hired to gain information for a group, he would have to kill many more than just the one he did. Silently inside, he was upset that more killing was not necessary, but he understood that he was supposed to be discreet. Even having to shoot that one changeling was reason enough for the soldiers to put the Cradle under lockdown.

“Forcystus, be warned. A sandstorm is approaching the Cradle. Do not leave the sanctuary of the town, or else you may be lost.” He sighed, pushing a door open. Inside was a plethora of empty crates, a cot, and a basic camping stove, complete with the gas required to run it. Equestrians had discovered natural gas, and by proxy, had discovered propane as well. It was effective, to say the least. Not as effective for heat and electricity as the Cradle's geothermal generator – he would have to get his hooves on those plans eventually. Stripping off his desert survival gear, he stood in front of a mirror he had found left outside. His dark brown coat was streaked with caked sand and mud, courtesy of the desert sun. Outside, he could hear the sandstorm raging as he laid down on his cot. Shivering in thought of those who may have gotten trapped outside during an Everfree Desert sandstorm, he quickly grew drowsy and fell into a slumber.

--------====||====--------

Forcystus awoke to howling once more. The sandstorm had continued throughout the night, making certain that no ponies would be out. It would be suicide to attempt to leave the Cradle during a sandstorm. Only a military vehicle could even make it out in the sand. At least, only military vehicles before the design that was held in the plans he carried. Outside, amidst the howling and the constant grating of the sandstorm, he could barely hear the warning siren. It was still blaring, even though most ponies would be inside.

“And all of the nobles in Canterlot are sitting nice and cozy in their beds. I'd like to slit their throats someday.” Forcystus' radio began to crackle, garnering his full attention.

“...stus- Nove...- Tango...- connection's ba...” He could barely hear the message over the static. The long-holding problem of the desert. Almost as soon as a sandstorm rolled in, radio communication was almost instantaneously out. He picked up the radio, sighing.

“This is Forcystus, reading you more or less, November-Tango-Five-Five-Seven. You're just barely cutting through the sandstorm. Keep me posted.”

--------====||====--------

Inside the Kepler, the situation was less than desirable. Star Swirl was absolutely livid that a pony would impersonate a soldier, and steal plans for an experimental technology. Unit 3 attempted to make sure that Star Swirl was calm, but it was all for naught. He was angry, and he could not go out himself or else his connection to the Kepler's database would be severed.

“We have to send somepony out. Those plans, if they get leaked... oh, other countries on this world would be very angry, very angry indeed.” He was pacing back-and-forth. He was angry, but he was also panicking, having been a strong advocate of containing the major technologies to the Cradle. If word leaked that Equestria was harboring an advanced wreck and was utilizing the advanced technology, another country might invade, destroy his life's work.

“Star Swirl, it is inadvisable to let an individual outside in these conditions. The sandstorm is reaching wind speeds in excess of ninety kilometers an hour. Any individuals caught outside would have their flesh torn from their bones.” Unit 3 turned to a terminal it had been working with. The screen glowed with life, displaying the status of the sandstorm.

“It's that bad?” Unit 3 nodded. Soldiers shifted restlessly as they sat around a small garden-like area below the room in which Star Swirl and Unit 3 worked.

“You hear that? Sandstorm's getting worse. Between sandstorms and the nomad ponies out here,  no wonder no sane soldier wants to be posted out here!” Long Shot sat still, his hooves barely holding onto a cup of soup. A cook had been gracious enough to cook the soldiers a meal, a simple potato soup; hearty, and filling. Hollow Point sat across from him, staring down at various photographs that cameras  had taken of the deceased thief. He had never seen a pony like her before, and the fact that she was able to disguise herself like that, well, it meant that either there was another group out there that no one remembered, or somepony had not been fully briefed when crafting history.

“Yeah, I hear it. Hey, Shot? You ever seen a pony like this?” Shot set down his cup of soup, trotting over to Point's side and settling in beside him. He looked over the photographs, frowning.

“Nope, can't say I have, Sergeant. Maybe you should ask, I don't know, Luna? Considering she's our benefactor?” Shot leaned in, pressing his face right up against Point's. Another soldier, Heavy Bunker, pushed the two of them apart, his abnormally large size intimidating to the smaller ponies in front of him. The other two backed off of each other, retreating to their respective sides. Colonel Bunker nodded at them both with sadness in his eyes. It was not the first time he had been forced to separate the two.

“If I see you two getting into it again, you'll both be in force-cages for a week!” Point and Shot snapped to attention, the message coming across loud and clear. Regular prison cells were nice and all, but the force-cage? One of the advancements that had never left the Kepler was the force-cage, an energy-field-enhanced prison cell. Unfortunately, no food was ever given, nor water, and there was no mattress. Most who entered a force-cage never exited the same. Most cracked. Bunker shuddered at the thought. He had watched as ponies who had committed heinous crimes cracked when inside the force-cage.

“Colonel Heavy Bunker! My office, now!” Star Swirl was watching the group from a balcony, his expression less than pleasant. Bunker swallowed. Having to meet with their primary benefactor was never a good sign for a soldier. Nevertheless, he entered the office, glancing around. Star Swirl was staring at schematics on a nearby table, heavy bags under his eyes. It was like staring at a dead pony.

“Sir? You called?” Star Swirl pointed at the viewscreen, a face staring down. It was Princess Luna. Bunker swallowed once more, moving slowly towards the screen. His head was down as he approached, partially out of reverence for the Princess of the Night, partially out of absolute fear gripping his chest.

“So, am I to assume you were the colonel on duty today for package delivery?” Bunker slowly nodded his head.

“I was, ma'am. Permission to speak freely?” Luna nodded at him, watching as he visibly relaxed.

“We had no idea we were infiltrated by a shapeshifter. Hollow Point was the apparent target. The plans for the sandstorm-proofed buggies were taken, and somepony removed them from the body of that strange pony. We have the body in the morgue. Am I to assume you have been given the photographs, ma'am?” Luna nodded, still silent. Star Swirl stopped Bunker before he continued.

“Show me.” Bunker lifted the photographs up for Star Swirl to see. He showed no reaction, except a slight musing.

“Interesting. I'll make a note of it.” Bunker returned to Luna, who seemed tired and out of sorts.

“Ma'am, we need to know what we're dealing with out here. What else is out here in these wastes besides us?” Bunker backed up as Luna levitated the copies of the photographs she had with her.

“Colonel, we've just encountered this same species as well. However, as it stands, you seem to be dealing with a more aggressive factions of these creatures. Canterlot scientists have decided to term them 'Changelings.' Be aggressive in your search for the pony that stole the plans from that changeling.” The screen went blank, with a message splayed across it, saying 'Transmission Ended.' Bunker turned to Star Swirl, who seemed very disinterested.

“Sir, what's going on? What exactly are these creatures, and what are they trying to do?”

“My guess would be – and remember, Colonel, I do not claim to be the exact expert in this at all – that they learned about the Cradle, and have decided that either they want some of the technology for themselves, or they want to prove themselves so they themselves can join the Cradle.” Star Swirl began to mumble as he pored over various diagrams and figures, one sheet sliding to the floor. Upon it was a strange weapon, something labeled as an 'Automatic Rifle.' Shrugging, he left Star Swirl to his musing as he returned to his troops.

“Colonel, what was that about?”

“The creature that caught Hollow Point and masqueraded as him. We have a name for them.” Hollow Point and Long Shot stared at each other, confused.

“What would that be, sir?”

“Changelings.”

