Renegade One

by Reaper-Of-Harmony

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Alternate Universe
Length: 7481

In order to save their monarch, a brave airship pilot and her crew must take to the skies against everything they have ever stood for.

Steam. Water vapor, created by heating water to point of boiling, and collecting the gases that form. It has aided this world, creating powerful weapons, vehicles, and tools. With the machines they had, the world of magic would soon turn into a world of technology.

It is the year 110. Equestria has been reformed into a pro-technology constitutional monarchy. Now, it is the average pony, not the monarch, that decides what should happen. The Parliament decides when the sun should be raised, and the moon lowered. The Paliament decides when to use the Elements of Harmony, and who should use them. Powerful corporations flex their muscles of influence and wealth in every level of government, for they control the new economy. The sisters have been reduced to mere figureheads, chained and muzzled by the chaos of democracy.

And now… there are whispers of a plot. A political one, to remove the sisters from their throne… permanently.

But only a monarch can rule Equestria. Because only a monarch can preserve the harmony.

Cover art by Hunterhd1. Blessings of the angels be with you :twilightsmile:.

Proofread/edited by: lunamoonthroat, MrMinimii, Bronymaster (I love you guys :yay:.)

Rated Teen for language and violence.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-05-26 01:05:03 UTC

Prologue - The Storm Unbridled

From deep within the bowels of the Tyrant, Chief Engineer Twilight Velvet glazed nonchalantly outside one of the battlecruiser’s portholes. A five-layer thick composite of steel, carbon fibre, and clay separated her and the air-conditioned, pressurized interior from the frigid winter air outside. One of the Tyrant’s huge five-bladed propellers spun madly outside, pushing the cold air out behind the engine gondola and into the airship’s massive main drive propeller. Small bursts of steam flew out into the sea of clouds. Velvet could barely tell the difference.

The moon was out; nighttime reigned. In the distance, caught between the spinning propeller, was the city of Fillydelphia, with its signature clock tower jutting into the sky. The light of millions of kerosine lamps just barely illuminated the bulky, ovoid shapes of cargo freighters circling over the aerodrome. Their rigid cloth bodies stood in direct comparison to the Tyrant’s hardened metal armor, and their smooth, shiny frames were nothing compared to the endless array of bruiser cannons, flak guns, and rocket tubes that lined the battlecruiser’s hull. Some of the stronger corporations could perhaps afford full-metal, aerogel airships, but the rest of society had to deal with the hydrogen- and helium- filled dirigibles.

Velvet stared out at the city, rapidly disappearing into the mountains. Fillydelphia was a great place to have a shore leave, even if it was for just one week. Filled with museums, amusement parks, and glorious markets, the second trading capital of the world was tied behind Manehatten for the most clogged-up skies. It had taken the Tyrant, a military vessel, four hours to even leave her berth, and two more to get past the city outskirts. And, even as Chief Engineer, Velvet did not want to stay any longer inside her tiny cabin than she had to.

No, it wasn’t that she didn’t like the ship, far from that. It’s that the only reason why her husband was working a desk job was that they couldn’t fit a queen bed inside her cabin. Maybe it was the mountain of paperwork that was still in there. Maybe it was all the dried-up quills. Maybe it was just some bureaucrat being a troll. The military ended up giving Night Light a promotion to Chief Logistics Officer and permanently stationing him in some backwater town to the west of Canterlot. At least the house they received was bigger than they expected. Hell, it was probably bigger than the crew quarters on board the Tyrant.

Velvet strained her eyes a bit and tried to look past the Tyrant’s portside maneuver propeller, but the bright sprawl of Fillydelphia blotted out all traces of light from the countryside. Sometimes, if they were west of Canterlot, she could see the glimmering lights of farmhouses below. Each time, she prayed that they were Ponyville, even if they weren’t.

At least, if there was a military vessel flying overhead, the corporations wouldn’t try and invade.

Corporations. This was why Velvet was sitting behind a window, staring at a city she’d never understand. Corpo-bucking-rations.

Corporate raids were happening all the time now. It was never the actual corporation that did the raiding -they left it to the PMCs. But the terror was real. The corporations hate Celestia. Hate her guts right out the window. Their “representatives” in the Princess’s cabinet pushed for a Parliament, which Celestia was going to rebuke. The day she did so, a massive corporate raid overwhelmed primary defenses in Cloudsdale, not twenty miles away from Canterlot. And it wasn’t just Cloudsdale - company vessels razed more than a hundred towns in the surrounding area. Ponyville wasn’t within their active operating area, but Velvet was scared regardless.

The corporations wouldn’t dare attack Canterlot - even they didn’t have that strong of a military force. But if Fillydelphia was attacked... if Manehatten... then Ponyville, Night Light, and her dear son would all be thrown into the maw of corporate greed. And, even if she was Chief Engineer, the captain would never let her assume command of the vessel just to save a faceless logistics officer and a five-year-old colt.

