Convergence

1:00 A.M.  UNITED STATES MILITARY OUTPOST, MOUNT RAGNON, EQUESTRIA

“Iron, this is Steel, all pieces are set, operation is go, repeat, operation is a go.”

“Copy Steel, Iron is moving out.”

The M1A1 tank fired up its noisy engine, much to the annoyance of any sleeping men in the area.  Its headlights shone through the abysmal night, cutting a few bright lines in the darkness.  Its treads groaned for a moment, then slid forward, propelling the metal juggernaut over the ground.  In other parts of the base, seemingly at random, other vehicles switched on, and began to make their way towards the eastern edge of the facility.

Groggily, a few half-dressed men staggered out of tents and buildings, rubbing their eyes, curious as to what was causing all the commotion.  A couple of the recently roused stood outside of a small house, peering at the convoy as it rumbled on its way.

“Probably just some stupidly timed op…”

One muttered, before yawning and turning back inside.  The other soldier eyed the vehicles a little warily.

“I certainly hope so.”

Then he too, returned to his slumber.

Inside one of the armored vehicles, Sergeant Joseph Allan manned the controls of the main cannon.  He listened intently to the radio, waiting for more instructions.  They all knew the plan of course.  Joseph had been one of its masterminds.  However, in a move like this, it was always good to be on your toes, ready to alter your plan at a moment’s notice.

The tank in which he sat, leading the group of more than a dozen vehicles, sped closer to the edge of the base, now just a few hundred feet away.  A confused sentry fingered his assault rifle, bewildered by the advancing column.  He held up his hand, trying to motion for a stop.  A soft hissing sound filled the air for a second.  The sentry eyed the small blue dart that had sprouted from his chest with shock, before slumping to the ground, unconscious.  The column continued its steadfast advance.  Behind them, alarms began to sound in the base.

<(^)>

“James, wake up!”

The gray unicorn shoved his snoring friend, frustrated.  The man continued his slumber.  Sighing, Alex thought for a moment, and then smiled.  His horn glowed, and a loud bang rattled the air.

“What?!”

James sprang up in bed, glancing crazily around.  His eyes fell upon Alex.

“Was that you?  Wait, what are you doing in my room?”

Alex levitated James’ flight suit to him, happy with his new found magical talent.

“We just got a report from a scout group, an armored column is advancing into Equestria, specifically the direction of Canterlot.”

James rapidly clambered into his suit.

“Well that’s no good.”

“That’s pretty much what everpony…” Alex blushed slightly, “everyone thinks.  Anyway we need you, and…” He sighed, regretful.  “You and Jonathan need to man the Strike Eagle.  You can do enough from there to at least help out the ground teams that are moving in.”

He spoke softer then, leaning in.

“They honestly don’t have a chance without you guys.”

Then he sighed again.

“I would help fly but… hooves.”

He held up his foreleg for emphasis.

James nodded.

“Jonathans a good RIO, though not as good as you are of course,” Jonathan patted the gray ponies’ back.

“He had enough sense to switch sides, for all its worth… I just hope that more people do the same.”

Alex looked slightly dejected.

“Anyway, you had better hurry it up, we have a bit of a war on our hooves… um, hands.”

James nodded, and picked up his helmet from the table.

<(^)>

“Steel, this is Iron, can you confirm on total number of contacts?”

“Negative Iron, were only using thermal, and their pretty well hidden in some hills.  It’s hard to tell whether or not it’s just the same group popping in and out, or lots of ‘em.”

“Mhm… well, try not to tick ‘em off, I don’t want to shoot at anyone tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s why we’re doing this.”

“Yeah… I just hope we can tell them that we’re on their side before things get ugly.”

The convoy continued on, through the darkness of the night.

<(^)>

“Leveling off…”

James spoke into his helmet, his voice slightly etched with concern.  He kept glancing at the fuel gauge, nervous.  They had more than enough for the flight… but they couldn’t keep flying missions forever on the same tank of gas.  And part of James had the feeling that they were about to use up a lot of ammunition.

Jonathan sat in the back seat.

“We should try contacting them before we start lighting the place up.”