Palace of the Royal Pony Sisters

Not far away, in the great capitol of Equestria, Luna sat, despondent. She had kept her cool as she flat-out lied straight to the face of her most trusted colonel, but she could not keep the ruse up anymore. A knock at her door alerted her to the entrance of a new pony to join what was quickly becoming the Equestrian Coalition. A large version of the creatures she had named as 'Changelings' stood in the doorway, a smaller one smiling beside her. Luna was younger than her sister, Celestia, and in charge of the research at the Cradle, but that did not mean she would take for granted the friendships she had carefully accumulated. The younger changeling squealed in delight as she charged towards Luna, tackling her down and tumbling as the two fillies giggled and smiled.

“Ah, Princess Luna, I see you've remembered my daughter, Princess Chrysalis. She has been ever so eager in coming to meet you. You two seem the dearest of friends.” The larger frowned as she entered, Luna bowing before her.

“Queen Apoidea! Celestia is sort of busy right now, but I guess-” Apoidea's expression did not change to that of a lighter mood.

“Luna, I do not have time for pleasantries or stalling. I require an audience with your sister. Now.” Luna's face dropped. Apoidea was known not for her formality, nor any pleasantries. Straight to the point, and very impatient, she stood as Luna backed away.

“C-Celestia is rather busy. I need to oversee the Cradle, Apoidea! You, of all ponies, should know that!” Apoidea laughed, returning to a rather disappointed expression.

“You mean the wreck in the Everfree Desert? That is nothing! I have had to personally meet with Changeling chieftains to ensure their loyalty to the Ancestral Hive-” Apoidea was interrupted by a rather disheveled Celestia entering Luna's room.

“Dear sister, why all the commo- Apoidea, what a... uh, surprise?” Apoidea bowed before Celestia, stealing a quick glance at her daughter.

“Celestia, I have words for you. Come along Chrysalis.” Chrysalis thrust out her lower lip, her eyes large like saucers.

“But Luna is here!” Apoidea placed her hoof on her forehead, contemplating how to approach the matter delicately. Her subjects were informal and to the point, but her daughter was rather brash and impulsive, something she would have to discover not to be. Celestia sighed, nodding to Luna who followed the group to what appeared to be a rather large map room, an enormous table documenting every single city, country, and famous location across their world. Celestia sighed, pointing to the Cradle.

“Apoidea, are you here to discuss once more about the sightings-”

“Sister, they are not rumours and mere sightings.” Both Apoidea and Celestia seemed rather shocked at Luna's outburst. Celestia stared down at the Cradle while Apoidea regained her composure. The information seemed rather new to the both of them.

“Luna, you say there are actual Changelings near the Cradle?” Luna nodded. A flash appeared beside her, and photographs were floated over to Celestia. Celestia's eyes widened as she looked at them, autopsy reports and all. Apoidea was busy levitating a small red flag marked with a black capital C to where the Cradle sat on the map.

“A separate tribe? And they attempted to steal the technology of the vessel-”

“Kepler, Apoidea.”

“-the Kepler? This is rather disconcerting indeed.” She straightened up, looking directly at Luna. The look in her eyes caused Luna to shrink back, uncertain of what she was planning. Apoidea had spoken with shock in her voice, but her look belied the fact that she was no doubt furious at the theft. The Ancestral Hive of the Changelings itself was not governed underneath Equestrian law, but the Changelings were allies to the burgeoning Equestrian Coalition, the zebras of Zebraica having joined fairly early. The Diamond Dogs, Griffons, Dragons, and various other factions remained separate, though there were inklings of the Minotaurs decidedly joining the Coalition.

“Disconcerting?”

“Yes, Luna.” Apoidea stared up from the map at Luna, who moved forward to examine the map. It seemed that not only one but three flags were now near the Cradle. “I have two small groups moving in to contain the threat that these renegades pose to the current order. If word were to get out that there was an enormous trove of technology being held secret by Equestria, there would be no end to what could occur. My Hive would be threatened. Oh, and Celestia's and your reigns as well.” Luna backed away, galloping to her room where she began to attempt to contact the Cradle's defense force, although she could not get through the interference. The sandstorm was apparently at its apex.

Kepler/The Cradle

The sandstorm had signs of letting up, some light finally returning through the windows. Star Swirl stared out the window, watching for signs of any pony attempting to leave the Cradle, which would make them the true thieves of the plans. As he watched the sand flow past the window, a crackling began to occur on the radio system.

“...ome in...lings...wirl!” Star Swirl faced the radio, quickly turning dials and pushing sliders to isolate the signal.

“Colonel? Colonel Heavy Bunker! Come to my office now!” Bunker moved as quickly as his legs would take him, saluting Star Swirl as he continued to attempt to isolate the incoming radio signal.

“Sir! What is it?”

“Seems like an incoming radio message from the Princess! It might be something incredibly important!” Bunker nodded, turning around and kicking the console. With a single crackle, the signal cleared up, Luna's face appearing on the viewscreen.

“Ah! Star Swirl! I have an urgent message for the Cradle's defense forces- oh, Colonel Bunker, you're already here! Swift thinking!” As soon as she was about to start, a large figure approached the camera.

“Princess Luna, it is incredibly rude- is this a direct line to the Cradle?” A very large Changeling appeared beside her, seating herself with airs of royalty. Star Swirl glanced over at Bunker, who proceeded to shrug.

“Princess Luna, I must protest! This is an incredible brea-”

“Her name is Queen Apoidea, of the Changelings, and she is Equestria's ally. Treat her with respect, Colonel.” Bunker saluted, allowing Apoidea the proper respect. Star Swirl raised an eyebrow, watching closely at the interactions for any sign of subterfuge.

“Ah, at least somepony knows how to give respect. Am I to understand, Colonel Bunker, that you have encountered Changeling infiltrators in the Cradle? Ones that have contributed to the theft of plans for some new attempt at transportation?” Bunker nodded, remaining silent. He knew the less he said, the less he would have to answer for if Celestia ever got wind of what was happening.

“Queen Apoidea, we have the matter under control-”

“I have dispatched Changeling soldiers to assist. They are not infiltrators, and as such, they are to be treated with the same respect as any of Celestia's subjects, is that understood?!” Bunker nodded, still remaining silent. Apoidea nodded, standing to leave. Luna shook her head in exasperation, returning to her conversation.

“Activate the quarantine gates. No pony gets in or out.” Bunker nodded, looking over to Star Swirl. Star Swirl, in turn, nodded, setting unsaid orders for the Cradle to begin a quarantine.

The Cradle

Alarms resounded as the sandstorm began to finally die down, soldiers of the Cradle's defense force galloping to their destinations, taking up positions around the gates. Rifles were locked and loaded, waiting for any creature to approach the gates. With a single, loud clanking noise, large metal slabs rose up from beneath the sand, effectively creating a large wall around the Cradle. Forcystus, stepping outside, cursed underneath his breath.

“They're faster than I anticipated. Hopefully I can get myself out.”

--------====||====--------

Hollow Point and Long Shot took their positions within the tallest tower in the city, their special sniper rifles at the ready. As they stood still, Shot felt the hot sun beat down on his face, the sweat drops  pouring down as he watched the ground.

“Hey, Point?”

“Yeah, Shot?”

“Why is it that we only use the auto-wall for quarantines, and never for simple defense?” Point did not reply, merely watching the streets below as ponies milled about for the afternoon. The First Sector was sometimes the most boring post if something caused the alarms to go, but it left the two ponies with time to think. Shot sighed, leaning against the railing.

“I don't rightly know, Shot. Most of the time we try to keep the walls down. Official story and all.” Shot merely stared, still searching for whomever might attempt to leave the quarantine area. Ponies had been instructed not to leave their homes or places of employment during the quarantine. Officially, it was due to the complications of the sandstorm, which, unfortunately, was partially true. Static build-up from the fine particulate sand could spark, igniting fuel reserves and causing detrimental damage to the Cradle. Shot was not happy about lying to the populace, but it had to be done, and no matter what, it remained certain that war could ignite over the Kepler, something he was all too aware of, especially since war was always on their doorstep in part thanks to the Griffon Hegemony gathering up its army and patrolling it near the border with Equestria.