Just last week, corporate soldiers had attacked Fillydelphia’s I/C hub. Killed everything. Left mana-scorched and leadened bodies everywhere. And when they had to land... even the military weren’t being let out of the security checkpoints.

All throughout their shore leave, there were police everywhere. They always had their weapons ready. So much as a glance in their direction would arouse suspicion. It was even worse at night, when, despite the enormous amount of nighttime traffic, the police would stop every car, poke around every trunk, question every filly, and keep the skies filled with searchlights attached to heavy flak cannons.

The sky suddenly grew dark. Somepony, probably the only pony at the controls was pulling the Tyrant up through the cloud layer to cruising altitude. The hard metal floor below her didn’t move, nor did her stomach. Her ears barely felt a thing. Military vessels like the Tyrant had the pleasure of having an environmental pressure control circuit installed. The PCC was a luxury that even the finest passenger cruisers could not obtain, and one of the many reasons why the corporations had not yet attacked Canterlot. With the PCC, a military vessel could execute any number of highly dangerous, reckless, and epic maneuvers without their crew so much as batting an eye. Of course, they wouldn’t take too kindly to their cabins being turned inside out by a barrel roll, but the PCC guarantees that the only injuries they’ll be receiving is the bruises they get from being slammed into the walls.

Just one of the benefits of the advent of arcanotechnology.

Some time ago, the world changed. The world changed because one pony discovered that magic could be sued for more practical things than turning back time, or switching destinies. That pony devised a spell that could allow for the storage of a vast amount of arcane energy within a compact form; a battery, if you will. Although her first attempts were unstable, and exploded mere minutes after their creation, the pony eventually found a way to stabilize them - the magically conductive flight bladders of Sky Gods, massive, gentle beasts that roamed Equestria’s stratosphere. Pegasi flight bladders failed at such high altitudes, but vehicles could still function despite their operators’ ailment. The flight bladder that she obtained was from a crashed Sky God, a chance find that has not happened since. Using her magical battery, she tapped into the world of arcanotechnology - for it was discovered that her battery radiated large amounts of plasmatic heat into the surrounding environment.

Indeed, inside the grimy bowels of the Tyrant, there are exactly four arcanotechnologic boilers maintaining a massive shipwide network of pressurized pipes containing magically energized steam. These steam pipes power everything from the complex automated reloading systems on the guns to the coffee machine in the officer’s mess. But it isn’t just mechanical - magical energy within the steam also powers the Tyrant’s sensors, a cluster of strange machines that magically detected the locations of other ships - something that used to require four separate arcane adepts to even poorly replicate. It powers the lights and the doors, the switches and the control panels, the weapons and the engines and the heating elements in the aerogel-filled flotation bladders that keep the ship in the air. And all this machinery and technology, down to the arcano-batteries, boilers, and corrosion-free pipelines, is manufactured by the corpo-bucking-rations.

The hooing of a Sky God thundered in the distance. Once a proud and graceful race, now farmed as a herd animal by metal monstrosities. Rarely, a wild herd will fly past, but if they’re smart they’d flee as fast as they could.

Velvet stared outside the portside window as the Tyrant broke through the clouds, with two hundred sleeping ponies on board, and diverted all its power to the engines.

There they were. Two massive wing-shaped creatures soaring in the distance. Their spirally eyes reminded Velvet of the little hurricane symbol the news reporters would mark corporate fleets on their paper maps. They were right. It was a storm.

One - Born From Ashes

One day, in the prime of our time, in the brightest of noon, somepony changed the world forever.

It didn’t happen quickly, no. It was slow and steady, but unstoppable. When the weather wants to rain, there is little the pegasi can do. When the world wants to change, there is little we, as a nation and a world, can do.

The pegasi control the weather, but only when it lets them. We only control innovation when it lets us. We did, for a time. But our time has ran out.

Learning to store large amounts of magical energy in a sort of “battery” was a brilliant idea - something we would have initially supported. But, when it was discovered that not only could it be used as a battery, but also as a power multiplier, did we begin to worry.

Not only could it create steam, but it also energized it.

That changed everything.

Before, everything was done by cutie marks. Get a mark, and you do that for the rest of your life. It was proper. The way life should’ve been. We embraced it, as did the rest of ponykind.

Now...

Because the only way the precision-welded parts and carefully manufactured components could be reliably mass-produced is through factories, we authorized the founding of a few hedge companies, firmly within our control. Farthing, Beatzley, Minnowhoof. Names that are so utterly prevalent today. They used to be somewhat controllable.

They used to be but a bother. Now, they are a threat.

The corporations stole our power. They used the influence they received from their tight grip on production and manufacturing to slow us down, to weaken us, and finally to stop us. We tried everything. Taxes, administration, negotiation. But all those did was make life worse for the rest of the populace, while the corporations seemed unaffected.