“Copy that, but we can’t allow them too much time, I don’t want to get shot down tonight.”

The strike eagle soared through the crisp night air, bearing towards mount Ragnon.  Jonathan carefully watched the displays.

“James, I have something.”

James glanced back.

“What do you see?”

“Armored column, no wait… supply trucks… and Humvees… and an APC or two… weirdest convoy I’ve ever seen.  No air support.”

James began to see headlights on the ground.

“Arm the weapons systems, and get ready to drop ‘em a line.  Things might get messy here.”

<(^)>

“Steel, this is Tiger, I have one air contact, confirmed to be an F-15E, bearing towards us… from the primary city.”

“This is Steel, Tiger, can you say again?  A Strike Eagle?”

“Affirmative, bearing from the wrong direction, over.”

“Strange… get ready to pop him, but first, let’s try and see what’s going on here.”

Joe turned away from the cannon controls, and began messing with the communications systems.

“Steel, this is Iron, we are preparing to contact the Eagle, over.”

“Copy that Iron, be careful.”

Joe took a deep breath, and then raised the mouthpiece.

“Unidentified Strike Eagle, this is…” Joe paused for a half second.  He was about to say, ‘this is M1A1 249A of the United States military’, but right now, that didn’t sound quite right.  “This is M1A1 callsign Iron, please identify yourself.”

<(^)>

“This is M1A1 callsign Iron, please identify yourself.”

James looked down at the radio, and then glanced back at Jonathan.  Jonathan just shrugged.  James thought about what he would say in response, then smiled as an idea came to him.

“Iron, this is F-15E Striker one one, on behalf the Royal Equestrian Air Force,” He heard Jonathan stifle a laugh behind him,

“We are going to have to request that you halt your advance immediately.”

“Striker one one, please clarify your… allegiance.”

James had to think about how exactly he was going to do this.  Cautiously, selecting his air to ground weapons, he answered.

“Our allegiance is to the innocent people of the nation that you are attacking, and to the constitution of the United States of America.  Once more, we must ask you to halt your advance, or we will kill you.”

<(^)>

Joe tapped the wall of the tank, thinking for a moment.  He then reached forward, grabbing onto his controls once more.

“All units, halt, repeat, all units, full stop immediately.”

The column screeched and skidded to a stop.  Joe once more spoke.

“Alright Striker one one, you have our attention, who the heck are you?”

“Someone who knows that the president is wrong.”

Joe opened the top hatch of the Abrams tank, peeking out into the cold night sky.  Up above, he saw the faint blinking lights of the Strike Eagle.

“Striker one one, I think that we all know that the president’s mind is about as screwed up as every previous corrupt politician combined.”

“I see…”

The voice sounded mildly surprised.

“It is also my pleasure to inform you that we are operating against the orders of the president, and his generals, and if any of us were to return to a U.S. military base, we would surely be arrested.”

The pause between the message and the response was great.

“Is there any reason we should trust you?”

Joe remarked back.

“Is there any reason that we should trust you?”

The men of the column all kept their weapons pointed skyward, wary of the jet.

“I guess that you’ll just have to take a leap of faith.  Iron, I want you and your convey to start heading toward the following position…”

<(^)>

The Strike Eagle touched down once more, all of its weapons still attached.  Alex trotted up to the jet as its canopy opened.

“What happened?”

“It looks like,” James dropped down from the jet, “we have some new friends in our military.”

Princess Celestia was closely behind Alex.

“You mean to say, that more of your people have seen the error of their ways?”

“It certainly appears so.”

Jonathan eased himself down from the F-15.

“But in the meantime, you’re going to want to send word to your forward troops, or they’re about to be in for the surprise of their lives…”

<(^)>

Swiftwing drew his sword, slowly easing it out of its sheath.  The metal lumps continued their advance, heading directly towards the camp.  He eased himself up from behind the hill, staring at the invaders.  This is it.  He thought, and it almost certainly would be.

He spread his wings, feeling the feathers rustle in the cool night breeze.  The pegasus threw himself into the air.  Around him, dozens of other winged warriors did the same.

“FOR EQUESTRIA!  FOR THE SISTERS!  FOR HARMONY!”