“Sniper team, check in!”

“Private Long Shot, reporting in!”

“Sergeant Hollow Point, ditto.”

“All right. Star Swirl's given the weapons-free command. Any pony so much as touches one of the auto-wall segments, light them up. We cannot allow this to get out! Excuse me for now, I have an incoming radio signal.” The signal died as Shot was watching the streets again, looking around when he saw movement.

“Contact! Sector 0-1-4! If you're here to help, get him!” Shot zoomed in as close as possible. While the ponies in the First Sector wore cloth robes to prevent sand from entering their bodies, this one seemed off. The entire head was covered, with a scarf of some type encompassing its face. Long brown robes covered it as it raised something to its head. Shot recognized it as a modified long-range radio assembly, a shipment of which had gone missing as it was being delivered to the armed forces in Stalliongrad.

--------====||====--------

Forcystus had noticed the alarms, but even though the main objective would be drenched in failure, his own personal objective would be complete.

“I am not lying. This is Forcystus, of the Steel Rangers Mercenaries. The Equestrian government has been hiding a treasure trove of technology and fortune from every race except those sworn to complete secrecy! They are currently mobilizing forces to ensure my silence. Remember me, and that I have shown you the hypocrisy of the diarchy of Equestria!” With that, he was about to shut off the radio when something whistled through the air and slammed into it, forcing it from his hoof. With a quick motion his pistol was out, the harness shredding his robe to reveal the dark grey uniform underneath. Another motion forced the hood from his head, the scarf tearing into pieces.

--------====||====--------

“Hostile identified! Member of the Steel Rangers Mercenaries!” Colonel Bunker led the small squad that was to apprehend the thief, recognized as a member of the Steel Rangers, a mercenary group that had been terrorizing various parts of the world, and according to the situation, they had set their sights on the Cradle.

“Keep your sides covered! He might have associates in the Cradle already!” A standard military formation followed, six in the middle, three in front, and three to each side, allowing them coverage of every spot where an opposing force would or could assault from.

“Deactivate your weapon harness! Do it now!” All weapons were now trained on him. The Steel Ranger smiled before he bit down on the trigger bit, faster than any other pony was able to. Two soldiers were wounded, seven were dead. Nine soldiers were still standing, their weapons still trained on him. Almost as soon as the Steel Ranger was about to fire, a shot rang out from the tower, a single flash before the Ranger's side exploded in blood, cloth, and torn flesh, a high-caliber round penetrating his side at an awkward angle. Another shot quickly followed, severing a leg. Blood began to pool on the sand, the severed leg rolling away slowly. One more shot rang out, slamming into the Ranger's shredded side. The other soldiers deactivated their weapon harnesses, quickly moving in. The dying Ranger was laughing, blood slowly pouring from his side,  leg, and mouth.

“You poor saps. Today, I die, but my labours have proven fruitful. You will remember this day as the day Forcystus the Steel Ranger bested the defenders of the Cradle, and-” A shot penetrated his skull, flipping him over and away from those who had moved in. Bunker was standing still, an expression of pure rage on his face as his pistol smoked, the heated shell melting sand into glass on the ground. With a loud snapping sound, his harness flipped the pistol back into the holster on his side. Removing a radio from a strap on his left side, he activated it, allowing a response from the other end before he spoke.

“Colonel Bunker! What is the situation?” Bunker swallowed. It was not going to be easy to explain everything, but he would have to do his best.

“Star Swirl, sir... the intruder is dead. Shot three times with a high-caliber, once by myself. Sir, we're in for a world of hurt.” Colonel Bunker winced at the choking sound Star Swirl was making in the radio. It seemed he was more angry than he had ever shown.

“What do you mean-”

“Sir, he was able to communicate with his compatriots before we were able to stop him. They know about the Cradle now, and it is a safe bet that whoever they are employed by, they will know as well. Recommend we pour as much resources into defense of the Cradle as physically possible.”

--------====||====--------

Star Swirl was beside himself in his anger. Due to the electronics that composed a majority of his body, he could no longer utilize any magic or spells he once could use, but that never stopped him from simply hurling objects the old-fashioned way. His voice was caught in his throat, creating a peculiar choking noise that sounded eerily similar to a drowning small animal. Papers were flowing around the room, plans and blueprints out of their orderly stacks. With one moment of calm, Star Swirl returned to the radio.

“You have clearance for all the defensive emplacements! We cannot lose the Cradle. No matter what time they arrive, be it two days, two years, or two decades from now, we will not be found lacking! Do I make myself clear, Colonel Heavy Bunker?!” An acknowledgment was heard on the other side before the signal was shut off. He stood in his office, staring at the ground for a few minutes before carefully retrieving his papers and stacking them in their orderly piles once more.

3308 AD – Everfree Desert/The Cradle

Every day, every waking moment, it was silence. Since the fateful incident six years previous, the Cradle had been on constant high alert, although, with the newly formed Equestrian Armed Forces bolstering their numbers they had at least some way to keep themselves from losing their minds as they continuously stared out at the bleakness of the desert. Colonel Bunker had retired from duty, quickly being replaced by a hastily-promoted Colonel Hollow Point. Long Shot had been promoted to Captain, and re-assigned to train the soldiers in Stalliongrad with the newest weapons to be designed in the Cradle. Bunker had moved to Fort Ponyville, a burgeoning trading post that was famous for the special jam that came from the nearby Sweet Apple Acres. Point had lost track of most of the soldiers from that day, but he had more important duties as the commanding officer of the Cradle's Equestrian Infantry detachment. There were grand guns in the desert sand, constantly being maintained and modified to work against sand. Every single one shot slow, but massive damage was to be had if any enemy was foolhardy enough to wander into their firing line. Unit 3 had been offline for two months, stating before that his battery was not working at full capacity, and that it needed to deactivate and allow a slow memory purge.

“It's been a long six years, hasn't it, Colonel?” Point looked up from his deployment map to glance at Star Swirl. Over six years, he had been given more machinery. His hind legs were now completely mechanical, but they were sheathed with a rubber covering that mimicked the coat of the remaining flesh parts of his body.

“Six years, and nothing in the way of any sort of action. Still, never hurts to be prepared, right?” Star Swirl merely nodded, staring out the window. The auto-wall system had malfunctioned two years previous, preventing the walls from ever retracting into their places in the ground. Not that it would have mattered much. The auto-walls protected from sandstorms; they were apparently static-resistance bulkheads from the Kepler. Engineers had uncovered two hatches leading to an underground area. They were still cataloging every item they had uncovered underneath. The town around the Kepler, now affectionately named Luna's Cradle for their benefactor, had grown several times. The main area had become the major fabrication and munitions production area for the defenders of Luna's Cradle. The new rifles that had been developed were more resistant to jamming, but the method for the production of ammunition prevented them from automatic fire, as the shells had an incredible tendency to overheat and melt the firing pin, sometimes exploding as well. Unit 3, before off-lining, had shared advanced production practices from what he termed as 'humanity's twenty-first century.' Munitions were much more durable, as were the rifles, but they were still only able to produce semi-automatic rifles. Star Swirl had produced the idea of an automatic rifle, but the gas-feed it would operate on was beyond the ability of their current manufacturing capacities.

“Never hurts, indeed, Colonel. Bunker would have been proud.”

“Would have been, sir?” Point was curious now. Whatever information Star Swirl had, it was about his old commanding officer, and it immediately piqued his interest.

“Oh. He died. He was one of the oldest in the service, Colonel. Died of a derailing train. He didn't suffer.” Point looked out the window, melancholy in his voice as he spoke.