It was over. Our time as monarchs finally had a definitive end. My sister, sicon of the sun, could barely attend to her tasks. Even as the Parliamentary Bill was being ratified, she did nothing. She couldn’t. I couldn’t. Our powers were being sapped away by the very people we tried to protect.

The Deer Lord offered us asylum in his nation when at last everything would explode. When the corporations would truly take control. I accepted, but I worry sometimes. I worry that when the next moon rises, I will see corporate flags draped in our throne room, that I will see my sister hung, that I myself will be hung by a group of power-hungry, corrupt bastards who should have never been given so much power in the first place.

I yearn for the days when the world was merely bad.

Jan Aeronautics Association

Factory #007

Manehatten, Equestria

31/05/100

For the eightieth time today, Apple Buck pressed the button that would fire up the airship's boosters.

A cup of bitter coffee lay at the control panel. Various buttons and levers riddled the surface, covered with rust and marked with peeling labels. Multicolored wires spilled out the back, leading to a metal apparatus that lay bolted to the floor. A picture of his wife and two kids sat upright next to the coffee.

The clock's minute hand was nearly upright; Apple Buck's shift was nearly over. All that was left was to press this button, sign off this airship, and go to bucking bed.

Apple Buck was a quality control technician in a factory. One of a million. It was his and many others' job to test the completed airships once they had finished construction. This wasn't just fiddling with buttons, though. The main drive propellers on the JA-3's rear end required manual starting. Maybe that was why the entirety of the QCTs were either extremely fit earth ponies or powerful unicorns. The main drive propeller was, after all, two and a half times Apple Buck's height, and three times his weight. He'd always wondered how the beasts were able to get off the ground. Unfortunately for him, flying would never become a reality. He'd never pass the flight school entrance exam.

Not that it mattered. He had two kids and an old mother to support. Ever since his wife's death, the farm hadn't been what it used to. Sure, his son was fit enough to do most of the heavy lifting. Sure, his daughter was an expert wrangler. Sure, even his mother could make the best zap apple jam in the entirety of Equestria. But without bits, all of that meant nothing. So, with nothing but a tux in his bag, Apple Buck left the farm to look for work. Fourteen times he was turned down. Kelliah, Farthing, Minnowhoof, all the big airship companies rejected his offer. Fourteen times he left the recruitment building sad, but fifteen times he saw a new ad in the paper and ran to get airship tickets. It was after the fourteenth time that a representative from Jan had stopped the big stallion on the sidewalk and offered him a job.

It was a simple process, really. The operator would first check the steam network, get a few pressure readings and telemetric prints, then start the four maneuvering engines. If all went well, he would then jump on the two-story-tall vessel, run to the back, and spin the blades of the drive propeller until they were just a blurry black disk.

In his first month working for JAA, he made more money than a year's worth of zap apple jam would ever make. The day he got it, he sent all that money back to Granny Smith and Big Mac and his beloved daughter, Applejack. It arrived covered in soot and sweat.

His fifth anniversary of the daily grind was tomorrow, and the boss had promised him his bonus. One thousand bits. One thousand bits. Enough to buy a small airship, or at least a first-class suite in one. Apple Buck had already promised to take his kids to Cervidius, land of the deer. Tomorrow, he would get his money, and...

Nothing.

The room was usually filled to the brim with the ear-shattering noise of a Cormorant’s four powerful maneuvering engines by now. Instead, there was nothing.

Apple Buck looked back at his control station, but the Warming Tree was all green. No red light in sight. Everything was working fine, yet nothing was working. He squinted at it harder. The machine hated him equally back.

Eventually, Apple Buck slammed his hoof down on the abort button. Only, the tree still stayed on. The lights were supposed to be red. And yet, they were still green. Still the same green as the granny smiths that grew in the northeast orchard.

A loud siren erupted over the hangar bay. One of the many connection pipes that attached the airship to the monitoring clamp burst open, letting a cloud of bright-pink smoke pour out. Flurries of magic and mana flickered within the cloud. Apple Buck instinctively covered his face - unless you were a unicorn, breathing in the magically amplified steam was nothing short of a deathwish.

WARNING, WARNING, NETWORK OVERPRESSURIZATION DETECTED.

A cold, ethereal voice began blaring through the speakers mounted on the walls. Immediately, a team of hazmat-suited unicorns burst through the door behind Apple Buck, rubber-coated hooves racing towards the flopping beast. Now fully released from its shackles, the rogue airship began filling the hangar with steam, pink clouds flying everywhere. Even with their enchanted ropes and magnetic grappling hooks, the control team could barely even lasso the Cormorant as it began swimming towards the corrugated hangar door.

With a blast of pink smoke and yellow sparks, the airship broke free of its cell and glided out onto the tarmac. Unicorns ran, flew, and screamed after it, attached to their prey via their magical lassos. Yet even the best weight spells could do nothing to stop it as it ripped free from the fuel line, its last ungodly restraint, and began climbing towards the sky.