The battle cries filled the air as the ponies charged towards the advancing vehicles.  Swiftwing’s adrenaline spiked as he soared nearer and nearer to the things, preparing to defend his home from these evil invaders.

“Wait…”

Swiftwing heard the faint voice from behind him, but gave it no heed, for today, he would show himself worthy of the armor he now wore!

“HALT!”

The huge, magically amplified voice stilled the army.  Even the armored vehicles ground to a stop.  Swiftwing looked back towards the camp, where the unmistakable figure of General Stronghorn stood upon a hill, backlit against the moon.  Swiftwing nervously clutched at his sword’s hilt, unsure of what to do.  Stronghorn’s horn glowed brilliantly in the night, enhancing the volume of his voice.

“MY COMRADES, THOUGH MANY OF THESE CREATURES ARE OUR ENEMIES, WE HAVE NO NEED TO FEAR THIS GROUP.”

Swiftwing loosened his grip on the sword.

“I HAVE JUST BEEN INFORMED BY OUR GLORIOUS PRINCESS CELESTIA, THAT THESE MEN ARE OUR FRIENDS, AND WILL NOT HARM US OR OUR PEOPLE.  THEY ARE TREASURED ALLIES, AND BRAVE DEFECTORS.  MY ONLY REGRET IS THAT WE WERE UNKNOWLEDGABLE OF THEIR INTENTIONS UNTIL JUST MOMENTS AGO.  PLEASE, PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, AND GIVE THEM YOUR GRATITUDE.”

Swiftwing turned back to the parked vehicles, sheathing his sword.  He watched as the humans began to emerge.

<(^)>

Starblink stood, his thoughts clouded.  He closed his eyes, but still could not remove the image of Celestia from his mind.

Why?

He thought to himself.  He shuddered, and dunked his head in a basin of cold water.  He hardly noticed the cold; all he felt was Celestia’s wing on his back.  He looked up to the ceiling, searching for an answer to the question that had been infuriating him.

WHY. BUCKING. ME?!

He slammed his hooves into the floor, furious with himself.

He had never felt this way before.  He couldn’t get a grip on his thoughts, and his heart beat too fast.  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on anything.  Anything, except her.  He stared into his mirror.  Starblink was distraught.

NO NO NO NO!  I don’t have time for this!  Especially not now!  It’s a war, a bucking war!  And shes…  Perfect?

“UGH!”

Starblink marched around his room, not understanding his own thoughts.

It wasn’t possible, it would never work anyway!

Yet, he couldn’t control himself.  He snarled, and began conversing with himself.

“You have a responsibility to the country Starblink, the kingdom, you don’t have time for…”

He took a breath.

“…romance.  Especially with… with…”

Starblink once more returned to his mirror.  He stared at his face, and quietly accepted it.  He was in love with the ruler of Equestria, a pony more than a thousand years older than he was.  He swallowed.  He was in love with Princess Celestia.

<(^)>

General Anderson quietly closed the door to his office.  He knew who awaited him inside.

“Captain.”

Anderson acknowledged the man.  The officer nodded in return.

“So, we have a little extra time now.”

Anderson smiled.

“Thank God, yes.  I swear, if we survive this, I’ll make sure the man who led that little rebellion a hero for the history books.  What’s the total on the amount of defectors?”

The captain sighed.

“Just enough to buy some time, not enough for a victory.  We’ll just have to hope that Edwards comes through.”

He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it.

“Right now though, to answer your question, we have reports that… four M1A1s, twenty three Humvees, twelve various supply vehicles, seven armored personal carriers, and four strykers have all left the camp.”

Anderson whistled softly.

“How many men?”

“About two hundred.”

“What a brave bunch of boys.”

Anderson spoke softly, in respect of the defectors.

“We better start on our part then, so far, everybody else has been doing all the work!”

The captain smiled grimly.

“Unfortunately, I fear that our lot may be the hardest.  Everyone else only has bombs and bullets to be afraid of, while we have to deal with politicians.”

Anderson nodded; the statement was sad, yet true.

“So now we have to ask ourselves a simple, depressingly easy to answer question:  How does one go about arresting a president?”