“That's all we can hope for. A swift death and no pain-” Point was about to continue when alarms began to ring. Without a second thought, he was in front of the base-wide broadcast system. He knew what the alarms were about, and his war face was grim. “All hands, to your stations! Gunners, suit up! Snipers, to your posts! Everypony else, get out of bed and move it!” Slamming down the receiver, he frowned as he watched the soldiers hastily getting dressed and their harnesses on. Turret gunners were different, if only in the fact that their harnesses were designed to directly interact with the turrets outside the wall. Civilians were moving into the underground area, a place which had been converted to a bunker for war-time scenarios.

“So, the die has been cast, has it, Colonel?” Point solemnly nodded.

“Unfortunately, sir. I'm going to take my place with the defenders. We will not let them have Luna's Cradle!” Point galloped away, leaving Star Swirl to stair out the window. In the distance, great sprays of sand were thrown up, the force not identifying itself by any means. No IFF, or “identification, friend or foe,” nor any style of uniform recognized by the scouts.

--------====||====--------

Hollow Point discarded his colonel uniform for his combat suit and weapon harness. One of the new rifle designs had been gifted to him through the upper echelon of Command, and he never thought anything of it. His vest was strapped down tightly, his harness clicked together. The harness grasped the weapon, the trigger gripped with the right amount of pressure for preparation. Next was his helmet. More commonly known as a “bucket head”, Luna's Cradle had been the main producer of the fine helmets. Good visibility, and decent all-around protection. Finally, his ammunition. Six magazines of beautiful seven-six-two full metal jacket ammunition, his bread and butter. Three soldiers were still gearing up, apparently new recruits.

“Attention! Names, recruits!”

“Sir, Private Dead Eye, sir!

“Sir, Corporal Quick Scope, sir!”

“Sir, Sergeant Full Metal, sir!” Point nodded at them, frowning. He knew that they might not make it through the day, but by Celestia, he would at least lead them to a good end.

“You may know that Luna's Cradle is about to be attacked. You three are a part of the new wave of recruits. We cannot allow them to take what we have worked so hard to dredge up from the ground! We may be forgotten in the annals of time, but by Celestia, we will make the enemy rue the day they ever thought it was a smart idea to tangle with the likes of the Equestrian Fifth Infantry! Do you get me!” All three of them resounded in a single call, their determination, their nervousness, and their fear coming clear through their call.

“We get you, sir!” Point motioned towards the door.

“You three are with me. Let's move, ladies! Go, go, go!”

--------====||====--------

The attitude was grim as the defenders stood at their posts, hasty defenses erected for those using prototype weapons. A large weapon, known as a crankshaft repeater to the Equestrian forces, but simply “Puff” to the civilians, was placed on a mount near the Kepler's main entrance. Point had arrived with his three fireteam members at what was known as Point Alpha, the main entrance of the actual Cradle, the original area of settlement and industry. Snipers were already in their windows and towers, while the gunners on the turrets outside the walls were radioing in. Every riflepony within the walls was tense, masks of fear and determination etched into every face there. It was the beginning of the week, and many wished they were still asleep after the drills they had run all weekend. Point's radio crackled to life, alerting him to a message.

“Sir! We've got what appears to be- griffons?! Sir, the griffons are arriving, and they have some sort of armoured vehicles! Corporal, get down! Sergeant-” The radio cut out. Point cursed under his breath. He could not allow them to take the town.

“Sir! Outpost Gamma! We're under attack by some sort of large dog-like- sir! They're the Diamond Dogs!”

“Outpost Delta! We've encountered minotaurs! They're charging right through the defense line! Get that weapon trained on the minotaurs!” The radio cut short. The three outposts had been overwhelmed by what appeared to be a more numerous force than previously anticipated. The changelings that were stationed with the defenders seemed to not show anything other than a grim determination not unlike a pony who understands the full risks of a mission.

“Keep your eyes peeled, and your sides covered! You three, follow me!” Scope, Metal, and Eye followed close behind, their weapon harnesses in the inactive state to allow for more freedom of movement. There were small tunnels underneath the ground that engineers had constructed underneath the sand, tunnels that made movement much faster. The small fireteam crawled through, keeping their movements in sync as much as possible. Sounds of gunfire and combat were muffled, but they were overhead. Large explosions shook the tunnels, but the roof held. As they moved through another tunnel branch, Point could see light ahead. With quick motions, he crawled out, his harness already prepared for action. Scope, Metal, and Eye followed suit, taking concentric positions around the tunnel entrance. With no words spoken, Point moved off, the others following closely behind. The sight that greeted them as they rounded the corner to the main street was horrific. Bodies were everywhere, but it had been mostly griffons, although the defenders were barely twelve, from the forty that had been there. Point, watching the griffons, was almost too late in noticing the shadow above him. A minotaur with a large metal hammer slammed the ground as hard as he could, the weapon shaking the ground as it impacted with the foundations of the nearby structure. Scope, Metal, and Eye were already firing, the bullet wounds they inflicted barely fazing the minotaur whatsoever.

“You ponies are no better than your leaders!” The minotaur had taken his attention from Point long enough for him to carefully aim, blasting a shot through the minotaur's skull. Without a second opinion, he dropped like a stone to the ground.

“Aim for the head. Okay, so, griffons and minotaurs confirmed. What about the armoured-” Behind them, a large rumbling was heard. Something slid into position as they turned around. “Scatter!” A large explosion followed as the armoured vehicle destroyed every piece of cover it could. Before it could get a good bead on Point's fireteam, the treads began to smoke, startling them when they blew apart.

“I told you these were never a good idea-” The vehicle was quickly destroyed by something wielding a hammer. Point hid around a piece of wall that had stayed standing, the other three crouching down. Only when the hammering stopped did they bother to look out. A minotaur was standing on top of the vehicle, holding what appeared to be an oversized version of their own rifles.

“Well, looks like we got here just in time! Move out!” More minotaurs wielding the oversized rifles sprinted past, combat vests on their torsos, and helmets on their heads.

“Well, at least you're not trying to turn us into paste. Name and rank?” The minotaur jumped down from the vehicle, tossing a dead griffon on the ground.

“Indomitable Will, Warrant Officer. Am I to assume you are Colonel Hollow Point?” Point nodded silently, pointing behind them. Explosions detonated in various areas, while screams of pain and anger were heard even over the din of battle and conflict. “Just point us at the fight.”

--------====||====--------

The defenders on Unity Street were not faring much better. The griffons had some explosive devices, something much more worrisome than the armoured vehicles which seemed to have a tendency to break down at the least opportune moments. Every defender was pushed back repeatedly, snipers dead before they could sight in an enemy. Warrant Officer Will growled as he saw minotaurs fighting alongside griffons.

“Traitors! We were neutral for a reason! We may fall this day, but this day, the enemy will know fear!” With a battlecry, the minotaurs charged forward, their weapons discharging as Point and his soldiers watched in awe, their mouths open in pure shock. Griffons ignored the ponies to fire at the raging minotaurs, leaving them exposed.

“These are more like raw recruits than veterans!”

“Cover the minotaurs! Get that gun running-” Sounds of rapid fire were echoing over the battle. The minotaurs began to falter, Indomitable Will pinned behind a large barricade. There seemed to be a strange box that the griffons were dragging. As they opened the sides with a crowbar, the device was clear.

“Get down!” Another soldier had beaten Point to the punch, as it were, but it was still the same message. Ten barrels began to spin, the weapon spitting out rounds as fast as the barrels spun.

“Where in Tartarus did they get a crankshaft repeater? Those are still in the prototyping phase!” Point was beginning to get very nervous. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to turn to for an escape route. Dead Eye glanced around, pointing to a nearby house.