Surrounded by toxic pink smoke, Apple Buck could only watch as the airship rose up into the air through its maneuver propellers alone, flipped onto its belly, and proceeded to loop-de-loop and slam straight into the concrete hangar roof.

Soon, the entirety of the tarmac was covered in pink smoke as a horde of suited ponies chased after the obviously insane ship. As if it had a mind of its own, the Cormorant swung its hardened metal sides into the workers which enough force to bring down a building. Even if the suits were doubly padded and armor-enchanted, the workers still found themselves getting thrown back by the dying whale’s sheer force. Fortunately, the main drive propeller wasn’t active, or there would be a lot more blood mixing in with the pink clouds.

Buckie himself was in the midst of the the chaos, a magic rope in his hooves and a respirator around his mouth. The airship had just taken out half of the team around him, and Buckie was the only one who had thought to duck. His rope was just one of ten which still managed to hold onto the airship’s welded metal sides. Wrapped tightly around one of the four side-mounted guns, Buckie was almost dragging the ship instead of the ship dragging him. Sure, he was missing a bit of fur around his rear end, but at least he wasn’t being thrown to pieces unlike the unlucky unicorns lying limp around him.

An autogyro bearing police branding was hovering above the scene. Pegasi officers and patrolponies were already approaching the construction site. Some had already begun to fire their grappling hooks. But even the best marksmen failed to land their shots as the wild airship ducked to and fro on the asphalt.

In an instant, Bukie could fly. The last unicorn let go of his rope, and soon it was just the apple red stallion who was still attached to the Cormorant. Pink smoke and soot was pouring out of multiple hull breaches, all serving to give the airship enough momentum to go flying through the control tower and just barely grazing a police autogyro.

A familiar roaring sound filled Buckie’s ears. The main drive propeller was somehow beginning to spin. Considering the conditions, it wouldn’t be too difficult to imagine that a pipe or two had burst, letting the magically energized steam flood the rear engine and give it life. Indeed, the booster vents that shot high-pressure steam out the back were beginning to flap uncontrollably, letting out the evil mist.

Apple Buck immediately began climbing up the rope, almost losing his tail to a passing lamppost. The airship, almost as if it sensed his approach, dove towards the ground. A new hull breach had opened near the command bridge.

Just before it hit the ground, a second breach erupted straight through the keel, sending the airship, but not Buckie, soaring into the air. Despite his rock-solid earth pony frame, Apple Buck slammed hard against the asphalt, cracking his mask and shattering a few ribs. Instantly, the ground rejected him, and he was thrown upwards along with the ship.

He saw the glint of a rocket launcher in one of the autogyros out of the corner of his eye before resuming his climb towards the deck. Tangled up in the drive propeller, the rope was the only thing keeping the massive steel blades from claiming one of his limbs. Quickly, Buckie slipped past the death trap, trying his best to ignore the horrendous g-forces that threatened to snap every bone in his body.

As soon as the red stallion saw the steel deck of the airship below him, the rope went slack, and Apple Buck felt the command bridge warmly embrace him in an explosion of tiny glass specks.

The bridge was filled with steam, but at least the Corm was briskly floating now instead of trying to kill everything within five miles. It was slightly banking to the left, and even that was beginning to slow. The network pressure gauge on the pilot’s dashboard was barely even there.

Apple buck grabbed the control column and, following whatever flying instinct he had, pulled up. Instantly, the giant metal beast responded, slightly tilting up the nose and turning the maneuver engines upwards. Despite the pressure losses, hull damage, and complete lack of flying experience, Apple Buck managed to heavily land the metal piece of Swiss cheese onto the now ruined tarmac of JAA Factory #007.

Even as the police carefully dragged the limp stallion out of the steam-filled cockpit, Apple Buck felt the magically-energized steam burning away at the membrane of his lungs, setting them on fire in the most painful way. A medivac gyro was already there by the time the energy batteries were removed from the boilers, and the ship emptied of water.

“Okay, why don’t you start off by telling me what happened.”

“There was an... incident at Factory Seven. One of the airships was overpressurized with steam and crashed into a... few things.”

“Few? Then how do you explain the six million bit repair bill? Or the hospital fees that we are liable to pay?”

“Its just a freighter, sir. One of a million. This incident and the bills could disappear in less than a sec-”

“Sir, I-”

“No, Barney, there are reasons why this company is at the very least, successful.”

“Sir, being truthful is the least profitable way to an early demise-”

“So what? Cheaters never prosper, Barney. Cheaters never bucking prosper. My dad lost a poker game to a cheat and, a week later, won his first airship off the same guy. Started JAA four months after that.”

“Sir, with all due respect-”

“No. We will clean this up ourselves. See to it that it’s done.”

“Yes sir. But what about the ship?”

“The ship?”

"Yes sir. If we just get rid of it that's nine hundred thousand bits worth of machinery and materials going down the drain."

“Patch it up and sell it. Just not to the buyers. Sell it to a second-hand store.”

"Yes sir. At once."