“In here!” Point, Will, Dead Eye, Full Metal, and Quick Scope dove for the doorway, the trail of bullets hammering the outside of the house. As they stood up and brushed themselves off, Dead Eye looked around, counting. Something was off; there were only four of them inside. He glanced outside, staring at the street. There, on the ground, Quick Scope lay bleeding, no movement at all. He pulled back, staring at the wall. Will pushed furniture from the room towards the windows and door, creating a veritable bunker. Hollow Point glanced at what was left of his squad, shaking his head at the events that had just transpired. Will sat with Full Metal, creating a small fire inside a small metal garbage can, while Dead Eye merely stared at the wall, mumbling to himself.

“Dead Eye?” The private did not respond, rocking back-and-forth. His eyes were wide, devoid of any emotion besides utter terror. Hollow Point sat down, his mind slowly letting events catch up with him. Without warning, his stomach lurched, the contents spilling on the floor. He could see every dead body, and he was beginning to wish he had never seen it.

“I guess they never said what would happen in true war, sir.” Full Metal had come to stand beside Point as he steadied himself. He put his hoof on Point's back, tapping lightly.

“Those were our friends, Metal. Our friends, and they just- they just cut them down! Without remorse!” Dead Eye began to sob quietly as the outside sounds were muffled, punctuated by what sounded like an explosion. Will shook his head, sighing.

“I watched my own family wrestle with the best to become what they were, but this is just senseless.” He pulled apart his rifle, cleaning as he sang a song of elegy for those still outside.

“Hear me, hear me, oh ancients of the grove

Hear the voices of those long gone

Let them rest their overtly weary heads

Find them peace now that they are dead.

Truth never spoke of Lies

Burning to the core

Of ponies and the minotaurs

Praying for their souls.

Let the light of Life shine through the dark

Lead the lost souls from the grave

And let them leave their marks.

Fires burn as one

The end might soon come

But let their spirits rise

Like the sun.” Will rolled the screws between his fingers, musing on the words of the song.

“A song about the dead, huh?” He looked up to see Point looking at him in interest. He set the screws down, shaking his head.

“More a song of remembrance for those who have died, and a prayer that the afterlife puts their worries to rest.” With a flurry of motion, his rifle was quickly assembled, the bolt sliding into place. He

drew the bolt out, checking for inconsistencies.

“Sounds like a perfect elegy for this situation.” They began to sing along with Will as they watched the sun disappear over the horizon, the dark spreading as the light died down. Point stared outside as he watched griffons looking through the bodies. One found a survivor and quickly slit his throat. He turned back from the window, forcing down his fear as he steeled himself.

“We're in here for the long haul, aren't we?” Point solemnly nodded, keeping silent.

--------====| Day 2 |====--------

The sun streamed through the window, particles of dust dancing in the light as the squad woke. As they started to stand, weapons fire erupted outside, prompting them to drop down to their stomachs. Dead Eye looked up to a hatch in the roof, motioning for everyone to get topside. Will nodded, standing below the hatch. Full Metal jumped on his shoulders, holding tightly as Will stood.

“Hold on, corporal.” He lifted his arms, pushing Full Metal through the hatch. He watched as Full Metal looked around, kneeling down to retrieve his weapon harness from Will.

“Looks clear. If we can, I'll-” A single shot rang out, Full Metal slumping over and falling down through the hatch. Point and Dead Eye stood beside Will, staring at their fallen comrade, blood leaking from a small wound in the forehead. Will backed up, falling onto his rear as he stared at the dead body. Dead Eye and Point stood ramrod stiff, their eyes once again wide with terror. Point once again leaned towards the ground, his stomach's contents emptied out onto the wooden floor. Dead Eye dropped to the floor, his eyes blank with despair.

“How can we get out of here if they've got long rifles as well?! We're dead! Dead!” Dead Eye stared at the door as Point sighed.

“We'll try at night. As long as we try not to make ourselves a target, we should be fine.”

--------====||====--------

The night came, the dust settling as the firing of weapons outside died down. Will lifted Hollow Point up, letting him look around before shoving him up and tossing Dead Eye up after him. Lifting their weapons, Will prepared to climb up after them. They were staring out over the city outside of the walls of the main sector of Luna's Cradle. He followed their gaze and stared at possibly the largest fire he had ever seen. The outer edge of the town was being devoured as it slowly moved. Minotaurs and griffons shouted in cheers of triumph as they chased away other squads that had fallen to the same fate as Point's own squad, slaughtering them where they stood and tossing the bodies into the fires. Point was about to draw his weapon when Will pointed over the horizon. The Cradle's defense force was slowly moving forwards, minotaurs loyal to Equestria pushing massive wheeled carriages covered in armour forwards. Will was about to shout in a cheer of happiness when shots rang out. The invaders had spotted them, and a crankshaft repeater was trained on their position, a minotaur smiling as he turned the handle. Grabbing Dead Eye under one arm, Hollow Point under the other, he sprinted off the top of the building, dropping them as they hit the ground. Rolling to a stop, he brought his rifle to bear, aiming around.

“Get moving! We can't have lost them that easily!” Will pressed up against a wall, sneaking a peek out. Griffons with swords and primitive matchlock pistols moved around, executing any survivors they found.

“It's an all-out massacre. They're not here to invade, but to slaughter everyone and everything.” He turned to see Dead Eye unslinging his rifle, the scope sliding in front of his eye. He shook his hands in a gesture of 'don't you dare' as the griffons advanced.

“There are too many of them for us to fight. There's only three of us.” Point nodded, swallowing his fear as he looked out. They tossed more survivors into the blaze, followed by whooping and cheering. He glanced around, looking for anything out of the way and not easily accessible. There was not much, but he could see a grate nearby, one not outlined by the light of the blaze. He motioned for Dead Eye and Point to get the grate up as he took point, watching for movement on the side of the griffons and the other minotaurs. Dead Eye dragged the grate off, pushing Point down and pointing for Will to jump down. He followed suit, watching the ladder as he dropped. The area opened up to a large catacomb-like area, the bowels of the ruined sections of the Kepler, broken screens and rotted plants dotting the area before them before a ledge that looked out onto what appeared to be some sort of barracks.

“We're inside the Kepler. Keep your sixes covered.” The shouts from outside were muffled as the griffons searched for the minotaur and two-pony squad.

“Let's lay up in here for the night. Shouldn't be too long until the sun rises. I doubt the griffons are foolhardy enough to enter the truly unknown.” Point glanced around after he finished, shivering slightly.

“Unsettling, isn't it?” Point looked over at Dead Eye, who was looking down at the ground below, looking at the skeletons of bipedals laying around. Weapons lay rusted and broken, old spent shells littering the ground. Will glanced back at the entrance, the grate not having been placed back.

“I'll take first watch. Point, you're on second watch. Dead Eye, you fine with third?”

“Yeah, whatever.” With that, Dead Eye and Point fell into an uncomfortable sleep, their nightmares of death and blood. Will sat there, cradling his rifle. In truth, he did not want to sleep. He could see the dead when he closed his eyes, and that was problem enough for him. As he sat there, he wondered if it was truly a war that had begun.

--------====| Day 3 |====--------

Dead Eye nudged his companions awake, pointing at the grate.

“First light. We should get moving. I don't know if the Cradle's defenders have reached the griffon army yet.” Point slowly sat up, blinking and smacking his dry lips. Will rolled over, staring at Dead Eye.

“Well, they would have reached the opposing army last night, I would think. Maybe one of us should check?” Will nodded silently, standing up. Strapping his rifle to his back, he made his way over to the grate, lifting himself out slowly. The sight that awaited him brought him pause as he stared. Griffons and Equestrians alike lay bloodied and ruined, the bodies riddled with holes. He noticed a unicorn crawling slowly, blood seeping from a leg wound. Her uniform was that of a medic, a pony sworn to help all in need. She was in definitely dire need of some assistance of her own. Will lowered himself down, breathing slowly to keep himself calm.

“There's a lot of dead up there. Saw one surviving unicorn, though. She looks badly hurt. Point, you want to go up first?” Point nodded, letting Will pick him up and toss him through the grate onto the ground above. Dead Eye followed, with Will close behind. The unicorn noticed the three, slowly crawling towards them.

“He... help me.” Dead Eye kept watch while Point knelt down in front of her, pulling bandages, a needle, and thread, from the saddlebags on her, going to work while she kept her eyes and mouth clamped shut. Will had to look away while Point took care of her, the quiet whimpers of the unicorn barely audible over the embers of the previous night's fire. Point threaded the needle, pushing the sharp object through the hide on the leg, a small amount of blood trickling out as he pushed on. Reaching around in her bags, he pulled out some antiseptic fluid, cleaning the wound as best he could with what he had. She looked away, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. Will looked back, motioning for her to open her mouth. Pulling a small leather roll from one of his uniform's pockets, he placed it between her teeth.

“Bite down on this. It will help a little, and keep you from piercing your lip.” She complied, immediately chomping down on the roll, tears streaming down her face. Point nodded to Will, continuing to stitch the unicorn's leg. A few more stitches, and he began to wrap the leg with bandages. Will pulled a minotaur's rifle from the ground, removing the barrel and bending it for a splint, which Point happily attached to the unicorn's leg. She stopped biting on the roll to see her leg.

“It... still hurts a little, but thank you.” She stood up slowly, weakly saluting.

“You shouldn't be moving so quickly, miss...”

“Medical Officer Twinkle Sheen, Medic Corps. I'm a sergeant in rank, if that's what you want.” Point and Will looked at each other, sighing as they looked around. They appeared to be the only ones still alive in a sea of corpses. Twinkle Sheen calmed down enough for it to register, and immediately vomited on the ground.

“Yeah, it doesn't get any easier, Twinkle. We've seen it three times now. Two of our squad, one by crankshaft repeater, the other by a griffon long rifle. It's going to be a long while before any of us forget the ones we saw die. I'll probably never sleep well again.” Point patted her on the back as she slumped down to the ground, shaking as tears sprang to her eyes again.

“They... they killed them all. Slaughtered them like animals...” Her body continuously shook with sobs as she cried over the loss of everyone in front of her. Will grabbed more rifles, tearing cloth off dead soldiers to tie them together in a makeshift marker.

“As long as we do not forget them, they'll live on in our memories. They did not want this war any more than we minotaurs did.” He stood up, lifting Twinkle Sheen underneath his arm.

“So, colonel, what's the plan?” Everyone looked at Point, who shied away from the sudden spotlight put on him.

“I guess try and regroup with the rest of the defenders, and see how far the invaders made it into Luna's Cradle.” Point sighed as he finished, looking back towards the massive walls of the First Sector, where many of the civilians were waiting with baited breath for any news at all. He looked back at Twinkle Sheen and his squad. Every single one of them was decked out with the desert camouflage that Star Swirl had said was effective, and he had never seen their faces, let alone what they looked like underneath those uniforms. Twinkle's eyes were a piercing blue, filled with a deep sorrow. Dead Eye had one milky-white orb, the other a deep red, while Will stared down from his much smaller eyes.

“Let's get going then.” Will motioned for Point to get moving, letting the colonel lead the way as they marched slowly towards the perimeter of the First Sector.

--------====||====--------

Night began to fall as they arrived, the darkness concealing the squad of four as screaming was heard inside Luna's Cradle. Dead Eye and Hollow Point had their rifles out, the scopes up to their eyes as they kept their eyes concentrated for any surprises. The crankshaft repeater on the wall lay silent, a dead Equestrian soldier leaning up against it. More Equestrians lay around, with griffons also on the ground, the death throes evident as they appeared intertwined in mockery of a waltz, more of a dance of death in of itself.

“I don't see any of the defense force, well, alive. What happened?” Dead Eye turned the corner and found out as he nearly fell into a crater left by a griffon explosive.

“I think you just found one of the reasons-” He could hear whooping in the distance as he glanced around in fear. It sounded like a griffon war cheer.

“Uh, we should run. I mean, we should run right now!” Will kicked it into gear, sprinting ahead while Dead Eye and Hollow Point galloped behind him, their weapons sheathed and locked down as they ran. As they rounded another corner, they could see a small squad of Equestrians surrounded by griffons with their weapons drawn. Point snarled, his rifle unsheathed as he bit down on the control. Before he could fire, Will set down Twinkle Sheen, picked up a pipe from the ground, and charged in, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“For Equestria!” Dead Eye had barely any time to react before Will fell upon the griffons like a tidal wave, blood spraying as he hammered away, letting the squad escape towards the main area of the Kepler, the area where Star Swirl was located. The griffons withdrew, flying away as Will reveled in their defeat. Point was the first to speak as they approached the minotaur, shaking his head.

“I won't argue with results, but that was foolhardy, Will. You may be a minotaur, but one slash across the heels and you're done for.” Will rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing.

“I couldn't let them hurt those soldiers. We've lost so many, it's like a ghost town.” Screaming from inside the Kepler brought their attention back to reality. Point held up his hoof to motion to the other Equestrian squad.

“Check inside the Kepler! We'll locate other squads!” The other squad nodded, rushing off to assist whoever was inside the Kepler. Point looked around, locating a hatch in the ground. Will knelt beside him, curiosity taking hold.

“What exactly are you trying to do, colonel?”

“Jump start some of the auto-guns placed throughout the town. If we can even get two for First Sector, we'll be much safer. This is only one of around seven panels, though. Guess where the other six are.” Will pointed out the way they came, silently getting a nod from Point as he continued to work. Dead Eye looked around, sighing as he glared at Point.

“To get them all rewired to protect the city, that'd need an entire maintenance team-”

“Which we don't have, Dead Eye. Seven panels are what is needed to operate the bare minimum of defenses in the Cradle. First Sector is, unfortunately, the most important.” He looked down, shaking his head in exasperation.

“What's wrong?”

“Griffons knew what they were doing. They're not your typical soldiers. They were trained to neutralize the Cradle, and take down the defenses. The cables are absolutely shredded-” Will knelt near another panel, pulling cable from below.

“Thanks! Now get back under! We don't know where the rest have gone.” The panel closed, leaving Will with a large coil of replacement cable in his able hands. Point stared in slack-jawed shock before regaining his composure.

“That's exactly what we need. The panels they know of, those are probably the ones we'll have to repair as well. Let's get this panel done, and hole up for the night in the gunsmithery over there.” He pointed at a small stone building, seeming out of place in an area of metal and wood. As he continued to work, Will lifted Twinkle Sheen towards the building, Dead Eye following behind. Sparks flew as Point finished, the panel glowing yellow with power.

--------====| Day 4 |====--------

Point awoke to the sounds of struggle, rolling out of the way as Will tossed a griffon out of the way.

“Thought you'd gone and broke our backs?! Ha!” Another griffon flew past, his neck clearly snapped as Will continued to wrestle with them.

“What in Celestia's name is going on?!” Dead Eye was up in an instant, throwing a knife into the throat of another griffon that had sneaked inside. Point dodged out of the way of the falling corpse, just barely missed by a falling sword.

“Looks like these were some stragglers from the initial wave. Just be glad these are more raw than recruits.” Will tossed another to the floor, snapping bones denoting a broken back. He looked down, spitting on the griffon. Never before had he ever felt such hate for another creature, but the griffons were fast deserving of his hate. Every fibre of his being burned as he stared at that dead griffon, the pain wallowing up inside. He hefted Point's cables, motioning silently for him to get moving.