“Rogues like this don’t happen very often. You’d better make sure its a good second-hand store, Barney. She’s one in a million.”

Two - I Am Become

The sun was setting, and the newly promoted Captain-Commander gazed out at the shining silver armor of her Sorrow-class battlecruiser. Everything was finely polished - down to the steel corridors that would soon be covered with mud. Rows and rows of precision-hammered rivets flanked the curved metal plates. Small box-like gun emplacements jutted out at strategic angles all over. A glint of light passed over her white-pink hair as the gun slowly swiveled about.

Twilight Velvet stepped back from the window and onto her bed. The room was much larger than the crew quarters she’d been stuffed in as an Engineer. She’d always wanted to live the high life as a ship commander. Many of her mates that had served with her on board the Tyrant had had the same dream. There was a picture of them on the mantlepiece - a brown mare, a blue pegasus stallion, a white unicorn - her, a black Saddle Arabian, and a llama. They were brilliantly smiling next to her daughter, who looked as beautiful as ever in her navy-blue dress uniform. Next to that was a massive pile of unfolded and unsent letters she had written to her on her last long-distance deployment, and couldn’t send.

Fortunately the Sorrow was going somewhere where she could get them delivered. Personally.

A sparky voice came over the intercom.

“Captain-Commander, we are approaching the docking pylon at Ascendant Wings. Your presence on the bridge is requested.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Mesa, I’m on my way.”

She grabbed her captain’s jacket with her magic and gently tossed it over her shoulders, not bothering to reach her legs into the sleeves. She trotted over to the door. A flick of her horn, and the door swished open as her hat came floating down onto her head.

When she first came on board the shiny silver ship she almost fainted. Sorrows were the newest design to be phased into the Equestrian Aerial Navy - she’d been expecting an older, smokier Nimrod, or even a junky Pathos. But everything about the ship - from the furniture in the crew common area to the rapid-fire rotary cannons mounted on the main turrets - was brand spanking new.

She plastered a smile on her face and began trotting up the corridor, friendly greetings from the crew echoing all the way.

The battlecruiser roared straight into the cloud, engines blazing. Its heavy guns fired madly towards the fast frigates chasing it. Proximity explosions took out one, two, three of the frigates, but more kept pouring in. The carrier that lay behind the tiny ships chuckled merrily. Bursts of anti-aircraft fire swarmed the outmatched battlecruiser, destroying its engines, its generator, breaking its radar and its automated defense system. Helpless and drifting, the battlecruiser barely sustained a hit from the carrier’s light guns before a massive, steam-filled explosion took its parts to the thundering iron sea below.

Twilight threw her hooves up in frustration as Colgate soundly destroyed her for the tenth time today.

"Twilight," sighed the blue mare. "You don't have to do that."

"I thought you said you were gonna go easy on me that time!"

"I did! Look! You managed to shave off three-quarters of my fleet this time. That's much better than when we first started. You couldn't even land a shot then."

"Still isn't a victory," said the purple filly.

sigh "Twily..."

"I just wanna win the game! Is that too much to ask?"

"You know what, Twily? I have a better idea."

The blue unicorn flipped a few switches on the side of the steel table. A few jets of steam shot out the valves, and gears ground crazily inside. The bright flash of a mana core was briefly visible through the machinery. The simulated sea on the table began to shake and quiver. AS Twilight watched, the landscape dissolved, leaving nothing but the still copper airship models lolling lazily on the its surface.

She pressed another button, and the molten iron clouds floating on the simulated battlefield rearranged themselves. A burst of simulated wind spun them up in a frenzy. Metal lightning smashed against metal oceans, and a tiny little iron lightning storm converged on the battle table.

"Why don't you and I fight the machine together? You can even pick the doctrine."

As if voice activated, a long metal hatch opened towards Twilight. Inside, several boxes were neatly and tightly packed together like sardines in a can. Each had a label written in Colgate's flawless writing, and was decorated with a small pink flower and a crude drawing of a BZ-7 steam rifle. Twilight looked over the  boxes for a minute, hoof in her mouth. There was one stuffed behind the others that looked relatively untouched. She levitated that one out. Colgate caught the box with her magic and set it down on the floor.

"Ooh, the Sorrows. I heard these were the guys that made you win."

"That was only because of that lucky gust of wind," said Twilight, opening the box.

The chandelier's light shone on several nickel airships, each tucked into its own little niche inside the red foam. Colgate levitated one of the bigger ones out. A fourth the length of her leg, the model was accurate down to the last detail - even the five-barreled rocket launchers on the Sorrow's gondola had tiny decorative designs etched into them.

"I'd say that was anything but lucky," said Colgate. "The others don’t like it. Hey, by any chance,  isn't this the ship your momma flies?"