“Dead Eye, keep watch over Twinkle Sheen. Will and I can handle the panels from here.” Dead Eye looked up as Point and Will were leaving, sliding himself over beside Twinkle as she continued to sleep.

--------====||====--------

As they fixed panels and brought them back online, Point could hear parts of the Cradle coming back to life. A small fixed electrode rose from the ground, emitting an electric discharge whenever a griffon came too close for comfort. A turret rose from the ground, single shots blasting griffons to bloody pieces.

“How many of these things have we fixed so far?”

“Six, colonel.” Point sighed, looking up from the panel he was working on. As he worked, panels overloaded, which made his life harder. So far, only two defense guns had remained active, effectively sealing off the entire First Sector of Luna's Cradle. The griffons had redirected their efforts elsewhere, slaughtering any Equestrian Army remnants they could find. Few had remained standing under such efforts, pushing Point and Will towards a breaking point neither of them wanted.

“I wonder if they damaged a main power conduit, or something along those lines?” Will looked at point, shrugging. Point sighed, returning to the panel. There were definite signs of a short circuit. If he had to, he could close off the power from the panel, but that would cost power to some of the defenses. That would cause a riot in some areas... He stopped for a minute. If he could switch off power strategically in certain areas, he could force some of the griffon's army into a bottleneck, directly towards a defense turret. He looked at the electric fence tower rising near the panel. He could not take the chance that it would not work. He slammed the last cable into place, powering it up. As it did, an abnormal amount of electricity built up, sending arcs of electricity across the nearby buildings and setting them on fire. The main point of the tower began to turn red with heat.

“Colonel, get away from there!” Will tossed Point aside, a bolt of lightning striking the minotaur in the chest. He fell over, steam waving off of him as he lay there as still as the grave.

“Will? Indomitable Will?” There was no response. He could hear similar discharges all over the Second and Third Sectors. Screams revealed the victims to be griffons, no doubtedly trying to sabotage the defenses again. Point curled up on the ground, rocking back and forth as he tried to forget that he watched something he fixed kill the minotaur that had kept his squad alive.

“Colonel? Oh Celestia... Twinkle, take a look at Will! See if you can help him!” Dead Eye galloped up and shook Point, trying to break him out of his stupor.

“He died... and it's my fault. We're all going to die... and it's my fault.” Point stared blankly into space muttering the same two things over and over as Dead Eye shook him. Twinkle Sheen looked at the panel, then at Will.

“Grab me those two loose cables!”

“What are you trying to do?! Kill him?” Twinkle Sheen growled as she stood, the pain still immense.

“If I can do it right, I can restart his heart! Come on, Dead Eye! Get! Me! Those! Cables!” Dead Eye complied, dragging two thin cables to Twinkle. With a quietly whispered prayer, she slammed the cables into his chest, Will jerking around as the electricity coursed through him. Pulling the cables away, she watched Will quickly sit up.

“What the- what happened to me?” Twinkle put her hoof on his shoulder, smiling.

“You were clinically dead. I may have just created a new way to save patients!” She giggled like a schoolfilly as he scratched his head, watching her dance around until she flopped due to the splint.

“You're like a small foal in a candy store, Twinkle. Thank you. I mean it.” Twinkle felt Will's arms surround her, drawing her up into an embrace. He looked over at Point, the colonel snapping out of his stupor when he saw Will sit up.

“I just- I- what.” Will merely shrugged and pointed at Twinkle Sheen, the unicorn finally having calmed down enough from her euphoric high to keep some semblance of sanity.

“Well, his heart had stopped, so I did the one thing no pony would think to do in the situation: apply more juice!” The rest of the squad stared at her as she shifted her hooves back and forth in embarrassment.

“Not exactly the smartest time for mad science, doc. I will admit, it got results, but leave the experiments to the eggheads back in Canterlot. We've got time to breathe now, though.” He reached inside his uniform, drawing out a small metal flask.

“Hey, Dead Eye. What's that for?”

“Celebrating another day of not dying. Seems like we might not get that many anymore.” He opened the flask, passing it around. Will and Point each took a sip, not even flinching. Twinkle, however, coughed as it went down.

“Oh, Celestia! What is that stuff?!” Dead Eye laughed at her, sighing.

“It's heavily filtered rum. Not much flavour, but it does have a kick.” Twinkle took another sip, her smile returning as they all took refuge in a nearby structure, barricading the door.

--------====| Day 5 |====--------

Will was the first to wake, his head pounding. He could feel a small amount of blood pouring from his nose as he sat up, rubbing underneath his nose. Dead Eye, Point and Twinkle all slept in a pile on the other side of the room. Looking around the room, he squinted as he attempted to let his vision clear.

“Just how much did I drink last night?” He looked at the windows, sighing as he picked up his rifle, pulling what appeared to be some sort of carrot from the chamber.

“Apparently enough to cause a lot of problems.” Will lifted his rifle, aiming at the creature that stood behind him. The creature slowly pushed the rifle out of the way, frowning. His eyes were almost a solid shade of emerald as they flashed.

“Get out of here, traitors, before I-”

“Before you what? Kill us? We're on the same side, Equestrian. We're just not exactly... supposed to be here yet. Do not let them know of our arrival. I have some plans I wish to discuss with your leader. It is Star Swirl the Bearded who is the leader, right?” Will could only nod as the creature jumped out the window. Its form shifted as it took on a more bipedal form.

“Why help us?” The creature looked back, his eyes flashing once more.

“Because we are Equestria's allies. One country declares war, they declare it on us as well. We're... Changelings, by the way.” It drew a wicked looking dagger out from a sheath on its hip, disappearing into thin air. Will fell back onto his hindquarters, unsure of what to think.

“Changelings? Here?” Point crawled out from the three-pony pile, stretching as he stood.

“Will, what's going on?” Will hefted his rifle as he took cover beside the window.

“I think we got our reinforcements.”

--------====||====--------

The group left the gunsmithery as soon as they could move without difficulty. Will still looked moody as the pain from the hangover set in.

“Will, what's-”

“Can it, Point. Don't want to hear anything from you three.” They plodded along, stopping to examine the freshly killed griffons lying in corners and in out-of-the-way places. Will reached down, pressing his fingers into a cut.

“What happened to them?” A shadow leaped from the rooftop, a griffon falling down soon afterward, its throat slit. Dead Eye and Point activated their harnesses, their weapons aiming for the rooftops. More shadows leaped from the rooftops, griffons falling everywhere. The night had begun to fall, making the shadows moving even more eerie. Twinkle glanced up, her eyes darting back-and-forth in an inquisitive expression.

“The forms are familiar, but any assassins are in the employ of Celestia in Canterlot.” Dead Eye, Point, Will, and Twinkle chased after one shadow, cornering it as it turned. A griffon stared at them in fear.

“D-Don't hurt me! I never wanted to be a part of thi-” His voice was ended as a knife embedded itself in his forehead. A shadow from the rooftops dropped from the rooftops above them, a tight, sand-coloured robe bound around itself and its face, emerald eyes flashing in recognition.

“Shh. Find a place to hole up. We'll be meeting once more in the morning. Do not allow the enemy to find you, or you shall find yourself quite quickly with a blade to your throat. No, it will not be mine. They are not tolerant of your kind.” The shadow leaped again, landing on the rooftops once more, barely any sound. Point, Will and the squad ducked into a nearby building, closing the door as they sat down. Point removed his helmet and mask, looking at a mirror against the wall. His grey coat was streaked with mud and sweat, most of it caked on from the last few days spent hiding. Dead Eye removed his helmet and mask next, breathing a sigh of relief as he fell to his hindquarters. His brown coat was relatively clean, his mane a bare few hairs from the manecut he would have received as a part of joining the Armed Forces. Point looked back at the mirror, his own mane just starting to grow back. The grey lines he could see would never go away, but he did not care. Twinkle removed her helmet, letting a somewhat long mane uncoil from inside the metal bowl of protection.