"Commands." said the little filly. "She's Captain-Commander of the Freyja, a new Harmony-B class Patrol Battlecruiser, recently commissioned by the Aerial Defense Board. She graduated from here fifteen years before, and was renowned for having one of the best victory scores ever ach-"

"Okay, okay, that's enough, silly filly," chucked Colgate. "I saw that in the newspaper last week. Believe me, every mare in here wants be like C-C Twilight Velvet. Hell, I’d bet that half the stallions would undergo a reassignment spell just so they could fill her shoes.”

"Mom says that she’ll retire when her job is over,” said Twilight, completely unfazed. “And she says her job will be over when Equestria has no more enemies to fight.”

"That's true, little Twily. And your job is just beginning."

She gestured at the metallic storm, still buzzing with ferocity.

Twilight removed the airships from the box. As the metal models floated in the air around her, she made a quick check of what she had. She carefully looked over her fleet composition one last time, turning her head sporadically to look at the included manual. Colgate stood idly by, watching the little filly perform. She was going through her pre-flight checks: assessing the capability of every ship she had and how to best utilize them. It was something she learned from her mentor.

[Okay, let's see what we've got...

A Joy-class battleship. Standard ship of the line. It's got heavy weapons, and good armor, but moves slowly. Best used against other slow fliers or on harpooned vessels. This one has had its heavy rotary cannons replaced with large-bore artillery, which fire slower but are extremely devastating to anything they hit.

A Vigilance-class rocket cruiser. An interesting addition to any fleet, it’s got long-range rockets which, although inaccurate, are extremely powerful. Again, best to use against slow or harpooned ships. It can lock a target for better accuracy, but needs time to finish target acquisition. Once it does, though, it can unleash a devastating barrage of offensive firepower against anything in its way.

Two Sorrow-class patrol battlecruisers. While big for a battlecruiser, the Sorrow is designed to counter fast ships, shooting them with light rotary cannons and anti-frigate homing rockets. It also has harpoons, but moves rather slow. It needs to get within close range in order to be useful. It has a powerful countermeasures suite that lets it deflect incoming missiles, but not too many. If it’s overwhelmed, the Sorrow really can’t do much against larger vessels. It’s a newer ship, so the old table might not know what it can do yet.

Six Rage-class frigates. The exact opposite of a Joy. Fast, speedy, and deadly at close range, battleship cannons can't accurately hit it. It’s got harpoons and small weapons, making it an effective anti-frigate platform or a harpooner to stop larger ships.

A Contempt-class minelayer. It deploys stationary balloon mines that are triggered by nearby enemies. The wind can blow the mines around. The airship itself does move quite fast, and has a rack of light rotaries for defense. If it’s caught, however, Contempts can usually be killed rather easily by enemy cannons due to its light armor.

Twelve Fury-class frigates. These guys are like spotters for snipers. Their only purpose is to harpoon enemies, and to hold them for a long time while heavier ships close the distance. They have little armor and die quickly while under fire, but they rarely sit still long enough for battleship weapons to hit reliably. They do have small flak guns, which are good against fighter craft, but really nothing else.

"Okay," said Colgate. "Once you're done thinking about your ships, try and figure out how to use them."

Twilight furrowed her brow, examining the Sorrow she levitated in front of her. Colgate pulled back on the switch that set the machine difficulty, and picked the doctrine for the enemy.

The Sorrows are going to be my main source of damage. In order to get close, my frigates are going to have to harpoon enemies and either drag them close or hold them still. The Sorrow's rockets do reach a decent range, but with the current conditions, hitting something is going to be nearly impossible.

The wind is blowing too hard to reliably use my Contempt or my Vigilance, but if I deploy mines, maybe the wind will blow them into the enemy. The rockets also are a liability in the weather, but if I hide the Vigil in the clouds, maybe I can perform a stealth attack.

Using the Joy is quite difficult in a storm condition, but it can appear out of nowhere. I have to use the clouds to my advantage.

She levitated the pieces to the table. The repulsing magnets mounted below the copper ocean took the ships out of her hand, floating them on invisible magnetic fields. Then, the magical part of the sim-table took over, and suddenly the ships started to move, their turrets and weapons creaking around, their propellers turning into tiny, see-through circles on the engine blisters. A green aura highlighted each vessel, signalling its readiness.

The enemy fleet materialized on the other half of the table, separated by the storm. Transparent blue with red auras, the enemy ships were the very definition of a ghost fleet - the exact name for the fast and speedy interceptor doctrine the machine commanded.

"Alright, what did I teach you about the interceptors?" asked Colgate.

"They're very agile," recited Twilight. "Most likely, the machine is gonna use the clouds to perform flanking attacks on my bigger ships if I let them fall behind. If I harpoon them, they're as good as dead. That means my Furies are going to be worth more as the battle progresses. Light weapons will be extremely effective against the interceptors, and rockets can easily destroy the larger support vessels."

"Wow, Twily, I'm impressed. You've certainly learned a lot since I started helping you out. Now, be a big girl and kick their ghostly copper asses! We can do this!"

"Initiative goes to "Table,"" said the creaky machine.

The enemy pushed four interceptors forwards, turning the others away.

""Twilight Sparkle, it is now your turn."

"Use what you know," said Colgate. "Don't let the enemy gain the upper hand."

Twilight pushed her Sorrows left, escorted by four Furies. She kept her Joy and Vigil sitting in the starting area, and moved her minelayer into the storm. Her six Rages quickly followed.

"Table, it is now your turn."

The four interceptors disappeared, obscured by the clouds. The rest of the ghost fleet began circling around the storm system.

""Twilight Sparkle, it is now your turn."

"Your Vigil could help your Sorrows with their rocket cruisers," suggested Colgate. "Although, I would save the battleship for later."

She continued to push her Sorrows towards the enemy fleet, activating their countermeasure systems. The enemy's rocket ships were already aligned for combat. Her minelayer deployed its first rack of balloon mines inside the clouds, letting the storm's wind gusts blow them around. She ordered her Rages to climb above the storm, with the rest of her Furies following. The Vigilance began to move towards the Sorrows, but the Joy stood still.

"Table, it is now your turn."

As predicted, the two enemy rocket carriers began firing at her Sorrows. While ineffective now, they could be invaluable later as interceptor missiles also triggered the countermeasures field, and a single Sorrow could only deflect so many projectiles at once. Twilight hoped that wouldn't be the case.

"Don't be afraid, Twily," said Colgate. "The interceptors aren't close enough to deal damage yet. Use your Furies and stop them."

""Twilight Sparkle, it is now your turn."

Twilight ordered her Sorrows to begin kiting the interceptors, the revolving rocket launchers beginning their devastating volley. Meanwhile, she moved her Joy towards the edge of the storm, away from the interceptors. The Vigilance began to acquire its target as the minelayer deployed a second rack of balloons.

"Watch the clouds. You always need to be prepared for a surprise attack. Get your Joy closer."

"Table, it is now your turn."

Everything went haywire.

Suddenly, the four interceptors hidden in the storm burst out, missiles flying. The Rages could only watch as the interceptors unleashed a deadly barrage on one of her Sorrows, negating the countermeasures field altogether. The Joy, being too far away, couldn't use its anti-aircraft guns, and the Vigil was still achieving target lock. The other Sorrow tried to retaliate, but only succeeded in further damaging its twin.

Twilight cursed as the other interceptors approached, sending out more missiles to confuse the countermeasures. The first Sorrow began to burn, tiny golden sparks emanating from the copper.

""Twilight Sparkle, it is now your turn."

"It's okay, it's okay. Come on, Twily. Distract their main damage-dealers."

Twilight's Furies closed in on the rocket cruisers, mini-guns flaring. The slow-moving Rages followed suit, burning them away with armor-melting explosive shells.

The damaged Sorrow let loose a devastating close-range rocket barrage, scattering the interceptors. Two of them flew towards the Joy. The nickel captain on board must’ve been laughing his head off as his massive array of anti-aircraft guns blazed over the copper sea, sending the frigates back into the bowels of the machine.

"Table, it is now your turn."

The interceptors unleashed another volley of missiles, blowing apart the Sorrow's right steamjet booster. Harpoon shots fell all around the deck of the battlecruiser, ghostly ponies with swords and rifles preparing to board.

Two interceptors engaged her Furies, sending one of them to the seas below.

""Twilight Sparkle, it is now your turn."

Twilight's other Sorrow circled around the damaged one, shells and rockets screaming through the sky. Four interceptors fell, but the Sorrow could take no more. With its countermeasures suite overloaded, steam boiler ruptured, and armor with the contingency of Swiss cheese, the airship began its slow plummet towards the table.

"It's alright, Twily, you can still win this. Your Joy can take them out easily with canister."

She pushed the Joy closer, silently ordering the crew to load the deadly incendiary scatter shots. The BOOM BOOM of the siege artillery resonated through the bleached copper. The table shook mightily with each shot. Swarms of tiny yellow tracers found their mark, setting engines, gondolas, and gas containers on fire. Two more interceptors nose-dived towards the sea, covered in silver flame, while the others began a hasty retreat towards the rocket cruisers.

"Table, it is now your turn."

The Nimrods belonging to the table engaged her Furies. With a few flak rounds, the frigates crashed into the metal waves below. Harpoon lines still stemmed from the remaining rocket cruiser, but with the Vigil locked on, its life looked pretty short.

Three more interceptors entered the clouds. A balloon mine, blown about by the wind, took one of them out in a colossal explosion.

"Okay, only four more interceptors to go," said Colgate. "You can do this."

""Twilight Sparkle, it is now your turn."

Twilight moved her Sorrow forwards, followed by the Joy. Rockets from the Vigilance screamed through the air, silencing the enemy's last cruiser. All that was left were the interceptors and the burning Nimrods.

Her Sorrow began locking the nearest Nimrod. It was already spooling up its rotary guns. Next turn, the barrage of shells would find the worn armor.