“Finally we can take these off. I hated sleeping with these on.” Her coat was a light purple, her mane a magenta tinged with highlights of red. Point looked over at Will, who, predictably, had elected to keep his mask and helmet on.

“If you don't mind, I'll stand guard until the sun comes up.” The others nodded, Will standing in the doorway as they curled up in a pile to sleep, their weapon harnesses pulled off and folded together. He sighed as he resigned himself to his post, shaking his shoulders to keep the blood flowing.

--------====| Day 6 |====--------

The light rose to silence as the sun awoke above Luna's Cradle. Will stared out, his eyes bloodshot as he quickly glanced around. Point was standing beside him, an unconscious Twinkle on his back with blood trickling down from the base of her horn.

“What in Celestia's name happened, Will?” Will did not speak, but shuddered.

--------====||====--------

A few hours previously, the three ponies had been in a pile when something entered the room and made a beeline for the ponies. Will instinctively dove for them, grabbing all but Dead Eye and running, leaving their weapons harnesses. He turned when he heard a loud pop, greeted by the sight of what was left of Dead Eye, his head in a permanent state of confused shock. Twinkle was not waking up, while Point was flipping out.

--------====||====--------

“I don't ever want to see anything like that again. Dead Eye's dead, Point. We have to get to the edge of the Cradle. Find some way out of this place. I didn't even know Bilewyrms lived out this far!” Point stopped shaking, his eyes widening in fear.

“B-Bilewyrms?! You mean those creatures that burrow into another, and explode?” Will could only nod in silent agreement. Point looked down, his eyes still wide in fear. Bilewyrms were a relatively new discovery, small sandwyrms that had been mutated by residual energy from the Kepler's damaged core power plant. Point knew a lot about them, but the fact that any were there, when some had thought them eradicated, was a disturbing sign. Point stopped his train of thought to focus on the rooftops. Shadows leaped along them again, but they appeared to be heading directly for-

“Look out!” A shot rang out, one of the shadows diving to shove the three out of the way. The hood it had came off, revealing the changeling underneath. It sighed, looking up.

“All right, yeah. Jig's up, I guess.” He held out his hoof to help Point to his hooves.

“Who are you?”

“Specialist First Class, Oculus, Infiltration Corps on loan from Canterlot. Basically, we're here to help. We don't have much time. Even though we have taken some heavy pockets out, there are still a lot out there. The main bulk of the changeling force won't arrive until tomorrow, so we can expect small skirmishes until-” A hail of shells impacted the ground behind him, changelings falling from the rooftops.

“That was a crankshaft repeater, Oculus. I suggest we get out of the street.” Oculus nodded, leading the small squad to another building, keeping watch.

“So, what happened? I was told your squad was four ponies and a minotaur. We've got two ponies and a minotaur, so where's the-” He glanced at Point, whose look gave all the information he needed. He sighed, looking down at the ground. Twinkle began to stir, her eyes fluttering open.

“Anypony get the number of that transport that hit me?” Point let her off his back as she stretched her legs. She looked at the squad, counting quietly.

“Yeah, Dead Eye's... no longer with us.” She looked up, her eyes in shock as she processed the information. She fell onto her haunches, tears beginning to fall.

“How many of us have died for this?!” She screamed at the heavens, her tears stinging as she continued to sob. Point put his hoof around her, drawing her close. Oculus sighed, looking outside.

“Look, we don't have a lot of time. If we can't take care of some of those stolen crankshaft repeaters, we're looking at a total loss of life on the side of our reinforcements.” Oculus shifted, mirroring the form of Will.

“Impressive, but you need a-” Oculus silently drew out an oversized handgun, the eight cylinders loaded.

“Fresh out of your gunsmitheries, minotaur. Your people have an incredible knack for engineering, even if some of it has a tendency to, well, explode.” As if on cue, a griffon popped out, only to be flung against an opposite wall with the force of a speeding train. Oculus sighed, shaking his head.

“I guess some of your friends have a flair for the dramatic, huh?”Oculus sighed, looking away. Will shrugged, looking out at the scene. Changelings and Griffons were having it out with each other, many of them falling to the blades of the other side.

“The rest of you, take a rest. I will keep watch.”

“Don't you need to sleep? Refill the old steam engine of yours?” Oculus chuckled, shaking his head.

“That's the main difference between Changelings and other species. We don't require food, sleep, and sometimes oxygen, though only the crazy ones go into the water. Something about bugs and water doesn't sit well with us.” Point was already snoring in the corner, Twinkle on his side as Will hefted his rifle.

“All right. Wake me if there's trouble.”

--------====| Day 7 |====--------

Point, Will and Twinkle awoke to the sounds of cheering. Slowly walking outside, they noticed some old Armed Forces trucks trundling through the main avenue of the expanded suburbs outside the First Sector. More of the Cradle's defenders trickled out, many more than Point had seen before. Much of who was there were was the wounded, those who had been hiding to keep from dying of blood loss or infection. Griffons were being marched at gunpoint down the road, minotaurs who assisted them chained together like animals.

“Isn't that bad for them?” Oculus glanced at Point, who was pointing at the minotaurs.

“They got what they deserved. They'll be sent back to their homeland for a fair trial. Many of them did try to rip some of our forces apart.”

“Can you blame them?” The regal voice triggered an impulse to bow, Oculus merely nodding to the pony behind them. Luna walked forwards, sighing, her military garb only slightly different to the rest of the ponies and changelings around. Her normally effervescent twinkling mane was tied up in a short ponytail, her eyes set in a frame of irritation and anger.

“P-Princess Luna!”

“Benefactor!” She motioned for the ponies to rise, sighing as she touched her forehead with her hoof. She would have to talk to them about how to address her when she was wearing a uniform later.

“It's just Luna right now. Is Star Swirl all right?” She turned to face a small squad of seven, trailed by a medic with another pony leaning on them.

“As good as one can be after such an attack, my Princess. I did not expect the distress signal to go through so soon. The Cradle is again safe, but the rest of the world does know of the existence of the Cradle now. Many will demand that we hand over all we've learned. As Unit 3 told me, such technology in the hands, claws, or hooves of that which would be considered a tyrant or dictator would be ill advised. We need something that levels the playing field, something that could allow both sides – The Coalition and the Hegemony, of course – to work out terms and agreements-” Star Swirl looked to the side as a scientist galloped up.

“Star Swirl, sir! We have a problem!”

“What is the matter?” The scientist looked positively spooked as he shook in fear.

“The sensors we've been attempting to activate on the Kepler? They've come online on their own!”

“And?” Star Swirl could only gasp as the scientist collected himself and spoke his piece.

“There is a ship larger than that of the Kepler heading directly for the north side of the Griffon Hegemony.”

“North side? But that's-”

“Directly on top of their capitol.” Star Swirl looked to the sky. In the far distance, a bright speck could be seen. It was boxy, but it was not falling apart in the atmosphere.

“Celestia protect us.”

Chapter 2 - What Dwells in the Dark

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Chapter 3 - Where Shadows Dare To Tread

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Chapter 4 - Where Angels Once Walked

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Chapter 5 - Invictus Rising

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Chapter 6 - To The Black

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Chapter 7 - Interim: Battle Preparations

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Chapter 8 - Dark Nights and Happenstance

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Chapter 9 - The Interview

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Chapter 10 - The Nexus of the Problem

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Chapter 11 - Reap What You Sow

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Chapter 12 - Missing in Action

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Chapter 13 - Unwinnable Scenario

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Chapter 14 - Dead Echoes

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Chapter 15 - Kissing Sky

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Chapter 16 - Frozen in Time

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Chapter 17 - Hubris

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Chapter 18 - One More Day

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