"Table, it is now your turn."

The Nimrods turned away and BOOM, the table was gone, followed by the floor, the room, the dormitory, and then gravity, as the purple filly began to fall.

“Twily!” screamed the blue-maned mare as the rubble came down. Suddenly, she was gone, and the only noise Twilight heard was the endless droning of propellers.

Buried in stone, the little filly strained her magic to the fullest to remove a single block of debris, sending in a shaft of light. There they were - ominous shapes covering the clouds, each rounded and ovoid like the shell cookies they served in the cafeteria. The cafeteria that was most likely bombed to oblivion.

Another noise came into the filly’s ears. This time, it was a sharp whistling. It filled the crawl space she sat in, echoing through the rubble in an endless screeching scream. Her hooves immediately found her ears.

“Colgate, I’m scared!”

Nopony replied. Nopony, except for the thumping explosions of bombs, impacting the packed earth.

“Colgate!”

BOOM.  BOOM. BOOM.

“Colgate!”

BOOM.  BOOM. BOOM.

Rhythmical like rain, if it could even called that. Rain didn’t drop from bloodthirsty ships, looking to kill whatever was below them. Rain didn’t separate fillies from their mentors. Rain didn’t-

Blue.

A ripped blue mane peeked over the tip of Twilight’s crawl space.

“Twily!”

“Colgate!”

Strong blue legs shifted the rock out of the way, revealing a battered blue mare and an equally dirty purple filly.

“Come on, Twily,” said the mare. “We’re getting out of here.”

She threw her dirty jacket onto the wide-eyed filly, ten sizes too big. The bundle went onto her back, best she could.

“Colgate, I’m scared.”

“I know, I know, okay? Just try to relax.”

Blue legs started to run. The uneven earth shook Twilight around, even tightly wrapped inside the too-big jacket. She closed her eyes, but it wasn’t enough to block out the steel rain that fell all around them, turning everything into ruin and dust.

BOOM.

A bite! Something bit me!

Twilight’s hooves reached for her neck as the pony below her went limp, crashing face-first into the rubble.

BOOM.  BOOM. BOOM.

Twilight’s ruffled head poked out from the jacket, only to be met with a pool of blood. The blue mare was on her side, twitching spasmodically on the cracked stone blocks.

“Colgate!”

Her legs climbed out of the jacket, still cutie markless, and ran over the broken earth to the collapsed mare.

Her hooves pushed against her big blue side, and the mare flipped onto her belly.

Twilight covered her mouth quickly to block the flood of acid that came running from her stomach.

“Colgate! Colgate, you’re... you’re scaring-”

“Shhh...”

The blue mare was still spread onto the ground, the right side of her chest basically gone. Blood poured from the open wound like a river from the mountains, flooding into the ruins relentlessly.

“Colgate! Colgate!”

“Shh.... It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Let me... let me fix...”

A flash of magic came from her horn, and Twilight felt the bite on her neck disappear. Her hoof ran over it, revealing a thin scar. A scar that ran from the base of her ear to the shoulder of her left foreleg.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

Twilight hugged the mare as best she could, tears forming under each eye. She could feel her breathing - shallower and shallower with each passing breath.

No. The dam broke, and Twilight’s tear came out.

“It’s okay Twily.... It’s.... o....ka-”

Nothing.

The blue mare went limp in Twilight’s hooves.

Tears soaked the fur, now colder than the ruined stones all around them.

“COLGATE!!!!”

...

Suddenly the steel rain stopped.

A great flash of light came from the sky. A fleet, this time grand and regal, painted in bright whites and blues, came from the setting night sky. At the prow of the lead vessel was a shining white pony, her horn as long as her wings were wide.

She flew off the ship, and suddenly the sun rose again, as the light shined over the bombed ruins and turned everything bright.

When the light cleared the moon had risen and all that was left in the sky was the frantically waving searchlights of a thousand Navy vessels, each with a red cross painted on their sides.

There. There, they said, their lights bouncing over the dormitory. There. We found one.

A regal step unto the ground. There, looming before the dirt and destruction, was the winged unicorn, bright and shining, with an energized, flowing rainbow mane that stretched all the way down to her golden shoes.

Like a mother with child, the alicorn embraced the crying filly. Her smooth white wings wrapped around her matted, bloodied fur. She let her cry into her shoulder, let herself be soaked with the tears of the fallen.

The filly peered back at the desiccated corpse of the blue mare, lying pale and broken in the rubble. The alicorn's regal eyes found it too. Her horn lit. A cascade of energy flowed into the body, filling it. She squeezed. Once. Twice. Three times, and the body began to dissolve, leaving behind a single tiny emerald, no larger than the filly's eye.

She lifted her out of the ruin, barely up to her shoulders, and walked towards her landed ship, the sirens of medical vessels cutting through the air above. The emerald found its way into the filly's grip, and she held it close, as if it were alive.